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

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12 - THE PHILOMATH my way to the station. As I passed the park, I noticed a group of people listening to a speaker standing on a soap box. Upon drawing closer, I recognized the orator as Anne Steams. She was yelling something about temperance, but I didn ' t get a chance to hear her, for just then patrolman Dom Ferrazzi and policewoman Janet Clinton came along and broke it up. Anne ' s col- league, Nancy Dyer, kept beating Dom on the back and threatening him, but he wouldn ' t listen to her, even when she said that she ' d get the best lawyer in the coun- try, Marvin Cohen. Later, on the train, I met Milton Burke, who was going on his vacation. He ' s now foreman of section 1, bench 3, assembly line 7, department 3, in building 5 at the Tele- chron. In my afternoon paper I noticed that those two mad chemists, Fred Walsh and Al Snow, had developed a new hair tonic. They were quoted as saying that their old principal, Mr. Magoon, was to be the first to try it. As the train sped through the countryside, I became aware of the passing landscape. For the last few moments we had been passing a huge fac- tory, which must have been miles long. The sign in front identified it as the Na- tional Safety Pin Works, specialists in diaper pins. Milton told me it was run by those industrial magnates, Yanosick, Chao, and Turchi. I wondered if the Cum- mins ' Zipper Plant, run by the Cummins brothers, Joe and Bob, would give them any serious competition. Just then the man in front of me turned on his portable radio. I recognized Joe Conner ' s Philharmonic Symphony Orches- tra. The announcer, Big John Whalen, remarked that Bill Williams and Merrill Young, who were playing first and second piccolo respectively, were in especially good form that day. The program was short-lived, however, for the owner of the radio suddenly began dialing for another station. For a second I heard the American Acca Pell a Choir, conducted by Warren Stivers. The dial finally settled on the pro- fessional football championship game be- tween the Chicago Bears and the Framing- ham Collegians. Joe Ferraro and Ed Korona were doing all they could for the old home town, but what could they do against the Bears ' great player, Frank Fazzari? All of a sudden the man whose radio I ' d been listening to turned around, and who was it but my old buddy, Bob Haughey. He told me that he was heading for Washington, and then I remembered that he ' d just been elected to Congress. While we were talking, he opened his leather bound brief-case (the one with the gold trim) and took out a box of Frank ' s doughnuts. Mr. Bertolino senior was re- tired and Fran was running the business now. Bob called my attention to the fact that the holes in Frank ' s doughnuts were more perfectly round than those in any others. After a while we got to talking about books and Bob asked me if I ' d read Martha Savage ' s newly published joke book, the one that has been banned in Saxonville. Suddenly the train pulled into the last station. As we left the terminal, I became aware of a large crowd off in one corner of the station. Elbowing my way through, I saw Barbara Seidman and Doris Metherall. From what I could gather, they were being mobbed by autograph hounds. Their press agent, Lucille Oliver, said that they would make their next appearance at the Totem Pole, where they would sing with Jack Carpenter ' s orchestra, his clari- net and his jumbo ice cream cones. At this point, my task being completed, I now turn the narrative over to Teresa Civitenga. The news that told me I was to aid in the distribution of the valuable discovery of Popular Science was given to me in a letter delivered by our good-natured mailman,

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THE PHILOMATH -4 11 Glass Prophecy It is now I960. At long last the taxpay- ers of Framingham have consented to build a new high school. When the wrecking company started tearing the old building (or should I say what was left of the old building) down, they unearthed a cache of money and an unopened crate of Popular Science magazines. With them was found a note leaving the magazines to that class of the century, the Class of 1947; the money was left to be disposed of as best suited the executors, who curiously enough were Jack Paul, Teresa Civitenga, Lois Mason and myself. The other night each of the executors and I decided to locate an equal number of our old classmates to notify them of their newly acquired treasures. I say treasure because this issue of P. S. has a special article written by that fearless woman explorer who ' s been to the far- thest corners of the earth (but still can ' t find a man) Marjorie Matson. But enough of this, as the man in Westboro said, I ' m off! My first thought was to visit the scene of the discovery. There I found Mr. Bush ' s three devoted assistants, Russ Casella, Bill Panarese, and Jim Dexter. Unwilling to lose any precious time while their new quarters were being constructed, they were continuing their research in a tent which they had pitched on the front lawn. Their main project of the week was to find out how many angels can stand on the point of a pin — without scratching their feet of course! Leaving my engrossed friends, I started to hail Antonetta Verdy ' s taxi, but I sud- denly remembered that I still owed her twenty-five cents from the time she drove me to the Saxonville Jungle Club. You know, that night club run by the little girl from the big woods, Joan Cole. So I hitched a ride on one of Bob Havner ' s new beer trucks. The driver, Walt Cragin, told me how Marie Caradonna and Lena Schiavi had started a rival company, but he said that Bob wasn ' t worrying because he had just hired those notorious gunmen, Bill Barrett and Jim Chiariello to hijack their trucks. I told Walt about the books and left him at the Centre. At first I was un- decided as to whether I should visit Skip (alias the little spoke in the big wheel) Ballou or Marilyn Beckwith, who is now the president of the State Teachers Col- lege. Noticing a Do Not Disturb sign on the door of Skip ' s office, I decided to visit the college first. On my way to the president ' s office I met Walter Lech, who is now a Latin teacher at the school. I stopped just long enough to learn about Dave Bragg ' s appointment as command- ing officer of the Larned Pond Coast Guard station. Marilyn was extremely glad to learn about her luck, for she had heard that in this issue there were plans for building a supercharged racing car. I managed to get a ride back to town in Bob Twomey ' s new hearse. His assistant, Frank Dondero, sped all the way so that Bob ' s two secre- taries, Norma Vitali and Louise Giorgi, could have it for their date that night. Just as we were pulling into town, a police cruiser drew up alongside and forced us to stop. Police Chief Dave Kuhn got out and gave Frank a good long lecture, just like the ones his wife, the former Helen Ross, gives him. Since some of the Class of ' 47 had moved away from the old town, I decided that I ' d better contact them next, so I made train reservations for the following day. Thus the next morning found me on

