Camden High School - Megunticook Yearbook (Camden, ME)

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CAMDEN, MAINE 29 something would happen to him, and she could sell their dump and marry Red. After six months in the store she found herself bored and tried to find something else. Tony Black, the owner of the Silver Star, discov- ered her voice and hired her. She liked working thereg the money was good and she met so many people. It did not take her long, however, to learn that the Silver Star was a cover-up for a gang of criminals, Tony, of course, being the leader. She was continually getting more and more involved in their dishonest dealings. The police suspected all this but had no proof. They told Her- bert and he immediately asked her about it. She would admit nothing and left the house right away. She went to Tony and told him that Her- bert and the police knew everything. He was furious and threatened to kill her, but she pleaded and con- vinced him that she had told nothing. She went home trembling, know- ing that Tony was going to do some- thing drastic. Red was now a member of the gang and he had always said that he would get even with Herbert. She quarrelled terribly with her fa- ther when she got home and she could not get to sleep when she finally went to bed. Her whole life seemed to pass in front of her. She realized how wrong she had been and was about to run to her father and beg forgiveness when she remembered Tony and Red and all the other crook- ed people she was now a part of. Their friends would never accept her now and they would blame Herbert for everything. She hardly slept all night and went out immediately after breakfast the next morning. Herbert was wise, he saw a differ- ent look in his daughter's eyes, min- gled with the restrained tears that were there when she spoke to him. He had heard her tossing and turn- ing all night, and he was sure that he had heard her crying. Although he said nothing, he had unconsciously forgiven her for all her mistakes. This brings us to the beginning of our story. As I said, it was a damp, cold night when Virginia returned home from work on the twenty-seventh of Janu- ary. She did not see me standing be- hind the car parked across the street. She entered the house cautiously as if she expected to see something un- pleasant. She switched on the light and a second later a blood-curdling scream came from within. Yes, Herbert was dead - shot through the head - and Virginia knew who had done it. I, the district attorney, motioned to my men to be on guard. I was go- ing to try to get Virginia into my car and to the police station where she would be safe. I expected a fight, she would, of course, think that she was being arrested for the murder of her father, which was not true. As I put my hand on the doorknob and was about to turn it, a shot was heard and a body crumpled to the floor. We were thirty seconds too late. Yes, Virginia James had taken her own life. She lay at the feet of her father who sat dead in his wheel- chair. She seemed to be begging his for- giveness, and somehow I feel that in the next world, free from cheap and dishonest people, they will again find Marjorie and peace and live together in another Westmore. Karen Hein THOSE CAMDEN STARS! You say you didn't know we had any? Well, grab a chair and prepare for a shocking expose of Camden's part in the State Inter-scholastic Track Meet. After a thrilling cross-country hare and hound chase consisting of three cars loaded to the gunwales with athletes and funny little teach- ers, they arrived at Colby Campus, the race being won by the great Le- roy Young.

