New York State History

CLASS PROPHECY

Graduation days were over; college days, with their joys and sorrows, were past. For several years I had traveled abroad and, returning in June, 1927, remembered that ten years had passed since those June days when, seated on the stage at Niagara Falls High School, I had listened eagerly to the speeches of several noteworthy men, resolving to live up to every one of the beautiful ideals presented so attractively to us, and then had proudly gone forward to receive my diploma.

One afternoon, soon after my return, I gathered together some of my old friends, among whom were Esther Haggerty, Evelyn Bassett and Dorothy Marshall, who now had beautiful homes of their own, and, tempted by the fairness and warmth of the weather, we decided to go down into the green coolness of the park while we talked over old times. As we walked down Falls Street, I was startled, on approaching the Cataract Theater, to see the announcement: Mile. Haile and Co. pre¬senting the famous play "The Merchant of Venice." "Why," I gasped, "that certainly must be my old classmate Almeda. I always thought she would make her mark some day." Going a little nearer, I noticed some other familiar names: "Jean Collins" playing the role of "Bassanio." Now wasn't that just like John! With increased interest I saw that some other members of the cast were Helen Thomson as "Jessica," Martha Pike as "Nerissa," Virginia Schaul as "Portia." "My," I murmured, "how times have changed! Just to think that Martha would ever be an actress, and Virginia! why, I always pictured her as a missionary in the far away East."

We decided to change our plans for the afternoon, for this opportunity was too good to miss, so we went into the theater and sat down in the front row as in former times. I hadn't been there for so many years that I decided to gaze around a little to see if everything was still the same, and behold! who was seated right in back of me but George Houston with a very nice looking young lady whom later 'he introduced to me as his wife.

We had a few moments' conversation, during which time I found out that George was a very successful business man, having sole control of the "Light Stepping Wonder Shoes." Later, it was told me that he was also a member of the Board of Education of our city and was very liberal in allowing a special discount to all students who bought these exceptional shoes, for the use of them would necessitate the noiseless passing of classes from one room to another. "How one develops their youthful tendencies!" I mused. "George was always quiet and so disliked noise of any kind."

A few days afterward I heard that he was seeking for a new assistant to take the place of Florence Blew, who had been his chief advisor for several years and was considered an excellent business woman. As Florence was soon to marry and go to a distant city, I decided I must surely see her very soon.

Then the orchestra started to play and the music was so sweet that I turned to see who the wonderful violinist was. I found her to be none other than Dorothy Courtney, the star violinist of our high, school orchestra of former years.

The overture being finished, I now settled myself to enjoy the photo-play which preceded the other performance. First, this announcement was flashed upon the screen: "The man¬agement regrets to inform the audience that the feature picture has been held up in Buffalo, but will offer in its place some other very famous pictures, portraying some of America's most noted actors and actresses." This was signed, Manager Hustleby.

"Ah," I said, "so Clarence made use of his training in managing a basket-ball team."

Of course, we were all disappointed to learn of the delay of the feature picture, but we were more than repaid by a Triangle-Keystone comedy with Edward Dodds and Emily Arnold taking the leading roles. Well, Ed. certainly was a bright light in school

Several more very enjoyable pictures were flashed on the screen, then followed the play of "The Merchant of Venice," made as real to us now by our old-time comrades as it had been years before, when we had haltingly but earnestly read our parts in the English classrooms at the High School.

At the close of the play, we hastily separated, after remind¬ing each other that we were to meet at Lunar Point that evening at nine o'clock, with the hope of seeing the beautiful moon-bow.

Thus, later we met again on Goat Island, and, while waiting for the moon to rise higher in the sky, passed the time delight¬fully with songs and stories. At a call, "The moon-bow is shining, come!" we eagerly gathered at the brink of the cataract. There, lightly painted upon the ghostly, ever-changing mist, was the bow, of delicately suggestive yet per¬fect coloring. It seemed, indeed, a bridge from Fairyland, and I wished, happily yet half ashamed, that real fairy gifts might come to me across that bridge.

One by one the company returned to the games and left me alone, busily thinking of the present, as the fulfilled future of the past. Gradually I became aware that the rising mist was assuming a human form transparently beautiful and ethereal. With, a glad recognition I whispered "The Maid of the Mist." She nodded to me with a bright face as she moved somewhat nearer, and with a delicate, flute-like voice which made harmony with the deep roar of the falls, she said:

"Your thoughts called me. I am here to show you your old-time friends tonight, show them to you as they are at the present time."

She waved her hand, and the veiling mist, overarched by the mystical coloring of the moon-bow, became a background for the vivid pictures that followed.

I soon became conscious of a vast number of people. "Some political gathering," I thought, but then rubbed my eyes in astonishment, for the interior of the building seemed an even larger copy of the immense tabernacle erected in Buffalo during the Billy Sunday campaign ten years before. Eagerly I looked toward the platform, wondering if I might know the clear voiced singer who was holding those thousands spell¬bound. Why, of course, that fair, bright-faced young lady was no other than Gertrude Crosier, who had entertained us so many times in our high school days. But who was that thin, dark man bent down over the keyboard? Something about his profile seemed strangely familiar. "Ah! Fred Walkem," I chuckled, "thought I'd know you when I saw you again."

