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

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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

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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

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Westbrook High School I .. 23 was popularly known as a rattle trap or puddle jumper. I am thinking especially of a 1920 model that could run on its looks. It is because of this car that I am such a capable mechanic for the age of seventeen, for I drove it before I was old enough to have growing pains. But to get back to the subject, I know that car had a soul because it was such a familiar thing. It never went past a filling station that it didn't have to back up and get acquainted. And what a woman hater! I am inclined to believe that car had a natural prejudice for women. To get it to have a flat tire when a man was present was an impossibility. Many are the hours I have perspired over the air pump. There was something else queer about it, too. It had the funniest ideas about running out of gas halfway between the two extremes of very, very high hills. If induced to travel over twenty-five miles an hour, it had a queer Way of hopping, and the only safe way of going down a hill was to put on the emer- gency. I will give it credit for being a very modest thing, for it hardly ever took advantage of anything else. Was I embarrassed the day I was putt-putting along and a wheelbarrow passed me! Lizzie moved so slowly the dogs wouldn't even chase it. One day I took a long trip of five miles, and maybe I wasn't surprised to meet myself going, as I was coming back. As Lizzie grew older, we didn't even bother to put the sides of the hood down. We found it more convenient, when we were obliged to stop and tinker, to find them already up. There were all the conveniences of a modern garage to be found under the back seat, from a few extra engines to toothpicks. We used the toothpicks to plug up leaks in the gas line. We found it necessary when going anywhere to return the same way so that we could pick up the parts we had dropped. It simply refused to run with more than four aboard. I distinctly remember one day when we offered to give the preacher a ride home from church. He squeezed in on the back seat and we departed from the chapel at the top of the hill. We coasted down as nicely as you pleaseg but when we got to the bottom, Lizzie, realizing the extra weight, stopped. With much embarrassment we had to ask the minis- ter to dismount and tag along beside. Speak- ing of weight, shall I ever forget the day I gave a fat woman a ride on the back seat! Proud as a peacock, the little car just ran through town on the two hind wheels. As all things must some day meet their fate, so did Lizzie. Her working days were over. VVe scraped the paint off the one mudguard that was left and sold the rest to a tooth paste factory recently to be ground up and used as a grit base for a new tooth powder that had been perfected recently. If by any chance you find grit on your tooth brush sometime in the near future, think nothing bad of it, for it may be the remains of some intimate part of Lizzie. F. K., '36, CAN THIS BE I? You might, if you had been looking for it, have seen a very little girl crying her eyes out because someone was playing the piano or the graphophone. Poor little girl, she just couldn't be calm and collected when she heard music, her feelings ran away with her and took her off by herself somewhere to cry. Water running down the drainpipe from the rent upstairs also sent this little girl scurrying for shelter and protection. Mother has a picture of her little girl with her arm around a cunning little baby calf. The little girl looks happy and unafraid. Neighbors often saw a young person coming along the sidewalks with boxes in her hands. Little Girl was taming grasshoppers! They were taught to walk along their oWner's fin- gers and were kept in grass-filled boxes. Little Girll' and her friends used to don overalls or play suits and stage Indian Wars. She was General Pershing to a large group of youngsters who obeyed under threat. She played baseball and even football. She came in all torn and muddy and heard, Look at that