Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

 - Class of 1930

Page 5 of 52

 

Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA) online collection, 1930 Edition, Page 5 of 52
Page 5 of 52



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Page 5 text:

THE PILGRIM 3 4 ' -F' x C - ,,, 'X' In L..S.L,..nL ETHER-WAVE MUSIC Professor Leon Theremin gave a recital of his ether-wave music in Carnegie Hall on March second. He has given several public demon- strations heretofore, and now plans a recital tour. He played Tschaikowsky, Schumann, Bach, Handel, Schubert, Raphael, and others, utilizing four instruments and instrumentalists in combina- tion and separately. Facing an instrument which resembles a radio receiving set, Professor Theremin makes passes with his hands and evokes music on his higher-pitched instrument corresponding in tone to that pro- duced by the violin. Here for the first time we have an instrument for the making of music without the usual accessories of strings, horsehair, reeds, and the like. Professor Theremin states that it is comparatively easy to play. One wonders what influence on the musical world these instru- ments would have if they were manufactured a la Ford at reason- able prices. Would they tend to displace such instruments as the violin? In order to play upon the average instrument, particularly upon the violin, the player must expend hours and hours upon technic. This has been the Water- loo of thousands who have essayed to explore the musical seas. If this obstacle could be removed, if the reformer could express his crav- ing for music at once, what would be the result? It would seem that such an in- strument would find a ready sale. The modern trend is to make the acquisition of knowledge and skill as painless as possible. We have always felt that, for music to have a real meaning to people, they should participate in making it, thereby exercising the ego. One of the reasons for the wide-spread use of the automobile is the fact that anyone can learn to drive one. And that much of the pleasure of riding is in driving cannot be de- nied. Therefore an instrument that anyone can play upon might prove a boon to music. H. BEAUREGARD '30 CROWDS At the fashionable resorts, one sees them, eager, restless people in search of that intangible thing, Pleasure. With their faultless speech, impeccable dress, and lux- urious environment, they aptly typify the often-scorned yet in- fluential wealthy class. Crowds of them, ineffective and selfish. They throng to the famous watering- places of Europe, to the vast stretches of sandy beaches lined with lounging, sun-tanned idlers, to the cool, green mountains, and to the white-capped Alps. Crowds of them, slovenly women, indolent men, and unkempt chil- dreng they are found in the stuffy tenements overflowing with hu- manity. They exist in the slums of every city, with barely room to move, slouching along the squalid pavements. The average individ- ual recoils from them,-yet they are happy. Here French rubs shoulders with Russian, Italian laughs with the jocular Irish. There are no barriers such as nationality and creed to these people. They mingle with perfect equanimity in their crowds. Crowds of little children, ra- diant and laughing, smelling fresh- ly of clean soap and water, playing in a broad. shady park. Their high- pitched, clear voices ring out as they jostle one another, or tumble on the soft grass. Fond mothers gather on benches to keep guard a.nd chat with neighbors. These cherubic youngsters form as pleas-

Page 4 text:

TABLE of CQHTEUTS LITERATURE Page Ether-Wave Music - - 3 Crowcls - - - - 3 It May Be Called Trite - 4 Trials of a Sticclent - - 5 POEMS A Forgotten Tune - 6 Ode to Departure - 6 A Sonnet - - - 6 ESSAY The Oregon Trial - 7 POEIVI Iinprints On The Western Plain - 8 POEM Beneoliction - - 10 COMMENCEMENT-1930 Class Poem - - - 12 Class History - - 13 Class Will - - - 15 Class Prophecy - - 17 Class Pictures - - 20 TRACK PICTURES - - - 35 UNDER THE WHITE CUPOLA - 36 EL ESPANOL - - - - 37 LE FRANCES - 39 EXCHANGES - 41 ATHLETICS - - - 42 TO OTHER LANDS - - 45



Page 6 text:

fir ing and colorful picture as would delight the eye of any Raphael. Throngs of women, perspiring, weary, tired, petulant, clamoring around a much-advertised bargain counter. With wild animal in- stinct, they shove each other ruth- lessly, snatching and discarding the articles on the table. Large, bulky ladies with wheezy move- ments push and elbow their way closer. Angular persons squeeze into incredibly small openings, amid groans and muttered phrases. Exasperated salesgirls hurry .to and fro, answering endless in- quiries, counting change, and eX- changing misiitting garments. The hot, stuffy atmosphere reeks with nerve-wracked, fatigued humanity. At the theatres, in dance halls, on streets, at bridge parties, on the boulevards, one sees them. Crowds, some pleasing to see, some excit- ing curiosity, some repeuanf, some pitiable. All members of one great Fraternity, all under one Protection. Solitude, which poets often eulogize, is all very well at times, but it may be depressing and even terrifying. There is something about a crowd, vivid, pulsating with life, that attracts like a mag- nate. There is a feeling of com- panionship and freedom when mingling with a crowd, to feel that everything is alive, to have every nerve tingling with anticipation. They are found everywhere, of every race,-crowds. 7 E. HARRIET DONLEVY 30 IT MAYBE CALLED TRITE-BUT- f'I'm on the shelf, saving myself for you. Alas! and alack a day! How weary the hours are. How dreary everything looks to me. How true are the words, Pride goeth before a fall. For I have fallen, ah yes, fallen so low that I fear I can never rise again. Lying here, day after day, no one noticing me, nobody caring whether I am here or not. And but a year ago, I was at the height of my popularity. THE PILGRIMH gggh gg, How I was sought! By kings, presi- dents, and beautiful princesses. They came miles to see me. The papers were filled with my exploits, and I was happy. Happy-what an empty-sounding word that is now to me! I am Hlled to overflow- ing with words-but what empty words they are now, to what they might have been. Lying here, I have had a chance to think things over, and it all comes back in a rush, that evening in the royal palace in a small country in Europe. I was lying on the beach in the park thinking of my visit to this delightful spot with the lovely Princess Vera. Lovely did not de- scribe her. Her beauty was ethe- real, a tall, slender, willowy girl, golden-haired, and blue-eyed-she seemed to me the lovliest girl in the world, but of course I could not tell her so. Was she not a princess? She was sitting on the grass by me, with her hands clasped in her lap, and her eyes fixed unseeingly ahead of her. She did not need me, so I settled back in comfort, con- tent to watch her. Presently I saw her lift her head, and fiing back the mass of rippling curls with one white, slender hand. Her eyes were intent on a small foot-path, leading into the forest. Suddenly she was on her feet in one supple, graceful movement, poised and eager. I looked toward the path, and saw emerging from the cool. green woods, a tall, slim giant of a boy. He was as dark as Vera was fair, with a look of love and fealty in his eyes. I wondered-. Have you the message? asked the Princess in her low, melodious voice. Give it to me. She stretch- ed one hand to him. She had forgotten me and he did not realize that I was there, so I decided to be an extremely in- terested spectator. The lad made a deep obeisance. Dear Princess-I have failed I he said in a low tone. Failed ? the word rang through the quiet of the summer afternoon, in a tone of mingled horror and contempt.

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