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28 HMEGUNTICOOKU were hitting about 115 M.P.H., and making contact with the road ap- proximately every 50 feet, the front tire went flat! The machine then turned into a roaring demon, and the situation not being helped any by the gibbering idiot on back hollering for more speed, tore off the road, clear- ing its own path through the woods. Later, much later, we came to a skid- ding halt safe and sound on top of a hill from where we could safely coast into town. You know, sometimes I think if it wasn't for these dreams, life would really get me down. Jack Henderson '49 WESTMORE It was a damp, cold night when Vir- ginia returned home from work on the twenty-seventh of January. She was a singer in a third-rate night club in the lower east section of the city, not far from home, where she lived with her invalid father, Her- bert James. He had been an invalid since the first World War, most of which time he spent in an army hospital. Here he had met Marjorie, his understand- ing nurse, whom he later married. She was from a wealthy family and he very successfully played the stock market. By the time Virginia was born they had a lovely home in the residential section of a popular city. They called their home, West- more . Life went smoothly and was always very gay. The day before' Virginia was to leave for a very fashionable boarding school, however, two tragedies oc- curred. Wall Street crashed and Mar- jorie was instantly killed by an auto- mobile. These two factors considerably changed many things. Virginia did not go to Miss Fleming's. This was her own decision, she loved her fa- ther dearly and did not want to leave him alone. Slowly, one by one, the servants were discharged and then, the thing that broke both their hearts, Herbert sold Westmore . He bought a very small house in a poorer section of the city, they would just live here temporarily, of course, till conditions were better and they could perhaps even buy Westmore back. They lived as carefully as they could, with just one lady coming in daily to do the cooking and a little cleaning. Virginia went to the neighborhood high school, which was much differ- ent from the type of school she was used to. At first she was considered a snob, somehow she did not mind, but after several weeks of being ter- ribly lonely she tried to make friends. She did make friends, but of the wrong kind. Her father realized this, but she would not listen. He saw his daughter changing as well as the neighborhood, it seemed to look cheaper and poorer every day. One year later Virginia, Ginny, as her friends called her, graduated from high school. She no longer talked of going to music conserva- tory, and she now only sang, as Her- bert said, Hcheap and noisy songs of the clubs . Herbert suggested more than once that she try for a scholar- ship of some kind, but she was not interested. She got a job in a small store not far down the street. She was through working at tive, but never came home until almost midnight. This worried her father tremendously, and she would never tell where she spent her evenings. She never brought her friends home, Herbert disliked them and they despised him. The old fogy, said Red one day. Please don't say that, Red I I'll say it if I wanna, see! You know, without that pa of yours, Ginny, you'd be a lot nicer. He talks to you too much. This was the way all of Virginia's friends talked to her, and after a year or so of it, she believed it. She often found herself wishing that

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30 HMEGUNTICOOKH The first to show his prowess was J. Keller, he stepped onto the broad- jump track, kissed the boys good-bye, and fouled. He then went on to re- peat this performance four times. In the meantime L. Christie and F. Duncan were having a go at the high jump, when an oiicial called a foul on Duncan, who then became indig- nant and left, followed by Christie. Then came the dashes, our boys trained to run barefoot, were left at the starting line with perforated feet which squirted blood in their eyes, blinding them, and for that reason we failed to add to our score of O . Next came the weight events, the P. A. boomed and Duncan stepped into the circle, strained himself and was carried away to the infirmary. Ed. Note-Any resemblance be- tween Francis Frye and a gibbering idiot is purely his fault, the gibbering idiot! Francis Frye '49 MY TOWN I lived there for many years and came to know the people, the sur- roundings, and the town itself. Everyone in the town knew each other and so that made everybody a neighbor to everyone else. J Every morning was almost the same, but Saturday was the day that all the out-of-town folks came into town to buy their goods for the com- ing week. I got up one Saturday morning, a month before I left the town, and I took notice of the things I had missed during my stay here. As I step down off my front porch, I look across the street to a large barn which has a blacksmith's shop downstairs. There isn't any spreading chestnut tree, but it has the mighty smithy who knows how to swing the heavy sledge which he holds in his large hands. He is liked by all, he likes everyone. Sat- urday afternoon he will go into his backroom and play cribbage with other oldtimers. Then my eyes look up the street and in the distance I can see the white stones of the town cemetery and a few American flags flying in the warm western breeze. It shows that the town had men and women who fought and died for their country. I glance quickly to my right and I see the rolling hills with apple trees planted evenly on the sides of the hills showing Mother Na- ture's work plus man's labor. The air smells fresher than usual, maybe it's because I'm taking notice of the things nature left this little town. I can smell the odor of baked beans coming from a kitchen down the road and the sound of the shoeman repair- ing a pair of shoes for someone in the town. Well, it's about time to get the mail so I will make my way downtown. There is a large group in front of the small country post ofice, everyone waiting to get some mail of impor- tance. They are gossiping about the aiairs of the town or boasting about their farms. Their clothes are clean but not the best, for everyone dress- es in the same country way. They are the common folks who work in the village. It is now the last day of the time I have spent in this little town. Everybody wishes me a hearty fare- well and gives me something to re- member them by. This touches the deepest part of my heart, but the thing that I'll cherish the longest is the welcome-back when I can visit the folks of My Town . BLACK SNOW It was snowing. Big flakes, big- ger than the white of your eye, old Slim Turner used to say. Yes, big- ger than your eye. That's a sure sign they won't last long, mused Jim Ben- ton as he looked out of the window at the huge flakes falling softly to the ground. He glanced at the red and white kitchen clock he had bought for his wife, Jean, on her last birthday.