Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

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THE ECHO GOLD HUNTERS O NE hot morning in July, 1857, John Herman and Jack Delphry with sev- eral others were riding through the Chico- pee Valleys where most of the time the In- dians were having their councils. While they rode along, they sang cowboy songs, each in turn, and then a conversation would rise among them. When noon came, the boys made a fire and cooked their dinners, and practised lassooing a post until off in the distance they could see smoke signals. “Those Chicopee Injuns are after us again,” said Jack. “Yes! and it looks as though they were going to surround us. Look in back,” said cne of the others. And off on the opposite mountain they could see the answer to the other signal. “Let’s get a move on,” said John as he felt for his guns and jumped on his horse. “We had better stick together while the sticking is good,” shouted Harry, who was another member of the crowd. After riding for quite a while, they could hear the hoof-beats of the Chicopee horses and the beating of their drums. “They are coming and hot on our trail, too”, said John as an arrow whizzed by his head and stuck in a tree which was near by. “Get your guns!” he shouted as another took off his hat. He turned around just in time to see an Indian draw his bow, John fired, and the Indian fell to the ground, his arrow going into the air. “There goes one of ’em”, shouted John as Harry fired and sent the chief to the ground. “Turn around on your horses, the rest of you guys, and fire at them.” All at once a shower of arrows came whizzing by the crowd as the Indians de- parted in another direction. One arrow pierced Harry’s back, and he fell to the ground. The boys, stopping as if by magic, fired at the same time until their guns were empty. They went over to Harry who was groan- ing. They got the arrow out of his back and put him on a soft bed of pine needles where his head was placed in John’s arms. “I guess this’ll be all, boys,” he said as he grasped for breath. “I hope you will have luck in finding gold. Will you please tell my sister how I died?” and his head dropped over — He was dead. “Well,” said Jack as the tears rolled down his face, “he was a good pal”. Later they dug a hole and had a regular cowboy funeral. They placed a board where he lay with his name on it. When they saw his sister, they told her how he died verj ' bravely after a fight with the Chicopee Indians. Three years later the boys discovered gold which was worth a million dollars. “Gee!” said Jack, “I wish old Harry were here now.” Gordon Whitcomb, ’33. WORLD BROTHERHOOD How different the world is today from what it was in 1620 or even in 1776, when America declared her independence. To the people of that age, it was a great event to visit a relative or a friend in a neighbor- ing village. All transportation was done by horse and carriage or by oxen and wagons. People of different classes lived in different places; people of different trades lived by themselves; in fact, everybody kept pretty much to himself, at home away from so- ciety. As years passed and civilization pro- gressed and advanced, the steam-train, tele- graph, steamship, and many other devices came into daily use. With the advent of the twentieth century science has progressed so rapidly, that it is hard to realize that a little over twenty years ago, radios, auto- mobiles, and airplanes had not come into existence. Where radios were a novelty, now they are seen in almost every home. The telephones and telegraphs have made communication between distant places a common occurrence. Airplanes, trains, and modern ocean liners have made transporta- tion to the remotest corners of the world a simple thing. Mussolini spoke to the Ita- lian people, and we listened to him over the radio. King George spoke to the Indian Conference; we heard him over the radio in our homes. All these things have helped to draw the people of every nation together in closer bonds of brotherhood. People under- stand each other better because of com- munication with each other and listening to each other’s views of world affairs. The League of Nations and the World Court are two organizations which facilitate friendly relations of understanding between the people of the different nations. Even the youths of the world have their organizations, the Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, the Y. M. C. A., and the Y. W. C. A. all of which have members from every nation in the world. Their goal is to promote world brotherhood which means world peace. In one of the magazines published for boys, called “The Open Road for Boys”, I found a list of boys from every country on the globe, who wish to correspond with American boys. In the list were boys from thirteen to twenty-three years of age. The magazine encouraged correspondence with these boys, even offering prizes for those who wrote a certain number of letters and got a certain percent in reply. Then, there is a large prize of a trip abroad to visit the boys with whom the winner has been cor- responding. All these things promote friendliness between the numerous nations and races of the world. There can be but one result to all this, and that is world peace. p]mory Mann, ’32. E. Tibbets: What would you give for a voice like mine? L. George : Chloroform.

