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

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THE SCREECH OWL 13 Finally the clerk came to me, looking ex- hausted after the ordeal. Cheer up, old man, I just want a pair of plain brown shoes in a size ten. I have been wearing that same style for twenty-five years. With a sigh of relief and thankfulness in his eyes, he left to get them. Marian Bell, ’ 45 . Hard-Boiled He made a forlorn figure standing there in the grey twilight. He paused wearily, looking back along the deserted road for signs of a car. His features lighted as the faint headlights of an approaching auto cut a golden swath into the fast-darkening night. Stepping into the road, he waved his thumb in the direction in which he had been walking . The car slid to a stop beside him and a voice asked, Going my way, bud. ” Yeah,” he answered, and in response to an invitation to hop in, he slid casually across the seat and slammed the door shut. The car started with a smooth whine of power and they rode in silence for about half a mile. The driver examined the expressionless face of his new-found companion in the light of the dash. He noted the worn garments, the shabby but clean shirt. He thought with amusement that somehow the hiker did not seem to wear his clothes but looked as though he were hiding in them, they were so large. A look at the face of the hitchhiker restrained him from men- tioning it. The driver decided to try another track. Where are you going. he asked. Marquisville. The hiker spoke without turning his head. Next town, isnt’ it. ” Yeah. Not very communicative, the driver thought. Have much trouble getting rides . The passenger turned and looked at him. Yeah. Most guys are kinda leary of pick- ing up hitchhikers. Scared they’ll get robbed. Something to that. I’m usually pretty care- ful, but you looked okay. Can’t tell by looks. Calmly. ’Course we usually pick out some guy with a swell buggy. In heaps like these there usually isn’t enough dough to make it worth while. Say, you sound like you go in for that sort of thing. I’m telling you now, I haven’t got enough cash on me to make it worth while. I’m just hardly getting along myself.” The hiker looked at him insolently. Take it easy, bud. Stickups aren’t my racket. The driver breathed somewhat easier again. Er — what is your racket. ’’ The calm blue eyes looked at him again. Questions like that ain’t exactly healthy, bud,” with accent on the next to the last word, but you look like a right guy, so I’ll tell you if you can keep your lip buttoned. Having been assured of this last statement, he went on. My name’s Reilly, Black Mike Reilly. I’m one of the Notlad boys. No.” The driver breathed his awe. I’ve heard of you.” Yes,” the hiker expanded, We’re the toughest mob east of Denver. We don ' t bother honest guys, though. We make our money from crooked politicians and racketeers who don’t dare squeal to the police.” Sort of like Robin Hood. ’’ the driver cut in. Robin Hood! That guy was a sap. Run- ning around with bows and arrows. Strictly small time. We’ve got a paralysis ray that’s quicker and easier. A paralysis ray, the driver said. Why, with that you could go in any bank. I said we don’t bother honest people. Right now we’re doing a little job with the F. B. I. We’re cleanin’ up sabatoors and spies. There’s a fifth columnist by the name of Curt Heyd- rich in Washington right now. He’s trying to overthrow the government. Masquerades as a big business man, but actually he’s an inter-

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12 THE SCREECH OWL You can make an excuse Or you cannot make an excuse; If you make an excuse, You still have two choices: You can make it good Or you cannot make it good ; If you do not make it good, You still have two choices: You can go to the office Or you cannot go to the office; If you go to the office. You still have two choices: You can be scolded Or you cannot be scolded ; If you are scolded. You still have two choices: You can make up the work Or you cannot make up the work ; If you do not make up the work. You still have two choices: You can be expelled Or you cannot be expelled; • If you are expelled. You still have two choices: You can be sad Or you cannot be sad; If jou are sad. You still have two choices: You can commit suicide Or you cannot commit suicide; If you commit suicide. You still have two choices. Helen Ketola, 46 . My Dream Boy Tall gruesome, with so very touseled locks, Baggy pants and wrinkled gaudy socks. Oversized jacket with shoulders thickly padded. Topped off with a large bow tie, flowered or plaided. Posture is atrocious — he’s very thin-looking, With quizzical looks as if to say, ’’What’s cooking?” But all of this is soon forgotten when he croons a tune I simply drop everything and swoon and swoon and swoon. Some scoff and call him a passing fad; When I hear this I feel quite sad, For even though he’s run-down and lanky I still think there is no one like ’’Frankie.” Shirley Bain, ’ 45 . Shoes Much has been written about the hats that the fair ladies of today wear. They have been laughed at, scoffed at, and criticized. But now would you be kind enough to stop staring at the odd creations on their heads and take a glance at what is on their feet? In his time Mr. Webster’s definition of a shoe was a low covering for the foot, usually made of leather. If he only knew how wrong he is today! Last week I happened to enter a shoe store to purchase a pair of men’s brown shoes, the same style I have worn for the last twenty-five years. The shop was quite crowded, so it was some time before I was waited on. The clerk was speaking to the young lady next to me. ’’May I help you?” ”I’d like to see a few of your styles please,” she answered sweetly. The salesman left and returned with these results — red ones, green ones, purple ones, blue ones, and brown ones. There were empty toes and heels, no straps, low straps, high straps, no sides, high heels, low heels, Cuban heels, French heels, baby toes, square toes. Dutch- toes, high insteps, low insteps, laced, or not. They were trimmed with bows, buckles, French pompoms, artificial fruit, vegetables and flowers, sequins, dishes, tassels. Loafers, oxfords, pumps, spectators, saddles, sandals, and wedgies were set before her. After considerable scrutinizing, I was horri- fied to see her choose a pair of red lizard shoes with an enormous bow.

