Franklin High School - Key Yearbook (Franklin, NH)

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Qfass cyisto my We opened the heavy oaken door and stood there facing Mr. Memory. A whimsical smile played around his lips and he fingered a desk calendar absently. I suppose you came to see my masterpieces?', he asked. He Walked over to a rough fieldstone fireplace and looked up at a familiar scene captured in oils. An old fir tree standing on the left was reaching out its gnarled arms pro- tectingly over the pleasant scene. Students were standing in friendly little groups in front of the gym door. Some of them were waving to Miss Rowell, who was smiling back through the glass. No one was burdened with books. It wasn't hard to guess that this was our first day as Freshmen. Mr. Memory turned to us. This one to the left of the fireplace is one of my favorites. Do you remem- ber the dancing class party?,' The young ladies in their Hrst evening gowns looked happy and animated in the candlelight. The couples who had been through the reception line were meeting at the gay little tables to exchange dances. Just looking at that scene brought back the feeling of happiness and excitement that was prevalent that evening. 'Tm sure you will remember this one, said our host, as a faraway look came into his eyes. There before us on the canvas, we saw a great hall filled with people. There was a solemn look on the faces of the young people in the foreground, paralleled only by the look of pride and contentment that played across the faces of the parents that filled the hall to capacity. Looking at that masterpiece, we could see more than a group of young people. We saw, pictured there, the spirit that had followed us all through our Freshman year. We were now eager for more of these pictures and our host, sensing our mood, led us across the spacious room. Portrayed before us this time was a winter scene. Banks of snow framed a small pond. The sides of the pond were packed with throngs of eager young people on skates. In the foreground, several girls were streaking across the ice. It was not hard to recognize Rachel and Marthe in the lead. The picture was captioned Winter Carnival , but we need- ed no title to bring to our minds the pep and energy that was so much a part of our class that year. As we turned our gaze from the wall, he pointed silently toward the floor. Standing on a marble pedestal, beneath the picture, was a gold statuette awarded to our class for the first time that year and not once did we relinquish it, until we left the portals of Franklin High. A smile played around Mr. Memory's lips. Yes, he, too, knew what a stubborn will our class had.

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BEN AMIN ST. ACQUES CHARLIE MIQRRILI, onx BARRY ANDREW DESNOYERS J U22 Ma .Ala-yzvics I .vluihl and ffl'1't1lIIA'tf flzuf lift' 'zuus lft'l1llf-V,' I iunkr, and found Ilmf lift' was Duty. These boys, if such they can still be called, have, during the last few months, left the immediate presence of our class, to represent us and to carry our standards forward in the fight for the continuance of those opportunities to which we have always been accustomed. They, for us, have put aside all boyish ideals for a man's role. They, for us, have made the decision which led them to forego the events connected with the formal service of graduation. Instead of wearing a graduation robe on june 21, they will be wearing the garb of Uncle Sam's fighting men, and their actions will be fitting to their uniforms. Of this, there is no doubt, for, were they not ready and willing to go when they were called? Were they not anxious to prove to the world that America has made of them fellows with plenty of fighting material? Those on this Page were the first to go from our class. Others may go now even before graduation. Still many more will be called immediately after the close of school. We are sure, because we know our fellow classmates, that they will join the struggle as ably as those who have already gone. With them all, go our best wishes for good luck and prayers for their safe-keeping. CZERARD JALBERT ARMAND ROURDEAU XVILLIAM SMART lNlURRAY XV111T15HxcAn

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Cyan 04646015 faorzfinuscfl I think you will enjoy the next scene,', he said as he smilingly moved aside so that we might look at the painting. The scene pictured before us was one of hilarity and gaiety. A brightly lighted stage was in the foreground. Grouped in the middle of the stage were three oddly dressed figures, and, after a few mo- ments of pondering, we recognized Dick Piper, Huck Hebert and Boff Desrochers. Donald Mark stood to one side wrestling with the microphone. Even now thoughts of that Hellzapoppin assembly program could make us chuckle. When we turned from the scene a movement from above caught our atten- tion. Suspended from the ceiling of the museum was a beautiful crystal ball. In the thousands of reflective surfaces could be seen a surrealistic fantasy of the golden trumpets of lack Freese's band, beautiful evening gowns and slightly sophisticated young men. Surely we could not forget our Junior Prom, which was our reward for weeks of planning, worrying, committee meetings and con- ferences. These scenes must be still fresh in your mindsf' the kindly old man said as we stood facing the next picture. The hall was dimly lit with many tall candles. The tables in the foreground were heavily laden with food of all kind. The flickering of the tapers cast soft shadows on the shining faces of the youth and the serious faces of the parents. Merely by looking at that quiet scene we could relive in part that evening. We owed a lot of thanks to many for the success of the Senior Banquet. The next scene took on a different atmosphere. A group of several young men wearing the uniform of their country was standing together looking toward their flag. The happy-go-lucky smiles had left their faces and in their places were looks of strong determination. Yes, Mr. Memory knew how we had hated to see Gerard, Murray, Diddy',, Armand, john and all the rest of our boys leave, but we were proud of them and the job they were doing. Moving along the room to the right a bit, we came to the last picture. It was vaguely similar to the one of our Freshman Year. The same young people filled the seats, only this time there was a sober air about them that seemed to go deeper than the expression on their faces-as if they realized that on leaving F. H. S. they were going out into a strange and diflicult world. For serious was the atmosphere that pervaded the graduation of the Class of 1943. Those pictures must have been painted by a master, we said as we turned once more to Mr. Memory. Yes, my young friendsf' he replied as he led us to the door, Those were done by the master of all, for Time painted those scenes. And he still follows you too, only now, he is doing individual portraits, and you yourselves are choos- ing the colors and laying the pattern-so, use a lot of thought and good judgment. With these last prophetic words, he smiled and closed the door behind us. CHARLOTTE Cnoss