Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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4 THE GOLDEN-ROD A shadow has been cast over our school by the untimely deaths of our beloved teachers. Miss Seymour and Mr. Roache. We feel that we have lost two splendid friends. And we wonder, as we think back, if we always treated them as our friends; if we always reciprocated their efforts in our behalf. The saying “You never miss the water till the well runs dry,” is indeed a grim one as here applied. So, let us realize now that our teachers—and we may add, our parents—are our best friends and should be so regarded; let us realize that to try to teach us is our teachers’ life work: to try to learn is our duty;—the first is vain without the second. This does not mean that we all should become book-worms—far from that. It does mean, however, that we all should show a whole-hearted effort and willing- ness to learn. That is indeed the least we can do. As this is our best opportunity we wish to commend the school, especially the September Freshmen, for its financial support of the first issue. The Septem- ber Freshmen averaged more copies than any other class except the Seniors. In fact, the financial support was so good that there wasn’t a single copy left over, and more could have been sold. We hope that all who wanted copies of this issue, may have got them, and we advise, for your own sake that you order your next number so you may be sure of hav- ing it. SENIORS! Where is your good be- havior? Don’t you know enough, when there is no teacher in the room, to work if you have any to do? Or if, perchance, you have no work, or no inclination to work, at least don’t make so much noise that the teacher in the next room can hear you. Do you know you are committing an offense, legally called “Disturbing the Peace”? In the death of Mr. Roache, we mourn the loss of a kindly, warm-hearted man. whose influence will long be felt in the school where he taught and in the com- munity where he lived. A man of sterling worth, his life was characterized by a modesty and dignity of bearing, by extreme uprightness and integrity, and by a steadfast devotion to duty. His generous and sympathetic nature, his thoughtful courtesy, and the gentle- ness and nobility of his character com- manded the respect of all who were brought in contact with him. Life had failed to embitter him; in- stead he had gained, thro’ life’s vicissi- tudes, a calmness and serenity of mind which the aggressive man rarely finds. We who were privileged to count our- selves among his friends, found his friend- ship a warm, living actuality. An in- teresting and delightful companion, a man whom we could implicit) trust, his many lovable qualities were impressed upon us more and more deeply with the passing of time. “Such was our friend. Formed on the good old plan, A true and brave and downright honest man! His daily prayer, far better understood In acts than words, was simply doing good. So calm, so constant was his rectitude, That by his loss alone we know its worth, And feel how true a man has walked with us on earth.” —Clara E. Thompson.

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QUINCY, MASS. XL be Solfcen»1Ro£’ Volume XXX February, 1920 No. 2 Published by the Pupils of QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL Address: The Golden-Rod, Quincy High School, Quincy, Mass. EDITOR-IN-CHIEF.. LITERARY EDITOR . NEWS EDITOR..... ART EDITOR....... ALUMNI EDITOR.... EXCHANGE EDITOR. ATHLETIC EDITOR. . JOKE EDITOR...... B US IN ESS M A N AG E R. ASST. BUSINESS MGR ...HERBERT LITTON ...IRENE SEVIGNY ...EDWARD SHYNE ALDO DELLA CHI ESA ... EDNA CAMPBELL . . .. GLADYS JENKINS ...EDGARLUNDIN ....WILLIAM DEANE ...WILLIAM COUCH ..REGINALD HANSON EDITORIALS Doubtless you wondered where the frontispiece was in our first issue. We regret that there was no suitable picture available at the time the Golden Rod went to press, but hope you have over- looked this in view of the general ex- cellence of the other departments of the magazine. Realizing that pictures make a great addition to the Golden Rod we have a frontispiece and a smaller picture for you in this issue, and will see to it that there are one or more pictures in the following numbers. The class sports have been entered into with a vim and vigor heretofore un- equaled. Competition is keen, as no class seems to have a very decided ad- vantage over the others—unless it be our athletically inclined Juhiors—and sever- al predictions have been upset. The Juniors, with their flock of young Sam- sons and Atlases, have been hard pressed by the other classes, the Seniors espec- ially showing unexpected prowess. The Freshmen and Sophomores have also caused more or less energetic opposition for each other. As it now stands— The Junior Class sits on the wall, But—sometime it will have a great fall. And all the king’s horses and all the king's men, Won’t put the Juniors together again. We wish to call your attention to the advertisements in this issue for William E. Fritz, the Jeweler, for the Dutch Food Shop, for Bahr’s Music Store, and for Moorhead’s Shoe Store; these were written by Annabelle Brown, Anna Lyons, Emma Krasinski, and Gerald Horrigan, respectively. The Senior En- glish Classes of the Commercial Depart- ment are correlating in this way with the local merchants to the practical benefit of both. As our student ad. writers are still working, with much competition among them, there will un- doubtedly be more of their fine work ex- hibited in the remaining numbers.

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 5 REGENERATION As Duane sat there before the open hearth with the firelight playing on his long, lithe body, his eyes were strangely softened. Duane’s eyes in the presence of others were steely grey, hard, and metallic. But now, they were softened as though he was dreaming of other and happier days. To his superiors, Duane was simply an expert engineer who solved the hardest problems with an easy disregard of their difficulty. It was as though he disdained any or all problems, as though his was a brain that could solve any problem with little effort. To his men, Duane was a driver who worked himself harder than he worked them, a driver who compelled their ad- miration and respect. To the people with whom he was ac- quainted, Duane was a mystery. He seemed to have no friends and to make none. The only companion he had was an Indian servant. Duane also seemed to have a strange fear of women. He would have nothing to do with them, and as far as it was in his power, no woman was allowed on the construction on which he was at work. It was very noticeable, that the men he chose as his assistants were all unmarried men of mature years. The men tried to make up a past for him, but he would never talk and he never dropped any hint as to his past. All that the men of the company knew was this: Four years before, Harold Duane had appeared at the office of the North Amer- can Construction Company and asked for a position as engineer,—and got it. (It was noticeable that what Duane went after he got.) Duane was sent to Argentina to help on a large reservoir which the company was building there. By his brains and hard work Duane advanced until finally he became assis- tant to the engineer in charge. When the head engineer was taken ill and ordered north, Duane was given com- plete charge of the construction and finished the work months ahead of the contract time, thereby making money for his company. When he reached the States, he was sent to a dam that the Company was constructing in the Red Valley. Here he was to have entire charge, the engi- neer who had been in charge returning to New York. Here Duane is found. As he sat there before the fire, he looked strangely like a boy who, after a hard day of playing, had eaten his sup- per and now was resting and dreaming before the open hearth. A knock came at the door, and Duane’s expression changed. Over his face came a cold, grey mask, and his eyes grew hard. “Come in,” his voice was cold as though it was ice. “All right, Mr. Duane,” answered the man. “I just brought up a couple of letters; they have been down to the office a week, and you didn’t call for them, so I brought them up.” “Thanks,” laconically replied Duane, “but I wasn’t expecting any mail from the company for another week.” “These aren’t company letters; they aren’t in company envelopes anyway.” “All right, thanks.” “Good night, Mr. Duane.” “Good night.” And after the man had left, “Who could have written me? I have no friends, and surely none of my old ones know where I am. Well, there is only one way to find out.” He opened one of the letters. It was an invitation from the wife of the President of the company for a ball to be held on Christmas Eve and to which all the engineers in the employ- ment of the company were invited and at which the directors and the engineers