Billerica Memorial High School - BMHS Yearbook (Billerica, MA)

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HO Were Hane es GLO Or I, Philip Scott, leave a pen and a bottle of ink to Miss Osgood to lend to other pupils who, like me, never risk carrying ink, even in a fountain pen. I, Eleanor Sheehan, leave my well-kept, wavy coiffure to any Junior with straight hair. I, Catherine Smith, leave my Wooley’s handbook to ‘Bud’? Condon. to cherish as fondly as I always have. I, Dorothy Smith, leave my arms to Venus of the study hall. I, Lester Snyder, leave to the Howe high school library a copy of “The Trials of an Amateur Lovemaker” for any of the Junior boys to use when sympathy is needed. I, Helen Spencer, leave my sympathy to future editors of the Howe High School Year Book. I, Stella Staskivicz, leave my cow to Doris Grenier. a I, Rosamond Tedesco, leave my quiet, unassuming manner to Dot ard. I, Lois Thurber, leave my love of college English to Alice Tintle. I, William Trainor, leave my good standing with Miss Osgood to Martha. I, Bronislaw Tolutis, leave my first name to Henry Mahoney. I, Esther Watson, leave my cheer-leading ability to Gwennie North- eoraves. I, Mary Williams, leave my expert flute playing knowledge to “Trum- peter” Taylor. I, Dorothy Winder, leave my discriminating color sense to “Red” Mason, Howe’s “Sadie Green,” with hopes that his choice of neckties will improve. I, Paul Woollard, leave my collection of fine ties to Jackie Cobb. ELAINE EMERSON, Chairman JEAN MacARTHUR WALLER FINNAGAN PRISCILLA MAYO BRONISLAW TOLUTIS 20

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Loo 9 ARB O0:0 K I, Genevieve Kennedy, leave my inveterate propensity for creating disturbances in the study hall to Leonard Stevens, my personal nomination for the quietest man at Howe High. I, Eleanor King, leave my love to stick up for my rights to any weak- kneed Junior. I, Charlotte Kitchen, leave my ability to snoop to next year’s Ima. I, Marjorie Kitchen, leave a book of complimentary poems to Mr. Twohig. I, Jane Larson, leave to the future Senior orchestra members a deep appreciation of classical music, and to Evelyn Elwood, my little silver trumpet, I, Julia Leavitt, leave my high heels to some future office-girl who wishes to annoy teachers and to attract attention. I, Jean Libby, leave my good enunciation to the English classes. I, Rita Loranger, leave my mellow voice to any enterprising future Kate Smith of Howe high. I, Jean MacArthur, leave my crutches to ‘““Mike’”’ Knowles to use during the football season. I, Priscilla Mayo, leave my giggle to the sensible Juniors. I, Virginia Mayo, leave my “Who, me?” to Miss Baker, in remem- brance of her Latin IV class. I, Edward McCloskey, leave my love of English to Marvin Conrad. I, Dorothy Mongan, leave my enormous height to Helen Westlund. I, John Morrill, leave the Senior Class, I hope. I, Kathleen Murphy, leave my “gift of gab” to help shy Juniors win arguments with bold teachers. I, David Noonan, leave my aging chariot to Bill LeLacheur. I, June Ogden, leave my homeroom seat, which is right under Miss Baker’s nose, to Freddie Dawson. I, Donald Palmer, leave my red shirt to Jackie Cobb. I, Robert Parker, leave my loquaciousness to Mae Michael. I, Virginia Parker, leave to Miss Baker a book entitled “Tried Excuses for all Occasions.” I, Mary Pasho, leave my love of “gym” to Helen Sullivan. I, Delores Poirier, leave my wardrobe to a Junior would-be mannequin. I, Josephine Pomanacki, leave my ability to get along with teachers to any Junior who has teacher-trouble. I, Doris Quinn, leave my slight “avoirdupois” to Margaret Finlayson. I, Shirley Raymond, leave my high-jumping ability to the forwards on next year’s basketball team. I, Merline Ripley, leave my plaid skirt to any Scotch lassie in the Junior class. I, Louise Robicheau, leave my “one and only’s” car to any one who likes to ride in style. I, Chester Sandberg, leave my great typewriting ability to some fu- ture Senior. I, Ralph Sandberg, leave my roller skates to Marvin Conrad to help him get to school on time. i

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1939 YEAR BOOK CLASS, PROPHESY Come, thou fair and wanton mistress of the oracle, disperse The enshrouding clouds of time to come. For one brief moment let me look Upon the thread of Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, the Fates, That I may tell of things which, presently, Will come to pass. Disclose to me The futures of my classmates who await, With ever-growing restlessness, the verdict. ... “You, who supplicate the Oracle, do wisely. Give ear, Mortals, and endeavor to comprehend. Strive not to evade the future the Fates have forecast; their will permits no compromise.” The oracle waved her hand. “Behold the Land of Yet-to-Come !” Immediately an oppressive and overwhelming drowsiness came over me. I had barely time to reach a couch along the wall of the chamber before I lost consciousness. I felt myself walking down a road which I had never seen before, and which led, according to a sign, to a city whose name was also unfamiliar. I noticed a number of children playing on the lawn before a house. Their resemblance to each other left no doubt that they were brothers and sisters. I spoke to the eldest: “I say, Sonny, what is your name?” “Forrest Blair,—Junior.” I looked at the crowd of upturned faces about me. There were four- teen in all. “Where is your—er—father?” I asked. “In there,” he replied, pointing to the house, “washing dishes.” . and your mother?” “She’s in there makin’ ’im do ’em.”’ Not wishing to disturb the apparent domestic tranquillity of the scene, I thanked the boy and hurried on. I reached the town somewhat fatigued, and was resting on a park bench when two men approached and seated themselves on a bench op- posite me, “T say, Mr. Gullage,”’ said the first, “I’ll read you the list of things I already have. “All right, Mr. David.” Howard Dickerman is skipper of “The Mink.” (That is an East Bos- ton ferry, you know), A beautiful out-of-town blonde practically threw herself at William Higgins, but he couldn’t find his tongue to “pop the question,” and lost her. Donald Palmer was a celebrated scientist and inventor until one day, in an abstract mood, he slipped off into the fourth dimension. 21