High School of Commerce - Tradesman Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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BUT THE MY FIRST SHAVE By Doran Did a gang ever shame you into getting a shave? VVell! they did this little thing to me. VVhile in the second year of high school I got my first shave and wished it had been my last. I was sick and tired of hearing everybody kidding', me in class about the hair on my upper lip. Every morning it was an ordeal for me to go to school, for no sooner would I step in the home room than some smart aleck would say, Good morning, John, how's the mustache coming.along? or VVhy don't you put some milk on your face and let the cat lap it off? At last I became desperate. There were only two things left for me to do: First, to leave school Qwhich I couldn't very well do because of my parentsj 3 second, to get a shave and surprise the world. After much deliberation and thinking I decided upon the second course of action. It was on a Friday I made up my mind to do this because my weekly trimming was due the next day. Friday night I went to bed at nine o'clock, which made my parents worry over me for fear I was not feeling well. Let me tell you, there was no sleep for me that night, for no matter how hard I tried to rest, I always kept thinking of the barber's on the morrow when I was to get my face scraped, After what seemed an eternity, Saturday came with rain. I got up at seven o'clock and went in the dining room where the rest of the family were eating breakfast. My father looked at me queerly and asked if I felt all right, which I told him I did. There were no more a surprised family on the whole continent of East Boston that morning than mine. I had the whole household guessing what was the matter with me, for I went to bed so early and got up at seven, without being called. Saturdays, I usually sleep till around ten and here I was up at seven. Something was rotten in Denmark, my sister informed my father. My mother wanted to know if I was in love, my father asked if the unexpected had happened, if I had got a job for Saturday. I informed them that they were all wrong. The barber shop was opened and when I went there it was doing a rushing business-by the door! No one had to wait, for it was run on the modern system: One barber, no custoinersfl After many unsuccess- ful attempts, l finally managed to stumble in the beauty parlor. The chair was vacant, so I did not have time to ponder and get cold feet. Did you ever sit in a dentist's chair? Well! that was how this chair seemed to me. I told the barber to trim my golden locks. Anything else, son F l4

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Tl-IE. TRADESMAN not describe, though it seemed like a pile driver. While I was wondering which one they would take me to I was led towards the latter. As I looked upon it I realized that this was the most fiendish method of execution in modern times. There was a space of about six feet between the uprights, and here was a huge wooden block with manacles on it. At the top of this device was a gigantic piece of iron, six feet long and three feet wide. This was raised and lowered by a rope which was attached to a tackle. One pull of the rope and this mass of iron would come down with crush- ing force upon the wood. I had no time for further thought, for I was seized and placed upon the block of wood and tied. Une of these men stood with his hand on the rope and the rest looked on. I could no longer thinkg cold beads of perspira- tion stood upon my face and forehead waiting for that pull on the rope, that would blot out my life, but it never came. Suddenly a great shout smote the air and-the sound of musketry was heard, mingled with cries of pain. My executioner gave a wild scream, tottered and fell at my side. The next moment a figure rushed up to me and cut the thongs that bound me. As I arose a peculiar sight met my gaze. All my captors were stretched out on the ground, killed or wounded. The state militia, who had been looking for these men had come upon their stronghold at this opportune moment for me. MIXED HATS By james J. Gilmartin There were few sales on Monday and Mr. Smith, head of the millinery department of a certain department store, walked in furious. If you girls don't sell something today, he said, you won't be working here much longer. The girls said they were sorry and would do better. What they thought was, If people don't want to buy hats, we can't make them. A distinguished-looking gentleman escorted a young lady into the mil- linery department with the evident intention of buying a hat. The salesgirl, thinking of what Mr. Smith said, began commending the hats on the counter. The customer tried on nearly all the hats in sight, while the poor salesgirl tried to make a sale. Thinking she would try once more she picked up a small hat. I don't know where this one came from or where it was made, she said to her- self, 'but I'll have to make a sale. She told the customer everything she could think of, that it came from Paris, was the latest style outg and other things. The customer looked pleased and the salesgirl thought she had made a sale at last. Finally the customer picked up the hat and said, 'fAfter what you say about my hat, I don't think I need a new one. The salesgirl could think of no reply. l3

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Tl-IE. TRADESMAN he inquired after this was finished because I did not leave the chair. Yes, yes, I guess so, stammered I. Shave?', asked the tonsorial artist smil- ing, thinking he was cracking a joke. Yes, answered I brightly, for it was a relief to have him guess. The wielder of the razor was thunder- struck to think that I should start to shave so young. I-Ie tried to dis- suade me, saying, once I started to shave, my school boy complexion would leave me, but I was determined to have what I wanted. VVith a sigh of resignation the barber filled his shaving mug with hot water and worked up a lather which he gently applied to my face. If you don't want to go through with it, son, all right,', said the barber. I told him to hurry and have it over with. I-Ie took one of those straight- edge razors and began to strop it. After about two minutes of this work he reached over and plucked a hair from my head and cut lit to see if the razor was sharp. Evidently it was not, for he still continued stropping and this time reached over and pulled a handful of hairs out of my scalp. He gave it the same test and it must have met with his approval, for he began his carvings on me. First, he drew the blade down my cheeks. Next came the massacreg he started to shave on my chin and upper lip. Witli every stroke of the blade it seemed as if he pulled the hairs from the very roots. I stood it for a while, but at last had to let out a ,series of yells. Now, I did not know two spinsters lived in the same house as this barber shop who were enemies of the proprietor. They heard my screeches and telephoned the police that a young man was getting killed in the barber shop. The guardians of the peace came and questioned the barber and me about the affair. We told them it was absurb but the barber had to do some explaining as wellas I. The sergeant asked why I got the shave and if my folks knew it. I did not know he was kidding me and an- swered all his questions earnestly and truthfully. No sooner had I an- swered all his questions than he started to laugh and told me it would be less trouble for the police if I took my shaves at home from now on. VIEWS ON THE WAY TO COMMERCE By Harold F. Forrester A I leave my house at 8.00 o'clock and saunter towards Huntington Ave- nue. I pass by Symphony Hall where heartrending solos may be heard for two dollars, and by Horticultural Hall which is opposite, where exhi- bitions of plant and animal life are held and attended by nature's noblemen. Turning down Huntington Avenue, the first building I see is the Tent ballroom where jazz is supreme and where drug-store cow-boys strut their stuff during spare hours. On the other side of the street is Back Bay Post office where correspondence school students get their diplomas. Then comes a long row of stores which deal in everything a student doesn't need. My eyes tiring from the glaring advertisements, I wander towards the Boston Conservatory of Music, which has a steady stream of fiappers pouring in and out, no doubt learning to sing Grand Operas and striving' to emulate Mary Garden. The next building is the Y. M. C. A., taking up quite an amount of 15