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

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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!

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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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THE CRIMSCN AND GRAY The first mate made a gurgling sound. His fellow men looked at him in wonderment for his lips tremb- led and his face was white. Have you seen a ghost? inquired one. He shook his head, then they bent forward to catch the mumbling — School-annual-book-the prophecies, Derry Shield. What do you mean? they all questioned. The man looked at them, then raised his ashen face towards the two Spikes and said in a strained voice, Derry Shield, a boy loving the sea, will be a captain, and a hero by saving somebody ' s life and paying with his own life! When the crew heard this, they too raised their eyes with reverence to the place where Derry had last clung, while a mist gathered over their eyes. The Spikes now fast disappearing in the distance, had won the gruesome fight of the night! The masters of the sea ! THE RHYTHM MAKERS Thomas Walkinshaw ' 42 One of the strangest orchestras that I have ever heard is The Rhythm Makers. It so happens that I saw it only once, but that was enough to make an impression on me. It came into Nick ' s Candy Shop one night about two weeks ago when I was busy drinking a lemon coke. There were five boys in the band, all about ten years old. The tallest one, who seemed to be the leader, played the harmonica and car ried the melody. Two other boys had rigged up arrange- ments similar to bass fiddles, but much cruder. In- stead of using strings, they played their instruments by slapping a rope which in turn caused a large in- verted wash-tub to vibrate. The fourth member of the band had two ordinary teaspoons which he used to great advantage. His job seemed to consist main- ly of making as much noise as possible and he really did his job well, although some help was obtained from the fifth and last member. His equipment in- cluded a wash-board and several thimbles. His ability to make this combination sound musical was really astounding. I enjoyed hearing them play not only because, strange as it may seem, they played fairly well, but because they seemed to enjoy playing as much as I did hearing them. After playing Polly Wolly Doodle and several other numbers, they passed the hat and collected somewhere in the neighborhood of $1.50. Then, thanking Nick and the rest of their audience, they went on to some other store. TICKETS FOR SALE Miriam Renaud ' 41 The meeting adjourned in regular form. Thus it was that the student council of Wedgewood High School unanimously voted to have their annual semi- formal the week before Thanksgiving. And it was thus that Madge, hurrying from the auditorium to first period class, was bowled over by an apparent terrific force from the opposite direction. Blushing furiously, stammering apologies, shy, bashful senior, Lance Manning disengaged himself from the tangle of arms, legs, battered heads, and scattered books. G-gee whiz! That ' s a dangerous corner. Are ya hurt? Awkwardly he helped the laughing Madge to her feet. No bones broken, she responded, but you look rather worse for wear. What ' s the trouble? Forgetting her haste, she leisurely sat about col- lecting her books waiting for a reply. Aw, gee. I know this ' ll seem awful silly to you, you ' re such a whiz in math but here I ' m taking algebra I for the fourth year and I just can ' t seem to get it. I ' ve used different methods every year — even changed teachers but it just won ' t click. That ' s a shame. Wish I could help you. Well, so long, be late for first period if I don ' t step. Half-way down the corridor, Madge snapped her fingers and a blissful light filled her face. Why on earth hadn ' t she thought of it before! She could ham- mer, pound, and pour equations and unknowns into Lance ' s head if he would buy a ticket to the dance from her. Still, she had her doubts as to his approval, for he ' d never mustered up enough courage to kill a fly, to say nothing of asking a girl to a dance and actually going through withit — but even so, the idea had possibilities. Madge impatiently waited half an hour for Lance, while he sat sorrowfully listening to an explanation of the next assignment. When he finally appeared, the downcast, dispirited look in his eyes gave Madge courage so she imme- diately launched the question. Still having just as hard a time as you were four years ago, huh? Maybe we could work out an agree- ment. Say I go over your algebra with you every night for the next term if you promise to buy a ticket to the Semi-formal. They ' re only one-fifty and pass- ing marks in Algebra certainly ought to be worth that much. But, Madge. I can ' t dance. Dance! I ' ve nev«r been to a semi-formal and besides, who would I ask? Don ' t be silly, you goose, goaded Madge, you dance well enough if you just remember you ' re not pumping water and that others are on the floor. As for girls, plenty would jump at the chance. (How she wanted to add — you ' re looking right at one now!) Why, there ' s Mary, and Sally, and Ann, and Doreen, and loads of others. But then, if you feel it a waste of money, why, I don ' t see why I ' ve even considered wasting my time. With that she quick- ened her pace, anxiously watching Lance out of the corner of her eye. Wait, don ' t go. Maybe I could polish up my dancing. I ' d give anything to pass algebra. We could start right now and see how the tutoring works. So they spread out paper and books and got down to business. Within half an hour Lance looked as though the haze had cleared. Golly, when you explain things, they seem to sink in and make sense but with old pussyfoot (making a gesture) his ten ton words couldn ' t bore through steel! Madge needed only to smile complacently. The lessons continued with growing vigor. Lance at last saw algebra in a different light and was show- ing marked improvement. October soon gave way to November, and a week before the dance Madge, confronting Lance with the ticket, finally demanded payment. Have you decided on your girl yet? she ques- tioned. Well, sort of, in a way. I mean, that is, if she ' ll go with me — I don ' t suppose you could help me write a note to her. I ' m rather wary of asking her outright. Say, am I playing secretary as well as teacher? Where ' s the paper? And thus it was that Madge composed the in- vitation to the dance to an unknown girl from the fellow she had hoped to go with. A lump rose in her throat as she handed the finished missive to Lance.