Venango Christian High School - Saga Yearbook (Oil City, PA)

Text from Pages 1 - 70 of the 1963 volume:

VENANGO CHRISTIAN HIGH SCHOOL Vol. 1, No. 1 Oil City, Pennsylvania Fall 1962 OF SENATES AND SENATORS To the Student Council is dele- gated the task of carrying to the faculty the problems of the stu- dents, and vice versa. Along with this main job is a score of other smaller duties that the Council must juggle into some kind of equi- librium. So, after two months of dubious operation, our Student Council has demonstrated admir- able progress in smoothing out the COUNCIL PRESIDENT CALLAHAN . . . and where does responsibility end? rough details of many student routines. The October magazine drive was begun to provide extra funds to de- fray costs of certain school neces- sities, such as audio-visual aids. The drive started very poorly, how- ever, and by the end of half the time period, the results were very disheartening—few subscriptions and fewer active salesmen. After the emergency Council meeting, action began to happen fast. It was decided that more life and vim were needed in the school, so Connie Rinaldo volunteered to spearhead publicity. Extra time was granted in the morning before classes to allow students to make returns. Before long, the beefed-up organi- zation of the drive began to tell, and five days later, at its end, the school had gone $1,000 over its quota, to nearly $3,600 in sales. Since then the Council has oc- cupied its limited time by sweeping up minor problems, such as the sale of school supplies in the Book Store, and the raising and lowering of the American flag in front of the school each morning. Fine cooper- ation by members quickly dispensed with these difficulties. Class Officers and Litterbugs Next came a tricky decision that called for some thought. The elec- tion of individual class officers was discussed, and the Council concluded that the class president would be chosen from the class’ Council representation and the sec- retary-treasurer from the class at large. Reference was made to the fact that a class president could be either a boy or a girl, and that the students should consider ability only. Most recently decided upon by the Council was a littering problem that created an unsightly area out- side the A exit. This is the door area open to students during the noon hour, where they may eat candy, ice cream, etc. Thus the area is subject to quite a bit of rubbish and led to a general eye- sore. Upon Council recommenda- tion a trash bucket was placed at the A door and has greatly im- proved the situation. The Council paid tribute to the students who recognized a true need and con- scientiously disposed of waste paper in the bucket rather than around the campus. The Council has shown that it is ready to tackle any VC problem and fight it out. 2 TOMORROW’S TRADITIONS Members of the senior class of Venango Christian have placed their orders, and soon will have their school rings. They will be the first of a succession of senior classes who will cherish, live with, and abide by the unwritten rule of the ring. The right flank is a replica of the school’s coat of arms. The shield is tierced in pairle or and sable (divided in three equal parts). The central or chief portion is a maltese cross and stole borrowed from the crest of John Mark Gannon, Archbishop, Bishop of Erie. This is also representative of the Bene- dictine Sisters who have served the community for over ninety years. The stole, a symbol of the Dioce- san Priesthood, encloses the crown to acknowledge the diocesan char- acter of the school whose develop- ment was part of a master plan which includes five high schools and St. Mark’s Seminary. It is em- blazoned with six roundels which are symbolic of the six parishes represented at Venango Christian: St. Joseph, St. Stephen, Help of Christians, Assumption, St. Ven- antius, and St. Patrick. Environment The derrick dexter represents the communities of Franklin and Oil City, the immediate circle of in- fluence upon which Venango Chris- tian education will have its effect. The mountains indicate the source from which the school draws its youth, while the river winding its way through the mountains depicts the common link among the chain of parishes under whose patronage the institution evolved. The plowshare reminds the stu- dent of his obligation to his federal, state, and local governments. This symbol is adopted from the coat of arms of the Commonwealth of Penn- sylvania. The sinister side of the field, the V-bark sailing onward, represents the Venango Christian High School student (the ship is a figure often used to denote the search for wis- dom). The sails are inflated by the breath of the Holy Spirit, the store- house of all understanding. On the sail, a simple star symbolizing Mary, Star of the Sea, Stella Maris” sheds its guiding light on the bark. This star is displayed on the shield of His Excellency, the Most Reverend Bishop Edward Peter McManaman, Auxiliary Bishop of the Diocese of Erie, who has chos- en Mary, the constant aid of spir- itual mariners, as his special pa- troness. Return To God The inscription Reddite Deo” (return to God) is taken from the scriptural passage Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s, and to God that which is God’s.” The crown of Mary, Queen of Saints, is a reminder of the promise that he who directs his talents and activities to the will of God in his life will return to God sanctified. The chief tinctures of the shield- black and gold—are the school colors. The left flank of the ring pic- tures the torch of wisdom surround- ed by the American and Papal flags. This is the symbol of the student’s adult life which includes learning to live, the democracy of living, and the spiritual life of a Christian. The book and mortarboard resting on the olive branch signify the achievements of the Venango grad- uate. An onyx stone inserted in a gold setting carries out the school color theme. The stone itself has been left uncovered so that it can be seen in its entirety. Seniors expect to receive their rings around Christmastime. EITHER, OR Are extra-curriculum activities advantageous or detrimental to a student?” Judy Fitzgerald, a junior, has ex- pressed her opinions by saying, Extra-curriculum activities not only give you greater knowledge of great books and important mate- rial, but also give a school spirit. The students are then working to- gether and aiming for one goal, the betterment of themselves and their school.” Yet, Pat Henry, a junior, dis- agreed with everything previously stated. She believes, School ac- tivities take too much time from our essential studies and after we leave school, it is of little value. Many others have found a sub- stantial life without the use of forensic activities, etc. I feel it is really detrimental, for it detracts from study periods, the valuable time needed in order to be a good student.” Continued on page 15 Sportorama AN OBITUARY By Mike Yaeger Losing five football games is a mighty tough pill for Venango Chris- tian High School to swallow, es- pecially since they wanted so badly to set a fine precedent for the new school, But such is the way of fickle fate sometimes, and we can still learn a lesson from adversity: how to be good losers, how to tight- en our belts and keep on fighting; how to ignore discouragement. Looking back over the score- boards, it seems we might have won a couple of those games. The 13-13 tie with Cambridge Springs and the 12-6 takeover by Green- ville's Irishmen” were losses that could have been victories. We timed our drives wrong for the Cambridge Springs game. Two winning touch- downs might have come out of some push deep into enemy territory, but halftime halted one and the end of the game another. For the season's opener we had to settle for a tie. The second game Venango played was with Randolph-East Mead High School. This was the first game away from home and maybe the team felt a little strange. Randolph had the edge on us for weight, and we played the first half like we played the second, that 13-6 loss might have been reversed. We Might Hove The Greenville fray on September 22 was a close one. St. Mike's ac- complished all its scoring in the first quarter. We didn't warm up quickly enough. Once we did, how- ever, we kept their defense jumping. We plunged deep into their territory, made it to the 5-yard line once, to the 6-yard line another time. We needed so little, but whatever it was, we didn't get it. Down 12-6. So we had the spark plugs cleaned for the Kanty Prep game on Sept. 29. For the first th ee quarters we held them to a 6-0 lead. Again we came near paydirt several times. We hit their 5-yard line, and we missed. The fourth quarter killed us. A fourth-down pass in the end zone, a 55-yard scoring play and a 49-yard running play dazzled our gridders. When the fog lifted, Ven- ango Christian's black and gold were left behind to contemplate a 25-0 loss. Bradford's St. Bernard's team set us down most decisively October 6 when they romped away with the ball game to the tune of 42-0, on their own field. Venango just couldn't hold them. They say you have to crawl be- fore you can run, but Venango is tired of crawling. Some one of these years, we're going to paste two good halves together and come up with a win. BANDAGE BRIGADE To find the real competitive spirit in Venango Christian High School, sit in on a few gym classes. Under Mr. Zagorski's guidance, the fresh- men teams, eight sophomore teams, 6 junior teams, and 6 senior teams have completed the first phase of an intensive physical training program, basketball. Two freshmen teams, the Flush- ers” and the Falcons,” share the VENANGO MOVES Let him go; he deserves another try championship in their division. Led by Bill Tipping, the victorious Flush- ers are R. Schiffer, J. Streczywilk, J. Voloshin, and T. Koziara. The Falcons are Captain Jerry Beich- ner, T. Barr, P. Bouquin, T. Tarr, J. Serafin, A real battle souped up the soph- omore contests. The Zephers” with big scorer Tony Schill led most of the season and were heavily favored. However, Dave Henderson's Commanches” fought like their namesakes, came up from behind, and succeeded in tying the taller teams. The playoff battle proved disasterous for the Zephers as the winners romped off with a 10-8 victory. Commanche team members are J. Frawley, W. Hill, T. Alter, M. Horos, and D. Faller. The Kollar Collars” are, at present, the junior class basketball representatives. Led by Dan Drozdo, they compiled a respectable 6-2 record. They led the entire season with timely wins and evidently in- significant losses. These juniors are a rugged bunch, and you can bet it wasn't easy playing basketball with football tactics. Members of the winning team are: J. Williams, J. Gilland, R. Brezezenski, H. He- her, E. Combs, and S. Malene. COACH COUNSELED, CUDGELED, AND CONSOLED- But they only allowed eleven men on the field 4 TOM TRIES He missed it MISS TOUCHDOWN 1962 A little limelight here Up and Over The seniors are the crew to watch. They have no posted basketball records, but now hold most track records. Although all the results are not posted, the seniors are holding a commanding lead with wins in the 50, 100, 220, and %- mile runs. The underclassmen aren’t expected to increase the times set in each of these events. Yet, despite the fact that the oldest students hold the sprinting records, the field events are domi- nated by the slower but maybe stronger younger set. Freshman Joe Fitzpatrick holds the medicine ball throw record with a toss of 33 feet. Sophomores hold the standing broad jump and the stand and reach events. Tony Schill jumped an amazing 8 feet and 10 inches to top all comers thus far, and Sam Leta, recovering from an ailing knee, reached 26% inches over his natural reach. More events will take place be- fore the year ends. Insurance poli- cies better be paid up. Crapp soccer and wrestling are still to be. LONG LIVE THE QUEEN Venango Christian High School stood in hushed expectation. It was Saturday, September 29, and half- time ceremonies were about to begin on the Mitchell Avenue Field. Kanty Prep held a slight edge over the local eleven, but the football game was momentarily forgotten in the excitement of the crowning of the girl who would reign as Venango’s first, last, and only Kickoff Queen. The music began, and the pro- cession inched across the field. It was led by Her Majesty’s honor guard, the high tag-day salesmen and the cheerleaders. Members of the guard were: Mary Larkin, Suz- anne Marshall, Virginia Hynes, Judith Balcerek, Judith Oliver, De- Anna Demmer, Susan Callahan, Joan Bajorek, Janice Schiffer, Anne McCallum, Barbara Zawislak, Gene- vieve Smutek, Judith Campagna, JoAnne Szabat, Anne Witcomb, Karen Alsbaugh, and Judith Fitz- gerald. The homeroom representatives preceded the queen. They included: Freshman—Miss Deborah Lee, Sophomore—Miss Suzanne Duda, and Junior—Miss Marjorie Rogers. The senior princesses and runners- up for the throne were Miss Cathy Manion and Miss Mary Jo Masson. Thomas Owens placed the pearl and rhinestone studded tiara on her head, and Her Majesty, Queen Mary Lou Fleckenstein began her reign as Miss Kickoff, 1962. Richard Conrad presented the queen-elect with a bouquet of yellow tea-roses complemented by a black satin bow. THOSE ARE THE BREAKS The long arm of coincidence struck a sour note in the lives of two Venango Christian sophomores. Bob Faunce and Sam Leta, who have spent the greater part of ten years as neighbors, classmates, and in- timate friends (,fwhen one’s in trouble, two are blamed”), happily spent the greater part of the 1962 football season convalescing to- gether also. In fact, they just missed sharing the same hospital bed. While Bob was recovering from a broken toe, Sam did him one better and broke his knee. Best wishes for a continuing friendship. MQ ■ft f “ I FOE FLIES He caught It 5 ED. NOTE: Somewhere in the wide, illogical world there may be another Student Council president whose first, last, and major obligation to his fellow classmates is flagpole duty. But we rather doubt it. So, when we saw Dan Callahan, our senior diplomat, dutifully tending to the wants of Old Glory, we knew we had a journalistic first. Below follows a unique, firsthand report of the perils and plights of a student senate president. It was with great pride and lofty ambition that I accepted the office of Student Council president last May for the school year of 1962-63. It was, likewise, with fervent an- ticipation that I passed the lengthy summer, contemplating the dignity, the respect, the loyalty that I would command as the supreme in- termediary between attentive faculty and fawning, adoring students. It was with an air of condescending humility that I reported to the office the first day of school to receive the greetings of the administration and, in addition, I felt sure, my first major official duty. As I entered, the headmaster im- mediately pushed aside the mountain of paperwork which had accumulated as part of the general headache of opening day. (I, of course quite familiar with these weighty nui- sances, sympathized completely with Father and informed him that it would offend me none if he wished to continue working throughout our discussion.) He affixed me with a certain faraway glance for the first of many times during our talk, but at the time I attributed it to the in- evitable weariness which is bound to be noticeable on the counten- ances of us supervisory personnel. We chatted for a few moments, as would a premier with his most trusted charge d'affairs, and then, feeling as I do that the welfare of one’s constituents should never be secondary, I asked in my most diplomatic manner, Exactly what will my duties toward my fellow students be, Father? This was the fatal query, the innocent, well- meant, straightforward question that set the stage for the most insidious affront to an elected official’s dig- nity since the horror of women’s suffrage. The Blow To be brief, I was told by the head of state that it would be my daily duty to raise the American flag each morning and lower and fold it each night. I sincerely hope that my face did not reveal the misgivings of my mind, because I really did not intend to openly con- vey the feeling that this duty was below my exalted dignity; this I meant to conceal as one of my pri- vate subjects of brooding. The actual reason for my concern was the fact that I have never been blessed by the Almighty with an exceedingly acute memory. It is with sorrowful recollection that I picture the scores of times that I have left the house bright and cheery without my lunch, or on other occasions without my ammunition during hunting season. I ruefully remember the gloomy day I walked six blocks to the spot where I was to receive some 90 newspapers to deliver, only to return to the house to get the bag I was to carry them in. I have traveled to away games, fully prepared to play except for an article of apparel as minor as hip pads or a helmet. But enough of this self-beration; you must realize the dilemma which con- fronted me. I smiled as I futilely fought the waves of nausea and fainting that threatened me. Unfair Alarm As I look back on the first week of my adventure, I find no reason significant enough for the adminis- tration to be dissatisfied with me. The only error which glares at my record is the Friday that I missed taking down Old Glory, and arrived at school Monday to find an epistle from a certain member of the local church Hierarchy who, while in- specting the grounds, found the flag up on the pole after sundown, a grievous breach of procedure. He himself removed it, and instructed me to take my privilege a little more to heart and exercise a little more caution in its care. Since that incident, I truly have been more observant in my duty, and I have been encouraged by the presence of several students each morning and each evening who cheer and salute martially as I pass with the Red, White, and Blue. My mind is now thoroughly accus- tomed to the ritual, and I never miss a day, thank the Lord, but I do pray that soon I may take my position by the horns and assert my rights, namely forming a Council committee to care for the flag—that the Council President is so obviously unequip- ped to handle. SOCIAL SECURITY Any time of the year is a good time for a party and any excuse is a good one. If you’ve never given a party because you’re afraid it will be a sensational flop, the real problem is that you've only given one; give four a night! Give a Pro- gressive Party. It’s a simple, inexpensive way to have fun. The object is for you and four or five of your friends to collaborate on one party. Each furnishes a major item toward the project—refreshments, games, record hop, and prizes— and all of you invite a different set of friends. It’s a way to make new friends and have fun with your old ones. Make a list of the food and games you are planning, and then divide it. For instance you can furnish the place to have the party, records, and hi-fi. One girl makes pizza, another brings coke and ice cream. Be sure someone donates potato chips and pretzels. Have one of the girls furnish games and a door prize. 6 Continued on page 15 HONEST DADDY vi? By Judy Balcerek THE WORD GETS AROUND Communications is my bit. As a novice class amateur ham radio operator, I have conducted two-way conversation on the 40-meter short- wave amateur band with other hams in most of the states. My most distant contact was WV6UZK, West Covina, California. How do you become a ham? Easy! First, master the International Morse Code. Second, study the amateur material such as that published in the American Radio Relay League’s booklet, The Radio Amateur Li- cense Manual.” Then, upon a re- quest to the Federal Communica- tions Commission, a test is issued that must be taken in the presence of a qualified procter. The test consists of a code exam and a sec- tion on radio theory and amateur regulations. After that, there’s nothing to do but purchase your equipment, set up your station, and you’re on the air.” Over and Out Expensive? You know it, but it’s well worth it. Some operators defray the cost of equipment by assembling their own. Why even now you would be able to construct a radio of your own. Most of the electronic dealers offer quality amateur equipment and assorted electronic units in kit form which can be assembled by anyone who can read. The feeling that you are a part of a worldwide organization, the sense of power you get every time you speak over the mike, create a word out of dots and dashes, or tap out a message on the teletype, the adventure of communicating with a new state or country, the secure knowledge that you can be of aid to your community, and just the en- joyment of getting to know people in different spots on the globe make ham operating a real adventure. I can never say there isn’t anything to do” because there are always a few million people to talk to. At what age should you become a ham? Well, the oldest amateur I know is W4AD, an 87-year-old operator from Georgia; and the youngest is WN8DCH, a 9-year-old ham from Ohio. I recommend amateur radio for anyone under 90. Silent snow descended like white curtains as Professor Paul Peterson hurried under the archway and into the parking lot of Smith College campus. He had been summoned by a call from his mother. As he en- tered the front door he was met by a terse, Hurry, Paul, she’s upstairs in her room. Here’s the key.” Paul’s mother took his coat and hat and handed him the key. The fifty spiral stairs never took so long. He reached the hall in about a minute and was panting heavily as he called, Sarah Jane, may I come in?” The little girl sat on her bed in a calm stillness with her doll on her lap. Daddy, did Granma call you? I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” That’s all right, dear. Tell Daddy what happened.” Professor Peterson fought to hold back the tears. Quiet in here, isn’t it?” began the girl. Granma locked me in my room and won’t let me out. I guess I was bad. But it was only a dress. Momma’s dress I mean. She is gone away forever isn’t she, Daddy? Granma says my Momma is in Heaven. I don’t know how. Can she go to Heaven if she is dead, Daddy? Where’s Granma? Is she in Momma’s room? She must be putting Momma’s dress away. Why does she always put it in the box and lock it in the chest? I wish she didn’t; it’s such a pretty dress; it smells sweet. I love to touch it but I guess I can’t. I guess that is why Gran- ma’s mad at me. But I ain't sure.” You are not sure, dear,” cor- rected her father. Yes, Daddy, I’m not. Mary Jane came over today. Granma said, ’Play with your doll and don’t go inside your mother’s room. But it's nice in Momma’s room, Daddy. When it rains I go there. Or when Granma is taking her nap I go in. I don’t make any noise, I just sit on the white cover and make believe Momma is dressing and I am allowed in. I smell her white silk dress; her going out for night dress. I hear it moving if I listen hard and I make believe I see her at the dressing table. I see her big brown eyes. Remember, Daddy? I love her even if she has gone away. I guess that’s what made me bad. Mary Jane came over today and we played dolls. Granma said, 'Don’t go in your mother’s room,’ and I said yes. I meant it Daddy, honest, but when we were playing Mary Jane said, 1 bet you don’t even have a mother; I bet you made it all up.’ This made me mad, so I went to see if Granma was sleeping. She said that I was a liar, Dad- dy; I mean about the bed and the dress and everything. I said, 'Well I'll show you smarty,’ and so we went after that. She giggled like she always does when we went down the hall to Momma’s room. She even made a scaredy noise when she hit into the table in the hall. I said, 'You’re a scaredy cat,’ but she said, 'Well, my house isn't dark like this.' I didn’t like that at all. We went into Momma’s room. It was dark in her room, very dark. I said, 'This is my Momma's room; see, I didn’t make it up.' She was by the door and she wasn’t acting very smart. She didn’t 7 even say a word. All she did was look around the room and when I grabbed her arm to take her around the room, she jumped. ‘Well, come on I said. “Then I sat on the bed and said in a big voice, ‘This is my Mom- ma’s bed. See how soft it is.’ She just stood there and didn’t say any- thing. ‘Scaredy cat,’ I said. ‘Am not she said, like she does. “I told her to sit down on the bed and see how soft it is. She sat down by me. “I closed my eyes, but the funny thing is it wasn’t like always. I guess it was because Mary Jane was there. I told her to stop feeling the cover. ‘You said to she said. ‘Well stop it I said. “‘See I said, and I pulled her up. ‘That’s the dressing table.’ I took her by the hand and brought her up to the table. She looked at me and said, ‘Let’s go. I started to feel bad because Mary Jane was in my Momma’s room and Momma wouldn’t like Mary Jane there. “I had to show her everything. I showed her the mirror. We looked at each other in it. She looked like a Hallowe’en ghost. ‘Mary Jane is a scaredy cat I said again. “ ‘Am not, am not she said over and over, ‘anyway nobody’s home is this spooky and dark inside. ‘Anyways she said, ‘it smells.’ “I got mad at her. ‘No, it doesn’t smell,’ I said. “ ‘Does so she said, ‘you said it does yourself a lot of times. It smells like sick people in your momma’s room. “‘Don’t say my momma’s room is like sick people, I said to her. “ ‘Well you didn’t show me the dress and you’re lying about that she said, ‘there isn’t a dress and you better get out of here. I felt all warm inside so I pulled her hair. 1 11 show you I said, 'you’re going to see my momma’s dress and you better not call me a liar.’ “I made her stand still and I got the key off the hook. Then I opened the box. “Mary Jane said, 'Pew, that smells like garbage. “I put my nail in her hand; she pulled away and got mad. 'Don’t you pinch me,’ she said, and she was all red. 'I’m telling my mother on you she said. ‘Anyway, it’s Continued on page 13 Herb Heher stands out, but not apart, from the other 200 boys who hail Venango Christian High School as alma mater. He began his education at St. Stephen’s Grade School, graduated to St. Joseph’s High, and with the rest of us progressed to Venango. Herb’s scholastic interests tend toward the historical realm. He is an Academic student, and plans to attend college. He hopes someday to be a history teacher. A member of St. Stephen’s Parish Church, he has served as an altar boy, and was at one time the pres- ident of the Altar Society. Herb is one of the most ardent supporters of the Oil City Catholic Youth Club. Herb has received a number of awards during his high school career. He was awarded a trophy for outstanding performance in the Optimist Contest last year. Because of his undying support, his intra- mural team took first place in the school competition, and he took home another trophy. He’s the one who volunteers eagerly and who helps until the job is done. He’s the one who smiles at you just when you’re about to believe there are no more smiles left in the world. He’s Herb Heher, Junior Homeroom Personality, 1962. Whether she is behind a mega- phone or in front of a typewriter, Miss Karen Alsbaugh, junior per- sonality of the month, is the type of person who makes school and home more wonderful places to be. School life for honor student Karen consists of academic courses leaning toward college education. She has hopes of entering the field of languages after graduation. Al- though she is most interested in French and Latin, biology and alge- bra are also among her favorites. “Work hard, or not at all ’ could well be this junior’s motto. Vaca- tion-time invariably sees Karen back in the classroom. Summer biology was one of her projects. She completed a Singer Sewing Course, and sent her prize-winning shirtwaist to the District Contest in Pittsburgh. Cheerleading, public speaking, reporting, and Junior Red Cross work keep Karen occupied, but still she finds time to babysit during the weekends. She is the personification of calm- ness, the motivation of poetry, and the symbol of friendship. She is the fashion-conscious, education- minded linquist of tomorrow. But for today she is Miss Karen Als- baugh, Miss Junior Personality of 1962. 8 Autopsy of Funeral services in memory of It-Could-Be-Yours High School of Any Town, U.S.A., were conducted Tuesday at 11 a. m. in City Hall. The high school died Sunday after- noon in the hearts and minds of its five hundred students. It-Could-Be-Yours was born Sep- tember 8, 1949, a son of the com- munity of Any Town. He was a life- long resident of the city, and the main center of secondary education. The school was the pillar of Any Town's progress. I.C.B.Y. was a first-class edu- cational institution. During his lifetime, he encouraged potential doctors, lawyers, clergy, journal- ists, linguists, secretaries, mothers, and many more. Pallbearers were: John Jones, the freshman who couldn't obey the rules; Pete Moss, the quarterback who wouldn't try to win; Ed John- son, the senior who wouldn't buy the magazine; Joe Michaels, the Do More Faci Q. Father Antoun, obviously VCHS offers more facilities than most other parochial schools. Do you feel this helps the scholastic standard? A. Yes. You must treat each student as an individual because each individual has different talents. The curriculum must be adapt- able and the wide range of fa- cilities at VCHS helps meet this demand. Q. Do you feel the facilities and curriculum are adequate? A. No. We will never be satisfied and will continuously be striv- ing for improvements. Q. How long do you think our school can facilitate the fast-growing enrollment? A. The school was designed to accommodate 675 students and I feel this figure will be reached in 3 years. Q. After that will you expand the building or restrict enrollment? A. This will be a decision for the board of directors. I don't feel, an Institution student who didn't have time to study; Tom James, the sophomore who persecuted teachers and dis- tracted classmates; and Bill Smith, the junior who didn't sell his cards. An honor guard was formed to pay final tribute to It-Could-Be-Yours. It was composed of the senior girls who thought that it was all right to leave a football game before the final buzzer, and the juniors who refused to buy their lunches in the school cafeteria. Sophomores who thought that extra-curricular activ- ities were things to be avoided, and freshmen who consistently missed the bus also participated. A coroner's inquest was held to determine the cause of the death. Authorities placed the blame on suffocation due to lack of school spirit; and the student body was held on the charge of involuntary manslaughter. It-Could-Be-Yours High School was only a fictional institution — but it could be yours! THE BARQUE Quarterly publication of Venango Christian High School, Oil City, Pennsylvania. 1505 W. First St. Tel. 9-1285 Editor............. Associate Editor____ Copy Editor......... Sports Editor....... Production Editor.... Layout Editor....... Photographer........ Staff Artist....... Daniel Callahan Lois Hill Constance Rinaldo Michael Yeager Elizabeth Fink Dolores Weaver Steven Szalcwicz Karen Blumensaadt Circulation Manager Dia Jasiota Exchange Manager.. M. Beth Marchibroda Reporters........... K. Rice, P. Bauer, L. Best, D. Weaver, J. Stover, D. Goodman, P. Breene, J. Meals, G. Campagna, P. Henry, V. Hynes, J. Kamer, R. Wollaston, J. Sullivan, C. Staub, A. Logue, W. Hill. The Barque is an accredited member of Columbia School Press Association. lities Mean Better Education ? —An Interview With Rev. L. J. Antoun, Headmaster since we are in debt $350,000, that we will be able to meet the building funds in 3 years. Q. Father, what is your attitude toward sports? A. Sports are a necessity for well- balanced education, but the school should run the sports; the sports should not run the school. give me a summary of your past education? A. I was bom in Meadville where I attended St. Agatha Grade and High School. Then I attended St. Bonaventure College and went on to Christ the King Sem- inary and completed my major education at Duquesne Univer- sity. Q. Father, in conclusion could you 9 Webster Said It CLOUDY CONTRADICTIONS When a person asks, What time is it,” or What day is it, the answer is pretty obvious. But when somebody says What is a sopho- more, that is a problem Einstein never solved. To most people, a sophomore is a person in his second year of high school or college, but Webster clearly defines the term: sophos means wise and moros means fool. In short, a sophomore is the con- tradictory who never untangles. He can go through a whole school year using pens in anything but an aca- demic manner, while constantly re- minding the freshmen of their 12- month impediment. Each of these confused individ- uals is a walking cloud nine, who lives in a dream world, and shakes the world at his something more than sudden approach. KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND RAIL Milner, K. Schreckengost, N. Petulla, D. Weaver, S. Kay, J. Pil- ewski, M. Goresney, K. Gayetty, S. Hood, B. W'eidle, M. Camp, M. B. Marchibroda, S. McMahon, T. Strus, J. Martin, J. Zuilkowski, A. Stempin. IN LIEU OF BURMA SHAVE SIGNS S. Barrett, W. Hill, L. Huff, M. A. Moffatt, C. Mayersky, T. Faller. 10 OUT OF LINE M. Yaeger, G. Hawk, B. Kaweski, M. J. Siebert. Having fashioned a place among mankind for the sophomore, only one puzzle is left unsolved: Why is the sophomore what he is? Sugar and spice and everything nice. Is that what sophomores are made of? Parents, teachers, and mankind in general would rather say, Snakes, snails, and puppy dog tails, THAT'S what sophomores are made of. The sophomore may have his own ideas about the chemistry of his makeup, but neither he nor his critics will deny that he is activity, disturbing perseverance, and justice on a stick. He is the knee-bumping, nose-chafing, peanut-pushing gal- lant who will submit to trial by ordeal for the sake of a senior's approval. Add a dash of mercurial good humor and that is a VCHS sophomore a la carte. Unfortunately, the sophomore of today is hardly content to settle down to the humdrum, workaday con- cepts of activity, perseverance, and justice of established storybook characters or adults. And he'd be good at his own kind if it weren't for the female shriek, or muffled giggles of less dexterous cohorts that give his plots away and force him into isolation to devise new, more devastating schemes. ILLEGAL PICKFT Mazzetti, B. Karg, P. Keating, J. Stover, S. Swacha, T. Rogers, T. Heath, R. Carter, Eaton, B. English, T. Proper, J. Strus, Riddle. SHERWOOD SORORITY A. Hibbard, L. Best, M. Coyne, P. Wydro, K. Fitzgerald, P. Guyton, S. Owens, M. Ward, P. Blackhurst, S. Morgan, P. Karnes, T. Brown, K. Gressley, C. Gur- esny, C. Moran, M. Fischer, D. Henderson, R. Faunce, S. Leta, J. Logue, B. Mizwa, G. Nalepa, S. Masson, M. Schneider. 11 This is a sophomore. He is the contradiction who is snubbed by seniors, haunted by juniors, and admired by freshmen. He is pres- sured by teachers, reserved only when under surveillance, and a mystery to adults. What will this amazing character be in the future? He may be presi- dent; he may be the greatest scien- tist that ever lived. But no matter what he is, he’ll be a sophomore that survived. He’ll be fantastic. JOSE, CAN YOU SEE? Jane Singer, Dan Goodman, J. McGinty, C. Lamberton, R. Frawley, J. Hibbard, R. Hartle, J. SchefchunasLinda Campagna, Carol Hall, Wilma Kokai, ]. L. Zacherl, J. M. Zacherl, Rose Marie Andres, Doris Buczek, Donna Koziara, Jane Krawiec, Kay Gatesman, . . . AND IN THE PEANUT GALLERY Gierlach, M. Skiba, N. Andrews, L. Karg, L. Vol- oshin, V. Loll, S. McCarthy, C. Keating, K. Set- tlemire, V. Hazclton, J. Lauer, J. Wishnok, L. Karg, S. Lukasiak, T. Schill, B. Edwards, Jm Krawiec, J. Gilliland, S. Alter, J. Zaccaria, J. Kresinske, J. Kresinski, J. Garmong. 12 SOCIAL CLIMBING SOPHS M. McGuckin, E. Zimoski, R. Mizwa, T. McGreevy, C. Clifford, J. Mott. HONEST DADDY-(Cont. from p. 8) not a white dress. It's dirty and ugly, she said. 'It's not dirty I said. I said it so loud I wondered why Granma didn't hear me. I pulled out the dress from the box and held it up to show her how white it was. 'It is too white I said, 'all white and clean and silky.' 'No she said, she was so mad and red, 'it has a hole in it I got more madder. 'If my mother were here she'd show you I said. 'You got no momma she said all ugly. 1 have so.' I said it loud, Daddy, real loud. I pointed my finger to Momma's picture. 'Well, who can see in this stupid dark room?' Mary Jane said. I pushed her hard and she hit against the bureau. 'See I said, 'look at the picture. That’s my mother and she is the most beautiful lady in the world 'She's ugly, she has funny hands Mary Jane said. 'She has not I said, 'she’s the most beau- tiful lady in the world.' ' She is not she said, 'she has buck teeth.' I don’t remember what happened then. I put the dress over my hands. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn't hear anything except buck teeth, funny hands, buck teeth, funny hands, even when no one was say- ing it. There was something else be- cause I kept hearing someone say, 'Don't let her say that.’ I couldn't hold on to the dress, Daddy, honest I couldn’t. I just put it over Mary Jane’s head and held it there. Granma took me away from there I guess. She was screaming, 'God help us, please help us.’ I don't know why. She pulled me all the way here to my room and locked me in. She won't let me out. Well I'm not scared. Who cares if she locks me in a million years? She doesn't have to even give me my supper. I'm not hungry anyway. That’s all that happened, Daddy, honest. Was I bad? By Daniel Callahan Sol gathered up his papers into his briefcase and slammed the lid shut. In his angered haste to leave the Committee meeting he collided with Ed O’Malley, his young aide. You really took one on the chin, Mr. Cohen, he remarked; You’d think those cussed southern die- hards would know when a good plan came up, but somehow they always manage to scrap every idea but their own nonsense. Sol said nothing as he walked into the gloom of a Washington winter, dirty snow and constant rain marking his mood exactly. Ed took the wheel and drove him down through town and back to the Agriculture Department office build- ing. He nodded curtly to the greet- ings of his staff as he spat to his secretary, No calls, no visitors this morning. He slammed the door behind him, and glanced at the gilt nameplate: SOL COHEN, UNDERSECRETARY OF CLERICAL AFFAIRS. A wry smirk crossed his dark face. He took a seat and had almost forgotten his annoyance when his secretary buzzed through the intercom, Mrs. Cohen on the phone, sir. Hello, Mara, he sighed wearily; No, I'm not forgetting about dinner with Senator Mansfield. I think I’ll be home about six, dear. Goodb—no, I didn't forget about my tux, Mara. Look, don’t worry about it, O.K.? Goodbye, dear. He swore silently under his breath as he tossed the phone onto the cradle. Running through his mind were the words that he was dying to say, I don’t give a damn if he is the Majority Leader of the Senate, woman. Later in the day he paused in the midst of his heap of paperwork to light a cigar, and his mind slipped back to the leaner days, to the period when he and Mara were new and green to the endless whirl of Washington events, especially the circle of proper people, places, affairs. Sol had been happy in his own mediocre way: poker with the fellows, Saturday nights at the theatre, and beer after supper. But Mara became a little more con- scious about the old ways. She chattered about keeping up appear- ances. He found himself being host to top-drawer figures in the Capital, and he did not notice until too late that the old ones, dear to him, were forsaken in the harsh light of swank parties and upper- crust associations. The shrill ring of his telephone shook him from his lethargy, and the intercom said, A Mr. Hayes, from Austin, Mr. Cohen. Shall I put him on? Sol grunted an affirma- tive and eagerly snatched up the receiver. Milt, you old millionaire, how are you? he bellowed; Have- n't heard from you since the Cit- adel days. So now you're a cotton magnate and you get written up in Time, eh? Well, what can I do for the salutatorian of the class of ’47? His face took on a serious air; he lost the smile, reminiscent of his college days, when he list- ened to the brief story of his old friend. To say the least, it calls for a little consideration, Milt. Yes, we'll make it tomorrow for lunch. I'll surely think about it. As the Undersecretary sat at din- ner with his wife and the Senator Mansfields, he mused about the 13 urgent message from his old friend from Austin. He recalled the friv- olous days at the Citadel, their alma mater, and a smile crossed his dark face briefly as he remem- bered their scores of good times. Milton had inhered his father’s small ranch and had scrapped the pittance of a cattle herd in favor of cotton production. His good bus- iness sense and political pull had increased his income until he was a state baron in almost all fields. Milt’s message was vague, his voice was strained practically to the point of being frantic. In all his forty-five years, Sol had never known him to sound so anxious. He told him he was in the middle of ffa squeeze too damn big for me, Sol.” His mind asked him why Mr. Big himself would consider coming to a figurehead like himself, a taken-for-granted nobody. Sol twitched uncomfortably in his plush chair and barely heard his wife tittering gaily in the back- ground. He sat deeply immersed in his own shortcomings, balefully brought to light that morning in the Committee room, and the insistent voice of one of his own, his friend, saying, I need help, Sol; God knows I need your help.” After bidding goodnight to their guests, they began the drive home through the darkness of southern January. He loosened his tie and opened his dinner jacket and was about to turn on the radio for a soothing interlude when she said, You certainly were the model of interest and cordiality this evening, Mister Secretary.” He thought, this perpetual game of chase-the-VIP must stop; if it goes much further, I’ll lose my mind. It’s always smile for this nice Demo- cratic Senator, Sol, or sit up and beg for this rich, powerful cabinet member, Sol, or kneel down and— Shut up, Mara,” he thundered. She sat, stunned, and watched through misty eyes her husband’s hands shake on the wheel. The following morning he finished the few routine papers delegated to him, and prepared to go to meet Milton Hayes for lunch. He walked the brisk few blocks to a comfort- able downtown restaurant and seated himself at his favorite table, waiting tensely for his friend to arrive. He was not long in coming, and they exchanged vigorous cordiali- ties before ordering. Hayes was pale, wan, tired, bag under each eye, a far cry from the bombastic, red-faced tycoon he was reputed to be. Let me tell you the whole mess, Sol, and then tell me what you can do.” His story unfolded, like a great circus tent thought Sol, which is the picture of splendor from a distance, but which shows many signs of wear when inspected closely. He talked as a man talks to his last hope; dejected, weary, soaked in a humble quality of plead- ing. Before he was finished, the Undersecretary knew what the man had done, how he had erred. This type of case was familiar to the national agricultural expert. But he could not have forseen the web of implications that would mark his part in the sin of Milton Hayes. His old friend from the home state was a marked man, marked by the machinations of Sol’s own department. He was one of a half- dozen men the government was rounding up for fraud in their report- ing of nonused cotton acreage. All of them had received price supports for cotton never grown, never sold. Milt brokenly told Sol he was in- volved to the amount of $450,000. He was hopelessly entangled, and an educated guess told Sol that the man would suffer the liquidation of practically all his assets in fines once the truth were known. Within a few days, the Senate Committee would subpoena the records from Sol's own office that would convict Hayes of a great swindle. The hag- gard, heavy face and deep southern accent pleaded, Can’t you do something; tell me something I can do to get out,” but the look in his eyes told Sol what he really wanted was the kind of under-the-table help that he had bought all his life. His shifting, bleary eyes asked the question his spirit could not: Will you see that no one sees those records? Will you help a friend, and will you make yourself happy at the same time?” Let’s skip the small talk, Milt,” he said; What you really want is those records destroyed, right?” Sol was surprised to hear Hayes’ voice shoot out a sharp retort, Can’t you see it’s the only way for me? What are you made of? Don’t you have any feelings at all?” He checked his tone, and went on slowly to describe the social free- dom that he could enjoy, the se- curity that he could expect. He makes it sound so easy, thought Sol, just as if government graft and crookeu politics were as typically American as motherhood and base- ball. Flashing to the front of his thoughts was the liberty from his wife’s insistent nagging, his kiss- ing every pair of imperial feet in the District. You're asking a hell of a lot, Milt. I can’t come to any decision today; it’s not just a slip- shod deal I can wink off in a min- ute.” Sol stood to leave and mum- bled over his shoulder, I’ll let you know tomorrow.” The next morning, Wednesday, January 19, Sol Cohen walked through the door bestowed on him by trusting American people, took the damning evidence of corruption from his personal file, closed his office door, and reduced the papers marked COTTON ACREAGE-NORTH TEXAS to ashes. When the Senate Committee sub- poenaed the records from the Cler- ical Affairs office, they were sur- prised that they were not to be had. Although they had no use for Sol Cohen’s ideas, they respected him for his faultless organization and impeccable custody of his job. Sol delivered an appropriate lecture to his staff on the importance of proper filing methods, and about two weeks later he began to receive unmarked envelopes postmarked Austin, Tex- as. At the same time, he found that innumerable doors in Washington society began to open for the first time to him. He noticed that even those places that had shunned him because of his religion before were now happy to boast of the patronage of our honorable Undersecretary, Mr. Cohen.” On a mild summer day some six months later, Sol was sitting in his office when his secretary ushered in a casual friend from the Justice Department. They sat and talked about petty things until the fellow mentioned that his pending mission was in Texas to gather conclusive evidence on that damn Hayes, you remember, the one we almost pinned on fraud charges last winter. Well, we’ve got him nearly wrapped up now. Just the formality of getting' a few extra witnesses.” 