Boston Latin School - Liber Actorum Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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To Class IV, the intriguing mysteries of plane geometry. To Class V, notices of their draft status in Colonel Penney’s Army. To Class VI, the annual admonition to git” while the gitten’s” good. To the faculty as a whole, we leave . . . Nuff sed.” In addition to the aforementioned general bequests, the following members of this un- excelled class bestow the following particular donations: President O ' Neil leaves his office to run for President of the Infantrymen ' s Union. Singer leaves his desk to manage O’Neil. Harwood and Rothstein leave for Samp- son University. Sullivan, Sullivan, Sullivan, Sullivan, Sul- livan, Sullivan, Sullivan and Finks leave to open a law office. Grossman and Kelley leave the lunchroom, so that they may open a diner specializing in pork chops and knishes. Sidman, Glazer, Kaden, Karas, Goldsmith, and the rest of the stalwarts leave the Regis- ter without cash. Rodman and Branche leave the tennis team. What a racket! Starr leaves a dim light as he tries to out- shine MacLeod who plays the lead in Berg- mans current smash hit, A Wolf at Girls’ Latin.’’ De Vergie leaves his accent to the French Club. Hatton leaves his hat on. Bob” Woolf leaves many perfect baskets as models for next year’s team. Lipson leaves Mr. Lucey a new theorem, namely, that the square root of the diagonal divided by half the cube root of the cosecant of the opposite circumscribed angle will be universely proportional to the width of Jud- son’s head. Finnegan leaves Finn the last four letters in his name so that he may become Finnegan again and again. Kliman leaves Mr. Falvey his formula on how to grow hair. Raskind leaves in a burst of speed. Dave” Wolf leaves his howl. Eddie” O’Neill leaves his way with the wimmin” to the incoming Class VI. Saxe leaves the secret of his success: Study!” Quaglieri leaves his Dewey buttons for the class of 1949- Trayers leaves the key to the middle drawer on the right-hand side of Mr. Dob- byn’s desk. Berry leaves to the girls of G. L. S. his unequaled ability to blush. Bush, the mad photographer, leaves prac- tical hints for Vantine on how to make Seniors photogenic. Young Cole leaves for a P. G. Course at Girls’ Latin. Smith leaves his original treatise called A Dig at Einstein or My Theory of the Fifth Dimension. Potischman and Herbert Siegel leave sev- eral amendments to the laws of physics. Sager leaves sager. The Brown boys leave Mr. Van Steen- bergen a French translation guaranteed orig- inal by Wohlwill. Boruchoff leaves his chess set and a well- thumbed copy of How to Win in Six Easy Moves.” Svensson leaves his strange affection for Cicero to Believe-It-or-Not Ripley. Spillane and Spivack leave several small ante- rooms to be devoted to the manly art of shuffling, dealing, and drawing. The inmates of 303 leave Messieurs Pierce and French one good reason for gazing at high noon each day at the third window from the left on the second floor of the building opposite the Latin School. Murphy leaves his money. O’Keefe gives himself to end the meat shortage in the Army. Prince Hurd leaves to become King of Room 332. Bernard, chairman of the O. M. D., be- queaths his post to some zealous Second Classman. The foregoing document, having been le- gally designated and established as the final Will and Testament of the distinguished Class of 1945 is hereby filed in the basket of Room 305 after having had affixed here- unto on this Friday, April 13, in the year 1945, the official seal of approval from Good Housekeeping. Drawn by Norman Cutler ’45 Witnessed by: Martin B. F ink ’45 Official Droop. Page Twenty-nine

