Western Canada High School - Yearbook (Calgary, Alberta Canada)

Page 20 text:

Page eighteen YEAR 3 Ucait It itt tlje S tara—(Cont’d) “These,” explained the Genius, “have slaved for thirty years endeavoring to remove the ache from too much cake.” It was then that I noticed that their eyes were upon something other than their work. Sure enough, there beneath the chandelier paced Eelen Templeton Hugill with measuredly dignified tread, clothed in satin gown and carrying an ostrich-feather fan. I was told that she was firm in the belief that at last she was being presented at court. This state of mind had existed for twenty years. At the back I saw a golden throne studded with sapphires and above the throne I read “Milton Hyndman, Critic.” Upon looking more carefully, I managed to discover a tiny, shrunken figure, Milton certainly, but so small that he could scarcely be recognized. And some friend of society had gagged him. Then it all changed, yet not visibly. The faces of my acquaintances became the stupid countenances of my sheep, but without noticeable alteration. And the Genius faded from my vision. “Such futility!” thought I in disgust, and returned to my whittling. DOROTHY McCAIG—Class 3. “Here’s To Western” Despite the agony of toil And that they try all joy to spoil And all our little quips to foil, Here’s to Western! Despite the boredom of it all, And spending Latin in the hall. Despite that Trig begins to pall, Here’s to Western! Despite the odor of Bromine And futile uses of Quinine And properties of Iodine, Here’s to Western! Despite the odd half-dozen hours And Charles V’s extensive powers, Despite the complex Solvay towers, Here’s to Western! Despite that one must not chew gum, And all the brain doth seem so numb, And teacher censures one so dumb, Here’s to Western! For here one meeteth all one’s friends— And teacher one to office sends— But books and ink one’s neighbor lends, So here’s to Western! And there one finds that rare school spirit— Les Matheson you need not fear it— For in our marble halls you hear it: “Here’s to Western!”

Page 19 text:

BOOK Page seventeent J Stead tt in tljr lars It was in the late summer of 1965 that I again heard the mellow notes from the flute of the Genius. He appeared before me, seated on a rock, and immedi¬ ately my flock faded from my sight. The well-known surroundings had changed. I now stood on a vast, rocky island, on which thousands of people seemed to be engaged in various ridiculous occupations, with serious countenances, apparently intent upon their work. “This,” said the Genius, “is the Canadian Lipari, Candevi, the Canadian Devil’s Island, where dwell those exiled from society as general menaces.” Then I began to be aware of familiar faces about me. Why there, to be sure, in the shallow water of the stony beach paddled Ruth Clendenan and Myrtle Hagen, occupied in finding suitable sea-shells to add to their Hope-Chests. Mal¬ colm Clark followed close upon their heels bearing a small pail which contained the spoils. “Miss Clendenan,” the Genius informed me, “was sent into exile for the repeated use of ‘C’mup an’ see muh sometime’ and Miss Hagen for ‘Listen! He- he! Lookut!’” Disgusted, I turned away, and he took my arm and guided me to the place where Bill Ireland and Sandy Patterson were engaged in making posters and circulars to persuade the other inhabitants to vote for Toonie Nott as Head-Con¬ vict. Mr. Nott sat by unconcernedly, adding oyster-shell and sand to the paint to make a porridge, much to the annoyance of his supporters. Kay Tait was studying diligently with Reg Smith, Em Irving and Don Wilson to perfect the Candevi Vocal Quartet. Aside from the fact that Miss Tait was not doing well as a soprano, the quartet seemed to be progressing favorably in the matter of volume. George Garbutt, with an excess of enthusiasm, was engaged in selling Old Mold Cigarettes to his fellow convicts. He sold me six packages on the guaran¬ tee: “They’ll make an athlete of you. You’ll run a mile from one.” Lois Ireland I saw carving in large old-English characters on a vast black rock: “As x — o, y—1,987,642.” She seemed to be wearing a somewhat bored expression as though her work had continued through many years. I was then led to the cells where the worst offenders were kept in solitary confinement. At the substantial door stood Doug Morris, scarcely recognizable in his guard’s uniform of huge, unexplainable, horizontal stripes of yellow, red and blue. He wore a beautifully waxed and curled moustache and was dapper in every way except that his feet were somewhat enlarged—from pacing the night watch, so the Genius informed me. In the first cell I recognized Les Matheson who whiled away the weary hours propounding complicated theories in physics. Harlow Sutherland was feed¬ ing him peanuts, his favorite food, through the cold and cruel bars. In the next padded cell was Margaret Humphries, engaged in lining the walls with three-cent postage stamps. I asked her if she was an ardent philatelist. But she replied that she followed in the footsteps of her mother and father and was a Presbyterian. Apparently the only hall of entertainment in the place, the Candevi Ritzi Nite Klub boasted as hostess the glamorous Mary Sullivan and Madge Cardell as head fan dancer. Dot Hutton stood outside delivering the talk of the town and proclaiming in an ear-splitting bellow, punctuated by frequent locomotives: “W - E- S- T.” that everyone was welcome, but that the place was re¬ spectable and forbade the presence of Marg Hayden, Ella Mae Becker, Jack West, Marg Darroch, Betty Crooks, Eric Richards, or Jack Cheal for state reasons. “Now I take you,” said the Genius with enthusiasm, “to the pride of the island.” And on the left was a cavei with “Labertery” hewn from the rock in Kenny Wilson’s well-known script, and, entering, I saw first approximately ten thousand chocolate cakes. At length, however, I discerned Mr. Wilson, Ernie Sales, and Don McKenzie in their midst.

