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BOARD OF EDITORS
Staff
Littian WALK....
FRANCES BREMER
WituiaM Horauinc.
Litiian ALLEN.
Orro ScHALER.. o
ANE: WEIR oieiovesscos vie ois oie seinvorrieserslnvatole «bl qraro'ssate’s ¢isieieaiy
. Editor-in-Chief
Associate Editor
-- Alumni Editor
Art Editors
Business Department
Barton ZaBIN.
Herpert Marx.
FRANKLIN STEINHARDT.
-Business Manager
. Advertising Managers
THE
CRIMSON and WHITE
Published two times a year
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL ALBANY, NEW YORK
Volume XXXII DECEMBER, 1936 Number 1
Table of Contents
Page
Editorial &
The Toyshop. = 6:
The Old, Old Story... . 7 6,
When Bells Ring Out 7
Miniatures) caccrece or 8
Folk Ballad. . uD
Friendship .. 10
Bee)
To Keep pera dial
The Seniors Do Research... 412
My Lover's Song.
Pockets
16
Old Book
Assorted
Man Made Beau
Mountain Climbe:
Lotus Eaters
The View
Ye Old Christm:
About a Kitten
s218
A Narrow Escape
Myself, Ten Years
Boy Blue
Sailboat Races
Have You Read? ........
Advertisements .......
+26
AND WHITE
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL FACULTY
JOHN M. SAYLES
Principal of the Milne School
ROBERT W. FREDERICK
Principal of the Milne Junior School
Ametia Nicos MILter...
Lenarp R. Forse
Marearet D, Betz...
Anna K, BarsaM..
ExizasBetH D. ANDERSON...
. Secretary to Mr. Sayles
Instructor in Art
. Supervisor in Chemistry
Instructor in Clothing
Supervisor in Commerce
Supervisor in English
Head of English Department
. Supervisor in English
- Supervisor in English
. Supervisor in French
Supervisor in Latin and French
...-Instructor in Foods
...Director of Guidance
KatHertine E, WHEELING..........--
Mary Exizanetn Conkuin. .
Rutu G. Moore.....
FRANCES BROWNING
VirGinia SMITH.
A. May FIittincnan
Marearet Hayes. .
Exizapetu F, Saver...
Mary, WHITES cscs. eo
- Supervisor in Social Sciences
Supervisor in Latin
Head of Latin Department
L, ANTOINETTE JOHNSON........++.+++%
Librarian
TuHeELMA Eaton...
Aupna T. CLum.
Supervisor in Mathematics
‘| Head of Mathematics Department
. Supervisor in Mathematics
Margaret Hircucock. nstructor in Physical Education
(CABEETON As MOOSE cosines iniesiav in otsinyanies Supervisor in Science
ELARVANGRCANMOND) orsrsseretessetereererensia steiner Instructor in Shop Work
Anne L. CusHING
Davin Kroman..
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
Magic
by Lillian Walk, °37
There is not one of us to whom the word “magic” does not bring a sort of in-
terest. There are many kinds of so-called magic. Perhaps we are most familiar with
the rabbit-out-of-the-hat kind, or the type that involves disappearing billiard balls
and trained pigeons. Even the very smallest children are absorbed in the enchant-
ments that Cinderella’s fairy godmother worked. The Indian medicine-man, with
his potent charms, or the African witch-doctor strike awe and terror to the hearts
of their simple devotees. Everyone—old or young—uneducated or learned—is in-
trigued by supposed magic.
There is another kind of magic, however, of which, perhaps, you have not
thought. If you were suddenly lifted up from the crowded stores and busy streets
of today, with all the chaos of automobile horns and traffic, and set down in the
quiet of a country barn—well, you’d be astonished, wouldn’t you? Anyone of us
would be, to say the least, awe-stricken, to find ourselves in the plantation south in
the time of the Civil War. Hoop skirts would be in yogue, and dashing Southern
gentlemen would be choosing weapons at dawn. How strange we should feel—how
utterly bewildered! Or, again, if we should be magically transported to the Amer-
ica of the future—say, five hundred years hence, with wonderful machines, inter-
planetary transportation, and all-glass homes and furniture, wouldn’t it be won-
derful?
“Oh,” you say, “Of course it would be wonderful—but what good will it
do us to say that? All these things are impossible for us.”
Ah, but you’ve forgotten all about magic carpets! And you haven’t remem-
bered that good magicians can send us to the past or to the future.
Poetry holds enchantment. It takes us on plunging galleons far over the sea
to rocky isles. It brings us adventure with swashbuckling cavaliers. Poetry shows
us lovely ladies, foreign lands, and mystic nights, and it shows us how to appre-
ciate beauty.
Prose takes us on longer voyages over land and sea, disregarding time and
place. It transports us to all parts of the world—out into the universe. We are
privileged to travel thousands of miles, and we can go backward or forward for
thousands of years, but our magic carpets return us in the twinkling of an eye.
Who said that there isn’t any such thing as magic? It’s hidden between the
covers of any book in the world!
CRIMSON AND WHITE
The Toyshop
by Joan Manweicer, °41
In the toy shop window
Was a great array of toys,
With dollies for the little girls
And bright drums for the boys.
I saw some wooden soldiers,
A doll house tall and wide,
And standing near was Mickey Mouse
With Minnie by his side.
A blackfaced doll with pigtails
Was sitting on a chair ;
And in a lovely carriage
Was a doll with golden hair.
The cutest litile table
With dishes bright and gay ;
I wished a were a child again,
As I went upon my way.
The Old, Old Story
by Alice Van Gaasbeck, °42
Drums in my head, corns upon my feet,
Speak eloquently of many trampling feet.
“Here’s a toy your kids can’t do without.”
“Keep the pot boiling,” the Salvation lassies shout.
Tinsel decorates the store—
Boy, oh boy, are my feet sore!
“Shop early; avoid the rush.”
Who painted that sign? That’s a lot of bosh.
Poor me! I’m bruised and bumped all over,
But half my list I’ve yet to cover.
Christmas time’s the worst time of the year,
Because of Christmas shopping, I fear.
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
When Bells Ring Out
by Dorothy Harrison, °37
. . As for the Christmas tree, the Scandinavians claim the first tree grew
on Christmas Eve from the bloody soil where two lovers died. They call it the
service tree.”
The French describe a tall pine tree with bright tinsel and candles on its
branches to represent the human race. Some of the candle burned upside down to
represent the bad ones.
The German St. Winifrith is said to have leveled the majestic oak, once wor-
shipped by the Druidic converts, and from it sprang a little fir tree, of which St.
Winifrith said:
“This little tree, a young child of the forest, shall be your holy tree to-
night . . . It is the sign of an endless life, for its leaves are green. See how
it points upward to heaven. Let this be called the tree of the Christ Child.
Gather about not in the wild wood, but in your own homes. There it will
shelter not deeds of blood, but loving gifts and rites of kindness.”
