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

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6 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL cured, everybody would lie satisfied. The butcher’s son takes his cornet lessons over the barber’s shop from an old band master who sports side whiskers. The barber below, being a nervous man, takes nicks from ears and noses of those who may be in his chair whenever piercing blasts reach his ears. His business has been dropping off lately. Another popular instrument is the saxaphone. These instruments range in size from a vest pocket edition to bulky monstrosities which need to be transported in wheelbarrows. The student picks out a fairly small model called the E flat alto. If the neighbors pursue him with axes and the like, the instrument is light enough for a quick get away and still heavy enough for a suitable defensive weapon when he is in a corner. One often sees advertisements in the magazines explaining how to become the life of any and every party by learning to play a musical instrument in spare time. It doesn’t work—I tried it. When I sat down at the piano, they laughed; when I finished they showered me with flowers, but they neglected to take said flowers out of pots. According to Hoyle: “If you have music in you. leave it there.” I pon our Editor’s achievement rare I cannot comment. Really, I don’t dare. THOUGHTS ON THE DARK Kathleen Belden, ’36 Thoughts! Thoughts! Of course people who have fear of the dark probably never could find any pleasantness or soothing effects from thoughts in the dark. I can imagine! They think that a dark, sinister man is following them, stealing stealthily, slowly along, ready at any moment to jump out at them. Again, they think that some huge unheard-of monster is crawling up behind them. At every little noise, seemingly large (.to them), they turn sharply, expecting to see a dinosaur ready to swallow them. But, that is what imagination does to some of us. On the other hand, a person who is not afraid of the dark, like myself, may gain from the hours of night thoughts to cherish always. How I love to sit in the dark, listening to the music on the radio. I can never recall my exact thoughts during that time, but I know I feel dreamy and comfortable—as though I had never had nor ever would be called, I roamed into my home-room. The door into the hall was closed and because only the middle row of lights was on in the Main Room, almost no light came from there. Quite naturally I slipped into my seat and gazed about me. The usually busy street was dimly lighted. My eyes wandered to my teacher’s unoccupied desk, and yet she seemed there. My classmates seemed to be sitting in their places as they waited for the first period to begin. Another picture flashed before my mind and there they were, ready for English have a care in the world. 1 recall a certain Scout meeting. We were at the schoolhouse having inspection. As I waited for my patrol to class. The whistle! My Scout-Leader’s summons for inspection—and the picture is gone. Not only do I listen to music or sit in my home-room in the dark to have

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BLUE AND WHITE 5 THE WESTERN MOVIE Richard Bennett, ’35 If you go frequently to the Saturday night moving pictures, you will notice that in most country towns you most often see a cheap Western movie. What about the influence these movies exert on children of today? In my own town I remember on a Sunday night listening to a broadcast from the South Pole. At the end of the broadcast a boy of about fourteen who was sitting near remarked that he didn’t believe they could broadcast from the South Pole and that the people in the Studio probably made it up. Yet that same boy believed what he had seen in these same cheap Western movies. In every Western Movie the plot is exactly the same, even though it may be expressed a little differently. On the screen there flashes a picture of a West- A horse. a gun, a And many fans will ern cowboy on a horse—a wild, love-making, fast-shooting, brave hero. Now where is the girl? Where can she be ? Oh! here she is—a sweet, young, bashful thing. As likely as not she and the hero were childhood sweethearts. The hero has just returned home and finds the villain (as likely as not to be a sheriff) holding a mortgage on his sweetheart's or his father’s land. Everyone takes the hero wrong, of course, and thinks he’s bad—everyone except his sweetheart .The hero fights the villain and his men single handed; he is captured, but of course gets away. (The hero could not get killed). He wins back the mortgage and also makes the villain admit many hold-ups, etc. In the last reel we see the hero and heroine in eath other’s arms murmuring—“Darling.” girl, a risky spill, get an honest thrill. TREATISE ON MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS Edward Ryan, ’35 Nearly everyone thinks he is a musician at one time or another. Some really are but most of us just think we are. In the following lines I will try to describe some popular instruments and methods used by aspiring musicians. Probably more gu tars are bought and sold in this country today than any other instruments. You can travel through city, village or countryside and hear attempts at vocalizing “The Dying Cowboy” accompanied bv the twanging of guitar strings (usually out of tune). One could swear that the Dying Cowboy himself was singing. The student employs a well thumbed “5-Minit” course to perfect himself in chords. As he plays chords, he must also sing (cowboy songs preferred.) The proper cowboy tone is acquired by applying a clothespin to the nose to give the nasal effect. If the would-be musician doesn’t sing, he teams up with a fiddler. The violin, or fiddle, is one of the best sounding or one of the most nerve-rack:ng instruments. A good violin player produces about the most beautiful music there is. As these cases are few and far between, we will discuss the fiddler. When learning to play, you’re a fiddler; when you are capable of beautiful music, you’re a violinist. The main fault with the fiddler is the whining tone he produces. This is because of the finger’s sliding along the string in a frenzied search for the correct note. A mute helps sometimes, but if the student would store his bow in moth balls until the desired note is se-

