Mansfield High School - Hornet / Green Years Yearbook (Mansfield, MA)

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Class J 5 Y Prophecy It was a blue Monday—you know, here in body, but not in mind. Soon I would start my nursing career. “This was my first trip away from home, and I sat in the student nurses’ quarters watching the rain stream down in torrents. I was suddenly awakened from my meditating by a soft knock. “Come in,” I called. “T was coming upstairs, so I thought I would bring you your mail,’ a familiar voice answered. “Hilda Bernardo,” I gasped, “what on earth are you doing here?” “T’m a Registered Nurse,” she answered proudly, “but I’m on duty now, so I'll see you later.” I was feeling better already. As I glanced through my mail a green envelope caught my eye. I tore it open and found that it was a wedding announcement from Ruth Nelson. On the bottom of the card Ruthie had written, “Come as soon as possible. You're bridesmaid, you know.” It was then I remembered the day at Mansfield High, down in the shower room, when I solemnly promised Ruthie I would be her bridesmaid. I pulled on my raincoat and dashed out to send Ruthie a telegram. I pushed open the door to Western Union and stopped in my tracks. There sat Mary Ellen Boynton and believe it or not she was still BUDding with youth. I sent Ruthie the telegram and then rushed out to buy my clothes for the wedding. DeClemente’s Dress Shoppe caught my eye; and delighted at the thought of seeing a classmate, I went in. “There stood Dora DeClemente, owner, talking with Leah Brown, her head buyer. Leah took one look at me and said, “Dot McKay has a beauty shop about a block from here.” I took the hint. A neon sign introduced me, flickering, “BEAUTY FOR THE BEAST by McKay.” I went in and renewed acquaintances with Dot and her two able assistants, Lena Cacciagrani and Viola Bravetti. A very interesting newspaper which proved to be the Mansfield News was laying on the table next to me. ‘The headlines read: ‘Rockwood, Famous Model Maker—Lost.” I read on further to find that Chile had loaded all the English books into his model plane and set out for Mars. Result—No one has heard from him since. Glancing through the paper I found quite a few interesting facts. Shirley Munro and Lillian Randolph have added their bit to society—an ‘“‘Advice to the Love- lorn” column. The First National Store is now owned by Elio Bacchiocchi and John Phar- makis. ‘They certainly swept their way up rapidly. I left Dot and went back to the hospital to pack my clothes. As per habit, I switched on the radio and a familiar voice asked, “(Can you cook a carrot? ‘This is Flint’s Farm Hour.” Knowing how to cook a carrot, (and that’s about all) I turned

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the radio off. I rushed downstairs, obtained my leave of absence, made reservations at the airport and then hailed a cab. Lo and behold, there sat John Antosca. “Cabbying is my hobby,” Johnny informed me. “I’m really an auto salesman.” I told Johnny I wanted to go to the airport, and as we whizzed along he talked as only Johnny can. “T went to the unveiling of a statue of Jack Vallett yesterday,’ Johnny in- formed me. ‘You know he bombed Germany in a monoplane during World War II.” Oh ho, I thought to myself, Lone Wolf, huh! Under the statue are Jack’s famous words, “I don’t have to stay here. I can always go into the fourth dimension.” “Hey,” Johnny yelled, as we swung around the corner on two wheels, (a habit he had acquired at M. H. S.) “did you know that Janet Eames is in Hollywood as a stand-in for Martha Ray? And you remember my old flame, Janelle Swett. Well, she is going to Hollywood to play opposite Frank Sinatra in his latest picture, “Too Old For Love’.” Arriving at the airport, I saw my plane about to take off and I realized that I should have known better than to get into a cab with Johnny. Oh well, better late than never. I thanked him and dashed out to the field. ‘The plane looked as if it had come in on “no wings and a prayer.’ I found out later that it had. It was an in- vention of Clem Epstein. As I walked up to the plane a familiar figure stepped forth. You guessed it, Grace Ward. She looked stunning in her stewardess uniform, and as she checked me in she whispered, “I’ll be in to see you. Have I got some news!” I stepped on the plane and bumped right into Eleo Zaffini, the pilot ‘Well, Zaft,” I said, “it looks like you’ve got quite a job on your hands.’ To which I received the reply, ““Well now, I wouldn’t say that.” Deciding it was useless to carry on this conversation, I sat down and picked up a magazine. On the inside cover was a pic- ture of Cora Mae Valentine advertising her gift to other glamour girls, real indelible lipstick. She went through unknown torture trying it out on a Marine. Opposite this was an advertisement featuring “Tuell’s Freckle Cream, Guar- anteed to wipe ’em clean.” Gee, I thought, Seward wouldn’t be Seward without the freckles. Under a Book Revue I noticed the subject of Dr. Russell Williamson’s new book was How To Eat and Grow Thin, starring Charlotte Morse. I didn’t get any further with my reading because Gracie came up to tell me the latest Mansfield News. “Tes Rathbun is teaching Chemistry at M. H. S. and he’s feeding his class all Mr. Ricci’s stale jokes. (If you could call them jokes.) “Billy Nordberg is superintendent with Loraine Anderson as his secretary. (UMM, I thought, now Billy would love that.) And Bob Mason is keeping the schools fires burning. Frank Flammia is coaching athletics and has the painful job of keeping the Yearbook out of the red and in the green. “After Dotty St. John’s experience in the class play, she’s turned into an A 1 piano tuner, and I hear that Al visits her fowr times a week now. “Rose Armfield has joined the rodeo and is riding high. “Barbara Barrows, Phyllis Brown, and Hildegarde Smith are nurses in the Garland Memorial Hospital on Pratt Street. “This was erected to Isabelle for her