Waltham High School - Mirror Yearbook (Waltham, MA)

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4 Vl'ALTH-1M HIGH SCHOOL . The sophs widened their scope of activity. They invaded radio in a dramatization of Charles Goodyear and his life. In the midst of quaver- ing voices the automobile tire was once again invented. The now smooth-functioning class chose a highly significent motto, Experientia Docct , al- though half the class, Latin students included, were obliged to ask for the translation. There is briefly noted: Thursday, March 11, 1937: The motto, Experientia Docetn, at this time sccms to mean that the teacher knows a litile more than you think she doesnt. The class of '39 had a quick taste of :dult life when the much-postponed Sophomore Social was held in the gym. A short entry: Friday, March 19, 1937, The affair was a lot of fun. The boys and girls, girls especially, are very shy, but I think they'll change with time. They've changed! Y Time irresistibly flowed through the happy months. May came and with it the junior Prom. But on the notices, regrets were in order, for Sophomores could not attend. Come to think of it, there was no mention of regrets. june came, and the Scniors, with watery eyes fl think it rained that dayj, bade us aufwiedcrsehen. lior a few delirious days we had more room and leis- ure. Then vacation. ln red pencil, diary says: So now we're juniors. And here's vacation. Thanks to the Lord ! Of course in mid-August the tunes of joy turned to whistles of impatience to get back to school again. Three hundred and fifty high-and-mighty juniors dusted off varying amounts of grey mat- ter that fall, and lorded the premises in a man- ner that would have won the plaudits of their predecessors. Once again they set themselves to business, and elected their new class officers: Winslow MacDonald, president, Regina Ring, vice-president, Muriel Medina, secretary-treasurer, and Harris Greene, auditor. The football season was on us. The lads of the junior class playing on the squad played well, and although not one of the most successful, still the season was a sportsmanlike, hard-fought one. The girls had their innings in field hockey. The NTIRROR staff performed new miracles by getting out one of its most successful issues. The flow of time quickened, and the Class of 1939 went through the old year into the new on the swelling tide. Appropriately enough at the bottom page of the diary, which is standard, there reads the following truism: Today is the tomorrow we looked towards, from which yesterday is only a memory. The hockey team swept to win the Brown Me- morial Trophy before the admiring eyes of their urging classmates. Golf, basketball, and base- ball became the cynosure of students' eyes. The girls of '59 emphasized their finesse in the bas- ketball and bowling brackets. Spring came and with it the operetta, The Royal Vagabond . Studies were blithely abandoned during the pro- duction of this two-night hit. The Vagabond, his Anitza, Chefcheks, and courtiers were given a royal welcome by the audience. Then the junior Prom, THE event of the junior year. Under soft lights, string orchestra, and thirty-six repeats of Heigh-Ho , the dance was a real dance from all view-points, thanks to the able committee in charge. With amazement, the juniors watched their congenial superiors graduate, a few short days later. WCl'C' they now those people of dignified countenance, of such god-like mien? Were they now Seniors? They were! They returned in the fall, a bit tanned and very mature in action and thought. There is noted: We began to feel the responsibility placed upon us by our elders. Perhaps the homework isn't all a matter of needless bother. Perhaps we're here for something. These facts, pa- tiently impressed by teachers for three years, now began to penetrate and make sense. It was the beginning of manhood and womanhood. The High School football team, captained and predominated by Seniors, turned a black outlook into a fall campaign of unexpected brilliance and success, the last game making them heroes of the first magnitude. I have:

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CLASS OF 1939 Class History Many have said that in history there is no record of time and events which is so human and innately truthful as a diary. Strange as it may seem, in the last three world-shaking years I have kept a record of our life at Waltham Senior High School. Thus, with the aid of ex- cerpts from that diary, I shall now attempt to recall to you the swift-moving history of the class of 1939, the class that tried ro hard to be different. Since I quote directly from the leaves of the diary itself, all language and grammar in- cluded therein must needs be excused. Any re- lations to persons living or dead is purely on my mother's sidei We turn the dusty page of the first little vol- ume entitled, H1956-1937 . We read the first notation: XVednesday, Sept. 10, 1956, Well, diary, trotted off expectantly to-guess where-High School! And, boy, whatta place! They've built two new wings around the main building and there are more rooms and teachers than anyone dared to imagine. The first day the congenial instructors handed out books, 'and one kind old soul advised our gang thoughtfully to brush up for review exams. Went home today in a mixed state of mind. That mixed state of mind was the sudden knowledge that five hundred and forty-nine school days of this were to follow until distant gradua- t'0n. My mind, however, was soon changed, and as sophs set their neglected brain-power to action, the days picked up momentum with the interesting activities to be followed. Here is a stray paragraph of first impressions: Here our names might be dust for all we ap- pear to upperclassmen. However, the principals might easily be called 'princes of pals'. The rooms here are hard to find. While looking for Room 312, I went slightly astray and watched the janitor operate the boiler-room for ten inter- esting minutes. Notwithstanding the initial attitude of our Seniors, the friendship of many was to be our future blessing. The days flew by. On a sum- mer-like Saturday in September, we watched our football boys do battle for the first time as real rooters. Krol and Company, nice fellows all, steam-rollered all opposition until that black Thursday in November. Days rolled by surprisingly free from monotony. On October 27, our new gym was thrown open for another year. I have noted: Today the great army of rarely washed fladies excludedj met its Waterloo, because the new showers are working at top efficiency. Rumors of soap to be donated have brought strenuous pro- tests. All this was great fun, but the class of '39, soon knowing its need for organization, elected its class officers for the year. They were William Pendergast, president, Alan Davis, vice-president, Justine Smith, secretary, Muriel Medina, treasurerg and Harris Greene, auditor. I have simply written: The officers look O. K. except for the auditor. He looks like a slick customer. I think I'll slip a word to him about the right attitude to take. But soon the activity and voice of the Sopho- mores began to be heard. On December 16, the Sophomore Dramatic Group gave a capably acted play, earning the applause of the august Dramatic Club. Christmas and the New Year came on sounds of merriment and joy. On return after the va- cation, the attitude of the servile sophs becamf more confident and optimistic towards their seniors and their future. They really Ubelongedi' to their school. Sophomores loyally cheered the Shaughnessy brothers and their virtual monopoly of basketball, hockey, and baseball, all sports of which were waged with success through winter and spring. The 122-minute hockey marathon with Framingham intrigued lovers of slow-motion skating, and the eventual victory was fervently blessed by all.

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CLASS OF 1939 . Thursday, November 24, Today half Waltham and myself sat down and actually enjoyed a Thanksgiving dinner for the first time in three cheerless years. The girls, never to be outdone, trounced their opponents in field hockey with vehemance. Class officers were installed for the last time. Winslow MacDonald was re-elected presidentg Clara Viscogliosi, vice-presidentg Frances Carlson, secretary-treasurerg and Douglas MacArthur, auditor. Once again Christmas, the New Year, and then the Senior Dance, that dance of dances in the Senior Calendar. Once again, soft spot-lights and smooth, scintillating music by the rhymical Rhy- thm Barons. The dance was perfection itself. The financial report may, of course, be overlooked with a wave of the hand, although four cents profit on ice-cream sounded too much like care- ful arithmetic, something incongruous to dance committees. The hockey and basketball teams, representing the talent of the Senior class, had very satisfying seasons indeed. The senior girls' basketball ar- ray showed finesse in their sweep of their sched- ule. The baseball team waged war with-excellent hitting power. Election of Picture Committee came as a distinct shock to those who were un- aware of the rushing torrent of time. The Senior Play, Skidding , brought to the enthusiastic audience the Judge Hardy family with all its human appeal, climaxes, and adven- tures of the group. with the irresponsible Andy in his glory. The Thespian exploits of the en- tire cast, the hard-working committee and self- effacing Clara Viscogliosi, whose cheerful and capable chairmanship made difficulties vanish, all deserved every bit of praise they received and more. The diary comments on the play itself: If the audience only knew the effort exerted to make telephone bells ring on time, the finan- cial strain to buy Andy's conservative under- clothes, and the temptation resisted to eat the candy instead of selling it, they would have en- joyed the play threefold. The school witnessed the completion and oc- cupation of the newest addition of five rooms. Although promised for last Fall, they were wel- comed even at this late date for relief of the cramped housing problem in the school and for Mr. Hodge's precious north light. The next few weeks were devoted to sitting for photographs, and the school was a merry Bedlum of comparing and exchanging pictures and glossies with wild abandon. But wait-what is this? The last page-Im- possible! But it's true. Here's the last entry. The ink is scarcely dry. june a, 1939, Well, diary, youlre ended. Tomorrow we are graduated and then it's our own future in our own hands. It is a great temptation to look bacl: to our younger years and mourn the passing of youthful days. But we should not look back. Our day is today, not the yesterdays. With I-Experientia Docet , a good motto, we have learned with experience, and we have benefited by the experiences of others imparted to us. .With that, we shall be a little armed, at least, to face a world of reality. These past years have been happier than one could ever realize. I hope that the advantage of these happy days will serve to some fine end, if only a pleasant memory. The Hood tide of time seems to have carried us to the sea. May we reach a happy harbor safely and with our lives usefully lived. That was the last page. I closed the diary softly and whistled Waltham , OH-key, as I tied my green tie. Nice knot, eh? HARRIS GREENE, 1939.