Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

Page 16 text:

14 THE ECHO BOB JONES «pOME on, Bob, this is no old ladies’ vv home,” said Jim Clancy as he rounded a corner in the Central Fire Station and saw Bob Jones looking across the wide streets of New York. By the tall, gray, brick buildings and skyscrapers he watched the actions of a steamer as it entered the harbor. Bob Jones was a young man of perhaps twenty-five years. He stood five feet and eleven inches in his stocking feet and weighed nearly two hundred pounds. His wavy golden hair was set off by a square firm jaw and a pair of light blue eyes. Bob, when not on duty, was usually call- ing on a sweet little girl named Mary, who, by the way, was the daughter of Jim Clancy, Bob’s boss. Bob had been advanced gradually in pay and in work at the Central Fire Station al- though his boss didn’t like him. Jim Clancy’s main reason for not liking Bob was because Bob wanted to marry Mary, Jim’s daughter, but Jim wanted his daughter to stay with him a little longer, as his wife was dead. On January 12, 1931, at about eleven o’clock in the forenoon, the fire whistle be- gan tooting continually. Men in the fire house were rushing and scrambling for the trucks. Bob’s job was driving the large hook- and-ladder truck, this being quite a re- sponsible position. Bob pressed the starter button and started from the fire house with a rush; it took a person’s five senses to manipulate a fire truck through the crowded streets of New York. As Bob sent the truck twisting and turning around between other cars, the other firemen watched the blue clouds of smoke in the distance rolling skyward. After turning down a few side-streets to avoid the more heavy traffic, the truck ar- rived at the scene of the fire. The firemen found a large three story building, which happened to be a storing house, with smoke coming from the many windows and rolling skyward. Already small white streams of water were playing on the building, and many big ladders were being swung into place; men could be seen trying to save the stored materials. In one hour and thirty-five minutes the fire was out, the firemen were blackened, exhausted, and ragged, and the building was a total wreck. A small part of the goods was saved. The firemen were lying in trucks, some exhausted, others wounded, and still others were unconscious. Everybody but the driver was lying in the back of the truck. Just as they were rounding a sharp turn on the way home, there was a screeching, crashing, grinding noise made by the chief’s small red car rounding the turn at the same time, and car and truck collided leaving a mixed mess of chemicals, bodies, and the remains of a small red truck and a red car. Two days later Bob woke up in Mary’s house as she was applying salve to his newly bandaged wounds, and as he looked up into her eyes, she gave a sigh of relief. “Oh Bob, I thought you would never regain conscious ness again.” Several days later Bob was still bandaged, but he took a walk down to the fire station, where he was told he had lost his job, but before the day was over, Bob had found another job at a much smaller station at the Eastern Fire Station. Although there was less pay, he intended to start in this new fire station and work up again. For the first few days in the new station, Bob was very busy with his new job, ancl it was several weeks before Bob got to see Mary, but when he did see her, he made up for lost time by getting her promise to marry him. Three days after Bob’s next visit to Mary, a large fire broke out near the water front; several large vessels had been tied up to the wharf and now being aground, they couldn’t get away. A large fishing building and a large linen manufacturing company’s build- ing were in danger. The department with which Bob worked was the second depart- ment to arrive at the scene of the fire, and every man had his work cut out for him. Bob s job was to help salvage the goods in the factories and buildings. Bob had a weird looking thing on his face which they called a gas mask. He had a hard iron hat on his head, and he was outfitted in rubber boots and rubber coat. Above that he had a small electric lamp and a wicked looking axe which he started using on the door of the large building. Pictures from the outside of the building were a sad sight. Several buildings were ablaze. Large clouds of smoke sometimes hid the firemen. There were several ladders wedged against the side of the building, and many streams of water were being pumped on the building. Bob, in the meantime, was also bustling around, throwing goods from inside the burning building to safety outside the fire circle where it was promptly carried to safety by the other men. Suddenly, as Bob rounded a turn in the old box factory, he came upon the Chief, Jim Clancy, lying flat on the floor with a large girder holding his foot. As Bob started to remove this girder from the prostrate chief, a large packing box fell upon him, breaking the air container of his gas mask. Bob then put a wet rag over his nose, thus making him breathe easier; then he resumed his efforts to free Jim Clancy. The fire was now creeping more closely, the smoke was getting more thick, and the building was getting more unsteady. At last Bob had removed the girder from Jim’s leg, and he was now carrying him towards the door. Just as he got ouside the door, he col- lapsed with his great load, and both Jim and Bob were carried away. When they reached the station, both Jim and Bob regained con- sciousness, and Mary, having heard of the great fire, was waiting for the return of the trucks at the station. As Bob, Jim, and Mary were gathered in the back room of the station, Jim said, “Mary, you go home and set the table for two, Bob and yourself. I will be home later.” Jim also gave his consent to the marriage of Bob and Mary.

