Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

Page 14 text:

12 THE PILGRIM what have we here? No other than Joan Beever, serving as clerk and stenogra- pher. On her desk this motto startled us: In Cod is our Trust . At the counter we spied Doris Chadwick pur- chasing soime pickled perch and Helen Guidetti gazing at the guppies. The odiferous atmosphere was much too much, howe-ver, so we departed from the fishery to the clean, fresh air of the beach. Out on the sands, amid clam- shells and seaweed, we found Linda Longinotti, noted artist, painting a por- trait of Ita Murphy, who had recently won a beauty cont-est. Near Linda stood Constance Addyman, holding the paint. Just beyond these three, watching them interestedly was Jane Holmes, Who, in her new Buick, was indulging in her hobby, beachcombing. It was near lunch time then, so we hastened back uptown toward the restaurant. How- ever, We couldn't resist looking into the offices of Cristani and Darsch, At- torneys-at-Law, who were so engrossed in an argument that we passed by un- noticed. Then to lunch in Govoni's Greasy Grill , owned by Mildred Govoni. It was so crowded that we had to sit at a table with Lawrence Springer and Jesse Rezendes. This was no hardship since they were former classmates. You can imagine our surprise, though, when we were waited on by a singing waitress whom we recognized as Barbara Brown. We shortly finished our luncheon and, after a brief exchange of greetings with Beverly James, the Chef de Cuisine, we paid our bill to Gerald Ziegengeist, the cashier, and left to finish our Pilgrim Hollow Tour. Our Hrst call was at Barbara Cogge- sfhall's Coiffurerie, where we found Edith Adams having her cheveux rouge severed, and Laura MacLean demon- strating the revived coronet style hair- dress to a much interested pair, Eliza- beth Baker and Miriam Ketchen. Just beyond the beauty parlor was Pascoe's Marble Orchard , where Maralyn Pascoe was eulogizing her marble mon- uments to Dallas Carpenter, whose pet canary had recently died. They gave us hearty greetings, but business was par- amount so we crossed the street toward the Pilgrim Hollow Post Office. En route, we passed Gloria Seaver's Rock- ing, Rolling Rink for roller skating en- thusiasts and experts, neither of which terms applied to us. Once at the post office, it was an easy matter to find William Goodwin, the postmaster, who was having a bit of difficulty explaining why stamps had perforations to Mary Carvalho and Doris Caswell. We didn't stay long, having decided to indulge in higher education by visiting the Pilgrim Hollow School. At this institution we were warmly greeted by Rita Riedel, the efficient office secretary, who showed us immediately into the office of the principal, Madeline Baker. Principal Baker, although glad to see us, was at the moment in conference with James Caramello, Coach at Pilgrim Hollow School, and Tillie Bussolari, Director of Girls' Athletics at P. H. S. As we left the school, we saw before us two very similar buildings. One bore the sign: Home For Infirm and Disabled Hitch Hikers Virginia Weston, Elizabeth Coleman, Props. and in the windows we saw Edward Rossi, Richard Strassel, and John Torres, each with bandaged thumbs. In the other building, according to the sign, a sick pet would be well cared for by Ruth Holtz, R. N. C. D. At this point we came upon the Pil- grim ,Hollow Library. Upon entering, we immediately discovered more old friends. Seated behind the librarian's desk was Phyllis Reinhardt, at a table sat Ella Vitti, Poetess Laureate of Pil- grim Hollow, deep in thought, perhaps searching for inspiration. In a corner Emily McEwen sat reading O. Henry's basketball stories. Before leaving, we made certain that we were in possession of the week's best seller, Goodbye to the Dickey-bird by Christine Hogan. Just as we left, Emily recommended that we go over to the race track and watch another former classmate making a trial spin. So off we went to the track, as directed. We were not surprised to find that the Heagan Haste Hoop , as the speedway was called, was owned by Donald Heath and John Hogan, since these two red-heads had been' somewhat fast during their school days. But we were almost confounded to find that the Dirt-track Demon making the trial runs Was Charlotte Whiting and that her mechanic was Virginia Young. But then, we were reminded that Charlotte was an unusual driver even in the days when she at- tended Plymouth High School. Now we greeted Belmira Ferreira, Who was also Watching the scene at the racetrack,

