St Christophers School - Raps and Taps Yearbook (Richmond, VA)

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'r'W5mmmmmUm Ye Olde Prophecy Twenty Years After, or There Ain? N0 Future in This T IS Spring, 1957, and the artihcial flowers Cgrown by electricityy are blooming brightly on the spacious grill room of the new Hotel Wallie Simpson in Richmond. Your correspondent is sitting on an electric chair drinking a glass of Old Radio Q It will tear your tubes out j and reflect- ing on life in general. Old Radion is the most popular beverage on the market, and its maker, Mr. Rennolds Q Bill to youj, is staggering, no I mean swaggering, up and down the hotel lobby, followed by a host of photographers and newspaper reporters. But wait, who is that gent with the unruly hair, autographing baseballs over in the corner for a flock of kids? Why, it's none other than the old gent, Hutch himself, star hurler of the Yankees of 1957, who with his charming wife, Mabel, is playing host to an admiring throng. Suddenly a terrific crash of discordant music is heard in the distance, as Dave Greene, the mad maestro leads his lads into a stirring march QAndante Cantabile, opus 34 no 1,o72fy1, by Shousej. The famous orchestra leader's hair is even longer than it used to be when he went to school at old St. C. back in '37. In fact it's hard to tell whether he is really underneath it or not, except that every now and then a hand shoots out of the bushes, waves a stick, and the orchestra lapses into even worse discord. Two distinguished looking men in racoon coats arc sitting at the next table, yelling at each other to be heard above the music QPQ. They are from left to right Czar Reed, politician, cigar giver and baby kisser extraordinary and Frankenstein Dunham, boss of the numbers racket. They rise and disappear through the door, arm in arm, the Czar puffing heavily on a Domino, and Dunham waving his free arm in a mag- nanimous gesture that bodes ill for us poor suckers that play the numbers. Lefty Conquest, the Communist leader, and editor of The Red Rag fbanned in 48 states and Alaskaj now shambles up and bums a cigarette, two drinks, and five dollars from your bewildered correspondent, who has been hopelessly amazed by the arguments of Prof. Einstein Staples Qthe voice of reasonj. The Prof. has just been broadcasting his daily talk on

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JOHN MINOR NVOODWARD ORKNEY SPRING, VIRGINIA 15 yrfruzs' IIIISSIUIIIIVIY So1ri1'l3'J Lee Sn1'i1'lv,' S!'!'l'l'l!ITj', I.r'1f l.ilr'r1lry Soriely, '37: l lr'n lffmllmll Squnrl, 'zgg Iflm Ifnollmll 'l'1'rln1, '3o: junior Ifoollmll Squrul, '32: junior lfuollmll 'l'r'nm, '33: l nr.t'iIy Ifcmllmll Sllllllfl, 'gli l'lIl'Silj' Ifoollmll T!'IllIl, '35, '36: l'lIV.Yflj' Ifrtsltellmll 1'l'llllI, '36, '3'7: I I1'rt Ilrtswlmll I.t'ngu1', '29, '3o, '3l: junior lillxrlnflll 1lf'1IlIl, '32, '3fl. '3.1Z l rn'.vily lirlxelulll 'I'r'rrru. '36, 'fljl 'l'rur'l: 'l'r'uu1, '35, '3li. '37C Cnplnin, Track Tram, '36, '37: Monogram Club, '34, '36, '37: l'rr'.virI1'nl. Mmm- graut Club, '37: Slutlvnl Ilonm' Commillz'1', '371 I'rr'sirlw1l, Missionary Snriely, '37. OUR LAST Senior. And whatever ntay have been said of the others, we can conhdently say ol' VVoodward, he is the greatest Roman ol' them all. Fifteen years he has seen the dormitory lights go out and end another school day. During that era he has waxed strong in all the virtues that make a man and at the same time imparted to school life something of his own sell. Although not an especially serious student, Minor has never had over- much trouble with his schoolwork. I-Ie is in his prime, however, in any lform ol' athletic competition, being at present the only four-letter man in school. During the football season, he kept the spectators on the edges of their seats with his spectacular running and blocking and the utter abandon with which he threw himsell' at the opposing ball-carriers. His lootwork on the gym-floor throughout the basketball season stood the team in good stead. As a baseball player, he a sure-hitting outfielder, and in time ol' emergency, a pitcher. As for his attainments in track-let it suffice to say that he places high in over half the scheduled events of the track meets. Adios, John Minor. You came here, a childg you walk forth, a man. W

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Q 'ri Zigi? relativity and the 8th dimension, and is now being led gently but firmly out by his keeper, smiling benignly. Now, over I.he concealed microphone floats the golden voice of Bing lillett, Richmond's reward to winsome wenches. Your correspondent settles down to listen, when a harsh voice sounds in his ear, and turning, he faces T. Catesby QBarnumj jones, owner and proprietor of the world-famous jones, Famous Freak Show. The great T. Catesby is denouncing Boyd Q l'retty Boy j Taliaferro. the commentator with the machine gun voice. The show- 111an claims Pretty Boy said .Iones ought to star in his own show, while Taliaferro asserts T. Catesby offered his wife a life contract. They exit, arguing furiously. Dr. YVarren Vaughan, the surgeon with wandering knife. drifts past concealing a black eye with his handkerchief. He must have taken one candid camera shot too many. Luke Drury, successor to man-mountain Dean, strides past, flexing his mighty muscles and roaring like an enraged gorilla. He is sore because Smoocher Blanton, the playboy lover of the hour, has stolen his harem away. The Smoocher is on the other side of tl1e great room, surrounded by a bevy of beautiful femmes, who are mussing his hair and cooing to him. Perched on the chandelier is john Minor QTarzanj Woodward. He is in a mood, and has been up there for three days. No one knows why. The great acrobat stares moodily down at the people below QYour 'correspondent does not know' why all these old St. C. grads of '37 should be congregated in the lobby of one Hotel, but then this is a class prophecy, so you can't expect to get a history of the Marx Brothers, or why the Tigers won't win again this year.j Again the radio blares unseen This time it is Aunt Molly giving Real good advice to the lovelorn . But, boys, we will let you in on a secret. Aunt Molly is none other than Mr. Irving QPickj Knowles who really should know about women if any- body does. It is growing late. The electric lights are blinking out one by one, and still your correspondent sits and stares into empty space before him. Head janitor Wightman waves a broom at him hopefully, but he does not see it. The best janitor of the best hotel in Richmond tells him he had better go now, because the cops are coming to get Moody Xvoodward off the chan- delier and he might get hurt in the rush. This last stroke is too much, and your correspondent collapses into the insanity he has been verging on since the beginning of this article. He is dragged out flapping his arms, and crow' ing like a rooster. Time staggers on!