Camden High School — June 1930 Purple & Gold Yearbook

This yearbook, along with those from June 1931 and June 1932, were donated by Susan White Shuff. Her mother, Laura T. Pernier, of 441 Royden Street, was a member of the June 1932 class.

Camden High School has a long and distinguished history. Many of its graduates went on to careers in public service in the city, to success in business, sports, and in the arts. As time goes by, I will be adding pictures, news articles, and other material about Camden High School.

If you have any material that you would like to see posted on this page, please contact me by e-mail.

Phil Cohen
July 3, 2012

The foreword page of this yearbook (printed page seven) is not among the scans, so its wording is not reproduced here. The Purple and Gold Committee named on it is listed below; all the members except the chairman, George Mitchell, also name the committee in their own entries on the portrait pages.

George Mitchell, Chairman
Joseph Newmeyer, Ex-Officio
Ruth Label, Vice-Chairman

• Elmer Blaha
• Gladys Britt
• Arthur Blaker
• Rae Dzick
• Harold Boogar
• Helen Feltman
• Herbert Cades
• Helen Grzesiak
• Antonio Cioffi
• Eleanor Homan
• Hadden Dollar
• Nellie Lucas
• Arthur Glass
• Lillian MacDonald
• Paul Goss
• Dorothy MacLauchlan
• Thomas Gramigna
• Minette Newton
• Harold Heine
• Mary Petty
• Preston Lipsitz
• Mildred Pratt
• David Lutz
• Edna Rosenberg
• Elias Teitelbaum
• Ida Sherman
• Herbert Widell
• Ruth Siris
• Ruth Stewart
• Helen Szymankiewicz

June Section

Class Colors: Red and Gold
Class Flower: Red Rose
Class Motto: Forward Always

DEAR CLASSMATES:

As we stand at the threshold of a new life, looking back at our high school days, what happy memories come back to us! The prom, the parties, the plays, the games! Our three years at Camden High have been active ones, filled with happy friendships, stimulating aspirations and persevering achievement. The thought of these associations can never be erased from our hearts. Through them we have built a foundation for our ideals, dreams, and standards. We have prepared ourselves for a new life in a world entirely different from our sheltered one at school. The future awaits us, mysterious and alluring, though there are many obstacles to be surmounted and barriers to be broken.

But as we strive on, let us meet and accept our hardships as the means by which our character will be strengthened, our viewpoint broadened, and our faculties made sensitive to the opportunities surrounding us. Our reactions in this new world will depend upon what we have secured from our high school experiences.

By our graduation, we now become freshmen in that greatest of all universities— life. Our three years at Camden High (all too fleeting) have served as stepping stones to success. Success! that shall be our goal in office, in school and in shop.

Together, we have lived, loved, laughed and wept, and though the years may tend to draw us far apart, let us never break those bonds of friendship which bind us so closely.

When the call goes forth for reunion, let us make it one hundred per cent, “lest auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne.” So here's farewell to our joyous, our glorious high school days!

Joseph Newmeyer

LIFE has been compared to a golf game by Barry Connors (playwright of “The Patsy”) when he stated that “when four play it is a foursome, when two play it is a twosome but when you play alone it is a lonesome.” However, this game has never been compared with the amazing history of the Class of June, 1930, although such a simile may be easily made.

When we first entered Camden High many of us played on different “courses,” but most of us made it in “par.” When we first “teed off” we looked more insignificant than when we had been caddies. We encountered only two barriers before we reached “the first hole” and one of these was very small. First barrier was in the form of a “huge sand pit” known to the ordinary players as “Drudgery” but was commonly called “Biology” by the professionals. A little later on we were somewhat stumped by an addition to the “course” which we had never before known. This hindrance was known as “Elocution” and it stimulated the nervous system of all the participants.

After finishing “the first hole,” a few of us became famous for our extraordinary playing but most of us were just the ordinary golfers. Two of the most famous ones were Sam Sherman and Helen Feltman.

