Greenfield High School - Evergreen / Exponent Yearbook (Greenfield, MA)

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THE EXPONENT 13 Atwood: That remark about Hast¬ ing ' s being a chauffeur makes me think. I hear that Hosea Wheeler, in his corner drug store in Bernard- ston, while the drug business is rather slow, is paying an income tax on the sale of Benson’s gas. I thought Hosea would venture farther than Bernardston but still I suppose one goes where the attraction is. Evidently “Dog” Welcome and “Eddie” Koziski have no attractions, for I expect to see them over here this fall at the head of their teams in International Football. Burrage: Greenfield is still on the mapj thanks to the G. T. D. which is still going strong. Mar¬ garet McGrath, Mary Strecker and Dorothy Waide keep the books that show the profits made. Mable How¬ ard, Eleanor Fish and Vialo Jangro keep the letters on the go. Alma Taylor and Stella Korchinski have also made Greenfield famous as a place where “blondes and would-be blondes” ean keep their hair light. You know what real blondes they themselves were, so they should be well fitted to advise others. All of Greenfield’s manufacturing plants are still in existence, even Weiss- brod’s Pocket Book Shop with Mar¬ jorie Wheeler as head bookkeeper. Atwood: I saw a painting in an art gallery over here last week and what do you know? Isabel O’Brien is the artist. She and Hortense Cowles are working together, one as an artist and the other as a sculp¬ tress. Also in New York are Frances Pittfield, Ruth Fowling, Clara Par- meter and Mary Sheehan. Remem¬ ber how quiet they always were in school? Well, they are now work¬ ing in a place where they are not bothered by noise—at least made by human beings—for they are atten¬ dants in the School for Deaf and Dumb. Burrage: Also in a big city is Pulaski. He is in Washington as a member of the Diplomatic Corps. He always used diplomacy in his school workj if I remember rightly. Mar¬ garet Stewart, Ellen Steiner and Helen Mowry are all working for Uncle Sam, for they passed the Civil Service exam. Burton Murphy did¬ n’t have to take an exam for he is green-house man and raises flowers for the “First Lady of the Land.” Atwood: I ' can see little Burton now, delivering the flowers for our Proms when he worked for the Greenfield Floral company. Burrage: Also along garden lines are Allyn Newcombe and Alex Soko- losky, who are gentlemen farmers. They tell me they are now joint owners of the Greenfield Meadows and the Leyden Road. Atwood: Why, Bob, do you re¬ alize we have accounted for every one of our old class-mates at G. H. S.? Isn’t it strange how we have scattered? Burrage: We surely have scat¬ tered. Paris, New York, Fiji Isles, California and Washington to say nothing of the ones who are in or near Greenfield and, Rae, there is not one who is not successful in his chosen work. Atwood: Let’s give a rising vote of thanks and praise for our old prin¬ cipal, friend and advisor—E. B. Smith. IVY ORATION IDIOSYNCRACIES OF HUMAN NATURE “All the world is queer but thee and me and sometimes I think thou art a little queer.” Might not any one of us have said this? We are all inclined to think that the rest of the world is queer, but if we stop to think about it, probably other peo¬ ple think we are just as queer. This queerness has many and varied causes. Our idiosyncracies are due to many things—sometimes to an in¬ nate love for nature and humanity, sometimes to an incurable disease, sometimes to an unconquerable super-sensitiveness, and sometimes to superstitions handed down to us. Abraham Lincoln, that great, noble man, was criticized because on his way to make a campaign speech he rescued a pig which he saw stuck in the mire of the muddy road. He

