Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

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55,4--mdk- ,-ivwgg A -- 0 THE PILGRIM agonized yell h-e took off into the great open spaces. Then, r-ealizing his mistake, he clutched frantically at the near-est object and hung on desperately. By this time the rivet had burned its way through his heavy overalls, a little beneath its point of entrance. Marty's first thought was that, if he lived through this, he would eat from the mantle and be courteous to ladies in subways for a long time. His next dis- covery was that he had grabbed the win- dow-sill of his secret idol and that he was hanging from the sill by the grace of God and the vice-like grip of his own two hands. The window above his head shot up. She was there. Breathlessly she gasped, Are you hurt-can you get up-shall I call tqhe fire department-oh! what shall I do. Marty beamed at her. I'm O. K., lady. Soon's I get me breath I'll be in to see ya. With a mighty heave he slid pain- fully across the window-sill. Turning, he gazed thoughtfully at the great, yawning abyss which he had just hurd- led, then down into Callahan's amazed face. He shut the window and turned to his still-fiust-ered hostess. Funny what a guy can do with the right inspiration, offered Marty. What do you mean ?f' she queried. Well, I been lookin' over here for quite a while and I didn't see you so I just dropped over. Why, what on earth, -the girl started in amazement. You were late, wasn't you? Marty grinned. Why, er-yes. My little boy was rather out of sorts and- What! you married? demanded Marty. Yes, of course. OW, groaned Marty sinking into a chair, and Wow! as he realized his error. Oh, you are hurt, aren't you? she asked. Well, I got an awful burn on-yeah, I sure got an awful burn, Marty re- plied as he ambled to the window. Lean- ing out he yelled, Hey! Callahan! Yeah ? Am I fired ? CKNaW-77 He balanced for a moment on the win- dow ledge. The girl shrilled at him, Don't, for heaven's sake! With all the precision of a cricket, al- though he more closely resembled a bula moose, Marty sprang, alighted, wavered, gained his precarious perch, and shuf- fled over to his work. Leaning over, he glared down at his helper.- Rivets hot? Sure, boss. Push 'em up. GILBERT HARLOW, '33 THE HANDS OF TIME She stood before the clock And thought: The hands of Time! These are the hands That tell off The years and eternitiesg The numbered moments Of Man's life- His sorrows, joys, Loves and hates- His victories and defeats! In the next year, or the next hour, The next minute-yes, Even the next second- O Hands of Time, Who knows what you Will bring to me ? CHARLOTTE BURGEss, '33 EMBARKATION B53.God's will we've reached the shore- me Of the great expanse beyond, And our bark will be all ready 'Fore another day has dawned. Hark! tempestuous waves are crashing On the hidden rocks below. ' Can we steer our precious vessel Through them, safely-? Who can know? Now we start, ship strewn with gar- lands, Cheers the crowd,-our anchor's free- Will our courage-then-be steadfast Lone and rocked on darkened sea? f When we're tossed by cruel billows, When we're plunged in deep abyss, When our trusted friends forsake us, Can our ship combat with this? God, we hope our ship is sturdy, For we've tried to build it so, And with Your kind blessing on us Fully armored shall we go. k M. E. WHITING, '33 The novice at trout fishing had hooked a very small trout. Excitedly he played it, reel- ing it in after a moment or two until it was rammed tight against the end of the rod. Glowing with the warmth of conquest, he turned to his instructor. I've got him! I've got him! he cried. Now what do I do? Climb up the pole and stab him to death, replied the disgusted instructor.

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THE PILGRIM 27 With a sickening pain I knew what he was doing. 'Straight upon the grenade he threw himself. Tommie, don't do it, don't do it, don't-. A deafening explosion, then darkness closed about me. When I awoke I was in the hospital, my head bandaged. Tom was dead. Of all the m-en in the classroom only he had deservedlto live. Why, why was he the one to die? Was it because only he was fit to enter the Kingdom of Heaven? No, I cried, it can't be, there is no heaven! And as I spoke those words, I knew I was lying, knew that for three years I had been deceiving myself. We started living anew, trying to be a bit like Tommy. Peopl-e think I'm insane when I say I hear his voice. But I do. I hear it in the sobbing tones of the organ, when the song of the birds fills the air, when the silent snow falls lightly, when I kneel at the altar. Yes, Tommy and I have be- come intimate friends. V ALBA MARTINELLI, '36 A MESSAGE TO TELL Th-ere are millions in far lands who ' ne'er have been told That Jesus, His life hath laid downg Which was precious, more precious than rubies or gold And to us will He give a crown If We only believe on His Name, in His Word- How we're saved from sin by His - Grace, And some day in His Kingdom we'll be H with our Lord, We'll gaze on His heavenly Face. We will serve, work and play, we will Q, 'A . laugh, praise and sing. ' Oh, happy, how happy we'll be! May the millions be told, may they not . miss a thing. O Lord, if Thy will, please send me! I ELLEN YOUNG, '33 THE BLESSED TOILER God gave me all- Days of 'ceaseless labor Drudgery-breaking my bones. Sweat and grime Upon my brow, ' ,',Q,,Drilling tirelessly -ffgln the black, damp mines. Yet-f-1. God gave me all. 'Nights' of peaceful rest 5 Cont-ented-in my solitude. Love and laughter JJ In my heart, A prayer to Him Who blessed me with Faith. In Him I trust. BRUNA GAMBINI, '33 SANS CENTS Why are you sad, O strange little boy? Is it because 'someone has broken your toy. In your gay, knitted sweater and cheery blue jeans You brinng to my mind my childhood scenes. Why are your rosy cheeks streaked with tears? Can it be the burden of all your years? You surely aren't more than three and a half- .. Just at the age to frolic and laugh. You want som-e candymand a stick of gum? Heavens! that shouldn't require any great sum. I've two pennies here in my purse, I believe- So there, little boy, don't you bother to grieve. LORETTA SMITH, '33 WELL, I'LL BE- MARTY O'Toole, six feet four inches tall, half as wide, and twice as thick, swayed gently in his tracks as he gazed pensively at the window just eight and one half fe-et, from the two massive extremities of his frame, which on ordinary mortals are usually called f-eet. For the past two weeks Marty had moved about the job in a trance since his first glimpse of the very attractive occupant of the room into which this window opened, had registered on his portion of a mind and left an achy, yet tingling sensation in the upper left-hand section of his torso. It was getting ratherflate and she usually showed up by nine o'clock. Marty sighed dejectedly. The voice of Callahan, four stories below, brought him out of his semi-conscious state. Hey, you big gorilla, we ain't paying you eight bucks a day to pose as a lily of the valley. Come to and earn your dough. Marty, who had signaled for rivets from his helper, sidl-ed over a couple more feet, directly over Callahan, and said, Aw, take your job and-Wow!- Ow!-Halp! Now it's an indisputabl-e fact that a white hot rivet dropped into a hip pocket may prove decidedly uncomfortable. Marty evidently found it so. With an

