Newport High School - Live Wire Yearbook (Newport, ME)

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THE LIVE WIRE -4 L 17 1 4- lisher. Scene: Larry is sitting on a piano bench in front of a baby grand. Music paper is scattered and crumpled all over the room. His hair is tousled, his tie loose, his shirt partially unbuttoned, and he has a chewed pencil in his hand. Larry mutters: What am I going to do? I,ve got to get this finished before tomorrow, and I havenit a tune in my head worth putting on scrap paper. fThe door bell rings and, without wait- ing for an answer, Mack walks in.Q Mack: Hello, Larry, any luck? Larry: Not a measure, but don't worry, somethingis got to pop. Mack: I just dropped in to see how you were doing. By the way, when are you going to let me in on your secret about your pen name, Silvio? Most young composers with as much fame as you have wouldnit be ashamed of it. The public is crazy trying to find out who you really are. Larry: Not just yet, Mack. I have a very special reason. Tomorrow you can broadcast it all over the world, and per- haps you can broadcast something else too. Mack: Well, old man, maybe you know what you're doing, but I,m sure I don't. Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Larry: Okay. Goodbye. fMack goes, and Larry picks up the telephone.l Larry: 2358, please. fPausel Hello, Laurel, can you come over about eight, it's very important. fPausel I know you have an appointment with the mysteri- ous Silvio at eight, but if you love me you'll come here. CPausel Okay, bye. fHe replaces the receiver and goes back to his work. Then the doorbell rings.l Laurel: Can I come in Larry? Larry fstill musinglz Uh-huh. Laurel fenteringj, Larry, please hurry and tell me what you want. Silvio will be the greatest scoop in history, and if the boss finds out what happened, I wouldn't work for the 6'Sentinelv much longer. Larry: Calm yourself, my dear, you,ll meet Silvio, but this was just a test to find out whether you were in love with me or your old newspaper. Now I know, and Iill give you the whole story of Silvio. Laurel: You, how could you knov about him? Larry: Darling, I am Silvio. Laurel: You. fShe looks around the room and sees the music paper.l You, a composer! Oh, Larry, why didn't you tell me? Why all the torture? Larry: A young composer isnit al- ways welcomed as readily as I was into the music world, so I used Silvio as sort of a shield. Laurel: Larry, lim not a fainting wom- an, but would you mind holding out your arms? Larry: What for? Laurel: So I can faint, silly. fShe falls in a mock faint and Larry catches her. Then suddenly he sets her down on the floor, he grabs his pencil, sticks it behind his ear, and starts play- ing.l Laurel findignantlyl: Well, sir Silvio, what struck you? Larry: Laurel, I had to have a song for Dinah Shore to sing at an Army camp and now I've got it, Who is Silvio?', Arthur Anderson.

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NEWPORT HIGH SCHOOL -r L 16 1 4- walking to the station, when laughingly Marie spied a little make-believe mon- key peering from a store window. He had a little white sailor hat perched saucily over one button eye, and a grin spreading from one furry ear to the other. Amused at her delight over it, Blair bought it for her. Here, funny-face, here's something to keep you from be- ing lonesome while lim away. After seeing Blair off, Marie made her way sorrowfully home. Oh, well, she told the monkey, he'll have more fur- loughs-and some day he'll come home to stay. Spring came and Marie started mak- ing plans for her flower gardens. Blair loves spring and making gardens, Marie thought, as she dug into the warm, damp earth. It's too bad he couldn,t get a furlough about now. She ought to get a letter pretty soon, too. He hadn't written for ages. Days faded into weeks and Marie waited patiently for Blair to write. Then one morning she did get a letter. Lying 1,11 her bed, she looked at the envelope. Her eyes were bright pools of happi- ness. It didn't feel very thick, but may- be he didn't have much to write now. He typed it, too, she noticed. Unable to wait any longer, she ripped the letter open and started reading eagerly. The kitten watched her dreamily from the rug- Love's a funny thingf' he thought. It either makes you or breaks you,', and purred contentedly to sleep. When Marie read the first line she looked puzzled, but in a moment a strange light came to her eyes, and she was lying limply on the bed crying. Blair, Blair. I won't believe it. I won't. I ca-a-a-n't.', But after looking at the telegram again she knew it was true. Blair was dead- was killed in action. Heid never come home again-never-he couldnlt kiss her any more or call her F unny-face-every- thing was over for her-everything. I might as well die, too, she sobbed miserably. There isn't anything to live for-except one thing. Iill spend the rest of my life trying to wipe those rot- ten, dirty Iaps off the map or dief' Bracing herself the next morning, Marie walked firmly into the Red Cross building and added her name to the list of nurses who were going into action immediately. Her eyes never shone with laughter any more, and the happiness that dimpled around her mouth was replaced by taunt, firm lines mixed with bitter- ness. After reaching home she went to her room. As she opened the door, her eyes fell on the little monkey grinning saucily at her. Slowly she picked him up and sat on her bed. She could hear Blair say now, Here, F unny-face-here's some- thing to keep you from being lonesome while lim awayf' Pressing the monkey to her tear- stained cheek, she fell asleep. A smile passed over her face and settled on her pale lips. Perhaps she was dreaming of Blair's next furlough. But, no, I think she has gone to meet him. The Story Behind a Whit Setting: Larry's apartment. Time: Early evening. Characters: Larry, a young composer, Laurel, his girl friend, Mack, his pub-

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NEWPORT HIGH SCHOOL -P I 18 1 +- Missing in Action It was Saturday, a sunny day in the early spring. Pete was making his way slowly up the long lane which was now crazily disheveled by the excited rushes and gurgles of the thousands of tiny rivulets making their annual spring journey to the more complacent life of the lowlands. About halfway up the lane he came to the familiar old apple tree whose fruit was good only for throwing, but whose protective branches and fragrant blossoms had so many times silently serenaded the lovers of Pete's little village. As he sat down, he remembered when he and Daisy had last sat there together-just a year ago. As he sat there, he found himself remember- ing-remembering when he should be dreaming. He felt again that same sensa- tion--he thought again the same thoughts. The comfort and security in feeling Daisy close to him and the little catch in his throat as the little rivulets suddenly portrayed the course of hu- man life. They started way up on top of the hill, small and unimportant. Slowly they grew and as they grew they be- came excited and confused. Then they began to catch glimpses of the bottom of the end of their life-and they be- came more confused and a little afraid, and they rushed about madly trying to find the something that they knew should be there for them. And then it was all over. They were swallowed up in the flood. The war had seemed remote then, but before winter had come Daisy was in it-a branch of the Red Cross. It had seemed so absurd that they would take her and he couldnit go. For two weeks their life had been like the madly rushing spring Hoods, and then it was all over-for a while. Pete had never stopped believing that it was just for a while. That is, not until just an hour ago-and still it seemed so unreal. Rapidly, his life with her Hickered through his mind as his boyish eyes, filled with tears, followed the rushing waters until they joined the turbulent flood far below. There the words, miss- ing in action, were jumping about hys- terically. But slowly they spilled out to sea and Peter's mind cleared. Reverently, Pete bowed his head and prayed that some day he would see Daisy again. That is, if a little boy and his dog can go to the same heaven. I. Wiers. The Senior Prom On the campus of Haskell College could be seen boys and girls walking to and fro with books tucked under their arms. In one corner was teen-aged girls conversing excitedly, while some dis- tance away boys were also talking with vigor. Everyone seemed excited except one fellow by the name of Ray Sanders, who was by himself. What was all this excitement about anyway? Why, the Senior Prom was only one week away! This was an important event in the lives of these young students. Suddenly came the aggravating shout, Ray, where's your girl? Then followed several more, such as, Ray hasnit a girl - What happened to your sex appeal, Ray? Then laughter rang out. These shouts burned in Ray's ears.