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

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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.”

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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.

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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.