Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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22 THE GOLDEN-ROD Then I recognized her as Anna Blair. I immediately spoke to her, and we had a great visit. “You know Bertha Pyyny and Irene Stephens, don’t you, Ruth?” she said to me one day. “Yes, I remember them,” I answered. “Well,” said Anna, “they and Elsie Parmenter and Hazel Mason have devel- oped wings. Who would ever think that four girls from Quincy should ever de- velop wings?” As I was unable to divine her subtle wit, she had to explain that they were members of her flying school. Then, of course, I could laugh, but naturally I did not want to after being so stupid. Once when Anna was in California, engine trouble forced her to land in a large peach plantation. A tall man came running up to her. He was really very peeved be- cause she landed in his old peach grounds. “Why, Clayton Blake,” Anna burst out, “don’t get so hot-headed. I’m not go- ing to touch your peaches. I hate them! If I remember correctly, you are very fond of them, especially when they be- long—” “Sweet one, Anna Blair, I didn’t know it was you, or I would not have talked to a lady so rudely.” The same old Clayton, isn’t he, Arthur? “Say, Anna,” Clayton went on, “you come over here; I have someone I want you to meet.” They went over to some peach trees. Clayton called, and four girls came up. Clayton introduced them as Esther Lik- ander, Doris Rendle, Ellen Gray, and Freda Paul. Anna was delighted to sec them again. They are Clayton’s best peach pickers. The world shrinks every- day, Anna says, and I fully agree with her. The rest of the voyage was uneventful. I had no trouble at Ellis Island, and now I am here with these unexciting, giggling, foolish school girls. How different they are from what we used to be! Just before my school opened, I went over to Barbara Wells’ school for boys. We had a long talk on boys, and I really do believe that Barbara is fonder of the boys than when we knew her. “By the way, Barb, do you know what ‘Hap’ Davis is doing now?” I asked. Barb beamed. “Why, yes, Ruth, I do,” she answered. “He is a millionaire. He received so many ‘Q’s’ at Quincy High that he has made a fortune selling them to Chinamen.” Xow, what do you think of that, Ar- thur? Do you know that every time I see Barb and hear her speak of “Hap,” I think of Byron’s “Don Juan.” “The noblest kind of love is love platonic.” I met another of our classmates recent- ly. I decided that this y ear I would have an instructor in horseback riding. I think this will be good for the girls, and give them an idea of good old-fashioned sport. I advertised for an instructor. One day a horseman rode up the driveways. We started to talk business. I noticed that he was looking at me very queerly. “Say, Ruth, aren’t yrou married y-et?” he burst out. I was so surprised that for a second I could not speak. At last I demanded: “Who are you, may I inquire?” “I’m Eddie Maibach. I thought you were Ruth Kaulbeck, but I wasn’t sure. I’ve studied horseback riding for years now.” Really, Art, at last Eddie has reached the calling in life for which he was born. “Say, Ruth,” Eddie went on, “while 1 was riding in South Quincy yesterday, I saw a restaurant kept by Emili Giovan- angeli. Emily married soon after gradu- ation, and now she keeps a restaurant for seven. Right beside Emily’s is Antonelli’s fruit store. Antonelli and Emily are the best of friends at last.

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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.

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 23 I decided to hire Eddie. This means one more man around. Arthur, you don’t know how thrilling it is to have a man around. The other day I took the girls for a ramble in the woods. While walking along our customary path, I noticed a new one, which led into the densest woods. We decided to explore. Sudden- ly we came to a clearing. In the center was a log cabin. At the door sat a good- looking, haggard faced man. This was the hermit of which we had heard. The girls were anxious to speak to him. As he did not look very vicious, I decided it would be all right. His face looked very familiar, and when he talked he seemed more familiar. Then, all of a sudden, I knew that this man was Jack Beal. Just as I discovered this, a trim woman came up the path. She carried a lot of letters. Jack explained that she was Ruth Carl- son, his secretary. Every other day Ruth comes to bring Jack his letters and to take dictation. Arthur, can you imagine any one receiving so many love letters and proposals that they arc forced to seclude themselves in the woods? This is Jack’s case. Poor Jack! On our way home we stopped at a new tea room in the town. A very important- looking woman came to take our orders. “Hello, Florence Orcutt,” I said. “Why, Ruth, what are you doing in this tea room?” “A large cavity somewhere between my heart and appendix forced me to come,” I said. (I suppose the girls thought I was get- ting giddy.) Florence told me that the tea room be- longed to Catherine Savillc. Virginia Smith has the important position of ad- vertiser. When we went to pay our checks, I thought that the face behind the glass was very familiar. When she opened her mouth to speak I knew it was Ruth La Charity. Beside her, very industrious- ly working an adding machine, sat Josephine Martincau. Ruth demanded an enormous price. I was rather surprised at the high cost of teaing. . “That is an exorbitant price for the food,” I said to Ruth, “but it was fine.” “Why shouldn’t it be? Look who cooked it! Lena Bova is our chef, and she can cook to perfection.” Just then Catherine came up and we greeted each other, as only women can. I noticed that Catherine’s voice was very clear, and she pronounced every word carefully. I remarked on the quality of her voice. “I have just graduated from Juliette McCarthy’s school,” she answered. “Juliette is a fine teacher. Beryl Bean, Margaret Callahan, Anna Coughlin, and Evelyn Price have graduated from there. Why, oh why, didn’t Juliette start the good work sooner?” “Do you know what Gertrude Ander- son is doing?” I asked Catherine. “Why, yes,” she said, “Gertrude con- ducts a school of pianoforte. She has hired Dorothy Eaton, Inez Carter, and Annie Stevens to care for the children be- fore and after the lessons. Poor Dorothy and Inez! Between thinking of the lesson before, and weeping over it after, I guess the poor little kiddies arc nervous wrecks. Surely the two girls have their hands full.” Tonight I took the girls to a lecture on style: “The right thing to wear at the right time.” This will help improve the girls’ tastes in dressing. The lecture was very good. You can’t guess who the lec- turer was. It was so unlike her you will be surprised to hear it was none other than Ruth Wilmore. After the lecture I went up to greet Ruth. At first she did not know me. You must admit, Arthur, that I have changed a great deal. “Whoever would expect to sec you here?” said Ruth. “I never thought that you would fall for small town stufT.” “I don’t mind it now, because I have a real man on the place. Oh, it is heaven- like to have a real man around,” I in- formed her.