Page 13 text:

THE PILGRIM 11 page, we noted an item of interest,- Frances Mulcahy, Mary Kelly, and Mary Ryan had won prizes at the Irish Boiler- makers' Picnic for cooking the best Mulligatawny. Also Phil O'Connell and Bill Shea had performed the best Irish Washerwomann jig. Well, enough of news, remarked Watson. Let's get some gasoline. So we drove up to Edward Bradford's Gasoline Dispensory and found our- selves just behind Gladys Mueller and Marilyn Gilman, who were having their car serviced by Willy Disalvatore and Robert Proctor, the able and ambitious attendants. While waiting, we tuned in our radio just in time to hear the last silver strains of a violin fade away. An announcer spoke,- You have just heard. Agnes Silva and her silver violin, accompanied by Eunice Santos at the piano. You have been listening to Colonel Robert Po's Amat-eur Hour, on the air at this hour every week. This is station WPHS at Pilgrim Hollow. We present a special news bulletin. Paul Douglas, formerly of Pilgrim Hollow, has been appointed Ambassador to Scotland. Mr. Douglas is the second person in the world to blow Wee Gillis' bagpipe. . . The next program is that of the Octette Originale , wit-h the silver- tongued master of ceremonies, Bob Lowry, at the microphone. Take it, Bob. Then through our speaker came the theme- The Siberian Desert Song , in- troducing the Octette Originalen. Greetings and salutations, good people, this is your man Lowry, speaking for the Awful Octette , with the Dicks Lanman and .Silva, clarinet virtuosos, Dick Schneider and George Stefani at the corny cornets, Harry Longhi and Bob Lee, saxaphonists, Parker Barnes, slip-horn artist, and Bud Henning beating the tom-toms. Now everybody swings into action as Vern Hogan, that golden-voiced caroo-ooner, warbles number thirteen on our hit parade,- By this time we were ready to leave the gas station, so, shutting off the radio, we proceeded along the street once more, glancing at the various shops. First we saw Canducci's Shoe Hospital, with large l-etters on the window read- ing,- Save your soles, you heels! In- side Margaret Kaiser and Helen Swift were having their high heels repaired. Next to this place was Lodis' Luxury Laundry, owned jointly by Frances and Dorothy Lodi. Just coming out were Mary Mahler and Jeanette Harty, bundles of clothing piled high on their arms. Across the street we noticed, side by side, Shwom's Super-Service Suit Shoppe and Goldsmithis Gawjus Gowns. In the first we met Warren Diegoli, the stockroom superinten-dent, and Margaret Rudolph, who was buying some flashy ties, for whom she wouldn't say. In the dress shop we found Eleanor Fascioli and Alice Govi dis- cussing the merits and faults of the gowns displayed. Adjoining the dress shop was Cy's Versatile Vittle Empo- rium, owned by Mario Solieri, and there was Iole Marvelli decorating the win- dow. Inside Mary Paoletti, Jenny Giori, and Clara Pinto were victims of the vending of viands. Perhaps with a thought of borrowing, we entered the Pilgrim Hollow Last National Bank. We were greeted by the banker, Presi- dent George Banker, and the tellers, Al- berta Pederzani and Doris Ruprecht. As we left, Antonette Rossetti, Beverly .Henrion, and Dorothy .Scanland entered, evidently going in to deposit their money. As we walked by, we peeked into the telephone office, and there saw Dorothy Reed and Ceserine Campana busy at the switchboards. Adjacent to this office was that of the Pilgrim H-ollow Knowl- edge Company. In Pilgrim Hollow knowledge is used in place of electricity, since Scientia Potestas Est . Inside we found Katherine Barratta, Edith De- Cost, and Harriet Longhi, busy supply- ing the power from their store of knowledge. Feeling the need of a creampuff or two, we invaded the Pil- grim Hollow Pastry House, owned by Frances Brown. In here Dorothy Cor- rea and Elizabeth Hanelt were buying some loaves of Hathaway Bread, which was on special sale. On the street again we encountered Thomas Fugazzi and Robert Hughes, gentleman farmer and manager of the Pilgrim Hollow Town Team respectively, in earnest conference over something we couldn't quite hear because John Spurr, the streetcleaner, was singing too loudly the streetcleaner's national hymn, You Gutter Make Sewer You Keep it Clean. The next stop in our tour was Ber- nados' Asylum for Children, operated jointly by Dolores and Rose. By this time we were nearing the beach and waterfront, and before us lay Brigida's Fish Market. As we opened the door, Angelo Brigida drove past with a truckload of perfumed UD fish. Well,

