St Philip High School - Statuette Yearbook (Battle Creek, MI)

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Last XV ill and Testament At the end of our school days, we the class of '49, having lately had a physical and mental check-up, and in the presence of trustworthy witnesses, hereby present this docu- ment as our Last Will and Testament. To Father Owens, we wish to express our sincere gratitude and prayers for the spe- cial interest he has shown and for his cooperation in our school affairs. To Father Nadrach, we wish to give our thanks for his untiring concern in both our social and religious life. To Father Hamilton, we leave our sincerest thanks for the religious education ob- tained by us through his earnest efforts. To the Faculty go our best wishes and deepest thanks for making it possible for us to graduate with high standards. I, Jeannette Thayer, reluctantly part with my long, red, Chen-Yu finger nails and bestow them upon joan Cvanka. Keep them as nice as they are, Joan. To Fred Smith, I, Jackie Black, leave my love of music. I'll be seeing you in Carne- gie Hall, shall we say in '55? I, Catherine Barry, lend my back seat to my sister, Margaret. Lend, that is, as I might be back some day. Take good care of it and don't miss speaking to any one that comes past. V I, Bill Becoske, will what I have, which is nothing, to someone who has something and will need nothing. To Robert Francisco, I, Melvin Herzing, stoutheartedly will my love of asking peo- ple Cespecially girlsj for fights and always finding a way to worm out of them. It's bound to make you popular with the weaker sex. I, Gemma Maddelena, shower my abundant knowledge in the field of baseball and its players to Shirley Fitzgerald. To Mary Atchely, I, Frances Mangan, leave my pleasant voice and quietness any time and anywhere. I, Greta McIntyre, intrust my extremely curly tresses Qeven on rainy daysj to Anne McKeon, you lucky girl you. As an added gift to you, my nickname Meatball, too. To Helen Manderino, I, Helen Renkes, will my so-innocent baby-blue eyes. I trust that the change from brown to blue will be appreciated. I, Connie Simonds, will my love for the A. BL P. store in Kalamazoo to Joan Burgie in hopes that she has better luck with the employees than I did. I, jack Sloma, hereby bestow upon John Jansen, my weakness for short, darkhaired girls. I have an extra dozen you can have if you acquire the same weakness. I, john Lesar, leave my black, shiny hair and collection of records to all music lov- ers. The hair is just an added attraction. To Mary Lou O'Reilly, I, Paulette Chimot, bequeath the tree in front of the HY . The city holds claim to it but I have a lease on it for another year and I won't be needing it. I, Lucille Bonke, reluctantly give my position as chief soda jerk to Harriet Schmitzer. To Janet Blaney, I, Mary Ann Conroy, will my long hair. I hope that you have better luck with long hair than I did. I, Lola Chubinski, bestow my love of Virgil on Colette Fletcher. Do you remem- ber Arma Virumque Canon? To Donna Mulgrew, I, Catherine Golubic, will my half filled shorthand notebook. I, Louise Manarin, fondly bestow upon my darling cousin Romeo, my distinguished position as clerk at the City Food. To Mary Donna Klukowski, I, Mona Sweeney, leave my wonderful gift of gab and my worn out shew gum . I, jean Kovach, bequeath my love of long bus rides to June Hudon. By the way, how much do they charge you? I, Virginia McCauley, unwillingly part with my newly acquired nickname, Cornelia McGillicuty , and bestow it on Al Kurzmann, hoping that it suits you well. 84

