High School of Commerce - Caduceus Yearbook (Springfield, MA)

Page 12 text:

• ivi» '• TOP ROW. left to right Jane M. Roberts. Helen M. Lynch. Catherine M. Casey. Anna S. Danforth. Rwby V. Carman. Phyllis Savoy. Helen Xorrgard. Janet E. Seott. Dora M. Briggs. Helen M. Hnmbcrsfon. Elizabeth S. Ullery. Ceniere M. Allen. Susan Dowd. Mae C. Anderson. Marion H. Davis. Helen E. Parser. Edith F. Marideii. Eleanor M. Walker. Helen G. Flvnn. Frances C. Blal(eman. Anna G. (iinnody. aralie Clark. Sarah A. Hillman. Madeline C. Hunt. Alice L. Hailigan. THIRD ROW- Auguitui H. Smith. Charles A. Campbell. Guy D. Miller. Martha B. JudJ. William C. Masters. Be dmg F. Jackson. Charles A. Speer. Clarence I. Chatfo. Harold E. Taylor. Lloyd H. Hayes. Leslie S. Shipway. Gilbert C. Walker. Ralph C. Parmenter. Mildred Dobbs. Frances Tourtellotte. Rebecca S. Flagg. Charles H. Oswald. Howard C. Kelly. Theodore M. Peaie. Florence C. Moakler. Christine L. Lewis. Margaret Palmer. James L. Clancey. SECOXD ROW Helen E. Rankin. Marian C. Chesson. Grace L. Bulkeley. Jeanne V. jandreau. Alleen E. Hills. O. Jean Bell. Rena P. Bartlett. Grace Bigelow. Helen Clarke. Tuila B. Kendall. Stillman E. McKcrley. Stanley O. Smith. Alice F. Dan orth. Theresa W. Williams. Hilda H. Madsen. Hazel K. Miller. Eleanor P. Davis. Augusta Colby. H. Elizabeth Phelps. Bernice White. Emma G. Xickenon. Honora F. , elligan BOTTOM ROW James A Patterson. Sidney V. Doane. Elbryn H. B. Myers. Joseph E. Buckley. Oren B. Relyea. David H. Reid. Harold w. Jones. Will W. Macalpine, G. Donald Melville. Russell L. Williams. F. Anthony Viggiano. William L. Perkins. Jr., Daniel Edward Fenton. CldminiAihaitfiA, Right in the midst of Cd'du'CC'US You turn the page and—you sec us. Who are we? Who arc we? We are the Commerce facultcc Posed in a cosy club-room nook Having our annual “pitcher took.” Some arc up on the old oak settle— A hefty poundage to try its metal. Faculty Poet Standing in front is another row And flat on the cold, hard floor below The “youngsters” muster a smiling phiz Though it must he tough on their rheumatiz! What's that in front of them? Why, for pity Sakes! Don't you know the Commerce Kitty— Coal black fur with a glossy sheen. And an orange ribbon for Hallowe'en. Yes, here you sec the facultcc- A lot of girls and boys Mindful of their dignity, Mindful of their poise. Mindful of stenography, history, and math, Mindful of the years they've trod a thorny, uphill path, Just imparting learning to young genius—more or less— Observe the beaming countenance of S. O. S. As he looks about him to behold his little flock A-posing for their picture—with one eye upon the clock! [8]

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CADUCEUS 19 4 0 To the Underclassmen: You are in the High School of Commerce to secure something priceless, something which is difficult to measure in terms of dollars and cents—an education. The opportunity to secure such an education has been given to you, but whether or not you achieve your goal will depend very largely upon your own initiative and your own effort. You will reap as you sow; your dividend will be in proportion to your investment. Invest wisely, therefore, in terms of “Industry and Integrity” and when you leave Commerce, you will find yourself prepared to take your place in society in such a way that both you and society will be richer when you make your contribution. f [7]

Page 13 text:

CADUCEUS 19 4 0 Owl JocudksJiA, ' IVoaLcL It was the day on which marks were to he passed. All was quiet in the office except for the clatter of the noiseless typewriters. Suddenly the door hurst open and Mr. Masters dashed noisily into the room. “It's gone! It's all gone!” he gasped, excitedly. Miss Danforth inadvertently swallowed a pen point, hut showed no other sign of her inward alarm. Miss Humherston would have fainted, if her faith' ful Elsie (L. C.) Smith had not upheld her. Mrs. Moakler cast her eyes upward, but caught them neatly on the rebound. Just then Mr. Jackson hastily flung open the door and announced. “Tell Mr. Smith that all possible is being done. 1 have mobilized the patrols, and a systematic search is being made for enemy agents. Corridors, halls, and class rooms have been ran- sacked. Nothing has- been found but some second- hand gum, one right glove, and, oh yes, the teachers goat in one of the study rooms. White-faced and trembling, the teachers came from all directions, seeking news. In their eagerness to get there, those on the third fl x r slid down the banisters - Mr. Campbell winning first place for speed. Miss Libby hurried in with the statue of Mercury under one arm, and the Encyclopedia Britannica under the other. Mr. Melville arrived on tiptoe and asked in his characteristically subdued voice, “Is it really true? Miss Halligan dragged in her social problems, de- termined that they should be saved at all costs, but Mr. Smith said the American history teachers just could not bring in foreign relations as the office was already overcrowded. “I wish they had taken the old Ditto machine, murmured Miss Savoy. “Or the typewriters in 217, added Mr. Chatto. When all were assembled, Mr. Smith addressed the thoroughly frightened faculty. “An unexpected calamity has overtaken us at this critical moment when we were about to act as recording angels with our grades. He paused, glanced around search- ingly, then continued in an accusing tone, “The red ink has been stolen! Here he was interrupted by groans. “Search has been made everywhere, espe- cially in r(x m 105, where the entire supply is often needed. Not one drop has been found! The ques- tion is- what shall we do? We must not disappoint those students who have exercised so much self- restraint in the matter of study in order to earn brightly-illuminated report cards. At this point the dulcet tones of William Bassett, followed by curious chuckles and giggles, came through the office rad;o. “Right now, went on Mr. Smith, “Miss Allen's efficient Radio Workshop is broadcasting our plight over station WHISPER. But we ourselves must meet this situation. I await your suggestions.” “I have pounds of red tape on hand from which we might distil a very good writing fluid, offered Mr. Miller. “There is one quart of cranberry jelly in the cook- ing department, but what is that among eighty-two teachers?” said Miss Dobbs, remembering faculty luncheons. “I've a great idea, said Miss Bigelow enthusias- tically. “In my closet are all the report cards since 1929, with just thousands of E's on them. It would be a simple matter for the teachers in their hours and hours of spare time to cut out these E's and paste them on cards.” At this moment Miss Davis entered the r x m, dragging one of the lunch r x m boys. “This, she explained, “is the culprit. He has confessed to me that he poured all the red ink into the tomato soup which we had for lunch.” There was a horrified pause, followed by moans of anguish from all those who had chosen tomato soup. All eyes were turned toward Mrs. Chesson. “Don't be alarmed, she said, doctors always say that red ink in small quantities has a very stimulat- ing effect on the brain cells of the young. It's only in larger quantities that it has proved harmful to $ch(X)l progress. I suggest that as the pupils already have had a liberal supply of red ink internally that further dosage be omitted for this period. Doubt- less the faculty has been much benefited by some of their own medicine. The crisis was over. Again silence reigned su- preme in the office; Miss Danforth reached for a sweet instead of a pen point. (Note— The effect of the red ink on the faculty is shown by the startled expressions and glittering eyes in the faculty picture which was taken after the crisis.) Faculty Historian [9]