Wells River High School - Chatterbox Yearbook (Wells River, VT)

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me now. Maybe before I get any further I ought to introduce myself to explain things. 1 am a pure bred Jersey cow!!! JANE ROWDEN, ’52 WRHS- WELLS RIVER HIGH SCHOOL - 1973 It is now 1973 and there has been such a change in Wells River and Wells River High School that anyone who has been away from here since 1951 as I have, wouldn’t recognize the place. An apart- ment house now stands where the schoolhouse formerly was. The grade school is located in w'hat we used to call Rowell s field, adjacent to Clark’s house. It was built in 1962. The high school and the new gymnasium are on the first flat near the reservoir. The school was built in 1962 also, but the gymnasium was built only three years ago. It is not as hard to get up there as you might think because the road was built over and hardtopped making it possible for cars to meet. Wells River High School is now a Class B” school. The new building has attracted more tuition students than ever before and the population of Wells River has more that tripled its 1950 status since copper was discovered near Rowden’s farm. When I was looking through the new building I came across a list of boys who were kept on the base- ball squad after the cuts had been made. I recognized a few names. It seems that some of my old schoolmates still live around here. The team is coached by none other than Charles Bud’ Marden. There are four Boyces on the team, one more than when I played. There is a Bidwell, a Gonyer, a Kaiser, a Demeritt, two Sulhams, a Currier and a Hitchcock. They are playing St. Johnsbury Academy this evening and I want to see that. The baseball field is in the same place but it is as fancy as any Major League ball park (lights and all). Mr. Cornth- waite is still principal and Mrs. Gibson still teaches English. They must like teaching. All in all, I like everything about Wells River even more than 1 did in 1951 so I think I will move my offices here. It is much pleasanter here than in Chicago and I want my children to go to school here. HORACE SYMES, JR., ’51 — Fourteen —

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Johnny yells out, Oh, Benny, come quick, I’ve caught a brook trout!” All morning they wait the big surprise To see who will get a whopper When all of a sudden Benny cries out, I’m going to take a Hopper.” They both get a beauty In spite of the splash. And think their girls snooty Because they don’t laugh. MARY EGNER, ’53 —WRHS---- MY PRIVATE LIFE I was born about two years ago now. Gee, how time flies, but I can remember practically every day of it. While still quite young (I can't remember just how old) I left my mother and moved to the place where I now live. Here I seemed to get along fine with everyone except the dog. Since I was no lover of dogs this one was no exception. Had I been able to get close enough to him I would have given him a good kick. After I had been cooped up all winter, how good it seemed to get out in the spring. After three or four months of spring and summer as the grass looked greener on the other side of the fence” I got into trouble. One time in particular, I remember getting lost and I was afraid I d never find my home again. I was soon retrieved by my mas- ter. The first winter I was here my master brought into my bedroom a rather small dark brown box. In a minute from the box was coming a noise like that my master makes; then there were noises like those of the birds with more to it. To this day I don’t know what that box was but I became quite attached to the bird sounds it made. Today, I was loaded in a big box-like thing and now I am moving along jostling from side to side. I wonder what’s going to happen to — Thirteen —

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A PREMEDITATED ACCIDENT Johnny had it all planned. There had been no room for mistakes. It was all just like clockwork. For several months he had carried it on his shoulders; now the burden would be lifted. You see, Johnny had a wife. A simple error which had long needed correction. Some- how he had struggled along through three long years of bitter, quarrel- some marriage. They never seemed to be at ease when they were with each other yet Helen would not let him get a divorce. She seemed to like to make him suffer. Two months ago he had met Mary and suddenly it was even more unbearable. It v as then he decided that Helen had to go. Mary had been attracted to him just as he had been to her. He could tell she did not like these secret meetings, but he never mentioned killing his wife. If it was possible he didn’t want Mary to know about it. All his nights for the last month had been spent in the basement workshop of his office. There he had constructed a small but power- ful explosive unit. This explosion itself should be enough to kill any occupant of the house and the resulting fire would finish the job. It would be just another mysterious explosion that was always regrettable but unexplainable. He stood in front of Mary’s hotel. Somehow it all seemed hum- orous and he couldn’t help smiling. It was now 3:30 and in thirty minutes he would be a widower. Slowly he entered the hotel and went to Mary’s room. When she didn't answer his knock, he unlocked the door and went in. She was not there. Probably out shopping he thought. He saw the note when he got a cigarette off the coffee table. Johnny, I can’t stand this sneaking romance any longer. I want you to be mine, but I want everyone to know it. Because of this I am going to see your wife. I feel sure she will under- stand and give you a divorce when she knows about us. I will be back by 5:00. MARY PHILIP CURRIER, ’52 Fifteen —