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14 THE SCREECH OWL national spy-leader. He won’t last long with us on his tail.” Silence as the night deepened. What are you doing so far out in the coun- try at a little town like Marquisville. ” the driver wanted to know. The hiker answered, The government’s building a big new ammunition dump near there and I’m one of the boys sent down to keep an eye on it. There’s been a hint that Heyd- rich wants it blown up. There’s nothin’ worse than a skunk like that.” They were nearing the outskirts of Marquis- ville now. There was a small scattering of houses which thickened as they went on. As they approached a corner with a light on it, the hiker leaned forward to stare at the figure of a woman who was standing in the light anxiously looking for someone. Let me out here,” was the request. The car stopped and Mike Reilly got out and walked over toward the woman. She hurried to him, relief on her face. They joined hands and turned to go when the driver of the car called, Goodbye, Mike Reilly!” The woman hurried to the car. Do you know him. ” she asked. The answer was, Yes, Mike has told me quite a bit about himself.” She smiled. Mike is really a good boy and he usually doesn’t stay out this late. I think he reads too many of those detective comics for a boy of twelve. Thank you for bringing him home safely.” Richard Trench, ’44. ♦ Home Is Where You Hang Your Hat Since Ooley had a way of digging into papers and eating up news, it wasn’t very amazing that before long he had learned that the Capitol was now the trysting place of the highly edu- cated and learned. Partly to be conventional, but mostly to satisfy his roving foot, he began to make plans (secretly, of course) to go. Se- cretly, because any deviation from family tradi- tions would only incite cries of protest, and from the origin of his genealogical tree to the present time the Ooley homestead had revolved about Twin Orchards (now playfully dubbed the Ooley Family Trees.”) Thus when Ezra, the elderly and only hired man, was making preparations to set out for the daily mail, Ooley climbed into the market wagon (patriotically substituted for the former station wagon) and crawled under the heap of tarpaulin which had been placed there for a protection against sudden cloudbursts. Per custom, Ezra left the wagon just beyond the depot in the empty lot and began his errands. Ooley’s withdrawal from under his covering was slow and deliberate because he believed that discovery at this point would almost mean anni- hilation and he most certainly did not want his plans stamped out. Hence, Ooley fairly oozed from under the covering and made his way hurriedly to the express train at the depot. As the conductor’s back was turned, he stowed away in the baggage car, for he had previously planned to save his resources for the future. There the possibility of discovery was slight, as it was simple to move from behind one piece of luggage to another in case of intrusion. When the train arrived in Washington the next day, Ooley managed to creep off unseen and thanked Providence that his trip had been fairly successful, with merely the usual number of baggage disposals. In his search for temporary residence, his experiences were varied. At one time a check- ered cab passed a hair’s breadth away and the crowd so jostled him that he wriggled closer to the sides of the buildings and continued his quest in his unobtrusive manner. His hunger was satisfied at the push carts, an apple here, a peach there, a plum, etc. Along the way he saw that all rooming- houses and hotels had signs to the effect that there were no empty rooms. But then in an out-of-the-way district he found an ideal home. It was in an empty alley, away from the danger