Vergennes Union High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Vergennes, VT)

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3 BLUE AND WHITE Uitmirg Lois Bristol. '32. Literary Editor

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2 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL EDITORIAL STAFF Editor-in-Chief............. Assistant Editor............ Business Manager............ Assistant Business Manager ....Robert Harrow, ’32 William Carter, Jr., ’31 ..Gertrude Fishman, ’32 .Charles Wilson, Jr., ’31 DEPARTMENT HEADS Literary ................................................... Lois Bristol, ’32 French....................................Arza Dean, ’31, Gertrude Leonard, ’31 The Grinnery................................................ Harriet Field, ’31 Art ........................................................... Owen Griffin, ’31 Alumni.....................................................Henry Richardson, ’34 Exchange............................................................Roger Wendell, ’31 Athletics ..................................Walter Ryan, ’33, Wilma Wood, ’31 School Activities........................................... Mary Bourget, ’33 Faculty Adviser...............................................................Miss McGovern SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS Mr. G. W. Patterson Mr. W. H. Carter Mr. W. W. Smith...... Miss Allbee.......... Miss Davis........... Miss Delaney.......... Miss McGovern......,. Mrs. Patterson....... Miss Wright ......... FACULTY ................................ Principal ........................Assistant Principal ........Home Economics and U. S. History ................................Mathematics ......................History and English ........-...........................English .......................French and History ..................Social Science and Latin TABLE OF CONTENTS Literary ................. Page 3 French .....................Page 11 Editorials .................Page 12 School Activities ..........Page 14 Athletics ...............Page 17 Alumni ..................Page 19 Exchange ................Page 21 The Grinnery ............Page 23

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4 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL ADVENTURES IN A ROCKING CHAIR A. hook beside a fire bright, When all outside is drear and cold. Is my idea of delight. For I am not so very bold. I’d rather sit in comfort there Than wander out and brave the night, For I can wander anywhere In books, without a sign of might. Adventures in the mountains high. Or fights upon the deepest sea. Perhaps a treasure hunt nearby, Are all available to me. The sandy desert have I crossed, Ambushing caravans at night, And on the sea. when waves have tossed. I’ve been the bravest man in sight. And love! Why I have loads of that; Intrigue! I have it by the ton; Why I am oft’ the diplomat That saves his country by a pun. A murderer loose about our square, Which leaves all other men aghast, Bids me out on his trail to fare. To run him to the ground at last. So once again I stir the fire And offer you an equal share Of refuge from all worldly ire Adventures in a rocking chair. Roger Wendell. ’31 APPLE SAUCE WITH SPICE Ruth Yattaw, ’33 Nancy sat at her south-room window, gazing out at the remains of her summer garden. She was a small wisp of a snowy—haired woman, who had lived all her sixty-one years in a village in northern Vermont. After her husband had started for his work with the lumberjacks, she had brought in a basket of green apples for apple sauce. For some reason—perhaps because the outdoors seemed to say “Come Out to her—she did not feel in the mood for sauce making. Nevertheless Nancy kept at her task until a large steaming bowl of apple sauce had been placed on the shelf in her sunny kitchen. She turned with a mental tug to her knitting, but somehow she did not feel in a knitting mood either. Her eyes wandered out over the cleared field again when suddenly she said, half aloud. “I don’t believe I put a speck of spice in that apple sauce!’’ and to be sure she went to taste it. Surely enough! She had forgotten the spice. “ I do declare! If that isn’t just like my life!” Nancy sighed. “I’ve had plenty of applesauce but I’ve never had any spice sprinkled in. and I guess I never will have—but what nonsense!” Hardly had she turned from the sauce when she heard a strange sound and, graceful as a gull, an aeroplane landed in the cleared field beside her little farmhouse. Her heart jumped, for never had an aeroplane been forced to land in her field before. Had she been a modern, she would have reached for her powder-puff, but she only smoothed her apron and hospitably opened her door. There stood the birdman! He gallantly bowed, and holding up an empty canteen said. “Good morning. May I fill my canteen?” “Indeed, you may. Come right in and sit down. I’ll go and draw you a pailful of cold water from my well.” well.” “May I help you?” the stranger asked.