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

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NOVEMBER 1940 There, do you think you ' ll be able to copy it or would you like it typed? With that she left the bat- tle field of defeat. The next morning the sun shone brightly, every- one was in a gay mood, with the exception of Madge. She trudged to school with lagging steps, dreading the moment when she should discover the unknown girl. The schoolroom seemed dark and cheerless, but suddenly all that changed as she lifted her desk cov- er, disclosing a tiny note which read: Madge, Would you? Lance FIFTY DOLLARS Robert W. Proulx ' 41 If I had fifty dollars, I know exactly how I would spend it. I would first buy a 1929 Chevrolet, now on the market for $10, then register it for $25. Having spent a total of $35 for the car and registration, I ' d now have $15 for painting and sound equipment. First, I should be able to paint the car a vivid red covered with names in white for $5. With my last few dollars, I ' d buy a horn that I have always wanted, the kind with three tones, at an outlay of $9.97. These purchases would leave three cents, just enough to mail in my registration. IT JUST GOES TO SHOW Mary Ann Hazelton ' 42 The sun shone down on Kensington High School with a brilliance equal to gold, but inside in the lock- er room, a gloom had settled upon two young men who conversed there. They talked in what seemed a pointless conversation. Hank, who wore his name on his sleeve, was speaking. Have you seen that new girl in school? Boy! ! She ' s a — . Yeh! I saw her, interrupted the second boy, Jack, a tall blond boy, often called the Viking type. She ' s all right except for that sweater she wears; it ' s too red! She ' s in lots of my classes. She hangs around me all the time. I think she wants to know me. Me, too! She ' s always around me. She ' s a pest. I hate girls and everything to do with them. Me, too! They ' re poison! Well, let ' s go! Nothing doing around here. Okay, come on. Jack and Hank departed; but, despite their words, their thoughts lay in the same channel, How to get to know the new girl better. Next day in math class, as Jack slid into his seat, he heard a friendly Hi from the seat behind him. Turning around, he cast a startled glance at two sparkling blue eyes, a pug nose, rosy lips, and golden hair that framed the face turned toward him. As Hank ' s eyes were upon him, he managed a grunt that threw cold water on any friendliness that Babs, his heart ' s desire, held for him. Later, Jack, running through the school corridor, in the same way ignored the attempt of friendship by Babs. Each boy, just to impress the other, snubbed the new girl. Secretly, each wished the other struck dead leaving a clear field with Babs. Their manner continued through the following days until sudden- ly both Hank and Jack realized that other boys were aware and conscious of Babs. Dismayed, Jack, real- izing that something must be done about the at- tentions of the other boys, struck upon a bright (so it seemed to him) idea. The next day at the end of the second period Jack towered threateningly over young Batsie, who shout- ed, But 1 don ' t like girls; I hate them! Batsie ' s small crew cap, perched on red hair, crowned a mass of freckles sprinkled plentifully over the bridge of his pug nose. It ' s blackmail — but I ' ll do it, he added. I know you ' d go and tell on me to Stinky ' s father about that initiation, if I don ' t. All you want me to do is go around with that girl, that right? Yeh! You get the idea. Just carry her books home, and go to a couple dances, replied an earnest- faced Jackie. Oh, m ' gosh! Dances. I don ' t think she ' s going to like that. I ' m not such a hot dancer. You ' ll do it! answered the conspirator, then walked away. A few hours later in the afternoon, Batsie was again engaged in conversation. This time his pal (?) was Hank. The talk was similar to the one previously held with Jack. Although Batsie thought the whole affair very queer, he did not tell of Jack ' s request to Hank or vice versa. Next week, Batsie reported his progress, telling a similar story to each boy. Babs is swell! She ' s got — what do you call it? Personality? Of course, I still hate ' women. ' They ' re poison, all except Babs, of course. Yes, I ' ll do it for a couple of more weeks. Say, last night we sure had fun. We went roller skating and the night before last — Wow! Both Hank and Jack wondered if, perhaps, Batsie