Waltham High School - Mirror Yearbook (Waltham, MA)

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TI-IE MIRROR 15 cellarl, and stepped up to the counter to buy a glass or two. Inside were two old familiar friends-Thelma H etnletn fGolwayJ and Everett Galway. I told them they were a. sight for sore eyes, thereupon practi- cal Everett-waiited to know how I had guessed he was an optician now! Teddy told me they were finally married after waiting so many years for her to finish her college education. While we were gossipping thusly, a tall stoop-shouldered man passed up. I asked who he was and Everett informed me that it was Arthur Wolfe, the famous poet. I knew that he had had three books of rhyming words-I'll concede him that much- printed, and Teddy said he was even now waiting for inspiration for a fourth. He was also a member of the House of David, which had formerly been his boyhood ambition. Closely following on his heels strode a tall, athletic-looking woman who, I was surprised to learn, was Caroline Conley. She wore on her sweater an emblem composed of three K's, bearing the official insignia of the Kruel Katty Klub, of which she was president and I, honorary member. Well, Teddy and Everett here became too busy for more gossip and so I said goodbye and moved on. The next object to attract my attention was a pop-corn stand, run by J olzn Bellevean. Hadn't I always said he would make a good poppa? During our conversation I learned that Johnnie and his wife, Barbara Gooclell, were living comfortably on the wages which he made, drawing comics for my paper. At this moment we were rudely interrupted by the shouts of a tall man with a long black moustache, who was standing on a high wooden platform raised before the booth next to Johnnie 's, alternately beating a drum and extolling the charms of a certain Hulu Hulu dancer about to appear. This was Eliot Ryan, of Royal Vagabond fame, who had so admired his part in that operetta that he had assumed the outward character of its villains, but was in- wardly nothing but a hen-peeked husband. He had married his wife, Arlene Taylor, in a glamourous moment and the glamour was beginning to tarnish. They were on the stage together now in an acrobatic dancing act. Now, with a last roll of the drum, the curtains were dramatically drawn aside and out rolled the latest model Chevrolet. I beg pardon, Helena Maxwell, charmingly garbed in a costume of shredded wheat, followed by five other little wheat biscuits, whom I recognized to be Edith Caughey, Gretchen Havenar, Rachel Slayton, Aurora Ball and Peggy Welsh, who made a fine showing in a little Gilda Grey number entitled Shredded Wheat Is My Meat. But they had gathered such a crowd Qshredded wheat is such attractive stuff U that I found it im- possible to see anything, so I moved on to the next stand, which hap- pened to be a torrid canine booth, in which stood its proprietor, John Wingate. While he was waiting on me, he told me all about those girls back on Eliot 's stage. He said they were all Follies dancers and were

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I4 THE MIRROR Humph! thinks I, so it's you, my boy, I have to thank for all the compliments. Well, I'll go in spite of your inviting me and take all the trade away from your beloved freaks anyway. And so suiting actions to words, on the morning of the 25th I arrived at the old fair grounds bright and early but not before hundreds of others had come also. I immediately began to look about for familiar faces and found one in the shape of Harold Pngsley, who was selling tickets at the en- trance. After waiting about fifteen minutes while Pugsy made my change by the latest Pratt algebra methods I finally gained admittance to the fair. Just inside the gate stood Charles, in fish and soup, a real master of ceremonies. He smiled charmingly at me and I grabbed tight hold on to my pocketbook and disappeared into the crowd far from his hypnotic gaze. I decided first to make the round of side-shows. The first one I entered was the home of a snake charmer. My suspicions were up when I had first looked at the huge canvas picture outside and my worst fears were confirmed when I got inside, for the snake charmer was Charlotte MacNaonara! She disentangled herself from a gigantic rattler's firm embrace and rushed into my arms. We cooled off shortly and I asked her how she had happened to be chosen for this role. She answered she was married now--and so of course knew all the finest methods with which to deal with snakes. I immediately thought the lucky C635 man must be Ernest Concannon, but Charlotte assured me that she and Rick had always valued their friendship too highly to get married. Right here we were interrupted by other customers. Mac leaped gracefully back into the snakes, wound one prettily about her waist and was then ready for business. I had my back to the visitors and didn't turn till one of them cried out, Oh, how sweetfv Then I recognized Pauline Kraeniek at onceg she was accom- panied by Irene Bain and Lois Mansfield. Polly was now the most famous pianist in Greater Boston-Cher name brands her as a geniusl, and Irene was her manager, because she had such a knack of borrowing that she could just borrow engagements for Pauline. Lois was now a self-confessed public nuisance, which is in simpler words, a concert singer and was also, as a mere detail, married to her old school com- panion, Werner Bachonan, who had made a million or two in partnership with Kenneth MacCrae, inventing some sort of compressed wormcakes for baby chicks. But Lois assured me neither the greater worm, Cmean- ing hubbyj, nor the lesser, Cmeaning the cakesj, could ever come be- tween her and her art. I then decided that I had had enough of this atmosphere and so I went out to give Charlotte and her pets room for expansion. The next stall I visited was a lemonade stand. I descended from my high horse C I could get something a hundred times more tasty in my own

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16 THE MIRROR making big enough pay to support themselves, and their va.rious hus- bands, in luxury. I asked him how he knew this and he said he ought to -wasn't he one of the husbandsolg Before he could explain further, a bell rang at the other end of the field. This was the signal for the horse races. I hurried over to the grandstand and found a seat. Hardly was I seated before the field judge who, I realized, was that elegant creature, Freddy Gates, dressed in a high silk hat mainly, sauntered onto the field and sadly announced that the ra.ces would not start at once for the main reason that the horses had been stolen. A mighty cry of Rocker Rogers arose from the grandstand. But Freddy calmed us with the news that the famous detective, Mr. Harry Smart, was even now on their trail for tailtj. But just at this moment Rocker himself appeared on the middle of the track, leading the four or five entrants. He made excuses to Freddy, who turned and announced that Henry had only taken the horses down the road a little dista.nce so that his wife, Hester Nelson, who had been crippled in a Shady Bottom contest the night before with Leslie Totten, might see them. Well, at last we were ready to start. The jockeys, Winston Hartley, Francis Eclnan-nas, Lawrence Daley and Herbert Wilson, clambered manfully aboard and with the pistol shot, they were off in a cloud of dust. But to my intense disgust, I never saw the finish of that exciting race, for just as the horses were rounding the final curve and were thundering madly down the home stretch-well, just then, the grandstand collapsed! Fifteen minutes later, when the debris had been cleared away, including me, the horses had been last seen leaping off into the distance somewhere toward Boston, and the jockeys were still Hhanging' on. When I learned this, I decided that I had had enough of this unstaple stable stuff and was making my .way back to the other side of the field where a large crowd was gathered about something, when suddenly I felt my very best pet corn being rudely trod upon. I looked up to remonstrate with the person, but got no farther than looking up, for in this rude person I recognized that right arm of the law itself, Joe Donahue. Joe told me that being a policemanf with lovely big flat feet, had been his ambition from babyhood on. I asked him if he had married and he assured me he had-and with a vengeance! His wife was Elizabeth Carr. This fact justified the exclamation, I thought. Joe said the commotion at the other end of the field meant the process of a baseball game. I found my way to the bleachers and seated myself just as a studious-looking person came walking onto the field, followed by nine young felows, ranging from eight to eighteen years of age, who strangely resembled the scholarly-looking man. This was Tracey Sanborne and his Family Nine. I knew that Tracey was by this time a very fine historian, having discovered his talent in writing the history of the Class of '27, but had had no idea that he had taken a