Stoneham High School - Wildlife Yearbook (Stoneham, MA)

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GRADUATION NUMBER evening I was devoid of any speaking privileges, by the continuous speech of the farmer. Kenneth evidently knew plenty of business, however, and he filled my mind with good news of great interest. The small town we were in was called Onelung, in the state of Min- nesota. He told me that Sylvia Lin- Ecott’s latest novel, “The Death of King Jazz,” was just out; that Horace Ford (the only one in the class who didn’t begin his career selling newspapers) had hopes of making money on his pat- ented article called the “honest ouija board,” Fordy stated that it never lied. Mr. Gilson likewise informed me that Raymond Dodge ran his dance hall in Onelung and Eugene Hale was the very successful proprietor of a matrimonial bureau; Phyllis Whitney, several miles away, ran a doughnut shoppe and Lydia Bagdikian also open ed her doors to peo- ple who were in pursuit of hats, stock- ings, and other feminine apparel. The following day the sun came out with pelting heat, and I was anxious to fiy again so I might keep cool. It had been pretty sound sleeping in the Gil- son residence the previous night, except for the fact that the Gilson children howled continuously for ice cream, until Mrs. Gilson, who used to be known as Alice Riley, secured all day suckers for them. This example proved that all day suckers are just as faith- ful at night as in the daytime. The kids must have been pleased with them for they still had them in the morning. When we arose A1 had not j’et milked the cow, so her husband took me down ; town to eat. We went to a Cafeteria ! run by Anne Buzzell and her friend, Gladys Cameron. The home-made pies and steaks which w’e ate were not so i tough, in fact quite tender. As we left the restaurant a large, heavy stove-pipe rolled out of a passing truck and landed on Ken’s toe. A tall, rugged fellow, who looked to me like a plumber, jumped out of the truck. In- | deed he was a plumber and his name j was Roger Lamson. Roger laughed at : the farmer, and gave us a lift back to | the farm of Gilson. Saying good-bye ; to the town of Onelung, I flew on once : more with the effort of a Lindbergh, j While continuing my flight westerly, 1 j decided it would be a great achieve- ! ment to demonstrate the machine in California. Thence I grit my teeth, j opened up two motors and swerved j southwesterly with the state of Cali- j fornia as my destination. Eight hours of solitary flight brought me somewhere in the vicinity of my destination and I knew the Pacific coast was not far off. Below me I noticed a flying field. Heading downward with the assistance of gravity my intentions were to land in the center of the field, but the large crowd, which apparently was waiting for me, left me no room. They, there- fore, caused a forced landing in a near- by apple orchard instead of in the fly- ing field. As I descended toward Moth- er Earth my rudder struck the branch of an apple tree. Unfortunately Rich- ard Anderson, the big apple and pear man, was l elow stud3’ing his crop. Al- though neither of us was injured, the plane was completely wrecked. This ended the advertising of the Schwartz machine. Mr. Anderson in- formed me that I was in Beverly Hills, California. He had resided there ten 3 ' ears, and his wife, Doris (formerly Newhall,) ran a beauty shop there, called the “Make ’em O i0r.” I re- mained with him for a few hours until I received a telegram from the boss di- recting mj’- future activities. President Schwartz wired that the plane didn’t mean anything but gave me some busi- ness to transact in Los Angeles and then in New York. Andy took me for a ride in his “Rub- a-tub” over to Jo«l Clark’s house out on the desert, where he and his wife, Olive Smith, lived happily. How Joel made his monej’ wms unknown, but when we arrived there he showed us a letter from Olive (who was a’way at the time) ex- plaining the situation. It read, “Dear- est Joel: Your circus was wrecked in a tornado last night. People and animals in near panic. Little Joel is learning to swim under water. He went under this A. M. and didn’t come up for sup- per to-night. Wish jmu were with him. Tliere were many freaks here today. Expect to see you soon. Love, Olive.” As I walked towards the town of Bev- erlj Hills, whom was I to see but Harold Egan, the constable, strolling along the ab ss by the highway, with Harold Lewis under his arm. Harold, who was a noted explorer, had lost his way trying to find the Golden Gate. It was now exactly two-thirty and I had an appointment in Hollj ' wood at three. Since there were no taxis in sight my old friend Pat carried me down in the sidecar of his notorious [ 19 ]

