Tredyffrin Easttown High School - Garnet and Gray Yearbook (Berwyn, PA)

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CLASS WILL Wc. the Class of Nineteen Hundred and Fifty-one of Tredyffrin-Easttown High School being of decrepit body and admittedly questionable mind, do hereby execute, declare and publish this, our last will and testament. To the entire student body we do hereby bequeath: The Great Triumvirate: Smith. Sterling, and Nash. The hope that the tradition of a frustrating Senior Class be upheld in the years to come. To the Class of 1952 we do hereby bequeath: The Senior girls' lunch table. The refreshing trip to Room 26 in the middle of the morning. Our varied and sundry mascote.” The sometimes dubious distinction of being Seniors. The Senior seats in assembly. The Senior homerooms. Membership in the renowned Game Refreshment Committee. Many empty test-tube racks. To those underclassmen who have gained our special recognition, we, as individuals, do hereby bequeath: I. Dorothy Savage, bequeath my piano-playing ability to Barbara Repscha. I, Julia Gable, bequeath my athletic ability to Audry Vause. I, Lucy Quid, bequeath my talkativeness to Betty Potts. I. Ann Fosnocht, bequeath my love of cookies to any other glutton. I. Margery Motley, bequeath my old worn-out straight jacket to the next Norristown fan. I. Joan Burns, bequeath all my ability in little jobs to Helen Bowman. I, Charles Lee, bequeath my cross-country ability to John McCardcll. We. Ginnie, Barb, and Chris, bequeath our constant companionship to any deserving friends. I, Doris Houghton, bequeath my typing ability to Elaine Burns. I, Roscoe Clark, bequeath my love of cars to Bob Ramsey. I, Suzie Greeley, bequeath my toed-in walk to Arlene Melchiorre. I, Norma Slider, bequeath my interest in the state of Texas to Jerry Kenner. I, Bruce Mancill, bequeath my cheerfulness to Randy McAusland. I, Nancy Ward, bequeath my bluffing ability to any last-minute homework fanatic. I. George Weidenhammer, bequeath the Berwyn Taxi Service to Don Rosato. I, Robert Lenker, bequeath my bulk to Louis Alieva. I, Craig Wilson, bequeath my space in the parking lot to Anthony Ginnona. We. Ruth Norcini and Dave DeRafelo, bequeath our title of Class Couple to Jeannette DeSolis and Funzy Alieva. I, Elsie Stanford, bequeath my ability to antagonize Mile. B. to Harvey Matlack. I, Fred Norris, bequeath my chalk to Eddie Duffy. I. Fred Ballard, bequeath my singing ability to Bob McQuilkin. I. Occie Vause. bequeath my tranquil attitude to Guy Mitchell, with the hope that it will do some good. I, Sue Bryan, bequeath my drum-majorette ability to Evelyn DeMonte. We. the Senior members of the hockey and basketball teams, bequeath the back seats on the buses to those deserving members of the Class of '52. To the school, our much-loved T-E . . .we simply leave . . . Signed and sealed this seventh day of June in the Year of our Lord, one thousand nine hundred and fifty-one. Witnesses: Signed: Ann Fosnocht Nancy Ward Margery Motley Barbara Patton Diana Rafuse Christine Lewis Mary Gable 29

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CONRAD WILKINSON Devon Academic Personal Use Typing XII; Mixed Chorus X; Boys' Chorus X, XI. Plaid shirts . . . bet'cha a quarter they win . . . slight run- in with Miss B . . .Yea, Garth. CRAIG WILSON Strafford General Basketball XII; Baseball XI; Field Day Events XII; Vice-President XII; Homeroom President XII. ''Cat,'' who is well liked by everyone, came to us in his junior year from West Phillie. He is a great baseball fiend and is also a member of the gang.” GARTH WISE Malvern Academic Baseball X. XI. XII; Monitor XI. XII; Personal Use Typing XII. I’ll show her who’s boss . . . husky “star” actor . . . long- live Konstanty . . . that G.O.P. fan . . . those blackberry pies . . . Hey, Conrad . . . aw, gee, whiz! TRANSITION The halls are still The desks, all in a row. Like sentinels await A new invasion from another class. The seniors of today are gone; Leaving but a memory of their passing, A ripple on the tide of life. But more will come To fill the empty spaces Where we. of 51, once walked And once again the halls will ring With cries of seniors, happy in the knowledge Of following in our footsteps; Only to know the pangs of leaving Which we feel now, as parting From our classmates we go Into the stream of life. Margery Motley

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PROPHECY Long ago the town of Gloverville was a teeming metropolis. But today in 2033 it is a ghost town. All that remain are the gray facades of buildings, and one lone in- habitant, the cemetery keeper, George Weidenhammer. Years ago he had come to this town and made it his home. Now let us follow him as he makes his tour, perhaps for the last time, for George knows soon he will be at rest with his friends of a former year. He pauses near a gravestone covered with daisies, and smiles as he reads inscribed thereon. Give me plenty of room. I'm a Stanford.” Yep.” he said to himself. The best French teacher we ever had. Too bad Principal Smallwood had to fire her. Seems to me that was the year he died. Little matter of ground glass in his coffee. Hmm. the Lenker plot needs trimming. Wonder why they put 'Brutus' on his marker. Think for a good engineer they’d do more. Shame he and that Lee fel- low got killed when the Ramsay Memorial Bridge collapsed. Never did like that architect Clare that built it. Him and Harned were trying to gyp the Glover sisters' cement works. Serves him right. Fell out of a window a year later. Speaking of fall, ing. those two aviators. Mahaffey and Mancill, are buried here. Told ’em they’d get their necks broken if they didn’t watch out!” His glance falls on a well filled plot, and his face saddens. Too bad the De- Rafelo's had that fire. I told Ruthie if she let little Dave play with matches, he'd burn down the place. He did. And here’s that Skow girl's grave. She got lots of people when her laboratory blew up. Here are the graves all in a row. Norcini, Biondi, Franchini, Gross. Lynn, and Mann, to say nothing of her two assistants, Aherne and Rice. Didn’t think they’d ever stop that fire. Took the Crapo fire company two days. Nobody minded except the M. Motley-J. Gable Test Tube Factory. It ran them out of business, but meant a lot to the B. Boyer-M. Gable brick works. Won- der if they hired O’Donnell to set that fire. Jenkin’s cafe burned down in that fire. Lost the two best bartenders we ever had when Behrle and Vernon died. Shame that reckless bus driver McCann had to miss the curve that foggy nite, with all Ward’s musicians. Buried ’em in the same lot, in alphabetical order. Ballard, Donato. Fos- nocht. Marsh. Savage, and Warner. Guess that’s what scared away the Houghton chorus girls. Believe McGoldrick and Madden were too fidgety to ride, even if they did make Bill Clark driver.” As he wanders on, he comes to a huge monument, ornate with chanting cher- ubs. Here’s the statue the city put up to Doc Wise. Poor fellow, he did his best :n that flu epidemic. Couldn't save Walton. Wilson. Barbour, or McCreary, tho’ 30