Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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LITERARY I SAW THE VAMPIRE JOSEPH DONNARUMA '55 . . . would he become another of the vampire's victims? The night was dark, and the wind cut the rain in icy sheets. When I was on my way home to my furnished apartment, I heard the scuffle of feet, the sound of choking, and then a scream that echoed through the night. I saw the crime! I was the only witness! By the light reflected from the wet, shiny street, I saw the face of the vampire with his long fangs and his bat-wings as he mauled his victim. I held my breath and choked back the de- sire to scream for help! I tried to hide, but it was too late. He must have sensed my presence for he turned and saw me. For a moment I though he was going to attack me, but instead he backed away. His giant wings fluttered, and he swooped off into the night. I stood there paralyzed for a few minutes, unable to think or run. My stomach was all tied up in knots, and the sweat rolled down my back. The victim was still alive! I knew I should call the police and tell them what Pd seen. Somewhere deep inside me a warn- ing voice stopped me. Conflicting thoughts pulled me in both di- rections. I didn’t know what to do. Suddenly I came to a decision. I disregarded the dying man’s plea and ran. I didn’t know which way to go. It seemed to me that every doorway might hold the creature I wanted to avoid. I ran toward the main street where there were lights and people hurrying back and forth. Still I had a strange feeling that the vampire was following me. I felt eyes staring at me every moment. I wasn’t conscious of the di- rection or distance, but as I turned a cor- ner I found myself home. I ran up to my room and shut the door. As I pulled down the shade on the window, I saw a figure under the light across the street. I was terrified. My mind was crowded with scenes of the vampire’s chasing me. Days passed, and I was afraid to leave my room. I could’t sleep for fear that someone might enter during the night. There was no food, but I didn’t dare go down to the store for groceries. Daily I was growing weaker. Suddenly on the third night after the mur- der I heard the door slam downstairs. The landlady screamed as if she had seen some- thing inhuman. The stairs creaked as it climbed closer and closer to my room. The door opened, and the blood ran cold in my veins. I gasped when I saw it wasn’t the vampire, but the man I had left to die! JULIUS CAESAR S DAY AT S.H.S. ELI DEMETRI '56 Dear Brutus: I, Caius Julius Caesar, materialized in a city called Somerville at eight-fifteen this morning. I roamed around the city until I came to a magnificent building situated on the top of a hill. I stood there at the portals admiring the scenery, when at eight twenty- nine and one-half. I heard the sound of run- ning feet. I whirled around and saw a wild crowd charging down at me. Suddenly everything went black! When I awoke I found myself lying in a long corridor. There were doors on all sides. I started to get up when I saw, standing Six

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N. E. S. I A. CONVENTION Congratulations to Beverly Conn! At the annual New England Scholastic Press Associ- ation Convention this bright and beautiful Somerville High School Senior won a $1,000 scholarship to Boston University by competi- tive examination! The Convention, held on November 12 and 13, was sponsored by the Division of Journalism at Boston University. Beverly received the scholarship for her writeup of the panel and floor discussion, en- titled “How the High School Publication Can Help the Community. Our own “Radiator” received a magazine award “For Superiority in Editorial Content and Make-up.” On Saturday morning the convention fea- tured seminars in journalism headed by in- structors of journalism at Boston University. The Awards Luncheon took place Satur- day afternoon at the Dome Room cf the Hotel Lenox with Mr. Donald M. Murray, a member of the Editorial Staff of the Boston Herald as the guest speaker. Mr. Murray re- ceived the Pulitzer Prize in 1953 for his out- standing series of editorials on our national defense. Following Mr. Murray’s speech the announcement of the scholarship, newspaper and magazine winners closed a very success- convention. TIME Elaine Kotell ’56 Time is an intangible thing, which usually isn’t there when you want it and when you don’t want it there is too much of it. At the end of a test period or on the night of the prom, one wishes he had more of it. On a night that hangs heavy or when one has done something wrong and is about to receive a lecture, he wishes there were none. A person about to die thinks back and says, “How I wish that I had had time to do so many things! I have wasted my life on mak- ing money and trying to get