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

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THI: GREEN AND WHITE 27 MY LIFE My first home, as I remember, was a very peculiar room made of glass. It was always dark, musty, and hot in my abode. All around, outside, it looked so cool and inviting. How I longed to get out! One day a little girl beautifully dressed entered and picked me up. She squeezed me, pressed me cruelly, then pushed me back in my bed. Once when I was deep in thought, I received a pleasant surprise Some boys came straight toward me and looked at my beautiful colored dress. One of the boys picked me up and said, Gee, fellows, look at this one: it is real pretty and her name is Pearl. My best girl's name is Pearl, too. I will take this one to remind me of her. A man picked me up, gave me to Bill, as the boy was called, who put me in a very dark pocket filled with junk. The next day Bill took me to school, showed me to some of the boys and girls. All praised me highly, making me feel prouder than ever. He then laid me on a hard desk where I lay for some time. I, thinking he had forgotten me, became very sad. I became restless, nervous, and tried to move around. Suddenly I felt myself rolling, rolling; I rolled from the desk to the floor. It was a terrible fall. Bill picked me. He punished me severey. biting my body, leaving scars. Oh, how it hurt! What had I done that made him treat me so? To roll on the floor, was that a crime? From now on, each time I rolled to the floor he punished me by cutting a little of my body. I kept growing smaller and smaller. I became so small that he finally threw me into a waste paper basket. A man took the basket and set it next to a large furnace. As I lay in it. I thought of the painful death which awaited me—to be cremated. I wondered if all my friends suffered similar fates. I regretted that my life was so short. I was to be burned to death. Alas, there was no one to put mv ashes in an urn! Not even a monument with an epitaph like this : “Here rests the ashes of Sir Pencil. He served his fellowmen well. Peace to him.” Oh, well, such is life! Glory passes with the rapidity of a flash. VICTORIA SOLDANO. ’36. ------- -------- Mr. Carlson—Sansone, tell me all you know about nit-rates. J. Sansone—All I know is that they are cheaper than day rates. ------- -------- Mr. Carlson—“What is corned beef?” H. West—“Beef that's been corned.’’ ------- -------- Miss Sisson—“What city in Rhode Island is noted for cotton manufacturing?” Wayne Smith—‘‘Fall River !” THE WEATHER Wather is always with us, and is always changing. It is usually the first thing we notice when we get out of bed in the morning. Perhaps the morning is a beautiful one, with a bright sunshine, a clear blue sky, and cool invigorating air; a beautiful Spring morning with the songs of the birds filling the air- It may be hot and sultry with still heavy air, that takes away one’s energy to work or play, the kind of a day that makes swimming appealing. Now, there may be a sudden change, the sky overcast, deep dark clouds fill the heavens. We hear the swish of the icy sleet as it beats against the window pane. It maybe that one awakens to see myriads of white dancing snow flakes, filling the air, falling to cover the earth with a beautiful white blanket. A rumble! a crash, a sharp light dashes across the heavens. Suddenly we are awarded that a storm is in progress. A few minutes later heavy drops come dropping down from the heavens. A thunderstorm ! To some of us weather seems erratic. Yet it is governed by settled laws. There is a reason for every breeze that blows, every drop of rain that falls and every cloud that floats in the sky as there is a reason that we may change our mind doing something. CARMINc C- CIRILLO, 35. ------- ------- Lincoln once took occasion to criticise a Greek history on the ground that it was tedious and monotous. One of those present, a diplomat, objected. Said he, “The author of that history. Mr. President, is one of the pro-foundest scholars of the age. Indeed, it may be doubted whether any man of our generation has plunged more deeply in the sacred fount of learning.’’ “Yes, or come up drier,” said Lincoln. ------------------------ - Emily X.—“Say, Bertha, what would you think of a fellow who wore red knickers?” Bertha R.—“Whv, I'd think he was sappy. Who wears them?” Emily—“Santa Claus ” ------------------------ - Mr. Carlson—“You can't sleep in my class.” Hibbert—“If you would talk lower. I could. ------------------------ - Mr. Walker—“I will give you a quizz tomorrow on lettuce ” Pinhero—“Gee! Mr Walker, lettuce not have a quizz tomorrow.” ------------------------ - Mr. Walker—“Watermelons are planted in a sandy soil. Vorro—“Mr. Walker, if you plant watermelons in a moist sail they will become mushy and will you have mushmelons (muskmelons)

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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?”

