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

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THE CRIMSON AND GRAY CONTRIBUTIONS from 1944 GREETINGS! Natalie Pierce ' 41 At the beginning of a new year the Crimson and Gray welcomes all freshman, sophomores, juniors, and even seniors to Mary E. Wells and trusts that this year will be a thoroughly satisfactory one for every class. The freshmen who last yecr were members of the staffs of their grade school papers, the Eastford Road Echo, the West Winds, the Charlton Street Chimes, and the Sturbridge Baypath were officially welcomed to the high school with a party given in their honor by the staff of the Crimson and Gray. These people had reason to be especially interested in our magazine because of their experience and ability. We know that many more pupils here in school have writing ability. There ' s a thrill, too, when you see your work in print. One and all, we invite you to contribute to the Crimson and Gray. Come on, you budding poets and poetesses, authors and authoresses! HALLOWE ' EN NIGHT Doris Suprenant ' 44 The spooks and goblins came around To celebrate that night Leaves and nuts were on the ground And the moon shone very bright. They crept to every house And waxed the windows Then as quiet as a mouse Departed on their toes. Every door-bell pealed and pealed And all the babies cried White ghosts ran in every field And many had to hide. And when the cop came around Did they have to run! Many of them were homeward bound, But they had a lot of fun. LOVELY THINGS Lorraine Cournoyer ' 44 There are some lovely things one knows — The cooling touch of fresh, starched clothes, The fragrance of refreshing rain When walking on the hills or plain; Affectionate looks in a puppy ' s eyes, The shine of a necklace that you prize, The scrunch of dry leaves when making your way On a windy October, autumn day; A wisp of curling smoke on snow — These are some lovely things I know. MEMORIES Helen Dusza ' 44 In the eighth grade was I last year, At the Charltion Street School so dear, Blue and Gray were the colors so gay, That we were all in favor of, every day. The softball games, all a victory, The picnics and parties marked history In our school paper, the Charlton Chimes, Published by the pupils, prepared at all times. But now I ' m at Wells, so beautiful, you know, Having fun in rain, shine, or snow, At football and basketball, both thrilling indeed, The parties and dances where all can be seen. I think that the publishers of the Crimson and Gray, All deserve credit for the work they display. And the best high school education, Can be received at Wells High School. HALLOWE ' EN Mary Ziu ' 44 When the moon is overhead You had better be in bed. When the clock strikes twelve midnight A shadow covers the moon ' s bright light. Suddenly there is a little breeze Louder it whistles in the trees. Then you ' ll hear the witch go Whoo! Better watch out or she ' ll get you. Around the town the ghosts go creeping Into every corner peeping. They have on a robe of white That you can see without a light. Children everywhere begin to cry Their mothers wake up and ask them why. We hear a great big noise It sounds like a lot of boys. Go to bed and do not fear It ' s only Hallowe ' en my dear! ALONE Geraldine Ethier ' 44 One night my parents went to the movies so I was left alone. Taking a book from our library, I seated myself in a comfortable chair and began to read by the light of the lamp. I had only been reading fifteen minutes when the front door bell rang. Being alone and knowing it was not my parents, I became greatly terrified. As I looked through the parlor window from which we could view the porch, I saw a black shadow facing the door. I decided not to answer, but the ringing kept persisting. Waiting a while longer and realizing that the ringing had ceased, I again looked out the window and observed the same tall dark shadow slowly descend the steps and disappear. Great was my relief when my parents returned home. However, I have not as yet discovered who my strange caller was.

