Bristol High School - Green and White Yearbook (Bristol, RI)

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CLASS OF 1931—Room 3

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THE (iREEN AND WHITE 15 His chance of survival was about one in a million. With difficulty Gansen freed himself from his moody thoughts and turned his attention to his own danger. He immediately perceived how small were his chances of survival, but realizing that it was just as dangerous where he was as anywhere else, he determined to push on. Accordingly he raised his greatly diminished pack to his back, and, lowering his head, marched unfalteringly into the midst of the approaching storm. The sun disappeared behind the horizon and it was night, utter blackness, but he still strode on. With a terrific howl, the storm hit, but failed to check his progress. Two hours later, his fur-clad figure was still pushing its way through the stygian darkness which encompassed him. The gale shrieked and howled about him, but left him unmoved. The cold was intense but he continued to walk. As a matter of fact his progress was merely mechanical, as he had long ceased giving any heed to his position. Five hours later, the blizzard had died down but Gansen still plowed on through the snow. His feet were not lifted up at each step, but dragged along just over the snow. The intense cold continued, the new fallen snow became frozen, still his fur-clad figure moved on. A fire was gleaming out of the darkness, a group of men were sitting about it, enjoying its welcome heat. They were telling stories in low monotones, stories of war, adventure, and of ghosts. The blizzard had blown itself out; stars appeared in the sky, the light reflected against the snow, forming a dim ghastly light over everything. The leader of the party got up from the circle about the fire and disappeared in the dim shadows caused by its flickering flames. A few minutes later he re-appeared, followed by a tall, thin man, whose features were hidden by his fur hood, but who was quite evidently a man of considerable importance. They joined the group about the fire. The fire burned low, there was utter silence, a dreadful silence. Suddenly the leader turned and addressed the late-comer. Tell us, doctor,” he asked, “will the body of a man continue to move after death?” The man addressed looked up in surprise. That is a curious question, what do you mean?” One of the men interrupted, saying: 1 mean that some people if they are walking, and have been walking for hours, will continue to walk even after they arc dead, until some external force causes him to stop. “Yes, that is true,” the doctor replied, “the muscles continue to work just like those of a snake do. Anything is likely to happen in this dreadful place, anyway, which has swallowed up mysterious civilizations and people by the millions. All that this frightful continent contains will probably never be known.” There was silence, each man was concerned with his own thoughts. Then from out of the darkness surrounding the fire, there emerged the figure of a man. At the very feet of the thunder-struck leader, it stumbled and fell. The doctor leaped toward it, turned the body over. “Been dead for hours,” he said. The men drew closer together and looked about with frightened eyes. Another mystery of the frozen South. HAROLD DeWOLF. HENRY’S DREAAl Come listen to me, schoolmates, I've a story to relate About a worthy Senior, On a very recent date. The “Junior Prom was held that night, The date was May the third. When Henry left this earthly sphere And tried to be a bird. He had trod the light fantastic With his schoolmates large and small, And at the “Cinderella Hour,” With regret had left the hall. The ride “to town” in his Buick Was over all too soon And his return on the new state road Would have made the State Cop swoon. But now a mist comes o’er his eyes, Morpheus knocks upon the gate, He slackens speed—he crawls, he nods, Henry cannot keep awake. He stops his car, gets out and walks, He paces to and fro. He ruhs his heavy lidded eyes, Then in—and home he goes. Again Dame Nature takes a hand. He’s off in dreams so sweet. His car is really well behaved, And turns down Market Street. Sweet visions pass thru Henry’s brain, Tall blondes, demure brunettes, A moonlight waltz—alluring eyes, A dream he won't forget. When he awoke ’twas with a crash, No car, no lights saw he, His arms were round a sturdy oak, He was talking to a tree. FREDERICKA DUNBAR, ’30.

