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

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 H m I n z z ra BASKETBALL TEAM

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24 THE GREEN AND WHITE EXPERIENCES OF UNCLE EBNER AT A BASKET-BALL GAME Last night 1 went through a most nerve-racking ordeal. It was brought about when 1 consented to accompany my niece to the annual basket-ball game betwen the team of her High School and that of the neighboring town. She said we had to reach the Jim' before 8 o'clock. Assuming the Jim” to be her beau, I had the forethought to take along enough money for his admission, too: 1 know the ways of High School boys; but 1 was surprised, most pleasantly, 1 assure you, on finding out that the “Jim was not a boy, but the slang abbreviation for gymnasium. We were pushed into the building by a violent mob of students, and after being admitted to the hall, I perceived a crowd of boys. They were chasing a ball the size of a pumpkin, and when one would succeed in wresting it from a fellow player, he would toss it at a small basket nailed to the wall. Every few moments a man in shirt-sieves would come out and blow a whistle. This would stop the boys, and they, I suppose, out of respect for the shirt-sleeved man’s age, ould give him the ball to play with; hut when he threw the ball it would go straight up, causing the players to jump after it and creating a small riot. The half-clothed boys tried to put the ball in the baskets nailed to the wall, but whenever they put the ball in the basket it would fall out through the bottom. I suppose if the “Town Meeting had given more money to the School Department our children could have baskets with bottoms in them. Now and then the man in shirt-sleeves, getting mad, would blow his whistle, and when the boys would give him the ball he wouldn’t plav. but would go off to a corner of the room and keep the ball until he had recovered from his “huff.” Then he would blow his whistle, the signal for the unclothed boys to play again. This procedure was repeated for about an hour, until the shirt-sleeved man became very mad at some person who fired off a revolver, and, taking the ball, he left the building. The spectators, uneasy all evening, now gave vent to their feelings, and put after the man in shirt-sleeves. I, too, ioined this mob and I think if I had set mv hands upon the rascal I, surelv would have “wrung his neck. For I do not think that he had anv rmht to break up the bovs’ fun, after thev had allowed him to nlav with them. ' JOHN MAGEE, 34 ------------------------ - On a map recentlv drawn, one bright historv student drew the Siberian railroad in the Mediterranean Sea- ------------------------ - In a theme in the Junior English Class, one boy wrote, “He took out his sword and shot him.” ------------------------ - Miss Robinson—“Tell us of Bismark’s For- eign Relations.” History Student—“I looked it up and I couldn’t find anything about his foreign relatives. THE CLANG OF THE FORGE One of the nosiest yet busiest places I have ever entered is the blacksmith's forge at Her-reshoff’s Boat Shop. Upon entering, one is surprised to hear so many sounds. In one corner of the forge is a roaring, spitting coal fire, in which metals are heated to a white heat. Immediately after they are extracted from the fire, the metals are laid on the anvil. There one can hear the swish-bang-clang of steel upon steel, as the smith wields his heavy sledge; also one may see the shower of fiery pieces of steel, as they rattle against a tin black-board, like miniature shooting stars. From another part of the forge comes a chaos of different sounds. There is a t ittern-maker hammering industriously at a 'oodeit mold. One may hear a steady clang of hammer and chisel, as a helper shapes the wood for the molds. Close by are the huge melting-pots, beneath which can be seen the roaring flames which melt the lead, bronze, or whatever the metal should happen to be. From these melting-pots comes a steadv roar, a low spluttering, and an occasional gurgle. When the pots are taken from the fires, the metals are usually a verdant green, with a reddish tint. The hot metal flows int othe cool molding sand with a flop, a hiss into steam, and a low gurgle, then silence. It is very intersting to watch the smith shaping a winch, which is a delicate type of windlass used on the cup contenders. These winches are made of bronze, which is a very hard metal, even when heated. The smith keeps a steady rap-tap-tap on one spot for perhaps an hour, to alter the shape of the winch a fraction of an inch. Such pains are taken because if he makes a mistake, the whole process of melting, molding, and tapping will have to be repeated. Despite the numerous noises of the forge, it appears that the only sound audible to the smith is the 5 o’clock whistle, which announces the end of another hard dav. CHARLES WEAVER. ’35. 3fc-----5|e------5»C “WHAT OR WHO?” One afternoon, Miss Robinson sent Ruth Demers to the library to get Bense. Bense? Bense? queried Miss Osterberg. “Oh maybe she wants Benson 1 I'll look for it. She searched in vain for Benson’s History Book and sent Ruth back with the message that Benson was not in iust now. Several minutes later Ruth returned. “Miss Robinson wanted Erik Bense.” Just a case of mistaken identity! --------- ------- Mr. Fitzgerald—The law of gravity is that law which keeps people from flying off the earth. Vin- Campagna—What kept people on the earth before the law was passed? --------- ------- Sally Church (French IOA)-—Fie ran his language over his lips.