A storm of applause followed the song, and, after a pause, a slight, pleasant faced man, holding a cornet in his hand, stepped forward modestly. He raised his instrument and sent the clear, perfect notes trembling through the silence. "Torrence Lewis, as sure as I live! Why, I remember now, he too used to play in our high school orchestra." Much as I was delighted to see these old friends, I was consumed with impatience to see the magnetic speaker of the evening whose power had drawn together these thousands. Shortly a large man bounded with ease and power into his discourse. Every motion told, action dramatized every word, the rush of elo¬quence held everyone, myself included, although I now clung to the railing for support, for I had recognized the forceful speaker before me to be none other than Charles McEllven. ''Making good use of his athletics," I murmured.

The scene vanished and others appeared in rapid succes¬sion.

Again, surging crowds, swayed by excitement. Over a centrally cleared place hung a large banner bearing the words "Famous Record Breaking Aeroplane Flight." My interest aroused, I turned to my misty companion and said, "What are the requirements for those entering this contest?"

"It is a competition flight," was the reply, "between some of America's most noted aviators. I think you will recognize some of them."

Smilingly, she shifted the scene until the airships came into full view. There tensely awaiting the signal, sat the com¬petitors, and among them I recognized, to my delight. Frances Higgins, Elsie Rowland, Kenneth Devlin and Clyde Butcher. Glancing toward the grand stand, at which all eyes were turned, I saw among the representative men and women from the leading clubs of the states, Emily Hooker and Dorothy Walters. These two enthusiastically shouted and waved as the airships slowly mounted into the air. Even to my untrained eye, Frances Higgins' machine seemed some¬what superior to the others in the ease with which it was controlled. Upon uttering my thoughts aloud, the Maid of the Mist replied, "Yes, her brother. Paul Higgins, is the inventor of that machine and many of his friends prophesied that it will surely win out. If so, he makes a name for him¬self all right."

I looked again to the crowd out there. Near to the grand¬stand and actively directing a band that appeared to be busily playing, was an energetic, wiry man who waved his baton with such characteristic force and enthusiasm that I fairly shouted "Marcus Mabee, I declare," and my thoughts traveled back to assembly days when he had helped with our cheering. I could almost hear him call out as he lifted his face to his departing schoolmates, "Go to it, Dutcher; get some pep, Devlin; not tired yet, are ye?-why, you've just begun!"

This scene had hardly vanished from my sight before it was replaced by another one of entirely different scope. It was of a large school on a high hill, surrounded by beautiful trees and flowers.. The door opened as if by magic and we entered this building. The first room we were shown was a large gymnasium, the class busy at Indian club work. Their exact, almost military training, made me wonder who their good teacher might be. As I wondered, she turned toward us and there she was, none other than Dorothy Miller. Well, come to think of it, "Do" always was an athletic girl.

Then the different rooms flashed before my eyes and I found many familiar faces in them. In charge of a large group of children about five years of age were Mary Pike and Ethel Trigg. Well, at last their wishes had been realized, for they were now Kindergarten teachers. At the head of the foreign language department was Maud Shuman, and, inspecting her classes, was the head of the Regents Depart¬ment, Leon Shippey. A notice on the board heavily under, lined stated that the average for passing foreign languages had been raised from 60 per cent, to 95 per cent. Table entire top, floor was devoted to the study of astronomy, and here Profes¬sor John Benham, the discoverer of several new stars, con¬ducted his classes.

The mist grew faint, and in its place I saw a wonderful home, aglow with magnificent light and gorgeously decor¬ated. At each door stood a servant. Everything about the house indicated that a party was to be held there this evening. I became very much excited and could not imagine to whom this wonderful house belonged. So again I made use of my companion and found out that it was the home of Marguerite Fisher, New York's greatest social leader, and that this evening she was to entertain Captain and Mrs. Nicholas Iversen of the United States Naval Marines. Captain Iversen had become noted for his bravery during the past few years. The party was to open with a beautiful banquet. Afterwards there were to be some noteworthy addresses, one of which I learned was to be given by Orrea Gray, already a famous speaker, on the subject of "The Awakened Power and Initia¬tive Ability of Women." Another was to be an open discus¬sion led by Eliza McLaughlin on the subject of "Effective Ways of Using the Surplus Money Acquired by the Enforce¬ment of National Prohibition."

"It has been rumored," said my companion, "that the hostess' gown came from The Silberberg Shop on Fifth Avenue, the most fashionable place in the city." "Well," I thought, "even when Paul was a boy he always wore the latest models."

The gay lights and bright colors of the great house seemed to fade back into the mist and suddenly there loomed up before my eyes a tall, gloomy building where everyone seemed to be quite busy. The name plate on the door told me I was at the office of the "Daily Moonlight," and, at the window, 1 saw the editors-in-chief, Marie Rothrock and Marjorie Johnston, discussing anxiously the effects that would be produced by writing up Doris Shainholdts riding down Falls street in an enclosed Pierce Arrow limousine.

