West Bridgewater High School - Climber Yearbook (West Bridgewater, MA)

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fly a kite! Did the teachers have to write when they were kids? I wish this were the genii and magic — boy! Here comes Mrs. Nabor to basketball game was corking last nigh). I ' d I know what Amy ' s going to wear to the dance. 11 oh yeah, Hal, you look ' swellagent ' with your hair plastered down, but may I ask what you Used on it? Sis ' perfume? Whoo! This is rich! By the way, who ' s the new girl friend? Say, — am I supposed to be writing or not? Not? — Correct! ' Silly Sue and .Jolly Joe are in deep conversation when a sinister shadow, lurking in the background ' — aw heck! Sis has left the radio going, Tim is talking to himself — no, maybe to me about x, y, and z, Dan is whistling, ma is singing and I ' m going crazy! Here comes the gang to go skating, but I ' ve got to get this done — wow! No I don ' t! Where are my skates? Yes. I ' m coming! Whew! What a narrow escape! Oh no, nothing at all, nothing at all, — only did you perceive with your observing eyes my sister-in-law with her tribe of Indians entering as 1 left? C ' mon, I ' ll race you to the pond! — Maybelle Nelson, ' 37. MY VISIT TO THE STATE POLICE (Written for Civics Class) Five bashful girls went slowly up the driveway leading to the West Bridgewater barracks of the State Police, walked into the office, and asked to be shown around. Sergeant Rapport immediately received us with great hospitality. He led us first into the teletype room where we were met by Officer Ripley. The teletype room is a small one containing three fairly large machines: one for receiving State House messages only; the others for receiving messages from, and sending them to. sub-stations. The keys on these machines, somewhat like those of a type- writer, are used to send messages. The upper part of the machine has, within, keys which strike against the rolls of paper in that part of the machine. Records of all the messages are kept in huge file . Officer Riley showed us how a message was sent to the other barracks and to cruising cars. He picked up the mike, so to speak, and repeated these words: W. P. E. L. testing. W. P. E. L. test- ing. W. P. E. L. signing off at 2:22. W. P. E. L. signing off at 2:22. He told us that it is necessary to repeat each sentence twice in order that all cars and sub-stations may get the message correctly. We were then shown a board which is hung upon the wall. The board, about four feet by six. is divided into several columns in which is placed such informa- tion as the personnel of the barracks, the duties of the officers, their vacations. — everything, in short, in order that the officer in charge may know the where- abouts of each man at any time. After viewing this chart, we journeyed through the clean kitchen to the filing room, where we saw- several files bearing the records of all the arrests made in recent years. Each card in the file con- tains the offender ' s name, the date, the reason (briefly , and the name of the officer who made the arrest. and have then When the i olor of theii unifoi - of the local poHc ng much pi;, to them. Each man bai two unil Upon I highv.. affic, attend n val oi many oi elL The requirements which must be met b for the patrol are very exacting: a man must be twenty-one. somewhere near one hundred and fifty pounds in weight, and five feet four inches in height, before he takes the physical exai tion. If he passes that, he is given a menu He must train for three months in a tx camp, after which he is placed on probation ; for three months. If a man is tough eno ..• this, he becomes a full-fledged State Policeman. We girls enjoyed our visit to the bar the State Police, and I am sure we now unri : their work better. — Barbara Mansfield, ' 38. SOME CAN AND SOME CANT! Last summer I spent a memorable tv camping out at Wild Harbor. North Falmouth. My camp mates were Bob Anderson, six fee- all bone and muscle, and Don Snow, a sir.- of excess baggage. Any one of us could pass a radio education test with a mark of one hundred percent. : Girls, if you i poor fish ) would land Clark Gable gasping at your feet — ' Eat yeast for breakfast — Use Lifebuoy soap, because your best friend won ' t tell you ' — ' See your dentist twice a year. ' would you like General Johnson ' s job? Nothing could be simpler! ' Learn to play the saxophone in six easy lessons ' — ' Get a lift with a cigar ' Drink Maxwell House coffee ' Get a lift with a Camel has an appeal all its own. and every male and ninety-four percent females of our age and generation fall for it with- out a thought of tomorrow. Old Man Depression plus a bankrupt employer had left us without much money, but not without good old Mother Invention. Bonehead Bo; gested that we get our lift with a pipe. We ambled over to Silver Beach and invested quite heavily in smoking paraphernalia, then hurried back to camp to try the lift. Dill ' s Best may be good tobacco, but ; prove it by me. Bob and Don worked on the principle that if a little was good for a lift, a lot would put them in Guy Post ' s class. — Well. it have been my cooking, it may have been the - and it may have been the heaving of the - that was the cause of it all. Supper was not very well patronized. Bob made - and rather rapid visit to the beach, swift, in spite of the handicap getting into the woods.

