Mansfield High School - Hornet / Green Years Yearbook (Mansfield, MA)

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rophecy BY Epwarp NIELSEN When I applied for a position as reporter for the Associated Press, I never dreamed that I should be sent to Brazil. Some exotic island in the South Seas, where life is not too strenuous, would have been more to my taste. But here I was in Rio de Janeiro with plenty of work to do and the temperature steadily rising. Realizing that I could not change the weather, I leaned back into the path of the electric fan and started to sort the huge pile of news reports which had collected during the night. My mind was not on my task, however, because at any minute I expected to receive a cable notifying me of the date of my vacation. “Business before pleasure,’ I told myself firmly, as I started my work. After glancing through several reports, I noticed that the foreign bulletins contained names which sounded unusually familiar. “London, England, May 9, 1951: Lady Shirley Williamson, American-born peeress, is the third woman member of the British Parliament. ... New York, U.S.A., May 9, 1951: Patsy Flammia, noted artist, has just won the Wright Medal, donated by the retired Wall Street broker, C. D. Wright. Flammia’s canvas entitled “The Smoke House on South Main” was best in its field in the recent art contest held in New York. . . . Belgian Congo, May 9, 1951: Betty Cahill and Angelina Bernardo, the diminutive explorers, have just returned to civilization after three years in Darkest Africa, where they have been held captive by a tribe of pygmies. . . . Dover, England, May 9, 1951: Anna McKee, famous American swimmer, has just conquered the English Channel. . . . Los Angeles, U.S.A., May 9, 1951: Weldon Britton, who flew his plane, The Jute Box, upside down, from New York to California, completed the trip in fourteen hours. He told the reporters that he expected his feat would revolutionize air transportation. “Tt must be the heat,’ I murmured, as I dazedly mopped my brow. ‘How could I forget that all these famous people were once members of my own high school class!’ Then a sudden thought came to me. Why not spend my vacation searching for the other members of ’41? The buzzer on my desk rudely interrupted my day-dreaming. I snapped the switch and heard Helen Rathbun, my secretary, say that my long-awaited cablegram had arrived. In my hurry to get to my hotel and pack, I almost bowled over Ruth Nickerson, the receptionist, and Helen O'Donnell, operator of the teletype. Only after I had hastily packed my grip, did I realize that the Pan-American Clipper Ship would not leave for several hours. As the movie house was the only cool place in the city, I dropped in. Imagine my surprise when I saw in the Pathé News Don Hill, successor to Willie Hoppe, the billiard champion. Next, Alfred Cipriani appeared, racing his Red Runner on the salt flats of Utah in an attempt to make a new speed record. I applauded loudly when Eda Menga, my favorite lyric soprano, showed her attractive smile in the previews for the coming week. Then the first picture flashed on the screen. To my utter amazement, Herbert Rolls was playing the part of Carson Jones, the hard-riding hero, with Hope Sherman in the cowgirl’s role. The audience, composed mostly of South Americans, liked the picture immensely. The main feature showed Robert Brutcher as the bold, domineering hero trying to protect Helen Shea, a shy, quiet, little Irish colleen. And who was the villain? None other than Guido Leonelli, who eventually turned out to be a gentleman well disguised. “How typical of the pictures directed by Robert Chambers,’ I thought to myself. 23

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To Adrian Ringuette, Betty Cahill leaves her habitual nonchalance and her slogan: “Happy I am; from care I am free. Why can’t the whole world be contented like me?” Ruth Nickerson and Eleanor Agnew leave their perfect attendance records to Etta Wellman. Weldon Britton leaves his reserved seat in Attleboro’s famous Ice Cream Shop, popularly known as Wolf Hollow, to Alfred Peterson. Al Scatolini leaves his “personality” smile to Dunda Vickery. Scat’s philosophy has been, ““A smile for every fellow, and two for every girl.” In witness whereof, we, the Class of 1941 of the Mansfield High School, hereby set our hand and seal to this our will, the seventeenth of June, one thousand nine hundred and forty-one A. D. Witnesses : Brenda and Corbina Elsie the Cow 22

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As the picture drew to a close, I hurried to my hotel to wake up my continually sleeping photographer, Edgar Vernon. Together we headed for the airport. Approaching the plane, we almost bumped into Berriard Gegenheimer, our pilot, who asked why we were returning to the States. I explained that I was going to Mansfield to look over the once familiar town, and that Chum was to spend his vacation at the Downy Mattress Company, testing the comfort of its famous product. As I sat down in one of the seats of the plane, I almost crushed a wiry, tanned little fellow whom I immediately recognized as Stanley Bourne. He told me that he had just returned from a trip to Borneo, where he had been teaching the natives the manly art of self-defense. While relating his adventures, Stan dozed off and not wanti ng to deprive him of his sleep, I quietly asked the stewardess, Mary ‘Tessier, for a book or magazine to read. She obliged by giving me a copy of the new periodical Freedom edited by Ruth Brown. Some of the articles were very interesting, such as Gertrude Graham’s “Quiet,” written while the author was all alone on a desert island, and a short essay on television by Virginia Richardson, who had succeeded in transposing a few stage shows into television playlets. A regular feature of the magazine was Shirley La Har’s page on “Feminine Attire.’’ Shirley had become famous by her efforts to shift the world fashion center from Par is to Mansfield. After getting off the plane and checking my baggage, I met Eddy Rockwood, manager of the Boston office of the Associated Press. To my delight he was able to give me some information about several of my classmates. I learned that Frances Navitsky had started a new aquarium in Boston and that Helen Manson had contributed several specimens of deep sea fish to Frances’s project. Eddy was quite disturbed because his favorite secretary, Catherine Faria, while visiting the aquarium, had fallen into a tank of electric eels and was now in the hospital recovering from shock. After saying good-bye to Eddy, I climbed aboard the express for Mansfield. As I arrived after dark, I decided to spend the night at The Tavern and get up early the next morning to tour the town. Our local hotel had changed management again. This time it had been bought by Margaret Moore, who had transformed it into an old-fashioned inn. The next morning I rose, went out, and hailed a taxi driven by Arthur McKay. Art was quite sulky because he had just received a ticket for illegal parking from Chief of Police, Walther Jellinek, and was on his way to the Junior Chamber of Commerce to see if Bartlett Bolton, the chairman, could fix it up. Nevertheless, [I persuaded him to drive me around first. From sheer force of habit, we headed for the high school. McKay, however, instead of proceeding down North Main, turned up Church Street. Imagine my delight when on approaching Memorial Park, I spied a magnificent building, which turned out to be the new Mansfield High School. McKay told me that it had been designed by Richard Phelps, a noted architect, and that the interior had been decorated by Claudine Scaldini, who had indeed made it the school beautiful. Knowing that McKay was anxious to get his ticket fixed, I said good-bye to him and walked towards the impressive main entrance. In the principal’s office, | came upon James Ingram, pouring over one of George Bearcovitch’s ‘“Super-simplified Dictionaries.’ Surprised to see me, he abandoned his research and proceeded to show me about the school. In the completely outfitted lab, Paul Klenk and his technician, Eleanor Agnew, were trying to invent an explosive, which Ingram feared would some day demolish the building. I reassured him as well as I could, but in my heart I thought he had reason to worry. I remembered that Paul always did like to experiment with mysterious concoctions, sometimes with amazing results. Several other members of ’41 were on the high school faculty. Ruth Sanford was teaching stenography in a huge glass-enclosed room resembling in every detail a modern office. In the gym, Pat Sullivan was trying to put some young high school girls through their paces, while out in the athletic field, Coach Albert Scatolini was moaning over his green material at baseball practice. Scat and I had a long 24