Barre High School - Barretone Yearbook (Barre, MA)

Page 14 text:

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.

Page 13 text:

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

Page 15 text:

THE BARRETONE 13 A CHANGE OF OPINION it was late in a Alay afternoon. The sun was scLtnig and everything seemed hushed for tlie twi- iignt Hour 111 the little town of Readville. i ' ominy Lane sat on the veranda of the Black’s home, ills neart was very heavy and sorrowful, riis inotner had just died. This meant that Tom- my was alone m tne world as far as relatives went, but not as far as friends went. His pal, Joe Liack, had teased his parents to take Tommy into tneir home. They had done so. All this seemed a long- rime ago, hut in reality it was only three weeks. cneery whistle sounded from within the house, and Joe Black came out onto the veranda. Hello, old scout,” he cheerfully greeted Tom- m . , aren’t you going swimming with the fellows tonight “Oil, come on, be a sport,” he added as no an- swer came from Tommy. Tommy was in no mood to go swimming. His heavy loss was still very pressing, hut then — Joe liad ( ' one a lot for him. why shouldn’t he buck up and go ? “Sure I’ll go. I’ll he ready as soon as the rest of the gang ' , and 1 bet 1 can stay the longest under water, too,” he added with some of h.is old sjhri. returning. It was several weeks after this that Tommy met Miss Itrown on the street. She was dressed as usual in a long, black skirt that dragged along tlm sidewalk. Although it was a very warm day she had a heavy, woolen sh.awl on her shoulders, and a black bonnet on her head. She walked along the street and into the postoffice. . summer visitor said to Tommy, “Who is that old lady?” “She’s the village crank,” Tommy rejilied with- out hesitation, “she’s so cranky you can’t look at her without getting a call-down for it. She makes me sick. Why, last winter just because we bovs were ])Iugging snowballs she told us to stop, said it was dangerous and we might hurt someone.” “Well, some i)eo])le are like that,” returned the visitor and he passed on. ‘A’ou bet they are. and people like that get mv goat,” flung hack Tommv to the departing guest. The summer days went by and fall came on. with a fluttering of gay colored leaves and a chill, lively wind. One night about eight o ’clock the Black’s house eaiKrPt fire. 1 fow. nobody knew, but they certain- !v knew it was on fire, when later the house burn- ed to the ground because the little flivver fire truck couldn’t be inducei.i co start promptly. A large crowd gathered, among Avhom were Air. and Airs. Alerry and Aliss Brown. As Air. Black worked for the Alerrys, they off ' ered them a home fcjr a while. “But we won’t have that Tommy.” scornfully aided Airs. Alerry. “What are you going to do, old scout?” Joe (juestioned Tommy. “1 don’t know, guess I’ll have to be a tramp, he answered discouragingly. Both boys stopped speaking when they saw Aliss Brown coming toward them. “Have you found a home yet, Tom?” she asked looking at him. “No, ma’am, 1 haven’t,” he answered. “Come with me. then. I need a strong, young bov to work for me and I will give you a nice home.” Tommy went. The next summer Tommy and the same visitor were standing talking together udien Aliss Brown went into the jmstoffice. “Is that the village crank?” asked the visiio “Xo,” replied Tommy, rvith a sheepish grin as he remembered his answer of a year ago. She is the best friend I ever had exce]At Joe Black, and I’ll make mud of anyone who dares to call her the ‘village crank.’ ” Alberta Beaman. ’31. LUCK DE-LUXE i.ate one aftermxjn in September, at the hot com of one of those numerous long inclines on the broa ' l cement road running from Baltimore to ’ashing- ton, a])iieared “Traveling Turk.” On hrst sigh, “a k.obo” he might seem, but his clean-shaven iace and Ids nobby tie disproved t’ds For, in truth, he is Donald Rogers, heir to t ;e Bancroft Rogers’s millions. Slightly more than a year ago on the death o ' his father, he had been willed a fortune with om ' sti])ulation. Don h.r.d alwavs been a wild, reckless fellow and had never earned a cent in his life. lie si)ent money as exiiertly as h.is tather earne 1 it. ' I ' lierefore. crafty Air. Rogers knew what he was doing when he inserted in his wi ' l this chiuse — “t . possess my fortune, Donald must leave home and, without any fii ' ancial aid from friends, must travel over the United .States on his own means. stoi)ping no lomrer tlian a week in anv oim ])lace. I ' .xactlv one year from his de])arture. he must reiiort to D ' . (Ireggs. mv life-long friend. Otherwise the for- tune shall be divided among relatives and charities.”