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

Text from Pages 1 - 52 of the 1930 volume:

TO THE FACULTY WE RESPECTFULLY DEDICATE THIS ISSUE OF THE GREEN AND WHITE THE (iREEN AND WHITE THE GREEN AND WHITE VOL. 1. JUNE, 1930 No. 1 ISSUED BY THE STUDENTS OF THE COLT MEMORIAL HIGH SCHOOL, BRISTOL. R. I. Editor-in-Chief—RAYMOND MAKOWSKY Associate Editor FREDERICK VERA Business Manager MICHAEL SECURO Assistant Business Manager JACK MARSDEN Circulation Manager MILTON BASSING Assistant Manager ELLA MAE LEM AIRE Advisor—MISS Senior Editors STANLEY BENNETT CARMELLA CASTRIOTTA HELEN McGUIGAN Junior Editors CLAUDIA DEWOLF M ARGARET CICERCI11A WILLIAM WEST Sophomore Editors ANTHONY RUSSO MARY MAGEE JOSEPHINE CAMPAGNA SADIE CALLAN EDITORIAL As the years pass the “Green and White’’ has won more and more friends and supporters. Being the only organ through which the pupils of the Colt Memorial High can let interested friends know of its activities, the “Green and White” has these purposes in mind: 1. To Develop in staff members such personal qualities as co-operation, tact, courtesy, initiative, leadership, accuracy and responsibility. 2. To advertise the school and its work. 3. To give school news to pupils, parents, and friends of the school. 4. To arouse public interest in school activities. 5. To serve as a medium of public opinion. It is with these ideas in mind that this edition of the Green and White” went to press. The Board wishes to thank the faculty for its co-operation—without which it would be practically impossible to edit the “Green and White.” —EDITOR. TABLE OF CONTENTS DEDICATION ............. 2 BOARD OF EDITORS ............. 3 EDITORIAL ..._.............. 3 EDITORIAL STAFF ........... 4 LITERARY ............. 5-20 EXCHANGES ......-..... -..... 20 SPORTS ............... 21-26 JOKES ................ 27-28 HISTORY OF ALUMNI ...... 28-29 ALUMNI NOTES .............. 30 SENIORS ................. 31-38 ADVERTISEMENTS ........ 39-48 BOARD OF EDITORS Front Row (left to right)—Ella Mae Lemaire, Helen McGuigan, Miss Sisson, Miss Callan, Carmella Castriotta, Claudia DeWolf. Mary Magee. Hack Row—Fred Vera, Stanley Bennett, Michael Securo, Margaret Cicerchia, Milton Bassing, Raymond Makowskv, Antony Russo. THE fiREEN AND WHITE 5 “RUSHING WATERS” The timbers creaked and the water rushed on. They were angry waters, black and turbulent, doing their best to annihilate man and his homes, factories and cattle. The timbers creaked again and gave way. Down came the building, seeking firm ground to rest upon only to be swept away by the river’s onrush-ing current. One less factory in that vicinity. A few hundred people thrown out of the world’s one hobby—work. Darkness, swishing and swirling of waters. A man sits alone on his roof. Below him is his house, his work, his papers, his family. All he ever had, all below in the dark waters. He looks into the night and sees nothing—nothing but blackness and ever rising waters. He is cold: lie longs for companions. Suddenly out of the darkness comes a cry, a man’s heart skips as he hears it again but alas—it is his drowning cattle. But no, he hears another one, a human cry! At last a boat, companions to comfort and warn him. Hope is in sight as the boat draws near. T he roof on which he is sitting lurches and—he falls into the black water. The sunken house floats on, and the man goes down the swollen river with all he ever had. Dawn and still the everlasting swirling of waters. The river has swollen to its highest mark and what does it leave behind—death— devastation—and ruin. Out on the black waters float houses—towns. Cattle, barns, hay, all that once meant happiness to some family. Now all is swept away by the ever-rushing waters. The rain ceases and the wind dies away, but the black water rushes on carrying with it all it could move. The timbers creaked and the water rushed on. They were angry waters doing their best to kill—to wash away everything-- It is the flood!! CHARLES YOUNG, ’30. DREAM Here comes my dream boat. Slowly and majestically she enters the famous docks of Grimsby, England, with her sails furled, defying all winds. She brings sweet incense to encourage my dreams and pass away the hours. Silks of the finest quality, spices, jewels, flashing so brightly that they seem to outdo the sun in briliance, and all the glories of the old Eastern world. The captain shows me a redwood box in which to keep my jewels. It was an heirloom of an oid Japanese ruler who, with his family had been assassinated during a revolt. A large ruby, glowing like a redhot coal, is taken out of the jewel case. I decide that I shall have a pendant made out of it and give it to Queen Mary in remembrance of happy days spent with her. Oh. what gorgeous pearls, so even and clear! The wild savages of Africa had traded them for a piece of gold money. Silks, the colors of the rainbow, and made as only the Chinese know how, with beautiful embroidery. Some of the designs of old noble emblems, which had been dead for years; others were the pictures of beautiful flowers, especially their famous cherry blossom. Oh, how my fancies fly, lulled by the sweet, intoxicating oriental incense. I see stern emperors, laughing maidens, playful boys and young children. Look out 1 I am aroused from my dreams with a start just in time to save myself from falling into the water. A boat had once more helped to make the dear old gray cement docks, off where men may be seen mending nets, unloading fish, shipping it to foreign ports, or some old seafaring captain sitting at a distance telling his grandson of past glories, famous with her lucky catch of fish, which she was unloading. Oh. where are my dreams? BERTHA CHESHIRE, '32. 6 THE GREEN AND WHITE “SHIPWRECKED” Bob, the young son of a poor fisherman, was sitting on the dock in a small fishing town near Gloucester. As he was sitting there with his feet hanging over the wharf, a speck appeared against the blue expanse of the water. It grew larger and larger, and then Bob jumped to his feet and ran into the small fisherman’s home and cried joyously, “O mother, here he comes! Come out and see him in! His mother, a worn and tired looking woman, came out of the door and they both went to stand on the dock while the ship sailed toward shore. But much to their disappointment, she changed her course and headed south. The smiles that were on their faces died out instantly, and they walked back very slowly to their shabby shack. The joy that was in their hearts when they saw the ship coming toward them and the grief that filled their hearts when she changed her course—was almost too much for them to bear. The woman’s husband had left her three years ago to go on a whaling schooner. For the last three years they had watched and waited for him, day after day. The son who was three years old when his father left was now six years old. Five weary years passed in watchful waiting but the old sailor did not return. The son was beginning to hear the call of the sea that had called his father years ago. At last the day came when he was to leave his mother and go down to the sea. The fishing schooner, a two-masted vessel—ninety feet in length—was swaying at anchor in the harbor. On the deck of the boat were the dories that the fishermen went out in after they had reached the fishing grounds Down below in the bow were the berths that were built in the side of the boats. A dark, gloomy hole with no chance for air or light. This was to be Bob’s home for the next few months. The crew was busily engaged in baiting up their fishing trawles. They were a hard-boiled “gang,” but what fishing crew isn't? One of the men was a good-hearted old soul. His hair was gray and so were his whiskers. He was short and quite fat. He took quite a liking to the new sailor. But then on the other hand there was another tar slightly younger than the latter. He was tall and lanky with a heart of stone. He was not so very fond of the new comer and if there was any dirty work to be done he saw that Bob did it. But all the other sailors were good sports and friends of Bob. As a member of this crew of all types Bob began his career as a fisherman. The weather had been quite bad for the first week but was expected to be clear for the next few weeks. After two weeks of good sailing they reached the Newfoundland Banks. The men manned the dories and dropped down the sides of the boats and threw out their lines and waited for the first “catch.” When they came “along side” of the schooner at sundown, every dory was filled high with fish of all kind, mostly cod and haddock. Their first catch had been good. For two weeks the weather was fine and fishing was wonderful. Having been favored with unusually good weather, the crew was determined to make the greatest catch of the season during the coming week, but their hopes were short lived. It had ben noted that the sea the last day or two had become calmer than usual but the “jolly tars” did not worry. However, in the early morning of the next day there was a great change in the appearance of both sea and sky which caused a great deal of concern among the crew. The barometer had also registered to a degree that was quite alarming. At this point the captain of the vessel, realizing that a storm was ahead of them, gave orders to his crew that the hatches should be made fast and other general orders for protection of the boat and its cargo. It was none to soon 1 Suddenly a fierce wind sprang up from no-wheres, the seas took on a menacing aspect and great sheets of rain started to sweep down upon the deck. There was a great hurrying by all members of the crew to get below deck until the storm had a bated but they were to wait a little longer than they expected. The boat during this time was pitching, back and forth, a plaything of the waves. The storm grew worse. Larger and heavier waves rolled over the deck. The men below became worried—anxious. At noon the storm had doubled in violence. The waves which were of terrible force had battered one of the hatches. Bob was the first to volunteer to board up the hatch way before any greater damage was done. While repairing the open space, a gust of wind came, driving a huge wave over the deck and washing Bob overboard. He shouted for help. The howling wind mocked him. He shouted again and again. Now his cry was heard. Two men ran to the deck, but with the angry sea and rain sweeping down, it was impossible for them to attempt to lower a boat and search for Bob. Driven in the wind, Bob had found a piece of driftwood and had hung on to it. Tossed by the winds, beaten by rain—he managed to cling to his log. All night he drifted. His strength was giving out. He knew that he could not hold on much longer. He prayed for help—and his prayer was answered. The rain ceased to beat down on hint. The waves tossed him a little more gently. Soon, lie realized that he had been cast up on shore. There he lay—exhausted, he must have fallen asleep because when he awakened a beautiful sun was overhead—and a calm, vast sea stretched out before him. His ship was not in sight. He realized that he was a castaway. He looked around him. How beautiful! He arose and trudged along to the top of a hill. From there he looked down on a beautiful lake and a wood, with all its gorgeous coloring. On the edge of the woods he could see a small thatched building. It was the only one in sight. He went to the hut. Knocked at the door which was opened by an elderly man. The man helped Bob in and offered him a chair. Without a question he gave him food and drink. After Bob had eaten, he felt perfectly all right. He looked about him. The THE GREEN AND WHITE 7 room where he found himself was the only one in the hut. It was unusually clean and neat. On one wall was hanging a locket which attracted his attention. He promised himself to examine it more carefully. Bob told the old man the story of how his father had answered the call of the sea and had never came back. That after many weary years of waiting his mother had given up all hopes. By that time he was old enough to answer the call himself. This w’as his first trip that had ended so disastrously. In the course of his conversation Bob mentioned Gloucester. The old man was startled. He leaned forward. “Did you say Gloucester?’’ “Yes, answered Bob. “My mother’s name was Alicia Kilraine.” Kilraine,” echoed the old man. With that he fell to the floor in a faint. The boy gently picked him up and laid him on the cot in the corner of the hut and bathed his head with cold water. In a short while the old man had recovered. He asked Bob to bring the locket on the wall. “Open it! Open it!’’ he cried. Bob opened it and beheld the picture of his mother. “Why, where did you get this?” he exclaimed. “This is my mother.” “That is the 0icture of the woman that I left waiting in Gloucester so many years ago.” “Then—then you must be my father!” shouted Bob. And he embraced the old man. In his turn the cast away told his story. His ship was wrecked, but another man and he had managed to reach this island. The unfortunate companion was stricken with pneumonia and had passed away, leaving me alone. See the mound over yonder—his grave 1 For years I have lived here the life of Robinson Crusoe, hoping that some ship might pick me up—but all in vain.” For the next few days they both lived happily. It was decided that their only hopes was to build a bonfire on a hill in back of the hut to signal some ship passing by which would rescue them. Finally, after two weeks of anxious waiting their hopes were rewarded by the appearance of a schooner off shore. The lookout noticed the fire on the hill. They were both brought on board and finally arrived at the mainland. From there they journeyed home, father and son together. The joy of the reunion of the family will be left to your imagination. MURIEL HODGDON, 30. “BEFORE AND AFTER” It was a warm summer morning. The sun was just beginning to rise. It was a large red ball which threw a ray of sparkling red across the water. The water wras calm and a dark blue. The odor of the salt brine was w'atfed on the breeze for many blocks. The breeze danced through the tree tops, just enough for the leaves to rustle. What a perfect day for a picnic! We packed our belongings on the motor-boat and left the dock when the mill whistle blew'. We kept smiling until 12 o’clock. Anchor was then dropped, and “eats” were served. After lunch we played the victrola. Everybody danced until Jack and Jim decided to fish. Those who did not care to fish went in swimming. The wind had now begun to blow harder and the boat began to sway. So we decided it was best to pull up the anchor. By the time we wrere ready to start, the sun had disappeared and large dark clouds had gathered. It became very dark and thunder could be heard in the distance. It was now 4 o’clock. The motor in the boat refused to start. Anchor had to be thrown over again. After Tom had fooled around the motor it finally began to start. Anchor was again pulled up. We started on the long journey home. A streak of lightning shot through the sky, then a roar of thunder. Rain poured down as if a cloud had burst. Everybody went into the cabin but Tom. He had to steer the boat. We went along fine after many hours of riding. The dark clouds began to disappear. The rain began to cease, and the water became calmer. We finished our journey around 7 o’clock, weary and tired. LILLIE KERSHAW, Class of 1930. SPRING The spring is come! The spring is come! The brooks are merrily pouring; And the robins are here, and the swallows appear And the lark on high is soaring. Old Winter is gone! Cold Winter is gone! And. pray, what prevented his stay? Why, March was his end, and the April rain Has driven him quite away. Look at the birds! The dear little birds! They’re singing on every bough; And strain their throats with the sweetest notes To rejoice in the warm Spring now'. They're building their nests and tending their nests And quarreling now and then; There’s the blackbird sleek, with the golden beak, And the trush, and the tiny wren. Look to the fields! Away to the fields! We’ve lingered at home too long. Care to the winds we fling, as the bright birds sing And the brooklet murmers a song. And never forget! Oh, never forget! Who it was made the world so fair Who with flowers and trees and mountains and seas Made it beautiful everywhere. MARJORIE L .MANLEY, Class of 1932. 