Millis High School - Mowhawk Yearbook (Millis, MA)

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Class Prophecy In on unemployment office one must al- ways be prepared for a busy and a surpris- ing day. It was a beautiful Monday morning in May 1960 when something unforeseeable happened. My secretary told me that I had an office full of people awaiting my arrival, so into the boisterous room 1 walked. I was shocked to find half of my high school classmates there. I couldn't help wondering why they were at my office. Judy, spokesman for the group, explained that they were looking for new and different positions. The big city, full of adventure, seemed to be stretching its arms for them. Looking over the list of positions that were open, I discovered that I had a suitable one for each applicant. I had an opening for the principal of the local reform school and I knew no one but Albert Gurner could possibly fill that place, but then again perhaps Dutchie LaCroix would be a betier disciplinarian—no the position went to Albert. I asked Judy if she was feeling in good physical condition because I had a good- paying job which I knew she could handle. They were looking for a lady wrestler at the Madison Square Garden. Judy gladly ac- cepted and left with David Clark, who had accepted a job as an embalmer. | knew David would take care of Judy. I was so happy to see Pat Kubacki again. We started to reminisce about our classroom antics back at Millis High, especially the antics during lunch hour. Pat used to chase Dutchie all over the room, always managing to get him into trouble. Pat was a serious girl though. She always had her nose stuck in a book so I placed her in the New York City Library. She was thrilled to think of her very learned surroundings. Mary Maranjian told me of the where- abouts of some of our classmates. She said Barbie Burdows was a gun moll in the Bowery and Pat Murphy, long known for her charitable deeds, is firmly established there as a social worker—ably assisted by George Lipsett—a perfect example of her work. I gave Mary a position as a confi- dence lady. 1 was a little hesitant about placing Billy Clark as head waiter at the Stork Club when 1 remembered our Washington trip. Billy cleaned everyone's plates and that certainly wouldn't do at the Club. However, Billy convinced me that I should hire him, so 1 did. Billy told me that Donald published a best-seller. The title was “How to Sell Yourself.” Conversing with Betty Smith, I was re- minded of cheerleading days in high school. In our senior year we cheered ourselves hoarse. We certainly had a team to cheer though. Betty walked out of my office ‘on top of the world.’ She was to become Dag- mar’s stand-in. Roderick Washer was chosen to pl ay Hamlet for one of Shakespeare’s companies on Broadway. His part in the senior play in which he expressed himself beautifully gave him the experience he needed. His sister, Becky, the talkative one, is now speaking in Congress. She was hired to filibuster by Hazel Lipsett who is now Chairman of the House. Dutchie related to me some disastrous events which occurred while he was chief plumber in Millis. He had the town flooded for three days—seems like old times. He will now have the chance to flood the city of New York. Donnie Frink had news of Jimmy Murphy. I told him I never read the sports page and I was astounded to learn that Jimmy was the football star of the Philadelphia Eagles. With colored television now, you can see Donnie’s pink face as he emcees on “Fash- ions for the Ladies.” Joan Thatcher is what you might call the leader of “The Old Maid’s Club. She sends her side-kicks to Joan Tabor’s charm school and has them married off in twelve weeks. Jackie had perhaps the saddest news of all. Poor Eddie Roak lost his charm with the girls and has lived as a hermit. He hasn't spoken to a girl in five years. Jackie has joined the New York Police Force where she trains the men in ju-jitsu. Sounding off next was our auctioneer Mr. Grange, himself. Jimmy Power decided to start using his underworked vocal chords. He told us that he and Gerry together have been compiling information for a book to be published under the title—MILLIS CONFI DENTIAL—by Christian and Power. We are willing to bet that it will be a sure best seller. After everyone had gone, a good day’s work accomplished, I reminisced over the past. High school is the happiest of all to remember. Our class motto “Thoughtfulness is the essence of friendship; friendship is the es- sence of a happy life’’ has inspired us to be good, happy men and women. —Nancy Brodeur twenty-three

