St Josephs University - Greatonian Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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THE GREATONIAN 1934 human, the thought may have done its share of slipping. lt may have become slightly concealed for a short time, being buried beneath pressing social engagements of one kind or another. t lf your studies should seriously interfere with your social life, discontinue your scholastic pursuits accord- ingly. --Shakesbeeri But such slips on our part were hastily called to our attention by slips of another color fond kindi. They come from the Dean and are called fan mail. They are invitations to come to his office at your earliest convenience, i.e., the moment of recdlng. And so to the Dean's office you saunter in your most rapid strides. Old times are discussed fthe times you were doing so well scholastically and not sociallyl along with the future. Just a hint of the future, but, alas, how dismally it is painted! And then we suddenly see the light, we are dismissed. Seriously, upon graduation, we earnestly extend him our gratitude for those sincere, but at that time, not too pleas- ant, warnings, They have brought us successfully through many storms. During Junior, or the Vice-Presidential year, we looked at the Seniors and privately soliloquized lwhile not wondering how people ever coined phrases such as the beauty of philosophy, the simple truth, et cetera, et ceteral how we would run things next year. And then, all too soon, next year came and we discovered that, when we did try to run things, we were falling into ,the same mistakes. Not as easy as it had looked! And every once in a while we'd experience an odd, sinking feeling inside when we suddenly became aware of ourselves discussing what should be done next year. There would be no next year for us, not at St. Joseph's! To this strange internal sensation, add the feeling aroused by Psychology and you have a composite picture of the i934 Senior-and any other Senior studying Psychology anywhere. ln extra-curricular activities, l934, as we have intimated, was well represented. Many a scoop for the Hawk was dug up by an embryo reporter from the class tincidentally, we have a Win- chell in our midst, and while we're at it, a Bernie, tool and during our last year many a vigorous, yet simple, editorial demonstrated the sure touch of the clear thinking Senior. And it must be remembered that it was during our brief term upon the collegiate cosmos that the Hawk made its greatest strides. Much praise is due the ardent newspapermen amongst us who helped in this advancement, ln comparison tor is it cont'rast?l with the Hawk, the interest displayed in the Crimson and Gray, the literary publication of the College, was not so commendable. tOr was it?l l-lowever, several aspiring story-tellers, essayists and poets developed in our ranks and they made up, by the weight of their compositions, for the shyness of the rest of us, Our representation in the Cap and Bells was always large, and in Senior year, the popularity of The Tavern to play and one of George M. Cohon's finestl proved the true ability of these our actors. Hail to theml Villiger, too, must have its due, for there were some lmuch more than a fewl from this great class who liked to talk. The subject? That didn't matter. They were our oramrs, our linguistic matadors. l-lail to them! for the cynical way they always could say- Our Worthy Opponents. Of our athletes you will read much more, later in this book. ln the brief space that we have at our disposal, it suffices to say that we are proud of them. For, when the road is easily traversed, the other side is readily gained. But, when difficulties are met and overcome by a winning or losing team, when some of the games lost are really the brightest victories, we can do nought but honor them, b Socially speaking, the Class of l934 was truly collegiate, lt always thronged the affairs of the College land the affairslof several other colleges within reasonable cruising distancel. The Senior Boll was, for the thirty-fourth time, the ultimate. the Zenith, the Quintessence. We really thought it was quite nice, tWhat a let-down, eh, Edgar?l Likewise, Junior Week, the Junior Prom, the Thirty-six

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1934 THE GREATONIAN txt G3 Jeremiah J. Collins Joseph P. Devine William J. Kane Vincent E. Flaherty Secretary President Treasurer Vice-President Class History EFORE proceeding into a lengthy recitation of the l-listory of the l93Al Class, we may as well reveal that it isn't to be a history. The title is a misnomer, used simply because it is the traditional title of the few paragraphs which are always placed before the handsome photo- graphs of the graduates. lYes, the adiective has been thoughtfully placed in the correct grammatical positionl This will not be a true history because history, in the usual sense of the term, means a story of the lives of great men, a recounting of great movements, of the evolution and advancement of civilization, and we, who are about to set forth into this cold world, have no Caesars nor Charle- magnes amongst us lor, if present, they are still a bit reticentl nor have we produced any Crusades or Revolutions. Neither can the change of some seventywfive adolescents from the blithe and irre- sponsible stage of chocolate sundae-loving youngsters to the grave and gray-beard status of college graduates be considered, even by one so biased as a class historian, as an important phase in the evolution and advancement of civilization. But to state our topic affirmatively: we shall just saunter along in a reflective, but not too serious, mood and reminisce about the four happiest years of our life, ln the good old days when we were Freshmen, lAhl what a thought'l we were naive enough to take the glowermg Sophomore: seriously, yet, at the some time, we were sufficiently inflated with our own self-importance to think that St, Joseph's College was built especially for us. Happily, by the time we were Sophomores, both of these amusing ideas had been lost' tat least, we' claim we lost' them, although we may have been freed from the latter rather gently with only a slight application of pressurel and we had awakened to the fact that we could have a grand time if we expended a little effort in our own behalf. As a result, the numerals '34 began to appear more and more frequently in the lineups of the varsity teams, on the masthead of the Hawk, on the editorial board of the Crimson and Gray, on the rolls of the Villiger Society and the Cap and Bells Club. Al' the same time, we never allowed that noble thought, to be educated and subsequently to attain a Degree, to slip completely from our minds. its reign was supreme. Of course, since we are only Thirty-five

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1934 THE GREATONIAN Sophomore Sport Dance and the Freshman Tea Hop of the Class of l934 were the most brilliant successes of any class in the history of St. Joseph's College--until next year's class historian begins to spread his superlatives across the page, But, we shall see, we shall see. All of which may sound slightly cynical, lt isri't meant to be, for we simply refuse to take Q Class History seriously, Besides, this whole book is an illustrated history, so why should we attempt to compress it all into a few hundred words. lThe editor wouldn't let us use any picturesl But we could have been serious, although, if we had written seriously, we would necessarily have been either emotional, critical or banal, and, at twenty-one, one's emotionalism too easily becomes sentimentalism, which, in turn, would be ludicrous. Again, if we had written critically, we would still be twenty- ona, and at that age, criticism is more often caustic than critical. Our only serious alternative was banality, and at twenty-one, one strives to be different. iParcdoxical, Horace?l And so, gentle reader, we must close this History of the Class of I934, iOr did we agree to disagree on that word history ?l We must close, not because there is a lack of events and accomplishments to disclose to you, not because we lack the proper medium of expression, but because our editor has not allowed us sufficient space for a worthily extended narration. Ah! theres the rub. The editor! he's the rubiel. But human nature is that way. We must blame our troubles on somebody, so why not the editor? His shoulders are broad ihe'll be glad to hear thatl and he can take it. So adieu, gentle reader, adieu. Dedication of The Lonergan School of Mechanics Thirty-seven