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

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CLAIS PROPHECY The date is November 12, 1975, ’.Veils River, Vermont. My airplane landed at 11:00 P.M. I grabbed a cab into town and as I was rather hungry after my ride I decided to get a cup of coffee and a doughnut before I hit the sack. Old Wells River certainly had changed, it was now a bustling community of about 15,000 people. Nothing spectacu- lar, but it was some different than when I left it about 15 years ago to leave for Florida to open a real estate busi- ness. I had always wanted to come back and I finally made it. I walked down the main street looking for a restaurant that was open. I hadn't walked too far when I saw a huge neon sign spelling out HAPPY HOUR in big, bold letters. As I thought back to my high school days I seemed to remember a place of that name, but I didn't think any more about it. I entered the establishment to gaze upon a lavish cocktail lounge with an orchestra playing a sentimental selection up on the stage. I sat down at one of the tables, ordered a good sized meal (although I still wanted my coffee and dough- nut I didn't dare order them) and sat back to enjoy the music. As I let my eyes wander around the room I spied the man behind the cash register near the door. I was sure that I had seen him before but I was not positive, so I ambled up to him and asked him what his name was. When he told me I was embarrassed not to have recognized him. It was Fred Kaiser, an old classmate of mine. I told him who I was and that I was in Wells River on a much wanted vacation. He said that he thought he knew me, but he, as I, wasn't sure. Fred told me that he owned a large chain of restaurants throughout the U.S. and that he was making out very well with them. We talked for quite a while, but it was getting late so I decid- ed to find a place to put up for the night. I found a hotel nearby and slept well all night. I got up about noon the next day and went down the cafeteria to have a quick lunch. As I was sitting there, a person came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned around, whom should I see but Betty Patterson, another old classmate of mine. Fred had seen her and told her that I was in town, so she came to look me up. She said that she was the private secretary to a big oil man who owned the oil wells that had been set up near Wells River. As it was get- ting time for her to get back to the office, she said goodbye and left. It surely was good to see her after allthese years. After lunch I struck out to find a garage where I could rent a car to ride around in. I had noticed a SHELL station the night before, so I thought that I would inquire there about getting a car. When I found the garage I entered the office and saw a man working busily at the desk. I asked him if I might speak to the person in charge, and told him the reason. When he turned around I knew that there was no mis- take as to whom I was talking; it was none other than Ber- nald Mahnker, still another classmate of mine. Bernald said that he owned three of the most modern garages in New England and that he was building five others in different parts of the U.S. I guess his experience during his school days real- ly paid off. He let me have a car for the week-end so I said good-bye and took off to do some exploring on my own.