Weymouth High School - Campus / Reflector Yearbook (Weymouth, MA)

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6 REFLECTOR The Doctor s Story The colonel was speaking to an intimate group at the club. No, he was saying, I ' ve traveled over a large part of the world with the service, and seen many strange things; but I must admit that I don ' t think much of people who believe in dreams. What is your opinion of them, doc- tor? he asked, turning to Dr. Warren, the club physician. Well, said the doctor slowly, I wouldn ' t criticize them too severely, because one never really knows the circumstances. You mean, replied the indignant colonel, that you are inclined to believe that mental experiences occurring during sleep are sometimes re-acted in actual life? Yes, sometimes you hear of such a thing hap- pening. Oh, surely, doctor, as a man of medicine you don ' t put any faith in such idle talk. The doctor did not answer for a moment, but seemed thoughtful. He readjusted his glasses, and then turned to the colonel. Colonel, y ou just said that while in far off lands you saw many strange things. I, as med- ical examiner of this county for some thirty years, have seen many strange things myself right here at home. I remember one of my first cases. It was over Hyde Park way in the apart- ment district. It seemed to be a routine job, nothing to do except fill out the papers. The chap was a janitor in one of the older buildings and had his quarters in the basement next to the boiler room. It seems that the defective tank had exploded and caused the brick partition to tumble in on his room. While following the usual procedure, I noticed in the wreckage a Feather bound diary. Out of curiosity I picked it up and ruffled through the pages. One entry caught mv attention. It read as follows: Friday, August 16. Had horrible dream last night. Dreamt I was operated upon unsuccessfully and only had few days to live. It woke me up in cold sweat. Saturday, August 17. By strange coin- cidence, last night dream was continued. I dreamt I was getting weaker and I heard the doctors say that at the most I could only last another day. I am probably eat- ing too heavily before retiring. Sunday, August 17. I must really see a doctor. The strange visions troubled me again. This time I seemed to hear the nurse say I would probably go between the hours of three and four in the morning, when the vitality is lowest. I shall disregard these nightmares and retire as usual. This was the last entry in the book. A strange feeling came over me as I stared at the clock where it lay on the floor, shattered by the blast. The hands had stopped at twenty min- utes of four. Don ' t you think, colonel, concluded Dr. Warren, that there might be a possible con- nection between the dream and the fatal ex- plosion ? The colonel, deep in thought, did not reply. Philip Sheehan ' 34 Wo n der Lie A bit of green amidst the rolling sea, An ethereal place of beauty it is to me, With its tangy, cooling breeze and kneaded land, The matchless blue of sky, the soothing sand, A haven from the city ' s feverish ways, Where nature feels the primal urge, and plays. Men come to catch the spirit of the isle; And, in their feeble way, they would beguile The hours with happiness or playtime rare, So life would lose its drabness and its care. But bonds are loosed, and sordidness creeps in, To sprinkle nature ' s handiwork with sin. Why can ' t men see the gift of nature pure, And feel within themselves the urgent lure, To banish carnal folly, worldly strife, And through earth ' s beauty find the truer life? Virginia Donley ' 35

