Westerly High School - Westlyan Yearbook (Westerly, RI)

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The Senior Year Book— 1933 (Elams ftropfymj I SIGHED with relief as the morning of June 20, 1958, dawned bright and clear, since it was my first opportunity to escape the trouble in which I had been involved during the past several weeks. For the first time in my career, one of my operations had failed, and my patient had taken out her vengeance in the form of a law suit. At present buxom figures are quite the style, and because of her wish for extra avoirdupois. Miss Dorothy Berry had come to me to be treated. At the end of the treatments, due to a slight inconsistency in my work, she was but a mere shadow of her former self. Hence the law suit and sleepless nights for me! In order to avoid a nervous breakdown I had decided to take a trip as requested by my associate nurse, Kathleen Potter. I did not have to worry any more about the case against me, for I had put the entire matter into the competent hands of our lawyer, Frank Schofield. Gazing from my window on the 1500th floor of the Supernation Apartment Building in Hi-New York, I became eager to start at once. Consequently I signaled to the metallurgic stables to have the peg-mechanic bridle our steed immediately, and soon Kathleen and I were ready to start. Tommy Horse, one of the newer modes of traveling, had been designed by Thomas Nichols, the most prominent inventor of our time. The horse was composed of pure gold, for since the medium of exchange was now garnets, gold was absolutely worthless, and could be used extensively in various mechanisms. A great amount of gold which had been hoarded for years was removed from its secret hiding place and furnished for the construction of the Tommy horses, by Mr. Arthur Newman Lawton, who had amassed a tremendous fortune from his sale of the once precious metal. The gold in the horse is compounded so that this conveyance, lighter than air, is operated merely by winding with a key and turning the left ear. Plans for Tommy Horse had been drawn up by Earl Brun-skill, an ultra-modern architect. Kathleen and I took our respective seats on Tommy Horse (for he seated two people very well), and with a swift turn of his left ear, we were off. We had not decided definitely what route to follow, but planned to consider that as we rode along. The thought came to us simultaneously to visit the different sections of the world from A to Z. The universe has now been so divided that all those whose names begin with certain letters live in separate geographical sections, from miles below the surface of the earth to miles above it. In accordance with the old adage that it is the exception which proves the rule, there are some few to be found outside their proper spheres, but this has been the case in all eras. We pressed the button opposite A, and, with a whirring noise, Tommy Horse proceeded to go upward. He had his own ideas as to where the A’s should be located. Soon we approached a brilliantly lighted street—Sidera Avenue, as the signs indicated. Everywhere was merriment and pleasure. All was upheld by an upside down force of gravity; thus we felt perfectly at ease. The journey had made us rather hungry; so on approaching an inviting looking night club called “The Beu Coy,” we brought Tommy Horse to a halt, removed the key, and entered the building. We were greeted by a charming woman with reddish hair, the proprietor, whom later we recognized to our surprise as Beulah McCoy, a former classmate of ours. She sat us at a table and beckoned to a waiter. We were seated near the kitchen door, and as it swung open, whom do you suppose we saw? No other than Joe Ruisi in the garb of head chef. Just then Lillian Arnone came by in the guise of a Mexican cigarette girl. This seemed to be a day of surprises for, when the entertainers came out, there was a regular class -4 14 --

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The Senior Year Book—1933 Chimento, bequeath our mathematical wizardry to Eliot Menick and Frank Galanti, who are plotting to ostracize it from their curriculum. 4. I, George Falcone, bequeath my longitude and latitude to Addison Archie in order that he may be more than a point in space. 5. I, Harold Edmond, leave my versatility to Kenneth Main. 6. I, Betty Cheever, bequeath my “Carol Lombardian” pulchritude and ethereal charm to my worthy successor, Agnes King. 7. We. Charles St. Onge and Sally Hammond, confer our congenial rendezvous on “Billy” Clark and Ruth Brown, who are often heard singing, “Can’t We Be Alone?” 8. I, Beverly Barber, bequeath my rickety Model T Ford to Adelaide Spicer, who is in dire need of a good car. 9. I, Florence Giannoni, leave my stenographic efficiency to Mabel Ingram. 10. I, Joseph Ruisi, confer my stellar athletic career on James Giorno of the Junior Class. 11. I, Muriel Harwick, leave my sophistication and nonchalance to Angeline Matarese of the Junior Class. 12. I, Ernest Fulford, confer a “share of my interest” on Spring Street on whomever I deem worthy. 13. I, Carmella Vocatura, leave my scholastic ability in commercial law to Eleanor Fusaro, who may need it. 14. I, Vincent Turco, leave my saxo-phonia to Albert Gervasini that he may differentiate between a saxophone and a clarinet. 15. We, Alice Rurdick and Dorothy Mearns, leave our wild recklessness and aggressive manner to Alice Laing and Mabel Girven. 16. I, Kathleen Potter, bequeath my characteristic of being always perfectly “Frank” to whoever may appreciate its value. 17. We, Marcelle Hammond and Reva Novogroski, leave our giggling garrulity to Vivian Morrill and Marguerite Crandall. 18. We, Ella Soloveitzik and Cecile Cayer, bequeath our scintillating brilliancy to Alexander Brown and Florence Saunders. 19. I, Signor Francesco Cappuccio, class pedant, aesthete, dictator, orator, attorney, academician, and radical, hereby confer upon my unworthy brother, Luigi Giuseppe Cappuccio. my everlasting scorn and hatred for racial discrimination and bigotry. We do hereby choose and appoint Miss Frances Parker, who perhaps knows more about the laudable records of our class than any other individual and who has always taken a most kindly interest in us, the sole administratrix of this, our last will and testament. In witness whereof, We, the Class of 1933, the testators, have to this, our final testament, inscribed on a lengthy scroll, set our hand and seal, this 23rd day of June, Anno Domini, one thousand nine hundred and thirty-three. Respectfully submitted, Frank Cappuccio, Attorney at Law. - 13

