Framingham North High School - Archon Yearbook (Framingham, MA)

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The Philomath Page Twenty-three row. He thought he had better be going, as he was supposed to be home, playing horse with Junior. After arriving at Miami and reserving a room on the airship, I began my search for amusement. Upon following a large crowd, I arrived at the playgrounds, where a circus was going on. The excite- ment attracted my attention and I bought a ticket. The first number in the main show was a group of living statues led by Herbert Brothers, beside whom was one portraying Silence, — Sam Feinstein. The strong man who raised a Pullman car window two whole inches — hitherto unaccomplished — was even more interest- ing when I found him to be George Cassidy. One other act deserved credit, the acrobats. They certainly were fairy- like, especially with agile Charles Hughes as star performer. It comforted me to notice a large, heavy net below him. After such an interesting afternoon, I chose to spend a more serious evening and attended a lecture Why Woman Should Come Second. I had a desire to be intro- duced to the speaker, but found it quite unnecessary as he was our illustrious class orator, Pete Lembo. He told me that ever since he had spoken in Miss Hemenway ' s English class on women coming second, he was thrilled by the subject. Now he was completing a tour of the United States and Canada. As the airship left for Boston the next day, I decided the best thing to do was to return to a hotel and get some sleep. The next morning I was awakened by a loud rapping at the door. With my con- sent, in came the cutest little messenger boy, oh, he was darling! Yes, girls, it was George Nichols. From him I learned that Bill Gibbons was manager of one of the best hock shops in the vicinity; and also Monsieur Dc Wolfe had become a doctor, as we expected. Yes, a horse doctor. Nichols left me a telegram, and with a hasty farewell, disappeared. The message wasn ' t for me, so I threw it away, hoping the owner would find it. As I had no belongings except those on my personage, I realized the thing I needed for my air flight was a topcoat. I soon found the desired wearing apparel. In the window of a store which bore the name Lavallee Brothers, stood James Stevens — but how dignified! Quite right, he was posing for Kuppenheimer Clothes. Don Lavallee recognized me and told me how after his beloved cousin Elden ' s Fresh Water Ice Company had been broken by Harold Dickinson ' s sale of electric refrigerators, Elden and he had come down here and started this clothing business. The overcoat having been purchased, I started for my air liner. Tempus fugit all too fast, and I arrived at my dock with only a minute to spare. There were two big airships, but which was I to take? I decided on the one at the right and said, Feet, do your duty. I made it by inches, but enough for me. I had boarded the wrong boat, and after it was well underway, I found out that it was a Round the World Cruiser; I saw the captain and at first sight, I knew everything was fine, as he happened to be Ed Riley. He assured me of comfort dur- ing the rest of the trip. Trained by a course in Framingham High, Philip Mc- Clain and Bill Fahey were the ship ' s car- penters. The next day, as I came down to break- fast, I noticed a waiter singing the Lis- terine song, Just a Gargalo, and by his harmonious voice I recognized Bud Vose. It also seemed strange when I sat down to breakfast with Robert Wilcox. Pee- Wee informed me that he was stopping in Italy, where he was going to take part in the Olympics, capture prizes, and break records in general. That afternoon,

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Page Twenty -I wo The Philomath Suddenly Madame ejaculated as she spelled a large firm, Louise Merrill — Evelyn Melin and Company, manufac- turers of Airbrakes and Iron Pins. The manager was dear little Helen Mullens. She certainly needs our wishes for luck and success in managing the above firm. Nancy Nash was the first Nobscot woman admitted to the bar and had be- come one of the greatest criminal lawyers in the country (I mean the country around Xobscot). Helen Neal was still talking diets. By the way, she is the world ' s famous dieti- tian. Sometime, tune in on station Q-U-I-E-T and hear Gilda Cardini tell how to de- velop glossy, black hair. Madame Gertrude saw Sally Swett as principal of Framingham ' s new high school. She still maintained her shyness when speaking to the men teachers. Annabelle Lincoln had continued her literary work, and had mastered the art to perfection. Another picture in the crystal was that of an orange orchard in sunny Florida, where Dorothy Greene and Anna Mc- Anulty were doing a thriving business. They like oranges. Dorothy Smith was a physical instruc- tress in a girls ' school situated in the out- skirts of the city of Nobscot. Mary Nori had reformed the whole town of Coburnville and had made herself mayor, thus using her high school train- ing in Commercial Law. Helen Cavagni was private secretary to the President of the United States. Helen surely deserved such an honored position. Madame Gertrude saw no more pic- tures in her magic crystal, for the en- chantment had been broken. We had seen or heard about our lost sheep. And so, dear friends, we left the crystal gazer, well pleased for such precious and enter- taining information. Once more we jour- neyed homeward, this time happy and content. As for me — why bring that up? Nevertheless, Little Bo-Peep had found or heard about her sheep. Marguerite Ayoob, ' 31. j Boys On that memorable night I was holding a little card party, consisting of Bud Hill, Bob Woodward, the pride and joy of the Robbins ' family, and myself. Outside, the wrath of the elements themselves was at large. Thunder, lightning, wind and rain; everything showed the anger of the gods of storm. Inside by the fire, we defied the tempest itself. We played cards, listened to my dry jokes, ate, drank — punch — and were merry. But once the card playing became dull, we started to argue, and then the conversation turned to our future voca- tions. When the height of a good time was reached and everybody was joking and laughing, the storm, jealous of our merry- making, took its vengeance. Lightning! — there was a flash, an instantaneous roar, a barrel of fire, and I was hurled through the shattered window. As in Latin class, everything went blank before me, and I knew no more. When I awoke, I was resting in a green field dotted with flowers and palm trees, so I judged I must be in a Southern climate. I arose, stretched myself, and walked over to a near-by road, where I saw a bent figure plodding towards me. What a surprise! I recognized the most talkative person in our English class, Kenneth Scott, but how changed ! He told me that his hard work as radio-announcer was wearing on him. He seemed surprised when I asked the date, country, and route to Framingham, but so was I upon being informed that this was May 13, 1950; I was about a mile out of Miami; and the next airship for Boston left on the mor-

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Page Twenty-jour The Philomath when about to quench my thirst, I noticed Bcmcdctto Surro as official soda-jerker. When we arrived as scheduled in Rome, everyone was planning what to do during the day on shore. I concluded the best way to see a city was to walk, so I departed. A trio of musicians playing at a corner of the Forum attracted me. I chuckled when I recognized Ettorc Venter dancing the tarantella, Arthur Napolitano singing folk songs, and Joseph Tartufi accompa- nying them on one of those long, snaky, accordions, and such sweet music! As I was returning to the ship after visiting the Colosseum, I heard a rattling and a clanging and muttered to myself, Crockwell ' s Ford. Sure enough, out of a side street fell the Model T, still draped together. In it were Harold Bacon, Roger Clapp, and Warren himself, who professed to be making a tour of Europe in the very wagon in which they were now worrying. I returned to my air liner, much pleased with Italy. The next morning I found myself in Cairo, where a half-day leave was given us. While roaming about the edges of the town, I saw Carl Gcbelein driving a long line of old camels, not a calf in a carload. Visiting the royal palace, I found Robert Burns as head usher in the Sul- tan ' s Harem. At the pyramids, I could just discern a lonely figure sitting on top of the biggest one. Resolving to find out the trouble, I climbed up to him, only to find Earl Lytell. He said he had discarded the pink toothbrush ; had used Palm-olive soap; and he was a good athlete, because he had Athlete ' s foot, but he just couldn ' t look like Harold Lloyd. At our next stop, Bombay, India, sup- plies were obtained. We acquired these with the aid of an old friend, the manager of the Bombay branch of First National Stores, Robert Haggerty. We also met there an old fortune teller, formerly the star pupil of Miss Hemenway ' s English class, Joseph Mahboub. From Bombay we continued to Kutch- ing, Borneo, which was interesting, but uncivilized. Rocco Duca and Sam Anti- noli were trying to teach the natives how to make and chew gum. However, I found good intentions there too, when I saw Everett Dunham and Herbert Coffin attempting to impersonate solemn school- masters, and trying to teach the natives how to read and write as the pupils used to do in Framingham. When we arrived at Shanghai, the next morning, there was a good deal of excitement. Upon inquiring, I learned that Mayor Robert Harrington was going to pitch the first ball in a game between a home team and one from Massachu- setts. It sounded interesting, so I se- cured a ticket. It was astonishing to see how many players I recognized. There was the most important man, Charles Lockhart (water boy), the big manly pitcher, Robert Graham, right outfield Walter Grace, and left out ? Daniel Mc- Carthy. The man standing behind the pitcher, who sometimes agreed with the runner when he called himself safe, proved to be Joseph Blandin. Then we left Shanghai for San Fran- cisco. That distance was a little longer than our previous flights, so we stopped at the airdrome in mid-Pacific. This was in charge of Francis Patruno with Brovclli in the air service — free air service. While lighting in the harbor of San Francisco, we nearly knocked over a small fishing boat in which we found John Hill and Ralph Hicks, who were earning their living as fish mongers, Hill because there was better fishing than in Farm Pond, and Hicks because he ' d rather fish than work.