Norwell High School - Shipbuilder Yearbook (Norwell, MA)

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Seventh Grade First Row- J. Douglas, J. MacFarlane, J. Brown, L. Stone, R. Grant, M. L. Kelley, N. Henderson, J. Davis, A. Jones, M. Bailey, S. Lincoln, J. Yetmang Second Row- L. Joseph, S. Nolan, G. Bennett, V. Elliot, R. O'Donnell, A. Miller, B. Chase, P. Bennett, J. Reagan, R. Kelly, R. Mason, J. Wylie: Third Row- P. Robinson, J. Anderson, N. Torrey, G. Gunderway, C. Taylor, J. Jackson, C. Molla, F. MacDougall, J. Gilmour, E E. Higgins, P. Tulis, R. Thomas THE RACE CRACK went the pistol! Eight boys, all striving to win the mile race, dashed past the sight-seers. First Hans was ahead and leading by a few yards. On they sped, tiny figures down the course. Suddenly Peter Van Holp shot into the lead. The boys had turned the loop and swung into the home stretch. Three of them were neck and neck. The crowd was wildly cheering. Now the race was almost over. Streaking past the others, a straining figure crossed the finish line. Peter Van Holp had won the silver skates! M 7 STETSON SHRINE Joan acFarlane In our community there is a place of historic interest. In 1634 Cornet Robert Stetson received a large grant of land from the Colony Court. This estate on the North River made up his farm. His house was built on a beautiful plain near the stream. An unfailing and valuable spring which has supplied eight generations of the family marks the spot. Cool, tasty water is still being produced by the spring. 'Cornet's Rocksn in the river east of his farm are well known to those who navigate the channel. His old farmhouse is still standing but slowly going to rack and ruin. It is now known as 'Stetson's Shrinen. Every year the Stetson family gath- ers for a 'Stetson Reunion Weekn. The place is also visited by many a camper, hiken and his- torian. It is located off Stetson Road in the Church Hill section of Norwell. Joyce Gilmour 7 WOE IS ME There once was a wee, little flea Who was busier than a bee,-- He hopped to and fro, Be looked high and low Ow! You see he was looking for me! Ann Jones 7 15

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Lite rar CONFESSIONS OF A CRIMINAL I realize now that it is useless to hide my crime, but at the time, I thought I could easily conceal it. Little did I realize the cunning or power of the Security Corps--the dread S. C. Society. That evening following the horrible deed, I went to bed early. Sometime during the night I was awakened by a sharp rap on the door. I arose undisturbed, thinking it was perhaps the landlord or a late visitor. Opening the door, I beheld a man dressed in an ordinary suit and overcoat. Still I was not alarmed. 'What can I do for you?n I asked him. nI've been ordered to take you down to headquarters,n he replied, revealing his blue and white arm band. HJust put on your coat and come along with me. Nothing will happen to you so long as you behave and don't try anything.n How could I try anything with my head in a whirl, and my brain numbed by the sudden shock? How had the fiends found out? I permitted myself to be led away, and we soon arrived at the jail. My captor threw me into a cell, a small, evil-smelling dungeon. I lay there for some time, thinking. Suddenly a thought came into my head. If they were only suspicious of me, they would wait for me to sign a confession. If I signed one, I was as good as dead. Later I was led to a clean, well-lighted room. This was the leader's office. I was blinded momentarily by the bright lights, and it was some minutes before I could see clearly. There was no escape from that roomy the door had been bolted and locked after me, and two guards stood along each wall. The leader motioned me to sit down. UAl1 right, sir, we don't want to detain you too long. We realize you are a busy man. Just sign the paper here and you can go.n nNo,n I shouted, UI won't sign it. I haven't done anything wrong and you can't make me sign it.n nIt's up to you. We know you committed the crime, and I think we shall be able to per- suade you to change your m1nd.n He signalled one of the guards. 'Wh1tey, take this guy into the next room and soften him up,n he said. A big brute grabbed my arm, took me into the room, and pounded me until I was unconscious. Someone re- vived me by throwing a bucket of water in my face. I refused to sign, so I was strapped to the wall and given fifty lashes across the back with a cat-o-nine-tails. The pain was un- bearable, and for the second time, I lapsed into unconsciousness. I was revived as before. Again I was asked to sign. I refused. 'He's a stubborn one, 1sn't he?n one of the guards remarked. I was dragged back to my cell for the night. I realized I was near the end of my endurance. Next morning the torture continued. Still groggy, I was made toqsit in a chair facing a fire in which a red-hot poker gleamed. This was too much! The conression was orought be- fore me and I signed. I was given a quick mock trial, and now I am awaiting my execution. You may question the reason for my recording these facts. I want to spare those who are contemplating breaking the rules of the S. C. the dreadful torture I endured. You can never get away, for according to its motto: nThe Student Council always gets its man!n Remember this and beware. Scott Osborne '50 17