8 THE GREEN AND WHITE THE LOCKED UP HOUSE I was walking along, going no where in particular but thinking of every little thing, when I looked up. Since travel is so broadening, I found myself at what was termed by the people as the “locked up house.” I walked languidly up the walk feeling a strange adventure upon me. Then up to the creekv, old porch covered at this time of year by honeysuckle and ivy. For a long while, I stood undecided whether or not to try to open the locked door. I put out my hand, and with a turn of the wrist and the knob I succeeded in opening the door; so in I went. 0 Man! what a feeling! Creepy! Uncanny was the atmosphere! I could see hairy hands reaching out from behind doors and chairs and everywhere; perhaps one was meant for me. I waited until I recovered my senses and entered the first room that had an open door. In the hall. I had passed through, hung portraits of great value; two stone Egyptian vases—and a Paris green umbrella. Now as I stood at the entrance of the room I had a desire to get out. and another to stay to satisfy my curiosity—so I stepped in and looked around. There was a very large fireplace on my left that reached halfway to the ceiling. A pair of rusty andirons, a few silver plates, and candle sticks, together with an old mantle clock, were its ornaments. A few feet away from the fireplace was a very shiny table with carved legs. As I looked upon the table, it began to turn around, and the carved lions in the legs blinked their eyes and snapped their jaws. My eyes blinked, too, but my jaws were too stiff to snap. Then all sorts of weird noises circulated around me, bats were flying, blinds, banging and shadows flickered all around. How was I to get out? It occurred to me the door was locked behind me and I was all alone. Impossible—now I thought. 1 began to scream. Noises, shadows, eyes, were everywhere. Then I felt a cold clammy hand against my back and awoke to find myself sitting on the pillow with my back against the cold bedpost and a terrific thunderstorm raging outside. ANNE ROHRMAN, Class 1932. “TUTELAGE” We were sitting in the library when I told Will of my approaching marriage. My friend looked at me peculiarly. “Indeed,” he drawled. There was something in Will’s tone that irritated me. Women,” said Will, breaking the silence; Women, I've always hated them; always shall—cloying, sickly, whining---” “Say, did I ever tell you why 1 hate ’em?” he demanded suddenly, his ugly features setting in a thick scowl. “No? Well, I'll tell you right now.” Will sat back in his comfortable chair and frowned ferociously: “I once met a real wom-and. She loved me—they all do. Her love was worth having—pure gold stamped on every link. Not like a modern girl who likes a man a little and his cash a lot. “It was twenty years ago when I met Alice. She came to teach me piano. The Old Man had always been a martinet and too healthy. Seven hundred and fifty dollars he allows me and leads me the life of a dog. For years I’d gone on hoping that one day his insurance ‘jonnies’ would get the smile wiped off their faces, and I’d be able to wear my black suit. But nothing ever happens: nothing ever will. “Alice loved me, women generally do. But Alice's soul used to look out of her eyes. Yes, I can read a woman’s eyes. She loved me for myself. She reckoned naught of the Parkiss wealth. It was ‘Will,’ the ‘Will’ personality.” Will stopped to light his pipe. “Well,” I prompted. “Treated her badly,” grunted Will, his face clouding. “She was mine for the asking. I—I let her down. Listen : Alice used to come up twice a week to give me piano lessons. We used to hold each other’s hands and speak with our eyes, while I gave the keys an occasional jab, to deceive thg Governor, working in his study. It took me a long time before I could persuade him to allow me to have the lessons. Told me I was wasting my money. Anyway, I prevailed, and Alice came twice a week. Days of heavenly bliss, man; I dream of ’em now. I didn’t marry Alice. No, but I always remain true to her.” “I had only $750 a year then. That was all the old curmudgeon allowed me. A man can’t marry on that. One day Alice looked deeper into my eyes and let me kiss her, while I was playing the scale with my left hand. Gad, man. I came to a decision that night. My lessons were completed as far as they would ever be. I’d never be a Mozart at the piano. I’m not musical and what’s a piano when you’ve got a peerles woman like Alice teaching you.” “I knew Alice cared, she was wild about me. I wrote to her and told her I wasn’t as rich as everyone thought. I told her I was as poor as a spider in a church box and that I had a mere seven-fifty per annum to offer her. ‘Write per return, my love,’ I instructed her, ‘and thus show me all you feel for me. If you are afraid to share poverty for some years, do not reply.’ ” Will stopped and breathed exultantly. “I knew she would not fail, she loved me for myself. Nothing mercenary about Alice; money meant nothing to her. It was Will she wanted. The letter came . . . .” Then why didn’t you-------” I began. “Why didn’t I marry her, having the letter that meant so much to me. . . . Which came hastening to me by the very next post from her dear fingers? You will loathe me when I tell you. “I felt as that letter reached my hands that I couldn’t go on with it. I couldn’t—just couldn't let that sweet, unselfish girl face life with seven-fifty between us. “With the letter unopened in my hands. I stood in this very room, before this very fireplace and my fingers trembled at the seal. At that moment the Old Man’s step came from the corridor. He was coming in here. Like a flustered fool, I lost my nerve. He was THE GREEN AND WHITE 9 bounde to make a scene if he knew about this letter. “Without a moment’s thought. I quickly made a cylinder of the envelope, and slipped it within the neck of that vase, intending to read it when the Old Man had gone.” Will eyed the vase tensely. “When the old boy had rummaged about for some cigars and had gone out, I went to the vase for my letter. To my horror I had thrust it in too far. The letter had gone down through the long narrow neck and had expanded, unrolled inside the broad bottom of the vase.’” “Then what?’ ’I questioned. “That was twenty years ago. I tried every dodge I could think of to get that letter, bent wire and all the rest of it. I never succeeded.” “Then it’s still in the vase!” I stared at the blue flask-like ornament. “It's still in there,” said Will. “That vase is priceless. 1 daren’t break it. And why should I? It’s a safe burial place for a love that could not be realized. It’s very wonderful to know that her letter is there. Do be careful.” Wonderingly, reverently, I had taken up the fragile base. “I never replied to that letter of course,” Will said. “How could I? Moreover, I thought it best to maintain silence. Kinder, you see, than putting things in a letter. Sort of let the girl get over it that way. Things would hurt more and-------” “Quite,” I agreed. “I understand you.” I still held the vase. “But I shall always remain true to that woman. Unmercenary, as I am repeatedly drumming into you. Selfless to a degree and one who embraces love despite poverty. In that vase lies the letter I cherish as the token of such a woman.” The unexpected happened. The vase in its blue shimmering slipperiness had evaded my fingers. With a gasp I surveyed the blue crumble spread at my feet. There was a curl of yellow-white paper among the ruins. Dazedly, I stooped and picked it up. My letter,” snapped Will and snatched it from me with eager hands. His prodgy thumb ripped greedily at the time-stained envelope. It parted easily and a sheet of paper was between his fingers. Then the silence of the room was broken by hoarse laughter. Uninvited, I looked over Will’s bent shoulder. The sheet of paper read: “For eighteen piano lessons, $250. An early remittance would oblige -------.” The billhead bore the name of Will’s Alice! HELEN McGUIGAN, '30. Juniors now are we, Usually full of glee; Never upset when things go wrong In a classroom waiting for the gong. “Order, the teacher cries. And the pupils Realize that soon they will be Seniors. FRANCES DUNBAR '31. “PICTURE GALLERY” Picture Room 1 if the Seniors were not there. ” Muriel Hodgdon in the depths of black despair. ” Dorothy Roberts flunking every thing in school. ” Freda Schafft breaking every rule. A class meeting with Bassing meek and mild. Edna Brooks and Elizabeth Doran acting wild, ” Paul Clarke and Pat Mahoney arriving to school on time. ” Motta and Sylvia playing hookey when so inclined. ” Lil Kershaw if she couldn’t laugh and sing. ” Mike Securo if high honors he did not win. ” Ray Makowsky if to Warren he could not go. ” Fritzi Dunbar if she raised that voice so low. ” Carl Witherell if in a show he could not act. Robert Mutiro when he comes up to bat. Stanley Bennett if the boys him did not tease. ” Charles Pendleton if a girl’s hand he could squeeze. ” McCaughey coming early every day. Domenic Perroni cutting capers very gay. ” Lizzy Breen if the slips she forgot to type. ” Charlie Young looking a perfect fright. ” Anthony Bonnano if to whisper he did not dare. Helen McGuigan with a very meek mild air. ” Chassey Le Clerc if he did never blush, ” Fanny Doran always in a rush. Camella Castriotta if to a dance she could not go. Dot Ruggerio if she should whisper very low. ” Paul Campanello without his pleasant grin. ” the Senior class always bound to win. LIL KERSHAW, ’30. CARS The Whippets are so funny and little, While the Packards are so large; But if you get in a Cadillac Y'ou’ll think you are driving a barge. The Chevrolets sound so tinny; The Buicks always rattle ; But when the two are together It sounds like a gunman’s battle. The Chryslers are large and shiny. And they have their faults, too; But try and beat the Fords, that poke their heads Around the corner and say, Boo ! ! CHARLES YOUNG. 10 THE GREEN AND WHITE BOB’S LOYALTY Bob was sitting in his small college room with a group of chums. All was quiet. Everybody seemed to be doing a great deal of thinking for a group of college students. Ralph was the first to speak. Listen Jim, we can do something for you. Go to bed and forget about it and we’ll tell you the outcome tomorrow.’’ “Good night,” broke in Jim. Jim, a tall, wonderfully built, young lad, rose from his chair and walked quietly out of the room. “We’ve got to do something for him, gang. He’s been a great pal to all of us and we can’t let him be expelled now, just before the biggest game of the year.” Jack certainly played a mean trick on him last night when he took Mary home from the dance,” said Bob. Bob,” said Tom, “did you see him when he met Jim, this morning?” “Yes,” said Bob, “and at that minute I knew that there would be a fight, for Jim, is one that would never let anybody walk over him.” Dean Roland, doesn’t know for sure who it was that was fighting with Jack, yet, that is he doesn’t know for sure that Jim was the one.” There was a few minutes of quiet and then Bob broke the silence. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I Dean Roland doesn’t know for sure who it was, I'll go in Jim’s place. I'll go down to the office tomorrow, get expelled, and then we have a great chance to win the game with Chancer College.” “You can’t do that, Bob—but maybe that would save the game.” “We had better get out of here now. Good night, Bob,” said Tom. All of the group rose, went out and disappeared, each into his own room. Jim was the first around the next morning. He entered Bob’s room. Bob’s face was too sober for Jim to understand. “Well, Bob, what's to be done?” said Jim. “You’ve got to let me do this. Jim, please,” exclaimed Bob. “Dean Roland isn’t sure it was you he saw fighting yesterday morning so I’m going to say that it was I. You're a much better player than I. Is it O. K.?’’ “No, you don’t,” cried Jim. “I’m going to tell him it was I. I think too much of you for that.” But. Jim, for the college’s sake, please. We’ve got to win. You’ve got to let me do it. I’m going down now.” And he rushed out of the room before Jim could protest. The day for the game had arrived, and crowds gathered on the benches to cheer for both sides. Cheers arose as Jim’s team went on the field to warm up. At last the time had come and Jim was standing in the pitcher’s box ready to pitch the first ball. For the first six innings he wasn’t as good as he was in other games. His mind was on Bob who had been expelled for his sake. Everybody was cheering. “Come on Jim, snap out of it!” On the way to the train Bob stopped at the field, and when Jim saw him his face lightened. He began to realize that for his sake, Bob was going home and he just had to make himself worthy of the faith Bob and the rest of his pals had in him. So he pitched wonderful ball the rest of the game to the result of the college winning. After the game he was praised highly by all his classmates. On entering his room, who should he see but Bob. Bob,” cried Jim, “what are you doing here? I thought you had gone.” “No,” said Bob. Dean Roland found out at the game, before I had got to the train, that 1 didn’t do it, but he didn’t know for sure who did, so he was going to drop the matter. So, Bob, with loyalty to his friend saved Jim's reputation and the college game. MURIEL HODGDON, ’30 JUST BEFORE RECESS Oh, gee, I'm just as hungry as I can be. I do wish that old bell would hurry up and ring so we could go to lunch. Oh, hum! this is a terribly dull period-“Oh, yes, Mr. Dowd—er —P2 (1 plus rb)”----- Gosh! I almost forgot that formula. I wonder what they will serve for our lunch today. I think I smell bacon' frying. That means bacon sandwitches—ugh ! I wish there would be hot chocolate, it is rather cold today. Hurrah! there is the bell ringing. “What was the assignment in Math? Hurry up, will you; don’t let the Sophs file ahead of us Juniors. Aw! its frankforts and baked beans today—I don’t believe I am as hungry as I was. Well I think I’ll buy a “Milky Way.” I don't feel like eating much. “Lets all go out for a walk around the school, I have had enough lunch.” I guess I wasn’t starved after all, I just wanted to get away from equations and formulas. MARY R. SULLIVAN, 1931. THOUGHTS I often wonder why life’s good things Come but once, as the glorious spring. I wonder why the lives of some Just seem to bubble over with fun. Others turn toward the gloomy side of life, Never trying to conquer in their long strife. Some never hear life’s cheerful song, For they are thinking of their wrongs. Others never seem to laugh or joke Their lives are of ever failing hopes. When into the cruel depths of poverty you fall, Remember—we all must go at the call. So though you are crushed wtih pain, Mountains must be passed, ere plains we gain. Since Almighty God is our leader, The way though rough grows easier. A. RANALLI, Class of 1931, THE GREEN AND WHITE 11 THE CASE OF COLONEL STEWARD As I glanced over the paper, an obituary caught my eye. I paused at that page to read it. It simply said that Colonel John Steward, for the past fifteen years an inmate of the Old Soldiers’ Home, had recently died. Colonel Steward—the name was familiar ! Oh—then I remembered the pathetic looking old gentleman whom the matron had pointed out to me, several years before. What had she said about him? She had said that Colonel John was the saddest case she had ever seen in all her experience; that he had been the bravest and most cheerful of her charges until two years before; that he had suddenly seemed to lose all interest in life. Then we had passed on to the next old hero; but now, as 1 thought of it, I remembered that I had looked back at the Colonel. He was in exactly the same position in which we had found him—his hands