14 It’s a good bet, he thought, that as soon as Milt finds out that he's being shadowed again, he'll buy this fellow off too. About a week later, he checked into his office late one morning, and found that his desk held several letters. He shuffled through them absently, and smiled as he came to one from Texas—a sizeable check. He hap- pened to drop a small one from his hand, and his dark face took on a puzzled scowl as he impatiently tore open the envelope, and then a queer sickly pallor bleached his face as he read the enclosed di- rective. He was being subpoenaed before a federal court in Austin to act as witness for the government against Milton Hayes. An accom- panying note informed him that in a lower court trial he was named a partner in conspiracy, and that criminal proceedings were about to be initiated against him. When he first heard about the expose, he was stricken with lethal panic, and it was only after he had become extremely drunk and had been dredged out and driven home by a pitying policeman that he had enough control of himself to weigh the alternatives. Sincere soul- searching, the first he had done since the episode began, led him to the obvious conclusion. His best course was to admit his guilt, re- sign, and accept the debt he had earned. When he found courage enough to tell Mara, he emerged from his study and entered the par- lor where she was watching tele- vision. Mara, there's something of im- portance I must discuss with you. Just a minute, darling; this is the first showing of the new fall styles from Paris. He sat patiently through the fashion show. It would be inhuman to begrudge her the last snobbish foible she would ever enjoy. When she was at last ready to listen, Sol recounted all the facts of his relationship with Hayes, dating back to the college days, even up to that very day. He told her of his deci- sion to leave the public eye and await the fall of the axe. He waited for her to make some expression of feeling. When it did not come, he looked at her and studied her face closely. She was looking about the room, at the home purchased by the lucre of betrayal. She rose, and walked around, fingering the price- less knicknacks that decorated the marble mantel. Then she sat back down, a faraway glaze over her eyes. Sol had turned around, facing the wall, when he heard the scream grate against his ears, heard the sobs, heard the door slam behind him, heard her incessant yelling: Get out! Get out! Get out! The body of the Undersecretary of Agriculture was found in the Poto- mac about 5:30. The Washington Post carried headlines remote and impotent: SOL COHEN NAMED IN COTTON FRAUD. SOCIAL SECURITY (Cont. from p. 6) Finally, check your list of the Six Steps to Social Success. Have you: 1. Checked your budget and remembered to stay within its limit? 2. Stocked plenty of food on hand to feed the hungry crew? 3- Remem- bered to go over your guest list? You don't want to leave anyone out. 4. Set a time limit on your party? Most of your guests will have a cur- few. Get the parents' permission before they come. It's safer. 5. Spoken at least once to every guest? 6. Organized the cleanup committee? It was your party, not your mother's. Don't wait for a special occasion to have a party. Any time is a good time. Why not give one soon? EITHER, OR (Cont. from p. 3) Senior Dan Callahan, editor of our school paper insists, Extra- curricular activities are essential in any student's life. If a person has any objectives at all, he would find it necessary to probe his abilities by employing them in some school activity. John McNerney said though, School demands enough of a per- son without increasing your prob- lems with additional concerns. All in all, one student seemed to find the words to sum up the at- titude of the whole school. Karen Blumensaadt, a junior, stated: Ac- tivities are beneficial in various ways, both during your high school years and after you have graduated. They are helpful educationally, be- cause you widen your scope of learning, and socially it is advan- tageous because you come in con- tact with so many people. Autumn By LOIS HILL Autumn is a snow-flakey Greeting, A game, A last barbecue meeting. It's a moment Of sun. Ere winter should come In the madness Of summertime's fleeting. Autumn's a world full Of pleasin', For Somewhere the breeze is A' breezin'. It's coughs and a sneeze That get goshes and gees A fabulously fabulous season Autumn is the father Of football, Leaves that go sprawling And then fall. It's the loudest cheer, The best of the year, The good times That memories recall. Autumn is the hunter Who got im, A ghost with a child On the bottom. And mild Or bitter, It's gone in a flitter. And that, In a word, Is the Autumn. V Believe It Or Not Traffic had to move 534,586 m.p.h. so that Venango's 6,000 Dedication Day visitors could inspect the entire school during the two-hour period allotted them. Each member of the student body, as well as each teacher, has over 2,355 cubic feet of elbow room in the 1,100,000 ft. structure. Every day your bus driver trans- ports 176.8 students. Shoe leather suffers to the tune of 250 steps every time a student walks from one end of the lower hall to the other. Archbishop John Mark Gannon donated almost 12% of the total cost of Venango Christian. Every member of the cafeteria staff is responsible for preparing 42.7 lunches daily. Student Council members each represent 27.7 students. Nearly 81% of the school's prop- erty is landscape area. There are 24.5 pupils to every full-time teacher at VCHS. At general assemblies, students require only 46.7% of the seating space. The four labs collectively meas- ure 304 ft., or approximately 60.2% of the entire length of the school. Each member of the school board represents 36 students. If all extra-curricular meetings were held on one night, each ac- tivity could be attended by 31.6 students. And believe it or not, plans for the further expansion of Venango Christian High School are already being considered. INDEX Dedication.....................16 Editorial...................... 9 Fiction.....................7, 13 Hobbies........................ 7 Humor..........................10 Interview...................... 9 Party Pointers................. 6 Personalities.................. 8 Poetry.........................15 Roving Reporter................ 3 Sophomores.....................10 Sports......................... 4 Student Government............. 2 16 THE BARQUE - Winter ISO Ve 'ango Christian High School Libra r Vol. I Oil City, PenniylMBi� ____________ VENANGO CHRISTIAN HIGH VOL. I, NO. 2 SCHOOL WINTER, 1962 Government. Only A Suggestion With the introduction of a sug- gestion box two months ago, a kiew phase of student government was added to the mechanics al- ready existing. The box is ac- cessible at all times in the cafe- teria and all students are en- couraged to use this medium to convey questions or solutions to the council they may not wish to express to their homeroom representatives. Each suggestion is read by a permanent committee, and these representatives record each con- structive suggestion according to the number of times it is receiv- ed. This reoord is presented at the next general meeting where the assembly is free to act on any of the topics. Finally the list is placed in Father Antoun’s hands in order that he may ex- amine the wishes of the student body as a whole. ACTIVITY LIST: To facilitate the planning of activities and the assigning of social functions to the various classes and clubs, the Council drew up and published an activity calendar listing the func- tions planned for the year, such as dances, the annual retreat, pep rallies and the like. Included are projects intended to raise funds for certain activities, such as a Forensic Fair. The commit- tee who collected the information and listed these pertinent facts was directed by Mary Catherine Cihon. RETREAT: Plans are being made for the annual student re- treat. It has been scheduled dur- ing the semester break, January 30, 31. Father Robert Griffin and Father Theodore Carter will con- duct the o-day retreat. A cleri- cal day for teachers scheduled for February 1 gave students a one dav semester vacation. Student Council pins were awarded to homeroom represent- atives at an assembly held Fri- day, January 10. Finding a nickname for the school is one of the immediate problems facing the Student Council at Venango Christian. It was decided that the students Junior Senator Drozdo ...seeking new solutions. themselves would be given a chance to select a name through the suggestion box placed in the cafeteria for the students use ia this and other matters which pertain to council affairs. Results of this method yielded a varity of peppy, full-of-fight. glorious titles, like “Vanguards,” “Golden Eagles.” and even an occasional “Vampires”. The over- all majority pointed to “Vik- ings,” a name that became as- sociated with the school around the outset of football season and had gathered quite a sizeable number of fans, among students and adults alike. The local news- paper has used Venango Vik- ings” several times, and this name has received a great dea of acceptance around the city. When the Student Council saw that the nickname balloting would turn into a landslide, they took the tabulations to Father Antoun. Father recognized the wishes of the student majority, but said perhaps allowing the students to develop a name by themselves would be better re- ceived than creating by means of a Student Council resolution a hard and fast name. He explain- ed that he would rather see a nickname grow from thrills and enthusiasm than from the im- position by formal and dry leg- islating of an official schbol title. Newsmakers By The Way MEDICARE: Two sophomore biology students have been play- ing Ben Casey under the super- vision of Mr. Stanley Zagorski, Venango’s biology teacher. Michael Schneider and Joe Wish- nok have performed heart surg- ery on three frogs with some success. GO and TEACH: Sister Joseph. O.S.B., formerly a teacher at St Joseph High School, has re- ceived a Christmas check from three Venango organizations for the benefit of her students in Mexico. O, DEAR: Robert Gabreski, Jim Felix, Neil Todhunter and Frank Malek were lucky hunters this year. Each of the boys bag- ged his deer early in the season. SLIM CHANCE: Many stu- dents worked in local stores over the holidays. Of particular inter- est were Jane Meals and John Williams, who played “Santa Claus” at Grants and Heaths. POE AND ALL THAT: Girls in fourth period gym class were startled when a mysterious voice called from one of the lockers “let me out”. The locker was opened, and the tape recorder, rescued. ASSEMBLY: Father Ferdin- and Fent, a Mill Hill Missionary, conducted an assembly here Dec- ember 11. Father, who has spent the past twenty-five years work- ing among the natives in Africa, used oolor slides to illustrate his lecture on the work of mission- ary groups. OVER and OUT: The gym skylights were closed recently thanks to an ingenious invention, a horizontal window-blind. A CELEBRITY! Miss Judy Oliver of 16 Edgewood Drive, Oil City, was named Co-Ed Corres- pondent for the Venango Christ- ian High Home Economics De- partment. Her obligations to Co- Ed Magazine, a leading teenage publication, will include reporting on all home economic projects carried out at Venango Christian. WILLIAM ELIZABETH TIPPING FINK ELIZABETH JOHN FOX KOWAL Roving Reporters All Work and No Venango Christian High School offers its athletic-minded stu- dents football and basketbal competition on an interscholas- tic basis and track, wipple ball, and wrestling in an intramural program. A number of boys have suggested introducing additional varsity sports here on the hill. For an overall view, the Barque presented this problem to various members of the student body. Should the sports, currently limited to intramural competi- tion, be included in the varsity roster?” Betty Fink, a senior, is defin- itly in favor of such action, but would restrict the program. For the girls, yes. The boys have lots of sports activities, but we don’t have anything more than two crowded gym classes a week”. They should have both.” says senior Dave Carone. Varsity sports encourage school spirit, while intramurals builds the in- dividual.” Debbie Lee voices the opinion of the freshman girls. I think we should, if the fellows are good enough to compete with other- schools, and if we would have a chance.” EDWARD CATHERINE ZIMOSKI MAYERSKY DEBORAH DAVID LEE CARONE Play Track and Wrestling A Building Program Junior John Kowal, president of Junior Red Cross, thinks we should have track and wrestling. It’s essential for a well-rounded curriculum. It’ll give more kids a chance; those who are too small for football will have this to look forward to.” A negative vote came from the freshmen. Bill Tipping ad- vises, We don’t have the mater- ial — men or equipment.” Yes, because it would give us a spirit of competition,,” con- cludes the sophomore girls spokesman. Cathy Mayerski says We only play the kids in cm own school now; but if we had the opportunity to branch out, things would shape up nicely.” ALL FOR ONE: Ed Zimo ' a sophomore athlete, feels that there should be more sports like track and w. stUng for the boys and basketbal; tor thi girls It builds school spirit as weil as the individual.” A Teen-Age Trauma: No One Understands Them A PLAGUE OF PLENTY The whole teen-age world loves a teen-age driver! By LOIS HILL The trouble with most teen- agers is that they think they’re kiormal. But not me! I’m a realist see; I know I m not like anybody else. Tm not saying I’m weird or anything. Heaven knows, on the outside I’m a typical seventeen year old girl. I have two wigs, and my strawberry blonde hair has been so many colors that even my hairdresser doesn’t know anymore. I’ve gone through the jitterbug, the fly, the fish and the twist. I’ve lived on chocolates that make you lose weight, and wafers that make you lose your mind. And I haven’t bitten my nails in years. So, you see, most people don’t realize that I realize that I have a trauma. It all started with my parents. Doesn’t everything? I mean if Gallup ever took a poll an parents. I’d just bet you my atuffed kangaroo that he’d find out that they’re the beginning, end, and in-between of every teen-age complex. FM REJECTED: When I was a freshmen, all the other kids got to go to the prom but not me. My mother took one look at Jim’ car and screamed no in ten dif- ferent languages. I thought it was a pretty nice car, seeing as how it was made way back in 1941. One wheel jig- gled a little, and there wasn’t a knob on the gear shift. Oh, and there was a bitsy hole, about the size of a silver dollar, in the windshield. But gee, what’d she expect anyway — a Cadillac ? And besides, it wasn’t even cold, so it didn’t really matter if the wind- shield was all there or not. Still I had to miss the dance. Then, when I was a spohomore, Tammy -- she’s my best friend — learned to drive. She took the car to a football game one night. I couldn’t even go. Mom didn’t trust her, but I don’t see why. It was only thirty miles away, and she knew how to drive. Gee golly, she’d had her license for three weeks. Finally, after waiting for fif- teen years, I got to be sixteen. You know what that means. I used the family’s station wagon for awhile. But one day I made a tiny miscalculation and backed into the side of a moving van. The very next week, I drove to school in my very own Model T. It was just the most fabulous car I had ever seen. It was purple on the outside, and the upholstering was a green and black check. Wo went everywhere in my car. One day we rode across this farmer’s pasture and the rumble seat fell out. It wouldn’t have been too bad, but Suzie and Tam- mie were sitting in it at the time. The farmer called my dad. This time I got a jeep. The boys were crazy about it. I mean, they all worked on it. Two weeks before I got it, it was a jeep. Two weeks after I got it, it was moon- equipped. There were flames on the fenders, names on the sides, and “Beware, mad driver!” signs on the bumpers. The trunk was metallic. It was eight different colors. It was a masterpiece. Tammie and Suzie and I drove right straight up a bank with it We were doing pretty good. Only, I couldn’t turn around ’cause all the trees were in the way. So I put it in second and proceeded to back out. I needed a new car. BE PRACTICAL: This one was a compact. It was pretty sharp, but there wasn’t much room in- side. Some of the kids took the safety belts out of the car and tied themselves to the fenders and the roof. I was becoming quite attached to it when some of the school’s wrestlers started messing around. They picked it up and loaded it on a truck. Well, they wouldn't lift it back down; so I boarded the truck, started my car’s en- gine and missed the ramp. When I got out of the hospital, my dad bought me a bright, orange convertible. PARENTS AGAIN: Only one thing bothers me. Ever since I got my convertible, Suzie and Tammy have been avoiding me. Personally, I think they're jeal- ous. Some of the kids said that they’re moms won’t let them ride with me, but that’s silly.’cause I'm a very good driver. If Suzie and Tammy aren’t careful, they’ll be getting complexes too. See what I mean about parents? It’s almost time for my dad to be getting home now. so I have to hurry and go for a ride. I don’t want him to see the fender just yet. I'd better wait until after he sees the garage. Hobby Comer; A Lick and A Promise By JOSEPH KAMER Some people think that stamp collecting is licking tape and anchoring paper squares in a book. But the true nature of this hobby is adventure. For centur- ies, men like Franklin D. Roose- velt and Dwight D. Eisenhower have found enjoyment and re- lease in stamp collecting. Mounting stamps requires much time, effort, and patience. The collector must use a special tape to place the stamp in the book, and must put the correct stamp in the correct place. Col- lectors must examine their stamps for watermarks and cer- tain characteristics, such as. a part of the illustration piercing through the lettering, a wavy line instead of a straight one, or a separated line opposite a solid one. There is always the thought of satisfaction in collector's mind - or maybe his pocket - when he or she unoovers rarity. Recently a boy found a piece of paper one inch by three-quarters of an inch. This was worth $60,000 to him. EQUIPMENT: The first step in becoming a collector, is to decide whether you’re going to oollect United States stamps, for- eign stamps, or both. After you have made this decision, you will need an album, an assortment of stamps and a package of stamp hinges. All of these supplies are available in your own town, or you may secure them from a Stamp company. You can obtain stamps valued from one penny to one, two or even three thousand dollars. These are of high quality and there is no danger involved in buying them. Now that you have obtained the necessities for collecting, you go to work. First you sort out the stamps. . The you take your album and begin in- serting the stamps. You secure them with a piece of paper which is gummed much like the flap of an ordinary envelope. This is called a stamp hinge. If they are not folded you fold them in half, sticky side out. Put one half on the stamp; then the stamp is placed in the album by means of the other half. Of course before you put the stamp into the book you find its correct place. Usually there are pictures of stamps in the book which match the orgtnal. WORK: After you have mas- tered this part of the hobby, you will learn to collect blocks of four’s, blocks of six’s, collectors items, and several other types of postal papers. I have been collecting stamps for about three years, and still find it very interesting. I own about three thousand stamps.. Many of these are rarities. I am proud to be a collector, and I respect others who collect stamps. Why don’t you join the other four million, who collect stamps as a hobby? It’s fun. ed- ucational, and at times profit- able. Too late for New Year’s resol- utions ? Not at VCHS. In fact, we have a little saying here: It’s bet- ter to resolve late, than not to re- solve at all. So, with tongue in cheek, we are passing on a few suggestions to some of our read- ers. The last to accuse our seniors of any imperfections, we think that, on the whole, they need only one reminder — freshmen get hungry too. They might promise not to take advantage of their rank when it comes to cafeteria lines. Peg “Can’t hear, - I've - got - a - banana - in - my - ear ’ Boocks could resolve to exchange her First Aid Manual for a mort- ician’s handbook the next time she ventures out on the road. After all, the life she saves won’t make her any money anyway. When softer walls are made, Tom Hartsell will have a hand in it. But until then, he should vow never to hit a cement one again — at least not until the cast is removed. Bety Fink might promise to look before she leaps — into her socks that is. This way, she’ll know if she’s going through life with two different colors in her shoes. As for the juniors, they might like to give up their vacationing in favor of a little school this year. But, to be specific, Steve Szalewicz could resolve to read a book on photography. He’s the Barque photographer, you know. REMEMBER TO REMEMBER: Sophomores, though only ap- proaching senility, are quite for- getable at times. Bill Hill, the most absent-minded professor, should tie a string around his fin- ger in order to remember which bus he’s supposed to be riding. We do hope he doesn’t forget to remember the string. Linda Campagna resolves to study Isacc Newton’s law of gravity so that she can learn how to keep her feet on the floor while Dlaving basketball Anything would be a resolu- tion for Venango’s freshmen: Donna Truscott can’t go on all her life being a pay-later; Milton Emory might promise to wait until he sits down to bargain for anyone else’s food. Mary Anne Ruscio will have to remember to check her recipe before adding salt. You know, too much salt spoils the strudle. This year we’re going to have to add one more for Sister Mary Peter. Sister, please resolve to get the magazine out on time so next year’s New Year’s Resolu- tions get a better start. The rest of us — we just re- solve to resolve. Sportorama: Here’s To The Future SPORTORAMA: After many successful cage seasons at old Saint Joseph’s High School Coach Bill Eckert has again ac- cepted the coaching assignment for Oil City’s Parochial basket- ball team. At Venango this year. Mr. Eckert is rebuilding and moulding a team of potential Winners. With a squad predominately underclassmen, VCHS can ex- pect some real action in a year or so. This year’s squad is com- posed of only three seniors, two juniors, four sophomores, and three freshmen. The big men for Venango are 6-4 sophomore center Tony Schill and 6-2 junior Stan Kukla, Schill is expected to use his height to our advantage for scoring and rebounding. Stan Kukla’s re- bounding strength and accurate set shot from the comer give Venango Christian two real com- pete rs under the bucket. HUFF: Pivots and Pace KUKLA: Baskets and Balance Along with Schill and Kukla, Tom O’Brien, Larry Huff and Tom Owens are expected to see action with starting assignments Tom O’Brien, a senior play- maker, has spirit, drive, and that all important will to win. With his passes, scoring will soar. Larry Huff is our hustler. He’s the worker on the team and with him on the fast break, we should be seeing double figures in many contests. Tom Owens is another return- ing letter-man. He can score, either with a set or a power drive, and he rebounds with the tenacity of a bull. COMING UP: In order to have a winning season, a team must have bench strength. The remain- der of the Eckermen are all pot- entially fine basketball players with promising futures. Eckert has height on the re- serves in the 6-1 Tom Jablonski, a junior guard. He has the kind of eye for the basket and rug- ged defensive plays which will earn him a varsity letter. Sophomore Sam Leta is next year's playmaker. Sam has that certain “Cousy” quality that could enable him to travel to the top of the Coaches list of most valuable players. Bob Faunce and Dave Hender- son are also fine sophomores with basketballs on the brain. Their primary job this season is to gain experience and they will be alter- nating between junior varsity and varsity during the next two years. Freshmen shapi lg up are Joe Fonzo, Ray Brezinski, and Bill Tipping. These boys are real competitors with the spirit and determination it takes to learn and learn well. With these lithe youngsters on our squad we can expect to floor some fine teams for Venango Christian’s future in basketball. Girl’s Intramurals The Pretty Ones A SALUTE TO VICTORY The Josephines behind our Napoleons. VCHS scored another point this year by introducing girls' •ports into the intramural pro- gram. The gym classes have just finished basketball competition and are about to begin indoor wiffle ball. Miss Joan Rush, girl’s athletic director, is constantly on the go supervising the daily games. Miss Rush who, initiated the program