Waltham High School - Mirror Yearbook (Waltham, MA)

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L, ED.:-,..,.L,.U.L,-:J..,.L,.U.b.U.U.U.b.U-U.U.U gftzkfL1LfLfkfLfLfLfLfLfLfkfKfXzLzLf ,.s,,.,Y., g,.s-.s..N,.N..v.s.,N..x.,N..x.,,e.,s-. ,x.,.x,.x.,.N,.x,.--.x.,.x.,.s...s.,N,.s...N..y-.N.x-.x-.s-. CLASS PROPHECY Page Eleven There was an act on as we entered. It was called a song, but if the author had ever known it was thus to E I abused, it would never have been the menus, written. Looking on which had been handed us at the door. we saw that the name of the artist'f was Walter Vaughan. did not believe it to classmate, until I saw Even then I be my former those old pur- ple socks. I firmly believe that those are the same ones he wore for four years back in High School. Two acts later another Waltham boy, Punk Johnson, appeared. He was dressed the same as when he used to come to school, with a low crowned derby, similar to the one he wore on St, Arthur's day, a suit about ten sizes too late, and a pair of huge, suit-cases called shoes. He was down on the bill as a comedian, but as a comedian, he was a false alarm. At the close of this act there was a long delay. Finally a man appeared upon the stage and announced that Miss Pauline Kimball who was due to sing that old war ballad, There's a Long, Long Trail, would, on account of a slight indisposition, be unable to warble today. About half an nour later, we woke another prodigy up in time to hear from our home town, Ruth Paul. She favored the audience with a few songs her justice, I'll and retired. To do say that she was the best of the three. Rather a doubtful compliment, but af- ter those first two frauds, anything was satisfactory. Now we sat back and awaited the banner attraction of the evening, a short musical sketch. At last the curtain rose and the maids of the chorus were tripping merrily over the stage. Immediately Jack stopped talking and settled down to get his money's worth. After several minutes of intent gazing, he turned to me: Don't you recognize the third, fourth and fifth from the right? I took a look and sure enough, there was the old wrecking crew, Ruby Sea- nien, Helen Pelky, and Alice Gorman. About uve minutes later, Jack,' had another spasm. 'Curly' Miner seems to be taking care of the rest of the family. How's that? l asked. See that little one on the left end. Well, that's Frankie Willard. It began to look like Old Home Week with so many of our old friends around. But no more appeared, so at the end of this act, I dissuaded Jack from staying to see the show over again and we went out. It was rather late, so we headed for the hotel. We dropped into the res- taurant for a bite to eat before retir- ing and whom did we see among the waitresses but Helen Kirwin, Marion Sampson, and Rebecca Farnsworth. We beat a hasty retreat and went to bed supperless. The following morning we decided to leave Paris and set out for the good old U. S. A. We headed for the Air Line depot in the center of the city, and inquired when the next plane left for America. We were told that there was an express leaving for America in ten minutes. So I started to scout around for a good book to read en route. Going over to the newsstand, I asked for the most popular book on the war. The girl behind the counter was Ruth Burckes-rather fortunate, as she used to be quite an authority on books. She handed me a large vol- ume which she said was the largest selling War book since the days of Empey's Over the Top. I paid ten perfectly good francs for that book, which I never would have done had I known at the time who wrote it. ...,..,.,,.,.a.,.X.,,.,.s.,,.,N..K.,x.,N..,.,x...s...s.,,-.-N- .,,..N-N-.vNs-e-x-fN,-R,'-s, g5g,'-g, g, qpKX, qk'i Gfifw 'N 'a.'fs.'fs.'a.'fs,fs,f-,X,fNq,fa.4-:.'fv.fnn.'in.4s.'-sn's.f'ww Q,'fv,4sr,'.-':.'NQ.'1fs.'a.'iq.fs. Q. Q- Q- of Q- fs- ff- fs- ff' o

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... .N .. .., ,. ., ,. ... A .N G Q 'a.'fs.'fs.'e.fe.'a.f-v.'fs+:.'a. 1-1 Q,'Qs9'i','gv:'Q9L,U Lb 'QQ-.U ,no .nu nw nv -,LJ -,Lf -.U LJ g, Page Twelve CLASS PROPHECY Jack seized the book and we ran just in time to make the airplane. Several hours later when we were fairly out to sea, I took a look at my purchase. It was The Perils of the Ambulance Service by Corp, Charles McGahan, author of My Life in the Coast Artillery and Ten Words a Minute. The illustrations were by the famous artist twins, Howard and Harold Harvey. There was a big splash far below and the best seller of the war had gone to the fishes. That afternoon we were sitting on the promenade deck gazing at the clouds around us, when whom should we see walking down the deck but Bet- ty Wiley. She came over and we be- gan to talk over old times. Are you travelling for your health? I asked her. No, I'm a salesiady for a dry goods firm, was the answer. Any particular line of dry goods? I ventured. Oh, yes. Middy blouses, she re- plied. That reminded me of something and Iasked what her old rival, Isabel Dauncey, was doing. She's selling shirtwaists for the same Erin, we were informed. Then she started off on a long ti- rade on the advantages of middy blouses over shirtwaists, especially for graduations, but Jack came to my rescue by shouting, Man overboard! and while Betty wished to see the ex- citement we escaped. We entered the dining room, and as I expected, we found a few more of our friends in the guise of waitresses and pot wallopers. There must be some sort of fascination about it, for they all had fallen. This time I saw Caroline Erickson and Margaret Hib- bard, and far out in the kitchen, I could discern Vesta Winn scrubbing dishes. At the close of the meal, seeing no sign of Betty, we sallied forth upon the deck, once more. We found that we were not flying at a very high al- titude. In a little while, we passed over a lighthouse. I caught sight of an up- turned face which I am pretty sure be- longed to Frances Ames. Wonder who she married that brought her way out there? One odd thing about it, she couldn't invite the Sewing Circle in very often. The morning of the next day found us at the Air Line depot in Boston. The depot was situated on the site of the old Boston Common and so when we descended, we were on Tremont street. From now on we commenced to see our old friends frequently. In the de- pot, I caught sight of two, Lena Mor- ris and Bertha Munroe, in a news- stand. Also we passed the oflice of Lorraine Stone, public stenographer. Before taking the subway, we wan- dered around the town a bit. A little later, as we were walking down Washington street, we ran into Cy Perkins. He didn't have much to say but I noticed his derby. On one side of it, there was a green smudge, where it looked as if the Egure 52 had been inscribed in green chalk and then rubbed out. If that was the case, it was about time he bought a new hat. Farther down the line we encoun: tered Bertha Concannon. The poor girl had wasted away to a shadow of her former self. I inquired as to how she had accomplished this transfor- mation and she told methat she was attending the Physical Culture Studio of Miss Beatrice Hoelscher, the fa- mous woman gymnast. By this time, we were in the theater m,.......,....a..,. ,,................,...............,. ...ag fe .4s.'ws .rem .4s.'fs.'a. C-Ve .fe .fa .fin .4-:ra .fare .An .+ve .ara .fa .A-v.fws refs fs