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Page 21 text:
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THE CR page which was conducted by Miss Fennell, I read with interest Miss Allen's Daily Talk to Busy VVomen and also Miss Katherine Hill's 'fBeau- ty Banterf' Next I turned to the sporting page which was run by Howard Phillips, dean of baseball scribes. Large headlines announced the coming fight for the heavyweight championship between K. O. Russell and Kid Black. Last of all, I turned to the editorial page and learned that Don Root was the editor. There was an instructive article which was evi- dently a product of Don's brain for it was entitled The advantage of the bow tie over the four-in-hand. Among the advertisements, I read that Miss Beard was appearing in Shakesperian repertoire and that the Misses Carey and Colby were conducting a sanita- rium where rest and absolute quiet were assured. Maurice now came up and told me that he would be busy for the next half hour putting up a bottle of Castoria for a customer. Ac- until cordingly I departed, but not after I had inquired what had become of my old friend Bob Bishop. Maurice informed me that he was ticket agent at the local railway station and there- fore I bent my steps in that direction. The shades of night were just falling and the glimmering lights afforded an excellent background for the picture which at this moment met my eyes. Tenderly embracing a lamp post was old Bill Connelly. His pea green hat was tilted on one side of his head, his pink and green necktie was torn from his Devon collar, and in many other ways he looked sad and sick. But as I approached him, his poetic nature, ever imperishable. welled up within him Nineteen ITERION and he sang in that sweet, tender voice of his: H The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's Rill. I smiled at Bill's honesty and straight forwardness and walked on in hopes of finding Bobby Bishop. In a short time, I had reached the station and I stepped up to the ticket window. A very pretty young lady stood ahead of me in the line, and when her turn came, she coyly asked Bob for a Strat-- ford ticket. After fumbling about for some time, Bob blushingly stuck his head out of the window and said apolo- getically, UI am very sorry to inform you, madam, that we have no tickets for Stratford, but we have some very, very nice ones for South Norwalkf' The girl hesitated for a moment and then replied that she would try some of the other stations first, and if she could do no better, she would return later. The girl was Dorothy Smith. I greeted Bob and congratulated him on his easy job. He admitted that it was fairly easy but complained that he encountered some very unreasonable people. As the man behind me was becoming rather impatient, I walked on. It was just six o'clock. The streets were crowded with pedestrians, their footsteps mingling with the clattering carts and rumbling trolleys. Main street lay before me with its myriad lights. How natural and how good it seemed. I glanced at my watch and saw that it lacked half an hour to dinner-ample time to take a look at the new High School. I hurried on with boyish expectancy and enthu- siasm. I pictured the imposing en- trance, the massive columns, and the X 1
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Page 20 text:
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THE CRITERION Miller. Casimir informed me that all the vegetables were obtained from the farm of Dorothy and Iilliott Smith down in Fairfield. After lunch, Henry was obliged to return to the boiler factory where he worked and I was left to myself. Al- most unconsciously I wandered across the street to Poli's theatre and read the bill for that week. The headliner was a musical skit entitled The Palace of Beauty in which that dainty come- dienne, Marion Sherwood, took the leading part. She was supported by such well-known stars as llen Spivak, Mabel Morrissey, Kitty Brown, Marion Healy and Alice llarrigan. The special novelty act was Cole and Rosenthal. This pair was guaranteed to speak twenty thousand words in ten minutes without stopping to take their breath, There were also on the bill Meehan and XYise, the famous cartoonists and the Misses Hangs, Cowles, and Mc- Maun presented a playlet entitled Stout, Stouter, and Stoutestf' I could not resist the temptation to attend such a notable performance and accordingly stepped up to the box office. Seeing no one around, I rapped sharply on the window and a voice from somewhere near the Hoor shout- ed, f'Dat's all rig-ht. don't get excited. I'll be up dere in a minute. Soon a woolly head ascended to the level of my