On our way to “the second hole” the playing seemed a bit easier for we now understood the rules of the “course,” and we had just returned from a ten weeks' intermission which we had been granted because of our untiring efforts in making “the first hole.” However, we were still encountering barriers and this time the foremost one was known as the “Forest,” for in it we found the “Geome tree” and the “Chemis tree.” By diligent playing we soon overcame these barriers and near the end of the “fairway” we sat down to rest awhile and watch some of our clever classmates play “Lend Me Five Shillings,” which was a very amusing demonstration. After this performance we pursued our “course” until we came to the “green” which the professionals persisted in calling “Comprehensive Tests.” About fourteen days after we had arrived at “Comprehensive Tests” we completed “the second hole.”

As long as we had played thus far so well we decided to finish this short course by playing “the third and last hole.” At the beginning of this “hole” we were warned by our instructors that this was the hardest “fairway” of the whole “course” and so we must develop enough muscle to carry us through this “difficult play.”

The Board of Directors, being thoughtful people, gave us another leave of absence which was known as vacation. At the end of this intermission we gathered together and started out on a fairway which appeared to be smooth and even but which proved to have many rough spots. Some of our huskier members preferred to continue their way in football and basketball and so we parted with several.

When we first started to “tee off” we were delayed by two rather prominent and conceited gentlemen, Edmund Burke, Esq., and David Saville Muzzey, Ph.D. They flattered themselves if they thought they could stop us for even a short period for we soon left them to learn different. Perhaps the greatest and most despised barrier of the whole “course” was known as “Physics.” This barrier was in the form of a weak bridge composed of several “electric generators'' and some very ”simple cells“ underneath which was a ”creek“ of ”protons“ and ”electrons.“ The main purpose of this ”barrier“ was to hinder all the poor players and the object was to hit the ball across the bridge without letting it fall into the water. The majority of us managed to ”gauge our distance, keep our eyes on the ball, head down (in our books) and follow through“ (with a grade of D). Here again, we rested for awhile and viewed with our utmost interest ”The Cinderella Man.“

It was about this time that we decided something must be done about recording the history of this game played so admirably by our class and so we proceeded to have the semi-annual interview with Mr. Zamsky. Incidentally, it was also about this time that our muscles began to tire from such strenuous work and we began to notice Purple and Gold bruises among many of our classmates.

Finally, we reached the “green” of the last “hole” and the spectators decided to give us a big public affair which they would call “Graduation.” Of course we were all very much excited about this affair and proceeded to prepare for its arrival by “putting” around “the green” to the tune of “The Prayer” from Cavalleria Rusticana. We practiced it continually until our tongues became sharp and our voices flat.

Graduation day soon arrived and we awkwardly walked forth to gather to our bosoms the most desired “sheepskin.” Quite a few of our players did not return in time for graduation as they were still out hunting lost balls.

At this stage of the game many members of our class stopped playing but most of us started on another “course” in order to become “professionals.”

And so ended one of the greatest games of golf. It was a game enjoyed by all and yet all results were well earned.

Ruth Siris.

THE day appointed for the convention of the “Fewpillsmorebills” Doctors of the United States was a close, sultry day in September, 1945. The medical men, carrying their brief cases, entered the enormous building which stood on the corner of Twenty-ninth and Blaha Avenues, Camden, N. J. I looked around the spacious hall and recognized a few fellow-sufferers who had graduated in the good ole year of ’30. There was Joe Newmeyer, still holding his red head high, Adam Derengowski, Arthur Glass and Samuel Sherman. Each in his turn, we were relating what had happened to us in the past few years. Suddenly, a young man rushed frantically into the banquet hall. He tried to tell us what it was all about. It appeared that he had just made a great discovery. Between his “Eurekas” and other goofy jubilancies, we gathered that a great, indeed a very great medicine had been perfected! This God-sent conglomeration of prescriptions would enable mankind to discover the secret of the soul, what was beyond death, and even what was above the highest cloud. It all seemed like a madman's nightmare. However, since it was quite an unexpected diversion, we all lent our ears. All that one had to do was to swallow the eye of a rabbit, the white of a robin’s egg, six ounces of cactus juice, five and two-thirds drops of nitric acid, four grains of pollen from a sun flower, one leaf of a four leaf clover, fourteen drops of milkweed, three drops of sulphuric acid and one tablespoon of verticello. The young inventor excitedly cried out, “Who wishes to go down in history as my colleague, as the colleague of Herbert Cades?” No one was particularly keen on drinking this charmed potion. So they settled back into their original sleeping positions. Then this super-human came up to me. “Young man” said he, “you are just the one!” Before I could get up to protest, for I am small you know, he grasped my hair, forced my head back, yanked my teeth apart, and down my throat slid a nauseating slimy fluid. I struggled; I tried to get up; my feet wouldn’t move. I could hear a lot of boisterous ho-hoing. I tried to see; my eyes were dimmed. I tried to push this person away. Then I felt as though I had become as light as a feather. My head swam; I had lost equilibrium. Then, since I had the weight of one ounce, I was lifted from my feet—a soft wind fanned my face—my feet seemed to be very, very far away and a great distance back of me. I realized that I was moving; I was passing houses and high steeples. Suddenly a new wind caught me up and I wanted to know where I was. Looking over the edge, I could see nothing but signs:

