Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

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THE PILGRIM 11 page, we noted an item of interest,- Frances Mulcahy, Mary Kelly, and Mary Ryan had won prizes at the Irish Boiler- makers' Picnic for cooking the best Mulligatawny. Also Phil O'Connell and Bill Shea had performed the best Irish Washerwomann jig. Well, enough of news, remarked Watson. Let's get some gasoline. So we drove up to Edward Bradford's Gasoline Dispensory and found our- selves just behind Gladys Mueller and Marilyn Gilman, who were having their car serviced by Willy Disalvatore and Robert Proctor, the able and ambitious attendants. While waiting, we tuned in our radio just in time to hear the last silver strains of a violin fade away. An announcer spoke,- You have just heard. Agnes Silva and her silver violin, accompanied by Eunice Santos at the piano. You have been listening to Colonel Robert Po's Amat-eur Hour, on the air at this hour every week. This is station WPHS at Pilgrim Hollow. We present a special news bulletin. Paul Douglas, formerly of Pilgrim Hollow, has been appointed Ambassador to Scotland. Mr. Douglas is the second person in the world to blow Wee Gillis' bagpipe. . . The next program is that of the Octette Originale , wit-h the silver- tongued master of ceremonies, Bob Lowry, at the microphone. Take it, Bob. Then through our speaker came the theme- The Siberian Desert Song , in- troducing the Octette Originalen. Greetings and salutations, good people, this is your man Lowry, speaking for the Awful Octette , with the Dicks Lanman and .Silva, clarinet virtuosos, Dick Schneider and George Stefani at the corny cornets, Harry Longhi and Bob Lee, saxaphonists, Parker Barnes, slip-horn artist, and Bud Henning beating the tom-toms. Now everybody swings into action as Vern Hogan, that golden-voiced caroo-ooner, warbles number thirteen on our hit parade,- By this time we were ready to leave the gas station, so, shutting off the radio, we proceeded along the street once more, glancing at the various shops. First we saw Canducci's Shoe Hospital, with large l-etters on the window read- ing,- Save your soles, you heels! In- side Margaret Kaiser and Helen Swift were having their high heels repaired. Next to this place was Lodis' Luxury Laundry, owned jointly by Frances and Dorothy Lodi. Just coming out were Mary Mahler and Jeanette Harty, bundles of clothing piled high on their arms. Across the street we noticed, side by side, Shwom's Super-Service Suit Shoppe and Goldsmithis Gawjus Gowns. In the first we met Warren Diegoli, the stockroom superinten-dent, and Margaret Rudolph, who was buying some flashy ties, for whom she wouldn't say. In the dress shop we found Eleanor Fascioli and Alice Govi dis- cussing the merits and faults of the gowns displayed. Adjoining the dress shop was Cy's Versatile Vittle Empo- rium, owned by Mario Solieri, and there was Iole Marvelli decorating the win- dow. Inside Mary Paoletti, Jenny Giori, and Clara Pinto were victims of the vending of viands. Perhaps with a thought of borrowing, we entered the Pilgrim Hollow Last National Bank. We were greeted by the banker, Presi- dent George Banker, and the tellers, Al- berta Pederzani and Doris Ruprecht. As we left, Antonette Rossetti, Beverly .Henrion, and Dorothy .Scanland entered, evidently going in to deposit their money. As we walked by, we peeked into the telephone office, and there saw Dorothy Reed and Ceserine Campana busy at the switchboards. Adjacent to this office was that of the Pilgrim H-ollow Knowl- edge Company. In Pilgrim Hollow knowledge is used in place of electricity, since Scientia Potestas Est . Inside we found Katherine Barratta, Edith De- Cost, and Harriet Longhi, busy supply- ing the power from their store of knowledge. Feeling the need of a creampuff or two, we invaded the Pil- grim Hollow Pastry House, owned by Frances Brown. In here Dorothy Cor- rea and Elizabeth Hanelt were buying some loaves of Hathaway Bread, which was on special sale. On the street again we encountered Thomas Fugazzi and Robert Hughes, gentleman farmer and manager of the Pilgrim Hollow Town Team respectively, in earnest conference over something we couldn't quite hear because John Spurr, the streetcleaner, was singing too loudly the streetcleaner's national hymn, You Gutter Make Sewer You Keep it Clean. The next stop in our tour was Ber- nados' Asylum for Children, operated jointly by Dolores and Rose. By this time we were nearing the beach and waterfront, and before us lay Brigida's Fish Market. As we opened the door, Angelo Brigida drove past with a truckload of perfumed UD fish. Well,