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THE- PHJGRIM 29 THE EPOCH MAKER Good afternoon, gentlemeng I sup- pose you're reporters. Am I right? No? Well, at any rate, I know you want me to tell you about my great feat of engineering. Have a seat--pardon me-do you see my armchairs anywhere ?-Well, I guess the office boy took them home with him. Never mind, perhaps there's room for you on that bench. I've always believed it could be done. It was one of my boyhood dreams. Everyone, when I applied for financial assistance, said it was a crazy idea, but I've done it, gentlemen, I've done it! Three months ago America was con- nected to Asia only by steamships ply- ing back and forth, but now the two continents are closely linked together by a bridge one hundred and fifty miles long reaching from Cape Prince of Wales in to East Cape in Asia! It is a superhuman accomplishment, gentle- men, the product of a genius who-but please, please, gentlemen, spare me this embarrassment, for I still retain the modesty which was my most becoming characteristic in my childhood days. Other great engineers have made it a practice to start on the shore and build towards the center of the span, but I started at the center and worked to- wards the shore as well. The bridge is made of wood for a very good reason. Wood, as you may know, floats, so I built sections of the bridge on the shore, towed them out and weighted these sec- tions down with rocks. Of course the ballast clutters up the top of the bridge somewhat, but nothing is perfect. One of my worst setbacks was ex- perienced when we were putting the third section in. When we weighted it down, it sank into the mud until its sur- face was fifty feet below the level of the rest of the bridge. That difficulty was readily overcome by installing escalators at both ends of that section. Just before I left we had a cold spell and the bridge in contracting drew a- part in the middle. I had my men put a few planks across the gap, so that no one would be annoyed by it, and we have only to lift those planks up to allow boats to pass through the,Straits. What? You must be going? Well, come again when I can take the time to talk to you. Good-bye. Warden, can't I play Napoleon now? I'm tired of being an engineer, and be- sides, I've lost my Erector. I may? Oh, goody, goody! HOWARD SHERMAN, '33 WHAT A NIGHT! BUSINESS had been dull. Not many people were on the street. At the tenth stroke of the clock in Town Square, Katherine decided to close shop. Stretching out a lanquid hand, she pressed the two buttons which controlled the lights in the back of the store. She walked slowly to the cash register. One of her duties was to count the money and check the charges. Her thoughts wandered as she stood there. The novel she had just finished- a good story but the plot was impossible. Bearded Bandits was an inviting title-it suggested daring, romantic ad- ventures. Th-e only men she knew with beards were as old as the hills and as romantic as a Uriah Heep. Where, oh, where w-ere the Don Quixotes and Robin Hoods of her generation? She looked up suddenly. She knew someone was looking at her. Her hands tightened on the bills she held. Two huge men were gazing through the win- dow at her. N eatly trimmed, curly, brown beards ornamented the lower part of their faces. Dark felt hats pulled low over their faces did not con- ceal their enormous, glowing eyes. Surely, they were as large as half-dol- lars! After what seemed to be a hurried consultation, the men went away. She breathed a sigh of relief-too soon! One of them entered. He walked past towards the tables. Her heart stood still-then raced on madly. She gulped and gave the prescribed, Can I do something for you? Yes. I'd like coffee and sandwiches, please. Oh, horrors! She was the only one in the store. She was afraid to leave him alone there. Mr. Jones n-ext door had closed and was gone. Officer Riley wouldn't be back for a half-hour. Visions of a hold-up-maybe shc'd be shot-thos-e thieves in the book- I'm sorry, but- The sign says you serve until ten- thirty. It's only ten now. You see- What could she say? Not that she was alone! Desperately, she snatched a straw- We have no bread left. I' can give you coffee and pastries, though. The bell which summoned the man who worked downstairs caught her eye. When they forced her, trembling, de- fiant-to give them the money in the register, she would press the bell with her knee. She could see the headlines- that handsome, new reporter would in-