University of North Carolina at Wilmington - Fledgling Yearbook (Wilmington, NC)

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' 95o cJne CJledgltng C f .sw Lrroph op i est As our giant bird lifted its glossy wings on its first flight to South America, I settled back in my seat and began reading the New York Times, now edited by a former college mate of mine, Gene Scoop Warren. I was delighted to see that my old friend. Steve Stei hanadis, had just scored another operatic triumph as Figaro in the Barber of Seville; and that Adelaide Wilson was appearing at Carnegie Hall in a most unusual performance— a combination ballet dance and flute solo. However, the greatest news came from our hostess, Erma Hall. She informed me that the Bob Westbrook Trans-Atlantic Bridge had been successfully crossed by Francis Foy and Deck Jordan. There was to be a huge reception in New York for the dare devils, with President Robert C. Hayes publicly acclaiming them as interna- tional heroes. Due to the new jet engine installed in our plane by Fred Sternberger. we arrived at the Buenos Aires airport two days behind schedule. I hailed a Rabunsky Cab and was very surprised to find the driver to be none other than Benjamin Lamb— so, three seconds later, I was at the Clayton Smith Hotel. Josh Hardison, the manager, saw me in the lobby and welcomed me to Buenos Aires. After resting a bit, I went down for dinner. The Saffo Room was exquisite— and crowded. But, eventually I was shown to a chair beside a young man who was intently writing what I finally surmised to be a feature story on how Dr. Lon Chaney Clewis, famous physicist and mathematician, had proved that a triangle is not a triangle at all. but a trisoctahedron. Even then, it wasn ' t until after we had given our orders to David Lockamy. that I recognized the reporter to be Carlton Rhodes. We re-acquainted ourselves and throughout the meal chatted about our old friends of Wilmington College. He was very happy to hear that the college now covers seven blocks and, though somewhat surprised, equally glad to hear that the Dean of Women is none other than Donald Blake. Neither had he heard that the five-story library building is under the supervision of Harriet Smith, nor under the able coaching of Jesse Hobbs, Wilmington College won the na- tional championship cup for hogging ping pong tables. After dinner, Carlton asked me to join him on his new assignment— a chess match at the McAllister ' s C and B ranch. I thought the idea was swell, so I went along. Claude wasn ' t home but Becky led us to the patio where we found the two antagon- ists, John Dickens and Glenn Bass, engaged in a mean battle of chess. John i nsisted upon consulting his slide rule and math tables before making a move, and Glenn, with the help of his crystal ball and ouija board, tried to kee, one jump ahead of him. 29

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of he c led g ling 1950 CLASS HISTORY (Continued) Dann, as most nonchalant; Adelaide Wilson, biggest flirt; Rebecca Near, most mischiev- ous; Lillian Carras, most likely to succeed; Adelaide Wilson and Robert Hodges, most original; Lillian Carras, most dependable; Rebecca Near, biggest baby; Adelaire Wilson and Steve Stephanadis, wittiest. Basketball Letters were awarded to the following boys at the Banquet: Glenn Bass, Harry Coleman, Tommy Dann, Donald Edwards, Bruce Hinson, Carl Mason, and Huck Moore. Coinciding with our College Banquet, the State Legislature meeting in Raleigh took five of our classmates, Adelaide Wilson, John D. Winters. Chris Blossom, Carolyn Wil- liams, and Gene Fales. Our second year at school brought additional Fledglings into our midst, and several of our old friends did not return to the nest. We again flocked together and elected Virgil Creech as our class President. Gene Jewell was elected Vice-President and John Dickens was elected Secretary-Treasurer of the class. Due to unavoidable circumstances, our President and Vice-President withdrew from office and we elected Gordon Blair as our new President and Frederick Sternberger as our new Vice-President. The members of our class who served on the Student Council during our second year were John D. Winters, President; John Dickens, Vice-President; Adelaide Wil- son, Treasurer; Robert Hayes and Jack Moore, Class Representatives. Gordon Blair, Robert Hayes, and Mary Frances Ellers represented our class on the staff of our school paper, The Seahawk; and our class was represented on the An- nual Staff by Claude McAllister, Adelaide Wilson, Harriet Smith, Mary Frances Ellers and Jack Moore. As we Fledglings approach the date of graduation, we are not quite as fearful as when we first entered the nest. As we prepare to leave our nest, we feel that we have truly sprouted our intellectual wings and are prepared scholastically and socially to fly to new horizons and to new goals. Robert Paul Marley, Mary Frances Ellers, Class Historians. 28

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' 950 cJne QJledglin il CLASS PROPHESY (Continued) It was an amazing game, but unfortunately I had to leave early and hurry back to the hotel to dress for a banquet given by Robert Scott, rich young oil magnate, in honor of the United States Secretary of the Treasury, Ralph Henry Johnson. Thus, two hours later, I was on my way to the Stork Club — owned and operated by Happy Corbett, his wife and thirteen children. To my surprise there was a large number of persons from the States present: Admiral Jewell; Ambassador Winters; Academy Award Winners, Lilliam Carras and Daniel Vick; Pulitzer Prize Winner, Mary Frances Ellers; and the Secretary of Interior, Dorothy Dixon. Early the following morning, I was awakened by the shouts and laughter of the populace, already surging through the streets to the arena. The excitement of the crowd swept over me. It was a big day for them, for me, for all of South America. For today the greatest matador in all the world was to kill the toros in the arena at Buenos Aires. Later, when I entered the lobby, the clerk, Paul Marley, informed me that Dr. Jack- son Moore, President of Harvard University, had just called from the police station. He wanted me to get him out on bail. It seemed that he had become innocently involved in a riot started by Bob Hodges and Johnnie Clewis over the Duke-Carolina game, but l roving his innocence to Chief of Police Homer Inman was an impossibility. I hurried out into the street. As I passed a news-stand, I glanced at the Times ' headline. Bold, black letters shouted out the extraordinary news. Gordon Blair had blasted a hole in the iron curtain ! ! Before I could buy a paper and get away, the proprietor, Nick Pantazis, cornered me and insisted that I wanted a copy of John Albino ' s new book, Adventures in Outer- Mongolia. Urgency weakening my defense, I bought the book and hurried on to the station. But all to no avail, for upon arriving, Desk Sergeant McSwain told me that Jack Lewis, young man-about-town, had already paid the professor ' s bail. Three hours later I was in the midst of the festive throng at the arena. Looking about the crowd, I spotted AP photographer Turkey Edwards busily setting up his camera for the greatest event in all of South America. At last the Grand Entry began! Mounted picadors in yellow, matadors and bande- rilleros with jackets richly embroidered in silver and gold i araded around the arena. Then amid a flourish of trumpets and wild applause, the greatest matador of all times, El Senor Matador Huckleberry Moore, bowed before the President ' s box! The next day, accompanied by The Honorable, The Chief Justice Samuel M. Jones and his personal physician, Ed Hughes, I boarded the plane for New York. From my window I could see Pilot Homer Council and Co-pilot Virgil Creech doing some last minute checking with Serviceman Superintendent, Robert Shepard. I leaned back in my seat. It had been a pleasant two days and I hated to leave. But then, I was anxious to return to New York to see the premiere showing of Robbie Benson ' s latest picture, The Paris Lover, co-starring with Hollywood ' s newest find, Martha Burton. James Trawick, Prophet. 30