Gift Shop—Helen MacDonald, Prop.

Maurice Cohen—Practical Pharmacist

Gramigna’s Gym for Gigantic Men

Louis Gordon—Attorney-at-Law

Best Bonds—See Bussard

Bridegum’s Beauty Baths

Where was I? Didn’t I know some of these people? Perhaps they wouldn’t know me now. I felt queer, so I must be beyond recognition. Just then a gust carried me up. I was going at an acceleration of at least six hundred miles per second. A strong wind carried me swiftly away from all land. There was water beneath me—ah! a ship. A man was scrubbing the lower deck. Perspiration was rolling from his forehead. As he stood up, I could see his face. It was Tony Cioffi—actually working. Just then a gust of steam came out of the large pipe and I was off again. By this time, convinced that I was invisible, I enjoyed my new adventure. I was skimming the water at a slow pace when a yacht came into view—Oh! “The Sextonion.” There was Dot Sexton, promenading on the deck arrayed in beautiful clothes. She had a large party on board but the only other merrymakers I recognized were Doris LeBeau who was chatting gaily with Howard Wakeman and Peg Burgett. I was enjoying watching them when I was given a strong push. I traveled fast. Soon I saw land. Houses, churches, large office buildings rushed by. It seemed I was going to bump, but no, I went right through the open window. It was the large real estate office of Hilliker and Nelson, Inc. Seated at the typewriters were Helen Weldin, Madeline Barteld and Ruth Armstrong. I tried to call to them but in vain. Just then the pretty Helen sneezed and out I went.

Again I saw a multitude of electric signs:

Peters Brothers for Better Sport Clothes

“Van Hook’s Book Shop

“Weston Wilson Willing to Win Club Plan

“Hambleton and Gahm Business College

On the corner stood a tailor shop—oh, the proprietor steps out. Lockhart himself! Near the opposite corner was a small bungalow. Who was that sitting in the sun parlor? Oh! Ruth Myers. Could it be that she was married? A companion steps into the room. Look who it is. Eva Bevis, looking very trim and proper in her French outfit. It was such a pleasant place that I decided to stay awhile. Much to my delight Ruth was entertaining that day—a small bridge party. The guests, it appeared, were all former members of our class. I recognized them in turn as Helen Brown, Muriel Hall, Vivian Ore, Margaret Koeller, Edith Rosner, Ruth Keller, Betty Libby, and Eleanor Turner. They were quite a merry group. The Bevis girl slammed a door and out I went into the streets again.

Something fell on my head. I looked down at my feet and there lay an iron girder. Huh, wonder where that came from. Oh, there was a new building being constructed. On the girder was a plate on which I could see plainly engraved Jackson and Jones, Steel Manufacturers. A huge sign stood on the building lot telling the world that the owner of this mammoth edifice-to-be was Thaddeus Major and the contractors, Block, Berger and Boogar.