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BLUE AND WHITE 7 such thoughts. 1 can go for a walk at night and, as some people call it, stargaze. I never think of those huge monsters or dangerous men following me, but just enjoy myself. In my thoughts I can travel to the farthest and most remote places of the earth. Darkness and solitude pave the way to dreams, dreams of the future. One whose mind is in a state of fear in the dark is not to my idea a strong-minded person. He should dream the dream and this leads on to the deed. He should accomplish the long-cherished dreams which are spurred on by darkness. Forget your fears! Go for a walk when the world is in darkness. Imagine night as a jewel-strewn cloak thrown over nature. Pleasing thoughts come only to those who really want and try to have them. They cannot be bought or sold, but darkness often inspires them. Soon you’ll have no fears from which to attempt to free yourself. “Happy is the man that getteth understanding.” Begone ye fears—Why should I feel alarm When night steals on, with all its dusky charm? HAIR ON THE HEAD (In a Nutshell) Bertram Arthur Perry, ’35 Is your hair wiry or silky? Is it red? Brown ? Black ? Are you a platinum blond ? If you can not answer one of these questions in the affirmative, come up and see me sometime, unless you happen to be old Bluebeard himself! To begin with, who likes curly hair? Echo answers, “A woman,” if she doesn’t answer first. (She usually does). In my opinion any boy who has naturally curly hair is very unfortunate. However, by this I do not mean to say that the fellow who has his hair all sleeked down is any better than that little curly headed youngster. Remember the “Villain” of the drama of twenty five years ago?—Sleek hair, manners, and—mustachios! ! ! You have probably read “ads” containing the appalling statement that any man who uses water on his hair wiil be “Bald by forty.” Well, 1 use water on my hair every time I comb it, and as yet. 1 am far from bald headed, although I am nearly—eighteen years of age! ! ! Where I came from, there is a cur- rent story that goes something like this: At the age of six, when asked by the barber how I desired my hair cut, I immediately replied, “Just like Grandpa's, and please don’t forget the hole in back where his head sticks through.” Whether or not I can claim that as the reason, to this day 1 still hate to enter a barber’s shop. Hair, of any size, color, or description is all right in its place. Who is there, however, who has not at some time or other,—along with the usual supply of wood, nails, string, and debris—found in his favorite dish, a hair? ! ! ! “If such there be, go, mark him well!” Of course this intrusion may be the result of the cook’s ire being aroused at the lack of pepper, ginger, or some such mild seasoning to stir in with your dessert before serving it up on your gold platter, whereupon he instantly seizes upon a handful of his beloved thatch and deftly, but surely, (sometimes painfully) extracts it from its secure resting place. After all. just what good is hair?