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Glass [Prophecy Ladies and Gentlemen: The graduating class of 1945 regrets to announce that there will be no Class Prophecy this year. For an entire year we have tried to secure a proper medium of prognostication, but we have found none. The war has delivered Latin School a great blow. Today we are unable to have a radio broadcast, as government regulations have curtailed programs; we have searched high and low for crystal balls, but there is a shortage; Ouija boards have been sold out; witches are dead; divining rods are extinct; fortune tellers are in jail. . . . There is no place where we can turn. . . . We did have one last hope, but that seems to have perished — ( Collaborator rushes onto stage from behind curtain.) Wait! I am here.” Phineas Fogg! We had given you up for lost.” I have been on my quest for a year. Now I have returned from the other side of the globe — with the boodle. The Prophecy?” The Prophecy!” The Prophecy.” ( Together , to audience.) Through the deserts and storms of Asia I traveled, by caravan and by foot, through the province of Tai-Yuen-Fu, the Kingdom of Chen-Yow, the city of Kan-Chu, through the mountains of Kao-Yee and the sands of Ki-Chee, until I came to the ancient lost city of Chel-Sea; and there, in a remote lamasery 1 came across the fourth-dimension crystal of Marco Polo and stepped through it. 1 was in the year 1965. . . . I walked through surrealistic down-town streets. Suddenly, a voice yelled, ’’Taxi,” and a helicopter swooped down. The sign on the door read: Berlinguet Helicopter Service, Boston ' s Finest.” Where to, Bud? I ' m looking up my classmates of . . . say — well, if it isn’t Reckless Bob’ Woolf. How did you get a license to drive again after your 1945 career? Cinch. The Kelly-Corcoran combine runs City Hall. They even bought my old Chevy.” Take me to the ’45 Club. We were up only one minute, E.S.T., when a shrill siren and the harsh voice of a motorcopter-cop made us pull over to a cloud. Where do you angels think you’re fly- ing?” Well — John Curran! I’m dropping in on the ’45 Club.” B.L.S. Rah, rah. Come on, I’ll escort you.” As we glided into the street, I glanced at a theatre marquee: The Colson and Gourzis Theatre. Today is Bank Day — $300 — You Can’t Take It With You”; also playing, Living the Life of Grossman ; starring Starr and Starsiak, and that likable lover, Lovinger. Directed by A. Sullivan; pro- duced by E. Sullivan; written by F. Sullivan; costumes by J. Sullivan; lyrics by R. Sul- livan ; from an original poem by Sandberg. On stage — in a meddlesome medley — those villains of stage, screen, and radio: Saxe, Singer, and A. B. Sullivan. Beside the theatre was a huge billboard, by Cavanaugh Dood It, Sign Co., advertising the Valias Dainty Donut Shop, the Vazakas Fruit Stand, and the Fotos Photo Studio. (Valias was the inventor of the Dryless, Dunkable, Digestible Donut with not one, not two, but three large gaping holes.) The gigantic sign read: On hot days, drink Thursby and Swett’s Root Beer. Nearby, another signboard straddling the roofs of the Coca Cole Plant, the Gulo Glue and Jello Factory, and the Dawson brewery, read: Don’t do it ! Drink Healthy Lipson’s Tea.” Arriving at the ’45 Club, I was greeted by a genial host, Mr. Matthew Branche, and escorted inside. Lounging in a chair was plump, indifferent Mr. Dreben, who long ago had solved the question, What this country needs is a good five-cent cigar. He was smoking a pipe. Squatting on a stool was lean, phlegmatic O’Keefe, who dropped on hands and knees, and begged multimil- lionaire John Kenney for a dollar and fifteen cents for a cup of coffee — he wanted to drink it at the baseball game. Asking Kenney why he donated millions to such worthless causes and not to educational institutions, I overheard his flat, dignified response to O’Keefe: I like him, he’s silly. In an- other corner was Siegal, America’s most suc- cessful businessman — self-made by a simple scheme: instituting the Post-War Siegal Spuckie in High School lunchrooms all over the country. In the center of the room was one of the Club’s newest acquisitions — an aquarium, featuring the weird creature found by Prof. Katz on an expedition — the eight- legged Ostoposides. I went up to a man pointed out as head- master of Latin School. It was Kennedy. He asked, How about taking in a night club? The new, super-duper deluxe Caso Manana. Or maybe you’d like the wrestling matches — the new masked opponents ' The Page Thirty