Much to my surprise I found myself hooked on to the back of a Zubrow Special. I looked at the spare tire. It was a McCord—good for 20,000 miles. The automobile passed a corner. Standing there directing traffic was Patrolman Woody Powell, pointing in various directions, evidently explaining something to Moses McCall. On we rushed through the metropolis. Suddenly the driver applied his Americk Frank brakes and off I fell! I looked up. Here I was at the courthouse. Shaen was at the door, his large arms stretched across the doorway keeping the crowd in check. The newspaper reporters were at the head of the line. Who were they but Vivienne Thompson, Harry Grimley and Helen Harris with their pencils busily jotting down notes. Behind them stood Leon Rittenhouse, Edwin Lacy and Harold Adelman, camera men. I slipped by Shaen and up into the front row. The judge came into the courtroom. Bill Peterson himself! The district attorney and his assistant were Clark and Sussman. Clark, our dignified drum-major, was pleading for the preservation of certain valuable manuscripts written by John Comfort, Helen Grzesiak, and Esther Kellett, decrepit paintings by Ralph Smith, Katharine Gilbert and Cathleen Winkler. The clerk in the courtroom I recognized as George Finnie. Several stenographers were busily taking shorthand notes of the trial’s proceedings. At a glance I recognized them as Elizabeth Minter and Marion Connor. The trial ended and the jury brought forth the verdict that these gems of art be preserved in the Dudley Grange Mansion. As I was leaving the courtroom, I collided with Paul Goss, immaculately dressed as usual, who was telling his companion, Flora Knohr, that he had just cleaned up on McClelland’s Oil Stocks.

I wandered aimlessly along Broadway, which had been renamed Blaha Avenue for the great scientist Elmer Blaha, when I saw Nellie Lucas and Dot MacLauchlan entering Heine’s large new department store. I followed them and as I passed the glove counter I saw Ruth Siris being fitted for custom-made gloves.

Walking on I passed an impressive looking person who, when he turned around, I saw to be Elias Teitelbaum, store detective. Then I took the elevator and went up to the toy department. There was Steve Kozuhowski wrestling with an Erector set. I watched a new toy being demonstrated. Upon inspection the automatically moving monkey proved to be a masterpiece invented by Mintzer, Meyer and Murphine. Faint strains of an orchestra reached my ears. In order that I might not miss anything, I made my way into the broadcasting station. George Mitchell gave Pfiester the signal to plug in the hook-up and then in beautiful tones announced a number to be played by Dare’s orchestra. The next number on the program was to be rendered by a quartet composed of Magdalene Dietrich, Rae Dzick, Eleanor Hess and Betty Petty. The group of songs by this quartet concluded the musical part of the day’s program. It was then announced that Marie Seidelman would give a talk on “How to Grow Rubber Plants.” When this was finished George announced a Health Talk by Reba Azoff. Next, came the Lukoff-Lipsitz Lipstick Hour. Ah! a play—Helen Hunter, heroine, Herbert Widell, hero.

I decided that I could not stay to hear the play but that I must go back to my Alma Mater. I was surprised to find so many of our old class back at the old school. Herman Schaevitz had ascended the throne of the principal. Ruth Stewart was now at the head of the Latin Department. Alma Gray and Hermione Robinson were in full charge of the extensive library. Ruth Label was directing the plays and sponsoring the elocution department. Helen Megargee was also a Latin pedagogue. Helen Feltman and Dorothy Deyhle were directing the Physics and Chemistry departments, respectively. Helen Szymankiewicz, Olga Cinkowski and Florence Greenberg were Gym teachers. Jennie D’Alessandro was now teaching shorthand while Frances Warren was instructing the would-be bookkeepers. Redshaw was coaching the Purple Avalanche and Sanderson piloting the baseball nine. Just as I was enjoying myself immensely by bringing back all the old memories, something exploded in the Chemistry Lab and off I went into space.

After traveling for what seemed hours, I arrived on top of a sky scraper. A huge electric sign read:

Robert Marsh Nut and Bolt Factory

A familiar name, so I decided to investigate. In the large business office, I recognized Mildred Pratt in the role of private secretary, Frances Gallagher as a telephone operator and the busy typists as Anna DiNisio, Kathryn Riegel, Lillian Price, Catherine Schultz, Eva Caplan, Pauline Aker, Anna Anderson and Edith Anderson. Edna Royer had advanced to assistant executive and Evelyn Schwolow was head of the Personnel department.

Walking briskly out of the office to the elevator, I barely missed colliding with two smartly dressed women talking to a man. Ah! former classmates also waiting for the elevator. Having nothing else in particular to do I followed Catherine Simpson and Ida Sherman and Carl Gurtcheff into a brilliantly lighted restaurant which was under the management of Robert Wills. Looking very trim in snappy suits were Bill Schley and Robert Loving, apparently managers, conducting Messrs. Gricco and Enten to a reserved table. However, since my Ri overcame Re I left deciding to betake myself to a movie.

