English High School - Blue and Blue / Record Yearbook (Boston, MA)

Page 15 text:

They scamper off to seize their prey, disclosing to my gaze k Bicderman and Rosenfield beside the hors d ' oeuvre trays. Your system of psychology, says Biederman to R, Enabled me to triple sales of my new super-car. His glittering eye upon the food comes Austin, Shaknov, too. First find the root, then integrate and — Boy! what luscious goo! You are the head of M. I. T. and know your figures fine, But as the Dean of Princeton U. — these pickles are divine! Wait. Here comes Raiklen of G. E. ; he ' ll tell you that I ' m right. He found this integral when he commercialized cold light. Let ' s not talk shop right now, says Mat, and gestures to the right. There ' s Tommy Donovan and clarinet to treat us here tonight. He was so quiet back in school, says Shaknov musingly, And yet I did know then he was a genius yet to be. Professor Snooper turns a knob and shifts the scene again To show a man who ' s tailored like a Bond Street manikin. It ' s Claflin gazing gaily from behind a microphone. This is a famous gathering, comes the rich fem-thrilling tone. The great from every walk of life are grouped here on this day. Theres Admiral Newman with his wife: boy! I ' ll say she ' s O-Kay! Far to my left, beside the food, the mighty market men: Clancy, Campbell, Harris, Burns, and wily Anderson. Contrada, smiling governor, converses with Ahern, Whose absence from the House floor has forced them to adjourn. Oh, General Golden ' s passing by with quite a bonny lassie — Less trouble than the twins, I ' m sure, but only half as classy. Cassell and Goldberg, chemists mad, confer with Di Francesco. If that is an experiment. I ' d rather be alfresco. Well slap me down and call me Eider, if that ' s not Ving Harris, Whose purring, stirring rhythm tunes are known from Dahr to Paris. There ' s Bellantoni and Kilday, to whont it was quite puerile To go to work and finish up the capitol dome mural. Bielawski ' s talking to our own Emil Pagliarulo — No doubt about the history those profs now run a school o ' . Duwors and Flynn, the offiters who called the gettogether. As congressmen have brought the ship of state to prosperous weather. Abruzzi and Bonnano are the pair whose work — oh, well. You all know of the excellence of this, their fine hotel. Suddenly the screen goes black. Snooper turns on the light. My neutron tube ' s burnt out, says he. That ' s all the show tonight I need not see more now, I say, My hopes have jibed with Fate. I knew before the men of Engish were tomorrow ' s great. Thus I leave Professor ' s lab with warmth within my heart: For I have seen our triumph and the greatness of our part. Should fortune fail to smile on us, we ' ll tear success from her. We of the class of thirty-nine, whom nothing shall deter! (ii)

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TIME M lCniNE RicAoAd cu mltmcfe ' 39 I ' m deep within the bowels of earth, in ' fessor Snooper ' s lab. He built it underground like this so neighbors couldn ' t crab. (You see, before he moved down here, when he was on the ground, His noisy, smelly ' speriments played hob for miles around.; He says his latest gadget — the one I came to see — Will show him all that ' s going on in 1953. My boy, he says, and pulls a switch, the mysteries of time Are hidden in the fact that x must equal 12 z prime! Motors hum to whining life: tubes grow blue and green; And hazy figures start to form upon a glowing screen. A man ' s alighting from a car before a large hotel; With all that racy foreign job, he must be quite a swell. His face is turning toward the screen as he starts to go in. It can ' t — but yes, I ' m sure it is; it ' s Beachman, with his grin! The doorman ' s moving from his post; I now can see a sign: Fourteenth reunion being held by English — 39- (Professor Snooper twirls a knob and shifts the scene inside.) McCarthy in the foreground in a general ' s uniform Is engaging R. J. Butters in a conversation warm: Senator, I ' ll give you any odds that you desire That Hinds won ' t lose his boxing crown, but will instead retire. There ' s coaches Reale and Hickey — I ' ll find out what they say. The first two hail the latter pair and quickly walk their way. Now who should come into my view but Auskelis and Green. I do admire your splendid work upon the silver screen. But if you ' d ever dealt in bonds you ' d find that work a bore. Just think, we have a star-to-be upon the tardy door! Look at those two over there, cries Green with some surprise, It ' s Butler and Sadowski: they both got a Nobel prize. Auskelis glances, diamond tie pin sparkling in the light, And there ' s Buchanan, King of Concerts, not far to the right, And Gouse and Smith and Downey, heads all in a bunch. Let ' s walk that way and see if we can get a market hunch. The star and tycoon stroll away but right upon their heels, Are Fillis (J.) and Kenefick — Nick Carters or O ' Neills — I know it ' s run for forty weeks, but I don ' t like your play. No more compliments, Kenefick, or you ' ll join Old Nick to stay. You ' re Shakespeare ' s greatest critic, yes; but don ' t begin on me. There ' s Hy Bloom — Hi, Bloom! — Oh boy, I really am punny. (The last from Donald Kenefick: you see, he ' ll never learn. ) Let ' s twit him on his latest book — I love

Page 16 text:

CLASS WILL Im Ranald P. fCenej ck ' 39 To the Hon. Mortimer Q. Funk, M. A., L. L. D., B. S.. Director of the Anglo-Ameri- can Archaeological Society — Dear Sir: While investigating the ruins at the recent- ly excavateci site of Old Boston, I came upon the remains of a vast edifice, buried under tons of mud left by the tidal wave of about 1940. It was evidently a medieval castle, no doubt inhabited by robber-barons and their retainers. Though our knowledge of this period of the Dark Ages is slight, it will no doubt be in- creased by a very curious find I have made in the lower regions of the castle. I came upon a cadaver, perfectly preserved by the mud, seated at a desk covered with paper. The corpse was that of a youth wearing the cur- ious contrivance of the day known as spec- tacles . He looked rather dissipated and un- kempt, not to say foolish. The paper, cov- ered with the ancient hieroglyphics, I have ventured to translate and add here. Here, then, is a product of our remote ancestors. May the Lord preserve us I Therefore, your class expert in legal evas- iveness and juridical skullduggery does here append such general bequests as the class, act- ing as a whole (and such an abysmal hole!), has conveyed to him : 1. The class of 1939 leaves to the school in general : a. A desolate feeling of emptiness: b. Three lockers filled with mislaid lunches : c. Rooms 001 to 206, in fairly good con- dition. 2. The class leaves to the faculty thes: things: a. To Mr. Downey — our best wishes, our admiration, and our respect, knowing them to be intangible and not something one can place upon a trophy-shelf, but real and shining enough for all that. b. To Mr. Reed — more respect and ad- miration, to a gentleman and a scholar who has filled with grace a great and yawning gap- c. To Mr. Phelps — gratitude for a host of indelible information and a gentle re- minder that the Yankees may win. d. To Mr. Coughlin — a bittersweet memory of E45 Cn, a tattered collection of Mr. Fillis ' best compositions, and a window-shade that won ' t work. e. To Mr. Atwood — a bottle of clean- ing fluid to scrape some of his more mis- guided chemists off the ceiling and a fond memory of his smile. f. To Mr. Ohrenberger — our regrets that only half (about) of his greatest Math class in history will be back with him next year: also a nice, new football team: and Paci. g. To Mr. Hogan — a double measure of admiration and a flask of eau. de vitriol, to be used freely on all students who do their history homelessons when Les Oberle is the subject for dissection. h. To the rest of the faculty, whom we love without exception and sympathize