Memories

Elaine Nadler Harris

Wed, 23 May 2007 17:46:40 -0700

Enough time has passed to reflect on how special our Reunion was and how important it was to reconnect with those with whom we shared so many wonderful memories. I must say that the women looked great and youthful...it was refreshing. It was particularly exciting to try and cram 50 years into one evening with many of those we shared our teenage lives. I would welcome another "mini" event some time.

The pictures are great...everyone look so happy to see each other. In talking to people from other years, I've come to understand we really had a GREAT year with terrific people who still are. Gerry, thanks for all you are doing. You are making our memories live.

With fondest memories,
Elaine Nadler Harris

A Story of Miraculous Survival

Thu, 3 May 2007 18:27:35 -0700

A STORY OF MIRACULOUS SURVIVAL

Eva Kuper Rayman

Rena Bercovitch Entus

Wed, 2 May 2007 17:35:18 -0700

If it weren't for A. Enid Thompson I would have quit school, or gone on to Baron Byng to be with that group of friends and never returned to Strathcona.....or Outremont High. In grade 10, I got sick with hepatitis, which was followed by a bad case of either measles or chicken pox. I really can't remember, and there is no one with whom I can check. I missed a great deal of school and was getting quite nervous about going back and not being ready for exams.

The doctor suggested that my mother take me (or send me) to Arizona to rest and relax. It was not in our budget, so I quit school and worked for the rest of the school year.

When I returned to Strathcona to meet with Miss Thompson to arrange for a transfer to Byng, she sat me down for a chat. She asked me about my dreams, and convinced me to remain in her school. So that is why instead of being with the last class graduating class of Strathcona I was with the first class of graduates from Outremont High.

When I looked at our yearbook, there isn't a picture of her. But, I remember the then 49 year old Miss Thompson vividly, and am very grateful to her.

Rena Bercovitch Entus

Sandra Garelick Segal

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 18:14:45 -0700

I remember Sandy Stein's father giving us a lift in the morning to Outremont Park. We lived near Victoria so we were the furthest attendees. Shirley Kleinman, Sandy Stein, me, Sandra Garelick were always prompt but Maxine Schwartz was never, ever, ever ready.
Mr. Stein had a short fuse and he vehemently threatened to leave her and just as he finished his threat much to our relief, she came bounding down the stairs.
We got out at Outremont Park and made a mad dash across the park to school. This was a daily ritual.
I vividly recall the uniforms the girls had to wear. They were dark navy with a matching fabric belt. Mine hung on me because that was the skinniest I had ever been. the blouse underneath had to be white. That was about the only thing we all had in common.
Sandy had a habit of eating pumpkin seeds which she kept in one pocket and used the other pocket for the shells. I, of course ,for those who know me would never engage in this practice.
I'll never forget being sad when in our English class we stood for a moment of silence on Veteran's Day. It sticks in my mind because I got the impression that our youngish English teacher appeared very sad and I felt badly for her.
What an experience we had when we were told we would be dissecting
a frog in Miss Wallace's Biology class. Sandy and I almost fainted when we heard that. We did not participate in this act. We weren't even in the room.

Sandra Garelick Segal

Montreal Fifties, Anti-Semitism and Herbert Jordan

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 01:03:49 -0700

Jerry Cohen

The Montreal Fifties, Anti-Semitism, and Herbert Jordan

I was born in 1941, and from that date until my departure for England, where I now reside, in 1961, I lived first on Park Avenue between Laurier and Fairmount, and then on St. Joseph Boulevard, at the corner of and on the right side of Hutchison: had I lived on the wrong side, across the road, I would have gone to grubby Baron Byng and not to semi-elegant Strathcona, and I would not have been in this book.

Anti-semitism was a strong force in Montreal in those years. Jewish kids like me experienced anti-semitism in two forms, one coarse, and the other more clean-shaven and better groomed. The coarse kind of anti-semitism came from some of the French Canadian working class people with whom we lived cheek by jowl. I don't know how many of them harboured anti-semitism in their hearts, but it certainly sometimes came out of some of their mouths, such as those of certain rough French-Canadian kids who, at least once or twice, called me "maudit Juif" as I made my way to school along the sidewalk. When I heard "maudit Juif" ("damned Jew"), I walked swiftly on, eyes averted from the name-caller, and probably most of those at whom such epithets were hurled did the same, but there did exist a more or less organized West-Side-Story-type Jewish gang, called "the Lords", which, so I believe, conducted gladiatorial contests against French-Canadian gangs and, although I do not know how much of what we heard about the Jewish gang's exploits was myth, and I never saw them in action, I was glad that such a gang was in business. In any case, the "maudit Juif" name-calling didn't happen very often, not, anyway, in my immediate experience, but it doesn't have to happen a lot for it to be a preoccupation as you walk along the streets where it sometimes happens.