ahead of others. Because of this I had no time to spend with my family or to have any recreation, or to acquire many friends. Now, as I am about to die, I realize how little time there was and how I could have made the most of it. Please, God, give me more time!” Remember, few of us have a second chance, so spend your time wisely. Absorb what knowledge you can, for your period of learn- ing is short. Have your fun and be active now, for soon you will be earning a living or raising a family. Don’t forget — use your time to your advantage! THE HARVARD BOOK PRIZE The Harvard Prize Book, which is offered in competition by the Harvard Club of Bos- ton, is awarded each year to the outstanding boy of the junior class, in the college prepar- atory course, whom the headmaster and faculty consider most worthy in respect to high scholarship and character. Last June at a school assembly Mr. Giroux presented Robert Carlton with the Harvard Book Prize. The Book which Bob received is an an- thology from three centuries of Harvard history, and it contains the writings of many of the most famous authors and poets in English literature, who were graduates of Harvard University. Among these are Samuel Eliot Morison, Cotton Mather, George Santa- yana, Cleveland Amory, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Charles W. Eliot, Edwin Arlington Robinson, and Charles Dickens, to mention just a few. The Harvard Book Prize should serve as an inspiration to the members of the junior class to attain a good scholastic record, and maintain strong character; for it is an honor and a privilege to be the recipient of such a high award. Five

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before me a smiling gentleman who asked me why my toga wasn’t buttoned. I answered him calmly, “I’m sorry sir, but buttons haven’t been invented yet.” Still smiling, he handed me an offense slip and told me to report after school. I was quite confused by all this, so I im- mediately decided to look for a way out. I tried one of the doors and found myself in a large room were many pupils were seated. The man at the front of the room threw a pile of books into my arms and told me to sit down. I sat down next to a girl wearing strange woolen garments on her legs. The students here call them knee socks. She looked at me, giggled, and turning to the girl behind her, whispered, “Ain’t he the craziest?” With as much self-control as I could muster I adjusted the wreath of olive on my head and turned away. No sooner had I done this when a bell rang and the room was emptied quickly. Not wishing to seem con- spicuous, I followed, but decided not to enter any more rooms for a while, for fear I would meet another giggling female. I was wandering around the corridors for a short while when another bell rang. I was all but trampled by the mad rush of pupils hurrying to reach some event they called “Sophomore Lunch.” Soon everything was back to normal in- sanity, and I continued my roaming about when I met that smiling gentleman again. This time he asked to see my corridor per- mit. When I told him I did not know what he was talking about he took me to a little room which he called “the office,” where I sat until two o’clock. At this time another bell rang and all the pupils ran from their rooms and congregated in the halls. The main topic of conversation seemed to be (pardon my slang) “cool cats.” Well, dear Brutus, my day at Somerville High School has come to an end and I am now retiring to my peaceful grave. I am closing with that famous Latin proverb, “Ex- humo te maximum pater!” which means, “I dig you the most, dad!” Yours truly, Caius Julius Ceasar BIRTH OF THE MORNING BEVERLY CONN '55 All is dark. One can still hear the cricket scratching out his little tune. Punctuating the still, cool air, the wild cry of an animal rings out, and the nocturnal chill suddenly reaches deeper into the marrow of even the younger early-riser’s bones. A faint grayness begins to tinge the edges of the sky. As when the glow of a new-lit candle grows from glimmer to revealing radiance and gives a single sharp shadow to the surrounding ob- jects, so the sun warns the awakening world of his coming, for where before only a cav- ernous black bounded the world, bristling crags emerge to tower bleakly against the brightening heavens. The paths of the wood still are dark, but the timid light begins to color the trees and fields. Morning waits on dew-tipped slippers, mo- tionless, and strangely hushed for one brief moment, coaxing from that reluctant sphere the first day spark. Suddenly the sky sets aflame the dingy robe of the night, and vic- torious Morning in her glowing gown steps along from rill to rill, bidding the rising mists come fill her fleecy pockets. The loon on the lake calls a farewell note, and diving (Continued on page 20) Seven