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

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ee Lae ie ler es ACNED We lelel a Tes The History of the Class of 1943; We were a class of freshmen green, The greenest Classical had ever seen; Wondering why when late for class, We always got a detention pass. Our first few days were spent hopelessly wandering around the corridors searching for an obscure room, such as 323 . After a get-acquainted party, we began to feel a little more at home and class elections were held. Carl Jacobs was elected president; Martha Hopkins, vice-president; Antonetta Romano, secretary; Thomas jade treasurer; and Robert Glidden, member-at- arge. With Miss Fitzgerald and Mr. Lynch as class ad- visers, we became an organized class, and when June, 1941, rolled around, we were making our share of noise in the halls. Returning in September, we gazed patronizingly at the incoming 10B’s, and felt very high and mighty. We were delighted to find that for a while, we were to be dismissed at 12:15, while the lunch-room was being done over. However, our delight in the modern fixtures was sOmewhat modified by our return to our regular 2:30 schedule. Days passed in work and play, and before we knew it, we were planning for Christmas. Then came Sunday, December 7th. Overnight we changed from happy-go- lucky students, whose minds were full of parties and good times, to serious and determined individuals. Faces began to drop out of classes as boys left to join the service. With such momentous things in our minds, the new year came upon us, and we suddenly realized our first full year as Classicalites was ended. We were a class of juniors bright, And everything we did was right; But teachers promptly let us know, That they did not find it so. With the beginning of our junior year, a new word was added to our vocabularies — rationing. It wasn’t long before we all became acquainted with that novel mode of transportation — walking. In the midst of this confusion, we held our elections. Robert Woody was elected president; Martha Hopkins, vice-president; Thomas Howard, treasurer; Joanne MacDonald, secretary; and Carl Jacobs, member-at- large. Toward the end of school, we planned a dance called the “Spring Fling.”’ Here let it be said that nothing as trifling as the lack of gas could ever stop a Classicalite. Bicycles were rolled out, buggies were dusted up, and the dance was attended in grand style. With the news of Classical’s team winning the base- ball championship ringing in our ears, we left for sum- mer vacation. September arrived all too soon, and back we came to find the landscape enhanced by piles of coal. A change in school time gave us an extra hour of sleep in the morning. It also meant an added hour of school in the afternoon. Toward the end of our junior year, we finally agreed on class colors which were green and gold. From then on, we eagerly awaited our banner. January found our class very much decreased as we finished our second year in Classical. We were a class of seniors small, Not half-filling the study hall; But our years at Classical have been a success, Sorrow at leaving, we now express. At last we were seniors! From a class of 130 strong, we had diminished to 65. Those who preferred joining the regular June class had done so, leaving only 60 remaining seniors in possession of 323. Many of us, too, were planning on staying through until June, but wish- ing it, we were given the privilege of having our activi- ties with those leaving in January. “Thank you, Mr. Hill.” For the last time we held our elections. James Gaylord was elected president; Philip McKeague, vice-president; Elva Foerster, secretary; Robert Hogg, treasurer; and Stewart McCracken, member-at-large. Robert Hogg left for the Army, and Russell Chase was then elected treasurer. Despite the fact that we were now proud seniors, we held our Junior Prom with the Junior class. It was a case of “better late than never.” ‘Toward June our teachers noticed a decided increase in the number of hands waving to answer questions. (We had to show our class rings somehow, didn’t we?) Before vacation, we said good-bye to Mr. Lynch, one of our advisers, who left to train the Air Cadets at Springfield College. He was replaced by Miss Bowles. About the same time, we also said good-bye to Mr. Cook, our assistant principal, who left to become acting principal of Forest Park Junior High. On our return in September, we were dazzled by the splendor of the front hall. We could hardly believe our eyes — it had been re-decorated. In October our arm bands and hats arrived. What a day that was! We walked around as proud as pedcocks, refusing to take them off. (The boys were more vain than the girls.) All at once, we began to realize our high school days were nearly over, and while ‘Pistol Packin’ Mama” was blaring from every radio, we began in earnest to prepare for graduation. Overnight, 323 became a bee hive of activity as plans for the class promenade and banquet got under way. Then Miss Fitzgerald’s troubles in home-room began, There was a continual buzz as members of committees went into conference. Students began mysteriously to disappear into 318 and Mr. Hall’s office. After weeks of worrying and planning, the date of the prom finally came, and the evening, which was all too short, proved to be a gala success. Thoughts then turned to the banquet, which also was an evening never to be forgotten. The climax of our senior year was the graduation. Friday, January 21, 1944, nineteen of our classmates received their diplomas. Thirty-three years ago, the first mid-year graduation was held. These members of our class held the distinction of being the last class to graduate in the middle of the year. With this gradua- tion, the history of the class of 194314 drew to a close. It was a grand three years. Mary E,. CreGaAn, Chairman NoreEEN PARKER BARBARA CRANDALL, BARBARA KEENAN Asst. Chairman SaLtty MAE HERBERT HELEN BRowN GEORGE GRAY DoLores CERA MILDRED CRUZE JUNE OATLEY a

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Ba sh les Br CU4e AND met SST The Birds of 19433 Mr. Hill, and other guests of the class of 1943 and a half: Classical High School is noted for many, many things, but few people realize that Classical this year has had, on the third floor, in a big cage called 323 — an aviary. Briefly, I, the keeper of this ornithological zoo, shall tell you something about these birds of 1943 and a half. 1 quote, ‘Birds are the most active animals in exist- ence because their energy is available through the oxidation of relatively more food than most animals consume.” End of quote. The excess energy of the birds of 323 is obtained through the surreptitious consump- tion of sandwiches behind upturned desk covers during home room periods. These Classical birds are a motley flock. Many are game birds, and we have one or two flycatchers, and several larks; but chickadees and blue-jays are in the majority. John Kieran in his little book, ‘Nature Notes,’ speaks of the cheerfulness and friendliness of the chickadees, and he surmises that suet is their favorite food. How true! My little chickadees are cer- tainly ever friendly and cheerful, and they’re always chewing the fat! My bluejays are very handsome and dashing, but, oh, so noisy! We have a few night birds. Some of these are wise young owls that stay up nights gaining more wisdom. They have been a source of great pleasure to me be- cause of their erudition, and their calm, quiet dignity. The other nocturnal birds are nighthawks that usually come winging back to their perches anywhere from nine-one a. m. to ten-one a. m. Sometimes, I’m sorry to say, they stay away all day. And how I| miss them! One of the most mysterious instincts of birds is that which controls their migrations; and some of these Classical birds are well provided with that instinct. | suspect that they have frequently migrated to Hull Dobbs, Cupid’s Inn, ‘and other foreign feeding stations, when they should have been down in our own Classical sanctuary. Many birds have the remarkable ability to change the color of their feathers at certain times. Last Friday night these birds did something more spectacular. They took on the plumage of bluebirds, cardinals, flamingoes, peacocks, white herons, and — PENGUINS! One authority on birds claims that bird study is a delightful challenge. I heartily agree with him, although, sometimes, in the midst of the twittering, cackling, and squawking, I have thought that at this dinner I would have to sing a Swan Song. But, now that | have sur- vived without having developed into a common loon, or gone cuckoo — | realize that | have been in charge of a flock of grand birds. We have not had any shrikes, vultures, buzzards, or stormy petrels in our Aviary, and we have had a fine eaglet as leader of the flock. And so, my only regret is that I did not have a pair of good field glasses to see more of what was going on in the bird cage of 323. EILEEN FitTzGERALD. Oooooo0 ! Mighty Man Most Popular Man Have your money ready, please.

