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

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s p o p T ■s COLOR IT BLACK AND BLUE Finally the black sheet of des- pair has been lifted from Venango’s short gridiron history. That once un- blemished cover was smudged with defeat after defeat after dreary de- f eat. But the very first cleaning agent has just arrived. After losing five straight con- tests, the Vikings came through with a surprising 33-6 win over Saint Mark’s. Dan Drozdo Provided the of f ensive punch with three touchdowns and an all-around fine performance. We had hoped, halved and honored our abundance of points with real vigor. Color them all bright so you can see them. In the season opener, the Vikings were tipped and trounced by the Devils of Cambridge, 28—6. The highlight of the fray was a Jez to Jablonski pass for our first score of the season. One more smudge; color it black. THE SECOND CONTEST, saw Randolph dissolve, dominate and defeat us in our own oval. Although Dan Drozdo managed some fine runs we found ourselves down by a 26-6 score. Add another smudge; color it blacker. Greenville! That one hurt. It was a case of pure strength against pure weakness. They murdered, mangled and mutilated us 65—0. Venango was moved, freshmen and all. Color it...on second thought, splatter it this time: find some invisible color. We did manage to hold North East to one touchdown after a somewhat spirited pep talk. But they fought, faked and flattened us, 7-6. What shade? A lighter black, naturally! WITH a revamped offensive to our credit we managed to score 6 points against Bradford. But they shifted around and scored 48 points to win rather easily. Color it, too; but don’t hurry. The Eagles of Kanty Prep dis- some excellent ability and the agil- ity to make use of it. We fought hard but fell short. They legged it over us 13-6 at the end. By all means don’t color this one black—at least not unless it’s gold-black. OUR LAST GAME came and went with another defeat to add to the list. The mammoth Townville team plagued our first Homecoming with a ghost called 32-13, them. Actually, we did very well at the beginning and the end of the game. Forget the middle. Finding something to wash off all those dark colors wasn’t easy for us but we managed. So color it whi- ter but not white; we still have a lot of looking to do yet. On second thought, why color at all. They seem to have more cray- ons than we do anyway. THE SIDES AREN'T MATCHED By Michael Yaeger What would you do if you for- got your gym suit for class? Would you take your punishment like a man? Or would you think up some sort of excuse like any average American Boy. In my three years of high school training, I’ve heard more reasons for forgetfulness than America has cars and, in many in- stances, I’ve used some dillies myself. Our educated gym instructor hears just about everything on a routine roll-call check. He lis- tens to the ABC’s of miscues from the alphabet of boys: Alter dropped his bag down the sewer; Baker lost his on the bus; and Carone left his at the bus stop. Drozdo left his at home to be washed; English’s was used to put out a brush fire and Faller’s was nowhere to be found. And this goes on past M,N,0,P, and Q to Zuilkowski who accuses someone of theft. By the time it’s all over, there’s not much time left for physical ex- ertion, and the Stallers win again. Game continued next gym class. Score: We-294, Coach-0. FOOTBALL: 1963 Cambridge Springs 28 VCIIS 6 Randolph 26 ” 6 Greenville 65 ” 0 St. Gregory, N.E. 1 ” 6 St. Marks Seminary 8 ” 33 Bradford 48 •• 6 Kanty Prep 13 •• 6 5 THE BLACK AND GOLD VIKINGS AND FRIENDS: That’s the way it was all season: their ball and their ball game. Some day we will get our own. Maybe..