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THE PHILOMATH 13 Charles Lev tie. This meant I had to get busy so that I could leave almost immedi- ately. The first thing on my list was a visit to Rosemary Kelleher ' s Curly Strand hairdressing shoppe. Refreshed by a new set and a mani- cure, and having just twenty seconds to catch a bus to the airport, I outran June Trevett ' s privately owned fire engine. Pauline Lozeau, the efficient bus driver, saw me from the corner of her eye. and stopped. As I hustled down Main Street, I was confronted with a perplexing bright- ness. It was Mary Lapina, wearing some of Kay ' s finest jewelry. Farther along I met Claire Ballentine, carrying boxing gloves, tennis rackets, baseball bats and bowling pins. She was on her way to teach Elaine Hogan ' s oldest son to defend him- self against Nardo Orcianelli ' s youngest daughter ' s flirtation. I was about to cross the street when a dignified character chanted, One moment, but aren ' t you a school chum of mine? I gazed for a few seconds and discovered it was Kegina Cunningham chauffeuring Margaret Francoeur around the park. Walking still farther down, I passed by a store. There ' s nothing unusual about that, but there is in the way my olfactories were disturbed. Louis Holzman and his attractive assistant, Marguerite Brovelli, were mixing a compound which, when ap- plied to hair, would cause it to reflect in such a way as to match your wearing apparel. By mid-afternoon I was ready to leave the airport. I was assisted by the elegant stewardess, Peggy Gagen. She told me that John McCann, aided by Rita McDonald, was to pilot us to East Jallopy. At East Jallopy I asked a crier yelling Popcorn for directions to the telephone office. The popcorn seller was Priscilla Har graves. Chief operator Kathleen Knapp greeted me at the telephone office. Later on in the afternoon, operators Joan Savage and Eileen Hill joined us for sup- per. They told me much of the whereabouts of the others I was looking for. They also told me how Robert Singerle couldn ' t get over operator 01 ga Missaggia ' s demanding a nickel from him while he was testing phones on telephone wires. Many of our classmates had chosen busi- ness and commerce for careers. The fol- lowing morning I passed by Doris Len- sign ' s School of Culture. I wondered to what advantage she was putting her charms. She was teaching Joanne Maher ' s daughter how not to behave when men were present. Farther along, my itinerary brought me to the You-Name-It Hat Rack owned by Josephine Lelli. The chapeaus were de- signed by Ruth Morse. Still farther along, I gazed into the Crystal Ball under the proprietorship of Alberta Cole. She told me Jeanne Bosivorth had made a billion dollars. Jeanne had so much jewelry, so many sable and mink coats, gowns and whatnot that Elba Castelli and Clara Sta- pleton were her recording secretaries. Alberta told me that I would find some friends in the Metropolis Building and also that I ' d be taking a short trip. I hastened down to the Metropolis, where Loraine Cavatorta received me at Harold Bailey ' s office. He was a manager for Harry Conant. Harry, it seemed, could never quite decide on what girl was meant for him. He aimed to find out. Now he is the head in a modeling establishment. I walked down the hall to Harry ' s office. Yola Donati received me there. Barbara Adams looked up long enough from her typewriter to say hi. Harry showed me around the studio. His most fabulous models were Bathing-Beauty Patricia Farley, Fur Queen Barbara Marsh, Per- sonality Plus Vida Horan, and Hubba Hubba Nancy Pezza. They were being photographed by June Woodworth. Albert Cole was the proprietor of East