Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

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THE PILGRIM 17 Subscribed and sealed this torrid day of June in the year of the Codiish Tercentenary, nineteen hundred and thirty. Witnesses: Abraham O'Toole Q Patrick Cohen Trustees: Abdul El Bul Bul Emir Ivan Skelevinsky Skivar E. HARRIETT DONLEVY NANCY PRESTON SEARS otorxogoinioioioxrrinioioiuiuii-,:, 5 .. 3 : 'Jr13010102021110141011xioioinzrozo CLASS PROPHECY In the year 1950, We had the wonderful and interesting experi- ence of making a visit to the labo- ratories of Professor Burns, one of our former classmates and a graduate of Harvard. He had called us to inquire about some patents concerning a new inven- tion which he had just perfected. He welcomed us with a gay cordiality and ushered us into his private workshop where we were impressed by the maze of intri- cate machinery. After telling his assistant, I think that it was Lewis Morini, that he wanted absolute privacy, the Professor led us to a queer contraption resembling a combination radio, phonograph, camera, and steam engine hap- hazardly thrown together. This was the machine on which he had been working for years, a machine by which a scene occurring any- where on earth could be recorded and thrown upon a screen. He then began an extensive ex- planation concerning the appara- tus but, seeing our blank express- ions, he concluded at once, A demonstration will make this much clearer. Suppose we use this ma- chine to discover what our former classmates in Plymouth High School are doing at present. Not only will this be interesting, but it will also be a good demonstra- tion of my apparatus. With a rapid movement he threw a switch, pulled a lever, and began to turn several dials. Upon the screen flashed a light, and then be- hold! a football game is in pro- gress. The Bulldogs have just made a smashing gain and Coach Vecchi is beside himself with joy, while Coach Ortolani gnashes his teeth. We think Water should have stuck to his fruit store, The Best. ' What's this? A commotion in the bleachers, and because of the wildly waving arms we recognize John Canevazzi, famous .manager of the Plymouth Orioles. My! how that man does rave-no ,wonder his team won the league champion- ship. The picture changes and we now see the inner room of a .stock broker's office. Who has risen to such prominence in finance? Upon the screen flash the visages of none other than Bert Smith and Ferdy Emond, still partners, as when we knew them in high school days. A bustling little secretary enters, and we recognize none other than says a dry name-one business in- she speaks, Marion Bennett. She goods merchant by Ramos--would like a terview, and even as Joe himself breezes in-making the windows rattle with his soft greetings. Afraid that this vibration.wo,uld affect the machine, Prof. Burns turns the dials and we see a beauti- ful new school. It must be Plym- outh High School-just erected- and what a number of old friends are here. There. is Leno Lenzi, coaching his girls' track team Chis permanent is still in perfect orderl. Ruth Perrier is just enter- ing a sixth period study hall-and silence reigns over all, Beatrice Johnson is reprimanding her his- tory class, and Louise Tosi is ex- pounding upon a most difficult theorem in geometry. Next we see the interior of the town press. There's Oliver Harlow with his pet linotype machine: he must be working on The Pilgrim. In the office several voices are raised in discussion. One belongs to State Forrester Handy: the

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16 THE PILGRIM ever wielded a hockey stick-she has no need of a legacy. To Miss Rafter-A small for en- tirej portion of the proverbial Irish Luck to be used indis- criminately during next year's basketball season. To all Freshmen teachers- Noth- ing we can say could possibly lessen the heartache you must have suffered at not having had the famous, inimitable class of 1930 for at least one period a day. To Mr. Coats and Mr. Smith- Our sympathy, for our success- ors are already showing a ten- dency to tear up paper on the oiled floors. To Tillie the Toiler-A time clock, to be installed not later than September 3, 1930, the above- mentioned article is to be punched , by your frequent visitors, both sexes. To the Juniors--The plants in Room 10, the wastebaskets of Room 1, the mirror in Room 12, and the three statutes in the study hall. To the Sophomores-The lordly, sanctimonious, gracious mien of the Seniors. With intelligence, practice will make perfect. To the Freshmen-The devout hope that some day they will grow up, stop writing notes, cease snooping, control their voices-but why go on? To next year's Editor-in-chief- A staunch set of nerves, a phil- osophical outlook, an even temper, and a smattering of tact. To next year's hockey team-The miismated shin guards, battle- scarred sticks, and the one price- less antique baseball we man- aged to borrow. To Mary Tinti-Roller skates, now in Hazel Raymond's possession, guaranteed to get you trans- ported to classes, maybe on time. To Joe Sullivan-The gorgeous crimson sweater which may be found on Frank Ortolani. To Phillip Cavallini--Lenzi's curly locks, provided he can prove that he is able to control them. To Lahey-Davee's golden tenor to be used while gedunking ice- cream. To Russell Smith-Francis Whit- ing's sedate personality, with the power to lease, mortgage, or sell, according to its value. To Hedge and Stevens Inc.-One large bottle of milk, be sure it's certified. To Annie Loring-Louise Tosi's come hither look and two curls. To John Sears-Kenneth Camer- on's nonchalance, without a Murad. To Annette Chapman-Margaret Brown's ability to borrow, lose, and waste her classmates' vani- ty cases. To Donald C. McLean-Allan Arm- strong's undeniable versatility and capacity for charming fair damsels. To Dorothy Cassidy-Elsie Longhi's rendition of Les Deux Amies with proper expression. To Thelma Birnstein-Our beloved Locker Number Eight, to love and cherish, and occasionally dust. Also the Christmas wreath, shamrocks, and hearts that are enclosed. She doesn't need a key-we used a hairpin. To the orchestra-A key whereby it may find the much-abused yet rightly-named Lost Chord? To the Glee Club-Close C?J har mony. To Tony Spath-Canevazzi's Ford, without repairs, gas, tires, en- gine, or apologies. To George Haigh-The well- known proverb that All work and no play makes a rolling stone worth two in the bush. To the Girls-John Morton To the Boys-Marion Brick Bennett-titian hair and freck- les included. To All Futulre Seniors-This timely warning-don't degrade yourselves by mingling too fre- quently with mere Sophomores. To All Who Knew Us--A fond farewell. Signed on this auspicious date, June 1, 1930.