wasn ' t overdoing his job; but because of the obvious homeliness of that particular young man, they thought no more of it. At last, as all things do, the event of the year, the Christmas Dance, rolled around. Jack, deciding some- thing must be done, wrote a note to Babs, inviting her to the dance. Dear Babs, (the letter ran) I ' m awfully sorry about the way I ' ve been acting this week but I ' ve been having a little trouble with Hank. You see, he doesn ' t like girls and I have to ignore them so I ' ll get along with him. But I think you ' re swell and I won- der if you could go to the Christmas Dance with me? Write me a note and don ' t tell Hank. Love, Jack P. S. Don ' t mind Batsie. He ' s a pest. Jack gave the note to Babs who, receiving it, wore a surprised expression during the following days. Half of that surprise was caused by a note from Hank written in a similar vein, for Hank had decided that Babs would love to go with him. Both boys walked on air the next days and were exceedingly polite to each other. Finally, word came from the front. With a friendly smile spreading over her face, she handed each of the boys a note. Dear Hank, (Jack) I was really pleased when I saw your note. I ' m awfully sorry about the way you acted, but let bygones be bygones now. Maybe the rest of the year will make up for it. Love, Babs P. S. I ' m going to the dance with Batsie. The two boys as they stood on the steps of the school looked at each other in bewilderment. To think of old Batsie pulling a stunt like that. Wait ' ll I get hold of him. Well, it just goes to show what girls are like. The following day, after sleeping the matter off, their conversation ran like this: Say, did you see Joe ' s sister? She ' s all right! Boy! Didn ' t notice her until this morning. I ' d like to date her. Me, too. The boys were off on the track of a new romance. Well, this just goes to show you what boys are like! !

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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.

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8 THE CRIMSON AND GRAY THE DISSECTION OF A WATCH Francois Roy ' 42 Yesterday I decided to dissect my watch. A twist of a small screwdriver was enough to pry the back off. Another twist and the crystal fell to the floor, breaking into a thousand pieces. Next came the hands, which I broke off, for this seemed the easiest way to remove them. After removing a few screws, I learned that it is very painful to be hit in the eye by a snapping watch spring. By this time I noticed that the watch had stopped ticking. Unable to remove all the wheels and things inside, I decided to finish the job once and for all, which I did with the use of a hammer. That day when father came home, he taught me not to attempt to operate on things which I knew nothing about, and above all, to make sure that the object is my own and not my father ' s. THE STORM Frank Chipman ' 42 The storm did considerable damage in our neigh- borhood. All night a howling gale laden with sleet whirled around our house by the shore. It was pierced by the crash of falling trees, mixed with the thunder- ous roar of the surf pounding itself out on the black locks at the entrance of our inlet. Every few seconds one could see the light house standing out in the fre- quent flashes of jagged lightning. Then came the mournful wail of the fog horn as it rose and fell with the ocean swell, warning ships of the reef covered with the foam of breaking surf. Finally toward dawn the storm died down. The sun rose in the morning only to reveal desolation and wreckage where once before had been a beautiful Maine village, shaded by gigantic elms. BEAUTY IS AS BEAUTY DOES Jean Robertson ' 42 It was a mild spring day as Jim Barton and Frank Adams walked back from lunch hour to their classes at Carter College. As usual, Jim was trying to con- vince his friend that he should ask a girl to be his guest during Senior Week. Frank was president of the senior class, had the lead in the class play, and was an outstanding member of the football squad. He was a typical college boy, tall, with curly brown hair that never stayed in place, broad shoulders, and a captivating grin. But he appeared unusually serious today, and Jim knew that he had nearly won his point. But don ' t you know any nice girls back where you came from? he queried. Oh, sure, Frank replied, but I don ' t think I ' d want any of them up here all week. Why don ' t you write to your