North Quincy High School - Manet Yearbook (North Quincy, MA)

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MAN ET I3 fear and trepidation, never having spoken into a 'mike' hefore. l'm not quite sure what hap- pened, hut the first thing l knew I had offers from three eoneerns for a program of llly own. I know now it was the children, so I have been sure to keep my program clean, in fact, a minister writes n1y radio programs. Mi: Penner. Your act goes on in twenty minutes. Thanks, Jim. Let's see. NVhere were We? Well, anyhow to finish up, I'm married, am thirty-one years of age, and have about twen1',V 'Goo-G0os', I mean ducks. Now, is that enough ? I don't know how to thank you. He laughed again and taking a black cigar out of his pocket, put it into his mouth and shouted, Don 't never do that li' He shook my hand, smiled and walked away, the best, most well-known, and happiest duck- salesman in the World. li 'he Hanks? Bnnhlv Mug Interviewed by GORDON SHIELDS 5.20. I snapped the watch case shut, got out of the ear, walked down the alley and opened the door. CC'Sk7'eS6Z77 Mr, Butler, please. ' ' Just a minute. Heh, Bert, boy here to see you. Huh! Oh, he 's the kid that wants' to inter- view Cohan. It 's O. K. to let him in. I entered and was shown to a chair on the stage. Noting my nervousness, the stage door man grinned and said, Don't worry, young fellow, he'll be out in a couple of minutes. XVhen he comes out of there -pointing to a door at the far end of the stage- just go up to him and tell him who you are and what' you want. He then turned away and busied him- self at some switches. For the first time I had a chance to glance around. I was sitting on a prop chair on the left side of a stage depicting an American home. It was the last scene from the play George Cohan was starring in- Ah Wilder- ness. I seemed to be out of place there among all that make believe. There was an air of unreality about it all, as if I had entered into a different world, peopled by human beings of the kind that I met every day and yet in some subtle sense, different. It seemed- XVell, son, what can I do for you? I looked up, surprised and uncomprehending, into a pair of twinkling blue eyes set in the kindliest face I had ever seen. l'm waiting to interview Mr. Fo-- I stopped and looked more closely. Good Lord. this must be Mr. Cohan! Are you Mr. Cohan? I asked a bit fool- ishly. That's right, young man, and you ean start interviewing me right. now if you're ready. IVhy, uh, sure. I've got a few questions here Ild like you to answer if you please. Go right ahead.', I took a deep breath and began. How many years have you been on the stage? About forty-five. How did you happen to pick the stage as your career? I was born on the stage, son. What was the name of the first song you composed? It was a little ditty called 'Venus'. And the first play you ever acted in? Well, it really wasn't a play, it was more of a vaudeville act called 'Four of a Kind'. That 's what we four Cohans were known as, then. In all your years on the stage, what play did you enjoy acting in most? 'Song and Dance lVIan'.', Of all the songs you composed, which tune do you think made you the most popular? 'Over Thereif' Which do you prefer, the radio or the stage? The stage, he answered instantly. As a treat I took up radio, but I feel more at home on the stage. Mr. Cohan, a lot of folks still know you as the 'Yankee Doodle Boy' Where did you get the inspiration for that song? He laughed and said, From a hotel carpetf' I looked up and laughed too. I just couldn 't help it, his laughter was so contagious. Then I continued with my questions. Have you any hobby? Well, I go for a walk every time I get a chance, if that's what you mean. Do you think the young people of today appreciate the theater? He looked a bit surprised then answered slowly, Yes, interest in plays is coming back, particularly among the young people. Is it true that when you finish your pres- ent run here, you intend to take the entire 'Ah Vtfilderness' cast to North Brookfield and give a performance there? Absolutely Although I was born in Provi- dence, Rhode Island, I spent most of my child- hood in North Iirookfield. I can remember saying one day that if I was ever successful on the stage, someday I would come back like the 77 77

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12 MANET Sviarring .. . . line 13. 15. lgrnnvrllll Interviewed by RUTH CHANNELL The door swung' open. A deep breath. Mr, Ponner, please. Black beetling' brows caine together. Have you got an appointnnAnt? A sudden sinking' teelingg perhaps he 'd for- gotten. VVhy-why-he told nie,-that is-l niean-he wrote nie that today he 'd be glad. to see ine. c'VVell, I'll go see. 001110 in and sit down, anyway. Oh, how good a chair felt! lt only everything' would turn out all right. V O K., lady. He's on his way down now. 1,111 sorry about keeping' you waiting, but there 's so niany people trying' to get in and seo hint that we have to be careful who we let in. Don 't be nervousg ln-'s one of the easiest per- sons to get an answer troni that I know of. XVell, good luck. Good luck! lt. was awfully hot. A thump on the stairs, it light stop, and a sniiling, cheery-looking' face was followed by a short rotund body, peering troni the door of a stage room. The questions! XVhere were thc questions? A heartbreaking reinenibrance. The piece of paper iiuttering- down to the Hoor of the car, too hurried to notice it. Are you the young' lady who is to inter- view ine? VVl1y, yes, Mr. Penner, but Iilll frightfully sorry. My questions, I? , A sudden chuckle. Miss, do you know you're the first inter- rogator I ever inet who would adniit she 'd conie unprepared, even if she had lost her questions? For that I'll give you a short and sweet. talk on the life of Joe Penner. i I was born Joseph Pinter in Hungary, in 1904. Many people have asked nie if the ex- pression on iny face conies from still being Hungary, but to tell the truth itfs just the opposite. To continue, I caine to the land of inilk and honey when I was nine years of age. I went to school for a while, but at sixteen I was seized with an uncontrollable desire to go on the stage as a great singer. But 'XVoe-ho is 111Qll I soon learned it was never to be. So I took a job as a stooge tit was con1edian's assistant in those daysj, and soon found out that people seeined to enjoy laughing at ine. Soon I was in vaudeville, but while quite suc- cessful, I was no howling success. In niy act I used such lines as 'Do ya wanna buy a dead horse'? or 'XVanna buy a hippopottainoinonion- ous'? and although the audience laughed, there was no extra enthusiasni when I said theni. Then one night a new actor was doing his bit when he suddenly forgot his lines. I was in the wings and being very sorry for him CI did the same thing oncel, I stepped out on the stage, and tapped hini on the shoulder, Do you wanna buy a. duck? He had sense enough to play up to it and said lNo!', I11 the mean- tiine, l, could see he was reineniberingt his lines, so sighing' soultully I walked off the stage. Not 'EC until then did I notice the roar of laughter and applause coming from the house. It didn't take ine long to see I had discovered the most popular of the :wanna buysl. A while after that, Rudy Vallee offered me a spot on his variety program. I accepted in'