for girls, serves as teacher, refer- ree, Judge, and scorekeeper. AND WHAT WOULD HOYLE SAY: The games are a combina- tion of fast moving team work and hilarious action. Jump balls usually mean that two girls are standing in the circle waiting for the ball to come to them.. It’s never surprising to see one of the players sitting on the ball. Nat- urally this means that one team is freezing the play. Sportsmanship and physical fitness play a major part in the intramural competition. So after time out for combing hair and re- pairing make-up, play resumes with great vigor. The scores have been posted and the cat’s out of the bag, lit- erally speaking. The victorious teams were Genevieve Smutek’s aenior Limbos, Karen Blumen- aaddt's junior Flints tones, and the sophomore Athletics under the leadership of capt. Katheryn Settlemire. For the freshmen, high teams were the Almost Angels with Kay Martin as cap- tain and Lorraine Marchibroda's Hi-Lighters. The top players on the win- ning teams were: Ginny Hynes. Karen Blumensaddt, Kay Martin, Lorraine Marchibroda, and Gene- vieve Smutek. They really de- serve a salute, or a battle star, or something that recognizes bravery beyond the call of duty. CHEERLEADERS Tradition insists that behind every great man there is a great women......... therefore behind every great team there must be great cheerleaders. Venango is no «exception. Through failure and folly jolly pepsters have sup- ported the team, held spirits high, and untiringly boosted the teams ego, even when the score did not. At the darkest moments of the game they shout “success.” They undoubtedly have the will for our boys to find the way. The cheerleaders have broken in bunions, discovered new mus- cles, conquered laryngitis and called it all duty. For they know beyond these nightly aches and pains from practice are blue hori- zons .... a winning team. Venango’s vibrant voices are sounded by varsity members Judy Balcerek, Sue Callahan. Dianna Demmer, Mary Jo Mason, Virginia Hynes, Judy Oliver, Jan- ice Schiffer and Joan Bajorek. Junior varsity rooters are Karen Alsbaugh, Judy Fitzgerald, Anne McCallum, Ann Witcomb, Joanne Szabat, Judy Campagna, Gene- vive Smutek and Barb Zawislak. And do they ever give up? Is their spirit ever daunted? Never. WHERE THE GIRLS ARE Oh, no! On the hardwood, too? By JULIE MOFFETT Scanning the cold gray dawn, the four men surveyed the wreck- age caused by the rushing winds of the previous day. They were combing the debris of the the biggest hurricane ever to hit the port villages of southern Spain. Only a few soggy remnants of once pros- perous towns remained. Carlos strained at the oars of the small weatherbeaten craft, as he had been doing since the winds let up around four that morning. Only his and Mario’s insistence kept them from turning back to the Red Cross station. Catching the sudden flare of a match out of the corner of his eye, Carlos turned his head slightly. Staring at the slender, youngish man who had struck it he wondered what Mario was thinking of all this, Mario with his fine clothes and withdrawn manner. Indeed, even in the damp boat, after having climbed in and out of wet, half-sunken buildings with the other three members of the rescue team Mario sat a little apart. “You know good’n well no one’d las this long. Besides, take it from me kid, no one else is bothem' his head about these good for nothin’ peons, who never did a good day’s work in their whole damn lives.” But Pedro, what if someone is hurt and needs our help?” asked Manuel timidly. He was a small boy, the local storekeeper’s son. At the moment he was looking at Pedro with such respectful admiration, that it was almost too much for Carlos to take. So let’em git it from someone else! I’ve had about all I want of this,” roared Pedro. ‘ Let’s have another drink.” Turning back to the tiring search, Carlos could feel the jump and rock of the boat as Pedro moved aft to get the jug of wiskey he had found at one of the last stops. A big man. Pedro. Big and mean. Known all along the seacoast of Spain, not so much for causing fights but for his aptitude in finishing them. Known and talked about was Pedro. Carlos realized that as far back as he could remember people had been talking of tall, strong Pedro with grudging respect and pride. Carlos had known Pedro since they had been boys. Both of them had come from the section of town, both had belonged to the same gang, but there the similarity ended. Pedro had been the leader oi their gang — loud, strong, and forceful — while Carlos had run er- rands, shined shoes, done all the things no one else wanted to do. Carlos remembered the day he asked for admission to the Gol- den Cats,” Pedro’s back street gang. It had taken him two years of wishing and two weeks of worrying, but he finally gathered any courage he might have had and stopped Pedro in the alley in back of the school. What d’ya want? Pedro had growled and, as he listened to Carlos he started to laugh — the same harsh laugh that had interrupted Carlos’ thoughts a minute ago. Then he had put his big fist in Carlos’ face, and had shoved him to the ground saying. Sure, Carly, sure. Stick arour.d we’ll grow you up.” Pedro had been his idol then and Carlos had looked at him much as Manuel was now With eyes full of admiration. Pedro lived on admiration; it made him what he was. It kept him big and hard. Carlos lived for admira- tion; lack of it kept him what he was a little man with big dreams. It had always been Carlos’ dream too to be big, and brave, and strong; to have people he didn’t know point at him. as they did at Pedro, and say, That’s Carlos Mezzeo. He’s the strong- est. bravest man on the water- front of Spain!” Come on, Mario, just a little drink. It’ll make a man of you. Look at the kid. here. Tastes pretty good, doesn’t it, Manuel ol’ boy? Hah!” Once again his harsh laugh rang out. Mario, as if un- hearing, climbed out of the boat, sunk knee deep in the muddy, lit- tered water, checked the house for anyone trapped or hurt, and returned to the boat with a shake of his head. What is it?” pondered Carlos. Why should the great Pedro bot- her with me. with the janitor of the town’s print shop? I can’t even go for a beer at Stan’s Bar without that loud, racous voice calling out, Carly, hey Carly, where’s your broom ? You’ll make somebody a great wife someday, Carly.” That always got a big laugh. Pedro was usually in the center of a group of the biggest roughest men on the waterfront, contlnupd on (p. 13) Of Logs And The Bumps On Them AND THOSE WWo TRY TO bZ SUSIE T MI to be � chunk of wood. Now I am a piece of furniture, or if you want to be technical, a desk. Fortune has frowned on me and I don’t mind telling you that I’m d.sappolnted. Through the year� , I’ve watched them all come and go. You see, it’s heartbreaking here. There was Plain Jane, the little freshman history student. She wanted so much to be a part of the crowd. She always knew the answers, but the rest of the girls didn’t So poor Jane failed the course. When the other boys teased Tiny Tony, he traded his art paper for shoulder pads. He had a lot of spirit, that boy d d. He cried all the way to the hospital That football game cost him his art scho- larship And then there was Darling Dolly. She was a cute carbon copy of every other girl in the school. Who picked out those shoes she wore last week? Not Dolly, that’s for sure. It's awfully depressing to watch them waste their high school days that way. They stuuld be forming character and moral standards, but fnsteal they'd rather form friendship by selJng what they have. I’ve seen an honor student ask for answers in a test because he didn’t have the backbone to take failure. I remember a girl who wanted so much to follow the footsteps of her popular brother. He had dared to be different, but she was too busy following to notice. Athletes have lost games because they had to go along with some- one else who was Just fooling around. Once I saw a real leader. He didn’t have to go bowling If he really wanted to go to the dance. He never put on airs about his feelings. He spoke up. He had ideas. And he lived his life the way he thought he should. That boy was never except' anally popular, but it never bothered him. lie was too busy becoming a man to worry about It. Til never understand people. They can either spend their endlest existence In complete happiness, or In the empty shell of someone Oise’s shoes. They know that. And what do they do? They risk their lasting future for the fleeting present. The opportunity to be yourself waits every day for someone. I know’. But most of them hardly ever come. I don’t understand. I just don’t understand..... Trees In Winter By PANNI BAUER In the deep stillness of the for- est night, the gnarled trees hud- dle together in search of warmth and proction. Like so many old men, they hunch their backs against the bitter winter winds. Weatherworn and wrinkled, their faces are etched by years of knowledge and of labor. Their twisted aging limbs reach out desperately in search of support. Their threadbare coats are of little use against the icy cold. They look forward to the snows that place mittens on their hands and scarves around their necks. Nestling like small children, dream dreams of green days and golden dawns. To them Spring is patient waiting, warm desire If you need help from your neighbor in a test ......... Re- member the success of the ‘For- eign Aid program is debatable. In case you leave school grounds during the lunch hour .. ... .It might be your last meal Don’t rush it! Identity By RICHARD EATON The city never sleeps or dies or fades away It may blink its eyes or rest its head For time and weather are hard But it will reach out and give life To its members And its members will give life to the city For we are the city And the city is life Freshmen: A Thing Of Grins and Gadgets BOYS WILL BE.... J. Voloabin, S. Brown, G. Moffatt, W. Tipping, J. Streczywelk, R. Xand«r L. Woodworth, C. Steinecker, M. Tobin, S. Bolot, T. Tarr, J. Komar, J. Jarzab, F. Suai, M. Reid Freshmen giggle the longest, shout the loud- est, and disappear the fastest. They chew more gum, carry more gadgets and dream more dreams than any other creature known to man. They like food, seniors, vacations, dances, gym classes, being in high school, birthdays, ban- anna and peanut butter sandwiches, talking be- tween classes, and anyone younger than they are. They hate homework, members of the opposite sex, carrying books, grown-ups in general, being freshmen, doting relatives, report cards, wearing uniforms and all teachers. THE BARQUE QUARTERLY PUBLICATION OF VEN- ANGO CHRISTIAN HIGH SCHOOL. OIL CITY, PENNSYLVANIA. 1505 W. FIRST ST. TEL. 9-1285 Editor----------------------Daniel Callahan Aaaociata Editor —-------------------- Loir Hill Copy Editor------------ Conatanca Rinaldo Sporta Editor ------------ Michael Yerger Production Editor ________ Elizabeth Fink Layout Editor ............ Dolore Weaver Photographer ----------Steven Szalewicr Staff Artiat__________Karen Blumenaaadt Circulation Manager__________Diane Jaaiota Exchange Manager .... M. Beth Marchibroda Reporter __________—__K. Rice. P. Bauer, L. Beat. D. Weaver. J. Stover, D. Goodman, P. Breen . J. Mean, G. Campagna, P. Henry, V. Hynea, J. Kramer. R. Wollaston. J. Sulli- van, C. Staub. A. Loguc, W. Hill A COOL. CLOSE CLIQUE: J. Warchalic, R. Bellow . L. For- manek, S. Henry. C. Barton, R. Digiammarino. C. Fiacher, C. Cannon, K. Rejsman, S. Meehan, L. Sibrowaki, K. Dia- mond, A. Proper, M. Hart� 11 MEMBERS OF THE LOYAL OPPOSITION: J. McGreevey, J. Keeacz, R. Douglaa, J. Jchnaon, L. M. McGraw. S. Chelton, K. Schneider, C. Kocan, J. FrawJey, J. Gurin, P. Bouquin, G. Briggs —10— THE BARQUE IS AN ACCREDITED MEMBER OF COLUMBIA SCHOOL PRESS ASSOCIATION. SOCIAL SUMMIT: R. Findlay, J. Kenniaton, D. Carberry, A. Keyea, J. Jollay, J. Fonzo, J. Hriscina, S. Clark, M. Eicholtz, J. Greaaley He will eat three lunches a day and run home after school in a sudden fit of hunger. He forgets more homework assignments than is humanly possible. He is a master at excuse making, pest- ering, distracting, and just plain bellowing. He fights like a dog, whines like a cat, and argue3 with the tenacity of a mule. She spends more time with a basketball than with a mirror, and knows more about Elroy Face than Emily Post. She does- n't like algebra, seniors, or boys; but to be sure, she likes all three. She is suddenly a telephone tal- ker, a dancing instructor, and a potential teacher. She needs a mountain of clothes, although she never wears anything but a uni- form. RANDOM THOUGHTS... If you don’t like the corridor traffic rules... Remember the life you save may be your own. In case you have the habit of smoking... Use your imagina- tion. In case you can’t manage to find the school before the open- ing bell sounds’. .. Don’t say you thought it was Saturday. Even insanity’s no excuse. If you are in “hot water” and they say they are going to exterminate you. .. Hire yourself a good lawyer and plead insan- ity on your parent’s part. A SITUATION TO STUDY: B. Carey, S. Dabrowaki. M. McQuown, A. C. Chaka, K. Florek, D. Clifford, P. Bowen, S. Hynea, C. Flotak. K. Evan , M. Fitzgerald —11- AUNT MAE’S STORY HOUR: W. Kokoi. E. Sustek, D. London, G. Wotner, M. Toy, J. Jaroaz, L. Heath, K. Martin. L. Novicki, N. King, J. Mahaffey, C. Kulinaki. C. Irwin, D. Jaaiota. L. Etzel, K. Burke “BUY AMERICAN”: M. A. Smith. J. Mott. L. Machibzodi, M. Ruaico, D. Truacott, C. Engliah, L. Garmong, J. Ventu ralla, C. Sporer. AH. THE PAUSE THAT REFRESHES: J. McCarthy, R. End , S. Anderton, J. Fitzpatrick, J. Andrea, R. Korg, J. Frank, G. Moaaa Freshmen are funny creatures who laugh when there’s no rea- son to laugh. They’re still child- ren to everyone but themselves They think life’s a merry-go- round. school’s a drag, and par- ents are hopeless. They will rant and rave for hours, disrupt classes, drive teacher’s insane, run through the halls, and cause utter chaos But when it oomes right down to it. who else can get as much out of life as a freshman? They’re a bundle of mischief, but they’re full of enthusiasm, plans, minor accomplishments, and major dreams. They’re the Venango Christian freshmen, the class of '66. SOME PEOPLE WILL DO ANYTHING M. Emery. M. Engliah. R. Culp. J. Beechner, T. Baker. R. Brzerimki, J. Martyna JAILHOUSE ROCK: J. Sullivan. R. Staler, J. Klaacz, J. Homan, A. Smpwn,.. J. Shravt, J. Waddell, E. Wojtowic —12— PROCEED WITH VIG-AHf R. Scheffer, J. Schettler. L. Meehen, L. Keennger, C. Stoub, D. McGinni� , J. Kow.il, G. Henderson, J. McNemey, J. Rekee, T. Hinds, R. Soche, T. McGinty, T. McCellum, P. O'Malley, D. Woibert SWEET MISERY OF LIFE: J. Leicht, M. J. Stoub. D. Lee. M. Breene, D. Czlonke, E. Blimasky, P. Ekert, S. Macdonald, B. Burns, D. Fedorek, D. Brinkley, P. McCarthy, L. Oliver, J. Woods A STATELY GROUP: T. Koxiara, J. Seyler, J. Witherup, R. Taft, J. Guyton, J. Runul, R. Ebbert, T. Kay, T. Gabruki, D- Beuce --13--- The Fate of Carlos Mezzeo Continued from (p. S) Some day though, he’d show them. Someday he’d be the center of attraction of that group, some day they’d look up to him, not laugh at him. “Stan’s Bar .... I wonder if it’s still standing?” It had been raining, a steady drizzle when the radio announcer broad- casted the first of many hurri- cane flashes. At first, no one took him seriously; some even joked about what they called the an- nouncer's “hurricane - fire - flashflood” voice.. But, as the winds increased in speed, the ten- sion rose until, as if on signal, everyone hurriedly left to make safe their homes and loved ones. Careening down the street, partly because of the wind and rain and partly because of the beer consumed at Stan’s, Carlos saw a woman, her once red scarf flapping as she pulled at it with one hand and huddled two smail boys near her with the other. Small crys of terror rang out as the water lapped at their play scuffed toes. My God, help us, senor. Where can we go? Please help us! For a moment he stared wildy at the three, his eyes dilated, his body buffeted by the ever rising winds. Then he turned and ran. “But I was drunk.” he argued while another part of him answered, “You are a coward, a weakling.” “Let’s tum’er in!” shouted Pedro. With a look of weary rel- uctance. Mario yielded, saying, All right, one more street to fin- ish off this block and we’ll turn In.” One more street. As Carlos rowed the boat down the block it started to drizzle. At the sight of the last house everyone gasp- ed. One of the “miracles” of this storm, it was undamaged. But from some place in the back came a cry, weak and slender. “What’s that?” asked Carlos. “Sounds like somebody needs help,” Manuel spoke up. pushing his hat rakishly as he stumbled up. “Oh hell, it's the wind. Let’s go!” Pedro said impatiently. One breezy morning on a far away September day I was faced with the most distasteful realization that period of educational indoc- trination loomed inches away. The small brick school house burst with excitement. Female excitement. There were girls in the lockers, in chalk boxes, on the desks, and standing menacingly over the boys. This was the beginning of inferior feeling toward females. Many circumstances presented themselves as ignominious touch- es to an already disturbing situation the least of which was by no means the fact that there were only 20 boys and nearly 40 girls in my class. As the years passed I found that girls excelled in all the mental and many of phyiscal achievements. Year after year women came out on top in every aspect of school life. Even in the seemingly uncomplicated grade school years. I despised it like the Germans did the Jews. Wait!” commanded Mario: “Move in closer, Carlos.” As Carlos rowed to the back of the house, they saw the old broken down shanty. It had been badly wrecked by the storm and by the looks of the foundation, it would not be standing much longer. Mario motioned Carlos to bring the boat closer to a win- dow. Inside the shanty, a boy about nine years old writhed un- der the pile of boards which lay across his chest. Reaching out to pull away the top board. Mario stopped. His face blanched as he heard the ominous creak. “It’s Ramon Rodriguez. We can’t get him out. The boards that have him pinned down are the only thing holding this shack up. To keep him alive someone will have to push up on the boards, we’ll have to hold the weight our- selves.” To do this a man would have to be strong, Carlos knew. In a stuper he rubbed his hands on the front of his jacket, the dark stains not registering as his mind churned, “Sure .. . . sure . . yea, sure Carly, sure, sure. Come around when you grow up. Nice-wife-Carly. Nice-wife-Carly. Any takers? takers? takers?” Big mean Pedro, the champion of the seacoast, couldn’t save this boy’s life. He was, ironically enough, too big to crawl beneath the twisted beams. “I’ll do it.” The words crack- led in the damp air as Carlos got out of his jacket and inched his way through the window. Later, his back aching to sag against the pressure. Carlos re- membered the look that flitted across Pedro’s face. Maybe, he always expected big things of me. He probably just didn’t show it. That’s why he was always badgering me. Now I'll be his friend too. I’ll be in that group around the bar.” Carlos grew dizzy and sticky hot. but through it all he kept hearing the men in Stan’s the next night, and all the nights to come. He could hear them; “Hey everybody! Here’s Carlos him- self. Come on, Carlos, tell us if it was hard.” “ Oh, it was noth- ing, really.” he would say and be pressed to tell it again. He knew that each telling one more person would hear of the bravery of Car- los Mezzeo, and the word would be passed down like old coats. „Come on, Carlos, over here.” No, come with us, Carlos� .” “Want to go with us tomorrow. Carlos?” Cutting through this came a soft wimper from Ramon. Carlos released his support; he straight- ened. His cramped muscles de- manding at least a little move- ment. The boy cried sharply. Carlos jerked around, his dazed mind unable to cope with both situations at the same time. The jerk released the last bit of foundation and the shack tumbled in on them with a creak and groan. Carlos, knocked for- ward, heard Pedro's, “I knew you shouldn’t have left the knuckle- headed weakling ....” But the big man couldn't hurt him any- more. In every school play the girls outshone the boys in their drama- tic execution. I remember many cases when the lead called for a boy, and yet the audience alwayj clapped loudest for the dainty creatures who made even Chris- opher Columbus seem insig- nificant. I was Christopher Columbus. As verbs, nouns, fractions and decimals beset the weary bones of confused young men, the re- maining students tackled them with ease and gracefulness. Later, as logic, - surely a male forte - prevailed, woman’s intuition proved far more effec- tive and much less apt to make the mistakes involved in thi drawn out statement and reason form. So it is a psychologically dis- turbing thing, this being a man in a woman’s world. But at least it is not a lonely condition. An English politician, asked to com- ment on the statement that wo- men will be running the world by the year 2000, betrayed a great deal of insight when he answered simply: “Still, huh?” —14— IN THE SOPHOMORE SPOTLIGHT Margaret Coyne and Gary Hawk TO SERVE IS TO SUCCEED Margaret Coyne “ one of the best all around students at VCHS” is noted for her quiet influential manner. In her it is obvious that “actions speak louder than words. Maggie’s main interest in school are biology and English, both of which challenge her to meet new goals. Margaret busies herself with outside activities, such as the Junior Red Cross and Legion of Mary. She enjoys working so much. She can usually be found in the midst of a crowd. She cap- tivates everyone with her wit and cheery disposition. Thus, she is placed among the “Top Ten” list of beat friends. Although Margaret is yet un- decided about future plans, we here at Venango wish her the best of luck. If an eager smile, a helping hand, and a friendly disposition are the criteria for success, then she has her future laid before her. But for the present, her memory book will contain a dif- ferent achievement — Miss Sophomore Personality, 1963. Gary Hawk, an active sopho- more, is one of Venango’s more ambitious students. Because of his good judgement and idea of “getting things done that need getting done, his fel- low classmates elected him as a Student Council representative. Along with this responsibility he also participates in the foren- sic program. He competes in Stu- dent Congress. Gary’s favorite subjects are biology and Latin. He enjoys adventure and al- ways says. “There’s no such thing as hard work; it’s a chal- lenge everyone must conquer. His pals think of him as “a real neat kid, fun to be around, easy to get along with. His good hu- mor and friendliness make him one of the crowd and slightly above it. What Gary Hawks lacks in stature, he compensates for in, spirit and ambition. There’s a place waiting for him in the winner’s circle; one that his lead- ership will conquer and his friendliness insure, just as they secured for him the title of the sophomore personally of 1963. —15— By CONSTANCE RINALDO Gay and young was Mary- bell, She laughed and frolicked and played, But never went near the for- bidden well While at Granny’s house she stayed. REFRAIN: “O, don't go near the edge of the well ' Her Granny would always say, “Take care; ne'er go near the well, Marybell, I'll tell you why someday, O I'll teTl you why someday. Then once in the morn’ she woke from bed. “I’ll be goin to visit some kin, So mind one thing, “her Granny said, “About the well, - don’t never look in.” Bright and bold was Mary- bell, And no one could see but her pup. But he ne’er told she leaned o’er the well Not even that she didn’t come up. When Granny came back she found Marybell, Dead like her mother had died, Lying uncovered in the same empty well. “Again I will fill it with tears I’ve cried.” PERISCOPE OF ORATORS When a girl puts on her make- believe crown and takes up her imaginary sceptre, she is still only a teenage girl. But when she stands before an audience and readies herself for death, she is Mary. Queen of Scotts. A boy might hide behind a lampshade in shyness, but let him repeat the words of Lincoln or Washington, and for a few minutes, at least, all the world’s his stage. And when the play is over and the dreams fade away, the actors emerge as men and women of strong character - speakers, thinkers, readers. This is the National Catholic Forensic Lea- gue, the builder of reason, retort, and reality. AND OBOES It was not the New York Phil- harmonic Orchestra, but Venan- go Christian High School band which entertained the Dedication Day assembly and serenaded the Miss Merry Christmas contest- ants in the Santa Claus parade. In the beginning there was a piano, a music instructor, and a goal. Two trumpets, an accord- ian. and a drum joined the par- ade. It was a rough march, but the musicians climbed the hill. Today, 17 pieces make music for Venango High. Soon the band will have more drums, more flutes, and 76 trombones in the big parade.” INOEX Activities Editorial Essays . . 