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

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1 The Blue fu- VVhite 20 happy smile. You enjoy pleasing your friends with your patter. You consider it a pleasure to be called the class comedian. Do you lie awake nights thinking of good jokes? Do you obtain your witty remarks by listening to the radio? Your life is just one big playground, to all outward appearances, but I know you well, Pat. I know how easily you are affected, how you look into the future and plan to be a suc- cess, how you and I talk of the past, and how sober you can become. You believe in con- cealing your true feelings and emotions-so do I, but not in that fashion. How different we are, Pat. Should I envy you? I-I. M. OSCAR VVILSGN : JUNIOR I was seated on a bench outside the princi- pal's office, waiting. I was waiting for my friend, who had been caught along with myself for skipping school the day before. I was a junior and it wouldn't be long before I would get bawled out for the third time in my high school career. I was feeling pretty gloomy as I knew I would get suspended for the rest of the week. As I sat there, I looked up at the bust of George VVashington, on whose head someone had put a felt hat. I thought to myself, I'd sure like to be like you, George. You never told a lie. I haven't yet, but probably shall have before the whistle blows again. Gosh, George, but I'd sure like to be under your hat! VVell, it won't be long now .... My friend came out the door. As he headed for the coat room I knew what I would get, probably deservedly. C. T. SENIOR: AGED SEVENTEEN Once I was inspired. These very walls seemed to urge me on. They said, Young lady, where are you going? 'Tm going to college, walls, said I. Then my life lay mapped before me, brilliant with success. High school was an insignificant age through which I was passing. Bigger and better things loomed be- fore me. I was going to college! I worked hard in preparation for all that was to come, pour Ina grande education. Then came the crash, the blow that ruined everything. Today I walk the hallways, once luminous with inspiration, now barriers of despair. My books seem heavy on my arm. And I say to myself, just where are you going ? I answer me back, To work, of course. To work, where I'll earn that 'heap big moneyf I know I'm down, but I'll work my way out. If Dad did, then so can I. I'm not afraid to labor, if that's what I must do. After graduation I'll get a job. Big things then will start coming my Way. ' But will they? I review conditions as they have been for the last few years. In my imagi- nation, I can see lines of young men and wom- en at the doors of every employment agency. They're hungry. They want work. But there is no such thing. Work must be a thing of the past. Behind the headlines is news that never reaches the press: suicides, murder, robber- ies- characters of college men are broken be- cause they are hungry and cold. And they all utter the same complaint, No work. So I say to myself, Just where am I going? F. K. ALLAN BLAKE: A STRANGER IN A NEW ' ENGLAND HIGH SCHOOL I always thought it would be fun to go to a new school and meet new people. Of course, I hated to leave my old friends but I expect to see them again. When new people came to our school, everyone tried to see who could be the nicest to them. NVe invited them everywhere we went. We accepted them with a welcome they never would forget. VVe had student mixers for them to get acquainted with every- one. Teachers made things easier for them by kindness and a great interest in everything they did. If a student was sick, it didn't make any difference who she was, we always sent her round robbins and cards and flowers. VVe always made certain that someone went to

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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

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Westbrook High School A ....... . I 1 - - i see her if she was able to have company. The teachers went to visit her often. It didn't make any difference who she was. But it is different here. I wonder why. I ask people, but they don't seem to know. New England people are different. That's all, I guess. They're so distant. If I try to join them-well, I just can't, that's all, I feel like an imposter. Is it me? No, other new students have told me the same thing. Students don't seem to mix here. They go in groups, and when these groups get together it seems as if they have hung up a no admit- tance sign. Maybe they don't feel that way. I wonder if they don't. It's probably just their way. I go to their socials, I join their clubs that are open to everyone, but I always feel like a visitor. They speak to me, yes, but then every- body speaks to a person. I wish I were back in my own high school, where I hated to miss school because I might have to miss being in the Dramatic Club plays. And even if it were a large school I had ever so many friends. There somebody came every night to get their lessons with me or go some place or make candy and dance. VVe always had a swell time together. It didn't make any difference who came. VVhen we had school dances, which we had almost once a week, everybody mixed, and danced, and had a Swell time. Oh, why can't these people be like that? NVhy must they be so distant and certain peo- ple make you feel like they're too good for you? VVhy? Oh, how I wish I could make everybody join together, like each other, and have parties where everybody comes and joins in the games and dancing. But here, what am I trying to do? Change these cold, seemingly heartless, distant people, who have been the same through generations, and will be for many more generations? I don't believe they could have a student mixer here because half would be sitting around the side lines, quiet and probably bored, not knowing what to do with themselves while the rest talk in a group, and a very select few dance. I'm so glad I was born and reared where people have such good times. If I had been born here, I would probably be the same. E. H. ToM GRAY: ONE OF MANY I am sad. Yes, indeed, I am sad. When youth should be for me the carefree, jovial and selfish period of my life, I sit by the radio listening to a three-men debate. And what connections have these debates with my sad- ness, you may ask? VVell! I'll confide in you. It may even relieve a little of my sorrow which is slowly strangling my youth. In school, they teach me to love my Amer- ica. I am constantly reminded of men such as Vllashington, Lincoln, McKinley, who con- tributed to their utmost to make their country the land of the free, the home of the peaceful, and the anti-chamber of the heavens. They labor, in classes, to teach me the phases of the constitution, which should lead my life to the betterment of myself and my fellow citizens. They- plead, in my courses, to instill in me prin- ciples of honesty, devotion, unselhshness with matters concerning my United States. I hear of respect for my president and his associates, notwithstanding the party to which they belong. Yet on the radio I get acquainted with facts of the day. I hear of Baruch, Mellon, Dupont, who have contributed to make their country the land of the slaves, the kingdom of the am- munition manufacturers, and the most vivid resemblance to hell ever depicted. I am told of proposed amendments to add to our Consti- tution, amendments destined to terrify and clishonor our generations to come. I am con- vinced by, facts and figures of the dishonest, heathen, and selfish policies of our plutocrats. Baruch appears to be the active president of these United States I love, while the one who should be has to give way to the wishes of a corrupt cabinet of politicians. These debates I hear may be exaggerated, but they sadden me. I want my America to be what the school