Maynard High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Maynard, MA)

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12 The Screech Owl had admitted his guilt. She went to Joe and asked for an explanation. To her astonishment, he declared he had not done it. ‘T con- fessed because I knew you did it, Myra. You were worried about me — and well, it was my fault, I guess.’’ She turned to leave the house — angry. But suddenly the telephone rang, and she stopped. Joe went to answer it, and something seemed to prompt her to come near. Oh, never would she forget the conversation. “Hello. Is this Joe? Well, Joe, this is Mr. Ronald. I believe that I have an apology to make. I should have known that you never would have taken the examination paper! The math teacher in the adjoining room just told me he borrowed it. I was not in when he called and he did not think that I would mind. I am sorry, and I shall try to make amends.” He did make amends. Joe did not even have to take the examination, and now they were graduating to- gether. “I said you were swell, Myra,” said Joe, a little peeved because she was not listening. But there was no time for the answer. The orchestra began playing the class song, and they walked down to- gether to receive their diplomas. The familiar words of the song reached their ears ! “and friendships that were strength- ened may be shattered now.” The End — S. Glickman, ’38. mu SUMMER HILL Just at the time when the mill whistle is about to blow, which is four o’clock, I like to be up high on top of Summer Hill where you can look down upon the town and the wind fans your face, driving away the heat. When you look down at the bottom of the hill, you can see the Assabet River slowly making its way to the sea. At times it seems to stop to get its breath before rushing over the slippery stones and rocky crevices. From the top of the hill there is a beautiful view of the surrounding country The verdure which covers the hillsides in the distance is colored a soft purple hue. The high pinnacle of the mill stands out against the sky as you make your way down the slope. Soon trees obscure your vision and you find yourself shut in by their branches. Summer Hill is not very high but it rolls along, making you think of a giant roller coaster. It is a splendid place to be when you are tired and want to get away from the noise and dust of the town. — Waino Williams, ’37. nk mu THE JONES BROTHERS Jack and Bill Jones were twins, identical in appearance, inseparable, and reputed to be the wildest boys ever raised in the conservative old town of Howell, Massachusetts. Henry Jones, their father, had been the first to build a home on the land adjoining the Howell Mansion, now oc- cupied by old David, a direct descen- dant of the pioneer who had founded Howell Plantation in 1636. Jack and Bill Jones did chores and errands at the Howell place and were always welcome. Old David said, “There’s a lot of good in those Jones boys. The only trouble with them is that they’ve a surplus of energy.” In school they were in hot water all the time, “licked” almost every day, kept at school after the others were dismissed, and called before the school committee on all sorts of charges. Irate neighbors called at the Jones house evenings to complain that Jack and Bill were riding their horses and cows, stealing fruit, vegetables, and farm wagons, breaking windows, and even “borrowing” roosters to fight for their amusement and returning them in sadly battered condition.

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The Screech Owl 11 tion and rest, two young people strolled side by side talking eagerly of their hopes and ambitions, while a very glum Sir James stalked silently along the trail behind them. He, for one, felt not at all the lure of the tropics. — J. MacPherson, ’40. TEN YEARS AGO, TODAY, AND TOMORROW On May 20, 1927, at 7 :52, an un- known mail pilot climbed into a silver monoplane at Roosevelt Field. The hopeful young man took the plane off very well considering the heavy load of fuel the craft was carrying. That fuel would be nearly all spent when the plane reached her destination — Paris ! The plane wasn’t equipped with radio, so it wasn’t heard from until people in Ireland and England re- ported seeing the Lone Eagle. Then it came out in the papers that “Lucky Lindy” had landed in Paris! This August an air race across the Atlantic is going to be held in honor of one Charles Augustus Lindbergh, the first man to fly the Atlantic solo and non-stop. Again in 1937, a few days prior to the Coronation of Britain’s new king, two men, Dick Merrill and Jack Lambie, took off in a sleek twin- engined transport ship for England. On board were photos of the Hinden- burg disaster. A few days later they took off from England bound for the United States carrying photos, news reels, etc., of the ceremony that held thousands agog all over the world — the Coronation. The first flight, the one in 1927, was to capture $25,000 prize money in a contest sponsored by a hotel proprie- tor, while the second one, that in 1937, was purely a commercial venture. Trans-oceanic flights are becoming so common that the public no longer raves about them. We are going to live to see the day when a plane will take off for Europe every day or so carrying a payload of passengers, mail, and express. Time certainly marches on. — Robert A. Veitch, ’39. THE EXAMINATION Part III Graduation — “as we leave you today, a strange feeling comes over us. We find our- selves unable to describe it. What are we to do — we, who suddenly find our- selves thrown out into an already- c rowded world ? Will we rise above the throng to become famous, or will we fall to be trodden upon by the same throng ? “We have laid the corner stone of our future here. Now our success de- pends upon you. Give us our chance. If we at first make mistakes, remem- ber that once you too erred. Be patient, teach us the right way, and we promise that some day you will be proud of each and every one of us.’’ A silence — then overwhelming ap- plause filled the auditorium as the valedictorian made her way to the empty seat beside a red-haired youth. “You were swell, Myra,’’ Joe whis- pered. But Myra did not respond. She was thinking of the examination one month ago. Clearly the events passed through her mind. When Joe called on the eve before the examination and asked her to ex- plain specific types of problems, her suspicion had been aroused. Joe al- ways was sure of himself, but never before was certainty so unwarranted. The examination paper was taken on the day before the exam. Myra could not help suspecting that Joe was the guilty person. All evidence had pointed to this fact. He needed the mark, he was confident he would get it, and he had gone back after his book when every one else had left the school. Then, to save Joe, she had con- fessed. But she was too late, as Joe

