Saint Marks School - Lion Yearbook (Southborough, MA)

Page 14 text:

it had a tragic conclusion—twenty hours apiece for the infamous band. It has been the year of the Great Plague, the year of undefeated midget football (composite score: 147-6), the year of club baseball at its fighting best, the year of unparalleled dorm battles. There have been paddlings (the famous come-uppance of one “King Conceit,” or Bruce as he is less widely known), and amusing classes under the inimitable doctors, Schenck and Harrison. It has been a full year. The form is united and strong; the tarnished pebbles were discovered early—three down the hatch already. The little men of °53 are ready for anything. JUNE 1 949. Dear Diary, All that could come, came. And so many more too. They started off the year with a party. Some party, too. Party favors included a belt buckle for Big Ron Roth and a tennis ball for Rolly. Chas was a bystander at the whole affair while Bevo was proclaimed host, Randy the entertainer, and Bruce the instigator. Everything went on a formal basis. They rented the New Wing and paid the bill in Room Seven. When everyone finally set- tled down to a nice, hotly-contested league of card baseball, Diz gave all the facts (even on bee raids) in his Latest Lowdown. Cool, calm, collecting Jiggy led the league till he found that no one likes anyone who wins all the time. Then, of course, I can’t end this entry without a word about darling D.B., the man with the red-hot and very ready slate pad. I think my boys owe him something. If they can’t make a living as doctors or lawyers they can shovel coal — chain- gang style. JUNE 1950. Dear Diary, The same dreary bunch. I’ve really had my paws full. From the vicious Dorm D rumors that those southerners were spreading to that ““Casanova-on-wheels” —why I bet if the farcical Third Form Trumpet hadn’t appeared I would have broken down. The Trumpet, with its sole purpose of glorifying the third form and nothing else, was organized by budding journalists Bruce, Chas, and Bevo and was aided by temperamental Diz and his asinine and plagiaristic cartoon character, Superdroop Junior, no doubt the image of what everyone in the form wished to be. The boys were definitely in the writing stage this year. But it would have been better if boys like Willy and Ron Roth hadn’t insisted that their readers auto- graph and comment on their stories, e.g., the Latin novel, Siz. But Pizzi never minded being a scapegoat anyway. The boys ate well, too. Brantwood President Chas and Tenacious Sherwood doled out the holidays —to Nip, who always got them. This was the year that the form first realized that there were twenty-one writ- ten rules to break. The first tussles with the nightwatchman began, and Dizzy and equally careless Story Musgrave started roaming the corridors and the Worcester turnpike in search of nothing to do. There were huge water-bottle fights on the New Dorm roof, too, and Worthy always lost out.

Page 13 text:

— = = ae — ——— MONITORS Berthelsen, Shaw, J., Kean Steedman, Sherwood, Mr. Barber, Beveridge, Douglas Form History (The following entries have been taken verbatim from the personal diary of the Sr. Mark’s Lion, whose memorial stands outside the west cloisters. ) JuNE 1948. Dear Diary, I can tell things are changing just by the feeling in my weary old bones. With age comes wisdom, you know. Now take those fifteen little Firsties. [ve seen forms come and go for over eighty years. Gilly, Van, Mussy, Jiggy and the rest were like all the other First Forms last fall—tiny pebbles in a great pond. They’ve changed a little; they’re bigger and cockier, but that is not what inter- ests me. By the time they graduate, they will stand for something, for an era. When they go, the old days go. I feel that more strongly every time I think about it. Things are changing. They will be the last form to go 9 through Bloody Sunday, the last form to be paddled, the last form to be really belted by their superiors. There were plenty of evils in the old system, but also some very real good. If anything can put the fear of the Lord in little brats, what they and their predecessors have been through can. It takes them off their high horse in a hurry, makes the pebbles smaller and the pond bigger. That’s what they stand for, and that’s why I’m re- cording their history. The first year has been long and tough. Long in the hours on the coalpile and the cold, dreary winter mornings; tough in getting adjusted and getting recognized. But it has also been a happy care-free year. Some things stand out. The daily, spontaneous mutilation of the person and property of an ungainly monster. It was a unifying diversion for brats with no sense of decency as yet, but

Page 15 text:

And, of course, I can’t forget how big lovable Jeff Coolidge tried to put dorm feasts out of fashion. That was the time of tin cups, arrows, broken windows, and a soul-rendering meeting with Gac. If the boys were looking forward to their fourth- form year, it’s hard to tell why. If only they hadn’t found out about those twen- ty-one rules. JUNE 1951. Dear Diary, It’s just been one big race. They’ve tried to see who could be the first to break the school’s twenty-one written rules. Of course, to my credit there was ath- letic Randy, and Bennyboys Mike and Chas, but not much else except head librarian Jiggy Coe. And I’m not sure, either, if they actually did manage to erack all twenty-one rules, though it was a good try anyway. It all started with the friendliest little game of poker in club 171 you can ever imagine. The boys, though, did gain one thing from their trouble—a real buddy. I remember, too, the West 3 Coliseum’s fights with the record attendance of thirty-seven. It was this year that the climax of Dwight Davis’s career was reached. With master- mind William Peterson planning, the famed “Benny’s Car Episode” was exe- cuted. It was following this that Inspector Coker filed his brilliant report on 5.M. Sin and Immorality in Marlboro and vicinity. In the spring the hacking light- ened, and the form (now “the worst in school”) began to acquire that humorous and inevitable upper-school cynicism; and now for the first time in the spring their fancy turned to thoughts of — and -at Tenacre. They’re still growing, I can tell. in particular, their first “big dance” JUNE 1952. Dear Diary, The form was divided this year. There were those who played poker and there were those who campaigned. I suppose both groups had their good points. Only 11 at odd times did the groups overlap. For instance, there were the Roosevelt Grille celebration party, and the Sixth-Form Dance Birddog Club with the Bobsey Twins, and even the atrocious nodoz market at mid-year exams. Thus with one-half of the form played against the other, a few worries departed (just before the beginning of the term) and good deeds and teen-age problems increased which were to plague us throughout the term. But to mention a few of the good deeds, theatrical John Loudon has shone in the SMDC Inspector General, and the dance committee ran a successful barn dance. Tim slammed out four hits against Gro- ton after spending most of the season on Ulen’s maritime squad, and the important war scenes of the form movie were taken with the acting of “‘generalissimo” Has- kins. Everyone was so tense at the end of the spring term when staff, club, and school positions were announced. I saw a few who bitterly burnt old campaign posters and such, but no one committed suicide. I can hardly wait till next year. DECEMBER 1952. DEAR Diary, I read in the Bible once something about becoming a man and putting away