Stevens High School - Red and Black Yearbook (Claremont, NH)

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THE RED AND BLACK 13 C0lJlD BE It had been many years since I had taken leave of Stevens High School back in 1939. The pleasant memories of our class were still very clear in my mind and I had more than often wondered what time and the elemelnts had done for some of the K' '39ers . It was late afternoon, and as I walked along amid the shade of a dense wood, these same thoughts of my former school days once more occupied my mind. At the sight of a coarse-looking witch. who had appeared from behind a tree, I started to turn back. She asked me to follow her, and as her voice sounded somewhat imperative, I decided to obey. The cave into which I was led was effectively decorated with heavily drooping cobwebs and the walls of the same were fairly seething with undesirable insects. In the center of the cavern was a big black cauldron over which stood two shrivelled-up, glassy- eyed, wrinkled old hags who seemed to be stodging up a heterogeneous con- coction of ingredients, while repeating words which somehow were vaguely familiar to me. Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble, Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron broil and bakeg Eye of newt, and toe of frog, VVool of bat, and tongue of dogg Adder's fork, and blind worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Simultaneously with my desire to get out of this place while the getting was good, came the thought that these delightful old hags might be able to inform me as to the whats and whereabouts of the class of 1939. When I asked if this were possible, they only nodded and pointed to the kettle. just as I looked into the cauldron, a terrific explosion took place and the next thing I knew I was standing face to face with a huge red: devil, or more respectfully put-Mephistopheles-who, in happier days had been Harry Dansereau. I shall never forget the terrible aspect of the monster, and I admit that I was a bit weak in the knees when he all too cordially invited me to accompany him to the underworld. The entrance to this subterranean region was occupied with a host of figures who had evidently failed to keep body and soul together and stood gazing into space with A Far Away Look in Their Eyes. Pointing to one of the groups I said, Who are those people and why are they here? These, the devil answered, are some of your classmates who never recovered from the shock of graduating and have been sent here afflicted with

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12 THE RED AND BLACK About this time, the juniors took charge of the Stevens News. Perhaps it was a good thing, as some of the more enthusiastic readers had found themselves able to detect the authorship of certain articles by the Havor. Pinafore was the operetta for that year. The cast, with very few exceptions, was composed of Seniors. Richard McSwain's monocle took the prize and Harry Dansereau's uniform was pretty spiffy. Then there was Mary Langdon as Buttercup. She might not have been voted the prettiest girl in the class if she really looked like Buttercup. Some said that this production excelled all its predecessors. Having done with Pinafore , an attempt was made at a Senior Play. Lo! and Behold-it was acclaimed the best so far recorded in the annals of the school. But, why shouldn't it have been? The Seniors put it on and they supported it. Those who didn't see Arthur Rouillard in his high-water-pants , and Arthur Osgood as the hero, really missed something. Why, the following week, half the boys showed up with their collars open and sans ties, just because of that last scene. They had to do something to bring the girls around again. Then the Class Picnic, Class Day, Senior Reception. joyous days, those -they went all too quickly. Here we must leave this jolly crowd for their four years are over. We know that here and there among them a heart will ache to have it end so suddenly. VVe know it because we know each individual. You who tomorrow will write what we can not write here for lack of foresight, remember what we say: They lived it, they loved it. Q3

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14 THE RED AND BLACK a mental disease which was, in most cases, caused from over study in high school. I was amused at this last statement as I looked at the poor wandering souls, but I said nothing. Among them I recognized Robert Owen, Patty Bailey, Ralph Preston, Mary Coburn, Richard Prendergast, and Dopey McSwain. We passed this group and came to the shore of a long, deep, black river, and after my escort gave the ferryman, Charon, the high sign, he told me that the river was the Styx. Were my eyes deceiving me or was the be-spectacled, bedraggled old man in the ferryboat really Wayne Langill? Back in '39 Wayne had been the factotum of our class and was amazing us with his brilliant theories and silly questions. When bigger and better questions are asked, Langill will ask them. Farther down the river we came upon a boat which my guide Mephis- topheles referred to as The Showboat on the Styx , and none other than Roy Lucier was at the helm, having been discharged from H, M. S. P'inafore . Seated with a huge cigar in his mouth and 'his feet overhanging the railings was Cap'n Ernie Faucher himself. His daily performers seemed to be the vocalists Melvin Butterfield and Olga Bychok, and once in a while, if time and weather permit, so I was told, jasinski and his violin come on deck. After crossing the Styx I saw a long glass building about which I inquired. This is the hall of science, said Mephistopheles, where you will be able to see more of your friends . In one of the laboratories I saw two very queer-looking men. One, whose appearance was definitely accented by a long black wig and an immense pair of thick reading glasses, was perched on a high stool eagerly poring over a ponderous volume. When he looked up, imagine my surprise to find that he was none other than joe Maiola, and that his friend, who was prancing madly around an experiment table, was Eddie Zbierski. They had abandoned their athletic pursuits and have become typical scientists, devoting their whole time to research work. Though living a life of solitude, they seemed to thrive on test tubes, bacteria, and microscopes. My next visit took me to the office of Charles Frederick Osgood Jr.. M. D. who had evidently turned quack and who was then practicing in the Elysian Hospital, the staff of which included Zena Koledo, Mary Langdon, Clara Sawchik, Pearl Leigh, Geraldine Johnson, and Barbara Hill. Evidently. whether during or after office hours, certain members of our class had not forgotten how to cut up . Just outside the science building was a small group of people one of whom stood out from the rest, namely. Sir Michael Nestervich. It seems that poor Mike never could decide into what field he would enter, so he mixed his para- chute jumping with his music and now his compositions don't mean a thing until you pull the string. Two elderly men wearing flowing black robes and carrying little green lanterns next drew my attention.