The Egyptians may have originated the idea from their practice of decorat-
ing their homes with palm. Whenever the practice did originate is till disputed, but
it came into world-wide use in the nineteenth century.
Superstitions on Christmas are very interesting. In England, when the cock
crows between November and December in the stillness of the night, it is believed
he is scaring evil spirits from the holy season. The bees are said to sing, the cattle
to kneel in honor of the manger, and the sheep to go in procession in commemora-
tion of the visit of the angels to the shepherds.
The Indians believe that all the deer kneel and look up to the Great Spirit at
midnight.
Polish people think that on this night of nights the heavens are open to the
scene of Jacob’s ladder, but only the saints can see it. The animals have the power
of speech in Germany, but if you eavesdrop on them you never live to tell their
story. If you lie in the manger on Christmas eve, your whole future will be open
to you.
Among the Czechs, people fast instead of feast. The ones who fast most re-
ligiously will have the pleasure of dreaming of Christ that night. They are such
peaceful people that they think even the saints rest on the holy night.
In parts of Austria candles are set in the windows so the Christ Child will
not stumble when he passes through the village. Northern Germans set their tables
for the Virgin Mary and her angels so they may have a bite to eat on their journey.
The spirit of Christmas is embedded deep in the heart of every human be-
ing in the world no matter how he conducts his celebration of it. We have the
Christmas spirit of giving and receiving here in America. We have the Christmas
tree and dear old Santa Claus, and the Christmas feast, and best of all a “Merry
Christmas” for everybody.
CRIMSON AND WHITE
MINIATURES...
An Old Lady
by Marjorie Stanton, ’38
Yesterday, as I was downstreet shopping, I saw an old lady in a grocery store.
She had a sad look in her eyes, but gave me the impression that she had been happy
and pretty when young. Her face was shriveled up, and her eyes were sunk back, She
had lines of worry on her forehead, but also had crow’s feet by her eyes, which led
me to believe that she used to smile a lot. She was dressed very poorly and her
hands were bare. They were very red and frost-bitten. She clutched a small purse
in her hand, and she held it so tightly that I was convinced it was everything she
owned. She had an old torn shawl draped on her head and hung about her shoulders.
It made my heart ache when she asked the clerk for five cent’s worth of bread, The
clerk, being a good scout, gave her a large loaf. Then she hobbled out of the store
and down the street. She clutched the bread just as tightly as she held the purse.
She paused to look at the food with a wanting eye as she went out of the store. I
thought to myself, why can’t the Community Chest, Salvation Army, or some or-
ganization, help individual souls like that!
A Small Boy
by Wilson Hume, °38
A small boy is one of the most happy and carefree individuals that you can
imagine. When he is good, he is a cherubic angel from the tips of his scuffed shoes
to the top of his curly brown head. He may be bubbling over with boyish good
humor now, but he can become the very horned devil himself when he wants to.
His eyes sparkle like diamonds, and his pug nose has a decided polish on it when
he is good. A person can spend pleasant minutes just watching his barrel-like form
jounce about on his stubby fat legs.
An Old Lady
by Alfred Wheeler, °38
The old lady was seated in her most comfortable rocking chair. Every time
she rocked back, a slight squeak would be emitted from the undercarriage. One
could see that she was thin faced, and slightly red about the eyes where her glasses
pinched her. Her hair was perfectly white and undecorated save for a tortoise
shell comb stuck in the back. She wore a black dress with a high white starched
collar, Her hands were hidden by a black shawl, but one could picture them as
being long and thin, with the veins faintly showing blue, like china in a New Eng-
land kitchen. Her shoes were buttoned and black. She was the person for whom I
was to work,
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
A Small Boy
by Robert Wilke, ’38
When I describe a small boy I must remember that I, too, was once a small
boy. The one I am thinking of now is the type I hope I was not. He can be very
serious when his father is present or anyone else in authority, but when he is with
the crowd, watch out! He is a very devil and will stop at nothing. One habit of
his is to break windows, and I shouldn’t be surprised if his father has paid for
twenty broken windows. He stands about average in his studies, but that is the
best he’ll ever be. If he continues as he is, sometime in the future he may be very
popular but will probably end with his name in the Rogues’ Gallery.
Folk Ballad
by Martha Freytag, 40
Now Clint was a fella’ with a shinin’ head,
A-layin’ on his bed almost dead,
Nearer to Heaven
Than he’d ever been.
Clint was a-layin’ out of his head,
His wife a-weeping’ at the head of his bed,
Nearer to Heaven
Than he’d ever been.
Clint was two years past a hundred,
Old folks’ pneumonia, so they said.
Nearer to Heaven
Than he’d ever been.
His wife was two past twenty,
She was just a-rollin’ in money a-plenty.
Nearer to Heaven
Than he’d ever been.
A bullet whizzed through the curtain,
They'd got Clint this time certain.
The nearest to Heaven
He'll ever, ever be.
He had thrice robbed a bank,
From all his captors, back he shrank,
Nearer to Heaven
Than he’d ever been.
CRIMSON AND WHITE
Friendship
by Franklin Steinhardt, ’38
One thing that we all need on our journey through this world is a true friend ;
someone whom we can confide in and trust. In both happiness and sorrow the
heart of a true friend is our common need; someone to pour out our troubles and
misfortunes to, and someone to share our joy and good fortunes.
It is one of the great things that make life worth while, to have someone to
trust and think of as yourself.
When the daughter of a captive king bowed in submission before the closest
friend of Alexander the Great, thinking him to be the conqueror, she was greatly
distressed.
“Do not distress yourself, madam,” said the conqueror, “for he, too, is Alex-
ander.”
This was Alexander’s sincere tribute to a comrade who shared all of his suc-
cesses and failures.
Such friends are towers of strength to us. They help us shoulder our burden
and put aside our despondency with much needed encouragement and optimism.
The friendships we choose in our early life, our school days, should not be
allowed to fall by the way with time, for the cares of later life make one yearn
for a loyal friend in whom to confide in our moments of dejection and anguish.
However, it is wise to know many people and to unite with many groups of
varying interests and inspiration. We should seek the friendship of those who de-
sire to better themselves and believe that the march of the world depends upon us
and our generation.
Each year we should broaden our acquaintances and move in a larger circle,
and from this larger circle we may choose a closer circle of true friends.
“Many we may know, but few we shall choose,” for a sincere friend is as a
precious gem.
The Hawk
by Shirley Baldwin, °40
A fish hawk rides over the bay. He is strong and of steely grey sleekness.
