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

Page 17 text:

with, we leave only the fond hope that they will never see our faces again. The class, in particular, leave the follow- ing bequests, to anyone foolish enough to accept them: a. Mr. Baumberger, Mr. Bloom, Mr. Fil- lis, Mr. Kenefick all join in sending Mr. Malone a shiny group of juniors to make another good staff next year. b. Mr. Dance-Committee McCarthy leaves, carrying the heavily slumbering Mr. Foot- ball-team King in his arms. c. Mr. R. E. Kelley leaves seventeen manu- scripts to the care of the N. Y. A. boys, also a solo tenor part. d. Mr. Fillis leaves Mr. Ohrenberger. e. Mr. Kenefick leaves the Devil in the care of the janitor, in order that the honor- able custodian may learn some pointers. f. The honorable Hubert Cadwallader Ferner leaves his thoughts on Life and Let- ters still sonorously echoing throughout the building. g. Mr. Golden leaves with my belt! h. Mr. Shaknov leaves, brooding over the terrible futility of finding the square root of -2. i. Mr. Raiklen leaves with a dictionary, trying to find the Spelling Bee judges. j. Mr. Bellantoni leaves some very fetch- ing sketches, and goes to find a job at Leo- pold Morse ' s. k. Mr. Kushner leaves in agony, lest some- one, in his absence, place his feet upon the Record office desks. 1. Both Mr. Millers join in leaving one spuckie, in fairly good condition, to Miss Millane, to be used as a cornerstone for any new lunchroom that may be built, m. Mr. Newman leaves, wondering if he will be mentioned in the Class Will — leaves, let me say, the way he kayme. The Class, recognizing the need for en- couraging the young, leave the following bequests to those that manfully toddle after, bless their hearts: a. To the Juniors — a gnawing sense of inferiority. b. To the Sophomores — a paternal pi.t, a few words of encouragement, and an as- surance that they haven ' t seen anything yet. c. To the Freshmen — • six hundred pairs of long pants. So therefore, we the undersigned, to wit and whereby and or whereas, being in advanced mental decay and arrested physical develop- ment, do hereby affix, such of us as can write, our signatures. X {The Class of ' 39) Codicil — We forgot to say that we also, by some miracle, leave the school. Witnessed and duly sworn to and all that stuff by the Official SkuUduggerer of the Class of 1939, D. Patrick Kenefick, attorney -wit hout-t he-law (or at least not much.) Eheu fugaces studentes! This, therefore, is the remarkable find I have made in this crumbling edifice. I think my previous theory of the place being a robber castle may be safely given up. Obviously it was a school for — well, obviously again — ■ mental deficients. If it was a school, no doubt all that this batch of patients left to their masters was an all pervading sigh of relief. Theobald M. Fooforaw. P. D. Q. (13)

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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

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CPLISING THE C€CI5IC)€CS For the last time, gentlemen, we set out to cruise the corridors of our beloved alma mater — so hop aboard and off we go. . . . To the right, dear rubbernecks, we have the cork bulletin board, an institution since the school was founded in 1821. Today we observe a special notice — a list of the lucky fellows who are to graduate. Feels good to see your name there, doesn ' t it. . . . . Moving on a bit, we come to the headmaster ' s office on our left. Here we see some of those great and pedagogical men with whom we ' ve been so long assoc- iated. . . . We move on. . . . Rounding a corner, we bump into Class President Emil Pag- liarulo, followed by Messrs. boris, Flynn, Duwors, and McNamee. Emil waves a friendly greeting and passes on. ' Don ' t forget your alumni dues, suggests Jimmy Flynn in passing. Take it easy, pal, says Vincent Boris. . . . Feeling a glow of importance at having met these men, we turn right, climb the stairs, and proceed along the second floor cross-corridor. In passing Room 233, otherwise known as th Record office, we hear a bit of hubbub. Open- ing the door, we pesp in. We see a small room filled with many boys; something very im- portant seems to be going on. We recognize John Kelley, who is saying, I ' ll bid two. Raymond Butters says, I ' ll bid three! Joseph D ' Agostino cries Four! ' Suddenly George Kushner rises on a chair and proclaims, Sold to the American Tobacco Company. . . . At Mr. Heffernan ' s quiet suggestion, we close the door and leave behind us this bizarre bazaar. . . . Past Mr. Connell ' s typing class, past Mr. Brown ' s key-room, and we ' re on the South Side again. . . . From now on we move ratther aimlessly, flitting about from here to there; and in our peregrinations about the corridors the following things we see; Francis Abbruzzi whispering Leave it out to Felix Marcella, aad selling Prom tickets to William Beachman and Charlie Bamberg at the same time. . . . Paul (Bumpy) Burns proudly exclaimi ng to J. J. Deveney that he is the fifth and last of the Burnses at English High. . . . Dick Baumberger penning a letter to M. I. T. asking if their cuisine includes custards. . . . Hy- man Bloom looking down Warren Berry ' s mouth and saying, ' 1 m going to be a dentist, you know. . . . Irving Shaknov expounding the mysteries of quadratic equations to M46. . . . Don Kenefick in a corner shooing away all over-shoulder-lookers as he writes a poem about M46. . . Thomas Miller in the library with his nose buried in Scott ' s Stamp Catalog. . . Bobby Green at the 106 door telling a tardy freshman to use the Warren Avenue entrance, please. . . . Kieran Kilday and Nat Bellantoni busily turning out linoleums cuts and pen-and- ink drawings by the dozen. ... J. P. Tumblety with a World Atlas trying to find Katydid Four Corners on the map. . . . Al Wojnilowicz drawing a sweet-sounding bow across his violin, while Jack Whitmarsh clasps his hand; and sighs. . . . Dr. H. C. Ferner telling Jo- seph Jahjah how to cultivate zinnias — while Joseph Jahjah tells Dr. H. C. Ferner that it ' s hyacinths he wants to hear about. . . . Tony McConologue telling the story of Timon of Athens to Dick Maloof, who is trying to get a word in about the Brooklyn Dodgers. . . . William Davis narrating the story of how hi came to own that yellow jersey with the figure 8 on it to J. Dinoff. . . . While J. Dinoff explains the European situation to Dave Butler.