When I arrived at the Grimley Theatre, I found Evelyn Gorlen seated in the cashier’s booth. Preceding the movie was an organ recital by Wayne Covert. Then came the vaudeville act, Shirley Myers and Jeannette Sharp in a song and dance act. Next was Ivy Rielly accompanied by Lillian MacDonald, who sang a new song composed by that renowned composer, Max Krichev. The main feature following proved to be “The Streets of Hong Kong,” featuring Nila Welch and Pari Parassio. The supporting cast consisted of Frederick Johnson, Eva Stewart, Sylvia Teitelman, Tillie Kleitman, Kathryn Langley and Margaret Frome.

Coming from the show I was still in the mood for more adventure so I followed a young couple into a taxi cab. Their conversation aroused my curiosity and immediately I decided to eavesdrop. Even after all these years I recognized Dorothy Glassmire and Ira Franklin.

“Oh, Ira, did you know that Beatrice Slutsky’s Millinery Shoppe has its formal opening tomorrow?”

“You don’t say! Well, did you read that Hutz Blaker is to coach at Penn next year?”

Before she could answer, we had stopped before a gaily lighted night club. Just inside the door was the check room which was presided over by Mary Speaks. Entering into the beautifully decorated hall, we saw standing beneath the large crystal dome the hostess, Mildred Walker. In her ringing voice, she heartily welcomed everyone into her Maison de Joie and announced that the evening’s entertainment was just about to begin. The opening number was rendered by Mr. Dave Lutz—Blues singer, a la crooner. True to his schoolday traits, he turned the house into an uproar. Then came Fisher and Yakaski, Two Why Girls, in a comedy number. Following these, the big hit of the evening came on—Peg Bierfreund, danseuse. The room was bathed in soft blue lights and I could see ever so many familiar faces. There at one table sat Mae Ricco, Dot Shane, Lillian Odensen and Isabelle Herman. On the other side of the room making whoopee were Larsen, Ivory and Glaser. Then the enormous crystal dome was suddenly illuminated. The orchestra pit slowly receded but not until I had caught a glimpse of Art Landolt at the forte. At my elbow, I heard a commotion and upon turning I saw that it was Joe Shields and Eleanor Homan arguing about whether to get veal cutlet and oysters or fried pig and boiled pigeon. A friend, Schopf, was vainly trying to assist. I was greatly enjoying the situation when something snapped. Everything became dim and still dimmer. It seemed as though I was being dragged by an invisible hand back—back—and further back. My brain seemed in a whirl. I felt nauseated. I opened my eyes to find that I was in bed—a little white bed—a hospital bed. Bending over me were Doctors Cades and Harvey. On the other side of my bed was Florence Blaxland in the garb of a trained nurse, and beside her stood Edna Rosenberg, also a nurse. I tried to smile but it was a weak attempt.

“That hokum medicine of yours, Cades, was positively retrospective. Why, the poor boy has been unconscious four days. Thanks to Miss Rosenberg, here, he is on the road to recovery. If she hadn’t concocted this powerful antidote he would surely have died.”

While they were thus bemoaning my unhappy state, I was rejoicing and deciding that the first minute that I could lay my hand on a check book and on Herbie Cades at the same time, I would buy his miraculous potion and sell it at ten dollars a drink!

Gladys Britt
Hadden Dollar
Minnette Newton

Enter the Queen, Lords, Ladies and Attendants.

QUEEN — Are there any awaiting my attention?

Attendant — There is, lady, a messenger who would speak with you.

QUEEN — Let him enter.

Enter Messenger, who speaks:

MESSENGER — Great lady, a part of your royal company is about to depart for the trials and combats of the great world. ‘Tis that matchless group known as the June Thirties. They send me with important greetings, messages and legacies.

QUEEN — A noble group indeed, those Thirties. I do regret that they must go.

MESSENGER — If it please you, lady, I shall read the message of the Thirties. (Reads) “We, the class of June, 1930, about to be ejected into the cold, cruel world, and becoming somewhat generous and soft-hearted, do hereby in a sudden fit of generosity, give and bequeath the following:

To our liege lady, we leave our sincere appreciation for the unselfish aid which she has so often extended in all our school troubles. We are indeed happy to have had such a friend and guide.”

QUEEN — Kind words, indeed. I shall treasure them always.

