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

Page 12 text:

10 THE SCREECH OWL 3 At length the trial was over and Hester, with a £ rin ’ Walked to her anxious father and said, Well, I guess I’m in.” And so began for Hester a busy and hectic career, And she soon began to wonder just what made her volunteer. 4 But this was no time for brooding, misgivings, or regrets, For most of her time was taken up in trying to learn her steps; Till one proud day when through the streets her regiment marched back, And way down deep within her, Hester knew she was a WAAC! Ethel Salonen, ' 46 . Abolition of Bo-Jo No doubt you’ll read this aah-er” story and then toss it aside in misbelief, but by the sev- neth son of a seventh son it is the honest truth. To begin with, this is the story of a cat — a wild buccaneer of feline — and to top it all off — a black one! Bo-Jo had a reputation as black as his glossy fur and a temper to boot. He had shown up one winter’s day in the Maine log- ging camp with trouble swinging on his whisk- ers. The cook hadn’t the heart, big, broad Swede that he was, to thrust him out; so Bo-Jo lingered on. During the winter he made a pest of himself, getting in everyone’s way, and by the spring thaw was pretty well disliked. Finally the loggers decided to get rid of him but — ohh — they hadn’t reckoned with Bo-Jo who was no ordinary cat. They tried chloro- forming, choking, drowning, but it was soon discovered that Bo-Jo had no intention of leav- ing this earth and still had a few of his lives left. The summer came, and Bo-Jo was still getting underfoot, depositing snakes, toads, and eels in various bunks, raiding the icebox, taking whatever struck his fancy, and keeping the hard working loggers awake at night with his eerie yowls. The week before the Fourth of July one of the loggers got an idea. The men began grin- ning and whispering to each other, and soon word was spread throughout the settlement of a grand celebration on the Fourth. The Great Day came and oh, what a feast was spread! Wrestling matches, races, etc., provided the amusement. Meanwhile Bo-Jo rested on his laurels, feasting on choice tidbits from the table, enduring all sorts of petting, and having a whale of a time. But all this was just a prelude to the climaxing event. At sundown two of the loggers carried Bo-Jo to the center of the field and announced the Abolition of Bo-Jo ! A stick of dynamite was tied to his quivering tail and the fuse lighted. The two men started to run, but Bo-Jo had no intention of allowing them to desert him, and, thinking it all a game, ran after them. The crowd scattered, and Bo-Jo streaked through the camp, the fuse sizzling away. What a predicament ! ! Then, as they circled a group of deserted shacks, one of the men stopped, grabbed Bo-Jo, flung him through the door of one of the sheds, slammed the door, and kept on running. He was ten feet from the spot when a violent explosion threw him to the ground, and when he dared peek, all that re- mained of the shack was a few splinters. Watch- ers, however, will swear to the fact that, arising from the ashes, a strange form was seen. Yes, it was Bo-Jo, his glossy fur now white. His ninth life gone, he was gently ascending toward a Cat’s Happy Hunting Ground, well populated with snakes and toads. As he passed slowly out of sight, the rough loggers silently removed their caps. Bo-Jo had been a worthy opponent. Helen Ketola, ’46. Our Hearts Were Young and Gay By Cornelia Otis Skinner and Emily Kimbrough This story took place about 1920 and the book was published in 1942. The action occurs in Canada, on the Atlantic, in England, and in France. Cornelia Otis Skinner and Emily Kimbrough weren’t quite in their twenties, when they under- took a voyage to Europe, unchaperoned. First of all, the Montcalm,” their ship, ran aground, but after a slight struggle they secured two passports on The Empress of France.” Here they had many hilarious adventures, begin- ning with Emily’s deck tennis. In this uproar- ious game she achieved nothing except to hit an English nobleman in the face.

Page 11 text:

