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

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, .,$ j PorvLs ' v ' . ' ' )■■ MY GARDEN Life is a garden planted « it h eed Each act, a flower; each leaf, a deed Love is the bright spot; faith grows beside it. Hope is II ' golden key; charity finds it. —P. I).. ' 37. THE LONELY RIVER Little river, lonely river, Make your way out to the sea; Can ' t you hear it gently calling — Calling softly just for thee. Little river, lonely river, As a small blue sheet you go. Do you see me standing, waiting, Watching you as on you flow? Little river, lonely river, Let me join you on your way As you ripple ever onward — Take me, river, please, I pray. HE DIDN ' T KNOW He cleared his throat and fixed his tie; He looked the teacher in the eye — What was the question, teacher dear? Somebody moved — I didn ' t hear. — Oh, yes, I see. Now let me think — It was a case of swim or sink! He couldn ' t think — or he ' d forgotten — His recitation? It was rotten! — L. J. THE HURRY UP MOTORIST He reached the garage and hurled open the door; Then he tripped on the sill and fell to the floor. He picked himself up and got into the car. Settled back in the seat, and lit a cigar. He started the car in the usual mode. And took both garage doors with him to the road. He drove up the street in a terrific tear . Missing two trucks by the width of a hair. He passed three policemen as onward he sped. Not heeding four stop lights of most brilliant red. As he traveled ninety per through the main street, A mean blow-out bounced him right out of his seat. With a resounding crash his car hit a tree — He ' s now doing nicely in ward twenty-three. The tree and the car and the motorist, too, Have asked me to pass on this story to you. Why? — so that you ' ll take care. Aide olde I booh I i m i to man. Th - I • him twenty years. The • book is a series of claj a pockel notebool . ea b em • which had to be chi] ing from a period I •• fore Christ, the book ie part of the n little-known Hittite Empire, and explain. bJtl baffling mysteries of ancient civilization. The tfl were dug up in the ruins of the Hittite capita Angora. Turkey, with other letters and documents, all inscribed on sunbaked day and Bled away jtut as a modern business firm keeps its records. The writing was done while the clay was soft. When a tablet was to be sent any distance powder was sprinkli the text and the tablet wrapped envelope. The powder prevented sticking, and the recipient broke off the clay wrapper with a thin chisel. The text, as Dr. Lutz found it under the clay en- velopes, was in the cuneiform or dartlike characters oi ancient writings. • • The habit of snuff taking by women is growing rapidly in England, not only among the poor and middle classes, but in society, too. A prominent sni ' ff manufacturer says 65 per cent of the snuff T is bought by women. It is most prevalent among the cotton workers in Lancashire mills, and girlf women can be seen handing their snuff other for a pinch, which they find is a me,-, clearing their nostrils from fluff that ;-. bend over their work. With society women it is dif- ferent, for they take it secretly. They never admit the habit, but there is a widespread demand for boxes, which are carried in the same vanity bag as the powder puff and lip stick. Bells are among the most ancier. r producers known to man The Smithsonian I tion has just issued a handbook on musical instru- ments, prepared by Miss Florence Pen-more, in which we are told that all musical instruments, varied and highly developed as they are. can be reduced to four simple classifications. They include sonorous instru- ments, such as gongs, bells and rattles: wind ments, beginning with the flute and ending with the fearsome saxophone: stringed instruments, ranging from the banjo to the piano: and vibrating mem- branes, including drums, tambourines, and throat horns. The Library of Congress at Washington. D. C- contains more than 3.420.000 books a: besides maps, pieces of music, photograpb - numbering about 2.000.000. It is by far the library in the western hemisphere, and | world. We have no reoes - - available at presen„ outside the United S

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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

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CSfr chool j ews w triors Digging Up the Dirt — a perfect comedy, with a perfect cast — Miss Weeden for our coach, and Miss White for business adviser. Is it any wonder that all eyes and ears are focused upon this momen- tous production? Who would for a moment think of missing Charlie Rubin as Ken, our dashing hero, or Natalie Gillespie as Betty, the adorable heroine? You ' ve never seen such comical comedians as Merle Hurley, who portrays wise-cracking Bill, the newspaper man, Erland Porter as Professor Roger Hallock, the archaeologist, and our inimitable Lillian Kerr, who, as Aunt Miriam, simply worries Roger to death — and everyone else, too. The sup- porting cast is as follows: Nan and Jane, friends of Betty, Pauline Stock and Helen Pillsbury ; Sheriff Carson, Adolph Cheyunski; Jose Andredas, a bad hombre, Walter Noumi; Allan, Betty ' s brother, Wil- liam Gibson; and Phyllis, Allan ' s sweetheart, Ruth Tuck. Who could want for more? ' Nuff said! See you there? Not much to say — Not much to do — But here comes the Sophomore news to you! School year more than half over — do you realize that? Proud to say, however, that the Sophomore class has done its part in putting over all that has been put so far this year. The chosen committees have done very well in keeping our room clean and attractive — but I can ' t say the same for a few individuals who delight in keeping their desks looking topsy-turvy — it seems that the girls rather than the boys are the culprits. What about it, girls? Do you wish to maintain that reputation ? Great effort was shown by the Sophomores who drew posters for the Chief Needahbeh program, and also by those who brought more than the required number of cakes for our P.-T. A. assessment. We ' re glad to aid a worthy organization. Can ' t think of an appropriate closing rhyme, so I ' ll just say, So long! • ) M tf £ %r4merv Coming! Coming! Far in the future it may seem to us now, but it will be upon us before we know it. What? The Junior Prom, of course! And, with our able class officers, Warren Gardner, Priscilla Lovering, Esther Peterson, and Barbara Bruce, head- ing the various committees, and each of the res: of us doing our share, how can it help but be the biggest and best ever! A Junior really lives for the two social event of the year for which he is re- sponsible, you know — (that is — besides his routine school and extra-curricular work) — the dance and the promenade! Well, we ' ve given you one — and the other ' s in the air. Until then! Teddy R. (that high-powered salesman) : Yes, my dear lady, I have here a cute little canary bath. I am sure your family will enjoy it as much as the bird. Last, but not least — even if we are the tiniest! (Edwin Gibson excepted.,) There ' s a depression in our class roll. We ' ve gained one boy, Fred Holyoke, and lost two girls, Anne Howe and Muriel Clark, recently. We shall all miss lively Muriel and pleasant, agreeable Anne. And how! We are a class of champion salesmen. Did you see our record in the magazine drive, the Christmas card drive, and the Climber subscription drive? The number of Climbers which we sold, more than one hundred, was one big reason for the scarcity of extras. We have more than salesmen, however. We ' re proud of our good students, musicians and athletes — and with spring in the air, we ' re sure that we ' re going to make still better records. Mr. Frellick: Well, Mike, how many ribs have ,i? Mike: Twelve, including the spare rib. What kind of a dog is that? It ' s a police dog. It doesn ' t look like a police dog. Nope, he ' s in the secret servic