Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 19 “Oh, he’s quite prosperous now. I heard that he is the proprietor of the leading mercantile emporium of Paris, Maine,” he answered. I was just going to ask Henny how his wife was when I noticed he had left me to run after the school teacher. And then who should happen along but the Lion. Sarto Minihan. Sarto always was fond of drawing people while at school, you know. Well, he has kept up at this occupation. Fortune has smiled brightly on brave Sarto; he wears a silk hat even at his business, which is that of a hearse driver. Seeing Minihan made me wonder what his pal Hartry was doing, so I went into Cavanaugh’s shoe store to ask Charlie. Charlie is a mem- ber of the Outta Luck Club. He was do- ing fine until Willard Edwards got up that invention of his, the ever-wearing and shock-absorbing leather, good for both shoes and pants. Charles informed me that Hartrey is a carver of gravestones. If I remember right, many a desk at High bore samples of his artistic talents. Say, sugar-plum, you’d hardly know the town now, there’s so many new buildings. Across the street is the factory of the Nicolls Hot Air Furnace Co., beside it is Miller’s leather goods store. Miller always did know a lot about trunks, es- pecially in the Senior Dramatics. Then there is Saunders’ tailor shop, whose mot- to is “We guarantee to give our customers fits.” Edwin Davidson, I hear, is having a ripping time in the aforesaid shop. For the afternoon I had planned going to the Farnham and Delaney circus, but I had plenty of time, so after circumnavi- gating a few lobsters and a quart of ice cream, I lay down to sleep ofT their ef- fects. Hardly, however, had a thousand little demons armed with pitchforks begun to poke me in the stomach when the door- bell rang, waking me from my horrible dream. A rather numerous lady stood at the door. “I,” said a voice, which belonged to Lois Parlee, “am the official demon- strator for Fryar’s Fumigated Food for the Forlorn Fleshy.” I sorrowfully refused to buy a bottle, but assured her that I’d let her know if I ever needed it, and then said, “If Fryar ever invents a fattening food for the flim- sy, come around, and I’ll buy you out.” I returned to my siesta, and was just about to fall off onto the hard floor when the doorbell rang again, waking me from my perilous position on the edge of the couch. But what a sight met me as I threw open the door! There stood a young lady, one side of whose face was covered with freckles, and the other side wasn’t. “The circus is on the next block,” I in- formed her politely but firmly, and was just about to close the door when she put her foot in the way, and then said, “As I was about to say, I have here a bottle of freckle remover which belongs to you for only one plunk.” I took another look at her face, and say, it seemed familiar! “Pardon me,” I said, but won’t you cover up that blank side of your face for a moment? Thank you.” Sure enough, it was Celia Crcmins. “But why this partial eclipse?” I asked her. “Oh, that’s to show customers that I really had freckles once which this lotion has removed, as you see here on this side.” I declined to say “au revoir” to a dollar bill, but I said it to her instead. I went back to my snooze, first, however, placing a rolling pin in my immediate vicinity, so it could be brought into action if the next caller was masculine. I had just begun to play a solo on my wind instrument, when the bell rang again, re-awakening me. I hastily seized my shillalah and threw open the door. It was a man, but I took mercy- on him, for his hair was white; in other

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18 THE GOLDEN-ROD You couldn’t guess who I saw looking at the pictures. It was Mary Townsend. I poked her in the back to attract her at- tention. Just the man I want,” she said, as she turned around and noticed me. Won’t you give me a check to put my old ladies’ home back on its feet?” I sor- rowfully complied with her request, and then asked her, Where is your old pal Marjorie Owens now?” Oh, she’s married to Arthur Steele, the iron magnate, and is now leader of the elite Wollaston ‘400’.” Just now I felt a cavity growing within me, so I went home to upholster my de- partment of the interior. After this was accomplished, I decided I might as well go to the theatre, so I went down to Dea- con’s Alhambra. While fishing for my change I dropped a nickel. “Lock all the doors,” yelled a voice. Hire Mary Mc- Ginty,” said another. I turned to the last speaker. You couldnt mistake him in a hundred years. It was Benny Berman. Benny, you know, became a great quar- terback at Harvard, probably because he is about three-quarters front and one quarter back. At present Benny is a life- guard at Wollaston Beach. Who’s Mary McGinty?” I asked him. Oh,” he answered, “she’s a great de- tective, second only to Sherlock Holmes.” Benny and I then entered the theatre and sat down togther, while I made myself as comfortable as possible under the circum- stances. First there was a Mutt and Jeff come- dy, in which Skinny Palmer and Clarence Barron took the leading rolls.” Then came a boxing match between Ethel Burgess and Helen Donavon, which Helen won, as she is the champion female boxer. After the bout, she announced that she was going to try to get a match with Paul Akin, the world’s champion