4, 14, 15 Fiction 8 Freshman 10 Hobbles 3 Humor 5 Newsmakers 3 Personalities 15 Poetry 5. 9 Roving Reporter 3 Sports ...... Student Government . . . 2 “FRIENDS, ROMANS, COUNTRYMEN” Mary Stuart meets the Common Market SWEETEST SYMPHONY Music - to - ring - the - dismissal - bell - by —16— VOL. I, NO. 3____________________________________________ SPRING, 1963 Government: Toil and Trouble Determined, enthusiastic, impetuous, willing, young, the number I student council of VCHS is fast setting precedents and standards that will call for Herculean suppport hereafter. With money problems behind them and elections yet to come, the candles are getting shorter and the days- longer for the representatives of thi.i offspring of Grecian government. Vice-President, Cathy Manion, whose adminis- trative ability and ambition have passed every hurdle that a demanding council have placed be- fore her, received laurels at the January 23 meet- ing. The success of the post-basketball game dance sponsored by the SC on January 12 gave a more bouyant look to the sagging bank book. The permanent committee for the compilation of suggestion box entries-Michael Yeager, Gary Hawk, and Daniel Goodman—are responsi bile for bringing situations, both major and minor, to the Senate’s attention which might otherwise have gone without notice. Strange as it may seem, however, bigger than the problems in the box was the one of getting students to use it in the first place. But food has driven many a man to even greater lengths, and a desire for chocolate milk in the cafeteria left the box the only outlet for the frustrating situation. When chocolate milk appeared on the steam and serving table, more slips appeared in the box. Through the report of the committee, the council found out that many of the students wished an op- portunity to use the library facilities in the morn- ing. Most of the suggestions mentioned that those who did not have a scheduled study hall had no chance to make use of the reference material there. Jane Meals, a junior history student as well as a council member, mentioned that this was timely since the annual term-paper rush is now in full swing. The matter was referred to Father An- tuoun and shortly afterwards he announced that an extra librarian had been employed so that the students could use their library before prayer in the morning. Recently the council was given a vote of confi- dence and cooperation by the students when they asked for several altar boys to take the responsib- ility for serving the 8:00 Lenten Mass celebrated each Monday. Wednesday, and Friday. The seniors -Thomas Hartsell, David Hartsell, and Michael Cunningham—replied that they would take an ear- lier bus in order to be at school in time to assist at these Masses. More recently, the council announced that next year’s seniors will reeive their class rings early in September. The administration feels that the present junior’s activities limit the funds needed for the rings. In adddition, it has been decided that uniform's will be worn until the last day of school. Obviously, if government is of the people, for the people, by the people, this year's council hats kept the faith. Vice-Pres. Manion. Reps. Meals and Hughey The chair recognizes some female intuition —2— � ii dM William Walenia Cathy Manion James Cihon a in Nancy English Louis Karg Patricia Breene Roving Reporter An Oil Can For The Teacher Newsmakers: A Little Spotlight A TOUCH OF OLD SPAIN: Javier Pi Garcia, an exchange student from Valencia, Spain spoke to the Spanish students of Venango Christian on Februari- is. He is a senior at West Forest High School in Tionesta. T was very surprised to leam that everyone in America was not a cowboy, said Javier. Another victim of the vast waste’and.... THE WAY TO A MAN'S HEART: Congratulations to Genevieve Smutek, Venango’s winner of the Betty Crocker Homemaker award and a female most likely to succeed. IT'S ABOUT TIME: Class rings are here at last. The sen- iors of Venango are well pleased They stand two feet taller now “ said a freshman observer. REST IN PEACE, SAM: VCHS will erect a monument in memory of Sam Malene. the first senior to lose his class ring. We are all confident that Sam will find it before his father does. He hones. A HOME FOR SAPPHIRE: Karen Alsbaugh, winner of Sap- phire the Wonder Cat. promises che will give him a good home. Sapphire just smiled and winked his paste jewelry eye. CHIN UP: John Beck just can’t understand why he has to attend every prom meeting. John says he feels a little embarrassed when everyone is making big plans for decoration, food and en- tertainment while he ust sits back and listens. John is head of the clean-up committee. GIRLS WILL BE GIRLS: Tl! bet you never knew that an earthworm had five pairs of hearts. Neither did the freshman and sophomore biology students until they each dissected one of these fascinating little creatures. An unidentified sophomore girl described her specimen as simply darling. AND THEN THERE WAS EINSTEIN: The rumor that girls are smarter than boys was veri- fied when honor banners were given out at second quarter. Girl's homerooms won all the awards. Let’s go men. We have just begun to fight.” VCHS students recognize the excellence of the teaching staff and educational facilities made available to them. But the wheeis of progress travel onward and the student daydreams of a fu- ture age. It is not th? rocket that captures his attention, but the mechanical teacher that stands before his imaginary classroom. He immediately real- izes the advantages of a bucket of bolts that could be easily dis- sassembled and shipped to the Arctic f assignments got out oi hand. As disappointing as it is, the push-button education of today is limited to television, a rapidly growing means of instruction To determine the attitude of the students toward their new teach- ers. the Barque presented the question: “Are television teach- ers advantageous to the aca- demic schedule?” Cathy Manion, senior Student Council officer, offers this con- clusion: “Yes, they’re helpful when students pay attention, but often they fool around. Sophomore. Louise Karg. is firm in his reply: I think they’re advantageous becaus? classrooms are steadily becoming crowded and they will help that situation. Pat Breene, a junior, gives teachers a big compliment. Television teachers give extra material that helps, but if I had to choose between a television five times a week or a teacher five times a week. I would take the teacher.” Jim Cihon proves that the jun- iors are united in their opinion “They fill the teacher shortage but they don’t compare to a reg- ular teacher.” Even the freshman, most like- ly to accept change, decided to remain loyal to their tachers. Carol English makes a very understandable statement. “You can’t reread material. You get it right on the spot or not at all. It makes review difficult.” The feelings of many are re- vealed by Bill Walenia, apparent- ly a “Poypeye” and Cecil and Beany fan. Television is for recreation not education.” The World Couldn’t Be That Lucky THE LONG ARMS OF JUSTICE Will the accused take the stand? My problems started before I was even baptized. The day chos- en for my baptism was a cold blusten one in December, so vou may be sure there were more blankets than there was baby As I was carried to the churcn by my proud godfather. I cried and wailed. But, of course, this was natural; after all, it was a pretty cold day. Not until we ar- rived at the church was it dis- covered that I had been the victim of a too proud godfather. I had been carried the entire dis- tance upside down. What a lovely time they must have had cooing and clucking to my feet. Some five years later, I was joyously bouncing a ball against the side of the house when it went up and didn’t come beck down. Where else could it be but on the roof? Genius that I was. it never occured to me to look on the other side of the house. I laboriously climbed the little hill behind the house and peered onto the roof.,No ball in sight. Im- mediately I presumed the worst. The ball had gone down the chim- ney and would block it. Rem- ember, if you can stand the strain, that this was the middle of July. I thought instantly of my invalid grandmother, my baby sister, and my poor, tired mother. The decision was obvious Much better than they should have the house fall in on them than that they should choke to death in the smoke from the blocked chimney. I quietly sneaked onto the baek porch and poked around till I found a small, dull hand-axe and I went to work on the comer of the house. Well, my mother heard the noise and the rest � s history. It was a week or two be- fore I felt quite comfortable when sitting. The marks remain on the side of the house to this day. rrs what’s up front that COUNTS: My first Holy Com- munion, a joyous occasion, be- came even more joyous when T was awarded the coveted position of lead flower girl. But simply because I couldn’t remember which aisle to lead down, I soon found myself third in line. Ah well, life is full of injustices. After suffering this terrible blow to our communal ego, the family took a trip to Canada, to visit the shrine of St. Anne de Beaupre. I remember especially the Holy Stairs which one must ascend on one’s knees. My two older brothers and I were most reverent and even said the re- quired prayers on each step- shortened though they were: Glory be, Glory be, Glory be. Anyway, I won the knee-race up the stairs and my ego was re- paired. Family relationships suf- fered somwhat, however. COWBOY COLLEEN:. About two years after this incident, I was one of the six chosen to dance the Irish Jig for the one- hundredth anniversary of the Benedictine Sisters. I was, of course, not just a little conceited. However, I had a small problem learning to skip and cross-step at the same time. I mastered that, but Sister's headache was just beginning. I was the most notorious cowboy on Bissell Ave- nue with haircut to match. Try as she would, Sister just couldn’t convince me that little Irish mav- oumeens were curly - headed cheeubs. But where she failed mother succeeded, and soon T was the curliest of the curly mavoumeens, though my scalp ached and the boys called me frizzy. What price success. My recent encounter with trouble was just a week ago when I was the poor unfortunate on the bottom of a 3-sled pile-up. As I lay in the snow nearly smothered in blankets and a crowd began to amass, a little boy hollered out of a car window, “Is she kil- led?’’ As much as my leg hurt, I had to smile. Me, the most in- famous kid in the neighborhood, killed ? I could just imagine what the gang would have said if cir- cumstances had been slightly dif- ferent: The world couldn’t be that lucky. DUST BOWL LIFE Quiet dawns bring silent days, And endless life and un- changed ways Since listless hours, scorching sun— Did all the work that can be done. Thirsty crops, sure to die, Face another day of dust, aching dry. And tired people, tired land, Watch once green fields, brown with sand. Rosemary Bouquin There are two possible ways to have a nervous break down The first is to become a high school teacher; the second, be- come a high school student. The first works faster, but the second is sufficient. It has been said that teenagers are a wild and carefre? group, and it may be true of some but certainly not for everyone. For instance, many of the fresh- men at VCHS are hardworking industrious, reliable, energetic. They undertake worthwhile and beneficial projects, like growing bacteria. Of course, there's really not too much to growing bacteria. You simply take gelatine and agar- agar, whatever that is, and dis- solve it, pour into a flat glass saucer, and sterilize it by heating it with steam. Simple. A little messy, true, but very simple. And, after all, what have you got to lose? At least that’s the way I reasoned when they invited me to join the merry little group. What could I possibility lose? If you don’t consider my mind too precious a commodity, not much. My colleagues were a skilled group. Skilled meaning that they broke no more than six glass 8auscers at $.50 a piece and ruin- ed about 3 pounds of agar-agar, whatever that is, at $4.0D a bus- hel, not including enough gelatin to fill two and a half swimming pools. When you consider the ultimate benefits to science though, the cost was nominal. Basically, the experiment con- sisted of promoting growth of bacteria and incubating the sau- cers. The first dish we exposed to air for thirty minutes. On the second one we poured a few drops of drinking water; to the third we added a few drops of fresh milk. The fourth dish was cough- ed on, and the fifth was touched lightly with the end of a finger Those, obviously, were easy enough, but the sixth dish! I mean where in the world do you find a healthy fly in the middle of March? We sent scouts out in every direction: to the classrooms, and lockerrooms, the gymnasium, the cafeteria. Everywhere. Finally, news rea- ched us that there was a fly loi- tering outside the kitchen door. A group was sent out to capture the specimen and bring him back alive. Tweny-five minutes later 2 of the orginal 5 men returned. (We never did find out what happened to the other three.) Anyway, they had the animal, and that was all I cared about. (Continued n page 14) Hobby Corner: Robin Hood And All That by Steven Szalewlcz There are many and varied 6r- ganized hobby groups. One is the Pennsylvania State Archery As- sociation who’s local branch is the Oil City Archery Club. Ten years ago archery was a new sport. However, in its crud- est form, it originated years be- fore the birth of Our Lord. It is a facinating sport which provides not only enjoyment and relaxation but also exercise. In addition, it gives a person a greater appreciation of the out- doors. The verbal terminology of archery is relatively simple :bow arrow, pull, shaft, notch and tube. For persons interested in arch- ery as a hobby, the recommended bow weight is from a thirty to a forty pound pull. With a bow of greater pull, a person may be- come fatigued and not experience the full enjoyment of the sport. Arrows should be matched to the bow. Most beginners prefer, wooden arrows because they are less expensive. After the person has achieved a little more agility with the bow and can keep bi arrow's in the butt (the h� y bales), there is greater accuracy The hand apparatus consists of a three finger leather glove which is used for protection and smoother string release. An arm guard, designed to prevent injury from the string, is also used. ARROWS FOR ACCURACY: Bows are constructed of wooden limbs with a laminated plastic covering for protection and spring. The most commonly used bows are the center rest recurved which give greater accuracy and smoothness. Arrows have varied types of points depending upon their use. The most common is the target point The shaft makes up what most people call the whole arrow. Toward the back of the shaft are the feathers which may range in number from three to six, depending again upon the use. At the end of the arrow is the neck which is usually made of plastic. Its purpose is to hold the arrow on the string until the arrow is released. Target archery, which is the most widely practiced form of archery, may be of three types: the field round, the hunters round or the animal round. The field round is the most common and consists of twenty eight tar- gets with black and white “faces”. Four arrows are shot at each target; two at a single posi- tion or one at each of four dif- ferent positions. Each target is a separate distance, ranging from the fifteen yard “rabbit shor” up to the eighty yard “walk-up”. In the field round, the first black circle scores three points, and the inner white circle and the black bull’s eye counts five points. The hunter’s round may con- sist of 14 or 28 targets at varied ranges and at a varied number of position. Four arrows are shot at each target which is com- pletely black with small white lines to divide the scoring cir- cles. It is 8cored in the same manner as the field round. A STRINGY SPORT: The ani- mal round may also consist of 14 or 28 targets. These, however, are completely different from the (Continued on page 8) —5 — Sportorama: YOUNG BLOOD FLOWS They also serve. Venango Christian’s eager surprised everyone this year. Af- ter an extremely slack football season, our basketball boys roar- ed back with a fine 12-11 slate for the first season on the new hardwood. Coupled with this res- pectable over-all count. VCHS compiled a 6-3 showing in league competition. Coach Bill Eckert’s flying un- derclassmen started with a blaz- ing win over St. John Kartv Prep. When the smoke cleared we were on top 41-31 with the help of Tony SchilTs 18 points. Schlll also proved to be too much for North East when they journeyed to Venango. He scored a whopping 24 points as the Vik- ings rode to a 59-60 victory. HALT: The victory parade was halted by a strong Titusville quintet. Although Huff and Kuk- la combined for 23 points, we still ended up on the short end of a 58-4T score. After this loss, Greenville came to town and halted us 53- 44, with Schill scoring 15 hard earned points. Venango’s representatives then Invaded Aggieland in Meadville and squeaked through with a 54- 51 win. Tall Tony again proved his worth with a 19 point effort. We liked the sound of victory as the scoreboard showed a close 76-74 at North East. Larry Huff took up all the slack and scored 22 points far the evening. 50 Seconds From The End Of The Season It’s been a long night POWDER WOUND: Titusville did some cheering of their own when we visited the Powder Horn. They ground out a 65-54 win, but they couldn't keep Schili away from the bucket. He pour- ed 27 points through their under- sized hoops. Then Tony Schill and Larry Huff measured Kanty Prep for 34 points between them while Ven- ango romped to a commanding 56-36 triumph. After the extensive road trip, our court looked mighty good, and we sparked well against Meadville. We played with real team effort and won 59-42. Huff and Kukla combined for another 29 points. VCHS wound up with a fine season and some creditable scores. Tony Schill deserves special notice for a average of 13.5 points per game; Larry Intramural Competition Mayhem, massacre, and muscle strain Huff with a 12 point average outpaced Stan Kukla’s 10 point performance. Tom O'Brien and Sam Leta also deserve credit for setting up those points. Next year is our year. A GRAB Boy’s gym fiction attracted at- tention in two different phases this quarter. Whiffle ball and crab soccer have Just been com- pleted with the results only mem- ories of the gruesome past. In 3rd period action, the Rebels copped top honors in whiffle ball with a creditable 6-0-2 record. The Northes were next in line with an admirable 6-2 count The fourth quarter champs are the Titans with an overwhelming 13-2 record. With these long-bal- lers the second place team, the FI ushers managed a 9-5-1 oount The Dukes with an 8-2-2 record squeezed past the Kollar Kollars to win in the split 5th period ball-hawking, the Thieves cleared a 10-5 record to stretch by the Eagles and Falcons. Both the latter nines wound up with iden- tical 9-6 counts but the Eagles won in the sudden death playoff. Co-ownership of the 6th period action is held by the Door-Bells outclassed the field to a tune of 11 wins-1 loss. The Rebels squeezed past the Vikings with an 8-4 record as compared to a 7-5 one. (Continued on page 15) Lieutenant Ralph Wilson had Juat ten seconds to make up hi mind. His F-86 sabre jet had been crippled by a Mi fighter and i‘ was losing altitude. He could try to bring it in, or he could bail out. The choking smoke convinced him. He reached for the escape pin and yanked it. A split second later he was hurtling .through the air wait- ing for his chute to open. Lieutenant Wilson was a big man and his parachute dropped rapid- ly under the stress. He was an American war ace. Now he wa3 the victim of a Russian Mig fighter. He thought about getting out alive but knew better than to hope for a chance to escape. This was war and he was in enemy territory. Two minutes after hitting the ground he was surrounded by North Korean gorillas. One of them stepped up. He didn't wear a hat like the rest of them, and his head was clean shaven. “Chinese officer, he thought. The bald-headed one spoke. Ha! What do we have here? A yankee flyer who has beenshot down by on? of our aces. How unfortunate. Search him!” The soldier relieved him of an automatic. The officer mumbled another order. His hands were promptly tied behind his back. “March! they commanded. March he did. In two hours the little band had woven its way in and out of the foothills of South Korea: Only twice did they stop to rest. “A yankee Is susposed to be strong: stay standing, shouted the officer. They came to a small village. Out of a grass hut came a teenage boy carrying some water. He offered some to the prisoner. They shot him. Finally, they came to a truck filled with prisoners,., all Viet- namese .. and headed for a concentration camp. On the way he had time to think. They’ll never get anything out of me. They’ll have to kill me first.” Over and over again he said it. “They’ll never get anything out of me. They’ll have to kill me first.” Back at the base he had been told of .some of the Chinese tactics, but he didn’t think they were all true. Scare stuff. Propaganda. After all. they hadn’t dont anything too drastic, yet. When he truck stopped, he was put in a cell. The only light came from a small bulb that swung monotonously on the ceiling. He had one blanket and the cold ground to sleep on. But they fed him and they left him alone. Not until the next morning was he taken to an interrogator. “Good morning, Lieutenant Wilson,” came the greeting from a short slender man. “How do you know my name?” ‘T11 ask the questions around here, Yankee,” came the reply. His oriental mustache straightened In anger. “What’s your name?” he asked. “I thought you already knew,” snapped the Lieutenant. The slap across his face left white welts. No back talk, Yankee. Now. what is your name? “Ralph P. Wilson, Lieutenant. United States Air Force, Serial Number 964851.” “That’s better. What is your mission?” “Ralph P. Wilson. Ueuter.an united States Air Fore?, Serial Number 964851.” “Where is your bace located? He got the same answer. The questions continued for three hours. The answers were as regu- lar: Ralph P. Wilson, Lieutenant, United States Air Force, Serial Number 946851. Finally the interrogater broke the monotony. “Yankee! Want a cigarette? He took the smoke and lit it, held it out until Wilson, beaten, reacn- ed for it; then slowly, deliberate- ly .maliciouaiy ne broke it. “Put him in the box.” he hol- lered. The box was a cage two feet square by three feet high. In order to get in it the man crouched up like a frog. Later, cramped and miserable, the ques- tioning started again. The answer “Ralph P. Wilson, Lieutenant, United States Air Force, Serial