Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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(ReaJtam. and MORNING Looking at the sky, Standing on a high hill Watching dainty cloud-ships Go sailing by. Listening to a meadowlark Heralding the morn. Perched on a sturdy stalk Of mellow autumn corn. Lying in a stuffy room. Gazing at the ceiling— Cracked, and greyed, with many pictures And the plaster peeling. Listening to the “el” trains Already tearing past. Or the screech of timely brakes. Or a factory whistle s blast. Lora von Bergen (Pkanta ty RECIPE FOR TWINKLING EYES Oh, I took a piece of sun, and I took a piece of moon. And I mixed them in a cloud with a diamond-studded spoon. Then I sprinkled in some star-dust of silver sparkling hue From a moonbeam shaker taken from a shelf of noon-sky blue. Then I made a crust of sunset the prettiest of shades And I set it in an oven which gleamed with golden braids. When I thought the pie was finished, I found to my surprise. That this strangest of concoctions was just your twinkling eyes. Vernon A. Weeden Twenty

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their one-fourth-of-a-dollar. Also the upper classmen instituted a new department entitled As We Used To Be. This was a collection of photographs from pre- historic times, when the institutors were in the hey-day of their infancy. After looking long and hard at them most everyone mentally changed the title to Photos We Shouldn’t Have Posed For.” If the seniors had the idea of putting them in for a laugh they certainly succeeded. Well, so much for that. For a few years each graduation issue had a class will. Up to 1932 they were in a serious vein, but in that issue they blossomed out with a new sort of subtle humor, replete with hints to the faculty. In 1933 the seniors monopolized the magazine and so I will just “skip it . The Golden Rod of June, 1934, introduced (I think) The Expecter, the imagin- ary newspaper which humorously showed what outstanding members of the gradu- ating class were expected to do in the future. I must, in all fairness, say that the senior who suggested and the ones who wrote it did a pretty good job. Meanwhile, all through the years the literature had been getting better and better. “A Day at Merrymount Park” had graduated to “Omer Morin’s Trip to Mars”. The same with the jokes. “Vacation again, (ha! ha!)” was now changed to sarcasm, the pre- dominant form of humor. In 1935 the magazine grew more prosperous and much, much funnier. The Expecter was changed to The Outlook. Brockton, in the words of the magazine, slaughtered Quincy Interviews were a part of the Golden Rod, which helped a lot. The 1936 June edition was the crowning achievement of forty-five years. It was superb, but Brockton won its annual football game against a crippled but game Quincy eleven, the score, 20-6. The Golden Rod, ns long as I have seen it, has really meant a laugh a minute to me. It s a fine magazine all through and deserves every prize it won. However, next year, I shall look down on the juniors (I hope) and the sophs, too. That edition. I fervently pray, will have those angelic headlines: Quincy Slaughters the Shoe-City ”, but I guess that is hoping for too much. In fifty-five more years my grandchildren will write another essay on the hun- dredth anniversary of the Golden Rod. Till then, the magazine will win fifty-five more prizes and everyone will be truly able to say: “Here’s to the Golden Rod, the best there is.” Nineteen

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oLi'iiOiv tlijt'i OLi'iU L .JvivhnJ QUINCY, MASS. Hfke cWonna tuiriA By MARIE COLETTI W uxtryl Wuxtry! That was the call of Teegc Finnegan from seven o’clock in the morning until seven at night. Teege was a newsboy of twelve years. He was the eldest of five children of Mrs. Finnegan whose husband had died three years ago, leaving Teege as one of the principal supporters, the other being his mother, who earned a few dollars by tak- ing in washing. Teege was a thin, wizen-faced boy. with a bright red mop of bristled hair, and huge gray-green eyes that popped from their sockets and stared at the dull and dreary world. Teege belonged to a newsboys’ club. It consisted of four members: Teege, Porky, a slightly tubbish-Iooking fellow who had just passed his ninth birthday, George Washington Brown, familiarly known as Coco Brown, a colored lad of eleven years, who idolized Teege so that he was sometimes called Teege’s Shadow and the last, but certainly not least, member of this club was the Worm, why so called no one knew. The Worm was a queer fellow. He was a thin, ragged-looking individual. No one knew where he lived and no one really cared. He was a mean-looking fellow with a sly, over-experienced look in his eyes for a boy of fourteen years. He never associated with any of the other newsboys and had invited himself into Teege’s group, much to the resentment of Porky and Coco. However, Teege ac- cepted him for there wasn’t much else he could do. It was only three weeks before Christmas and as Teege was on his way to his customary corner to sell his papers, he thought of what he was going to get his mother and brothers for Christmas. His mind was occupied most with what he was to get his mother. Then suddenly a thought struck him. “Gee, he said, “Ma never had a pocket-book. She always has to tie her money in a hanky. I know what I’ll do. I am going down to Glandestien’s and look ’em over.” Twenty-one