boxer. Paul, as you probably know, is quite a boxer, since he knocked out Men- delssohn and Paderewski by hitting them on the ivories. During the intermission Benny and I got to talking about Quincy High’s old football team, and that led to Ham” Jones, Benny’s old side kick on the team. He said Ham now sells false mustaches for a living, ranging from the little count- ’em-on-your-fingers type desired by the aristocracy, to the great flowing soup strainers cultivated by the Italian gentle- men. The Grand Finale was a play entitled The Sultan of Turkey,” which was writ- ten by Brad Ropes, who is now a full- fledged poet. The part of the Sultan was taken by John Lane; and in his harem were such fair damsels as Norma Bar- nard, Miriam Hixon, Elva Jones, and An- na Putnam. These fair damsels vied with one another to see who would be the Sul- tana. This position was finally secured by the best-looking member of the quar- tette. But now entered the dark horse in the guise of John Laverty, the ballet dancer to the queen. He placed the Sul- tan in another world by stabbing him be- tween the third and fourth acts; and then married the queen himself, and then lived scrappily ever after. When the play was over, I woke up Benny, went back to my domicile, entered the same, blew out the gas, and turned in. This finished Wednesday. Thursday morning (which was yester- day morning) I surrounded three or four dozen pancakes, and then started out to take my customary stroll. On the way I saw a rosv-cheeked fellow talking to a retired schoolma’am, so I knew it was Hennery Blake. Hen, you know, always liked to tickle the girls, so now he sells feathers imported from his flamingo ranch in Australia. After the ex-teacher had taken her departure, I went over to him. What’s Rob Osgood doing now?” I asked. I haven’t seen him for two years.”

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20 THE GOLDEN-ROD words, it was Chet Mellish, who sells books when he isn’t playing chess. “What’s on the menu today?” I asked him. “Well,” he answered, “I have here a book entitled ‘The History and Develop- ment of the Upper Classes,’ by Hannon, the noted historian, recognized as the best piece of literature this year. Then I also have a book by Helen Levinson and Sadye Berman, ‘How to Prevent Gum Chewing and Whispering During Study Periods.’ With a copy of the latter we give free a book, ‘How to Shorten High School Courses,’ by Miss Dorothea Mur- .phy- I took a sample copy of each and then re-entered my habitation. It wasn’t much use now to try to sleep, so I put on my Fedora and meandered down to the cir- cus. As I had plenty of time, I went into the side show first. Who do you suppose were in it? The wild man I knew at once to be Johnny Djcrf, but I had to take two looks at the sword swallower before I knew it was Roy Olson. “How did you happen to take up this business?” I asked him, when the show was over. “Well, if you can stretch your memory a little, you will remember that I always was good at swallowing a cud of gum at a moment’s notice,” he replied. Roy told me, too, that John Quinn was a wild woman tamer in the show, but at pres- ent he is in the hospital. Gee, and John always was so bashful! The circus itself was pretty good— there was a tight-ropc walker there that you know—Anna Wright, and oh, yes, Ernest Piper had charge of the Wild West show. After the doings were all over for the afternoon, I went home to supper, but I couldn’t eat much on account of not hav- ing the room, so I sat down to look over a book. The last chapter struck me fav- orably, so I began at the beginning. I had only read five pages, however, and the hero had made but three killings, when the door bell rang again. This time it was Louis Merrill. Ever since a cer- tain incident at High School, you know, Louis has had but one object in mind, and therefore he founded the Merrill Home for the Prevention of Absentmind- edness. Its chief inmate, I hear, is Mrs. Helen White Merrill. “Come on down to the dedication of the new high school with me,” he said. My program card for the evening was blank, so I acquiesced. Before the doings began I noticed a small, feeble-looking man who was a physical wreck sitting near me. “Who is it?” I whispered to Louis. “That’s Reginald Hanson. Ever since he married Ruth Bishop he’s been like that,” he answered. Say, Ruth, but he was the worst-looking specimen of a hen- pecked hubby that I’ve ever seen! I hope I’ll never be like that. The principal orator of the evening (I think you know him) was Lawrence Leavitt, D. D., who is President of Dart- mouth, Ex-Mayor of Quincy, senior mem- ber of “Vanderbilt and Leavitt” and juni- or member of Leavitt and Nowell.” I have extracted a few of his remarks which might interest you: “We have decided to patronize local talent in this institution, and therefore Gilbert Rcdlon, who knows so much of the office, will be its principal. Wilbur Rhodes, who just graduated from Quincy High, -will teach Physics; Irving Law- rence Shaw, who was always good at fig- ures, will teach Mathematics; and Miss Louise Brievogel will teach Drawing. “We arc also offering a new course,— that of Hieroglyphics Hydrophobia, which will be elucidated by Miss Edna Benson.” This ended Thursday, and Friday morning dawned not long afterwards,— Friday, the 13th. You remember I started to tell you what happened on this eventful morning.