Number 964851.” Okay, Yankee, if you no talk, you no sleep.” For more than fifteen hours the Communists tried to pull ans- wers out of him, and for more than fifteen hours he didn’t talk. He was taken back to his cell. He was hungry. He was tired. He was sore. And he was silent. For two grueling weeks they tried to get a confession out of him. They said he was a spy. He went without sleep. He ate once a day. He had his face beaten with brass knuckles. His ears were pierced with fine pins. They ripped the fingernails from his fingers so that the blood oozed out in little drops. They branded his back with hot irons. They whipped him and beat him some more. But nothing they did would make him confess. At night, when he was alone, though he thought. “Why am I keeping quiet any- way? What plan do they think I know. Maybe our troops are plan - (Continued on page 8) (Continue! from page 7) ning a surprise attack soon and I hey suspect it. Maybe there is some new weapon that they want to know about. Yea! That must be it. Our scientists have a new bomb or something. There must be something. Anyway, they won’t get it from me. I must keep quiet. I must. I must. Even if they say they’ll kill me, 11’ still keep quiet. I can’t tell; I can’t talk. I can’t.. Even as a boy everybody knew that he was tough. Like the time when that big bully. Pudge Browning, tried to shove kid 3 off the ball diamond. Ralph couldn’t stand for that even if Pudge was bigger. Ralph was going to lid: him good. He did, too, but only after he had a shiner and a bloody nose. Or like the time he came up with the big intercep- tion that saved the championship for his school. He was a hero. He’d always been a hero. He en- tered the Air Force after gradua- tion and his attitude stayed the same. He was second highest in his company, and he wanted everybody to know it. Then came the war. Somebody had to shoot down those Russian migs and it might as well be Lieutenant Wil- son. He was the first American pilot to shoot down twenty ene- my planes. Who knows? Maybe if he hadn’t got into this mess he might have gotten thirty. Bu now he had something higher to aim at. He was going to show those Commies that he wasn’t about to give in. He was a big man. For weeks the Communists kept up the process. The Lieuten ant’s body was mangled and torn and it crept with pain. Pain that never stopped, that kept him from sleeping; that dulled his appetite. The pain was always there. The Reds still wanted a confession, but there was only one way to get it. The needle stung but the pain went away. There was sleep. And then there were dreams. Funny dreams. He dreamed he signed a confession 3aying he was a spy. It seemed as though ha were awake and knew exactly what going on. He even remembered signing his name.... Whe he woke up, they told him that he was sentenced to ter. years in prison for crimes against the state. The dream was hard cold reality. Now. with a reason to keep him in custody, they wanted more. They wart ted infor- mation. But the Lieutenant didn’t have any information. He was still keeping quiet. His prison days were scheduled. He got up at six, went to work in the fields for a couple of hours and ate his breakfast of raw rice or boiled cabbage. After he ate he was questioned until noon. “What was your mission? Where is your base located? What is the new weapon your country has?” “Ralph P. Wilson. Lieutenant United States Air Force, Serial Number 964851.” In the after- noon he could either go to an indoctrinating session or work in the fields. He preferred the fields. He worked until dusk and then dragged himself back for supper Raw rice, boiled cabbage, and raw fish. Day after day he worked in the fields. His wounds healed slowly. Often at night he didn’t want to eat as much as he want- ed to sleep. He noticed that the other prisoners who went to the classes weren’t so tired, Mabye if I went a couple of times I could gain my streng.;i back. Maybe just once. I c uld iu t sit there.” One day the Lieutenant ston- ed going to the fields. For the first couple of days, he iust sat there like he had planned. But he never went back to the fields. Why should he ? All he had to do was just sit there. The Chinese had different ideas. They began asking him questions. And his answers started to change. He said simply, ‘T don’t know.” “Would you be kind enough to define Socialism for us. Lieuten- ant Wilson,” sked the teacher one day. “I don’t know how,” came the reply. “Then would you define Capi- talism for us.” “I don’t know how.” “You mean you don’t even know what you are fighting for f (Continued on page 18) LMJOH AWHILE, (Continued from page 5) After we had persuaded the fly to walk around on our agar agar for a minute or two. we had to face the problem of how to in- cubate the dishes and with them our gold-plated germs. It only took a little over 15 minutes of deep thought for me to produce the brilliant idea: use an incu- bator. In fact, use the incubator that was sittting under my nose at that moment. The thermometer was gone and that unnerved me quite a little but I supposed that if I plugged it in and it got nice and warm we could add the agar-agar and things could come out about even. It wasn't until I got home that night that I began to question the sanity of the plan. Suppose the silly thing kept getting hotter and hotter. Suppose it blew up and sent flaming agar-agar in every direction—not to mention the hot tar and feather the fac- ulty could cook at the same tem- perature. After two or three hours of nothing but cold worry I manag- ed to doze off. All night long I was chased by flocks or schools or swarms of whatever you call a bunch of bacteria. Next morning I scanned the paper rapidly, looking for the ex- pected news. I guess 1 should have been relieved when I found nothing, but I had to see it for myself. Sure enough. A whole school. Slightly singed perhaps but whole. Twelve hours at 300 degrees left us little in the way of bacter- ia but a tremendous amount of baked agar-agar. Delicious with ice cream. They had found the thermom- eter, too. In the bottom of the fish tank. Where else?. Memo To A No One On His Way To Nowhere MEMO TO A NOONE ON HIS WAY TO NOWHERE Henry High-School You-Name-It-Town, U.S.A. Dear Henry High-School, I had a dream the other night and I saw you there. As I passed I saw you stand ng at the edge of the crowd. You weren’t in the parade, but unless your re careful you may be-soon. Mr. Nonought, the dough- nut without a hole, led the march. He was followed by th° ra bit that didn’t have ears, the snow that didn’t fall, and th? lice- In -Wonderland that didn’t have a looking glass. All th misfits were there. The no-one . And you were there, Henry High-School with one foot in the parade. You can’t deny it; you’re slowly emerging from the cocoon of your teenage years as a mis- fit. Are you what you’re sup- posed to be? Your first concern is your education. If yoi can honestly say that you’re absorb- ing every square foot of informa- tion that Is tossed your wiy, then you’re someone. Th n, you belong. But that isn’t th case is it, Henry? Every time you stay home from school to watch a tele- vision program, or to take a trip, or even to work on a long- range assignment, you’re deliberately deforming a part of yourself. You’re no longer a whole person; you’re a misfit, Henry Hlgh- SchooL Whenever you let a home- work assignment lie forgotten on your dusty desk, you also for- get a part of yourself. Henry, how many times have you noticed yourself lying there in the dust on your desk? If you’re a student you are alert in class. You know what’s going on. You’re a person. But if you’re mind is fogged by dreams that are only fantasy then you’re only fantasy, too. In which category do you belong? Do you leave your books in a locker somewhere down the hall ? Does your neighbor pass all your tests for you? Do you talk and laugh during class? Do you have poor study habits? Or are you a student, a person, a some- body? Yon know, your today Is, in a sense, your tomorrow. You are making yourself what you will be in the future. If you for- get to go to school, you’re go- ing to forget to go to work, and someday, you’re going to for- get to be something. It’s not too late for you, though. Pull your foot back, Henry High-School. CASE STUDY Never before had I felt so gTand; nothing at all worried me, but they said that should not be. You’re hot natural unless you’re afraid. I was sent to a fellow who looked in my head. When he was done, I was sure that I was too. The nut. You know what he said then? He told me I worried when no one was looking, but then I pretended I didn’t. That does it; I quit,” I said. I heard him tsk, tsk, as I went out the door, Now it’s certain. You’ll never sleep peacefully. Poor boy.” Daniel Goodman ANATOMY OF LIFE Life is a fantastic whirl of dreams. Of passion and power and praise. Where every man is more of a man In a great and masculine maze. Life is the day-dream of reality And fancy has the upper hand And on the great beach of power and such Truth is lost in the drifts of sand. But like the strangeness of a wisp of wind Mingled with the stir of the air The life that we cherish so must end Leaving behind every love, every care. Carol Moran -------------------------------------------- THE BARQUE QUARTERLY PUBLICATION OF VEN- ANGO CHRISTIAN HIGH SCHOOL. 0:L CITY, PENNSYLVANIA. 1505 W. FIRST ST. TEL. 9 1285 Editor --------- .......... Daniel Callahan Associate Editor................ Lois Hill Copy Editor_______________ Constance Rinaldo Sports Editor _______________ Michael Ye.-ger Production Editor —---------- Elizabeth Fink Layout Editor _______________ Dolores Weaver Photographer —_________________Steven Szalewicz .Staff Artist ________Karen Blumensaadt Circulation Manager ——.... Diane Jaaiota Exchange Manager .... M. Beth Marchibroda Reporters-------------K. Rice. P. Bauer, L. Best. D. Weaver. J. Stover, D. Goodman. P. Breene. J. Meals, G. Campagna. P. Henry, V. Hynes, J. Kramer. R. Wollaston. J. Sulli- van, C. Staub. A. Loguc. W. Hill THE BARQUE IS AN ACCREDITED MEMBER OF COLUMBIA SCHOOL PRESS ASSOCIATION. Juniors: First In Trouble; Second In Command A junior Is a sandwiched sort of creature too young to be asked to shoulder adult burdens, much too old to admit it. He is Just recuperating from the struggle of changing from a freshman Into a gentleman facing the metamorphasis of manhood. For now though he is a rather sorry character., just in-be- tween. OF BEAUTIES AND BEASTS: A Junior boy most frequently stands on corners, watching pin- curls and freckles grow into the Mona Lisa of his dreams. And then from the same comer, he watches as the charm and finesse of the nation's colleges and col- lege boys move in to steal her away, leaving him to his hot rod magazine and his comer again. SOMETHINGS ARE IN BETTER CONDITION BRO- KEN. D. Wolbert, S. Carson, P. Breene, S. Callahan, K. Alsbaugh, J. Williams, C. Gilliland, J. Meals. GIVE ME YOUR TIRED, YOUR POOR J. Wiedle, R. Bouquin, P. Kaness, B. 01- sofka, P. Henry, K. Carroll, K. Blumensaadt, P. Yashin- ski, M. Ward, R. Walentosky. BY PRESIDENTIAL PROCLAMATION YET. D. Mac- kintosh, K- Blumesaadt, H. Heher, T. Jabolonski, J. Curran, S. Marshall, M. Brown, J. Kowal. —10— Junior girls most frequently stand before mirrors - teasing painting, primping - or tear through town In fabulous red convertibles, hair flying in seven- teen separate directions, wonder- ing what happened to the mas- cara they so meticulously ap- plied. A junior’s world is where everyone is for himself. It’s a place where trouble is spelled with a capital T and where the next guy never does a thing. It’s a kind of in-between place: in between the cafeteria and the principal's office. Top Left: HEAD THEM OFF AT THE PASS. M. Hojduk, H. Burchan- owokl, A. Cholot, M. Rogor , R. Olivor, M. Schettlor, P. McNor- noy. J. Rybak, M. Woith Top Right: SOME OF THEIR EXPERI- MENTS WORK-AND SOME OF THEM DON'T. D. Drozdo, 8. Malone, S. Kukla, S. Jez, S. Szalewicz, K. Hartooll, N. Pro- natL A. Whitcomb, P. Finnocy. Center: 7 HOME-EC MAJORS AN A FRIEND. J. Fitzgerald, K. Quinn, K. KUtler, B Oabreoki, J. Wil- kinson, B. Fox. D. Schwaben- bauor, A. McCaJIum. Bottom: ILLEGAL BACKFIELD. J. Beck, S. Malone. M . McMahon, R. Beichner, N. English, J. Lukas- lak, G. Campagna. S. Keat.ng. JUNIORS.... (Continued from page 11) WORK AND WOE: A junior grows up; he’s ready for work mother decides. The old saying went “a little work never hurt anyone,” but that was before the juniors discovered they wouldn’t have a ten minute coke break every five minutes. They all aim high and even if they can’t hit the rim at least they try. No matter how many spirits are dampened, they some- how manage to pick themselves right back up to get the work done, to report for detention promptly, to get right back in there fighting. Above all, a junior keeps in his mind that he is past the half way mark. And all of a sudden this becomes a year of tolerating rathe� than complaining. Junior boys begin to look better to Jun- ior girls, and the fellows are amazed to find that they would rather give away their friendship rings than their trout flies. It’s a year of occasional plan- ning for the future, constant dreaming of the present, and haphazard remembering of the past. He’s a junior and he’.l happy. GO IN AND OUT THE WINDOW. P. Allio, M. Bechtel, M. Camp, L. Schwabenbauer, D. MacDonald, R. Brez- inski, D. Anderton. FOOD FOR THOUGHT. R. Wollaston, J. Cihon, F. Gressley, J. Szabat, C. Kelly, R. Megnin, J. Walen- tosky, C. Gates, C. Womer. —12— SOMETHING ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE. M. Pindel, A. Logue, R. Wojtow- icz, T. Lenar, J. Kachik, E. Olsofka. JOSEPH FONZO AND PAMELA ECKERT Going up, up, up. TO SERVE IS TO SUCCEED SERIAL NUMBER. . . . (Continued from page 8) How stupid!” “Why don’t you leave me alone?” he complained. “Can’t you see that I’m not going to tell you anything. I’ll never tell you guys a damn thing. Never!” “But Lieutenant, you already told us a lot,” came the cool re- ply “Ah, shut up. Get the hell out of here and leave me alone. Have- n’t you done enough to me al- ready?” The Lieutenant tried to find the door. They were closing in. It was getting cramped. He had to get out. The guards moved forward menacingly. “No, let him go,” snarled the officer. “I do think he wants to go back to the fields.” The Lieutenant stopped and re- turned to his seat. He had backed down. For the first time in his ife. Big Ralph Wilson-the small town hero, the man that the Air Force had trusted and the boys m the sandlot idolized—had backed down. And the Chinese officer only smiled. But that night, in his cell, he became his own interrogator. “What did that guy mean ?. . I didn’t tell them anything. .Did I?. .The drugs. . That time they gave me drugs. I must have talk- ed. I gave in. I told! I told!” He started to think out loud. “They had to give me drugs. Those rot- ten Commies. I told! I told!” He started to bawl like a child. “Why didn’t they leave me alone?” he screamed. “Why didn’t they kill me? I had to tell. I couldn’t help it. They put me to sleep. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t”. His cries got louder. “You dirty stinking rats. You can’t make a man talk when he’s awake. You have to put him to sleep.” He started pounding his head up against the wall. The red blood oozed out and mixed with his sweat. He kept hitting his head up against the wall. Finally he dropped into the pool. A guard found the Lieutenant on the floor, his dog tags thrown over his shoulder: Ralph P. Wil- son, Lieutenant United State: Air Force. Serial Number 964851. “Joe Fonza, he’s our man. shout the crowds at most VCHS basketball games, and the crowd are right. Joe is a member of both the varsity and the junior varsity basketball teams which n itself is a distinction for a freshman. With this issue, Joe receives still another honor, the title of Mr. Freshman, 1963. Honors are a must for this quiet academic student who started his school life at St. Patrick’s Grade School in Frank- lin. Although Joe is not quite sure about the future, he does plan to complete a college educa- tion. World Culture is this athlete’s favorite subject. With all the time Joe puts into school activities and outside work, it doesn’t seem possible that he has time for hobbies. But during his free time Joe is golf caddy. It’s not a profitable hobby, but it keeps him in shape for sports. Joe is the type of bov every- one’s proud to call a friend. He is courteous, cheerful and hard- working. “Sportsmanship in everyday life.” could well be his slogan. This is why we salute you Joe Fonzo, Freshman of the Year. Concentrate on an image of the ideal American teenager, a girl bursting with vitality and glow- ing with health: a pair of soark- ling eyes and a radiant smile. The result is Pam Eckert, the Freshman Class Personality of 1963. Pam started her education at St. Joseph’s Grade School and graduated to Venango Christian High. A straight honor student in the academic course, Pam plans to go to college and major in biology. This idea was inspired when she took biology as one of her subjects this year. Her school activities consist of the Math Club and Great Books, but she still has time to make friends and have loads of fun. An avid sports fan, both as a participant and an observer. Pam names sports as her hobby. Her favorites are skating and golf. Pam has a definite talent for writing. She was chosen one of the parish winners in the Bene- dictine Sisters’ Vocation Day Contest. Good grooming rates high on her list of personal musts, and she has that trait of making just any “old rag” look like an ori- ginal. She’s fun to be with, won- derful to know and pleasant to have around. That’s Pamela Ec- kert, Miss Freshman Personality of the year. —ia— HOBBY__ A Cup Of Death 8Y R� CH fLO Cft U t-ty (Continued from page 5) other types of rounds. They arc pictures of animals with small circles drawn where the animal's heart is located. From one to three arrows may be shot at the target from one or more positions depending on whether or not the first or second arrow hit the tar- get. If the first arrow shot hits the target but no part of the ani- mal, the shooter scores a zero; if heart circle, he scores 16; and if he hits the circle with the first shot arrow, he scores 20. If a person misses with his first shot but hits the target with his se- cond, he gets a zero; if he hits the animal he scores 10 points: and if he hits the circle, he scores 14. Considering the case in which the shooter misses with both his arrows and then hits only the target with the third, the score is zero. Hitting the animal with the second arrow scores four points, and hitting the circle with the third‘arrow scores an eight. As soon as the archer has hit the target with ary of his arrows, whether he scores or not he is finished shooting that target. COWBOY OR INDIAN: Arch- ers shoot under different classi- fications depending upon their own skill. A person shooting for the first time is classified as a novice. He remains in that class until he shoots out or until he has shot above the maximum score for that class. From novice, a person may work through the superior classes according to his ability to shoot. The general classifications for archery are: novice, archer, bowman, expert- bowmen, ex-A, and ex-AA. There are other special classes for jun- iors, ladies, and sight shooters. The competition and complex- ity of archery today makes many moderns wonder if Robin Hood could even qualify. You can how- even. and, if your’re not the ani- mal, archery is a lot safer than many ether teen-age hobbies. “Joseph ’ called Mrs. Brown- son, “I want you to go to town and pick up a few things for me.” “She paused to wait for the ans- wer that didn’t come. “Now! Joseph.’’ “Yes, Aunt,’’ Joseph James Brown son said wearily. Mrs. Brownson, an elderly wo- man, had obtained a large for- tune after the death of her hus- band. No one is exactly sure how Nathaniel Brownson came into his estate. Some said by inheri- tance; others knew him to deal in various enterprises. He was a legend even during his lifetime. Elizabeth Brownson was now in her middle seventies, though at times she appeared older. Be- fore Nathaniel’s death she had frequented the social circles, but her later years left her lonely but proud. The only heir to the Brownson fortune was the nephew, Joseph James. Here was a young man whose sole motivation for exis- tence was his desire to lay hands on the inheritance. “Joseph, I need more medicine. This dreadful cold is making me miserable. All that useless doctor can do is give me more and more worthless medicine,’’ said Mrs. Brownson in one of her typical tirades. “Now, Aunt, be calm,’’ return- ed James. “You know what he said about your weak heart. “Why should that bother you? You want my money. You live with my money not me. You want to see me dead, you miserable wretch. You want to see me dead. “Aunt, dear Aunt! You know all I care about is helping you, James answered automatically as he left the room. But unknown to the old woman followed it with the familiar, whispered taunt, “Dead, you old witch? I won’t be satisfied 'till you’re scream- ing in hell.’’ He walked down the hall, put on his coat, opened the door, and slammed it impatiently. As he lifted the garage door he thought, “She’ll never die. She’ll go on forever, rationing her money and treating me like a child. He backed the car from the garage and headed down the long slanting roadway that led away from the spacious stone mansion. Pulling onto the main road he thought of his gambling debts, of the boys uptown who wanted their money, of his aunt — his old, weak, stubborn, aunt who defied even death. Brownson brought his auto- mobile to a stop in front of the drug store. After receiving the prescription, he walked from the store. Suddenly a shadow separated itself from a near-by building. “Hello, Jimmy, it said and grab- bed him around the arm. “Mr. Saunders wants to see you, the shadow said. “Bat — but I ah, I have to get right b-b-back, James stam- mered. This was a new James, a terrified ghost of a James. “Mr. Saunders wants to see you now — and he means now. The shadow and James stumb- led into the latter's car and drove to a large building at the edge (Continued on page 15) (Continued from page 14) of the city. Then went directly to the office of the powerful racketeer. William J. Saunders. Saunders was known for his ruthless methods and his persua- sive manner. Though suspected of many “incidents,” he remained free to carry out his corrupt practices. Entering Saunders’ office, the two men met the small but de- termined man lost in a chair be- hind the massive desk. “James, boy, I want my money” the small man said terse- ly, “I want all of it, now.” How do you expect me to get that kind of money on this short notice?” James flashed back. “That’s your problem, but you have it next week, or I will have to take drastic steps ” shouted Saunders. Brown son saw a flash of blue-gray metal from the other side of the desk. He saw fire leap from the little man’s eyes. “I’ll try,” James said sheepish- ly- “You better do more than try,” said Saunders. “You better pro- duce; now get out of here.” Returning to the remote man- sion. James made his way to his aunt’s room. “That took long enough. Did they move the drug store to the next state? Where’s the medicine. Joseph?” ’Here,” he snapped. “Aunt, there’s a small matter I must discuss with you.” “Not now.” “But it’s important,” he said. “I need more money.. I need it now.” “No,” she quickly snapped, “you get what I give you and what you steal from me already. Not a penny more.” James left the room slamming the door behind him. As he walk- ed the hall to his room, his mind was filled with ideas of money. All though the week in fact he thought of ways to get the money He went to Saunders’ office. “Give me just one more week, and I’ll have it,” he begged. “On one condition,” answered Saunders. “What?” “Ten thousand more,” he re- plied. “I can’t.” “Oh, shut up. Either I get the money or you get what’s coming to you. Is it a deal?” demanded Saunders. “All right,” he said. He left the office with his head hanging. Before he returned to the man- sion, he went to a small shop and bought a bottle of chloroform. James knew this was it. After his aunt had retired, he soaked a handkerchief in the solution, walked down the hall and placed his hand on the knob. “Mrs. Brownson is ' asleep.” came the announcement from Elsa, the maid. James stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket and dashed down the hall. Elsa stood wondering why he had run when she spoke. The next morning, as Mrs. Brownson and her nephew were having breakfast, a crashing sound came from the basement “What’s that?” she asked. “Those pesky rats,” said the maid. “Joseph,’ said the aunt, “mix some poison and get rid of those things today.” After breakfast James went to the back room to mix the sol- ution. He picked up a box label- ed, “DANGER ARSENIC, HIGH- LY POISONOUS.” Dropping a small quanity into an envelope, he left. The next day went smoothly. In the afternoon Elsa entered the living room. “Would you and Mr. James like your tea now. m’am ?” Mrs. Brownson was more than normally crochety. “Don’t we al- ways take our tea at this time? The maid returned with a tray containing two cups, sugar, and the silver tea pot. Mrs. Brown- son leaned forward to pour the tea. ‘Til prepare it, aunt,” said James quickly, A little to quick- ly, a little too surely. As she turned to the book which she was reading. James slipped the envelope from his pocket and emptied the contents from it into her cup. Just as he finished. Elsa entered and asked. “Is there anything else, Madam?” “No. take the rest of the af- ternoon off,” answered the aunt. “And learn a little responsibili- ty.” She paused then. “Joseph, I have something here for you to try in your tea,” she said. She removed a packet from a table drawer and emptied the contents into his cup. “Elsa says it improves the flavor.” As James lifted the cup she said, “I hope you enjoy it.” He gulped it nervously then suddenly stood up and grabbed at his throat, “You have poisoned me!” “You didn’t think I’d let you have my money,” she scowled. James took a step forward to grab her and fell dead. “Miserable wretch,” the old lady muttered. Then she picked up her cup and sat back quietly to enjoy her tea. WHAT A CRAB________ (Continued from page 6) PINCERS, PINCERS EVERY- WHERE: Crab-soccer tourna- ments completed in most classes, saw a lot of cracked carapaces. The combined team of the Reb- els and Crusaders tipped the bal- ances to register the unprecent- ed championship of the 3rd per- iod. The Bulldogs-Norths com- bination last in the final to end up with a 7-3-2 count. The win- ners managed a 7-2-3 record. Fourth period action saw the Flushers- elinquents walk away with the honors with a 7-3-1 count. Their closest rivals were the Buzzard-Titans who managed a 3-7-1 showing. Again in junior period the Hawk-Kollars squeezed by the Dukes with a 6-3-1 record. The losers wound up the season at 6-4-1. In the other 5th period class, the Eagle-Thieves walked away with an 8-3-1 record. The second place showing went to the Fal- cons-Untouchables. The Spartans-Door-Bells ob- tained the highest winning per- centage with a 7-6-3 record in the 6th period. Their closest op- ponents were the Chargers with a 3-4-3 showing. In the opposite 6th period the Vikings-Bulldogs took over with a 6-3 record to outclass the Re- bels with an even 4-4 count. Next in line-volleyball. —15— Periscope: HELP According to the patient, it hurts only when he laughs, but student members ot the VCHS Junior Red Cross unit are trained to take no chances. The chapter charter states that its purpose is to help those in need, and who needs help more than this little guy? When you’re five years old and in a sick bed, the world looks mighty dark. AND HEADACHES The social affair of the season, the sophomore dance, “Tulips and Hearts”, did a lot to rout some of last year’s most prominent members of “The Woman Hater’s Club” out of the woodwork. And sure enough, sugar and spice and everything - that’s what teen- agers are made of. AND HEARTS The publication staff that works together dies together. This group has been working to- gether for some time. From 12:00 to 12:00 by the looks of things. Student newspapermen wait for the night they can get an extra hour of sleep. After all, everyone needs at least two. INDEX AotivitiM Editorial Fiction 7, 14, 15 Government 10-12 Penonalitle Roving Reporter THE JUNIOR RED CROSS Somtimes a man can be. too sick to eat. SOPHOMORE DANCE: TULIPS AND HEARTS Lesson one—get a partner; lesson- two-hold comfortably. FRAZZLED STAFF That’s all folks.... —1 — THE BARQUE Summer 1963 Vol. I No. 4 7he Basuytie VENANGO CHRISTIAN HIGH SCHOOL VOL. I, NO. 4 SUMMER, 1963 Table Of Contents School Life: GOVERNMENT....................p. 3 by Catherine Manion and Karen Blumensaadt NEWSMAKERS....................p. 4 by Judy Oliver ROVING REPORTER...............p. 4 by Alberta Bechtel Fiction: IM OLD, TIRED AND WEARY....p. 5 by Daniel Goodman Feature: HOBBY CORNER..................p. 6 by Robert Slonski SENIORS....................p. 8 by Daniel Callahan PERSONALITIES ........... p. 13 by Virginia Hynes WE’VE GOT A SECRET........., p. 14 by Daniel Callahan PERISCOPE .................p. 16 by Lois Hill Sports: SPORTSORAMA................p. 7 by Lawrence Littoinovich and Samuel Malene INTRAMURAL...................p. 7 by Lawrence Littoinovich and Samuel Malene Poetry: PEASANT BOY ................p. 12 by Carol Clifford A VOICE........................p. 12 by Nancy Petulla WANDERING THOUGHTS..........p. 12 by Theresa Brown Editorial: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE............p. 12 by Lois HiU THE BARQUE QUARTERLY PUBLICATION OF VENANGO CHRISTIAN HIGH SCHOOL 1505 W. FIRST ST. TEL. 9-1285 OIL CITY. PENNSYLVANIA Editor ................. Daniel Callahan Associate Editor ............... Lola Hill Sporta Editor............. Michael Yeager Publication Editor........ Elizabeth Fink Layout Editor ........... Delores Weaver Photographer ........... Steven Szalewlcz Staff Artist ......... Karen Blumensaadt Circulation Manager .............. Diane Jaslota Exchange Manager......M Beth Marchlbroda Reporters ............. K. Rice, P. Bauer L. Best. D. Weaver, J. Stover, D. Goodman, P. Breene, J. Mea- ls, G. Campagna, P. Henry, V. Hynes, J. Kramer, R. Wollaston, J. Sullivan, C. Staub, A. Loguo, W. Hill. THE BARQUE IS AN ACCREDITED MEMBER OF Columbia School Press Association. 2 Government: A Public Office Is A Public Trust The smoke filled rooms, huge nominating conventions and the platform policies that usually go hand in hand with government elections did not accompany the student council elections at VCHS. But enthusiasm and anti- cipation put the elections in full swing with every student back- ing his favorite candidate with slogans, posters, buttons and tootsie-rolls. Running for the office of pre- sident were Lawrence Schwaben- baur, James Cihon and Richard Brzezinski. Tallies indicated that a major- ity took Dan Callahan’s cam- paign speech advice and Backed the Bishop” for the ’63-’64 school term. At present Mr. Cihon holds the offices of junior class secre- tary-treasurer, and Radio Club and Math Club president. For- merly the vice-president of the freshman class and the Catholic Youth Club in St. Stephen’s parish, Jim gained the experience which counted heavily in this election. Despite the demands made on him by extra-curricu- lar activities though, he has con- sistently achieved a First Honor record for the past year and the highest scholastic average of his class. The office of vice-president re- quires service, dependability, in- Govemment: Con’t. p. 11 J. Cihon Conscientious R. Brezinski Conservative L. Schwabenbauer Conversational VIPs BREENE, FTNNECY, MARSHALL Behind every man . . . PERT AND POTENTIAL R. BREZINSKI, J. WADDELL, J. KAMER C. Hall, M. J. Siebert, B. Kaweski face the A new ceiling on the public debt? Literacy Test 3 Newsmakers: M. A. Moffeit L. Kissinger J. Moffeit T. Carone S. Carson D. Anderton Roving Reporter: Oliver Drab or Ivy Green What’s My Lias? June 4th will soon be gone and so will our seniors. Many careers have been chosen by our 1963 graduates. THE NURSES may be getting some competition since so many of our girls hope to be wearing white caps. Helen Anderton, Joan Bajorek, Mary Jo Masson, Lil- lian McNemey and Barbara ZawLslak plan to train at St. Vincent's School of Nursing in Erie. Pat Nelson will attend Spencer in Mead ville and Judy Culp and Connie Rinaldo plan their schooling at Capitol City School of Nursing in Washington. D.C. Judy Balcerek and Eliza- beth Hughey. will take a four year nursing degree program at Duquesne University in Pitts- burgh. Alberta Bechtel will at- tend the Oil City School of Nursing. The little black bag of a doc- tor will someday be the trade- mark of Mike Cunningham who will take pre-med at St. Francis Loretto, Fa. “Open Wide,” says Tom Owens, a future dental stu- dent of the University of Dayton. Mary Catherine Cihon plans to be a medical technician. “MORE PENCILS, MORE BOOKS,” cry some of Venango's fairer sex. DeAnna Demmer will prepare for teaching at Edinboro while Mary Lou Fleckenstein and Cathy Manion will attend college in Steubenville. Julie Moffett and Mary Ellen Symons will become elementary teachers under the Cadet program offered at Mercy- hurst College. Genevieve Smutek will be an education major at Slippery Rock State College. Our publication co-editor, Lois Hill, plans to become Journalist through study at the College of Steubenville. Home Economics will become Judy di- ver's major at Indiana State Col- lege. Newsmakers: Don’t, p. 16 June is coming, and graduation along with it. Suddenly for our seniors there is a future, a very important future, waiting in the darkness Just around the comer. As in every other Institution across the map, at Venango graduation goes hand-in-hand with college, work, and the arm- ed services. And every year the question repeats itself, “Is it ad- visable for everyone to go on to higher education?” Senior Judy Moffett contends that “in this modem world of science and technology, only a person with additional training will be able to succeed and sup- port a family in the years to come.” “If a person does not have average intelligence, he should try to span the stepping-stones to his own personal talents,” counters fellow senior Tom Owens. “He should definitely not try to fulfill a goal for which he Is inferior. The world needs the common man just as much as the leader.” From the Junior girls’ home- room comes an emphatic “No” as Sharon Carson explains, “Everyone doesn’t have the right mentality to go on with higher education and a lot of jobs don’t require it.” Dave Anderton, Sharon's cl ass- 4 mate, sees the problem from an- other angle. “I think everyone should go on with higher educa- tion if he has the ability and the desire to do so.” Sophomore Mary Ann Moffett feels that “now-a-days you have to have higher education. A man needs it to support a family; a woman, to help her husband in case of an emergency.” “Not everyone has the ability. Sometimes grads go to college and drop out or fail. Then they become disgusted with them- selves and quit trying,” says Tom Carone, the spokesman for the sophomore boys. Judy Venturella from the freshman class thinks “it would be nice for everyone to further his education.” However, she ad- mits that not everyone has the ability or the opportunity to do so. The freshmen boys challenge Judy through representative Lar- ry Kissinger, “If everyone went on to higher education, there wouldn’t be anyone to fill the common man’s Job.” Thus, there is an exact split of opinion. For some, training is out of the question; for others, it’s a must. And when gradua- tion rolls around in ’64 the pro- blem will come up again: Who should go to college. by Daniel Goodman A soft translucent haze floated across the field. The midsummer breeze mixed with it and formed small white whirlpools in the air. A rutted country road cut ac- cross the field. It bore the marks of many generations of people and it was their friend. It was the Camino de Paz.’’ It connect- ed two small towns in trade and in friendship. The trade was very necessary now for neither town was self-sufficient. It had not always been this way. Years ago the towns fought constantly, trade was forbidden, and there was a constant veil of fear. The leader of each side urg- ed his people to destroy the other town. They were cruel dictators, and a hot passion for power burned within them. For many years this continued; the people remained poor and hungry and the rulers rich and fat because they extracted all that the people could produce. Finally, a revolu- tion occurred and the dictators were displayed headless in the town squares. The Camino de Paz was built as a gesture of peace. The two towns could now trade freely and all was well. An old man walked along side his burrow. He was in no great hurry; he had all the time in the world. Today was market day and he would sell his jars of salt before gossiping with his friends until dusk. He and his people lived a good life; their problems were many, but easily solved. He liked market day; everyone did. At the same time, many miles away, a plane was preparing for take off. Five young men were busy shaking hands and smiling. A thin woman of forty-five was crying, Don’t forget to change your socks everyday, Jimmy. And don’t forget to write! Sure Mom. Don’t worry. I’ll write every week. Many others soon forgotten promises were ex- changed between the people there. Mothers cried and fathers were bursting with pride. These young men were fresh from college. Their heads were filled with limitless amounts of knowledge. They were strong decent up- standing young men. These men were from the United States of America. The plane rose slowly from the ground, climbed higher and high- er and then was gone. The pas- sengers settled back in their seats and discussed their plans. Their destination was two small towns situated far from civiliza- tion. Max, the oldest of the five, spoke, These towns are desper- ately in need of help. They are very poor. Almost no one can read or write, and their culture is nonexistent. They certainly need what we have to give them. As the plane droned steadily onward, the old man arrived in town and chose a place by the well to sell his salt and visit with his friends. The day passed quickly, and on his way home that night, he stared in wonder at the sky which was heavly lad- en with stars. He offered his sim- ple thanks to God. He was grate- ful for many things — small things. He had traded his salt for food. He had a strong burro to carry his pack. Life was good; God was kind; the old man was happy. Ten days later, market day again, five strangers came to town — five Americans. The peo- ple gathered around them and talked in excited tones. The Americans gave the people little steel boxes with pictures of food on the cover and they carried shovels. The short one spoke. We are here to help you. We will show you how to farm your land. We will build hospitals and treat your sick. The old man looked in amaze- ment and silence gave birtn to his words. We know how to farm; we have ways to cure dy- ing. The short one went on. We will teach you to read and write. We will educate you. Read and write? pondered the old man, Education?” What need have we for these things? To save you from the com- munists, came the quick answer. Everybody nooded sagely but you could see the questions in their eyes. The old man wondered about these things as he went home that night. A Communist, what is a Communist? They said they would save us from Communism. There are no Communists here — only us and the Americans. Five months had come and gone. The old man went into town once more. Things had changed. The people were no longer friendly. They were capi- talistic traders. They fought, they cried, they killed. There was wealth, prosperity, and anger. He heard the people saying that the Camino de Paz would be repaired. And in his wisdom the old man knew the meaning of destruction. It’s only a road, old man — only a road. they told him. So, the road was repaired, and Con’t. on p. 14 5 Speaking lor the underclass- men, I would like to announce that we have one, common, solid, irrepressible goal to become seniors. Seniors have everything that we underclassmen don't have. Look at the record— they have a driver’s license, a sophis- ticated girl, money, and freedom. A senior start with nine months of high school left and works down from there which is reason enough, from where I stand, to be a senior. In order to satisfy my crying curiosity and also to be close to a certain senior girl I know and adore, I asked her to put forth her view of conditions in fourth- year paradise. I won’t mention her name in order to maintain her privacy and also to maintain my wholesome, peadhes-and- cream good looks, which could be forever ruined by scratch marks. The text of her state- ment follows: “You inferior underclassmen have the idea that all seniors consider themselves superior. No doubt about it; we are. But hard as it may be for you to believe, we too have problems— minute, niggardly little problems, but problems all the same. First, it has been at least fifty years, not four, since I entered high school. I conjecture that the history course I retook one summer add- ed about twenty. So you can see how a boring tedium like the senior year can seem like a long time. And then, there’s the job pro- blem. You little urchins can play- fully run hither and thither all summer long, skipping from one sandbox to another, while the majority of us drag off to the sweatshops and laundries of this cruel world, just to bank enough filthy lucre so that we will have a college to call our own next fall. Then, just when you are self-supporting, and a real wo- man of the world, you get in dutch with your parents for staying out too late at night. They just don’t dig the grown- up-and-on-your-own routine. “Now that you’re brought up the parents deal, let me warn you, sweet young things, about the dangers of playing the hard role around old DaddyN If you play it smart you’ll keep the complaints about all your chores and hard labors to yourself. I tried to be logical an adult with the dear old soul one day when he jumped on me for too much night life. Well, let’s say night Laugh Awhile, Con’t. on p. 15 Hobby Corner: A Bowl of Delight by Robert Slonski Collecting tropical fish is rap- idly becoming one of the most popular ways of passing leisure time. Its rewards are delight and self-satisfaction. Tropical fish fall Into four dif- ferent categories: the egglayers, the live bearers, the scavengers, and the bubblenest builders. The most common selections include the live bearers and the egg- layers. Heading the list of live bearera is the hardy, virile, and easily bred guppy. It can tolerate a wide temperature range, but like most tropical fish thrives in wa- ter of 75 degrees F. Two inches of fish per gallon of water is the maximum number of fish that can be kept successfully. An abundance of plants, gravel, rocks and other accessories are necessary to keep fish healthy. A beautiful representative of the egglayers is the popular, but timid, Angel Fish. Small catfish constitute the scavenger family. They rid the aquarium bottom of uneaten food. Exotic Siamese Fighting F'ish are the best known fish of the bubblenest builders. They lay their eggs In nests of bubbles produced by the male near the surface of the water, but the males should be segregat- ed due to their agressiveness. In the average tank, fishes are not in a segment of their normal environment. Therefore, success may only be achieved with the substitution of adequate factors: AERATION AND FILTRA- TION : Aeration is commonly em- ployed in all types of aquarie. Its function is merely to stir the water and provide a mild absorp- tion of oxygen into the water from the bubbles produced. The commonest aerator is an electri- cal pump designed to deliver air through a tube and a device which distributes the bubbles throughout the aquarium and provides for circulation of the water. Con’t. on p. 14 6 Sportorama: Into the Archives VCHS Vikings officially closed the 1962-63 athletic year with the first Annual Sports Award Banquet held in the school cafe- teria on Wed., May 8, 1963. The Athletic Association of VCHS initiated a new program for the first time. The doors of the ban- quet were held open to the public with tickets at $2.00 per person to reimburse the costs of the dinner, varsity jackets, letters, and other special awards. The dinner was highlighted by guest speaker Ted Marchibroda, back field coach of the Washing- ton Redskins. Mr. Marchibroda. a former Franklin High football standout, played for St. Bonaven- ture's and Detroit University, joining the Pittsburgh Steelers in 1953. He wound up his pro career with the St. Louis Cardinals in 1957. While at Detroit, he set a national collegiate passing re- cord. The “Vikings” black and gold varsity jackets and letters were awarded to 17 seniors who earned them for their years of service on the football field or the bas- ketball court. Senior boys: foot- ball and basketball - Tom O’Brien Tom Owens. Football: Dan Calla- han, Rick Conrad, Ron Dolecki, Jim Felix, Bob Haslett, Frank Malek, Sam Malene, Jack Mc- Donald, Joe McLain, John Mor- gan. Bill Stewart and Dick Witherup. Larry Litwinovich and BJ Rossi ter who served as foot- ball manager and Larry Huff, 1963 basketball star, also picked up varsity letters. The outstanding “Athlete of the Year” Award was presented to Thomas O'Brien who has ser- ved faithfully for four years on the hardwood and three seasons on the gridiron. Well liked by all, He was chosen on the basis of competition as well as in school. Tom was chosen on the basis of his sportsmanship, athletic abili- ty, leadership, character, person- ality and academic industry. Varsity letter winners from the junior class were: Stan Kukla — football and basketball, Steve Jez, Jim Cihon, Dan Drozdo and Tom Jablonski — football, and Bob Megnin — basketball mana- ger. Those receiving varsity letters in the sophomore class were: John Gilliland, George Nalepa and Dave Henderson — football, and Tony Schill and Sam Leta — basketball. Joe Fonzo — basket- ball, was the only freshmen to earn a varsity letter. Besides the varsity awards, there were junior varsity letters presented to those deserving of them. Juniors: Stev Jez and Torn Jablonski - JV basketball. Sopho- more: Dave Henderson, George Nalepa and Bob Faunce - JV basketball, Joe Wishnok and Gary Hawk — JV football mana- gers. Freshmen: Bill Tipping, Tom Baker and Ray Brezinski — JV basketball. John McNemey — JV basketball manager. Senior cheerleaders received a pin and chain award. They were: Judy Balcerek, Janice Schiffer, Judy Oliver, Mary Joe Masson. Joan Bajorek, DeAnna Demmer, Barb Zawislak, Genevieve Smutek and Judy Campagna. The Junior cheerleaders were presented pins for their services. They were: Sue Callahan, Virginia Hynes, Margorie Rogers, Joanne Szabat, Anne Whitcomb, Judy Fitzgerald. Anne McCallum, Karen Als- baugh and Jane Meals. And It Goes Gn In spring a young man’s fancy turns to summer and to sunburns and to volleyball, and the netters are stronger than ever. The senior class race is headed by the Chargers who have a re- cord of 8-5. The team is lead by captain Litwinvoich and backed by Conrad, Witherup, Melek, Heinzer, Hartsell and Ha trick. After the Chargers come the Raiders 7-5 and lastly the Door- bells with a ringing 3-4 record. The Juniors have a real battle between the Dukes 8-2 and the Colts 7-3. They are followed by Polecats 6-5 and Kohler Kol- lars 4-6. The sophomores, who think they can out-volley anybody, are headed by the Commanches 5-1, the Crusaders 5-2, Rebels with 4-3 and then the Nortles 3-5. The freshmen, who are still learning the finer points of the game, are led by the Flushers 11-2, the Titans 9-3, the Buzzards 4-9 and the Delinquents 2-9. All the smart cokes and tootsie rolls are on the junior Dukes but chateaguay upset a few other crystal balls and the seniors may too. 7 Sani ii: From Draft Dodging To Discharge All of Sherman’s army must have been there when we went to Mass that day in September. You never saw so many people — all pouring into the church, ail high school students. And we were there, too. After all the battalions (97 of them) of the army received Communion, we marched out and filed into the classrooms. The of- ficers were there — looking grim and stern, sizing us up, seeing, I suppose, another link in an end- less chain of nervous, green, un- washed and illiterate freshmen recruits. Well, things seemed nice enough, I thought, as the officer In front of the room gave out schedules. Just trying to disarm us, I bet. Trying to catch us off guard. Kinda sneaky, I thought. I pulled out a stick of Spearmint and cleverly brought it to my mouth. This was old hat; chew- ing gum without getting caught was simple. All you had to do was cram it up underneath your lip and — Mister, do you want to get rid of that gum now, later, or when it’s too late? See what I mean ? Sneaky. Out to get you. Well, right then I figured I’d have to be a little more discreet. Maybe play up to the brass a little bit. Keep my nose clean. Maybe buck for a promotion a little. About the second year of our enlistment we had a course in World History. Now the officer that taught us was pretty busy this day, and was in and out, in and out the whole period. During one of the out minutes I struck up a chat with Daphne Dareytoo, the little WAC that sat next to me. Well, she was cleaning out her history notebook (somebody dared her to) and when she was done she had 15 or 20 old papers to throw away. Dare you to make a basket into the waste- basket with these!” she squeak- ed. Seemed a little childish to me, but I'm no spoil sport, so I pick- ed them up and wadded them in- to a ball and looped a long high HE FORGOT HIS MUSIC. J. Oliver, M.K. Hin- chey, J. McDonald, M.C. Cihon, T. Hartsell, T. Ford. HOW PLAID IS OUR VALLEY. M. Masson, R. Rossiter, L. Litwinovich, J. McClaine, C. Rinaldo, M. Larkin. 