The well-bred variety of anti-semitism was projected at us by some of the school teachers in our high school, Strathcona Academy. Strathcona was named after the Baron Strathcona and Mount Royal, a one-time High Commissioner of Canada to Great Britain and, at an earlier stage in his life, the man who built the Canadian Pacific Railway. He did not build it single-handedly, but when the line being laid from the East met the line being laid from the West, he drove in the final spike, which was made of gold.

Now, because the area in which Strathcona stood was populated by Jews and French Canadians, with very few non-Jewish non-French Canadians, the great majority of the pupils in Strathcona Academy were Jewish. Something of the order of 90% were Jewish, the residual 10% being formed out of Greeks, Syrians, a French Huguenot or two, and a very few Protestants whose native language was English. The teachers, by contrast, every last man-Jack and woman-Jill of them, from the principal down to the raw recruits, were pure white Protestants of British Isles extraction. Elsewhere in the city, there were Jewish teachers teaching Jewish kids, under the auspices of the Protestant School Board, but it was a principle or anyway a policy in Strathcona Academy that no Jews were to be hired: perhaps it was because Jews were so over-represented among the pupil intake that they thought it would needlessly tilt things even further away from Protestantness if they took in Jewish teachers as well.

The fact that 90% of us were Jewish and almost none of us were Protestant did not prevent the school from laying little bits of Protestant religious observance on us. We said the Lord's Prayer every morning, I sometimes very quietly, chanted a Yiddish parody version, invented by Irving Zucker, a Baron Byng alumnus who is now a distinguished professor at Berkeley, specializing in reproductive physiology.

And every Christmastime we assembled to sing carols and to listen to some narishkeit intoned by a local clergyman. The extraordinary thing, and this tells you much about the North American 1950's, is that, in my secure recollection, and that of my friends, not a single one of us ever voiced even a mild squeak of protest against this incongruous imposition. We were only too glad not to be subjected to the weirder stuff that would surely have been thrust upon us if we'd been in a Catholic school.

Few teachers ever adverted to this curious ethnic divide between teachers and taught. But one of them, Mr. Herbert Jordan, was uninhibited about it. Jordan taught us two subjects: Guidance, and English literature. In his capacity as teacher of Guidance, Mr. Jordan from time to time warned us that, since we were Jewish - he blankly ignored the 3 non-Jews in our 30-strong class when making such warnings - he warned us, with relish, that, since we were Jewish, we would gain admission to McGill University only if we scored rather better in our examinations than the minimum required for non-Jews: that was McGill’s policy.

Now, to go to McGill was a widespread hope and expectation in our class. (I was once travelling on a bus on Sherbrooke Street, and, as it passed the Roddick Gates, where McGill University begins, a little Jewish boy asked his mother: "What's that?" "That's McGill, that's where you're gonna be a doctor", she replied, in a European accent.) Anyway, we did want to go to McGill, and one could imagine someone telling us about the special threshold at McGill for Jews matter-of-factly, or even in a tone of compassion and anger, but Jordan would rehearse this piece of information with a certain satisfaction, in a spirit of: don't get too big for your boots; you may be clever, but you are Jewish, after all. And, once again, we did not protest against this display.

I should say as a footnote at this point that McGill's delicate discrimination policy (don't prohibit Jews, but make sure that only the smarter ones come) had, I think, come to an end before Herbert Jordan was still ignorantly admonishing us in the aforementioned terms. A massively wealthy Montreal Jewish family, the Samuel Bronfman family, which owned, among other things, Seagrams Distilleries, had by then, so I believe, poured a lot of money into McGill's coffers on the understanding that McGill would reciprocate by lifting its numerus clausus, and it duly did.

