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

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NEWPORT HIGH SCHOOL ' It took a lot of grit, but he man- aged to lift up his head and tried to forget his troubles. Next Saturday John decided to go fishing. It was the only way'to com- fort himself. He got his rod and bait, and slowly made his way through his father's pasture, into the woods, and across the birch grove until he came to the brook. He sat down on a rock and cast his line. As he sat there brooding, something told him to go down-stream toward the dam. It will be better fishing there anyway, he thought. Just as he rounded the bend, he saw Tommy, Mr. Jones' son, standing on the three foot dam casting his line. Even as John watched, the boy lost his balance and fell into ten feet of icy water. John was torn between right and revenge. Why should I help him? His father ruined my chance to pitch. But John knew he was wrong. I've got to help him. Mother said never to seek revenge, he said aloud. While he spoke, he ran to the dam and dived unflinchingly into the cold water. It seemed hours while he groped his way over the rocks and weeds. Just as he had given up, he found the boy. It seem- ed as if his lungs would burst before he could get to the surface with his burden. It's a lucky thing for Tom I took First Aid, he muttered to himself, as he did his best to revive him. It was a proud and successful John that carried Tommy back to his father. Mr. Jones answered the door- bell. After hearing John's story, he scowled. I thank you very much for saving my son, he said tartly, tak- ing Tommy into the house and slam- ming the door. John felt sick all over. He wanted to cry, but he bucked it all and went home. ' Next Monday morning John went to the road and got the mail for his mother. He glanced at a letter ad- dressed to him. When he opened it, this is what he read: My Dear John, I hope you will accept my gift of gratitude. You are welcome to use my new car for the rest of your school year. Your Friend, J. W. Jones. H VERSE Hadley Smith, '47. Lines written by Lt. Chatlain, who amputated his foot with a jackknife and then thought he was going to die. He was rescued after two hours of hiding and is now recuperating in England. I WHAT DID YOU DO TODAY? What did you do today, my friend, From morning 'till the night? How many times did you complain That rationing was too tight? When are you going to start to do l .

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THE LIVE WIRE merchant, a doorway means his live- lihood, and yet, when desired, it can provide protection, and safeguard the interior from theft and pilfering. To Jane, a doorway now had a new meaning. She felt powerless to an- swer the sharp summons which had brought her to the portal. A moment before she had peered through the thick fog which had settled that af- ternoon, condensing in large droplets on her window pane. It was time for the p0stman,and his uniformed figure was visible in the distance. Would there be a letter from Jack? It was nearly a year now since he had been called to the service. Slowly she set aside the tiny sock she had been mend- ing. My, how little Bobby did go through his things! How proud Jack would be to see him in his 'drst year in school! He was the man, now that Daddy had to be away. A knock came at the door. Strange! The postman had never knocked be- fore. Here at the door she stopped as the dawning of realization left her powerless to continue. It might be a registered letter! The crushing thought filled her mind that it might be a government letter concerning Jack! Had it happened? Had her Jack been-? No, it couldn't be? Not Jack! Not the laughing, robust, fun- loving boy who had Won her heart, only to be called away after their few short years of happiness. A second, more insistent, rapplng tore her from her fears, and slowly she turned the latch. Instantly the door flung open. Come on Small Fry, came a booming laughing voice. Make way for the Army! Don't you let even your Hubby in ? If you really want to know some- - I time, ask Jane, who was over-joyed at her husband's surprise furlough: What is a doorway? Theo Wiers. PATIENCE BRINGS SUCCESS John Stalworth walked slowly home from school. His books seemed to weigh a ton, and his weary mind was nearly bursting. Baseball sea- son was coming, and the coach had said he would pitch for the school team if he could find enough time to practice. John lived in the country, and it was at least five miles to school by the road, he went through Mr. Jones' back field, into the woods and across the narrow brook, Which was very deep. From there he went on to the main highway and on to school. This way it was only two miles, and he had managed to find time to practice with the team until yesterday morning. He thought of it with hatred in his heart. John had been walking across the field when he saw Mr. Jones coming, waving his arms and shouting for him to stop. John was in a hurry, but he waited patiently for Mr. Jones. What's the idea, running 'cross my field? Can't your lubknock head tell you that you're spoiling my clo- ver? You git of'en my field, and don't let me see you go 'cross it again! John tried to apologize, but Mr. Jones stalked off. John's only hope was gone. He couldn't pitch his last year in high school. When he told his mother, she was not disturbed. Things didn't look very bright when she said, Just have faith my son, and everything will turn out all right. l

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THE LIVE WIRE All the things you say? A soldier would like to know, my friend, What did you do today? We met the enemy today And took the town by storm. Happy reading it will make For you tomorrow morn. You'll read With satisfaction The brief communique We fought, but are you fighting? What did you do today? My gunner died in my arms today, I feel his warm blood yet. Your neighbor's dying boy gave out A scream I'll never forget. On my right a tank was hit, A flash and then a fire. The stench of burning flesh Still rises from the pyre. ' What did you do today, my friend, To help us with the task? Did you work harder and longer for him, Or is that too much to ask? What right have I to ask you this? You probably will say, Maybe now you'll understand, You see-I died today. GHOSTS Have you ever seen a ghost? Well, let me tell you, friend, I have-and believe you me, I don't want to again. It happened on a dark, black night, When everything was still. I was coming back from visiting A friend up on the hill. I heard the darndest, wierdest cry, It made my bones turn raw: I peeked out through my half-closed I eyes, And this is what I saw. A giant ghost, all garbed in white, Came jogging down the hill. I shook and shivered like an old Ford car - While standing there, stock still. His robe went down below his knees, His hair draped out behind, His arms were long, and angled down, His feet I could not find. His ribs stuck out like piano keys, His jaws contained no teeth. His chest and head floated all alone With his hips and legs beneath. The last thing that I seemed to see. As everything went black, Was a face that had most everything With a built-in shelf in back. Next morning when I came around, The Doc laughed at my moan, He said, I quote, Next time, my lad, Just leave the stuff alone ! John Webb, Jr. THE NATlON'S JITTERBUGU He was once the town's favorite glamour-boy With his filthy saddle-shoes And his glassy ringlets hanging down, With wave-set did they ooze. His skin-tight trousers were rolled up To show his fiashy socks Of orange, yellow, blue, and red And plaids and polka-dots. His favorite hang-out was a place Where he could cut the rug. Oh boy! Oh boy! He's in the groove. The nation's jitterbug! E21l