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TE Tok seas AINE WET Sires The Prophecy of the Class of 1943; The Prophecy Committee of the Class of 1943 and a half, finding it exceedingly difficult to probe into the haze of the future, and seeking inspiration, decided to take a Carribean cruise on a banana boat during the Christmas vacation. Through the influence of the eminent, internationally known Dr. Rolland Smith, who secretly goes to Washington every other week-end on Official business, we obtained special permission from the United States Shipping Board to make this trip. The cruise was progressing satisfactorily when the boat left its Carribean dock and started homeward, but no inspiration had as yet presented itself. The first day out in the middle of the balmy Gulf of Mexico, the members of the Committee draped themselves over the ship’s rail — apparently to view the scenery, but prob- ably to ease their sea-sickness. “Oh, look, there’s a shark! See its fin cutting the water!’ someone cried. We looked, but Robert Collier, who happened to have his glasses on, sputtered, ‘‘That’s no shark; that’s a torpedo!” We hoped his glasses were only glazed with sea- spray; but this hope, together with the glasses, was dashed to pieces by a splintering, sickening crash. A few hours later we were bobbing about on the big green ocean in a tiny lifeboat. Ramon Mentor took an in- ventory of our possessions, and found them to be — six Roman candles, one pea-shooter, and three flares. As if we hadn’t had enough fireworks already! Several days later we were washed up on the beach of a deserted tropical isle. We soon discovered a gurgling spring which Herman Nash, boy scout and naturalist of the Committee, blithely informed us gushed Aqua Mania, the cause of Hydro-insanity. David Davidson, who was nearly unconscious anyway, having done all the rowing, was the first to wet his parched lips with the tainted water. The rest of the dauntless committee soon followed suit. Suddenly — or was it hours later? —a shining city appeared before our befogged eyes! Jean Rivard, who had been studying stenography, set down the account of the events that follow, As we stood gazing down a spacious avenue, a burly traffic officer approached us. ‘‘Vagrants or visitors?” he queried. We recognized him as Edwin Bobak, but he didn’t seem to know us. We asked our whereabouts, and he looked hurt and astonished. “Why, you mean to tell me that you don’t know that this is the world metropolis — Springfield, Massa- chusetts, in the year 1965. Population — one hundred and fifty million! Its phenominal growth has astonished everyone — including ourselves. But wait, let me show ou to the Chamber of Commerce executive of Lower asin Street. He can tell you more than I.” Nancy Prouty, receptionist, ushered us into the inner sanctum to the presence of the executive, a blond- haired fellow, who was surrounded by a bevy of beau- tiful girls. Looking sharply, we saw that it was Marvin Schreiber. He explained that he could not take us through his fair city because business was tying him up. However, he cheerfully loaned us his private switchboard operator, Barbara Crandall, whom we gayly followed out the door. Emerging on the Main Street we passed by a large Super Mart. There, Barbara paused to point out a superb window display decorated with an Hawaiian motif — pineapples. “This,” she informed us, ‘“‘was designed by June Oatley, the renowned authority on things Hawaiian.” We were furthermore astonished by a gaudy sign being hoisted into place. It read: “S. FINKEL SONS”. “This store,’’ we were told, ‘‘was bought only yester- day by Saul Finkel, who is reputed to have accumulated a tidy sum playing professional basketball.”’ As we were about to call a halt in front of a massive edifice bearing the name Pynchon Memorial Labora- tories, we were crowded off the sidewalk by a zoot- suited man out of Esquire, accompanied by two sophisticates. The fashion-plate was Walter Chizinsky, and basking in his radiance were Beverly Stebbins and Doris Stone. Entering the Pynchon Laboratories we caught a glimpse of Sam Ringel, up and coming scientist, at- tempting to grow electro-magnets under Westinghouse sponsorship. Also employed at the Memorial was Robert Collier, M.D., conducting invaluable research in a field dealing with the reincarnation of dead beats . Before making our exit we were allowed to watch, at work, Betty Gerber and Antonetta Romano making their twentieth entry in the contest requiring an explanation of Einstein’s Theory in 250,000 words — more or less. Hearing an unearthly howl coming from a nearby building we were about to dash madly across the street when we were frozen in our tracks by the sudden screech of brakes. A luxurious, sleek, black limousine had swung around the corner, narrowly missing our little group. In it were mink-coated, jewel-bedecked Jean Chapman and Helen Brown on their way to the opera. Jean gave us a haughty glance, while Helen shouted to her suave chauffeur, Ramon Mentor, to drive on. Remembering the purpose of our reckless flight, we scurried through a door and crowded into an elevator. At the same time we noticed a passenger beside us with a peculiar gleam in his eye. It was Stewart McCracken, private detective and partner of that super-sleuth, Richardo Wolf. Stewart confided in us that he had an idea business might be picking up. He told us of a case in which he found John, from John’s other wife, and i identified him as being the same character as Dear ohn.