Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR of the young French officers of the Emperor’s staff. He never forgot. It is November 11th. 1918. Not far from Sedan, three motor cars, bearing the white flag of truce, advance to the cross roads. They contain the German delegation asking for peace. Received by French officers of the staff, they are taken into the presence of a small, silver-haired man who, tense and quiet, asks: “Your wish, gentlemen ?” “We have come. Monsieur,” said the German spokesman, “to arrange an armistice.” And then the terms are read to them by this same tense, but very quiet general in command: read with no exaltation nor hope of vain triumph- ing, but down deep in his heart he remembered another surrender when his emperor had stood among the vanquished, for the young officer, hard- ly more than a boy, who had been present when the crushing terms of defeat had been imposed on his country, and the general who received the Ger- man surrender are one and the same. Marshal Focli, generalissimo of the Allied armies. Peace has come at last to the world, after four years of the most terrible conflict it has ever known. Now comes the great problem of reconstruction, all the greater in this war than in any other, be- cause monarchies have been overthrown, people are in revolt, and the world in general is in chaos. Let us go forward to meet these great problems with confidence, but not with boastfulness, with hatred of the wrong, but with loyalty and devo- tion to the right, with absolute belief that a gov- ernment of the people, for the people and by the people shall not perish from the earth. It is done. In the circuit of the sun. Shall the sound thereof go forth. It shall bid the sad rejoice. It shall give the dumb a voice. It shall belt with joy the earth. Good and Bad Magazines John Avery, ’19 lishing at present an account of the life in the Magazines are published, as a general rule, for the pleasure of their readers. Those that accom- plish their object by well-written, clean stories and articles, and an occasional poem, may be called good magazines. They are of different types. Some, such as the National Geographic, are purely to educate. The Saturday Evening Post is an example of the entertaining type. The World’s Work treats mainly of contemporary his- tory, while Scribner’s and Harper’s combine the many ways of satisfying their readers. The Scientific American is of a type that caters to specialists. The Atlantic Monthly is an example of high literary attainment. These better magazines set a high standard for themselves which is never lowered. Thus when you pick up a copy of any one of them, you know beforehand the satisfaction it will give you. Their stories are of a high order, usually by well- known writers, and they never fail to please. The articles are written by men who know their subjects. For example, the World’s Work is pub- Turkish capital during the war, by ex-Ambas- sador Morgen than. Likewise, every article in the National Geographic is by an expert. The excellence of these good magazines makes them an influence for good in the inner life of the republic. They have become a national institu- tion and as such hold an important position. In sharp contrast to these magazines are their cheaper contemporaries, which flourish at every newsstand. Their gaudy covers betray the con- tents before they are opened. They contain noth- ing of real worth, but are devoted to cheap fiction. Their stories are unoriginal, but highly adven- turesome or improbable. A fairly lenient cen- sor would criticise freely their loose, immoral con- tents. Some of these magazines, most of them, in fact, such as Cosmopolitan, Hearst’s, etc., only sell because of the “risque” character of their con- tents. These are truly bad magazines, but as long as the public fosters them, they will survive, though debarred from the best public libraries, among which we are proud to name that of Som- erville. and from the best homes.

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( SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR America’s Part in the War Charlotte Wadsworth, ’20 (Prize Junior Theme. Head at Peace Assembly( UNDREDS of years from now, school- children all over the civilized world will be carefully memorizing the date, April ( . 11)17 ; that date which, to all of us means and has meant so much. We need not memorize it: we have lived it. It was very still in the great hall of Congress on that sixth of April, 11)17. Every available seat was filled. The galleries were crowded, the quiet was so intense il was almost visible as President Wilson read those momentous words, declaring war on Germany. Every possible effort had been put. forth vo keep this nation out of the war, but it had been of no avail, and we cast in our lot with the Allies, fighting to make the world “safe for democracy.” Ruthless submarine warfare was the ostensible reason for our entering the war, but underlying this reason, was the thought of what the possible defeat of the Allies might mean to the world. Even if there had been no submarine warfare, surely the terrible cruelties inflicted upon the people of Belgium by the Germans served to show the world what it might expect at the hands of Germany. Our allies were in an extremely dangerous po- sition at the time of America’s entrance into the war. Already the Germans had been within twenty miles of Paris during their first offensive. Now at the battle of Verdun, which gave birth to the famous watchword of the French, “Ils nepasseront pas!” (They shall not pass!), the Germans were checked. They did not pass, and Paris was saved. Again, in the second offensive, last spring, the Germans were advancing and still advancing. Again Paris was threatened. The French and British were so weary and worn out with fight- ing. it seemed as though the enemy would prevail. Then came Chateau-Thierry, often called the “Gettysburg of the world war.” On the south side of the river Marne, that spot so fatal to the Germans, the Americans were lined up. The gen- eral’s commands were to “Hold the line.” but they did more; they advanced and drove the enemy entirely from his position. Such has been the spirit of our troops. The American password has been as they go over the top. “Lusitania!” The Germans have come to know and fear that battle crv. The defeat of the Germans at Ohate'Au-Thierrv again saved Paris, but more than that, it taught the Germans that we were to be the decisive fac- tor in the world struggle. Clmteau-Thierry was the turning point of the war. From that time the Germans have been steadily retreating, until they were back to the Belgian fron- tier.. where, in 1014. they swarmed over the border and devastated that