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Juniors. ... In their second year they were allowed the use of a small room in the Seminary building, later being transferred to our present Freshman home room, which served as the study hall, while our library, teachers ' room, and supply room were their recitation rooms. . . . In the spring of 1883, through the influence of Dr. Edward Everett Hale, the Trustees engaged, as supervisor of the new school for girls being opened, Miss Helen Magill, who served until 1887 when she resigned to marry Mr. Andrew White, the president of Cornell, who later became the Ambassador to England. Meanwhile, the teachers of the high school had been released, and all interest was cen- tered on the Institute, thus allowing two and one- half years to slip by in which there was no public high school. . . . September of 1888 brought the reopening of school for town pupils with the extremely large enrolment of twenty-four. Under Mr. Horace M. Willard, who served for three years, the name of the school was changed to Howard Seminary. A frequent visitor to our institution about this time, and a good friend of Mr. Willard, was Samuel Smith, the famous author of America. 1893 ushered in the publication of the first school paper, The Whisper, — rather a modest name in contrast to The Climber of today — don ' t you think? This pioneer contained themes and reminiscences, a History of the School to Date, and a number of advertisements, one of which caught my eye — E. P. Dunbar Always Wants Old Hens. On glancing through our present school magazine, I find Mr. Dunbar ' s name still listed in the ads. . . . In 1898, Miss Sarah E. Laughton became prin- cipal — reigning supreme for fully seventeen years. It was during her term, in 1913, that the schools discontinued the joint use of the present high school building — the seminary retiring to Drury Hall, and the town pupils, under the guidance of their new principal, Miss Bertha Lawrence, continuing to attend classes in the brick building. In 1917 we find Augustus H. Smith the head of the school — he who is remembered for presenting the girls with the interclass basketball cup. ... At this time, also, a physical culture class was intro- duced and letters presented for basketball awards. The growth of the school, the rise in its stan- dard, and the additional requirements in the advance of education were the contributing factors tending to increase the cost of maintenance beyond the means of the Trustees. In 1917 and 1918, there- fore, the town had been contributing to its support. But new provisions in the Constitution of the Com- monwealth stated that further contributions from the town were prohibited while the school was in the hands of the Trustees! A new problem arose. Would the public once more have to go without its one school of higher learning? .... No. On March 8, 1919, the Trustees and the town of West Bridgewater drew up an agreement which stated that the school should pass into the control of the town, and that the Trustees should contribute to its support in accorddance with their means For the modest consideration of one dollar the Trustees placed at the disposal and use of the town its building and all the equipment; and in addition to keeping these in good condition, they promised to furnish the light, heat, and janitor service. Under the new name, Howard High School, the institution was to maintain its former high standard of education To one of the early students of Howard High School who might today stand gazing fondly upon this memorable edifice would come the realization that the years have wrought many changes in it. Yes, Howard High School has changed. This fine old brick structure has taken on a new air in the last years — an air of dignity, and reserve, and age. It stands aloof on the little mound of grass with its beard of ivy clinging to it, and looks down upon us insignificant humans who deem to criticize or judge it. The interior has been greatly altered — from the old gymnasium on the top floor which is now locked and barred, through the rooms of the first, second, and third floors, which have received many improve- ments, to the gymnasium in the basement, in which bleachers have been built to accommodate our enthu- siastic basketball fans. The Girls ' League, Students ' Council, Orchestra, and Lunch Counter have been among the important innovations in our school since 1919. But changes in appearance do not count. This is still Howard High, still that generous gift prompted by the kindness of one man ' s heart. I confess, I had never realized, until just recently when we be- gan this intensive search into the history of our school, the deep debt of gratitude which we owe to Benjamin Beal Howard, the founder of this in- stitution, and the Trustees, who have fulfilled so ad- mirably the duties bestowed upon them by his be- quest. — Esther Peterson, ' 36. WRITING A COMPOSITION Mother, what can I use for a title? Oh, where iu- she? Doggone! Now-ah — ' As she gazed dreamily at the moon she thought ' — what was she thinking — ? Sis, quiet that radio — will you? — ' gazed at the moon and thought — and thought — thought ' — that ' s no good. ' While Burly Bill and Subway Sam sneaked into the bank ' — Scram! Fido, darn it! Now look what you ' ve done to my skirt. Where was I? — Ah — er ' One day in mid-summer ' — Gee, — if it weren ' t so cold, I ' d go skating. No, Tim, I don ' t know what x, y, or z means; I didn ' t take algebra last year so I can ' t help you. ' As Chief Needahbeh silently stalked his foe ' — what, mother? — ' a slinking figure was dodging behind him. ' You want me to do the dishes? Woe is me! I ' ll never get this composition done. Golly, washing dishes takes a life-time. What plot was I writing about? I wish Don would stop- that noise he calls whistling. Sis, oh sister, here ' s- your boy friend. Rest awhile, she ' ll be down soon, in an hour or two — . ' As the romantic Romeo sang his song, two black alley-cats ' — that will never do. I wonder if mother will let me go to the party next week? Can ' t you understand English, Tim? I don ' t know anything about algebra! I ' m not shouting! Aw — go-

