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

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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

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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.

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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.