Southampton High School - Sea Spray Yearbook (Southampton, NY)

Page 15 text:

THE LAST STRAW 11 At this time we wish to thank Mr. Sabine who has been our faculty advisor for two years and to whom we owe much of our success. We are also grateful to the Board of Education, the townspeople, and our fellow students, win have sh wn an interest in us and who have contributed to our success by aiding us in onr activities. , Afte tonight we shall no longer be students of Southampton High School. In the fall many of us will enter colleges and normal schools, but we will never forget our student days in this high school. And so now, we, the Class of 1925, wish to bid farewell to our principal, our teachers, the Board of Edu- cation, and our fellow students. ISABELLE A. DOWNEY. SALUTATORY Tonight, on the eve of our graduation, we have reached the height toward which we have been steadily striving. For four long years we have looked forward to this hour which would mark the end of our High School course. The journey has not been an easy one. Sometimes it has been calm, more often stormy and perilous. But now, our goal, by hard work and diligence, has been gained; and so, in behalf of the Class of 1925, I bid you, the Board of Education, our parents and friends, a most cordial and hearty welcome. OUR TRIP TO WASHINGTON “Twenty-one, twenty-two-Is that Andy Veck in the far corner over there with Edna? Yes? Twenty-three—and, now, where is Joseph? Ah, out on the back platform already! And before the train is fairly out of Penn Station! Oh, I see ... . girls out there .... urn! Well, I guess we’re all here, conductor,” Mr. Sabine sighs long and loudly as he seats himself within easy shouting distance of Isabelle, Alice and the fair Helens. The Southampton High School Senior Class is off for Washington on the 12:10 train out of Pennsyl- vania Station, Saturday, April 11, 1925. There is a busy hum of voices throughout the car, everyone is excited and on tip-toe with enthusiasm— everyone that is but Warren K. V. H., who is slumped way down in a remote seat trying to catch a few long lost 40 winks. You never can excite those East Quoguers, you know! The lively strum of a “uke” is heard somewhere in the far distance and—but what is that streak of greased lightning? Oh, yes, Willard in search of the musicians, of course! Daisy is busy cornering Bridge players and trying to flirt with Sidney Payne at the same time, but of course that’s useless. What’s useless? Flirting with Sidney, of course. But wait, Mr. Onlooker, just you wait, and if I’m not mistaken .... well, still waters run deep. One whole, fleeting, joyful hour elapses .... passes away into eternity .... and there is Sidney, calmly sitting in Warren’s place beside the demure Peggy serenely offering her on“-quarter of a nice, big, fat, rosy apple. Mr. Sabine tried very hard to photograph this pretty domestic scene but unfortunately the apple hid their faces and the picture produced showed a total blank from the neck up-. A bustle, a stir, a groaning of brakes. “Wash-ing-ton!” bawls the con- ductor. All hurry to set foot on the Promised Land. Roger Stewart is last,— the blame is placed on Greenport High School. But, where are all the male members of this crew? After a hurried search in every far corner of the station Mr. Sabine decides that it is best not to worry unduly abcut their mysterious disap- pearance. He remarks from long experience: “Km, well, boys will be boys.

Page 14 text:

THE LAST STRAW EDITORIAL For years the classes which have gone before us have been accustomed to leave behind them a class book. Fiom cur own exped ience in high school, we realize that we have little idea of, rr mall conee n with those classes which have been. From our narrow human viewpoint, we associate with our idea of high school only those whom we knew and mingled with which we, ourselves, were students. Our eyes are likely to be shut to the fact that when we were romping children, other seniors as capable as we, were being graduated as we are today. When we gaze about the halls and class rooms, how often do we associate with them those long departed classes, or how often do we picture the mem- bers of those classes, studying as we study, thinking as we think, enjoying that which we enjoy? We are aware of the truth and reality of this, and, while at present, every one of us is looking forward with the eagerness of youth to that which life may hold for him, still we disdain not, at the same time, to devote, at parting, a little consideration to the only thing which we leave behind us, our memory. To us these four years of high school have been a world within itself. Here we have practically lived, labored and enjoyed ourselves. Here have been our trials and tribulations, our ambitions and our joys. Here, we hope, are many of our friends. High school life, like life itself, is an ever-moving parade which enters at the bottom and leaves at the top. Soon, we of today, will be a column far, far in the distance and right behind us will be the whole little world which we connect with our high school life. The teachers change, the pupils change and all that remains the same is, perhaps, the school itself. So we hope that this little book will help to keep fresh our memory when the class of ’25 will be known only as a numeral in the long list of Time’s consecutive roll. Perhaps, too, it will be of interest to the future student, who chancing upon a copy, will see the fun, characters and scandal of our high school days. It is almost our last undertaking as seniors and everything in it is given with a hearty parting good will. May you find it agreeable and interesting, and worthy of a class which looking toward the future—may it be radiant for all of us—take our farewell from high school like Byron from England: “With a sigh for those who love us, And a smile for those who hate, And whatever sky’s above us, With a heart for EVERY fate.” WILLIAM B. PLATT. VALEDICTORY We, the Class of 1925, are here tonight as participants in the event which has been our aim these last four years. Four years—it seemed a long time when we looked ahead—but those years have rolled by swiftly and now on the eve of our graduation, it seems as if it were only yesterday that we first entered high school. We have gained much in the years we spent here. We have not only gained the knowledge of those things which we go to school to learn, but we have learned something of our responsibilities and our duties that shall fit us to be better citizens. We did not accomplish this by ourselves but under the kindly guidance of our teachers who have instructed us in the right paths and to whom we are truly grateful.