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10 THE ECHO HARLEQUIN AND COLUMBINE H arlequin and Columbine were cos- mopolitans. They danced in Vienna, Copenhagen, and Paris, and were now in Moscow. It was revolution time in Russia, and the city of Moscow was a magnet for the com- munists. Everywhere one went one would see a thin, mad looking man on a crazy box addressing and declaiming to a crowd of excited bystanders. Harlequin and Columbine were much too silly and frivolous to be at all interested in such heavy and serious matters, and would probably look blank as if they had never heard the word if you spoke to them of the communistic plan or Russian wheat mon- opoly. They had spent their life flitting from one gay capital to another and would be leaving Moscow now if it were not for the fact that their flnancial resources had become very low through living too near the center of the city and Columbine’s fond- ness for bonbons. Finally this sedition came to a head, and war was declared. All foreigners were very firmly and not too politely requested to leave the country, and all able-bodied Rus- sian men were compelled to bear arms in the army. Harlequin and Columbine did not worry about being deported. In fact, it never en- tered their minds as they continued their nightly appearances at the Play House where audiences were becoming smaller and smaller and more unresponsive. Indeed they were as light-hearted as ever. But both Harlequin and Columbine had forgotten the fact that they were Russian citizens until it was brought forcibly to their minds by communist officials. Harle- quin joined the huge army and was lost among the crowd. Columbine returned to her hitherto forgotten home in the monot- onous Russian steppes, where she stayed with three Russian peasants for servants while her father was away leading the Cossacks on their ransacking maraudings. She was lonesome for Harlequin and spent long days morosely toasting marshmallows before the open Are. Then one day word came to the lonely manor that the great Cossack leader had been slain in battle, and Harlequin had been court-martialled and shot for insub- ordination. Poor Harlequin, the clown, was not cut out for the army. Columbine went back to her public, to the stage. Sometimes in the audience Har- lequin’s happy laugh would ring out. And, although the excellence of the performance on such evenings was always testifled in the morning papers by the critics, Columbine was never happy again. Marion Jervey, ’31. Mr. Walsh: Who was Homer? J. Sullivan: The fellow who made Babe Ruth famous. A WARNING! A LONELY house in the woods! It is a large, barn-like affair. The windows are grimy and broken. The shutters flap dis- mally in the wind. The trees cast lurid shadows on the house. The moon sheds a ghastly green light over all. The dilapid- ated old porch creeks dismally as a tall, thin, waving flgure groans and creeps up the stairs. The door opens mysteriously and it enters. We follow. The “thing” is seen going up the dusty, old stairs. Everything but the stairs is dark. These are covered with a livid, red light. We follow. It sharply turns a corner. We follow! Our eyes must be deceiving us.’ It has vanished. We step cautiously down the dark, dismal hall. We light a candle. Suddenly! A ghastly, ungodly moan is heard! Then a shriek! Another! Then si- lence! When we regain our courage and look around, we shiver with fear. One per- son is missing! We turn, bolt down stairs for the door. As we turn the corner, a cold, clammy, wet wind blows out our candles. Frightened and in the dark, we cling to- gether. A long, low, wierd moan is heard rising up to a shriek and then dying away, only to begin with increased volume. We have been here a long while now. “Look!” The old grand-father’s clock was bathed in a very cold, blue light. Over it hung a horrid yellow face. The door of the clock slowly opened ! A white-clad flgure slowly floated o ut! Screech after screech was heard. We turned and ran for the door. It stuck! We looked over our shoulders and there a hideous figure with a horrible face was coming after us. Oheehohee! Ohmeho- ho! Hah! Hah! Hah! The hideous screeches rent the air. With a final tug the door came open. We fell headlong into the arms of a horrible, faceless monster who carried us back to the house. I let out one shriek ! And with that shriek I awoke and found my- self on the floor with my lovely dream rudely interrupted. But a lesson was learned from that visit and, I impart it to you, so you will not visit the faceless monster’s home. Here it is! Never, never eat ice-cream and pickles before going to bed. Leslie Thorud, ’33. There was once a young boy they called Bob, And they say he was out of a job; So he stepped in the car And went hunting afar For the women, his favorite job. There is Mike, a boy whom you know. It is said he was quite all the show For one night he did tip And his pants took a rip For poor Mike wasn’t slow! Oh no!