8 Con’t. from p. 8 one. But it went wide and landed on the desk where our officer was sitting — Sitting! Holy smokes, when did she get hack? Well, the rest of our second year of service came and went, and pretty soon we were in for our third year. This was the year when we had to put on a big dance for the sergeants — the ones that had been in for four years. You know, the ones right ahead of us. They called it a prome, or plum, or something. It seemed that we had to do a lot of decorating and everybody was very eager to help. We went about it scientifically like. We assigned each committee a def- inite space like the floor, the walls, and the doors to decorate. We demanded that the men in charge of each platoon give per- iodic reports on how they were coming along in their decora- tion plans. About halfway through the preparations we hit a few little snags, but nothing serious. We were pretty proud of the preci- sion and smoothness of the whole thing. Shows how a unit can work together if they just sit down and think the problem out. If we could have had that dance about halfway through the preparations, we'd have been in good shape. But from then on everything went sour. We’d run out of paint. Then we’d get paint and find we needed cardboard. We’d get cardboard and find WHEN A BODY MEETS A BODY. P. Johnson, J. Felix, S. Guyton, D. Guth, M. L. Fleckenstein, C. Manion. OF COURSE I CAN FIND MY HOME- WORK. R. Keating, B. Hatrick, R. Con- rad, J. Bajorek, G. Smutek, B. Zawislak. HUMPTY DUMPTY SAT ON A WALL. N. Todhunter, J. Morgan, R. Slonski, W. Stewart, T. Kleck, J. Turner, F. Malek. 9 that somebody stepped in the paint bucket up to the ankle and wasted it all. More paint. More cardboard. More wire. Less money. And less scientific preci- sion. This went on about three weeks. But the day the two PFCs were bringing a paper- machi Statue of Liberty into the gym, and went their separate ways around the pillar, resulting in a dissected Liberty, I decided to desert. Saying no more about our third year, I now move to the big finale: the end of the line. I rem- ember the day we were mustered out. We sat in the gym and sat and listened, and sat and listened until I thought the heat and cramps would tear me in half. The CO spoke. An officer they invited from some other outfit spoke. The smartest and the se- cond smartest spoke. I think all thirty-five of our presidents even spoke. Marc Anthony and Mac- beth spoke. The kid next to me spoke. I mean, he spoke to me when he saw my eyes start to cross. Good thing, too, because he brought me back from the Twi- light Zone Just in time to get my discharge papers. SO WHAT DID YOU EXPECT? BRAKES, TOO? T. wens, R. Gabreski, J. Schiffer, P. Brooks, R. Gulnac, L. Hill, G. Frawley. THE CAPITOL HILL CROWD. H. Anderton, R. Haslett, M. Sy- mons, M. Cunningham, T. O’- Brien, B. Hughey. THE EARLY BIRDS. J. Culp, M. Proper, F. Lutz, R. Dolecki, G. Martin. 10 HER’E HOWE. R. Wintherup, B. Fink, P. Nelson, D. Bowser, D. Hartsell, M. Stiller. PLEASE DON’T EAT THE DAISIES. D. Demmer, D. Callahan, S. Malene, J. Balcerek, L. McNemey, D. Heinzer. A STRANGE CASE OF SIAMESE TWINS J. Moffett, J. Campagna, D. Carone, L. Huff, A. Bechtel, R. Grocutt. 11 Funny, I thought, a four-year grind just for this letter folder. Then I started to think about all the things I told you about. Four years of classes, meetings, lecturers, lunches, dances, and speeches. And when I got finish- ed thinking about all that, 1 kinda had to smile. It had been a long four years. But I think every four years will be a lot longer from now on. Government, con’t. tegrity and leadership. With these in mind, the student senate faculty slate listed Patricia Breene, Patricia Finnecy and SuZanne Marshall the likely can- didates for the office. Though each girl commanded strong support, the student body ulti- mately raised Pat Finnecy, this year's Student Council Secretary, to the position of vice-president. According to the campaign speech given by Jane Meals, “Pat has attained two of the most desirable positions at Ven- ango. Her membership in Stu- dent Council and the Honor So- ciety denote the dignity, respon- sibility and leadership that are necessary to the development of student representation in our school.” The close race for the office of student council secretary In- cluded Carol Hall, Barbara Ka- weski, and Mary Jane Siebert with Barbara Gaweski carrying the winning margin. In addition to being class sec- retary-treasurer this year, Barb- ara entertained her way to the National Forensic Semi-Finals in Erie as a contegant in Humor. An active committee chairman for the sophomore dance “Tulips and Hearts,” Barb also holds the office of Pro-Council for the Classical League. Raymond Brzezinski, Joseph Kamer and Joseph Waddell vied for the position of treasurer. “Ring the bell; vote for Wad- dell” posters obviously started the clamor his managers expect- ed since enough notes were in the box to get Waddell elected. Very Government, con’t. p. 13 V Vi Peasant Boy by Carol Clifford You work so hard in the field All the day long; I do not understand how You can hum so merry a song. O peasant boy! Are you not distressed When others put on their best dress? How can you work In the fields all the day While others play High upon a hill ? “Silly boy. Don’t you know It is God’s Will.” A Voice by Nancy PetuUa The morning sun awakes, The flowers stretch and yawn, And honey all the bees make As small birds sing at dawn. And yet with all the business -Vs people greet the day There is one thing they’re apt to miss— The love that’s in each day. Within a room we hear a voice: A child is first to say People, rejoice! And thank God for the day. Wandering Thoughts by Theresa Brown Sometimes I wonder, Always I fear Who was it who made me ? Why am I here? After it’s night, Why always a day? And why after April, Always a May? Who hung the stars And moon high above ? Why is there hate; Why is there love? These are all mysteries; They seem very odd, They all have an answer; The answer is God. Pride And Prejudice A high school, like a father, tends to boast loudly of the ac- complishments of a daughter and a son. For there is pride In watching gangling, awkward youths grow from chewing gum and bicycles to white gloves and black tie. And from the hill, throughout the city, to all comers of the world and through all stages of their lives, a part of the past will remember them and speak for them. And when the count Is taken, no one will be left untouched. For the present contains a message for the future, and the past, the builder of future, never forgets. When tomorrow comes, there will be new tomorrow’s. There will be change, progress. And from the hill will come the chant, “They knew the need. They took the challenge.” There will be responsibility. And the woods will echo “This was their goal.” There will be decisions to be made. And a voloe will whisper, “I taught them to be independent, to think for themselves.” There will be governors to elect. And at the polls will be heard, “They will use good judgement.” And there will be families to raise. And the reply will come, “Another generation has been bred so that I may nurture thedr children and mold them Into men and women.” Just as the past looks forward to the future, the present looks backward to the past. And somewhere, in that eternal triangle, will lie the wreathes of glory. When speeches are praised: ‘They were members of my For- ensic league.” When w’rtters are commended: “That wras my journalism staff.” When music is excellent: ‘They played in my bond.” When service Is outstanding: “They learned in Junior Red Cross.” When praise and grace are complimented: “Rember my Hos- tess Club.” There is dignity In that pride; and for a few minutes at least, even time will stop to listen to the salute rushing through the hills, “This is a Venango Christian daughter, and this is a Venango Christian son.” 12 Government oon’t. THOMAS OWENS AND BETSY HUGHEY On top of the totem pole. To Serve Is To Succeed by Virginia Hynes much like the other candidates, Joseph too has held previous pos- itions of responsibility. He served as homeroom president at South Side Junior High and was a member of the band for three years. Also a First Honor Stu- dent, his determination took him to the NCFL semi-finals in Stu- dent Congress despite the fact that he faced older, more exper- ienced competition. Now a mem- ber of the VCHS band, Joe is also a reporter for the school “Star.” Representatives for the srtu- dent body for next year were nominated and elected in se- parate homeroom elections. From the junior homerooms came Daniel Mansfield, Susan Calla- han and Jane Meals. The sophomores raised Gary Hawk, Steven Mason, Panni Bauer and Joan Stover to those positions while the freshman chose Joseph Frank, John Mc- Carthy, Kathryn Florek and Mary Kay Smith. So the spotlight is out. Some- where in the dark, the winning candidates are taking down post- ers. sweeping up candy-wrappers and sorting: suggestions. The Greeks should see us now. COVER STORY: Freshman Andrew Keyes and Timothy Hinds can hardly be as gay about their farewells as sen- iors Lois Hill and Daidv Hein- zer. It will be back to the books in September though for all of them. Responsibile, energetic, friend- ly, full-of-fun - these spell Betsy Hughey, our Miss Senior Per- sonality of 1963. Betsy has received many fond nick-names from her senior class- mates. Because she is the type of girl before whom troubles are bared and questions are laid, she is often hailed as “Mom.” Since her “life-of-the-party personality is always shining, ner Spanish-class friends refer to her as “Beta”, a name which bad its root in a class joke. For her devotion to duty and her genuine efforts to contribute to the formation of her school, the girls in her homeroom called her “Student Senate Representa- tive” Because she is so reliable and so energetic, she was “Craft Chairman” to the members of the Junior Red Cross. “Graduate” Hughey will take with her a record of superior grades and effort, for she ranks in the upper half of her senior class. Recently, she was given ano- ther title, that of “Princess”. She was chosen by the junior class to reign as one of the at- tendants to the queen of the prom. There are crowns and congra- tulations in the stars this month for Tom Owens, the boy chosen as the Senior Personality of 1963. He is best known as “Captain Tom,” the grid star who did more to boost Venango spirit than anyone else on the team. And when It was time for the Vikings to take to the hardwood, Tom showed everyone that he is an all-round athlete. Ranked in the upper half of his class, he works long and hard for good grades. He plans to attend the University of Day- ton next fall, and the future places him in front of a dental chair. School spirit means a lot to Tom who has devoted himself whole-heartedly to its propaga- tion. He served on the committee for the Junior-Senior Prom of 1962, and was one of the key- stones in this year’s senior Odd- ball, “Hillbilly Hoedown,” As a campaign manager in the 1963 Student Senate elections, Tom again stressed the importance of school spirit to the students as well as to the school. Whenever there are any odd jobs to do, any behind-the-scene work, Tom is always the first to offer his help. He is willing con t on p. 15 13 I’m Old ud Tired, con’t. We’ve Got A Secret ..If you ask us, we’ll all say we’re glad to be graduating and happy that school is almost out. If you’re an underclassman, you’ll be kidded and told, “We're so sorry for you!’’ But this is only be- cause this is expected of us. The tradition of a senior’s ecstacy upon his graduation has become as universal and American as a bases-loaded home run. So we really have to seem thrilled and ex- cited and impatient for June 4. Down deep, though, we're not as eager to turn our backs on VCSH as we appear. Any senior who really thinks about it comes to realize that leaving friends and well-worn grooves in which to move isn’t just a matter of packing up. And any senior who has achieved the standard level of maturity knows that his friends in- clude more than his immediate circle of buddies. We don’t like to admit to anything so juvenile as sentiment. That’8 why we’re so vibrant, eager, and joyous when somebody mentions graduation. We can’t say what we feel. But we can write it. Here goes. We extend a great and sincere portion of our gratitude to the administration. Seniors know full well what a good word on a recommendation means. Beyond that, we thank Father Antoun and Sister Maureen for steering for us a true course. We muttered and grumbled when we were criticised, but we grew up a little for it, and looking back, we find that your words were wise. To the many teachers we’ve had over four years we give heart- felt thanks. You pushed us and prodded us and passed us; and by God’s grace we were pushed, prodded, and passed by others as patient and dedicated as you. We’ll never forget our homeroom teachers, who nursed us through card drives, magazine drives, proms, initiations, and sun- dry other major catastrophies. Blessed are they who have a senior homeroom; for their sentence Is only nine months long. We owe gratitude to more people than this page could accommo- date. All we can say, or write, is “Thank you, for everything.’’ The Class of ’63 the Americans left. “Now all will be well,’’ thought the old man. The foreigners are gone forever.’’ But there was no peace. A riv- alry developed between the two towns. Each strove to outdo the other in production. One night, on the “Oamino de Paz,” three men killed a man from the rival town. The next day, the leader of the town told his people that this murder must be avenged and it was. A battle was fought Some were killed, many died. The days that follow- ed meant nothing more than a blotch of blood on a barbershop calendar. One day more strangers came to town. They had guns instead of shovels, and they called them- selves Communists. And silently the old man made his decision. “Perhaps these are the peacemakers. If the Ameri- cans feared them, they must be different. Perhaps these are our friends.” Hobby Corner, con’t Artificial and natural lighting are essential for the development of tropical fish. When natural sun light is available, possibly four hours of afternoon exposure are beneficial. However, when natur- al light is not available the aquarist must substitute an ar- tificial source of light. Artifi- cial light can be sufficiently pro- vided with an overhead light and reflector. VQOD REQUIREMENTS: Food requirements of the tropical fish are numerous. Aquarists rely on three types of food: dry, natural, and live. Dry foods provide a staple diet and are excellent as long as the fishes appear to thrive on them. Natural foods in- clude plankton (infusoria) Crus- tacea, worms, and other small organisms. Live foods are ideal. They include daphnia, brine shrimp and tublflex worms. Prices of tropical rarely ex- ceed a few dollars except for prize stock. Common guppies, danios, angel fish, mollies, gour- amis, white clouds, platies, zebra 14 fish and other common tropicals are relatively inexpensive, one dollar being the top price. More exotic fish, such as Siamese fighting fish, fancy guppies, neon cardinal, glowlite and black te- tras, cichlids, bronze catfish, discus, rasboras and barbs may cost one to three dollars. When considering an appro- priate tank for fish, allow for a large surface area in proportion to depth. Large tanks of 15 to 20 gallons hold more fish, are easier to keep than smaller types and provide maximum growth and conditioning. After considering the small amount of time and effort that must be spent, and the clean- liness and serenity of keeping tropical fish as pets, I am sure you will be tempted to pursue this fast-growing hobby. Newsmakers, con’t. Our Texan, Mary Kay Hinchey plans to take up American His- tory at Manhattanvilie College of the Sacred Heart. Office Careers appeal to many of our commercial students. Peg Boocks hopes to work in Warren. Ohio. Judy Oampagna plans to be an employee at Quaker State and in the future, perhaps an airline stewardess. Betty Fink, Suzanne Guyton and Mary Pro- per will do office work in Oil City. A new employee of the General Telephone Company's local office will be Mary Larkin. A job in Cleveland is the aim of Mary Jane Stiller. Janice Schiffer will work for a while and then go on to col- lege. Sam Malene has chosen Day- ton for an engineering program. “Join the Navy and See the World” is the plan of Dave Bow- ser and Jack McDonald while Ron Dolecki, Brian Hatrick juid Tom O'Brien will enlist in Uncle Sam’s Army. Gene Martin and John Morgan plan to wear Air Force Blue; Bob Grocutt will al- so enlist. Foreign Service will be the course of Dan Callahan at St. Vincent’s Latrobe, Pa. and later, Georgetown. Dave Heinzer has been accepted at Saint Vincent’s. Neil Todhunter will be at St. Bonaventure’s. The Hartsell twins, Dave and Tom, plan to enroll at Gannon College. Dave Carone will join this duo. FORWARD, HIKE will be the call of future physical education teacher Rick Conrad, at Slippery Rock College. Jim Felix, Bob Gabreski and Bob Slonski plan to study at the University of Dayton. “CHEER, CHEER FOR OLD NOTRE DAME will be sung by George Frawley, come Septem- ber. Dwight Guth hopes to attend Barber School while Bob Haslett has his eye on electrical engine- ering. Paul Johnson and Bill Stewart are going to Clarion State Col- lege and Bob Keating and Tom Kleck will be students at the Venango Campus branch. BIRDS AND BEES facinate Larry Litwinovich who will ma- jor in Biology at St. Francis, Loretto. Frank Malek’s talent for art will seek developing in commer- cial art school. Bob Ross iter will attend business school. Jack Tur- ner, Frank Lutz and Larry Huff will work in Oil City; Tom Ford will work in Warren, Ohio. Dick Witherup plans to follow his father's footsteps in the Witherup Erection Company. Joe McLain will attend Be- hrend Center of Penn State. Laugh Awhile, con’t. life extending too far into the night. Anyway, I just told him that I had passed my nineteenth birthday and that I should be able to keep my own hours. I neglected to mention that I was also too old to be paddled, which I took for granted that he knew. A word to the wise is sufficient. “All in all, I don’t have it too bad. Nothing beyond the little pittances I mentioned. You’ll see, soon enough.” To Serve, con’t. Tom Owens and eager to be a part of every minute detail of the school in which he takes so much pride. Just recently, he was chosen as a member of the court for the 1963 junior-senior prom, an honor wMch he has earned. His general friendliness, his constant and quick smile, his reassuring manner — these are the things which mark him for the future. And these are the things which made him Mr. Personality, 1963. Betsy Hughey “Orator” Hughey is the girl who campaigned so devotedly in the 1963 Student Senate elections for next year’s officers. And in the future, there is still another, the one she has planned for and worked for through all these four years. For from Du- guesne University will come “Nurse” Hughey. But for right now, she is Betsy Hughey, Miss Personality. CLASS DAY CONFERENCE What we need is a neutral country. 15 PetUic pe: In Retrospect “Happiness” is a collective noun. It’s the harsh, cold term substituted in today’s vocabulary for the tender poetry of everyday life. For a senior, happiness is the front row in the bleacher section of the auditorium with all the underclassmen in the back. It’s the flash of black on gold as the Vikings take to the floor for the last time. It’s having the first Venango Christian athletic jacket and being the first to wear the gold cheerleading uni- forms which signify Venango spirit To Mary Lou Fleckenstein it’s the moment just before she was crowned Football Queen. To Dan Callahan it’s serving as Student Senate President. To Lillian Me- Nemey, happiness is being presi- dent of the Hostess Club. It’s wearing the distinguished class rings, they waited so long to receive. Or hearing, for the first time, the moving strings of our Alma Mater. Sam Malene thinks it’s being head of the National Honor So- ciety. For Mary Larkin, it’s that short walk down the decorated ramp, that “formal goodnight” which closed the Home Ec style review. And Dave Heinzer knows, from experience, that he's happy when he’s acting as class presi- dent. It’s the memory of jugs and wagon wheels that bring to mind the senior Oddball, Hillbilly Hoe- down. It's a deep sea treasure chest and a life-size Neptune, the remains of,the 1962 Junior-Senior Prom. For Genevieve Smutek, it’s being called the Betty Crocker Homemaker of the year. To Rick Conrad, Tom Owens and Tom O’Brien, it’s being athletic cap- tains. Judy Oliver’s happiness lies in being pinned the Venango Christian Coed Correspondent. And far the entire senior class, happiness Is spelled with the hours of Senior Week. nie an- nouncement party, during which Helen Anderton and Dave Hein- zer first learned that they were to reign as king and queen of the senior week, made everyone happy. It is class day, those last care- free hours which they spent to- gether at ( ? ? .) For Daniel Callahan, and Mary Ellen Symons, it is being select- ed the top two seniors. It’s the freshmen and sopho- more salutes, “Come to the Fair” DANIEL CALLAHAN Broad horizons and Senior Tea, held to say “so long” to their seniors. It’s final exams, final failures, and final locker (hecks. It’s “Co Soir Enchante” the jun.' jr-senior prom. And, at last it’s graduation day. The solemnity of this tran- sition from adolescence to adult- hood — this is a great happiness. Although Webster may dis- agree, happiness is life, and life is a collective noun. It’s the harsh cold term that substitutes in to- day's vocabulary for all little things which mean a lot. MARY ELLEN SYMONS Bold hopes. CE SOIR ENCHANTE David Heinzer, Helen Anderton: Happiness is collective noun! 16 ■jm •V - - • • .A TV ts WBBaKf lai .S . 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