Moses Brown School - Mosaic Yearbook (Providence, RI)

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i , . that year, which was an extravaganza based on a radio program depicting the opening of the Mt. Whitney-Death Valley Highway. In the Third Intermediate, after the initial confusion caused by two eye-filling teachers named Miss Evins and Miss Evans, we settled down to a fairly normal year. The ancient history that Mr. Brigham tried so hard to pound into our heads in- fluenced us to perform on the stage a play entitled The First Marathon, in which future cross-country star Dave jencks unsymbolically was not Pheidippides. The climax of our work that year was the writ- ing of our autobiographies, of which we were unjustly proud. At long last the object of all our toil was reached when we entered the Fourth Intermediate, where we were soon living in constant fear of Mr. Allen's tables- tests. Feeling the superiority that comes with advanced years, we yawned when Mr. Brigham tried to teach us American his- tory, sighed when Miss Evins entered the room for our English class, looked bored when Mr. Hoyt came in with his geography book, and did as little work as possible in preparation for our biweekly French lessons under Madame Warge. Extracurricular activities assumed a new importance for us when, for four bits, we were allowed to join the Bicycle Club. After the initiation on Leaping Lena and the other oddities collected by Pop Allen for the purpose, we spent many happy hours pedaling from point to point of interest around Rhode Island. A highlight of the year was the Boston trip, when we stretched our sea legs on Old Ironsides, climbed pantingly to the top of the Bunker Hill monument, and were properly impressed by the shrivelled mummies in the Peabody Museum. At the end of the year we were honored by a visit from Mr. Thomas, who told us something of what was in store for us when we entered the Upper School. So it was with a feeling of sadness that we bid adieu to our honored position of top men in the Lower School to become the insignificant and undignified 'fgentlemen on jit's left. FIRST FORM Contrary to the usual feeling about returning to school, most of us as the sum- mer wore on almost anticipated that fated day when the Upper School would reopen and we would be accepted into the clandes- tine folds of its activities. However, we never imagined the intricacies which this involved until that first morning when we entered school again and met that austere dignitary in the soft tweed suits whom we had heard so much about-later known to us as jit. Study Hall, which previously had been known to us only'as the room in which every one sang in bass voices at 8:30, seemed to be the intersection of a busy cityg and amid such a scramble of exciting events, reacquaintances, assignments, teachers, and bells, we were completely lost. But after the first day had passed, we gradually settled into the routine and became used to being considered as inconsequentials and small fry by the rest of the school. I think that it was under the able tutelage of Blackie Markarian, our Latin teacher, that the boys of '45 Cthey hopedj learned that all was not a bed of roses. If I remem- ber correctly, at least half of the class flunked the course for the first two terms, and it is doubtful what the final outcome might have been-had not Cupid's Arrow claimed our teacher. From then on, he was more lenient Cfor I'm sure we did no more workj. In one respect we were lucky. That was in not having heard the supercilious legends of Wild Bill Paxton's reign of terror in the English department. So graphic were some of these that I am sure many of us would have called it quits rather than try to pass his course. But as it turned out, he wasn't half-bad, and I'm sure we achieved a strong foundation in grammar. We were introduced into the complexi- ties of general science by Mr. Kerr, while . lzsi , ,

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Class History 1932-the year that African miners found a 726-karat diamond, Roosevelt was elected president for the first time, and four of this year's graduating class entered Moses Brown. In 1945 Bill Dunbar, Bill Lindblad, jack Merchant, and Wilson Utter ended careers in Moses Brown which began on that distant day in '32 when first they gazed on Miss Woodbury's kindly face. johnny Pitts was also a member of that group, but his yearning for learning led him to skip a grade and graduate in 1944. Here in the pre-primary, as Miss Wood- bury patiently explained the mysteries of block-piling and picture-CPD-drawing, the foundation was laid for our future educa- tion. Here also we made acquaintance with the drama, jack Merchant being an un- willing Goldilocks in that super-colossal production, The Three C35 Bears. The next fall in the honored position of first- graders we moved upstairs, where we met Sears Ingraham. Under the wise guidance of Miss Eastman we learned the rudiments of the three R's, as well as a smattering of Mother Nature's secrets, while our dramatic offering of that year was the culinary fantasy The Gingerbread Man. In the second primary Dave Jencks and Red Lownes joined our group in time to learn from Miss Crawford such complicated mathematical problems as one times one is one. Miss Buffum came to instruct us in the use of crayon and brush, while Madame Warge added to our feeling of importance by introducing us to French, alternately threatening to spank us on our little behinds and claiming proudly that we were the best class she'd ever had. COh, Madame, I bet you say that to all the boys D Miss Wilson guided our class, which now included Nate Fales, through the third primary, introducing us to Bozo, the Woodchuck, manual training, and the art of weaving. The class had a big laugh one day during a penmanship lesson when jay l 27 Skinner signed his name as jay Skinman- ship. That year was notable also because we had real afternoon classes for the first time. Much to our disgust we had to sew our own costumes for our assembly, in which Willie Utter played the part of The Little Rabbit Who Wanted Red Wings. Bursting with pride, we entered the First Intermediate, where Miss Pixley C'Pix- ilated ,we called herb read us the ever- suitable Dorna. For the first time our history was marred by sabotage when Sears Ingraham set fire to the shavings from the pencil sharpener with his burning- glass. Since travel broadens the mind, we traveled over to the Second Intermediate room in the main building to drop a close decision in a hard-fought spelling bee, and Bill Dunbar had the class out to his grand- father's plant, where we were properly awed by the noisy machinery. For our assembly that year our travel-broadened minds, years ahead of their time, conceived a pageant on the brotherhood of nations. The rest of our stay in the Lower School was spent in the main building. During group gained Gifford and well as Fred and Wendell Fourth Inter- those last three years our such notables as Pewee Skyscraper Kimball, as Brunswick, Earl Farrell, Phillips. In the Third and mediates we were introduced to tackle football, losing our only out-of-school game. For the greater honor and prestige of the school we also lost a hotly-contested baseball game in the spring. About this time Mr. Howe began casting covetous eyes on Harvey Thayer, who broke a couple of Father and Son Day track records. In the Second Intermediate, under the watchful eye of Miss Chappell, we became a class of cartographers, making several large and colorful pictorial wall maps. We wrote our own script for our assembly of l is

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Mr. Morton, realizing the folly of trying to teach us math, concentrated on telling us about the Ponzi scheme. The class of '45 first showed its prowess on the friendly fields of strife when its Bumblebee team was trounced by the Fourth Intermediate. That spring we had a considerably better baseball team. The main excitement of the winter occurred when a select group of indi- viduals from our class tossed Sears Ingra- ham into the swimming pool, fully clothed. There was a great commotion over this crime, and the whole class had a meeting with Mr. Thomas. VVe were duly impressed with the seriousness of our deed. As spring slowly erased the bleak look of the school campus, we came to consider ourselves full fledged Upper School boys. VV e swaggered with the best of them, attending varsity games, which we planned to take over in a couple of years, with the proper school spirit. When the end of May arrived, most of us even went to View the Lower School field day with a half-amused, half -bored and entirely superior air. When, at last, Commencement arrived and we saw the class of '41 solemnly shake hands with Mr. Thomas and jit, I'm afraid that we acted slightly over-boister- ous, but we all really looked forward to that summer and even to the next year. SECOND FORM Old-timers is the word that best suited us, we thought, when we returned to face the problems of the Second Form in 1941. Scornfully we looked down upon the group of former Lower School bosses, who seemed to be a bit bewildered at the sight of so many upper-classmen. Although we were seated far enough back to get almost out of the category of small-fry, we were still referred to by our headmaster as young-hopefuls. On the faculty bench in front of us we were fascinated by the arrival of a new face with a most beautiful mustache: we were told that the man's name was Oyster or something like that. I 29 Also the science department was filled out by two new teachers-Mr. Pedrick and Mr. Huttong and to assist Mr. Herman in explaining the intricacies of X and Y, Mr. Reese wielded the chalk. In our class there were thirteen new young-hopefuls, in- cluding: Manager Barber, Mat-man Cook, Lord Horrell, Rus Knibb, Pole- vault Sleicher, Al Nazareth and sev- eral others, who for one reason or another didn't survive the four years to seniorship. About October, when the uneasiness of unfamiliarity had worn off, the class elections were held. Rus Douglas grabbed off the presidency, with Nate Fales assist- ing. Bill Miller took on the writing job, and Eddy Lownes handled what folding money he could muster. In the sports program Coach Eyster discovered many Second Formers coming out to support Easton, Bowersock, and Joslin tour stars from the third formj on the Middler gridiron, and the swimming team was aided by the daring young diver, Paul Cook. Christmas vacation and a fine perform- ance by the players of the Proscenium Club rolled around: and before we knew it, we were slicking ourselves up to glide CPD across Alumni Hall to the sweet tones of Ed Drew's Orchestra at our Lower Form tea dance. There were also several other incidents which helped to break up the monotony of that long winter grind. Dr. Mike Dorizas, whose interesting talks and im- aginative yarns have come to the school for many years, showed us some good news reels and added many bits of information. Although we were still wee, and our wings weren't very strong, yet we did manage to catch hold of Mike's fascinating accent. Also we were pepped up by our hero Fred Brunswick, who kept dreaming that he was a Marine on Wake Island. He finally had to stop eating those pickles before going to bed. Before long we were suffering with very serious cases of spring fever, aided by the l ',l,,'.. 1 , f 2