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12 THE EXPONENT 25 is making French survive. John¬ ny Murphy in 24 is dealing out prob¬ lems by the score. Atwood: All our old crowd seems to have turned professional. Lester Hodgen, now turned doctor, owns a hospital in Lynn. ’Tis said that it’s only a step to M. Taylor’s crematory, which is right next door to him. Marguerite Brown in a spotless white gown keeps Hodgen’s patients free from a frown, while Margaret Leith, Evelyn Chamberlin, Vivian Grant and Marjorie Church help the rest of those left in the lurch. Bernie Mil¬ ler is now training white mice as mascots for Coach Carl Johnson’s athletic teams, so nice. “Bernie” goes by the professional name of “Russell.” Burrage: To go on with profes¬ sionals, Pauline Mills of dancing fame has had many lights cast on her name as the director of a musical show. “Polly” Acker and Frieda Koonz grace the charming chorus row, while “Dot” Crosby does the Osgood wobble. (Chet is a profes¬ sional dancer now, you know.) I got a letter from Hunter the other day, he is out California way. He wrote that he met Rhoda Harper and Katherine Knight, who are mak¬ ing psychology students write. Atwood: (Casually taking up pa¬ per laid down). When I was in Greenfield I always used to read the advertisements first. Just to go back to old times. (Opens paper and reads). “Wanted: Neat and ex¬ perienced waitress for an ice-cream parlor. Apply in person. T. Con- draski. Successor to Gus’ Place, Er- ving, Massachusetts.” ’Hm, I won¬ der what the attraction is there? “Lost: One pair of trousers and one vest somewhere between upper Fed¬ eral street and the Greenfield Tailor¬ ing Co. Reward if returned to Clarence White, Manager.” I take it that “Whitey” is still in the tail¬ oring business. Burrage: Pve heard that Andrew Murphy and “Freddie” Kartcheske are the editors of this little sheet but I’ve never seen them on the street. The Gazette Courier has expanded now and has Madge Holbrook as its music critic, most highbrow. All the news from Millers Falls is written up by Julia Carroll, Lillian Phelps, Bessie Robinson and Margaret Bane, who are in the reporting game. Lucien Zschau is advertising editor. ’He gets many ads from the “Five Ten” which is run by Etta Gove, Evelyn Bagley, and Lucy Edes who furnish all the public needs. The papers sure have claimed a lot of the old grads. Atwood: Say, Bob, while here at the Exposition have you seen the “Tetreault Painting Show” with “Art.” sitting in the President’s row and Mary Orr, the bashful girl, dis¬ tributing samples of Tetreault’s “Splo-chy Whirl?” Dwight David¬ son, our chemistry wizard, invented this mess in a blizzard at Russell Nims’ school for delinquents. Burrage: Davidson a delinquent? Atwood: No, Professor Davidson. Burrage: Rae, guess what Anne Crowley is doing now? Well Anne is a physical training teacher, you know, and in her spare time she is running around in that sporty car that bears the initials “J. K.” Atwood: I am not in the least surprised for I always predicted that something would come of Anne’s moonlight rides on the lonely roads of Bernardston. She certainly picked a peach of a car, didn’t she? Atwood: Do you remember Phil Witty, old Greenfield’s fashion plate? Burrage: Oh yes! Carson’s living advertisement? What about him? Atwood: He’s surrounded by a bevy of beautiful mannequins in his shop here in Paris. He always was heavy on the ladies, you know. Ida Barber, Marion LaCroix, and Blanche Morris, fair, display his charming creations there. They tell me that Vere Hamilton really wakes up when these models display their wares, for he is a buyer now. Burrage: Mildred Powlitis and Cecilia Chevalier are doing their best to keep the candy business up to test. Their store is in Fred Schwartz’s new big block which tow¬ ers far above the old town clock. Harold and Evelyn Campbell have taken to their heels. They are away down in the Fiji Isles, booming real estate deals. “Doc” Hastings is their chauffeur dry. He makes the miles fly by, while Vivian Howard, Mar¬ jorie Kelley and Gertrude Chamber¬ lin do the office work within.

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14 THE EXPONENT loved all animals and therefore could not endure seeing one in distress. Samuel Johnson, that well-known author, was a very eccentric man. He lost many friends by his abrupt, almost discourteous manners. One night while dining with friends, he suadenly put his hand under the table and removed a lady’s shoe. Such manners as these were of course very unpardonable and for this reason many people would not include him in their dinner parties. A lady once asked him how he came to define “pastern” as “the knee of a horse”; instead of an elaborate defense as she expected, he at once answered, “Ignorance, Madam, pure ignorance.” What an unexpected answer! His dictionary contained many odd definitions. For example, he defined lexicographer as a “writer of dictionaries, a harmless drudge,” and oats as “a grain which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people”. People having an artistic tempera¬ ment are likely to have a supersen¬ sitive aversion to meeting people in any great numbers, and for this rea¬ son seek seclusion, which causes peo¬ ple to think that they are eccentric. Henry Thoreau, our own American naturalist, lived many years in seclu¬ sion enjoying solitude more than company. He was naturally reticent and loved isolation. Superstitions are sometimes the cause of our idiosyncracies. Such small things often make one super¬ stitious. Some people never think of starting a trip on Friday, or starting work which cannot be finished on that day. A black cat crossing one’s path-—passing under a ladder—stand¬ ing in a building under an open um¬ brella—these all cause superstitions among some people who believe bad luck will surely follow such actions. Besides these things which I have enumerated there are many others just as senseless, which cause even educated people to be superstitious and afraid. An educated person, at least,, , ought to realize that such things could not possibly have in¬ fluence on anything which might hap¬ pen in the future. Why is it that we are never satis¬ fied with what we have? After choos¬ ing out of all the world a lot on which to build a little house in New England we are haunted by the vision of one just beyond. This is certainly peculiar for if we hadn’t seen the one beyond we would be satisfied with the one we already have. Someone might say, “Why is it so?” But that is an unsolved problem. How often we plan on meeting people here or there, for a few minutes, and then—when it is all over we are disappointed. The time was so short, the conversation so hurried and interrupted, and so little said that we intended to say, that we almost wish we hadn’t met. Again we are dissatisfied with our lot. What a host of eccentric people there are in this world, wanting something very much and then after they get it, not caring for it. It is always the unattainable that they want instead. As the English poet, Shelley, has said, “We look before and after. And pine for what is not, Our sincerest laughter. With some pain is fraught.” Just at present the older genera¬ tion is grumbling about the ways of their children. They smoke, they go on joy-rides, they dance till the wee small hours of the morning, and they do countless other things which an¬ noy and disturb their parents and all older people in general. But what about the youthful days of our parents? Probably their parents in turn were as much disturbed over the doings of their children as ours are now; but it is hard for them to remember what their parents thought and said about the roller-skating rinks, straw rides and all night dances. The only trouble with them is that they are looking through dif¬ ferent colored glasses now. Just as it was with their ancestors before them, it is hard for them to keep pace with the new generation. I recently heard a discussion among some young people on why a young man asked a girl to go to the theatre instead of asking her to at¬ tend church with him. One of the young folks thought it was probably because the young man thought the girl would not care to attend church