Warren High School - Hilltop Yearbook (Warren, MA)

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buggies loaded for about three hundred times in one day, he begins to tire. Not one single minute is wasted. The other workers as well as I use every spare second to rest. These spare seconds are not numerous. For two weeks or so I could be found in the forms puddling cement. This is more than a strenuous task. Fatigue cannot describe the weariness we suffer, but can we complain? We are never made to rush, the pace is automatically set. We must keep up with the pace of the cement mixer. My present job is that of a cement puddler. That is working the cement in the forms or mixing the trap rock with the sand and cement. The hardest part of this is to walk in it. Everyone knows how mud will pull his rubbers off when he steps into it. The suction pulls them off. Then you can realize the pull on my legs to be knee deep in this liquid cement. After seven or eight hours of this, I am fatigued beyond belief, but I still have to drive home and do another two hours' work. After this I crawl to bed and stay there until morning, enjoy- ing every second of sleep I get. Working in the afternoon enables me to learn a trade, and at the same time complete my high school education, which in the economic world today is almost a necessity. Although it is hard to do both at the same time, l shall be greatly pleased to know that I already have a job the day I graduate. ARMAND LACHANCE '39 FOIBLES OF AMERICA: CHARLIE McCARTHY Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. This is the National Broadcasting Company presenting the one and only Charlie McCarthy, coming to you on the air every Sunday evening at 8:00 o'cIock, giving each and every one a full hour of fun and laughter. Hello, Bergen. Good evening, Charlie. Why aren't you doing your homework? Oh, I was admiring Claudette Colbert. You know what, Bergen? She must like me. She has come regularly since I came on the air. Oh-oh! I don't doubt it, Charlie, but let's get back to more serious matters. What do you want to be, Charlie? l'm going to be a doctor and cure Colbert's heart trouble. You can't be a doctor if you neglect studying Latin. You must know it inside and out. Well, I don't think I'lI be a doctor. I might not even get a chance, as that profession is over- crowded anyway. What are you going to be, then? l'm going to be an architect and design CoIbert's house. You must know your arithmetic to be an architect. Well, I don't think I'Il be an architect, either. That profession is overcrowded. Make up your mind, Charlie. You should prepare early in life. I think I'II be a loafer. ' That profession certainly is overcrowded. Bergen, do you like Mortimer IBergen's new dummyl better than you like me? No, Charlie, I like you better. Then, why do you make me study, when you don't care whether he does or not? Because you have brains, and he hasn't. Why, surely, I can plainly see that. Yes, Charlie, l'Il always like you better. It will always be Bergen and McCarthy. Yes, yes. It will always be McCarthy and Bergen. Charlie McCarthy will come back to you on the air next Sunday at the same time. This is the National Broadcasting Company saying Good-night. FRANCES IURALEWICZ '40 THE AMERICAN SCENE I left the jolly Thames and the Atlantic behind me as I strolled leisurely down the gangplank into that crazy, mad atmosphere called New York. To think that I have heard so much about America, and am now actually about to delve into the midst of it. But probably, I mused, I shall be very much disappointed because Americans can't enioy all the queer things I have heard they do. But I was destined to think differ- enly soon. I reached my hotel exhausted and slightly sick to my stomach after twenty minutes of trying in vain to stay on the seat while the driver slammed on his brakes and sent me careening against the front seat. The

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overlooked is Teddy Shy, who nervously laughs while shoving his hand in your direction for a flcety shake. I havelmet certain nervous people who shake hands several times, not realizing they had already done so. Another type is the one who holds on to your hand so long that you wonder if he has any idea of giving it back at all. This type could hardly be called bashful. We cannot help knowing by the friendly handshake of certain types that they are sincere and their grip is one that carries with it confidence. BARBARA HAYTON '40 THE STAIRS OF DESTINY It was a hot blinding sun that shone in on Ying Sue one sultry summer afternoon. She made a lovely picture as she sat there apparently in deep thought. Her silky black hair, drawn tightly back, revealed a high forehead and large dark eyes, which at this moment, gleamed black with a burning intensity. The long curled lashes above them were wet with recent tears, which threatened to overflow again at the slightest pro- vocation. The nostrils of the small tip-tilted nose were dilated, and the tiny rose-bud mouth was quivering. All of a sudden as if a bright thought had come to comfort her, she sprang up with a graceful movement and smiled wistfully. Going to a latticed window, she flung it open with a gay little laugh, that sounded like a tinkling of silver bells, yet had a note of sadness in it, and stretched like a tired kitten. The cool air that rushed in seemed to put more life into the lithesome body with its soft round curves. After a few minutes she walked softly across the room to where a low lacquered couch reclined against the wall. Sinking down onto the satin-coverlet, she recollected the events of the day before. After much persuasion she had finally gained the consent of her august father to accompany her old nurse, Armah, to the market-place. Towards late afternoon, loaded with bundles, Armah and she had started on their homeward journey through the crowded city streets. Turning a sharp corner, she had coll- ided with an old blind beggar. Among the staring crowd which had gathered was a youth who walked over and courteously helped her up. As he turned away and continued to resume his former course, she walked up to him, much to the chagrin of her sharp-eyed nurse, and earnestly said. lf it would not trouble you in any way, I would like to have you continue the rest of the way home with me. I'm sure my honorable father would like to reward you for your kind assistance to me today. Looking down at her with much surprise, the youth replied. I accept the kind invitation with great pleasure, but let there be no more talk of a reward. As they happened to pass under brightly-colored lantern near her home, she glanced up at him. His hair was a soft black, overshadowing dark level brows. I hope I may have the joy of seeing you again, he said politely. At the statement Ying Sue's eyes saddened. Before more could be said, however, they had reached her home, and Armah hustled her away, leaving the youth staring after her in bewilderment. Upon the arrival of Armah, Ying Sue was startled out of her reverie. Your honorable father commands your presence at once, stated Armah in her stilted voice. A uniformed servant announced her arrival as she came in and kowtowed low to her father. You sent for me, most honorable father, she said. At her question his austere demeanor changed but slightly. Yes, I sent for you. It is time for you to start your preparations for the morrow, which, if the Gods permit, will commence and end with success. That is all. You may go. At noon next day two of her women came and helped her don her scarlet wedding-gown. They then left her in silence. Several times she looked expectantly toward a delicately carved door on the further side of the room. Behind it ran a staircase of fifteen steps covered with red velvet. Her betrothed was to ascend these steps to see his bride for the first time. As she heard soft footsteps coming nearer, she stood up. The door opened and a tall, lithe form stepped into the room. With a gasp of astonishment Ying Sue recognized him as the youth who had brought her home the preceding day. At her sigh of pleasure they turned and walked down the stairs, unmindful of what Kismet or Destiny held for them in the future. LEONA REARICK '40 MY IOB One day when I was small boy, I sat on a pile of lumber and watched some men building a bridge. It was very interesting to me to see that big steam shovel or crane working. Being interested in the mech- anics of things, I was fascinated by the various machines. I then wished I were a workman on this bridge so that I could run all of them. With more joy than sorrow that day has come. The feeling towards these great machines has changed considerably. The first few days of my job I spent working around these machines. just as this task was becoming monotonous to me, I was transferred to the cement buggy. Oh, was I glad! When the plat- form is Ievel, this job is not hard, although it is tiresome. When, however, the platform is at an angle, each load of cement taken with these buggies is nearly a day's work. When one has pushed one of these

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fellow must have been in a frightful hurry! I zoomed up twenty-seven flights to my suite. Breath-taking things--Manhattan elevators! I awoke bright and early, impatient to see for myself if Americans were as crazy as I had been told they were. Everywhere on the menu--orange juice and toast--ham and eggs and orange juice. There really was no getting away from it, I must have orange juice. I glanced around at other breakfasters and they seemed to enjoy it immensely. Did I say all? All except a young mother with her small ward who didn't care for his. But he was quickly quieted with a threat of having to eat twice his share of spinach for lunch. I did not understand the reference to Popeye, How ignorant I was. Now I am very learned in the aspects of American movies. I soon found out that children ate spinach to be like Popeye, and teased their nurses to take them to Walt Disney's latest accomplishment, Ferdinand the Bull. I decided to take in this matinee and saw, on the same program, the dummy that has set these people agog from the Pacific to the Atlantic-- Charlie McCarthy. Rather, I caught glimpses of it from behind a pile of funny doughnuts piled row on row. My word, it must be a hat! Otherwise it wouldn't be perched on a young woman's head. Or would it? And the coiffures they wear are simply unbelievable. If I am to believe my eyes, fashion seems to be going backward in years instead of forward. Women's hair styles are distinctly those of the l800's, and their skirts are up to the after-the-war level. Sauntering downtown sometime later, I saw a Dutch woman clunking along. Imagine my surprise on learning that she was an American. Wooden shoes, of all things, seem to be another crazy thing Americans go for. Someone jostled me in the crowd and I heard very clearly the clinking of tin. A charm bracelet, it was, with every kind of image on it from cigarette package to Mickey Mouse. With a Whyn't cah watch who yer shovin , she shuffled off. I passed an amusement palace on a side street, and, to my amazement, saw two prostrate forms being carried out, and learned that they had just won first prize in a jitterbug contest. Such violence, I learned, is recreation. I plodded slowly along toward my hotel, pondering the events of the day, muttering repeatedly to my- self, I wouIdn't have believed it! I thought there couIdn't possibly be much more, How wrong I was. I retired early to get some sleep, or so I thought. No sooner had I snapped off my light when the blaring of- my-neighbor's radio fell on my sensitive ears. For one whole half hour I had to endure the squeals of the one and only Swing lt, Brothers. By the time the radio was turned off, a shrilling sob-sister cried, Don't leave me, Don't leave me, so vehemently that I couldn't imagine what it was this time. But when static rumbled forth, I realized that my neighbor on the other side of me had a radio too. For the life of me, I really can't understand whether she enjoyed it or had a different motive. I finally realized that the only way I could get some sleep was to stuff cotton in my ears. The next day I hired me a petro-wagon and arrived at Saratoga Springs just in time to see the races. In the five minutes I waited for the send-off two middle-aged woman at my side educated me fully in the art of installment buying. I wasn't surprised at anything any more. Between races I thought l'd get a spot of tea. In answer to my request, the stand attendant said. Sorry mister, we ain't got tea, just hot dogs and hamburgers. . How about some soda pop to go with it? I raised my eyebrows and must have looked very skeptical because he quickly assured me they were the swellegant. I took a chance and ate a hot dog, and to my surprise, it was good! It was an exciting day, and although I didn't win anything, I had fun playing the ponies. When I walked toward my car, I overheard one man say: l'm coming out tomorrow. But tomorrow's Sunday, said his companion. Yeah, I know. I want to come here once and see how it feels not to lose money. I spent the evening in my neighbor's apartment learning the art of playing a good game of Chinese Checkers. So this is America. My WORD! SHIRLEY BURNHAM '39 PEGGY'S DIPLOMACY Peggy Davidson stood with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her blue flannel slacks. She tapped the toe of her sport oxford and gazed around her. It was a large, cheerful room with a blazing fire in the fireplace, comfortable chairs, and a huge table laden with magazines. Cozy, she thought. Mother has done wonders with this run-down little cottage so soon. Then she said aloud, Come, on Happy. Her black, shaggy dog followed her. A tour of inspection should follow, Happy. Do you realize that we've been here for two days and we haven't even explored the grounds?