Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

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THE ECHO 21 Her first thought was to rush home to mother. Indeed she was half-way to the door, without her coat, when she realized that she could not leave work. Oh, would that day never end ? Everything went wrong. The boss asked for an important business-house address which could not be found anywhere. Many times she had to ask him to repeat when she was taking a let- ter. This was far from making him good natured. Later when he found mistakes in her typing, his anger had reached its limits. He stormed out to her office and proceeded to make her listen to a half-hour lecture on being a great deal more careful in the fu- ture if she wished to keep her position. This scolding brought her to, and Edith managed to finish the rest of the day in peace. The cars were never so slow as they were that night. Edith kept her hand in her pocket-book so she could make sure not to lose that precious check. She danced up the stairs and rushed into the kitchen crying, “Mother! Ruth! Mother! Ruth!” At first they were startled; but when they saw Edith’s beaming face, they knew the whole story. They all cried with joy; they all laughed. Edith danced about; Mrs. Mayfair rushed around doing nothing, and little Ruth clapped her hands in joy. There was not another more pleased fam- ily in New York, than the Mayfair’s that night. After they had finally settled down some- what, Mrs. Mayfair and Edith started right away to make plans for Ruth’s trip to the health farm, which was to last three glori- ous months. Helen Gray, ’28. SUSAN The big mill pond was frozen over and, as usual, every evening, it was crowded with skaters. Every person who could pos- sibly skate at all went skating: tiny tots, wee bits of things; adults, even folks as old as fifty; the high school crowd, all of them; the minister — he was a dandy sport; and the teachers, they always went; Yes, every- one who could possibly skate went skating. Susan went skating too. She went alone and had a good time, at least she pretended she did, skating there alone. No one knew, however, how much she wanted to be in- vited to snap-the-whip with the rest of the high school crowd, to be invited to some of the good times after skating, such as: re- freshments at Anne’s house, a dance at Nell’s. — a sleigh ride planned all unex- pectedly for the next night, or perhaps, a walk to some near-by town with skating and refreshments t here. But, she was never asked because she was just a plain little person who had never been invited to the “crowds’ ” good times and whom no one thought of inviting. Susan wasn’t homely; neither was she good looking. Her black hair was as “straight as a poker,” her complexion had the olive tinge which one usually connects with a Spaniard, her lips were very red, but her brown eyes were the life of her face. They twinkled, laughed, and sparkled. The most objectionable thing about her how- ever, was her clothes. They never were the pretty bright colors one associates with a young person but always a dingy brown which made her look as dark as a foreigner, but she wasn’t. Her Yankee name, Susan Whitman, showed that. It wasn’t until Susan’s aunt came to town that the “crowd” began to notice any change in Susan, and then it was only when a new fellow, Billy Worthington by name, whom all the girls were simply “crazy” over, asked, “Who’s that pretty girl?” “Where? Why — why — oh, girls, look! Can that possibly be Susan Whitman?” Anne questioned. “Why, so it is,” replied Jane, and the “crowd” simple stared at Susan. What a different Susan though! Instead of the usual brown things, she had “blos- somed out’ in a red sweater and English tarn which made her look almost beautiful. Instead of the heavy brown shoes, her feet were incased in new black skating shoes and, best of all, she could skate and skate well. Was it the innumerable hours of practising that had made her a good skater or the new clothes that attracted the “crowd’s” attention to her skating? Well you can decide that. It was much to the girls’ amazement that Billy skated over to Susan. “May I skate with you?” he asked. “Why — why, I’d be delighted,” Susan answered. What happened after I am not allowed to tell, but I will say that Susan became one of the “crowd” not only because she was Billy’s girl friend, but also because she had “it”. Jessie Beers, ’28. CAN YOU IMAGINE The Seniors not late Helen without a smile Maybelle without her lipstick Mr. Neal not giving afternoon sessions Art with his lessons not prepared Marion without her history Stanley hurrying Jarda with knickers on Bob’s hair mussed up Herbie six feet tall

