1965 Yearbook
Source URL
Title
1965 Yearbook
Description
EDITOR SAYS THANKS" . . .
Speaks of "Battle Fatigue."
This final page, we understand,
goes under the dubious title of "the
editor's." It is appropriate, we have
been told, to use this space to say
thanks to one and all.
Yet, when we sat down at this
typewriter, saying thanks was the
farthest thing from our mind. It
would appear that we were afflicted
with one of the most common of all
diseases to which yearbook editors
are liable. It is a quite venomous
malady known as "The-whole-world-
picks - on - the - editor -and- h e -
h a s - a - right -to-feel-sorry-for-him-
selfitis."
Say thanks? Why, we'd have
sooner admitted that we like Judy
Garland.
After all, who helped us anyway?
Wasn't it just a one man show? In
order to write the proper vindictive
spirit, we were sure that we had to
sit back and recall all those miserable
hours of torture and work, solitary
torture and work.
But something went wrong. Maybe it is just because we are still in a
state of "battle-fatigue" from the last
deadline, but for some reason, as we
thought back over this "year of the
yearbook," we actually smiled.
Or maybe it is because our office
here in the "yearbook building"
which we lease to the Music department is quiet now except for our
typewriter . . . that is, of course precluding the two fingered pianist who
started learning the C major scale
sometime last September in the room
immediately next door. Or maybe,
just maybe, it's because when all is
said and done this book has been the
combined effort of so many people
that it would be almost impossible to
mention all. Anyway, here goes.
Someone has said — if they didn't
they should have — that an editor is
only as good as his assistants and his
staff. Without our number one literary editor, Chuck Pirrera, we're quite
sure that this book would have fallen
by the wayside long ago. He and the
other assistant, Merwin Hart, have
been with us since the beginning
last April and lived and sweated
through the planning, the work, the
deadlines and the satisfactions.
The class editors and special section men (Gerry Baur, seniors; Tohn
Picco, juniors; Len Cockman, sophomores; Pete Pirrera, freshman; Tom
Schafer, fine arts; Tom Clancy, ath
letics) had to suffer through our
nervous harangues and corny jokes
but always performed admirably.
Dick Aubry rounded out the staff
and gave up sleep and a car to sell
the advertising which completes this
book.
The photography for the 1965
OAKS was, more or less, a personification of the theme of this book
in the sense that it turned out to be
a real "community project." The list
of our photographers is long, each
one of them contributed his bit. Mike
Kelly, John Maag, Chuck Pirrera,
Miss Renner, Jean Sardeau Studio,
Fred Schafer, and the Cinarco
Camera Shop all added their talents.
Fred Schafer came through more
than once when the chips were really
down, and so were we as far as that
goes, with some last second work.
We think that a special award
should go to the student body itself.
We're quite sure that if we had to
put up "just one more" schedule for
retakes of the group pictures, there
may have been a lynching. But they
still turned out and gave us more
than ample cooperation.
There are, in reality, so many to
thank that it becomes almost an impossible task. So we will skip to the
one who more than any other single
individual is responsible for this
book, Miss Agnes Renner, our
advisor.
Miss Renner took a completely
green staff — yes, that includes the
editor too — and taught us, worked
us, helped us, and indeed, carried us
through some of the blacker days.
She helped us meet new dilemmas
each week. We came to the office
often not looking for work, but merely to see what new catastrophe had
struck. To say just thanks for all that
Miss Renner has done for us would,
indeed, be a hollow sounding epigram. So while this book, it was decided long ago, is not specifically
dedicated to any individual, we of
the staff of the 1965 OAKS felt that
the honor should go to our advisor,
Miss Renner. Thanks, from all of us.
Now, we're sure that you won't
believe this, but the guy next door
finally got all the way through the
C major scale without one clincker.
This really must be the end.
Don Miller, Editor
200 EDITOR
Speaks of "Battle Fatigue."
This final page, we understand,
goes under the dubious title of "the
editor's." It is appropriate, we have
been told, to use this space to say
thanks to one and all.
Yet, when we sat down at this
typewriter, saying thanks was the
farthest thing from our mind. It
would appear that we were afflicted
with one of the most common of all
diseases to which yearbook editors
are liable. It is a quite venomous
malady known as "The-whole-world-
picks - on - the - editor -and- h e -
h a s - a - right -to-feel-sorry-for-him-
selfitis."
Say thanks? Why, we'd have
sooner admitted that we like Judy
Garland.
After all, who helped us anyway?
Wasn't it just a one man show? In
order to write the proper vindictive
spirit, we were sure that we had to
sit back and recall all those miserable
hours of torture and work, solitary
torture and work.
But something went wrong. Maybe it is just because we are still in a
state of "battle-fatigue" from the last
deadline, but for some reason, as we
thought back over this "year of the
yearbook," we actually smiled.
Or maybe it is because our office
here in the "yearbook building"
which we lease to the Music department is quiet now except for our
typewriter . . . that is, of course precluding the two fingered pianist who
started learning the C major scale
sometime last September in the room
immediately next door. Or maybe,
just maybe, it's because when all is
said and done this book has been the
combined effort of so many people
that it would be almost impossible to
mention all. Anyway, here goes.
Someone has said — if they didn't
they should have — that an editor is
only as good as his assistants and his
staff. Without our number one literary editor, Chuck Pirrera, we're quite
sure that this book would have fallen
by the wayside long ago. He and the
other assistant, Merwin Hart, have
been with us since the beginning
last April and lived and sweated
through the planning, the work, the
deadlines and the satisfactions.
The class editors and special section men (Gerry Baur, seniors; Tohn
Picco, juniors; Len Cockman, sophomores; Pete Pirrera, freshman; Tom
Schafer, fine arts; Tom Clancy, ath
letics) had to suffer through our
nervous harangues and corny jokes
but always performed admirably.
Dick Aubry rounded out the staff
and gave up sleep and a car to sell
the advertising which completes this
book.
The photography for the 1965
OAKS was, more or less, a personification of the theme of this book
in the sense that it turned out to be
a real "community project." The list
of our photographers is long, each
one of them contributed his bit. Mike
Kelly, John Maag, Chuck Pirrera,
Miss Renner, Jean Sardeau Studio,
Fred Schafer, and the Cinarco
Camera Shop all added their talents.
Fred Schafer came through more
than once when the chips were really
down, and so were we as far as that
goes, with some last second work.
We think that a special award
should go to the student body itself.
We're quite sure that if we had to
put up "just one more" schedule for
retakes of the group pictures, there
may have been a lynching. But they
still turned out and gave us more
than ample cooperation.
There are, in reality, so many to
thank that it becomes almost an impossible task. So we will skip to the
one who more than any other single
individual is responsible for this
book, Miss Agnes Renner, our
advisor.
Miss Renner took a completely
green staff — yes, that includes the
editor too — and taught us, worked
us, helped us, and indeed, carried us
through some of the blacker days.
She helped us meet new dilemmas
each week. We came to the office
often not looking for work, but merely to see what new catastrophe had
struck. To say just thanks for all that
Miss Renner has done for us would,
indeed, be a hollow sounding epigram. So while this book, it was decided long ago, is not specifically
dedicated to any individual, we of
the staff of the 1965 OAKS felt that
the honor should go to our advisor,
Miss Renner. Thanks, from all of us.
Now, we're sure that you won't
believe this, but the guy next door
finally got all the way through the
C major scale without one clincker.
This really must be the end.
Don Miller, Editor
200 EDITOR
Publisher
Smith Crafted Cover
Date
1965
Identifier
http://cdm16810.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/p16810coll2/id/1177