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

Text from Pages 1 - 98 of the 1932 volume:

TRAVEL BY MOTOR COACH s v« ' ; SAVE TIME AND MONEY ■ . v ' ■ 1r, All the conveniences of the private automobile ' with none of the worries. ' a ' Coaches Rented — JOHNSON BUS LINES, Inc. Tel. 230 JOHN L. HUNTER, Traffic Manager Complimciitt of...... Compliments of. CURLEY’S LUNCH KING CLOTHING CO. a a Telephone 8699 mpliments of. EAST END GARAGE 48 MEDWAY ST. GENERAL AUTO REPAIRING P. BERTORELLI, Prop. 1. 945-W Residence 945-R Reasonable Rates ADVERTISING SECTION. 1 THE Compliments of, GLORIA CHAIN STORES, Inc. The The Store of Economy, Price and Quality ELDREDGE FLOWER SHOP Si 150 Main Street, Milford, Mass. 276 Main Street Special attention to Phone Orders Free Delivery. Tel. 1634 MILFORD, MASSACHUSETTS Tel. 920 Compliments of. Compliments of. LARKIN BROTHERS WILLIAM J. MOORE, Esq. STATE GARAGE Compliments of. Clark Shaughnesy, Props. Expert Repair Work Coal and Wood 1 Tires and Accessories Yard, Depot Sq., Milford, Mass. Tel. 900 Specialized Lubrication 45 Pearl Street, Tel. 504-M Compliments of...... 6 LARGE and 6 SMALL PIECES WASHED and IRONED Miss Alma E. Sweet for 54 cents Teacher of Pianoforte SHERMAN’S LAUNDRY 32 Exchange Street, Milford, Mass, 59 School Street, Milford, Mass Tel. 252 2 ADVERTISING SECTION. ( ■ -y Central Wall Paper and Paint Co. Compliments of. 35 Central Street, Milford, Mass. Tel. 1526 Compliments of. NELUGAN SQUARE FILLING STATION 176 East Main Street Milford, Mass. C. BALBONI, Prop. QUAUTY CAFETERIA THE EUTE Compliments of. MILLINERY Ladies and Children’s WEARING APPAREL SPECIALTY THE HOME LAUNDRY MILFORD, MASS. SHOP. 120 MAIN STREET MILFORD, MASSACHUSETTS Telephone 66 Good Washing Wins Goodwill” Compliments of. Compliments of..... Henry D. Barbadoro, Esq. Alfred B. Cenedella, Elsq. KNOWLES CHEVROLET, Inc. A Good Place to Trade STONE FURNITURE CO., School and Spruce Streets Inc. Milford, Mass. - Tel. 596 THE STORE OF LOW PRICES 80 Main Street aompltment0 of 2)r. flQiett ADVERTISING SECTION. 3 SCOTT’S FLOWER SHOPPE MRS. BERTHA SCOTT, Prop. Flowers for All Occasions Funeral Work a Specialty. We Deliver 117 Main Street, Milford, Mass. Telephone 15 “Service With a Smile” Compliments of. WYZAN BROS. Women’s Specialty Shop Milford SHAVERS EXPRESS Milford to Worcester Milford to Providence Milford to Boston Telephone Connection Compliments of. BEN LANCISI SON a NICHOLAS COSTRINO Rubber Heel King’ Shoe Repairing Endicott ' Johnson ' ' Shoes and Rubbers Shoe Shine 12 Exchange Street Milford Compliments of. South End Confectionery Frank J. (Cavanaugh Compliments of. J. P. Brown Compliments of. Madame Lebbossiere Roche Beauty Shoppe Established 1882 Tel. 332 G. M. BILLINGS GENERAL JOB PRINTING MILFORD, MASS. 21 Exchange Street, Milford, Mass. 4 ADVERTISING SECTION. jfanc Carnations for all Occasions at Howard s Greenhouses 150 South Main Street Haines and Foster Incorporated Compliments of. A FRIEND Authorized Sales and Service 46 Main Street, Milford, Mass. Telephone 1800 S. Mazzarelli Sons MACARONI MANUFACTURERS and BAKERS Telephone Connection 1 7 Genoa Ave., Milford, Mass. Established 1893 Herbert L. Kimball Telephone 423 MANNING’S SHOES DURA WEAR WELL BINDING COMPANY Compliments of. Library Binding in All Styles Dr. C. E. Whitney IS 1 34 High Street, Marlboro, Mass. MILFORD, MASSACHUSETTS ADVERTISING SECTION. 5 State Pharmacy LELAND CROSBY MORIN S STUDIO Half Price for Graduation Photographs 154 MAIN STREET MILFORD, MASS. ALHAMBRA RUBBER CO. Manufacturers of WATER PROOF CLOTHING IN ALL THE LATEST FABRICS AT FACTORY PRICES 125 Central Street, Milford Compliments of WILLIAM A. MURRAY, Esq. M. H. S. 1907 F. G. Kerr Monument Co. Successors to A. C. Kinney South Bow Street, Milford, Mtass. ALL KINDS OF CEMETERY WORK GRANITE and MARBLE MONUMENTS Tablets and Headstones Tel. 521-W Lettering a Specialty Peachy’s School of Music 244 Main Street Compliments of. A FRIEND 6 ADVERTISING SECTION. Compliments of Compliments of J. H. Perkins CAHILL’S NEWS AGENCY SUNNYSIDE SERVICE STATION Washington Block 206 Main Street, Milford, Mass. Compliments of JOHN F. DAMON Compliments of WERBER ROSE INCORPORATED sm SERVING THE BUSINESS NEEDS OF FRAMINGHAM AND SURROUNDING TOWNS AND CITIES FOR 30 YEARS FRAMINGHAM BUSINESS COLLEGE R. J. BRYANT, Principal Teaching of Gregg Shorthand and all Commercial! Subjects DAY AND EVENING SESSIONS Special 7 Week Sununer Course at $20.00—Supplies Included FALL TERM Starts September 6. Any person desiring to take our REGULAR GRADUATE COURSES may begin any Monday during the Summer instead of waiting until September 6. Write for Catalog, or if possible, visit the School. Office: Room 5, Concord Building, Framingham, Tel. 3476 Entrance, 100 CONCORD STREET We have a Free Employment Bureau for the benefit of all our Graduates and ' Students. Write for our Special Offer during June, July and August. ADVERTISING SECTION. 7 FREDERICK A. GOULD FOR Hardware, Plumbing and Suits, Corsets, Coats, Summer Gowns, Waists and Heating S upplies Sport Goods Go to 16-20 Exchange Street M. F. Green ' s Cloak Store Milford, - Mass. 200 Main Street, Milford, Mass. SHEA BROS. ARTHUR P. CLARRIDGE Meats and Provisions a General Contractor 280 Purchase Street 12 7 Main Street, Milford, Mass. MILFORD, MASSACHUSETTS William P. Clarke Compliments of. a BROCKTON SHOE STORE General Commercial Printing aoa Wedding Invitations, etc. Roll Tickets MILFORD DAILY NEWS a Elstablished 1887 Removed to 11 Fayette St., Milford The only Daily Paper in Milford and the only Advertising Medium for all this section of the State. Telephone Connection Sworn Circulation 4750 8 ADVERTISING SECTION. be Cbarlescraft l i ' ess 43 Exchange Street Books, Pamphlets, Commercial Printing, Color and Halftone Printing, Wedding Stationery, Finest Correspondence . Papers, Embossed and Engraved Work. Special—200 Sheets, 100 Envelopes, Printed in Blue or Black Ink, $1.00 ' This Book was Printed by TTbc Cbarlcectaft IPccse Checking Accounts Savings Accounts iy e Are Happiest Then It is a pleasure for us to have you consult us about any one of your financial problems. And if we are able to render you a service we are truly happy. Milford National Bank Trust Co. Trust Department Safe Deposit Boxes MILipORD. IVIASS, 1 5 7 Main Street FEATURING GOODIMATE and FAIRMOUNT SUITS AT $25.00 and $29.50 Smartly tailored and designed for Style and Value ADVERTISING SECTION. 9 Compliments of. Compliments of.,, ARCHER RUBBER CO. DR. R. E. ELLSWORTH sm Dentist Milford, - Mass. Milford, « Mass, Compliments of, , , HEITIN BROS. Tailors and Cleaners Milford, - Mass. Tel. 668 Tel. Conn. UMBERTO TOSTI Compliments of. CARPENTER and CONTRACTOR GORDONS All Kinds of Estimates Free FLORAL SHOPPE Tel. 1627 18 Mechanic Street, Milford, Mass. NIRO NIRO Compliments of. ELECTRIC HEATING AND MRS. SALLY SAFSTROM UGHTING CONTRACTORS MILFORD, MASS. Hardware, Wallpaper, Window Glass Home of Kyanize and Certain-teed Paint 67 MAIN STREET, MILFORD LESSARD BRIGHT Insurance and Real Estate Washington Block TRASK BROTHERS R. MARINO Dealers in High Class CYCLES and SUNDRIES Attendance Supervisor Agents for a EDISON PHONOGRAPHS and RADIOS 138 Main Street, Milford, Mass. Milford, - Mass, 10 ADVERTISING SECTION. Compliments of. John F. Rooney Company s General Contractors Milford, Massachusetts REYNOLDS’ MUSIC STORE Compliments of. Distributors of SCOTT’S MARKET Atwater Kent, Philco and Victor Radios 55 Grove Street, Milford, Mass. Gulbransen Pianos and Popular Sheet Music Compliments of. JOHN H. EGAN to 196 MAIN ST., MILFORD, MASS. THE CLASS OF 1932 Compliments of. Compliments of. Berkeley Textile Company DILLON BROS. 209 MAIN ST., Telephone 178-M Milford, - Mass. PAUL WILLIAMS Tel. 544-M Office Hours 8-12—1-5 Dr. H. Ellsworth Morse Optical Specialist Insurance Broker Suite 5, Thayer Building 219 Main Street, Milford, Mass. 4 Poplar Street Palace Barber Shop Experts in Ladies’ and Children’s Tel. 192-W Milford. Mass. Hair Cuts Michael DeLuca Henry Pillarella ADVERTISING SECTION. 11 AVERY WOODBURY COMPANY 212 to 214 Main Street, Milford, Mass. INTERIOR DECORATORS, HOUSE FURNISHERS, CUT GLASS SILVERWARE Seeds Paints Plumbing Tinsmithing H. S. Chadbourne Company TIMKIN Silent Automatic Oil Burners Sold •and Serviced Here HARDWARE MERCHANTS 228-230 Main Street John L. McTiernan Milford, Massachusetts Milford Savings Bank street, MUford, mh..- Open every business day from 9 A. M. to 3 P. M., except Saturday. Saturdays, 9 A. M. to 1 P. M. Deposits commence to draw interest on the TENTH DAY of Each Month. Dividends are payable on and after the Third Saturday April and October. Compliments of. SANITARY BARBER SHOP CORNER OF STATE THEATRE 3 Barbers—No Waiting 12 ADVERTISING SECTION. Compliments of. SMILEY BRADBURY Watches, Class Rings, Etc. S 226 Main Street, Milford, Mass. Compliments of. JOHN E. SWIFT, Esq. Compliments of. DR. EARL G. CROCKETT Dentist Milford, - Mass. Compliments of. CROWN CONFECTIONERY CO. 149 Main Street - Milford, Mass. INSURANCE THAT REALLY INSURES WALKER INSURANCE AGENCY AUSTIN J. PHILBIN, Prop. Compliments of. JOHN C. LYNCH, Esq. Milford, - Mas . LUIGI A. RECCHIUTO Manufacturer of I AUTOMOBILE and WAGON BODIES AUTOMOBILE PAINTING DUCO FINISH � 132 Central Street, Milford, Mass. Office Tel. 1054 Residence Tel. 1562 PERMANENT WAVING DE LUXE BEAUTY PARLOR Compliments of. LOUIS PRATT ADVERTISING SECTION. 13 H. O. RITZ South Main Street, Tel. 755 Moving, Trucking and Rigging THE STRAND 6 South Main Street, Tel. 755 Clean, Comfortable Rooms Compliments of. MARCOVITCH BROS. CENTRAL SUPER-SERVICE STATION Milford Uxbridge 860 5-3 Washing, Polishing, Simonizing Compliments of a CENEDELLA COMPANY a Milford, - Mass- Compliments of A. ROSENFELD Milford, Mass. Compliments of.... WENDELL WILLIAMS CHESTER F. WILLIAMS Compliments of. Thomas’ Hairdressing Room SHARKEY’S TAXIES Tel. 89-W MILFORD, MASS. Corner of State Theatre Can i? anb iflowers ANNIE LAWLESS STORE Flowers Tel. 372 Telegraphed Anywhere Compliments of. MICHAEL’S VARIETY STORE To The Class of 1932 MICHAEL D. lANZlTO, 111 Main Street, - Milford, Mass. 14 ADVERTISING SECTION. CRYSTAL SPA HELFAND’S 133 Main Street DRY GOODS STORE ROASTED FRANKFORTS 95 Main Street, Milford A SPECIALTY a WOONSOCKET MILL STORE Try our New Fountain Drinks 140 Main Street, Milford WILUAM J. DILLON Established 1877 Incorporated 1911 Groceries, Fruit, Ice Cream Confectionery 45 Depot Street Milford A. H. SWEET CO., Inc. Drugs, Medicines and Chemicals 5 Purchase Street, Milford, Mass. MUSIC FOR EVERY OCCASION Kidd Boots and the Rhythm Ramblers Peter Filosa, Manager, Tel. 1811-M Anthony Gareri, Director, Tel. 1138-J No. 213 MAIN STREET P. J. LAWLESS, President GEO. H. SWEET, Treasurer Prescriptions Carefully Compounded Phone 24662 Compliments of. HERBERT W. SHAW, D.D.S. UNDERWOOD Dentist a TYPEWRITER COMPANY MILFORD, - MASS. a ■-- - r ' ■ Standard, Noiseless and Portable H. L. SCHULTZ Typewriters Electric Company a a CHESTER R. CLARK 57 Pleasant Street, Worcester, Mass. 244 Main Street, Milford, Mass. ADVERTISING SECTION. 15 Miscoe Ginger Ale A Beverage of the Best Quality Manufactured Directly from Nature’s Pure Mineral Spring Water Try a bottle or a case. It is invigorating and refreshing. Note its snappy, pleasing taste. You will find it different from all others, be¬ cause of the fact of the high quality of the water and the ingredients used in its manufacture. ORDER A CASE FROM YOUR GROCER. MISCOE SPRING WATER COMPANY When you want a real drink, ask for Miscoe. MENDON, MASSACHUSETTS - Telephone 756-J Compliments of. INTERSTATE THEATRES MILFORD, MASS. STATE AND OPERA HOUSE 16 ADVERTISING SECTION. NORTHEASTERN UNIVERSITY DAY DIVISION THE SCHOOL OF BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION Co-operating with business firms, offers courses leading to the de¬ gree of Bachelor of Science in the following fields of business: Accounting Banking and Finance Business Management The Co-operative Plan of training enables the student to com¬ bine theory with two years of practice and makes it possible for him to earn his tuition and a part of his other school expenses. For catalog or any further information write to: NORTHEASTERN UNIVERSITY MILTON J. SCHLAGENHAUF, Director of Admissions Boston, Massachusetts SCHOOL OF ENGINEERING In co-operation with engineering firms, offers curricula leading to the Bachelor of Science de¬ gree in the following branches of engineering: Civil Engineering Mechanical Engineering Electrical Engineering Chemical Engineering Industrial Engineering VI , T o |“f ( A kI SENIORS—1932. THE OAK, IimY AHt) IVY VOL. XLVII. MILFORD, MASS., JUNE, 1932. No. 1. Published by the Pupils of the Milford High School. Under the Supervision of Miss Marion A. Ryan of the English Department. BOARD OF EDITORS. Editor-in-Chief—Eleanor H. Shaw, ’32. Business Manager—Annette S. Rivard, ’32. ASSOCIATE EDITORS. Theresa R. Consoletti, ’32. Wilbur J. Sweet, ’32. Edith F. French, ’32. Edmund J. Sullivan, ’32. J. Harvey Burford, ’32. ASSOCIATE BUSINESS MANAGERS. Doris I. Moore, ’32. Donald F. Bowen, ’32. Irene A. Parente, ’32. Bernard R. Marcus, ’32. Majc E. Rice, ’32. Business Management of this Magazine under the Supervision of Miss Lillian L. Egan of the Commercial Department. Single Copies, 15 cents. Address all communications to Oak, Lily and Ivy, Milford, Mass. EDITORIAL. THE NEED OF PHYSICAL EDUCATION. The general belief regarding the value of physical fitness, in relation to its effects on the mental condition of an individual, is the necessity of a sound body and a sound mind. It is true that one may attain a degree of mental development without due care to his health, but if in doing so, his physical welfare is ruined or seriously impaired, of what use would be such development? A weak, sickly body is not conducive to a happy existence. A person is more likely to be a burden to himself and to those about him. Yet in spite of these facts there are many who believe that the time and money used in our schools in furthering physical fitness are wasted, and that physical instruction might well be banished. The main reason for this attitude is a financial one. But how many educational advantages of worth and value can be had with little or no cost to a community? Most certainly physical education is worth more than the price we pay for it. Nothing can take the place of sound physical development acquired during the formative period of life, that is, before and during the years when we are attending High School. It is during this period that we lay 18 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. a foundation of physical and mental well being that extends through the most important years of our life. Correct physical habits formed during this time will be kept up in later life. Equally true, wrong physical habits, if not corrected at this early period, result in accomplishments far inferior to what might have been acquired. Our modern schools, fully equipped with gymnasium, swimming pool, athletic field, and other facilities, open to all students, is the best source of acquiring those fundamentals of physical health. No school is without some form of sports, ordinarily football and base¬ ball, so beneficial and enjoyable to the boy. The authorities often forget that the girls would also enjoy and benefit by sports of their own, as swim¬ ming, tennis, and basketball. One can usually tell if a boy or girl takes part in such activities. They develop alertness, strength, and correct posture, along with sportsmanship, fair play, loyalty, and self-reliance. Such quali¬ ties are always admired by everyone and are always to be desired. The student should be urged and taught to take care of his physical health. Without bodily soundness his mind becomes inactive and dull. Only suitable habits of diet and rest with proper exercise will keep one alert and efficient, and capable of giving his best to life mentally and spiritually. Let us hope that we may see physical education a part of the curriculum in all High Schools, whether compulsory or optional. Eleanor Shaw, ' 32. SALUTATORY. On behalf of the Class of 1932 I extend to you all a most cordial welcome. To-night, the eve of our graduation, marks the successful culmination of our high school career. For the sincere encouragement and co-operation of our teachers and the sacrifices of our parents we are indeed most grateful. THE AMERICA OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. America is this year commemorating the two-hundredth anniversary of the birth of her first President, George Washington, known to every school boy as the “Father of His Country.” It is most fitting, therefore, that the accomplishments of this great man be recalled to the minds ofi us who have inherited the marvelous institutions and fine traditions of a country whose very Constitution is built on a foundation of liberty. It is likewise most proper that the conditions of our land in which Washington lived and attained the deeds of greatness we remember him by, be reviewed in order that due credit and honor may be bestowed upon him. England, with other nations of Europe, early established a colonial em¬ pire in America. Less than two hundred years after the first settlement was made, these same colonies were engaged in a mighty Revolution with their mother country, which had oppressed them. Success was theirs, and with the historical surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown on October 19, 1781, these colonies or states became free and independent. But conditions in America in the eighteenth century were vastly differ¬ ent from those in America to-day. When the Revolution began, delegates from the several states met in a body called the Continental Congress. This THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 19 group raised an army, issued paper money, borrowed gold, and conducted the war. In reality it had no power at all but, under pressure of war, its de¬ mands were readily acceded to by those who were fighting for the one com¬ mon end—freedom. Soon need was felt for some sort of union, and the Articles of Confeder¬ ation were drawn up. Congress ratified them in November of 1877, but they were not accepted by all the states until the Revolution was nearly over. Under the Articles of Confederation the states were all-powerful. Each state sent not less than two nor more than seven delegates to Congress, and each state had one vote. These delegates were paid by the states and might be recalled at any time. It was further necessary for nine states to favor a law before it could be passed. According to the Articles, Congress was given the right to establish post offices, and make treaties, but it had no power to appropriate money to carry out these great enterprises. It could merely recommend the amount of money that each state ought to pay toward carrying on the government, and many states refused to grant the money requested of them. When the Revolution ended, conditions became worse. The army remained unpaid, interest accrued on debts contracted with foreign nations during the war, and many people became discontented. Enmity arose between the sev¬ eral states because of trade conditions, and there was even the possibility of civil war breaking out. Something had to be done; consequently a plan for holding a convention was suggested in 1787. It met in Philadelphia in May, and Washington was selected to preside over the meetings. This Constitutional Convention, as it was called, had met to revise the old confederation, but there was talk of establishing a new government in which the nation, rather than the re¬ spective states, should be supreme. Two plans of great importance were submitted to the Convention; name¬ ly, those of Virginia and New Jersey. Both agreed that the new government should consist of the three independent departments of the legislature, execu¬ tive, and judiciary. The plans differed in that the one proposed by Virginia recommended proportional representation in the legislature, while the one submitted by New Jersey favored equal representation for each state. A compromise was agreed upon in which Congress was to consist of two houses, one of Representatives and one of Senators, exactly as it does today. Many other important arguments were settled during four months of discussion, and the Constitution was finally adopted and sent by Congress to the states for their approval or rejection. More than the necessary nine states ratified the Constitution, and it became the supreme law of the land. George Washington was unanimously elected President of the new union and John Adams, Vice-President. Thus our land of freedom was born. The country over which Washington was called to preside in 1789 was vastly different from our United States of to-day. It was a third-rate power, inferior in population and wealth to Holland, for example, and nearly on the level with Portugal and Denmark. Her population, numbering approximately four million, was sparsely scattered between the Alleghenies and the Atlantic Ocean. Few more than one hundred thousand pioneers had ventured to set¬ tle west of these mountains in the land which now comprises the states of Tennessee, Kentucky, and Ohio, for that region was then wild, forest country. They had followed Daniel Boone and John Sevier, hardy frontiersmen who had explored the country, and were chiefly of Scotch-Irish stock from Vir¬ ginia and North Carolina. In the East, the population consisted mainly of English, Dutch, French, Scotch, and Irish. The seven hundred thousand 20 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. slaves in the United States then lived, for the most part, in the states of the South. It is further surprising to note that there were only four or five towns which deserved the name of city. Philadelphia, the capital of the Confederation, though the largest, had but forty-two thousand inhabitants, and New York had less. Charleston and Baltimore ranked next in popular tion. America in the time of Washington was not a land of factories, as it is to-day, but was covered with luxuriant forests and scattered farms. Approximately ninety percent of the people engaged in agriculture, and fish¬ ing and shipping were the only industries of much importance. Little manu¬ facturing was done as can be readily seen by a report of our first Secretary of Treasury, who found it impossible to enumerate more than seventeen in¬ dustries which had made much progress. Among these were the manufacture of iron, leather, pottery, textiles, tools, and hardware. But there was a ready market for our foodstuffs in foreign lands, where we made exchanges for manufactured goods. Facilities for travel were poor in the latter part of the eighteenth century. There were few good roads and the vehicles of transportation, the horse, stage coach, and river boat, were slow and uncomfortable. But ex¬ periments were being made with queer contraptions which later developed into the steamboat and automobile. When Washington became President of our country, wealth was quite evenly distributed, much more so than to-day. There was, however, an aris¬ tocratic class, but there was no such wide gulf between the rich and poor that exists now. Nevertheless, one institution flourished in the United States that was the curse of all society—slavery. It was introduced soon after the first settlements were made and had continued with increasing popularity until the Civil War. Its effect on our nation was so tremendous that it al¬ most resulted in the breakup of the union. One can readily see from this brief resume of conditions that life af¬ forded in the eighteenth century no great luxury or unusual opportunity for advancement. Washington’s achievements under the existing conditions should, therefore, serve as a powerful incentive to American youth of to-day. Wilbur Sweet, ’32u MOTHER. Who makes the world seem sweet and bright? Who makes you happy when things aren’t right? Who tends you when you’re sick and blue? Who mends your clothes and always helps you? Who never complains that things aren’t right? Who makes you feel like staying home at night? Who makes your dreary life worth living? Who never tires from giving and giving? Who always is so happy and gay? Who does her work from day to day? Why it’s Mother, of course. Irene Parente, ’32. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 21 SHOE! STORIES LIKE FATHER LIKE SON? John Hadley bit his lip and turned the radio off in disgust, while mut¬ tering again and again, “Twenty-six to zero.” He then crossed the room rapidly and peered out over the campus. Already fires had started, students were yelling, and even the college authorities joined in the celebration. John Hadley stood at the window a few moments gazing at the throng of students, yet not seeming to notice them. He laughed harshly, this young Senior did, and looked at his wrist watch: it was quarter to seven. The game was over at five o’clock and allowing the football players two hours to go from Chicago to North Bend, they ought to arrive at the university any moment now. That meant he would have to greet his room mate with some show of enthusiasm. Yes, John “Curly” Ogden, his room-mate and the greatest athlete Mid-Western University ever had. Phi Beta Kappa man, president of the class, and most popular man in the college, would soon be here. Everybody marvelled at the odd union between these two, “Curly” Ogden, the great athlete, and John Hadley, the class grind. Hadley with his horn-rimmed glasses, valedictorian of his class and the professor’s ideal student. He had won all the scholastic prizes since his freshman year and was rated by the faculty as an exceptional scholar. Yet he was dissatisfied. He told himself as he stood in that room alone that he ought to be happy. Had not his friend and room-mate run through the whole California team at random, that afternoon? Was he not proclaimed by the radio announcer as a super man? Was he not mentioned on every all American team as the outstanding halfback of the year? Was not his name written boldly on every front page in the country as the hero of the game? Yes indeed, he ought to be happy and out there celebrating with the other students. He put on his coat, and started for the door, when it suddenly opened and in walked “Curly” wearing a broad grin. He threw his luggage on the floor and immediately buried himself in an easy chair. “Whew! This is some relief after that weary ride,” he breathed with half-shut eyes. “ ‘Curly,’ that was some game. You were great,” said John quietly. “Nonsense,” “Curly” wearily replied. “You mean the boys were great.” 22 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. John eyed him keenly. “Curly” was always like that, shifting the praise to some one else. He noticed that “Curly” was none the worse for that terrific game he had played that afternoon, and he looked the athlete that he was. He was six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and in splendid condition. His chocolate-colored hair was curly, while his eyes were blue. His face was tanned and in a way, good-looking. But it was his hair that caught your eye. With one hand he pushed it back from his forehead, as if from habit, and then leaned back comfortably in his chair and closed his tired eyes in contentment; but his hair stubbornly refused to stay back and re¬ sumed the same position as before. “Too bad you couldn’t make the trip,” continued “Curly.” “There were 110,000 people at the game.” “Yes, I know,” answered John quietly. “I listened in, but I couldn’t have made the game on time because I had that Math exam at one o’clock.” “Curly” nodded and said, “I forgot about that exam and I expected to see you between the halves. Anyway, the game’s over now, and it doesn’t matter.” With these words he rose and approached the window, hiding behind the curtain so no one could see him. “So the whole college won’t come up,” he explained as John smiled. “The boys are sure cutting up tonight,” continued “Curly,” “but I am kind of tired and I think I’ll hit the hay. Good night, John.” “Good night,” John replied. “I think I’ll go out for a while.” He slammed the door and “Curly” heard his familiar footsteps resounding down the hall; then another door slammed and all was quiet. “Curly,” after the excitement of the day, found it difficult to sleep. The image of John Hadley with his horn-rimmed glasses seemed to keep him awake. Yes, John was a queer fellow, there was no denying that; but John was his friend. Ever since that day four years ago when they were thrown together by accident into the same room, they had been friends. But when he began to think of John, he realized how little he knew of him, except as the class grind. “Curly” himself had managed to keep well up in the middle of the class in studies, but could not compete with John. He knew this, and, in spite of his athletic prowess, was not altogether satisfied. However, what could he do about it? Reaching the point of mental, as well as physical exhaustion, he fell asleep. The following June they both were graduated. At commencement it was the same old story to both of them. John, capturing all the scholastic prizes, remained alone, while “Curly,” winning all the applause, was always sur¬ rounded by a group of admirers of both sexes. Yet both were dissatisfied, and as usual said nothing of it to each other. Twenty-five years later, John Hadley was a successful writer of New York, was married and had one boy and a girl. The boy was a Senior at Mid-Western. “Curly” Ogden was a successful architect at Chicago. He also was married and had two girls and one boy. The boy was a Senior at Mid- Western, too. In fact, the boys roomed together just as their fathers had done before them. It was nearing June, and both fathers meant to be present at gradua- tion. In New York, John Hadley was telling his wife how surprised and hurt ‘ Curly” must be because his, John Hadley’s, son was president of his class. Phi Beta Kappa man, and the most popular all-American athlete in college, while “Curly’s” son couldn’t even make the football team. THE OAK, LILY A ND IVY. 23 “Curly” Ogden was also getting ready to go to North Bend and he was telling his wife how sorrowful John must be, for his son was barely pass¬ ing and couldn’t win even one scholarship his whole four years. But “Curly’s” son was valedictorian of his class, had won all the scholastic prizes, and had showed up John’s son to perfection. That night two trains were bound for North Bend, one from New York, the other from Chicago, and within each, a middle-aged man was happy and content. William Murray, Jr., ’32. FREDDIE GETS THE BREAKS. Freddie leaned over to unbuckle the straps of his snowshoes. Straight up the mountain the long line of poles climbed toward the sky. Somewhere ahead lay the trouble Fred was to find and repair. Fred was the “trouble shooter” in block three of the telephone line. His block extended fifteen miles east and west from “Pleasant Grove,” as he had named his shack. In the winter the snow lay deep in the lonely mountains, and he had to walk the distance on snowshoes. Fred had faced disappointment, and up to this time the breaks had all been against him. He had hoped to get enough money to complete his ath¬ letic training. He leaned his snowshoes against the test pole and shook the snow from the spikes of his climbers. At the top of the pole, he unstrapped his safety belt, passed it around the pole, made it fast, setting the spikes of his climbers firmly into the soft wood. Connecting the test set, a light portable telephone, he rang. He recognized the answering voice as that of George Perkins, the wire chief. “What are you doing on the line?” Fred demanded. “I’m trying to get the test board.” “I’ve got an eagle eye on you!” “Eagle eye!” Fred hooted into the frost covered mouthpiece. “You central office guys ought to get out and get some fresh air.” “Say, Fred!” Perkins’ voice grew serious. “I’ve got a message for you. The coach from college was in here Saturday, and he says if you can enter the second semester, you’ll still be eligible to make the baseball team.” “That’s white of him,” replied Fred; “but I can’t make it. Financial depression. I’d have to have at least five hundred dollars more than I can save out of my salary as a rusty wire twister.” “Wish I had the money, Fred. I’d see you through. You’ve got a radio at your shack. Did you hear that talk last night on ‘Getting the Breaks’? Keep trying. Maybe something will break . . .” “Keep still or something’ll break that you’re not looking for!” Fred interrupted. “I’ve been trying to forget it all day. Get off the line and let me call the test board before I freeze to death.” There was a click as Perkins broke the connection. Fred rang again and the long distance operator, seventy-five miles away, answered. “Test board, please!” was his request. “Test board!” sounded the mechanically toned voice of the test board operator. 24 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. “Trouble shooter talking on pole 4639,’ ' Fred reported, “Your trouble measures eighty-three miles from here, and you have about five miles to go. Can you make it before dark?” “Yes, but I’ll have to go home after dark. You office guys have a nice warm snap. How’d you like to be roosting on a pole up here in the hills with the mercury around zero and going down?” “I’d rather have a job that takes brains—like this one.” “Says you? How come you get it?” With this Freddie loosened the safety belt, and descended the pole. He retrieved his snowshoes and buckled the binding straps that held them across his ankles. A mile further he stopped to examine some tracks in the snow. “If those aren’t wolf tracks, you can fan me with a brick! Too big for coyotes. Fresh tracks too. I’m mighty glad they’re in front of me and going the same way I am, and I hope they keep traveling fast.” At the next pole he rechecked with Perkins, who gave him the news that Williams, trouble shooter in an adjoining block, had seen wolf tracks the day before. Fred replied that he had followed their trail about a mile, and much to his relief found it veered off up a canyon, but that he had his gun if they did come back. Fred soon was on the trail again and towards five o’clock he was within view of the mountain top where he was to detect the trouble. As he drew closer to his destination, suddenly he stopped. On the trail under the telephone wires were several black specks moving slowly up the mountain toward him. He guessed that they were wolves and as he watched them, a long low howl verified his opinion—the hungry cry he judged it to be, from talk he’d heard from hunters and trappers regarding wolves and their habits. Between him and the pack was the crossed-out pair of wires, six poles down the line from where he stood. The pack was twelve or thirteen poles beyond the trouble. Another bad break,” he muttered, stooping at the foot of the nearest pole to unloosen the straps of his snowshoes. The wolves had not seen him, and if he remained quietly hugging the cross arms, there was every chance that they would pass beneath him. and never see him. But at the leisurely gait at which they were travelling, stopping to make little excursions of investigation off the trail, it might be an hour before they passed beyond view of him over the mountain. “No!” he muttered, jerking the buckle tight and straightening it. “That trouble’s got to be cleared, and by the time they’re gone, it’ll be too dark to see it. Im going to fix it first!” He ran towards the pole whef e he was to repair the trouble. The leader of the pack caught sight of him and gave utterance to a joyous howl, the others joining the chorus, and with great leaps and bounds they came pouring down the trail toward Fred, who, with snowshoes on, raced headlong towards the wolves. Which would reach the pole first— the wolves sensing supper for their slavering jaws, or Fred, to whom it meant the discharge of his duty at the risk of a fearful death? He set his teeth tighter as he realized what would happen if he could not remove his snowshoes before the wolves reached him. He thanked his lucky stars that he made a practice of wearing his climbers while walking his block, and equally was he grateful for the resilient muscles and splendid wind his hard training in athletic sports had developed. With one dive he reached the pole as the nearest wolf floundered in the snow, thirty feet from where Freddie’s swift but careful fingers worked with THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 25 the buckles of his snowshoes. He was only six or eight feet up the pole when the leader of the pack leaped after him, the big wolf’s snapping fangs miss¬ ing Fred’s foot by inches. Paying no attention to the howling clamor below, he soon cleared the trouble. He then rang and reported the trouble being cleared, and asked to be connected with Perkins. “What’s up? What’s that noise?” came the voice of Fred’s friend. “I’m up, and that noise is wolves.” “Wolves?” “Wolves! Seven big ones—sitting around the bottom of the pole sing¬ ing for their supper. I’m the supper.” “How are you going to get home?” “Well, I have my automatic.” As Fred fired, the slide came back and caught in a wire, jerking the pistol from his hand. Adding insult to injury, the wolf he had aimed at was uninjured. Fred rang back to Perkins, and after he had told him what had happened, Perkins replied that it would be impossible to get a man there before morn¬ ing. “By that time I’ll be frozen; or I’ll fall off the pole, and just about two minutes after that. I’ll be a lot of nice, juicy hamburg.” “We’ll have to do something!” Perkins cried desperately. “I’ve got an idea; it may work. You’ve got some copper wire with you. Uncoil it and get some of it to the ground.” Fred uncoiled the wire, and connected it to the wires on the poles. The wolves immediately got all tangled up in it. A short piece remained in his hand but long enough to come within six or seven feet of the ground. He put one of his gloves on the end of it and lowered it. A big wolf made a mighty leap and almost seized it in his teeth. He hastily pulled the glove out of the wolf’s reach. “Try that a little later, big boy!” he chuckled. His test buzzer sounded. “Are you ready?” said Perkins. “When they’re all tangled up in it, holler ‘Shoot’ and I’ll turn on the juice here.” “Shoot!” Fred yelled in a few seconds. A flash of fire, a wisp of pungent smoke, and a howl from below. Two wolves jumped clear. The others were dead. The uninjured wolves sped down the mountain. “Turn it off!” Fred shouted. “It’s off! Did it work?” “Did it work? Oh, boy, got all but two of them and they’re in the next county by now.” “Say, Perk!” Fred’s voice trembled with elation. “I get the break! Five hides at fifty bucks apiece, and twenty-five bucks bounty from the sheepmen’s association—three hundred and seventy-five smackers! Besides getting out of a pickle.” “And you’re all right?” Perkins asked. “Never felt better,” shouted Fred. “And say! You hunt up another trouble shooter. I’m quitting next week and going back to school to finish my training. When I’m in the Major league, be sure to come down and I’ll give you free passes to the games.” Annette Rivard, ’32. 26 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. ROMANCE. Grace sank into her seat with a sigh. She liked this study room, for the absent minded teacher paid almost no attention to the students in her charge. Some days Grace would study, or if she had nothing else to do, she would talk. This day was different. She was all a-tingle with excitement. She took The Letter from her purse, and hiding it behind her history book, re-read it the fifth time. Emery did write such wonderful letters! “I have just finished writing a book, and since I need a vacation, I shall motor down to see you on June fifteenth. Then, my dear, I shall prove to myself whether you are as sweet and charming as your letters reveal you to be.” She thrilled with anticipation. Today was June fifteenth! This period, and the next two were spent in imagining how Emery would look, for Grace had never seen him, although they had been cor¬ responding for two years. They had agreed to send each other neither pic¬ tures nor descripions of themselves, in order to make their correspondence more interesting. Grace did not learn much in school that day, and was glad when the bell for dismissal rang. She almost ran the short distance to her home. Her small brother was playing on the porch. “Has—I mean, is—has anyone come?” she asked. “I don’t know. I’m busy,” he replied, without turning ' around, and continued to prod a bug with a small stick. She entered the house and found that her guest had not yet come. Snatching something to eat, she dashed upstairs, and ten minutes later, she was seated with a book in the cool living room, dressed in a dainty green chiffon dress which made her creamy skin look whiter, and which set off the red gold of her hair. Sitting still became tiresome work after half an hour. Grace fidgeted. “I do wish he’d hurry,” she thought. “My first real beau! Of course, those children who carry my books and take me to Proms don’t count. Emery’s a man!” She knew from his letters that this was his first year out of college and that he intended to write books which would make the world fall at his feet. She spent another half hour thinking and dreaming, and suddenly she jumped. “What on earth is that noise?” she protested. “Rattlely-bang-chug-chug; rattlely-bang-chug-chug.” Rushing to the window, Grace saw a dilapidated Ford stop in front of the house. It looked as if it had gone through floods, and earthquakes and several wars, since it lacked everything it could possibly do without. The doorbell rang. Upon opening it, Grace saw a very dusty young man wearing smudgy glasses. “Is this-er-thirty-four Fairview Avenue?” a rather high pitched voice asked. “Yes,” Grace said. “Well, er, I presume you are Grace Franklin. I am Emery Titherington. Er, may I wash up a bit? The roads are somewhat dusty, don’t you know.” Then squinting at her through his dusty glasses, “Yes, you are very lovely, my dear,” he informed her. “Why, come right in,” and Grace led the way to the large guest room with the adjoining bath-room. THE OAK, LILY AN D IVY. 27 Oh dear! Was this her Prince Charming, this young man of medium height, whose nearsighted eyes were covered with glasses? “Perhaps he has a great mind,” she thought. “Appearances don’t count. But I do wish he were tall, and strong, and handsome.” When the supper bell rang, Emery was a bit more presentable and he had quite a scholarly appearance. It was a pleasant meal. Emery was very attentive to Grace’s parents, and seemed to love her little brother, Jackie. His conversation concerned books (mostly his) and literary clubs, and Grace was proud of him. In the evening they took a walk through the lovely streets of Elmville. “Er y’know, Grace, I think you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “Your eyes are like -er deep green pools in a cool forest, and you’re so slender and dainty and sweet. You remind me of some one in-er, Macbeth, or is it Idylls of the King? ' ' he amended hastily. Grace smiled. “I think you’re a dear,” she said. Upon their return Mrs. Franklin easily persuaded Emery to stay for a few days, at least for the week-end, and the family retired each to his re¬ spective room. Grace did not fall asleep as quickly as usual. She was making plans for the next day. “We must do something that a man would enjoy. He does look romantic after all—like a poet, I mean. Oh! I’m so happy!” and she hugged herself. “I do believe I am in love with him!” and she sat up at this new thought. Emery, too, had not fallen asleep. He had been rather nervous about how Grace would look, but he had regained his usual self-assurance by this time, and was sure that he had made a good impression in spite of the bat¬ tered appearance of his car (“At least it was a car once,” he amended to himself), and in spite of his dustiness, for as he had often remarked to his bored friends, “The Titheringtons were always favorites with women.” Then he felt hungry, so he went downstairs quietly, and helped himself to some cold chicken and several generous pieces of peach shortcake. The next morning, Grace suggested a fishing trip and a picnic. After some hesitation, Emery agreed that that was just the thing. “I am frightfully fond of boats,” he said. “The Titheringtons were always good sailors.” “I wanna go fishin’! I wanna go fishin’!” wailed Jackie. “Make them take me. Mother. I’ll be naughty and bother you all day if I don’t go,” he threatened. “Take him with you, Gracie,” said Mrs. Franklin. “I really don’t think he should go, but my bridge club meets here today, and I know I shan’t have a minute’s peace if you don’t take him.” “But, Mother,” Grace protested, seeing the romance snatched away from the trip. “I ... ” “I know who stole cake from the ice-box,” Jackie said threateningly. “Jack!” said Grace. “Let him come along, Grace,” said Emery nonchalantly. “He’s such a nice little chap, and I know he won’t be any trouble. Do take him with us.” “That’s dear of you, Emery,” Grace said. Emery was so unselfish, and self-sacrificing. The fishing trip started beautifully. They hired a motor boat and a man to drive it. Emery held a fishing pole in his hands, somewhat awkwardly, but altogether confident of his success as a fisherman. Grace looked across the sparkling blue water and dreamed. Jackie played with some ropes in a 28 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. corner. The boatman whistled softly. Several hours went by thus. Every¬ thing was so peaceful, so calm, so beautiful, so romantic. Emery put down his fishing pole. “I don’t seem to be having much luck,” said he to Grace. “Anyway I’d rather talk to you.” Now Grace was not altogether pleased to have her dreams thus inter¬ rupted. She had been on the point of deciding whether white satin or white lace would be nicer for a wedding gown. But she smiled and murmured, “What shall we talk about?” Emery began to talk of his life, his ambitions, his hopes when suddenly an odd look Came on his face. “I-er excuse me, I think I see a school of fish,” and dashing to the other side of the boat, he leaned far over the side. Grace was going to follow him to see what interested him so, when she remembered Jackie who was unusually quiet. Jackie was also leaning over the rail in that peculiar manner. The boatman winked to no one in particular. Running to Jackie, Grace pulled him back to keep him from falling. She was surprised to see that he was very pale and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Suddenly she understood. Jackie was very seasick! That brute Emery who had insisted on dragging him along! Why he ought to be— suddenly another thought struck her. Had seasickness caused Emery to leave her so suddenly? Tears came to her eyes in her sympathy for her little brother’s suffering. Jackie sobbed, “I want to go home! I want my mother! I wanna go home!” Grace glanced at Emery. He was still very much interested in the school of fish. “Serves him right, the brute!” she thought. “So the Titheringtons were good sailors, were they? This is a fine specimen of manhood,” and her thoughts went back to Dickie Leonard who carried her books and who although eighteen (a year older than Grace) was a head and a half taller than Emery, and much handsomer. ' It was a very tired and disappointed Grace who entered the house a few hours later, leading a sick looking, crying little boy by the hand and followed by a pale young man, whose knees did not seem quite steady. “May I stay in my room and work on my new book. Miss Franklin?” asked Emery in a formal manner. “Yes, of course,” answered Grace, as kindly as she could manage. Put¬ ting Jackie into the charge of her sympathetic mother, she ran upstairs, and threw herself on her bed. “My Heart is broken,” she sobbed. “I shall n-never love anyone a-again. Oh!” and she shook with sobs. Then she dried her eyes and went to the window. She saw Dickie Leonard crossing the street and coming toward her house. She tapped on the window and he looked up. A wide grin spread over his tanned young face, and he called in his deep low voice, “Wanna go for a walk?” “I’ll be ready in five minutes, Dickie, dear,” she answered, and she im¬ mediately forgot her troubles. Incidentally, Emery remembered some important business, and left early the next morning. Martha Rapaport, ’32. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 29 THE LETTER. The low murmuring of the detectives in the large room suddenly stopped. Garrity, the huge, robust and hard-faced Chief of Detectives had ordered the line-up of criminals for the day to commence. One by one they came before the spotlight—bootleggers, gangster’s molls, pickpockets and petty thieves—answered the questions that were fired at them by the bristling Garrity, and then were taken to the Tombs. Most of them were confident that they would be squeezed out of the jail, because of the dickerings be¬ tween the reigning gangsters and the high officials that ruled the city. As Chief Garrity, after retiring to his office, was seated, with his feet on his desk, reading the morning paper about the raids that had been con¬ ducted the night before, a detective came into the office to give his report. He had been sent out the previous evening to look for “Shine” Regals, a notorious racketeer, who was wanted for murder. The Chief could tell by the look on the detective’s face that his mission had been a failure. “Well,” said the Chief, “did you find your man?” “Naw,” answered the detective. “I searched high and low for him, visited all the dives that a guy like that would go to, and I didn’t get one glimpse of him. But say, boss, I rounded up ‘Cokey’ Grogan in the Grand Central Depot where I saw him picking some hick’s pocket. Shall I bring him in?” “Yes, bring him in,” roared the Chief. Because of the failure to get ‘Shine’ Regals, he was ready to unleash all his pent-up fury on ‘Cokey’ Gro¬ gan. The door to the office opened and a small, weasel-faced person furtively entered the office in a manner clearly showing that he had been there before. “Up to your little tricks again, ‘Cokey’. And you were released only three days ago from the Big House after serving three years. Well, you better talk fast and give us yoUr story, or you’re going back for a nice long vacation.” “Oh, I didn’t do nuthin’ and you ain’t got anythin’ on me, either,” piped the little gangster. “I haven’t, eh? Well, I’ll see about that. Empty out everything you have in your pockets and make it pretty fast, too.” The weasel-faced crook hastily extracted from his pockets a few bills, some change, three cigarettes, and a sealed letter. He placed thes6 on the Chief’s desk and muttered something to himself. The Chief quickly opened the letter, and angrily turned to ‘Cokey’. “Where did you get this letter?” he asked. “Oh, some guy in the prison gave it to me to mail for him.” “He’s lying,” said the detective. “I saw him hock it from that kid back in the depot.” “Well, make it snappy,” roared the Chief. “Tell me what you were going to do with this train ticket and this letter of introduction to one of the biggest and most powerful racketeers in San Francisco.” The little crook looked stealthily about him for some avenue of escape, but not finding any, he turned to the irate Chief. “Well, about three days ago, I got out of stir. I got what little stuff I had and hopped a train to the big city. I spent the first night here in a little hotel on the East Side, an’ while I was there, I heard the voice of ‘Shine’ Regals talkin’ over the phone in the next room. He said that some frame-up was okay. Well, he double-crossed me three years ago, and I thought I might figure some way to fix him. I trailed him to a little Greek 30 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. restaurant, where he hired a booth. I got one next to his. Soon a young feller entered ‘Shine’s’ booth, and I heard ‘Shine’ say a lotta good things. Then ‘Shine’ gave him that letter and told him to hop the midnight train to the Coast. So I followed the youngster to the depot, and seeing him put the letter in his jacket pocket, I took it away from him.” ‘‘That’s a pretty story,” roared the Chief, ‘‘but what good would that letter be to you?” “Oh, I don’t know. I just thought if I took it, I might use it against ‘Shine’ sometime.” “Listen here, ‘Cokey’. You’re holding something from me, and I’m warning you, that if you don’t tell me this instant. I’m going to have you sent up to the Big House for fifteen years.” A look of fear came into the crook’s shifty eyes. Then it seemed with a hint of a tear in his eye he turned and faced the Chief. “I learned in the room at the hotel that the young feller was to be framed. As soon as he stepped offa the train at San Francisco, he was to be nabbed by the coppers, and with that letter on him, he would have to do a pretty long stretch.” “Well, what of it?” barked the Chief. “What was the young fellow to you?” “My young brother,” said ‘Cokey’ slowly. William Bellantonio, ’32. THE END OF THE QUEST. “Well, I have failed in my mission. For six months I have searched for my father in vain.” Gregory Spencer, a tall and sun burned young man, mused thus as he sat before a blazing campfire on the banks of the mighty Amazon. The Brazilian jungle, dark and brooding, hemmed in his encampment. It was now five years since his father had journeyed up this river in search of wild rubber. Always he had been a genial and an understanding friend. In his mind’s eye Gregory could picture him now seated across the fire, his kindly face lit with enthusiasm and the livid three-inch scar on his right cheek standing out weirdly in the flickering firelight. He would be telling some tale of adventure as in the old days when they had gone on hunting trips together. Gregory had often wondered how his father had obtained that queer scar—probably it was a memento of his German student days, but now he would never be able to confirm that supposition. He thought with regret that he would never again gaze upon that beloved face. An unknown fate had been his father’s. With native guides Gregory had diligently searched the Amazon and its larger navigable tributaries, but no clue had he found. All men must die and his father’s end would not be so terrible if he had left behind some souvenir, some memorial that he might cherish, thought Spencer. Within a month he would be well rid of this beastly country. Tomorrow he would start back for Para and thence to civilization. As Spencer rode the current downstream next day, a sliver of wood whizzed over his head and fell with a splash into the river. Those beggarly savages! They were trying to add more heads to their ghastly collection. In some inexplicable way, by a secret process known only to themselves, the barbarians could mummify and shrink a human head without impairing its THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 31 features. It was not the first time that he had been a target for poisonous darts fired from the dense foliage. But luckily he had never been hit, and the villainous head-hunters always remained concealed from his bullets. Gregory shuddered at the horrible thought that entered his mind. Had his father fallen victim to these Indians? No! He was too clever a man to be ambushed by such cowardly savages. The fever or a jaguar may have gotten him, but never these bushwhackers. Two weeks later Spencer’s expedition arrived at Para. While making preparations to leave for New York the next morning, Gregory was pleasantly surprised to meet an old college mate. Bill Scott, who greeted him warmly and led him to a gay cafe. “It certainly is a pleasure to see the bright lights again after those months in that cursed jungle country. Bill, old man,’’ said Gregory with a smile. “I sympathize with you, Greg. Awfully sorry that you failed in your quest, but that’s the way of the world. By the way, you used to have quite a penchant for collecting curios. Are you still interested in them?’’ “I’ll say I am,’’ replied Gregory. “The only bright light of my expedi¬ tion was shed by the few curios that I gathered .’’ “I thought so,’’ said Bill in a satisfied tone. “Well, old pal, I have one for you which I dare say is not a very common one. It is one of those tiny heads, which was forced upon me by a grateful native of the interior whom I befriended. Poor devil! He meant well, as it was his most highly prized possession. But to me it is revolting. You may have it if you want it. As they’re rather rare, you will no doubt be envied by rival curio hunters. At first, Spencer balked at the thought of possessing such a gruesome trophy, but finally his passion for the unusual overpowered him and he thanked his friend for the gift. On the final analysis the head was now of no importance to the one whom it had formerly adorned, and he had not participated in the decapitation. This was his callous view of the subject. “Don’t mention it, Greg,’’ replied Bill lightly. “I’ll have it packed in an orange crate and sent up to the boat in the morning. I’d advise you not to open it until you’re safely installed at home as the authorities are apt to be very nasty about such a thing. Now let’s properly celebrate our reunion.’’ On arriving at his home in New York, Gregory Spencer had been festive¬ ly welcomed by relatives and friends, and as a result he had not opened the crate containing his latest curio. A day later, an opportunity presented itself and he locked himself in his study in order to examine his precious gift. Seated, with the box on the table before him, Spencer found himself tense with eagerness. After all, had he any right to keep as an exhibit the head of a fellow-man even if it were that of a savage? No! For in doing so, he would be as guilty as the wielder of the gory knife that had severed this and other heads from their yielding base. But disregarding the ethics of the thing, this would be a feather in his cap, for to his knowledge no other curio hunter possessed such a rare exhibit. These conflicting thoughts tore at his mind as he rummaged for and found a small bundle concealed amid the oranges. Should he have the monstrosity destroyed without opening the package? Finally the innate sel¬ fishness of the man controlled him, and he opened the bundle. At last it was opened and looking into the box he saw a miniature human head no bigger than a baseball. With the avid light of the connoisseur in his eyes he took it into the palm of his hand, perceiving that it was remarkably well preserved. 32 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. “Good God!’ ' he cried, his face a mask of horror, for he had also seen that upon the right cheek of the grinning death head there was a peculiar three-inch scar. Joseph FitzGerald, ’32. THE SKYSCRAPER. A careful observer gazing at the skeleton of the Sandburg skyscraper would have marvelled at the skill of Dr. Allan Bruce as he swung from one beam to another on the suspended rope; he then would have seen Allan indifferently traverse the “cat-walk” and carefully insert the rivets in their sockets. These duties Allan performed satisfactorily, but yet he could remember the time six months ago when his knees shook and buckled under him when he had first set foot on the building. Taking a short rest, he leaned against an upright beam and looked down and felt proud of himself. Why not? It was also six months ago that he had looked from the same position he was in now and had felt his stom¬ ach turning over with a desire to mutiny. The mid-day whistle blew just as he resumed his work, and as usual he secluded himself from the rest of the laborers and silently munched his sandwich. His gray eyes took on a thoughtful gaze; he stopped eating and as usual the thought of the fatal night six months ago automatically sat down beside him, a torturing reminder. It was seared in his memory as from a branding iron; it was an obsession, a reminder of his incapibility as a doctor. In vain did Allan struggle to subdue the damning torment. His once fine hands, now calloused, seized the beam he was resting on, and he thought—thought of his first major case without the aid of his father. Dr. Andrew Bruce, renowned surgeon of Boston. “Poor Dad,” he mused, “how the blow struck him!” It was the first time a Bruce had failed since Revolutionary days. The family of Bruce, a synonym for doctor, had suffered its first blot. How clear it all was to him—the scrub woman whose hand had to be amputated to save her life. She had smiled and said, “It’ll be all right, won’t it, Doctor?” Brave woman, but her last words. Calmly she had inhaled the ether; then he had taken the scalpel. His heart was beating violently. With everything in preparedess, he had taken the bluish hand and with nostrils dilated and his thin lips pressed, he care¬ fully had penetrated the soft tissue, not far from the wrist. The bloody scalpel knifing its way through the tender skin had met no resistance until it struck the bone; the contact sent an icy sensation through his bones. Immediately a fever encompassed his body, his eyes became hazy, his body sweated; the blood gushing from the wound took the appearance of a flood. “Doctor Bruce,” the nurse had asked anxiously, “are you ill?” To Allan it had seemed as if the voice were far, far away, and then with a thud he had dropped to the floor. He had fainted. The nurse had screamed, but quickly regained her presence of mind, and worked feverishly to stop the hemorrhage, but too late. The life’s blood had been spent. . A few days after the incident, he had left Boston in shame for New York with a desire to forget surgery. Arriving there he looked up his Uncle Dan and earnestly begged him for a job—any kind of job. “GADGETS” By Percival Wilde. “MY LADY’S LACE” By Edward Knoblock. “MARY’S LAMB” By Hubert Osborne. ■ ■r ” - V •• ' - ' -, ‘ .jJi -.iL-i THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 33 His uncle, well known contractor and builder, understanding Allan’s situation, had at length decided to let him work on one of the skyscrapers. ' His disturbing recollections were interrupted by the appearance of a messenger boy with a telegram; he opened it hurriedly, and fear clutched at his heart as he read: “Father seriously injured. Come at once to City Hospital.” Quickly changing into new clothes, he took the first train for Boston. The sound of the speeding train harmonized with his thoughts. Fear, the bane to his career, was a stranger now. Months of hard labor had pro¬ duced a new man with iron nerves. Arriving at South Station, he hailed a cab, and was soon at the hospital. “Nurse, what room is Dr. Bruce in? What has happened to him? I’m his son. Dr. Allan Bruce.” “Your father,” said the nurse, “was brought here this morning, and all I know is that he has a skull injury. But if you wish to know the details. Dr. Ellis, who is in charge of the case, will tell you.” The directions given, he found the doctor at his desk. “Dr. Ellis?” “Why, yes! What can I do for you?” “I am Dr. Allan Bruce. My father was brought here this morning.” “Fine. You’re just the one I want to see. First I want to acquaint you with the case: by falling down the staircase, in answer to an emergency call, your father suffered a serious skull injury. The X-ray discloses the brain under pressure by a section of bone. Now, there is no need of my telling you how serious it is, as there is one chance out of a hundred in which he may pull through; so before I operate, I want you to understand the situation. You understand my-” “Dr. Ellis, I want to perform the operation,” was the surprising reply. “What?” “Don’t refuse me. Doctor. I’ll take that one chance to save my father.” “I don’t know, I don’t know, it’s so sudden that-” “Doctor, trust me and I’ll take the responsibility. I’m sure I can do it.” “My boy, I believe you, go to it, and good luck.” The operating room had no effect on Allan. Carefully he took the tre¬ phine and calmly bored through the skull. No giddiness or nausea seized him, and very adroitly and remarkably collected, he extracted the damaging bone. Later, notified by the nurse that his father had regained consciousness, he leaped with joy, and almost ran into the room where his father lay. “Dad, dad,” he choked happily. “Allan, my son, you have conquered.” Abraham Gordon,’ 32. Ma—“Poor boy, how did you hurt your thumb?” It—“With a hammer, just a little while ago.” Ma—“But I didn’t hear you cry.” It—“I thought you were out.”—Ex. 34 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. THE ANCHOR IN THE TRIANGLE. A middle aged healthy man with gray streaked hair sat in a comfortable armchair in the midst of a luxuriously furnished room, contentedly puffing at a cigar. He was known to the people as Dr. Kane, one of the most famous coroners in Trueville. People began to suspect that the success of his friend. Inspector Murphy, a member of the Trueville police force, was due partly if not entirely to him. For the first time in three months, Dr. Kane was spending a quiet morning at home, without the company of his dear friend. Inspector Murphy. He was about to drink the whiskey that had been prepared for him when the telephone rang. “Hello. Yes, this is Dr. Kane. Oh, it’s you. Inspector. What is the idea of disturbing me in the midst of a quiet morning? Oh, I see, someone else has committed suicide. You have the proofs. O. K. I’ll be down in ten minutes. Where does this Mr. Blake live? 375 Fifth Avenue. All right. Have all the fingerprints ready for me when I get there. Good-bye.” Fifteen minutes later Dr. Kane was admitted into a big stone building on Fifth Avenue, and later conducted up to the deceased’s room, where the Inspector made him acquainted with the few facts of the case. “Your conclusion. Inspector, is that Mr. Blake committed suicide last night at about nine o’clock, by taking an extra dose of drugs with his whiskey. His reason for doing so is that he lost every penny in the stock market crash. It all sounds very logical, but I believe that it is murder.” “But, Doc, the only fingerprints on the glass are those of the deceased, and there is still more of the stuff in the pocket of his dressing gown.” “Still that does not prove he committed suicide. Inspector. Didn’t it occur to you that the person may have worn gloves?” “Yet, Doc, the fact that he was penniless was enough to drive him to suicide. Are there any marks of struggle on the body of the late Mr. Blake which may back up your statement. Doc?” “But, Inspector, there would be no necessity of a struggle to hand a friend a glass of whiskey mixed with a drug which is unknown to the re¬ ceiver. The only mark which I found, but which did not indicate a struggle, was the picture of an anchor in a triangle on the right wrist. Mr. Blake must have been a sailor sometime or other. In the meantime. Inspector, let’s see what we can find out from the other occupants of the house. ' You say that they are the housekeeper, his niece, and the butler. Well, show the niece in first. Inspector.” “How do you do. Miss Blake? Please take a seat. When did you last see your uncle?” “Last night at supper,” said the tall young woman who faced him. “Did you go out last night?” “Yes.” “What time did you return home?” “Mr. Benson, my fiance, brought me home at eleven o’clock.” “Is Mr. Benson here now?” “Yes. I telephoned him when I discovered uncle’s body.” “Was anyone else up when you got home?” “Yes—that is, Mr. Hill, the butler, was just returning from a walk.” “Anything unusual about the house?” THE OAK, LILY AND IVY, 35 “No, only the light was still burning in uncle’s room, and I was uneasv about him staying up too late.’’ “Did you tell anyone about it?’’ “Why yes, I told the butler, Mr. Hill, to look in my uncle’s room, but he muttered something about uncle giving him orders not to be disturbed.” “At what time did you retire?” “Right after Mr. Benson left, at about ten minutes after twelve.” “When did you first find out about your uncle’s death?” “This morning, he did not appear for breakfast, a most unusual circum¬ stance, so I sent the butler to find out if anything was wrong. He returned and told us the light was still burning, and that uncle was dead.” “What did you do. Miss Blake?” “I immediately called my fiance and the police.” “That is all. Thank you, Miss Blake, and on your way out please send Mr. Benson in.” A moment later the coroner continued. How do you do, Mr. Benson? Mr. Benson, you are Miss Blake’s fiance?” “Yes, sir.” “How long have you been engaged to Miss Blake?” “About a year, sir.” “How long have you been acquainted with Mr. Blake?” “Since my engagement to Miss Blake.” “What sort of a fellow was he?” “He was a good fellow and a fine and affectionate uncle.” “When did you last see him?” “Last night after supper.” “Did you take Miss Blake out last night?” “Yes, sir.” “At what time did you return?” “At about eleven o’clock.” “Was anyone up at the time?” “Yes, the butler had just returned from a walk.” “At what time did you leave Miss Blake?” “At about twelve o’clock.” “What brought you here so early today?” “Miss Blake telephoned me about her uncle.” “All right. That is all for the present, Mr. Benson.” “You don’t suspect them, do you, Doc?” inquired the Inspector, as the door closed behind young Benson. “I suspect everybody until I find enough evidence to back up my state¬ ment, Inspector.” “Accept my decision. Doc. There is enough evidence there.” “Not for me, my friend. Please call the butler.” A tall, middle-aged man, of fine physique, was ushered in. “So you are Mr. Hill, the butler? How long have you been working for Mr. Blake?” “Three months.” “Was he a good employer?” “Yes. I can say that much good for the poor fellow.” “When did you last see him?” “Last night at eight o’clock, sir, in his room.” “What were you doing there?” “I had just brought up his whiskey, sir.” “Did Mr. Blake take whiskey every night at eight o’clock?” 36 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. “No, other nights he took it before going to bed—at nine o’clock.” “Why did he call for it at eight o’clock last night?” “It was my evening off, sir.” “What time did you go off duty?” “At about a few minutes after eight.” “Did you stay at home?” “No. I went out.” “What time did you return home, and was anyone up at the time?” “About eleven, sir, and the o nly persons up were Mr. Benson and Miss Blake.” “At what time did Mr. Benson leave?” “I don’t know, sir, because I retired just as soon as I came home.” “That is enough. Thank you. Please tell the housekeeper I wish to see her.” A short stout woman in black entered. “Your name, please?” “Mrs. Jill.” “How long is it that you have been keeping house for the late Mr. Blake?” “Ten years, sir, and a mighty fine gentleman he was.” “When did you last see him?” “After supper when he retired to his room.” “Did you stay home last night?” “Yes, sir.” “No, sir—that is, the butler stayed until his time to go off duty. At about eight, I should say.” “Do you know at what time he returned?” “No, sir. I retired at eight-thirty.” “Was Miss Blake worried when her uncle did not appear for breakfast?” “Yes, sir. She feared that he was worrying too much about his financial condition.” “How did M,iss Blake get along with her uncle?” “He was greatly attached to her, and was more like a father than an uncle.” “When did you first learn of Mr. Blake’s death?” “This morning, sir.” “Who was the first one to discover his body?” “The butler, sir.” “Very well, Mrs. Jill, thank you.” “Well, doctor, you haven’t been getting very far. Fonget all about your suspicion of murder, and write suicide on the dotted line on the death certificate.” “No, Inspector, I couldn’t do that. I am here to do my duty, and I am going to do it. For me, the motives for suicide are not enough. If I did sign ‘suicide’ sooner or later, I should be a laughing-stock. I am going to think this case over and within an hour. I’ll call you up at the police station. Good-by, Inspector, I’ll see you later.” “I bet it is going to be suicide. Doc.” Three-quarters of an hour later the telephone rang at the police station, calling for Inspector Murphy. “The hour isn’t up yet. Doc. You say it is—what! Murder? You got Hill, the butler, to confess? I don’t understand. I’ll be at your apart¬ ment in ten minutes.” A few minutes later the Inspector was ushered in the Coroner’s study. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 37 ‘Tt took you less than ten minutes to get here, Inspector. Here is the confession. What do you think of it?’ ' With great shock and surprise the Inspector read the document. ‘Tt certainly proves your suspicion, and does away with mine. But how did you do it?” “It was all very simple. When you told me there were only Blake’s fingerprints on the glass, the idea of the gloves occurred to me. Mr. Hill, the butler, fitted in the picture. When he brought Blake the drugged drink, he was all ready to go off duty. Therefore the gloves. The thing that really made me more suspicious was the anchor in the triangle on the victim’s right wrist. There was an exact duplicate on the butler’s right wrist.” “But, Doc -” “It occurred to me that it might be the identification mark of some gang. So I returned to Fifth Avenue to question the butler again. The housekeeper answered the bell, and told me that Hill had just gone down to the cellar. I had my suspicions; so I followed. He had heard the bell and was hurried¬ ly trying to push the carton of drugs in the furnace. He was too late. Thus, being trapped, he became utterly unnerved, and after answering a few ques¬ tions in a crazed manner, he confessed. Both he and Mr. Blake belonged to one of the greatest drug rings. The anchor in the triangle was the identi¬ fication mark. He was unknown to Mr. Blake as a member of the gang, and was put on the job as butler by the gang to get rid of Mr. Blake, who had threatened to withdraw and go straight. That is all. Inspector. Now, what did you wish to say a while ago?” “Oh, nothing. Doc, only congratulations.” Fannie DiCesare, ’32. THE UNRELENTING PURSUER. The motor droned steadily on. The sun glistened on the wings of the plane as it flew high above the hilly country. Dick Flaherty, from an alti¬ tude of five thousand feet, could see the densely wooded territory below for miles. There were numerous places in which any one desiring to sever con¬ nections with the outside world might hide for an indefinite time. Flaherty, conscious of his duty as a forest ranger, maintained a sharp lookout for any signs of smoke and constantly kept in mind the chief ranger’s order to watch for evidence of the presence of an escaped murderer, Jacques Dupremont, who had been seen heading toward the Canadian border a week previous. Because of the lack of rain in the preceding month, great vigilance was necessary on the part of the ranger. When he had nearly reached the farthest boundry of his patrol and had seen no signs of smoke, he relaxed a bit in the seat of the small cabin plane. In a few minutes he banked to the left and headed back northward. His mind, tired from the extra vigilance caused by the drouth, began to wander as he piloted the plane. As he sat there idly watching the shadow of the plane, his eyelids began to droop and he felt drowsy. For a short time he was only half-conscious of his surroundings. Suddenly he sat up. He thought his confused mind had played a trick on him, that he had not seen a small cloud of smoke. His senses whirled. Finally his head cleared 38 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. and he saw a growing cloud of smoke almost dead ahead. Surely it had not been there when he came southward an hour earlier! He banked slightly to the right and leveled off, opening the throttle wide. As he flew, he checked his position by his compass and found that he had drifted off his course during his light doze. As he raced across the twenty intervening miles, he decided to circle the blaze and, from the windward side, accurately plot it and radio the news back to headquarters on his portable set. Like a flash he recollected that Pierre, the trapper, and his son had a cabin at the foot of the mountain. The smoke began to drift across the windshield and the heat waves from below tossed the plane about. Flaherty was momentarily confused but dived with open throttle at a hole in the fog. Through the mist he saw a figure running and waving, face pathetically upturned, trying to attract his attention. Flaherty decided that he might be able to land in a small clearing near the cabin although he would be hindered by a cross wind. He banked to the left to avoid crashing into the mountain, and “fishtailed” to a landing, skimming the pine trees at the edge of the field. He bounced over the rough ground and finally stopped at the other end of the field. Leaving the motor idling, he ran up the path to the cabin. He saw a youth of fourteen trying to lift Pierre from a bunk in the corner of the cabin. “Help me! Hurry! Father’s hurt and can’t walk! Help me lift—” “Here, you take his feet. I’ve got him by the back! Easy, easy—wh-h-?” A disheveled blackened figure stumbled in amid a cloud of smoke and cinders. The figure groped for support against the opened door, clutching a rifle and cursing the ill luck which had caused the change in wind. His campfire had gotten beyond his control and cut him off from his cache of food and ammunition. “There that’s him! That’s the man! That’s who wounded father! Father wouldn t let him in,” said Pierre’s son excitedly. Elaherty almost instantly recognized this man as Dupremont, the con¬ vict. Hampered by Pierre’s body, he was unable to draw his revolver before the convict had the three of them covered with his own rifle. Dupremont realized that the ranger recognized him, and he muttered angry curses as, for a moment, he thought of the change in his luck. If the wind had not changed, he would not have been discovered by rangers who would come to fight the fire. He had been fortunate in escaping from prison and in securing a good supply of food and ammunition. Now, he saw a chance ot escaping from the blaze and overpowering the ranger. He would be able to get back nearer to civilization by use of the plane and could remain near friends of the underworld. He reviled the instinct which had told him to get away deep in the forest country where he had found life lonely and with- out any comforts. You re goin to take me out in your plane!” Dupremont snarled at the ranger. Leave the old man here. Kid! Take his gun and bring it here!” Pierre s son took Flaherty’s gun and walked toward the cursing convict. He passed between Flaherty and Dupremont and Flaherty, seizing his chance leaped toward the convict, and grappled with him in an attempt to wrest the rifle away. Dupremont fought desperately but as he tripped over Pierre’s body, Flaherty drove a solid right to the jaw. Dupremont fell, stunned Quick! Grab Pierre’s feet! Ready? Run!” snapped Flaherty. The two staggered out of the cabin, whose roof was afire from sparks and lurched down the path to the plane. Flaherty squeezed himself into e pilots seat, after stowing away Pierre and his son. Whiz! Spang ' Dupremont was running wildly down the path shooting as he ran. Flaherty THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 39 realized that his plane was already overloaded for the size of the field and that Dupremont, once aboard, would never let him live to land and turn him over to the prison authorities. He strongly doubted that he could even now clear those towering pines. He opened the throttle wide and headed for a small gap in the pines. The plane bounced over the uneven ground until it seemed that the wheels would be torn off. There! The plane wobbled un¬ certainly as Flaherty pulled the stick back steadily and firmly. The pines loomed ominously, ever growing larger. With a last desperate pull Flaherty grimly prayed that the plane would clear the nearest pines and pass through the narrow gap. Ah! At last 1 Flaherty sighed as the plane roared out into the sky, the wheels barely clearing the pointed green tops. As the clouds of smoke closed in below, a figure could be seen racing madly about the clearing, waving and shooting in hopeless despair. Fate, the unrelenting pursuer, now held her victim in her grim clutch. Edmund Sullivan, ’32. THE RADIO. Roger Ives halted in his trail. He shifted the pack of furs which heavily burdened his shoulders to straighten his tall, gaunt frame. His keen grey eyes detected a storm in the sky; so he resumed his journey hastily. He arrived at the village shortly. He traded his furs and purchased sup¬ plies sufficient to tide him over until his next trip to the village, that trip of which he was never certain because of the terrific snow storms. He was aware of the dangers of living in solitude in the cabin on the mountain, but he dared not live in the village and mingle with society. He was leaving the store where he was purchasing his final supplies when the storekeeper inquired, “Are you interested in radios?’’ “No,” replied Ives, thinking of the long trail before him and the gath¬ ering storm. “I have a radio I want to sell,” continued the storekeeper. “We are getting electric radios in stock next week; that is why I wish to sell this one. I will sell it very cheap.” He then proceeded to demonstrate and turned to a station broadcasting dinner music. Ives listened. His warped soul seemed to drink in the music. He longed for companionship, but dared not make friends for fear of being identified. For a brief moment he relaxed—his face lost the grim look; his lips lost their thin line. His eyes for a moment were wistful, but suddenly a spark of anger dickered there. His memory had turned to his early life, which he had tried so hard to forget. He thought of his childhood when everyone was carefree and happy, and then he saw his aged mother and father whom he had caused no end of trouble. He had attended college for three years, studying law, when he contracted such enormous debts by gambling that he forfeited his home and position in order to clear them. Roger’s brother, Philip, reprimanded him for it. They came to blows. Roger, excited and in a fit of anger, shot and At the memory of it, Roger muttered, “I’m glad I did it. The infernal fool for meddling in my affairs. The scoundrel.” 40 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. interrupted in his reverie, when the storekeeper inquired. Would you consider buying this one?’ Ives thought a moment and then asked, “What’s the price?” “Twenty-eight dollars,” was the reply. “rn take it,” said Ives. “Pack it carefully, for I must go a long way.” Alter a few instructions, Ives started up the mountain. When he ar- rived at the cabin, although fatigued, he immediately proceeded to set up the radio. After completing the necessary preparations, he turned the switch but no sound came. He cursed the storekeeper, accused him of trickery and vowed revenge. In a fit of passion, he started out after wood. He was placing it in the box when some one said, “Hands up! Don’t move. We’ve got you now Thought you could hide, didn’t you? Well, we’ve got you now. Come along with me. ® Beads of perspiration stood out upon Ives’ forehead. His eyes blazed breathing heavily. His fingers moved to clutch the revolver in his belt. 1 I did it. Do you hear? I’m passionately. He pointed the revolver to his heart He pulled the trigger. There was a shot, a thud, and then deep silence. gentlemen, you have been listening to the weekly broadcast presented the drama entitled, he Murderer. This is Station 0 R L. Good-night.” Constance Seastrom ' , ’ 32 . THE QUEST OF THE JYMURARI PEARL. rnrHn!, VI? ’ ’° twenty-five years, and his friend, ® ' ® ' ' ® in their hotel room in Hongkong, C ina. The two friends had gone to school together and were graduated from the same college. They looked enough alike to be brother , tall, strong, black hair brown eyes, and tanned skin. Bill was inclined to be happy-go- lucky while Gordon was more quiet and serious. The former had just fin- ished reading a letter from his father in New York City loff - A that?” said Bill, as he handed Gordon the wnlfv. f mysterious pearl in the Altai Mountains, the Jymurari Pearl, hni h f fortune, he mused. “It must be worthwhile if dad goes to that bother to send me into the wilds of China.” ;‘It’s a dangerous proposition to deal with those natives,” said Gordon. Uh, there s no risk. Just some poor ignorant heathen who probably worship the jewel. What a great adventure for the both of us!” I m setting out to search for my father tomorrow,” said Bill “For two years nothing has been heard from him. You remember him, his dreams of Oriental mystery and luxury. These mountains hide a man in secrecy forever if he allows them to. The last letter from Dad was postmarked THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 41 Mingan. That is in a different section from the Altai Mountains. I wish you luck, old fellow, and wish also that I were going with you.’’ jlc Bill had made slow progress in his quest for the Jymurari Pearl. Day after day he had plodded through the deserts of China. Sometimes he doubted if such a jewel did exist. One night he questioned Chan, a guide. “Maybe I am going on a useless search. There is a possibility that this pearl is only a legend.” “You are wrong, Mr. Hayes,” the Oriental replied. “There is such a pearl. My father saw it, and then he was treacherously stabbed before he could give information concerning its whereabouts in the Altai Mountains. It is not just a jewel; it is a monster, grasping for human lives and it will get ours, too. Whoever seeks it, dies. This beautiful pearl is in a temple which is built on a very high mountain in the uncivilized wilds of China. Here beautiful lily maids haunt the portals of the temple. Witchcraft is seen in the evil faces of the priests who, dressed in flowing robes of white, sing low and plaintively around the altars. There is a rumor that a white man has become a priest of the Jymurari Pearl. Never can he leave be¬ cause the claws of this grasping jewel would drag him back to its lair. Those who would seek to save him from this death-ending slavery, die.” Bill laughed this off, but nevertheless he felt a trifle disturbed. At last he dropped off to sleep with the tropical moon framing him in her path of light. He dreamt that Gordon was near; but as the moon went in, it took Gordon with it. The next morning as Bill was plodding along, he sighted a very high mountain. Chan had informed him a few days ago that they had reached the Altai Mountains. As he advanced during the day, he saw that its sides . were covered with the jagged rocks. Soon Bill perceived a white spot, and as he neared, he saw that it was a white marble temple. Just at twilight he reached the side of the building. The party advanced slowly and silently upon the white portals. Bill and his guides crept up to the archways and gazed unseen at the sight before them. The interior of the marble temple was hung with rich draperies and decorated with hideous carvings. In the center was a high altar, upon which was a pearl, glowing with a luster which seemed to have been stolen from the embers of hell itself. Around the altar beautiful Oriental maidens danced, and sinister bearded priests bowed down and chant¬ ed a mournful dirge, with a look on their faces which belonged to prehistoric, uncivilized men. By the dim light of the altar fires. Bill noticed a human figure tied up at the foot of the altar. The savage priests, having completed their ceremony, drew out their knives and stood around the figure. It was evident they meant to kill this unfortunate being. Bill couldn’t stand by and see a man murdered. Giving a signal to the guides, he rushed in. The former knew that it was either their lives or the priests. After a hard fight, the priests and some of the guides lay dead. Bill bent over the bound figure, and untied the ropes. “Don’t you know me, old boy? It’s Gordon.” “Well, how did you get yourself in such a place?” said Bill. “Wait a while,” said Gordon. He walked over to the bodies. Kneeling down to a certain one, he folded the dead man’s hands on his breast and closed his eyes. Then he turned sadly to his friend. “It’s Dad. Can’t you recognize him? At Mingan an old acquaintance of my father’s told me to come here. I came to this accursed place a week ago. The light attracted me at night. As these priests came one by one 42 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. to bow before the jewel, to my horror I saw my own father. I jumped in and embraced him. At first the priests drew their knives, but father quieted them for a while. Bill, he cried like a lost child. I can hear him now. He told me that drawn by the spirit of adventure and love of Oriental mystery, he had fallen into the clutches of these madmen who held him a prisoner. He was compelled to assist in the ceremonies to that accursed pearl. I was singled out for a sacrifice; then you came. My father killed himself because he wouldn’t assist in my murder. Your guides didn’t kill him; he was dead an hour before they arrived. The next morning the little company set out with the cruel Jymurari Pearl. When they turned to take a last look at the temple, Gordon started a moment. “We forgot those dancing virgins. They must have hidden in the back recesses of that unholy place.” But Bill raised his hand and pointed to the other side of the mountain. Here weird figures clothed in trailing, flying white, flimsy veils, leaped from the rocks of the mountain of the Jymurari Pearl to the valley, miles and miles below. Marjorie Foley, ’32. ORATION. WASHINGTON, THE MILITARY STRATEGIST. The world has long known and perhaps has too often felt keenly the power of masterful military leaders. Yet George Washington, whom for one reason we may term the greatest military genius of all time, did not employ his mighty fame and glory to conquer vast territories and acquire despotic power. Instead, true, patriotic soldier that he was, he modestly re¬ tired at the close of the Revolutionary War to his home on the Potomac. He had undertaken to drive the British troops out of the United Colonies. This gigantic task had required eight and one-half years of constant plan¬ ning and laboring under tremendous difficulties on the part of this illustrious American. And now at the time of this anniversary, the bicentennial celebration of his birth, let us briefly review Washington’s Revolutionary dareer. There is just one word which appropriately characterizes George Wash¬ ington as a military leader. That word is “patience.” In 1775 he left his home and family life to attend the meeting of the Continental Congress in Philadelphia. Doubtless he later expected to return to Mount Vernon. In¬ stead, he was appointed commander-in-chief of the American army, and with¬ out any further delay, rushed to take command of the army outside of Boston. Have you ever considered how few generals in any war ever finish what they begin? Recall our own Civil War, and think of the succession of com¬ manders-in-chief who harassed Abraham Lincoln before he discovered Ulysses S. Grant. You remember in the last war. Great Britain, Russia, France, Germany, Austria, and Italy—all the Great Powers, save one—had to change their commanders-in-chief during the course of the war. The American Revolution and the late European conflict were two of our most important THE OAK. LILY AND IVY. 43 wars. In both cases we began with one great commander-in-chief, and we finished with that same man still in authority, still commander-in-chief. John J. Pershing shares with George Washington the unusual distinction among military men of all time, of being able to finish what he started. Few military leaders have been worthy of this praise. Washington wore out four successive British commanders-in-chief. When in the spring of 1784 he watched the last British transport sail out of New York harbor, he knew that he could have said what few generals in the course of history have had the right to assert—namely, that he had accomplished the task which the country had entrusted to him. Washington was no bril¬ liant leader of armies like Alexander the Great, Wallenstein, or Napoleon Bonaparte. But not one of these dashing and theatrical persons succeeded in accomplishing what he started out to do. The proper measure of a mili¬ tary leader is success, and the ability to secure a permanent effect. By this standard George Washington is the greatest military genius in history. But history asks this question even of the generals that seem to succeed. How did they succeed? Was it by bloodthirsty cruelty and atrocity? Was it by brute force and the preponderance of overwhelming numbers? Was it by trickery and bad sportsmanship? There is but one reason for the suc¬ cess of George Washington as a military leader. He knew what patience could accomplish. Washington did not win most of his battles. In fact, he lost many of them. But he won campaigns, and from his experiences in the French-Indian War he knew what it took the British eight years to learn— that the army which holds the field at the end of a battle is not necessarily the victor. Centuries ago a Roman general, Quintus Fabius, defeated the armies of the great Carthagin ian general, Hannibal, not by conquering him in open conflict, but by knowing how to retreat—how to run away so that he might fight another day. From the name of Quintus Fabius, has come our adjective “Fabian,’’ which characterizes the policy of careful manoeuvering so as to wear out an enemy who rushes about without any definite plan of battle. This was, of course, the secret of the success of one of England’s greatest soldiers, the Duke of Wellington. It certainly was the basis of Washington’s military policy. In 1775 Washington’s first duty was to drive the British army out of Boston. This he accomplished under the terrific handicap of building up an army, and conducting a siege at the same time. The British evacuated Boston, but in the following summer they returned to America with the greatest army England had ever sent anywhere up to that time. There was no com¬ parison between the two armies. Washington’s Americans were ill-trained, badly disciplined, poorly armed, and wretchedly supported by the government of their country. The British were, at their best, the famous regiments of a powerful nation. The summer of 1776 was a succession of brilliant British victories: Long Island, the capture of New York, the battle of Harlem Heights, the capture of Fort Washington, and the battle of White Plains. The British newspapers resounded with the bulletins of their successes. But when the season was over, George Washington sat down before a map and measured off the exact distance gained by the triumphant British army. Thirty-five miles was all that he had permitted the British to gain in that spectacular summer. Many a modern New York business man travels twice daily that distance between his suburban home and his office. Then Wash¬ ington did a thing which caught the victorious Britons napping. By the good manners of a gentleman’s war in those days, you were supposed to suspend fighting in the winter time and hibernate. This the British did. 44 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. Whereupon, before they knew what was happening, Washington turned and defeated them in the stunning victories of Trenton and Princeton. The next year, 1777, was the most serious for Washington. The British attacked the colonies from two directions. General Burgoyne came south from Quebec with a large army, and Sir William Howe attacked the American capital city at Philadelphia. The British ministry expected the two Britons each to finish his job, and crush Washington between them by joining somewhere in New York state. By skillful manoeuvering, and by the stubbornly contested defeats at Brandywine and Germantown, Washington kept Sir William Howe busy all summer. Howe never got within three hundred miles of Burgoyne, who was obliged to surrender his entire army to the Americans at Saratoga, New York. It is true, Washington had to permit the British to occupy Philadelphia at the close of that campaign. But as Benjamin Franklin wisely remarked, “The British did not capture Philadelphia as much as Philadelphia captured the British.” They spent the winter there having a marvelously good time, while you all know the gruesome tale of starvation, exhaustion, sickness, and icy weather that were experienced by Washington and his American soldiers. The next spring, the British were forced to withdraw from Philadelphia and return to New York with Washington hard on their heels. He delivered a crushing blow to them at Monmouth before he let them get away. The year 1778 changed the complexion of the whole war. The French came to the aid of America. Washington then had a French army and a French fleet to aid him. One would think that the combination of the French and Americans could have defeated the British in very short order, but it required three years more to finish the war. These three years were among the most trying of Washington’s career. I have said that his great character lay in his patience. It required three years of the most exhausting patience on his part to secure perfect co-ordination between the French and the Americans. After the battle of Monmouth in 1778 Washington appears to have ac¬ complished very little until the end of the war at Yorktown. Actually he spent three years trying to get France, our ally, to co-operate with him. He finally succeeded. In the summer of 1781 he at last induced the French army to join him and persuaded the French fleet to work with him. With this co-operation he could act decisively He marched completely around the British headquarters at New York, swooped down upon the most valiant of the British field commanders. Lord Cornwallis, and captured him and his army at Yorktown. That victory, Washington’s last and grea test, virtually ended his Revolutionary military career. “What’s the matter with little brother?” “Brain fag. He’s trying to think up a bright saying that will win a prize when mother sends it to a magazine.”—Ex. Soph—“Do you ever write home for money?” Fresh—“Never!” Soph—“I think it’s better to send telegrams, too!”—Ex. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 45 lEgsave HOUSES. Have you ever stopped to think of the hundreds of types of houses and of the vast difference of each from its neighbor? Some are just houses— coverings from the weather; others are homes and places of comfort. Some have that certain amount of pleasant atmosphere about them that makes them homes as well as shelters. In some cases it is the outside of a house that is forbidding and stern looking. Sometimes it is the inside that is unfriendly. Other times it is the occupants of the house that determine whether a house is a home or not. One can often be deceived by the appearance from the outside. A person may live in a dingy, ugly, dilapidated house; yet it may be a home to some one because of the people who occupy it. The millionaire may live in a beautiful, stately and comfortable house. He may have every convenience of life; yet he does not have the homelike atmosphere if the occupants are stern and cold. Houses that are homes are the kind that make the lives of the occupants happy and pleasant after a hard day’s work. A home is a spot to which one can return with a feeling of relief and comfort. Of course, every person’s ideals on the types of homes differ, but all agree that it is the atmposhere of love that makes a place home. Without love and affection the house has no attraction to draw one to it, and it is often termed as ugly when it is really beautiful architecturally. A person may build a comfortable house, put all the comforts of life in it, and yet he would not have a home until he had added the love and happiness of the occupants. Therefore the most important thing which makes a house a home is the attitude of its occupants toward each other. Hazel Kerr, ’32. THE JUNGLE. The word “jungle” is defined in the dictionary as meaning “any unculti¬ vated ground” or “land overgrown with brushwood,” but to me it means much more than that. The word is mysterious, burning, terrible—and thrilling. Many pic¬ tures flash before my eyes at the thought of one. I see black sla’ves trailing along narrow paths, ill lighted by the beams barely penetrating the trees overhead; men straining against the bonds that hold them, lashed onward by the cruel Arabs who will sell them into a life of miserable slavery to the Beys of Morocco, Algiers, and Tunis. Then I recall stories I’ve read of the sound of throbbing notes from the tree drums which informs one that tribes are gathering. Some mighty tribe from foreign parts is invading, and the bands must gather for defence. Or perhaps it is the signal for a night of feasting and rejoicing. 46 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. Picture the sturdy hunters as they track down herds of elephants, pick¬ ing out the biggest for the kill, that they may sell the tusks to the white men on the coast in return for beautiful beads and charms bearing all sorts of magic powers. There, in the depths of the dark forests, live the pygmies, who are sel¬ dom seen by the white men but about whom terrible tales are told. Their home is the land of huge trees, trees centuries old, their mighty limbs blot¬ ting out the sun. Blacks do not dare penetrate into these villages, and the few whites that have tried, died, we are told, by the blow arrows coming with terrible rapidity from the leafy foliage overhead. In the swampy regions, water buffalo with long curving horns graze contentedly, caring not for what goes on about them; overhead the branches are alive with chattering monkeys and parrots (gossips of the jungle). Mil¬ lions of bright plumed birds, flashing with every color in the rainbow fly through the air uttering harsh discordant cries. In the sluggish, muddy rivers, crocodiles move, basking in the sun or crawling about on the shore. Now the rain descends with tropical suddenness lashing the streams to a fury. Now it has ceased and the thickets resound with the buzzing of millions of insects, mosquitoes, and all kinds of poisonous flies. From the grass-covered stretches of the plains, the thirsty herds come to drink at the common springs which have been the source of water supply for ages. There are wild hogs, deer of all types, giraffs, all drinking side by side, sharing this precious liquid. Suddenly they lift their heads; danger IS near. With one accord they turn and run for safety. The ground shakes beneath the weight of hundreds of trampling feet. A lion comes in view. All these things I see and hear in the word “jungle”—“land overgrown with brushwood.” Anna Porter, 32. WALKING. In this age one can find many things to do for amusement and recrea¬ tion. In my opinion the most enjoyable is walking. How few of us do not know the pleasure of going out on a clear winter day to walk briskly along in the snow, to feel the cold air biting our cheeks, to see the snow laden branches glistening in the sun, to revel in the whiteness, the clearness of everything around us? One can also find extreme pleasure in a spring walk. The air is mild. Ihe branches of the trees are covered with green buds. Daffodils seem to smile and nod their golden heads as one passes. Bright colored tulips con¬ trast with the light green of the grass. The smell of freshly cut grass is in the air, and the odor of newly turned sod. Everything is coming to life and in one arises the ambition to conquer worlds. Hard as it may be to believe, the best way to keep cool in the summer IS to walk. The scenery is a dark, cool green. The leafy trees cast a cool green shadow, and a lazy little brook trickles by. The calmness and green¬ ness are soothing and refreshing. More interesting in its variety than motion pictures, more vivid, and certainly more beautiful than painted landscapes, golden autumn offers us deep enjoyment in our walk. Walking along on the dry fallen leaves, with a curtain of red and gold above us, we look at trees laden with ripe rosy fruit fields rich with golden corn, all the harvest ready for gathering. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 47 In all our walks we are refreshed by the contact with Nature. Our rasped nerves are soothed, our discouraged spirits revived, our troubles lightened. Our souls take on a new feeling of hope by this spiritual con¬ tact with the Creator through Nature, and we acquire the strength and courage to go on. Martha Rapaport, ’32. THIS COMPETITIVE AGE. Have you ever stopped to consider why the battle of life is now so increasingly difficult and laborious? The answer to that question can be given in one word. Competition. In every walk of life one feels the ominous presence of this forceful spectre. Of course, as in a multitude of things, competition has its good points as well as it s bad ones. Perhaps the former even surpass the latter. For is not the saying ds old as the world itself that the journey to success is an arduous one? Let me cite a few instances. First, let us take the nations of the world as components. In every commodity on the world’s markets, in every line of endeavor, in every industrial organization in the universe, a tremendous competitive situation exists. This is one of the direct causes for world un¬ rest. I believe it has been a direct cause of many titanic struggles. What is the result? The buying public of the world is seemingly the only bene¬ factor of all this wrangling. The public gets more for its dollar now than ever before, but is the final effect of this beneficial? It has often been said that the affairs of the world run on an endless chain. Therefore, if the manufacturer receives the mere minimum for his product, it is only natural and highly within reason that the laborer will receive the minimum wage for his labor; as a result, the workman has less working capital, he spends less, he possesses less, and so his whole living status is indirectly but nevertheless, actually lowered by competition. This is the undesirable effect of that prev¬ alent and active evil. A favorable phase of competition is that which is evidenced in its effect on mankind as regards his activity in all things. People today must be more alert, more up-and-coming, more tenacious, in order to make their mark in the world. This results in a great activity on the part of men, and a re¬ sulting higher degree of perfection in every task performed by man. Better work is demanded. People are kept constantly on their mettle. They must, if they are to keep in the race. And again there is that thought that no one is now indispensable. There is always someone ready to take one’s place, if he fail his task. It is dire necessity that spurs one, and the pace of life that competition sets today is indeed a rapid one. Robert Kurlanskyi, ’32. SUCCESS IN SHORTHAND. Shorthand is the writing of words by sound. In order to become an expert shorthand writer, the right start must be obtained. It is said that the student of shorthand today enjoys extraordinary opportunities. Today the pupils in this subject have available a modern system, improved textbooks. 48 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. and increased efficiency of schools and teachers. Every facility for becom¬ ing an expert writer, save one, he has ready at hand. That missing factor can be supplied only by the student, and that is his own study and applica¬ tion. The price of becoming a proficient shorthand writer is earnest, honest, sustained effort intelligently applied. Each step of the subject must be thoroughly understood before the student advances to the next. The basis of shorthand speed is found in the correct understanding of every principle of the particular system of shorthand. An incomplete prep¬ aration at the beginning is the rock on which many an otherwise career is wrecked. Shorthand offers the opportunity for a liberal education besides its rec¬ ognized value as a bread-winning accomplishment. It increases the power to analyze, and developes constructive ability. More than that, it makes a person think quickly. The more expert one becomes in shorthand, the more expert the person becomes in the use of these qualities. To become expert in writing and reading shorthand these points must be kept in mind: the fundamental principles of the subject must be thorough¬ ly mastered; these principles must be applied accurately and intelligently in order to give the necessary brevity of outline, and to produce uniformity in writing; the proportion of the characters must be constantly observed, that is, one must distinguish positively between the length of the strokes and the size of the circles. Much practice must be obtained in applying the principle and in the execution of the characters in order to give the student facility in writing. It is said that there is no royal road to accurate shorthand-writing at high speed. It means hard persistence, intense application, and continual prac¬ tice. Julius Bisiccia, ’ 32 . A PROTEST. I wish to deplore and to attempt to rectify several matters pertaining to that glamorous fall sport, football. Although this script may not rock exist¬ ing conditions to their very foundations, it perhaps will strike a responsive chord in the hearts of some of the fans, and it will set my own harried mind at ease. Time and again one will see an offensive lineman cleverly remove his antagonist, leaving a gaping hole through which a back will stumble for a touchdown. The back is a hero. The people proclaim him a second Grange. The newspapers in screaming headlines tell of his lusty deed. On the other hand, the hard hitting warrior of the front line is lucky if his name is spelled correctly in the lineup. He may expect nothing better unless, of course, he is related to the sports writer or there is some other common tie between the two. I am writing of things as they generally are. There is, of course, the exception which proves the rule. The unsung lineman on the defense is given a chance to prove his mettle and capture that elusive jester. Fame. Here again injustice is often done. One will read at random a sport section and it usually goes like this, “Jones playing center for Yellwell easily took defensive honors, making half the tackles for his team.” Yes, and why shouldn’t he? The defensive lineman has to cover a certain assigned ter- M. H. S. ORCHESTRA. M. H. S. BASKETBALL TEAM 46 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. The trouble with most people is that they believe that opportunity is something great and unusual, and they look to far off for their chances. We forget that the simplest things are in the end the greatest. No opportunity? In a land where success awaits anyone who has the grit and backbone to fight his way in life? Always remember that your achievements depend wholly upon yourself. You must make your oppor¬ tunities. No opportunity? My dear friends, forget this excuse of th e weak. Work and hope. Work and success will be yours! Astred Larson, S1. NATURE. The solemnity and grandeur of nature in its primitive state is awe-in¬ spiring. In vain do expeditions in the tropics try to bring back to the civilized world a concept of the untrammeled beauties they have perceived. In these moist, humid lands, Nature can indulge all her whims and run riot, producing a dazzling, bewildering result—the jungle. One cannot imagine the majestic trees with their interlacing boughs, the thick grasping vines, and the beautiful nameless flowers. They must be seen. We can only ruminate and sigh over these beauties for the desire to feast one’s eyes on them and to drink in the heavenly perfumes of the flowers can never be a reality. We must content ourselves with nature in a more sedate mood. We have, however, our parks, mountains and spots of interest plus the convenient modes of travel so sadly lacking in the jungle. It is very helpful to go to some quiet retreat reserved from the rush of humanity to rest the mind from petty cares and to whet one’s apprecia¬ tion of beauty. Nature also has a soothing effect on rasped nerves and puts new hope into discouraged spirits by this brief spiritual contact with the Creator. The magnitude of Nature’s works also acts as a measuring stick to man which shows him properly his infinitesimal part in the scheme of things. If all people were keen observers of nature, they would be far happier. The natural growth of all things, their blossoming into full beauty, and the gradual waning into death, is a revelation to all and teaches the priceless lesson of the futility of all small, mean characteristics for we, too, must some day pass away to our day of reckon ing. Bertha Siipola, ’31. SMILES. There is one gesture of human beings which has aroused a deep in¬ terest in me. It is their smiles. Has it ever occurred to you that these vary in themselves? Each individual carries, for me, a different smile. They differ in their cause. First of all, we think of Baby who smiles very often. He possesses the smile of innocence; his pleasure is derived from his true little heart. Take a lad of about ten and he will always have what may be called the toothpaste smile.” His thoughts are mainly devoted to outdoor sports. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 49 ritory. The interferers, usually two, come straight at his position. They know where to find him. The lineman playing orthodox football needs must charge straight in fighting his way with his hands. The roving center plays about a yard in back of the line and moves at will with the play. He is a shifting target for the interferers to hit and is therefore hard to remove. A good defensive center can easily be in on every play and garner almost half of the tackles and not be superior to another lineman, who has done his work well but, in the eyes of the crowd, not so brilliantly. I am not endeavoring to detract from the fame of the great backs and roving centers of the past and present, but I wish to give credit where credit is due, and if I can give a little comfort to at least one or two linemen, who are bitter toward football because of these defects, I have not written in vain. I finish this missive knowing that there will not be a radical change in football in the near future. Star backs will continue to be lauded to the skies (some of them deserve it), and fighting linemen will still plug on, unheralded by the fickle mob. However, there is an unsung glory in it. A silent satis¬ faction always experienced by those who have done their duty courageously and well. The red badge of courage is never worn in vain. As human nature in all its weakness will probably always be what it is, my yen for an impar¬ tial distribution of credit will be unappeased. Joseph FitzGerald, ’32. LIGHTHOUSES. In the days when Columbus and other bold mariners set sail on un¬ chartered seas, they were in constant peril from submerged rocks and from shoals. Today the ocean lanes are dotted with more than 13,500 lighthouses and lightships to warn the seamen of danger, and to guide them through darkness and turbulent seas. The construction of these sentinels involves much danger, the workmen sometimes working on half-submerged ledges buffeted by the waves. It often takes a whole year just to drill a few holes in the rock or to lay a single stone. The lighthouse has also seen many patient and brave keepers who are always in danger from storms, oil explosions, and hungry seas. There are many stories of heroism connected with these keepers, not only of men but women as well. A shining example of this is the story of the old woman light-keeper of San Francisco Bay. One stormy night the fog signal was disabled. Nothing daunted, the keeper stood on an exposed platform for twenty hours and struck the bell by hand. Until recent years lighthouses were huge piles of masonry of great thickness to withstand the buffeting of the waves and wind. Today they are made of steel, consisting of a round tapering tower of great height. A winding staircase within leads up to a huge lanterp at the top. A shaft of light from these lanterns may be seen twenty miles or more out at sea. Among the most famous lights of today are the Eddystone, thirteen miles off Plymouth, England; the Bell Rock off the coast of Scotland, and Minot’s Ledge, twenty miles southeast of Boston. It is somewhat difficult for us to visualize the long and weary watch high in the tower of a lighthouse; or the joy-lit face of a responsible Captain hold¬ ing the destiny of many lives in the hands guiding his vessel through murky 60 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. blackness, as he sees a light and knows he is on the right course. But, if we can partly visualize these scenes, we can realize the benefits, the tremend¬ ous advantages of those guardians of the briny deep. Harvey Burford, ' 32. THE COBWEB. I raised my hand to brush away the web, But then I hesitated, brush in hand. Could I a thing so excellent produce? In wonder, gazing at it, there I stand. And note that it is perfect in its form. A tiny spider puts me quite to shame. An inspiration it will prove to be. This web that hangs upon my window frame. A pattern for my work; so let me see If near its faultlessness I may attain. I would that my life ' s web as fine a mesh Hang on the wall of time, there to remain, ril be content if when my web is done, ' Tis like the spider ' s—just as finely spun. Frances Tyndall, ' 32. THOUGHTS. When the end of the day is near at hand And you sit alone with your thoughts. Do you ever think of faraway lands. Lands where love and enchantment are wrought? Do you ever think of the by-gone days When you were loving and free. And you spent every sunny hour in play Knowing that God would watch over thee? Do you ever remember the miseries of life That have often caused pain and despair. Sorrows that have come through warfare and strife, Grief that has left your heart bleak and bare? Thoughts are often your dearest treasure When you are heartsick, alone; So when you are too sad to indulge in some pleasure. Turn your thoughts towards the loved ones at home. Shirley Eastman, ' 32. THE OAK. LILY AND IVY. 51 THE FLIGHT OF A GULL. On top of lonely cliff I stand, Apart from the world in this desert of sand, Regarding your flight with a friendly eye; Watching you glide, then soar up high Into the blue, a speck in the sky. Quickly you wheel, make a quick dive. Veer off in air and suddenly arrive Just overhead with a shrill, rasping cry. Never faltering in your flight. Hardly alighting day or night, Free from worries, cares, and trouble. White as the sand, light as a bubble, Securing your food without any pains. Possessing the power to visit far mains, Free to roam far and nigh— Don’t I wish that I could fly! Edmund Sullivan, ’32. TO A WATERFALL. Waterfall, You were hidden here. Hidden by these tall thick trees from travelers. But I found you. As I look at you, I feel a certain sense of freedom And of joy. As you take your wild leap from the rocks above. Crowned by a thousand rainbows. You cast back the rays of the sun. Mocking it. As if your light were brighter. Waterfall, You are foolish to be so vain. But I love to watch you. To see the birds wash their dusty wings In the spray at your feet. You represent the wild dance of youth. Fearing nothing—except Winter’s icy blast. It is Winter you fear. He reaches with his icy fingers and stills your dance. But Spring comes and frees you with sunshine and warmth. And again you start your dance. Wilder than ever at the thought of being free. Oh, waterfall, dance for me! Annette Rivard, ’32. 