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The Senior Year Book— 1933 reunion. Among them were Arnie Austin, who rendered a beautiful baritone solo, Angelina Trovato and Rose Pellegrino later joining Arnie’s performance with their melodious soprano voices. Another group of performers soon appeared, featuring Ken Gerrish and Elizabeth Whalen, partners in an extremely graceful Apache dance. During these presentations, snappy ethereal music was being played on the vio-piano by Helen Alto. At one side of the room we noticed a booth with the inscription, “Alicia, Wonder Mystic of the Heavens.” Overcome by our feminine curiosity, we entered to learn what the stars held for us, and learned to our amazement that the prophetess was our friend, Alice Briggs. When it came time for us to express our greatest wish, we agreed that nothing would please us so much as to visit all our former classmates. Alice told us that this would be entirely possible if we were to press the buttons on Tommy’s neck in succession and then let him follow his own course, influenced by her magic control. Overjoyed, we paid our bill in garnets (the new medium of exchange recently invented by the eminent scientist. Professor Samuel Barber, P. H. D. X. Y. Z.), wound up Tommy Horse, pressed the B lever, and were once again on our way. This time we entered upon a straight course, uninterrupted until we came to a village and were stopped on the outskirts by a road gang, who were busily employed in erecting a new thoroughfare. The most diligent of them, strange as it may seem, we discovered to be Ernie Fulford. He approached us with a cheerful smile and asked us to leave Tommy Horse at a road station and take the aero-car service into town, at the same time calling his assistant, Finny Steadman, to direct us. The A-l pilot (or should I say, pilotess) turned out to be none other than Beverly Barber. Bev always did have a flair for operating queer contraptions. A short distance from the hangarage where the aero-cars were kept was a small lunch cart, inside of which Myrtle Barber and Christine Tucker were dishing out hot ice cream rolls by the dozen to Helen Kimber and Emma Browning. After we had satisfied our appetites with this new and delectable confection, we started toward the village in the aero-car under the careful control of Pilot Barber. As we proceeded, we saw in the distance a message in smoke which told us to descend 5,000 feet and show our credentials to the inspector. We dropped down to a level with a huge tank, which, when the cover was lifted, we saw was operated by Audrey Buchanan. After she had inspected our credentials and collected our garnet chips, we were once more on our way. Finally we reached the village and discovered that an immense country fair was at the height of its noisy celebration. Even in this hyper-sophisticated day and age, the simple enjoyments of life still offer certain satisfactions, so we turned our footsteps toward the fair, after having taken leave of our pilot. Our attention was first attracted by a raucous-voiced barker, directing the crowds to the various entertainments. Could this be the quiet Frank Fletcher we had known in our younger years? It was hard to believe, but certain facial characteristics betrayed his identity. The main event of the day was a race to the moon and back on equines similar to ours, the contestants being women who rode bareback. Since this promised to be an exciting contest, we took our places near the starting point. We were close enough now, clearly to discern the jockeys who, marvelous to relate, were none other than Theresa Carollo, Alice Burdick, and Angelina Bianchi. The timekeeper, a lively wide-awake gentleman, gave the signal, and they were off! As our attention was now attracted by the timekeeper, who seemed to be busily engaged in watching the time-o-meter, something strangely familiar about his appearance puzzled us for a short while. Yes, sure enough, it was George Smith, judging so diligently. According to the time-o-meter. five minutes and two watts had passed when the whirring of a horse’s tail informed us that the racers were returning. The winner, who won by a gold lock, was Theresa Carollo. Now children need never cry in vain for the moon when it can be reached so speedily. A short distance from this spectacle was a human apple target, at whom gold- 15 j-