I say that we did not protest against Jordan, but we did have contempt for him. But if you think that all we had for him was contempt then you do not understand what sort of contempt we had and you do not understand what it is to be on the receiving end of ethnic discrimination. We did have contempt, but we also had respect, because men like Jordan were on top, they were the official people who ran things and who made things go like they were supposed to go. They didn't get called maudit Juif as they walked home from school. They didn't, even their parents didn't, speak with more or less strong European accents. They were the bright, clean, white people, not underhand-clever and street-smart and sly, like we were, but full of a spotless surface virtue.

When I look back, I find it remarkable that my respect for Jordan was so robust, despite my contempt for him and despite the many opportunities he created for me to withdraw my respect. Thus, for example, in his manifestation not as Guidance teacher but as teacher of English literature, Jordan many times told us that there were only seven kinds of plot in all works of fiction, and, he added, with Christian pride, that all seven plots were to be found in the Bible. I found this claim both fascinating and incredible, and there was also inside me when I heard it a proto-philosophical stirring about what exactly the criteria of identity would be for plot types, what the criteria were for saying this story has the same plot as that different one, and so forth.

Now, whenever Jordan made this claim, he'd illustrate it by saying that there is, for example, the plot based on the return of the prodigal son. But that was the only example that he ever gave. So, because I found Jordan's claim baffling, I one day gathered my courage and I went to him after class and I asked him, because I really wanted to know the answer, I wasn't just trying to trip him up, I asked him what the other six plots were. I suppose it was my subversive intention to then see if I could find a counter-example, a truly different eighth type of plot. What was my surprise and disappointment when a somewhat embarrassed Jordan (I have to say that his embarrassment wasn't as great as it should have been) replied with little hesitation that he couldn't quite remember any of the other six plots. He'd look up the point in a book he had at home and get back to me on this.
Now that should have undermined my respect for Jordan, but it didn't, even though he never came back with a single one of the six missing plots, and I, of course, never reminded him of his undischarged obligation. This shows how a member of a despised minority can continue to have a kind of deference towards the man in charge even when the man has proved himself to be an empty windbag. And because you have a kind of deference to him, and therefore to his views, you have a kind of deference to his view that Jews are not quite human, or that they have all too many of the less agreeable human characteristics, and that doesn't help you to respect yourself.

Having devoted this space to the exposition of an unpleasant aspect of the Strathcona / Outremont experience, I should like to close by remarking that there was never, to my knowledge, any incident or expression of ethnic hostility between Jewish and non-Jewish pupils in the school.

We were all friends.

Jerry Cohen

Eddy Shore

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 00:59:51 -0700

A little story on anti-semitism in the 50’s.
I lived on Outremont Ave at the corner of Van Horne Ave. Twice weekly I attended afternoon Hebrew classes at a school located in a house on Hutchison corner Van Horne. The easiest way to get to the school was to go down a lane encompassing about 6 blocks [everyone in Outremont knows about lanes].

A group of French kids were always ready to beat me up and hid in the lane waiting for me to show up. I mentioned my dilemma to my friend Normie Bogo who lived nearby knowing that his brother [the late Red Bogo] was a real tough guy. “No problem my brother will take care of your little problem.”

Sure enough, the next time when French kids were waiting for me, the Bogo's were also there and that was the last time the French kids bothered me.

I still can't read or write Hebrew very well.

Eddy Shore

Sholom (Seymour) Glouberman

Sat, 21 Apr 2007 02:13:10 -0700

Walking to School with Manny and Norman

Manny Young, Norman Kadanoff and I walked to school every day. Norman would come by my house and together we would go to pick up Manny. We would often find him finishing his meal and getting his books to join us for our daily walk. On our way to school we would walk from Barclay and de Vimy through Pratt Park and then Wilder Park. For the first few years our destination was Strathcona at the corner of St. Catherine Road and McEachran and in our last year we drifted down Bernard to Outremont High. We did this in every season and in all kinds of weather.

It come to be deeply etched in my memory as one of the great pleasures of the companionship associated with going to school and contains some small nostalgic memories.

Our journey happened twice a day, from Monday to Friday because we would almost always also walk home during the hour and a half from noon to 1:30 for the required hot lunch prepared by our mothers. We would gobble down the veal chops and roast potatoes, have a plate of canned peaches and wait to be picked up for the walk back to school.

