Westbrook High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Westbrook, ME)

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Westbrook High School '-w Q' W VVhen Tommy arrived at home, he said noth- ing to his father, and the father said nothing to him, but patted himself on the back for having such an enterprising son, and resolved to let the boy practice as much as he wanted to, no matter how terrible the sound. Tommy continued with his work, learning now every day about playing saxophones and about repairing them. In fact, he could now take an instrument all apart and put it back together again. Tommy was Mr. Downey's most conscientious pupil, he practiced in all his spare time and a constant flood of melody seemed to be coming from the Henderson home whenever Tommy was there. Une day, after a particularly fine lesson with Tommy, Mr. Downey said to himself, That boy is going places. Although he doesn't know it, he's the best of my pupils. I think I'll enter him in the saxophone soloing con- test this year. The next day Mr. Downey 'said to Tom, How would you like to enter the contest sponsored by N. B. C. Studios this year? VVould I! exclaimed Tommy joyously. Then added dejectedly, VVhy-yes, but I can't enter. I've taken only thirty lessons. I wouldnit have a chance. Don't fool yourself. I don't say you'll win, but you stand a fair chance. And remember, live thousand dollars and a five-year contract with Rudy Vallee is well worth trying for. 'VVell, hesitated Tommy, I don't know. All right, I'll try. I can't do more than lose, anyway. I'll ask my father tonight. That night Tommy asked for his parents' permission, which, of course, was given, and once more Mr. Henderson patted himself on the back. For two weeks Tommy practiced and prac- ticed. His fingers were becoming so nimble that they resembled electric sparks leaping from key to key. Finally, after much ado, Tommy and Mr. Downey left for New York City, where the contest was to be held. Tom- my's mother did a great deal of talking about his doing his best, but Mr. Henderson's Good luck, son, meant more to him. In the great hall of The Roxy Theater' were a vast number of people, and among them were a good many of the great maestri of the radio world, whose purpose in coming was to pick out additional members for their orchestras. The program began. One after another the soloists stepped up to the microphone and did their bit. How well they played! To poor Tommy it seemed as if he could never equal their performances. Next on the program, ladies and gentle- men, is young Thomas Henderson from West- brook, Maine. As he stepped up to the mike it seemed to Tommy that he could hardly breathe, his fingers were all thumbs, and his mouth was dry. Come on, buck up, he said to himself, I've got to repay Mr. Downey and show Dad. Magically it seemed that he was normal again. He filled his lungs with airg he was off. He wasn't so bad after all. He closed his eyes and all at once he seemed to be in Mr. Downey's office doing his weekly lesson. Blow breath - Blow breath. NVhy, it was coming fine. His heart lifted with joy, his fingers slipped over the keys. His audience Was hushed, as softly, oh, so softly, his rhythm entered their souls. Finally the end-a long, quiet pause-and then-the audience was on its feet. Encorel they shouted, Encore! Unfor- tunately this was against the rules, but at the end of the program the judges announced: The winner of the first prize is Thomas Henderson of Westbrook, Maine. As Tommy started from the wings, a X'VCSt- ern Union boy passed him a telegram. Ex- citedly he read: Good work son stop There's a gold- burnished- saxophone waiting for you stop I take it all back stop L. M., '36.

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A Aqwv The Blue Er VVhite 16 A MUSICIAN IN THE MAKING For the last time, no! You cannot have a saxophone. You've been raving for days and days for one, telling me how quickly you'd learn, but I know better. It will be just like all other things, you'll give it up after you get tired of it, angrily exclaimed Horatio Hender- son, Sr., to his son Tommy, as he rose to go to his ofhce for the afternoon. The junior of the family had been teasing his father for several days to let him take les- sons on the saxophone and also to buy him one. Mr. Henderson doubted the sincerity of his offspringg but the truth was, that Tommy was absolutely serious about music. He loved it and 'intended to carve a niche for himself in the world of music. He had really made up his mind to earn his living with music. Yes, but Dad, music is different from those other things. I like it, and I swear I won't give it up. XVhy, I intend to earn my living that way. A'Very well, then, if you like it so much, go out and earn your own instrument and lessons and become an A-1 player. Then I'll believe you. More than that, when you've proved to my satisfaction that you've done all this, I'll buy you another saxophone, of different pitch from what you'll have. but remember, I have to be shown. Tommy left the house with the intention of doing just what his father had said. At first he went to all the stores about town, seeking afternoon employment, but was quite unsuc- cessful. As he turned out of the last store he had gone into, Tommy suddenly stopped short. I've got it ! he exclaimed, but paused doubtfully. Dare he try to carry out his scheme? There was not much chance, but- anything if he could take up music. He directed his steps toward the establish- ment of the city's best saxophone instructor. This man, L. Downey, repaired and polished instruments as well as taught how to play. Tommy finally arrived at the leader's office. On the door was in plain lettering, Mr. L. Downey, Teacher of Saxophone and Clarinet. He paused nervously. lfVhat was behind that door? How would he be received? These ques- tions flashed through his head, but he said to himself, VVell, it isn't begging, and he can't do more than refuse. Here goes! He opened the door with a firm hand and stepped inside a small, quietly furished room. Why, there was no one there. VVhy didn't someone come? His nerve was leaving him. At last here was someone coming. A kindly- faced, white-haired man came in from an inner room. His sharp, blue eyes smiled at Tommy. VVell, young man, what can I do for you ? Look here, sir, Tommy said, I've got something to ask you. You teach the saxo- phone, don't you? lfVell, I want to take it up. I can't pay for lessons, and I haven't even an instrument, but I've got a business proposi- tion. I'll come here every afternoon of the week and help you to repair and polish instruments. I can mount them and do other odd jobs around here. In return, all I ask is a lesson a week and the loan of an instrument to prac- tice on. Mr. Downey looked at Tommy keenly and silently. Tommy fidgeted. Well, why didn't he say something instead of looking at him in that way? Finally, Mr. Downey questioned, Do you really like the saxophone or is this a joke? Do you intend to work conscientiously on the instruments? Do you intend to practice as often as I tell you ? Before Tommy could answer this volley of questions, the teacher nodded and said, Yes, you'll do. I can tell by looking at you that you've got spirit and that you were born to be a musician. All right. You may begin now. Tommy gaped in surprise, hardly believing his ears, but when realization of his good luck penetrated his brain, he stuttered a thank you and fell to work sweeping the three rooms that made up the establishment. He worked his best that afternoon and when he went home, with the memory of a First lesson in his mind, he carried a saxophone by his side. He had been warned by the teacher to prac- tice diligently for at least two hours a day.

