Natick High School - Sassamon Yearbook (Natick, MA)

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YEAR BOOK, 1926 13 reading, entitled, The Bending Scene, from She Stoops to Conquer. I noticed a man a few seats in front of us who looked quite famil- iar and yet I could not remember his name. I inquired and found him to be none other than Lyman Brown, who was the popular young Mayor. With him was a tall man with bushy whiskers, who they said was the owner of the theatre, and when he turned to speak to Mayor Brown I recognized him. He was an old friend and classmate of mine, Harold Carlson. The next morning as I was walking down Broadway I met Walter Ryan, dressed like a cowboy. I thought at first he was advertising a wild west show, but he told me he was working for that well-known Borax Co., driving the twenty-mule team. Before I left the studio Red told me to be sure and drop in to see Madame Lucy, on Fifth Avenue. But who is that? I asked. Never mind, just drop in and ask for Madame Lucy, and he gave me the address. When I arrived I found Harold Johnson in the outer office, writing down some orders. Is Madame Lucy in? I inquired. Yes, just a minute, please. Won't you sit down ? asked Harold, as he started for the door on which was printed, in large letters, Mad- ame Lucy, Designer of Gowns. Presently, Harold returned and said, Step right in. I entered the office expecting to find a tall, stately woman. As soon as I saw Madame Lucy I stood amazed, rubbed my eyes and blinked and still the person did not change. Finally, Madame Lucy said, Hello, 'Hank,' old top, charmed to see you. Hello, 'Jerry,' I fairly shouted, for it was no one else but Jerry Morrill. Jerry explained that he was Madame Lucy and just took that name to help business along. That evening I bade Red good-bye and thanked him for my pleasant trip to New York. When I got back home to Melville I met Carl Nelson. Poor man! He told me he was married. It was so tragic I had all I could do to keep back the tears. He advised me if I ever thought of marrying to wait until the second year, the first was always the hardest. I hired Ralph Morrill, who was Station Agent, Ticket Seller, Baggagemaster, Bell-hop, and Taxi-driver, to take me home. On my way I saw George Monaghan perched on the top of a telephone pole. He said he was working for the New England Tele- phone and Telegraph Company, as lineman, and I thought at the time he was well suited for the job, for if I remembered rightly, George al- way had a pretty good line. Last, but not least, I must tell you my present occupation. For the past ten years I have been manufacturing beds, but I intend to retire in the spring. Thus ends my story, for at this moment I awoke and found that it was all a dream.

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12 THE SASSAMON Red and I then went around New York and ended up in the Grand Central Station, where we came upon Walter Macllvain. What are you doing here? I asked, noticing Walter's uniform. Why, he replied, I have a job bidding the people good-bye. Just then a big, burly policeman told us that we had been parking too long and if we did not move on he would have us arrested. I was surprised to find the cop was George Mordis. When he recognized us he said, in a joking way, I'll have to report you to the chief. Who might that be? I demanded. Basil Decker, he replied. I found out from George where headquarters was and went up to see Chief Decker. He had Joseph Whitman for an office boy. After shaking hands with Basil I asked him why he became a policeman. Well, he said, ever since I was in the Senior play I've wanted to wear a uniform like the one I had then. But why didn't you start in the ice business? I asked. I did for a time, he replied, wearily, but I found ice wasn't all it was cracked up to be. After leaving Basil we met Wendell Gibbs and Walter Reardon, who asked us to take dinner with them. Wen told us all about his success in business and said he and his partner, Walter, were making a fortune on hairpins. That evening Red wanted to make it pleasant for me during my stay, so decided to ask some of our old classmates over to the studio, for a little party. Among the guests were George Erikson, Harold Gibbons, Bill McManus, Leslie Raymond and Walter Warn. George Erikson, Bill McManus and Leslie Raymond were ball play- ers and were sluggers for the Yanks. They hit the ball so far the out-fielders had to be on horseback, Walter Warn said he was in the cigarette business, so I warned him not to smoke too much, lest he might stunt his growth. Harold Gibbons became an actor and at this time was on Keith's circuit, his stage name being Harold Teen. I asked him why he didn't play Romeo and he told me he learned his lesson about going up into the balcony after women when he worked in the Natick Theatre. I heard from Harold that Charles Brady was an Underwood Destroyer or typist in a newspaper office. We talked on various topics and finally discussed our own Senior class. I found out that Vincent Harriott was a tight-rope walker. Someone always had Vin on a string and now the Ringling Bros. had him on a wire. At length someone suggested going to the theatre. We found Henry Grady selling tickets, Edwin Mitchell, scene-shifter, and Alfred Ljunggren and Walter Lumbert, ushers. The first number on the bill was a juggling act, by George Graham. I suppose he got his training juggling dishes at McNeil's lunchroom. The feature of the show was the Terrible Trio, members of which were Richard Bates, piano, Rob- ert Amendola, violin, and Earl Hopf, soloist. Robert Gammons gave a

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GIRLS' PROPI-IECY I have just returned from a ten-year sojourn in Europe and Asia, where I have been traveling companion to a very old and ugly man. He has finally died, however, leaving me the freedom to come back to my native country to spend some of the money he left me in his will. During my stay, I wrote my family every week and asked them to save all the Natick Heralds , so that I could see all the news when I re- turned. They did, and here is a. great stack to look through soon. As soon as I boarded the ship that was to carry me back home, I met the stewardess, who was to fill my wants on the journey. Her face looked strangely familiar and upon inquiry I found that it was none other than Margaret Scott. As it was past the regular dinner hour, she said that she would ask the dietitian Qfor now, as you know, every steamer has onel, to prepare me a light lunch. It was no sooner said than done, for she immediately came back, bearing a tray loaded with every variety of delectable dainties. We had a nice, long talk about the old days and she told me a lot of surprising news. The first thing that she said was that some of my most intimate school-friends had organized an orchestra and it was called The Junior Mal-Hallettsf' This orchestra had had four very successful seasons at Long Island, but it was now traveling around to all the famous dance halls and broadcasting over the radio. I asked her who played which, and she said that Doris Graham was the pianist--which was not in the least surprising, for Doris always has had a mania for playing-especially at night. Isobel Johnson played the banjo, and gave side exhibitions of the Charleston, which has become much more difficult than it was twenty years ago. This particularly suits Isobel, because she was always a fine dancer, and was repeatedly seen at all the local dances. Mary Burgess played the violin. I guess it was pretty hard for Mary to choose what musical instrument to study, for she never knew which kind she liked best, although she was always partial to a violin or drums. Ruthie Goldrick and Helen Murphy played the saxophones. Ruthie has always seemed to like wind instruments--and I am positive that she will never be obliged to stop playing, because of short-windedness. Helen, although she has never expressed any dislike for the sax, seems to favor the piano. Of course. such a small orchestra could not afford two pianos, as yet, but I do hope that they will acquire one later on, because Helen's talent will certainly be wasted. She used to be so musical that she would render all the popular songs of the day on her typewriter, up in the type-writing room, in dear old Natick High. Edna Frost marked time by the drums, which seemed more than nat- ural, because Edna. could never keep her feet still when she heard music-whether it was the Wedding March or the latest song, but what she kept the most perfect time to was the 11:30 dinner-bell. Mabel Spiller and Kathleen Hannafin went with the orchestra, giving