Our route after lunch was slightly different. We would walk up de Vimy and then down Ducharme to Rockland, where we would stop for refreshment at the corner convenience store (which was I believe, called Rockland News and Tobacco). We would each buy a Pepsi Cola (7 cents) and a package containing two small cakes covered with toasted coconut (10 Cents). We had to eat this snack standing in the store, because we did not pay the deposit on the bottles.

Once refreshed we returned to school in time for a sleepy afternoon of classes.

"Sholo" Glouberman

Martin Lubin

Fri, 20 Apr 2007 13:17:54 -0700

May 1st, 1952 was moving day--for the Lubin family including me (in those days in my old neighborhood, they called me 'Peewee' or 'Mendl' or 'Loogy' or 'knife' or just plain Martin, "Fudge's' kid brother actually),

Onwards and "upwards" from 4457 Esplanade, just across the street from Fletcher's Field, now Parc Jeanne Mance (the "MOUNTAIN") to Outremont, 855 Rockland Ave., between Lajoie and Ducharme.

A little over a year later, the Boulevard St. Joseph Talmud Torah and then for 1 year only 1952-53 rue. Esplanade corner rue Rachel (across from the armory and the "MOUNTAIN") Herzliah.

Boocher, now living in Outremont , decides not to continue with parochial school
and its then circa $10. per month tuition, but to enter what Fletcher's Field/
Baron Byng-bound friends used to call "Snobcona: at the junction of Cote St.
Catherine road and Avenue Pagnuelo, just down the hill from Herbie Feifer’s
magnificent house.

There he spent 3 wonderful years immersing himself in the physical and often violent exactions of floor hockey as a member of the blue house, the generally losing interscholastic bantam football and soccer teams but ably coached by Messrs. Mckiel and Wensley who volunteered their post - 3:30 P.M. time without $pay.

And then there were the teachers, a panoply of character types (I never was
enrolled in any gender -"mixed" classes)--in the Latin stream, from 'digger'
Udell'="ur, (rich) tur, mur, mini, intur "(passive moods of Latin verbs) to the
sensuous Ms. Cullen (Jerry Engel take note) to the spray-laden sounds of
Kootchy" (pistons, pumps, and "pressure on the EEEEIHNside, greater than
pressure on the ooouwtside", ah (I) wuuuhnt kuzz aaah koount = I wouldn't because I couldn't?, to Ross's harsh-sounding hic, haec, hoc, KAAAAWHWHWHK, to the SO2 chemistry teacher lisping Price "snnning, boys"-- and of course fartn Fred & burpin Bill, the arbitrary at times vindictive Shakespeare 'scholar" Jordan who was shoving The Merchant of Venice as well as As You Like It down our hebraic (most but not all of us) throats, and the perennially ruddy complexioned Geometry teacher Beaton, always calling on Allen Feldman who sat behind me in Grade 9 to solve those deductions at the end of each proposition.

There was also among the pedagogues the competent, inspiring and widely respected History teacher Roland Wensley (where is 'Massatooositz'?), and of course the " you guyszze" Fairburn and the irrepressible Biard: Oui, SCHSHETYWIYHND, up da Board.. If you want to sing, go join the choir = Si tu veux chanter, veuillez rejoindre le choeur. "You'll get the strap "(5 or 10 on each hand, NEVER to my knowledge were "biffs" administered to BAD boys' derriers).

Especially memorable for me were Latin classes with the Digger, and Ross,
"alright class in our Algebra" Mckiel, and Archimedes' Principle Science
classes with McCutcheon (I believe he lived in Park Extension in those days)

By the time Union Nationale Duplessis allowed OHS to open in Fall
1956 (we took our matrics in June '57), Phys Ed teacher Davidson allowed me to
enter the "sucky patrol" -ie. the Leaders' Corps (why ignoble me along with the
great Mannie Young, David Warhaft, Bill Brender, Russell Ayoub et al., who
knows-- only davidson?]

Lots of Rose Brothers Van Horne corner Davaar post - 3:30 P.M.
afternoons of Pepsi + Black Beauty or May West cakes (25 cents + screaming
matches with heavily accented owner Leon and his Montreal-born nephew Murray Spitzer; friday nights at Pratt Park outdoor skating rink; playing against
bone-crushing line-backer Normie Bogo and the closer to Hutchison/Bernard guys re: tackle football at Rockland Park without padding (I must have been daringly nuts to so engage) and baseball on OHS property as well as at Rockland Park on Saturdays.

