Classical High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Springfield, MA)

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It was January 1937. A month earlier Edward VIII, King of England and Emperor of India, had abdicated the throne of England for an American divorcee, Wallis Simpson. The Em- peror Haile Selassie was in sanctuary in London. The Spanish Revolution was entering into its sixth bloody month. Franklin Roosevelt contrary to all Republican predictions had won the November election by an unprecedented majority. The world was set for years of uncertainty and drama. But here in Springfield 174 unsuspecting and trembling freshmen entered the worn portals of Classical High School and looked to the future with a hope that was not shared by their elders. Even as Franklin Roosevelt was starting his second term as the Prophet of the More Abundant Life, we suggested the promise already inherent in our class by choosing our pilots for the coming year: James Wilson, President; Seymour Gold, Vice-President; Alberta Benhard, Secretary; Betty Judd, Treasurer; and Pauline Vining, Member-at-Large and our Class Advisors, Miss Spaulding, and Mr. Ed Smith. BOB

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PGi Ee et Be Ltr AND Wate leaks The Will of the Class of 19393 We, the class of 19393, being possessed of a sound state of mind at the present time, do hereby bequeath the following: To Miss Spaulding we give thanks for her help and advice and we want her to know how sorry we are that she couldn’t be with us at the end. To Mr. Hill, our respected principal, we leave our sincere appreciation for his assistance and sage words of advice. To our patient advisors, Mr. Smith and Mr. Finn, we leave a large box to hold the detention slips they didn’t pass out. Ruth Smith leaves her expressive eyes and her ability to use them to get around teachers to Barbara Orr who, we are sure, will use them to good advantage. Maurice Lawlor leaves his experience in Home Prob- lems to any boy who is interested in making [or breaking up] a home. Shirley Simes leaves the Assembly Hall echoing with the tattoo of her talented taps. Marion Billings leaves her invaluable collection of stamped, signed and delivered notes from home to fit every occasion to Barbara Calderwood the better to fa- cilitate her unconventional exits from study rooms. Miriam Rice, Lois Dolan, and Dorothy O’Connell leave a strangely quieter study hall [218, 2nd period] much to the relief of the nearby students. Doris Johnson leaves her glamorous nails to Henny Moran with the stipulation that she is not to use them for dirt-digging. To George Leary, Ed Harrigan leaves his reserved seat in the detention room. Eileen Leary leaves her flute-like soprano voice to a female member of the Glee Club who is interested in melting Miss Clark’s heart. To the student body Lorraine Hornish leaves a book entitled, ‘‘Plausible Sounding Excuses for All Occa- sions,’’ which she has found very useful during her stay at Classical. Lucille Charnock leaves her collection of frat pins to any girl who has tried to win hearts at Springfield College and has given up. Helen Higgins leaves her sunny smile to Jane Cald- well, but only on condition that she won't try to dazzle unsuspecting little freshmen with it. Ruth Rosoff and Gertrude Papy leave their enviable records to the annals of the school and challenge anyone to top them. Ted Progulske requests that we just let him leave. Dorothy Jefferson leaves her pep and buoyancy to Olga Davis so that she can come to school with an air of wide-awake interest. Alice Mayer leaves a dull ache in the heart of many underclassmen which Helen Marchese may be trusted to alleviate. David Robbins leaves his quiet manners and hushed voice to Ernest Walen, whose need of them is obvious, Bernice MehIman, the sweetheart of AZA, leaves her pass to the Fraternity Meetings to Norma Magidson. John Foley leaves an engraved motto ‘Ambition should be made of sterner stuff’? and the memory of his long career at Classical as a solemn warning to Don Watson. Alberta Benhard leaves her unfailing good temper and courtesy and her charming smile to Suzanne Hagler, who is the only one we know worthy of taking Alberta’s place. Horace Borden leaves his athletic scholarship to Fred Zanetti who is an athlete without scholarship and leonard Sommer who is a scholar without athletics, suggesting that they get together and go to town. Alfredo Cavicchioli leaves his claims on the Faculty’s Collective Heart to Charlie Phillips, who could