Page 21 text:

BOOK Page nineteen IrighltQlttH nf ©lip iFiutrth f par (Ulasa To be considered a member of the Fourth Year, a student must have to his credit at least eighteen units. Room 8 CLASS 1 Mr. Harding WILLIAM CAYLEY—Basketball 1. Bill is one of the many Fourth Year students who find Algebra 3 a very trying subject, try to solve it, try to pass it. As yet Bill is very undecided as to what he will do, but hei may return to Western. I MARGARET DUNHAM—Marg put in another year at Western by taking up such interesting subjects as Physics 2 and Algebra 3. Her hobby is swim¬ ming, and her ambition is to become a dietitian. PHYLLIS DWELLEY—She sings, she hums, she laughs, she talks, and still gets all her homework done. Her pet aversion—untidy people; her pet pastimes are reading and dancing. Although she is the smallest of us all. We’d miss her if she wasn’t here at all. ROLAND DYKE—Rugby 4, Track 1. Roily has great ability in Algebra and Rugby. He is interested in radio and hopes to receive a training in that line. We are confident that Roily will some day become a second Marconi. CONSTANCE PATRICIA HAFFERN “Pat”—Room Rep. (4). “All good things come in small parcels.” Her one great worry is that she was christened “Constance.” She much prefers “Pat.” Pat is very fond of public speaking, but hopes to complete a course in medicine. MYRTLE ELIZABETH HAGEN—(Priscella Susa to her friends). Sounds old- fashioned, but actually is very misleading. She surely can “string les garcons along.” Just ask them! Has no definite ideas about the future, but she’ll get by—“there’s a twinkle in her eye.” SELINA HAMBLING—An accomplished “high-jumper” in basketball and no wonder—for her ambition soars skyward. She is going to be an aviatrix and show Amelia just how it’s done. Good take-off, Lena, and a happy landing. LESLIE HARRISON—This is Leslie’s first year at Western. He attended Tech, before this time. He would like to study something in the electrical line, but can’t make up his mind to any one definite branch of study. FRANCES AMELIA HOOD (Fran.)—Always seen but seldom heard-—except at attendance markings. Can’t quite see the necessity of school, and would rather sleep in the mom. Don’t resort to the latter, Fran.—Who would take your place on the Honor Roll ? IRENE MARGARET KING—Some one was heard to say: “She is quiet and calm, of ' gentle mien. Seldom heard and seldom seen.” They don’t know Irene. She hopes to teach “les enfants” 1 + 1 = 2. JESSIE EILEEN LANCASTER—Known as “Lanky.” Quiet and studious, but lots of fun. She excels in winter sports, especially skiing and snowshoeing. She is one of Class l’s youngest members. Normal comes next, then she really is going to teach. CLARA LAVEN—Always seen with a cheery smile which aptly displays her dimples. She doesn’t talk much, but when necessary can make herself heard. After Western she is going to train for a nursing career in Los Angeles. Why Los Angeles, Clara?