Two final recollections-Nov. 1954 saturday DeVimy corner Barclay = basement of grade 9 class-mate Mannie Young house watching on TV the Grey Cup and seeing Chuck Hunsinger "fumble "(it really WAS a lateral attempted forward pass) in the waning minutes of the game into the hands of 2-way Edmonton Eskimo great Jackie Parker who then ran for the winning touchdown -- nothing to do with our Latin homework on the following Monday. And class-mate Jerry Cohen imitating one of our teachers, I believe it was Mr. Jordan but it could have been Mr. Ross, with the subject ("victim"?) of the imitation in front of him. And Gary Ulrich and Russell Ayoub hitting softballs onto the roof of Strathcona from the little Courcellette park adjacent... and on and on...

The river of TIME never ceases:

Memories--NOTHING EVER IS; ALL IS BECOMING.

JE me souviens, comprends-tu? Do you understand?

MartinLubin

Elaine Nadler Harris

Sat, 17 Mar 2007 13:18:07 -0700

Mr Russell's math class, Miss Thompson, who would tell me to wear lipstick, Miss McPherson and our winning Sr. A basketball team and volleyball team, Field Day every year, walking to school, the fun social life, Mac, Donna, Dodo, Herbie and Eaton's Jr. Council, Gerry Bisaillon, and being Cinderella in the Eaton's Santa Claus Parade. A few, very few fond memories from so long ago.

Soryl Shulman Rosenberg

Sat, 3 Feb 2007 07:41:59 -0800

Remember skating around and around at the Municipal (pronouced Muna-cipal) between Querbes and Bloomfield) ?
For a "girl" the most exciting event would be if a "boy" asked her to "go around"! And if he took her hand while skating that was such a thrill!
After skating, going to the corner store on Bernard for a hot chocolate with a marshmallow completed a fun day no matter how cold it was outside.

Seymour Brownstein

Tue, 28 Nov 2006 21:57:04 -0800

On the night of the grad dance, I believe it was Elaine Nadler and her date who spontaneously, at the last minute, drove and accompanied me and my date to an exquisite variety show at the Downbeat Nightclub in back of the old Montreal forum; in those days, age IDs were rarely a requirement (I believe my date was about 14-years-old; can the RCMP still go after us 50 years later??).
I believe Elaine was one of the nominees for Miss Outremont High that year which made our grad evening even more exciting.
Another item I recall involved another Miss Outremont High, Eli Kornbluth, who took Botany with me in 1st year McGill. We used to meet once or twice weekly in the Botany Greenhouse along McGregor (currently, Dr. Penfield) Street to memorize the names of about 75 different plants (e.g. Dieffenbachia) for our spot oral exam. Eli was into sports (e.g. basketball and volleyball) at McGill and would usually arrive in the late afternoon; I would arrive earlier and memorized about a dozen species each afternoon in order to impress her. I should partly credit Eli for my getting into McGilll Medical School by my receiving a high mark in an otherwise uninteresting course.

Ellie Kornbluth Levine

Thu, 19 Oct 2006 17:32:42 -0700

I loved sports and played whatever was offered. I was excited to move from Strathcona Academy to Outremont High because it had a real gymnasium. I played or coached every day at noon and after school. I remember wondering how anyone could really be happy and love life if they were not playing volleyball, baseball, basketball, track and field. I decided to be a gym teacher. Mr. Russell recommended that I choose something else because it would have been too boring as a lifelong profession. He was right. Thank you, Mr. Russell for having the interest and insight. I was also a cheer leader. All that exuberance. And fluff. I am spending my professional adult life doing very serious work in the field of mental health.

I speak to many people who tell me that their high school years were their worst years, that they actually suffered. I loved high school.

I had a diary. When I wrote in it at the end of the day, especially after dates, I ended with an X or XX, just to remind me whether there had been any good-night kisses and how many!!!

Nan Schlesinger Wolfe

Tue, 27 Jun 2006 03:53:34 -0700

1957 Field Day picture. Teetering on top is Barbara Schlaer Krantz (I remember her weight on me), then on the left of the picture is Nan Schlesinger Wolfe on the strong, sturdy back of Lorna Rosenstein. On the right of the picture is Soryl Pofelis Soifferman smiling over the head of Joyce Kessler Bellman. Does anyone recognize the male figures behind us?
PS. I think it is my purse on the ground. I recognize it!

