Stoughton High School - Stotonian / Semaphore Yearbook (Stoughton, MA)

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STOUGHTON HIGH SCHOOL 17 and here comes his very lovely daugh- ter, the Princess Anne, or Alice Dunk- erly. That Alice did a fine piece of work is putting it mildly. Her sorrow was our sorrow, and her joy reflected in our hearts. That ' s acting. What more could one say except for the fine way of — ah — clinching with Frederick Granton. But — oh! Quiet please. May I pre- sent Her Majesty, Queen Martha — or if you would have it — Dorothea McDon- ald. A high and mighty Queen — you ' ll have to admit it. How can I find ad- jectives to describe Dorothea ' s per- formance. Let ' s say it was par excel- lence. Who ' s this? Why Frederick Granton, the hero. Doesn ' t he look handsome? His name? Why Joe Copello, of course, could any man play the hero better? I say no. Congratulations on a swell piece of acting Joe. Why, hello General, how ' s the artil- lery? My what a rough answer. He ' s dictator. Yes ! Walter Gorday alias General Northrup. A real forceful character brought to life by the superb acting of Walter. Another star, I say. Lord Berten, his ally, did a great job. He certainly looked the part with that little goatee. Who ' s that snob coming in the door- way — head in the air? Oh! Phipps — Joe Martin — the King ' s butler and partner in checkers. Phipp would nev- er cheat. His performance was a smashing hit. Great work, Joe. Here ' s Major Blent — snappy com- mander of the palace guard — devoted to his King. Pat Griffin certainly made a fine appearance and put zip and sparkle into the most thrilling episodes. We all remember Blent ' s aide — Robert (sand bag) Jackson — a new recruit — but Bob gave the audience a laugh — and also the cast — which had a difllicult time getting back to normal. And here comes his Royal Highness Prince William of Greek — the dashing young man who didn ' t like the Princess Anne — he didn ' t like her a bit — and he told her so quite frankly. Alfred De- Salvio is the gentleman and his accent made a big hit and he was well received. What ' s this tough, looking hombr ' -J doing? Oh! It ' s Taker— the dirty anarchist and everyone agrees that Al Kwedar threw himself into his part and meant every word he said. He was great. Could anybody but Kwedar shake a fist in front of Gorday ' s face like that? Come — Dr. Fellman — or Harold Fow- ler — the eminent college professor (in the play). Harold did a fine piece of work — displaying considerable talent. The three pretty ladies-in-waiting — Doris Sarrey, Bro. Wasilewich and Jesselyn Innes, added considerable color to the performance, as did Bar- bara Lutted, who acted as the Queen ' s chambermaid. Barbara Howes acted as prompter. P. S. — Many thanks are due to the efforts of Jimmy Hansen, Al Kazlouski and Al Stripinis for the tremendous am.ount of work that was involved in building and erecting scenery, etc. ; and also the property managers: Priscilla Maltby and Ania Carlson. Miss Clark and her salesmanship class deserve credit for handling the business end of the affair. Last, but not least, we thank the di- rector. Miss Dorothy Arnold and assist- ant director, Miss Ruth Dainty, whose untiring efforts were largely responsi- ble for the play ' s success. Jos. G. Quill PROJECT S DUE A project ' s due the twenty-fourth, Said teacher to her class. And so that means on Sunday To the bookcase I must dash. And go through all the magazines And through the papers too, For it is Sunday, the twenty-third And tomorrow my project ' s due. Then with scissors, crayons and ink, And with the aid of a httle glue, I try my best a way to think To get this project through. Now mother ' s books are all cut up. The latest magazines too, But what care I, it ' s the twenty-third And my project, it ' s all through. Isabel Butler

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16 THE SEMAPHORE The school publication is competently ably edited by Joseph Copello, and he with the assistance of Seniors has fared well this year. We musn ' t fail to mention Joseph Quill and his South Sea Echoes, who have cooperated so generously at school functions during their past two years. In spite of the fact that the class has been extremely successful in extra cur- ricula activities, we have a high schol- astic standing, and we can boast sev- eral classmates who have been the re- cipients of honor slips for the entire four years, thus we have not neglected our studies. The Student Council, presided over by Joseph Copello, has been functioning more systematically this year and we hope it will continue to do so in the future. The graduating class fully appreci- ates the help and cooperation extended them by the faculty, and realize that there is no just recompense for what they have done for us. And so to the tune of Annie Laurie, our class ode, we pass through the portal of Stoughton High hoping to make bigger and better history. HIGH SCHOOL DAYS The time for parting now has come, Our High School course is o ' er; In the halls and in the classroom We must part to meet no more. We think of happy High School days, Of each pleasant, bygone hour. And remember these few words always, That knowledge it is power. And as I look around the class. On each bright and smiling face, I wonder how the years will pass When in life each takes his place. From the din of many a hard-won fight. From the strife of every day. May each come victorious into light. And to fortune find the way. Alfred Stripinis The Queen s Husband iiTY ' ELL that certainly was worth seeing! Wasn ' t it well given? And by a high school class, too ! I never saw anything like it before ! These, and other remarks of a wide and varied nature were heard on all sides for days and even weeks after the suc- cessful production of the Senior Class Play. Truly, a professional production, produced in the professional manner, The Queen ' s Husband was unsur- passed. And why not — hasn ' t our present class one of the most talented group of young aspiring actors and ac- tress.es as ever appeared before the footlights? We have, and are proud of it because that very play was passed over in a large city school, nearby, be- cause the committee thought it too dif- ficult to produce. But since our Senior Class always does things in a big way, it isn ' t unusual for us, at that. To have a good performance the players must be well cast, and all who saw the play will agree that each one was well fitted for his or her respectiva parts. And each carried his part out to perfection — not a hitch in the whole play except when Jackson spilt sawdust all over the king ' s drawing room. One reason why the play was such a success was due to its unusualness. it was different ; it had a deep plot, pas- sionate emotions, and a subtle humor that would spread a grin even on the face of the worst grouch. Each player seemed to live his or her part — lived it in such a way — that the audience, too, seemed to feel included in its very life instead of being a group of just mere on-lookers. Another thing — we made money on it, too. Now that is something to crow about, because all other classes just barely covered expenses. But enough of that — let ' s meet the players — and give credit where credit is due. Remember, of course, that all credit doesn ' t go to them alone — for we have yet to speak of property mana- gers, stage managers, etc. Step into the King ' s drawing room with me and meet the man, himself. King Eric VHI, known in private life as Joe G. Quill — blaa-blaa, etc. Ah,