in his lap, his head bowed, and his eyes not closed, but staring straight ahead. He certainly looked as the matron had pictured him—the saddest and most hopeless case in that rather sad and hopeless house. As the Colonel had interested me, I had asked the matron for more information about him. All she knew was that at the time he had entered the home, although he had been gay and friendly, be had seemed to be expecting a letter. He had told her that he would probably be leaving the Home soon to go to his niece’s. When he had thought the arrangements were complete he had written a letter containing the final instructions and asking for the final information. A week had gone by—a month; but not until a year had passed had he broken down. The matron said that during this time his interest in his surroundings seemed to cease. He thought that no one wanted him—that all he got for risking his life for his country was to have his family close its doors to him—that he was being thrust upon the Government, which didn’t want him any more than his people did. So, in a few years, he became the unhappy person whom I had seen. I now read through the Colonel’s obituary. He had been a Union officer in the Civil War. He had received several decorations for bravery in action. He had remained in the Army after peace was declared and had served in the Spanish-Amcrican War. The Colonel had retired from active service in 1902 and had run a shoe shop until, in 1909, he had entered the Home. No relatives were mentioned in the notice. Being rather curious why the niece wasn’t mentioned, I called the matron on the telephone to ask if the niece hadn’t been notified. The matron told me that a letter had been sent immediately to her home and that a very-curious answer had come. I asked if I might be of any assistance, so I went up to the Home. The matron met me with the letter in her hand. 1 read : My dear Mrs. Black: I was much surprised to receive your letter announcing the death of a Colonel John Steward. As my Uncle John has been living with us for the past two years, I could not understand how he had also been staying with you at the Home. I hope you will be able to straighten this out, and to identify the poor man; but I assure you he cannot have been my Uncle. Sincerely. MARY STEWARD BROWNING. Mrs. Black had wired for Mrs. Browning to come on, as she had definite proof that the poor man had really' been Colonel John Stew-ard. Mrs. Browning arrived the next day. She was a pleasant woman; but she was utterly convinced that the Colonel Steward staying with her was her Uncle John. The two women went over the records and personal papers that seemed to prove satisfactorily that the late inmate of the Home was the real relative. Mrs. Browning was astounded! If her Uncle had been living at the Home, whom had she been taking so much care of? Been taking care of? Mrs. Black wanted to know exactly what she meant. Mrs. Browning explained that her pseudouncle had one unpleasant habit of helping himself to anything that pleased him—at any time or place. In fact, her husband bad had to go out frequently at night, to get her Uncle, who had been found wandering around on the neighbor’s property. The man seemed also to have a particular hate for fences and gates of all kinds. By the time Mrs. Browning had told us this, she was quite hysterical. She was going to have the imposter arrested; he’d have to pay for all the time and trouble she had spent on him. Hadn’t her husband said: “Uncle” was criminally inclined, anyway? While Mrs. Black was attempting to calm her, I tried to solve this puzzle. Here were two men—each supposed to be Colonel John Steward. I decided that there were three possibilities • either, Mrs. Black’s Colonel was John Steward; or, Mrs. Browning’s was; or, both of the men were impostors. For some reason, I doubted the value of the papers Mrs. Black had provided—they certainly proved that Colonel Steward had been admitted into the Home; that Colonel Steward had been awarded an honorable discharge from the United States Army; but they did not prove that the dead man was Colonel John Steward. On the other hand, Mrs. Browning evidently didn’t have any papers or proofs of his identity. Then Mrs. Browning told us how she and her husband had taken their Colonel in. A letter from Uncle John had arrived, saying that he would come soon. Several days later a neighbor came over to tell Mrs. Browning that there was an old man down at the station, who seemed to be waiting for someone. Mr. Browning, guessing he was Uncle John, went down to get him. The old gentleman had acted very queerly. He had at first refused to answer all questions addressed to him. Finally, however, when Mr. Browning had suggested his name might be John Steward, and that he might be loking for his niece’s house, he had eagerly assented, saying over and over, John Steward, John Steward, that’s my name, John Steward,” as if trying to convince himself. He had gone home with 12 THE GREEN AND WHITE Mr. Browning and had lived there ever since. From the first day Mrs. Browning had realized there was something odd about him. He didn't trust anyone, he made trouble with the Brownings’ friends by his rudeness, and he also had a hobby of collecting keys—he liked outdoor keys, especially. Then he began to walk in his sleep. “In fact. Mrs. Browning added, several times we have almost had him committed. But we thought he was one of the family; so we couldn't; now we'll put him where he belongs—in an insane asylum.” Then Mrs. Black said: Now that you’re positive that that man isn’t your Uncle, have you thought who he might be? Has he ever said anything that would give you an idea?” No, he hadn’t said anything about his life before he came to the Brownings’. When Mrs. Browning left the next day, nothing had been decided. Who Uncle John might be was still a mystery—and very likely to remain so, as there seemed no way to prove that he wasn’t John Steward, or that he was someone else. Several months later, I again had occasion to call Mrs. Black on the telephone. In the course of our conversation 1 asked about the Steward affair. She was silent for a minute, then she said. “It’s still as strange as ever. When Mrs. Browning returned to her home, she and her husband talked the matter over. They had the poor man sent to the State Hospital for Mental Cases for observation. While there he was absolutely identified as Colonel Steward. They had his record as several years previous he had been one of their patients. He had been discharged as cured, but now his mind is a complete blank and he has developed a mania that all the world is against him. The authorities can make nothing of the case, as there is proof for both men. and yet, how can there be more than one John Steward.” “Was the man identified as John Steward?” I asked. “Mrs. Browning didn’t mention that in her letter. She simply said that he had been absolutely identified as her uncle.” So being still interested in the case, 1 wrote to Mrs. Browning herself for information. In her answering letter, she inclosed a report from the hospital saying that Colonel Henry Steward had been a patient there for many years. So the two old men were both Mrs. Browning’s Uncles—and the whole matter was closed. But 1 can’t help but be sorry for poor Colonel John, who thought he had been forgotten—and who died with bitterness toward his country in his heart. CLAUDIA DEWOLF, '31. CRIPPLED GERDA It was a holiday in the little German town of Slaternburg, because it was the birthday of the duke’s only daughter, Princess Olga, and the schools were closed. It was the children’s holiday, for the princess was only a little girl. At the left side of the castle ran a road, with a few poor cottages along it, quaintly built. At the door of one of them stood a group of girls, clad in clear white clothes. In a little chair on the threshold sat a pleasant looking girl with a very pale face. Poor Gerda could not move unless she was lifted and so she had to sit in her chair all day long while her mother worked. “And where shall you go first?” she asked her companions. Why, to get our bouquets at the market,” said one, and then to the great hall at the castle, where we must wait till the princess comes into the gallery; and then to sing our anthem and lay down our flowers.” “1 should like to go, too, just once,” said Gerda, softly. “It seems cruel to leave you at home, Gerda,” said one girl. “Oh, no!” she replied, “I always enjoy the princess’s birthday. You all bring home such pleasant news.” “How contended you are?” remarked another. “Do you never wish for anything, Gerda?” “Oh, yes, I do,” answered the cripple, smiling. “What do you wish?” asked the other, kneeling beside her. “I wonder if you wish the same as I do.” 1 wish I were useful,” answered Gerda. “Oh, I never think about that, replied the other. “I only wish for finer clothes or French bonbons. I’m useless enough, as we all are.” “Oh. no,” said Gerda. “See now, today you are going to please the princess. They say she does not look happy and that the duke’s new wife is not so sweet as her own mother. When she sees your flowers and hears your song, it will cheer her.” Then they all said good-bye to her and went laughing and chatting down the road. Gerda sat there, knitting, until she thought that her young friends visit at the castle must be over, and she began to long for their return. Soon a small chaise came along the road. In it were two ladies, one with gray hair, while the other was still very young, hardly past early girlhood, with a pale, worn face, and large eyes. She checked the reins when she saw Gerda and . whispered to the other who said, “Little girl, how is it you are not with the other children at the castle?” “I cannot go, I am unable to walk,” said Gerda. “I am a cripple.” “Are you not very lonesome?” asked the lady. “No,’ ’answered Gerda. Just now I expect them back with the news from the castle. The strangers exchanged glances. We have been there, too,” they said. “What would you like to hear?” About the princess. Is she happy?” The younger lady bent forward. “The princess may well envy you.” she said. “Btu she needn’t. God's will is good for her as well as for us,” said Gerda. A smile broke over the stranger’s pale face. Will you tell me your name?” she asked. “I am Gerda Hatisler,” she answered. Then the lady touched the ponies and they went away, and Gerda wondered who they were. That evening the Princess Olga sat in her THE GREEN AND WHITE 13 dressing room. Her nurse, who called her “my darling,” instead of “your highness,” said • “The pleasantness of the day has done you good; you look quite bright, my darling.” “Ah nurse,” she answered, all thanks to little Gerda Hansler. She did not think I must be happy because of my station and castle, but she reminded me that they were the will of God as much as her own suffering. If she, a little criple, can smile, should I not smile though a thorn lurk among the roses of my crown?” Gerda told me: “God’s will is good for both. That is my best birthday gift.” MARJORIE L. MANLEY, Class of 1932. “AN ENDLESS DAY” The eight fifteen bell has rung; Everyone is on the run. We all rush to our seats, Now and then shifting of feet. A book drops to the floor. Miss Sisson says, “Close the door.” Then we pass from class to class, But the time just won’t pass. There comes a soft patter of feet. It’s Mr. Brightman to test the heat. A sweet voice in English struggles in vain, Motta starts “Singing in the Rain.” We pass back to home rooms, Lunch hour is very soon, Down the stairs we dance with glee, There’s ice cream, sandwiches, but no samples free. Few minutes later each face falls, For now the bell is calling all, Up the stairs we march in dread. Some are wishing they were dead. The time is now drawing near, But it seems just like a year, Till the last bell has rung for the day, Now every face is bright and gay. It’s all over for one day, Even the teachers seem gay, In our hearts there will be sorrow, For there’s another day—tomorrow. ELLA MAE LeMAIRE. “PATTY” Patty is a pretty maid. But to me, no reverence has she paid, My poem which I tried so hard to make, She did scorn and all its glory take. I do not question her, In fact I pity her, To think she has not heard in her day A verse to equal the one I read to her along the way. MARY CELONE, 32. SEA SHORE IN WINTER The sea shore in Winter is a strange plaything of nature. She makes the waters cold and gloomy : the shore a cold and bleak spot. The waters lash the protruding rocks. The gulls swoop low over the sands in a vain search of a stray fish that might casually swim to the surface. These birds of prey hover for a second, then suddenly dive with a headlong rush. Soon they emerge from the cold water—sometimes with a fish and sometimes—nothing. Soon snow begins to fall. The water rats those little gray thieves of the beach, scurry to their shelter or under some low lying rock or pier. The snow falls silently on the waves that roll continuously up the sand and back down again. Sometimes a heron is seen standing shivering in the cold. So falls the wintry night on the sea shore. Morning on that shore means nothing to its inhabitants. The sky is cold and gray, sometimes filled with snow, falling silent. The beach is all white except at the waters edge On the water are huge cakes of ice floating about. They freeze together as the cold increases. The gulls stand about. They cannot get fish and it is too cold to fly. A flock of geese go flashing past them. They are screaming: “Come away, you gulls, come South where it is warm.” The gulls cast a shivering glance at the geese. The wind increases, the ice breaks up. The gulls have to fly now, for there is no place to stand. The wind and water later lashes the ice into a fine slush. Night is coming on again. With it comes sleet, snow and cold winds. As we go away, we hear the faint cry of the heron, and the water washing up on the snow-covered beach, as it seems to say: “Break, Break, Break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.” CHARLES YOUNG, Class 1930. WHY WORRY? Why worry if you flunk a subject or two, If your lessons for tomorrow you are yet to do. If your girl has turned you down, and you feel blue; Or if you’re on the football team with not a victory to boast. Don’t worry, for you will soon find it doesn’t pay. Your work remains undone and your hair'll soon turn gray; You’ll find the joys of life slip by; While you sit still and worry or sigh. Meet your defeats with a grin and a laugh; Grit your teeth and curl up a smile. Tackle your task with joy in your heart, And show that you’re glad to do your part; And I'll bet a cent to a million that you’ll land on top. M. SECURO, Class of 1930. 