Westerly High School - Westlyan Yearbook (Westerly, RI)

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The Senior Year Hook—1932 17 This next place seems to be Hollywood, and I see Charles Lamb in the Paramount studio, about to start work on his new picture, “The Loving Janitor,” in which his leading lady is to be Frances Cook. It is said that these two threaten to eclipse the great Clark Gable and Greta Garbo. Someone who—yes! It is Nicholas Bottone standing at the door of a house waiting for his next victim to whom to sell some of his “Never-Fail” flea powder. A great celebration is in progress all over the country in recognition of Charles Trumpetto and Arthur Lepper, who have just placed the first really successful grapefruit spoon, for protection of the eyes, on the market. A billboard next reveals to me that Battling Donald Faulk and Andrew Menick, the Brute, are appearing at Madison Square Garden in a series of prize fights which have been extremely thrilling. Husbands no longer mind their wives’ buying all their food at the delicatessen store, for Harry and Mary Peck-ham’s Products, sold from the Atlantic to the Pacific, are so delicious that they think they are eating home cooking. I find myself in Newr York, at the main entrance of the new Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Because of his height, one of the doormen catches my eye, and upon closer scrutiny, I realize that he is none other than Jack Wallace, all dressed up in a uniform with brass buttons. Bless me! Who is this I see but Alma Bailey, holding her hands over her ears; and no wonder, for she is surrounded by seven of her fourteen children, who are all singing at the top of their lungs. Illuminated letters, two feet high, on Broadway, proclaim the success of Lyle Burdick as a concert violinist. He seems to be a second Fritz Kreisler, and has made appearances all over the world, under the management of Frank Ward. My, my, if it isn’t Elsie Brindle, searching for something! Oh, yes, she is looking for a specimen; of the rare cabalbabooniwunga plant, but she is not alone in her vocation as a botany fanatic, for Grace Payne and Edith Booth are both busy with their magnifying glasses. I am now gazing out over the broad Atlantic, and in the captain’s cabin of a great ocean liner, I see Ralph Bliven. Below him, in the dining salon, are Joe Brown and Leo Nar-done with their ship’s orchestra. Still farther below, in the gymnasium, I find Sam Azzinaro riding a mechanical horse, in a vain effort to keep his weight dowm. Regulating the

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r v mmm Nwk v Class JjJrspI ni WWWWl 7 A Centuries ago in a high tower of every castle across the sea, there lived the astrologer of the region. He was known as the prophet, wizard, or seer of the duchy. Dressed in his long black robe and skullcap, surrounded by strange instruments which no one save himself could understand, he would foretell the destinies of men, armies, and even of the kingdoms themselves, through his almost uncanny knowledge of the stars. We astrologers have wisely counseled some of the most prominent men of the country concerning certain of their gravest, most momentous undertakings and speculations. Why, it was only last summer that Henry Ford came to consult me as to whether the stars were favorable to his placing the new V-8 model on the market. I found that the heavenly influences were most favorable to the venture, and thus he acted upon my advice. As an astrologer, I, of course, realize the grave responsibility such a gift places on my shoulders, and feel that it is only fair that I use it, not only for my own profit, but for the help and advantage of my beloved classmates. Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to read your destinies, and I shall give you the results absolutely free of charge. Bear with me patiently, then, while I reveal to you the secrets of your lives as I have seen them in the stars. The first scene which comes to my vision is that of the shining capitol at Washington, D. C., but the beauty of the scene is somewhat marred by loud shouting which seems to be coming from the Senate chamber. My, this seems like old times! Donald McKellar and Robert Lepper are arguing. One is a Republican, the other a Democrat, and between their old love of argument, and the illimitable powers of debate in the Senate, they have already kept the session three weeks beyond the usual length.

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18 The Senior Year Book—1932 eccentric movements of the strange beast is John Murano, the gym instructor. Proceeding to the beauty parlor in the liner, I perceive Arthur Sisson, who specializes in permanent waving. We always suspected he knew a great deal about that art. This liner might well be called the “Westerly,” it boasts so many employees from our old town, for coming down the deck with the deck-scrubbing gang. I see Clyde Kenyon, in addition to the other classmates already mentioned. Many of my old fellow-students seem to have departed for the city—I have just noticed two people industriously cleaning windows on the 250th story of a new skyscraper in New York, and who do they prove to be but Carol Chester and Barbara Celestino! A man with a sad face is walking away from an insurance agent, who seems to be John Shibilio. The reason for Fred Stanley’s discomfiture is the insurance policy which Johnny has just talked him into taking out on his dry goods store. A race track appears, and dashing around the bend at a terrific speed come running Ruth Kennedy and Virginia Roffo. Cheering is heard from all sides as Ruth wins by ten yards, making her women’s sprinting champion in the Olympics. An unearthly howling comes to my ears, and I discover that Leo Dotolo is exercising his lungs in preparation for defending his title as Champion Hog-Caller of Smithers-ville County. We all remember the mighty powers of Leo’s voice. How very strange! Here I see, at the Roosevelt Airport, a large crowd who are craning their necks for all they are worth, in order to follow the thrilling twists and turns of an airplane piloted by Dorothy Crandall. She, with the aid of her surprisingly efficient co-pilot, Verna Dawley, has become the most daring stunt flyer in America. Ever in demand at the leading men’s clubs in the country is Joe Rose’s famous book, entitled “Why I Am Always Popular With the Ladies.” We well remember his publisher, Natale Felicetti. Again I hear a voice, this time that of an angry girl, saying, “Hey, whaddayou think you’re doing?” It appears that a taxi has just passed a big Mack truck, operated by Beatrice Chiaradio, and Beatrice is extremely annoyed with the taxi driver, who proves to be none other than Ida Pan-ciera.