Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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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.

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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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THE GOLDEN-ROD 21 I had just purchased a newspaper, and was crossing the street deeply interested in the news’that Sen. Wyman Arbuckle had used his vocal powers, developed at High, to defeat the bill providing for the abolition of dancing, brought forth by the Rev. Douglas Yule, the most ardent Blue Law reformer of the day, when a great, big, strong, husky and powerful brute of an automobile came along and collided with me. I started studying astronomy, but a lot of jouncing brought me to, an4 I found myself in an ambulance, with a blue-coated officer bandaging my head. He told me that the auto had suffered two broken lights, whereas I had only one. Seeing this officer made me wonder where George Goodhue was. I asked the cop, and he told me that Georgie has been getting a lot of free rides in the paddy wagon lately, as he is its chauf- feur. At present I am laboriously engaged in holding down a little white bed, and it’s hard work, I’ll tell the world. I wish you’d write me a letter, or else come here yourself and sec me—it’s dead here, and I don’t want to be. With oodles of love, My remains, Art. Postscript No. 1: Say, I just saw Ruth Williams here. She is the head surgeon, so I might live at that. P. S. No. 2: In your last letter you wanted to know what Catherine Foye is doing. Didn’t you know that she mar- ried Dana Kaulbeck, your own brother, after you went away? P. S. No. 3: Say, who do you suppose is in the next bunk? It is Dick Brown, the city contractor. “How did you get here?” I asked him. “I contracted poison from- drinking ‘Campbell’s soup,’,” he answered. Well, honey bunch, I guess that I have written enough postscripts for today. I’m waiting for that letter—or you! Maple Grove Seminary, Franklin, Mass., Sept. 16, 1941. Dear Arthur: I was very surprised to hear that you went to Colorado. Your mines must be very valuable or you would never have gone way out there on business, unless it meant a lot to your banking account. Arthur, whatever will happen to you if you are not more careful? That superflu- ous gray matter of yours was probably overworking. You cannot overwork graymatter and eyesight at the same time. I am so sorry that you were hurt, but be more careful next time, Art. I had a wonderful time on my vaca- tion. School opened today, and it seemed some hard to come back to these giggly, squirming girls. What do you think, Ar- thur? The latest fad these foolish chits have is to wear Burke’s Height and Flesh Reducer. Can you imagine anything sil- lier? I can’t. The inventor of this con- traption is Elizabeth Burke, who gradu- ated from Q. H. S. with us. Lizzie was always doing something funny. I guess she wants to prevent the coming genera- tion from being her height and build. I had a delightful trip home from France. The sea was comparatively calm, and Father Neptune and I did not dis- agree. As a rule, we scrap continually. This trip must be the exception to that rule. When we were about mid-ocean, we saw an airship flying about a mile up. I was watching it with great interest when something happened to the machinery. It stopped. The machine began to tip forward, then glided neatly into the water. It landed very near us, and we could see that it was fast being destroyed by the strong waves. After much excitement the rider was rescued. She was a slim wo- man, who looked very familiar to me.