14 THE GREEN AND WHITE A STRANGE EXPERIENCE IN STRANGE YEARS Headlines in papers all over the world were screaming forth their message of another disaster. Porter’s Plane Not Heard from for 48 Hours. No Hope Held for Survivors, If Plane Crashed Terrific Storms Are Reported Over the Vicinity of the Pole by Weather Bureau. At Washington. Commander Porter and his small band of courageous men set out to fly across the North Pole today at 7:15 p. m., Eastern Standard Time. Radio communication was continuous, although heavy storms made clearness impossible, until 10:43 p. m., when a report was suddenly cut short. The year 2453 A. D. a city of approximately 3000 was situated on a small island in the Hudson Bay, where once man couldn't live because of the intense cold. The city of Burton was proud to have the great honor of being chosen by the American, Admiral Wells, a descendant of the first man to fly across both poles, to be his base in a search for the last ice that might have been left by the heat plants. A deep valley had been reported still filled with the heavy and massive cakes of ice. which at one time completely covered the now most prosperous and fertile country belonging to his Majesty King George XVI., the emperor of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain. These ice beds were to be found on this exploration trip, and their exact location found on maps so the rays of heat, from the gigantic heat plants, could melt them and form another healthy and fertile territory to be added to His Majesty’s Empire. The beautiful new aluminum space conquerors, as they were called, were all ready to start. The day had arrived and the Americans quickly left their base and disappeared far to the north in the machines. After several days of vain search the great discovery is made, the last valley of ice is found! The men from the “conquerors” explore the ice fields before they disappear forever. A shout! The men hury to their commander's side, he points to a tremendous cake of ice directly before them. There, standing straight before him and frozen in the center of the huge cake, is— A man! He is dressed in a peculiar costume of now rare furs. The Admiral directs the piercing ray of one of the many chemical torches upon the ice, which immediately begins to melt. As soon as the figure is totally clear of the ice, the sailors rush him to the Admiral’s “conqueror. There it is discovered that he isn’t dead! Gradually, the doctor brings him back to life. The first word that was said was spoken by the Unknown, who looking slowly around in a dazed manner, suddenly asked: Where am I? Where are my men?” The officer answered, “I am Admiral Wells, United States Navy, who are you?” The Unknown snapped to attention and saluting replied: “Commander Ralph M. Porter, U.S.N., sir; commander of the ill-fated Arctic Exploration Plane “Aztec.” Left New York, December 30, 1955, and wrecked five days later by terrific headwinds. What date is this? A startled expression overspread Wells’s face, “What?, he cried, “Left New York in 1955?” “Yes, sir. Why, are you ill?” No, only a shock! Do you realize that this is the year 2453? That your party left the city of New York, four hundred and ninety-eight years ago? You have been frozen almost five centuries!” As the truth suddenly dawned upon him, Porter’s face turned ashen white and he would have fallen if a Marine orderly had not been near and caught him. As he lay on the couch in a dead faint, his hair turned slowly gray and his face became wrinkled. When he was at last brought back to consciousness, he could scarcely speak and realizing that he was dy ing he asked - Will you tell me what has happened to the United States since 1 left?” “The United States.” said Wells, with Great Britain are the only, two countries left. Britain holds Europe, Canada most of Africa, part of Asia, and Australia. The United States holds the rest. The Red and Yellow races attacked the White and Black and were finally defeated by the combined forces of Great Britain and America. All other countries having fallen at the beginning of the war. Finally, at the surrender of the enemy, we divided with Great Britain. That was three hundred years ago.” As he finished speaking, the now very old man gasped and cried out for water. It was brought him with a stimulant, but he had died before the glass was placed to his lips. The “conquerors” with colors at half-mast sailed into Burton one day with a marvelous story to tell. Later Porter was given a naval funeral at Arlington Cemetery in Washington, D. C„ which was still the capital of the mighty nation and----- Hayes!” You hear this, through a fog of returning memory and as you gaze blankly at the firce countenance of Latin Prof. Charles E. Dowd, you realize that your marvelous experience must be chilled by a very dry account of one of Caesar’s everlasting victories. —FRANCIS W. HAYES, ’32. THE CONQUEROR • From afar o’er the hill tops, every day Rumbling and thugging from far away The Limited speeds at its steady pace, A symbol of might of the human race. Defiant whistles and startling cries Resound as the smoke spirals into the skies; Then its echo is heard as it mounts distant hills Rushing from cities through valleys and rills: Day after day its shrill proud cry Returns as we stand to watch it go by 1 MARY R. SULLIVAN, ’31. THE GREEN AND WHITE 15 ZENOBIA'S INFIDELITY Dr. Tibbett, a surgeon went, Down to a showman’s circus tent, To help an elephant in distress, For he was a doctor, and had to say yes. He hurried and climbed into his gig, Which was not so very, very big, And sped to the tent where he saw, A burnt elephant lying on the floor. “O save him, help him!” the showman cried, “So my dearest Zenobia will not die.” So the doctor knelt down and took off his coat. For a badly burnt elephant was no joke. “A barrel of linseed oil,” Doc exclaimed; “To see if I can relieve the elephant’s pain.” And after an hour’s work or two, The elephant’s pain was a little soothed. To show her appreciation for Doc’s work, Zenobia decided to pay the clerk. And much to young Doc’s distaste. She twisted her trunk 'round Doc’s waist. He then promised to call on the morrow, For he must ease Zenobia’s sorrow. For she hated much to sec him go. And insisted on caressing his nose. He called on her every day or two, To see what he might be able to do, Until the elephant was completely cured. And as long as his visits could be endured. Many weeks passed, And, at last, Zenobia went in search one day, For the doctor she wanted to pay. One sunny day, Doc got in his gig, And went to see Miss Minnetta, he did, And all of a sudden something that looked like a hose, Insisted on rubbing the doctor’s nose. “Great Caesar!” screamed Doc, For Zenobia, he was unable to stop. And here she was, donned in her red cap. All ready to pay him back. She lavished caresses on poor old Doc, Until he was unable, Zenobia to stop. And the showman appeared on the scene, And let out a terrible scream. “What do you mean?” said he, Stealing Zenobia’s affections from me, Why we’ve been pals for fourteen years, And he immediately burst into tears. But much to the doctor's dismay, Zenobia followed him day after day. So out to the pasture he did go, For fear Dr. Pentegill, his rival, would know. Perched on top of the pasture fence. The doctor did commence, To solve a way to rid him, Of his terrible, terrible victim. About ten minutes elapsed. And his rival, Dr. Pentegill, passed. “What is the matter?” shouted he; “Want me to take the case for thee?” A peal of laughter was heard, And the elephant’s temper was stirred, She gave a convulsive start, And poor old Doc nearly fell apart. Such humiliation Doc never had had For the elephant was getting very mad, She gave one terrible stride, And into the woods she did fly. Thus into the drugstore Doc did go. For a prescription for Zenobia, Ho! A pound of whale soap was added until, The contents was made into a pill. The doctor sped merrily along, Until he saw a laughing throng, And heard a heavy thumping on the road, Which certainly did sound like a load. “Heaven help me!” the Doc did cry, For Miss Minnetta Bunker he did spy. “Your pill, Zenobia!” he said, almost a scream, And Zenobia immediately ate believing it cream. And all of a sudden the elephant groaned, And fell to the ground with a terrible moan, But in a few minutes she was fast asleep; And on the elephant Doc did peep. “Alas, my troubles are over,” he replied. And rode off with Miss Minnetta by his side. For Zenobia, now cured of her affection, follows her master; And this is the end of a terrible disaster. ELIZABETH BREEN, ’30. THE STORM One fine, frosty morning in the middle of October Tom and Fred Harris rowed their small skiff out of the place where their large power launch was moored. They were going on an all-day sea trip around Narragansett Bay. When they were a few miles from home, Tom happened to open the morning newspaper, which he had thoughtfully taken along. “The paper predicts a thunderstorm for this afternoon,” he said. “Don’t always believe the newspapers,” replied Fred. They are almost always wrong. After having cruised about for sometime in the bay, they started back towards home. Tom pointed his finger to an ominous looking patch of gathering black clouds, directly over the path they were taking. Fred, who was steering at the time, gave the engine more gasoline and the craft speeded faster over the waters. Very soon the waves were whipped up by frequent gusts of winds. Then some water leaked into the engine and the boat stopped. The storm came on in all its fury. Narragansett Bay loked like one mass of foam. The bovs were in despair. Fred tried in every way 16 THE (iREEN AND WHITE to start the boat again. Just then a huge wave smashed the launch into kindling wood. A piece struck Tom on his ear, which began to ring incessantly. He was floating around in cold icy water. Now, he was sinking, down, down, down into the icy abyss. Tom, it’s time to get up, cried his mother. The alarm clock has been ringing for about five minutes. Didn't you hear it? “What a dream!” Tom said. “I wish I hadn't eaten that mince pie before going to bed last night.” ELMER MANLEY, Class 1931. WHY WORRY OVER EXAMS? You have two alternatives: Your teacher is either easy or hard. If she is easy, you have nothing to worry about. If she is hard, you have two alternatives—either you study hard or bluff. If you study hard, you don't need to worry. If you bluff, you have two alternatives—either your bluff works or it doesn’t. If it works you don’t have to worry. If it doesn’t work—you have two alternatives: either you pass on trial or, you flunk. If you pass on trial you don’t have to worry. If you flunk—you won’t have to worry any longer. So-----why worry ? RAYMOND MAKOWSKY, ’30. YOUR DO(i Who is this friend that’s staunch and true, And always tries to go with you, Who watches every word you say, And ready when you want to play? It is your dog, this friend so true, Who always waits at the door for you. And watches your face, where he can trace Lines of sorrow or good grace. Where can you find a better pal. Who stays with you though you may fall ? Where ever your footsteps shall come to wend This faithful soul will always trend. D. ROBERTS, Class of 1930. THE WARREN (iAME Whoops and cheers from the bleachers come; A touchdown, horay! and the game is won. The hero smiles to the ladies fair And feels aglow to the end of his hair Now thats' not all that's in a game But a thrilling part of it just the same, For a man must be steady, daring and true, The kind of a person that's called “true blue,” To run that length, 'mid opponents’ jeers. Even tho’ you're showered with cheers. Takes lots of courage, tho' it looks like fun. And you’re all tired out when the game is done. MARY R. SULLIVAN, ’31. “DRIFTWOOD” Many a person has wandered aimlessly along the beach, without a thought of worry or a care of any kind on their mind. One may see many things, such as colored stones, fruit pealings and also decayed wood—driftwood. Where this wood comes from nobody knows. What it was originally nobody knows, but let us have our imagination wander and think of what this wood might have been. Let us picture a beautiful ship sailing along very smoothly with a blue sky for a background and fluffy white clouds against the blue. Then within an hour the beautiful scene changes and in its stead black clouds gather— stormy clouds, white caps begin to grow, then the ship begins to toss back and forth. First, bow is seen and then the stern. Bottles begin to tumble down. All objects not joined with something more strong come rolling across the deck and overboard. The people begin to be excited and most of them terrified. The sailors hurry to and fro, the captain giving orders. For an hour this goes on and then all hope is given up. The lightning flashes, thunder rolls, and then a crash is heard and then a spur crashed into the deck. The ship goes down slowly as water begins to rush in; the boat is under to the rail now, and then a splash is heard and it rolls over and goes under. Days pass and the storm ceases. The blue sky reappears, the beautiful white clouds appear against the blue, but no ship is seen— only the remaining bit of timber. For weeks or perhaps months these float on until they float to shore and lay there and decay. MURIEL HODGDON, ’30. CLASS 1930 Snip is the smallest boy in our class, Frank is the boy who studies to pass. Bob, whom we know to be very shy: Anthony a boy who wants to fly. Bennie, a lad who studies for fame; Mike, who is doing the very same. Chassey, a boy who is never late; Porky, always willing to debate. Ray, the most studious lad we know; Peanut, who struts about just so. Lillie, who can't help being that way; Clark, who never has much to say; Carl, an actor, we know he'll be; Dot, so very ladylike is she. Elizabeth Breen, who is full of fun; General Motta, who weighs a ton; Dottie, indeed, a very pretty lass; Camela, who typewrites so fast; Helen, as fair as she can be; Charlie, an artist as you see; Muriel, our classmate so tall; Louis, who plays all kinds of ball; “Youngie,” who loves so much to play; Fritzie, who does always feel so gay; Edna, a girl as quiet (?) as can be; Freda, whom at the movies you'll often see; Bill, the lad who walks so much; Domenic, who never gets in dutch; Myself, not least, but only last. This, you see, is the 1930 Class. ELIZABETH E. DORAN, ’30. THE GREEN AND WHITE 17 REX RETURNED Most Bristolians know Rex, the unofficial guide of the town. Friendly, sociable, not too garrulous, he has a greeting for one and all. The name Rex denotes kingly pedigree, blue blood and aristocratic forebears. But Rex claims none of these. Just a mongrel with democratic fondness for mankind. (The red bow attached to his collar does not signify communism, however, but courage.) Back and forth he plods all day, downtown escorting Mrs. Visitor, uptown he returns with Mrs. Resident. And so when word was broadcast that Rex was lost, sighs and regrets were heard from his many friends. He was last seen crossing Mt. Hope Bridge on the day it was dedicated. Dodging his way in and out through the “madding crowd,” he crosses the bridge and disappears. Someone suggested that perhaps he was Don Quixote reincarnated, and had heard about the windmills in Portsmouth and wished to take a tilt at them. Another thought he had heard the war cries of the Indian tribes and lured by the call of the blood of some famous chief, which coursed in his veins, he had answered that call. This semed a logical suggestion for when Rex was found in Tiverton, he was not far from the hunting ground of Awashonks. With downcast head and lowered tail he was a perfect specimen of dejection, perhaps sorrowing for a lost race. Who knows? Great was the rejoicing when Rex returned. “A dog of parts, he was still “Rex the guide.” FREDERICKA DUNBAR, ’30. JUNIORS C is for Claudia, a smart lass. Who never likes to miss a Latin class. O is for Our football squad, full of pep. They’d win all the games, if they just watched their step. L is for Louis, who is our guard When he tackles, he tackles ’em hard. T is for “Tony, a player clever Whose hair always curls in spite of the weather. M is for Martin, a full back, acts When he kicks the ball it never comes back. E is for Ella Mae, who is, they say, A good leader for our play. M is for Mary, who never is late; She’s always ready and very sedate. 0 is for Oliver, who is placed last, For he is the smallest in our class. R is for Rinalli, a good debater, Who soon, we hope, will be much greater. 1 is for Ira, with his pretty blond curls. Who stands at the door and watches the girls. A is for Anderson, who plays the ’cello; She likes “Chang” better than any other fellow. L is for Levy, the last on my list, Who soon will be a great pharmacist. L. F.. RYONE, ’31. THOUGHTS OF A WOULD-BE ACTOR After weeks of tedious rehearsing—the night of the show came. A bath—ears and neck scrubbed—a few morsels of food, supper hastily eaten. Then to the show. The school! Everyone running here and there! The orchestra playing an assortment of notes 1 The ushers in their “plus 16’s“ trying to look serious ! The dressing room, costumes, clothes, powder, rouge, noise! Make-up smeared and applied—ugh! Transformation! Inspection. 