62 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. THE SUN. I have seen the sun In the glow of dawn Rising in the heavens, burning plumes outspread. I have seen the sun Bringing in the morn. Life and warmth and joy to a world where life was dead. I have seen the sun In the light of day Brightening the corners of a dull dark world. Its all-embracing smile A gift to reconcile All sadness, with its gladness laughing overhead. I have seen the sun When the day is done, A dying eagle sinking, low into the West. Then we find the sunny cheer Has made our troubled souls grow clear And our hearts with peace and joy the golden day has fed. Martha Rapaport, ' 32. NATURE. Have you ever watched a butterfly As it floated down from the azure sky And circled round on lazy wing As though to greet the peaceful spring? Have you ever glanced at a leafy tree, At a robin singing cheerily? He seems all wrapped up in his song As he greets with music the sun-kissed morn. Have you watched a bee in graceful glide As he buzzes down to a swarming hive? He is carrying home to his crowded bower The honey of some generous flower. Have you happened upon a hidden lea To fix your gaze on a swaying sea Of flowers, rose and saffron hued, Expressing nature’s gayest mood? 63 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. Though life of man be filled with sorrow, Nature strives with each tomorrow Thoughts of grief to drive away. Fears and worries to allay. With sights and sounds of happy life She turns away all thoughts of strife. Harvey Burford, ' 32. ODE TO THE LINDBERGH BABY. Alas, today and ever shall we mourn The untimely end of the infant born To the Lindberghs, messengers of the air. 0, may his soul never find repose Who dared conceive that vicious crime. The direst brutality recorded by time. Who snatched light and life from a poor little mother. Those heaven-lent gifts restored by no other. Who struck out a life that was destined to greatness. 0 God! for this injustice committed on earth. May that babe be avenged, who so plundered at birth. May now dwell in heaven, restricted on earth. Then harken, 0 dwellers of this earthly realm And hasten, I pray you: to task must you flee To search for those assaillants on land and sea. So bring back to judgment those sinners defiled. Who dared enter the sanctuary of an innocent child. And show to a nation that is shedding true tears That virtuous justice still reigns through the years. Robert Kurlansky, ' 32. FOOTPRINTS. When wind and snow have ended Their onslaught fierce and wild. Each bush and wall and pathway With heaving drifts is piled. The pine trees, spruce, and hemlock Are spears of mottled green. And all the snowbound landscape Seems brightly fresh and clean. 64 THE OAK, L ILY AND IVY. I plow through milky billows And leave a narrow trail, Much like the wakes of steamers That on the ocean sail. But others, too, have ventured Into the dazzling snow, And left their tracks behind them For us to find and know. While man has dreamed and slumbered. The furry tribe has played. And morning shows the footprints These stealthy creatures made. Eleanor Eldridge, ’32 OUR APPLE TREE. For sixty years it stood so tall; Each year it seems it fain must fall. But though ’tis bent and snarled and scarred. Its charm to us will ne’er be marred. For every year the blossoms come On our old apple tree. The winter leaves it cold and bare. Its gaunt limbs creaking with despair; But cut it down we would not try. We’d sooner leave it there to die. For every year the blossoms come On our old apple tree. Anna Porter, ’32. TO THE THANKSGIVING GAME. No sun, darn chilly. All yelling, feeling silly; Great day, players ready. Ball’s snapped, caught, steady. Start singing, prickly spine; Swell game, great time. Bad cold, nose red; Go home, in bed. Dad’s sore, raises cain; Next year—do it again! R. O’S., ’32. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 65 Xigbt Essays THE END OF A PERFECT DAY. Supper is over. Amos and Andy have been heard. Darkness is coming on. The children of the neighborhood have stopped their ball playing and have been called in off the street. There is a “wandering cop” in our town now, you know. It is then that I take up my books and spend a blissful two or more hours on my beloved studies. All day long I look forward to this time of leisure during which I have no interruptions, I am glad to say. Even in school, when I have study periods, I purposely put off my hardest subjects until night so that I may not lose this delightful period of grinding. Perhaps I should not use the word grinding as that implies hard, intensive, and dis¬ agreeable concentration. Especially do I enjoy the nights when I have essays to write. Essay is a word derived from a French verb “essayer” meaning to attempt. And that is just about all I do with an essay—attempt to make an attempt at writing one. I sit there chewing at the end of a pencil staring off into space or gazing at a picture opposite me as if I had never seen anything quite like it before. And the best of it is, after I finally get this essay writ¬ ten, I still have other studies to keep me interested. Of course it is a delightful, warm night outside. The stars are shining brightly. There is a full moon. The scent of roses is in the air. There is a cool breeze blowing. It is just the kind of night that makes one feel like casting all one’s cares aside and spend a happy evening in—studying. Anna Porter, ’32. NECKTIES. Was it Shakespeare who said, “A necktie may become an expression of a beauty or a fiendish instrument of torture” ? Maybe it was only a dream; I don’t know. Now, let us examine this delicate subject of neckwear. A person who habitually wears a becoming necktie is very rare, so rare that he might almost be considered a model of perfection. Indeed, he should be placed on a pedestal, where he could look down with scorn upon us who lack that blessing of proper necktie selectivity. There, surrounded by samples of his divine gift, we could gaze up at him with awe and envious admiration in our eyes, praying that we, too, may some day merit the absolute devotion due such a mighty personage. Yet, we who have poor taste are to a certain extent, fortunate. It does not annoy us to perceive a friend approach wearing a gorgeous creation of yellow and green. Far from it, we welcome such a one as a fellow trans¬ gressor. Is it not the truth that the majority are usually right? Therefore, ninety-nine per cent of the population need not be dictated to. For after all. 56 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. in the final anaylsis, who pays for the cravat? You do. Now, you may ask, “What does all this prove?” It proves that a necktie is beautiful, if so re¬ garded. Who said it wasn’t? Well, that’s another story. Do you not believe that a necktie may become an instrument of fiendish torture? So do I. The man who originated the idea of cravats was nearly hanged. Too bad. If I were there, I’m sure I could have made the event a success. Seriously, though, have you ever attempted to tie that most exasperating of all ties, the bow? No? Then let me describe, as graphically as possible, the process. After, by dint of much manoeuvering, you manage to tie it for the first time, you decide it is uneven. You untie it. You tie it again. Same result. You repeat the performance. Again the same result. You become warm. You remove your vest. You become nervous, angry, infuriated, ter¬ rified, shaky, disgusted, and finally discouraged. Filled with self-contempt, you admit defeat. Yet there are a few misguided beings who actually refuse to concede that a necktie, although considered essential, is a menace to all mankind. These few, however, have yet to learn, and, in learning, I sincerely hope they will survive the ordeal. Harvey BuRFORDj; ’32. WORMS. Have you ever stopped to consider what a tragedy the life of a worm is? From the time that he is an infant until old age, his path is beset by many dangers. With what cruelty these poor, little helpless creatures are treated! They are stabbed by fishhooks to serve as a decoy for innocent little fishes; they are washed onto the sidewalk by heavy rain and are carelessly stepped on by heedless people. Not even the beautiful springtime inspires this cruel world with kind¬ ness, for one is very indignant, when, digging in his garden, he comes upon a long graceful pink worm. Our little friend is picked up on the end of a stick (or with the hands, if you are that type) and viciously tossed on the other side of the fence. When one bites into a nice rosy-cheeked apple and encounters one of our little friends, why should he be surprised if the poor little worm has a slightly pained expression on being disgustedly tossed in the garbage? The helpless little creature should be regarded as a friend. Haven’t both of you tastes in common? Do you not like good fruit also? True friends are hard to find. Look at all the suffering a worm meets with in his short life. Living in cold hard dirt, never having any kindness and consideration shown him, having the roots of flowers and grass poking in his face, should he not com¬ plain? On the contrary, no one ever heard a worm bewail his lot in life. Serious, calm, appreciative, philosophic, and uncomplaining, he takes life as it comes and wriggles along with a smile of gratitude for a kind word. Martha Rapaport, ’32. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 57 INCOMPATIBILITY. Anyone who is a member of a large family realizes that it is as natural to fall into quarrels and squabbles as for a duck to swim. Indeed, the per¬ son who never gets into some argument or petty dispute can scarcely be considered human. The cook gets into more trouble than any other member of the house¬ hold, since the family likes and dislikes are so varied. Serve a stew, and if the ingredient disliked by each one were taken out, there would be no stew left. One says, “You spoiled it with the onions.” Another exclaims, “What did you put turnips in for?” and so on. By the time the meal is ended, the poor cook hasn’t a friend in the house. It takes more than an ordinary human being to study in the evening with the whole family home, to say nothing of the noise caused by the radio in operation. Just when you’ve the most work to do, the while family is try¬ ing to get you into a game of some sort, but when vacation comes around, and you’ve nothing in particular to do, and would like a little fun, every one’s busy or doesn’t feel like playing. Put a bunch of lilacs on the table and soon the vase is empty; some poor creature had a severe headache and turned them out. Oh, well, to curb one’s temper and let the cloud pass over is the most peaceful settlement. Perhaps the most disputes carried on in the family arise over the radio. Father likes to hear political talks; mother enjoys household talks; the boys have to hear all the sports on the air, or it’s like war to live with them. The girls like to hear music, but rarely do we have the opportunity. Well, here’s a chance for an invention, something by which we can all be satisfied. You may conclude that you’re glad you’re not a member of a large family, but, even though we do not always agree, it’s fun to see who wins the arguments. And we surely ought to be a broadminded crowd, since no matter escapes being discussed from every possible angle. Frances Tyndall, ’32. CHEWING GUM. I wonder how many of us have ever stopped to consider the inestim¬ able value of chewing gum. Primarily of course, it is used to exercise the numerous muscles of the human jaw. I have often wondered whether a strong jaw is a requisite for a baseball player. This gelatinous substance is also a most ingenious device as an outlet for pentup emotion. It provides an effective means for “letting off steam.” A striking example of this can be seen at any High School dance, where gum chewing is always in order. But these two uses fade into oblivion when we think of the other ways in which chewing gum has served humanity. I once saw it efficiently used to stop the leak in a water pipe until a plumber could arrive and repair the damage. Gum does expert emergency work in repairing jewelry. Many a time and oft a broken earring or necklace has been mended through the medium of this marvelous servitor of mankind. But chewing gum has not only found success as a jeweler; it has come into its own as a cobbler. Many of my friends can testify that it has been put to use to stick on a rebellious French 58 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. heel, and I distinctly remember the time my little sister stuck the China blue eyes of her best mamma doll back into its head with a wad of chewing gum. If any of my readers have even played Simon Says during her child¬ hood, I do not think she would be long in comprehending my meaning when I say it is quite advantageous to have a wee bit of chewing gum during the game. Many people find this cohesive material quite helpful as a protection for fine furniture. (I have never used it this way myself). A layer of gum will do away with undue scratches or rough treatment. And many find it makes a nice soft pillow for their nervous fingers when talking over the phone. As I thought over these things, I speculated as to the relative value of using gum to stuff up a keyhole when there are curious servants outside the door. I tell you, my dear reader, that we do not half appreciate the worth of chewing gum. Harriet Carter, ’32. WOMEN! Scripture relates that God made Eve, the first female, from one of Adam’s ribs. Thus it can readily be seen that the Ruler of the universe in¬ tended woman to occupy a secondary place in His realm. It is my happy fate to be a woman hater. Before I proceed further, allow me to state that my hatred of the weaker sex comes from a close scrutiny of their nature and is not an inborn, inexplicable conviction. Draw up a chair, boys, and have a good laugh or maybe a cry while you increase your acquaintance with the most unusual of the Lord’s children— women. One of the most interesting and at the same time ridiculous types of the genus is the young lady in her early teens who has suddenly become boy¬ conscious. What a laughable picture she presents I In her overworked im¬ agination she sees herself as the cynosure of all youthful male eyes. Unused to the art of the comestique, her efforts at artificial coloring result pathetical¬ ly. Her allure is stupendous! Don’t laugh, Ebenezer. Circe herself was never more enticing. But a single glance from those flashing eyes and the poor defenseless male victim is expected to kneel to worship at the altar of her charms. And, boys, did you ever hear a group of youthful females in un¬ guarded conversation among themselves? No? Well you’ve missed quite a treat. Permit me to quote a few snatches of typical talk: “Oh, ain’t he swell!” “And he said to me and I said to him. . .” How¬ ever, I must cease before I tabulate any more of their silly remarks. Say, but did you know that the female is possessed of a remarkable mental capacity? Oh, yes, to be sure. Just ask a young lady how she liked the picture she saw last night and then analyze carefully the deep thought in her retort. Invariably she will reply, “Wasn’t he grand?” Such amazing intelligence! The prim old maid presents an amusing spectacle to behold. She is one of the most contradictory kinds of the feminine gender. When she realizes that she can no longer attract men, she shields her true sentiment with a THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 59 veil of hypocrisy. When she sees a youthful couple exhibit their mutual affection, she disdainfully raises her eyes and scornfully and scoldingly re¬ marks, “Why, it’s scandalous the way these young ’uns carry on.” She herself is unaware that her pretention is easily seen through by any but a moronic male. Oh, yes, now we come to the scandal spreaders who indulge in tele¬ phone conversation of at least a half hour’s duration. They usually start their conversation by one remarking that, of course, she wouldn’t repeat anything, but she heard confidentially only last night that Mr. So and So has been seen with Mrs. Neardowell and they end by saying that this will never go further than their own ears. Oh, yes? An astounding recital of facts, n’est-ce pas? Well, boys, shall I continue? What! You say that the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Women have already heard of my remarks and that they intend to instigate criminal procedure against me? Well, well, well, I guess I had better desist, for there is no fury like that of a woman scorned. But, boys, if you’ll come around some other time. I’ll give you a few more particulars. Bernard Marcus, ’32. MICE. A mouse is one of the prettiest little creatures which I can now recall to memory. Its soft fur and alluring eyes make it very popular, especially with women. He can often be found in the pantry, but he seldom stays around long enough for one to get a good view of him. The housekeeper often finds that the carrots which she had intended to use in a salad have been nibbled and sometimes almost entirely eaten up by mice, but of course, she doesn’t mind this a bit because she knows that they must eat, just as humans, to live. Occasionally she goes into the pantry just in time to see a mouse or two emerging from the flour barrel, and she sits and thinks of when she has seen a more beautiful sight than a flour-covered rodent. Then again mice can be found in clothes closets. Any woman will agree that it is a joy to have a couple as tenants in one’s hat box or shoe rack. And, if you own a long ruffled dress, you may be fortunate enough to have mice chew off the bottom flounce. I cannot recall ever enjoying a more pleasant experience than one I had last summer. I started to don a pair of riding boots, and after putting one on, I found that I had a little trouble getting my foot into the other. I felt something soft at the toe and wondered what it could be. All of a sudden it began to wiggle and squirm, and taking off the boot, I found that the object was nothing more than a charming grey mouse. I calmly put on the boot and only hoped that I might repeat the experience. These fair nibblers make life complete, and anyone who has a number of them can rightly be proud of their possessions. Women in particular are very fond of mice and any cat that dares to catch one when a female is around is quite apt to suffer the consequences. Annette Rivard, ’32. 60 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. THE ART OF DIVING. Ker Splash! ! ! Have you ever been an eye witness when one of the younger generation has been trying to master the gentle art of diving? Fine! Your education has not been neglected. Perhaps it was in the seething, turbulent waters of Lake Nipmuc or in the frigid billows of Nantasket or Old Orchard. But wherever it may be, some fine fellow is usually endeavor¬ ing to conquer Old Man Diving. Usually in the case of Lake Nipmuc the gallant aspirant may be ob¬ served to make a few practice jumps from the small raft. With a thatch of hair closely allied to a wet mop and wearing a glove-tight suit, the cou¬ rageous Adonis lumbers forward onto the end of the diving board, lifts his head to Heaven, mumbles a hasty invocation, and launches himself forward. Without exception he falls like a heavy flat slab on the surface of the water accompanied by a noise sounding like an explosion (and feeling like one!) A few bubbles emerge and then if he’s lucky, a bedrenched head pops up, spouting and blowing like a porpoise, and carrying specimens of the lake- bottom in what under normal conditions might be called his hair. After much splashing and puffing about, the intrepid figure exhaustedly sprawls onto the raft and, in a manner suggesting acute agony, rolls about holding his raw stomach and thighs. In his severe suffering he is apparently unaware of the winks which accompany the comments of praise from his friends. However, the heroic male cannot give up yet (there might be some fe¬ males about). With dramatic gestures he sways to his unsteady limbs and, brushing aside all comments, he loudly proclaims to the wide world that, undaunted, he is again about to illustrate the original swan dive! Alas for the vanity of man! Again the bedraggled figure flops, legs apart like a huge crab, and sinks with a resounding smack to the bottom as his friends (! ! !) guffaw like laughing hyenas. A frantic hand appears pawing the water mightily, and finally the hero in person emerges for a half-second or so to receive graciously the plaudits of the cheering throngs. But alas and alack! His admirers have deserted him and left him to nurse his wounded vanity (and don’t forget his sides!) Edmund Sullivan, ’32. A PLEASANT PICNIC. ' ‘What a wonderful day; let’s go on a picnic.” Whenever the reader hears a person suggest the above idea, my best advice is to shoot the trouble-maker. Yes, I said shoot him. And without delay, too. For if you did as I did, you will allow the picnic movement to spread and gain a harmful popularity. A lovely picnic decided upon, the arrangement or nuisance of putting the food together will fall on some unfortunate individual. Presumably you in punishment for your vociferous part in opposing the grand picnic. If you are lucky enough to own an automobile, all is well; otherwise your troubles will just begin, for the picnic grounds are always miles away from home. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 61 WGarily a.rriv6d at thG spot which th6 others call PcbTcidisB, you scratch your head reflectively and try to figure out why they misnamed this hole. The girls, who have no equal in spreading a dinner (and also in eat¬ ing one), lay the cloth on the ground and bring on the food. Then the ant¬ eating begins. Junior, who apparently hasn t had a meal for a week, seizes the rasp¬ berry jam, and retires with his booty behind a tree, and proceeds to devour it with no little noise. He soon makes his reappearance, after you’ve thanked your lucky stars at getting rid of him so easily, with half the jam on his face, and hands, and the other half in his stomach. He insists on serving you with his very clean hands, and you agree with his mother that he is a very helpful boy. By this time, a sickly grin has crept on your face and you feel like jumping up and yelling for murder. This is justified by the remarks of the rest of the crowd praising the secluded delights of nature. Your appetite, if you had any, has completely vanished, and with it your good humor, which is the only thing that has kept you from sticking the knife that you are ingloriously holding, into Junior. The ants and insects are now adding to your miseries, and you find them crawling and biting their way to the sandwich in your hand. Finally you give up in disgust and toss the sandwich away. The crowd refuses to leave for home until the last crumb is gone, and by that time, all the beetles, insects, and ants have notified their friends concerning the picnic, and a battle royal is being waged between my friends and the insects. As referee I award the fight to the insects and depart for home. My friends seemed totally oblivious of any hindrances whatever, and actually remarked, ‘What a lively picnic.” But all I could think of was that it was a lovely picnic, yes, a lovely one,—for the ants, William Murray, Jr., ’32. THIS GOSSIPY WORLD. I have heard many times that the quickest way to spread news is by ‘‘telephone, telegraph, and tell-a-woman,” but I think we can easily add “tell-a-man.” It is true that the women talk too much and tell much more than they really know; but the men can easily be included with the women in this instance. I have seen and listened to many men talk about things that they have heard, and telling the story so that it seems quite preposter¬ ous. I have often wondered, very seriously, why men laugh at a group of women when they get together and gossip, gossip. Why, when you find a group of men together, wild horses could not drag them apart! They talk and talk and talk. What is their subject? Everything. The telephone is a wonderful invention, made, it seems, for the purpose of communicating to others our troubles, and our thoughts. Without it we should feel lost. It is a great help in trying circumstances, especially when medical aid is needed. With the use of the telephone, we can talk with people who are far away from us. The uses of the telephone are so numerous that it would take pages and pages to name them all. But the telephone is also the means of spreading gossip. Some women who live only for gossip, only to talk of others, spend hours and hours at the phone, elaborating on some story, and filling the ears of another with tales most scandalous. 62 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. Even the telegraph spreads stories. But these are useful and necessary to the happiness of all. Telegrams usually, they say, bring only sad news, but that is not always true. When friends are far, far away, they can know the welfare of others simply by sending a telegram. Business corres¬ pondence is carried on by telegraph. So, the telegraph, like the telephone, is an invention which helps save time in this hurrying world of ours. They are something we cannot do without. Now, we come to the men—creatures who are supposed to have more sense than the women. But have they? It is true they are more cautious, more reliable, and more truthful; but when it comes to talk, even they for¬ get everything but that they must tell a story which will hold the interest of the audience. The men are heard conversing freely at wakes. Their talk is the same as that of the women. They talk of everything. Their only desire is to be heard above the rest, to tell a story more convincing than that of the previous speaker. But the women, will they ever change in being tiresome gossipers? No. Since the beginning of the world, their most dangerous weapon has been their tongue, and they use this to great advantage. Some women who are born with cold hearts and evil minds work hard and constantly to wreck the hap¬ piness of some innocent bystander. The most unsuspecting circumstances will, to them, seem terribly wrong. They make it so by adding a little vinegar, as it were, and they tell a story which only the imagination of a heartless woman can tell. This story goes from one to the other until it is supposed to end. But what an ending! The tale has been torn to pieces, put together again, revised until it does not have any relation to the simple conversation which it was in the beginning. Scandal, this is what the gos¬ sipers live on—Scandal. They find the queerest places to spread their tale. The sick bed. This is hard to believe, but it is true. One who is trying to have rest and quiet must listen to the tongue of one who tells of her ail¬ ments, and how horrible they were; of one who must talk about some bad person who has done wrong; of one who talks of her virtues and the evils of another. On they talk until they have exhausted their supply of informa¬ tion. Not only at the sick bed, but also at funerals and many other inappro¬ priate places. It is always the same thing—gossip, gossip ! Sometimes we wonder what the cause of all this gossiping can be. Is it jealousy? Many women talk of others in an evil manner when they possess this particular trait. But this is not always so. Gossip, more often than not, is caused because of the need of confiding to others one’s inmost thoughts, suppositions, and fancies. Theresa Consoletti, ’32. j There was a young lady named Shaw Who stepped on her doggie’s sore paw. He yelped in disgust And said, “If you must. Use sneakers and step on my jaw.” A. P., ’32. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 63 VALEDICTORY. WASHINGTON, THE PRESIDENT. “Where there was faltering, he was there as faith; Where there was weakness, he was there as strength; Where there was discord, he was there as peace.’’ Edwin Markham. From the womb of our great nation have issued many men of sterling qualities, poets, authors, inventors, and statesmen. Each of these eminent Americans has his name inscribed upon the libretto of immortality. Dur¬ ing the course of time, countless famous names have been added to this volume, yet the indelible name of one continues to maintain its conspicuous position of honor; namely, the immortal statesman and leader, George Wash¬ ington. This year, 1932, commemorates the two-hundredth anniversary of his birth. The government of the United States is sponsoring a gigantic cele¬ bration for its national hero never before equaled by any government of this age. Few men have ever been the recipients of such glory. Every city, town, and hamlet will pay common tribute to this illustrious leader. Surely] he is singularly honored! That you may appreciate the true magnanimity of this great man, let me with a modest hand paint a picture of him. To me there has existed no greater American; he is incomparable, pre¬ eminent. With his magnetic force he drew all patriotic citizens to his side. His fortitude, his pure and lofty spirit, and his veracity inspired confidence and devotion in the hearts of his struggling fellowmen. Only Washington could have successfully transported the colonists across the perilous canyon of the Revolution to the opposite bank of Liberty. On April 30, 1789, amid the cheer of the people, the roaring of cannon, and the ringing of bells, he was inaugurated the first President of the United States of America. Washington bowed modestly before the cheering crowd, and then withdrew to the hall where he delivered his inaugural address to Congress. The history of the United States under the Constitution had be¬ gun! A great task lay before him. The country he had salvaged he must now build up and strengthen. Every ounce of his vigorous but aging energy was called into play. The unique situation with which he had to cope can be realized in a few words he wrote sometime later. “The establishment of our government,” he said, “served to be the last great experiment for promoting human happiness by a reasonable compact in civil society. Few who are not philosophical spectators can realize the difficult part which a man in my situation had to act. In our progress towards political happiness my situation is new, and, if I may use the expression, I walk on untrodden ground. There is scarcely any part of my conduct which may not hereafter be drawn into precedent. If, after all my humble but faithful endeavors to advance the felicity of my country and mankind, I may indulge a hope that my labors have not been altogether without success, it will be the only real compensation I can receive in the closing scenes of life.” Washington was a noble example of a true American citizen. He had an explicit faith in America and the American people. He was an abiding 64 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. and moving spirit in the destiny and future of his country. He was not sectional but national, not colonial but independent. He had a lofty con¬ ception of what this nation should be, and followed out that ideal with loyalty and truth. When the President began his duties on May 1, 1789, no government existed except a President and a Congress. There were no arrangements for the collection of revenue, or management of the postal service. The army consisted of a few scattered soldiers; the navy was yet unborn. There were no funds. Not even traditions and forms of government existed to transact public functions promptly and properly. These forms had to be devised. Tact, firmness, and a sure judgment were required to establish the proper relations with foreign countries. Then in regard to the President himself, his mode of conduct and etiquette were grave questions. Upon his answers to these important questions depended the fate of a nation. His every move, his every action, his every comment might be “drawn into precedent.” To err meant disaster. His decisions must be just and infallible. However, George Washington did not fail; the results of his labors live forever. In order to acquaint himself efficiently with his duties, he minutely studied the business of all departments. This was indeed a mark of prudence, for it enabled him to obtain a concise knowledge of his obligations, thereby insuring thoughtful and worthy decisions. His demeanor and behavior were severely assailed at this time, but we of the present age can understand his sincerity and good sense. Having appointed his cabinet and the Supreme Court, Washington de¬ cided to carry out a plan he had previously formulated—namely to tour the Eastern states and effect a closer unity of the country, and to demonstrate the power of the Federal government. The journey was uneventful, and car¬ ried out with the usual Washington precision. It served its purpose also, and brought out a popular enthusiasm which predicted well for the new government. Congress came together for the first time with the government actually organized on January 4, 1790. In his speech to the legislative body the President made his recommendations which became the policies of his ad¬ ministration. His first recommendation was to provide for the common de¬ fense by a proper military establishment. Another was to encourage and protect inventions by the patent and copyright laws. He advised the adop¬ tion of a uniform standard of coinage, weights and measures. His recom¬ mendation for a uniform rule for naturalization was realized by a law quietly passed in 1790. Provision was duly made for a post office, insufficient at first but growing steadily as the increase in population and commerce war¬ ranted. The President also recommended a diplomatic service which de¬ veloped gradually with occasional conflict. He informed Congress that plans to secure pacific relations with our red-skin neighbors had been incepted, but that force might be necessary. His most elaborate recommendation was in behalf of education, but unfortunately nothing was done. With these important matters disposed of, the Executive made a gen¬ eral recommendation for the advancement of commerce, manufacturing, and agriculture; and he requested the House of Representatives to provide for a revenue and the public credit. Although the speech was short, it outlined a vigorous system and aimed at a strong central government with enlarged powers. With one broad stroke he severed every string connecting the new government with the feeble Confederacy, and grasped the conception of an indivisible nation from thirteen tottering states. M. H. S. BASEBALL TEAM—1932. M. H. S. FOOTBALL TEAM ’tiilki ' ■ ■. ‘;5, it i- u. 4 ■ ' i - : i • ,;?. 14 ‘l’ -t C ' ..- .S:., U tv- • Jk, ' ’• £1 1 ; ru‘- • � -« :� Jf - ■ ' !, ’ ’, ' ' ' 1 1 ' .c’■ ' c ' ' ' Sr ci i- ' ■MLijA ' ai m:-- ' BR i ' ■ ■ • . ■ S ' W-‘« ■ ' • S .- ' ,.fc tp ■ ' ■ •. . -4. ; t jH - 1 ' . ■ liV4 r, If, ‘ 65 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. In our foroign relations, as well as in our domestic, Washington showed the same wisdom and integrity. He made foreign ministers understand that our Government was to be treated with due formality and respect. His abiding principle, which had been with him since the day he assumed com¬ mand of the army at Cambridge, was to make the United States independ¬ ent. The Revolutionary War had achieved this end as far an England was concerned, but it still remained to be proved to the rest of the world. For this reason the neutrality policy was adopted. To cease depending upon the nations of Europe, it was necessary to charter our own course with a policy wholly apart from them. It was also urgent to raise our politics, to detach our minds from these affairs of other nations, and to make us truly Ameri¬ cans. All this Washington’s policy accompl ished so far as it was possible in the time allotted to him. It was the foresight and courage of the first Presi¬ dent which at the outset placed the United States in her relations with foreign nations on a firm, independent, and American policy. The true and first mission of the American people was, in Washington’s theory, the conquest of the continent which stretched for miles and miles behind them; for in that direction lay the sure road to national greatness. The first step was to bind by trade, interest, and communication the Atlantic states with the settlements beyond the mountains; and for this he had planned canals and highways even in the time of the confederation. The next was to remove every obstacle which fettered the march of the American settle¬ ment; and for this he forced back the Indian tribes, patiently negotiated with Spain until the Mississippi was opened, and at great personal sacrifice and trial signed the Jay treaty, thus obtaining the surrender of the British posts. On March 4, 1797, Washington left the cares of his high office. Being advanced in age, he refused to return for a third term, for he felt that he now had earned the right to enjoy private life. For eight years he had steered a course that avoided war. He was a leader in teaching and practic¬ ing that man’s best self-expression and highest achievements come in time of peace. Beneath Washington’s military cloak flamed the idealism of peace. Through much tribulation he had performed his part in establishing the government of the Union, which might have come to naught without his commanding influence. He had imparted to it the dignity of his own great character. He sustained the excellent financial policy of Hamilton. He struck a fatal blow to the colonial spirit. He made pe ace with our most dangerous enemies, and with the exception of France, he left the country in far better and more honorable relations with the rest of the world than even the most sanguine member of the Constitutional Convention could have hoped. Every word in his farewell address to the people he served and loved was instinct with the purest and wisest patriotism. He exhorted them to observe good faith towards foreign nations; to beware of attacks on the Constitution; to mitigate party spirit; to be independent politically of the world; and, “in one word, be a nation, be Americans, and be true to your¬ selves.” Charles San Clemente, ’32. Dear Classmates of 1932: Tonight we have reached the climax of our career as students in the Milford High School. We are assembled before the threshold of life gazing into the depths of its infinity. 66 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. As we close the door upon our High School days and venture upon un¬ trodden ground, let us firmly resolve to be faithful to our Alma Mater, and continually bear in mind our exhilarating motto—“Knowledge conquers all.” To the members of the faculty, to the undergraduates, and to all our friends who have assisted us, we are deeply grateful, and now we bid you all a sincere farewell. SENIOR ENGLISH. Room I has been noted for many years, As being the room of knowledge or tears; For it’s there on entering their senior year That many students begin an English career. Of texts, we all have full and plenty; Many would join me in saying—too many; Woolley’s Handbook and the Speller came first; Then copies of rhetoric and Modern Verse. Short stories and essays we all have to write. Our vacations and weekends they surely do blight. A thousand words—more, yes, but no less, And when that is over, again we are blessed. Macbeth is given us; a tragedy, ’tis true, Not only for Macbeth, but for seniors, too. “Crime does not pay” is the lesson we’re taught; ’Twas a crime we read it, the seniors thought. How our hearts rejoice when March we reach And hear, “Business pupils won’t read Burke’s Speech.” To our sorrowful fellow students we say, “Cheer up! You’ll have it finished by May.” Seniors all recognize readily at sight Whether or not Shakespeare’s spelled right; And “1564 to 1616” Will ever more in our memories be green. Our commas, apostrophes, and periods, too, We all can use now without feeling blue; If a semicolon’s omitted. Miss Ryan will say, “Please make use of 231,A.” Miss Ryan proves to be a pilot of skill. For in June the seniors get a thrill In finding that slang expressions and ain t No more their daily speech will taint. And though we struggle, and fuss, and fume. When the year draws around toward the end of June, We’re fully equipped to enter the strife With knowledge of English that will last us through life. Annette Rivard, ’3i2. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 67 THE DRAMATIC CLUB REPORT. The David Garrick Dramatic Club is the only organization in the Mil¬ ford High School which offers the student body an opportunity to manifest its interpretive ability. The club’s membership is restricted to Juniors and Seniors. That the David Garrick Club still occupies a prominent place among extra-curricular activities is evidenced by the fact that it is com¬ posed of ninety members. Organizing early in the school year, the club elected the following officers: President . Bernard Marcus Vice-President . Elvira ladarola Secretary . Rudolph Quattropani Treasurer . Donald Bowen The Garrick Club gives a public performance annually. Upon this oc¬ casion the students usually present three one-act plays under the supervis¬ ion of Miss Sadie O’Connell of the faculty. In preparation for these plays and as a means of ascertaining the dramatic ability of the club’s members, tableaux are given monthly before the club proper. These private presenta¬ tions are invaluable in developing stage technique and in determining stage presence. The club this year presented three very successful productions in June: “Mary’s Lamb’’ by Hubert Osborne, a surprising little play which has for its setting a corner in a Broadway cabaret. Edwin White, Catherine Naughton, Joseph FitzGerald, Joseph Neal, Dorothy Smiley, Fannie Di- Cesare, Robert Moloney, and Bernard Marcus composed the cast. “My Lady’s Lace’’ by Edward Knoblock, a costume play whose back¬ ground is a Dutch house of about 1660. The personnel of the play follows: Mary Rooney, Clayton Adams, Francis Gilbert, and Doris Moore. “Gadgets’’ by Percival Wilde, a hilarious, fast moving comedy whose action takes place in a department store was played by William Murray, Harvey Burford, Bertha Jones, Ruth White, Paul Dowdell, Robert Kurlansky, Rudolph Quattropani, Beatrice Elliot, Louise Roberti, and seven or eight extras. Miss Sadie O’Connell, the club’s founder and director, gave unselfishly of her time and effort in order to make the year the success that it was. Bernard Marcus, ’32. 68 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. Le CERCLE De JEANNE D’ARC. Le Cercle de Jeanne D’Arc, first organized by the Class of 1930 and restricted to Senior French students, held its first meeting this year on October 19, 1931 with a membership of twenty. The meetings are con¬ ducted under the direction of our French instructor. Miss Margaret Pianca. The following officers were elected: President . Charles W. Rae Vice-President . Shirley M. Eastman Secretary . Marguerite V. Lawson Treasurer . Mildred 1. Tenney The meetings were held once a week, and were made very enjoyable by singing French songs, some of which, such as “La Marseillaise” and “Ma Normandie” are very well known, and reciting French poems. Also, by reading the weekly periodical “Le Petit Journal,” the students became bet¬ ter acquainted with France, its people, its customs, its culture, and its lan¬ guage. The purpose of the Club has been to create an interest among students in matters pertaining to France and the French language. The success of this Club is due to the efforts of Miss Pianca, whose interesting talks and suggestions have greatly benefited us. Marguerite Lawson, ' 32. THE MILFORD HIGH SCHOOL SCIENCE CLUB. The Milford High School Science Club was reorganized early in the year with about thirty members. The following officers were elected: President . Charles L. SanClemente. Vice-President . Dorothy May Secretary . Edmund J. Sullivan Treasurer . William J. Clifford The Club was founded to promote interest in the field of science. Several meetings were held in the course of the year in which members gave demonstrations with lectures. These were followed by a general dis¬ cussion. At other times motion pictures were shown which were lent to the club by various firms. The members hope for the future success of the club, and are sincerely grateful to our efficient director, Mr. Fred A. Metcalf. Charles L. SanClemente, ' 32. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 69 FRESHMAN DEBATING CLUB. Following the custom of previous years, an early organization of the Freshman Debating Club was effected. Forty students were enrolled at the first meeting when the aims and purposes of the club were outlined. The officers chosen were: President . L. Blaine Libbey, Jr. Secretary . Miss Alice L. Gould The subjects debated on during the year were as follows: Resolved: That Chain Stores are an aid to Prosperity; That a Change to the Thirteen Month Calendar should be Approved; That the States should enact Legislation providing for Compulsory Unemployment Insurance. In addition, the members have received information as to the value and technique of the art of debating which should be of value in the future. Throughout the year, the debaters have received the able assistance and guidance of Miss Inez E. SanClemente to whom much of their success is due. L. Blaine Libbey, Jr., ’35. What a shock it would be if: SanClemente were unprepared! Ramelli did not crack his knuckles! FitzGerald did not use big words! Miss O’Sullivan and Miss Tenney were separated! Lutfy did not crack a joke! Miss Eldridge did her French more often! We did not have to study Burke’s Speech! Marcus weren’t sociable among his classmates! Dalrymple weren’t so studious! We didn’t have to write so many essays! Sweet wrote large! Miss O’Sullivan spoke in a loud tone! Miss Laronga didn’t hurry! Miss Consoletti didn’t have the minutes of the previous meeting ready! The ten minutes of one bell didn’t ring! Miss Tenney weren’t popular! Miss Porter weren’t good-natured! Ricketson didn’t borrow pencils and eat them! Mother—“Where is the loaf of bread I sent you for?” Son—“I couldn’t get it. The bakery was closed and there was a sign on the door which said ‘Home Baking.’ ”—Ex. 70 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 1931. FOOTBALL. 1931. Amid the roar of the crowd, eleven buff and blue jerseys trotted out on the field December 5, 1931, and without delay, proceeded to raise havoc with Norwood High’s powerful defense from the opening kickoff to the final whistle. Thus was pounded out a 20-12 victory over the local Norwood High School team. This gridiron classic was a post-season game arranged for the benefit of the unemployed of both towns, and marked the climax to the most success¬ ful football season ever enjoyed by a Milford High School football club. Under the mentorship of Coach Albert “Hop” Riopel, a former Holy Cross star athlete, the local eleven amassed a total of nine victories while suffering only one defeat. This fact is much more significant when one is reminded that the 1931 schedule was the most difficult ever assigned to a Milford High School eleven. Several of Milford’s outstanding players wore their school colors on the gridiron for the last time in the Norwood game. This list of Seniors, who will be sorely missed next year, include Captain Max Rice, all-school boy center, William Bellantonio, midget quarterback, Donald Bowen, fullback, Bernard Marcus and Joseph FitzGerald, ends, Abraham Gordon, star tackle, Angelo Calagione, stellar guard, Ray Blackler, center, Harvey Burford, end, and Robert Kurlansky, tackle and captain-elect of the 1932 Baseball Club. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 71 After a month of hard practice, the Riopelians opened their season with a 12-6 victory over Attleboro High in that city on September 26, 1931. The game was played in a continuous drizzle, and slowed the fast Milford Club considerably. The following Saturday, Milford outclassed Clinton on Town Park by a score of 18-0. After a lapse of three years, this game marked the renewal of athletic activities between the two schools. On Columbus Day, Milford traveled to Marlboro and downed that stub¬ born aggregation by a 14-0 victory. Charles Brucato and Captain Rice played outstanding football. The powerful offensive of Milford was ably demonstrated when they smothered Franklin 33-7 on October 17. Again Captain Rice rose to great heights by his outstanding line play. Gordon, Calagione, and Bellantonio shared honors with him. On October 24, an out-of-the-state eleven came to Milford for the first time. The Robert E. Fitch High of Groton, Connecticut was the club, and Milford again was victorious by the overwhelming score of 28-0. The Milford club was composed of a rather heavy line and a fast “pony” backfield. The “pony” backfield ran wild during this game. The following Saturday Natick was welcomed by the worst defeat ever administered to a Natick football team by Milford. The score was 19-0 and again the famed “pony” backfield ran the Natick team ragged. “Doc” Lom¬ bardi, next year’s captain and the best interfering halfback on the squad, flashed out in a new role, that of a ball-carrier, and pierced the strong Natick line repeatedly. This marked Milford’s sixth straight vistory. On Armistice Day, Milford journeyed to Framingham where it lost a heart-breaking game 6-0. A disastrous fumble, following an 80-yard punt by Framingham, paved the way for the only score of the game a few seconds before the end of the first half. Milford outplayed, outrushed, and outpassed a strong, heavy Framingham club, but could not push the ball over for a score. Framingham had been beaten previously by Norwood, 14-0. The following Saturday, Milford resumed its winning ways and beat Wellesley at Wellesley by two touchdown s, 13-0. Meanwhile the small, aggressive Milford Club had been gaining no little prominence by its smart fast games; and two Boston newspapers published writeups, the Boston Post (Oct. 27) and the Boston Hei ' ald (Nov. 16.) These articles were written by Manager William Murray, and attracted much favor¬ able comment. On Thanksgiving Day, Walpole, with whom we had not won a game in three years, came to Milford where it was smothered by the topheavy score of 38-0. The strong showing of the Milford Club delighted its followers and a great turnout was expected at Norwood on December 5. On December 5, as we have stated above, Milford did not disappoint its admirers, and trimmed the heavy Norwood Club 20-12. The whole team played splendidly throughout the game, and resembled a well-oiled machine, each player carrying out his assignments perfectly. To praise one would be to praise all. The score tells the story. 72 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. Dominic Lombardi, an outstanding blocker, was elected captain for the 1932 season. He is a little fellow, yet a braver player never wore a uniform. If he continues to be as good a captain as he is a player, Milford High need not regret the passing of Max Rice, whom Coach Riopel has called the “Per¬ fect Captain.” Too much credit cannot be given to Principal Thomas J. Quirk, whose financial judgment, even in these stressing times, has provided the club with the best equipment possible. He also is a staunch backer of the club, and has not missed a single football game in ten years. Marco Balzarini, 1930 Captain, has been an able assistant to Coach Riopel on the field, and has scouted excellently the teams Milford has had to meet. The members of the team include: Captain Rice, Robert Kurlansky, Abraham Gordon, Angelo Calagione, Charles Brucato, Bernard Marcus, Joseph FitzGerald, Philip Beccia, Adolino Petrini, Dominic Lombardi, Ray Blackler, Donald Bowen, William Bellantonio, Henry Comolli, James Mullin, Angelo Ragonese, Harvey Burford, Ernest Richards, Claude Snodgrass, Joseph Consoletti, Harold Wilson, Mario Bruno, Harold Marcus, Angelo Minichiello, James Calabrese, John Alberto, Paul Shahnamian, Francis Fitzpatrick, Fred Tosches, Joseph Cornacchia, Leslie Brown, Kenneth How¬ ard, George Bilsbury, Joseph Chappell, Carroll Mosher, Assistant Managers Paul Bruno, and John Arcudi, and Manager William A. Murray, Jr. To Captain Dominic Lombardi and Manager John Arcudi I extend my best wishes for the 1932 football season. ' Manager William MIurray, Jr4, ’32. BASKETBALL. Last winter, for the first time in twenty-five years, the Milford High School was represented on the basketball court by a varsity quintet. The team faced a number of handicaps from the outset. Lack of a school gym¬ nasium forced the five both to practice and play on the V. F. W.’s floor. Also the majority of canidates for the team were inexperienced. However, Coach Albert D. Riopel in the face of these adverse conditions instilled in his charges the high type of sportsmanship which has characterized all his ag¬ gregations. As is often remarked but little heeded, victory is not everything. Al¬ though the basketball five recorded more defeats than victories, the season must be regarded as a successful one. The boys received the benefit of the training, actual basketball experience in combat, and how to take the bitter with the sweet. The boys were without a permanent captain, a leader be¬ ing appointed previous to each game. The squad was divided into two teams, each of which played seventeen games. Milford started off the season by losing to the smoother worki ng Frank¬ lin team, 37-13, which later beat us in a second game, 23-14. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 73 Next we played our first home game at the V. F. W.’s with Walpole, who beat us 24-10. Marlboro, our arch-rival, was next and we lost by the score of 28-11, but showed up a little better than in the two previous games. Natick, one of the best teams in the state, was next, and swamped us 51- 12 which was revenge for the football defeat we gave them last fall. We journeyed to Upton and unexpectedly lost by the close score of 19-17 in the closing mJnutes. We won our first game at the expense of the larger Westboro team, 25-14, by dint of much hard work and “fight.” Upton came back for a return game and we administered a 28-16 defeat, which clearly showed our superiority. We won our third straight game at the expense of St. Mark’s Academy, 52- 26, with all the members of the squad getting a chance to play. Norwood upset our winning streak by beating us to the tune of 48-26. We then went to Walpole and got sweet revenge by beating them 26-25 in what was the best game of the season up to that time. Attleboro took us over the hurdles 27-16, but their low ceiling hindered our team to a great degree. Marlboro came to Milford next and we evened counts, defeating them 25-16. We then played Company I of Milford at the Armory and a great game was played only to have Company I become the victors by a 27-23 score. Their experience finally told on our team. We again played Company I, but once more they beat us, 36-24, Then came the big games of the year with St. Mary’s. In the first game they completely outclassed us and won 39-9, but the second game a few nights later was a thriller. They beat us 18-17 after thirty-two minutes of real hard playing. These two games were played at the Armony before capacity crowds. The members of the squad were: “Ace” Sainio, “Baldy” Bowen, Bill Bellantonio, Joe “Tiger” FitzGerald, Harvey Burford, Charles Brucato, “Steve” Dalrymple, “Al” Cook, “Moon” Mullins, “Hite” Lutfy, Ray Blackler, “Rudy” Quattropani, “Bob” Moloney, and Clayton Adams. Coach Riopel did noble work, and at the end of the season the fruit of his hard labor during the year was shown. The team was just grasping his system of play and the writer is sure that next year will be a very successful one. To Manager John Arcudi I extend my wishes for a successful season. Manager Bernard Marcus, ’32. Teacher—Now James, name America’s greatest general. James—(the son of a broker)—General Motors.—Ex. 74 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. BASEBALL. With the approach of the long postponed good weather, the call for base¬ ball candidates was re-echoed throughout the Milford High School. In re¬ sponse, we had almost fifty candidates of which no small proportion had seen service on our own team or on that so successfully managed by sub¬ master Berry. I refer, of course, to the American Legion team, twice State champions. Some schools of our size tend to develop a star, usually the pitcher. Our team was a galaxy of stars. A casual glance at our year’s report will sub¬ stantiate this statement. It is with a deep sense of pride that I am able to make public a record made by the team with the help of Principal Thomas J. Quirk and our Coach, Mr. Riopel, whose good judgment at all times has amounted to something supernatural, and to his undivided, unselfish devotion. After spending these all too short weeks with the latter, we have a clear understanding of what has made such men as Rockne, Warner, Zuppke, and McGran, and many others who will live for all time. We opened the season on Saturday, April 23, in Wellesley with every¬ body on his toes and eager to learn. Consequently we came home with a smile and a 6-1 victory made possible by the pitching of Captain Kurlansky. Monday was a stay-at-home day and we were eager to meet Natick who was reputed to have a very good ball club. Natick was a first class ball team, and by dint of much hard hitting, of which Cook, our versatile second sacker, and “Camel” Comolli, our catcher, with the help of Bodio, our left fielder, contributed no mean part, we w ere able to hand Natick a 6-3 decision in our favor. It was this game that really brought home the true value of knowing how to run bases and above all, how to slide. With this knowledge we were able to pile up a total of seven stolen bases to our credit. Art Ken¬ ney, the coolest of pitchers, allowed a minimum of hits. The next was also a stay-at-home game. We w elcomed Clinton and handed them a severe drubbing by a score of 10-3. Captain “Rube” pitched his second game with as many victories. Next we journeyed to North Attleboro with three victories under our belts and high hopes of running the total to four. We were able to hand “Dame” Grayson’s charges a 13-5 defeat. It was in this game that our young bloods had a taste of battle showing themselves worthy of Coach Riopel. Billy Bellantonio pitched a wonderful game, exhibiting rare form. The day of days dawned clear and hot, and we journeyed to Framingham where we beat our opponents by a 6-4 score. It was in this game that “Art” Kenney showed his real form. To date we have had five straight victories, and now we are to meet Dedham who battled 23 innings to beat Walpole. We easily conquered Dedham by a 14-0 score with the help of Captain “Rube.” It was the general sentiment that Franklin, because of its size, would be easy to trounce, but big things come in little packages. However, we were 75 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. able to applaud Bellantonio’s wonderful pitching and Charley Brucato’s home run, the first of the season, to make it the seventh victory by a score of 8-0. Wednesday was a stay-at-home day, and we were able to see one of our boys, “Lut” Ceruti, who had moved to Walpole a year ago, in action. We were able to pile up a total of ten runs to their three. Next we journeyed to the City of the Hills, and we were able to hand Marlboro a 9-0 defeat. The following Monday was another day of note. We had, by much hard work on the part of Principal Quirk, secured a game with Brockton, who had been meeting many suburban Boston towns and Cities and easily con¬ quering them. It was a battle to the end and we won by a slight margin, the score being 3-2. Nevertheless, we won. Again we encountered Dedham, but this time down in that city. We came home with our eleventh straight vistory and a score of 6-4 in our favor. Saturday, May 21, was another red letter day. We met Norwood, and we were able to say that we won by a five run margin, the score being 9-4. On Wednesday Framingham came to Milford and returned with hearts of lead and a defeat, the Riopelians having turned in their thirteenth straight win. Words of praise are due to the boys who made this season so success¬ ful. In Art Kenney, Bill Bellantonio, and Captain Kurlansky we are supplied with A-1 pitchers. At all times we have “Chink” Milani to relieve them. As a back stop we have “Camel” Comolli, catching, and “Cutter” Quattropani, ever willing to don the protectors. In the infield we have “Buddie” Rae at first. Cook at second, Sam Tomaso at third, and Charlie Brucato at shortstop. For relief we have Howard, Cornacchia, Blascio, Harvey Marcus and Bruno. In the garden we have Bodio and Dalrymple in left and Bernard Marcus in the mid-section with “Art-Shires” Lutfy in right. For substitutes we have “Doc” Lombardi, Harold Marcus, Adams, Bilsbury, and Reynolds. Too much praise cannot be given our Coach, Mr. Riopel or to Mr. Quirk, our principal, for his hard work in arranging our schedule and securing such worthy opponents as Wellesley, Norwood, and Brockton. I believe that ours was the best team ever turned out by Coach Riopel and in our consistent winnings our players exhibited not one instance of swell-head or undue boasting. As yet we have a few more games to play and to the incoming manager I wish all possible success. To the team, as in¬ dividuals, I wish all possible good luck in any line they undertake. Joseph Naughton, ’32. The poet had just sent his previous poem to the editor. He wrote: “Let me know if you intend to use this poem as I have other irons in the fire.” A few days later he received the following reply from the editor: “Re¬ move irons. Insert poem.”—Ex. 76 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. IHumor Column THE ELIXIR OF LIFE. SCENE I, ENGLAND. (Two servants stand conversing in hushed tones) Porter: How fares our gentle mistress? Waiting-lady: She awaits a missive of great import. ’Tis most urgent, ere this day hath run its allotted course, our fair lady will languish and die. Porter: ’Tis most sad that one of such famed beauty should be irked by the ordinary cankers of life. KnoAvest thou the seat of her tribulation? Waiting-lady: She awaits a missive of great import. ’Tis most urgent, for she strideth her chamber in a frenzy uttering uncouth noises such as are wont to come from the lips of a congressman. Porter: Get thee gone! Return at once to her side, from symptoms such as these many a robust man hath died. (Exeunt). SCENE II, THE CHAMBER OF A GENTLEWOMAN. Lady Dorothea: Quick! Knave, pour thy tidings into mine ear. What hath arrived with the mail? Waiting-lady: Nothing, Madapie, save a pile of letters, each didst con¬ tain a little window. Thou well knowest the meaning of that, telephone bills and such. To the flames I quickly consigned them as is my wont. Lady Dorothea: Take thyself from my sight, thou shag-eared villainess Come not back until thou bringest a packet from the mails. Hurry! Curse not my sight with thy moon-like face. Waiting-lady: (Aside) Gramercy! My rump-fed mistress waxes vio¬ lent in her great distress. SCENE III, THE SAME. Lady Dorothea: If that package doth not appear soon, mine shalt be a wretched existence. My social position hangeth precariously upon the very brink of doom. Enter Waiting-lady with a packet. Waiting-lady: Pardon, your grace, but this was delivered unto me by a courtier who spurred furiously over the moat on lathered steed. (Lady Dorothea with avid eyes and trembling hand seizes upon the pack¬ age). Lady Dorothea: (Aside). Saviour of my happiness, my joy, my very life, verily can it be that? For me life holds no greater treasure. (Aloud). I require solitude. Get thee hence. Exit Waiting-lady. THE OAK, LILY AND IVY, 77 (Lady Dorothea opens packet and its contents render her rapt with iov and gratitude). Lady Dorothea: W isdom, justice, and truth doth with providence abide, For today hath been delivered unto me my peroxide. Ring out, ye gay and blithe alarum. Foolish man shall again fall victim to my charm! Joseph FitzGerald, ’32. “Here, waiter,” roared the irate diner in Charley’s Fly Trap. “This chicken soup is full of gravel!” “Yessir,” replied the waiter brightly; “It was made from Plymouth Rocks, sir.”—Ex. Disgusted Lady: “Does your mother know you smoke?” Little Boy: “Does your husband know you speak to strange men on the street?”—Ex. Teacher—“Who was sorry when the prodigal son returned.” Hite—“The fatted calf.”—Ex. Fond Mother—“Willie, you’ve been a naughty boy. Go to the vibrator and give yourself a good shaking.”—Ex. 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Assuming that in addition to your education you are possessed of such valuable assets as good personality, initiative, willingness to work, etc., have you that which in the eyes of the employer is absolutely essential—a satisfac¬ tory knowledge of the fundamentals of business practice, without which your other qualifications are of little value in the modern business office? Lacking such training it is almost impossible to secure admission to a business office; much less to meet successfully the severe competition of those who with less cultural education yet are possessed of a practical knowledge of business fundamentals. Young men and young women who may be interested in training for suc¬ cessful careers in business will find it to their advantage to write to Principal L. 0. White, Bryant Stratton Commercial School, 334 Boylston Street, Boston, for information regarding Business Administration or Secretarial Courses. 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COONEY Compliments of DRY GOODS BEN LANCISI, Jr. 222 Main Street, Milford T Compliments of Compliments of Milford Grain Company BARNEY COAL CO. For the Best in Anthracite Coal New England Coke Welch Coal Wood Charcoal Call Milford, Tel. 940 ADVERTISING SECTION. 83 RENSSELAER POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE TROY, NEW YORK ENGINEERING, ARCHITECTURE, SCIENCE and BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION. T he Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute was established at Troy, New York, in 1824, and is the oldest school of engineering and science in the United States. Students have come to it from all of the states and territories of the Union and from thirty-nine foreign countries. At the present time, there are more than 1600 studen ts enrolled at the school. Four year courses leading to degrees are offered, in Civil, Mechanical, Electrical and Chemical Engineering, in Architecture, and in Business Administration, Physics, Chemistry, and Biology. Graduates of the engineering courses are prepared to take up work in any branch of engineering. Graduates of the course in Architecture are prepared to practice their profession in any of its branches. Graduates of the course in Business Administration are prepared for careers in business or for the study of law. Graduates of the courses in Physics and Chemistry are fitted for research and teaching in these fields, as well as for practice in many branches of applied science. The course in Biology prepares for research and teaching, for work in sanitary engineering and public health, and for the study of medicine and dentistry. Graduates of any of the above courses may continue their work in the Graduate School of the Institute. The Master’s Degree is conferred upon the satisfactory completion of one year’s work and the Doctor’s Degree for three years’ work. The method of instruction is unique and very thorough, and in all departments the laboratory equipment is unusually complete. An interesting pamphlet entitled ‘ ' Life at Rensselaer” also catalogue and other illustrated bulletins may be obtained by applying to the Registrar, Room 008, Pittsburgh Building. ADVERTISING SECTION. 84 s Compliments of. Utaly H of upprtnt niifnt of rljoolH A FRIEND iSItlforb, ilaoB. Compliments of. PHIL CO. M., F. U. COACH CO. Central Street - Milford, Mass. Carroll, Hixon, S. A. Eastman Co. Jones Company Paper and Corrugated Manufacturers Boxes and Importers of Straw and Body Hats • MILFORD, MASSACHUSETTS MILFORD, MASSACHUSETTS ADVERTISING SECTION. 85 MISS MARY E. DiANTONIO Teacher of PIANOFORTE and PIANO ACCORDIAN Studio, 189 Main St., Phone 833-W Res., 20 Dominic St., Phone 665-M MILPORD FURNITURE CO. We make a home Out of a house.” Milford, - Mass. JOSEPH F. EDWARDS FUNERAL DIRECTOR Tel. OfBce 225-W House 225-R Compliments of. LOUIS FASHION SHOP 187 MAIN STREET, - MILFORD Compliments of. JOSEPH H. DOYLE, Esq. AT GRADUATION TIME Your friends expect your photograph Special prices to graduates V-N W. A. Flannery Photographer 224 Main Street, Milford, Mass. Compliments of. %. XucWm Son Compliments of. ALFRED J. OUVER, D.M.D. Compliments of..... HleianOer S)i®iannantonio flDilforb, nnasa. 86 ADVERTISING SECTION. Compliments of. The Home National Bank 221 Main Street, - Milford, Mass. ank with the Chime Clock” Now is the time for you to start a good banking connection. We will be glad to serve you. Lehigh and Free-Burning COALS High in Heat, Low in Ash NEW ENGLAND COKE Dependable Service B. VITALINI COAL and COKE Phone 500 Compliments of. HENRY lACOVELLI HATTEN’S TAXI Cars for Weddings, Funerals Dance Parties, Etc. Tel. 1748 T. E. MORSE CO. 5 South Bow Street Painting and Decorating Paints and Wall Paper for Sale R. KAMPERSAL QUALITY DAIRY “Better Milk—More Protection 1099-M Milford Compliments of. CLIFFORD A. COOK ELDREDGE SON Wall Paper Duco and DuPont Paints 42 Exchange Street - Milford Get it at BRIDGES PHARMACY Hood’s Old Fashioned Ice Cream “The Flavor is There!’ Kodak Supplies, Candy Prescriptions accurately compounded J. H. O’GRADY, Prop. 193 Miain Street, - Milford, Mass. Telephone 1306-W MANGUSO’S GARAGE Automobile Repairing of All Kinds We Specialize in Starting and Lighting Systems 105 East Main Street, Milford, Mass. For your health eat good fruit The Tampa Fruit Company 176 Main Street Milford, Mass. HARRY B. TOROSIAN SONS Compliments of. LOUISA LAKE ICE CO. Every Day of the Year You Can “Save With Safety” at Your Rexall Store NEILAN S DRUG STORE 201 Miain Street, Milford EXCHANGE STREET BAKERY JOSEPH F. MAININI, Prop. Specialty of Doughnuts, Wedding and Birthday Cakes and All Kinds of Pastry Telepho ne 1304-J Milford, Mass. DRY GOODS Ladies’ and Children’s Apparel C. CHAFETZ, Prop. 63 Main Street, - Milford, Mass. RISEBERG’S THE LEADING CREDIT HOUSE 171 MAIN STREET, MILFORD QILMORE’S Home Made Ice Cream Candies Luncheon at Bellingham State Road Also at our Sandwich Shop 256 Main St., Milford, Mass.