As I watch, he circles again over the shimmering water. Suddenly he swoops to
within a few feet of its surface, but rises immediately. Again he resumes his mon-
otonous circling. Round and ’round he goes: first over the tree tops; again over
the shiny blueness of the water. Always at the same easy slowness, but always
with overwhelming power in the sweep of his wide-spread wings. Suddenly he
flies lower, but still he circles incessantly. Then with a rush he drops; down, down,
down. His body strikes the water, and a fine spray leaps up to meet the still dusti-
ness of the air. Swiftly, even as hurriedly as he drops, he rises, in his mighty claws
a silvery fish, gleaming, flashing in the brightness of an afternoon sun,
Beauty, this is surely that which belongs to God alone.
10
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
To Keep Sweetly
by Lillian Walk, °37
One day I shall go to all the
Beauty I have gathered.
I shall pour it from its deepened
Chalice into molds.
There I shall keep it,
Still and motionless,
Until it crystallizes in far shapes ;
Crystallized, I shall keep it always.
Nothing then can ever change its forms:
Beauty, crystal, fragile—
Rose-quartz molded to my wish.
Then the fragrances I have collected—
Lilac-mist, dank fog, the dampish ground,
The smell of Spring, and leather, and old books;
The scent of darkness, swirling without sound.
These shall I love till they grow brittle
Then I shall frost them: make them misted, cold.
I'll whiten them all to indistinction
So only I can tell what things they hold.
The feeling, then, of all the things I love
That I have touched, and held within my reach:
Cool shapes of jade-translucent, smooth, like rain,
And rain itself that soothes. A ripened peach,
That feels half smooth—half sharp to touch or eat.
A poplar leaf, flung in my face by wind,
And fur—black fur (held close against my cheek)
On which a bunch of violets is pinned.
These, and so many more sweet things I’ve felt
I shall preserve in spices, so they’ll keep.
T'll leave them tight in rose-jars, for to see
That they are there—sunken in incense deep.
Beauty, fragrant scents, and thing to touch:
These shall I hoard, and then, when I am old,
Tl take them from their starred receptacles
And look at them, to keep away the cold.
CRIMSON AND WHITE
il
THE SENIORS DO RESEARCH
Songs of the Negroes
by Carolyn Hausmann, ’37
Slaves brought to America from the tropical plains of Africa, after a period
of bafflement and daze in the New World, quickly began to take hold of life where
they could. Rich in a folklore of voodoo and ceremonial dance and song, they re-
leased their souls through new outlets. The spirituals are not merely melodies, but
articulated song messages of the slave to the world. The songs of the old south are
the music of an unhappy people. They tell of death and suffering and unvoiced
longing toward a truer world of misty wanderings and hidden ways.
Over the inner thoughts of the slaves and their relations, one with another,
the shadow of fear ever hung. Mother and child are sung but seldom father.
Fugitives and weary wanderers call for pity and affection, but there is little of
wooing or wedding. The fields, rivers, and mountains are sung, but home is un-
known. By fateful chance, the negro folk song, the rhythmic cry of the slave,
stands today not simply as the soul of the American music, but as the most beauti-
ful expression of human experiences. This is the greatest gift of the negro people.
The old slave songs were drawn straight from the hearts of these people.
Their eyes were fixed towards a literal Heaven of Golden Palaces, no work, per-
petual singing and the strumming of harps. The breasts of these people surged
with the melodies that carried stories of the struggles on earth and pathways of
glory. As religion was inextricably mingled with the lives of the old slaves, so
were songs. The plaintive strains of these songs softened the hardest tasks. Drab
existence of endless duties was colored by their songs. The songs lent emotional
flavor to the routine of life. Not with weeping and self-pity have the members of
the new race met the buffets and woes of a life of slavery, privation, and insult.
They have relieved their souls with laughter and song. The soil which they have
tilled all day feels at evening not curses, but the caress of light feet in dancnig,
and in the singing of songs. The overseer’s lash of slave days, and the present jeers
of white rulers are answered with the singing of spirituals and blues. The true
negro folk-song still lives in the hearts of those who have heard them truly sung,
and in the hearts of the negro people.
The negro found a religion beautifully adapted to his needs in the folk-lore
of the Old Testament. The mystical concepts of the New Testament gave a rich
outlet for worship and emotional ecstacy. Heaven became a miraculous escape
from a dire and suffering world. The expression of all this was poured forth in the
spirituals. Their forms are largely that of the new world, the language, English,
the symbolism Christian, but the spirituals are of and by the negro. They are not
gifts from Africa, but from the new race in the new world.
“Man expressed his first emotional impulse in the dance, praising his gods and
frightening away the devils in rhythm. He expressed his different moods, such as
love, fear, hate, and happiness, by the dance.”
—Barpara Knox,
12
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
A German Boy’s Impression of
Albany and Milne
by Otto Schaler, ’37
Reaching Albany, I discovered with great satisfaction and pleasure the reason-
able low altitude of its buildings. The next impression, after I got used to the dan-
gerous steepness of the Capitol Hill, based upon its imposing State Office Build-
ing, the mysterious attractiveness of the State Education Building, its charming
Capitol, its architecturally beautiful post office, its up-to-date port and super-mod-
ern bridge, its parks and recreation centers, showed clearly what a pearl of a
city this is, The mediaeval appearing “trolleys,” however, are a disgrace to her
progressiveness and I personally wouJd rather hurry past a couple of red traffic
lights than to trust myself to one of these perilous monsters.
It is impossible—at least to me—to picture Albany without Milne High School.
Milne, its spirit, its understanding teachers, excellent supervisors, and its activities,
may it be the work on newspaper or magazine, its societies, clubs, and teams, make
going to school a pleasure.
How Marionettes Received
°
Their Names
by Carol Loucks, °37
It is said that in Italy marionettes received the name they now go by. This is
the story of how they acquired it. In Venice in the year 994 A.D., twelve beautiful
maidens set out from their homes to the “Church of Santa della Salute,” where they
were to marry twelve young men. Just as the wedding procession neared the church
a band of Barbary pirates landed and, in the excitement, they carried off the brides.
The grooms and their friends took to ships in pursuit. After a hot chase they over-
took the pirates and, in a hard battle, rescued their brides and took them home.
Every year on the anniversary of this event a great festival was held. During this
festival twelve beautiful maidens became brides. The brides’ dowries and trous-
seaux were supplied by the state. As time went on such jealousy arose among the
women that the brides’ places were taken by wooden dolls. Soon the toy makers
began to show little wooden replicas of these dolls, which they called “little maries”
or “marionettes.” After a while this became the universal name for the dolls.
George Gershwin’s Defense of
American Jazz
by Jane Weir, ’37
George Gershwin says, in defense of himself and American music, that all
great music has been founded on folk music. He feels that from our jazz music
rag-time, negro spiritual, blues and mountain music, American music can gather its
styles. However, the composers have to possess the right talent to make these styles
interesting. He also feels that the composers who are American have developed
styles. So, he regards jazz music as one type of American folk music, and moreover,
he thinks, in the hands of talented composers, it is a good basis for symphonic works,
CRIMSON AND WHITE
13
Buildings of Vienna
by Bette Reudemann, °37
In the beginning, Shonbrunn was only a hunting lodge, but Maria Theresa
transformed it into the beautiful palace it is today. The construction was started
in 1569. It was first intended to have the palace where the Gloriette now stands,
but it was decided it would be too much work to carry all the stones to this height.