Page 15 text:

THE PILGRIM and then started again toward the Greasy Grill . Our sum.ptuous repast completed, we felt the desire to attend the theatre. Close to the restaurant we discovered the Pilgrimount . Quick to catch our eyes was this notice flashing across the marquee: Brooks Barnes in Wife of the Thin Man This promised to be worthwhile enter- tainment. so, purchasing tickets, we en- tered. Almost immediately we recog- nized the manager as Joe Farina, who, we recall, was formerly an usher, but who since his high school days must have worked his way to the top. He directed that Tommy Ruggiero, the tap-dancing usher, show us to our seats, and we settled back to enjoy the per- formance. After the main picture an eX- cellent stage show was presented, in- cluding a jitterbug contest, in which Julia Pina and Mary Fernandes, the Trucking Twins , competed with the Blazing Blond Ballerina , Barbara Rogers. This act was followed by those two Dark Horses , Thomas fiSnowballJ Prentice, and Gilbert CZipJ Freeman. As a fitting climax to a splendid show, Claire Ottino performed a difficult ballet dance. Thence to the Hotel Charmonde , owned and operated by Rosamonde Grant and Charlotte Raymond. Here we were shown to our rooms by the co-mbi- nation doorman - bellhop - elevator operator. David Furtado. We had a very comfortable night's r-est, and this morning fall the foregoing incidents happened vesterdayl our time has been used in writing to you these few lines which are intended to recall to your mind memories of your high school days. We hone you have enjoyed the ac- counts of your friends' activities. We certainly had a pleasant day with them again after all these years. We have. quite incidentally, secured several orders for Christie's Cure for Corns and Chilblains . A full sales re- port will follow tomorrow. Very truly yours, SELDE M. WRIGHT WATSON A. KNAME Sales Directors Christie's Cure Company Division of Corns and Chilblains NAHUM MoRsE '39 RICHARD TUBBS '39 THE MOUNTAIN OF LIFE We pause to rest against a giant tree, We near the top, our hard climb not yet done: Yet, gazing back at y-ears through which we've come, We wonder that we're here, so far within Life's somber forest stretching out below. Down there 'tis dark-as dark as ignorance, And scarce a light-beam penetrates the gloom, And yet from there we started to ascend Making our Way along life's tangled trails, Unmindful of the dangers lurking near. We mean to get there, far above this threatening realm Of choking darkness fraught with hidden fears, For here 'tis dark, yet higher up we know A light is shining bright, revealing all That merely may be dreamed of down below. At last we have attained this ledge, where now We stand and look out far beyond the for- est black, And gaze on wonders far beyond our dreams, Vast, jagged mountains, obstacles to be Surmounted yet by our aggressiveness. Still ne'er could we have reached this peak If others had not toiled this wav before. The ladders were all made and placed for us, And we but had to climlb the slippery rungs Of predecessors' well-constructed ramps. And now, again we start-in ignorance, And follow in the steps of those before, But many steps we needs must take alone, And higher we must go for higher gain! Then. Qvvhen we reach the top, the world is ours. Richard Tubbs THE BOOK OF LIFE A finger poised above the Book of Life, A fresh leaf, on which each one must write The record of his davs, from birth to death. We guide the pen's inevitable Hight. Our glorious achievements are etched in gold: A shining testimony of our ability To overcome each obstacle in sight With dauntless courage and strength of will. Would that the page might never become soiled Rv anv shameful act to bring disgrace, For good and bad alike must be inscribed. Nor can we add, nor any deed erase. FlT ll9SSlY the pen moves o'cr the parchment. Each dav a victory gained, some evil spurned. Our destinv lies within our hands alone, We must keep achieving-ere the page be turned. Ita Murphy 13