THE SCREECH OWL 9 My Brother Was Born, or It Could Happen to Anyone By Raymond Wuorio Man’s best friend is his dog. Therefore, I write this stirring tribute to my brother, Herbert, dedicated to brotherhood and manhood, the lat- ter of which is connected in no way with my brother. To begin this tale we look back on The Wist- ful Wuorio Mansion on 1 Elm Street in May- nard, Massachusetts. To this humble home would soon come the stork on his bombing raid. My brother was one of the duds. It was the morning of June 17 and I lay in my bed sleeping. I was suddenly awakened by the dull thud of a baseball bat behind my left ear. When completely awake, I was told by my elder bro.ther of the birth of Herbert. Soft- ly the two of us crept to the door of my mother’s room to get a peek at the new arrival. He was lying in my mother’s arms, serenely aiming a shotgun at my father. At that moment my elder brother, Olavi, and I, christened him One-third of the Unholy Three.” One evening, a few years later, we had guests at our Wistful Mansion. After a friendly argu- ment, which my father lost, they decided to stay at our home over night. Where were they to sleep? It was my father who made the de- cision. After a twenty-five-cent bribe, maneu- vered by my brothers, he decided to have me vacate my bedroom. I started for my brother Herbert’s room. I looked in, and there he was, lying in his cradle, peacefully snoring like a buzz saw. I carefully put my bottle beside him and climbed in for a night’s sleep. I was thrown out on my ear immediately, minus the bottle. The cute little rascal was muscular! At the age of six Herbert entered school. Al- though he was well taught, he spent three- fourths of the school year in the principal’s office and the other one-fourth going to and from it. He also wore the Dunce’s Hat” so much his head grew in a cone shape. We then moved to our new home on Main Street. You should have seen our moving day procession. My father led with the bedroom set. He was followed by my mother, who had the kitchen table. Then came my elder brother with the dining room furniture. I tagged along after him with the parlor sofa, and my brother, Herbert, brought up in the rear, carrying the bills, mortgage, and family cat. While living at this residence, we two broke our Peace Agreement.” Nearly every day we had a fight. I had pity on him, however. I felt sorry. How he must have suffered while lovingly beating my brains out! It was here, also, that he learned to swim. One day, while swimming in Rockies” (Edi- tor’s note: Rockies” is the name given to a swimming pool in the Assabet River with the capacity of ten swimmers of average size, and one dog. ) that I challenged him to a swimming race. 1 started off slowly. He, however, got a quick start and was sure to slow down. He swam three laps after I had won the race and gone home. I remember one of the fights he had with gloves on. He danced out to the center of the ring. The bell rang and he was carried out. The bell rang again, and he danced out to the center of the ring. The bell rang and they carried him out. The bell rang again and we carried him to the center of the ring. He finally got into the high school, a Fat, Full-Fledged, Freshman Flop. During this time the nation observed Scrap Collection Week. Three times that week I had to go to the Scrap Collection Depot to identify him. He also has been turned in at four Waste Fat Collection Depots. I must now end my biography of my brother, Herbert Christian Wuorio, for I see that old gleam in his eye. Finis Hester Joins the WAACS 1 A gaudy banner, a roll of drums, and feminine hopes are high. The streets are crowded to the curb as the WAACS go marching by. Amid the throng a scrawny figure is captured by the spell; ’Tis none other than Hester, the daughter of Farmer Snell. 2 She turned to her sire and said, There’s some- thing this outfit lacks. I wonder if it could be me? I’m going to join the WAACS.” So we find Hester at the recruiting center, very much a-fluster, For to make such important decisions tcok all the courage she could muster.

Page 13 text:

THE SCREECH OWL 11 Finally their voyage across the ocean nearly at its end, Cornelia developed a case of measles, but with the help of Paul White and Joseph Aub, now distinguished Boston doctors, she was smuggled past the health examiners into Eng- land. In London they roomed at a place where you had to put copper coins into the hot water tank before you could get water. Poor Cornelia almost froze to death waiting for her friend to secure more coins for it. Also, their rabbit skin coats, voluminous enough to fit three people, created quite a riot at the Trocadero.” After that they left for France. Their first night there was restful, but in the morning they were astonished by a window washer, who kept poking his head in their window from time to time. At the station, Emily dropped her pocket- book down under the rails. The porter, suppos- edly risking his life procuring the things, was tipped by Emily generously. The only thing he couldn’t get from the rails was a fifty-franc note. After the train left he climbed down and got it for himself. Many other interesting and funny things hap- pened, including tango and dramatic lessons, and bedbug bites before an important date. Finally, after visits to the Ritz Bar, Notre Dame, and other places, this entertaining voyage came to an end. Our Hearts Were Young and Gay” is the most hilarious book Fve ever read. It would be the ideal story ot recommend to a person in a solemn mood, for it would quickly bring smiles to his face. The peculiar happenings of the voy- age blended with the wit of the author make a book well worth reading. Reviewed by Alice Syranen, ’45. Behind the Counter (Whew ! One minute of four ! Boy, was that close ! Am I dumb ! I rush around trying to get to work at four and everyone else just takes his time — even if it means getting in late!) May I help you? A large tube of Ipana tooth paste is thirty-nine cents . . . Have you an old tube? . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t sell you any toothpaste without getting an empty tube in return ; government regulations, you know. (I’ll bet she’s got two of three in her purse. Some people must think that we salesgirls are stupid — maybe we are — who knows? I won- der if that lady down at the end wants any- thing.) May I help you? ... A yellow rose bush? There isn’t one up here, but I’ll go down stairs and look. (Why doesn’t she take a red one? It’s just as pretty. Would I like to sit down on these stairs for a while! I don’t know why I wore high heels. My feet are always ready to fall off by nine o’clock.) Yes, I found a yellow one for you . . . The y’re only thirty-nine cents . . . Do you want me to wrap it up for you? . . . You’re just waiting for your husband? Oh, I’m sorry I bothered you. I thought you wanted to buy one. (Well of all the ( $ )’ people! What a nerve! As if I had time to waste on her! Next time she comes won’t wait on her. No sireeee ! ) May I help you ? . . . That’s twenty-eight cents all together . . . There’s a 10% government tax on all cosmetics . . . No, ten percent of twenty- five is two and one-half cents, which becomes three cents ... Yes, I know. With taxes, points, and all that we’ll all be crazy. (Mh-h-h-h. Quarter past eight. Just think. In an hour, maybe, I’ll be dancing with . Oh, I can hardly wait. I think this is go ing to be a nice social. Well, it should be; my class is running it. Oh dear, another customer ! ) Patricia Louka, ’44. Do You Know? What is so attractive about that creature that girls for months have been hunting? You know, that gruesome, slightly human animal called the male. Is it that German haircut” he has broken out with recently ? Or perhaps the voice which can soar from a twittering soprano to a deep bass in the same sentence? Then there’s an- other possibility — the uniform? Whatever the reason, the quiver that goes through a female at the sight of a handsome man in uniform is indescribable. The best example is Gracie Allen’s Beverly Hills Uplift Society Cheer,” which consists of a deep sigh when a man comes in view. Dis- illusionment is no obstacle. The girl seems to feel it is her heritage to carry on. The fact that defeat has been received at the hands of one is no reason to stop the attempts. (And we are