Springfield Trade High School - Beaver Yearbook (Springfield, MA)

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Class Will Lewis, to Mike O'Connell, my English book to study; William Livermore, to Mr. Craven, my coaching ability; Pearl Luke, to V.P. of '63, my tranquillizers; Martin Maloney, to Richard Munson, my ability to upset Mr. Newsome; Alan Marcil, to All Students, my know how to cheat; Wilfred Marion, to Kenny Elkas, my used coffee cups; Clyde Martin, to James Martin, my excuses to use on Mr. Johnson; Ron Martignetti, to all the boys, my third floor fans; Lewis Mazzi, to Mr. Hesse, my cheat sheets for next year; Sandra Mee, to Mrs. Sullivan, ‘‘Let your conscience be your guide ’; Richard Mengel, to Maynard Tarr, my pass for the third floor. |, Neill Merchant, leave to Charles Blanchard, my chair in Room 305; Leonard Mignault, to Mrs. Potter, my drawing board for a quiet boy; Vincent Minella, to Mr. Meder, my few ‘‘A’s”’ for his class; Bruce Minor, to Naval Reserve Member, my badge for the traffic squad; Donald Monette, to Mr. Rice, my bottle of Malcox for ulcers; Mary Moore, to Terry Sausie, my head drum majorette uniform; Ronald Morace, to James Morace, my ‘‘A”’ English notebook; Gerald Ouellette, to Walt Chirizio, my auto- graphed toolbox; Albert Packard, to Roger Gove, my toolbox for shop; Joseph Paquette, to Mr. Ross, my ‘‘Democracy Speech to use again; Russell Pepe, to Louis Archam- beault, my ‘‘LUCK’’ for next year’s football team. |, Franklin Pero, leave to Gordon Whitaker my ability to fail out of school; Richard Poirier, to Mr. Moran, my authority to run the shop; James Pollard, to Charles Du- charme, my monopoly set—good luck!; Manfred Porth, to Bill Morin, my alignment tools to repair sets; Armand Provencal, to Robert Sullivan, my wrong answers in English class; Joseph Pugliano, to Alan Degon, my side trips on the third floor; Armand Quesnel, to Mr. Johnson, my unfinished rings for him to do; Madelyn Rice, to Francis Rice, my locker on the third floor; Norman Rivard, to Arthur LeBeau, my detention time for trouble caused; John Roberston, to John R., my seat on the heater on cold days; William Robinson, to Mr. Ross, my spelling ability to give away. |, Robert Rollend, leave to Thomas Rollend my good days at Trade; Joel Rubin, to Tom and Ashman, my Hot Rod Magazine—stone era; Ronald Saunders, to Dave Jenson, my seat for poor grades; Ec nond Savoy, to Paul Markowski, my old coffee cup for shop use; Mary Schelb, to Don Silicox, a vacant third floor stairwell; Richard Senecal, to Joe Santinello, my writing implements for next year; Robert Siddell, to Mr. McCabe, my brain for one of your classes; Evan Smith, to Mr. Magee, my patterns for reference; Margaret Smith, to Miss Gilson, my good grades for a worthy person; John Sullivan, to Ben Hamilton, my English notebook for next year; Allan Syrette, to Don Silicox, my Butter Ball Paddles for Senior year. |, Lawrence Syriac, leave to Ernest Keyes my falling hair for him to use; Ann Thibeault, to Kenny Parker, my permanent Band pass; Peter Thompson, to David Thomp- son, my date for his Senior Prom; Frederick Till,te Richard Brown, my shop uniform to use; Beverly Torres, to Miss Bransfield, my manicuring tables for Class ot '63; Robert Trembley, to Mr. Berwick, my ‘‘Macbeth’’ — for ever and ever; Joan Tyrell, to Dot Tyrell, all my broken needles in shop; Gloria Vaughan, to the Bakery Boys, my Hand- Lotion — prevent dishpan hands; Nancy Wheeler, to Joan Fountaine, my hiding place in the closet to avoid work; Charles Williamson, to Mrs. Bernstein, my Readers Digest for any student; Douglas Willis, to Mr. Ross, my job's patience for his health. |, Donna Wood, leave to Miss Gilson my patience to bear her students; John Young, to Walter Chirizio, my detention time-memories; Frederick Zaremba, to William Culby, my ability to pitch coins; Steven Ziemian, to Terry Hellyar, my track shoes for a first place. 22