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Class Wil We the members of the Senior Class of 1952 having successfully completed four years of formal education in Millis High School, do hereby bequeath some of our more outstanding traits and treasures to those we leave behind. Being of sound mind and body we, therefore, request that the following be carried out. To Mrs. Barrett we leave a clock that will always be three minutes slow so that the future seniors can be late and get away with it. To Mr. Doyle we leave a new set of P. D. books because the class of 1952 wore the pages thin as a result of extensive study. To Mr. Brown we leave many thanks for everything that he has done for us. We also leave him permission to get a new car. We'd like to leave him money for it but that’s carrying things too far. Last, but not least, we leave—that’s what really matters to him. To Mr. Sweeney, Joan Thatcher leaves her red haired temper. He never seems to be able to get angry. To Mr. Doliner we leave Jon Margolis who is expected to step into Eddie Roak’s position on the football field. To Miss McKinstry we leave our very best wishes for success in the coming basket- ball seasons. To Miss Sellers we leave a new set of nerves for the coming Senior Play. To Mrs. Magraw we leave a television set. We hear that’s the newest machine for Office Practice. To Miss Nolan we leave her exclusive English class—but then again perhaps she would rather leave them to us. To Mrs. Kenney we bequeath a com- pletely equipped biology lab for disecting frogs and snakes. To Mrs. Gavin we leave 438 test tubes and a host of other fragile glass equipment. They were only accidents—really. To Mr. Mendoza and Miss Currivan we leave the memories of the Washinaton trip and give our thanks to two wonderful chaperones. Donald Sharpe leaves his ability to miss Diesel Locomotives to Muriel Winiker with the hope that she has better luck with it than he did. Albert Gurner leaves his famous date book to George Smith with one word of warning—if her father answers, hang up. Hazel Lipsett leaves the way she entered —without a word. Richard LaCroix leaves his neatly bound four-year set of English note books to remain twenty-two as a model for all aspiring English students. Barbara B. and Joan T. leave their ability to get along with each other to Mary and Eddie. Donnie Frink leaves twenty pounds to Dicky B. He’s undernourished, you know. Mary Maranjian leaves her never failing ability to be early to Howie I. Roderick Washer leaves his tenor voice to Michael Mushnick. He tries so hard to sing. Nancy Brodeur leaves Billy in charge of Eddie Alger with the hope that he can catch any stray passes thrown to Billy by any girl. David Clark leaves his way with the girls to Phil Gilpatrick. Judy Barrier leaves her ability to talk a lot to bashful Janet Brodeur. Jimmie Power leaves a book to the Hotel Detective in Washington entitled, “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” Pat Kubacki leaves permanent talking permission in second period study hall to the juniors who make the grade. Eddie Roak leaves his height to Alan Newell to be used in the coming football season. Jackie M. and Betty S., or should I say Durante and Jackson leave their musical ability to Carole G. and Cynthia S. Billy Clark leaves his hip boots to the class of 1955 to be used as a necessary pre- caution when listening to George Harris’ stories. Gerry Christian leaves her umbrella to be used for singing in the rain at 3:30 a.m. Jimmie M. leaves his Crosley to Eddie D.; he heard he was looking for a new hot rod. Becky Washer leaves her stenographic ability to the highest bidder. George Lipsett leaves to Charlie Harris his love for early awakenings and his shot gun. We wish them luck on their pursuit of the deer. Pat Murphy leaves her diary entitled, “Hotel Hamilton, Room 917, with orders not to be opened until she can get out of town. Last, but not least, we leave behind pleasant memories of every kind. Thanks to those who have helped us prepare for our future. Their assistance and guidance will never be forgotten. Here rendered this eleventh day of June in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and fifty-two. May those mentioned herein forever hold their peace. : —James Power Witnessed by: Dr. Joseph Johnson Professor Arthur Watson

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Hass Gifts Judy Barrier—A mouse. It makes more noise than you seem to. Barbara Burdows—lInvisible ink. This is so you can keep up that secret correspond- ence. Mary Maranjian—A sailor suit. This is so you'll keep in stride with the Navy. Eddie Roak—Glasses. A little something to help your roving eye. George Lipsett—A bottle of Alka Seltza. For the morning after the night before. Joan Tabor—A camera. To take more pictures like those you took in Washington. Jackie Murtagh—A mirror, That angelic appearance is so deceiving. Take a look. Don Sharpe—One red flag. To stop the train before it stops you. Dutchy LaCroix—Road map. To find his way to Natick—not that he has never been there before. Gerry Christion—One way ticket to Texas. To see Russ. We konw you'll take advantage of it. Pat Kubacki—Cigarette lighter. For one of those unprepared days when you want a light. Becky Washer—Button. This is so you can always stay as cute as a button. twenty-four Pat Murphy—A small fishing boat. To catch a drifting sailor. Jim Power—Farmerett’s hat. To make you feel at home at the next Grange Meeting. Rod Washer—Horse liniment. For that horse laugh of yours. Billy Clark—A phonograph record— “Milk Bucket Boogie.”’ Hazel Lipsett—A bed. Chelsea Naval Hospital. Joan Thatcher—A bottle of red dye. This is so your hair will always have the pretty color it has now. In Ward H at David Clark—A knife. For your protec- tion. Just in case--. Nancy Brodeur—A seat. In the home- room class of 1953. Attendance will be assured. Betiy Smith—Yeast. Betty is such a shortie that we have to give her yeast to rise. Albert Gurner—Season’s pass—Al seems to like what they have at ‘Bennie’s”; for him a season's pass to “Ben's” in D.C. Donny Frink—A pass to the “Strike it Rich’’ show—this is so you can retire. Jimmy Murphy—A job at Arthur Murray's dancing school—this is so you can give us a few pointers.