The palace alone contains one thousand four hundred and forty-one rooms, and
also numerous kitchens.
Seventy-five of the rooms are open for inspection by the people. Among those
to be seen is the room of the Duke of Reichstadt and his father, Napoleon. The
Duke died in this room in 1832. It is a plain blue room with his pet bird stuffed, in
a cage. One may see the room of Maria Theresa, Empress Elizabeth, and her
husband, Franz Josef.
Many interesting historical events took place in the palace and also in the
beautiful surrounding gardens. The rooms are all named; one of them, the ‘Gold
Room,’ is said to have cost a million dollars. When looking upon the palace from
the outside, one sees a row of windows making the palace very formal in appear-
ance. Over the two obelisks at the entrance of the palace are perched two gold
eagles. France placed them there under Napoleon. They were put there in the time
of Austria’s deepest humiliation but were never removed.
The gardens are very beautiful, with rows of formal trees leading from the
palace to the Shone Brunnen, where a statue nymph stands in the sparkling water.
The grounds surrounding Shonbrunn contain four hundred and ninety-five acres
beautifully laid out.
On the grounds are many interesting things to be seen and the park is visited
by hundreds of people every day. One may see the formal gardens, fountains, the
stables containing royal carriages, botanic gardens, and the zoo containing animals
and birds. Also on the grounds are found the obelisk and the Grotto, which are
Roman ruins.
Emperor Franz Josef often called Shonbrunn, “My well beloved house.” It
was also the favorite summer home of Maria Theresa.
Some of these buildings of Vienna are beautiful masterpieces of yesterday,
and to reproduce them would be next to impossible. These buildings mark Vienna
as one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
“As long as there is civilization there will be progress, and as long as there is
progress, man will exhibit it through fairs. Man should support all fairs; they have
taught him much and will teach him more as time goes on, for man cannot succeed
without seeing what other people are doing and profiting by their example.”
—Epmunp Haskins,
14
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
My Lover’s Song
by Lillian Walk, °37
My lover's song against the night
Is silver in the moon's pale light.
It flows across my waking dream
Like some strange echo of a stream.
It is a scarf of white chiffon
The lady night is putting on.
The song is ancient, but it’s young,
And tastes like honey on my tongue.
The food is strange and lotus-sweet:
T know that I shall never eat
A fruit from golden vine or tree
As mystic as this melody.
The very incense of the sound
Rises to me from the ground.
An odor richer than old wine,
Pungent as sandalwood or pine.
I could live with just this song
To nourish me the whole year long.
Pockets
by Peggy Jantz, ’38
Did you ever look at a person and wonder what he has in his pockets. It is in-
teresting sometimes to know what collects there. I think it depends entirely upon
the person as to what his pockets contain. I should imagine a small child would have
different things he or she has collected that took his fancy. Maybe he has a crayon,
two or three pennies, a bead or so of mother’s broken beads, a piece of stale candy,
(kept as a favorite) and the necessary hanky.
The opposite type of this innocent child is a gangster. I should think he would
have crude belongings, such as a black jack, a pack of smashed cigarettes, a pistol,
scraps of paper with scribbling of a code on them, and probably a mask.
The pocket of the wealthy man is the best liked, The contents are simple but
few. A silk handkerchief that has never been used, a large amount of money, maybe
a theater ticket, and a couple of good cigars.
The most interesting of all is the pocket of the man that is unemployed. He
would have a different collection of things. The most popular thing in his pocket
would be the clippings from newspapers of want ads. More contents of his pockets
are, tobacco taken from cigarette butts, a broken down old pipe, a picture of the
family, a letter of encouragement from his wife, and a soiled handkerchief.
All pockets tell the type of person they belong to, and some tell very interesting
stories.
CRIMSON AND WHITE
15
My Cat
by Marion Soule, ’41
I have a cat named Snoopy;
He is an awful care,
For when we go to bed at night
He wants to take the air.
We do not want him to go out
Because he likes to play,
And other cats might fight him
For he will not run away.
But lots of nights he dodges out,
And so we have to search;
Sometimes we find him on the fence
Or on the neighbor’s porch.
When we went away one day
Our cat was all at sea,
For we left him in the cellar
Where he didn’t want to be.
He cried and scratched and lashed his tail,
Tried everything he could;
But when he saw he must stay in
He settled down for good.
When we came home we called him
And he ran upstairs so quick,
Then he sat beneath the kitchen sink
And used his oldest trick.
To A Butterfly
by Evelyn Wilber, °40
Oh, you lovely, gorgeous creature
With your wings of azure blue!
You are like a bit of heaven,
And as delicate of hue.
T’ve seen you in my garden gay,
While the morning sun was high,
Sipping nectar from the flow’rs
As in and out you fly.
16
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
Old Book Friends
by Recilla Rudnick, °38
As I pause to look over my book-shelf, I see many old favorites, or rather,
young favorites. There is the copy of Hans Brinker that I used to carry to sleep.
Many of its pages were torn, and its wood-block illustrations were amateurishly
colored with wax crayons. This was my pet book. I delighted in its tale, and from
that book came many childish dreams.
Another one of my favorite books was The Sweet Garden. In fancy, I would
see the little crippled boy regain the use of his limbs and would shout in glee. I
remember the day I got it. It was my eighth birthday, and in the joy of the day,
I cut my hand. It was a nasty gash, and I'm afraid I wasn’t quite brave because
I cried. The book was one of my birthday presents, so Mother told me to read it,
and I would forget all about my hand. I started to read, and for the first few
pages I shed so many tears that the sheets got rumpled with wetness. However,
I soon got lost in the intricacies of the words. Thus my wound was forgotten.
King Arthur, Robin Hood, and Robinson Crusoe were my playmates on rainy
days, for I was rather a bookworm. Master Gulliver carried me to strange lands,
and Aladdin performed his miracles for me. So impressed was I by his magic lamp
that I would rub our parlor-lamp in vain.
Many are the memories brought back by fingering these books. Hope, sorrow,
and joy are herein registered forever.
Move Book Friends
by Sylvia Rypins, ’38
In taking eight month leases, one incurs a great deal of storing, moving, and
living in new homes. In our present house, there are no book cases. This is always
unfortunate, and to us, with all the books we have, it is a calamity. We have three
bookcases of our own, rather like the three bears. I have the big one, the children
have the middle sized one, and as there was no room elsewhere, the little one is
banished to the basement.
T asked the moving men to bring all the boxes of books to my room. This in-
volved difficulty. Emma had to take a short course in mountain climbing to make
my bed, and I was as completely shut off from communication as if I had been in
the Bastile. Next day, therefore, I began the sorting.
