Wellesley High School - Wellesleyan Yearbook (Wellesley, MA)

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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?!

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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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Second Row. Maurice Longsworth, Edward hort, Philip Morse, Richard Shepardson, Robert Gorton, Mr. Spang. First Ron -. Robert Blakesley, Joe lmpallaria, Louise Giesey, William Moore, Barbara Botsford, Jean Woods, Sheridan Thorup. The Senior Council As the man behind the wheel of hi car guides the vehicle to its destination, so the driving force behind our senior clai-s is the Senior Council. The class president is council president, with the other class officers serving as officer i of the council, too. The other parts” are the senior members of the Student Council. Its function is to keep under control the many problems which arise in the student council but which are of concern only to the senior class. With Mr. Spang at the wheel, the council usually rolls along in low gear for the first part of the year when about the only real problem is selecting a clais ring. Later on, however, it has to hift into second to take care of the Senior Play, whereas, at the end of the year, we find them whizzing by in high, with the many, many senior activities to take care of. The Senior Prom comes first, followed by the cla picnic, the all-important selection of a clas fc gift (that’s really a rough time for the treasurer!), and, after the graduation assembly, graduation itself, for which time the speaker must be engaged — another task for the council. But after graduation the council’! work is done — and well done, too. Everything is put in the garage till next year’s seniors refill the tanks and take the wonderful journey through their senior year! :-[ 26 ]-: