Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 9 She swims steadily outward, driving before her a tidal wave which breaks on the Downer Landing shore, and beaches all the small boats there. Then the huge anchors arc dropped. What a lovely sight she is, a ship majestically floating, fes- tooned from bow to stern with brightly colored pennants and flags, a credit to the city in which she was designed, con- structed, and launched. Many well-known ships, including the seven-masted schooner Thomas W. Law- son, the airship carrier Lexington, and the cruiser Northampton, have been launched here. Quincy is indeed proud of her important industry. WOMAN HATERS Dorothy Ambler, June, 1930 ‘‘Drive all worn n from our door. For wc arc the 'shun them four,” To a party wc go stag— And a femme we never drag! Rah! Rah! Rah! The Woman Haters’ Club!” The four members of the aforemen- tioned club chanted their little ditty as they strode down the campus walk, arm in arm. The fame of their club had travelled far, and today—the first day of the Cam- pus Carnival—nearly every girl who was fortunate enough to have been invited was looking forward to meet the four Woman Haters of Redwood College. As the boys approached the dormitory, a hail greeted them. “Well, and where are the ‘prides of our fair college’ going?” Bruce Beldon, the tall, dark-haired football captain, salaamed deeply. “To the dining hall, my dear Charlie. We crave food.” “And plenty of it!” chimed in Bobby Galbraith, the chubby, blonde hockey star. “And how!” Ken Waring exclaimed, smiling in anticipation. “You bet!” Bill Travers added. “And where might the Honorable Charles be going?” “To meet my fair cousin, sir. I sup- pose there’s no use in trying to persuade you kind gentlemen to give one dance each to the lady, is there? You see,” he went on, seriously, “she’s a sub-deb. and has just finished ‘prep’ school. I thought you four might help me out. She’s been looking forward eagerly to the Prom, and I don’t want her to be disappointed. Will you help out?” The four Woman Haters looked at each other in surprise, then all glanced simul- taneously at their chum, Charles Kent. “Aw—Charlie,” Bruce began, “you know we haven’t any use for girls.” “But just this once, gang. She’s a peach, really! Awfully good-looking! I’ll give you my word for that.” Bruce frowned. “Nothing doing,” he answered solemn- ly. “We’re not having anything to do with any woman—pretty or otherwise!” “Don’t be a chump, Bruce. Gee! I’d do it for you—any time.” Bobby frowned. “Aw! I don’t see why girls have to come here, anyway. This is a man’s col- lege, not a finishing school for young ladies!” “She’ll only be here four days, and you won’t have to meet her till Saturday night. Aw—come on, gang!” Ken puckered his tan forehead. After all, Charlie was their fraternity brother. They owed something to him. “If we should do this—kindly notice the ‘if?—if we do, will you solemnly promise that you won’t shove her on us for the rest of the night?” Charlie breathed relievedly. “Sure, I’ll promise. Gee, you’re good scouts! I can take her to the teas and dinners, but I can’t dance with her all night. It wouldn’t be right.” “No,” Bobby admitted, “it wouldn’t.” As Charlie nodded and, smiling cheer- fully, continued on his way, Bill turned excitedly towards Ken. “Now—look what you’ve got us into! You poor, soft-hearted boob!” This last in accents of withering scorn.

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8 THE GOLDEN-ROD Dear Mr. Announcer: Dear Sir, I hope you’ll excuse my writing, ’cause I’m only small, but I got somethin’ to tell you. I listen to Amos ’n’ Andy every night, and they’re swell. But last night I almost cried ’cause I just lost my dog, too, and I can’t find him nowhere, and when that man came to take the dorg away from Amos, I felt sorry for him, Amos I mean, ’cause I no how I felt when I lost my dorg, but I hope I’ll find him but don’t forget to tell those fellows I like ’em awfully and I wouldn’t miss listening to them for nothing. Sincerely yours very truly Joe. There, folks, I knew you’d like it. Ah, but not every letter is like the two you have just heard. Here is one postmarked — well, I can’t read the stamp, but maybe we’ll find out in the letter itself: My Dear Mr. Announcer: I hope you will pardon me if I may seem a bit rude, but I must tell you what I think of your program. It is fairly good, but the way in which the characters talk is atrocious. Shocking! Why must they talk that way: I am a teacher of English in the High School here, and I must say that my classes are becoming simply dreadful. Why, with everyone saying, “Uh, oh, Ah’s regusted!” it’s enough to drive one crazy. Can’t some- thing be done to change the vocabulary of those two men: I am sure it is having a lasting destructive effect on the language of the boys and girls of this High School. ery truly yours, I can’t say as I blame this lady much, folks, but you know the old saying, “A little humor now and then is relished by the best of men.” But so much for the letters, folks. Tonight we have a surprise in store for you. Ah! I can see you all sitting for- ward in your chairs and pricking up your ears. Well