Wells High School - Crimson and Gray Yearbook (Southbridge, MA)

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DECEMBER 1938 SUMMER MEMORIES NANTUCKET Price Burgess ' 39 Approaching the wharf from Main Street, we pass quaint antique shops, a Chinese laundry, a restaur- ant, a gasoline station, an office building, and an ice plant. These things are typical of the waterfront of Nantucket where the old mingles with the new. Walking down the wharf, we pass two large lum- ber sheds. Soon, we become aware of a very power- ful odor which arises from piles of scallop shells which line the roads on both sides. These shells are pro- ducts of the shell fishing season and are stacked in the open until they are cleaned by the elements. Then, they are used to surface private driveways. By the shell heaps are located the fishing shanties. These are used to stow gear, to provide a place for the fishermen to gather and talk, and to give a place for opening shellfish. Contrasting with these ancient shacks, we find, further down the wharf, a gasoline station and a coal shed. This gas station differs from its cousin on the mainland in that it disposes gasoline and oil not only to automobiles, but also to boats and sea planes. The fishing boats that tie up on the further end of the wharf are distinguished by their smell and invariable dirtiness. On the other side of the wharf, we find the many small power boats of the shell fish- ermen. These are tied up four or five abreast and cause people to wonder what happens when the man on the inside wants to get out first. The answer is simple — he very rarely does. On the extreme end there is a large boat house which seems out of place by the great oil tanks near- by. It is here that the shiny motor launches of the wealthy tie up by the trim craft of the Coast Guard Service. Also we may sit on conveniently located settles and look out on the harbor. The harbor is usually filled with all classes of sail- boats, from the diminutive Rainbow to great schooners, power cruisers, racing speedboats, skiffs, and occasionally, a huge steam yacht. Thus, in walking from Main Street to the end of the Island Service wharf, we get the flavor of Nan- tucket. We find contrasts here as in other parts of the island. No matter how many modern develop- ments and by products come in, the salty flavor of the island cannot be erased. Nantucket as a result combines old-fashioned charm with modern con- veniences. GLOUCESTER Louise Gregoire ' 39 Like a faithful sentinel watching over the rock- bound harbor of old and picturesque Gloucester, stands the impressive fishermen ' s memorial, pictured in Captain ' s Courageous, depicting a weatherbeaten fisherman standing staunchly at the helm of his ship. G R E E T I N G S F R O M C E C In the lines of his face and in his steady, narro wed eyes can be read the whole history of the courageous and rugged seafarers who built up the meager colony of Gloucester into the chief fishing port of the United States. Such a quaint little village! Its narrow, winding streets all seeming to lead to the ocean. Its pic- turesque, nestling little cottages with their inevitable blue blinds, its bronzed and booted fishermen, and its horde of scenery-seeking artists cannot fail to leave Gn indelible memory on any visitor ' s mind. These details fade from one ' s memory, obscured, by the majestic and ever-changing panorama of the ocean at its front door. On a clear, summer morning the ocean, a deep mysterious green near the shore, shading into a warm and intense blue near the horizon, sparkles in the sunlight. The lobster nets, spread by fishermen the previous night, make dark patches on the glittering expanse, in sharp contrast to the silver sails of the fishing schooners. This is the time of day when the sea is in her most appealing mood; and every be- witched, sunlit ripple seems to beckon mockingly to all staid and settled landsmen. MISS POULIN MISS BIRTZ On a dull, misty day the ocean wears an entirely different aspect. Its waters are cold and gray and icy, and melt imperceptibly at the skyline into equally dismal skies. The only sounds that break the oppressive silence are the weird tones of the fog horn, the regular reverberating clangs of the bell buoy, and the beating wings of hundreds of soaring seagulls. As the tide comes in, the water boils and seethes, and the spray flies high, while the waves crash thunderously against the massive, towering rocks along the shore. Then it is that the ocean asserts its terrifying might and grandeur, and inspires a feeling of awe and wonder in us puny humans. At night the ocean is calm, restful, and, above all, beautiful. The moon casts lights and shadows on its undulating surface, and moonbeams ride the crest of every wave. Specks of fluffy foam flutter around like wind-rocked flowers in a black meadow of ocean, and the soft, whispering splash of the surf against the sand adds to the glamor of the ocean at night. It is with a reluctant heart that a visitor leaves this sublime sea-spectacle, and when he pauses once more on his way out of the village to read the inscription on the fishermen ' s memorial, they that go down to the sea in ships , it is with a deeper understanding of the fascination and allure the ocean holds for the Gloucester fishermen, who call the sea their home. AMERICAN YOUTH HOSTELER Albert Bouvier ' 39 To help all, especially young people, to a greater knowledge, understanding, and love of the world by providing for them youth Hostels (inexpensive over- night accommodations) in America and by assisting them in their travels both here and abroad over bicycle trails, foot paths, and highways is the pur- pose of the American Youth Hostels of which I am a member.