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20 THE ECHO A YOUNG AUTHOR It was on a bright sunny May morning that Edith Mayfair, singing merrily, ran down the stairs. She greeted her mother with a cheery smile and gave her little crippled sister Ruth a bear hug. Her sunny countenance brought smiles to the clouded faces of her family and seemed to brighten the bare little kitchen. “Good-morning, dearie,” said Mrs. May- fair. “What makes you so happy today? Poor Ruth’s back seems to be worse. If only we had a little extra money to send her to that health farm doctor was talking about.” “Cheer up, motherkins,” replied Edith, “I’m sure we’re going to have some luck. Last night I finished my story, and I’m go- ing to take it to the contest manager today. Oh, if I only win that five hundred dollar prize! Every cent is going towards Ruthie’s expenses a t the farm; and when she comes ck, she’ll be running all around again. Won’t that be wonderful, mother?” ex- claimed Edith rushing across the room and gathering Ruth in her arms. “What would I do without you, my dear?” said Mrs. Mayfair, her face damp y tears. “Oh, now cheer up, mother! Have you a jite for me to eat before I rush off to work? It would never do to be late this morning, for I’m going to ask for a little extra time this noon hour to deliver my story.” Mrs. Mayfair bustled about the kitchen scraping together a meager breakfast for her two children. Every extra penny was being saved so that Ruth, who had spinal trouble, could go away to a farm for the summer where she could get good care. At half past seven Edith went tripping lightly down the street to her work as stenographer in a law office. She held her precious manuscript close to her body as if afraid that she was about to lose it. On the crowded street-car her smile again seemed to cheer up those around her, for the usual grumpy looks on the peoples’ faces had turned to smiles. Even her boss seemed more than good natured this morning. Edith was glad of this because she did not want him to refuse her the extra time at noon. She hurried through the morning mail and soon had it disposed of. Her fingers fairly flew over the keys of her typewriter, and about noon she sat back with a sigh and surveyed her empty desk with satis- faction. She then rose and hurried into the office. “May I have an extra half hour this noon, Mr. Collins?” asked Edith timidly. “I have a very important errand to do.” Mr. Collins swung around in his chair and surveyed her with an attempt at a smile. “Yes, I guess it will be all right. See that you are back here at half past one,” he grudgingly assented. Edith’s joy was now complete, and she fairly danced from the building in her eager attempt to get to the short story office. When she had nearly reached her destin- ation, she slowed down, and her face took on a slightly worried look. Suppose they didn’t accept her story after all her work and hopes. Poor mother and Ruth! How downhearted they would be. She ran the theme of her story swiftly over in her mind. Had she neglected to bring out some important point? Had she made her story interesting enough to hold the reader’s at- tention ? A thousand points that she might have brought out now rushed to her mind. “Well, there is nothing like trying,” she said aloud. Once more she quickened her steps and in a few minutes entered the contest office. “Good morning. What can I do for you?” asked a genial looking, middle aged man. “I — I’ve brought a story to enter in your short story contest,” replied Edith. “Name and address, please. We will an- nounce the winners in next week’s maga- zine,” replied the man. After giving the necessary information, Edith retraced her steps back to the office. How could she possibly wait two weeks? Oh, if only she could win the prize! Yet the two weeks really flew by quite rapidly with the three Mayfair’s hoping constantly for good luck. The last day of the two weeks arrived. Edith arose early and was greeted by a morning that was the exact replica of the one on which she had taken her story to the contest office. Mrs. Mayfair fondly kissed her daughter good-bye as she left for work, and wished her, about the hundredth time, the best of luck While sorting out the mail, Edith came across a thick envelope. She was surprised to see that it was addressed to her. Quickly slitting open the envelope, she took out a long letter. As she did this, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Edith picked it up and was about to lay it on the desk before she perused the letter. The words “Maynard’s True Story Magazine” caught her eye. She snatched the paper up and looked again. She rubbed her eyes, scarce- ly believing what she saw. The check — for that is what it was, was made out in her name for five hundred dollars. Her story had won first prize! Her joy knew no bounds!