8:15. The overture. Lights flash off. The funeral march to the anterooms. “Heh? Me, nervous? Oh, no, no! I’m not nervous—(soft voice)—not much !' One’s tongue sticks to the roof of one’s mouth. A few remarks supposed to be jokes, but no response. Zero hour—the opening chorus—a flash of dazzling colors. At last—the fatal entrance--- Ye gods! my first lines! What are they?— “You have that notable and distinguished, etc.” My cue—the sea of faces—the blinding spotlights—Miss Sullivan—relief ! The song—then exit. Boy! It’s great to be on the stage. All nervousness gone---- Entrances and exits—soon the finale, out in the hall receiving congratulations. Then home and sweet sleep! RAYMOND MAKOWSKY, '30. THE LAUNCHING A masterpiece lay in the shed. The results of many a week. Awaiting just a magic touch To make the task complete. The elements all seemed to smile On this auspicious day. Inviting all who so desired To witness the display. The workmen hurried in and out, Each one assigned his part: Each looked upon this mammoth child With just pride in his heart. The signal given, the blow is struck; She moves before our eyes, While clear above the tumult rings “I name thee, ‘Enterprise!’ ” As down the rail, she smoothly glides, Designer and owner aboard. “One of the four—may the best one win!” We cry with one accord. FREDERICKA DUNBAR, ’30. 18 THE (iREEN AND WHITE THE GAME OF LIFE Life is like a football game! We all are on the team • There are no scrubs—no substitutes : Nobody left to dream. When we are born—the game is on; There is no backing out. We’re here to stay—to win or lose: Our future bangs in doubt. How many of us play the game The way it should be played? By striving fair and playing square To get the points we've made. Do we give up too easily, Or do we forge ahead? And do we try—to do or die: Do we lead or are we lead? And when obstacles come along— We’re bound to meet a lot of those— Have we given in and faltered, Or are we ready on our toes? Do we smack ’em down and show ’em That we are ready, too; That we can take it on the chin, And still remain true blue. So in the game of Life, Make your name stand out first! Be honest, upright, truthful. And you need not fear the worst. For when the One Great Scorer comes To write beside your name—he writes Not that you won or lost------- But how you played the Game! F. VERA, Class of ’31. MY PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE If I could live like Rudy, My dog, so sleek and fine, Without a thought of science. Or history's brief outline, I know I’d find life very sweet; My day’s one grand sweet song, But he is he, and I am I, And things are just all wrong. Rudy never heard of Caesar Of ancient Greece, or Rome But how he loves an open fire. And how he loves a bone. He may have heard of Darwin Or of Adam and his Eve. But he never reads the headlines! There’s a lot he won't believe. He just ignores the multitude ; Noisy traffic he abhors; But all that’s sweet and beautiful And wholesome he adores. If he went up to Harvard. He’d be a snob, I must confess. But lie represents my philosophy In one word, “Happiness.” FRITZ I DUNBAR ’30. THE BELLE OF BAGDAD Rehearsal's tonight at six o'clock.” Miss Sullivan says to us all; And I don’t mean seven, And I don't mean eight, But six o’clock in this hall.” “Oh, Miss Sullivan, please have a heart,” Says Raymond, a leading man. Tonight I’ve a date Which I simply can’t break. I’ll come tomorrow night, if I can.” Rehearsal’s today at half-past two,” Miss Sullivan says, looking ’round. Then, says Jack Marsden, the singer, With a smile a dead ringer. “At the ‘Y’ I’m afraid I'll be found.” The play is a flop,” Our Zeigt'eld” says. I can never get you together; You must come today, everyone at three. And I don't care a rap about weather.” “I can’t come today”, Says our verstile “Bube”, I have to work, you know. Just think of the throats that would have to go dry. Why at Buffington's I’m the whole show”. We can’t come either” Says Chassy and Fat Basketball practice today— Coach wil give us “particular Ned” If we don’t show up to play.” And so it went on 'Till the night of the play When with music and costumes all set. The Belle of Bagdad went over the board With glamour and finish and pep. FREDERICKA DUNBAR '30 SPRINGTIME When springtime comes and all the flowers bloom And robins, sing the songs we love to hear What is there to us, that we love more dear? Oh, spring you can not come too soon. The grass that was so brown is now so green The skies above have changed their colors, dull Violets, and mayflowers in fields do dwell And birds now in the tree tops may be seen. The early dew appears a silver mask And the mornings are so bright and clear The birds all bring to us, their songs of cheer Aud the sun peeps out to do its daily task. The lapping waters on the shore are so enticing A peaceful spirit reigins over all, The boys and girls bear the magic call. Oh, why is springtime so bewitching. M. DeMOTTA, '30. THE GREEN AND WHITE 19 BLISS? I. I walked to school, one morning clear, Feeling so happy and gay. Upon reaching my desk, so dear. My feelings began to sway. II. For there, under cover residing, Lay my French—placid, undone. Icy stares from its place of hiding Confronted me, one by one. III. Grabbing my pen with a jerk. And seeking my lost notebook, I soon started to really work— Giving the clock a hard look. IV. Later returning from class, Having met with my doom, I was a sorrowful lass, Deeply surrounded by gloom. SHIRLEY NEWMAN, 31. C. M. H. S. Colt Memorial High is the Senior High School of Bristol, Rhode Island. It is an exceedingly beautiful marble building standing at the corner of Bradford and Hope street. The general appearance of this building is very imposing; constructed of Georgian marble, with four massive pillars in front, and a perfect marble balustrade. At this time of the year—Spring—one cannot but notice its beauty, as it stands, surrounded by a spacious lawn, a memorial to the mother of one of the most loyal citizens Bristol has ever known— Colonel S. P. Colt. Let us take a peep within this hall of learning. As we enter the large corridor, we are greatly impressed by the general appearance which is not at all like a school. Directly opposite the main entrance is the auditorium, a perfect hall, large enough to accommodate three or four hundred people. Directly over the stage is a marvelous window of perfect coloring, depicting a scene along the Mediterranean Sea. which ought to be an inspiration to the pupils. Because of its soft coloring, this hall is entirely lacking in that “coldness,” which exists in most school auditoriums. On this same floor are two classrooms—the office and teachers’ rest room. The Seniors, with Miss Callan, as home room teacher, occupy one of the rooms; and the Juniors, under Miss Sisson occupy the other. On the second floor, we find the Sophomores occupying two rooms; Room IV.. Mrs. Magee, home room teacher, and Room III., Miss Bradford, in charge. In Room V., we find the mighty 13”—or, in plain English, the overflow of Junior boys. Room VI. is just a recitation room. Here, on the second floor, we find the small but much used library. Each period it is filled with people, some to study—others to read. The drawing room, laboratories and typewriting rooms are to be found on the third floor. So much for the building. Now, for the pupils, who are the “best” in the country. Although small in number, the student body, numbering around one hundred and fifty, is most loyal. A very wonderful school spirit exists here, in the C. M. H. S., which is most noticeable when a musical comedy is to be staged, or games to be formed, particularly a game with Warren. Then the study body turns out a hundred per cent, strong. Football, basketball, baseball and track keep the boys busy, while the girls are most active at basketball, although seriously handicapped because of lack of “gym’’ facilities. Taken as a whole, we find the pupils of the Colt Memorial High School “love” to go to school. MARION DAVENPORT, ’32. TEAM WORK It was a very hot sunny afternoon in July. One of those days when most people just love to “mope” around and dream. Dreaming, day dreaming was my favorite pastime that afternoon, as I sat on the verandah of a hotel. Just gazing off into space, that’s all. Suddenly I rubbed my eyes! What was that 1 Before me on a gate post was a whole army of ants, working industriously. How queer they were! They fascinated me. Half way down the post was a large hole from which the ants would poke out their heads, drop something which would be caught in the mouth of other ants below on the post or ground who would carry off this treasure to store up in some unseen place. Every once in a while the ants dropping the crumbs would take a walk around the post, and then start working again. This continued until quite late, then they all disappeared and we saw no more of them. How they co-operated! It was a wonderful lesson in team work. It brought back to my mind, in a very emphatic manner that old proverb, “Go to the ants, thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise. AUDREY MUNRO, 1932. Vera— Ladies and Gentlemen, I have here my greatest masterpiece, a landscape scene.” Voice (from audience)—“Why, that’s only a piece of blank paper! Vera—“Sure, that’s a street scene in Scotland on tag day!” Securo (to photographer)—“Shall we take this map off the wall before you take our pictures?” Photographer—“Sure! Why have an extra map in the picture?” Bennett (to Bassing entering school with palm beach suit on)—“Hey, take it off! This ain’t Hallowe’en!” Bassing—“I know it ‘ain’t’ it’s my broth- 20 THE GREEN AND WHITE TANTALUS A lonely gull sits on a bouy, Nor looks to left or right; His gaze is fixed on things below The waves, out of our sight. From early dawn, ’til late at night He neither drinks nor eats; But like some silent sentinel. He sits and dares not sleep. The scarcely rippling pewter sea Reflects the leaden sky: A ship comes in, a ship goes out; He dares not wink an eye. But like a graven image, Solemn, still and grave, He keeps his penetrating eyes Fixed on each lapping wave. Just as the Phrygian King of yore With an anguished, aching throat— While temptingly beyond his reach The baited eel traps float. FREDERICKA DUNBAR. '30. THE HARBOR MASTER Quite near my house, Just ’cross the street, A stately elm tree stands; A thing of beauty and allure; Its graceful branches reaching out In mute appeal to other lands. For many years The birds have found Remote from fear and harm A resting place, a rendezvous Where travel stories oft are told Within its sheltering arms. Alone it stands No neighboring trees To share the wind and sleet Quite like some silent sentinel Who sees and knows its duty, too, It gazes out upon the deep. The cup defenders anchored by, And craft of various type. Look toward the shore where on its bank. Witching their buoys and ropes and lights. Stands my elm, so grim and tall: A harbor master of first rank. FREDERICKA DUNBAR, ’30. Campanello—“Dr. Edwards was certainly a thoroughly educated man.” Witherell—“Yes; that man had more degrees than a centigrade thermometer.” Marsden—“Aw—all girls aren’t supposed to be smart.” A. Perry—“Then I was meant for a girl 1 AS WE SEE OTHERS By Exchange Editor Helen McGuigan The Killonian : Your school activities and class news are very interesting and appealing. Why don’t you establish an exchange column? “Red and Black, Rogers High School, Newport, R. I. We congratulate you for your excellent paper and unusual departments, Pat the Senior” and Ye Oracle,” which are exceedingly clever. Your Football number was fine; it shows the interest which the pupils of Rogers High have in football. Let us hear from you again. “Blue and White,” Hope High School, Providence, R. I.: We were overjoyed with your book. Your literary department deserves praise. But where is your table of contents? Your cuts are excellent. We envy your fine collection of poems. “The Innocent By-Stand-er” is unique. Good luck for another successful paper. “The Wampatuck, Braintree High School, Braintree, Mass. You have the best cuts we have seen thus far. All your departments are fully covered. Your literary section is superb. We also took note of your collection of poetry. “Weather Vane.:” You have many odd departments. The Foreign Language department is noteworthy, and your literary articles are well chosen. We (the accounts of Shvlock by your under class men) were interested in the essays “To Prove Shvlock is a Villain” and “In Defence of Shylock.” That was only one item which drew our attention in your witty magazine. “The Quarterly,” Stamford High School, Stamford, Connecticut: Your editorials caught our eye, such a good beginning. We enjoyed “Joyce Kilmer Up to Date,” Where is your Joke Department? Don’t you believe in humor? Your literary department coilld be increased. H. M. “Green and White,” Colt Memorial High School, Bristol, R. I. Mahoney—“Buy your shoes at Makowsky’s —his shoes squeak for themselves.” Bassing, writing a theme—“How do you spell unconscious?” Witherell—“Oh, just draw your own picture there 1” Bassing (entering school)—“Good morning! Mr. Vera.” Vera—“Yea----It was 'till you got here!” Mr. Dowd (in Latin III.)—“The man lived three years.” H. McGuigan—“Aw—he wouldn’t be a man then.” THE GREEN AND WHITE 21 COLT AND FOOTBALL A couple of days after the opening of school in September, Colt football men began practice for what we of Colt think was a quite successful season. Our new coach was Mr. Fitzgerald of the faculty, and under his guidance the Colt team played hard, clean and deceptive football. The candidates for the squad were many and all through the season there were twenty men ready for action. After a couple of weeks of practice, the lettermen of the previous year elected Louis Sylvia to captain the team. Frederick Vera was elected manager of the team and we may add that this work was very efficient. The first game on the schedule was with La Salle and the fellows entered the game with spirits running high. La Salle, much the heavier of the team, could gain nothing through our line, but touchdowns were scored against us via air. La Salle, a Class A team, won 27-7. Colt entertained North Kingstown the following week and the Fates were against Colt again and we lost 13-7. Colt’s luck was so bad that the next week, after completely outplaying South Kingstown High during the whole game, one of our passes was intercepted in the final minute of play and we were defeated 7-0. Well! Enough is enough! The following week we were out to—well—to win a game. St. Raphael, who had defeated South Kingstown and who was one of the leaders in interscholastic football as our foe. In what was said to have been Colt’s best game, St. Raphael was subdued to the tune of 7-0. On the following Friday a- scoreless tie was played with East Greenwich Academy. As the major attraction on Armistice Day, Colt journeyed to Warren to stack itself against the Warren High eleven. Colt completely outplayed its opponents and romped to an easy 9-0 win. Warren, it may be interesting to note, made no first downs. The squad journeyed to De La Salle in Newport for the finals of Colt’s 1929 football season. The team was defeated, 13-0. During the past season much was learned of the fine points of the game and the fellows gained a great deal by the way of experience. Above all the sportsmanship and morale of the Colt team was on the upward surge and we prophesy that in 1930 the team, captained by Martin Biancuzza will win the championship. The following were the letter men : Anthony Ruggiero, Michael Securo, Louis Sylvia (capt.), William West, Manuel Motta. Albert Le Clerc, Raymond Makowsky, Martin Biancuzzo (capt.elect), Milton Bassing, Carl Witherell, Anthony Perry, Robert Munro, Paul Campanello, William McCaughey, Anthony Bonanno and Frederick Vera (manager). Gold footballs were presented by the School Committee to twelve regulars and the manager of the team. Scores: Colt.....„..-.................7 La Salle ...27 Colt ........... 7 North Kingstown ....13 Colt...............0 South Kingstown .... 7 Colt..............7 St. Raphael . 0 Colt............ 0 East Greenwich ...... 