Montpelier High School - Record Yearbook (Montpelier, VT)

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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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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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upper right corner represent his family who’ve hardly seen him since last sum- mer; they’re waiting for him with a sup- ply of cokes and hamburgers. When spring comes, MUC will be hidden be- hind that sheet of music which you can see on the right border; or else he’ll be behind those reference books and “Do Not Disturb’’ sign just below the music. Along the bottom and left borders are scattered the signs and tools of his trade: pencils, autographed notebook, slide rule, and paper airplane. The thermometer dangling from the fishline is his own in- vention for measuring spring fever. If you had X-ray eyes as the faculty does, you might see a diploma and activity awards in the small box just below the jalopy. Why is the center blank? Why, that’s for your picture—YOU are MUC! KATHLEEN I. BRETTELL English and French Among those attending Sub-Freshman Day several years ago, was a no-non- sense, red-headed eighth grader from a near by rural school. With the others he had toured the building, taken a general ability test, attended a special assembly, and received a copy of the courses offer- ed by the high school in the freshman year. Some moments later he arrived in the office and asked to talk with the principal. When the latter was available, the boy, glancing down at the mimeo- graphed course of study in his hand, presented his case something like this: “I understand about English, Latin, and algebra; but what’s this here civics?” “Civics,” said the principal, “is the course that explains all about your go- vernment: local, state, and federal. It’s civics that will teach you, when you’re old enough to vote, how to vote.” Im- mediately this native son of Vermont’s hills stiffened, looked straight at his in- formant, and replied, “When I vote, I’ll vote Republican.” E. WINIFRED BRIGGS Guidance Director I remember a girl who made herself very well known in high school. She was talented in many ways and contri- buted a great deal to the assemblies and the Masque. She is rather small, quick, and a perfect mimic. Well do I remem- ber her in a little girl’s short dress, pig- tails with red ribbons, legs bowed for the moment, as one of the more obstreper- ous pupils in a classroom scene staged by the Masque. She is in college now and seriously interested in making good. GEORGE D. BROWN Coach and Driver Training Instructor Although I must admit it is not too difficult to find “characters” wandering through the charred halls of M. H. S., I could single out one in particular who fits nicely into the unforgettable class. I am not at all certain that the incident which so classified this “character” came about by sheer coincidence. It seems that a certain editor of a year book des- cended upon said school’s faculty with an inspiration which could root only from fiendish intentions. Apparently the burden of textbooks had found its mark, for the idea was along the lines of home- work in reverse. Our “character” pro- ceeded from one teacher to another with the assignment, “Write an essay on your most unforgettable character.” Of course the uproar among the faculty was tremendous. It wasn’t that this scholarly group was opposed to spending several hours on arranging a page of wrords. The insubordination among the ranks was too great a pill to choke on— students giving teachers homework. There was some muttering that the whole thing should be taken over by the English Department. Apparently one of the coaches w'ho majored at foul shoot- ing at Cowcollege University was afraid — ELEVEN —