Most of the books I had seen before. I put away all mother’s smaller, less in-
teresting novels. The attic is now overflowing with them. All the children’s books
T sent to their room, Almost all my own I kept out. I salvaged all the finer copies,
(Thope) old editions of Chaucer, and beautifully illlustrated de luxe editions, main-
ly poetry. I sacrificed mother’s German editions, a few French books, and all
Daddy’s professional data. After much weeding and sorting, I sat back to look at
the bookcase. Nearly two-thirds of the books were old friends, the books one reaches
for mechanically to re-read in odd minutes, a little dog-eared, rather sticky, very
ragged around the edges, a few coming out of the binding; veterans all! My book-
case is a delight to my hand, eye, and mind, which is just what one wants of a
bookcase.
CRIMSON AND WHITE
17
Assorted
by Marjorie Stanton Milne, °38
Last summer I was lying on a raft in the water about sixty feet from the shore
line. I noticed all sorts of people entering the water. There were all types from little
children just learning to swim to old fogies who were probably taking their last
swim.
First, there was Buddy, the big brave type. He has a wonderful physique
but couldn’t move a piano. He runs through the water splashing everyone within
distance causing much disturbance. He starts to swim with a powerful overhand
that gives him the appearance of owning the lake. After forcing himself to the
raft, you get the surprise of your life. He ascends to the raft and jumps up and
down on the spring-board causing you to imagine him doing something as difficult
as a triple flip. After attracting everyone’s attention he holds his nose and jumps
in. Very disappointing.
The next person involved in the swimming proposition is Clara-Change-Her-
Mind. She coaxes everyone to go in swimming with her, and then, after sticking
her little toe in, she decides she will wait till another day when it is warmer. She
explains to friends that she’s sure the water will warm up eventually. If she only
knew the lake was fed by springs!
Cecil, the Sissy, makes a nice appearance. He is slightly afraid of the cold
water. He makes bright remarks such as, “I’m sure I saw a water snake this mroning
under the raft.” and “My, but it looks like snow.” After getting up to his
stomach, a deed for which he deserves much credit, he decides to get an ice cream
cone to get cooled off.
Everyone is familiar with Davy, the Diver. His swimming can be equalled
by no one in the state. Maybe he’s right. Of course, that’s his own opinion. He’s
never taken lessons but takes it upon himself to teach everyone else. He is very
clever with inventions that bring your head up first without a nose-full. The only
catch is, you have to practically drown before this works. Very trying for the
people who have spent years in teaching diving, to be taught by so ignorant a crea-
ture,
In every lake there have to be some great swimmers besides the fish. We wel-
come Sammie the Swimmer and Walter the Water Rat. They come in and casually
remark that they think they will swim around the lake a few times before lunch.
Lucky for them that the lake is only five miles around. They start out, one rowing
the boat and the other swimming. Before they have gone twenty-five feet it is
vice versa. When they get back (they’ve been around the lake just once, cutting
off all the corners) they are very much tired out. It’s unanimous among the audi-
ence that they are only tired from changing places in the boat.
Life savers are always necessary at a lake when there is someone like Doris,
the Drowning Duck. Every time a good looking male appears she sinks, letting
out a cute little squeek. She used to try it on the lifeguards, but after she drowned
six times in one day they got wise. After the good looking gentleman (who usually
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
has money) saves her she thanks him kindly for saving her life and five minutes
later she has a date for next Friday, but that’s another story.
Betty, the Beauty, has a very disagreeable time in the water, She enters looking
very beautiful, but when she exits she looks like something that drowned last sum-
mer. She is always reminding friends not to push her in because she can’t get her
hair wet or the curl will come out. One day she got ducked and came up with
her eyebrows running down her cheeks. Oh well, she can get her beauty prize
somewhere else.
Some business men enjoy a swim after the business day is completed. They
usually come in a large group. They very often bring a large water ball and enjoy
nothing better than to bopp some old lady and then apologize severally. They're
always either falling on some one or holding some stranger under water thinking
it is their competitor. Well, after all, they've paid their fee.
Roberta with the new rubber bathing suit just loves to swim. She is showing
it off on the raft; in fact she has been sitting there all day, It’s bright yellow and
I’m sure many people haven’t missed it. She has just taken one dive too many and
is calling her auntie to bring her a towel. It’s very picturesque to see her running
around behind a towel. Anyhow, now she can put the bathing suit in her scrap-book.
There are many other types including the lady teaching Junior how to swim,
She tells him not to afraid but she herself wouldn’t go any farther than her knees,
I admire most the young fellows and girls who are just good sports. Of course, I
imagine the young folks are as much a hindrance to the others as swimming ob-
structors are to them, Oh well, every sport has its disadvantages.
“Lepers who believe themselves doomed to an uninterrupted life of hor-
ror can now hope for recovery and a normal life. No longer need they sit and
stare vacantly into an empty future. Today they are eagerly discussing and planning
a joyful future, full of all the happiness that comes from healthy bodies and normal
activities, To them has come the greatest boon to mankind—the hope of life.”
—Vircinia Soper.
Man Made Beauty
by Sylvia Rypins, ’38
To me the brightest sight in Albany is the front of the Education Building
on a clear day in the early fall. Then the stone shines white, the sky blue, the yellow
leaves blow across the steps, and the pigeons dip and turn and wheel around the
pillars. The shadows seem to be chiseled on the stone, and the white of the marble
focuses every line vividly. Sometimes there are scudding white clouds, and if it
is a windy day, and the sun is shining unsteadily, the scene looks like a trumpet
call—if trumpets calls could be painted—thrilling one down to the toes, and up to
the immeasurable.
N AND WHITE
19
Mountain Climbers
by Marion McCormack, 38
Hiking along on a mountain trail you will meet several kinds of mountain
climbers.
There is the mountain climber who climbs mountain after mountain, just for
the sake of being able to boast to his friends that he has climbed this mountain or
that. This mountain climber is usually a person who looks as though he might en-
joy the out-of-doors, but for some reason just doesn’t fit into the picture. Maybe
it is because when you meet him on the trail he is always ready to tell you how
much harder the trails on the other mountains he has climbed are. It is a blow
to your ego, because who doesn’t like to think the trail he is on is the hardest trail?
Incidentally, six times out of ten the guide book or map will tell you that the
trail you are taking is by far much harder than the trails of the Boasting Mountain
Climber.
Another type is the Stylish Mountain Climber. He usually looks all dressed
up with no place to go. His shoes look as though they pinched his feet a great deal ;
he probably rests quite often and subtracts that time from his total climbing time,
so when he says he did the mountain in three hours he probably did it in five. His
breeches are tight about the knees, and the sweaters he carries around his waist
lepk as though they should carry a sign stating—WE ARE FOR SHOW ONLY.
PLEASE DO NOT USE US. Toa seal mountain climber they would be a great
nuisance. A speck of dirt on this mountain climber would look quite out of place.