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10 THE PILGRIM TOMORROW -In Fancy 13 Mayflower Street Pilgrim Hollow June 15, 1949 Miss Janie Christie Christie's Cure Company 1414 Broadway New York City, New York Dear Miss Christie: We, Selde M. Wright and Watson A. Kname, traveling salesmen par excel- lence, are now in Pilgrim Hollow, where we stopped to sell your product, Christie's Cure for Corns and Chil- blainsf' However, we met so many of your old friends here that we decided to write you about all we saw. A report of our sales will follow later. As we stopped at the Bus Terminal, Catherine Leonardi, President and Chief Pilot of Kitty's Kumfy Koach Line, shouted, All out for Pilgrim Hollow! We hurriedly clambered from the bus, following Elsie Mullaney and Florence Pimental, the other passengers, and walked across the street to the Pilgrim Hollow Railroad Station. As we en- tered, the Creeping Comet, piloted by Wendell Holmes, rushed into the station. The Comet was three hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty-four seconds late, as usual, though it comes to Pilgrim Hollow but once a week. As soon as it stopped, out came four familiar people. Look, said Selde to Watson, there are Mary Zucchelli, Martha Vickery, Ruth Schilling, and Olivia Soares. Sure enough, out they piled, all sputtering at Lester Anderson, the conductor, because the train was late. By this time Bob Pratt, the baggage master, had a- wakened and started sorting the trunks for these travelers. Beep! Beep! Look out! Up the street came tearing Herb MacBride's Traipsing Taxi. We leaped out of the way as the taxi groaned to a halt and disgorged Priscilla Douglass and Harriet Childs, who rushed pell- mell for the Creeping Cometf' Selde, said Watson, We'd better take this taxi and go up-town. So off we flew, sample cases in hand, to hail the Traipsing Taxi before it could get under way. Once in and started, we had to hang on for dear life, fearing a crash at any moment, but finally we arrived at the City Hall, where we escaped from the cab. We entered the Hall, and, see- ing the door to the Mayor's oflice, we went in. There we discovered Mayor Wilfred Nickerson at his desk, in con- ference with John Cadorette of the Council, in charge of the Chemical Re- search Department of Pilgrim Hollow. vv e were greeted warmly, for these were old friends. We left the Mayor's office and proceeded to look around the Town Hall, which also served as a police and iire station. First into the police station where we found A. Franklin Pierce, Chief of Police, asleep at his desk. Hur- riedly we tiptoed out to the street, just as Sergeant John Dupuis, the other policeman, drove up in the Black Maria. At this moment the fire alarm rang, and, with sirens howling and bells clanging, David Bodell, Fire Chief, whizzed past closely followed by Charlie Brewster and Edward Bibeau in a bi-ight red and yellow iire engine. Fol- lowing them, we found the iire at the Picazano Pet Palace. The sign at the entrance read- Prize Pomeranians- Pullets - Poll Parrots - Pollywogs -- Perky Penguins - Poodles - Pets-a- rlenty. ' 'l he shop, of course, was that of Congetta Provinzano and Jeannette Picard. Having met so many old friends already, we decided to make a tour of Pilgrim Hollow instead of distributing our wares. Perceiving a garage across the street, we went over to rent a car. There we dis- covered the show rooms of Motta and Otto, dealers in new, used, etc. cars. We were pleasantly surprised to see Betsy Drew buying a supercharged V24 Otto- I'llObll'E. Having rented a Motta-car, we started on our tour. Off we went down Main Street, and at the iirst intersection we spied James lodice selling papers and simulta- neously making a speech from a soap- box, d-emanding a new deal for news- boys. He had only one listener, Alfred Francis, who was doing more arguing than listening. After some difficulty in attracting attention, we managed to purchase a Pilgrim Hollow Gasjettef' You can imagine our amazement when we saw on the front page that famous column- One Nose to the Grindstonen -by Robert Raymond. Turning the pages of the Gasjette , we noted that none other than Arthur Poirier was the owner and publisher. Also there was another column, Girl Counsels Boy by Virginia Vinton, and a comic strip por- traying life in the suburbs of Pilgrim Hollow, Mitey Mary Ann , drawn by Mary McCosh. Turning back to the first