Eddy Rubin

Mon, 19 Jun 2006 17:31:26 -0700

Dear Gerry:
During my correspondence with Norm Goldman and one other, the name of Ed Rubin came up. Ed was in the class of '59, I believe, but knew the class of '57 well. He's one of the finest people I know, a really solid guy. (He went on to an interesting life -- Trudeau's chief of Staff, a lawyer in Hong Kong, eventually becoming a major figure in the world of Asian law and Finance.) But, more interesting is the following excerpt from an e-mail we had during which I gave him the link. I don't know if it's worth a post, but I thought you'd enjoy it...
Lionel Chetwynd

Dear Lionel –
I can’t thank you enough for sending me the link to the 50th anniversary of the Outremont High class of ’57. They were ahead of me by a couple of years, but I knew so many of them and I remember them well and fondly – Dodo Blackman, who lived across the street from me on Pratt Avenue (to which I moved after having lived from birth on Davar (corner of Van Horne - just across the street from Rose Brothers, where I note that you are well remembered!), Ellie Kornbluth, whose parents were very good friends with mine and whose brother was my tutor for , trying as hard as he could, although completely in vain, to get me to see the beauty of geometry, chemistry and physics; Larry Bergman, Mel Kirstein (one of my favorites), Eddie Bierbrier, Eddie Victor, Irwin (of course) etc etc. Pratt Park – great stuff, indeed !

I also loved being reminded of the teachers – Ross, Fairbairn, Campbell, McNeil – memories galore ! I Almost all good ones. was surprised that no one made any comment about Mr. Biard, the French teacher, whose bad jokes always triggered the famous “Biard Roar” which could be heard through out the corridors at regular intervals. The roar would be invariably followed by a furious reaction by the addressee of the sound – it was all a kind of scene from a play repeated over and over during the school year and over many many years.
Again, many many thanks for the link. I really enjoyed exploring the site. I hope that the reunion is a great success.
Eddy Rubin

Joyce Kessler Bellman

Mon, 12 Jun 2006 16:59:16 -0700

I thought that possibly Eleanor Yaffe didn’t graduate with us because Nan Schlesinger thought she hadn’t and was pleasantly surprised to see her in my class picture that was sent in by Myrna Goodman. My thanks to Myrna for sending it in because it triggered many memories of things I had forgotton.

Yigal Horowitz

Wed, 7 Jun 2006 18:00:53 -0700

Here's something dredged up from my memory bank. I was sitting in math class. I don't remember the name of the teacher but she was a very tall, fierce woman. Anyway, I guess my mind was wandering, she noticed it, sneaked up behind me and gave me a big whop on the shoulder (or head-I don't remember which) with her ruler. I guess these days she'd be up against a student complaint to the Civil Liberties Union

Nan Schlesinger Wolfe

Sun, 4 Jun 2006 12:09:58 -0700

[comment on the posting of four photos Courtesy Faigie Rashcovsky Coodin]

wow!! Weren't we innocent creatures compared to today's youth!

Eva Kuper Rayman_2

Sat, 3 Jun 2006 12:00:43 -0700

In terms of kudos for teachers who had an influence on me I remember and am most grateful to Mrs. McCuaig who was an excellent teacher of English literature. In grade eleven, I was run over by a truck outside Judy Labow's house. My broken leg necessitated several weeks in bed, missing Lillian Rykles' sweet sixteen and of course, less importantly missing school. Because of the love of reading inspired in me by Mrs. McCuaig, (which has served me well throughout my life) and the constant supply of books delivered to me by my friend Judy Labow (who is still my friend) I used my time to my advantage. I probably learned more during those weeks than I would have, had I attended classes.

Eva Kuper Rayman

Sat, 3 Jun 2006 11:58:37 -0700

In music class, when preparing for our "aural" during which we would be required to identify different movements of various symphonies and pre-selected musical compositions, Mr. Johnston would play the records in his collection repeatedly in the hope that we would do well on the exam. We listened repeatedly and mostly learned where the glitches were, the scratches and skips in each recording. On the day of the exam we were horrified to learn that the examiner, whose name escapes me at the moment, had brought his own recordings.

Joyce Kessler Bellman

Sun, 28 May 2006 19:20:16 -0700

My favorite teacher was Mr. Johnston who taught Music Appreciation.
We loved Mr. Johnston and grew to really enjoy Bach.