Page 15 text:

THE ECHO 13 you will find a check. I have earned it and I am a success. Mary Reynaud. Helen Kelley. A LITTLE HEROINE F OR some months before the battle at Con- cord, the people in this section were m a state of great excitement. Groups of grave- faced men talked secretly on street corners, and there was a rumor around that the British, who then occupied Boston, were on their way to destroy the ammunition that was stored at Concord. Great precaution was taken against the enemy by storing valuable war arms in nearly every house. This precaution was necessary for there were Tories ever ready to give the enemy any information that was needed. Many secret messages were carried from house to house and it was just such a mess- age that was carried beneath the eggs in the basket on Nancy Tarbell’s arm. Her uncle kept an important communication with Squire Torrey at the other end of the town, and as Nancy was a brave little girl, she was entrusted with it. She had only gone a short way when she met two strangers who asked for the resi- dence of Farmer Williams. Her heart gave a big thump at this, for the farmer was a well known Tory. But she tried not to show any surprise and gave them the desired in- formation. Nancy knew by their accent in her short conversation with them that they were British soldiers. She hurried and when she reached the squire’s home, told him what she had encountered on the way. How to find out the strangers’ errand was an important question. But Mrs. Torrey soon solved it by saying she would send Nancy over to Mrs. Williams with some eggs, and once there, she could keep her eyes and ears open and learn everything possible. When Nancy reached the house, she found preparations for a feast going on. She de- livered the eggs and was thanked for them, but when she offered to help them as they were busy, she was gently but firmly pushed out of the kitchen. As Nancy was a determined girl, she could not be put off so easily; so as she passed the front of the house, she looked in and saw a table set for four persons. Instantly an idea popped into her head, and she climbed through the open window and hid under the table. As the table cloth reached to the floor, she was completely hidden and alone, except for the cat, who snuggled down on her dress to sleep. Nancy had been there a short time when Williams and his wife entered with their guest. By their voices the girl recognized the guests to be the men she had met on the road. For a little while they talked and ate, but when Mrs. Williams left the room, they be- gan to talk business. Nancy learned that the men were British officers who had come to find out where the supplies were kept and how they were pro- tected. The farmer gave them all the in- formation in his power but told them that his life was in danger because of his loyalty. The officers urged him to go with them, promising to protect him as they were armed, and no one knew of their presence except a stupid little girl. At this Nancy almost laughed out, and as she leaned forward to catch every word, one of the officers raised his foot to emphasize a remark and came down heavily on Nancy s nand causing her much pain. Another time she was nearly discovered as the men were ready to leave when she gave a little sneeze. “There’s someone under the table,” cried one of the officers. But then the cat walked proudly out from under the table, and the company laughed at what they thought their mistake. The men soon left the house, and Nancy creeping from her hiding place as soon as it was safe to do so, ran as fast as her legs could carry her. But before she could reach Squire Torrey ’s house, the spies and the Tory were well on their way as Williams had horses ready for their flight. But the warning of the British was given, and Nancy received great praise for her hour under the table. Frances Sorocco, ’34. A DIFFICULT TASK An optimist is any class editor of the Sumner High School of Holbrook, who has set out to get stories for his school paper, the “Echo”. Stories, essays, poems, jokes, and editorials are being sought. If none are turned in, the student is in danger of having his story selected from an English assign- ment. Stories about thefts, murders, and liquor are not the type wanted; colorful and interesting stories are what students de- mand. These stories may have a little slang but too much slang is disgusting to both the pupil and teachers. Poems can be of as much interest as stories. Many humorous poems can be found in the poets’ corner. Or, if you are the sentimental type, you too can be satisfied. Lyrics about different students cause many a hearty laugh. Editorials and essays are considered by some pupils as dry and stupid. Read them. They are not. Humor springs out from all corners of the editorials or essays. They also give you something to think about. If you disagree with them, write your argument and see it published in the next issue of the school paper. Pupils enjoy these debates immensely, and you will find yourself popular. Jokes are things everybody enjoys. But, what is more dis- gusting than “stale” jokes? If something funny happens in class, write it up. Cuts for the paper are a great improvement. Anyone whose talent lies along this line should make a few cuts and pass them in. Why not try a story? If it succeeds, why not venture further with an editorial? F. Ahern, ’32.

