Biddeford High School - Olympian Yearbook (Biddeford, ME)

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THE OLYMPIAN KELLYSIQ One night as l sat in Kellys. I spied a roughly clad fellow sitting a few seats away from me, apparently trying hard to chew a large helping of roast beef and mashed potatoes. There was nothing especially different about his looks, ex- cept that he seemed to be enjoying his meal a little more than the rest of us. Kellys was not the best place in Fall River to eat, nor was it the worst. Some- times the spinach was a little sandy and the coffee a little muddy but outside of that l could say only good for the place. The last of his roast beef tucked away. the man called for a piece of raisin pie. The waiter went to the cupboard, re- turned with a big piece of pie, and set it on the table. The man lined it up with his fork, whacked off a big chunk, and crammed it into his mouth. I-Innn, mighty good pie you have here. The waiter replied with a broad grin, Thank you, sir. The second and third chunks went down easily, but on the fourth slice arose a turmoil. Something, to be sure, was wrong. But something had to go wrong at Kellys every so often: probably a chipped plate or something even more ridiculous. Nevertheless, Kelly, a good business man as he was, quickly appeared on the scene. Sure enough, there in the middle of the piece of pie, nestled be- tween a couple of big raisins, lay a big, brown, dead cockroach. Kelly began to sputter. as only Kelly can sputter, I'1n. Tm. aw-, awfully sorry, old fellowf' this is the First time anything like this has ever happened in here. Kelly had his tongue in his cheek. The man raved and pounded his list on the table. W'hen I order raisin pie. VW ESTAURANT I don't want pork chops! Kelly was beginning to get excited. Already eus- tomers were leaving their seats Zl.11Cl eas- ing toward the door. In ten minutes the place would be closed for the night if this man couldnit be quieted. But he went right on yelling, And you expect me to pay for this meal? VVhy, I ought to go out and tell them all about this 'feeding cockroaches to people. Those words struck close to Kellyis heart, Man you can forget the check, the meal is yours. Wlell, the fellow was glad that he did not have to pay for his meal, but still muttering he took his hat and disappeared through the door. Kelly breathed a sigh of relief. That, I thought, was the end of the drama, but not for long. Hardly had I Hnished my own piece of raisin pie, keeping careful look- out for strangers, when a policeman burst into the restaurant, dragging our late companion behind him. Hey, Kellyf, said the cop, what's going on in here P Kelly sadly told the story, concluding and so the guy had us coldf' The officer wasn't quite so credulous and with one hand he thrust a match box into Kelly's grasp. Kelly opened the box and looked inside. I-Iis face grew red with increasing Irish rage, but before he could explode the cop came to his rescue. There's yur evidence, Kelly. The department has been look- ing for this fellow for six weeks. I-Ie's been sponging off restaurants for the last two months with that same box of cock- roaches. You press the charge and we will see that he gets his board free for several months to come. LUCILLE BROCH U

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THE OLYMPIAN HSPECIE ,llTTERBUG', A jitterbug is a thing apart, A Twentieth-Century form of art: Product of country and city as well, Merrily jiving his way to Hell. A jitterhug, in a world of his own, Lives on the notes of a saxophone: Varies his diet with hot clarinets, A dash of swing piano and united cornets. A jitterlJug's language is quite a treat, You hear him mutter in time with the heat: 1-lepcat, alligator, send me, Bob! Licorice-stick, doghouse. on the coli! A jitterhug has a lot of lun, Dancing right through from eight to one: VVaving his arms, his legs. and his all, lalhirling around 'till he's ready to fall. VVhen the hand ceases at last to play. jitterhug hurries to hit the hayg Tomorrow's Labor Day, you see. ln olfice or store, as the case may he. jitter-hugs never worry or fret. Music that's swingy makes them forget That this old world is in such a stew:- 1 am a jitterhug-VVl1y aren't you? Moiumgig SHAPIRO, '41 REACHING FUR THE STARS By Nora llfaln The article which Mrs. VVahn wrote in the july. 1939, issue of The Saturday Evening Post entitled, Marching '1'hrough the Mulherriesf' was read to me. Wlhen 1 noticed this hook hy the same author, 1 decided on it immedi- ately as the one for this second hook report due in my class work on this date. This is the story of the author's four years under the Nazi Hag, and tells how she learned to understand and love the German people. and to have pity for them in their present plight. Mrs. Vllahn was born and raised as a Quaker in Pennsylvania. For ,thirteen years she lived with her hushand in China. and in 1934 she went. with him to Germany. She has given a fine tribute to the people in Germany as she found them and also told truly of Hitlerism. She recorded countless numhers of experi- ences in her diary which she carefully kept while there. It is difficult reading for most of us, hut I should most cer- tainly recommend that all read this book for you will End her visits interesting and her description delightful. You will feel that you have personally met many of her friends and you will have seen pictures of Germany that you never get in geography. F1mNCizs lnvmc: 1591

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THE GLYMPIAN THE MUSICIANH Sam put his haton down and matched out of the music hall, saying Dismissed until tomorrow morning at ten. On his way to his room. Sam thought ahout his early life. Tle was an old man now and he had just hegun to swing a haton a little while ago, hut he was happy that at last his dream of a musical career had come true. All his life he had wanted to hold a hatou in his hand and heat out the time on the music rack. How' proud of him his mother would he if she could see him now. .-Xh. well. there was the hell calling him to sum-er. he might as well go in hy himself or someone would come out after him. :Xt exactly ten o'clock the next morn- ine' Sam 't0 1in stood at his music rack 5. 1. nbc 'PHE The wood is one of the qnietest and most restful places to which one may go when sad or lonely. There is always cheer and comfort to he found there. No matter in what part of the wood we may he. we find comfort. Wfe come to the old mill on the hank of the quiet stieam. lt we stop to look ahout us. we will see many interesting things. VVe see the sunirrel running to and fro, and iumping from lirnh to limh. VX-'e see the trout swimming in the swift current helow the old dam. VVe hear the sweet songs of the hirds. and see them Hitting from tree to tree or hathing in the warm. still water of the inlets along the stream. VVG see the crow as she carries worms to her little ones in the nest. at the too of a tall nine. Vlle often see a rahhit hopping lazily down a winding path. feeding from the various plants along the way. VVS XY waving his haton and heating time with his foot. .Xt that moment, two white coated men. who heard the music as they went hy the door. stopped and looked in at Sam, who didn't even notice them. lt's uncanny. said one of the men. he's heen here eyer since his wife died three weeks ago and every day heis stood in front of that nlionograph and 'ravecl his haton at it with all his might. Xkhy, sometimes he pushes on the stick so hard rou'd think he was washing win- dows or sweeping or something like thatf' Oh. flirln't you know that Sain used to he the hest window washer at the Conservatory of Music at T.ishon. hetore he was l7l'C.lll0'l'lf here ? 'tsked the other man. i b C IULI l2'l l'Ii D1 'ms. 43 OOD hear the song of the cricket in the rotten tree stump on the hanks of the stream. NVQ may even see a doe with her young tawn going to the stream to drink, or may perhaps he startled hy a partridge. leaving the ground. VVe will always see flowers of all de- scriptions in the woods. Some are very sinnmle. hut there is heanty in every one of them. They seem to greet ns as they nod hack and forth in the gentle summer hrecze. VVe see the husy hees gathering honey and taking it to the old hollow tree. hehind the mill. .-Ns the sun hegins to set, we see its reflection in the water. VVe hear the call of the whip-poor-will in the distance. But soon all is silent except for the cricket who continues his singing. and the owl who is hooting afar otf. T-Tixizntiz GooDw1N l61l