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

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Les IE rophecy — 1960 Silence as heavy as Mrs. Dooley’s biscuits weighed down the intense group of seniors awaiting Mr. Lynch’s signal. ‘One minute to go. Are you ready?” he asked in a “Digger O’Dell’” voice. Silence. The awesome thought of seeing the future appear before their very eyes left them aghast. They were hearing footsteps on their graves. Mr. Lynch was about to throw over the main switch on their in- vention, the “Television of the Fu- ture.” The intricate machine has been perfected theoretically, but this was the zero moment for the actual test. With the unfaltering hand of an executioner, he threw the switch and pandemonium reigned. The World of Tomorrow was the World of Today! The years 1951, 52, ’53 — with familiar faces! Howe High graduates broke upon the huge screen. There were housewives, teachers, drivers, lawyers, doctors, jailbirds, office workers, policemen, servicemen, and service women. All Howe High pupils, actors on the screen of the future! 1954, 755, ’56— with town politicians, traffic en- gineers, bus drivers, harassed mothers, hen-pecked dads, slot machine ad- dicts, musicians, radio mechanics, legislators, geologists! 1957, ’58, 759 — 60! Mr. Lynch staggered. His tremulous fingers reached out and stopped the machine at that year. He just couldn’t take any more! He wasn’t so young as he used to be. 1960 was far enough into the future as he cared to intrude! The group in the darkened room sighed with relief. 1960 was future enough for them, too! Why, they would be practically old men and women then! They didn’t want things mapped out for them; they wanted to do and dare! Ah!! They straightened in their seats. What was going on at St. John’s? Well! Well! There were “Mama” STROM and ‘Daddy” CU- SICK and their noisy, bright-eyed quintruplets. The place was swarming with reporters and excited doctors. The four grandparents kept peeking at the babies, naming them, and agreeing that their children always were extraordinary ! The silent group held their breaths when the gorgeous “Venus” TODD, nationally known Calendar and Cover Girl, struck them between the eyes as she posed for a United States postage stamp. Then the strains of martial music filled the room as Col. DALE CRANDALL cadenced off, ‘““Hup, 2, 3, 4— Hup, 2, 3, 4 — Company, halt! At ease!’ The colonel examined and inspected the W.A.F. Company. With a quiet grin, he said: “Those of you airmen who have problems, and even if you have no problems, come to me for help. Don’t bother the chap- lain; he’s a busy man!” The well-intentioned colonel and his women faded out, and “Fas- cinating’’” SULLIVAN appeared on the screen like a glorious sunrise. Jean peeked out through a cloud of gayly-colored balloons; her bare, shapely

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FIFTY-THIRD: 1, Norman Fitzpatrick, leave my enjoyable lab periods to George Clark. FIFTY-FOURTH: I, Barbara Ducharme, leave my broken pen- cils to Roberta Pelletier. FIFTY-FIFTH: I, Joseph Dwyer, leave my crooked seat in room 21 to some unfortunate undergrad. FIFTY-SIXTH: I, Richard Donnelly, leave my academic aptitude to my brother, George. FIFTY-SEVENTH: I, Phyllis Derby, leave my secretarial train- ing to Dorothy Benson. FIFTY-EIGHTH: I, Nancy Dempsey, leave my mischievous ways to Nancy Dill, who really doesn ’t need them. FIFTY-NINTH: I, Patricia Hall, leave Doris Bevis my desk in Room 21, to be available in September. SIXTIETH: I, Ruth Weaver, leave my English homework to Mary Doherty. SIXTY-FIRST: I, Mary Twombly, leave my study periods to my sister, Ruth. SIXTY-SECOND: I, Richard Wolf, leave my English marks to some unfortunate individual. SIXTY-THIRD: I, Harold Wilson, leave my Latin class with some knowledge. SIXTY-FOURTH: I, Catherine Sullivan, leave Betty Hatzberger my seat in “21.”’ SIXTY-FIFTH: 1, Carole Stuart, leave to make better provisions for a natural living. SIXTY-SIXTH: I, Ruth Strom, leave to start my football “team.” SIXTY-SEVENTH: I, Gordon Sorli, leave my seat in English to anyone who wants it. SIXTY-EIGHTH: I, Edward Smith, leave my chemistry problems to Betty Ann. BIALY-NINTH: I, Harold Pitts, leave. SEVENTIETH: I, Marion Todd, leave my detention slips to my sister, Nancy. SEVENTY-FIRST: I, William Sutton, leave my pie recipes to Mrs. Dooley and the crumbs to the floor. SEVENTY-SECOND: 1, Frances Padula, leave my best wishes to my sister, Rosemarie. SEVENTY-THIRD: I, Charles O’Hara, leave hoping to return on visits only. SEVENTY-FOURTH: I, Mary Alice O’Connell, leave my seat in Room 21 to anyone that follows. SEVENTY-FIFTH: I, George Nutting, leave Room 21 quiet. SEVENTY-SIXTH: I, Charles MacDonald, leave with no regrets. SEVENTY-SEVENTH: I, Barbara Lyons, leave my seat in Eng- lish IV to my brother, Sonny, who will really appreciate it. (1 think!) SEVENTY-EIGHTH: I, Dorothy Lunt, leave all three constitu- ents of my Lab supplies to future chemists. SEVENTY-NINTH: I, June Baroni, leave my books and marks to my brother, who needs them. The foregoing document, (having been read and approved by all concerned), is declared, in the presence of all, to be the one and only (the legal) last Will and Testament of the Senior Class of 1950 and by request of the said class these people do hereunto subscribe their names as wit- nesses thereto. CLASS OF 1950 HAROLD PITTS MARJORIE MORAN BARBARA LYONS EDWARD SMITH MARY RABIDOU

