Stoneham High School - Wildlife Yearbook (Stoneham, MA)

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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 ]

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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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GRADUATION NUMBER trained nurses and ran a private hos- pital in Chicago. “Scratcher” then showed me a phamplet advertising a dance. There stood Russell Ringland, fiddle in hand, conducting his orches- tra. At the piano sat Veivin Alley (I never knew she could play) and just behind her was Ruth Russell with a saxophone. Over in the corner of this picture was Alice Crosby holding two drumsticks. There were two more peo- ple in the picture whom I didn’t seem to recognize. One had a cornet, the other a big tuba. The former was play- ed by Ruth Murray and the latter by Marion Govatsos, so John stated. Indeed, all this proved interesting. Johnny Kelly provided great informa- tion, but he had been just like snow — he drifted. As evidence, he produced a book called ‘ ' Seeing the W orld Through a Port-Hole.” When our train reached New York, I bad John good-bye. My next stop was the Hotel Vanderbilt where I registered and secured a suite of rooms. Several hours were spent on Wall Street for the Schwartz Motors Co. I returned to the hotel just in time to find Horace Chase scribbling in the autograph album. So we shared the suite together. Horace was noAv coach of the Dippy Universi- ty’s track team. Sunday morning came. Certainly I must attend church. We had breakfast in bed before Horace finally agreed to go. Church began at 10.30. The hour now being 10.05, we could afford to w’aste little time. Walking down the hotel steps, Hoddie yelled, “Hey, Taxi,” and a big green cab drew up to about two thousandths of an inch from the curb. Wc stepped into the cab and di- rected the driver to our destination. As we were riding down Thoity-thoid street Hoddie recognized something peculiar about the driver. He ' wmuld stop for nothing, passing everything on the road, zig-zagging down, up, in, out, un- til finally this death-lurking ride ceased as we reached the giant edifice. We w ' ere about to saj’’ a few words to the chauffeur wdien casting a glance towards the sidew’alk we heard the expression, “Hi, fellers.” It was one, Earl Potter, with a heavy mustache and a large stomach added to his appearance. Odd what a change twenty years can make in people. Earl had now a large family to support. This he did very nobly. To him belonged every taxi in New York but one. Let me explain that that one was in the possession of Edgar Patch. Patchie at this time was a striv- ing inventor. His latest model was the ZR Cab 4, a detachable machine which would travel on land, air, sea, or what not, but so far generally needed as- sistance. This machine, however, was just used as an advertisement and did not compete with the Potter business. We had three minutes to secure a seat in church. Therefore, bidding good-bye to the taxi man, we ascended the stairs to the church. As we passed the thresh- hold, Horace and myself were ushered in by Ehvyn Leavitt. Elwyn was head deacon, choirister, janitor and several other officials of the church. How sur- prised we were when a long-faced, stout, well-dressed, curly, auburn haired min- ister took the pulpit. In a moment it Avas discovered that the gentleman was I Robert Forrest, who used to be a bash- ' ful boy back in Stoneham High School. Mr. Leavitt quotes that Bobby turned to the ministry after a poor trial at being a detective. The services were wonder- I ful, the prayers beautiful, and Parson Forrest taught his lesson well. Flora Osborn was the soloist and the flood of music lifted to the roof by her melo- dious voice was magnificent. All in all we gained a great deal by going to church and we returned to the hotel just in time to receive the last call for dinner. The next day old Sol came out with a bright offering. The Giants were play- ing the Cincinnati Reds in the after- noon so Mr. Chase suggested seeing the game. I consented. As the first inning began William Mc- Call, who was knoAvn as “Mugsy” Mc- Call took the slab for the Giants. Mug- sy walked the first three men and then struck out the next three. When the ' Reds took the field, William Mahoney, ! now called “Whiffer’ ’Mahoney, pitched I air-tight ball for his team. For the first nine innings McCall gave bases on balls three times each inning and then fanned the following three successively. I Mahoney had allowed no hits for eight : innings, th,e score being nothing to nothing. At this point McCall hit a I home run over the fence and lost the I ball. This being the last l)all, Umpire Lawrence Montague was forced to call I the game. j That evening there was to be a parade of the nation’s most beautiful girls in the heart of the city. Joseph McGarry, ; the street commissioner, made sure that [ 21 ]