When you meet him on the trail he gushes all over you and tells you what a per-
fectly lovely view it is from the top if you aren’t too tired to enjoy the picture
painted so skillfully by Nature before you. He sighs and then adds that it would
be quite heavenly if there were only a road built to the top of the mountains. Poor
thing, then he could go to the highest peak in comfort and safety, and above all
without spoiling that spick and span appearance that he prizes so much,
Last, but not least, is the Real Mountain Climber who climbs for the sheer joy
of climbing. He loves the sense of well being that comes when at last the top is
reached and he is able to look back and retrace with his eyes the trail he has just
conquered, That trail represents a struggle, a long hard journey to the top. Every
time he comes to a clearing he does not wish that it were the top because he knows
that the top is reached only when he has left all his struggles behind him. He gets
an “all-right-with-the-world” feeling, when he finally stops to rest at the summit
and is able to drink in the beauty of the surrounding country-side. It is a mar-
velous feeling to look away into the distance all around him and think of the people
at work in the valleys, so far below him, worrying about this or that; he on the
other hand, has dismissed all the cares of life and is ready to go back down the
mountain with a new hope in his heart and a quicker spring to his walk. This
climber wears very comfortable looking clothes and has a very casual appearance
about all his clothes. His attitude is very happy-go-lucky and carefree. He will
always be glad to tell you truthfully what kind of a trail you have before you and
will show a great interest in the mountains you have climbed. It seems to be the
20
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
code of mountain climbers to stop and chat a few minutes with the climbers whom
they meet.
This mountain climber does not climb to boast about it afterwards to his
friends nor is he climbing because it is stylish, but because he gets real pleasure
out of climbing. He is a real honest to goodness mountain climber—a lover of
Nature’s sculpturing, the mountains—a ray of sunshine to all who have the pleasure
of meeting him.
Lotus-Eaters
by Lillian Walk, °37
These who have seen the moon transform the froth
Of white plum blossoms into splintered star,
Spilled silver mist splashed down
In garden darkness ;
These who have tasted dawn
When light has not yet come;
These who have walked through lush blue grass alone
And stood, with arms outstretched,
Upon a hill, or seen a tree
Sway black against night-sky ;
These are lotus-eaters:
Having tasted mystic beauty once,
They long to eat forever of its flower
And forget all else.
The View
by Sylvia Rypins, °38
There is only one spot on the top of -——— Hill, where you can get any view
of the valley, but that is a view worth seeing. At this point, a great rock prevents
the trees from getting much hold and forms a deep rift. You may look down and
see the valley spread out like a map with square fields of every shade from light
yellow to dark green. One can see the rows of corn, the trees around the houses,
the winding road, and the orchards, looking like little rows of brussels sprouts.
Behind this spreads more land, growing wilder, greener, and more hilly, till your
eye meets the broken misty blue lines of the mountains under the hot July sun,
Above are racing white clouds crossing a blue sky; below are racing black cars
on a white ribbon-like road. The winds puffs in your eyes, blows your hair into
your mouth, and plays with your handkerchief till you stop looking and sit down
with a gasp.
CRIMSON AND WHITE
21
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
gone and with
CRIMSON AND WHITE
23
About A Kitten
by Miriam Freund, °39
Once there was a kitten,
A funny silly kitten,—
A straddle-legged kitten,—
A tiny ball of fur.
He didn’t run; he wobbled,
He stumbled, and he hobbled;
He even colly-wobbled !
That little piece of purr.
He never,—never worried ;
He always,—always hurried,
He flurried, and he scurried,
That little piece of fluff.
He really was a weakling,
In fact, he was a squeakling!
But still, in all, we loved him,
That smallish powder-puff.
A Narrow Escape
by Ann Loucks, *41
Down the highway mighty fast
And clipping off the miles,
“What a trip!” I said with joy
And half a dozen smiles.
But all at once my blood ran cold;
My face was tight with fear ;
I jammed the brakes and tugged the wheel ;
The car began to veer.
I missed a fence one-quarter inch
And glanced a tree or two,
And just to reach the road again
I thought I couldn’t do.
But this I did with luck and art;
My head was in a whirl;
I looked behind and thanked the Lord
I hadn't hit the squirrel.
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
Myself, Tem Years Hence
by Benjamin Douglas, ’39
I shall be twenty-five. The year will be 1946. The chances are that I shall be
somewhere out in the world as far as I can get. My plan is to go around the world,
working as I do. When I return, I shall have a great store of knowledge on many
things. I shall have been all over Europe, working at inns, sleeping where I can.
I shall have climbed the Alps, or at least, an Alp. I shall have walked through the
Black Forests of Germany, watched and worked with men and women of Russia,
gone to the Mediterranean countries, visited Egypt, the Sphinx, felt the heat of
Africa, the cold of Greenland, and the comforts of England. Ahead of me shall
be visions of my own land, foreign lands which I have never seen, people I shall
know, trades I shall learn, and adventures I shall have. I shall be twenty-five, and
the world will be my oyster.
Boy Blue
by Lois Burch, °42
His hair is long and soft as silk;
He likes a bowl of nice fresh milk.
He likes to climb into my lap,
And settle himself for a nice long nap.
He purrs and purrs and is so loving,
I wonder if he knows the joy he’s giving.
He cries at meal time for something to eat,
And probably hopes it’s nice fresh meat.
He misses me when I’ve been away,
And when I come home he’s happy and gay.
Sail Boat Races
by Robert Wilke, 38
Upon a deep sapphire lake, hemmed in by forest-clad mountains, a fleet of
boats rests. These boats are tall, stately, white clouded racing sloops. A stiff breeze
ruffles the waters of the lake, and the huge spinnakers look like giant balloons as
the wind draws them out to their fullest extent. The tall slender masts bend like
whips to every gust and the forefoot of every mainsail is wet. Upon the wind-
ward side of the decks are men leaning far out over the side to balance the boat.
If you look carefully on the windward side, you sometimes see the upper part
of the huge keel as the boats heel over under the force of the wind. Spray flies in
sheets as wave after wave smashes against the plunging bows and runs through the
lee scuppers back into the deep clear water.
Back of this scene rests a little village. Its red roofs and white curling smoke
with interlacing green of the trees make a beautiful sight. Above the village a
mountain rears its head with a snowy peak nestling among the clouds.
CRIMSON AND WHITE
25
HAVE YOU READ?
Gone With the Wind
by Norma Kapewich, °37
The moving story of the Civil War and Reconstruction is brought vividly to
life in this dramatic novel. i
Scarlett O’Hara, born of a gently bred, aristocratic mother and an Irish peasant
father, inherited both charm and determination, She was the belle of the country,
spoiled, selfish and impetuous, but beautiful enough to deceive her admirers. She
entered young womanhood just in time to see the Civil War sweep away the entire
life for which she was prepared. Without Scarlett’s shrewdness and hardness, she
could never have survived the War as she did: victorious.