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18 THE SEMAPHORE Walking in the Rain I HAVE ever been under the impres- sion that I am really a poetical soul at heart for I have always loved to expand in beauty as I once ventured to express it to myself. I can nigh well drive a listener mad, describing the White Mountains or Cape Cod, and some have even been known to walk out on my enthusiastic prattlings, about interpretive dancing, symphony orches- tras and modern paintings. Yet despite these distinct oddities I am afraid I fall far short of a true poet. An ' one with any literary aspirations whatsoever must at some time write a poem, ode, thesis or essay on the awe- inspiring, mind-relaxing, soul-expand- ing and spirit-soaring experience of walking in the rain. How delightful it is without hat, coat or galoshes, to sprint ecstatically about in a summer shower. What care you whether branches be crashing about you and your last wave lies limply on your neck. Upturn your thirsty face to heaven and feel the gentle rain from above stream your superlative make-up job redly off your chin. Shout and cry aloud, I love the grandeur of it all ! , while you bury feet in warm oozing mud. Laugh gayly as it brings an ill-deserved end to the pristine whiteness of your sandals. Tramp for miles and let the beauty of nature be absorbed by your soul and your starched linen suit ; let it trickle in rivulets of joy down your back, and if any say you are nuts, cry gayly I love to walk in the rain ! Nature is at its best; it is alive with poetry in the rain. If on the next day whilst sniffling de- jectedly in bed you can write a poem, ode, thesis or essay on your awe-inspir- ing mind relaxing, soul-expanding, and spirit-soaring experience you are a true poet and my hat, coat and galoshes are off to you. Priscilla Maltby Fifi and Madame f AN you imagine Madame, a beautiful lady of France and Fifi, Madame ' s pomeranian, dining together in the Cafe dwe L ' Etoile? Perhaps you can ' t imagine it — Tom and I don ' t have to for as we were promenading up and down that particular part of the Champs Elysees we saw it with our own eyes. Madame .stepped lightly from her blumont landaulet and followed Jacques as he strutted regally, nose high in the air, into the cafe, carrying Fifi ma- jestically before him, on a royal velvet pillow. When Fifi was settled comfort- ably opposite his mistress, Jacques left them and returned to the car. Tom and I stood staring at each other in the mid- dle of sidewalk and finally when we regained our senses we moved swiftly across the street and into the cafe tak- ing a table directly beside Madame. A waiter came to her table and between repeated bowing placed two menus be- fore her. She ordered her meal and then picked up the other menu and or- dered gourmandise maison for Fifi. I was puzzled and looked at Tom ques- tioningly but he did not see me, for he was staring wide-eyed and mouth open at the menu. As Tom turned to look at me his shoulders began to shake and he burst into a fit of laughter. I finally saw printed in large letters some French words which simply meant Canine Menu and my additional laughter must have disturbed Madame for she complained to the waiter and we were asked be quiet or leave. To ' stop laughing was impossible, and we were so weak that neither of us could think of leaving, so we continued to disturb Madame and Fifi until we were helped out. A big man took us by the coat collars and walked, or rather ran, us through the cafe, pushing us none too gently onto the sidewalk. In other words in good American slang we got bounced. I knew when I struck the sidewalk that we never would know what the dogs ate in that cafe, but I was wrong for Tom sat up and pulled from beneath his coat a menu for canines. He never told me how he brough it safely through the door of Cafe de L ' Etoile and I asked no ques- tions for we had what we wanted. We read it aloud : Regal de nica (consomme, carrots, minced meat) 12c. Dog vegetables, 18c. Bisca (white biscuit) especially recom- mended for puppies, 18c. Gourmandise maison (cereals and raw meats), 25c. This last canine dish was the one Madame bought for Fifi, and when we