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

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4 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL IN A GARDEN BALCONY Mary Lance, ’33 She stands in an ebony frame, A delicate cameo, pink and white, The moon sheds a blue light upon her, She is a statue in pink and white. By her side he stands in the ebony frame Carved onyx from the shadows about them, Pearl chipped from a small moonbeam, A statue in onyx and pearl. And the world about them is silent. And the shadows about them are still; In the blue moonlight they are standing, Pink and white and onyx and pearl.

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Drawn by Rob»rt I Arrow Mary Bourget, ’33 Literary Editor

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BLUE AND WHITE 5 THE PEOPLE’S CHOICE Robert Larrow, ’32 Up one flight and down a long, low corridor any passer-by could see a door, to all appearances ordinary, which bore on its frosted glass the time-worn legend “Civic Social Club Members Only.” But not everyone who might be passing that way was privileged to open that portal and penetrate the inner sanctum. For the “Civic Social Club” had long since ceased to perform its purely recreational purposes, although it was sometimes remarked by those “in the know ’ that nearly all the officials and magistrates of the fast-growing city were frequences of this inconspicuous social center, while most of them were never known to indulge in billiards, the sole “recreation” afforded, and represented by one rather rusty table, a few tipless cues, and a more or less incomplete set of.balls, rather yellowed by age. Across the street, towering high in its massive bulk, the unmistakably Victorian city hall overlooked the busy city, a visible assurance to any doubter that law and order reigned supreme. But this was only for the uninitiated and the unknowing; for those at the head of the administration, the symbol of the security of law and the predominance of order was vested in the equally massive bulk of one, John H. Flannagan, “Honest John,” never a candidate, but the maker of “people’s choices.” But tonight, the night of all nights, pandemonium reigned supreme in the club, while an expensive radio, rather incongruous in its setting, blared forth from one corner. For this was the night of the day prescribed by law— “the first Tuesday after the first Monday in the month of November, when the polls shall be open from 8 A. M. to 8 P. M., that the people of this city may cast their vote for the offices of mayor and other city officials, who shall serve them for the duration of two years.” In the Civic Qub a motley assembly in various stages of repose were all intent upon the periodical report of the election issuing from the local station, waiting to observe whether the fickle electorate had cast their ballots according to the dictates of their conscience and the behest of “Honest John.” In the farther corner sat “Honest John” himself, an unlit cigar slowly disappearing to regions unknown, and an expression of ever-growing pleasure upon his complacent countenance. Around him clustered four of his henchmen, deep in a discussion of ways, means, and finances. Near the radio sat J. Connell Lancaster, candidate for the office of mayor on the Non-Partisan ticket. Upon the opposite wall hung a campaign poster—“J. Connell Lancaster—the People’s Choice—Economy, Reform, and Lower Taxes—Endorsed by Civic Service League, League for Better Voting, Committee for Civil Reform.” The radio again held forth: “On a basis of returns from sixteen wards out of a total of eighteen, J. Connell Lancaster is leading his two opponents by a plurality of more than ten thousand. The election of the Non-Partisan Reform candidate marks a new epoch in our municipal history.” In the other corner “Honest John’s” cigar did an inverse leap, and his hearty voice boomed out. “Well, Jack,” for such was the “J of J. Connell, “we put it over.” In a modest home on the outskirts of the city a common working mail, home from his toil, remarked to his wife, “Well, Jane, we put it over. We beat the ring.” Above in the heavens the Fates continued to spin and twist the feeble thread of life, and the gods smiled.