Natick High School - Sassamon Yearbook (Natick, MA)

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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

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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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YEAR BOOK, 1926 15 acts to the songs. Needless to say, this was a great attraction. Kate was our champion dancer in the old days and Mabel has a voice that even critics appreciate. Indeed, when she isn't singing jazz with the orchestra, she is soloist in St. Pa.ul's Cathedral, I was more than glad to hear that the girls had made such a huge success in their work, for they were all very enterprising. Margaret also told me that Vera Swenson and Teddy Dumas had tied the final knot. Of course, Teddy and Vera started chumming around together when they were sophomores, but I supposed that they had separated when they got through college. It seemed too bad that Vera had not continued typing. She was the expert typist of the school back in '26 and she could have been making it up instead of washing dishes for her large family. They were married directly after Vera finished college, and I suppose they are quite happy. Others that have joined the ranks of the married are: Marjorie Taft, Irma Duncan, Lydia Hall, Dot Fitzpatrick and Dorris Ambler. Marjorie and her husband live in Pasqua, where they have a dear. little six-room cottage, with a large sun-porch upstairs, which they use for a nursery. Irma married a quiet fellow, who was troubled with heart-disease. They moved to Texas, where she spends her life caring for him. This suits Irma to a T, because she was always of a loving nature, and delighted in doing and caring for people. Dot Fitzpatrick married an artist. She met him in New York, where he was living on the East Side, get- ting material for one of his famous pictures. Dot has done quite a little canvas work in her life, and as they both liked each other, they decided to paint together. Dorris Ambler is the happy wife of a multi- millionaire. She has everything she wants, including a squirrel coat, which has been her desire for years. She turns out to every aHair, and her name is often seen in the paper heading the social column. She has a home equipped with all gas conveniences, and I am told that she has a special gas man to attend to her appliances, Lydia Hall married her High School sweetheart, and they are now residing in Arizona, where he owns a large cattle ranch. She seems to get in touch with the outside world occasionally, because her friends say that she is perfectly contented out there in the wilderness, I suppose it seems quite natural to her, because she used to live in North Natick, when she went to Natick High. Speaking of married people, I began to wonder what had become of Irene Shea. I said to Margaret, What did Irene Shea do after she left High School? Margaret looked away, with a tear in her eye, and said: Well, I suppose I must tell you, now that you've asked, but it is quite a sad story. I, of course, was somewhat surprised to hear anything of this sort, but I said, Why, by all means tell me! So Mar- garet began to tell me what had happened to Irene, after she left High School.