Westerly High School - Westlyan Yearbook (Westerly, RI)

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The Senior Year Book — 1934 orations were exceptionally in keeping with the season and occasion, for the Harvest scene presented to our eye was not only a symbol of an abundance of crops, but also an emblem of the fruition we, too, were reaping in the golden harvest of our high school life. Later on plans for a Senior play were discussed, and “As You Like It” was chosen as being very worthwhile and pleasant. How quickly our Betty Crandall and Rose Stillman were transformed into banished Rosalinds and Carle Morrill and Bob Goff into lovelorn Orlandos! During March the pictures for the Commencement Issue were taken, and everywhere one heard “Have you received your proofs yet?” or “Which one of these pictures do you like best?” or. again, “May I have one of your pictures ?” Suffice to say the matter of class pictures was finally ended, and our plans for graduation progressed rapidly. How sober and sedate we looked in our sombre caps and gowns, and with what trembling hands we received our well-earned diplomas! “For mercy’s sake, Babs,” cries a gay voice, “don’t you realize the fire’s out, and that you probably have already caught your death of cold sitting there?” “Oh, er, yes,” I reply confusedly, struggling to place myself in my own immediate surroundings. “Did you have a pleasant evening, Marge?”’ “Oh. indeed I did,” replies my roommate drowsily. “We saw ‘Memory Lane’ and—” But I didn’t hear the rest, for my thoughts were far away. I had not only seen “Memory Lane” but walked once more through those familiar halls, clasped the hands of old friends, and found there a solace and congenial spirit that had warmed the very cockles of my heart. —Vivian Morrill. Alma fflatpr Tune “Amici” Where the rocky hills of Rhody Stand like sentinels ’round, Nestling fondly in the valley, Lies our high school town. Chorus Westerly, hail! Our alma mater, Thee we’ll always praise. Sons and daughters ever loyal. Songs to thee we’ll raise. High school days will soon be over. Far from thee we’ll roam, But we’ll think of thee, dear Westerly, Ever as our home. Betty Crandall. -4 ■ i

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The Senior Year Book — 1934 of delay, and, freer than the air they breathed, the freshmen departed, their happy faces and joyous stride proclaiming the anticipation of summer amusements. How quickly those summer weeks fled! Before we realized it. vacation was gone, and again we entered old W. H. S., no longer feeling timid and uncertain, for was not a whole year's experience behind us? But we were still the underclassmen, for no Freshmen now roamed the stately halls or occupied the office chairs. (Personally I don’t think those chairs were left unoccupied very much, even after we had departed to the Junior High!) Again came that need to defend ourselves from belligerent juniors and seniors who feared we would usurp their lofty pedestals. Betty Crandall, whose pleasing personality and efficiency had already endeared her to our hearts, was chosen president, while Victor Panciera, with his cheerful grin and ready good humor, became vice president. Mary A. Nardone was elected secretary and Addison Archie, whose great brawn had protected us as freshmen, guarded our precious silver and gold. During this year our class rings were chosen after weighty consideration with due regard to design and cost. That same year a sophomore won second prize in the Martha C. Babcock essay contest, establishing the class literary reputation which it kept through the rest of High School. Thus did our sophomore year come to an honorable and glorious close. The fall of 1932 found us again returning to the portals of our dear old school. No longer were we underclassmen, and it was with a realization of our great responsibilities as juniors that we settled down to work. How well 1 remember the disastrous results of learning the fundamentals of chemistry; those unsightly manganese dioxide smudges, those acid burns, and other sundry obstacles. Nevertheless, we persevered, and we felt well repaid when, in the spring of '33, our chemistry team won the loving cup for Westerly High. How proud we were of that diminutive miss from Dunn’s Corners, Florence Saunders, when it was announced that she had won first honors for the girls, and of Alex Brown, who had received an excellent grade in the contest. (He later confided that he had really won first honors for boys, but, due to his Scotch nature, he had generously conceded it to the next highest!) What a glorious year that was, for the juniors carried off all honors except two in both prize speaking and the Martha C. Babcock Essay Contest. How well Narciso and Cappuccio delivered their patriotic addresses. In the Martha C. Babcock, Agnes King’s essay won first prize, and Marguerite Crandall’s received second. Athletics were also playing an important part during our junior year. In the fall football had occupied a great deal of time, especially that of Price, Archie, Gencarelli, and Gilchrist. Turrisi had been a most active soccer player, while that famous team, “Kizeik and Brown,” were prominent in track. (Anyone who has read Alex Brown’s story “Wobbly Knees” must realize the trials and tribulations of a runner who is just learning the art of acquiring the state where the legs and arms function quickly and gracefully, and the lungs succeed in sustaining his exhausted condition.) Due to a sad lack of money for a Junior Prom, we deviated from the usual course of having one, but we did give a Senior Reception, at which the junior girls proved to be most gracious and charming hostesses. Thus our junior year, successfully led by Alex Brown, president, Frances Johnson, vice president, Joseph Gencarelli, secretary, and Maybelle Ingham, treasurer, ended. Our final year at High School began one bright day in September, 1933, and, we, as “dignified seniors” held a class meeting as the first step in our course. And, with Joseph Gencarelli, president, Agnes King, vice president, Mary A. Nardone, secretary, and Robert Goff, treasurer, we felt that our barque would safely cross the final gulf. As I have said, we were “dignified seniors”; therefore you can imagine our chagrin when we were often mistaken for unruly sophomores! We, however, thoroughly enjoyed ourselves in spite of reproving looks and admonitions, and as the first important event of our Senior year approached, the “Senior Prom,” we felt that, at last, our dream was fulfilled. Matters of dress, decorations, and escorts (perhaps I should have put escorts first!) were discussed pro and con, and we felt a certain pity for those saucer-eyed sophomores who were rather vague as to the meaning of all the excitement. The dec- — S( -

