Westerly High School - Westlyan Yearbook (Westerly, RI)

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Tiik Senior Year Book — 1937 (ClaHtf iatnrg Fellow classmates, considering the deeds which we, the members of the illustrious Class of '37, have accomplished during the short stay in Westerly High School, we could not deprive the later generations of such valuable knowledge. Therefore, we have compiled an historical epitome which will, we hope, carry the memory of us and that for which we stand through the ages. Let us now be mystically wafted into the future to see if our desire for everlasting glory has been fulfilled. The scene is the small school house of Professor Pretzlebaume. We’re just in time to see his scholarly flock hastening into the fold of knowledge. Curtain Professor rings bell. Pupils dash noisily in, Chauncey bringing up the rear with dignity. Prof: Gifs it a kviet please while we call der roll call. First in der book comes Axel Gris, our squarehead puddin’head. Answer here, Axel. Axel: Sure I’m here, Professor. Prof.: Jah, und next we haf our sleeping beauty, Aby’s Irish Rosinbloom. (Silence.) Or haf we nbt? Aby, iss you here? Aby: Oi, soitunly, Professor. Prof.: Das all ve vant to know', only don’t go to sleep again yet. Now' for der flower among der bullrushes. Shall I put vun “here” in der book for Cherry Blossom ? Cherry (in sing-songy voice): Yes, Professor. Prof.: Jah wohl, und now ve come to dat little stick of dynamite, Mike Mulligan. Mike: Yeah, I’m here. Prof.: Veil, und so ve come to der last poopul in der poopulation, our own valk-ing dictionary, Chauncey Van de Pest. Chauncey: Dear Professor and classmates, contrary to my usual custom, I will dispense with any lengthy dissertation upon my whereabouts, but let it suffice for the present to say that I, Chauncey Van de Pest, am undoubtedly and assuredly among those present in this edifice w’hich was erected for the worthy purpose of coeducation of minors. Prof.: Veil, Chauncey, I guess you iss here. Chauncey (sitting down): O-o-ooh! 0 mercy me, I’ve been stabbed! Prof.: Who iss responsible on dis? Wiio brings tacks to school mit dem? Mike: Me. Ya wanta make somethin’ of it? Prof.: Mike, dat vas entirely unnecessary und it gifs a reciting from der History. Mike: Aw gee, Prof. Prof.: Today you haf studied der history of dat most colossal Class of 1937 uff der Vesterly High School. Come now, Mike, begin vere you want to. Mike: Well, Prof., ya see dis was dere foist year in da place and—well—uh—dere ain’t much ta say. Prof.: Mike, vat English you uses? Mike: Aw baloney. Yours ain’t so hot either. Prof.: Michael, enoff is too much. Proceed w-ithout comments. Mike: Well, one thing ya kin say about ’em is dey w'ere pretty good in sports. Dere was two guys w'hat w'ere especially good, Dory Panciera and Dick Walthers. Dey played both football and baseball. Dory played basketball, too. Den dere was a lettle guy named Elmer Cornell. He played a swell game of baseball. He W'as somethin’ else, too, only I fergit what. Prof.: Und could somevun propully tell us vat der sombtink else iss vat Elmer vas? Chauncey: Oh, I can. Professor, I can! Mike: Aw, pipe down. No one asked you. Chauncey: If such crude side remarks can be dispensed with for the present, I shall give you a complete informative dissertation on the more important activities of the Class of ’37. Of course in 1934-35, being Sophomores, they had very little representation in School Government, but four w'orthy lads, Alden Nichols, Elmer Cornell, Kenneth Gould, and Adam Celes-tino, were entrusted with the responsibilities of Student Council members. It was finally arranged that a class meeting be held for the purpose of organizing this promising group of young men and wom- 3( 9

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Tin. Sknior Yicar Book — 19.37 flrmtont’a Afiitrraa Parents, teachers, fellow townspeople, and classmates of Westerly: We, the Class of 1937, welcome you to our last public gathering as pupils of dear old Westerly High. Tonight our emotions carry beyond those of mere students out into the minds of experienced young men and women. We are sorry to have finished our school days, but are indeed proud that we are fortunate enough to be the last to tread the stairs of the school which has sent so many young folks out into the world seeking successful careers. In this school, many amusing and profitable years have been spent, but, shortly, the building which has served its purpose so well will be left standing alone waiting for its walls to crumble into dust. Here, also, many lasting friendships have been made, and these, as well as memories of studies and other activities accomplished, will be carried with us the rest of our lives. Our deepest emotion is gratefulness. We have looked to you for so many things and received from you so much that we wish to repay your kindness in the same spirit in which you gave. It was your cooperation and faith in us that have brought us here before you tonight. You have gathered here just as you have gathered at our other assemblages and especially at our Senior play, when you packed this auditorium to capacity for two suc- ceeding evenings. Your backing and confidence in us only make us wish to strive harder to accomplish those things which you have made it possible for us to achieve. To our teachers, especially, do we extend our thanks. They who have had so much patience and donated so much of their time to us are worthy of all the praise which we can shower upon them. But let us continue with this last evening’s fun together, relive the past, ar.d dip into the future. We ask you to help us look on the bright side of our departure so that, in the after years, we can always remember this night as one of joy and fulfillment. In a few moments you will see and hear a short drama relating our history, which was written by three noted historians; our prophecy, which will give you a chance to see us as we will be thirteen years hence; our gifts, tangible mementos of our high school days; our will drawn up by one of the most prominent women lawyers in the United States; and the degrees, granted us by Worden Hugh Sedditt, of The Try Again Institution of Learning, as rewards for our years of achievement. Why should I take more of your time when such opportunities are awaiting you? -ELMER CORNELL. ' 8 Jj —

