Bristol High School - Green and White Yearbook (Bristol, RI)

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8 THE GREEN AND WHITE “Where is Charlie Brown tonight?” “He is gone to camp—to Camp Columbus, said Jim, and his glance fell. He was thinking of what a dandy time he would be having in the waters of Brenton Bay. “And why didn’t you go?” asked the gentleman, kindly. “Because, because—gee! Mister, I don’t want to tell you!” he blurted out. “Come, now. sit down here and tell me all about it,” hte man urged. “I’m afraid the cops will see me,” Jim told him. “The ‘cops’ won’t touch you when they see me,” said the man; and Jim afterwards thought that he saw a twinkle in his eye. “All right, Mister,” said Jim, and thus urged he told his story. When he heard it, the gentleman said, Well now, that certainly is too bad. Will you come to see me at—” (and the gentleman gave Jim a card with his name and address on it, as Jim afterwards found out.) The next day found Jim walking along looking for 1C66 Washington Square. He asked a near-by policeman where it was. “Gee! The houses don’t seem to have numbers on ’em around here!” he said. To his surprise he was directed to the White House. Once inside he was directed to an office which said “President” on the outside. He at once reasoned that the man he had met the night before was the President of the United States! He walked inside. “Good morning, Master Craig,” said the President. “G-Good morning, Mister President,” he faltered. The President rang a bell. “And how are you after last night?” he asked. “Oh, all right, sir,” said Jim. “I never get cold after a swim on a hot night.” “That’s good. How would you like to have a swim with the rest of the boys at Camp Columbus tomorrow?” “I’d love it, sir.” “Here is Mr. Sterling. Go with him. If you are not properly suited with everything he buys you come back to me. I’ll be after you in my car this afternoon. And tell your aunt Polly I’ll expect you to be all ready to go with me.” “Come along,” said Mr. Sterling. Jim was fitted out that morning with all the necessities of camp life. Aunt Polly was more than surprised and bustled about fixing Jim’s valise. The car was soon at the door and Jim hurried to meet the President. At the dock Jim saw a private yacht belonging to the nation’s head. As he sailed up Brenton Bay he said to himself, “This is traveling ‘de-luxe.’ ” His happiness was complete when he reached shore and his friends ran out to meet him.” ELIZABETH O’CONNOR. Class of 1927. -----o------ FADED OLD RED SWEATER Faded, old red sweater, You’ve been a pal, Oh gee! You seem just like a good old friend That’s always stood by me. When I’ve been playing football. You’ve been there, red and gay, When winter winds were blowing. You’ve kept the cold away. Faded, old red sweater, When I’ve been sad or blue, You’ve seemed to understand me— Somehow I’ve Clung to you. You’ve got a cozy feeling; I’ve worn you everywhere; We’ve been buddies together In all the wear and tear. Faded, old red sweater, You are a souvenir Of work, and play, and sorrow, Of every smile and tear. Faded, old red sweater, You’ve grown close to my heart; My pal, my chum, my buddy, With you I’ll never part. KATHERINE M. FAY, Class of 1925. ALMA MATER We praise our Alma Mater, The spirit which we keep, Of honesty, obedience, And loyalty so deep. God bless our own dear High School, And keep her safe from wrong, While we who love her memory, Lift up our voice in song. We learned from her to cherish Those ideals that we won, And ne’er to leave unfinished The work we’ve once begun; While trying hard to master The tasks we daily do. And now to the Colt High School, We’ll evermore be true. So here’s to Alma Mater, On thee we praise bestow. For all thy kind endeavors Our intellect to glow. So we will e’er remember As in those days of yore. We've pledged our deep devotion To thee forever more. ARLEEN A. HOLM, Class of 1924.