do with a little more T. A. [Teacher-Appeal ]. Leon Rivchin, our basketball star, leaves his skill as a hooper to Bob Karp, in exchange for his propensity for hooping it up. Jane Bliss leaves that magic oil that enables her to squeeze out of tight places to John Connor. Harold Davidson leaves his pessimistic attitude to Sam Hunter who also goes by the theory that if you expect the worst, the best will happen. George Parr leaves hiS certificate, now hanging in Mrs. Buzzell’s office, as Classical’s Principal Social Lion to Scott Edwards. Edward Logan leaves part of his inexhaustible supply of hot air to Ed Sullivan. Richard Fredette leaves his caustic tongue to the three Johns, Fitzgerald, Fitzgerald, and Mahoney, Inc., whose only trouble is excessive good nature. Joseph Elim leaves his candid camera to Ieonard Plotkin, who will carry on the Master’s tradition. James Keenan leaves his much bethumbed copy of Romeo and Juliet to Elizabeth Flanagan and Roger Kelleher. Skippy Powell leaves her diplomacy at handling Mr. Cook to Bingie Clark, who has not yet developed the finesse needed in such embarrassing situations. Edith Armstrong leaves the memory of her bright smile as adhesive tape for a plaster cast, if necessary] for those broken hearts. We leave a handbook of ‘‘1oo1 Slightly Used Methods of Getting Out of Detention” to anyone who spends most of his or her [or its, we do not believe in excluding anyone because of gender] time in the lockup. The 1oo1st way, if you are interested, is by the window route. Any of our class who is [1] male, and [2] capable of shaving, leaves his trusty razor to anv sucker who wants to try committing Suicide by Means of ‘Arterial Sec- tion. It is, of course, a safety razor. Signed, sealed, and attested this day of January, 1940. Haro p Davipson, Chairman PuHy.Liis PowELL EDWARD LOGAN —24—

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Tene Boleslav AND Ware alae Fe Shortly after that came spring. Edward, Duke of Windsor, joined Mrs. Simpson on the French Riviera, and Lorraine Hornish joined her fortunes to Ray Tul- ler’s in what promised and sti!l promises to be a romance that will outlast the one that shook the British Empire. Spring ripened into summer. Mrs. Simpson became the Duchess of Windsor if not Her Royal Highness. Amelia Earhart vanished over the Pacific. A war started in China. Mr. Roosevelt risked battles by his proposals to enlarge the Supreme Court. But we spent our vacation almost oblivious of the gathering storms of history, bask- ing on the sands at Misquamicut, roaming in the woods by Sebago Lake, diving into the breakers at Chatham and Watch Hill and Old Orchard, or just sitting on our porches and watching the boys dart by on their bicycles bound for Five Mile Pond. In the fall we returned half-glad, half-sad to the ren- ovated but not quite restored school rooms of Classical where we began our English 4, and our French and Latin 2 or 4, and the newest experiments in Mr. Rolland Smith's most recent math books. It was then that social disturbances came to Classical as well as to the rest of the world. Inthe closet of 118 during one of our English classes, a member came out with his head bandaged. It was only a short sketch given at Christmas time. Some one had discovered Miss Anthony's famous axe and had been inspired to give that play. x k x January 1938 dawned. It was to be the year of Hit- ler's anschluss with Austria, of Howard Hughes’ record-breaking flight around the world, of Wrong-Way Corrigan’s perfectly natural confusion of the coastlines of California and Ireland, of the great New England hurricane, and finally, of the ominous Pact of Munich. And we? What did this mean to us? Well, at last we were no longer freshmen, to be looked down upon by the rest of the school, and to be told always what to do and what not to do. After two months of getting used to our new classes and happily ignoring the new freshmen, we finally settled down and elected our eleventh grade officers. We brought into the limelight Joseph Latif as President; Seymour Gold, Vice-President; Betty Par- menter, Secretary: Betty Judd, Treasurer: and Maurice Lawler, Member-at-Large. But alas, our well-settled class was broken up. Many of our friends and members deferred. Remember Polly Vining, Bob Robbins and others? It was in September when we had returned from our summer vacation that swiftly and unmercifully disaster struck. New England was ravaged by a fierce hurricane and flood. Classical became a place of refuge for victims of this catastrophe, while