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

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■I II ■! LITERARY. I II II The Light at Jagged Reefs It was one of those ancient structures, the type that is so old no one knew just when it was built or who built it. Crumbling slowly but surely, rock by rock, the Jagged Reefs Lighthouse still stood like a sentinel on guard perched precariously on a solid sheet of rock that jutted out of the ocean. It had been va- cated three years ago because the fishing smacks no longer brought their loads of fish to the small port of Harwich. Many tales had circulated among the super- stitious fisher folk about Jagged Reefs Light- house being haunted. Many times when a Nor’easter lashed the waves of the Atlantic into mighty sheets of water and turbulent whirl- pools, more than one fisherman had seen a light from Jagged Reefs flash on and off as if guiding mythical fishing smacks to their home port as it did in the days of old. This had been going on for many years, but the good fisher-folk were too easygoing and too superstitious to interfere with the supernatural. Then came the war, and the small coastal town became overnight a busy port with a large naval base. An expedition made up of a de- molition squad was sent out to investigate Jagged Reefs Lighthouse. Their orders were to demolish it and survey the small area of rocks to determine whether it could be of any further use in building a lookout tower. When the party was halfway to its destina- tion, a squall descended with a great rush on the small craft. Instantly the boat was tossed to and fro like a tiny match box caught and trapped in a giant whirlpool. All was lost, for the gale was too strong and the boat capsized and sank. Out from the depths of the ocean emerged one wretched survivor, who clung desperately to a piece of driftwood. In the distance through the torrential rain he could see faintly the Jagged Reefs Lighthouse looming gaunt and spectre-like above the tempest. With a final spurt of dying energy the lone survivor pushed on toward the reef. After a few min- utes of swimming against the strength of the waves, he attained his goal and pulled himself up with great effort onto rain-soaked rock, im mediately lapsing into an exhausted stupor. The storm let up and night descended. The lone man, still caught in the clutches of a death-like sleep, finally awoke. Too weak to move, he just lay there and gazed into the starry heavens as if thanking God for his de- liverance from such a horrible end as had befal- len his companions. A cold spray of salt water drenched him to the skin; he became chilled and numb from the cold. So, with waning strength, he turned on his stomach and commenced to crawl up the rock to the lighthouse. There would be shelter at least from the bone-chilling spray, if not from the biting cold. As he glanced toward the lighthouse, he realized it was the first time he had had a good look at the famed Jagged Reefs. It was constructed of gray fieldstone and banked with concrete. At intervals of about ten feet could be seen gaping holes that had been presumably at one time windows and at the very top was a huge circular, dome-like piece of which the roof had partly fallen away. When the waves crashed on the rocks, they threw a spray on the sides of the lighthouse, causing the stones to glisten in the pale moonlight. All this to- gether gave Jagged Reefs a very eerie appear- ance. The lone survivor was walking now, and he headed for the door that was slightly ajar, swinging back and forth with a creaking noise. Then it happened. Just as he started to push the door open, the whole reef was illuminated by a beam that blinked on and off in the lighthouse tower. The survivor drew back, alarmed by the sudden brilliance. He crouched down beside a boulder and watched the light as it cast its rays over the ocean. The poor wretch thought at first he was suffering from

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THE SCREECH OWL 9 less of any reasons, war materials must not be made by German manufacturers. Any diplo- matic troubles should be referred to the World Peace Committees that are formed. Complicated plans for an eternal peace may be necessary, but education, long the forgotten element in our history, can be the easy way out for improved world relations. Roger Compton, ’ 45 . The Road Back As peace is not far away, we must begin to prepare ourselves to receive our sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers who have gone through the horrors of war. It is not easy to greet a returned veteran who left whole and is return- ing physically disabled in some manner. The returning servicemen are eager to get home and begin peace-time jobs again and they need our whole-hearted help. It is up to the sweethearts, wives, and mothers to restore their self-confi- dence and set them on their feet. They feel self-conscious because of their battle scars, but it is our duty to show them that these do not matter and prepare them to help us build the world of the future, one in which there will be no w ' ars. Many here at home have lost loved ones, but these, too, should and must help our veterans to stand on their own feet once more. Gloria Novick, ' 48 . Youth Problem Today’s courts are filled with juvenile cases which result from the fact that parents who are working cannot give their children proper care and guidance. Many children are left at home to do as they please. Although they are ex- pected to take care of themselves, they roam the streets at night, gather at forbidden places, and come in at all hours. This results in lack of sleep, which produces a dull, sluggish feeling the next day. This is one of the principal reasons for poor school work. Many of the children involved in these cases never dreamed of being delinquents, yet that’s just what they are. Take Midge Larsen, for instance, whose story was a tragedy in itself but turned out to be one of the most fortunate things that ever happened. It began when Midge went along with the gang to the Star- light Club, a local roadhouse, for some clean, honest fun, which resulted in a police raid because the owner was selling liquor to minors. Midge, along with all of the others, spent that night under police protection. Next day at the trial they were questioned, and each was asked why he had gone to a place known to be watched by the law. The answers were all the same: They had nowhere else to go. They told the authorities that they had been wistfully dreaming of some sort of recreational center, but they had no idea how to go about getting one. After the trial the town’s leading citizens held a meeting in the judge’s chamber to see what could be done about organizing a teen-age canteen. Many suggestions were offered, and finally, after much serious discussion, it was de- cided that the best suggestions be taken up with representatives of the teens”. This was done, and in the next few days things started rolling. Everyone pitched- in, coming after school on week days and staying all day on Saturday. In two weeks the canteen was finished and the citi- zens of Redding, U. S. A., were proud of their newly-acquired recreation center. But, still more, they were proud of the fact that their court house was free of juvenile cases. Sophie Novick, ’ 48 .