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12 THE PILGRIM what have we here? No other than Joan Beever, serving as clerk and stenogra- pher. On her desk this motto startled us: In Cod is our Trust . At the counter we spied Doris Chadwick pur- chasing soime pickled perch and Helen Guidetti gazing at the guppies. The odiferous atmosphere was much too much, howe-ver, so we departed from the fishery to the clean, fresh air of the beach. Out on the sands, amid clam- shells and seaweed, we found Linda Longinotti, noted artist, painting a por- trait of Ita Murphy, who had recently won a beauty cont-est. Near Linda stood Constance Addyman, holding the paint. Just beyond these three, watching them interestedly was Jane Holmes, Who, in her new Buick, was indulging in her hobby, beachcombing. It was near lunch time then, so we hastened back uptown toward the restaurant. How- ever, We couldn't resist looking into the offices of Cristani and Darsch, At- torneys-at-Law, who were so engrossed in an argument that we passed by un- noticed. Then to lunch in Govoni's Greasy Grill , owned by Mildred Govoni. It was so crowded that we had to sit at a table with Lawrence Springer and Jesse Rezendes. This was no hardship since they were former classmates. You can imagine our surprise, though, when we were waited on by a singing waitress whom we recognized as Barbara Brown. We shortly finished our luncheon and, after a brief exchange of greetings with Beverly James, the Chef de Cuisine, we paid our bill to Gerald Ziegengeist, the cashier, and left to finish our Pilgrim Hollow Tour. Our Hrst call was at Barbara Cogge- sfhall's Coiffurerie, where we found Edith Adams having her cheveux rouge severed, and Laura MacLean demon- strating the revived coronet style hair- dress to a much interested pair, Eliza- beth Baker and Miriam Ketchen. Just beyond the beauty parlor was Pascoe's Marble Orchard , where Maralyn Pascoe was eulogizing her marble mon- uments to Dallas Carpenter, whose pet canary had recently died. They gave us hearty greetings, but business was par- amount so we crossed the street toward the Pilgrim Hollow Post Office. En route, we passed Gloria Seaver's Rock- ing, Rolling Rink for roller skating en- thusiasts and experts, neither of which terms applied to us. Once at the post office, it was an easy matter to find William Goodwin, the postmaster, who was having a bit of difficulty explaining why stamps had perforations to Mary Carvalho and Doris Caswell. We didn't stay long, having decided to indulge in higher education by visiting the Pilgrim Hollow School. At this institution we were warmly greeted by Rita Riedel, the efficient office secretary, who showed us immediately into the office of the principal, Madeline Baker. Principal Baker, although glad to see us, was at the moment in conference with James Caramello, Coach at Pilgrim Hollow School, and Tillie Bussolari, Director of Girls' Athletics at P. H. S. As we left the school, we saw before us two very similar buildings. One bore the sign: Home For Infirm and Disabled Hitch Hikers Virginia Weston, Elizabeth Coleman, Props. and in the windows we saw Edward Rossi, Richard Strassel, and John Torres, each with bandaged thumbs. In the other building, according to the sign, a sick pet would be well cared for by Ruth Holtz, R. N. C. D. At this point we came upon the Pil- grim ,Hollow Library. Upon entering, we immediately discovered more old friends. Seated behind the librarian's desk was Phyllis Reinhardt, at a table sat Ella Vitti, Poetess Laureate of Pil- grim Hollow, deep in thought, perhaps searching for inspiration. In a corner Emily McEwen sat reading O. Henry's basketball stories. Before leaving, we made certain that we were in possession of the week's best seller, Goodbye to the Dickey-bird by Christine Hogan. Just as we left, Emily recommended that we go over to the race track and watch another former classmate making a trial spin. So off we went to the track, as directed. We were not surprised to find that the Heagan Haste Hoop , as the speedway was called, was owned by Donald Heath and John Hogan, since these two red-heads had been' somewhat fast during their school days. But we were almost confounded to find that the Dirt-track Demon making the trial runs Was Charlotte Whiting and that her mechanic was Virginia Young. But then, we were reminded that Charlotte was an unusual driver even in the days when she at- tended Plymouth High School. Now we greeted Belmira Ferreira, Who was also Watching the scene at the racetrack,