Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

Page 22 text:

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-

Page 21 text:

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

Page 23 text:

THE ECHO 23 ing of electric power came immense saws with teeth set with diamonds, and now the stone by their means is really dressed as it is cut from the quarry. It was thought that the coming of cement would put a stop to the cutting down of the solid granite ledges, but the fact that one quarry, al- ready over three hundred feet deep, is planning on going to the five hundred foot level, does not point that way. I may say in closing that there is no more interesting spot in all New England than the quarries of Quincy where visitors are always made welcome. George Austin, ’28. AN AEROPLANE RIDE IN THE YEAR 1999 One day early in the year of 1999 I went to my hangar, got out my little “Flivver Plane”, and was soon soarin g amid the few clouds, not forgetting to look at the pano- rama spread beneath me — that is, what I could see of it (there being quite a heavy traffic up, many sightseeing air-buses be- ing about, and many workmen coming home from work.) Soon getting out into the open away from the traffic, I slowed down over the Boston Harbor Aerodrome to watch the large trans-Atlantic air-freight- ers unload. Soon tiring of this common sight, however, I turned about, and putting on more gas, was soon over one of the city of Holbrook’s large ten-cent stores, where I watched another air-freighter unload, this one being from Czecho-Slovakia, which is the place where most of the Woolworth jewelry is made. After a while, having seen enough, I turned about and started home. I had no sooner passed the half-way post on my journey home when the fun began, or, perhaps I should say, things began to happen. The engine began to cough and act queerly, soon stopping altogether. Luckily (or I would have had a nasty fall) I was near enough to a cloud so that I could drop my anchor on it; this I did, and hopped over-board to see what the matter was. I looked over the engine thoroughly, but could find nothing the matter. I was about to give up when I happened to think of the gas-tank, and peeping in, found it “bone-dry”. I looked about and saw a gas- station about one hundred yards distant. I promptly got out my rope, and, making a lasso, lassoed the chimney of the gas-sta- tion, tied the rope around a piece of the cloud, grabbed a gallon pail, went hand- over-hand along the rope to the gas-station, got my gas, came back, and found — that my flivver had rolled off the edge of the cloud, and was now hanging by only the anchor. It was hard work pulling up the Flivver, and by the time I was ready to start again, I had learned some new cuss words. Things went along nicely for a time, un- til, when still a few miles from home, a lit- tle accident happened that ended queerly, but happily for me. I was flying over a small village when suddenly the sun was blotted out, and without due warning, it be- gan to snow heavily. I realized that I must be under a heavy snow cloud, and hastened as fast as I could to get out from under it, but could not seem to, as the cloud was mov- ing in the same direction that I was. I had now lost all sense of direction, could no see more than six inches in front of me, and was in a general state of trouble. Soon 1 realized that the heavy snow on the wings was weighting the plane down, and that it would only be a matter of minutes before I struck the ground. Prepared for the worst, you can imagine how surprised I was when the aeroplane flew right into its own hangar (I having left the roof lifted up when I went) just as neatly as if the most expert driver were making the landing! Dorothy Brown, ’30. DICK DOVILLE’S BARGAIN “Going, going. Come, come, gentlemen, don’t you let this beautiful, antique, horse- hair-covered, overstuffed chair go for 75c. Why! This extraordinary bargain is worth seventy-five dollars and not what I’m of- fered,” cried the auctioneer. “One dollar!” yelped the man in the brown derby and checked red and green suit. “Do I hear a dollar and a half? No? Going — going — last chance on this beauti- ful antique, gentlemen. Gone; Sold to the gentleman in the brown derby,” entoned the auctioneer. Dick loaded the chair into his car, and, after having secured the pedigree of his antique piece of furniture he drove off in his rattle-trap of a car. Arriving at his tumble-down shanty, he cried to his wife to open the door and went in proudly ex- hibiting his treasure and telling its history. Listening in scornful silence until he was finished, Mary Doville began to berate Dick about his foolish expenditure. As Dick lis- tened to her, he became so angry that he snatched up the chair and carried it out into the yard to chop into kindling wood. His anger leaving him as he hacked into the chair, he became penitent but continued to chop the chair into bits as he had ruined it before he became sorry for his actions. His axe struck something as he drove it into the rear leg of the chair. Looking to see if it was a nail he discovered a red stone cut into many facets. Rushing to his wife he showed the stone to her where