neutral country. Bel- gium’s brave King, Albert, has again taken pos- session of his throne, and the wonderful bravery and endurance of the Belgians during the terrible struggle, will never lx forgotten as long as the world exists. All the time, American troops were arriving, disembarking, arriving as though on schedule time, on French soil. The remarkable system in the carrying on of our part in the war is a model of efficiency. To- day there are two million men in France. These have been equipped, trained and sent across in one year and six months: surely a remarkable record for a nation so entirely unprepared for war as America in the spring of 11)17. Besides all this our allies have been supplied with food and munitions. Ship building has been a big fac- tor in winning the war. Germany, meanwhile, had been growing weaker and weaker. Revolts in the empire itself and food conditions, not to mention the decreasing man- power. made the officials in Germany realize that peace must be forthcoming and that it must be a “peace without victory” for them. Bulgaria soon laid down her arms, realizing that to fight longer were useless. Soon Turkey followed, and then Austria-Hungary. This was the final blow to Germany. Knowing herself defeated with her allies, what could she hope to do without them? On Ihe 8th dav of November, 1018, Germany asked for an armistice, and then followed one of the most dramatic scenes in all history. Picture it for a moment. Tt is the autumn of 1870. An onen carriage nasses along the road to Sedan. In it sits the French Emneror. worn with nain and suffering. Ho goes to surrender bis country to the Prussian King. Followed bv his staff , he enters the pres- ence of the Prussian ruler, who haughtily remains seated. “Sire, mv sword.” said the French Em- peror. as he drew his blade and presented the hilt. “I take it,” still arrogantly replied the Prussian King. The hauteur of that answer, the humiliation of the whole scene, burned into the very soul of one

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s SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR Billie and the Christmas Spirit Louise Joyce, ’21 FEW months before Christinas, Bil- lie’s father had died, after which Billie, his mother, and sister Edith, had to leave their beautiful home and move into “rooms.” From these rooms each day Billie’s mother trudged bravely off to her work. Think of it!— his Dresden-ehina mother standing on her feet all day waiting on people in a store. It wasn't to be endured. And Billie prayed each night, as only a little boy of ten can pray, that he might grow up. In the meantime, he did his best os became his dignity as a future gentleman, lie sold papers and ran errands. Between times he prepared his school work, and was up to the average in his studies. He really regarded his position as the only man in the house very seriously. Billie never dreamed of shirking responsibilities. And as many another head of the house knows, this made the approach of Christmas not wholly wel- come. “What; do you suppose we’ll get for Christmas this year, now that daddy is dead?” queried eight- year-old Edith. “Couldn’t say,” was the sullen response. “Maybe we won’t have even a turkey,” Edith sighed. “Maybe we won’t,” Billie agreed. “Then it won’t be Christmas,” flung back Edith. Billie made no reply. But when he went to bed he kept thinking it; over—that subject of Christmas and a turkey. His mother had said they couldn’t think of a turkey. Turkeys would be sixty-five cents a pound. So Billie, as many and many older men were doing, tossed about in his bed and wondered how he’d manage to flood the house with plenty of good things for Christmas. And Billie said to himself. I must make money. must make money. But how?” That night Billie dreamed that he ran errands until his legs dropped off. Of course, it was a ridiculous dream, for both his legs were safe and sound the next morning when he woke. By the time December third came around th«‘ hopelessness of his endeavor to make money dawned upon him. It seemed he’d have to give up—own himself defeated! It wasn't to be en- dured. And the twenty-fourth arrived. That evening when his mother arrived home she brought with her the breast of lamb to roast for their Christmas dinner. “But I'll make a pumpkin pie,” she consoled, “and we’ll pretend—” After supper Billie’s mother went back to work, and Billie sat down to think, feeling as if there were little else in the world but work. Work, work, work!—which was done even by little boys like him. And while in this disconsolate mood the light of a Great Idea flashed upon him. It came, as it were, out of a clear sky. No, out of a snowy, blustery December night. He instantly jumped up like a shot. lie forgot that he was weary and his legs were numb. He knew only that at last he saw a way. Such a hurry-scurry as there was in those tiny rooms! Shelves and closets were ransacked. And presently there emerged -from -the -door downstairs a small bov bent over beneath a great sack. From this sack protruded the butt of a gun. and a bat. Whatever else that bag con- tained was not apparent. But it was heavy. Billie boarded a car for a nearby city. Arriv- ing there he stationed imshelf where the sparkling shops beckoned to the people and the wild, glad rush of Christmas was at its height. His voice rang out clearly above the honk-honk of the automobiles. “Christmas presents. Here you are. Christmas presents. Buy your boy an air rifle. Good as new and much cheaper.” Yes. madam, here are books. ‘Gulliver’s Trav- els.’ ‘Treasure Island’—all kinds.” The money began to jingle in Billie’s pockets, dollars of it. The bag grew lighter. Tt was empty. He bought a turkey. Billie did. The store- keeper assured him it was a good one. Me bought a doll and some hair ribbon for Edith. And for his mother two lace boudoir caps, pretty enough to please the daintiest of women. Then lu rushed back home in order to reach there before his mother returned. And he did. And on the kitchen table when sin came in she saw the tur- key. and the other things. And beside the kitchen table was a little boy fast asleep. Tier exclama- tion aroused him. “Why, Billie-boy! Where on earth—” Billie awoke, or he tried to. “I bought ’em,” designating the things upon the table. Then explanations followed. “Billie-boy. T want to surprise you just a little. I have something for vou. also—something you will like.” A whoop of joy burst from Billie. “I know, ft’s a knife!” “Good guess. Billie-boy, it is a knife.” “Oh, Mother-—.” Then suddenly he drew himself erect. The little figure regarded her solemnly. “That’t fine. Mother. A man really needs a knife. A man can get along without most any- thing. but he certainly needs a knife.”