0 Colt...............9 Warren .............. 0 Colt......-... 0 De La Salle ........—13 BASEBALL In five of its first six games, a veteran Colt baseball team gave up the decision to the opponents. Only one of these games was a Class B game, however. Colt opened the season against Pawtucket High, and although out-hitting their opponents, lost the decision, 7-6. In a return engagement, the Colt boys turned the tables on the Interscholastic League champs and won, 6-. Colt again journeyed to Pawtucket and was defeated by St. Raphael Academy, 11-8. Colt then lost its next three games. The scores were: South Kingstown 5-2, La Salle 15-8, and St. Raphael 9-6. Notwithstanding these defeats Colt has an eager eye upon the Class B championship, and if the fellows come through with a punch, it is theirs. BASEBALL. TEAM Front Row (left to right)__Jack Marsden. Albert LeClerc, Martin Biancuzzo, Antony Perry, Louis Silvia, Andrea D Ambrosia, Back Row (left to right)___Antony Bonanno (manager), Fred Carroturo, William Simmel, Christopher Maderas. William Guivremont, Nunzio Gaglio, William West, Cosmo Marabello, William LeMaire, Wilfred Guivremont, Louis Annarumo, Oliver Desilets. Coach Edward Fitzgerald. THE GREEN AND WHITE 23 BASKETBALL Colt’s 1929-1930 basketball team had a rather mediocre season, winning few of the schedule games. Many of the games were lost by very narrow margins and Capt. “Chassy” Le Clerc and his mates experienced as many bad breaks as any one athletic team could. At times the team looked like a world beater, but most of the time the other team seemed to be a “wee bit” better. Stanley Bennett managed the team that, after all looked sullen and gloomy for the final tussle with Warren, rose to unexpected heights and was just nosed out in the final seconds, 15-13. Nunzio Gaglio, a regular forward, was chosen captain of the 1930-1931 team. The letter men: Capt. Albert Le Clerc, Louis Sylvia. Anthony Ruggiero, Martin Biancuzzo, Nunzio Gaglio (capt.-elect), Oliver Desilets, Carl Witherell and Mgr. Stanley Bennett. GIRLS’ BASKETBALL In its first season of organized basketball, the Colt High Girls fared not so badly. The team was coached by Miss Ethel Walmsley, managed by Miss Muriel Hodgdon, and captained by Mis Helen McGuigan. The team won four games, defeating both the Warren Girl Scouts and the N. I. R. Girls twice. With good material for 1930-1931, the girls expect to sport a team which is a consistent winner. GIRLS’ BASKETBALL Captain—Helen McGuigan ; Manager—Muriel Hodgdon; Coach—Ethel Warmsley. Helen McGuigan (Capt.), c.; Muriel Hodgdon, f.; Lillian Kershaw, g.; Louise Bell, g.; Agnes Currier, s.c.; Margaret Cichercia, g.; Ella Mae Lemaire, f. COLT ALL-OPPONENT FOOTBALL TEAM Ends—Wright (South Kingstown); Marki-nello (De La Salle). Guards—Lawless (St. Raphael), Russo (De La Salle). Tackles—Crowe (Warren), McCarthy (La Salle). Center—Dente (East Greenwich Academy). Quarter—Cohan (South Kingstown). Backs—F. Romano (North Kingstown), McCabe (St. Raphael), Fitzgerald (De La Salle). WHO’S WHO STUDENT COUNCIL Seniors— RAYMOND MAKOWSKY, Pres. MICHAEL SECURO, Secretary. CARL WITHERELL MILTON BASSING Juniors— FRED VERA, Vice President. JACK MARSDEN WILLIAM WEST Sophomores— CHARLES MANZ THOMAS BROWN Advisor— MR. FITZGERALD SENIOR CLASS President—CARL WITHERELL Vice President—STANLEY BENNETT Secretary—CAR MELLA CASTRIOTTA Treasurer—RAYMOND MAKOWSKY Executive Committee— PAUL CAMPANELLO, Chairman. HELEN McGUIGAN LOUIS SYLVIA ALBERT LeCLERC FRITZE DUNBAR Advisor— CHARLES DOWD JUNIOR CLASS President—JACK MARSDEN V. President—PARKMAN JACOY Secretary—JENNIE PAGNANO Treasurer—ELLA MAE LEMAIRE Executive Committee— SADIE RUSSO MARGARET CICERCHIA MARTIN BIANCUZZO REYNOLDS NORTHUPS WILLIAM WEST MATHEW CAPONE Advisor— MISS CALLAN CAPTAINS Baseball— CARL WITHERELL, ’30 (Captain-Elect) Coach. FITZGERALD Football— LOUIS SYLVIA. ’30 MARTIN BIANCUZZO, '31 (Captain-Elect) Coach, FITZGERALD Basketball— ALBERT LeCLERC. ’30 NUNZIO GAGLIO, '31 (Captain-Elect) Letters were awarded to the following at the close of the season: Misses Helen McGuigan (captain), Muriel Hodgdon (manager), Ella Mae Lemaire, Agnes Currier. Margaret Cicerchia, Lily Kershaw and Louise Bell. FOOTBALL TEAM Front Row (left to right)Antony Ruggerio. Albert LeClerc, Manuel Motta. Louis Silvia (Capt.) Martin Biancuzzo, Tony Perry. Back Row (left to right)—Robert Munro. Fred Vera (Mgr.), Francis Hayes, Antony Bonanno, Paul Campanello, William West, Raymond Makowsk.v, Milton Bassing, Michael Securo. William McCaughe.v, John Hogan, Coach Edward Fitzgerald, William Guivremont. H 3 ffl 7Z m m z z o 3 H m BASKETBALL SQUAD Front Row (left to right)—Antony Rugger io, Oliver Desilets, Albert Le Clerc (Capt.), Nunzio Gaglio, Louis Silvia. Back Row (left to right)—Stanley Bennett (manager), Martin Biancuzzo, Coach Edward Fitzgerald. GIRLS' BASKETBALL SQUAD (Left to Right)—Muriel Hodgdon (mgr.), Louise Bell, Ella Mae Lemaire, Helen McGuigan (capt), Lillie Kershaw, Agnes Currier. Margaret Cicerchia. THE (iREEN AND WHITE 27 Mary Gladding, on being asked by Miss Callan if the Sophomores were outside, replied : “There’s a crowd out there.” “And who are they?” “Mr. Dowd,” was the quick response. In a recent History Class Motta was asked by Miss Sisson if the Minute Men in any way prepared for the Revolution? “Sure! Shooting birds,” replied Motta, innocently. Miss Sisson—“In one of Washington’s biographies it is said Washington stayed out late nights.” Makowsky (absentmindedly)—“Oh! that’s all right; he has nothing on me!” Hogan (at football practice)—“Come on you. fellows, spread out! That’s what makes this circle a square.” Miss Sisson—“How was it, that Lafayette came to Bristol?” Silvia—“He must have been lost.” Makowsky—“They say that whiskey has killed more men than bullets.” Bennett— Well, I’d sooner be full of whiskey than bullets; wouldn’t you?” Teacher— Is the earth round or square?” Vera—“Neither: it’s crooked.” Girl Friend—“Oh, my hero! My Great big. football hero! How did you hurt your leg?” Campanello (with pride)—“The bench tipped over.” Bassing (front of Y)—“Gee! but my neck is cold; I just had a hair cut.” Editor’s note:—How long was his hair, anyway ? Coach (track practice)—“Fred, what are you out here for?” Vera—“Oh, I'm out for the afternoon.” Mr. Miller (referring to books)—“What have you read?” John White—“I have red hair.” French. Bassing, reading • “With her thumbs on her wrist she slowly advanced.” Miss Callan—“Give a sentence using the plural of foot.” L. Silvia—“My feets are very cold.” Mr. Dowd (in Latin III.)—“Venus was the son of Dion.” Makowsky (chem. class)—“Ca(OH)2, like wine, becomes strong with age.” Mr. Miller (chem.)—“What are the characteristics of colloids in solution?” Bonnanno—“The yolk of an egg.” Miss Bradford—“Define the word ‘cute’ in this sentence : She is a cute girl.”' Levy—“She is bowlegged!” Mr. Mapes— What's the first step in the cotton industry?” Motta—“Sorting the wool.” Dowd—“Hogan, will you kindly shut up?” Hogan (meekly)—“Aw! I wasn’t saying anything, I was just looking at your face.” F. Dunbar—“Miss Callan, is that clock right ?” Miss Callan—“Right on the wall, yes!” Miss Sisson (reading outline in English)— Went to see the animals. Met a friend there. 28 THE (iREEN AND WHITE JOKES Miss Bradford (English Ilia.)—“Who was Homer? Vera— That's the guy that made Babe Ruth famous.” Vera (walking into room, singing)— When I pretend I’m gay, I'll never feel that way—” Mr. Dowd—“You won’t if you keep that up 1” Coach—“Levy, what position are you out for?” Levy—“Football 1” Miss Sisson—“Name ways in which electricity was made to serve man's need and comforts after the Civil War?” Motta—“The Electric Chair.’’ Miss Sisson—“Begin again. I’ve forgotten what you said.” Silvia (happily)—“So have 11” Miss Bradford (looking for a boy to run an errand))—“May I borrow Core'a?” Vera—“Borrow him? you can have him! Teacher—“Vera, use the word flippancy in a sentence.” Vera (after some hesitation)—“Let''s flippancy who wins.” Mahoney—“I bet ya’ two bits my examples are not wrong!” Mr. Dowd—“Yes? I bet ya' one hour after school they are 1” Mahoney (sarcastically)—“Aw! when Colt beat Warren it was all luck!” Miss Callan—“AH the clever boys are conceited.” Hogan—“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not.” Mr. Fitzgerald— Makowsky, do you know what a grasshopper is?” Makowsky—“O, what ? Grasshopper ? Sure !” Editor's note: Friends of Francis J. Mahoney, Jr., will be pleased to learn he is recovering slowly from his injuries received when brutally assaulted by the entire Colt team. Miss Bradford—“Robert Levy, give me a sentence illustrating the possessive case of girl.” R. Levy—“The lady yonder is my girl’s mother.” Colt Student—“Yes, Dad, I’m a big guv up at Colt. Father—“Well, why don’t we hear better reports?” C. E. Dowd—“Bennett! one hour after school!” Bennett—“But Mr. Dowd—I-I-----” C. E. Dowd—“Two hours after school!” Bennett (meekly).—“Yes, Mr. Dowd. Going to run a night school?” Miss Sisson—“Are there any questions?” Makowsky—“Yes! Where was the Battle of Gettysburg fought?” C. Withered—“Ouch! I bumped my ‘crazv bone’.” C. Young—“Oh, that’s all right. Comb your hair right and it won't show!’’ Campanello—“What's the matter with Bassing, he looks downhearted?” Bennett—“Yes—he's either sick or married.” THE STORY OF THE BRISTOL HIGH AND COLT MEMORIAL HIGH SCHOOL ALUMNI ASSOCIATION AND ITS VARIOUS REVIVALS Way back, long ago, in this old historic town of Bristol; twenty-five graduates of the old Bristol High School met together to discuss the advisability of organizing an association. On April 9, 1888, the adjourned meeting of March 16, 1888, was held in the Byfield High School room. The nominating committee reported a list of officers who were elected. They were, as follows: President—William H. Spooner. Deceased. First Vice-President—LeBaron Bradford, Treasurer of the Providence Institution for Savings, familiarly called the “Old Stone Bank.” Second Vice-President—Annie G. Andrews. Deceased. Treasurer—Helen Sheppard. Living in Melrose, Mass. Recording Secretary—Louis C. Samford, Bishop of San Joaquint, Calif. Corresponding Secretary—Eleanor R. Luther, Deceased. Executive Committee: T. H. Carter, a former principal of High School. E. T. Brownell, deceased. Ella Blakeslee, retired Bristol school teacher. Ina P. Warren, retired Bristol school teacher. Harriet B. Luther, deceased. The constitution under which the association functioned was adopted on March 16, 1888. Miss A. B. Manchester offered an amendment. There were two more amendments that year also. But up to this writing their have been no other amendments to the constitution. At the annual meeting of the Association, October 8, 1888, the previous list of officers were re-elected with the exception of the treasurer, Miss Helen Sheppard, whose name and office was not recorded. In all likelihood the office of treasurer was not abolished. But the Secretary Pro Tern, failed to write it down when she wrote the minutes of the first annual meetings. In the Secretary’s book we do not read of any meeting until a special one was called for by the President, W. H. Spooner. This meeting was held July 2, 1894, in the THE GREEN AND WHITE 29 High School Room. An Executive Committee of three persons was elected to examine applications for membership. Miss L. F. Mun-roe. Mr. Fred Samford, and Miss Helen Sheppard were chosen. Seventeen new members were joined. Mr. Spooner resigned at this meeting. An election of officers took place, resulted as follows: President—Wm. L .Manchester. First Vice-President—Fred L. Samford. Second Vice-President—Miss Anna B. Manchester. Recording Secretary—Benjamin M. Mac-Dougall. Corresponding Secretary—Emma B. Stanton. Treasurer—Benjamin Peckham. Executive Committee : Emilie F. Phelps. Edith H. Williston, Heze-kiah W. Church, Sadie B. Pauli, Emily D. Bennett. At this meeting Miss Anna B. Manchester offered a resolution creating the office of Historian. The resolution was turned over to the Executive Committee for action, and at a meeting held July 31, 1894, Miss Anna B. Manchester was elected Historian. The Treasurer reported a balance of $43.43 in the treasury. The annual election of officers took place October 4, 1894. President—Oswald R. Siegal, M. D. First Vice-President—Emily D. Bennett. Recording Secretary—Mary E. Spooner. Corresponding Secretary—Grace C. Pauli. Treasurer—(Seth Pauli, Jr. Miss Mablc C. Bragg, Benjamin MacDoug-all, William L. Manchester, Ina P. Warren, Emma B. Stanton, were chosen to constitute the executive committee. After the meeting on Nov. 26, 1894, no more were held until September 23, 1895. This meeting had been called to find out how many were in favor of holding the annual meeting at Point Pleasant—to be followed by a clambake and social. There was considerable opposition to this idea and it was dropped. The postponed annual meeting of 1895 was held March 9, 1896. Officers were elected as follows: President—George U. Arnold. First Vice-President—Mary E. Spooner. Second Vice-President—Mary Lawless. Recording Secretary—Bessie Wardwell. Corresponding Secretary—Katherine Scanlon. Treasurer—Fred Waldron. Historian—Anna B. Manchester. Executive Committee: Susie Turner, A. P. Johnson (Mrs.) E. Frank P. Wilson, Charles Manchester, Benjamin MacDougall. Thursday, September 11, 1903, a meeting was held in the office of Superintendent of Public Schools after a lapse of over four years. Vice President Mary E. Spooner declined to preside so John Post Reynolds was unanimously elected chairman. The postponed meeting was held September 24. 1903, at which time new officers were elected as follows: President—William L. Manchester. Vice-President—Cora M. Hill. Corresponding Secretary—Anna B. Manchester. Recording Secretary—Mary E. Spooner. Treasurer—Col. Joseph B. Burgess. Executive Committee to be appointed by the chair. They were as follows: Seth Pauli, Jr., Fred L. Waldron. Robert F. Munroe, Louise P. Chadwick, Julia H. Gorham. It was suggested that the Alumni hold a reception to welcome the graduates as members of the association. The Executive Committee were instructed to plan for a reunion. A supper at 50c a plate was decided upon for Thanksgiving Eve. A reception was to be held from 8 to 9 followed by dancing. On October 16, 1903, as only 90 tickets were pledged no definite date was set. But on October 29, 1903, an informal reception to graduates of the High School was given by the B. H. S. A. A. and an elaborate program was presented including a number of original poems. About 1915 there was a few gasps of life of the association. Bertram W. Wall was Secretary, according to the few and meager records found thus far in the search. One member of the Executive Committee could not attend one of the meetings as he had to take finals’’ down to Rhode Island State. George Cooke was elected President in 1924 and Margaret Nerone, Secretary. This revival was sponsored by the “Green and White.” But no meetings were held. The next jump brings us up to the years of grace 1929 and 1930, when at a meeting of one of our Civic service clubs, the idea was proposed, to help in the celebration of the town’s 250th anniversary; also, to foster athletics and “eserit C etole.” Four members of the faculty of the Colt Memorial (Senior) High School selected a committee representing the old High School of Bristol, and the classes of 1910-1929 of the New Colt Memorial High School. A meeting of this committee was held Friday evening, January 24, 1930, in Room 1 of the Colt Building. At this meeting an election of officers was held: President—Wm. L. Serbst, M. D. First Vice President—'Sadie C. Callan. Second Vice President—Norman E. Bernard. Secretary—Edna A. Demers. Treasurer—Harry W. Munro. Historian—Herbert B. Burnham, Jr. Executive Committee: Mrs. Josephine Baldwin, Cora M. Hill, Anne D. Sisson, Laurine W. Bradford and Mrs. Arthur W. Barrett. A membership committee was appointed. Another meeting was held March 31, 1930. At this meeting it was voted that the President appoint a Banquet Committee, to be held in June for the Seniors. It was also voted that an athletic sub-committee be appointed to assist the coach in equipping the various athletic teams. It is hoped that the Alumni will see fit to hold a grand reunion next September during the week of the own’s 250th Anniversary C flebration. Since this writing an Alumni dance has been arranged for June 27. 