Wellesley High School - Wellesleyan Yearbook (Wellesley, MA)

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w T T ay back about 1932 we, the present class of 1950, started on our various routes in Model 1 and Stutz Bearcat baby carriages. Approximately six years later, we had become pedestrians and had gathered together on the first routes of education — Sprague Street, Hardy Highway, Brown Boulevard, and the others. Fortunately, perhaps, those roads are too far behind now for us to see anything very clearly except the bridges — and teachers — we burned up at the time In 1944, the scenery changed abruptly. We were still pedestrians — but now we walked chiefly between two buildings, and stared up at ivy-covered walls. We had all come together on the old Junior High Turnpike — with Jimmy Thistle as chief traffic cop. (Miss Baldwin and staff also helped us keep to the right.) We were carefully instructed on how to proceed: Books in the left hand, single file please, remove that pencil from behind your ear, please . . . and shut up! But we had our say, too, in those literary gems from the Phillipian four times a year. There were great scoops like My Adventures with a Kinkajou, sport quizzes, and even poems. And a lot was happening to the world as we trotted along — proud of the books we lugged (until the novelty wore off). Around us the war ended and peace came, bringing with it the hopes for the Big Five in the U. N. and even a brief friendship with the U. S. S. R. Rationing stopped, but the drive for war bonds continued. We plodded steadily through everything. We got more than book learning from our travels. Credits were given to the deserving many, and those who had been born got those beautiful pencils that said Happy Birthday — after a mysterious -call to the office and a little finger-nail biting. Our trophies included hand-made broom holders and tie racks and clothes that never fit. Once a year an industrious home room got the Phillipian Cup and once a week Room 15 got the Attendance and Punctuality Banner. We slowed down for guidance periods, safety talks and health classes, and creaked our seats delightedly in assemblies, with Honesty-Cooperation-Loyalty above our heads. We passed through traffic slips and C’s, and we tramped on a countless number of termites. We were led through third- choice clubs, and we squeaked more chairs in rare choir and music classes (right Fellahs?). We were taken on trips to the Museum. Some of us wore the new monitors’ badges through two-thirds of the trip. And outside of school we had entered the social rotary of church dances, and Fergie’s with formals, and parties and more parties. Round and round we went. We made a few teachers whirl, too, with our dizzy doings: gathering in circles outside after lunch and yelling Fight! ; trying to fill up the ventilator shafts with pieces of ruler; sticking the remaining whole rulers in desks and hitting them to produce a beautiful twang; and dismantling desks. Our methods of transportation became more complicated as time went on. Oh, the complications of getting down into and up out of the bicycle room, and catching the school buses, swapping tickets. And then there was the day that someone drove a car to school! At about that time the rest of us poor pedestrians were tripping over strings of campaign tags and getting excited about elections. Then we had A Case of Springtime.” And before we knew it, it was Senior Class Day, and a few people were running around the playfield like mad. We didn’t break any records — not even in dancing but we left the old turnpike in high spirits. And right after we left they took down the partition between the boys’ and girls’ lunchrooms. Most of u then reached that new super highway which is better known as the Senior High. A group of comic atrip characters gave us a real welcome. How big those seniors looked!