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The Screech Owl 13 Poor old Pa Jones pacified his neigh- bors, paid the damages, and had the sympathy of the whole townspeople for being burdened with such a pair of trouble-makers. Back in those days there was a firm making ale, which was nationally, yes, internationally known as the Jones Brothers, of Portsmouth, New Hamp- shire. Huge billboards began to appear on the landscape of New England, and one of the agents of this new form of advertising approached Old David Howell for permission to put up a sign on the hill back of the estate. Old David asked, “WhaPs going to be on the sign?” The agent replied, “Jones Brothers, of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.” Old David roared with laughter and said, “Put it up.” The huge sign was erected. In letters six feet high was JONES BROTHERS. “Of Portsmouth, New Hampshire” was in six- inch letters underneath. The sign stayed up. The Jones twins liked it very much and used to perch precariously on the top of it or sit with their backs against it to while away many hours of the summer days. 1917. War declared! Jack and Bill Jones were missing from Howell High School. Large for their age, they had enlisted, and poor old Pa Jones re- ceived official postcards notifying him that they had arrived safely overseas. The local newspaper had a lengthy article about the well-known Howell athletes, the Jones brothers, fighting bravely at the Front. That was the last the town of Howell heard of Jack and Bill Jones. Hi ❖ ❖ ❖ The steamer Almiranta was at anchor in the port of Caoe in the new- ly formed republic of the same name. Old David Howell and the Reverend Amos Adams, cruising for their health, decided to spend a few hours on terra firma. As the tender started. Captain Dean shouted, “Pve heard there’s a lot of unrest there, Mr. Howell, so re- turn to the tender at the first sign of trouble.” A native in military garb ap- proached and they followed him to the plaza or square which was located in a quadrangle of large white buildings. One by one, soldiers fell in behind them and they were soon ushered into an office where a man in officer’s uni- form was sitting behind a desk. “Your name, where from, your busi- ness?” snapped the officer in surpris- ingly good English. Old David protested at his rude manner but finally gave the informa- tion. The officer gave some orders to his men in his native tongue, then turned to David and said, “I’m Trezzo. You’ll be taken back in the country tonight and held for ransom. The churchman will return to the ship at sundown to tell your friends.” The detail of soldiers surrounded Old David and he was marched down a side street to a small abode hut and pushed inside. The only window in the room was beyond his reach and heavily barred. Old David was thoroughly dejected. Shorty after dark two soldiers brought some coarse food and water and placed it on an upturned basket in a corner near the window. A soft hiss at the window-grating attracted Old David’s attention. He went over below the window and whis- pered, “Who’s there?” “Friends,” came the whispered reply. Sounds of a scuffle outside, bodies hurled against the door, the lock gave away and two men in native uniform sprawled into the room. “To the ship!” they whispered, and Old David followed them into the wel- come night air. Across a field, down through a meadow, and to the ocean they ran. An old wooden shelter stood at the water’s edge. From this one of the soldiers dragged a row-boat and stood steadying it while Old David got in. Oars were in the row-locks, and a