North Andover High School - Knight Yearbook (North Andover, MA)

Page 28 text:

JOHNSON HIGH SCHOOL Class Prophecy As I thumbed the pages of a well-worn year-book, I marveled at the fac t that I might again see those faces and visit old haunts in my mission to the East. For here as I sat in the peaceful solitude of my ranch in San Carlos, California, a te egram lay on my lap stating that one of my finest thoroughbreds had broken his leg at Rocking¬ ham Park and my presence was requested at Lawrence, Mass., in order that I might be able to collect insurance from the lawyer of a well-known company. As I went to work packing my grips. I wondered into what walks of life my class¬ mates had separated and if they had changed since I last knew them. I smiled to myself as I remembered some of their latent talents and questioned whether they could have been used to advantage. Already I knew that several of my classmates had reached prominence in the nearby city of Hollywood. Paul Hickingbotham, that great lover of the screen, was due to appear opposite Peggy Hunt, that sweet temperamental actress, in a coming attraction. Soon I found myself aboard a new stream-line express eastward bound. The train was of the latest creation, capable of doing one hundred and seventy miles an hour, and containing all the comforts of home. I found that the whole construction was de¬ signed by the great W. Elmer Cassidy, world known engineer and polytechnical expert. On this train I met Helen Connelly. Helen was just returning from a brief stay in Reno and claimed that she often went there on business. I also learned that she and Gertrude Gillespie had combined their talents and were running burlesque shows in Chicago. Returning to my compartment to have lunch, I was surprised to find that the attractive stewardess was none other than Elizabeth McRobbie. I soon noticed that all the food served, was from Earl Smith Co., “The Suppliers of the Worlds’ Food.” I had always thought that Earl took more than ordinary interest in foodstuffs. Upon completing my meal, I picked up the morning paper and hastily scanned its contents. I noted the date was June 3, 1950, just fifteen years since I graduated from Johnson High and left the dear old town of North Andover. Suddenly I read the glaring headline news that Rene Richard would be the next probable candidate for president on the socialist ticket. He stood for radical changes in the government. On the woman’s page was an article by the noted stylist, Blanche Barwell, who was just entering the field of writing. Today’s topic was “Solving Matrimonial Difficulties and Woes of Home Life; Tried, Tested and Approved by Author.” On the adjoining column was the feature of the page, headed, “Advice to the Love- Lorn,” and edited by Ray Gosda. Turning to the sporting page I found that Arthur Olson, noted psychophysicist and able mathematician, was a race-horse selector. He employed Newton’s gravity laws, combined his own formula for rate of moving bodies under unequal atmospheric resis¬ tances, in making all his selections. Before I realized it, my trip came to an end, and I was soon viewing my home town. I found the buildings had changed very little, but all the faces seemed strange to me. I wandered up Main Street and noted much commotion taking place at Railroad Square. Upon investigation I learned that officials from Boxford were visiting North Andover on a good will tour. A large crowd had gathered to listen to speeches by prominent citizens. Henry Camire, a prominent office holder of North Andover, dog catcher to be exact, was acting as the master of ceremonies, ably introducing each speaker. It did not take me long to find out that the crowd was waiting patiently for Joe Budnick, a by-product of local schools and present Mayor of Boxford, to speak. How¬ ever, when the time came, Joe was reluctant to do so and complained of a sore throat, much to the crowd’s disappointment. In the group I met Betty Atkinson, a social worker, and Dot Elliot, a E;d Cross nurse. They were both very cheerful and amicable, as they were looking for my five dollars to help buy water-wings for the flood victims of the Shawsheen Valley region. Having been a steady contributor to Helena Roche’s fund for blind and stray cats and dogs in California, I realized the plight of these unfortunates and graciously gave the demanded sum. By this time the rally had broken up, but the crowd was soon reawakened by a clamor of bells and the screech of sirens. Arthur Aaronian, sensing a business opportunity, came trouping in with his medicine show. 22

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i 9 3 5 YEAR BOOK Leonard Windle, the senior wizard, leaves his superior technique in scholastic ability and his desires for a Prom to Fernley Wilcox. Frances Whittaker leaves the keys of her piano, some of which are out of tune, to Barbara Eagle. Dot Wooley, one of those unusual girls, leaves her woolev hair to Phyllis Keating. Joe Fitzgerald, who believes that twenty years from now letters with parachutes attached to them will be dropped from the air into little boxes erected for this purpose on the roof, leaves his wisdom tooth to Vitold Gabys who needs a little wisdom. Rene Richard unwillingly leaves his curly hair, after it’s cut, to no one in particular, who may take it or not, who knows? Everett Bennett leaves a few inches of his height to Dan Connelly. Winifred Baldwin leaves her Marlene Detriech figure to Margaret McLay. Jenny Zabronowicz leaves a few of her grapevine curls to Helen Mackie. After much consideration and doubt I have finally decided to leave this school, of course with the consent of our teachers who are extremely kind and helpful in every way concerning the detention room and their helpful explanation of why a pupil is sent to the detention room. Having thus decided to keep what further valuables we may possess to the ex¬ clusion of others, and seeing that the juniors are still ignorant enough to accept them, I hurriedly affix my signature to this most worthy and legal document. On this eleventh day and hour of June, in the year of our Lord, One Thousand Nine Hundred and Thirty-five, I hereby leave this valuable manuscript to our successors. Signed, ARTHUR AARONIAN, in behalf of the Class of 1935. Witnesses: WILLIAM CALLAHAN EDITH L. PIERCE VEVA M. CHAPMAN DOROTHY COLBURN 21

