Hartford Public High School - Classbook Yearbook (Hartford, CT)

Page 29 text:

THE CHRONICLE 289 cross with a telescope to see if it was amalgamated, I stopped also and asked Mr. Leahy why he was thus honored. He proudly explained that ex-President Roosevelt had just given it to him as a token of his appreciation of the large number of wild animals which he had killed in Africa-by simply making speeches to them. He said the animals were so de-e-e-lighted with the speeches, they laughed themselves to death. I was just about to congratulate him when I saw some beau- tiful hair coming down the street without any hat on. This was such an unusual sight that I stretched my neck to find out to whom it could belong. To my surprise, I saw that it was Shirley Atwood. I hurried up and, after shaking hands with her, asked her if she had seen anything of our old schoolmates lately. As might have been expected, she replied in verse, which I will now quote with apologies to the Class Poetess. Very little I know Of our dear old class, But that little I'll tell you From first to last. Lottie Opper enjoys giving lectures on arts, VVhile Marion Tuttle is still breaking hearts. Miss Helen Marvel is now engaged- To star in a play soon to be staged. Leonard Beadle drives a hearse, And Frances Waters is a nurse. Almeda Bill, and Julie, her cousin, Met Eunice Dunham and nearly were frozen. But Marjorie Burnham came along And saved their lives with her melting song! Clifford Williams is a sober judge, NVhile Elsie Taylor sells home-made fudgeg Arline De Forest in Grand Opera sings, And Arline Hayden has at last sprouted wings. That is all I can tell Of the dear old class, VVhich for four long years its teachers 'sassed,' Which took all the honors thick and fast, And in 1915 left at last !

Page 28 text:

288 THE CHRONICLE I saw that Dudley Marwick was having convulsions over one of his own jokes which he had just made up. I hastened over to his assistance, but found that Rubin Cohn and jacob Yellen had gently lowered him on to the scales-which im- mediately broke. As the scales were supposed to weigh as high as nine hundred pounds, I did not see why they should have broken, but then I noticed that the maker was William 'Foord, so that explained it. just now I heard a melodious voice behind me, singing VVaiting for the 'Laura B. Lee', and I bolted for the door, for I well knew that Agnes Lawyer must be in 1ny near vicinity. When outside, I took my bearings and found that I was on my old friend, Asylum Street. But how it had changed! Beautiful tall new buildings rose on every hand and effectually shut off my view of the blue sky and the black smoke from the rail- road station. Directly opposite I saw a large crowd standing about the base of what appeared to be a lighthouse, watching Beatrice Burr, Florence Miller, and Marion Brown whitewashing the upper stories without the use of stepladders. Seeing Gerald Segur standing near by quarreling with Douglas Seelye as to which had the larger feet, I asked him what this strange edifice was. He said that Marjorie Monroe had just built it to keep her captured suitors in, and a royalty of ten dollars a head was offered for every new suitor caught alive and uninjured. Fearful of the meshes of the siren, I hurried away, but almost immediately I was roughly seized by the collar, and, looking around, saw that I was in the clutches of Policeman Seltzer. Young lady, he roared in a voice of thunder, I accuse you of having stolen willfully, deceitfully, and with malice aforethought Russell Keep's brains. I was just about to call on Edith Douglas to testify that I had no brains, when Joseph Ryan came up and con- fessed that he was the culprit and was using the brains in addition to his own. He said that with their aid he had secured an M.D.P.I. L.L. at the Middletown Medical College. Seltzer now arrested Ryan and whistled for the police patrol, which was driven up by Leon Harris, and which already contained Arvey VVood, who had been caught using old sick-passes for jitney transfers. I decided that this was no place for a nervous person and hurried on, but almost immediately came face to face with Irving Leahy, who was staggering under the weight of a huge aluminum cross pinned to his coat. As Harmon Barber now came up and began to examine the

Page 30 text:

290 THE CHRONICLE I was thanking Shirley for the inspiration her poetry had given me when I was startled by a mocking cry, Carrie wants a cracker. I looked all about and soon discovered that I was i11 front of Berman's bird store and that the noise had been caused by a parrot in the win- dow. On looking closer, I found that it was Carolyn Case, who was perched in a cage adjoining that of a dazzling peacock, who hopped gracefully about much as my old friend Isabella McBurney had done. The shop next door was owned by Miss Murray, but I was astonished to see that the store was perfectly empty. Seeing Marion Cullen out- side pulling up the awnings, I asked her what had happened to the stock, and was told that Ruth Storrs had recently bought the entire contents of the store with which to set up housekeeping. A frightful crash in the street made me rush to the curb just in time to see that I-Iarold Pember, on his motorcycle, had run into Burr Anthony, who was on horseback, killing the horse. The motorcycle was considerably damaged, but Pember soon extricated himself and with the aid of a pair of roller-skates and a watering-can fixed it up as good as new. Anthony was heartbroken over the death of his horse, but Grant Proper kindly took up a collection and Burr immediately started off to buy a new 0116 at Warfield's book store. The large crowd which had collected to witness the accident was soon scared away by Burdette Fothergill's new green suit. Most of the people crowded into a three-deck bus, and, as I felt rather terrified myself, I followed them. I could not help observing that the driver wore a large pin with A. A. on it. From force of habit I was reaching for a quarter, when Mary Horn whispered that it did not mean Athletic Association but Abram Apter. The bus now stopped to take on Longshaw Porritt, who was loaded down with a tent, a knapsack containing edibles, and com- plete hunting, fishing, and shooting outfits. He said he was about to explore the woods around City Hall, and, as the undertaking was a rather dangerous one, he had called up Francis Mulcahy, a lawyer. to give him a few last instructions in case he never returned. I did not hear anything he said except that he wished the Chronicles con- taining his jish stories to be bound in snakeskin and put in the vault in Fitzgerald's Library. We had now reached City Hall, so I alighted and saw to my astonishment that the old building was gone. In its place was a large, white, papier-mlache pavilion which bore the sign: