Newtown High School - Bugle Yearbook (Newtown, CT)

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Q., . , e unh Qesium ant of The Giluss of 191 Bequeath to each and all so free The good points of the class. To Room Eight, the one of riot, We leave a class so very quiet. To 'River Shannon who is thin A bit of Reiner, the opposite of him. To Lillian Collins that she may be gay A bit of Eunice's flirtatious way. To Mr. LeGrow a chemistry class Which will have one student worthy to pass. To Miss Rice a student quite bright Who will study with all his might. We give to Miss Barry a good sized wrench To force her students to study French. To Harvey Rasmussen, who is so small, We leave Liebold's build so broad and tall. To Eileen Dyer so full of fun and noise Muriel Person's calm and peaceful poise. To Dolly Williams with complexion so light Lorraine Shepard's color so bright. To Bill Lovell, a non-athlete, Carl Berl's prowess with hands and feet. And quiet Dot Quinn could surely use Some of Natalie Eaton's giggling coos. To Charlie Potter we do decree jimmy Scanlon's nose for chemistry. To Lewis Andrews in math so tame We leave Miriam Butensky's mathematical fame. To Bettie Haefele of conservative delights We leave Esther Bate's radical flights. To Ray Burr so frank when talking We leave Bill Waterhouse's bluffing. To Arthur Spero, that annoying creature, We give Bob Mayer's way with the teacher. To the girl-shy john Morgan Eugene Woodin's bent for women. To Krawiecki's mediocre countenance We give Richard DiVesta's good appearance. To Mary McCarthy whose drawings are miniatures We leave Frank Miles' famous caricatures. To Harry Doehne to match his obedience John Leavy's sarcastic insolence. To David Cassidy's liveliness We give Hyatt's laziness. Ray Person, we feel, deserves joe's famous pitching curves. To Burr Morgan we do assign Kenneth Casey's fine line. Tom Bate we hope will keep Dick Perry's ability to sleep. With our regrets to those we've missed We bring to end our lengthy list. And so we close with a great sigh Those joyful days at Hawley High. The Seniors

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Freshman In our first year of high school we were the largest class in Newtown High. At the beginning of the school year we elected officers as follows: Loretta Nichols, President, Burr Morgan, Vice-President, Charles Swan, Secretary, John Ryan, Treasurer. The Freshman Class is represented by several boys and girls on the intramural basketball teams. Loretta Nichols, President ,2.l- ' -Q7 :J ' 4 ' ..- N ' Q

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They Died One Night Francois DuBois was out early this particular june morning, plowing his rich fertile soil. The war was continuing and there was great fear of the fall of France. As Francois worked, his thoughts were cen- tered on the war. Suppose-just suppose-the Ger- mans should come to France, demolish and burn the towns, and France should fall captive to Germany? Would he be run off his farm? Would the Germans burn his home and his family? What would become of them all? Francois put a new vigor behind the plow. They would not take France. Not as long as he produced abundant food for the soldiers. They would keep on fighting and keep the Germans back. Yes, they would keep on fighting. Even Francois' own son Pierre was out there on the field of battle. Pierre had gone away some eight months before with a determination to fight for the freedom of his country. A brilliant young chap, he soon became an officer with a clear understanding of the state of affairs, and a hatred for war and its plotters. Francois was startled from his thought by the shouting of his wife Clarissa, who was undoubtedly excited over something. Francois! Francois! Oh Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu! What is it Clarissa? You are all excited! Stop your shouting and tell me what is wrong. Has Marie fallen down the well? Did you burn the cake again? Tell me, what is wrong? Oh Francois, the Italians, the Italians, have de- clared war on us. What are we going to do? We can't last much longer. Our troops are weakening, our food is running low. The Germans will surely stamp us out. Francois! Francois! Did you hear what I said ? Francois did hear what she said. Her words came at his heart with a stab, his face turned white at the thought. The Italians and Germans-together they would strike at France. Together they would take his land, his farm. He looked at his plow, at his freshly plowed land as though he would not be plowing it for his benefit alone. But wait! Hadn't he, not five minutes ago told himself that they would not fail their beloved country? Francois looked at his wife shivering with fright looking up at him for courage. He looked at his big white farm house and little Marie playing outside. Come, Clarissa, let us go in for lunch. The two walked back in silence-Clarissa with a heavy, frightened, and weary step, Francois with a de- termined pace-determined to fight for freedom. All that day Francois' mind was whirling with thoughts. Nothing else could enter his mind. He real- ized the tenseness of his fellow Frenchmen when he went to town that afternoon. People were standing in line with ration books, waiting for the day's meager supplies, a chance in a hundred that they would get anything at all. Groups of men were stand- ing in the street, some talking furiously with tense, jerky voices, others were listening with faces pale and puzzled. Boys and girls were walking about quietly, cautiously, with clothes made from still older clothes. All this he saw-all with one thought in mind-determination to fight, to fight in the spirit which is characteristic of all true Frenchmen. Then the blow came. At the end of that week the Germans marched into Paris. In no time the French were overwhelmed and the capital city was in the hands of the Germans. Still Francois kept his cour- age, though at times his thoughts and fears nearly drove him crazy. Two nights later Francois, his wife, and child were eating their scant evening meal when heavy foot- steps were heard outside, sharp, clear commands, and then a loud knock at the door. Francois' heart began to pound at a terrific pace, his throat became coarse and dry, and his wife turned deathly white. A second knock came louder, more commanding. Open up! Open up in the name of the Feuhrer! Resolutely Francois opened the door. In stamped five huge Germans, two of them officers. Quickly they glanced around the room. Hans, Fritz, look around, pick up anything of interest. This man is rich.' Francois started to protest but one of the burly soldiers stepped quickly toward him with anwarning not to speak. Aha! Lieutenant Pratzer, the Frenchman does not like our company. Maybe he does not know that we have one of his big fat cows. Our soldiers could use some good beef. Wilhelm, go fetch those beautiful cows we saw. Tie them together so we will have no trouble leading them. Francois thrust forward at the officer.