Waltham High School - Mirror Yearbook (Waltham, MA)

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THE MIRROR 13 My quest for beauty was arrested by a truly brilliant sight. A detail of neatly uniformed policemen were lined up on either side of the steps. They were under the super- vision of their capable chief Richard Wear of Senior Play fame. Close to him was his righthand man, Robert John- son, bedeck-ed with a sporty little mustache. Amongst the ranks of the city's finest I recognized James Crowe, George Gannon, Alexander Kann and Howard Badger. They lived up to the old spirit of law and order of Wal- tham High. With military precision and smartness that would give credit to West Pointers, they saluted and marched into the school. Through the evening air there came floating to my ears la familiar sound, the sound commonly known as a razzberrie . I turned around and there, leaning on a broom was my old pal, Ralph Andrews. That lad cer- tainly was a sweeping success, janitor of the new high school. My nostrils detected the scent of delicate perfume and before my eyes floated a vision of beauty. Standing in front of me was Mabel Frost, the happy spouse of Carl Anderson. Andy is the professor of dramatic arts at the University of Chicago. His voice had acquired a cultured and feminine tone. Strolling nonchalantly along enjoying the beauty of the new edifice of learning. I was brought to an abrupt stop by a wild-looking chap who seized my arm. He was unkempt and ragged. His face was covered with a dense beard and his hair was long and matted. With a voice that quavered and cracked he whispered in my ear, Women, I hate them . 'Twas then I recognized Peters the her- mit, alias George Perna. His wife, Dorothy Griswold, had run off with a traveling salesman. The salesman was Cleveland Thomas. Life was bitter for George.

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12 T H E M I R R O R CLASS PROPHECY-1930 ACH tick of the clock makes us a few minutes older. SW, The ,minutes soon grow into hours the hours grow into days, and the days into years. I was emphatically reminded of this fact by a certain little envelope I had received. This envelope contained an invitation to the dedica- tion of the new Waltham Senior High School: new in fact but not in theory. After twenty long years a dream had become a reality. In conjunction with the festivities at the dedication, the Class of 1930 was to hold a reunion-the twentieth an- niversary of their escape from the fastness of 'Waltham Senior High School. On the night of May 16, 1950, bedecked in my evening clothes, I set out for the new high school. The night was dark, as are all nights. In fact, it was a normal night. As I made my way along Bacon Street, I made out the form of a person through the encircling gloom. It was the gigantic form of Salvatore Rizzo. He served as a body- guard for the frail Lorimer Hanselpacker, now a butter and egg man . Sal was searching for Lorimer whom he had lost in the dark. Just as I was going up the walk to the school, a car drew up at the curb. A man got out burdened down with a huge satchel. There was something familiar about him. It was none other than Alfonso Castellano. He told me that he was a salesman of cosmetics and was going to try to interest the women teachers in his wares. ' The school was a masterpiece. It was planned by that great architect Phillip Jackson, who acquired a taste for neatness and symmetry from his school work. You per- haps can remember what masterpieces his geometry pa- p6I'S WQTG. W 1

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14 THE MIRROR The auditorium of the school was both beautiful and spacious. It was rapidly filling up as I walked in and took a seat. I had no sooner sat down than I jumped up with a gasp of surprise. Were my eyes deceiving me? I asked my neighbor who the pompous individual about to take the speakers' stand was. He informed me that it was SGSYLRII9, Krol, the principal of the high school. Will won- ders never cease? Across the aisle from me was a row of dignified women. Their looks bespoke their importance. I was told that they were delegates from the Society for Needy Cats . I noticed amongst their number a few former co- eds. Sitting in the row were Edith Clarkson, Irene Clark, Olive Grenier, and Eleanor Gough. Theirs is a worthy cause. A group of dancers were now furnishing entertain- ment. Going through dizzy actions upon the stage were Alden Mcllaskey, Beulah Long, Edith Hughes, and Henry Bowers. I was entranced by the beauty of the scene. The trance was broken by someone yelling, FireE Fire! Fire!', I turned to see the cause of all the commo- tion. Three or four- rows back was a huge cloud of smoke. When the smoke subsided a little, I recognized Paul Hal- leran smoking a huge cigar. This was put out by a fire extinguisher in the hands of Robert Ferrick, who was fireman in his spare time. Eagle Eye I-Ialleran, the owner of the burlesque show, was accompanied by John Quigley, who wrote all the gags and music for the show. They were having tough luck, for the leading lady, Pomona Ball, had gone on a strike for more pay. Fate had played many queer tricks with some of my school mates. Many of them were hard to believe- The music CI almost forgot totell youl for the exer- cises was furnished by the Salvation Army Band under