St Johns High School - Blue Devil Yearbook (Darlington, SC)

Page 33 text:

Our next scene was in the basement of High School. The tragedy of the year was the division of the boys and girls. Despite this separation, J. L. managed to visit the girls one day through the rear window. He went out through the door, looking as if he preferred a hole in the floor. Early in this act Johnson Putney, our star actor, entered. Perhaps it was the afore-mentioned division that made this scene the longest and dullest of the play. Now, the freshman. Full of strange tricks to try the teacher’s patience Laggard in work, sudden and quick in mischief, Seeking the bubble amusement, Even at the whip’s point, And his giggling sister, all hands and feet, Jealous of honors—aspiring to out-wit Her clownish brother. Never had vve felt so little, so insignificant, so utterly useless as when we first stepped upon the stage of high school life. However, we bravely faced the audience and bluffed through somehow. 1 he entrance of plump Dora Mae broke the monotony of the situation. Examinations, too, lent variety and shattered the hopes of many players. And then the sophomore, In new long pants with lean legs lined; With eyes for maidens fair and not for books, And the sophomoress, With downcast eyes and smiles beguiling. We now thought ourselves professionals—sophisticated, wise, not vain, but proud, independent, important! Indeed we had all the qualities befitting sophomores. Cupid winged his way into this scene and led offstage, a blushing maid. Hut two came to fill her place—Lyda Lvles and Marion Ware. So thrilling did this act prove that we were reluctant to make our exits. The sixth age shifts Unto the lean, athletic junior, With down on lips, and hair well brushed. His youthful voice, ill-trained, a world too loud, And turning into manly bass. And the damsel, more secure in self-assurance, With rouge on cheeks, penciled lips And compact ever in hand. Oh! what an act! Each scene a thriller! New actors, too—(Irate. Ray. Lilia, Jesna, Emma, Tallie, Marion Durant. Perhaps the scene standing out brightest in our memory is that of the picnic. With the Seniors as co-actors, dryads were there and blind cupid, while father Neptune lured us into the shining waters. Who of us would not play again on such a stage?

Page 32 text:

Chronicles All the school’s a stage, and all the pupils merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one child in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Pulling and jerking at his mother’s hand As she leads him on to the stage. Frightened little players were we, huddled in Miss Carrie s room that bright September day. Before long, however, we began to observe rules and learned to play our simple roles—but not for keeps! Well do we remember the day when, for the first time, some of our number were kept in; how we hated to go home, leaving Mary Hill and Rachel behind! By September, 1916, all the newness had worn off and we were proud to take part in the next scene! Charles joined us now, a curly-haired little actor who proved very popular with the cast to the end of the play. Third grade was the year of the Great Plague. None of us escaped. 1 was hard on Elizabeth Hyman to be kept in after two weeks quarantine for spelling the disease Rosa Iola.” Thus with broader experiences and thinner legs we shuffled off the stage, as the curtain fell on the third scene of the act. Then the whining boy with satchel And shining morning face creeping Unwillingly to school. And the laughing girl, With lunch-basket in hand, Skipping happily to school. The theatre of school life was now a reality—a hideous reality to the boy who preferred marbles and tops; a pleasant one to the girl who liked to play to an audience. Ruby joined us this year; J. L., too, who played the part of clown to perfection—a role which has ever won for him loud applause from the gallery. Fifth year, the last scene of Act II, was rather a melodrama. Do you remember the tragic scene—when we elected to go to a fire across the creek without permission? We went only to the trestle, but Mr. Daniel met us there. The penalty was conning lines in chapel thirty minutes daily fer a week. This year a pretty little boy (Harry Gilbert, by name) joined the cast a d did his part toward making our act successful. Then the sixth and seventh graders Freckled faced lad with rag on toe; And lanky lass with here and there A missing tooth. Proudly wc entered the stage for the first scene of Act III a new theatre - St. John’s High School. However, most of us made frequent return-trips to the old theatre, bearing little yellow slips bespeaking failures. Here, Senie first shed the light of her presence—anti her hair—upon us. Another addition was Marion Siskron. Thus, with dear Miss Dargan, as prompter, this scene came to a successful end.

Page 34 text:

 Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is seniorites and folly colossal, Sans brains, sans poise, sans thought, sans everything, Hut self-conceit. (Classmates—Hill Shakespeare made me say that. 1 don’t mean it.) Thus the curtain rose for the final act. Amid excitement and joy there is mingled a tinge of regret and sadness. Honors? Certainly! The distinction of making our entrances and exits through the front door; of entering with the faculty, leaving the gaping undergraduates outside; of spreading our Hullctins upon the walls of the stage; of making the Echoes of the happy past ring forever; of being the envied of school- mates and the pride of teachers. Our teachers! When we try to describe them, the English language (despite M iss Marshall’s training) proves inadequate. Think of each in turn—our scholarly Superintendent, who is yet not too lofty to enter into our trials and frolics; Miss Brunson, whose exquisite influence permeates each activity of St. John’s High, a principal whose interest, love and sympathy arc felt by every one of her students and faculty members, everywhere and on every occasion; witty, lively, fascinating Miss Marshall, the best English teacher ever! Patient, sweet Miss Brooks, who never hurt the feelings of the worst of us. Ne le pensez-vous pas? Our good pal, Miss Pettis, who made us know and love our country; Miss Rikard, kind but determined, cheerful, yet serious, school-spirited to the finger tips; Coach Thomas, who led us from the valley of despondency to victorious heights; the original Mr. Cobb—the peppiest cheer leader who ever yelled for St. John’s; our home maker, Mrs. Dargan, efficient, systematic, accommodating; our peppy, enthusiastic song leader, Miss Wilson, “whose dimples and smiles would melt the hardest heart”: Mr. Gainey, tried and true, whose like “we shall ne’er look upon again”—with such prompters we played our several roles and to them we now express our gratitude. Fellow-actors, ’tis almost done. Two more scenes; the one in our amphitheater, the other in the new auditorium. There, each will receive his check—a big roll—and then make his last bow before the foot lights. Exeunt omnes—Curtain! —Ruth James, ’26.