Hartford High School - Hartford Key Yearbook (White River Junction, VT)

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However, they said Raymond would have nothing to do with it and proceeded to tell the quite amazing story of Raymond and Bill. Raymond had become a professor of mathematics, and, while trying to explain the Fourth Dimension to Bill had got himself so mixed up that he was taken to a sanitorium. Bill tried to persuade The officials there that Raymond was sane but al nost got himself enrolled as a patient! Betty came down the steps to greet us welcome shining all over her face. “Come on in nearly everyone is here now. There’s so much noise in the house you can hardly hear yourself think! Everybody has so much to talk about! Oh, I’m so glad you could all come.” We went into the tiny hall and then were part of the crowd, shaking hands, laughing, trying to remember names, asking questions all at once. My, how some of them have changed! Others have retained their exact mannerisms of school days. Quite an impressive assortment of people they are, too, all with something different to tell. The twins and Eunice went to Florida shortly after graduation to work in a tourists’ camp. A few years later they bought the place and it looked as though they were making a small fortune for themselves. Then they lost all when the whole establishment was destroyed by fire. Things were pretty dark until a “dashing young Romeo,” who had been staving there at the time of the disaster, came to their rescue. He revealed himself as the bored, adventureseeking son of a millionaire, temporarily disinherited until he should find a practical investment for part of his money. So—just like a fairy tale- he decided to help them out. It wasn’t long before his interest was more than financial but, not being able to decide which of the three was best suited for him he left. This was no worry to the girls; they are well started in their new business. A sad, strange melody came drifting over from the piano and demanded our attention there. John Bogle was seated at the piano, wearing an expression to match the mood of his music. “What in the world made him grow old so fast?” I asked. Elizabeth St. John (herself married, and managing her household competently) offered to tell the facts. She said she’d just learned them from Rita Stone, who was John’s housekeeper, and, incidently, about the only person he would still sj eak to. While John was in college he tried to sell some of his songs and eventually had found a publisher for one of them. But it didn’t sell until the public heard it as sung by Betty Bettis and played by “Rose and his Riveters” (Winston Rose to you). When this happened, folks thought John was getting started on a career, but he was disgusted to think that it took an orchestra and a singer to make his music sell. Jealousy got the better of him and he refused to write anymore music that could be played or sung by any one other than himself. “Midge” Trottier joined us then and gave a few more facts on the case. She knew- more details, as she works for the publishing company that gave John’s song its first public appearance. Betty Emerton, someone said, was a medical secretary in a Boston hospital; and she, herself, confirmed this report a few minutes later. “Yes, I like my work; and it certainly is work!” she told us. “Peggy Chittenden comes in to see me occasionally and I’ve been out to spend a few 18

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Class Prophecy June, 1%2 Dear Diary, What an exciting day! It was a surprise just to receive that note from Hetty Aher a week ago—to say nothing of what followed. Betty (she’s Mrs. John Martin, now) told me just enough about her little home and family to make her invitation irresistible. It is so easy to lose track of school friends after graduating; but they aren’t really forgotten, as this day has proved. Betty’s quiet ways and sweet, cheery smile I remembered in a flash as I saw her signature. But here is the real reason for her writing me: June is not only the month in which she was married, fifteen years ago, but also, it is seventeen years ago in June that we graduated from Hartford High School. She happened to see the name of one of our former class-mates in a newspaper and the idea of a combination anniversary celebration and class reunion occurred to her with extremely interesting results. Naturally, it was next to impossible to resist this invitation, even on such short notice as it had been given. She apologized for this, saying she hadn’t discovered some of our addresses until nearly the last minute. But the prospect of seeing all the kids (Wait a minute, we aren’t “kids any more, are we?) again easily overcame any objections that might threaten to keep me from going. So this afternoon—excited as a four year old going to a birthday party—I started out for Betty’s. It wasn’t hard to tell which of the houses on that charming side street was hers. The driveway was filled with cars; several people were standing in a group on the sidewalk in front of the house and I had started toward them when someone behind me said, “Hey, stupid, you look a mess!” What? Now who—?” I said, turning. “Oh! Tim Dunley, of course! And Luther Fletcher.” Then I had to laugh at the expression of relief that came over his face. “Gosh, I was afraid maybe you weren’t who I thought you were-,” Tim started in an apologetic tone, but Luther interrupted with, “I told you you were taking a chance. Just luck for you that she is who you thought she was. It would have been good if she’d slapped your face! “I was wondering if he still went around saying that to everybody he met. Apparently he’s one that hasn’t changed much! What have you two been doing since we left H. H. S.?” From then on conversation flowed too fast to be remembered exactly, but I managed to get the general idea. It seems Tim, always strong on the subject of jet propulsion, has done more than talk about it. He is searching for someone to finance the manufacture of some sort of a rocket which could be shot by jet propulsion—to the moon. Luther has great faith in the idea and is Tim's right hand man. “Sounds as though Raymond Hall should be connected with an idea like that,” I remarked. “He and Bill Liberty were always talking about digging a hole through the middle of the earth or building a bridge from Alaska to Asia.” 17