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The Senior Year Book — 1934 (Class Hlill AS executor of the Class of 19.34, the prerogative and lachrymose duty of making public this, its last wnl and testament, falls to me. We. the Class of 1934, about to depart from this terraqueous macrocosm and being possessed of all faculties of mind, memory and matter, do hereby formulate this, our last will and testament, declaring null and void all similar documents formerly promulgated by us. We, the Class of 1934, bequeath our qualities and treasured possessions as follows: Item I: We, the Senior Class, be- queath to our esteemed faculty wards in the newly founded Boom-Bridge Sanitarium, where they may recuperate after the trying hours spent in Algebra, English, History, Stenography, Typing, Chemistry, French, Italian, etc. May heaven protect them from a repetition of this year’s ordeal! Item II: We, the Senior girls, leave our secrets of charm to the girls of the Sophomore Class in order that they may “Keep Young and Beautiful. We also, however, refer them to the philosopher. Buskin, who said, “The most beautiful things are the most useless.” Item III: We leave Miss J. B. Stan- ton alone in her glory as the best dramatic instructress who ever drew breath. Item IV: To Mr. Stevens we be- queath our patented automatic bridge-bidder that he may continue in his overshadowing of such insignificants as Lenz and Culbertson. Item V: To Miss Hanson and Miss McWeeney we leave a permanent pass to the Central Theatre, provided it be used at the end of the week when the thrilling serials are shown. Item VI: Our personal attributes shall be apportioned as follows: 1. We, Rose Stillman and Carle Morrill, bequeath our mathematical skill to Robert Kessel in the hope that our combined proficiency will help him in his place of occupation. 2. We, Frances Johnson, Vivian Morrill, and Marion Sullivan, bequeath our scintillating brilliancy to Ilse Heider, Mary Donati, and Theresa Siciliano of the Sophomore Class. 3. I, Louis Cappuccio, bequeath my hereditary love for polemics to my younger brother, Joseph Cappuccio, in the Junior High School, realizing that no one but a Cappuccio is mentally equipped to fill my place with becoming dignity. 4. I, Ellsworth Peckham, bequeath my curly hair, lock by lock, to all my female admirers in the High School. 5. We, Tony Gradilone and Ethel Wills, bestow our athletic prowess upon next year’s football team in the hope of a better season than last year’s. 6. We, Ellen Crowther, Eileen Browning, and Peter Olcowick, bequeath our quietness to Roger Gould, trusting that it will dampen his boisterous behavior. 7. I, Patsy Perri, leave my private gumscraper to Elyot Menick, who is very amateurish in his performance of the recondite profession of gumscraping. I may add, the class has left a goodly supply of used gum in unsuspecting places for him to practice on. 8. I, Robert Goff, bequeath my Apollonian grace on the dance floor to my unworthy brother, Edgar Goff, in order that he may carry on the terpsichorean standards of the family. 9. I, Henry Clarke, bequeath my collection of tardy slips to Kurt Harries, who is reputed to possess a collection second only to my own. 10. We, Alex Kizeik and Alex Brown, bestow our running harness upon Bedford Byrom and Douglas MacCall, but we suggest they remove the braking device, which we had to install for “Safety-first” reasons. 11. We, William Price and Addison Archie, bestow our combined unruffled nonchalance upon William Lamb, who appears to be the very essence of embarrassment. —4f