Page 16 text:

12 THE LAST STRAW I guess they’ll be all right. Let’s go to the hotel, girls.” The girls seem very much worried but obediently start for the hotel. When they arrive the worn, worried look is for a moment erased by the thrill of the “One and Only” elevator. Even Courtie Smith afterwards agreed it was the only elevator of its kind which he knew to be in captivity. For the girls, the next hour was crammed to the brim with excitement. The tele- phones were experimented with; there were hurried consultations and many trips to and from and in between the various rooms. Dark plans for the evening were being discussed—and the boys had not yet put in an ap- pearance! With dinner came the boys. It was inevitable, of course. With the one came the other. It was noticed, too, that during their mysterious hour’s absence and wanderings they had acquired masks of innocence which were consistantly worn for the remainder of the trip. We say “masks because, well, no matter how innocent those be s may sefim—we go to school with them. The boys had formed conspiracies, it seemed, and several drifted about by themselves not only that evening but the others also, probably with the dark intent of visiting the various “dp »s of iniquity” (otherwise known as shows) which Senator Platt had told them of. It was to be noted, however, that most of the male sex showed a deeded preference for the female of the species, and in unexpected channels, to-»! (Ask Catherine McAllister, if you don’t believe us). t With dinner eaten, Mr. Sabine is next viewed conducting the major por- tion (the females) of the class to the Congressional Library, Senate House, House of Representatives, and other points of interest. About nine o’clock the party breaks up and various shows and places of amusement are sought. Several hours elapse. The members of the Southampton High School Senior Class should all be tucked snugly in bed and sleeping the sleep of the just. And they are, to all intents and purposes! However, with an all-seeing telescope one may spy Alice Malone sha'ing an orange with her crony, Josephine; To-Do holding a last-mirute conference on one of the fire escapes with two “st ange” girls; Willard b ibing a bell-hop for a sandwich; Lillian Bennett discussing future “heavy” dates with her room-mates, and Courtie Smith writing a lengthy letter to his mother. Early Sunday morning finds the various members of the gang just finish- ing a hearty breakfast. That is, all but Joseph Ph llips He is not accus- tomed to such early rising, you know. Then a Dusy day is begun in earnest. Big sight-seeing buses have been charte'ed and take the class to see the sights. It was noticed a certain member of the class (from East Quogue) showed a ve y special liking for those interestin er—, buses. Some of the membe s of the class show the usual religious fervor and attend church but due to the gnawing pangs of hunger several are forced to make an embarrassing exit and then a wild dash for the hotel before the services are concluded. All the sights, great and small which are to be seen in the short space of th ee days are seen by this class, it is thought. Each night finds them foot- sore and wea y but game to the last. Several of the more ambitious of the crew even climb towering Washington Monument. (Tabelle Downey did not). With Tuesday afternocn comes a memorable trip down the Potomac River to visit Washington’s home. He'e the members of the crew are photographed in order that ea’h and every one might have an immotal record of his or her inspired countenance. Due to the fa t that Do-Dc’s face usually docs register an “inspired countenance,” he thinks it a waste of time to be photo- graphed Then, too, he is very busy just at this moment. Can’t you see he is, Mr. Sabine? Gi'Is—um—yes, girls--------! “It’s th-ee o’clock in the morning,” says a certain well-known song and it