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28 THE GREEN AND WHITE A DAY AT CAMP My story opens on a morning in August. Time—6 A. M. Place—Switt s Point. Let me introduce the characters, hirst there is Ray, owner oi the tent. He is a mischievous lad, lull ol tun, but good at heart. You shall hear a great deal oi him in this story. Next comes Sonny, who might he classed with Ray. Gerald, usually called Squirrel-Baldy, is our next character. He is usually quiet when girls are present, hut full of pep when with the gang. He has quaint ideas about heroes being born and not made.’’ He also has a habit oi leaving everything to the other fellow, in the way of work. Marty, who has a way of his own with the girls, considers himself what others don t. His heart is in the right place, but his legs are not. When he walks he reminds me of a lilting daisy at sunset; nevertheless he is a great lad. Pancho, who derived his nickname from that good for nothing outlaw, Pancho Villa of Mexico, is a brute, at least h ethinks he is, but has a complexion that all girls admire. Although he has his own ideas about sailing boats, he sure can fry peppers. Tom. a romantic lad of sweet seventeen, and the best sheik in the camp next to Sonny, is one of our important characters. While the rest of the boys are washing dishes, Tom is walking with liis girl watching the “Lepidop-tera flitting hither and yon through the fields. Bill, who sleeps with his eyes open, is a tall lanky lad, and a second Abraham Lincoln. He mystifies the other fellows when he comes out with his jawbreakers. Lit, another hero with his legs and knees pointing East and West, is always getting after the boys for not drawing enough water from the well. America, who has a quaint way of saving, Ha-ay Ra-ay, how about getting some water.” Danny, the most useful lad in the camp, makes it his business to build the other fellow’s fire. And last, if not least myself, no angel by any means. I can get in as much mischief as the rest of the bovs, and as Wimpy would say ‘vam no angel.” 1 can play an harmonica, as all the boys found out to their sorrow. And again I repeat, I yam no angel.” I open my eyes, yawn, gaze about me. and my gaze falls upon Ray who sleeps in a cot across from me. He looks sweet and innocent, but when awake—words fail me— As I glance beyond Ray, I see rolled up in a quilt. Sonny Only his heavy snoring breaks the stillness in the tent. As I hear a creak, mv gaze hovels unward. I see Martv sleeping in a hammock above our heads. He is just showing signs of life. Beneath him I see Squirrel-Baldy who having awakened, remembers that it is time to blow reveille, jumps from his bunk and grasps his bugle. After the first few b'asts he is suddenly silenced bv a barrage of shoes, tennis, and whatever is within reach of the suddenly awakened sleepers. As all arc aroused Kay suggests tnat we throw open the flaps, roll up tne back and sides of the tent so that the sun might shine on us. Now, the boys start to make fires, and to prepare food with great gusto, with the exception of Squirrel-Baldy, who sleeps on making the tent quiver with his snoring. Thinking that it wasn't fair for the rest of the boys to work without Squirrel-Baldy, I aroused him by pouring water on bis exposed toes, drowning a fly that was sunning itself there in the sun. With a howl, he jumps up and informs us that he would get up when he was good and ready or there would be war in camp. When the fires are hot. and the griddles ready for those good old pancakes,” out walks Squirrel-Baldy with his frying-pan and a half a dozen of eggs. He, independently, informs us that we would have to move over and make place for him at the fire. As all our pancakes are cooked, Squirrel! is left alone at the fire, Ray. unknown to Gerald, throws a few blank cartrtidges in the fire. After a few seconds there is a sudden popping, and puffing which extinguishes the fire, and causes a great cloud of ashes to rise, and settle on Squirrel-Baldy’s eggs. The boys inform him that if he eats the eggs he will get ptomaine poisoning and die. He takes their advice and throws the eggs away. This did not discourage him. He goes into the tent and returns with another half dozen. He politely informs us that we will have to make him another fire. I, feeling in good humor, politely oblige. Having finished breakfast, we start out washing the dishes. As it is a very warm morning, some of the bovs lie under the trees and read books. Ray suggests that we have a sailboat race. As I like the idea. I made plans for borrowing a skiff. Sonny is to be my partner, and Norman, a boy who lived in one of the cottages, Ray’s partner. We line up on the shore, and at the given word start off. We sail to Camp Slocum and back. Sonny and I lead but as one of Ray’s oars break the race is called off. Now we decide to go crabbing. Ray and 1 are rather good at the game and it doesn’t take us long to get a bushel. Returning we get ready for dinner. which consists of crabs, fried potatoes, fried peppers, and milk. After dinner we go swimming with the girls; play games on the raft for about an hour and then go back to camp. We gather wood in abundance to cook our supper and clean the dishes. By the time we finish, it is dusk, the sun having already set. We build a rousing campfire and America entertains us with his trombone and Marty with a vocal solo, “When You and I Were Young, Maggie” I play my harmonica and receive the usual “boos” from the bovs. We sing far into the night. About 12 o’clock, when the moon is high in the sky. we turn in to bed, thinking of the davs to come. The embers of the glowing campfire die out. Then all is still. Nothing disturbs the quietness of the place, but the crickets, tiny creatures of the night. THE END JOSEPH T. DORAN, 35.