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

Page 23 text:

Westbrook High School in I 2' that piece of horsefiesh stayed on level ground. Unfortunately, he wasn't of the same mind as I was. His knowledge of geometry taught him that the shortest distance to the barn was a straight line. Well, at the first fence he cleared, a foot of daylight appeared between the saddle and myself 3 at the second fence, I lost everything but my hold about his neck, and at the third, everything went. Strangely enough, my landing wasn't half as bad as I had expected. I lost only part of my shirt, one shoe, stopped on the way for a mud pack, and dislocated my wrist, not to mention a broken pair of spectacles and the disappearance of a leg of my trousers. Thus encouraged by this ability of mine to nego- tiate safe landings from four-legged tornadoes, I determined to take up horseback riding as an art. L. M., '36. QUEER PERSON He's queer, we said, always doing something Crazy. We can't understand him. Last night We couldn't find Old Jim. Hunted all over town For him. Know where we found him? In Jeff Saunders' house, on the other side of town, Rocking Jefivs youngest child to sleep and telling Stories to those other young ones that'd make your eyes pop out. Old Jim, sitting in Jeff Saunders' house On the other side of town where those people lived, Whose doings were the whispered gossip of the village! And at Jeff Saunders'l We did think he had More sense than that! We dragged him away, And when we got him outside, we gave him A good talking to for being where he was. About halfway through we stopped. There was a hurt look In Old Jim's eyes: Couldn't understand it. Remembered several times before when we had scolded him like that. D. K., '36. BIG BEN The Big Ben Alarm Clock Company sponsors an interesting fifteen-minute program on Sunday nights. It is original, interesting, and entertaining. For me, however, this program revives an un- pleasant memory. The announcer illustrates the two feature clocks of the company in these words: The regular alarm clock wakes you gentlyg first it whispers, like this, and he sets off the ringing apparatus which produces a soft sound. If you fail to awaken, then it shouts, continues the an- nouncer. Once more you hear the alarm, but this time it is a steady, loud noise. If this can't get you out of bed, persists the announcer, then you need a Big Ben Loud Alarm like this. Follows a wave of noises similar to a fire truck hell which should make any man jump out of bed if only for the sake of interrupting such a racket. This ex- hibition of various alarms may be pleasing to the sponsors of the program, but as I previously men- tioned, it hurts me deeply. And it all dates back to five years ago when I was in New York City on a pleasure trip. My young uncle, with whom I lived, left for work before I could get up. He had told me the night before that I should meet him about twelve o'clock in front of the Brooklyn Metropolitan Theater. F rom there we were to go to dinner together. I remembered these instructions well, but I had no watch. And how was I to meet him at twelve if I had no, way of telling time? I certainly couldn't stop people on the street every ten minutes or so to inquire what hour it might be. There was a fireplace in my room and over it, as over all fireplaces, and a small mantel. Exactly in the center of this mantel rested a small-sized Big Ben alarm clock. And what did I do but take this miniature clock and put it in my pants pocket. Through the! streets and avenues of Brooklyn I walked all that morning with one hand in my pocket so that the Big Ben wouldn't be noticed too much. I felt as if everybody were staring at me in a strange way. The click, click, click seemed to cover the millions of noises about me. Even the milkman's horse's hoofs produced a mild sound in comparison with the clock move- ments in my pocket. Click, click, click-I can still hear the infernal noise through these five years past. The worst experience was yet to come. Came noon hour and I had forgotten the fixed ren- dezvous with my uncle. All I was certain of was that the place represented a busy and well-known spot in Brooklyn. I paraded in front of the Roosevelt Hotel, the Fox Theater, the Chin Toy

Page 22 text:

20 j The Blue fu- VVh1te spirit, the sad look in his eyes struck a responding chord in my heart. I-Iere, I said to myself, is a horse that has lived, a horse that has seen life and found it worthless, but more important than this, a horse that will understand my melancholy na- ture and will realize that circumstances Cover which I had no control whateverj made me at- tempt horseback riding. The circumstances, I night explain, were two very impetuous friends, Paul and Dick. They had swept me off my feet, and before I realized it, I agreed to go with them horseback riding. And there I Was, as a result, standing in the middle of the floor of a somewhat second-rate riding establishment, regarding a four- legged creature which, despite its promising evi- dences of safety, might turn out to be a world hero simply by breaking my neck. I questioned the stable master as to the advisa- bility of taking him, and he assured me that even if I had the choice of all the horses in the world I couldn't have chosen a better mount. CI have found since then that the horse was the last one in the stable.j So I had him saddled and bridled and was ready for the momentous occasion. Well, there you are, said the stable man, and left me. Yes, there I was. But what was I sup- posed to do? How was I to get on? My friends outside were calling impatiently for me to hurry. I tried to get on, but the horse kept sliding away nervously every time I tried to mount Q so I pushed him against a wall, placed a box beside him and jumped. But as I jumped, he jumped- the other way. The result was a jumble of saddling around my neck from a hook on the wall. Finally, I called to Paul and Dick and they came and helped to hoist me aboard that eel, Tiny. The minute I was in the saddle something told me all was not well, however, I couldnlt back out on my friends, and being of Scottish descent I wouldn't forfeit my money without a ride, no matter how disastrously it might turn out. VVe rode down the hill on which the barn was located and wound down a little valley till we reached a great level stretch of pasture land. By this time I was congratulating myself on having chosen such a good mount. I even went so far as to say, VVell, Dick, I guess you'll have to admit that I'm a pretty good judge of horseflesh. Now, look at Tiny here, he's got a wistful look in his eyes. I'll bet he's never had a good master. What he needs is a guy like me. Yeah? Well, wait till this ride is over before you start bragging, answered Dick. But this retort didn't bother me very much, be- cause Dick hasn't such a fine nature as I have, and I can forgive people like him, because they can't enjoy life as I do, or rather did till I took up horsemanship. We rode on a few rods and just at the edge of the pasture I decided to lengthen my stirrups 3 consequently I took my feet out of the irons and started fumbling with the straps. In doing this I also let go of the reins because I needed both hands. At this opportune moment, Paul's horse took in its head the idea of doing a bit of trotting, so Dick's horse started trotting, and then Tiny started. Well, you can imagine how I felt, no reins, no stirrups, not even the ability to stick on. Suddenly it struck me that the neck of my horse was a very advisable place to anchor myself. This I proceeded to do by the simple expedient of wrapping my arms around that member. I'll ad- mit that it wasn't a very comfortable position, with my glasses dangling from one ear and my hat jammed over the other, but it had its points because it made Tiny so uncomfortable that he stopped. With a relieved sigh I straightened up in the saddle, and Tiny, seeing how far away he was from the barn, broke into a canter. Then I understood that wistful look in his eyes. Nothing could keep me in the saddle but a stranglehold around his neck 3 but when I did this, that fiendish animal started to gallop so fast that the grass tickled his stomach. I started to pray for a safe landing: however, my eyes were so dizzy from the reeling ground that I couldn't gather my thoughts, much less pray. Despite my plight. I wasn't going to .give up without a struggle: so I bit my teeth in his mane, hugged him tighter with my arms, and dug my heels in his sides. I might mention, at this stage, that I was tak- ing a pounding comparable only to being tackled by two football teams simultaneously, but a little thing like that didn't bother me at all. Only a blast of nitroglycerine or a derrick could have removed me from the saddle, that is, as long as

Page 24 text:

The Blue fa- White 22 Restaurant, the New York Sun Life Insurance Building, and many others. I watched a whole nation of people pass byg I may have seen jimmy Walker himself, for all I know. But of my uncle I saw no trace. The best thing to quiet jangled nerves, which you may be sure I had by this time, is a good din- ner. In New York they call it luncheon, but I made a whole meal of it. Then I felt I needed a quiet spot for my siestag so I treated myself to an afternoon at the theater. 'Twas in the Fox Theater. Shall I ever forget the place! As I entered, the vaudeville was on and the small-town boy's eyes popped wide open. It was magnificent. Came time for the news, the comedy, and finally the feature picture itself, Daddy Long Legs. I was having the time of my life. That is until-l Oh, yes, until. That's where Big Ben comes in. Up to this time I had felt at ease. In the dark of the theater no one could see my swelled-up pants pocket. I had taken a seat away from everyone else so that the click, click. click wouldn't be noticed by anyone save me. The persons near- est me were two negro girls of whom I could dis- tinguish only the pearly white teeth. But sud- denly disaster struck. While Warner Baxter was so charmingly making love to Janet Gaynor on the screen, a soft ringing noise was heard in the theater. Then the din grew louder and louder until it almost shook the roof, it seemed. A burst of laughter rose. The love scene was forgotten. Even Warner Baxter and Janet Gaynor seemed disturbed. Needless to say, it was my alarm clock which had been causing all the rumpus as it rang with a triumphant bellow. The clear ringing sound changed to a brr, brr, brr, when I succeeded in covering the clock with my hand. all the while trying to find the check alarm lever. By this time an army of ushers were pointing their flashlights in all directions, trying to find the cause of this untimely vaudeville act. But I was down on the floor, all in sweat, holding the infernal device with one hand through the cloth of my suit and with the other hand pushing back the lever. Fox Theater was once more silent. The stars of Daddy Long Legs regained the attention of their audience. The ushers dimmed their spot- lights and the laughter ceased, although not en- tirely. I waited for a few minutes while lying on the floor. Then I plucked up enough courage to sit down once more. My face and neck were of a burning red in the dark. My hands were moist with sweat, my heart beats rivaled the din of the click, click, click of Big Ben in my pocket. The picture lost all its allure to me and I decided to leave. I tried to be brave, I braced myself to ap- pear nonchalant as I walked out of Fox Theater. The head usher faced me, barring the exit. I knew I was caught. To my surprise he graciously handed me a folio, listing next week's pictures. I stumbled back to the apartment along the streets and avenues of Brooklyn. First it whispers, then it shouts. If this can't get you out of bed, then you need a Big Ben Loud Alarm. I'll always remember one which had the three effects all in one, loud alarm predominating. A. F., 236. THOUGHTS OF MISS BETTY VAINMORE If Greta Garbo can become famous, I also should become famous. I have a perfect figure, And my feet are not too large. My talk, although it has no foreign accent, Draws people to me like a magnet. My features need no altering. My hair will need no bleaching, And my dramatics are inspiring To even a college professor. I could even pass as a foreigner To make me more romantic. With all these characteristics I should become an actress. F. A., '37. ,-it-1-1 HENRY'S MECHANICAL WOMAN Good old Henry Ford! He is the only man who has yet succeeded in creating for the benefit of the public a real mechanical woman. I mean a mechanical woman that besides being able to walk when one button is pushed and stop when another is pulled, and bow, and shake hands, and kick, has a soul not unlike that of a human being. I refer to none other than that species of Ford car which a few years ago