St Margarets Academy - Dayseye Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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TJ ST. M A K N l-.T'S A C. !) I ! V . M I N N F. A I O I.IS, M I N N . conducted under the name of G. Hirt N. Jennings, Dancing Academy—Learn How To Trip the Light Fantastic. Norine and Genevieve were always good people to carry on a conversation with, so during my visit I learned very many interesting things about my one-time school-mates. They told me that every one in the class had risen high in the world and made a name for herself, but none hail risen so high as hail Celeste McCabe, she having just purchased an airplane. Of course I was very much impressed with all the high positions my friends held; but I thought that out of that large class there must have been some who chose the better part of life. I inquired if this was not so, and to my over-whelming surprise 1 was told that my erst-while vivacious companion Catherine McDonough was doing Missionary work in China; that the “peppiest girl in the class, Marie Gross, was now Mother at St. Margaret’s; and that Marion Halloran is trying in some small measure to fill the place of our capable Knglish teacher, and is trying to teach the present Seniors the difference between a Villanelle and a Ballade. We discussed poetry for some time and then my friends informed me that some of our Irish lassies had such a longing to kiss the Blarney stone that they went abroad and are now living on the “old sod”. They are Loretta Ryan, Mary O’Donnell, Mavbelle O’Brien, Marie Martin and Vera Meehan. I always knew that some day F.rin’s shores would beckon to these young colleens. I had spent most of the afternoon gossiping and keeping my guide waiting so I rook a hasty leave of my sociable companions and started on my return journey through the large building. I had not gone far, however, when I was tapped on the shoulder and I heard some one say, Hold still, I beg of you hold still. This is the rarest specimen I have ever seen. After removing something from my shoulder, the person allowed me to turn around. I saw a large pair of horn-rimmed glasses, a hat that exposed all of a high intelligent forehead, and a beaming face that expressed to me the woman’s gratitude. Haven’t I seen you before?” I asked. Possibly, possibly, but this is the rarest specimen— I cut her short for I had recognized in her Melba Greene. Ah Melba! Science has you in its thralls. I diverted her from the subjects of spccimans for a while, and she told me that Mary Katherine Keenan was a teacher of Economics at the I niversity anil that Mary Frances Delany had a Ph. I), and a I). S. C. attached to her name. I left her and entered the car, and instructed my guide to take me to a cafe as it was lunch time. As I was a lx ut to seat myself at the table I noticed Margaret McGill across from me, engrossed in some papers. I joined her and learned that she was a journalist on one of our prominent papers. She showed me an article that she had just been reading. The name of it was “Grand Opera and Minneapolis” 128)

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S T. MAR Ci A R K T S AC A 1) F. M V, Ml N N K APOI.IS, MINN. Qlass Prophecy. Marguerite LeRoy THE ever-fairhful cock crew; but in vain. I had risen hours before and was now prepared for my day’s tour of my old home Minneapolis, happy in the prospect of renewing old memories and acquaintances. I breakfasted and hired a cab for the day. I was a little undecided as to what course I would pursue, but I trusted to chance to guide me. As I stepped into the cab, I turned to the driver to give my instructions. 1 gasped, stuttered, and finally outstretched my hand, for my driver was no other than my old schoolmate Marie Casey. She was my oasis in the desert, for she knew just exactly where to find all my friends of by-gone days. She mentioned an unfamiliar place of business where, she said, I would find a number of former acquaintances. I requested her to take me there. My destination being quite a distance away, I secured a paper to while away the time. My eyes wandered aimlessly over the Editorial sheet until a long, drawn out poem attracted my attention. “Mortal and Immortal’’ was the name of it, ami the author was—Harriet Putnam. Oh Harriet! You had found your place in the clouds. I turned to the front page attracted by the large head lines— “K. REYNOLDS NOMINATED FOR UNITED STATES SENATOR BY DEMOCRATS!” The article went on to say that Miss Reynolds was a Minneapolis girl whose business ability anil political maneuvering had led her to this exalted position. Fame, thy name is Eleanor! Rudely awakened from my reverie by shouting from the street 1 bade my friend-driver stop and I got our to find the cause of the disturbance. I pushed my way through the crowd and finally reached the foot of a stump on which was standing—I.ucille Campbell, talking—talking—talking—. “Down with Profiteers!” rang in my ears. I lingered for a short time to listen to the rest of that famous speech. After a while she noticed me and gave me a passing nod which cut short the cry on my lips. I instructed my guide to wait for me on the corner and entered the business building she had directed me to. As 1 passed along the corridors I noticed a sign that ran thus: MEAGHER CO., Inc. Try our new reducing system. Guaranteed loss of 4 lbs. a day. After indulging in a good laugh over this, I took an elevator to the second floor to see if 1 could unearth any more of my old friends. I was not disappointed, for I soon found myself waiting in an ante-room for the managers of a business 1271

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S T. M A K (, A K K T S A C A I) K M V , M I N N K A P O US, MINN. a and ir went on to tell of Miss Geraldine Lawrence who had recently been made Prima Donna of the Chicago Grand Opera Company, and of the Misses Ruth Burns and Margaret Gearty who had risen to such prominence in the ranks of the Metropolitan Grand Opera Company. I exchanged confidences with her a little and told her of the recent meeting I had with Colletta Frankman and Gwendolyn Guernsey, both of whom were “Movie Queens”, and she told me that Catherine Hoy, the noted actress, was to appear that evening at the Metropolitan in a new play. She was going because she was a critic and I promised to join her. “Bur”, I asked, “are all my schoolmates Bachelormaids? “By no means”, she answered, “Catherine Watychowicz is the wife of a prominent physician and Marie Allard, Angela Bihl and Evelyn Brombach all are prominent society matrons. They all attended a week-end party given recently in honor of the election of the new woman Mayor who, as you probably know, is the Honorable Susan Leighton.” At this point our conversation ended rather abruptly—owing to the fact that our food had arrived. After lunch I returned to Marie and the cab and she suggested that I go to the City Council room to see Florence Kenefic, who is Secretary of the Council; but I decided that, much as I desired to go, 1 had not time. While we were rather aimlessly riding along we passed a Hospital. Walking around, arm in arm, I discerned three white-clad nurses whom I seemed to know. We stopped and I approached them. Surprised and delighted, I found that they were Neil Fitzpatrick, Helen Ciesla and Genevieve Behles. After they had overcome their astonishment at seeing me, they all started at the same time to tell me that Margaret kauth and Evelyn Wallace, both of whom are social Service workers, had received severe injuries in an automobile collision and were inmates of the hospital. After visiting the patients I returned to the waiting car. Curious to see how my native city had grown in art appreciation, I told my guide to drive to the Art Institute. The place was magnificent! I passed from room to r x m reveling in the beauty. Finally I entered a room in which were huge portraits of grand dames. I scrutinized them one by one until I reached one more gorgeous than all the rest. My guide laid a hand on my arm. Don’t you recognize her: she asked. “Hardly . She is the former Blanche Deslauriers who married a French Comte. The portrait is by the famous artist Evelyn Jennings.” My brain was awhirl with beauty as I again sought the street. I took leave of my old friend and dismissed the car, deciding to walk for the remainder of the time. After a short time 1 noticed a large electric sign that said,“Mae Greene’s School 129)