Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

Page 13 text:

20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA An Interview By Cliff Wilmath ATTERTHWAITE, McCarthy Co., Deep Sea Divers Extraordinary. We Dive Anywhere, Anytime, Anyhow.” If the cherished dreams of two Quincy High lads are realized, the above legend will one day adorn the business place of Norman Satterthwaite and Eugene McCarthy, intrepid pioneers of the deep. Today the boys are lauded for their ingenuity in producing the only homemade diving helmet ever fashioned hereabouts. But it was not always thus. Oh, No!—It was in a strange way that Quincy was first made cognizant of the existence of the embryo natators. After the custom of all interviewers from time immemorial, we shall now begin to take liberties. Our first one will be to turn back the clock until a July afternoon in the summer of 1933. We shall even take the liberty of entering a home which faces Avalon beach and of listening in on a 'phone call in progress. “Hello, Quincy Police Station? Well, please send an officer to Avalon beach at once! There's a boy with a boiler on his head jumping into the bay!” In fifteen minutes, the scene had changed and our hero was engaged in a tete-a-tete with a police official. The official claimed that Satterthwaite must procure a permit for the helmet, but there was no law covering the point. Let it be herein insribed that our hero, even in this moment of blackest disappointment and grief, showed his true mettle when he was heard to utter the few words which show the rugged philosophy of the lad. His speech was “They laughed at Columbus.” The efficiency of the Goldenrod was apparent at this point since in spite of many difficulties, an interview was procured. We know that this is the only actual interview given out by Mr. Satterthwaite and so we print it with a great deal of justifiable pride. “How did you happen to turn your talents toward the field of diving?” “We, that is, Gene McCarthy and I had been interested in diving for several years. I don't remember where we got the idea first, though.” “Will you tell me how the helmet was made?”

Page 12 text:

“That would be about two o'clock?” “Yes. Then I became thoroughly alarmed and had the servants search for him, but they couldn't find him, so I came here. Oh, Mr. Wolmes, I don't know what may have happened to him!” “Yes, yes, I see,” mused Wolmes. “And you want me to find His Lord- ship?'' “By all means. I'll do anything—pay you any sum you mention, if only you will find him.” “Very well, we'll talk of payment later. But now to work. Did you dis- cover anything missing while you were hunting for your husband?” “Nothing but a complete suit of clothes that he was going to wear, but I presume he had it on at the time of his disappearance.” “H-m-m-m. Very interesting. Most interesting. I'd like to take a look at your surroundings, if I may. Let's see. It's now six o'clock. Could you trans- port us to your manor in half an hour's time?” “Certainly, my chaise is waiting for me.” “Then let's start at once. Come along, Hotson.” “I sye there, Wolmes,” I cried. “You're not thinking of going out in this blustry weather, are you? The wind howls so, it freezes my very bones to hear it.” “Nonsense, nonsense, Hotson. Freeze or no, it'll put a little color in your cheeks. Come along.” All the way to the manor Wolmes was silent, and, by common consent, Lady Simpkins and I kept to our own thoughts, for we knew Wolmes was pondering deeply over the situation. But when we reached our destination, he jumped out briskly and asked to be shown to the butler's quarters. The butler was a capital fellow of the London type, who at Wolmes's request, conducted us to the Duke's rooms up on the top landing. But Wolmes didn't didn’t seem deeply interested in his surroundings and kept walking back and forth, chin in hand, muttering to himself. “Maybe His Lordship took an earlier train,” I ventured. “Couldn't have,” Wolmes replied testily. “He left his baggage behind.” Then, turning to the butler, “Look here, my good fellow, are you sure you searched the whole place?” “Well, now, sir, we've searched 'is rooms, the library, study—” “Yes, yes, but did you search all the rooms?” “Well, now ,sir—that is—all except the wine cellar,—but 'e wouldn't be there, sir.” “No, I am inclined to agree with you there, but we might as well make sure. I suppose you wouldn’t know anything that might bear light on the case?” [Continued on page 16]

Page 14 text:

“Yes. We first found an old hot water boiler in a junk yard. With the help of friends we cut out the front. We then put in a pane of glass which was held in place by beading. Over this we superimposed a rubber facing to make it waterproof. Then there was the business of affixing the life line and signal line. This, of course, was of greatest importance and had to be done very carefully. When finished, the helmet weighed about seventy-five pounds.” “How did you get air?” “Our friends pumped air from an ordinary auto pump. As soon as their enthusiasm for pumping waned, they ceased operations causing us to cast off the helmet and head skyward with the greatest speed possible.” “Is there any single incident connected with the helmet which stands out in your memory?” “Yes, I told you that the helmet was held in place by beading. This beading was considerably frayed by rough usage, but we hadn’t bothered to repair it until it nearly resulted in a serious accident. I was down in a South Quincy quarry in about thirty feet of water. Suddenly there was a crack and the glass was driven with terrific force against my face, the blow nearly knocking me out. Taking a deep breath, I heaved off the hel- met and swam desperately upward. The pressure was making my temple throb and pound wildly. With senses nearly numb, I saw a snatch of blue sky and sucked in the sweet air. On examining the helmet, we found that the beading had given way. After that experience we made sure that the helmet was always kept in good repair.” “What are your plans for the future?” “We’re going to make a better one this summer. We’re going to use a five-gallon paint can as a chassis and make a very much improved helmet.” At this point, much to our regret, we were forced to conclude our pleas- ant chat. If this interview should, perchance, come to the notice of any residents of Quincy Point, let them take warning that the Quincy Point beaches will most likely be the scene of further experiments by Quincy High’s human submarine, Norman Satterthwaite. LOYALTY [Continued from page 12] hour he sat in pensive silence. Arising, he went to his desk, took pen and paper and after the first few halting sentences, wrote rapidly until he had covered three pages. For the third time in as many weeks the skipper’s cabin of the Polar Star was the scene of an announcement from master to mate. As he read the last sentence of the letter commissioning him captain on the Ames Company’s latest ship, to take effect as soon as she left the ways, Jenkins turned to his junior officer and this time the doubt was gone from Edwards’s eyes.