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THE GREEN AND WHITE 7 to get that whale and do away with hitn. Much careful planning and plotting resulted in the catching of the whale by means of a great hook and a large piece of pork. We even managed to take him on the deck where he floundered for a while but finally moved no more. Suddenly we heard a buzzing sound seeming to come from inside the whale and we anxiously cut him in half. Wonder of wonders ! There was the boy grinding the axe, while his father turned the grindstone. ARLEEN HOLM, Class of 1924 •-----o------ C. M. H. S. C is for courtesy to one and to all, O is for order in every hall, L is for learning the lessons of life, T is for triumph in every strife. M for the memory of classes of old, E for their efforts so many times told, M for their mission on life’s stormy way, 0 for opportunities, now come what may, R is for respect to their teachers all, 1 for ideals, we answer their call, A for attendance with banner their prize, L is for loyalty in all their school ties. H is for honor roll hard to attain, I for the idler—truly a stain, G is for goodness throughout the school, H is for happy obedience to rule. S is for study and well-earned success, C for all classes in C. M. H. S., H is for honesty in all that we do, O is for order in everything, too. O for the oneness of class and of school, L for the lives that are shaped for life’s duel. MARGUERITE AND MARY TOBIN Class of 1926. ------o------ BILLY’S PROBLEM The more the dog yelped, the more Billy danced with joy. Billy, aged seven, had tied a tin can to the dog’s tail, and thought it a great joke. He changed his mind, however, when his mother appeared at the door. ''Billy, what have you done, you naughty boy?” she asked. “I onlv tied the can to his tail,” defended Billy. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself—tying a can to the poor dog’s tail! You just wait until your father and the rest of the family come home. I'll tell them about you.” she said severely, as she took the can off the dog’s tail. After his mother had gone into the house, Billy meditated for a long while. “I guess I’ll run away,” he said, “nobody likes me ’ Yet something seemed to tell him to stay home. “If I run away maybe I won’t see any of them again and they’ll all be sorry for the way they've treated me.” Still a voice urged him to stay at home. What, stay home and have the rest of the family jeer and shame him? What would they say then ? If he stayed at home he would have to receive more scoldings, and he detested scoldings. Then the horrible thought seized him. Suppose he ran away, where would he run to? If he got lost, he might starve or—a hundred other thoughts of what might happen made him nearly give up the thought. Yet—the scoldings, the humiliation. Yes, it would be better to face the family than to face hunger, fatigue, and a score of other things. Yes, it was decided! He would not run away. He would tease mother not to tell; but he knew it would be of no avail, although there was no harm in trying. Hanging his head he went into the house to ask his mother’s forgiveness. GERTRUDE GRICE, Class of 1925. ------o----- THE FUGITIVE PANAMA “Aunt Polly, do you want anything from the store?” asked Jim Craig of his aunt. “If you do I’ll get it, because I’m going out,” he continued. As he received no response, he concluded that Aunt Polly didn't need anything; because if she had, she’d surely hear him. As he walked along accompanied by his dog, Hyke, it seem as if there was never a lonelier, warmer night. All his friends had gone to camp and he couldn’t go because his aunt Polly was too poor. Walking along, he espied a pool near Columbus’ Statue. It was so hot and the water looked so tempting that he jumped in—clothes and all. He was enjoying himself when he heard footsteps. Thinking it was a policeman, he quickly emerged, dripping from the pool. By the light of the street lamp, he could see the face of a kindly man. looking a good deal like the pictures he had seen of some man—he did not remember of whom. “Hello Mister!” he said. “Gee, I’m glad you’re not a cop! Oh, there goes your Panama. I’ll get it,” and as he saw the wind lift the hat from the man’s head, he quickly jumped into the pool again. He soon got the Panama hat and gave it to the man. “I guess the rim is wet, but that’ll dry.” “Yes, I guess it will,” said the man. “But, now why do you seem to be glad that I’m not a ‘cop’?” “Well, because the last time me and Charlie Brown went swimming in that pool, a cop chased us.”