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Hugh Underhill Hugh . . . Dacey’s right hand man . . . Gym Team star . . . You know when he’s near . . . Always fooling around . . . Vain attempts to start his motorcycle . . . He has a way with girls . . . Miss Walton’s pet-peeve, sixth period! ! Barbara Weller Very quiet . . . Conscientious . . Big brown eyes . . . Has a slow drawl . . . Talent for writing . . Easy-going; takes life as it is . . . Plays the piano ... A poetess, too! ... With Carolyn Hannauer . . . Has more nerve on Halloween! . . Hard to know, but worth it . + . Donald White Don . , . Comes from God’s country! . . . Quiet, conscientious worker and good student . . . Gives wrestling opponents a hard time on the mat . . . .Spends sum¬ mers on his cousin’s farm . . . Wculd make a good farmer . . . Seen with Betty . . . Good me¬ chanic and wood worker . . . Likes Cross Country running. Barbara Brooks B 2 . . . Fresh off the boat from Europe—London and Germany, that is . New member of the choir . . . Can she sing and dance! . . . What an accent; she knows some good British slang too . . . But her heart is still back in Germany. Joanne Williams Willie or Joannie to some peo¬ ple . . . Always on the go , . i Friendly . . . Personality kid . . . Forever having troubles of some kind . . . Versatile Bradford editor . . . That girl in the jeep . . . Basketball and tennis player . . . Loves to sail . . . Gloucester fan . . . What makes Joanne so quiet in French ? ? . . . One of the Three Musketeers. Joyce Wilson Has a smile for everyone . , Wonderful sense of humor . . . Smart-looking clothes . . . ’’Gave my last one to Peg!” . . . Come¬ dian . . . Handy with scissors . . . All those college men! . . . Expert on jokes . . . ’’Give me a buzz.” . . . Good time Jeanne Woods ’’Jeannie with the light brown hair” . . . Those beautiful hand- knit sweaters . . . Excels in field hockey, tennis and basketball . . . Bradford . . . Student Council . . . Came from Philadelphia . . . Always ready with a smile . . Beaming personality . . . Good worker. Manuel Xeras Manny . . . Wrestling . . . One of Mr. Bragdon’s handy men . . . Free haircuts . . . Summer em¬ ployee of the Tree Department . . . Lets the girls go their own way . . . Active member of the Gym Team. V

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How big the whole place was! And the corridors — no single file please! We did find it a little inconvenient, tho’, to be dir ected to the wrong gym. Our trip had speeded up and had become even more complex. There were more books to take along, and the novelty had long worn off; lockers to puzzle over; better assemblies; the Football Dance and others; and the Student Council; and a special room for the Choir! And we marveled at the cafeteria — not exactly out of this world,” but it had come from the basement to the third floor. We couldn’t find a single termite. But don’t think the change of scenery had calmed us down any. Any substitute will correct that impression; so will any teacher who has heard the clink of pennies in 302, the gentle humming at lunch, and the low roar of study periods. It was suggested that we change our method of transportation and Mr. Gaige talked of a happy ship.” But we decided to keep our four wheels solidly on the ground — you see, some of us drove cars by then. We had learned how to pack people in like sardines and make mad dashes down Paine Street. We were thrilled at the Mikado, we marveled at the Bradford, we wondered at the splendor of the Senior Prom, and we finished the first year reading l Vellesleyatis. In Junior year Mr. Graves was directing traffic as we in-betweeners swarmed through the now familiar corridors with ease. In our turn we welcomed the Sophomores, but the Seniors were still above us. The milestones were many: the Donkey Basketball game with Pancho Villa” and other great stars; the Music Festival ( Are you sure it was a flat tire that kept you out late?”) ; the Junior Prom with our own King and Queen; the breakfast outing; the crack, college bred is a four year loaf on the old man’s dough”; and finally the excitement of ushering at graduation. We went through fads that year, too; water guns (which were occasionally enjoyed by faculty children); yo-yo’s; the New Look”; and leaning against fire alarms between tlasses. Then we zoomed up to Senior Year in overdrive. We were greeted by station SBS, the Silent Broadcasting System, when the PA broke down. Mr. Owen treated u to an accordion concert. We made an improvement over the class meeting of junior year and started off right. Our scenery had new color combinations. World events began to interest u% important items such as Russia’s atomic bomb and the Wellesley Fells Regiment of the Grenadier Guards, and the face-lifting on the cupola. The Dramatic Club was formed. Rubber lizards crawled across the road. We wondered if Misl Guild ever forgot that her glasses were on top of her head, and if Mr. Benjamin’s stool would ever fall off the podium, and if we would be Republicans or Democrats. Familiar words rang often in our ear .; Now, when I wa a in England . . From the Hindu . . . ; Who shall I put down for best . . . ”; Will you swap two for a later number at the Torture Table?” and Will the following please report ...” We struggled over our own yearbook. And on we traveled, approaching caps and gowns. We passed the Springfield gym show, the Senior Play, two more proms, and finally came to graduation. Our pace slowed to a sedate walk up the steps of the rtage at Alumnae Hall. Now the years in Wellesley school lie as routes behind us, routes we have travelled over on roller skates, on bicycles, in buses, on foot, and, finally, in cars. Who knows what methods of trans¬ portation lie ahead?!