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THE STONEHAM HIGH SCHOOL AUTHENTIC Class Wonder, Lj’dia Bagdikian Class Windbag, “Eddie” Adzigian Class Woman Hater, Roger Lamson Class Study, The Opposite Sex, Recess Class Favorite Jaw Exercise Wrigley’s Class Meeting Places, Corridors Class Sports, Chess, Cutting Classes Class Jail, S. H. S. Class Advisor, Wilbert Bancroft Skerrye Class Uncle Dudley, Earl Thomas Thi- bodeau Class Chaperone, Miss Lenora Bessey Class Judge, Mr. Watson Class Jury, The School Board Class Sentence, 4 Years in the House of Education Class Worries, All our A’s Class Hogs, The “Originals” Class Bankrupts, The Juniors Class Idiosyncrasies, The Sophomores Class Santa Claus, Stanley W. Hirtle Class Evolutionist, Frank Newell Eaton Class Romeo, Chester Neilson Class Favorite Miss Moore Class Lady’s Man, Edward F. Alden Class School Girl, Miss Poland Class Professor, Charles Taylor Class Lucky Day, Graduation Day Class Reward, That Long Sought Diplo- (Class |3ropi|i ' rg James E. Blenkliorn, Jr. In the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and forty-seven, I stepped forth to the little town of Stoneham in search of information, and remunera- tion. The month was July, the day, Wednesday, the time 2.30 and the tem- perature quite torrid. I was returning to Stoneham after some years of study and recreation in Paris, mostly recrea- tion. The first to greet me the third day of my arrival was Arthur Hovey, who ran his big butter and egg store in Central Square. He took me for a swim down to Duck Pond which was now the favor- ite summer spot for the Stonehamites. The water was quite cool, a great re- lief. The large beach, running paral- lel to the Fellsway, was the scene of amassed and tanned-up swimmers. But as I glanced around for sight of friends the only pebble on the beach whom I recognized was George Apalakis with an air-tight bathing suit on his bosom and a sign across the top reading “Life Guard.” He was saving lives by the dozens passing out mints called “Life Savers.” The next person I ran across was Raymond Schwartz, .owner of the Schwartz Company plant down on : Montvale Avenue, manufacturers of aeroplanes and the like. Ray, with his business-like appearance (smoking a cigar and thumbs outstretching the sleeves of his vest) said he needed a good man like me to advertise his plane. Certainly I could not refuse this oppor- tunity though as an aviator I am a bet- ter butcher. However, I could not af- I ford to let the offer fly by, so I accept- € ' d. My x lane, v hich was then shown me, was a three-winged contraption with six propellers (five just in case of emergency,) a cabin, and a large sign . outside marked “Schwartz.” Surely few ! jobs could be easier, merely flying around advertising an aeroplane. ; The day of departure came and my plane was tuned up to perfection. So I tightened up my belt, as I climbed into the cock-pit and imagined mj self diving off the pier of inconsequentiali- ty into the shark-infested waters of the future. With a whiz of the propellor I was soaring up above the skyscrapers of Stoneham Square and leaving the Montvale flying field behind, j The first ten hours of my journey 1 were the hardest but after that the faith- ful “Schwartz’” roared on with the bristling perpetuality of a genius. As I was passing over what I surmised was Michigan due to the number of automobile plants below, a fellow air- man passed by, Paul Gilman, the poet. As a result of the congested air traf- fic he nearly collided with my plane, being terrifically occupied in soliloquiz- ing on a new poem. His stenographer, Doris Jeffrey, was with him, taking things down as they came to that enor- mous mind of the master poet. Imag- ine it! So many vehicles in the air that it was highly desirable to put out one’s left hand when going around a corner. As the day was growing late, I decid- ed to land somewhere to spend the night. At the place of my landing, which by mistake was a cornfield, and ran across the corn ruining ear by ear, a little old farmer with a goatee on his chin came running out as though to kill. To my astonish- ment he said nothing but greeted me cordially for it was none other than Kenneth Gilson. For the rest of the [ 18 ]

