Stoneham High School - Wildlife Yearbook (Stoneham, MA)

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THE STONEHAM HIGH SCHOOL AUTHENTIC friend, Mary Driscoll. On the edge of the crowd a man was weeping dolefully. When asked what ' the trouble was, he said that he had spent most of his pay at the beach, and he was afraid that his better half, Mrs. Weiss, formeiLly Annabelle Dillon, would scold him. We left this gathering and stopped in front of a large building where a window sign read “Snell and Moody, Hair Waving a Specialty.” A few windows down another sign an- | nounced “E. Bergholtz, Fortune-Teller | Hypnotist.” I smiled as I thought of Edna making hocus-pocus. As we again passed on I felt a change in the air, and then I realized that we had left the city for the country. There in a field I saw a bus, with a sign on it reading, “TEACHEES’ EXCUESIONS.” Near this bus I spied someone reading a book on “Etymology.” When she lowered the book to adjust her glasses, I saw Elizabeth Moulton. Another per- son of my acquaintance was there. Ella Hovey was reading a book on “Biology” and giving her views on the preserva- tion of tadpoles. We soon came to a group of buildings that nestled near a lake. Here we saw a sign, “MISS ELDEIDGE’S GIELS’ CAMP,” and Phyllis teaching the girls the correct way to roll a hoop. Then down the road I saw a crowd of children coming. At the head of this young parade was Vera Harris. She is now a minister’s wife and was giving her little flock a picnic. After passing this happy group, I saw someone milking a cow. Just then the cow kicked the pail over, and the little dairymaid jumped up. Who do you suppose it was? Arline Parks, and the young lady who hurried to her aid was none other than Eleanor O’Brien. Then I felt the air rush past us as we traveled along at a swift pace. Soon we were over a small town. There on a bicycle sat a country constable watching for reckless speeders. When he turned our way I saw that this man with the alfalfa on his chin was none other than Walter Houston. I was in the city again and I could see the hazy smoke hajiging over it. Then I saw a night club. We went in and there I beheld Dot Eogers and Lois Detheridge resplendent in evening gowns, for they were the proprietors and hostesses of the best night club in the city. Over in one corner a crowd of girls were entertaining Austin Patch, who is now a movie producer. Then I saw the girls leave suddenly as across the floor stamped Zoa Newhall. She led Austin off by the ear. You can figure it out for yourself. We went out and as the pavements w hizzed by I saw Kuth Meagher through an open window of a large building. Ruth is now a telephone operator. Suddenly I saw a man being propelled down the street by a woman police of- ficer. This woman was no other than Dot Wessell. The man was violently protesting, “But officer it was my wife, I and she hit me first!” “I’m sorry, Mr. Huebner, but when I knew Laura Wood she was always very peaceful.” We followed these to the city hall and there on the bench sat Judge Hughes and pleading a case was the famous woman lawyer, Velma Murray. ' In the audience I saw Jeannette Miller writing notes on the case, for she is now a newspaper reporter. We went out of the court and there on the sidewalk a crowd was gathered. They had all come to get a glimpse of Beth Durkee, the tennis queen. She was accompanied by her very able man- ager, Helen Waterman. Again we whizzed off into space to a political meeting. There we saw and heard Helen Thornburg and Marion Hale debating as to whether or not the chop suey houses are a menace to our public welfare. We left this heated debate and next I found myself at the docks, where I saw Thelma Pickens selling round trip tickets to Coney Island. Just then Dick Wallace, now a taxi driver, stopped near us and opened the door for his passenger. Can it be? You, Amy Wood, and her protegee. Rose Dion. These, I learned from their con- versation, were going to Europe. ‘ Going up a flight of stairs, I saw George Dalimonte. The muscles on his brawny arms were as strong as iron bands. George was the owner of a fur- niture moving company and living up to our Class Motto— “Lift as You Climb.” j I was next urged by my companion to look at a huge building that was adorned with a sign “Rafferty’s Hospit- al.” Here our Mary tends the sick. Just then I saw Katherine Kirkpat- rick coming out of the front door. She • is now a full fledged nurse. Then I [ 12 ]