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THE GREEN AND WHITE 17 THE WEATHER MAN One hears so much about the weather man. He rules despotically. No one can tell him what to do or how to rule. No siree, not him! He is a giant of giants. Although he is invisible he stands undaunted. His head pretty nearly touches the sky. With a wave of his hand and a word to one of his assistants, wonders are accomplished. One day in winter he chanced to hear some children wishing it would snow. Later on ,he heard children everywhere wishing vehemently for snow. Now the weather man is not unkind, but he tries to please people. So he called the North Wind and demanded service! North Wind was told to “start things goin’ ” for a big snow storm. Pretty soon little “cloud boats” raced across the sky, tossed here and there by the wind. The bright blue sky darkened; the wind whistled and shrieked through the pine trees; bits of paper and leaves were caught up by the wind and whirled and tossed about. The weather man laughed gleefully, clapped his hands and called for more. The skv grew darker and minousdark clouds gathered. Tiny snow flakes started to fall; they whirled and danced madly and pretty soon the world seemed to be blanketed in sparkling snow. It piled higher and higher and the children had their wish filled—indubitably so. The weather man is very temperamental, like a spoiled child. In Spring he colors the sky and makes the weather pleasant. He pleases himself because if he tried to please everyone he would please no one. If I were the weather man I would make it snow all winter long, freeze the ponds for skating and have cold “snappy” weather until Spring, and not cold one day and warm the next. If older people “had their way” about the weather they would have warm weather forever, and if the weather man tried to please everyone he certainly would have a hard time. K. KELLEY. ’29. Parody of “The Tiger,” by William Blake. THE FLAPPER Flapper! Flapper! painted bright, Each minute of day and night! What truly moral winking eye Could be so teasinglv sly? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire or thine eyes? Whence came their flashing attire? What the store that sold their fire? On what shoulder, by whose art. Would twist the sinews of thy heart? And when at bridge you start to cheat. How complete is your deceit! When the sheiks all tip their hats. Straighten voluminous loud cravats. Do you smile their zeal to see? Do you laugh with devilish glee? Flapper! Flapper! painted bright, Each minute of day and night! What truly moral winking eye Wants to be so gol-darned sly? RUSSELL AKIN, ’29. THE ADVENT OF “FLU” One disagreeable afternoon in January, Mr. A. Germ, very well known about town, entered the Olympia Theatre to enjoy himself and keep warm. Now it was a feature picture day and the hall was filled. Smiling young men with bright eyes and curly hair, and charming girls with rosy cheeks and straight hair (worse luck) and kiddies galore were there. Now A. Germ was a man of parts and interested himself, before the show began by studying the audience, looking for friends. Suddenly he saw Miss I. C. Dirt engaged in pleasant conversation with his rival, O. U. Bug, and decided to join them as he liked companionship. especially that of Miss I. C. Dirt. O. U. Bug was a sort of relation of A. Germ’s and they traveled together quite a little, but “two is company, etc,” and after a friendly greeting from them, A. Germ decided to change his scat. It was quite warm and he always felt quite active when it was warm. So he found a comfortable place quite, quite near a rosy cheeked girl who was so intent on her companion, the curly haired boy, that she did not even see A. Germ. The picture progressed rapidly; a love scene, a motor ride, an accident, a hospital scene. Poor little Rosy smuggled up against Curly-locks and A. Germ found himself captivated by her and drew quite close. So absorbed was he that he did not see his sister on the other side of Curly-locks. She had her twin children, little Grippy and Fluey with her and they were having a glorious time hopping all over the place. There was much quiet snuffing going on in different parts of the theatre, which quite amused A. Germ who was not particularly interested in any of the scenes but the one in the hospital. He was quite familiar with hospitals but he was very relieved when it was over. He spied his sister and the twins but they were so busy in a neighborly way that he left them alone and “carried on.” On the way out, still snuggling close to rosv-cheeks, he looked for O. U. Bug and I. C. Dirt but they had become lost in the crowd. He overheard Rosy say to Curly :“I’ve caught cold somewhere. I feel wretched.” So do I said Curly-locks,” and thus began the “Flu.” FREDERICKA DUNBAR. ’30 COMPLIMENTS OF RICHARD J. SIMMONS and LOUIS A. BEAUREGARD Franklin St. Garage and Hope St. Garage