the students were given a vaca- tion until the Monday following. For the next two months all went well with us as we studied our Math and Latin and French and English. Then in December we joined with the 11B’s and made plans for our Junior Prom. Our 11A committee for this included: Alberta Benhard, Kenneth Harris, Corlis Hunter, Phyllis Powell, Pauline Vining, and our class president, Joe Latif. Came January 1939. Just as we had finally become seniors and were either rejoicing or mourning that our last year had begun, the world was informed that Pope Pius XI had died February 10, and within a month Cardinal Pacelli was elected Pius XII. Speaking of an election, it was about this time that we elected our last set of officers who were: William Anderson, President: Miriam Rice, Vice-President; Eileen Leary, Secretary; Harold Davidson, Treasurer; and Lois Dolan, Member- at-Large. Mr. Finn became our Class Advisor in place of Miss Spaulding who had left school because of illness. Although on March 13 spring was thought to be “‘just around the corner,’ a sudden snowstorm took us by surprise. As aresult, 1000 students stayed out of school. It was a wonderful blizzard and brought us an unex- pected vacation, and we rejoiced. It was two days after this, March 15, that Hitler with his army marched into Czechoslovakia and annexed Bohemia and Moravia to the Reich. At once the British prepared for general con- scription, and the King and Queen planned a “‘social” visit to America. For us, however, the waning spring meant mostly good weather, final exams, June, and vacation. Up to August 23, our summer passed like others be- fore it with basking on the sands of Misquamicut, roaming in the woods by Sebago Lake, diving into the breakers at Chatham and Watch Hill and Old Orchard. sitting on our porches, or visiting the Perisphere of the New York World's Fair. Just before our return, Ger- many, on September 1, launched lightning war against Poland, bringing her into the Reich. The Second World War had begun, and for a few days even we were sobered by the shocking news that nightly came over the radio from Poland. But we were—and are—young and it was not long before squabbles in 323 occupied us more than wars in Europe. A month later we, with wonderful illusions, signed up with Bosworth’s Studios. When the proofs were returned, we were shocked at the strange looking creatures we saw. As if that were not enough, the nominating committee began choosing its victims. It seemed as if at this time Hitler was luckier than we were, for he escaped a Munich beer cellar bomb plot, but we could not escape our nominating committee. Happily fate saved us, and on November 30 we restored our strength by invading Turkey. Our last two months have been full of plans—so full that we have hardly had time for news from Russia and Finland and the Balkans and Sweden. We almost forgot to see Gone with the Wind. For there were quotations to be collected and Dorothy O'Connell, Reed Wade, Eileen Leary, and Ellen Mosher were up to their noses in Ed Smith's well-worn copy of Bertlett. A prom had to be arranged even if Richard Fredette and Marion Billings and Alice Mayer had previous engagements at the Hull Dobbs House. Nancy Corkum and Henrietta Placido had gone into the Prophecy Business with Jimmy Keenan as the Third Weird Sister. Phyllis Powell took time off from the social world and Ed Logan, from his perpetual argumentations and Harold Davidson, from his book reports to draw up our Last Will and Testa- ment. A ballot was made and collected and counted and tabulated and stored away by Jane Bliss, Gertrude Papy, Leon Rivchin, and Dave Robbins, and when it was done, it was found to our surprise that some plums, not many, did not go to Bill Anderson after all. Bill himself was busy delegating other people to do some- thing about a Class Banquet. Thanks to Dot Jefferson he succeeded. Lois Dolan, Doris Eaton, Ed Howatt, and Arthur Winter lent their moral support. And then they came and went—the best cf proms, the friendliest of banquets, the jolliest of last days at school, and we found ourselves out in that wide and troubled world whose tragic last three years had been little more than a footnote to our three years of fun and friendship. The future? Like Burns, we “guess and fear.’ But like Brutus we can at least exclaim: “O, that a man might know The end of this day’s business ere it come! But it sufficeth that the day will end And then the end is known.” So, then, lead on! ELIZABETH PAINE EvizABETH McINTYRE LS ay Re