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THE CRIMSON AND GRAY THE LIFE HISTORY OF CECIL, THE PIG Mary Dirlam ' 42 (Any resemblance to any persons living or dead, is intentional.) Chapter One One fine and misty morning Gloria Hog gave to the world eighteen future sausage fil- lers, the largest, and most remarkable of which she called Cecil. Now to comprehend fully the most amazing adventures of Cecil, it must be understood from the first, that Cecil was not an ordinary pig. Early in life he was destined to become a leader of all pigs, a benefac- tor to pork-kind, an emancipator of his breed. But to get back to the subject, Cecil was the largest, plumpest, pinkest, and most wrig- gly of all his little brothers and sisters. They looked to him with awe and reverence, and meekly obeyed all the wishes of this very superior pig. It was always Cecil who discovered the hole in the fence and found the most satisfactory method of mud-wallowing. And it was Cecil, beautiful, plump, pink Cecil, who was selected by Farmer Jenks to take to the county fair! Our hero was so excited that he fell into the skim milk and caught his tail in the pen fence. However, Farmer Jenks came to the rescue and gave our little porker a bath, after which he had a beautiful blue ribbon bowed at his nape, and was loaded into the truck along with Sidney Horse and Beulah Cow to be taken to the fair! Amidst a chorus of envious squeals from his brothers and sisters, he was off on his first grand adventure! Chapter Two Finally, after what seemed an eternity, our little hero ' s truck dragged into the fair- grounds. They were unloaded by a man who called Cecil Bacon, which made him feel rather uncomfortable. However, he soon forgot all about it in the excitement of being loaded into a beautiful little pen along with two other little squealers called Charles and Her- man. Now Cecil realized that these common pigs were far inferior to him, so kept his dis- tance and totally ignored them. Next day person after person flocked into the stables to see the animals, and late in the afternoon seven tall and dignified men walked up to Cecil. When the people saw these men, they too gathered around Cecil who was not a bit abashed, but felt quite superior. One of the judges explained that Cecil had won first prize, and that their guest of honor, John Barrymore, would give him his ribbon. After a hushed silence, that awesome character made his speech. Be it known to the people, he said, that this pig hath been given honor by the declaration of yon honorable judges who giveto him ofty sentence, saying that he be the most perfect pig at this fair. Cecil, he paid, I present thee, a blue ribbon. Now — for the first time in his life — Cecil was impressed by someone other than him- self. Such eloquent language, he thought, and then rose mightily declaring to himself, Henceforth shall I express mineself in lofty tongue, the language of Hamlet, of Macbeth, and Shakespeare! Ah Shakespeare! Chapter Three When Cecil was returned to his pen, he amazed all his brothers and sisters with the lofty language in which he spoke. Ah Titan ia, he said to his favorite sister Spotty (whose name he had changed when he had learned about the queen of the fairies,) Ah Litania, I weary of pig pen life. Thou hast not been to the outside world and cans ' t not realize mine feelings. But to mineself this life in yon pig pen grows weary. Ah, woe is me, woe, woe. Cecil, said Titania, I don ' t think yoor a-goin ' to be here fer long. Listen to Farm- er Jenks, outside the pen. Cecil strained his ears and heard the following conversation. Wal Hank, said Farmer Brown to his hired man, Cecil ' s getting old and mouty fat. Yep, yessir, so he is, remarked Hank. Hank, returned Farmer Jenks, I ' m a thinkin ' you better load Cecil up and send him to Mr. Shakespeare. Yep, I reckon, you ' d better. Then the conversation stopped and they walked away. Oh Titania, said Cecil, I am truly happy. Ah! Ah! Kiss me my sweet, I depart, for here cometh the hired man. The hired man loaded up Cecil and sent him away. His mother oinked happily over her son ' s good fortune. And so we leave our hero, merrily riding to Butcher Shakespeare — and close our story. The End

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8 THE CRIMSON AND GRAY Youth Hostels were organized in Germany about 1 892 by Ernest Schirrman, a school teacher. He frequently took trips from Berlin to the country. His love of the outdoors led him to take a few of his pupils with him. Gradually more pupils wanted to come; they wanted to go on longer trips, as well. Together they hit upon the plan which Youth Hostels now follow. This plan is to have hostels leading out from large cities so that the young people can get out into the country and enjoy themselves. The idea spread through Europe like wildfire until, in 1932, it came to America. In 1931 Mr. and Mrs. Monroe Smith were hosteling in Europe. They liked the idea to such an extent that they thought others, especial- ly the young people, would like it also. They sought for and obtained the approval of nationally known organizations end educators. In 1932 the first hostel was opened at Northfield, Massachusetts. The or- ganization immediately caught the fancy of Young America; and, in the season of 1938, more than 4,000 boys and girls enjoyed hosteling throughout the United States and Canada. MISS WALTERS As this is not a history but a tale of events, I had better get started in telling them. Leaving South- bridge August 1, at eight-thirty by bicycle, David Ohlwiler Gnd I arrived at Northfield, a run of about seventy miles, at four-thirty, slightly worn out. That evening, despite my plan to be left in peace, I was forced to join a group dancing folk dances. We danced until ten o ' clock, the hostelers ' bedtime. In the morning our party, which included two boys from Buffalo, left Northfield for points north. We had planned to go north into New Hampshire, but we altered our plans when we discovered that a four mile hill lay ahead of us on that route. We imme- diately crossed into Vermont thinking the mountain too stiff to be tackled by amateurs such as we were. We rolled merrily along on our tour, drinking in the scenery and every available drop of water. We gos- siped with the natives, learning of the scenic attrac- tions and the best swimming holes. If you have never swum in a Vermont marble quarry, you cer- tainly are missing one of the chief joys of life. The fourth day out we passed the Camel ' s Hump, the most striking of all Vermont ' s mountains. Its bald summit cone, its rocky shoulder to the north, and its barren ridge to the south gave the impression of a crouching lion. The fifth day we arrived at Stowe, the ski center of the earth. The celebrities who visit it, among these Lowell Thomas who broadcasted from here a few years ago, consider it one of the beauty spots of the world. David left me here; the end of his vacation had come. I was not alone for long be- cause hostelers are always friendly. On Saturday I climbed Mt. Mansfield, the high- est in Vermont, with a group of Germans. Despite our ignorance of each other ' s language, we got along very amiably. However, I found out that Germans are darned good mountain climbers. Mt. Mansfield is a world in itself. Arctic plants grow here — rare ferns, cotton grass, and many other plants of the heights. From south to north the mountain has the outline of an upturned face which can be seen for miles around. From Stowe I crossed over to Littleton to begin my adventure in the White Mountains. I decided to climb Mt. Washington while my bike was given necessary repairs. Starting from the base station of the cog railway, I started the ascent at one-thirty in the afternoon, arriving at the Lake of the Clouds hut at five o ' clock. Fog chased me all up through the mountains. Next day the huntsmaster forbade us to travel on account of a dense cloud which en- veloped the whole Presidential range; but on the second day we crossed the range, a distance of six miles, in seven hours. This is a feat which I never want to attempt again. On the third day it cleared perfectly and we were able to get some good pic- tures and views. We could see as far east as the Athntic Ocean and west as far as the Adirondacks. From Littleton I rode down to Wildwood through Sugar Hill to Meredith, taking in Franconia Notch end all its attractions. This almost broke me for I arrived at Meredith, 175 miles from home with $1 .25 in my pocket. However my finances did not prove to be a serious obstacle. Meredith is the cheapest hostel that I know of. I stayed here for sixty cents a day includ- ing my meals and a dance in the evening. The cheap rate was possible because the hostel was run as a camp which it formerly had been. Leaving Meredith, I met up with my first catas- trophe; I smashed the front wheel of my bike while avoiding a lumber truck on a narrow road. For- tunately I was able to get a ride into Laconia, bike and all, for repairs. The rest of the trip was down through the rolling foothills of southern New Hampshire through Con- cord, the capital, Keene, and then to Northfield. The next day I crossed Massachusetts down through the Harvard and the Yale Forests, finally crriving in Southbridge at four-thirty in the after- noon. The total trip cost me exactly $27 for three weeks. It certainly was a novel and inexpensive way of traveling, and I am hoping that I may go again to some other sections of the country. THE SNOW STORM Phyllis Swenson ' 39 We crawled out of our holes and looked around. Why, everything was white! There must have been a snow storm during the night! How deep it was. It tasted funny, too! Some of our braver brothers ventured over the first few mounds of the funny white stuff. They seemed to like it. Little by little, more of my brothers crept out and crawled around. What a gathering! The whole town was out, I guess, — or so it seemed. We never had this happen to us before. We ' re used to hav- ing hard, dry ground. In this stuff, our feet sank down. Oh! What a nice feeling! Eat all you want! (They soon scattered, however, when the house- keeper swept up the sugar spilled on the kitchen floor. The ants, (the pests) had crawled all over it.)