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THE GREEN AND WHITE 9 WHILE PA “LISTENED IN” Mrs. Andrews settled back comfortably in her old stuffed rocker, and was anxiously watching her husband. He sat on a low stool on the other side of the room, intent on tuning in.” The only results now were various squeaks and squeals from the loudspeaker that stood behind the mahogany case. “Why don't you keep that, pa?” Mrs. Andrews asked. “It was a nice song. You only want that fast music—Jazz, I think it’s called. You know you do!” “Hush, ma, I can't get nothing when you talk. I’m listening to one of those foxtrots, they call ’em,” replied David Andrews. Ma rocked slowly back and forth in her chair. They were gradually moving along with the times, but in the room, the only modern thing was the shining case from which strains of “jazzy” music were now issuing. All else in the room was the same as it had been for many years past. The same carpet with large red roses on it, the old-fashioned pictures, the candlesticks on the shelf that had belonged to her mother, even a sampler, done in red thread, with the words, “There’s no place like home.” A sudden squeal of delight from her husband, and she came back to the present. “Ain’t that great, Ma? Hear them clap!” said her husband, and as the fascinating music continued he sat tapping his slipper on the old carpet, keeping time to the music. Mrs. Andrews was glad to see David so happy but she had her doubts as to whether he had a right to indulge in it so much. He even gave up traveling to the little, old meeting house on Sunday, and sat and listened to the lovely Sunday services from some large church in a distant ctiy. On week nights he would come home, “tune in” to some “jazzy ” music and sit up till the early hours of the morning “listening in.” A creak was heard, which seemed to come from the shed. Mrs. Andrews looked out into the kitchen but it was dark and the light in the sitting room was lowered. Earlier in the evening they had been listening to a weird play and David had turned down the lights to make it seem more realistic. The noise came again. Her heart beat faster, but then, it could be only Tommy, their cat. David was far away in a Western state and she would not disturb him. Suddenly, before she could cry out, she felt something cold pressing against her forehead. A short, stout man stood in front of her with a revolver .at her head and his other hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming. Another man, tall and thin, was going over toward the radio. He too, carried a revolver. Was he going to shoot David? What was the use of the large horn if it couldn't transmit a call for help? The cold steel of the revolver slipped quietly to the bridge of her nose. She gave one wild shriek. David ran to her and put his arms around her, “Janie! Ma! What is the matter ?” Mrs. Andrews looked about her; the men were gone, and her husband was near by. “Oh! David,” she cried, “They held a revolver at my head and it dropped to my nose just as the man was going to shoot you.” . David gently lifted her steel-rimmed spectacles from off the end of her nose, and said, “I guess them’s all the revolvers you felt. That play was too much for you and you fell asleep while I was listening to ‘jazz.’ They just said ‘good night’ from Nebraska, anyway. Now, I'll put Tommy out and will go to bed. It’s two o’clock.” GLADYS BRELSFORD, Class of 1924. -----o------ 41 Constitution St. Bristol, R. I. December 11, 1923. Dear Mother:— One day last week I was reading in the sunny east window when I was disturbed by a knock at the side door. I went to open it and there standing facing me, stood one of the “household terrors.”—a book-seller (and wearing a purple coat.) “Is Mother home?” she asked. I might have asked whose mother, but I didn’t. “I’m all alone—Mother is away,” I answered and knew that she didn’t believe a word of it. “Perhaps you would be interested. I am selling ‘The Harp of God.’ It is a religious book, containing scriptural passages, foretelling the future, and---” “I'm sorry,” I interrupted, “I haven’t any money to spend just now. I’m saving it. Come back some time when my mother is home.” That didn’t daunt her a bit. “I have a little pamphlet here for twenty cents—perhaps you would like that?” she asked pleasantly. “It’s called ‘Millions Now Living Will Never Die.’ ” I began a new line of defense. “Oh—I don’t believe that. In fact, I think it’s absolutely foolish.” “Oh no—dis isn’t foolish,” she said, lapsing into her native dialect. “Dis is all