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THE SCREECH OWL 11 hallucinations or feeling the after-effects of his recent experience. Surely he must be going insane, for he knew the lighthouse had been abandoned for years. Why then the mysterious light flashing on and off? In his weakened condition, did he dare investigate this myster- ious light or should he wait for a rescue party that was bound to arrive sooner or later? His thoughts were stopped short when he heard a voice, a very curt commanding voice, speaking in a foreign language. The startling realiza- tion came to him — it was the German language that he heard. There were Germans in the lighthouse, and they were sending code by the flashes of light from the tower. How many were there? Did he dare to capture them? There was a sudden thud as he slipped and fell on the slippery rock. It was so loud that the Germans overheard and came running out of the lighthouse, fourteen of them all told. As the lone survivor picked himself up, he grabbed for his gun, which he knew was useless because it had been soaked thoroughly by the salt water. When the Nazis saw a man coming toward them they raised their arms and yelled in broken English, Ve sarrender, kamerad!” The American, shocked to the extent of speech- lessness, just nodded his head in the direction of the nearby lighthouse. The Germans filed through the door and lined up against the wall. Evidently they thought they were going to be shot, for one young sailor yelled, Don’t kill us! Ve vill dell all! Ve surrender, ve your kamerad. The lone American just looked, gritted his teeth, and, keeping one eye plus his gun on the Germans, he commenced to search the room and the rest of the lighthouse. It was then he discovered that the Nazis were out of provisions and that they had mount- ed in the tower a powerful light run by small batteries collected from flashlights. Upon fur- ther questioning of one of the men, the Ameri- can learned that the Germans’ submarine had been hit about two years ago. The only sur- vivors were those he saw before him. They had been living in the Jagged Reefs Lighthouse ever since and subsisting on seagulls, fish, rain water, and what provisions they had managed to steal from the fishing village when they formed raiding parties and went ashore. On stormy nights the men turned the light on in the tower and flashed code out to sea, hoping that some German sub or ship would pick it up and rescue them. Just as the German finished his story, a whistle could be heard in the distance; it was a Coast Guard rescue ship in search of the Navy demolition squad. The lone survivor ordered one of the Germans to flash the tower light on. Upon seeing it, the rescue ship came to investigate and found the American sailor holding the Germans at bay with a useless gun. As in all happy endings, the hero, who was in this particular story the lone survivor, re- ceived a medal, and the mystery of the light at Jagged Reefs Lighthouse was solved. Shirley Bain, ’45 None But the Wandering Mind The door of the auditorium swung open and in we all flocked, spreading in all direc- tions in order to secure our places. Not par- ticular, of course! Just a certain row, certain seat (by the radiator where it’s warm), and by a certain friend. That’s not being too particu- lar now, is it? Whoops, somebody just dropped his books in this mad rush. Pick them up, fellers; its your duty. It’s a fast moving world, that’s sure. It seems that way right now anyway. Is everybody happy? Mr. Mullin has put up his hand, and an- nounced that the Lord’s Prayer and salute to the flag will open the daily exercises. It certainly has quieted down ! Mr. Mullin is now intro- ducing Doctor Butler from Boston University. He is a neat-looking man of about forty-five years, and has a gray suit on. It looks very good with his black hair. I can hear him dis- tinctly right now. He has a very good speak- ing voice. I’m laughing because everybody else is, I guess. Laugh and the world laughs with you. Say, does that proverb fit in there?