Barre High School - Barretone Yearbook (Barre, MA)

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THE BARRETONE 11 THE STORM W hen the rain is falling from on high And all the fleecy clouds are black and gray — Wdien howling east-wind blows his stormy way O ' er all the hills and vales and seas and sky — When water drenches leaves and flowers and trees And thunder roars, and lightning streaks the air — When wind is wrecking homes of birds and bees And all things droop which once were bright and fair — 1 sit alone and think of God’s great love And care for those who live on this large earth. He watches o’er us all from time of birth And sends us blessings, gifts from u]) above. His storm He makes o’er all the world to rove To prove His strength and love to sky and earth. Elza Dahart, ’30. THE APPROACH OF THE CIRCUS PARADE At first, a faint strain of music fell on our eager ears, growing louder every moment. Soon, around the bend, hand-players pranced into view in their gala suits of red and gold. By us ploughed the gi- gantic ele])hant, his ears cocked and his tail switching, while his awkward hoofs scraped the pavements, .‘ we-strickcn. we held our breath, as a ferocious lion, im])atiently pacing up and down in his cage, passed slowly by. How exciting it was to see the spry monkeys, bushy bears, spot- ted zebras and angry tigers glare at us from their gilt cages. Ah, at last! The greatly-antici] ated acrobats, clothed in scarlet costumes. ])osed as their gayly-trimmed carriages were drawui slowly by. The piquant, side-show queen, the living skel- eton. the fat woman, and the snake-charmer claimed our attention each in her turn, ft was with a .sigh of regret that we watched the rear band-men flash by in their bright costumes and head ' d the gay music gradually fade away. Anna McAndrew. ’32. LES FLAMBEAUX D’ARGENT Une scene dramatisee de “Hes Miserables de ' ictor Hugo f’ersonnages Jean Valjean, un forcat Monseigneur Bienvenu Myriel, un evecpie Mademoiselle l)ai)tistine. sa soeur Trois Gendarmes Un Brigadier de Gendarmes Ha scene est a Digue, dans la petite maison de I’eveque. (On avait mis Jean Valjean en prison parce qu’ il avait vole un jiain pour sa famille mourante de faim. Apres un long emprisonnement, on 1 avait mis a liberte. Gomme il n’avait pas jm descendre. il avait jiasse la nuit avec Monseigneur Bienvenu. I’endant la nuit, Jean Valjean avait echappe avec de I’argenterie (|u’il avait vole de 1 evecpie. Quand revecpie s’est leve le matin prochain, on I’a dit cpie Jean Valjean avait vole I’argenterie. ) (Monseigneur Bienvenu et sa soeur dejeunent. C)n frappe a la jiorte. ) M. Ibenvenu : Entrez ! (La porte s’ouvrit. Un groupe etrange et violent apparet sur le seuil. Trois gendarmes tenent Jean aljean an collet. Un lirigadier. entre et s ' avance vers I’eveque en faisant le saint militaire; Monseigneur Bienvenu s’ap- jiroche vivement.) M. Bienvenu: . h ! Vo us voila ! Je suis aise de vtms voir. Eh bien, mois ! Je vous avaiz don- ne les chandeliers aussi, qui sont en argent comme le reste et dont vous pourrez bien avoir deux cent francs. Brigadier: Monseigneur, ce que cet homnie disait etait done vrai Xous 1 avons rencontre. Il avait cette argenterie M. Bienvenu: (en souriant) Et il vous a dit qu ’elle lui avait ete donnee par lecpiel avec qui il avait passe la nuit? Je vois la chose. Et vous I’avez rameue ici. C’est une meprise. Brigadier : Gomme cela, nous iiouvons le laisser aller ? . Bienvenu: Sans doute. (Les gendarmes lach- ent Jean bdjean. qui recule.) J. Valpean: Kst-ce que c’est vrai qu’on me laisse? M. Bienvenu: Mou ami. avant de vous en aller. void VOS chandeliers. Prenez-les. ( 11 a a la cheminee. ju ' end les deux flambeaux, et les ai)]’iorte a J. Valjean, qui tremble.) M. Bienvenu: Maintenant. allez en paix. (Se tournant vers les gendarmes) Messieurs, vous lM)Uvez vous retirer. (T.es gendarmes s’eloigu- nent.) ( L’eve(|Ue s’ai)proche J. X ' aljean.) M. Bienvenu: X’oubliez pas, n’oubliez jamais |ue vous m’avez i)romis d’emi)loyer cet argent ])our devenir honnete homme. Jean Valjean. mon frere. vous n’a])i)artenez plus au mal, mais au bien. G’est votre ame (|ue je vous achete ; je la retire aux i)enses noires et a I’esprit de ])erdition, et je la donne a Dieu. (J. Valjean sortit.) Gladys Abbott. ’30