Scarlett’s sister-in-law, Melaine Wilkes, had to meet the same situations as
Scarlett, but her fine qualities, true courage, and kindness carried her through this
same crisis with no bitterness.
Gradually, Scarlett’s ideals were weakened so that she became a grabbing,
greedy woman, interested only in getting food and wealth. She spent her entire
lifetime trying to win over the love of one man. In the end she realized where her
true love lay—but too late. One laughs, one cries, one sympathizes with, and one
hates this Scarlett O'Hara throughout the unfolding story.
This stirring drama tells in its own words the story of the South under the
hardships of the War and its after effects. The rugged hills, the rambling planta-
tions, the rollicking young characters, the stately gentlemen, characterize the true
life of the South. The heartrending struggles for life and the loved characters,
keep one’s interest so that to put aside the book is practically impossible. See for
yourself how true and understanding this drama actually is.
The Voice of Bugle Ann
by Jane Weir, °37
The voice of Bugle Ann rings clear and often in the hills of Missouri. The
legend of Bugle Ann, accompanied by the beauty of this hound dog’s cry, reminds
one of great deeds and great men. Among these men you will find old Spring Davis.
Hunting the fox was the one great pastime of this seventy-year-old man whom Mr,
Kantor presents in his book, The Voice of Bugle Ann, His one love was for his
hound dog and her beautiful voice. He deliberately killed the man who he thought
killed her. A jail sentence followed and then, months later, Bugle Ann mysteriously
returned and cried for her master in the hills of Missouri,
The plot is very realistic and entertaining. It has suspense, action, and humor,
One finds the humor in the way the country folk named their dogs. “Old Arm-
strong” was religious, while his sons were theatre-crazy. Can you imagine Jackie
Cooper, Dwight L. Moody, Zasu Pitts, Hoot Gibson, and Mary Magdelene all
driving the fox at once? Why don’t you read The Voice of Bugle Ann and find
out if she really died and how Spring Davis was released from jail and why every-
one loved this fine old man,
26
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
GUSTAVE LOREY
PHOTOGRAPHER
ESTABLISHED 1901
THE STUDIOS
91 STATE STREET 360 BROADWAY
ALBANY, N. Y. SARATOGA SPRINGS, N. Y.
ARTISTIC PHOTOGRAPHY FOR COLLEGE AND
SCHOOL ANNUALS AT REASONABLE PRICES
peer
PHOTOGRAPHER TO THE 1937 “CRIMSON AND WHITE"
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SHOES WORK CLOTHES
RUDNICK'S
Corner Beaver and Grand Streets, Albany, N. Y.
MACKINAWS TOBACCOS
FURNITURE DRAPERIES
RUGS AND LINOLEUM
HELMES, INC.
4-5-6 Central Avenue Albany, N. Y.
Dial 4-7194 and 4-7195
Jack Skinner: “This soup tastes funny!”
Foster Sipperly: “Well, why don’t you laugh?”
STEEFEL SAYS:
WEEBER CYCLE WORKS CHRISTMAS GIFTS
COLUMBIA, ELM and MIAMI
BICYCLES
STEEFEL BROS.
174-176 Central Avenue
Tel. 3-036! Albany, N. Y.
. y and Boys
FRANCIS E. COX
THE UPTOWN OPTOMETRIST
171 Central Ave., between Robin St. and Lexington Ave.
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28
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
of Distinction and Practicability
Wear Apparel for Men, Women
RIDING HABITS BOOTS AND ACCESSORIES
"YOU PAY LESS HERE"
RICHTER’S
127 HUDSON AVENUE
Dial 3-9359 Albany, New York
ALBANY'S LEADING THEATRES
THE PALACE
HARMANUS BLEECKER HALL
THE GRAND
THE LELAND
fo)
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MUHLFELDER'S
55 NORTH PEARL STREET
WOMEN'S WEARING APPAREL AND ACCESSORIES
ALLEN FOOD SHOP
FANCY GROCERIES
TOYS — PARTY FAVORS — NOVELTIES FRESH FOOD SUPPLIES
CENTRAL TOY & NOVELTY STORE
The New Store at DEALER IN BIRDSEYE GOODS
136 No. Allen Street
303 CENTRAL AVENUE Dial 2-593) Corner Washington Ave.
Mr. Hotaling: “My boy, I am ashamed of you for getting such low marks in
school. Why, didn’t you know that when George Washington was your age, he was
already a prominent surveyor ?”
Bill: “Yes, and when he was your age he was the commander-in-chief of the
American army.”
Established 1888 Phone 4-1991 BRENNAN STATIONERY STORE
NEW YORK LOAN CO. EVERYTHING IN SCHOOL SUPPLIES
DIAMOND SPECIALISTS CHRISTMAS CARDS
40-44 Green St. Albany, N. Y. Lake and Washington Avenues
CAMERON — HARDWARE
GLASS HARDWARE PAINT
284 CENTRAL AVENUE ALBANY, N. Y.
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30
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
JOHN D. WENDELL, INC.
Cadillac LaSalle © Oldsmobile
RECONDITIONED AND GUARANTEED NEARLY NEW AND USED
CARS IN ALL MAKES, PRICES, AND BODY TYPES
260 Washington Avenue Phone 4-6181
Margaret Charles: “Oh, Mr. Butcher, did you say that steak you sold me last
week was imported or deported from Australia?”
SPECTOR'S
C. J. DAILEY —
Smart Togs for School Fellows
EYE GLASSES
Fine Suits—Overcoats—Hats
31 Steuben Street OPEN EVENINGS
Dowe-47020 Mbany Nes 233 Central Ave Albany, N. Y.
A WONDERFUL PLACE FOR FOLKS TO MEET . . .
AN IDEAL PLACE FOR FOLKS TO EAT
AINSLIE - HEWETT
LUNCHEON AND DINNER
184 State Street Albany, N. Y.
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Automatic
pELCO-HEAT
“THIN-MIX’ Fuel Control saves,
Heat you can
afford
a
saves
Thousands have escaped furnace tending
with this economical oil burner
Perhaps youhavethought that
you could not afford automatic
heat. The fact is that you
can—if it’s Delco-Heat. The
Deico-Heat Oil Burner is prov-
ing in thousands of homes
that it will deliver automatic
heat for no more, and in many
cases for less, than it costs
for cumbersome, annoying
hand-fired heating.