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5 Radio Station If a person wishes to see the process of a radio broadcast, he may visit the Edison Electric Il- luminating Company ' s broadcast studio located at the corner of Tremont and Boylston streets in the city of Boston. After ascending in the elevator to the four- teenth floor, he will be admitted to the lounge, or waiting room. In this room one may rest, smoke, and see a broadcast put on the air. While the studios are being used for broadcasting pur- poses, no visitors ar e allowed in them. All who wish to see the performers must remain in the lounge, and look through extra thick plate glass windows, which open into the main studio. Of course no sounds can either enter or leave this room. It is absolutely sound proof . The lounge is, however, provided with a loud speaker from which the performer ' s voice within the studio is brought to the audience in the lounge. When the programme changes and a broadcast from the National Broadcasting Company in New York is on the air, one may enter the main studio. The door which the guide opens is a very peculiar one. It resembles the large door of a refrigerator or the heavy door of a safe. Upon entering, one has an oppressed feeling due to the fact that the walls are heavily padded with a sound proof material so that no echoes of any kind can be produced. Hundreds of small holes can be seen in the white paneling of the wall. This also aids in the suppression of echoes. On a small platform is a low desk upon which is a box having on its face a number of knobs, lights, and switches. This is the microphone- control unit. From this point all microphones in the studio can be controlled by the chief an- nouncer. To our left is the studio organ manual. The organ proper is placed in a gallery above and is electrically controlled from the manual keyboard on the studio floor. Many sound effects, includ- ing drums, sirens, whistles, burglar alarms, in fact a whole orchestra, is included in this giant organ. Below the organ gallery is a small control room, holding the equipment necessary to amp- lify the weak microphone currents. Other panels are for the control of tone, volume, and clarity. From this room the broadc ast program leaves the studio on its long journey to Weymouth over telephone wires. Two sets of wires are em- ployed ; one for the program, the other for a pri- vate telephone. On the grounds of the Edison Electric plant at Weymouth there are two large metal towers which reach high into the air. Between these two masts is strung the antenna wires. Directly beneath the antenna is a small brick building called the radio shack. As we enter the door, we see a mass of instruments on panel-boards. At our right, facing us, is a desk. A pleasant- looking gentleman is seated, tilting back in an easy chair, constantly gazing at a panel-board on the right. He is actually looking at the fluctu- ation needle of an electric meter. This meter tells how much power is coming from the studio in Boston. The broadcast program is transferred from the modulator rack to successive racks and panels, thence to the antenna. From the an- tenna the radio waves are sent off in equal di- rections with equal force into the ether. The high-voltage current used by the power- ful vacuum tubes in the transmission is supplied by motor-generators which are in another room at the back of the shack . Radio station W E E I, the Edison Electric Illuminating Company ' s station, broadcasts on a wave-length of 508.2 metres or at a frequency of 590 kilocycles. John R. Hall ' 34 Mrs. Jones (to new maid) : Didn ' t I tell you to notice when the milk boiled over? Mandy : Well, I did. It was quarter of four. ARCHIE ' S BARBER SHOP; South Weymouth Depot I

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REFLECTOR Street Car Lady Why, what ' s the matter, sonny? The small boy gazed at the owner of the soft voice through a film of tears. He saw a woman in her late twenties, her lovely dark eyes filled with sympathy. I ' m running away, he said, but I ' m home- sick already. The lady suppressed a smile, unwilling to hurt the boy, who was evidently serious. Then why don ' t you go back, now? The conductor will stop the car for you. I can ' t do that. My mother doesn ' t want me and daddy — well, he is too interested in his work to care. Why, every mother wants her own little boy near her. But I ' m not her own little boy, insisted the child. She ' s only been in our house three years, and she never liked me. Where is your own mother? queried the lady softly. I don ' t know, he answered sadly. But Dora, my nurse, said she went away when I was a little boy. She said she was lovely and was the finest lady she ever knew. But mother says she couldn ' t have loved me or she would not have gone away. I think she would have stayed, though, if she knew I would miss her. Don ' t you ? He looked at her appealingly. Of course, dear, she assured him. I know she must be beautiful and kind like Dora says. And I bet she ' s waiting somewhere for me. That ' s really why I ran away, so I could find her. But I forgot — I guess I haven ' t been very polite. My name is Eddie Jerome, and I live at 52 Park Avenue. What is your name? Her voice was barely audible as she answered, My name doesn ' t matter. I guess I ' ll call you the ' Street Car Lady ' . Daddy always said never to speak to strangers, but you don ' t seem like a stranger. You ' re aw- fully nice. Thank you, Eddie. And now I ' ll tell you something. I ' m not really a stranger. You know, I can see things other people can ' t. And I know that if you go home now, and wait until you ' re a big, strong, boy, your own mother will come back to you. It may be only a few years. She really loves you, Eddie, and I know she ' s really sorry she went away and left you. That ' s wonderful, he exclaimed wondering- ly. I wish I could see things like you can. And I see something else, she went on. I see your father worrying about you, and wish- ing you were home. He is promising never to neglect you again, if you will only come back. See, Eddie, the car is stopping. You can get off here, and catch the next car home. I will, he promised. I want to see daddy and Dora and — I guess, mother too. Good-bye, Street-Car-Lady. Good-bye, she said, waving her hand and with misty eyes watching the sturdy little figure of her boy — her own little son — disappear in the crowd - Vera Callahan ' 35 To A Bluebird A little bit of feather, A little bit of wing, A little flash of brilliant blue, A little voice to sing — These things all make a bluebird, A happy bit of song, A joyful bit of color, A trilling all day long. Rainbows A summer shower, The peeping sun, A foggy mist arising, And lo! A miracle is done! A rainbow brightly shining, And at its foot a pot of gold Awaits the weary rover, To vanish like his happy dreams When the fleeting shower is over. Ma, ■jorie Bloxham ' 36 Don ' t buy a car until you ' ve tried the new Dodge and Plymouth THORP ' S GARAGE 866 Washington St., East Weymouth