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Page 13 text:
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First Row: Miss Briggs. Mrs. Small. Mrs. Spaulding. Mr. McClelland. Mr. Chastney. Miss Newton. Miss Kettelle. Miss Dixon. Miss Branch. Second Row: Mr. Hurley. Mrs. Tobey. Miss Sault. Miss Bretell. Mrs. Barrows. Mr. McDonald. Third Row: Mr. Shipp. Mr. Bolding, Mr. Carbaugh. Mr. Towle. Mr. Aiken. Mr. Myrick. Missing: Mr. Brown. Mr. Caswell. Mr. Coane. Miss Hallgren. Miss Holmstrom. ROBERT H. CHASTNEY Principal of Montpelier High School He was a short powerfully-built man with features so rugged that they seem- ed to have been carved from granite. He spoke with a slow twang character- istic of sea-faring men who were born and bred on the Maine coast. His for- mal education had ended when he left a one-room school at fourteen to go to sea; but he was the wisest man I have ever known. He truly belonged to the age of iron men in wooden ships. One summer day while we were sitting on an old wharf idly watching a lobster- man paint his boat I asked, “Harry, were you ever shipwrecked?” “Yes, just once, on Christmas Eve of 1901. I was second mate of the three- master ‘Sophia Ann’. We had put out of St. John for the Sugar Islands with a cargo of lumber on December 21. A southeaster struck us when we were a- breast Cape Ann. It snowed so hard we couldn’t see the length of the vessel ahead of us. The deck, the deck-load and the rigging were coated with ice. Suddenly our main-mast gave way and fouled the rudder. While we were try- ing to cut the rigging away a huge wave hit us. It carried the captain over- board, tore away the rudder and took out the foremast. Then we wallowed in the trough and began to take in tons of water. There were four of us left so I put us all on the bilge pumps in shifts of two—thirty minutes on and thirty minutes off. After six hours of pumping our cook said ‘Boss, the water’s gaining. What do we do now?’ I replied ‘Keep on pumping.’ After ten hours at the pumps one of the crew called out ‘The decks are al- most awash. We’ll soon sink. What do we do now?’ I replied ‘Keep on pump- ing.’ When you have been at the pumps for ten hours in ice cold water up to your knees even death loses some of its terror. After eleven hours at the pumps, on Christmas Eve, at dusk, suddenly a Gloucester fisherman appeared right be- side us dimly through the driving snow. They saw our plight and four of those codfish-chokers put off in a dory and took us off. I remember nothing after I jumped for that dory until I woke up ten hours later in a snug bunk on the Gloucesterman. Ever since then I have felt, whenever I was working my heart out on a hope- less job, there was just one thing to do. KEEP ON PUMPING.” — NINE —
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Page 14 text:
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GLENN AIKEN Science Although there have been many “characters” in my classes over the past 20 years, most of them were, fortunately for me, forgettable rather than unforget- table. During my first year at New York Military Academy I had occasion to reprimand a senior cadet for refusing to do some assigned work in class. He became very angry; his face grew livid with rage; and I was aware that the rest of the class had become completely si- lent and the whole room charged with an atmosphere of tension so heavy you could have cut it with a knife. I real- ized the boy was fighting a losing battle with an almost uncontrollable temper, so I suggested that he and I leave the room, and the situation was finally brought un- der control. What I did not realize until afterward was that he was the heavy- weight boxing champion of the entire corps of 350 cadets! He later went into the army and lost a leg in the Battle of the Bulge in World War II, but the thing I remember most about him was his method of apologizing for the above inci- dent. His pride would not allow him to offer a direct apology, but several days after the incident mentioned he stopped at the desk where I had been demon- strating in physics and said, “Sir, if you’d like to have me, I’d be glad to help you put away that apparatus in the cases.” Needless to say, it made a far greater impression upon me (and, I sus- pect, on him) than any apology which might have been wrung from him by force. MRS. ARLIE BARROWS Art My most unforgettable character in this Class of ’53 is a very tall, slender boy, a “Jack of all trades” ready to fix a washing machine, a toaster, or a flat- iron at a moment’s notice. He is not on- ly ready but also willing, and does a first-class job. Walking is not his favor- ite sport, as will be recalled by the antique Fords he has always been able to keep in running order. He wields a wicked paint brush or produces a tune on the piano or harmonica with equal ease. “This handy lad I have described Is second to no other— All through the years I’ve called him “Son”, And he has called me “Mother”. ROBERT F. BELDING Mathematics The selection of my most unforget- table character at M. H. S. this year is difficult, since there have been several who have properly qualified for inclusion in this category. However, I shall choose one that has made a great impression on all of us. I cannot describe this charac- ter since I don’t know his or her or its looks. But I am sure that my most un- forgettable character at Montpelier High School is — whoever or whatever set those fires! ELIZABETH M. BRANCH English This is it, my first attempt at sur- realistic painting. How do you like it? It’s not a “what” but a “who”—it’s my Most Unforgettable Character, known hereafter by the initials M. U. C. Don’t ask me where that jalopy in the upper left corner is going, but I’ve put in enough MHSers who can put their feet through the floorboards and pedal if it should break down. And what’s that X? Oh, those are MUC’s skis marking the spot of his latest trip into a snowbank. When he finally surfaces in the spring, he’ll find that plaid shirt and those blue jeans quite comfortable. Those people standing around the refrigerator in the — TEN —
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