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To the Sisters True blue - that's what you've been to us, the Senior Class of St. Philip, all through our school years. You've taught us, prayed for us, counseled us, even scolded us a bit. Now we are looking back over those years of your struggle to impress us with the im- portance of a solid Catholic education as the foundation of our life here on earth, and our preparation for eternal life. We didn't always realize, during our school days, all that you Sisters were try- ing to tell us and do for us. Now, however, as we stand at the school doors, about to leave the routine of the classroom for the larger world beyond, we are beginning to understand some of the larger views you tried to give us. We do appreciate your tireless and selfless efforts on our be- half, even though we sometimes appeared thoughtless and unheed- ing. We thank you, Sisters, for all you have done for us. You may count on us to attempt, at least, to put into practice your admonitions, and live up to your expectations. We know that means real Christian living, no matter what or where we may be. You've done your best to give us a Catholic education. Now it's up to us to give to the world a Catholic adult, fully equipped to face life's problems. We ask you, Sisters, to continue your prayers on our behalf, that we may not fall short of what you and our Creator have a right to expect of us in the future. 83

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I, Jimmy Stevens, will my Model A, which like the Luck of the Irish has weathered through every storm safe and sound, to Gene Ismirle, I, Bob Coulombe, do hereby bequeath my ability to get a week behind in my home- work to Margaret Barry. To Norman Valmossoi, I, Rollin Huard, sorrowfully bequeath my expressive eyes and certain pictures in my wallet. I hope you acquire the split personality needed to appreciate them. I, Marian Coulombe, will my roller skating skill to Dorothy Mrozovich. To go with the skill, I'l1 throw in the skates. I, Tom Harris, leave my unequaled ability of always getting the best of an argument, no matter what the case, to Jim Bush. I, jerry Hudon, reluctantly give my prized crutches and all the girls who came swoon- ing after me to Eddie Morrison. CAS if the crutches had anything to do with itlj I, Ardith O'Connell, leave my fond memories of shorthand class to Mary Donna Klukowski. But try to sit where Sister can't see you. I assure you, you'll be happier. To Joan Rozell, I, Donna Loricaric, give my here-today-gone-tomorrow bangs. They brighten the monotony. To Romeo Zanetti, I, Joe Kauffman, leave my primary interest in life, which is women. just don't let them dominate you. I, Dick LeBoeuf, bequeath rhy rust-proof curling iron to Al Kurzmann. It certainly has come in handy. A I, Dick Zande, bestow upon Eddie Morrison, the ringing of the bell. I know you won't find it monotonous. I, Pat Kelly, part with my love of the outdoors, especially bushes, and my charming ways to jean Thomas. To Joan Burgie, I, Corinne Secord, will my job at Ligget's. I hope you'll like the change from candy to cigars. I, Gertrude Osborn, leave my blond hair to Marie McCann. With a tiny bit of por- oxidc you might do the trick. g I, Dick Ell, donate to Norman Valmassoi, my 51.00 pipe and empty tobacco can. I'm sure the smell will be appreciated by all. To John Jansen, I, Hank Finney, leave my job as class photographer and my accu- mulated light-bulbs. I have never yet found myself in the dark. I, Lizzie Martin, solemnly bequeath my high regard for the color red and my much too natural aptitude for finding myself in a pickle , to Jane Scanlon. To Jim Bush, I, Dick Haan, sorrowfully' relinquish the privilege of being the only boy fgentleman, that isj, in the English class. I'm sure you'll take advantage of your opportunities. I, Helen Wheeler, part gladly with having to tell those extremely talkative girls in the back of the room to be quiet. I, James Beeson, leave my painstakingly acquired innocent expression which, I as- sure you, has done its part in keeping me out of trouble, to my sister, Pat. To Gene Ismirle, I, Ray Latowski, will my seeming quietness which has fooled many. I, Dolores Shepard, bestow upon Pat Reilly, my dancing ambitions and flair for danc- ing Cwhich helpsj. To Dorothy Dykstra, I, Mary Margaret Calhoun, leave my glee club formal, which ranks foremost among my souvenirs. I, Nancy Gubry, would like to pass on to Julia Lemm, the know-how to get along on the dance floor. Why, even a rhumba won't stop you now. I, Sally King, bestow my enormous love of potato chips and excessive talkativeness to Betty Oversmith. Signed by - Senior Class of '49. Witnessed by-Fibber Mr-Gee and Molly. 85