Stoneham High School - Wildlife Yearbook (Stoneham, MA)

Page 29 text:

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 ]

Page 28 text:

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 ]

Page 30 text:

THE STONEHAM HIGH SCHOOL AUTHENTIC hescrubbed Broadway before Mayor William Vorbeau skipped along the bright lights. Mayor Bill was recently nicknamed “Volcano Vorbeau” for he ruled New York very “eruptiously.” A newspaper was purchased to learn more details. The paper Ave read was the “Gotham Gossip,” edited by Mildred GrecnlaAv. On the front page was an article about horse-back riding describ- I ed to perfection by Eed herself. The “Gossip” stated that the parade was to start at 8.00 P. M., and Miss America was to be included. ' Heading the parade at eight was Miss America, Janet Learned. Although on- ‘ ly forty-seven years old, she won the prize with ease. Her features were di- vine, and she was just as cute as she was forty years ago in Stoneham, Mass., ' except for the fact that she had groAvn a few pounds. “Jakey” rode right by us though. Perhaps she didn’t recog- nize us. We returned to the hotel with the gleeful satisfaction that at last someone had placed Stoneham on the map. The following day Horace and I de- parted, he heading for Dippj University and I for Boston and home. I boarded the good ship “Leakansink” which was commanded by Stephen Haseltine. The ship’s cook was Mrs. Haseltine, needless to say formerly Mildred Cosgrove. The “Leakansink” ran betv een Noav York and Boston — occasionally. Captain Haseltine’s first mate was Law ' rence Johnston, Avho steered the ship in many ways. Just outside Vineyard Haven I noticed Alice Rhodes, famous biologist, fishing for clams. She was still fishing five hours later when I leaned over the upper deck. The hook, line and sinker she used proved very faithful. To my , surprise she caught something. Una- i ware of her good fortune, the passen- | gers were astonished to see appearing i above the Avater one of these small seA’en-hundred pound mud turtles. They haA e a habit of eating arms, legs, or anything else and are quite danger- ous. But to the rescue came First Mate Johnston. He cut off Alice’s line, and i the turtle disappeared. Mr. Johnston I deserA’es much praise as it surely was a close shave for tbe noted biologist. The boat at last reached Boston. Professor Schwartz was there awaiting my arrival. I told him my story: whom I had met, those of whom I had heard and the places I had Ausited. Surely the A ' alue of this could not be over es- timated. To discover the Avhereabouts of my fprmer classmates fullfilled the greatest desire of my heart. of tl]e 3ropitet Horace Morse Chase One fine day in the spring, 1947, as I paused in the well knoAvn “Cafietra” Hotel in London, England, I perceived a stately gentleman. Upon his head he AAore a plug hat which was tipped gently over one eye. Leaning against one of the great pillars of the main lobby he scanned the daily news thru a monocle Avhich Avas expertly balanced on his nose. As he stood there old memories came to me. I thought of our senior class play back in ’27 and remembered what a great success it was and Avhat a great Englishman Jim Blenkhorn had made in his plug hat, spats and monocle. Hoav like these two Avere. They must be the same. I jump- ed and pounded him on the back. The monocle dropped to the floor AAuth a silvery tinkle and broke into a thousand pieces. Stooping OA ' er Avithout a word he picked up the pieces of broken glass. As he arose, AA’ith a painful look of agony on his visage I thought of that old “gag” of Jim’s, “Where ya been?” The painful look disappeared and a smile dawned on his noble face. “Daown Miami.” “Hoav are things doAvn there?” I said. “Glad to be back?” “Yaou bet.” “Where ya goin?” “Up Maine.” “Live up there?” “Yeah.” I Avill let you imagine Avhat folloAved in the next five minutes, but finally Jim lemarked, “Come up to my apartment and Ave’ll swap stories. As I follovred him up the long flight of stairs I thought of the old S. H. S. and our good times there. “Whoopee” what loud ties and socks AA’e used to flash! Jim still had an eye for color judging by the necktie he Avas now Avearing. After hearing my story, Jim asked, “Hoaa ' is good old S. H. S.?” “Just the same as eA’er,” I ansAvered, “but let me hear your story.” James agreed and here is the story as I remember it. “The year after I graduated from Stoneham High School, I entered Bos- ton University. After a long and hard siege at this noted institution of learn- ing I graduated with high honors. For tAvo years I was a salesman but business [ 22 ]