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NOVEMBER 1940 LITERAT URE Dear Diary, Thanksgiving Evening The wounds of a friend are most painful. I found this to be true after my sad experience today. This morning I awoke to the calls of my kid brother, Willy, who takes great pleasure in tormenting me. After hurriedly dressing, I dashed to the dining room, where our small family was assembled. Before I could greet them, however, the doorbell rang; and, excusing myself from the table, I ran to find Skitchy, my so-called boy friend, waiting impatiently. Come on, Judy. The game starts in fifteen minutes. Why, hello, Judge Pearson! How are you this morning? Fine, thanks, Skitchy. Judy, I ' ll be down at the office if you should want me. Good-bye. So long, Dad. Be seeing you at dinner, and don ' t you keep the turkey waiting either. The door closed and Skitchy and I were left to wail for the time of the big game between our high school end our strongest opponent. ' I hastily finished my breakfast, with a few words of disapproval from the housekeeper, and soon appeared warmly attired in a sheep ' s wool fur coat with a plaid scotty hat to match the plaid suit concealed under my coat. In high spirits we ran off to join the other members of the school who were already assembling at the gates of the athletic field. Coming towards us in her usual carefree manner, was Elouise Sangren, the unpopular drone of the Junior class. Seeing it was useless to try to escape her, we somewhat unwillingly consented to her sitting with us in the midst of the Packer City High School cheer- ing section. The day was very cold for this time of the year, and the crowd was utterly disappointed with the sup- posed outcome of the game. We were just going to give up and go home to a warm cup of cocoa after the middle of the fourth quarter when our team made a play that tied the score. Seeing there were only two more minutes to play, all eyes were focused on the star halfback, Terry Chandler. Now he is my idea of a man! He had achieved much success for the team in past victories by scor- ing during the last few minutes of the game. He has only lived in our town for a little over a year and is an honor student in the senior class at school. He was the leading man in the senior play, which turned out to be the best play ever produced in our high school. And so it was today that the decisive touch- down was scored by him, bringing us a 1 3-6 victory. Oh, what a joy! Everyone was so excited. Bells were ringing, horns were blowing, people were shouting, including Skitchy and me, who did our share. In fact everyone was in a very happy mood. As we joyously marched off the field behind our faithful high school band, I noticed Terry hailing me. There being quite a distance between us, I could moke out only these few words, Dance Tonight -8:30. I nodded, bewildered, for an invitation from the hero of the day was considered an honor. I cannot express my feelings at that moment. It was like a dream come true. Imagine my going to an important dance with such a person as Terry! It was unbeliev- able. However, not until later did I realize the situation. Because of the morning ' s events, I ate my turkey dinner with special enjoyment. In the middle of the afternoon, Skitchy drove up in his jalopy. In order to save a lot of embarrassing questions, I ran into the kitchen, filled the ice-bag, and placed it on my head. By this time Skitchy was already at the door. Telling him to wait just a minute, I ran up to my room, slipped into my housecoat, a beautiful blue silk which father and Willy had given me for my birthday and in which I look too fetchingly delicate. Finally I descended the stairs to answer the insistent ringing of the doorbell. I put a drop of lemon juice near my eyes to make them look red and held a lacy frilly handkerchief to my nose. When Skitchy saw these evidences of a cold, he hastily withdrew his invitation to go riding and, warning me to get rid of it quickly, dashed off. So relieved was I at his leaving before the housekeeper found me entertaining in that rig, that I dashed upstairs to prepare for the big evening to come. At 8 o ' clock my excitement was at its peak. The most gorgeous flowers had arrived a minute before, making the dress, a new one from Dad, complete. My head whirled as I flew from one room to the other. As usual, little brother was underfoot. In the midst of my excitement, the doorbell rang. As I hurried to the door, I wondered if I had mistaken the time of the invitation. To my amazement, upon opening the door, I found Skitchy. It came to me in a flash. Skitchy, because he had been going steady with me since practically the beginning of high school, had taken it for granted that I v as going to the dance with him. How could I ever tell him that I was going with Terry Chandler? I could just imagine the look that would appear on his face when I would tell him. Well, I had to break the news so . But just then, at that moment, my wise little brother came running in and blurted out What are you doing here? She ' s not going with you, she ' s going with her handsome foot- ball, hero, Terry Chandler! Skitchy ' s smile faded in a second. For the first time in history he believed my brother, for without waiting for an explanaton, he turned and left. His abrupt departure didn ' t dismay me at the time, for I was too taken up with getting ready for the Victory Dance. At 8:35, the telephone rang, and I was surprised to hear the excited voice of Elouise, telling me that Skitchy had just asked her to go to the dance. Dis- mayed, I slowly hung up the receiver. I was a little hurt because Skitchy and I had been going together so long but I did not think about this for long, for at that moment I glanced out the window and saw a sleek maroon roadster pass the house. I was shocked when I saw that the occupants were none other than my handsome hero, Terry, and a vivacious looking girl beside him. In a daze, I ran up to my room and threw myself on the bed. Review- ing the situation, it dawned on me that the girl next to Terry in the car was the one who had stood direct- ly in back of me in the march. It was to her that Terry ' s invitation had been directed! How can I explain this to Skitchy? JUDY, THE JUNIOR

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NOVEMBER 1940 THE TOILS AND TRAVELS OF KIRBICUS Chapter 1 1 I Run for President And when I had left the lend of the devil I came upon the land of Molehillonia, where every one lived in an oversized mole hill. And when I had entered the town, verily did I soon see a sign saying, WANTED — A CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENCY OF MOLEHILLONIA. Of course I read ly applied and did find out that my worthy opponent was the noted Yehudi. Now I knew that Yehudi would be well known, so I set about making myself popular. I gave out lollipops to the business men, cigars to the children, and tin badges to the racketeers. When election day came, I was locked in a mole hill. I could hear people going to vote at the polls owned by a company whose sales motto is PLIABLE PORTABLE PLASTIC POLLS FOR VEXED VIGOROUS VITAL VOTERS WHO VOTE FOR CANDID CUPIE CAGED UP CANDIDATES. At night they let me out and I learned that I had lost by a score of 100 to 99 44 100% — pure dismay was mine. When they calle d for the new president, an in- visible voice said, Here I am. All the people shouted, Who ' s Yehudi? He snickered and said, The shadow knows. Then I left for Massachusetts. This time I decided not to run for president again. A PROPHECY FULFILLED Betty Swyncicki ' 42 The wind was howling and piling masses of thick, black ciouds close to the water. It screamed through the taut rigging, ripping the sail out of Derry ' s frozen hands and flapping it outward with a report like an exploding gun. Giant waves tore at the tiny, frail craft, hurling it upward to the inky clouds that hung low over the water. Derry made one more stab to grab the wildly flut- tering sail and was knocked flat as the next wave caught the catboat on the broadside. Hang on to it y ' weakling, shouted Jed, his black eyebrows contracting angrily. Do y ' want to swamp us? Derry, the breath driven from his body, tried again but his reach fell short. Jed with en oath brought the sail in; Derry crawled aft and swept the raging wa- ter. The distant rocky shore did not seem to be get- ting nearer. There was a sneer on Jed ' s face as he shoved Derry aside. Y ' er as useful as a landlubber, he flung out scowling. Not paying attention to this retort, Derry called, Aren ' t we heading in? The storm ' s getting worse. Huh, just as I thought! Jed rasped, You ' re scared! He then threw back his head — this was life — mastering the sea. No, answered Derry steadily, not scared but Dad will be worried, knowing we ' re out here. Let ' s head for shore, Jed. You ' re scared right through, Jed answered, you ' re a coward, he spat as a sheet of salt spray stung their faces. Ye can ' t even fight. Maybe so, replied Derry, but Dad says there are other kinds of courage besides physical. Bah! snorted Jed. You ' re just yellow! Finally Jed grudgingly admitted that they must head for shore, or be capsized. Hang on, we ' re going to shoot the reef! he shouted. Derry gripped the gunwale but said nothing. In calm weather the Spikes were a dangerous shot; now it would be suicide. The little boat shot ahead. Rain began to fall driven by a gale that flung the drops against the boys ' faces. Jed yelled in exultation. He ' d show who was master! As Derry clung to the rail, he opened his mouth to give a warning; but the w ; nd tore the words away. Standing out a short distance from the reef were two slender rocks — The Spikes. Separated by a few feet of swirling water, they presented a grim significant picture, a picture that held a great, strong fascination for Jed whose eyes were glued on them in determination. Whoopee! he yelled above the wind, watch me put her between the Spikes! They were hurtling toward this death with a racing speed as the waves flattened themselves out on the nearer rocks. Don ' t! Derry screamed trying to restrain Jed. You ' re crazy Jed! You can ' t make it in a gale like this! Jed laughed and yelled, Sit tight, we ' re going through. Now they were between the fang-like Spikes and then came a rending crash which heaved Derry into the sea. Jed was knocked over the side by the loose sail. The boat, out of control, spun around and as a wave appeared and struck it, it vanished. Dazed and gasping for breath, Derry felt himself banged against a rock. Desperately he clutched a smooth surface. At length securing a foothold, he drew himself partly up the slender spike. The swirling waters ripped at him in baffled fury. Where was Jed? Derry was alone clinging to the slippery spike with all his might. Then he heard a gasping cry, Jed, he called, Jed — here! Jed ' s head showed bobbing toward him, his face white with fear, and his lips moving in a soundless cry. Derry clutched his coat as he was swept in and drew him up with one arm. Jed was weak and ex- hausted. My arm, he gasped, broken — oh-h! Derry was practically numb trying to hold the limp form of his comrade — Jed grew weaker. 1-1 can ' t hold on much longer, he sobbed. His arm was swelling fast and Derry would soon support both of them. Jed, he said, Jed, we ' ll beat the sea. Just hold on a little longer. I ' ll try to swim to shore for help. We ' ll beat the sea, Jed, he said with a fierce voice. Jed nodded in understanding but no hope flickered over his ashen face. Derry tied Jed with their belts to the rock before slowly loosening his grip on the slippery surface. Im- mediately the angry sea tried to take possession of him. A cold slice of moon broke through the clouds for a moment, its pale light picking out two bedraggled forms hugging a slender rock. Then darkness, as the clouds rolled together. When dawn was graying over a quieted sea, a single figure showed dimly plastered to the Spike. The half-frozen boy raised his head; he heard the put of the motor launch. He shouted feebly, his glazed eyes searching the water. Then his head fell forward. The boat slipped alongside. Willing hands got the almost lifeless body on board and carried him below deck. Must ' ve ran smack into the ' Spike ' , observed one of the men. Jed always had a hankering for that reef! Boat ' s under — smashed, added another. Sup- pose poor Derry Shield is, too. Yeah, retorted a voice, well how did Jed get tied to the Spike ? He don ' t wear two belts, and he has a broken arm!