Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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finance committee had already in- formed us that class dues would amount to three dollars a person if our financial status were not im- proved. We therefore elected an entertainment committee to ens’i- neer a senior dance which netted a grand total of twelve dollars. How- e er, the profits of the senior play more than offset the disappointing results of the dance, and no one complained when our dues were re- duced from three dollars to one. The pageant delayed the produc- tion of the senior play this year un- til March. Nothing was lost by the delay, however, for “The Million- aire” was the most successful play of recent years. Although the mem- bers of the cast were annoyed, an- gered, hysterical, and hilarious by turns, all reported that in spite ‘of the hard gruelling toil, the experi- ence was one of the most pleasant of high school days and will be one of their most cherished memories. The greatest progress in the play was made by Connie Tozer in learn- ing to crov, like a rooster; Fred Benedix took the cake for twisting his speeches with ludicrous effect; and Bob and Nate Love held up proceedings most often while they washed dishes or dug clams. Too numerous to mention are the individual names of those who helped to make the play a success, but the untiring efforts of the cast, stage managers, business execu- tives, and ticket sellers are directly responsible for the gratifying re- sults. We sincerely hope that next year’s senior play will meet with equal success. After the play was over, our thoughts turned toward gradua- tion. The girls, for some unknown reason, were inspired with the tho ught that caps and gov.ms would add distinction to an already dis- tinguished class. The boys, how- ever, felt that such a distinction v ould be superfluous. After much hot debate on the subject, es- pecially in economics class, a vote v. as taken which resulted in a tie. Denningham then endeared himself to his sex and saved the day for his pals by voting an emphatic “No.” The vision of some of our rugged football heroes becoming entangled in the folds of their gowns when walking out to receive their diplo- mas still makes us smile, however. And now the moment which we have anticipated for four years draws near. Although we left Man- ning, which had harbored us for three and a half years, with some regret at the memory of the good times spent there, we, the class of 1937, are proud to be the first to re- ceive our diplomas from this grand, new Ipswich High School. 30

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evidence of her adaptability in old lady parts and anticipated her ex- cellent performance as Aunt Ade- line in the senior play. It was also in this play that the shop boys un- der Mr. M e r s 0 n ' s supervision showed what could be done to pro- vide good stage and lighting effects on the old Manning Hall stage. We had not been long in our junior year before a class meeting was held and the following officers were elected : Alexander Robert- son, president; John Denningham, vice-president; Frank Canney, sec- retary; and Louise Anzuoni, treas- urer. It was during the winter of this year that an innovation in the form of a winter carnival was held at Manning. In the competition for “Snow Queen” among the four classes then attending school, the race was close, but our junior entry, in the person of Miss Bella Des Jardins, emerged victorious. On the day following the thrilling toboggan and ski slides, anybody who ap- peared in school without the scars of battle on his face was in danger of being called a pansy by the more daring of his classmates. Next in line was the question of class rings. A committee of six was elected to take charge of the matter. Deciding that a plain, solid gold ring would be a more practical investment than a ring containing some kind of stone, the committee selected two types of the former, the final choice going to the class as a whole. Apparently the reasoning of the committee was sound, for there have been no remarks of dis- satisfaction to date. The successful efforts of such men as Paganis on the baseball field and Mourikas and Robertson on the gridiron in the junior year, placed us high in the sport world. Through the first four months of our senior year things ran smoothly and on schedule. We had chosen as our leaders John Denningham, president; Albert Langmaid, vice- president; Frank Canney, secre- tary ; and Louise Anzuoni, treas- urer. In January we decided to accept the munificent gift of a new school as bequeathed to us by the philan- thropic class of ’36. Hence, after Christmas vacation, with band playing and flags flying, we marched en masse to our new, sumptuous building on Green Street. When finally settled, we found that we were approximately six weeks behind schedule of the usual school The first event to be held in the new school was a pageant, “The Builders,” given on the evening when the building was thrown open , to the public for inspection. In this pageant we were nobly represented by Fred Benedix with his sheaf of wheat “quite different from the or- dinary head,” Frank Canney, the metallurgist, Robert Love, the poet, and Nate Love as stern and forbid- ding Duty (if you can imagine Nate as stern and forbidding). Margaret Hubbard was the Librarian, and a number of the other girls tripped the boards gracefully to the tune of “slide, slide, one, two, three.” After acquitting ourselves nobly in a school affair, we turned our at- tention to our own class affairs. The program. 29

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a6 ak« 3«VMS SeSt.1k V« MkSSSS SW Sk» 3kSS V S6SSSS3e 36SB«6S» St%%%%%%%3k Class Prophecy By Mabel Chambers and Albert Langmaid T IME: 1957. Scene : Somewhere on the New- buryport Turnpike. (After a colli- sion with Mabel’s car.) Albert: Well, this is a fine job you’ve done on my car! Look at that radiator! Mabel : Listen, stupid, it’s all your own fault. You bumped into me. Albert: Where did you learn to drive, anyway? You don’t know one signal from another. As drivers you women would make swell cook- ie pushers. Mabel: Is that so? Well, you men don’t know what a brake pedal is for. I suppose you think it’s to scrape the mud off your feet when you enter the car. Officer breaks in : Here, here, what’s going on here? Well, young man, it looks as if you bumped into her. Suppose you tell the story. Albert: Well, officer, she signals for a left turn, then turns right. I didn’t have time to use the brakes ; she cut right in in front of me. Officer: Well, suppose you give me your names and come along with me. (Mabel and Albert pro- duce licenses. Officer writes in book.) Miss Mabel Chambers, Long Island . . . and Mr. Albert Lang- maid, Ipswich, Mass. Well, come along you two. Mabel: Say, wait a minute. You- ’re not the Albert Langmaid that graduated when I did in 1937 ? Albert: That’s it now. I remem- ber you. Good old Mabel Chambers who never spoke very often but when she did — wow ! I didn’t rec- ognize you for an instant with your hair fixed differently, and you must have been on a diet. What are you doing? Mabel: Oh I’m (Officer breaks in) : Say, while you two are recognizing everyone around here, you might as well rec- ognize me. Both : Nate Love ! Albert: Sure. How are you now? Nate: Swell, just swell. I wish I could stay and talk with you a while but I’ve got to report. You two report inside a half an hour. See you later. Mabel : Well, it gives us a half an hour to talk over old times. Gee ! you’ve aged. Where’s all your hair gone ? Albert: Oh, that’s kind of gone with the wind, I guess. Mabel : What were you, out in a storm and the wind blew away your tepee ? Albert: Tepee? You mean tou- pee don’t you ? No, I guess the hair just gradually wore away. But what are you doing at present? Mabel : Oh, I’m running a pup- pet theatre in New York. I’m in Boston taking a course in puppetry. Whom do you suppose I bumped in- to in the Public Gardens? Mildred O’Malley, and was I surprised when 31