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1 9 3 5 YEAR BOOK His stage consisted of the back of a huge truck gayly decorated and posted with numerous placards advertising “Dr. Aaronian’s Elixir of All Earthly Ills.” Aaronian soon had the situation well in hand and promised some entertainment before he began his sales. The first attraction featured Alison Pitkin, who came dashing out in carnival attire to do a gay rhumba dance. Next Ralph Champion and his wife, a famous tap-dancing team, came out with a specialty dance number. Then Aaronian presented with much ballyhoo his feature act. He fed Everett Bennett three bottles of said Elixir, who after this stimulation amazed the crowd by snapping horseshoes and juggling huge weights. After this, Aaronian began to sell his medicine and before I knew it I was the sole possessor of one dozen of Dr. Aaronian’s “Elixir for Earthly Ills.” When I heard him mention something the Brooklyn Bridge, I hurried away, as I had no use for it. As I continued my way, a long expensive-looking roadster pulled up, driven by a dignified looking business man. As he spoke I recognized Leonard Windle. After ex¬ changing greetings, I learned that Leonard was a Sunshine Biscuit salesman and was on his way to the High School for a sale. The thought of again seeing the old school after a lapse of fifteen years thrilled me to the core, so I piled in. On the way we stopped for gas at a large garage, bearing in bold letters across the top “Cashman’s Service.” Inquiring of one of the mechanics about my friend, I learned that Frank owned a string of garages throughout New England. He had long ago settled down as a quiet family man, being married as soon as his wife graduated from high school, two years after he did. When we arrived at the school, I was astounded. For here stood a palatial structure with magnificent walls and pillars. Inquiring where the town had struck the gold mine, I learned that Emile Boulanger, wealthy philanthropist, had graciously donated large sums of money to the school in memory of his many, many pleasant years spent there. Roland Gesing was outside diligently sweeping the walk. I discovered that in view of his service put in as a student, the school committee agreed to delegate to him the janitor’s job. Wandering inside I found a pleasant surprise, for seated at the principal’s desk was Tom Ceplikas. After congratulating him I asked about his predecessor, Mr. Hayes, who, I learned had been called away to Washington to help solve some of the domestic en¬ tanglements by his mathematical prowess. Tom also stated that the school had grown to be so large that he had to advertise for a special secretary. Upon his announcement, Mary Roche immediately quit her position as private secretary to the President of the United States and came to serve her Alma Mater. I also discovered that Elaine Eldredge and Dorothy Woolley had teachers’ positions in the school. Here I congratulated Tom again upon his splendid faculty. Phyllis Culpon and Gladys Butterfield were capably managing the lunch room under a new system they had worked out all by themselves. Quality foods for low prices. And now Johnson High had a new athletic coach. Paul Coppeta, former Olympic star, was now producing winning teams for Johnson. Remembering my appointment with the lawyer, I called up “Beanland’s Wide- Awake Taxi Service,” and before I had time to take a little snooze and smoke a few cigars, one of John’s drivers arrived for me. After a speedy ride, I was soon on Essex Street and noticed men standing in groups buzzing with excitement. I soon learned that the cause of the undue activity was an event which was to take place that night. “Tiger Joe” Fitzgerald, the Turkey-Town Terror, was to meet some Greek champ at O’Sullivan Park. Hurrying through the common, I met Nellie Szymosek strolling along the walk with a carriage containing triplets. I was all set to congratulate Nellie when she in¬ formed me that she was a nurse at the local hospital and was just taking Jennie Zabronowicz’s children out for an airing. At last I entered the Cregg Building, the object of my long journey. Here I was surprised to find Mabel Dill scrubbing the corridor floor. But after a short chat with Mabel, I found that she was a novelist and was scrubbing floors to find material for her stories. As I went into the elevator, I noticed Margaret Law stationed inside the information booth across the way. Soon I entered a spacious office richly done up in symmetrical design. Imagine my surprise when I found the lawyer I had come so far to see was none other than George Flanagan. Little had I realized that the “Flanagan Co., Attorneys-at-Law,” noted for 23