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26 THE GREEN AND WHITE “LET’S 00 A-SAILINO” “It was early on a bright summer morning and the breakers were crashing with mighty force against the towering cliffs; but already four figures could be seen coming down the beach laden with oars, slickers, lunch baskets and the remains of a once quite costly, portable victrola. As the figures drew nearer, one was able to make out that there were two girls and the same number of boys making up the group. The tallest girl, named Betty, was very dark, with a pleasant face, while Elsie, the other, was of light complexion with rather a sullen but pretty countenance. The boys were both tall and one, named Harold, was very fat, the other was called Shadow, because of his thinness. Soon the group arrived at an ancient and exceedingly dilapidated wharf, tied to which, rolling from side to side, was a small sailboat. Within a few minutes all were packed into the boat, the sails were set and the little vessel started out towards the open sea. “Oh heavens! cried Elsie, “what did I ever come for? I hadn't the least idea the boat would rock like this.” Gosh! It is pretty bad,” agreed Betty. Aw! This isn’t so bad, boasted Harold, looking rather pale. “You girls are not used to sailing on the ocean yet. that's all that’s the matter with you. Besides, if it gets too rough and you should fall over. I could save you.” “Conceited, snapped Elsie. “And you say we’re not used to sailing on the ocean. What about yourself, Harold Lawrence, and you, Shadow? You’re not a bit more used to it than we are and don’t deny that.' ‘She’s right,” added Betty, “and you think you know so much about sailing just because you read a lot about it in books, and sailed on the lake back home. If anyone does fall overboard, any of us could do the rescueing act as well as you could. “Pipe down,” moaned Harold. “You’ve said enough already.” “Gee! Betty, I’m beginning to feel sort of funny and I wish I hadn't come. Heavens! You're as white as a sheet.” “Haw, haw!” laughed Shadow. “You girls certainly are grand sailors. Why I think this is just grand---” “Well, if you think this is grand. Shadow,” cut in Betty, looking daggers at him, “have one of these sandwiches and here are some cookies and tarts, for you must be very hungry by this time. Come on, take this sandwich before I drop it.” “All right, I’ll take it if you insist.” He took one bite and a gastlv expression passed over his face, which he tried to hide by a sickly smile, and when no one was looking quickly threw the remains overboard. Suddenly, a sound of ripping was beard from the bow. Harold hastily jumped up and started staggering and reeling as the small vessel heaved up and down on the gigantic waves. The others held their breath as they saw him miss his footing, but sighed in relief when they beheld him standing triumphantly by the mast shouting to them that it was only a slight tear in the sail that wouldn't amount to much. “Hey! you kids, if it wasn't for me-” But his sentence was never completed as the boat gave a terrific heave, sending Harold into the sea with a mighty splash. “Oh my heavens! What will we do?” cried Betty. “He can’t swim very well, for all that he says.' “Shut up!” yelled Shadow, “and find the life-preserver. Here. Elsie, take the tiller and turn the boat about so we ca go back and pick him up.’ And as she somehow managed to do this, he shouted warningly, ‘Look out! The boom will hit you.” “Oh ! I can't see him. cried out one of the girls. Yes. 1 see him now. He’s trying to swim towards the boat but he can’t seem to make much progress.” “He’s gone under.” shrieked Betty, and before either the Shadow or Elsie could stop her, she jumped from the boat, swam towards the place where Harold had last been seen and dived under. The two in the boat held their breath as one second, two, three, ten, twenty, fifty, sixty passed, which seemed like eternity to them. Then slowly a bead appeared above the surface and they beheld Betty gasping for breath, holding on to a lifeless looking figure. In no time the little craft was beside the boy and his rescuer and tbev were somehow dragged aboard, where artificial respiration was applied by Shadow, which having the desired effect soon brought Harold back to consciousness. So the four bedraggled, would-be-sailors sailed the boat back to the wharf, and never were there any people more pleased to set their feet on the solid land again than they were. NANCY CURTIS, ’36. ------- -------- THE JUNIOR PROMENADE The Junior Promenade was sponsored by the Junior Class, on Friday evening. May 25th. in the auditorium of the Colt Memorial High School. It commenced at eight o'clock and the music was furnished by Paul Sterling and his Orchestra. The auditorium was very attractively lighted and decorated in the Junior Class colors of blue and gold. The Grand March was led bv Miss Marguerite Mathewson, Junior Class Secretary, and by Joseph Securo, Junior Class President. Miss Viola LeClerc, Junior Class Treasurer and Domcniak Capone, Vice President of the Junior Class came next, and the pupils and their escorts followed. The girls were dressed in colorful evening gowns which were exceptionally beautiful. After refreshments were served, dancing was enjoved bv all until midnight. UZELLE de ROCHA. ’35. ------- -------- Mr. Walker—“What is the composition of a storage battery?” Ferreira—“Well, some lead plates and—er— some-er-a, you know some of that stuff.” Mr- Walker—“What stuff; green cheese?”