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Class Will We, the Senior Class of 1962, being of sound minds, and bodies, do hereby declare that this shall be our Last Will and Testament. |, Richard Abair leave to John Chmura my temper; Robert Aylwin, to the Electric Shop boys, my third floor privileges; Constance Baerman, to Miss Bransfield, my Clairol Flame hair coloring; Abraham Baker, to David Kenney, my third floor privileges; Cath- erine Bardelli, to Jim DiCicco, my laundry bag for his toys; Francis Barnes, to Moran, my shatter proof windshield; Marguerite Berthiaume, to Miss Bawn, my poor grades; Theresa Biagetti, to Miss Carlisle, my storage locker; James Bolduc, to the school, my fiber glass pole vaulter; Lawrence Bourdon, to Bill Morin, the bill | owe M. Porth; William Brady, to Danny Athos, my passport to Greece; Thomas Briand, to Pete Rocca, my smoking hide-away. |, Jeanne Briere, leave to Robert Cook my sympathy for third floor ban; Alfred Burns, to Mr. Ross, my tape recordings of cheating; Beverly Butler, to Sarah Blake, my bleach-to-dye hair roots; Theodore Caldes, to Richie Fredericks, my shop overalls; Linda Cameron, to Marsha Castle, my Print Shop Instructors; Diane Cassady, to Barry Michael, my Cornet to serenade Mr. Palosky; Donald Chapdelaine, to Andre Brouillard, my 2” x 4” for making sawdust; Laron Chappel, to Bill Gilman, my ride to school; Richard Chapman, to Bill Polloticz, my good disposition; Norman Chartier, to Mr. Rae, my thermos of tea; Americo Chaves, to Walt Chirizio, my permanent Glee Club pass; Robert Coburn, to Jeff Harlow, my English book to learn. I, Nick Colagiovanni, leave to Mr. Ross my finished work for next year: Lois Cooley and Charlotte Slater, leave to Miss Bawn, name plates for identification; Clemmie Craig, to Harold Loving, my permanent bashfulness; James Degon to Alan Degon, the rest of my detention time; Jean Demers, to Edward Dane, my subscription to Ladies ome Journal; Mary Desy, to Richard Mahan, my ride to Burger Chef for lunch; David Dickensen, to Gordon Freij, my old sneakers; Colin Dinne, to Mr. Johnson, the Machine Shop forever; Frank DiSanti, to Bruce Feeney, my third floor locker; Robert Drink- water, to Bill Morin, my early dismissal pass; Joanne Drummond, to Charlotte Singleton, a padlock for her locker. |, Thomas Dubour, leave to Mr. Craven my manager's job to anyone who wants it; Raymond Elton, to Donald Dunlop, my answers to Mr. Hesse's tests; Terrance Flahive, to Bill Brown, my senior hat; George Fournier, to Lou Buoniconti, my sneakers for next year; Helen Gaudette, to Trade High, my vacancies for mare students; Jose Gil, to Mr. Fitzgibbons, my white shirt to wear; Felix Giordano, to Richard White, my ruler for Cabinet Shop; Robert Gonzalez, to Mr. Macaris, M. for his Senior Class; Lawrence Griffin, to Ray Bacon, my spoon for his coffee; William Grondski, to Robert Walker, my locker +512 as an extra; Lance Guertin, to Jack Talbot, my rules on avoiding work. |, Mary Guertin, leave to Miss Bawn my NOMA Award for reference; Sheila Hitt- man, to Miss Musgrove, my typing ability for next year; James Hurst, to Harold Loving, my third floor privileges; Lawrence Illingsworth, to Dale Ellsworth, my ‘‘E’s’’ in English; Stanley Kareta, to Mr. Cramer, my senior Trig book; Jeanne Keenan, to Joan Fountain, my steel hair coloring; Frances Kraus, to Mr. Souza, my peace of mind; Ann Lambach, to Secretary of ‘63'; upstairs payphone for calls; Richard LeClerc, to M. Strogopetti, my comb for his hair; William M. Lee, to Mr. McGibney, my voice to yell next year; Roger Leftwich, to Ken and Curtis, my ability to talk; William LeMay, to Mike Strogo- petti, my ruler: | won't be here. 1, Diane Lesniewski, leave to Donald Silicox a ‘‘Seniors Only”’ lunch table; Francis 21

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Class Song To the tune of ‘‘A Girl Has to Know Oh, how we are going to miss Trade High, And halls that we've learned to love so Here where we've played and we've mastered our trade. Now we must go. To the world we must go. We'll always remember our teachers, The ones who have helped us to grow. They kept us from crying, and kept us all trying. Now we must go. To the world we must go. When bells ring, our rooms may be empty, For seniors are leaving each day. Now. that we’re going, please know that we're showing That we truly care, That we truly care. But don't feel that we are downhearted, For Trade gives us spirit to work. We'll tackle each day as we labor away. We know we can win, We know we can win. Our future lies rosy before us, No limits in earth, sea or sky; Jobs for cooks and beauticians, and all our technicians. We know we must win, We know we can win. Our future lies rosy before us, No limits in earth, sea or sky. The skills we have learned, bring rewards we have earned. We know we will win. We know we can win. 23