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18 A MORNING ADVENTURE Slim Nason was not a very brave man, in- stead, he was known to be a rather timid sort of fellow. He worked for the City Milk Co., operating on one of their daily delivering milk routes. Slim had been delivering milk on this route for eight years. Nothing had ever hap- pened to him, nor did he ever expect anything to happen. One morning he arrived at the dairy a little earlier than usual. Loading his truck, he started out on the road. Slim Nason was not very often so early as he was this morning. The sun had not yet risen and the neighbor- hood was in darkness except for a street light here and there. He liked to get out early once in a while. The cool morning air made him feel energetic and gave him ambition to want to do things. It is probable that he didn't do this often enough, because he had been in the same old rut for eight years. One of his deliveries was in a large building occupied by stores on the first Hoor, offices on the second floor, and apartments on the third Hoor. It was to this third floor that Slim had to carry six quarts of milk. Usually when he came to this place he growled, but this morn- ing he took the milk and ran quickly up the stairs, whistling all the while. As he neared the top stair, a black tomcat came scurrying around the staircase into the pathway of Nason's feet. Up went his heels and down went the bottles of milk with a crash. Two of them broke. Picking up the glass as best he could, he walked sullenly down the stairs and out to the parked truck for more milk, wonder- ing all the while what bad luck was in store for him, for Slim was a believer in the black cat superstition. As he returned with the milk, he noticed a beam of light from under an office door. Believing it to mean nothing, he con- tinued on upstairs. Changing the milk for bottles, he started to retrace his steps. As Nason started to descend the stairs, a rough voice commanded, Stay where you are, if you know what's best for you, mister. Slim had already started down, I iiuu The Blue G- VVhite but as he peered into the muzzle of a revolver, he decided to halt. Alas! His feet would not stop. The floor was slippery because of the spilled milk. Up went his hands. The bottles left his grasp and hustled downward. His body did likewise. It plunged headlong down the stairs. There was a crash. Tenants appeared upon the scene almost instantly. They saw the mi1kman's body lying across that of the burg- lar. The two of them were stunned momen- tarily. The people took the would-be burglar in their own hands. Slim rose, brushed him- self off, and returned to his work. That evening Slim read: IVIILKMAN PROVES HERO CAPTURES DESPERATE GIINMAN SINGLE-I-IANDED Nason chuckled to himself and thought about the old proverb: Wl1at the public doesn't know doesn't hurt them. To this day he does not know whether a flying bottle or the impact of his body stunned the burglar. But he does know that the black cat must have had a white spot. R. L., '36. LAUGH HEARTILY I have been told that when 1 was a small boy my grandmother would say to- me, Laugh heartily, Bob, and I would laugh, Ha, ha, ha. I have grown quite a bit since then, but now, instead of laughing myself, I like to study the laughs of other people. If you have ever noticed the different laughs of people, you will understand what I mean. About a year ago I discovered that I could not laugh heartily Knot that I can now, but I certainly tryj, so I began watching and listen- i.ng to others. Some men laughed loud, some men bellowed, some just shook with silent mirth, some made a peculiar smile that meant they were guffawing heartily, some opened their mouths until I thought their jaws would be dislocated, and other just tittered between their teeth. There are different sounds to laughter, too, for instance, one can laugh haw, haw, haw, or ho, ho, ho, or ha, ha, ha. This may sound