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10 THE BARRETOXE NORTH PARK ' I he history of North I’ark or the northern ])art t)f Harre eoininon. is very interesting-. I have oiten wondered why it is tliat this particular spot slipuld he entirely fenced in, while the rest of the common is open. ears ago this park was given to the town of Barre. It as to he used for no other j urpose than as a park and on no condition W£ivS the fence which surrounded it, to he taken down. As soon as this fence is removed the land will immediatelv return to the descendants of its jjrevious owners. It was lirst used as a picnic ground and a place to hold band concerts. Later the hand-stand was removed. Since the Civil War a monument, to the men of Barre who fought in the war, was erected in the center of the i)ark. Another monument dedicated to the men of Barre who fought in the World War was unveiled Armistice Day, nineteen hundred and twenty-nine. Mae Wilson, ' , 0. AN ELIZABETHAN AND AN AMERICAN In 1620 a oung nobleman of England was be- witched by an old hag. She put him to sleep in a deep slumber that was to last until 1929. During this long period, his body was found, aud, since the i)eople supposed him to be a mummy, he was l)laced in a museum. An American, who saw him, was possessed with a desire to own him. Finally, this influential business-man bought him and brought him to America, where he put the noble- man in his collection of curios. There he has been staying ever since. It is now 1929. A boy of about eighteen years, the grandson of the business-man, is looking over his grandfather ' s collection. ■ ' oung American ; “I hope grandfather leaves a few of these old things to me. They are mighty interesting. Take this mummy, for e.xample. It looks as if it would awake at any moment. Why, 1 must be dreaming! It’s opening its eyes! (Pinches himself). Ouch! I am awake !’’ (interval of several seconds.) Young Nobleman : “Who are vou. and where am I?” . A. : “Well, I should like to know what you think you are. You have been dead for ages and ages, and now you wake uj)! N. : “What! Dead! This isn’t heaven, is it? Does everyone here wear clothes like yours?” Y. A. ; “Of course this isn’t heaven. Right now x’ou’re ill uiy grandfather’s house in New ' urk City, aud all the fellows wear clothes like this.” N. : “Where is New York City?” y. “In the Cnited States of .America. I ' hat’s w here.” . N. ; “Oh . merica ! But how did 1 get here.- ” A.: “My grandfather brought you over here fifty years ago.” y. Xb : “W ell, 1 don’t remember that. The last thing 1 can remember is going to the theatre in 1620.” y. A.: “1620! it is now 1929’’ i. .N. : “Wliere have I been all this time?” . A. : “1 don t know. But Fll tell you what we’ll do. Let’s go to the theatre ; that’ll give you the thrill of your life. Come on!” Y. N. ; “W hat’s a thrill?” (They leave the room. We see them ne.xt in the theatre. The young nol)leman has a look of astonishment on his face. ) Y. A. : “Well, what do you thinK of our the- atre ?” Y. N. : “Where is the sky?” y. A . ; “You see there is a roof that covers the building so you can’t see the sky.” Y. N. : “(Jh ! Our theatres have no roofs like that. By the way. where is the stage? Is that little ])lace all the peo])le act on?” y. A.: “Oh no. pretty soon the curtain will be raised and then you can see the stage. Oh, there it goes !” Y. N. : “Wdiy, what are those trees doing on the stage? And where are the ])lacards to an- nounce the settings and everything?” Y. A. : “The trees are the setting. You see, they try to make everything look as real as possi- ble now. They don’t use placards any more.” Y. N. : “Those l)oys make very beautiful girls. They act natural too.” Y. A. : “Boys ! Girls ! They are girls !” Y. N. : “You let girls act on the stage? But that’s not ])roper. you know.” ' S ' . A. : “It’s pro])er enough now. Old Man.” (.Silence reigns for a few minutes.) Y. N. : “What comfortable chairs you have here. Back home we had only benches or boxes to sit on, or else we stood up. Most everybody stood in the pit. Where do the common peo- l)le stand today? I don’t see any pit.” Y. .A. : “No. Everybody has a chair like we have. Some seats are better than others, but they are all ujiholstered. Now let’s listen to the play and talk afterwards.” Adele Dunbar. ’30.

