Salem High School - Witch Yearbook (Salem, MA)

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Peeling paint and plaster, crowded cafeteria and classrooms, somehow seemed more bearable because we knew that in the fall of our junior year we would move to the “plastic kiddie castle” — or so we thought. We packed and unpacked and packed again. For an entire se- mester we lived out of Casey and Hayes boxes, waiting in antici- pation of the DAY. Suddenly it happened — co-ed gym came into existence and our education began. No longer was co-ed volleyball a special treat. Now there was no mystery as to what lurked behind the big green curtain. “Animal ball” and “bombardment” were replaced by more sophicated activities such as fencing and gymnastics. And “oh-h-h that Salem High cookin,” remained the same the difference being the way it was served — color coded. “Look, there’s a blue tray in the orange caf!” Although a foreign tray could be easily noticed, it was more difficult to detect “a stranger in a strange caf.” especially because most people carried three different i.d.’s. Once you got into the caf, the next problem was how to get out. How many times were we accosted by an aide demanding a pass, or your life. The courtyard, affectionately known as the “pit” was one option which did not require a pass. Neither rain nor hail nor sleet nor snow could stop the patrons of the pit from their appointed puff. The only other “no-passing zone” was the route from the caf to the I.M.C. (not to be confused with the library). Of course, the atmospheric conditions on the 3rd level were not condusive to the support of human life. In other words, we could not sit there!

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Class History “When we think back on all the crap we learned in high school, it’s a wonder we can think at all. Though our lack of education hasn’t hurt us none, we can read the writing on the . . . desk.’’ P. Simon We stopped by the old high school on our way to graduation rehearsal this morning. As we stood looking up at the building, memories washed over us in the same way the floods used to wash over the basement floor. As freshmen, it really never bothered us — we were too busy waiting in line to get up the stairs or trying to navigate through the dimly lit halls. In the Fall of 1973, we were forced to expand our vocabulary. “Special re- ports,” “study halls,” and “sessions” suddenly became signifi- cant. Once we discovered that there was nothing really very “special” about those reports, that studying was the only thing not done in study halls, and that sessions, although well- attended, were not the most exciting way to spend your after- noon, we could now consider ourselves full-fledged Freshmen. After Freshman year, the only possible direction was up! The rise of the football team in the Fall (no pun intended) of 1974 brought Coach Ken Perrone’s undefeated Witches to the Super Bowl. Despite an all-out effort by everyone involved, the game ended in a distressing one — point loss. Another change that occurred in September was the rise of Mr. Curtin. No longer could we be “canned by Libby;” now it was “curtains for us all.” Yes, Mr. Edward Curtin had hung around long enough to be draped in the proverbial principal robes. The new administration did its best to make the remainder of our stay at the Highland Avenue residence pleasant. 14

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We took all this in stride, however, and our Junior Year wa great. It was the year of the Bicentennial, the year the Music O] ganizations toured the Eastern Seaboard, the year the Varsit sports teams combined for the best over-all record in the North east Conference. pi The Junior Minstrel Show proved that we could function suer cessfully as a group. Our prom, held at the Colonial-Hilton Inn hr Lynnfield on May 14 was well-attended by Juniors and thei dates, all enjoying an evening never to be forgotten. The Mt$ ei Monadnock climb concluded our Junior Year. P It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness. It was the epoch op belief, it was the epoch of incredulity. It was the season of light 13 it was the season of darkness. It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. We were all going direct to Heaven, we a were all going direct the other way. In short, it was our Senior Year. P Like death and taxes, “senior-itis” is inevitable, and we all contracted it in October of 1976. Regardless, the fall brought with it several accomplishments, one of which was the Cross Country team’s participation in the State Finals. Another was the much-improved Band. 16