Framingham High School - Philomath Yearbook (Framingham, MA)

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THE CPI-IILOMATH which he catered to the demands of Co- burnville. On the beach front was life- guard Lou 'fBiceps Connor, who strutted around in a manner unlike his high school football days, when he spent most of his time on the ground recuperating from K.O. wallops. He was the object of looks of jealousy from Robert Delage, who al- though he grew six inches, found to his dis- may that it was into the ground he grew. Tornado Byrnes was racing a. motor- boat, and he raised such a splash that he swamped the boat. William Arcudi and Danny Pugliesi were running a salami sandwich parlor on the same lake front, and in Francis August they had a find, for that gentleman ate so many that he foun- dered himself and had to be given artificial treatment by first aid man Louis 'fMilk and Toast Dragone. Landing safely back on Mama Earth, the two- lads were glad to get away, for Charlie i'Gassy Richards was swinging a mean rag while wiping off the engine. George Richardson was driving a horse and buggy to town for travelers. In his spare time George rented the affair out to Rubin. Back to town went the jalopy, and it was found that Jackson Clough was the proprietor of the Clover Grille and catered exclusively to hangers-on. jackson set local fads by cutting his hair, then every- body else let theirs grow. Bob f'Dilly Dolly Dalrymple and Francis Graham, former big idea men, were now doing a fine piece of work in holding local banks up with their backs. Stopping to talk for a while, the two forgotten men had their heads together trying to scare up enough for a cup of coffee. It was confided by them that Willie Abbott had turned hermit and was holed up in a fox cave on Nobscot Mountain. Harold Butterfield and Leonard Crawford were playing cards on the park benches, and when questioned why they wouldnlt work said it was due to machines 'Page 6'le1'eu taking their jobs tincidentally their jobs were on relief j. Harlow Andrews, Ted Boyd, William Buzzell and Johnnie Lawrence were in town from the farm and were all set to blow their checks. They said that when they hit town Uten cents don't mean nothinif' Abe Ayoob and Bob Marino were trying to sell the hayseeds a quarter share in Brooklyn Bridge, but they said if they couldn't have the White House they didn't want anything. A roar of static was heard from the roof garden of the Old Colony Hotel, and upon investigating it was found that Douglas Davies, Edward Orzeck and William Warren, old time silent men, were now running a Vox Pop program and were driving the people away with their chatter. They had Francis Cavatorta held down in a chair, and were asking him whether he preferred blondes or brunettes. He said, I want to be alone. Parking cars for a living were those eccentric two, Dick Heald and Georgie Solomon, and they wished to find a resting spot for yours truly's overheated ash bar- rel, but connections couldn't be made. Then parading down the street with packs on their backs came those two ex- plorers, Tom Canali and Joe Morissey, who said they were going to attempt the re-discovery of Saxonville. Following close on their heels and pulling a large un- covered wagon were those human pack horses, Bob Mitchell, Eddie Montgomery and t'Big Boyl' Wharton, who, if they had showed that much dash in school, might not have had to stoop to this low racket. Albert M cM anus was the slave driver over this group and said nobody ever had to worry about his sparing the whip and spoiling the slave. John Burkes and Wesley Gray were working a 'fshake downn racket on Willie Brophy, whom they promised to take into their protective association if he raised the necessary four bits. Wild Bill could not, so they were taking it out of his hide.