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feet were standing on a rainbow of broadway lights. Her brown eyes were demure in expression, but her drugstore eyelashes did things to the men in the audience. The picture was captioned “No Pins Permitted.” Broadway! Times Square! Grand Central — Oh-h! There stood JOAN KEEFE, starring in the Broadway hit, ‘Who Stole Venus from Room 21?” Joan will soon forsake Broadway, however, to “babysit” for CAROLE STU- ART, manufacturer of cobwebs and artificial dust. Is that CHARLOTTE BER- NARD! Why, yes! She’s return- ed for a post graduate course at Howe, with her affections centered upon that heartbreaker, “Gary Cooper’ CONDON, the new cooking and sewing teacher. As far as can be seen, Charlotte really works nights! Oh! Poor, hen-pecked CHARLIE O’HARA, attracting nation-wide attention, will undoubtedly sit up on that pole until “wifey” JOAN RIVAL signs a sworn statement that she won’t make him “walk” the dog at two in the morning. Famous surgeon, KAY SAPIENZA, suffered much indignation when MARY ARSENAULT, owner of a wolf kennel, hired the doctor to remove a splinter from one of her pets. Being brought back by Detectives LILLIAN BROWN, MARILYN MacDONALD, and PHYLLIS DERBY — WILLIAM SUTTON sobbed out his tragic story when asked why he stole the million and one half from the P. SULLIVAN Furniture Co., where he worked, as a bookkeeper, “It all went on bubble gum, and this is my last piece.” “King of the Hoboes,’ CHARLIE DELARUE, and carnival “queen,” BARBARA LYONS, have decided to collaborate on a book en- titled “Carnival Knights.” The book will portray the lives of the aristo- cratic Hobo. Now the televized “Bride of the Week” program flashed on the screen. Who was the unblushing bride? Could it be? Yes, it was GERRY MUSGRAVE, with her six-foot, bow-legged heart-throb. MARY RABI- DOU, mistress of ceremonies, queried the bride as to what her favorite love song was, to which the vivacious Gerry answered with a triumphant laugh, “The Gentleman is a Dope.” TEDDY NOBLE, noted “Ipana Man,” was seen raising St. ‘Ber- nards’”’ on his ranch in Texas. “Advice to the Lovelorn” columnist, PAULINE SURRETTE, has been legally entitled “Homebreaker of 1960.” Now DONALD HAMILTON and JOE DWYER, prominent mem- bers of the “Virgin Club,” which means that they have nothing whatever to do with girls, finally have decided that females won’t bite. Anyway, they’ve grown up now. . Well! MARJORIE MORAN has started her long trek back to her estate in the Kentucky mountains. She can take only so much of civiliza- tion before she feels compelled to return to the mountains, where she can “feel the wiggle of her toes, and her Li’] Abner’s arms once more!” BARBARA DUCHARME blushed as red as her hair when MARY TWOMBLY, her boss’s wife, caught her sitting on DONNELLY’s lap, while he examined the texture of Barb’s stockings. There were cries of consternation when McELHINEY appeared on the screen. What could be the matter with his mouth! It was all puck-