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GRADUATION NUMBER Leaving this scene and drifting on [ through space, I happened to notice a I small sport plane drawn up to a curb. As I looked, I saw a distinguished-look- ing gentleman escort a young lady from i the plane. I then recognized Roger I Sumner, a leading milk magnate, as the i man and the lady with him as Florence ; Rivers, a brilliant debutante of the I year. i Down the street we could see a poster i urging us to vote for Mayor Fredrick- son for re-election, and under it anoth- er asked us to contribute to the Fund ! for Homeless Pomeranians promoted by , Louise Wood. We again whizzed through space and ' soon I found myself in the suburbs of a beautiful little town, where I saw a sign on a store that said, “Tilton’s Gloucester Fish Market.” Near this building on an empty lot w’as a signboard advertising one of the popular books of the year, “My Love Affairs,” by Harvey Harris. In spite of this misleading title, Harvey is hap- pily married to Mary Hynes. The wind whistled by us and the ' ground whizzed by under our feet. Suddenly through the window of a house { I saw someone busy before an easel. Evidently this man was a painter. As we looked closer, we saw Dave Truesdale who was painting comic sheets for our ' amusement. i Just then we heard a loud cheering coming from afar. We went to the spot, and there we saw a parade coming down the street, displaying a sign that read “Hibbard’s Gigantic Circus.” There j we saw Peewee strutting proudly at the head. As the band came by, I recog- nized Benny Blaisdell blowing franti- cally into a brass horn. Then came the performers, and on the front wagon I saw Bill Decker throwing weights around. I noticed an unusual amount of applause from one section of the crowd, and looking down, beheld Phyllis Dodge. By the little gold band on her finger I supposed she was now Mrs. Strongman. Then came the end of the parade, and on one of the wagons I saw a sign that told us Winifred Hage- mann did her death defying tight rope act twice daily. With the passing of the parade, we . went on, and a short way down the street, I heard a loud barking. There we saw Mr. Brundage, the dog-catcher and frankfurt manufacturer, in the act of ensnaring an innocent victim. Our attention was next drawn to a man being soundly berated for failing to get in before curfew. George O’Brien, whose spouse was formerly Dot Mellett, said nothing but pulled out his paper and started to read. When he reached the sporting page, I saw that Bill Connors, the noted amateur sprin- ter, had recently turned pro. Another said that Hjalmar Widell was playing a no-error year, and that Jay Casey of the Braves hit three doubles and a homer in the last game. On the oppo- site page, I saw that the semi-finals for the British open championship were to be played off the next day, and favored to win were Hugh Hamill, John Connell, and Nick Baduvakis. Turning down the street, I noticed in a shop window a stunning gown. A placecard announced that the designer was Joe Lundregan. From a radio store a voice announced, “The next number will be ‘I Can’t Find a Sweetie’.” This brand new number was written by Marjorie Alley. When this plaintive melody ended, the voice said, “This is Mary Davis announcing; please stand by.” We did not stand by, but went on. Passing a restaurant, we saw a couple doing the enticing tango, and upon closer inspection, we found that these were Robert Oppen and Gladys Perry, now dancers of great renown. We left this scene, and soon I saw a sign that announced “Lane Bagdikian, Confectioners.” Under this a small sign said, “Don’t go elsewhere to be cheated; come here.” Upon approaching a large aero bus, parked on a corner, I saw Ernie Dear- born in a snappy conductor’s uniform. In the bus, a spinster was reading a magazine called “Love’s Pangs.” Her book lowered a second, and I caught a glimpse of Bernice Wright, much chang- ed from her high school days. A man and seven children entered with a terrific noise. A neighboring passenger said to the father, Bob Lud- den, “Say, mister, is this a picnic or are they all yours?” Then mama came down the aisle, and who do you suppose it was? Hazel Young! We next stopped before a platform where a man was giving a lecture on the evils of tobacco. The lecturer turned out to be John Dougherty. When his excellent speech was ended, we heard the strains of a melodeon, and discov- ered that the musician was our old

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GRADUATION NUMBER suddenly felt myself being rushed through space very swiftly. Suddenly j I ceased to travel. I was falling and I i heard the mocking laugh of my ghostly I companion as he left me. I tried to scream but I was unable. Not a sound left my lips, I closed my eyes and the ! bump came. When I opened them 1 1 was beside my bed. Was my past experience a reality or merely a dream? Where had I been? How long had I been gone? All this was unknown to me. I do know, how- ever, that somewhere these friends of mine are making good. |3r0pI|Erg cf tlie Carl E. After fifteen years of absence from my native land, I found myself leaning on the rail of a small tramp steamer, which was slowly nosing its way into New York harbor. My eyes were blur- red and a lump formed in my throat as we passed the Statue of Liberty. After docking and going through cus- tom formalities, I established myself ; at a hotel. Curious to see what changes { had taken place during my absence, I strolled up Broadway. As I walked, I noticed a great elec- tric sign ahead of me. The name on the sign seemed familiar, and I entered what I supposed was a theatre but which in reality was a large and perfectly ap- pointed ballroom. At the end of the room, opposite the entrance, was a large orchestra. As I approached it, the leader turned and Hibbard faced me. In a flash the name on the sign came back to me. It was Jimmie Montague, prophet of the Class of 1929 at Stoneham High School. After mutual greetings, he said, “We have a half hour before the program starts. Let’s talk” I learned that Jim- mie was the leader of the country’s finest orchestra and was proficient him- self at playing many musical instru- ments, especially the banjo. He also told me that he was married. “Libba and I will be giad to have you visit us,” he said. The buzz of a bell interrupted me. “There’s my warning,” said Jimmie. “Come up to the house tomorrow after- noon and we’ll have a great old talk.” “Sure, I’ll be there,” I said as I left him. Tomorrow had much in store for me. ' ast pitil artb Testament of tl|e (Class of 1329 We, the Class of 1929, in the year of our Lord, one thousand nine hundred and twenty-nine, of the Stoneham High School, located at Stoneham, Massachu- setts, United States of America, West- ern Hemisphere, being in full and com- plete possession of our faculties of mind and body yet knowing the uncertainties of our lives, do hereby declare, assev- erate, and proclaim this document to be our last will and testament, and do dispose of our scholastic possessions as follows : Item I — We give and bequeath unto that famous czar of Room 13, Mr. Earle Thomas Thibodeau, our sincere sympa- thy in his present bereavement in losing not only the biggest, and brightest, and best class that ever graduated from S. H. S., but also “the bigger and better half” of the Moore-Thibodeau combina- tion. We wish him luck in recovering from these two shocks, — but seriously, may he never wholly forget us. Item II — We give unto our business home-room teacher. Miss Nesbit, the best of luck in her forthcomiiig years of teaching. We hope that she can maintain the strict silence in the future . that she has in the past, and cultivate dignified Seniors from the present Ju- I niors, a seemingly impossible task, j Item III — To our classical home- I room teacher. Miss Moore, most popular I of teachers, we do hereby bequeath our love and best wishes for a lifetime of i happiness, upon the sole condition that ! she share this bequest with one, Ernest I Wilson, in Jackman, Maine. May she ! always l ook back upon this year as one I of the happiest of her life because of the Class of 1929, and Ernest. It is our wish and desire : I — That Mr. Thibodeau be formally [ 13 ]