St Andrews Seminary - Mapav Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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S A T O R Sixth Year Class History It was six years ago come next September that the present Senior Class Hrst planted its collective feet under the shaky desks in the old St. Andrew's, and cast its first timid glances upon the scenes which have since come to mean to much. What a different world it seemed from grammar school! Here one had his own locker and pew, and felt himself the master of his own little world. Those were the days of the hour' andfafhalf lunch period fof happy memoryj when the old campus used to resound with the eager shouts of the volleyfballers. But alas, we freshmen played little, because we neither owned the ball nor were we close relatives of the Presif dentffindispensable requirements for trodding those sacred courts. So we whiled away the time by dodging the sophomores fGod bless 'emj who took great relish in dunking hapless freshmen into the old horse trough, a custom long since abolished by the powers that be. Two things especially stand out in that first year: the Confcrf ences of Father Edelman, and the day of days! Mission Day. We know now that we owe much to those very practical talks which Father Edelman gave in the old Lady Chapel. And so the long Hrst year rolled by-fa year spiced with the first highfschool exams, the first retreat, and innumf erable Latin contest conducted by Father Vogt, Came the next September. Only a few wore knickers now, proof of the fact that we were growing up. Not many days flew by e'er we were face to face with Julius Caesar, which gentleman gave us many an anxious night as we followed his sallies up and down the three parts of Gaul. About this time, the City of Rochester decided to dig up half of Plymouth Avenue, and so se' to work with air hammers and compression drills just underneath our windows. The next three months are better imagined than described. This was the year, too, of the hotffoot craze and it was not an uncommon thing for the Rector to enter the library while some brave soul was un' der the tables, busily stimulating the circulation of a classmates foot with the aid of a few matches. Every Friday afternoon our cleaning brigade went forth to attack the old Cathedral. Rugs, fonts, candelabra, floors-nothing escaped us. twenty jAMEs COLLINS, '39 Now, alas, the old landmark is gone and we clean no more. Time Marches On!! When our squadron roared up the old steps for the beginning of our third year, it met some' what of a surprise. The schedule included almost everything, and we knew then that that year wouldn't be any cinch Greek, History, Algebra all stood staring at us. But then we had our moments of respitewmoments spent in our latest sport, eraserfthrowing. And a mighty white sport it was, too. About this time Bob Meng and Jack Leicht began their perennial discussion on 'kWhat is Cold? The issue hasn't been settled yet, alf though the boys are anything but cold in the presentation of their arguments. Perhaps, now that we think of it, that year was harder on the profs than it was on us. Our Greek teacher, Father Wurzer, was taken with appendicitisg Father Manley was stricken by a bad cold, Father Lyons had a case of grippcg but we just sat there and watched them go. By this time we had become thoroughly acquainted with the old Cathedral. Many were the Sunday Masses we sang in the stalls behind the altar. The memory of Midnight Mass in those familiar old seats is the thing which will not leave us soon. Now the stalls are gone and the old order changeth, yielding place to new, and we sing no more as in those happy days. Now at long last we were High School Seniors. But, alas, we learned something else- that there is more in pursuit than in possession. All the exalted glory and prestige that we thought naturally accrued to a senior were strangely missing, and we discovered that we were just another class. In that year, two new members came into our fold'-Dick Nangle of Auburn and jack Shepard of Elmira. We were the last High School seniors to tread those sacred halls. Now all is gone, vanished, nil. But the memory of that rambling brick edifice is something we will not willingly let die. We wit' nessed, too, in that year the last solemn Mass in the old Cathedral. The sound of that last Holy God together with the full voice of the massive organ is impossible to forget, it will always re' main a living reality to us. During that summer,

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N 1 9 3 9 some of us helped move to the present location. We are hopeful that that feat will make us somef thing of pioneers in the years to come. Came the next September. Now we had finally crossed that magical line we had heard so much about -the line that divided the High School from the college. Now we occupied the downstairs corridor and paid studied disregard to the petty happenings in the hall upstairs. After all, we said, a college man must have some regard because of the high position he occupies. But we soon forgot that line of thought after we were introduced to the microscope, the Bard of Stratford, Homer and Horace. When these were not occupying our attention we busied ourselves with dreaming of the day when we would be Seniors. In that year we were joined by Jack McCafferty of Geneva, who has since proven his worth scholastically. In that year, too, we produced a play, Old Wang, with very favorable results. But presently exams rolled around, june came and the Sixth Year departed to leave us the supreme lords of the school. In our Sixth Year, we welcomed to our midst Joe Lynch from Niagara U., who has now become as much a part of us as Vince Porter's jokes or Tony Rossi's hair tonic. The year rolled by ref markably fast, and leaves us now on the thresf hold, saying our last farewell. We performed all the requirements of Seniors - last banquet, last Mission day, etc. etefand at this writing have well nigh run our course. One brief laurel we claim for our class: we successfully revived SATOR, the old yearbook. We leave that as a lasting memento of the time when we were lords of our little domain in Saint Andrew's. And now as we pause to ponder on all the joys and sorrows of these happy years, we can honestly say that the course was well worth the running. There were dark moments perhaps, but they were balanced by a large share of very happy ones. And, of course, we cannot set down on paper all that we have taken from the school in the way of education, both mental and moral. Hence our last word as we go forth to conquer new worlds is a sincere prayer of thanks for all that Saint Andrcw's has meant to us. The Qld School A part of me the old halls of the school, The insistent bell, the groovenvorn wooden steps, The changing faces, once an unknown sea, and now So full of meaning that my heart circles round them Like the lines of shore circle round the seag 'They've been my life, these friendly faces and these walls The setting of a lovely dream. Here I have wept My tears, here built my hopesg here I have Fashioned me a mind for work. Here I have laughed And played and laughed again, and from the elements Of sob and song have built me a philosophy of life and love. And now it ends. New hands take up the work I leave undone. I am forgot. But worse than all forgetfulness Will be the hunger for the touch of hands I loved And for the sight of friendly heads that taught me, The listening in vain for old, familiar soundsg The aching loneliness that just our school can heal- The aching hurt that our school can cure .... fAdaptedj twentyfone