MESSENGER — I proceed with messages to some of your majesty’s worthy aides.

“To Mr. Trembath, we leave our sincere thanks for the invaluable aid he has given us in choosing a future Alma Mater. We know that there is no more ardent supporter of the Purple and Gold than he.

To Mr. Oaks, our esteemed teacher and our good friend, we gladly dedicate this book. We hope that it will serve in some measure to show the high place he holds in our affections.

To Miss Jones, we extend our sincere gratitude for the endless work she has done in making this the finest PURPLE AND GOLD ever published. May she always cherish the memory of our bright, eager faces gathered around her in B2.

To Miss Williams and Miss Creveling, our faculty friends and advisers, we leave our sincere thanks for the invaluable aid they have given us. We hope they will find their new charges as bright and intelligent as we were.

To Miss Warner, we leave our admiration for the fine way in which she has handled the Record. We also leave her our sympathy on losing so much of the talent on her staff. Ruth Stewart, Sam Sherman, Minette Newton, Eleanor Homan, et al, will be hard to replace, believe us.

To Miss Wilson, we leave our great appreciation for the endless labor she has expended in helping us produce such masterpieces as ‘The Cinderella Man,’ and ‘Lend Me Five Shillings.’ We also assure her, that we will never, no never, pronounce ‘Camden’ with a flat A.

To Mr. Haley, we bequeath the hope that sometime in the future he may possibly find some musicians who will possess the rare artistic talent which we had.

To the Physics profs, we leave this solemn warning: Never ride on the No. 12 bus. If you do, one of your pet theories will be exploded. Two things can occupy the same space at the same time.

To the next football coach, we leave the burden of filling the places left vacant by our versatile athletes. May the strong shoulders of Jim Ross bear the football team through a still more successful campaign. If only the prowess of Hutz Blaker and Joe Shields could be equally divided among the teams!

To the entire faculty, we wave a fond farewell and assure them that we are indeed appreciative of the efforts they have made to instill at least some knowledge into our rather foolish heads.”

QUEEN — Oh generous Thirties! Well spoken. These, my helpers, shall receive their tributes.

MESSENGER — Various others, lady, in your great domain are remembered with gifts and messages from the Thoughtful Thirties. I continue.

“To Florence Clifford, the first girl president of the Student Government Organization, we leave Bob Marsh’s book on traffic rules and regulations, the red tickets, the bank day signs, the book on manners, the lunch-room vases, the wooden canary, the door pegs, and the police records of past offenders. We hope she will be able to bring about what no male has ever succeeded in securing—an office for the executives of the Student Government Organization.

To Walter Megronigle, president of the succeeding Senior Class, we leave all of Joe Newmeyer’s wit, charm, leadership and popularity. May he use them as devastatingly as Joe did!

To succeeding honor men, we leave the phenomenal record of Sam Sherman. We believe that his record will stand for many years and we are proud that it was a Thirty that hung it up.

To the girls of the future classes, we leave the athletic prowess of Florence Greenberg, Kathryn Langley, Sophia Yakaski, Olga Cinkowski, Kathryn Riegel, Gladys Britt, Dorothy Sexton, and Helen Szymankiewicz.

To the orchestra, we bequeath the hope of a splendid crop of sterling hardy musicians (for that is what they must be) that may compensate for the many exceptional artists whom we take with us.

We leave the various ribs, elbows, legs and arms that strew the floor of the locker-room after one of those famous eight-period rushes, to the Physics department. Maybe they can make a mechanical man out of them.

To the coming assortment of Glee Clubbers, both boys and girls, we leave ambitions, vaulting ambitions, to equal the superb record of the brethren and sisters who have so nobly completed their course of roars, squeaks, shouts and shrieks.

We leave all the ohms, watts, volts, etc., which we found left over in our Physics problems, to anyone who wants the darn things.

We had hoped to leave at least one of the No. 12 buses to the Smithsonian Institution as an example of the antique, but it seems that the Public Service still wants to use them all.

We bequeath the elevator and roof-garden to succeeding generations of the species Rookius. May they enjoy looking for them, even as we did.

We leave Latin, Physics, study periods, exams—nuff sed!

Finally, we leave to the entire school as a whole, our last dying request— Beat Collingswood.”

MESSENGER — And thus endeth the final message of the June Thirties. They are a glorious company that set out today. This is an event which will linger always in their memory. Farewell, I go.