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12 THE llARRETOXE BUSINESS IS BUSINESS Mr. Legitimate Drama ru-shed into the office of Samuel Photo- Ehi} ' Co. At a glance one conld see that he was enraged. “Is Mr. Photo- Play in? he in(|nired of the girl who ald roached him. “iM ' -yes. came the hesitant answer. “Do yon wish to see him at once? He is very hnsv this morning and does not wish to he distnrhed. “My hnsiness with him is very important. Here’s my card; present it to him. if yon please.” She took the e.xtended card and entered the movie magnate ' s private office. A moment later she returned and proceeded toward Mr. Drama. He was conversing with another arrival, whom she recognizeil as Mr. Musical Show. She did not interrupt their conversation, hut waited. Finallv a lapse came. “Mr. Photo- Play is prepared to see you, she announced to Mr. Drama. Air. Drama nodded his head and beckoned Air. Show to follow him. “Good morning,” said Air. Photo- Play, pushing away a pile of pa])ers and leaning back in his chair. “What can I do for you? Er-good morning. Air. Show.” he added, spying that personage liehind Air. Drama. 1 hey both returned the greeting and then Air. Drama proceeded alone. “Air. Photo-Play. I’ve come here on very important business. Air. Show has come on business similar to mine, so we came in together. For the last six weeks you have been signing uj) my stars and head-liners who have been waiting for the arrival of fall to resume work, and you have been sending them to Hollv- wood. our talkies are ruining my business. Last week, four of my local theatres had to be closed, and operations in a dozen more in other cities were suspended. AMur talkies are new and de- serve great praise, but you know that you are mak- ing poor pictures. Only the presence of mv stars draws the crowds.” “Air. Drama is right.” interrupted Air. Show. “A ' ou copy my ideas and sign up the stars whom T have discoverecl. A ou 11 have to watch A ' our step now.” Air. Photo- PI ay smiled. “A ' ou’ve both had vour day, but now Pm taking your place. ‘The old or- der changeth. yielding place to new.’ .As for the stars, if they were not desirous of signing. I would not have pressed them. Aloreover business is bus- iness.” Henry Puchalsky, ’31. A REVERSE DECISION iL was a ueauliiul autumn day tor some people, oul noL lor S)ammy. He shuttled around in nis aia, Kicking stones and trying to get up enougli courage to ask his mother a quesuon. He nau iwen considering it for a long time. .vt last he made his decision. Hastily walking to tne house, he opened the door, rushed in, and said, without any neating around the bush, “I’m going over to Slocumville and take a ride m an air- plane. It only costs three dollars. I’ve got the money, so all 1 have to do is to hud a way to gct there.’’ What!” said Sammy’s astonished mother. Are }()U trying to tell me that you are going to take a ride m an airplane? 1 should say not.” . vw , come on ma ! Ciive a feller a chance.” said Sammy. I hen a bright idea dawned upon him. Oh a — I’ll tell you what,” he said, “if ])op lets me go, will you?” .Sammy ' s mother, knowing full well that his fatiier wouldn’t even think of such a thing, replied. “Ves.” W ith a vrhoop Sammy ran into the garage, where his father was busy fi.xing the car. and shouted. “Lleigh, pop. kin I go — ?” “A ' es, yes. go right ahead.” said the father, wishing not to be disturbed by his son and think- ing that this was one of his son’s usual “kin I do this” and kin I do that?” Sammy, without bothering to tell his mother, started for SlocumviHe. After walking a distance his enthusiasm cooled slightly for walking wasn’t as easy as it might be. Just as he was going to take a rest by the road-side and think the matter over more carefully, a passing motorist happened along and gave him a lift. He soon arrived in Slocumville. “Alight as well get out my cash. said Sammy, a; he neared the flying field. He searched for hi- billfo’d. Suddenly it flashed upon him that his money was safe. A ' es. far too safe, for it was at home on the bureau, just where he had put it that morning. “Oh-a-well 1 guess I don’t want a ride anyway. It might make me sick, an ! if I got into an acci- dent and got killed. I’d get a good licking when I got home. And-a-mom didn’t seem to like the idea. I guess I’ll have to turn back and — ” Sammy never finished that sentence, for there right on the ground in front of him lay a new five-dollar bill, with the airplane in the adjoining field waiting for a passenger. Alatti W ' iitala, ’31.