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

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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

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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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VVestbrook High School i 19 queer to you, but listen next time you are at a party. An old man may cackle heh, heh, heh or eh, eh, eh, and a baby will coo ga, ga, ga. Then, of course, there is that ironic sneer, eh -eh-eh -. Although it's not a hearty laugh, it sometimes is the only one that some men know, and then again there is that Popeye growl, arf, arf, arf. It sounds like a dog's bark- ing, nevertheless, it's a hearty laugh. But of all these I have never been able to choose oneg and so if any of you good readers hear a good hearty, resounding laugh, will you please send it to me by registered mail? And don't forget to insure it, for a good hearty laugh is valuable. R. K., '36. STUDENT REVERIES BILLIE JONES! FRESHMAN I am Billie Jones, a freshman. This is the second assembly that I have been to, and be- cause I was not guite sure of the meaning of the three bells, I was rather late in getting into the main room. Even so, I found a seat which had been overlooked by others. I sat down, but had not been seated long before an upperclass- man came along and said, Clear out that seat, freshman! Don't you know you're supposed to stand up? Gther upperclassmen laughed and said to the one who had made me give up my seat, That is telling them. I blushed, partly from anger and partly because of em- barrassment, and thought to myself that I had been played for a sucker. I found a place, leaning against the wall. and here I listened to the calling off of the honor cards. I did not have the least bit of hope of getting a card even though I knew I had done pretty well in my studies. Therefore, I was very much surprised when the principal read my name. Walking across the floor I took the card extended to me. Turning, I straightened my shoulders and walked proudly back to my place. The latter action I did to show 1ny superiority over some upperclass- men and especially the one who had taken my seat. R. L. MICHAEL BLAKE: S01-HOMORE I'm Mike Blake, a sophomore. Assemblies don't arouse much enthusiasm in me. In fact I skipped the first one we had this year. I was in one of the lower rooms when the assem- bly bell rang, today. After returning my books to my home room, I tried to skip out of school, to avoid attending a dry old assembly. My plan did not succeed this time because a teacher guarded the door. Slovenly I walked up the stairs. At the head of the stairs the principal stood. I-Ie motioned me to hurry up and get inside. In turn I gave him a surly look, which, could he have read the thought that went with it, would have caused him to tell me to come back for that afternoon. I joined a crowd of fel- lows who were blocking the doorway. They, as well as I, were not interested in honor cards. Therefore we made noise enough to annoy the speaker and the audience. I don't care about honor cards, and I never expect to have one. Only sissies get them, anyway. R. L. PAT MICK: THE CLASS COMEDIAN I-Iow different we are, Pat-you and I. Should I envy you? You are but a freshman, and they say that you'll change after you be- come used to high school. I wonder if you will, Pat. I don't think so, not immediately, any- way. You are different. It seems to be your nature. I-Iow indifferent you appear to be. Nothing seems to disturb your peace of mind. But is your mind at peace? What chaotic thoughts run through it? Everyone tells me that nothing can hurt- your feelings, that you take life as a joke, that you never think of the future or dwell in the past, only the present. How wrong they are! I know you too well, Pat, to believe them. You are very sensitive but you dislike to show it, therefore you have built an exterior that will conceal your true feelings and you appear to take everything as only a joke. You hate to have people know that you study, yet you like to. You would rather have them believe that you dislike to study. Everyone enjoys your humor and your