QUEEN — Farewell. They leave. Oh rare June Thirties!

Herbert Cades
Arthur Glass
Ida Sherman
Helen Szymankiewicz

When “Auld Lang Syne” is sung,
When our last school bell is rung,
We Seniors alone can tell
How it feels to say farewell!

Helen Feltman

And oft, when tasks were hard and long,
When duties pressed, when life was dull,
Thy trees, thy walks, O Forest Hill,
Thy shadows cool, thy vistas broad,
Brought rest and happiness once more.
Sweet memories of thy pleasant scenes
Shall come with those of class and hall.

Class Motto: To the Stars Through Bots and Bars
Class Colors: Blue and Silver
Class Flower: Forget-Me-Not

Adams, Dorothy; Aharon, Marie; Ahrens, Conrad; Ahrens, Frances; Ambrico, Canio; Anderson, Avis; Anderson, Theresa; Andrews, William; Angelo, Elmer; Arensberg, Milton; Austin, Romuald; Banyard, Robert; Barroway, Ruth; Bass, Miriam; Batten, Marie; Beideman, Beatrice; Benton, John; Biddle, Ralph; Black, Andrew; Blaker, Carrie; Blatt, Bertha; Blom, Charles; Blonquist, Lorence; Blum, Florence; Brooks, Ruth; Brown, Agnes; Brown, William; Bundy, Richard; Bush, John; Bush, Wayne; Butherelli, Thomas; Butterfoss, Leola; Campbell, Elizabeth; Caputi, Salvatore; Carlson, Carl; Carr, Ralph; Carroll, Catherine; Charen, Sallie; Chinappi, Albert; Chonto, Albert; Cliver, Edward; Cole, Evelyn; Connor, Ruth; Cooper, Dorothy; Cretz, Luwean; Crombie, Helen; Cummings, Marguerite; Dennis, Ronald; Deputy, Elmer; Dewees, Kennard; Dill, William; Dovi, Frank; Duffield, Walter; Dukes, Elisha; Edelsohn, Meyer; Eggart, Edward; Engel, Bessie; Evans, Hattie; Evans, Kenneth; Farr, Thelma; Fatlowitz, David; Ferat, Mary; Fields, Albert; Finanger, Kaare; Fogel, Jennie; Fox, Dorothy; Freedman, Sidney; Gallob, Edward; Garwood, Ethel; Geedy, Thelma; Gelman, Esther; Geverd, Robert; Glander, Lillian; Gondolf, Edward; Gorski, Theodore; Green, Minerva; Greenberg, Edythe; Gurtcheff, Mary; Halpin, Frank; Halsey, Robert; Harris, Frank; Harris, Sylvia; Hart, George; Hart, Marian; Heine, William; Higgins, Walter; Hill, Elizabeth; Hirst, Elizabeth; Holm, Florence; Hood, George; Hoxworth, Bernice; Huff, Irma; Hughes, Thomas; Huhn, Jane; Hunt, Robert; Ingling, Virginia; Jacobs, Gordon; Johnson, Betty; Johnson, Evelyn; Johnson, William; Jones, Rosella; Kasten, Benjamin; Keller, Frank; Kember, Florence; Kendell, Charles; Koehler, Gertrude; Koeller, Gertrude; Konopka, Alexander; Kunkel, Bertha; Landis, Florence; Lane, Frances; Lawyer, Jennie; Ledyard, Charles; Lee, Virginia; Legnaioli, Julia; Leitch, Audrey; Levotch, Mary; Lind, Marie; Lipton, Edward; Liss, Stanley; Lloyd, Florence; Locke, Charles; Locke, Harry; Lockerman, Verna; Loeble, Elmer; Lotier, Homer; Lowden, Gordon; Lukoff, Reba; Lustgarten, Albert; MacCauley, Elizabeth; Mack, Florence; Mackler, Mildred; MacRae, Ellen; Marcus, Beatrice; Marruchella, Josephine; Martin, Loleria; Martin, Walter; Maull, Doris; McDermott, Samuel; McFarland, William; McGrath, Thelma; McLean, Eleanor; Megargee, Christine; Michalowska, Ellen; Miller, Agnes; Miller, Charles; Molotsky, Harry; Montgomery, Thomas; Mooney, Earl; Moore, William; Morris, Frances; Muir, Dorothy; Mullen, Blanche; Mutzer, Esther; Mutzer, Marianna; Neiman, Raymond; Nicholl, Hannah; Nickerson, Marie; Nussbaum, Herman; Ostroff, Sarah; Paletz, Bernard; Paletz, Sylvia; Pancoast, Dorothy; Paul, Elizabeth; Peard, Kathleen; Pendexter, Dorothy; Perkins, Francis; Pernier, Laura; Piccioni, Leo; Plevinsky, Bertha; Pogrozewski, Stanley; Porter, Thelma; Poynor, Edward; Pratt, Helen; Quick, Helen; Rand, Eleanor; Ratcliffe, Ellis; Reed, William; Reiclemann, Frances; Rewalt, Louis; Riddagh, Eveleen; Rittenhouse, Daisy; Robertson, Mary; Robinson, Andrew; Robinson, Warren; Robinson, Ruth; Rodenbeck, Herbert; Rosen, Helen; Ross, Harry; Rounds, Elsie; Royer, Ralph; Russo, Frank; Sacawitz, Anna; Sandgrund, Grace; Sandier, Katie; Saurman, Ira; Schaefer, Marie; Schard, Harry; Schorpp, Ethel; Schwab, Harry; Schwartz, Ruth; Scott, Louise; Seidelmann, Charles; Shaen, Lillian; Shaen, Rose; Silber, Daniel; Sink, Thomas; Smires, George; Smith, Hamilton; Smulowitz, Jean; Snow, Edward; Sparrow, George; Stein, Reba; Stepler, Edwin; Stewart, Kathryn; Stillwill, Elmer; Stow, Morton; Stoyco, Alexander; Strother, Charlotte; Swartz, Elwood; Tansky, Bertha; Taylor, Hilda; Toll, Rosalie; Tomar, Harold; Tomaselli, Joseph; Tomkins, Charlotte; Tontarski, John; Toye, Clifford; Troni, Emilia; Troutman, Nettie; Urban, Lillian; Van Meter, William; Vittori, Dominick; Wakeman, Maude; Watt, Margaret; Weinstein, Gertrude; Weinstein, Sylvia; Wells, Alice; Wentzell, Carlin; Wenz, Edith; Wenz, George; Williamson, Alberta; Williams, Mary; Worrall, Anna Mae; Wright, Arthur; Wright, Bernard; Wyatt, Elwood; Yeager, Althea; Yellin, David; Zagorski, Edward; Zawisza, Leon