sister? She ' d know plenty of nice girls, and since she ' s coming up any- way for me, she could bring along a friend. Frank thought over this helpful advice in silence. Then as firmly as he had before refused, he replied, That ' s exactly what I ' ll do. I trust Helen ' s judg- ment and she ' ll know whom to bring. May 27, 1940, the day that marked the begin- ning of Senior Week at Carter College, dawned clear and warm. All Carterville was in a state of subdued excitement, for tonight was its grand senior play. Frank Adams was no exception. Only the evening before, he had received a telegram from his sister asking that he and Jim meet the 6:40 train. She would say no more, and Frank was constantly won- dering whom she would bring. The two boys fairly flew down to the depot at the appointed time and, within two minutes, had travelled the mile and a half leaving a trail of dust in their wake. The train pulled in on schedule, and out pour- ed a stream of babbling girls who had also been in- vited to Carter by their college boy friends. Frank was the first to spot Helen and rushed forward eager- ly to greet her. Jim was not far behind. Helen had brought a small but beautiful girl with her, who had the most golden blonde hair either of the boys had ever seen. Helen explained that Betty Fuller had just recently moved to Japlin and had just completed her senior year at high school. Betty was a perfect contrast to Helen who was a dark haired, blue-eyed Irish girl. Frank was enthralled and scarcely took his eyes off his date all the rest of the way home. That evening at the play Betty wore a brown dress, just the color of her eyes and was the subject of much conversation throughout the campus. They say that she ' s Frank ' s girl, isn ' t he lucky? I always thought that Frank ' s sister was pretty, but who ' s that beautiful blonde with the brown eyes? The play was a complete success, and at the in- formal dance following, both Frank and Betty were surrounded by a crowd of people. Frank thought that never in his life had he had a more enjoyable time. But their tennis date was not kept the next morning, for Betty was swept away by a crowd of admiring young men and Frank was en- gulfed in a surge of feminine admirers. Nor was their theatre date a success. They seemed always to be swarmed by a crowd of human bees. At the restaur- ants, they were surrounded by visiting friends. At house parties, they were the center of attention, as well as at dinners, the baseball game, and even around their dorms. Frank was getting sick of all this attention and had begun to wish that Helen had brought up a girl who was a little less becutiful. H ' s sister, noticing his glum expression the day before the prom as he was sitting alone under a tree by the river bank, quietly inquired, I ' m sorry you don ' t like her, Frank, but you ' re so popular yourself I thought that Betty would have a grand time up here, as well as make you hap- py too. Oh, it isn ' t that, Helen, her brother replied heartily. It ' s just that I like her a lot, and I haven ' t seen her alone since you arrived. Right now she ' s out canoeing with Bill and Ted. I guess she ' s just too pretty for me. My only hope is that I can give her a good time at the prom. I ' m sure you will, Frank, Helen answered cheer- ily. Ever since I first showed her your picture back home, she ' s been dying to see you and was very hap- py and excited to be able to come up here with you. She thinks you ' re tops. Gosh, really! Are you sure she said that? Say! Don ' t you think that she ' d like orchids instead of just gardenias tomorrow night? Just you wait and see if I let any of those fellows get near her tomorrow. Gee! I ' d better go up to my room and get my things laid out. Tell Jim where I am, he flung after him as he ran up the dorm steps. Helen laughed joyfully as she watched his mad flight and turned happily back to her own house to get her own affairs straightened out. Expecting to be alone, or at least to find Betty with a swarm of boys, she was frightened when she found her sprawled out on the bed, her hair mussed and rumpled, her eyes swollen and red with tears. Why Betty dear, what ' s the trouble? she cried, I thought you were having a good time. Quietly the younger girl sat up and sniffed mourn- fully, Nothing. Of course I ' m having a good time. Wonderful, in fact. Then defiantly, And I hope he ' s happy. Every single day, he made dates for me with other boys. I guess he never really wanted me