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

Page 13 text:

THE PHILOMATH 4 11 tively, at the wedding of John Del Prete and Vera Buchner. Del and wife now live in Saxonville in a log cabin built by Nello Conti, out of the logs left by the Indians. ( Joke, joke! ) The stork had visited them not once, not twice, not three times, but BINGO ! four times. Del always did believe in mass production. Five hours later we landed in San Fran- cisco Bay, where I saw Roger Mullen, Thomas Murphy, Gene Oliva, Ray Le- veille, and Richard, Look at My Mus- cles Cassidy, trying to lift a gas hose to refuel the plane. Upon inquiry I learned that the motors to the plane were designed, manufactured, and assembled by James J. Ducey, Jr., and Company. Walking through Piccadilly Park I sighted a familiar stride coming toward me. Sure enough, it was Herb West, who is making the Navy his lifelong profession. I gathered from the apprentice seaman, junior grade stripes on his sleeve that ad- vancements are slow. He explained that he was married to Janey Waters, but un- like the Del Pretes, there were no little Wests. I spent the rest of the day and that night at his home, where I found Lucille Tuttle, his maid, working very hard. From them I learned that Vivian Zeller was now a model for Bob Watton, who owns the largest ladies ' undies company in the world. (Nice going, Bob! ) The next day in San Francisco I visited, through a knothole, a baseball game, in which I saw Big Ed Higgins, bat boy for the San Diego Sadies, fighting with Tony Bianchino, bat boy for the Detroit Daisies, over who could hit the farthest ball. Big Ed won with an infield fly over the backstop. Just then I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and as I turned around, I saw a figure in a blue uniform. There stood Richard Anderson, now a policeman of the San Francisco police force. The beds in the prison cells in California are really comfortable. Occupying the next cell were Cliff Whitehousc and John Houdini True, whose motto is A hairpin will open anything. So he found out when he picked the safe of Jacques Fauteaux, only to find Jacques inside with his cool $99.99. Therefore, he gave him a penny that had just been manufactured in Tony Cardi ' s wine cellar. Before too long I was released. Passing through Nebraska on my way East, I saw George Griffith, now a plumb- er, repairing a water main on Leaky Lane. He informed me that Charles Bryant owned a haberdashery store and that his secretary was Rachael Labazio. The last thing I saw on my journey was Dot, Watch Your Whistle or I Won ' t Wig- gle, Cantall, dancing to the Hindu music of Richard Scanlon, which was being played on a flute made by Mario DiCicco. What did you see of interest on your journey, Bob? Yes, Killer, I also have seen many of our classmates of ' 45. Just a month ago I was traveling on a fast-moving, fifty-car freight train when we suddenly came to a stop. Looking up from my lower, I found myself at the Framingham crossing. There was Fire Chief Steve Durkce arguing with engineer Perry Cacciola about which w ould move first, the fire engine or the freight train. While this was going on, I noticed that the cause of it all was Amelia Falconi ' s five and dime store, which was on fire. The matter was settled when Police Chief Malcolm Flood decided to split the train in half. Since my train was to be delayed a few hours, I decided to give the old home town the once over. The first news that came to my attention was that James Burke had just been elected Mayor of Saxonville for the fourth term. He had defeated Louis Axtman by five votes. His first act as mayor was to move the High School to Sax or else to move Sax to the High School. Down the road a way there seemed to be another fire, but as I came closer I saw Raymond Bratica trying in vain to get his

Page 12 text:

10 THE PHILOMATH D ' While sitting in front of my wood fire beside the railroad tracks owned by Stuart Hoppin, and built by Richard Hare, eating the last of my de luxe dinner, which con- sisted of beans, beans, beans, and one meatball, I heard a rustle in the bushes be- hind me. Thinking some railroad Dick (policeman) was on my trail, I leaped to my feet and was prepared for the worst. Suddenly a hideous shriek rent the air, Killer ! There stood Bob Ablondi, look- ing hungrily at the remaining half of my meatball. We were overjoyed at seeing one another after twenty years of separation since our high school days. After exchang- ing a few censored remarks, we started comparing notes on the adventurous nature of our journeys. Bob having a yen for corn, I began telling him my tale of woe. My hobo career started after a long ab- sence from Framingham when I em- barked on my comfortable lounging place on the rails under the caboose of the fast moving Sunshine Dairy milk train, engi- neered by Mary Geoghegan. Later, when the train stopped, a strange vision greet- ing my eyes turned out to be police cap- tain Kenneth Botty, giving orders to offi- cer Frank Donnelly to tag Paul Flaherty, who is still speeding on the road to North Natick. (Keep trying, Antam- bol. ) Watching the proceedings was Francis Grady, newly appointed manager of the St. George Theatre, now the O ld St. George Theatre. With him were his ushers Hermit Allyn, John Benefito, and head usher Peter Bent. The picture now playing at the Old St. George was entitled Try and Ditch Me, starring Ernest Ckiappini, Thomas Buck Connolly, and guess who — that ' s right, Thomas Major. Wanting to see my old classmates per- form, I reached into my pocket. Only forty-nine cents there! I borrowed, loosely speaking, a penny from Bruce Magoon, who, at the theatre entrance, was selling apples which he had purloined from Louie Verdy ' s market. He informed me that David Diz Edwards was now coach of the Toronto Tootsy hockey team from Canada. After enjoying the movies, I dined in Blackie ' s Restaurant, owned, operated, and managed by William Quinn. In his em- ploy as waitresses were Mary Gormley, Ruthe Powers, and Irene Speigel. The en- tertainment featured a dance number by Roscoe Charley Chaplin, and Frances Conza. The bar was being tended by An- thony, I drink more than I serve, Repucci, and Edward, I ' ll drink any man sober, Stucchi. . Just then the swinging doors swung open and Ernest Finkelstein and Kenneth Speigel, Quinn ' s trigger men, walked in. I topped off my meal with a pineapple sundae, made of coffee ice cream, marshmallow, and nuts, whipped up by Donald MacEachern, in the drug store of the same name. At the break of day the next morning I sneaked aboard the China Clipper, which was warming its engines on Beaver Brook. When we took off, I was surprised to see, from my hideout, the plane being piloted by Ira Ward, with Richard Strum- sky his co-pilot. This was my first trip by airplane and I became exasperated (en- raged, irritated, embittered — for those who don ' t know how to use a dictionary) when I saw air-stewardesses, Betty Ann Haughey and Lillian Moron, serving coffee to the passengers, with none for me. How- ever, they soon slipped me a cup and dur- ing a short chat with them I learned that Madeline Ross and Richard Pinna had been maid of honor and best man, respec-

