Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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Literary “Skippy’s” Lament. Nature’s Moods The Future Everybody’s Talking Launching at Fore River Shipyard Woman Haters June The Isle of My Desire Gloomy Grange By Candle Light Why Boys Leave Home The Sparks . The Fog. My First Sweetheart Captain Norton’s Automobile Editorials .... Our School Magazine Be Yourself . Soliciting Rides Golden Rod . The Radio News Alumni Exchange Athletics Jokes Art Contributors Gertrude Borne, June, 1931 Anita Carrera, June, 1930 Catherine Erickson, February, 1931 Fred George, February, 1931 Watson Leitch, June, 1931 Robert Norton, June, 1931 Signe Siitonen, February, 1930 Dorothy M. Ayers Dorothy Anderson . Helen Souden Helene Johnson Helen Peck Dorothy Amblea . William Lord . William Lord Dorothy Squire Edith Donde . Robert Owens Marjorie Mitchell Marjorie Mitchell . Helen Sweetser Hollis Burton Engley 7 7 7 7 8 9 12 12 12 14 15 16 16 16 17 18 18 18 18 19 19 20 25-29 32 44

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Published Quarterly by Pupils of the Quincy High School We Golden Rod APRIL 1930 Volume XLII No.3. QUINCY Massachusetts PRICE —TWENTY-FIVE CENTS Literary Staff June, 1930 February, 1931 Hope Dunning E d itor-in-C h ief F. Burton Whitman A vice Morton Literary Editor Marguerite Hoake Jeanette Miller Nezcs Editor Marv di Bartolomeo Dorothv Barr Alumni Editor Kathleen Hoffertv Alice Magnant Exchange Editor Melvin Thorner David Meanev Athletic Editor Muriel Cox Edith Nye Joke Editor Roland Cooper Dorothy Ayers Art Editor Catherine Erickson Business Staft Wendell Rogers Business Manager Harold Bergstedt Advertising Manager Alfred Pawsey Circulating Manager Rov Leander Assistant Advertising Manager Faculty Advisors Joy L. Xevens Ruth M. Giles Ethel C. Crockett Catherine I. Walsh Leslie C. Millard Entered as second-class matter June 26, 1928, at the post office at Boston. Mass., u nder the Act of March 3, 1879

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 7 “SKIPPY’S” LAMENT Dorothy M. Ayers, June, 1930 Fv’ryonc’s always laughin’ at me, They say I’m as funny as funny can be; But I’m not; No, I'm not, I’m just being Me. NATURE’S MOODS Dorothy Anderson, June, 1932 Again the soft and fluffy flakes did fall; They came so very fast they formed a squall. They fell so soft and were a downy white. The earth spread o’er with covering so light. Then suddenly the wind began to blow; It seemed as if it never had blown so. At once the rain in torrents did come down, It washed the streets so clean all through the town. The clouds soon parted, and the sun broke through, And heaven’s own skies shone forth in azure blue. “THE FUTURE” Helen Souden The future looms before me. So great and yet so small; I stand without life’s portals, Outside the future’s hall. My vision tries to enter Its sacred door of gold. But, as they seek, a curtain Falls dimly in soft fold; It covers up the future W ith mists of hope and doubt; The door is open; voices call. Yet still I stand without. I try to leave fate’s hallway With mysteries that it brings. W hen from within the temple A clear bell faintly rings. It summons back my footsteps, Commands my listening ears, Then whispers through the curtain The secret of my years. But yet I do not hear it. For ’tween the bell and me There hangs that silent image, Like floating ghosts set free. They are my former being That comes from out the past, And on the unknown future Grey, veiling shadows cast. EVERYBODY’S TALKING Helene Johnson Good evening, folks of the radio audi- ence! Once more we bring you the pro- gram of Amos ’n’ Andy, but before we meet them tonight, we have something special for you. Tonight, through the courtesy of the station to which you are listening, we will present a longer program. For seme time we have been receiving letters, in the form of bouquets and brick- bats, one might say, but mostly bouquets, I am glad to announce, in regard to these two pals of the air. So this evening I am going to read you a few of these letters, and I trust you will not grow impatient. Some of them are very amusing. Here goes for the first: Dear Mr. Announcer: I cannot allay my ecstasy any longer; I must tell you what I think of your fine broadcasts. Amos ’n’ Andy are, to me, two of the most real people I have heard over the radio for quite a while, especially Amos. He cries and moans around that taxicab office so realistically that I cannot help but feel sorry for him. I can sym- pathize with him, too, at his loss of Ruby Taylor, for his case is similar to mine. My own girl friend has gone home to visit her parents, and, believe me, each minute seems like a year. But I can laugh. Look at the way the boys twist and “murder the King’s Eng- lish.” I don’t see how anyone could help enjoying them. Sincerely yours. Well, folks, how did you like that oner Pretty good, eh: Let’s see, here’s another. Looks like a youngster’s handwriting, and you should see the spelling! But I know you’ll enjoy it. Here it is: