St Margarets Academy - Dayseye Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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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)

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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. MARGAK K T S AC A I) K N1 Y . Ml N N E A ROUS. Ml N N of Athletics for Children.” Mae did not happen to Ik in but I inspected the building and found huge swimming pools, spacious gymnasiums and everything to make a child happy. 1 continued on my way, busily thinking. I thought of the rustle, bustle of rhe city and of the quiet calm and rest at the beautiful country estates of Laura Nlengelkoch and Marie Weiland, and wondered if after all they weren’t very sensible. I drew from my pocket a letter I had lately received from Alice O’Brien, who was teaching Knglish in Hawaii and who informed me that Georgiana Youngkin was also there, teaching the Hawaiians to typewrite. I was so wrapt up in my own thoughts that 1 wasn’t noticing where I was going. Suddenly 1 felt a terrible bump and looked up into two angry eyes that belonged to Irene Kasel. Irene, I found out, was a collector of antiques; a very lofty minded person. When we so abruptly collided she was on her way to the Thursday musicale, at which she said Margaret Gillis and Cecilia White were to play. Musicians! Artists! Teachers! Actresses! This was the strain that ran in my ears as I started on my way homeward. There were forty-nine in our class beside myself and I heard about or met forty-seven of them. Two were left! I wondered if I should meet them. I bis thought had scarcely entered my mind when, daintily holding their skirts, Florence Weis and Teresa Hanlon crossed the street to speak to me. Teresa was Madame Therese, rhe modiste, now, and Florence was one of her steadfast customers. Florence reigns over a very happy home. My day was complete! I reached my boarding place tired but happy, convinced that rhe Class of ’22 of S. M. A. makes rhe world revolve on its axis. They are all so wonderful, and I—I am just a rolling stone that once in a while rolls HOMF. m