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

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ONE night, as I sat idly dreaming, I suddenly became aware of a strange stillness which pervaded the living room. I huddled more closely in the big arm- chair, trying in vain not to become nervous. Why, oh, why, had I consented to re- main alone that night? Furtively I looked at the open window. A soft breeze was swaying the curtains. Just then my eyes rested on our old crystal ball, which was on a stand in front of the window. I seemed to be riveted to t he spot, as if a magic spell had been cast upon me. Then the thunderous boom of a grandfather ' s clock broke this terrifying silence, and tolled midnight. On the last stroke of twelve, the crystal ball turned from its colorless tinge to a soft rosy-colored hue. which, deepening into a brighter glow, illuminated the entire globe. I went over and gazed into its mystifying depths. What was happening? What were these pictures which moved before my eyes? Suddenly I realized that my freshman year at Weymouth High School was being unfolded before me. FRESHMAN YEAR Slowly the crystal changed from rose to yellow, revealing a beautiful iridescent glow. Music was heard, and I realized that I was looking at our Freshman-Senior Party, with timid freshmen huddled in corners, awed by the bold assurance of the seniors. As the minutes went by, some took courage to venture on the dance floor. Now games were being played, and a roar of laughter came from the mys- terious crystal as Richard Zeoli. the Senior Vice-President, was presented with a rattle. The crystal suddenly turned a deep black. A queer, hollow feeling came over me. Yet I could not turn my eyes away. A dim line of figures was seen. On the countenance of each person was a grim do-or-die expression. The line of figures proceeded down the hall, shivering at the prospect of the T. B. inoculation. Now they were returning, some laughing, some still grim. Some were running down the hall in spite of the teachers ' warnings, running, running — only now the scene had changed to the Legion Field and it was a group of girls who were running, prac- tising for their new sport, track. Others could be seen playing tennis and field hockev, two other games added to the sports for girls. The tennis ball gradually grew larger until it turned into a basket ball. A feeling of pride swept over me as I remembered that Weymouth High lost but two games in basket ball, one with Quincy and one with Plymouth for the South Shore Championship. The crystal turned pure white for a moment, and then a sound of clattering dishes could be heard coming from it. I beamed as I beheld the completion of the new Weymouth High Cafeteria, one of the best in Massachusetts. Teachers were hurrying to and fro. but strangely they were no longer in the cafeteria, but on the stage, enacting the teachers ' play, Ladies of the Jury . The stage seemed to fade away but then re-appeared more clearly with our first operetta, The Gypsy Rover , in action. The applause of the audience was thunderous, but now by some mystic change they were applauding the Senior Class Play, Enter Madame , with Ruth Stoddard and Richard Roach in the le ading parts. It was now June. The class filed out for the summer vacation. I watched on entranced as I saw my freshman year slip by. SOPHOMORE YEAR Once more I gazed into the rosy crystal with its changing hues. A faint blur of moving figures gradually became discernible. All was clear. There was a brightly lighted stage, filled with people dressed as Eskimos, in the annual operetta, Christina in Greenland . The scene grew dim in my globe and then suddenly another revealed itself. The same hall was crowded with laughing, chattering students. A hush came over the audience and as the lights went off, a moving pic- ture appeared on a screen set up on the stage. It was a talking picture made by Mr. and Mrs. Martin Johnson in Africa. This view dissolved into a greenish mist. The mist vanished and I then saw the interior of a schoolroom. There was a group of students listening to Miss Jefts. A new Spanish Club was beginning. That picture disappeared and now my eyes beheld the football field, but a very muddy field indeed. There was a game in progress, but it was difficult to tell the identity of the players, who were besmeared with mud. Somthing came toward me; it I 22 ]

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CLASS HISTORY

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blotted out the field. The other sports quickly passed in review — the very success- ful track team, the basket ball team, the new tennis team, and the undefeated base- ball team. Now a bright yellow light seemed to blot out the scene. Was it all to fade from my eyes so soon? No, the assembly hall was seen again. In turn two plays appeared, The Royal Family of Broadway , given by the teachers of Wey- mouth, and The Ghost Train , presented by the seniors on June 9. The sophomore year passed away with a last picture, that of a throng of stu-i dents leaving the high school with their faces covered with smiles at the thought of a long summer ' s vacation. JUNIOR YEAR The crystal ball continued to unfold its story. I could not tear my eyes away from its weird depth. A group of people who I recognized as my classmates were now beginning their third year as upper classmen. Juniors at last! They were gathered together to choose their class officers. Willard Hunt was elected president; Donald Foskett, vice-president; John MacDonnell, second vice- president; Madelyn Wilson, secretary; and Ruth Costello, treasurer. At the burst of applause that greeted these elections the ball bcame dim once more. It bright- ened again and music was heard. The Junior Party was in full swing. Joe Rines and his orchestra supplied the music to which the nimble feet of our juniors tapped out happy rhythm. The music grew faster and faster. It gathered spice and energy, but just then, before my eyes, grew a kaleidoscope of color and move- ment. The operetta, South of Sonora , contained all the vim and pep of pic- turesque old Mexico. Then, amid all the excitement and noise, crashed Light- nin ' , the teachers ' play, which served as a suitable introduction to the Senior Class Play, The Bat . The crystal now turned a dull, muddled brown, but still sounds of cheering were heard. The famous Weymouth-Hingham football game came into view. The cheering was for the wonderful plays that were made by Mulligan and Stew- art. In this game, Taber, who aided in keeping the Hingham offense in the back- ground, was injured. While they were helping him from the field, he hurled his football helmet to one of the subs on the bench. The helmet whirled through the air and gradually, before my bewildered eyes, took the form of a basket-ball which crashed through the net for the final score in the greatest game of the sea- son, Weymouth against Plymouth. The team was coached very skillfully by Mr. Martin and Mr. Gannon. A shrill whistle announced the end of the successful basketball season. As the whistle whirred and buzzed in my ears, it gradually took on a deeper tone and, as I gazed once more into the depths of the crystal, I sawj a large white steamship. The letters on the side of her hulk spelled out the name, Dorothy Bradford . This old Provincetown boat was giving a pleasant ending to our junior year at Weymouth High School by taking us on our junior outing, under the chaperonage of Mr. Martin, Mr. Lyond, Miss Bryant, and Miss Canning. Our destination? The oldest and most historical of all the towns in Massachusetts — Provincetown. With happy thoughts and beautiful memories our third year at Weymouth High passed from view. SENIOR YEAR My attention was again drawn to the crystal ball at is cleared for the fourth time. It was dull at first; then it slowly changed from a beautiful rose tint to a lustrous white. As I looked harder, I saw the events of my senior year pass be- fore my eyes. The class officers, Willard Hunt, president; Donald Foskett, first vice-presi- dent; John MacDonnell, second vice-president; Madelyn Wilson, secretary; and Ruth Costello, treasurer, were first revealed by the crystal. A picture of the fresh- men enjoying a party given them by the senior class on November 9 then ap- peared. The timid freshmen were urged to join in the entertainment and dancing. However, by the time they had lost their shyness and were entering into the fun, the party was over. That picture faded, and now there was a large classroom crowded with seniors voting for a class marshal. Honors were won by William Pray. Next a beauti- [ 23 ]