Milford High School - Oak Lily and Ivy Yearbook (Milford, MA)

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OAK, LILY AND IVY VOL. XXXIII. MILFORD, MASS., NOV,, 1916. NO. 2. Published Monthly During the School Year by the Pupils of the Milford High School. Board of Editors : Editor-In-Chief, Beatrice L. Baitles, ’17. Assistant Lditoii, Helen Mead, ’17. Business Manager, .Joseph C. Bruce, ’17. Dorothy E. Lilley, ’17. Karl S. Roberts, ’18. Edmund T. Welch, ’17, Fred J. Niro, ’17. Catherine Burns, ’17. F. Elizabeth Hears, ’17 Katherine H. Lester, ’18. Elmer C. Nelson, ’18 Esther E. Haskard, ’18. Chester 0. Avery, ’18 Subscription Rates : For the year, 50 cents. Single copies, 10 cent ' s. Address all communications to Oak, Lily and Ivy, Milford, Mass. Entered at the Milford, Mass. Post Office, as second class matter. THE MUSIC MASTER. Outside it was clear and cold with a hint of snow in the air. The biting, penetrating wind painted ears and cheeks a rosy hue, and quickened the steps of the many pedestrians who thronged the streets. But Professor Michelini walked along slowly, unmindful of the cold or the passing crowds. On his thin, aesthetic face, with its classic Italian features and large beautiful eyes, was an expression of deep melancholy. Sad indeed were his reflections as he walked along. Constantly he thought of his unfinished Sonata. The professor felt himself growing old and he grieved for his lost youth, grieved also at the idea of departing without completing his masterpiece, in which he had put all the yearning and passion of his unloved, starved life. Sadly he walked along until his attention was arrested by strains of sweet music. His well trained ears in¬ stantly recognized the musical genius of the player. Impetuously he made his way through the crowd from the midst of which the sounds came. He halted in amazement at what he saw. Standing before him, violin on chin, was a boy with a face of the most wistful and striking beauty. His soft, velvety eyes were dim with emotion, his sensitive lips quivered with the passion of his play¬ ing. In an instant the Professor was by his side. “Boy”, he cried, “you are marvelous! Such a touch! Such power of ex¬ pression!” he drew a deep breath-“It is wonderful. Who taught you to play like that? Come boy, come with me. I must know more of you”, and shaking with excitement he led the bewildered boy away. All the way to his studio, the Professor plied his companion with questions. The youthful musician’s story was simple. “I am Paul Revierre”, he said. “My father was a great composer, but he

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97?iiford jffigh School ‘Directory. SCHOOL COMMI TT E E. George E. Stacy, Chairman. Dr. J. V. Gallagher, John E. Swift Alfred B. Cenedella, John C. Lynch, Charles W. Gould Superintendent, Almorin Orton Caswell. ALUMNI ASSOCIATION. Mrs. Mary F. Cahill, Pres., ‘92. Secretary, Ethelwyn Blake, ‘89 FACULTY. Principal, Christopher A. FitzGerald, Physics, Mathematics. Sub-Master, Francis C. Berry, Mathematics. M iss Mary B. Ford, Chemistry, Mathematics. Miss Inez L. Gay, Latin. Miss Marion A. Ryan, French, English. M iss Mary M. Fitzpatrick, English, History. M iss M ay E. Birmingham, Stenography, Typewriting, Bookkeeping, Commer¬ cial Law, Penmanship. M iss Hannah E. Callanan, English, History, Latin. Miss Margaret A. Pianca, German, French. Miss Catherine M Morrill, Bookkeeping, Commercial Arithmetic, Commercial Correspondence, Cost Accounting. Mi ss Florence M. Whittemore, Latin, Hi story Miss Anna C. Donlan, English, History. Miss Sadie A. O’Connell, English, History, Declamation. Miss Genevieve Tooiiey, Drawing. Miss Elizabeth McNamara, Music. SCHOOL PHYSICIANS. Dr. J. M. French, a Dr. J. Y. Gallagher ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION. President and Faculty Director, Christopher A. FitzGerald. Secretary, Dorothy Li 1 ley, ’IT, Executive Committee, Fred Niro, Frances Carter, Louis Calabrese. BASE BALL. Manager, James Dalton, ’17. Captain, Howard Hilton,’17 FOOT BALL TEAM. Manager, Spencer Carr, 17. Captain, Charles Vesperi, ’17 SENIOR CLASS. President, Charles Vesperi. Secretary, Esther M. Murray ice President, Dorothy E Lilley. Treasurer, Joseph C. Bruce

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4 OAK, LILY AND IVY. 0 was poor and his eyesight was weak. Then the doctor forbade his writing any more. Deprived of his chief source of income as well as the joy of his life he soon after died and left me an orphan. Since his death I have played in the streets. Generally people are kind. So you found me this afternoon. That is all.” The old man was radiant with joy. “So you have no one belonging to you. Then you shall be my proteg?, my son. You, with your wonderful youth and vitality shall bs the prop of my old age ! Together we shall finish my great Sonata! Here, take my violin, play as you never have before!” As the sweet notes vibrated through the lofty studi o, the excited old man beamed with joy. He leaned forward in his chair as if to drink in every dulcet note that fell frcm the skillful fingers of the player, and when it was finished he sank back and sobbed with happiness. “Soy, you are an artist, worthy even to play my great Sonata!” Thus Paul Revierre took up his abode in the shabby quarters of Professor M chelini and under his careful teaching, thrived and advanced in his beloved art. Paul’s presence seemed to have transformed the feeble old musician. His marvellous vitality and energy infused new life in the slender frame of the other. Together they worked on the Sonata. So the winter months passed and when Spring peeped forth in the budding trees and soft, exhilarating air,the work was completed and pronounced by the many critics who ca ne to the humble studio to hear it, a true masterpiece of technique and beauty. Then came the night when Paul was to play it for a select audience at a musicale given by a noted society leader. The spacious hall was dense with people, for the fame of the new compo¬ sition had spread. When Paul, glowing with pride, his handsome picturesque face flushed with joy, appeared upon the stage, there was a mighty burst of applause. Smiling and delighted, Paul bowed his thanks and sent a glance of overflowing bliss at the white-haired figure in the front row. As he lifted the bow and gently stroked the strings of his violin, there was deathly silence. Softly, sweetly, the weird music swelled through the room, now rising exultantly in rapturous transports of ecstacy, now throbbing with fierce bursts of passion, then, gradually becoming gentler and subdued, it moaned and sobbed and finally died away in one last quivering wail. The deafening applause that followed was immediate and sincere, for not a heart in that huge auditor¬ ium but was moved to its depths by the pathos and melancholy of the piece. Time after time, Paul re-appeared before the curtain, and when he appeared the last time, leading by the arm the feeble old Professor, the delight of the audi¬ ence could not be checked. Paul shortened the flattering reception which followed as much as possible, for he knew his aged foster father was in a state of dangerous excitement and wished to leave the heated, perfumed hall for the quiet of the studio. The ride home was made in silence, for both hearts were too full for words. When their chambers had been reached and Paul had installed the overjoyed Professor in a cozy armchair by the fireplace, the latter said wonderingly, “Please Paul, my son, play to me once again those exquisite notes I heard tonight. I never im-