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By Daniel Goodman Some people chink of a high school as just a warehouse with a gymnasium, a storage place for desks, books and teen-agers. This is not true in our case. Our school is an independent community. We have a restaurant, Y.M.C.A. style,a hospital, the one room type, and a book store. You can see that we have everything that is necessary for survival. The cafeteria is the finest eatery in the school; it is also the only one. The cooks are famous for their foreign cooking: pizzas, ravioli, and that famous old Irish dish, glomkis. They do have a little bit of trouble when it comes to arranging the meal however. Take for instance the day we had canned corn, corn muffins, corn meal mush and corn flakes. The head cook realized the mistake before it was too late though and to everyone’s joy substituted the corn meal mush with com fritters. She knew that too much starch would make us sleepy. SO MAYBE our cafeteria isn’t the Waldorf of Oil City, but we have one of the finest book stores in the world. The only problem is that they don't sell books in it. They are sold in the cafeteria. You can buy just anything else though. They have paper, pens, folders and other stuff that is just as easy to borrow from someone else. Not everyone can borrow unfortunately so for the ones that must buy they have lowered the prices. A baker’s dozen of those little two-tone erasers is only twenty-five cents. YOU KNOW, those are the ones that are supposed to erase ink as 4 well as pencil marks. Are they kid- ding? When they make an eraser that works like a wet finger then they will have something. Anyway, at those prices you'd think they would go bankrupt in no time. Not so. Every business has it’s secrets. They sell beautiful cartridge pens with two free cartridges for a dime. When the two cartridges are used, you return for more and then they tell you that those messy little in- ventions go for a buck a pack. Don’t waste your tears on the bookstore. Even though you don’t see many people making purchases just re- member that nine out of ten are bor- rowers. One guy is really buying for nine other people. In close affiliation with the book- store are our bus token machines. Those little baubles are now selling at the rate of two for twenty-five cents. You were probably patting yourself on the back when your first two-bits yielded three shiney tokens instead of the customary two. Good. Just don’t be surprised if the next time you get nothing but a low gur- gle from that one knobbed bandit. NEXT comes VC’s answer to Bellevue. In this spotless room one cot by a box of bandaids wide, you can be treated for any- thing from a cut finger to a dis- arranged mind. There’s a story a- mong the freshmen these days that’s interesting in a morbid sort of way. It seems that there was a young fellow who hurt himself in gym class. He managed to limp to the healthroom where he was told that he needed a permit from the office. With much effort he crawled up the hall to the office where he was informed that he could not be treated unless he carried school insurance. He has- tily filled out the form for the in- surance, received his permit and headed in the direction of the health room. They say he never made it. At VC we receive more than an education. We learn how to fast, beg, and suffer pain without com- plaining. BILL WALENIA: This school is getting so crowded I opened my locker and found a classroom. EINSTEIN, DON'T WORRY By Patricia Breene Allow me to define something which, unfortunately, I know very little about, despite the efforts of the American educational system over the past twelve yeass. It may be the only successful thing I do in the field. 1. Mathematics, you are one of the easiest ways to confuse me: the number of your rules is as infinite as numbers themselves. 2. Mathematics, the best purpose of the large slide rule in room 203 is to write notes under to your friends in the next class. The small ones are to test your eyesight. They are best read with a microscope. 3. Mathematics, the most potent danger to your image in this school is the class in which 1 attempt to learn your principles. Worse, every- body else is almost as bad off as I. (Ask Sister...Rather, ask Herby Heher.) 4. Mathematics, to me you are the organized study of the unnecessary. What cook (except my father) has to measure out to the gram the ingredi- ents of her concoction? Once, at a racetrack, my grand- mother won a fairly large amount of money by choosing the horses with the prettiest names. My grandfather, who studied racing results and forms and speeds and pace lengths for a week ahead of the day, didn’t pick a single winner. Mathematics, your graphsand sine curves intrigue me. They all look like snakes, but if you connect the dots right you can even make other things. My teacher says I’ve found more ways to do things wrong than anyone else she's ever taught. And every- time a new one says that it makes a bigger number. But, Mathematics, I would like to pass your classes. I want to graduate.

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ONCE UPON A SCHOOL DAY By Stephen Szalewicz Life, even young life and new life, can become a rou- tine thing, a rhythmic thing whose beat is a steady ca- dence of similarities that focus and blur against a thou- sand pale dawns. But there is so much that should never be forgotten; so much that will pass too soon. You know: The big orange school bus with the dirty windows and the ‘‘Chris and Bill” signs on the Emergency door; the memorable occasions when we missed it and the equally unforgettable times we didn't... The noisy, crowded, coin-jangling cafeteria where we made dates and checked detention lists and dragged our aching heads through the homework we forgot the night before... The four foot lockers they gave you for seven feet of books... The classes. The work-work-work, listen-listen-work classes. About all you’ll ever forget about them was the stuff you were supposed to learn there... The library permits: Name, date, pupil, subject, room, signature, period, time. Rrrrrrrrring! 6