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12 THE ECHO SCHOOL SPIRIT How many of you have played basket- ball? Not many, I’ll bet. Of course, there are the regular players of both the boys and the girls’ teams, but, the rest of you have scarcely laid hands on the ball. The other night, Sumner’s team was way behind; the score was something like 24-4. There were a large group of fellows and girls on the stage and many more in the balcony. All during the games only one cheer went up for our teams, except when one of our players got a basket. Trying to induce the fellows to cheer for the teams proved futile. The scores piled up fast; everybody be- came pessimistic. They took it for granted, that we were going to be beat, so they did not try to help us out any. They expected us to play and cheer ourselves, to keep up the enthusiasm of the game. That’s quite impossible. How fickle the crowd is! If you make a lucky shot, or get a break, the crowd is all for you. You’re the hero of the hour. But it is of the moment, only. If you fumble the ball or make a bad pass, you’re the worst player on the court; you ought to be kicked out! It is just the same with the cheering. “What’s there to cheer for?” “Wait until someone gets a basket!” and many similar excuses were made. It resulted in no cheer- ing, whatever. Say, if you knew how much encourage- ment a little cheering gives us who play, you would be yelling and cheering all night. Now, why not give the team a little en- couragement. Let them know that you’re all for them. Don’t “boo!” them if they make mistakes. You couldn’t do half so well yourself. Give us a cheer. Help us win the game. Emory Mann, ’32. CHEATING YOURSELF Now folks, get your minds in good work- ing order and think this matter over. Have you, or have you not cheated yourself dur- ing your school career? How many can say they haven’t? I’ll guarantee there are not many. Maybe one night you wanted to go to some entertainment, and you did not have time to do your home lessons. Instead of going a little late and getting your lessons done, you tell your mother you will get up early in the morning and do them. Of course you are too tired to get up when morning comes, so you say to yourself, “I’ll copy my work from Mary. She always gets good marks.” About eight o’clock you run to school in hopes that you can get your lesson done before class. Yes, and there is another thing to con- sider which comes to your mind as you run up the stairs. You had new work yester- day, and you are copying Mary’s paper, not knowing a thing about the work, and again you say to yourself, “I don’t care. I’ll learn it to-morrow, but I must get a good mark today.” So, of course, you copy the work and pass it in as yours. There is another way of cheating yourself. We’ll say it is Friday, and it is the last day you have to get your contract done in typing so you begin looking at your ringers. Of course, you get an A contract, but is it an A to you? Why of course it isn’t. ou can’t even learn to type looking at your fingers, and you know it, but still you continue to do it. Now, folks, think this over again and see how much you have been cheating your- self during the year, and today make a resolution that you will try to avoid this unnecessary action in the future. Alice Sullivan, ’32. SMART ENOUGH— IF You frequently hear it said of someone that “He’s smart enough, if he only wanted to be” It’s the people whose friends say that about them that I want to discuss. It is a question in my mind as to how far such a statement can be true. How smart is a person who isn’t smart enough to use his brains? I wonder. What are brains given to you for? To use, of course. Now, if a person doesn’t know enough to use the powers given to him, he can’t be so very smart, after all. Along about examination time, you are likely to hear a conversation like this : “What did S ' o-and-so get in his exam?” “Oh, he got P, but he could have done bet- ter if he’d had a mind to study”. I’ve heard that many a time, but I always take it with a grain of salt. That’s not my idea of smartness. You fellows who are “smart enough, if you only wanted to be”, it’s you I’m hitting. You who talk that way about them, it’s you, too. You know who you are as well as I do. You must have a hazy conception of smartness if you consider it smart to get a mark which is not the best possible. Plain laziness, that’s what it looks like to me. Another name for it is indifference. Are laziness and indifference characteristics of high mental capacity? Hardly. Give a little more credit to the student who honestly studies and gets the best mark he can, and a great deal less to the “smart” fellow who is too lazy to do his best. That’s only fair. No man can do better than his best, but any blockhead can do worse, and a lot of them do. They, however, are not the people who are going to get ahead. N. A. Smith, ’31. John Feeney: I got a hundred today. M. Andrew: What in? J. Feeney: Fifty in history and fifty in English. Miss Murphy (in orchestra) : What key are you playing in? Eaton: Skeleton key. Miss Murphy: Skeleton key? Eaton: Yes, it fits anything.