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THE STONEHAM HIGH SCHOOL AUTHENTIC motorcycle. Pat left me in the center of the town where I saw a new bronze statue erected to Charlie Whitcher, who recently invented a new iceless ice box, a benefit to the citizens of Hollywood. Upon crossing the street I looked up at a bill-board which portrayed in large letters, “See Ester Trainor in the Silent Lover.’’ Ester was a noted actress and had gained much fame. For her part- ner she had picked “Phearless Phil Phloop,” who was none other than Pick Dillon, under an assumed movie name. It was said that Helen Baert w ' as now a dancer for Metro-Goldwyn. Eva Yeaton was a scenario writer, Con- stantine Apalakis was the United Ar- tists best bad man. Alva Clark played the comedian in Mack Sennet roles. Two more of the Real Class of 1927 had been awarded remarkable positions in the movie game. At the Hal Roach studios, Ed Roach was the chief make- up man and Ivy Hudson was the head make-up woman. On the stage Mary Logan had become B. F. Keith’s head attraction. George MacNeil (sweet little Georgie) was now famous in playing the villian in stern Shakesperian plays. George still had that wonderful expression which he de- livered at the Senior Play in High School. Priscilla Taylor of the mellow voice belonged to an opera company which was touring Europe. Still another of our favorite enter- tainers had her name spoken by every footlight devotee of the United States. Alice Kenny for the past two years had been doing a new dance called the “Shearless Shivers,” which like the now dead “Charleston” was rattled off by all the flappers and flapperettes in this great universe. Bright lights of Broad- way, Paris, Halifax, Chicago and Stone- ham all bore the name of Alice who was now to musical comedies what baked beans are to Boston. All this I learned from that remark- able personage of Alton Brundage, who, by the way, had succeeded such men as Will Hayes, etc. Nap was head of Hol- lywood and in charge of all movie pro- ductions. Adelbert gave me a ride in his Ford to Los Angeles and bought me a ticket to New York but in return I was to attempt a reconciliation between him and his wife, Mary Finnegan Brun- dage. She had left him with the decla- ration that Nap spent all his time and money on chewing gum and pop-corn. Oh well, the worst was yet to come so I retired to the sleeper on the train. Soon pleasant dreams strangled thru my cerebrum, yet for no good reason at all I awoke the next afternoon at ten minutes past twelve. The porter in- formed all passengers that the train w ' as now in Louisville, Kentucky, where we might have lunch and get an extra I breath or two. I strolled around and suddenly was taken by surprise with desperate whack somewhere in the vi- cinity of the right shoulder. When I turned around to si ' ee my aggressor ’twas Richmond Metchear. I was forced to shake hands -with the imp, but I also repaid him the “sock” I received. This brought to mind the way the muscles used to get sore in Stoneham High School. Dick was station agent and ran ; around the premises like lightning, kill- I ing flies and drinking coca cola. I in- ! quired about his wife, Ruth Moody, who ! I found assisted him in his work. She sold pretzels and licked postage stamps l)ehind the counter for him. The Metchears informed me that George Young and Clifford Phoenix were now famous jockeys at the track in Louis- ville. Russell Hodgman, it was said, had worked his way up from stable-boy to the real rank of barney stableman and was the owner of several nice trot- ters. As soon as the locomotive was ready, I was. When I boarded the train, a i handsome young man came over and sat down beside me. It was John Kel- ly, who was just returning from the I aces with his favorite mare, Lena. We became involved in a lengthy discussion over our former class-mates. He show- ed me a post-card portraying the build of Artemus Rotondi, the world’s wrest- ling champion. Also one of John Van Derzee, the tallest man in the world. Still another of Lillian Young, the world’s greatest magician. I learned from Kelly that Mary Maguire was an artist’s model in St. Louis, and that Edith Clark was the most popular girl of the smart set in New York. Mr. Kel- ly likewise provided, for my interest, other news. Weston Brannen was now director of the Boston Symphony Or- chestra and other musical organizations. He had also heard that Edward Ad- zigian was a toreador in Spain and still loved to throw the bull. In that same country Rita Pettengill did the Spanish flip-flop for King Alfonso. Continuing his weird tale. Jocko sang out that Dor- othy Junkins and Dorothy Tobey were [ 20 ]