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'Page Ten L while saying, I think the boys can take care of themselvesfl The battle raged until the ambulance, driven by John Hunter and John Van Vliet, came and cleared up the madhouse. jawn H. made a few of his barnyard cries and the mob quickly dis- persed, fearing the bull was loose. The two travelers soon left Carini's Crazy House in fear of their lives. Outside in the street Bobbie Maker, known as 'fLittle Man, What Now?l', was attempting to set up a push cart business, but his inferior fruit was being borrowed and not returned by a large horde of youngsters who persisted in pelting him until lil' Bobbie cried out in wrath, Oh, fudge on you. You naughty boys. Sitting back enjoying the whole scene was Big Butchv Kennedy, retired rubber merchant, who now and then lent his arm to the worthy cause. As the travelers progressed, tidbits of news came to their ears. David Keir, who made up his mind he would break 100, was swinging madly at a golf ball at the F. C. C., and all that resulted was that Tony Johnson, his caddy, was put to sleep by the warm breezes that arose. Bill Irvine, weed- pulling demon, was frantically clawing the hair from Mother Nature's head on Larry Ellsworth's farm in Southboro. Bill canlt leave because Ellsworth owes him so much money he will have the farm in a few dec- ades. Under Bill's supervision was Gene Worrey, trying to get started in the farm racket. Dan Driscoll was trying to ease himself into the picture, but every time he came around Larry said for Bill to send him on his way. After this bit of news, which was sup- plied by ace keyhole reporter Theodore Saulnier, who divided his time between keyhole peeping and printing propaganda for the Down with Everything Party, led by Jakie Miller, who aspired to be in- spector of prairie schooners for Sherborn, the travelers were beset by an unusual blowing and snorting in their rear. At f1rst thinking the mechanical gazelle had blown 'THE CPHILOMATH a tire, they turned around to witness the strange spectacle of Mac MacLean run- ning with his same old facial expression, only this time with Richie Furbush on his back. Mac said they were making him do this for winning the B. A. A. Marathon for the last eleven years in a row. Others get a fighting chance this way. In the near vicinity was Vincent Ephlin parading up and down in front of the UCrown with a boycott sign on his back. He said he lost a dime in a crack in the floor and wanted to be avenged. Inside Lenny M osearitolo was making whoopee and Guido Ceruti was nursing a glass of water while waiting for the sidewalks to be rolled up. Tony Sannicandro was attempt- ing to crash society, but owing to the boy- cott of the 'tCroWn was unable to enter that secluded spot. Arthur Butler, mayor of Nobscot, had come to town, but had se- riously sunburned the roof of his mouth, and also he had brought along a pair of dark glasses so he wouldn't be dazzled by the bright lights. At this point Robert HBobbie Doherty's paper hanging shop could be plainly seen. We all knew HBob- bie would make good at this trade. Charlie Eaton had been Bobbie's first assistant, but he got tangled up in Bobbie's paste and stuck to the wall and papered over. Now he was demoted to ceiling washer. John Garrity was the best soda jerker of Hughes' drug store, and John Hoban, the soda guzzling king, his best customer. just then the antedated four- wheeled boiler stumbled and jumped in the direction of the Framingham Airport, and there, to the amazement of the traveler, it was seen that Edward UPudgy Loring was the brains behind the works. t'Pudgy offered to have the boys taken up in his new Hying spider. At the controls was that hair-brained aviation cracked skull, John Shea, who promptly turned the crate into the Dipsy Doodle number. Flying over Farm Pond they could make out Anthony Inglesi doing a rushing fish business by

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'Page TIl'6ll'L' On the Memorial Building lawn Leonard Bruce and John Breault were still hunting for four-leaf clovers. On the only day they found one they both were hit in the head by some billiard balls thrown from the Peerless. Prep Pool Room by John Rous- seau, who thought he was playing ffboccef' Howard Davis was walking down the avenue attired in a ladyls dress and push- ing a ba.by carriage. His family was one place where the woman ruled the roost both literally and figuratively. Dominic Manzella had turned dance hall promoter. He was running a joint called f'The Run- Down Heel and had for his best customers Brad Hixon and Dick Hilliard, who said they would learn to dance if it killed some- body, and they didn't care if it were them- selves. C Incidentally, neither did anybody else.l John Phipps and John Sullivan were also patrons, and could do the Charleston, square dance, two-step, the Fiore Turn, and all those fast, new numbers. The White boys, Georgie and Donnie, usually attended, but they had contracted a bad case of housemaid's knee from their trade, floor scrubbing, and had been ren- dered hors de combat. Don Weasel'l Wenzell and James McLellan were run- ning the soft drink department, but didn't dare to mix their drinks. Burnett Feld- man, big-time, get-everything business man, held the seventh mortgage on the and had threatened foreclosure. joint f'Red Ferelli, Manzella's lieutenant, paid him off in check dances. After having one dance the financial titan passed out and was promptly relieved of everything of im- portance by f'Dead Wood Dick Hanley, who wanted the titan to share his wealth. William Moore and Robert f'Taylorl' Sweetland apprehended the rascal and threw him out, but not before they had taken their large slice. Seeing enough of such goings on, the two travelers crossed the street to a diner. Behind the counter was Paul Morse. Ernest Oppiri, Doug Winslow and Bob 'Ti-1E CPI-IILOMATH Sturgeon were slinging hash. The boys evidently had been disagreeing, for vege- tables and fruit lay scattered around, and Winslow had a pumpkin pulled down over his ears. In a corner Bob Stoddard and John Dropkick Murphy were putting away a feed, pinching salt shakers and stuffing the old fruit in their pockets all at the same time. This was the last resort, so the two travelers jumped into the gas- hound and were off in a cloud of dust and duck feathers. But before they could get out of the town Constable Theodore Webster, acting in his official capacity, peppered the tin ash can with his blunder- buss and forced the speedometer up to the great rate of twenty-two miles per hour. The bullets did not affect the solid rubber tires, and outside of harming the one-piece of paint nothing could damage the good old snorting jalopy. So back to that out- post of civilization fFramingham Centrel it went, and there it would remain for years to come. The travelers had seen strange sights and creatures and now they were content to hole up for another twenty years. john DeMille. Girls' Prophecy In the summer of 1950, twelve years after our extraordinary class graduated from F. H. S., I took my first trip around the world. My personal guide to Washing- ton on the trip was Miss Josephine CRedl Keane. She, world renowned guide and traveler, offered, for a meager 335000, to show me even the most remote places I might Want to see. We flew from New York to Washington on that transcontinental air line, owned and supervised by Christine McLaughlin. She had to take to the air because the ground didn't supply enough space for her driving maneuvers. The pilot of our plane was Louise Halley, who must have been Chris's first pupil--her recklessness was