30 THE GREEN AND WHITE ALUMNI NOTES (The Editor will welcome additional information concerning any of the alumni.) Class of 1928 Mary Arruda is in the office of the N. I. R. Co., Bristol. Bristol. John Boynton is attending Amherst College. Frederick Brownell is in the office of the N. I. R. Co., Bristol. Herbert Burnham is with the Providence Institution for Savings, Providence. Katherine Burns is attending the R. I. School of Design, Providence. Louis Castriotta is a student at Bryant Stratton Commercial College, Providence. Ralph Church is with the firm of Smith, Graham Rockwell, Providence. James Connors is with the Highway Department, Bristol, R. I. Frank Correa is a student at Providence Col-ege. Lester Eisenstadt is a student at Brown University. Agnes Fay is Mrs. Charles Drew, Locust Street, So. Warren, R. I. Mary Francis is a student at Bryant Strat-on Commercial College. Minnie Goglia is in the office of the N. I. R. Co.. Bristol. Richmond Gorham is a student at Bates College, Lewiston, Maine. Martha Hill is in the office of the United States Finishing Co., Providence. Charles Langello is a student at Bryant Stratton Commercial College. Edward LeClerc is at the National India Rubber Co., Bristol. David Leviten is a student at R .1. State College. Edward Levy is attending the R. I. College of Pharmacy Allied Sciences at Providence. Hattie Manley is a Sophomore at Pembroke College. James McGrath is with the Atlantic Pacific Tea Co., Bristol. Roberta Munro is in the office of the American T. T. Co., Providence. George Moren is with the N. I. R. Co., Bristol. Elvira Oberg is attending the Training School for nurses at the Presbyterian Hospital, New York. Gladys Osterberg is a student at the R. I. College of Education. Lulu Perriera is at home. Nicholas Pirri is studying at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston. John Rego is a student at the R. I. State College, Kingston. Helen Romano is a student at R. I. College of Education. Magdalen Shaw is in the office of the N. I. R. Company. Stella Steen was recently married to Ralph Peters and is living in Philadelphia. Alice Vertnette is in charge of the Book Shop, Bristol. Alice Walsh is a student at the R. I. College of Education. Marjorie Weaver is in the office of the Western Union Telegraph Co. in Bristol. Edith Winward is in the office of the N. I. R. Co., Bristol. Class of 1929 Russell Akin entered Brown University in the fall. Rose Alfano’s address is 40 Minerva Street, Derby, Conn. Mary Breen is in the office of the Boston Store, Providence. Helen Byrnes is completing a secretarial course at Tefft Business School in Providence. Mary Carmone is a student at the R. I. College of Education. Esther Clark is a student at the R. I. College of Education. Doris Cornell is in the office of the N. I. R. Co., Bristol. Wilhemina Correa is attending Bryant Stratton Commercial College, Providence. Harold DeWolf is a student at the R. I. State College at Kingston. Beatrice Dubuc is in the office of the American Tel. Tel. Company in Warren and is also taking a course at Bryant Stratton Commercial College in Providence. John Dunbar is in the office of the N. I. R. Company, Bristol. Jane Gilroy is with the Newberry Company, Warren. Andrew Iverson is a student at the R. I. School of Design, Providence. Kathleen Kelley is in the office of the American Telephone and Telegraph Company, Bristol. Dorothy Manz has entered the Nurses’ Training School at Truesdale Hospital, Fall River, Mass. Henry S. Mason is a student at R. I. State College at Kingston. Anna McHugh is a student at Bryant Stratton Commercial College, Providence. Frank Millemaggi has entered Providence College. Harry McCaughey is with the Bristol Warren Water Works Company and is also attending the Tefft Business School in Providence. Richard Mott is attending Bryant Stratton Business College, Providence. Joseph Novack is at the N. I. R. Co., Bristol. Helen Pagnano is completing a course at the Katherine Gibbs Secretarial School Providence. Michael Pasquerelli is attending Bryant Stratton Business College, Providence. Antoinette Ruggcri is in the office of the N. I. R. Company. Nicholas Ruggero has entered Providence College. Jeanette Salzano is taking a teacher’s course at Bryant Stratton Commercial College, and is also instructor at the Bristol Playground. Pasquale Sicignano is in the chemical laboratory at the N. I. R. Co. James St. Angelo is in the office of the N. I. R. Company, Bristol. Helen Valante is a student at R. I. College of Education, Providence. Isabel West is in the office of the United States Finishing Company of Providence. THE GREEN AND WHITE 31 My Name is MILTON BASSING “Porky” R. I. HONOR SOCIETY R. I. STATE Lo and behold! None other than Darrow's successor. Words fly fast and furious when “Porky” is in an argument; not only is he a letter man in football but a member of the R. I. Honor Society. It was due to his efforts that our cheering section gave the loyal support that it had. He intends to go to R. I. State next year and with that captivating smile we know that his friends will he numberless, especially among the fairer sex. His pet phrase is: Prove it!” He wants to be a “Yes man.” Parking place is along the main drag. Hear him sing: “I’ll get by.” His pastime is: Helen. My Name Is STANLEY BENNETT “Benny” UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO Time works wonders—! Coming down from the wilds of Maine— strange and unknown, “Benny” has won for himself friends everywhere. Vice president of the Senior Class and on the Board of the “Green and White,” “Benny” has proved his worth. As manager of the basketball team he set a mark for other managers to reach. Recently Benny purchased a bullet-proof vest—on further inquiry we learned that he was going to the University of Chicago. Good luck, “Benny 1” Give our regards to A1 Capone. His pet phrase:—“Oh, yeah?” He wants to be a probation officer Parking place is: “Woolworth.” Hear him sing, I found a $1,000,000 girl in a five and 10 cent store.” 32 THE (iREEN AND WHITE My Name is ANTONY BONNANO “Tony” R. I. STATE Here is a lad with high ideas. Ever since Lindbergh flew the Atlantic, the flight of the Southern Cross, Byrd’s polar expeditions, and the last total eclipse, “Tony” has wanted to become an aviator. Good natured, well liked by the “gang,” “Tony” is a friend, indeed. Managing this year’s baseball team, a letterman in football, he has shown that he doesn't lack school spirit. Some day R. 1. State will be proud to call him one of her sons. His pet phrase is. “What's the matter?” He wants to be a pilot. Parking place is : any dark road. Hear him sing: “I’m Flying High.” His pastime is: learning how to use the score book. My Name is ELIZABETH BREEN “Liz” “Liz” is one of our shy little classmates, but she certainly can make those keys fly. If you can’t read your shorthand notes, ask “Liz” about itshe can help you. She hardly ever attends any of the school hops—as tripping the light fantastic” is not one of her accomplishments—, but she is always willing to help. Her ambition is to buy a Ford—we prophesy a future full of bumps and hard knocks. Her intentions are to work after she graduates. Her pet phrase is: “Really?” Her parking place is: home. Hear her sing: “I don’t care what the world thinks.” Her pastime is: attending the movies with Fanny. My Name is EDNA BROOKS KATHERINE GIBBS Another silent member of the weaker sex, Edna is quite the girl at all the dances. Her quiet manner has won for her many friends. She can often be seen talking over her lessons with “Dot Ruggerio. Because of outside activities, Edna was unable to take part in many school activities. Some day we expect to see her as a secretary to some big business magnate, as she intends to go to Katherine Gibbs Secretarial School in the fall. Her pet phrase is “O-o-o-h, Yes!” She wants to be different. Parking place is in everybody’s affairs. Hear her sing: “I’m a Dreamer” Her pastime is passing notes. My Name is PAUL CAMPANELLO “Snip” R. I. HONOR SOCIETY R. I. STATE It wasn’t until the Junior year that “Snip found himself. Although small of build. “Snip” went out for the football team and won his letter. It was largely due to his efforts as chairman of the Executive Committee that the Senior parties were successes. His ability is not limited, having taken part in musical comedies as “Carrie Comes to College” and the Hasty Gelatine production, “Oh, Hector. His pet phrase: “Give me three.” He wants to be a big butter and egg man. Parking place is: the Clubroom. Hear him sing: “Alma Mammy.” His pastime is: impersonating “Sherlock Holmes,” THE (iREEN AND WHITE 33 My Name is CARMELLA CASTRIOTTA BRYANT STRATTON A clicking of high heels—a laugh—and along conies. Carmella—the “pep” of the commercial division. At class meetings Carmella has a wild time trying to take the minutes. In the cafeteria she takes care of the register, never making a mistake in change, thanks to her commercial training. She has been connected with “Green and White” for two years as class editor. In a recent interview she revealed that her plans are to enter Byrant Stratton. We have already put you down as our private secretary—Garmella. Her pet phrase is: “Etc, Etc.’’ She wants to be a flapper. Parking place is on any long road. Hear her sing: “It all depends on you.’’ Her pastime is: vamping the boys. My Name is PAUL CLARK “Paul” Quiet, unassuming, Paul Clark has won for himself many friends while at Colt. Sticking out for the team he won his letter in football. Interested in declamations, a member of the debating team, Paul lias shown his interest in school affairs. Although undecided where he will go—he intends to take up the practice of medicine. His pet phrase is: “Well, let’s see now.” He wants to be a doctor. Parking place is the Scout Hall. Hear him sing. “I Hate to Get Up in the Morning.” His pastime is: beating the 8:15 bell. My Name is MANUEL DeMOTTA “General” SCHOOL OF DESIGN Crash! Bang! out of a pile of sprawled players a huge form arises. Again Motta got his man. So outstanding was his playing on the football team this year that he won a berth on the Class B all-State team. In Jerry of Jericho Road,” he gave a never-to-be-forgotten impersonation of ia villanous detective-. He expects to continue his commercial training and with the build that he has—he ought to be good at balancing books. His pet phrase is: “Aw ----!’’ He wants to be an Iceman. Parking place is: the Book Shop. Hear him recite: “Mary had a little lamb.’ His pastime is: playing toreador. My Name is FRANCES DORAN “Fanny R. I. STATE Back in the grades we learned that “good things come in small packages” having known Fanny so long—we come to the conclusion that it is true. A piano player of no mean ability—she and “Dot played in the musicale comedy—often staying late and patiently playing song after song for the principals. We have figured that if all the “sour” notes that Fanny played were placed end on end—the pile would fall over. Even though she has a funny way of perking her nose, don't let that stop you from asking her to dance—she certainly can step. Her pet phrase : Oh !” She wants to be—taller. Parking place is everywhere. Hear her sing, “Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life!” Her pastime is making “goo-goo” eyes. 34 THE GREEN AND WHITE My Name is ELIZABETH DORAN “Liz” R. I. STATE Everyone has a hobby—Elizabeth is no exception—so stamp collecting has claimed her. Eliz, after licking all her stamps, ought to be able to knock out Sharkey. On the screen Buddy Rogers is her weakness—teh ! teh! At all the basketball and baseball games, with Fritzi and Fanny, she lent her vocal support. She is our math shark— holding no fear for radicals or quadratic equations. Her big question is where to go next year. Her pet phrase is: Goin’ home?” She wants to be in Ziegfeld’s Follies. Parking place is in front of the mirror. Hear her sing, “I’m Following You.” Her pastime is smiling the whole day through. My Name is FREDERICKA DUNBAR “Fritzi” SCHOOL OF DESIGN All a-flitter and all aflutter—Fritzi. For four years we watched Fritzi, and what a change. Fritzi attends all our socials and has a regular waiting line for the next dance. Her dance book for the reception is made out weeks ahead. Recently she surprised us by her knowledge of Bristol—winning the D. A. R. prize by her essay: “When Bristol was a Seaport.” We suggest that Professor Munro and Fritzi get together and rewrite the town history. Her intentions are to go to the School of Design—we can foresee a colorful future. Her pet phrase is: “Oh, fiddlesticks!” She wants to keep that school girl complexion. Parking place is no special place. Hear her sing: “Sweet and Low.” Her pastime is making herself heard. My Name is MURIEL HODGDON Muriel is one of the most popular girls of the Senior Class. We are still waiting for our dance promised at the last Junior Prom. Muriel and Liz” can be seen at 8:15 starting to take the school census. Several times Muriel’s keen eye helped Girls’ B. B. team to victory. Now and then, Muriel leaves for the State of Maine—what’s the big attraction there, we wonder? Surely it can't be the bear hunting, if any. She has not decided which school will be her next Alma Mater —but the best of luck, Muriel! Her pet phrase—“Big Business !” She wants to be Somebody’s Stenog. Parking place: that’s a secret. Hear her sing, “Stein Song” Her pastime is going to Maine. My Name is LILLIE KERSHAW “Lil” Her name is “Lillie.” not Lillian, the champion noise maker of the school. Lil joined us in our Sophomore year, and how popular she is with the boys. Laugh, sing and be merry, seems to be her motto, and after all she got her man in The Belle of Bagdad. Lil is undecided where she’ll go—but we wish her the best of luck. Her pet phrase is: “What do ya mean?” She wants to be a physical training teacher. Her parking place is at the Parish House. Hear her sing: “I love the boys!” Her pastime is: necking. THE GREEN AND WHITE 35 My Name is ALBERT LeCLERC “Chassy” “Chassy”----a popular member of the Senior Class. He has shown his ability in football, basketball and baseball, winning all-State mention—Class B—in football. He captained the basketball team with a steady hand; his playing as guard was one of the features of the season. In no small way was the success of “The Belle of Bagdad due to “Chassy.” His future lies before him—a cheerful disposition—his willingness to help—will aid him in gaining his goal. His pet phrase is: It’s a wow!” He wants to be a big league ball player. Parking place—unknown. His pastime is: wearing orange socks. My Name is FRANK MAHONEY “Pat” R. I. STATE Here is none other than the all-famous “Pat.” A good line—an ear-to-ear smile—a loud ha! ha!—that’s Pat. Although he did not have a chance to prove his athletic ability, his rooting at the games proved a big help. He was telling us lately that Paramount wants him to double for Wesley Barry—tough—Wesley—it’s tough. We still wonder why he wore a green tie March 17. Pat and Mac are inseparable as beer and pretzels.” He intends to work a year, then continue his academic pursuits. His pet phrase is: “Whas zat? He wants to be a big, big man from the South. Parking place is the Library. His pastime is: making his lighter work. My Name is RAYMOND MAKOWSKY “Mac” R. I. HONOR SOCIETY HARVARD Ta-ta-raa! A blare of trumpets heralds the arrival of our talented Editor-in-Chief. Being a bear for punishment, Ray also holds down the position of President of the Student Council and Treasurer of his class. And to prove that his genius is not all administrative this versatile young man has played the leading part in so many musical comedies that we expect any minute to hear that he has received an offer from Flo Ziegfeld. Hearing of his Thespian ability one expects to find him an excellent dancer, is mildly surprised to find him a success on the gridiron, and is astonished to find that, in spite of all his activities, he rates within the highest half-dozen of his class. There is no doubt of Ray’s making the grade at Harvard. His pet phrase: Well, Well, Well!” Parking place: Just over the bridge. Hear him sing: “You Were Meant for Me” He wants to be a healer of wounds. His pastime is a light-haired maiden. My Name is WILLIAM McCAUGHEY “Bill” B-r-r-ring!