Page 17 text:

THE ECHO 15 Bob got his reward for working faithful, and he was also advanced at the station for bravery. Francis Chase. FATE B R-R-R-R-, came the wheezy ringing of the one-year guarantee alarm clock, for once going off within ten minutes of the ap- pointed time. Joan sleepily applauded “Old Lizzie” as she crawled from under the warm blankets to the icy linoleum floor. “Booh,” she cried in dismay hopping swiftly back on the bed to put on her stock- ings and worn shoes. “It’s a wonder that I can’t remember not to step on that linoleum before putting something on my feet. Walk- ing on that alone is enough to give me pneumonia ; now, add the poor heating to that, and I’ll soon have double pneumonia. Just wait, Mr. Piece of Linoleum, when I get rich — out you go in double quick time!” Joan counted her flat purse before leaving her room — just $2.10 left. With a sigh of regret she shook her lovely little blonde head at the offending piece, “Not enough to waste on a velvet rug, so you’ll have to stay there awhile yet.” Out she flounced, her shabby looking suit fully telling its story to the casual glance of strangers — a story that was not unusual, for it was of a poor girl, out of a job, with nobody to help her or give her money. With- out bothering to spend any money on break- fast, Joan swiftly made her way to the pub- lic library. Once there she avidly perused the female want advertisements, but only one thing could possibly be of any use to her in their contents. It read : Contest. Simply send a dollar, and write a paragraph of one hundred words describ- ing the cat shown above. The prizes, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, are usable articles, each costing at least five dollars. In previous contests persons have received prizes of groceries worth ten dollars, household articles, etc. Contest closes in thirty days. Joan thought quickly, “Could she spend a dollar of her precious fund on this?” If she did, there was a chance of receiving the groceries which would at least keep her alive for some time if she did not find work. Gamely she decided she would, and taking a pencil and paper from her old brown purse, Joan brought into use all the excellent education that she had had. It was in the late afternoon when finally it was finished. With gnawing pains of hunger, Joan bought a glass of milk and a hot dog. Her hunger somewhat abated, Joan scurried home. Here she suffered more occasions to glare at and cuss the little linoleum piece. The days passed slowly with Joan sus- taining herself on only a glass of milk some days, but every day bringing provocation from the linoleum rug. Then one day when she had again unsuc- cessful completed the circuit of agencies and was wondering how she could live on the nickel left in the brown purse, a long official locking letter was shoved under the door along with the daily uncivil note of the landlady requesting her rent. The cold still silence of Joan’s room was broken by a series of triumphant gurgles as she read the address of the “Cat Contest’ on the outside. Joan’s fingers, already white and starved looking, tore the epistle open. Briefly it stated her description was very good but not so good as some others, so they were send- ing her the fifth prize. At that moment the doorbell rang. Joan leaped to open it. A messenger boy scruti- nized the thin starved face that greeted him and said, “Package, Miss.” Joan seized the long bundle and thanked the boy. Back in her own room she hastily untied the strings. As the desperate girl viewed the contents, she fell heavily to the floor. There, in the heavy wrapping paper, was a cold, icy piece of linoleum! The freezing silence of the dim little room was still unbroken at the hour of midnight except for the faithful wheezing purr of “Old Lizzie”. R. Hill, ’34. MAGNOLIA GARDENS The Southland is at its loveliest in the early spring. The estate named Magnolia Gardens, situated on the Ashley River, is about ten miles from Charleston, South Carolina, the city of gentility and charm. The glory of these gardens is the gorgeous coloring of the azaleas, burning, glowing, and shining like some miracle. Some of the bushes are as much as twenty feet through and fifteen feet high with solid masses of blossoms in all shades of red, from palest pink to deepest crimson, from lilac-blue to deepest purple, and now and then a pure white bush like a bride in her snowy lace. It is almost impossible to give an idea of the beauty and charm in this garden. Long walks with moss-draped live oaks overhead, a lake and bridge in the distance, and on each side are the great masses of rose, pink, and crimson, reaching far above your head. There are thousands and thousands of blos- soms packed close together with no green to mar the intensity of their color. These wonderful gardens cover twenty- five acres, presenting a riot of azaleas, camel- lia, japonicas, and wisteria of lovely rain- bow colors, of all hues and tints, and rho- dodendrons in endless and gorgeous pro- fusion. It is reputed as being one of the most beautiful gardens in the world. Visitors from far and near enjoy its beauty. “Nothing you have ever seen can prepare you for them; Nothing you will ever see will make you forget them.”