The Purple and Gold Committee dedicates this page to those who have advertised in this book. The Committee urges all students and friends of the school to extend their patronage to the advertisers whose names appear in the following list:

• G. Russell Atkinson, D.D.S.
• Ruth Babette
• George Bachmann
• Banks Business College
• Harold W. Bennett
• Beringer, Pharmacist
• Samuel H. Blank, D.D.S.
• Bleakly, Stockwell and Burling
• Breyer Ice Cream Co.
• Broadway Merchants Trust Co.
• Camden Lime Co.
• John H. Carroll
• Century Press
• Edwin Field Crane
• Elmer Deputy
• Frank DeViney
• Friant Music Co.
• Clarence Fuhrman
• Goodman’s Pharmacy
• Henry H. Grossman
• Reu A. Hand, D.D.S.
• C. M. Heritage
• Francis G. Homan
• William F. Huff
• Jack’s Confectionery
• Victor A. Lotier
• W. H. Lucas
• Lyric Flower Shoppe
• Dr. Hubert MacGeorge
• Harry M. Mendell
• Miller, Costumier
• Luther M. Mkitarian, D.D.S.
• Morrison’s Market
• Carlton J. Murray
• New Bowling Casino
• Pavonia Ice and Coal Co.
• Peirce School of Business Administration
• Max Reihmann, Jr.
• Rose Beauty Shoppe
• Schiff’s Stationery
• Joseph Schlitz
• South Jersey Law School
• Steelman Business School
• James R. Sudler
• C. H. Sullivan
• James M. Thoirs
• Tri-Hi
• Victor Talking Machine Co.
• Walt Whitman Hotel
• Ware Truss Co.
• West Jersey Trust Co.
• Carl E. Widell
• H. Zamsky