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14 MAN ET prodigal son and show 'em. VVell, son, I'm sorry, but that's all the questions I can. answer now. He smiled at me and was gone. I turned somewhat dazed to the doorman who had come up behind ine and said, Gee, what a swell fellahf' 'tYes sir, he answered, Hthey don't come any better than George Cohan. Yes sir, I agreed. Hthere 's only one George M. Cohan and they certainly don't come any better. l' 'hunk 131111, Elarrg! ELISABETH OGILVIE, P. G. How did I get to know Kevin Faraday? VVell, it a long story and one that you proba- bly won't believe, but I'll swear o11 a stack of Bibles that it actually happened. I was just seventeen when I inet Kevin, and the friend- ship we began was a lasting one, as we are very good friends today, you can see for your- self. It was all on account of a highly romantic episode in which I participated. willy-nilly. Larry Hazen, a fisherman in the village at Brigport, was the promoter of the affair. Larry and I were good friends. He was slim and dark, with a witty tongue. His wife was tough, and his children were little terrors, but tney were a happy family. It was rumored around in our crowd that Larry had been, at one time, a rum-runner. It was also said that he had acquired' his limp when shot by reve- nuers. A great many other stories, all very colorful, were told about him, and all in all he seemed to be surrounded by an aura of mystery and romance, at least as far as I was concerned. So while I joked and argued with Larry, I dreamed and imagined about him until he ac- cused me of wool-gathering. It was on an August morning that at last I got up enough courage to inquire, timidly, if everything I had heard about him was true. I came along and found Larry among his nets on the stone stoop of the old store. He was whistling to himself as he worked, so I knew he was in a good mood. I dropped down beside him and watched his fingers, and passed the time of day with him. After a lot of beating around the bush I said: 'tLarry, did you used to be a rum-runner? Then I quaked. It was rather an awful thing to say. Larry didn 't look at me, but when I looked at him I saw the corner of his mouth was tucked up as if he were amused. For a moment I wondered if it had all been lies. Then he said quite casually: Now who could have told you that, Sister? He always called me Sister, and it made me feel as if I were about six years old. Well, I said vaguely, some of the kids. He went on Working and smiling, Well, now, I wouldn't say it wasn't true, he began. I was actually overjoyed. Tell me about it, I begged. No, said Larry modestly. Your mother wouldn't like it. 'tI'm not my 1110i-llP1',H I said. Hliut you're her daughter, answered Larry, and that ended the conversation, which could hardly be called a coherent one. At that minute one of my admirers, an angelic child of sixteen, saunte1'ed by and looked at me long- ingly, so I bid Larry a fond farewell. VVhat do you see in him? inquired the lad a trifle petulantly. You wouldnlt understand, I replied with supreme indifference. all rl? Not until two weeks later were rum-runners mentioned. The next time occurred on one afternoon. I was sitting on the fence outside the store with some of the gang, namely my brother Ronnie who was pretending he didn't know me, and Raoul Trudeau. Larry Hazen came along, and grinned at all of us with that grin that makes him seem more like a school- boy than an ex-racketeer. Then he said to me, Come along to the wharf, Sister, I want to show you something. Ronnie said in a tired voice, t'Wl1at is there between you two? But I am used to Ronnie, and never pay any attention to him. I, hopped down and tucked my arm in Larryls, and we went down to the wharf. t'Now, my dear, said Larry in the paternal tone he reserves for special occasions, I am about to incur your mother 's wrath. But you asked for it, so don't. blame me if there are any complications. The old brain was taxed for a minute to get his meaning. I must have looked dense, be- cause Larry said directly, No questions, pleasef' By that time we were on the wharf, and the Hrst thing I saw was a strange boat lying at the mouth of the harbor. At first sight she was a rackety, dingy thing, but the longer I looked the better I liked her. She had long rakish lines and was low in the water. HIS that what you wanted to show me, Larry? I said. 'tYou bet, said Larry. She belongs to friends of mine. I'm going to take you aboard -if you want. Anybody could' see she was no ordinary craft. She was built for speed. I began to see the light. Pirates, rum-runners, Larry Hazen, friends of his. My heart began to beat faster,