On the next floor were the offices of Summerson & Treichler, inventors of the famous S. & T. Spring Safety Lock, abso¬lutely guaranteed to baffle burglary in the winter time.

Surely this next was a peep into the House of Representa¬tives! Why not? Of course, many of our class were worthy of being there. With a little gasp of astonishment I noticed that a lady in a black college gown and cap was occupying the chair. "Could it be? Yes, it was, Alice Noyes." Truly our age was advancing in Women's Rights! There appeared to be a troublesome question before the House and Alice was obliged to use her gavel incessantly. Two representatives by their insistence seemed to demand more than their share of attention, and, on leaning forward, I looked full into the faces of D. Ward White and Albert Blanchard, "Both learned to debate at our High School," I murmured. "But then they used to agree," I added sadly. A stern-faced little lady with flashing eyes sat near the debaters listening breathlessly. "Alice Kline, representing Sanborn, I declare. She looks as though, she is getting ready to speak next."

Slowly a mist passed over the faces until they faded from view, and dim outlines of mountains appeared. Then, as the picture cleared, I saw a glacial region in which the snowy crags were brought into bold relief by the dark blue and black shadows thrown upon them. In the near background were several cottages, while, in the center foreground a number of people were busily engaged in shoveling away ice that ap¬peared to be loosened by former blastings.

"What in the world are they doing?" I fairly gasped in astonishment. My friend softly chuckled as she answered:

"Scientists have been agreed for some time that there are minerals at the poles of the earth with magnetic qualities so powerful that, could they be obtained, the results they might be able to secure would amaze the world. On the strength of this supposition the 'Scientific Research and Investigation Club of the United States of America' has been formed at Washington by several wealthy interested people and these workers, before you, have been sent to investigate and search for the minerals. It is a tedious job and there are many hard¬ships yet few compared with those of ten years ago. Why even the air ships in which they traveled here are equipped with, lighting and heating and are far more comfortable than a Pullman car. Perhaps you recognize a few of your class¬mates?"

As the nearest ones turned toward us, I saw them to be Ethelda Drummond, Marion Cramer, Mildred Keller and Marion McCarthy, and there also was Lester Niesz, working harder than any of the others. "But those two who seem to be watching are so wrapped up I cannot be sure-yet they do resemble Mildred Stevenson and Lillian Johnson," I murmur¬ed aloud.

"You are right," was the answer. "Women have invaded all climes and all interests at the present time and these two are kept busy in their chosen profession. But I'm sure these three coming into the camp were your classmates, also. The one on the right is William Call, a noted geologist, and the two girls are Elsa Rader, the poetess, and Isabella Henry, the artist, both of whom are gaining the appreciation of the people. They joined this party for the inspiration it would give them."

"Our class certainly is a progressive one, isn't it?" I said, as the picture faded. The next minute, the beauty of the scene nearly overcame me, for I saw the rose and golden light of the Aurora Borealis flashing its ribbons into the evening sky. Facing the glow, reflecting it and seemingly trembling with the effort to throw back all the myriad colors, was an ice palace, solidly, majestically built, yet inconceivably fairy-like and unreal, as it gleamed in the darkness. After a few minutes of silent admiration, I demanded "Please, tell me about this. Can it be that any of our members ever dreamed of anything so beautiful ?"

The Maid of the Mist became really enthusiastic as she said, "Walter Barry originated the idea and made the plans for the palace. These plans were adopted and carried out by Edwin Zeiger, Albert Hoffman and Harold Collard, who thought it to be a good business proposition. The interior decorations were planned by Elna Alien, Mildred Baer and Ruth Morrow, who are considered exceptionally fine in that work. The castle is equipped with a heating apparatus, elec¬tric light and with every modern convenience. It also has a Voicaphone invented by Elizabeth Burridge which is said to give forth the softest and sweetest of music. Gavin Smith ac¬companies it so beautifully on his flute that the music is said to be one of the attractions of this wonderful place. The man¬agers have engaged Millie Reineke, Alice Howarth and Ethel Smith to act as hostesses for the winter season, and they do this so successfully that it is now considered quite the thing for society people to come up here in their flying machines for a restful week-end or more. Just at present, Florence Lippert and Esther Woodbury, with their husbands are entertaining-several of the leading people from Niagara Falls, among whom are Esther Binkley, Razel Wallace and Gladys Wheeler.

The delicate, starlike radiance of the ice palace vanished, leaving" only the white, towering mist with its fairy arch of tinted moonlight. The Maid of the Mist turned to me and said brightly, yet almost sadly, "I must leave you now, and return, for I am the Spirit of the Waters, and the Spirit, you know, must dwell within that which it controls. Tonight your wish, the hour and the moon-bow-arch made it possible for me to come to you in visible presence and to show you these pic¬tures of what your former classmates are doing. I'm sure you belonged to their class. Goodbye."

"Thank you for everything, and goodbye," I said softly, as I turned away to join my happy rather noisy companions who were now calling that it 'was time to go home. "Yes, I am glad that I belonged to that class," I murmured softly to myself.
CORINNE BEIR, '17.