you may, for let me tell you, folks, this is some surprise. Ruby Taylor has returned from Chi- cago and of course the boys, plus Madam Queen, Kingficsh, and the Battle Axe, are planning a party in her honor. We find the boys in the taxicab office now, talking it all over. Here they are! LAUNCHING AT FORE RIVER SHIPYARD Helen Peak, February, 1932 The principles of getting a vessel into the water haven’t changed since vessels were first launched, but science has so regulated and improved upon these prin- ciples that the element of chance is reduced to a minimum. The launching of a modern ship is so prepared that the builders can tell pre- cisely how she is going to act. If she was built with an inclination of eleven-six- teenths of an inch to the foot, the launch- ing ways are given the same inclination. If the weight of the vessel is about 2,500 tons, the pressure upon the ways is about three tons to the square foot. A minia- ture launching is held the day before, making sure of the true figures. If the test launching proves a success, you may be sure the real launching will be. At noon all work in the yards is sus- pended. and only the employees getting the ship into the water are busy. Usually at 2.30, the christening party ascends a stand built at the vessel’s bow. Friends of the ship’s owner and officers of the shipbuilding company comprise the party. During the next fifteen minutes the workmen loosen the stays with their mal- lets. First there is a quiver, then a more violent tremor, and the space between the hull and the stand becomes a noticeable gap. The workmen scuttle from under the ship. Just as the bottle of champagne is smashed across the bow, with a dignified motion and an irresistible momentum the boat sweeps on its way. Longfellow de- scribes this dramatic instant: “And see; she stirs! She starts.—she moves.—she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel. And. spurning with her foot the ground. With one exulting, joyous bound She leaps into the ocean’s joyous arms!”

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10 THE GOLDEN-ROD Ken nodded, mutely, then brightened. “Well, fellows,” he replied, “it will only be for one night. Not till Saturday, and this is only Wednesday. A lot can hap- pen in four days.” He was right. A lot can happen in four days. II A sudden hush fell over the room as the “Shun-them-four” entered the tea room. Pretty girls nodded at each other, as they realized that here, before them, were the famous four woman haters of Red- wood College. The four fellows, as if ignorant of the quickened heart-beats their coming caused among the feminine occupants, crossed the floor four abreast, and came to a halt at the table where tea was being served. “Aren’t they wonderful!” one girl gasped, and instantly all eyes were focused on her. She blushed and en- deavored to hide her discomfiture. The four, however, seemed deaf to the remark. Then, a voice behind them: “Fellows, just a minute.” They turned around and confronted Charlie. With him was a very attractive Miss, with curly golden hair and large blue eyes. “This is my cousin. Miss Star. Diane, meet the four Shylocks. They stay shy of golden locks as well as other feminine tresses. The four club members bowed grave1}' and whispered a suitable rejoinder. Ken was devoutly praying that she wasn’t one of those girls who haltingly lisp baby-talk. P ruce sincerely hoped she wasn’t one of those gushing women he’d read so much about. Bobby hoped she didn’t have a squeaky voice. Bill was silently praying, but he didn’t know why. Then she spoke, in a soft, musical voice. “How do you dor” Four sighs of relief were heaved in unison. Four faces were wreathed in smiles. They chatted merrily for a few min- utes. Then Bruce recalled an important engagement. “I’m sorry, Miss Star, but I’m afraid I’ll have to leave. I’d be thrilled, how- ever, if you’ll play a set of tennis with me this afternoon. Could you?” The girl hesitated, glancing at Charlie. Charlie returned the glance without a flicker of his evelids. “I’ll be delighted, Mr. Beldon.” “It’s a go, then. At four.” Ken bowed gravely, and announced his immediate departure. “How about a swim, Miss Star? In the outdoor pool at seven?” “Thank you. Mr. Waring. I’ll love it.” “And could you have dinner with me at eight?” Diane smiled at Bobby. “Yes,” she replied, her eves dancing, “I could.” “And how about a walk with me at nine?” Bill urged. “I’ll be thrilled!” she promised. Outside, the four woman haters looked at each other. “A knockout!” Bruce exclaimed. And the other three agreed. Ill “Congratulations, Miss Star, you’re a fine player.” “No. Mr. Beldon, I’m not at all. But you are a good sport. Letting me win—” Bruce flushed. “Now. Miss Star, I didn’t let you win. You simply outplayed me.” Diane smiled, knowingly. “Anyway, Mr. Beldon, I like you very much. And you are a skilled tennis player.” He smiled at the small, upturned face, and the slim arms swinging the racquet. “I wish you’d call me—Bruce,” he ven- tured. daringly. The blue eyes smiled at him. “Oh, how did you know that I wanted to?” she cried. “I love the name Bruce, don’t you?” Bruce kicked at a small pebble.