This economy is largely due
to the Delco-Heat “THIN-
MIX” Fuel Control. This valve
releases small quantities of
the lowest grade domestic fuel
DELCO-HEAT
J. M. STEINHARDT, INC.
oil to the “Oil-Airator” toform
a THIN MIXTURE that is
RICH in heating power. It
Saves you money because it
uses less oil, and because its
flame is so hot that it runs
fewer hours. Let yournearest
Delco-Heat dealer tell you
about how little it will cost to
put one of these great burn-
ers in your home complete.
no cash $7.30
DOWN A WEEK
completely installs the Delco-Heat Oil
Burner with" THIN-MIX” Fuel Control
340-344 CENTRAL AVENUE
Dial 5-3456
Show Room Open Until 10 P. M. Every Evening
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32
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
W. M. WHITNEY & CO.
EVERYTHING FOR THE FAMILY AND THE HOME
NORTH PEARL STREET ALBANY, NEW YORK
JAMES H. MURRAY ica
CONFECTIONER David’s
has supplied WHOLESALE FRESH CANDY 34-36 No. Pearl Street
to Milne High School for 14 years :
96 Madison Ave. Lunch Room Annex ALBANY, N. Y.
EVENING FROCKS—12 to 16 Junior Miss SKI SUITS—I-10, 12-16
@
FOR GIRLS
to to
FOR BOYS
16 Junior § H (@) p 10 Years
PLYMOUTH DODGE
MOTOR CAR
ALBANY GARAGE COMPANY
DEPENDABLE DEALER FOR 31 YEARS
Dial 4-8121 Near South Pearl and State Streets
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34
SAME RCT
MILDRED ELLEY PRIVATE BUSINESS SCHOOL
Trains High School Graduates for Success in Business
and
Helps to Secure Positions for Its Graduates
SECRETARIAL AND BUSINESS COURSES AND BUSINESS MACHINES
SEND FOR CATALOG
227-229 Quail Street
Albany, N. Y.
Registered with State Board of Regents
ALBANY HARDWARE & IRON CO.
39-43 STATE STREET PHONE 4-3154
FURNISHERS OF
COMPLETE SPORTS EQUIPMENT
FOR SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES
Popular lines, outstanding merchandise values in Sports Equipment,
conforming to Official Regulations. Special prices on School Uniforms
BASKETBALL SUPPLIES, BOWLING EQUIPMENT, GYM SUITS,
PARKER PENS, SPORT CLOTHING, EASTMAN KODAKS
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MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
ARMY AND NAVY STORE
90 SOUTH PEARL STREET
ALBANY, N. Y.
SPORTING GOODS AT CUT PRICES
OPEN EVENINGS
Next door to Many Lincoln's
Trade Where They Know You— Where
‘iend Meets Friend
THE COLLEGE PHARMACY
The Home of "Doc" Service
Prescriptions filled accurately, reasonably
and promptly — Enjoy a LUNCH at our
SANDWICH BAR
7 N. Lake at Western Ave. Phone 3-9037
MIRACLE FOOD MARKET
AXELROD & AINSPAN
241 West Lawrence St.
Phone 2-3378
Albany, N. Y.
Mr. Moose: “You missed my class in Chemistry yesterday, didn’t you?”
Bob Wilke: “Not in the least, sir, not in the least.”
PETERS CO.
Established 1848
Where Reliable OPTICAL WORK is Done
at Reasonable Cost
LATEST STYLES IN GLASSES
Eyes Examined Prescriptions Filled
HOWARD B, STARK
INSURANCE OF ALL KINDS
78 State Street, Albany, N. Y.
Phone 4-1582
45 Groon Street — Dial 3-1574
A GIFT FROM
THE VAN HEUSEN CHARLES COMPANY
MEANS MORE
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PLATES FOR THIS MAGAZINE MADE BY
AUSTIN-EMPIRE ENGRAVERS, INC.
Apebendednnnennid
METROPOLITAN LOAN CO.
REDUCTIONS TO STUDENTS ON
BASKETBALLS, FOOTBALLS, SKIS, SKATES, ETC.
54-56 Hudson Avenue Albany, N. Y.
Mart Creesey; “What would you think of a man who got up at three o’clock in
the morning, with the rain coming down like cats and dogs, to take a ride on a horse
and go around shouting and waking people up?”
Bette Potter; “Well, I’d think he was a fool.”
Marty: “Paul Revere did it.”
JOHN G. MYERS
THIS YEAR, AS IN YEARS PAST, STUDENTS OF MILNE WILL COME
TO MYERS FOR THEIR MOST THOUGHT-OF CHRISTMAS GIFTS
CHAS. G. MAILLOUX PHARMACY
LUNCHEONETTE
HOME-COOKED FOOD
202 Washington Avenue, corner Lark Street, Albany, N. Y.
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36
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
Best wishes for
A Merry Christmas
and A Happy New Year
The Crimson and White
BETTY SHEA FURRER
SELECT HOSIERY AND LINGERIE
228 State Street
Albany, N. Y.
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1/2 page. $5 1/5 page. $2
1/10 page. $!
THE BIKE SHOP
HERCULES AND ROADMASTER BIKES
Equipmont—Parts—Repairs
MILAN W. FITCH
630 Central Ave., Albany, N. Y.
RUHL'S NEWSROOM
40 Central Avenue
ALBANY, N. Y.
ALBANY PRINT SHOP, INC.
7-9 JAY STREET
Phone 3-0148
“PRINTING AS YOU WANT IT— WHEN YOU WANT IT"
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CRIMSON AND WHITE
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THIS SIGN MEANS
QUALITY PRODUCTS
and
FRIENDLY SERVICE
OCONY-VACUL!
We invite you to stop at the Sign of the Flying Red
Horse . . . the sign that means Friendly Service
. fora fully protected car.
We believe you will like our products . . .
MOBILGAS — America's largest selling gasoline
MOBILOIL — America's favorite motor oil
We believe you will like our thoughtful, courteous
service. The Sign of the Flying Red Horse means
Quality Products and Friendly Service.
STANDARD OIL OF NEW YORK
Division of
Socony-Vacuum Oil Company, Inc.
MOBILGAS MOBILOIL
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38
MILNE HIGH SCHOOL
HOSIERY STUDENT OUTFITTERS
SWEATERS
B. LODGE & CO.
WOOLENS SINCE 1867
109 North Pearl Street
BATHING SUITS UNDERWEAR
CORONA — THE PERFECT GIFT
BEST WISHES
CORONA IS THE ONLY PORTABLE pan
TYPEWRITER WITH FLOATING SHIFT
A FRIEND
103 Washington Avenue
Virginia—When the audience hears our song they'll clap their hands.
Dotty—Yeah, over their ears!
JOHN B. HAUF, INC.
"The House of Quality”
FURNITURE which adds distinction
to any home
EASY BUDGET PAYMENTS
175 Central Ave., Albany, N. Y.
Phone 4-2104
REYNOLDS GARAGE
INCORPORATED
24-HOUR SERVICE
301-303 Washington Avenue
Telephone 3-4496
Albany, N. Y.
STATE COLLEGE CAFETERIA
Jr, High—11-11:30—Mon., Wed., Fri.
11:30-12—Tues., Thur.
Sr. High—11-11:30—Tues., Thur.
11:30-12—Mon., Wed., Fri.
State College—12-1:30
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