Westmount School - Review Yearbook (Edmonton, Alberta Canada)

Page 46 text:

you Can’t Stop Me F rom Dreaming I KNEW that I shouldn’t have eaten that big dinner on New Year’s Day, 1950, but it wasn’t ’til later at night that things really began to happen. I was dozing in a cosy arm-chair before an open fire, when suddenly I found myself in the assembly hall at good old W.H.S. There were red, grey and black streamers decorating the walls and ceilings, a long banquet table laid and waiting, and over the door a sign read: “Welcome to the 1940 Gradu¬ ating Class, Re-uniting on New Year’s Day, 1950.” Suddenly I heard a thump¬ ing on the stairs and the procession of Old Grads began filing through the door. At its head is a figure dressed in Highland uniform whom I recognize as Mr. Jock Bell, the genial M.C. of the television programme, “The Scandalous Scintillating Scotties.” His hair is a little curlier, but he is easily identified by his socks. Next in line is a very dusty, plumpish figure in faded khaki. After remov¬ ing some of the ancient dust of Pompeii from her glasses I perceive Miss Jean Ball, Westmount’s one archaeologist. In spite of the top hat, white tie and tails of the next individual, I easily recognized Stan Spallin by his big brown eyes. Stan’s acting ability got him into the movies a few years back, and even now he is signing autographs for such social debutantes as the lovely Misses Irene and Scotty McLachlin, who hurried home from a world cruise to be here today. Close behind are Mary Mair, head of the new Edmonton hospital, and Viola Crawford, followed by her retinue of slaves—Doug. Love (play-boy), Wally Berry (bank manager) and Ross Mackinnon (professor). Do you blame the girls for wishing that she’d get married? Remember that thousand dollars that Frankie Frazer won in 1939? She used is to become an aviatrix instead of a P.T. instructress, and now is having a flying good time. She enters with Harold Davis, whose thrilling voice excites the countryside with his algebra lectures. I heard a low droning overhead, and looking out the window 1 saw five planes land simultaneously, five figures get out, enter the school, climb the stairs and file into the hall—all in perfect time. Do you know who they are? Why the moochers, of course. Bill Craig, Doug. Iladdow, Don Connell, Willett Ritchie and John Chinneck. Sticking together must be their middle name. Coming in now are several people who are really earning a name for them¬ selves in the literary world. Madeline Singer is author of that new novel, “Girl of the North;” Betty Montgomery is now a reporter on the New York Times, and Irene Wallsten, Berta Martin and Jean Emslie are all climbing the ladder to journalistic success on several Canadian newsp apers. Ah! Here comes a well-dressed gentleman who everyone welcomes as “Hi, Georgie, old bean,” although he’s really George Skov, leader of the opposition in parliament. Following politician Skov are the radio comedians “Fanny and Joe,” none other than Betty Alston and Joan Diplock, who chat th ir way to their seats. Page forty-four

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(1) Persevering Patterson. (2) Prize Portrait. (3) In the bath. (1) Hedy de la Haddow. (5) —and out. (6) Silhouette. (7) My Margorie. (8) Korn Kob Keith. (9) Shauna Shows Off. (10) Alibaba Connell. (11) Our genial Sub”. (12) Skov Skorns Scona Scullduggery. (13) Slaphappy Song Bird. (14) Three Smart Girls. (15) Camera Man Cameron. (16) Li’l Audrey at the pie sale. (17) Chuck Chuckles. (18) Nasty Nightingale. (19) What again? (20) Deer Doug. (21) Maestro Fitz. (22) Kink Rats. (23) Rooney in the spirit. (24) Hideous Haddow. (25) Garbage Glances. (26) Butch and Mac. (27) Conquest the Chemist. (28) Holiday Homework. (29) Wily William. (30) Ole Over. (31) Conference. (32) Bdtiors Editing. Page forty-three

Page 47 text:

A great number of nurses are arriving now. There are Shirley McConnell, Evelyn Newton, Helen Smith, Betty Parslow and Isobel Thompson. Mr. Bob Weeks, the dean of the University of Alberta, enters with his harried secretary, Arlene Pinch, who is getting her Latin, French and German rather mixed as she attempts to answer Mr. Weeks’ large correspondence. To listen to me talk you’d think that W.H.S. has produced a lot of bache¬ lors and old maids, but such is not the case, for Lucy Muir, Ruth Wood, Mary Greenough, Hazel Lawrence. Art Hougan, Muriel Shortreid. Vi Meredith, Bob Rooney, Helen Pritchard, Florence Harmon, Betty Mason and Jean Forbes are all happily married and have brought their respective wives and husbands along to the reunion. There is Bob Robb and Keith Smeltzer, famous skiiers, followed by little Adala Millward, who sings with Kenny Mart’s orchestra in Montreal. I also see Blanche Tiviotdale, the famous woman doctor, and Shauna Little, a life guard at Miami Beach, Florida. Strolling through the doorway is that “ racket-eer,” Johnny Stott, inter¬ national tennis champ, followed by Esther Johnston, who is reaching surealistic fame with her painting “Sky on Sofa.” Lome Patterson strides in, having just returned from tiger hunting in Africa, with Pauline Arnett, who has be¬ come head pianist in maestro Bill Fitzpatrick’s hot swing orchestra, now en¬ gaged in Paris. In the procession are Don Turner and Berneice McCrae, still doing a rem¬ nant of the “Whoopie Walk” on the dance floors, followed by Helen Ericksson, just returned from her missionary outpost in China. Mary Osypchuck comes in proudly clinging to her diplomat husband, and Nancy, sporting sables, follows with an oil man from Peace River. Stella Brent, personal secretary to the Premier of Canada, is followed in by Gordon Bayley, who is an All Ameri¬ can football star. Marion McConnell dashes in breathless from the world tour of the world champion basketballers. Here is Gordon Retallack, owner of a big cattle ranch in southern Alberta, who plays pro hockey in the winters. Joan Byar is now a famous movie star. Daphne Adams and Mildred Brown, two busy stenographers, seat themselves beside Ken Davies, who has attained prominence in chemical engineering. Edgar Guest, who is making preparations for a trip to the moon, glides in with the immaculate, pompous, perfect butler, Butch Garrett. The long table is nearly completely occupied, when a rush of late-comers arrive. I see George Lempriere (pharmacist), Don Arnett (northern pilot), Murta Steward (social butterfly), Hilda Law (dress designer), Doris Little (artist’s model), Irene Bowden, M.P., (and we don’t mean mounted policeman). Why, there’s Dick Bashor, head of the chamber of commerce, and behind him Ted Austin, now head of an automatic typewriter concern, Walter Brown, owner of Men’s Clo¬ thiers, and Mary Travers, the red-headed bombshell who consoles broken hearts by her world wide knowledge of love and its complications through the medium of her column, “I Fix It.” Just as Jock Bell rises amidst a flourish of kilts and sporrans to propose a toast, I awake with a start to find the fire out, the cat mewing, and someone pounding on the door. As I was sitting there in the darkness, musing over my dream, and “burp¬ ing” incessantly, I wondered if 1 would see just such a scene could I but turn the wheels of time forward. Father Time will tell the tale, and may it be as happy a tale as the one related above. Page forty-five