own and I beheld the rosy coun- tenance of Fuzzy'l Ostrow. A closer investigation showed me that Fuzzy was obliged to use a stepladder in order to be on speaking terms with the patrons of Poli's popular prices. I asked him how business was for that afternoon and he replied in a confiden- tial manner. Positively great. All sold out except the first twenty-six rows. l purchased a ticket and entered. Cliff Comstock, with a nice gray uniform and a goodly quantity of brass buttons to make him look nice and big, held the position of ticket- collector, while the Misses Hall, Kil- course, Landry, and Treadwell acted as ushers. I went immediately to my seat and started to read the program. From this I learned that Hugh Taylor, Art Keating and Kenneth Christie were the scene shifters. Among the advertisements was that of Lonergan and Shannon, up-to-date clothiers. At this point, the performance began and it surpassed by far my expectations. After the conclusion, I stepped out upon Main street. A man advanced toward me, tapped me gently on the shoulder and asked me for a dime. It was Eric Begg. I could not refuse to aid an old classmate. so giving him a cent, l continued on my way. On the opposite side of the street was the pho- tography shop of Harold Adams while above that was the Colonial llall Room managed by 'Iames XValsh. Feeling rather thirsty, I looked around for a drug store, and seeing one only a short distance away, I approached it. A sign over the door announced that Morgan and XYhite were the proprietors. I en- tered and took a seat at the soda foun- tain. Maurice came forward and, after exchanging greetings,I asked him what was good for quenching the thirst. Ile informed me that Luippold's Luscious Lemonade and Murray's Malted Milk were on a par. I became sporty and took a glass of both. XVhile Maurice was waiting on another customer, I picked up a newspaper which was lying nearby. Opening to the woman's Eighteen
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Page 22 text:
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and I THE CRITERION wardrobes in the basement. Nearer and n faster earer I approached. Faster and my heart beat-when sud- denly my eyes opened, the myriad lights vanished, the noises died away was stretched out in anything but a graceful position on the stairs outside the laboratory. I picked my- self up and gathered my shattered and this time it was sixteen minutes to one. In another minute Dr. Stanley's senses. I glanced at my watch per- ACADEMIC CLASS I-IYMN 1913 I. Alma Mater, now we hail thee, VVith our final song of praise: Gratefully we sing thy honors, As thy name in song we raise. Now we part from thy protection, Round the stormy world to go, And we sing of our affection For to thee our hearts o'erfIow. II. May thou in the future lead us. Always be our guiding light: May thy spirit How about us, Wiith its wisdom, truth and might. Alma Mater we do thank thee For the hopes thou dost inspire, May thou still our efforts favor XVith a great and pure desire. III. Now we pray to Thee, dear Father, That Thy blessings us attend, But Thy name will e'er be sacred, Should'st Thou woes or joys us send. May Thou still, however, grant us, VVhen our part in life has passed, That Thy mercies still pursue us, When we all come home at last. Words by Lows BLUMBERG. Music by Banca T. SIMONDS. ,ff fumery factory right above me would be opened. At thought of this, I has- tened to the other end of the building and took a chair in Mr. Simonds' office. How clear it all seemed! How strangely it had all happened! Yet how unfair the fates had been, for, al- though they had shown me the future of my classmates, they had failed to fulfill my foremost desire-to gaze upon the new High School. -JOHN M. COMLEY. COMMERCIAL CLASS HYMN 1913 I. Alma Mater, apart were drifting, Unto thee praises we sing: As we hymn thee on departure Tell us, did we honors bring: Now the ebb and How has started Struggle we must with all our might' Success depends upon our efforts, Alma Mater, our guiding light. II. Ever onward thou hast led us From thee we part with sorrow: Onward go our chosen motto Labor,- Today not Tomorrow: Now we thank thee for thy blessings, To thee, whate'er we have, we owe, For thee ever our hearts are pining .As afar from thee we go. III. Hear our voices, now, dear Father, Ringing out in joyous praise, Think of us as thine forever As in song our voices raise: Through life's dark days and sunshine, Into Eternal Life with thee, Thy memories ever with us linger In after life Weill dwell with Thee. Music and Words by JOHN E. DEBARBIEM- T w e n t y
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