Class of 1953 , , ,
Last Will And Testament
We, the Senior Class of 1953, having
s*^ruggled through four hard, but wonder
ful years, regretfully depart from this
institution which we have come to love
very dearly. Even after wading through
French, English, and history parallel.
Biology labs, philosophy, and “practice
sets,” we still consider ourselves to be
of a comparatively sound body and ex
cellent mind, and do hereby declare this
to be our last will and testament to be
executed in the FOLLOWING order:
To The Faculty
To our esteemed president. Dr. Mc
Gregor, we leave hopes that Montreat
College might soon attain its accreditation,
and we feel that it will under his ex
cellent administration.
To our beloved Dean, Miss Wilson, we
leave all the admiration that our hearts
can muster, for there has never been a
finer person. We love you. Miss Wilson!
To Mr. Green, our sponsor, we leave
fond memories of the hours that we
have spent together. We appreciate his
untiring efforts in guiding us in our
senior play, and we congratulate him for
the excellent work he has done, with the
chorus.
To all our teachers we leave our love
and appreciation for their wonderful
guidance during these years.
To The Classes
To the Seniors of ’54 we leave our
thirty-point offices in hopes that they
can make “A’s” after having meetings
every night during study hall.
To the Sophomores we leave fond mem
ories of working on the Jr.-Sr. Banquet.
To the Freshmen we leave three more
years of enjoyment at Montreal.
To Tha Individuals
I, Mary Ann Smoak, leave my energy
to run back and forth to the Music
Building umpteen times a day to Betty
Lown and Mary Ruth Marshall, and my
title of May Queen to anyone that will
be able to keep the crown on her head.
I, Frances Davis, leave my roommate
to Lola Lowery, in hopes that she will
keep her well supplied with sardines and
onions. I will my skating ability to any-
MAY, 1953
Prophecy
one who can take the falls it demands.
I, Patricia Williams, do will and be
queath my ability to make cabinet meet
ings short to June King. I leave my bob-
bypins to anyone who can’t keep her
bangs as curly as I did in rainy weather.
I, Helen Duke, will to Mary Jane Gil
lespie the Montreat Athletic Board with
all the fun, hard work, and gray hairs
that go with it. I will to Heide Funke
my unfailing technique with male mem
bers of the human race.
I, Frances Curry, do hearby leave all
my love letters and boy friends (except
one) to Alice Collins, and my problems
and indecisions to Betty Mebane in hopes
that she can cope with them better than
I.
I, Colleen Story, bequeath the honor
of Senior Class president to Virginia
Blackburn, in hopes that she will enjoy
working with her class on the Thanks
giving Banquet and the Senior play as
much as I did. I do hereby leave my
French notes to the fortunate mesdemoi-
selles who will be taking French next
year.
I, Faye Britt, do hereby bequeath to
Betty Blount all my Air Force material
with the hope that she will not have
occasion to worry about having to gain
weight in order to pass the physical.
I also leave to her my ability to eat and
not gain weight.
I, Kate Zuver, reluctantly give up my
seat in Miss Hoyt’s classroom to Coretta
Henson. I leave to Alice Collins my abil
ity to stay awake to laugh at Mr. Miller’s
jokes in Education Classes.
I, Martha Getsinger, do will my love
and patience for Sunday afternoon vespers
practice to Ann Broom.
I, Jolene Parks, do will and bequeath
to Ellinor Krieger my various and sundry
duties as Editor of the Annual, and to
D. J. Warren, I leave the task to find
another partner for far-fetched discussions
and philosophical attempts to understand
the vague and untouched.
We, the seniors, do hereby declare this
to be our last will and testament this
eleventh day of May, nineteen hundred
and fifty-three anno Domini.
Colleen Story, testator
It was nine o’clock at night. Of course
I should have been in my room studying,
but I am one of those who lets spring
do something to her, so instead I found
myself contentedly sitting on the bank
of Lake Susan staring into the water.
The sky was dotted with twinkling
stars, an occasional white cloud bordered
with the silver of the moonlight floated
about. The distant echo of the whip-o-will
answered the crickets on the nearby bank.
I sat quite entranced by it all, with
chin in hands and elbows propped on
knees. I stared straight into the quiet
water which seemed to make the beauty
around me double, it was reflected so
clearly. I noticed the reflection of the
trees, their odd shapes and sizes. How
strange!
As this reflection shimmered in the
water, it took various shapes before my
eyes. What’s this I see? The shimmer
ing shadows link with my imagination and
reveal people—eleven of them. They are
moving fast, as if nervously saying good
bye. They kiss, shake hands, shed a few
sentimental tears and then move apart
in all directions—as if a stone had fallen
into the water and the ripples move out
and on.
When the tiny waves quiet down, I can
see clearly each of the eleven and am
fascinated by what these reflections re
veal to me. I smile as I recognize them
as members of the 1953 graduating class,
and their sponsor, ten years hence.
Humm . . . There’s Colleen Story,
the Senior Class president. Yes, just as
I expected, looking quite well dressed
and accomplished. As if I’d asked her
“Why so?”, she explains with a smile,
“Yes, I’m a French teacher. I’ve been
here in Winston-Salem for eight years
now. The salary is pretty good, and I’m
rather close to home you know. Oh, no!
I’m not married yet. I’m having too
much fun otherwise!” And as if to say,
“Excuse me, I have a class,” she gets
lost in what I termed a dark hallway.
No, the shimmering shadows have changed.
This time Mary Ann Smoak comes into
view. Goodness, Father Time, what you’ve
done! Mary Ann is standing before a
large, rich-looking audience singing. She
finishes her aria and after happily ac
knowledging the applause turns to me
with “Aren’t they wonderful to like my
singing? I’m so glad I went on to East
man and studied. It certainly started a
career for me. First, directing choirs,
and now teaching voice and giving these
concerts on the side—Quite a schedule!”
—Please Turn To Page 4