—a beaming countenance—at the door—“sign on the dotted line, please. “Special Delivery Bill, who through rain or shine, snow, hail or wind, comes through with the mail (post office dept., take note). Bill, like all good commercial students, taps typewriter keys—and how! Bill and his little black box have come to school together for the last four years.—When we have time we are going to write a story on The Mystery of the Black Box.” His future is undecided. His pet phrase is: “No kiddin’!” He wants to be Postmaster General. Parking place : Post Office. Hear him sing: “When do we eat? His pastime is: chasing tennis balls. 36 THE GREEN AND WHITE My Name is HELEN McGUIGAN “Mac” R. I. HOSPITAL Helen is the belle” of the class. Never failing to appear at a dance—one of the reasons why the fellows shave— Helen has proven her popularity. Dramatics, bowling and basketball are some of her diversions. She captained the recently organized girls' basketball team. After graduation “Mac” intends to enter the R. I. Hospital and train to be a nurse—it almost makes us wish we were sick. Her pet phrase—“Don't be so dumb” She wants to be a nurse. Parking place is at Had’s. Hear her sing: “Crazy Over Horses!” Her pastime is doing nothing. is ROBERT MUNRO “Bob” R. I. STATE Modest ,shy—a good student, a charter member of the Hasty Gelatine Club, proud owner of a foootball letter—a true friend at all times—a disposition to be envied—and always ready to offer a helping hand—that's “Bob.” He is one of that rare species of males that blush when a fair maiden speaks to him—but we must say that his blush sets him off in his green sweater. He expects to continue at R. I. State. Here’s hoping! He wants to be: A lady’s man. Parking place is: in his poultry yard. Hear him sing:—(don’t hear him). His pastime is: raising chickens. My Name is DOMINIC PERRONI “Dorn” BRYANT STRATTON “Dom and Motta represent the bulk of the class. Good-natured, he has taken a great deal of joking, driving around his Buick—he found that was one way to keep fit. He, Louis and Motta form the commercial triumvirate. According to him, there’s a lot of dough in the macaroni business. He intends to enter Bryant Stratton to further his commercial knowledge. His pet phrase: “Yes, but--’’ He wants to be an accountant. Parking place: Bristol Macaroni Co. Hear him sing: “There’s No Place Like Home.” His pastime is: Eating. My Name My Name is CHARLES PENDLETON “Chick” It is with a great deal of pleasure that we attempt a brief sketch of “Chick.” For three years Chick remained practically unknown, then suddenly he burst forth into the light. Usually silent, speaking when he knows what to say. Crabbing is unknown to him. He is a frequent visitor in the clubroom and a select member. His yellow tie speaks for itself. Bob and Chick often can be seen cooking a bean dinner at Mt. Hope. As yet Chick has not decided where he will go. His pet phrase is: “Now, ain’t that something?” He wants to be an artist. Parking place is: most any place. His pastime is : drawing. THE GREEN AND WHITE 37 My Name is DOROTHY RUGGERIO “Dot” , SCHOOL OF DESIGN Talk! Talk! Talk! You’re right—it is Dorothy Ruggerio. We suggest that she run for Congresswoman—she would go over big in Washington. We have yet to find out who sends her those mysterious letters. Her cheerful nature—joking remarks—have all added to her popularity. This quiet (?) girl has not yet said where she will go after graduation—but we know she will make good. Her pet phrase is : “Oh-Dear!’’ She wants to be admired. Parking place is at the movies. Hear her sing, “Let a smile be your umbrella.” Her pastime is talking. My Name is DOROTHY ROBERTS “Dot” R. 1. HONOR SOCIETY. R. I. NORMAL Dorothy is a firm adherent to the saying—“Action, not words.” Her marks for the last four years have shown that, as she was chosen a member of the R. I. Honor Society. Dot has been one of our mainstays—pounding out the accompaniment on the baby grand. She is a member of the “Silent Quartet.” R. I. College of Education is to receive her this fall and soon she will be teaching the ‘three R's.” Her pet phrase is: “I think so—” She wants to be a schoolma’am. Parking place is at home. Hear her sing: “School Days.” Her pastime is studying. My Name is LOUIS SILVIA “Louie” One of the best athletes ever to be developed at Colt. A sportsman—if there ever was one. The success of the football team was due to the cool and collected leadership of “Louie.” He takes to basketball. baseball and football like a duck takes to water, winning all State recognition in these sports. After seeing the “Belle of Bagdad we advise him to go to West Point—many remarks were passed on how well he looked in a uniform. His pet phrase is: “Eh --?” He wants to be a professional athlete.. Parking place: Y. M. C. A. Hear him sing, “That’s a Good Girl!” His pastime is: Women—and agin women. My Name is MICHAEL SECURO “Mike” R. I. HONOR SOCIETY. R. I. STATE Mike needs no introduction—well known—well liked—an excellent student—a football letter man—and as Business Manager of the “Green and White” we have no fear of the financial end of the magazine. Good-natured—an adherent to the “Golden Rule”—Mike has won hosts of friends. We have yet to catch Mike not having his minutes ready at a Student Council meeting. He is planning to attend State, where we are sure he will make for himself as good a record as he has at Colt. His pet phrase is: “No, sir!” He wants to be an engineer. Parking place is: Home. His pastime is: Getting ads. 38 THE (iREEN AND WHITE My Name is FREDA SCHAFFT KATHERINE GIBBS Freda is so unlike a girl—she minds her own business. In her Senior year she stepped out in The Belle of Bagdad.” She does not attend many of our socials, but she has a great interest in her class. In the cafeteria Freda sees that all are served promptly—and how she does it! She is cpiiet—says little—but gets there. Good luck, Freda! Her pet phrase: “----, no? She wants to be a model wife. Parking place is in the house. Hear her sing: “I want a mechanical man.” Her pastime is listening to other people. My Name is CARL WITHERELL “Babe” UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA Everybody’s friend—it was to a person like him that was written: “We cannot part with our friends, for if we ever had a friend it is you.” One cannot speak of the musical comedies without mentioning Babe’s name. He finds enough time after completing his studying and work at Buffington’s to play football, basketball, and baseball. According to the saying, “Gentlemen prefer blondes.” We have come to the conclusion that he is a gentleman. He intends to go South— to the University of Florida. Best of luck. Babe! His pet phrase is: “Go on!” He wants to be: A drug store proprietor. Parking place : 4 mi.—north. Hear him sing: “Blondy!” His pastime is: “mixing” drinks. My Name is CHARLES YOUNG “Charlie” SCHOOL OF DESIGN Babe’s side kick---. He has a peculiar habit of hiding in his room and shooting peaceful citizens with his air-rifle—this must stop!! Not loud—never imposing himself on anyone—ready to do whatever he can at all times. He occupies a high position in chemistry—sitting in the back row. To know him is to like him. His ability to hold and make friends will help him. His pet phrase is—“Done by Young.” He wants to be a designer. Hear him sing: “Charlie, My Boy!” His pastime is:—Margaret. THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS Compliments of COLLINS AIRMAN CORP. Compliments of The INSTITUTE Of MUSICAL ART VIOLIN PIANO ALSO Theory, Harmony, and Voice Culture R. R. SORVILLO E. M. IACOLLETTI Violinist Pianist Compliments of RICHARD J. SIMMONS AND LOUIS A. BEAUREGARD FRANKLIN STREET GARAGE Compliments of PEREIRA RODRIQUES Portuguese Bakery 143 Bradford Street Compliments of CAPONE'S MUSIC STORE The Only All-Music Store in Totin’’ 266 Wood Street Bristol, R. I. Telephone 499 THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS Compliments of CLASS OF 1930 Compliments of CLASS OF 193 1 Compliments of CLASS OF 1932 A High School Diploma is a NECESSARY ENTRANCE REQUIREMENT BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION — PROFESSIONAL ACCOUNTANCY AND SECRETARIAL COURSES Day and Evening Classes Write or Phone for Catalogue ADDRESS TEFFT BUSINESS INSTITUTE 230 WATERMAN STREET PROVIDENCE, R. I. THE (iREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS Compliments of H. H. LAWSON CO. BUICK AND CHEVROLET Sales and Service CORNER HOPE and WASHINGTON STREETS Bristol, R. I. Phone 75 H. H. Lawson, Manager and Treasurer Sales: John G. DesLauriers Jos. E. DesLauriers Terry O'Neil Compliments of H. P. HOOD SONS ICE CREAM Compliments of N. J. H. W. VERMETTE ICE and FUEL 410 THAMES STREET TEL. 145 The Photographer to the Green and White’’ And Also Many Other High School and College Annuals TULLY-VOGUE STUDIO 44 WASHINGTON STREET PROVIDENCE, R. I. We Invite the Class of 1931 THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS Compliments of Euclid W. Vermetce Albert J. Vermette Telephone 489 Telephone 474-W VERMETTE BROS. AUTO SALES OLDSMOBILE and VIKING CARS GENERAL REPAIRING ON ALL CARS We Specialize in Automotive Electrical Work, Servicing all Electrical Units. 972 HOPE STREET Compliments of SAMUEL KINDER BRO. FLORISTS Say it with Flowers” Compliments of GEORGE T. INGRAM MOVING and TRUCKING Local and Long Distance 972 HOPE STREET TELEPHONE 489 Compliments of SETH PAULL COMPANY | COAL AND LUMBER '..................................... THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS Compliments of B. W. WALL INSURANCE 539 HOPE STREET PHONE 421 Compliments of COMMUNITY WATER SERVICE CO. Operating BRISTOL and WARREN WATER WORKS, BARRINGTON WATER CO. REAL ESTATE INSURANCE — MORTGAGES — LOANS HOME PLANNING AND BUILDING FABIO DE CRISTOFARO The Firemen's Insurance Co. AUCTIONEER of Newark, N. J. ANDREW J. COYLE Real Estate and Insurance Co. Twin Mutuals Insurance Company, Automobile and Public Liability Boston, Mass. Representing the Strong and Dependable The Century Indemnity Company” of The Aetna Fire Group, Hartford, Conn. TELEPHONE 624 460 HOPE STREET BRISTOL, R. I. 1900 1930 GRADUATION SUGGESTIONS: LAMSON HUBARD and MALLORY STRAW HATS, WALK-OVER SHOES, H1CKOK BELTS, WHITE FLANNEL PANTS, LADIES' GORDON V-LINE HOSIERY, SILK UNDERWEAR, SILK SLIPS, PERFUMES, ETC. Agents for Wright Ditson Athletic Goods FRED E. SUZMAN HOPE STREET BRISTOL, R. I. FOR CANDY—CYNTHIA SWEETS, APOLLO, and MARY LINCOLN ALSO GIBSON’S GREETING CARDS J. F. DUFFY’S Confectionery and Card Store 259 HOPE STREET Compliments of E. A. SKINNER INSURANCE PHONE 123 BRISTOL, R. I. Compliments of MR. ELMER S. MAPES Compliments of THE PASTIME THEATRE THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS Compliments of BRISTOL MACARONI CO., Inc. Macaroni Manufacturers 430 High Street Tel. Bristol 347 G. R. Perroni, General Manager Compliments of LOUIS TORTORICE Plumbing and Heating Contractor 24 State Street Bristol, R. I. Phone 147-R Bryant-Stratton College of Business Administration Founded 1863 Providence, R. I. (A Business and Student Center) First college of business administration in America, chartered by a State to confer bachelor degrees for two-year courses in Business Administrution-Accouiituncy, Economics, Finance, Executive-Secretarial, Teacher-Training. Co-ed. Social Activities, Athletics, Dormitory accommodations. Expert Placement Service. Over 1200 calls a year from leading business men. Graduates earn preferred positions. 68th Yearbook on request Address Director of AdminnionH Bryant - Stratton College Providence, R. I. Compliments of DIXON LUBRICATING SADDLE CO. Compliments of A. A. EDMONDS CO. Real Estate — Insurance Mortgages Fidelity and Surety Bonds Tel. 139 Bristol, R. I. Compliments of HOPE DRUG CO. The Rexall Store” W. V. Barnes, Prop. 420 Hope Street Bristol, R. I. Compliments ot CALLAN CONSTRUCTION CO. THE GREEN ANI) WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS | Compliments of TALBOT HOPKINS ! Electrical Contractors 557 Hope Street - Compliments of L. CASTRIOTTA Groceries, Cigars, Candy, Ice Cream GASOLINE FILLING STATION Open Every Day 410 High Street ] Compliments of THE WALDRON COMPANY Compliments of H. P. BREEN Groceries and Provisions High St. and Lincoln Ave. Bristol, R. I. Tel. 670 1 Compliments of JOHN J. FRANCIS Grocery and Butcher 52 Mt. Hope Ave. Tel. 341 Compliments of Shepard Bros. Fish Market 205 Thames Street Tel. 142 • Compliments of THE MOUNT HOPE DINER Compliments of' WHITE TONSORIAL PARLOR : ' Compliments of ; MAX MAKOWSKY ; Clothier Compliments of D. G. COGGESHALL ’ Compliments of WILLIAM T. O’DONNELL Compliments of MISS SULLIVAN ' Compliments of CAPT. PAUL A. HERZIG Compliments of LILLIAN T. WILSON ■ Compliments of JOHN W. CHURCH Compliments of AMOS S. GORHAM Compliments of : EST. OF GEORGE T. SISSON • Compliments of Favorite Wet Wash Laundry ! • ► Compliments of : STATE STREET BARBER SHOP Compliments of BUFFINGTONS PHARMACY ; THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS ' Compliments of BRISTOL LUNCH • Antonio Goulart, Prop. C. S. SAWYER CO. 44 State Street Bristol. R. I. Wall Paper, Paints and Brushes GENERAL LINE Represented by Walter T. Remieres ] Compliments of ; C. J. SARTINI | Quality Footwear 346 Wood Stkf.f.t Compliments of ] JOSEPH S. RAPOSO Modern School of Music 539 Hope Street Room 3 . Compliments of : CONSTITUTION ST. GARAGE Carlo Perry, Prop. Telephone Connections Compliments of WARDWELL LUMBER CO. ; Bristol, R. I. ] • • ► Compliments of A. FRIEND Compliments of J. SILVIA Household Furniture ' 53 Bradford Street . Compliments of FRANK A. ROUNDS U pholsterer Furniture and Yacht Upholstering Tel. 283-R 23 Church St. Compliments of HENRY M. DARLING 444 Hope Street | Compliments of A FRIEND Compliments of A FRIEND • Compliments of W. H. REMIERES PAINT Compliments of I. PHENES TAILOR 539 Hope Street Room 8 Compliments of HAMILL’S Dry Goods Store Compliments of JONES’ STORE 399 Wood Street Compliments of ARRUDA’S FISH MARKET | 206 Thames St. Bristol, R. I. Compliments of THOMAS E. McGRATH SON Electricians Compliments of M. C. CABRAL Grocery and Market 93 Bay View Avenue Compliments of RAFAEL C. MARTINS Meats and Groceries 235 - 237 Thames St., (Cor. State St.) ] Phones: Store 578, Res. 559 i THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS ' Compliments of WILLIAM H. BELL, INC. Furniture, Carpets, and Crockery Compliments of I. F. XAVIER Groceries and Provisions Confectionery etc. Tel. Ill 546 Wood St. Bristol, R. I. ! Compliments of J. M. ARRUDA Vulcanizing Tires - Battery Charging Lawn Mowers and Saws Sharpened . All Work Guaranteed ; 4 Shaw’s Lane Tel. 140 Bristol, R. I. Compliments of J. A. DUBUC Bourn Street Garage ■ Compliments of MOREN SULLIVAN ; Bottlers 1 300 Thames Street Bristol, R. I. Compliments of A. EISENSTADT Wearing Apparel | Compliments of Hope St. Circulating Library ■ Bristol, R. I. ' John T. Ashton Compliments of BELVEDERE GARAGE Take Your Prescriptions to— YOUNG’S DRUG STORE • Fifty-Four Years Registered ! 479 Hope Street Very Special ; Ladies' Full Fashion Hose at $1.00 ! DIMOND'S CORNER Compliments of ! L. G. COTE | Office Supplies 1 27 State Street Compliments of ] GENERAL WOOD WORK CO. Rudolph Bassing 1 . Compliments of : SOCONY SERVICE STATION ■ Corner Hope and Thames Sts. ■ Gas, Oil, Greases . F. E. Tomlinson, Prop. Compliments of NEWMAN BROTHERS : Bristol’s Leading Food Store” . Compliments of A. L. JOHNSTON [ Corner Hope and Court Streets HARDWARE . Whenever you Paint, Wherever you Paint ’ Paint DEVOE Paint Compliments of Reed House Furnishing Co. ; t I ■ I