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22 THE ECHO QUINCY GRANITE During the past summer I made several trips to the quarries of Quincy. At first I was interested in the beauty of the old quarries and the opportunities which they offered for a good swim. After the first two or three trips, I began to notice the many varieties of stone, the methods em- ployed in getting out the stone, and the mode of preparing it for usfe in building or in monuments. The following brief history of the granite industry is probably correct in most points, but as it is based on information gathered from many sources, even workmen in the pits, it may have more or less error. Granite is the hardest stone used in building, and it also is found in the most compact masses. In the early days it was considered impossible to shape it in any way and the only use made of it was in the form of rough fieldstones. When King’s Chapel in Boston was burned, a desire was expressed to rebuild it in a substantial manner. Capt. John Hayward of Braintree suggested granite and even offered to furnish the stone. He was thought to be crazy, but was told to go ahead, the builders thinking to hear no more of the matter. What was their sur- prise to receive word from the captain, a short time after, that he had a sloop load of shaped and finished stones ready to ship! The methods employed by the captain were crude, but he got results. A large boulder was selected and struck near an end with a large chip. This was repeated on all sides of the stone until it was nearly the right size and shape. Then he further reduced and shaped it with smaller hand hammers, finally finishing the job with a hammer somewhat like an axe struck edge- on against the block. If a stone was par- ticularly hard, the stone was often heated by a bon-fire built against one side and then suddenly doused with cold water, thus flak- ing off the hard outside. In 1787 the builders were able to report that they had sufficient shaped stone on the ground to complete the building. King’s Chapel stands today unaltered and as firm as when built, a lasting memorial to the durability of granite and to the courage and foresight of Captain John Hayward. This crude method was followed for many years, but early in the last century Bryant, who as a boy had worked with Hayward, worked out a process for drilling rock with steel bars and then splitting it with iron wedges. The first method was to cut nar- row slits in the rock to receive the wedges. A company was formed, including the lead- ing men of Quincy, who, it is said, cele- brated in the good old way, they drank much rum to the success of the new busi- ness. From this time the solid ledges could be worked as easily as the boulders, and a new industry had begun. As a result of the in- crease of business Gridley Bryant and John Hayward (not the captain who had died years before) planned and built the first railroad in America in order that the stone might be removed to market at tide water more easily. From this time Quincy, which before had been a sleepy farming village, became the busiest town in all New England. Quincy Granite became the rage for all new public buildings, not only in America, but also in Europe. The Boston Custom House was the wist of the larger buildings. So heavy were the stone columns that forty yoke of oxen w ere required to draw a single pillar over the road to Boston. Then followed Bunker Hill Monument, the Adams Temple in Quincy, the State Capitol at Alabama, and the Province House in Halifax, N. S. All work, even to lifting the stone from the pit, was done by men or by horse-power. It was in Quincy that the Irish, fleeing star- vation at home because of the land laws, made their first real colonial settlement in America. They were soon followed by Welch and Scotch who were attracted by the wages paid in the quarries. The next great stride was the introduc- tion of steam power. Hammers and drills, hoists and derricks now operated by steam doing ten times the work of the old horse mills. Over the line of the first railroad which was horse operated, ran the new steam railway. John Quincy Adams alone, mourned to see his “eternal hills” cut down like wax. Still the stone shipped was somewhat rough and all unpolished. Here the Scotch had their innings, for in Scotland building stone was polished and often machined. Machinery was brought from Scotland, and the finished stone industry came in. Even immense globes have been cut and polished to a mirror gloss, and so perfect are they that no irregularity can be found with fine calipers. Next came the era of compressed air machinery. Light drills and hammers operated by air under a pressure of 500 pounds to the square inch gave every man the power of a steam engine, and yet he could hold the machine in one hand or take it to any part of the shed or pit. A stone could now be quarried, dressed, and polished in the time it used to take to put in a sin- gle row of drill holes. Electricity next came in and the speed of work still more increased. With the com-