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weekends at her home in the suburbs. She always has it full of people a lot of her college friends and fellow professors of her husband’s. ou know, she started college but before finishing the first year, she had eloped with a handsome, young professor!’’ “Heavens, listen to that argument! It must be Peter Filosa. What a lawyer he is! Critics all over the country are still talking about that case he won for Betty Hathorn. He had the whole nation watching every bit of it. Yes—Betty sued Dick Laskey for damages because one of her children nearly choked to death on a Ixme that was in a can of salmon Ixiught at Dick s store. It was an awful mess dragged through all the local courts and finally got a hearing in the Supreme Court. Pete had to do some fast thinking at times but came out on top in the end. Dick is the one to be pitied—his business is bankrupt. Now he’s back where he started from—working in W hite River for the First National Store.” Look—over there, is that Jane Mills?” Midge asked. “And Polly Sass she’s talking with? Polly looks the same as ever, doesn’t she? And she certainly has her hands full keeping house and managing her little beauty shop. They say Margaret Pitkin designs hair styles for Polly's customers”. Jane had taught in New Jersey for awhile, I heard. But she decided to give it up and settle down so she could use her teaching ability in training I ed, Junior. What happened to the other Jane of our class—Jane Henderson? I asked. “Don't you remember? She went to Washington, D. C., as a secretary and had a gcxxl position while the war lasted. After that ended she went to New York City and got a job in Macy’s,” reported Betty Hathorn. just at this moment, our hostess appeared. “Won’t you all go out by the back porch ? I want some snap shots of the whole group. Arranging ourselves for this, I found myself beside Ruth Sanders. She was in particularly good spirits, saying it was such a relief to get away from her work for a while. I asked her what her work was and she related the following: “In a round-about way you’ll hear what I'm doing but I m going to start with Jimmy Harvey. He had quite some adventures, which, for awhile, were the talk of the town. He was a pilot during the war that is, up till the time he crashed on one of the “wide open sjiaces of Texas. He was saved, after two days of wandering around in a desert, by a cow-girl a cow-girl, who turned out to be Lillian Thomas. He never found out how she got so far from home—but it didn’t particularly matter. Jimmy was so grateful for the rescue that he wanted to take her back to “civilization” with him. However, she objected so Jimmy stayed there and started raising cattle. But he didn’t seem to be cut for ranch life. Things really were bad when Lillian ran away with a tra il-ing salesman, after several years of what poor Jimmy thought had been a happ marriage. He packed up his belongings and brought his two year old son back to Vermont. Home looked pretty good, but even here there were problems. He couldn’t bring up his son alone, so, at the suggestion of Rev. Robert Fske, he placed him in the Fske Home for Homeless. This, you know, is an institution which Bob help establish a few years after he had entered the ministry. That s where 1 came into the picture. Bob said he couldn’t manage the place by himself, so I took over as a type of financial and business manager. I his gave Bob more time for his pastoral duties. Dorothy White works with us, too. She is 19