Textile High School - Loom Yearbook (New York, NY)

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TYPICAL paObLEMb m THE ADT CLAi)5Ei FAt)H10N DCAWING J.KIDA TEXTILE DE.51C7H E:.l]UTrEi A PCftOD SKETCH INTEfiloa-W5UBMEI5TEa ILLUbTKAT! ON • N , GATTl i

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A FOUR-YEAR PATTERN Time, the dreamer, pauses for a moment in his endless progress and ponders with the Class of June 1934, the class that also dreamed. They turn back the pages of history to 1930, and delve into the misty past of four years ago. Only then does the Graduate discern how precious were the incidents of his school career and how fleeting. The memories of the first term are obliterated by the recollection of a vivid second term, in which Red La Rocca and Larry Bleach captured the basketball and baseball championships. They recall the superb playing of these heros. During that term Textile also annexed the fencing championship, hiere the graduate beams with gratification as he reminisces. The same term the students entered the por- tals of the new Textile hHigh School, and they were thunderstruck by the immense proportion and spendid equip- ment of the edifice. They turn the pages rapidly to February 1933. During this term winsome Aimee Wenzel was nominated to run against Cornelius Sullivan for the presidency of the G. O. Sullivan won the election, but the en- trance of a girl in the run for such an important office set a new preced- ent. A few weeks later Textile entered the swim and drained its con- tributions into the Roosevelt Pool Fund while Mr. Guillot acted as host to a galaxy of swim stars, at a monster water carnival staged in the school pool. The following term found capable Connie Sullivan as president of the G. O. for the second time. This marked the period of very scholastic achievement by the now sophisticated junior. The Graduate pauses as he looks back over his last term of school, the term that Is most distinct in his mind. He sees the events expose themselves In rapid succession. There were various activities that were the highlights of the term — the Senior Prom, Class Nite, and the climax of four years at Textile, — the symbol of dreams — Graduation! Time, at graduation, accepted the class as part of himself. Time, always the prophet, forsaw a great future for the Class of June 1934. The members of it would make history, they would become the leaders of the world to-morrow, — the artists, builders, scientists and philosoph- ers. You are masters of your own destiny , said Time. Make the most of it. Class of June 1934. The world depends upon you!

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HAS IT HAPPENED TO YOU? It was a beautiful April morning and the students were pouring into the gates of Textile hHigh School. Conrad Crammer, dragging his unwilling feet towards the gaping portcullis, was awakened from his stupor by the late bell ' s loud and sudden alarum, hie rushed into the building, fled down the long hall, and precipitated himself breathlessly into his section room in time to answer the roll call. After a few blissful minutes of luxurious rest at his desk, he entered the English room with a dream of spring upon his brow and a vision of hope in his eyes. That dream of spring upon his brow turned into a cold sweat. The vision of Mrs. Frost, the English teacher, reminded him of the unpleasant fact that his homework was unprepared. Conrad Crammer was not to be dis- turbed by such a trifle, for was he not a descendant of a long line of dis- tinguished Crammers? Withi a smile not to be outdone by Mona Lisa in mystery, nor by the Poles in Arctic chill, Mrs. Frost ominously rapped upon her desk for the attention of her pupils. The air was electric with apprehension. We shall resume our play by Shakespears , she said. Conrad sat grinning at his place in the rear of the room. That grin was his Water- loo. Crammer , she said, recite the passage I asked you to memorize. Confidently Conrad rose from his seat. He knew his stuff. Yes, sir! Wasn ' t he reviewing it in his mind right now? He knew it up to the very last word. He hemmed and said er-er like a veteran orator. He coughed discreetly into the palm of his hand. He could feel the words crowding his throat, but they wouldn ' t pass his larynx. No words came. Poor Conrad. Alas! All the Crammers, their ghosts lining the wall behind him, were weeping, dumbly entreating. Can you picture it, dear reader? He opened and closed his clenched fists, already wet with clammy perspiration. His left eyebrow twitched involuntarily and noth- ing he could do, would stop it. His mind was a blank. He felt blank and he was wondering why In the blank did he forget the blankety-blank thing? Mrs. Frost ordered him to sit down. He sat down; In fact he collapsed. {ioiuinucd)