Page 14 text:

12 THE PHILOMATH old Ford going. It seems that Donald Beaton and John Banda had made a sub- stitute for gasoline out of Evening in Paris perfume and some home-made wine from Albert Simonetta ' s wine cellar. I also learned that the password into this sanc- tuary is three knocks and the chorus of Show Me the Way to Go Home. I soon left this crowd, for my yearning to wander kept me in no one place too long. As I walked back to my train, I heard the clang-clang of the trolley. I glanced up and there were driver Barbara Mc- Grath and conductor Therese Healy, look- ing on while Muriel Norton sang the Trolley Song. Shirley McKenzie was selling cotton to Eleanor MacDonald and Dora Moccia, two unfortunates who hadn ' t ear muffs. I decided it would be safer to walk. I kept on with my travels until I heard a hoarse cry, Draw two. It was James Murphy, owner of the You ' ve Gotta Have Two Bits to Enter Cafe, drinking his profits for the day. Since you had to be rolling in money to enter this tavern, I decided I wasn ' t very thirsty. Coming into the center of this flourishing city, I dropped into the park to rest my aching back and read the Daily Blow, edited by Alden Seltzer and Herbert Raphael, but the park bench was occupied by Walter Haynes and Phyllis Jost, who didn ' t even see me. Consequently, I hastened back to the crossing and to my open air compart- ment at the bottom of the hog car. I noticed that the railroad crew was busy righting a freight car that had been de- railed. It seems that Tom Donnelly, crew boss, had just finished laying some new track after having read a book called The Air Trains of the Future. Tom was try- ing to bring the future here by running the track up a banking. There was no harm done, for Tom ' s crew, which consisted of Malcolm Fcldman, Robert Flayderman, Joseph Palladino and Lorraine Zeller, soon cleared the wreck. I heard later that Lor- raine did most of the work. Along the Framingham-Ashland track was a bill- board which advertised the Patsy Diana racetrack, featuring Pat ' s world-famous horses. The billboard was one of Ralph Wardrop ' s, who is the famous artist, with billboards scattered all over the country. From my coach I could also see the road leading to Ashland. There was Marjoric Parker, bumming her way to the big city. Up on the hill on my left was a large sign. I quote, ' You are now leaving the United States and entering Tripoli, ' Silvio Mer- corelli, Puppet Governor. Passports must be shown to the General of the Province, Scrgi Grandoni. I learned later the rea- son it was so hard to gain entrance. Yep, Irene Vitali and Eleanor Nei were the Royal Treasure. Looking to the right, I saw a large gunboat of the Tripoli navy manned by Arthur Walker, who had re- cently been discharged from the service with a rating of seaman second class. He had reached the pension age after twenty years of faithful service. Bud holds the order of the Purple Heart for wounds re- ceived while shaving in action and the Bronze Medal for being able to polish the whole starboard side of the destroyer be- fore lunch. The boat was shelling a canoe filled with Camp Fire Girls. I noticed Clara Woodin, Beverly Stowell and Bar- bara Long among the girls taking an unex- pected swim. Continuing on my way, I reached the city of Holliston. There I left my better half (the boys) in rather a hurry when railroad dicks Beverly Granville and Arlenc Pollard came along with their large billy sticks. The whole town had gone haywire after the World War and had elected all women officials. Albina Panc- rella and Dorothy Pestana were the local dog-catchers, chasing after Beatrice O ' Lcary ' s pet wolf dog that had been frightening all the Holliston men. Most of the men had left the town, anyway, after the ladies moved into office. William