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The Senior Year Book — 1937 en, and, despite the distracting commotion, they succeeded in electing a capable leader, the diminutive but officious Elmer Cornell, with Russell Rae as Vice President, to assure the position of an apt substitute. Thomas Moffitt was appointed guardian of the bullion, which is not an edible substance as some people think, Helen Leon to record any noteworthy experiences of the term 1934-35. Prof: Jah, Chauncey, I couldn’t haf done better myself. Chauncey: If as well, dear instructor. Prof: Oh, iss dat so? Now kviet anyhow. Veil ve must leave der poopuls of der Class of ’37 for dere first year. Now ve come to another term, 1935-36, und der poopuls iss fresh back from vacation. Mike: Fresh is ’-ight. Prof: Jah, Mr. Smarty, suppose you don’t be so fresh yourself. Now who can tell us vat vas der most important thing the Class of ’37 did in 1935? Jah, Cherry, suppose you tell us. Cherry: Well, I think they had a meeting. Prof: Yes, go on. Cherry: They umm----------they chose of- ficers. Prof: Und who vas dey? Cherry: The President was—Elmer Cornell—-I think. Prof: Jah wohl, dat makes vun correct thinking for Cherry. Who else? Cherry (with confidence): Russell Rae Vice President. Prof: No, no, Cherry, dat vas for 1934. Cherry: O-oh um,—let me see. Aby (whispers between snores): Clayton Arsenault. Prof: Aby iss you sleeping or vaking? Aby: (Snores) Axel: Professor, I tank I know dem. Dere was Clayton Arsenault, he vas Vice President, Villiam Brown, he vas Treasurer, und Helen I,eon, she vas secretary. Prof: Das right, Axel, Now, Aby, come und tell us vat else dey did for dat term. Aby: Veil, der same pipples vas still playing der same game still, but dere vas some others too. Michael Tarasevich and Bill Brown vun a whole flock of medals in a cross-country meet with some odder schools, and Dory Panciera vas made a member of der All State Feetball Team. Chauncey: Oh, Professor, I should like to add----- Prof: Chauncey, vere are your man- ners? Dis iss Aby’s recitation. Proceed, Aby. Aby: Oi, Professor, it must have slipped my mind vile I vas stooding here. Prof: Jah, Aby, ve can imagine. Veil, Chauncey, you can tell us vat you vas so eager to say before. Chauncey: I was merely attempting to mention that Elmer Cornell won the IPi-Y Award for his excellent personal qualities, and that Alden Nichols, as a worthy reimbursement for his literary aptitude, was awarded the Martha C. Babcock first prize of $22.50. Ah, how gratifying it must be to have one’s genius appreciated. Prof: Jah, Chauncey, I agree with you. But could possibly Cherry tell vat amoose-ments dey had? Cherry: I think so, Professor. There wasn’t any Junior Prom, but Edna Kissick was one of the funniest things in the Varieties. She danced around like this. (Demonstration of the dance.) There was a little boy with her, only no one could see him very well. Then the Class of ’37 gave the graduating class a farewell ball and that was the last day of school, so the next thing was another vacation. Mike: Hey, Professor, ain’t it time we got a vacation around here? Prof: Don’t get impatient, Michael, der best iss yet to come. Chauncey: Indeed it is, Professor. These last two years were the most important as well as the most interesting. With their same experienced leader, Elmer Cornell, they were destined to terminate their third year in this educational institution with great success in all branches of student activities. Prof: Jah wohl, Chauncey, und dey did chust dat. When dey had dere class meeting, whom did dey choose for president? Class: Elmer Cornell. Prof: My, but you iss improving. Und who vas Vice President? (Silence) Prof: Hmmp. I take id all back. Now vonce again I ask id, who vas der Vice President? (Pause) Chauncey? Chauncey: Oh dear me, Professor, I most implorably regret to inform you at this precise moment I am unprepared to give the required answer to your interrogatory statement. To be perfectly frank, 1 don’t know. - S( io )8»