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How about me? Well, fortunately, my pipe was a lemon. When it was made, the manufacturer had evidently neglected to connect the hole in the stem with the bowl— with the result that the pipe would not draw; therefore I was not made sick. To this day, if I want to be particularly obnoxious to my two friends, I just remark, Ain ' t it the truth? Some can and some can ' t. — Arthur Nelson, ' 36. DADDY ' S LETTER A little boy about four years of age toddled into the room in which his mother sat. Approaching, he asked, What mum doin ' ? I am writing a letter, my dear, replied the mother, looking up from her work. Can I write letter, too, mummy? No, dear. Please go into the kitchen to your sister. Mother is very busy. Oh, mum. I want to write a letter to daddy. If I send it, will God give it to daddy? asked the child. With tears in her eyes, the mother took a stamp from the table. Kissing the child ' s forehead, she placed the stamp upon it, and said, Now, you are daddy ' s precious letter. Really, mummy, really? exclaimed the child. Yes, my dear. Now run along, daddy ' s precious letter. The excited child ran off to find his sister. To her he said, Look, Mary, — I am daddy ' s letter. As she did not look, he walked out-of-doors to tell some- one else. Down the street he wandered until he arrived at the post-office. He advanced to the stamp window, and, standing on tip-toe, addressed the postmaster. I am daddy ' s letter. I want to be sent. My daddy lives with God. The postmaster looked at the child who stood gazing up at him. A perfect angel he seemed — golden haired, blue eyed, rosy white complexioned - — and, on his white forehead, a stamp. Smiling, he answered, Well, well, you want to be sent to your daddy! I am afraid you are too large a letter. Can ' t you send me to my daddy? asked the protesting child. No, sonny, I am very sorry but I can ' t, an- swered the postmaster. The little yellow head slowly drooped. Turning toward the door, the child said, All right — then I will go to some other postman who will send me, — and as quickly as he had come, the blue and gold disappeared. The postmaster sat down with the image of the child still lingering upon his mind. A moment later he heard shouts and shrieks. Rushing to the door, he saw, disappearing around the next corner, a pair of runaway horses. Then, suddenly, a pitiful sight met his eyes. In the center of the street through which the horses has just rushed, lay a still form of blue and gold. Daddy ' s letter was on its way. — Cornelia Micha- lowski, ' 38. ANTHONY ADVERSE Have you read ' Anthony Adverse ' ? Yes, I always make it a point to read the best books of the year. Well, then, do tell me what happens to him after he leaves the convent. Well — er, — ah, — oh, he just ah — er — oh, yes, he dies in the end. Oh, I know how it ends! I always read the last chapter first; then I can see what bearing certain events in the first chapter have upon the story. Anthony Adverse is certainly a much discussed book — one which every up-to-date individual feels that he really should read. Truly, it is a worthwhile book, but it has one distinct drawback — its size — for it contains exactly one thousand, two hundred and forty-four pages. Verily I say unto you that I firmly believe that of all the people who have obtained the book from public or private libraries, or even of those who have purchased a copy for the grand sum of three and one-half dollars, ninety-nine percent have read only the first and last chapters — even as I. — Priscilla Lovering, ' 36. yHONoiH High Honors C. Rubin, E. Peterson Honors Seniors— N. Gillespie, B. Pope, E. Porter, R. Tuck. Juniors— V. Baxter, B. Bruce, R. Chadwiek, P. Lovering, C. Morse, A. Phillips. Sophomores — W. Ballsdon, M. DiGiano, N. Hurley, M. Nelson. Freshmen — N. Crossman, B. Mansfield, P. Peter- son. JUSTICE Justice is one of the masculine virtues. If a man is square he is true not only to himself and his friends, but even to his enemies. It takes a really big man to give fair play, even-handed justice, be- tween some fine fellow whom he loves and another fellow who is not so fine and whom he does not love — yet the world is full of men who do it. Pre- judice is a most difficult obstacle in the road of any man who is trying to keep his relations with other men square. Reasonableness is the lubrication of life, and is a Virtue that appeals to men when found in other men. It throws a clear light on many diffi- culties, sets things in their true proportions and shows how small the small things really are. Our Advertisers J p Will Appreciate Your Patronage