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18 THE PILGRIM press misspelt his name last week. Bill Given, the Business Manager, will not apoligize, not even for old time's sake, we always did call the complainant Halan Andy any- way. Again a shift in scenes and lo! we are in a magnificient theatre owned by John Morton and Victor Venturi, old classmates of ours. Behold Johnnie Morton in evening dress and starched shirt-not much like the Johnnie of sweater days. Red-hot music beats about us-yes indeed, that is Howie Beauregard's own orchestra in action, and even as we watch-he himself raises his sax and bleats at the audience. A wonderful violin solo by Ellen Woolford, accom- panied by Laura Gappannari, follows, then a little sister act by Genevieve Hughes and Elsie Longhi delights us until Eileen Dennehy and Peggy Worcester appear. We are shaken by nostal- gia- for we heard them often in days long gone by. Pathe'l News is flashed upon the screen. Now we shall see some celebreties-there is Doris Salani signing her first message as Secre- tary of State-and Mary Sampson who has successfully pleaded her first case as divorce lawyer. There's Nancy Sears, famous novelist, seated at her desk in her library. Hold on-there's the new steam- ship Roster leaving port and, standing at the rail, is Elizabeth Tripp, famous adventurer off for Patagonia in search of the missing link. Her faithful secretary and companion, Lucy Zaniboni, stands beside her while Robert Zucchi, first mate, restrains the crowd. Mary Smith weeps as she sees familiar faces fade away. Next we gaze upon a golf links. Ye-s indeed, here comes Eleanor Bartlett,-pardon us, Mrs. Hig- gins, wife of the famous lawyer. She has just won the Women's Amateur Golf Tournament. We see John Boyle, reporter for The Spicer, interviewing the famous track expert, Howard Davee. Davee Says that, with John Pascoe and Carleton Rose as coaches, America has a fine chance in the Olympics. Burns now transports us to the office of the Plymouth Electric Light Company. With feet on his desk and that familiar grin upon his face sits the president himself, Ghiefy Armstrong. He chuckles to himself as over the telephone he jokes with the little wife down in Chiltonville. Patiently waiting for him to ring off, is a titian- haired stenographer, Flora Borghi by name. The power of the Professor's machine was clearly demonstrated when it brought to us a rolling farm in the west. In the middle of a field is an interesting sight. John Smith, evidently the owner of the farm, is severely reprimanding the aviator of a plane that has just landed in the field. The pilot re- moves his goggles and presto! Alec MacKay is recognized. Who is this coming to his assistance? Mary Welsh herself, famous lec- turer and debater, who now flies to fulfill her engagements. By an elo- quent and emotional flow of words she convinces John that he must make this little sacrifice to Pro- gress, a speech which greatly amuses Harold Geary, who is supervising irrigation on John's farm. Now another familiar figure steps into view. Well, well, Harriett Donlevy of all people! She is on her way to the post-oflice for a letter from a certain MacLean back East. Harriett is touring the west for material for her next feature article. Nearby, unaware of earthly commotion, is our artist, Silvio Saracca, who slowly daubs at a canvas. He is disturbed at his work when, in a roadster, Francis Whiting and the former Pearl Hatfield drive up. Coomie is tak- ing a vacation from his business, Now a series of oflice scenes Hashes into view. There must be some of our old friends here-ah- over at the desks, talking over last night's movies, we see Barbara Coombs, Betty Eastburne, Beatrice