Westerly High School - Westlyan Yearbook (Westerly, RI)

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The Senior Year Book — 1938 Saunders. May his perspicuity and perspicacity flourish thereby. “The chain of events leading to a man’s heart is as strong as its weakest link. Henry Jackson, the author of this historymaking maxim, appears to have only one link in his chain, but he seems satisfied. He leaves this little link to its namesake. “Those three husky dears, Betty Crandall, Kay (You’ve got to be a football hero) Hughes, and Dorothy Whalen, surely threw that S. H. S. football team for a loss. They have agreed to show the other girls the weak points in their defensive. “Eddie Coyle, that sleek, sporty, smoothstepping sheik, says swing is swell for shifty shoes. He leaves an ultra-modern dance book on how to do the shoestring swoop, the jazz bow pirouette, and do-ci-do, to Walter Miller. - - - That’s that.” MARCELLE—Those are clever puns, Stan, but it’s no more legal than Bud’s trying to steal my drink a few minutes ago. BUD—What? Me? Listen, pal, you know I wouldn’t even take a lollipop from a baby. CATHERINE—Go on, Bud, I bet you’ll be Public Enemy No. 1 by 19—say, that gives me an idea! Let’s have our fortunes told! Where’s Mr. Parnigoni? (One of staff goes to door and calls him.) DICK—(Enters smiling) Yes—what can I do for you now? FRANCES—Would you call the fortune teller, please? We've just decided to have our fortunes told. DICK—Well, he can't come right now. I’m afraid. But I have a surprise for you. (General murmur.) Come in, girls. (The flower girls come in, laden with gifts, and distribute them to patrons in the tea room and the rest of the class, seated in the auditorium—-After they give about four gifts, Dave Lownds and Robert Malaghan enter, and take the available seats—When the gifts have been distributed, both violin players render gypsy selections, after which the fortune teller enters, taking a long time to arrange his globe.) CATHERINE—While we’re waiting, do you mind if I read another page of my will? I just remembered it—it’s the final page. (Everyone assents and Catherine again reads.) “I, Keith Low, bequeath a gross of slips personally autographed by our esteemed principal, Charles E. Mason, to Miss Leach, without which I should never have been allowed in class. “After having persuaded my classmates to donate their pennies to a worthy cause, I, Stanton Langworthy, take great pleasure in giving a shiny new tandem to ‘Sheik’ Spargo, so that next year he will not pester a Senior boy lucky enough to own a car to drive him to White Rock as he has me during the past months. “We nominate and appoint executors of this will and custodians of the Class of 19.38, principal and faculty, whose faithful administrations have endeared them to us and established their qualifications and capability.” FORTUNE TELLER—If you are ready, I will begin. Please remember that the least noise will break the spell. DAVE—This is worse than a classroom —and I feel like talking. (Dave is shushed by the crowd and the fortune teller begins.) I shall look into the future with the aid of my humble Mystic Gypsofic Globe. As I have said before, any slight disturbance will have a tendency to weaken the stratospherical wave lengths that are created by a weak-willed environment. I might say—the atmosphere here is suitable for the reading. Ahem—now if someone will be so gracious as to lower the lights, I shall commence. Ah! I see a cloudy mist—I hear a terrific thundering roar—It must be a storm. No, it’s passing, it becomes clearer now—a smoky vapor—there are faces behind it—possibly a mob scene. What noise! Yelling, jeering, booing! Why it’s a boxing match in Cafone and Gentile’s Century Club. What a sellout! The customers are literally hanging from the ceiling and dangling from the spotlights. Perhaps the publicity managers, Robert “Tyrone” Malaghan and Joe “Smiley” DeFanti, are partly responsible for this sudden success. They are suspiciously eyeing each other. Both, in turn, are keeping close watch on the cash box and that good-looking “Pinky” Dotolo, who --•if 13 }

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The Senior Year Book. — 1938 “Individual bequests of the Class of 1938 shall be as follows: “I, Grace Gallagher, bequeath my pep, vim, and vigor, which 1 attitbute to Wheat-ies, as well as my shame for originating in Stonington, to Prudy Dower of the Junior Class. “I, Gilbert Hicks, bestow my title of Most Intelligent Boy on Bill Clarke of the Class of '40, whose A's prove him worthy of such an honor. “After days of deep study and concen-centration, I, Pee Wee Smith, have chosen John Flaherty to be my worthy successor as maker of mischief. Despite his meek look. Jack’s pranks keep his friends amused and the faculty baffled. “To anyone who can drive it, I, Elinor Morrison, will my faithful Pontiac—with the added advice that the best remedy for a wrenched back is still the good old-fashioned mustard plaster. “On Gilda Garafolo, 1, Barbara Driggs, bestow my varied and numerous collections of tardy slips and excuses. “I, Robert Means Clarke, confer my knee-action kisses upon Stretch Harvey, who, I am sure, will find difficulties similar to mine if he plays opposite a small Juliet in the ’39 Senior Play. “To Fiametta Donati, I, Thelma Kenyon, give my air of reserve and dignity which will win for her the admiration of both faculty and students.” CATHERINE—Well, that’s my contribution—now how about yours, Stan? STANTON—Let’s have some music first—it sounds too much like a classroom to have both of us reciting. HENRY—You can’t fool us, Stan. You just want to get us in a good mood before you start reading your subtle slurs —but, anyway, it won’t hurt to hear Alfred sing—How about it, Alfred? ALFRED—I’m glad to sing for you any time. What will it be—old or nav. THELMA—Please sing the “Gypsy Love Song,” Alfred! (Alfred sings the song to the accompaniment of the violins. Goes from table to table.) STANTON (after song is finished)— Well, shall I read mine now? It’s better to get unpleasant things over with first, you know. ANGELO—Stop looking for compli- ments, Stan. Go ahead, read it. Has anyone a dictionary handy? I imagine we’ll need one. STANTON—“David Sisson, whose theme song is ‘Down With Love,’ leaves the position of president, treasurer, coach, manager, and bat boy of the Beach Street Hay Pitchers to Brindle. We hope he, too, will put on weight. “Every day is a holiday to Carrie Crandall. who gently mixes her school days with Holidays. A great favorite off, she tops them all when she walks on the stage. Carrie leaves her dramatic ability to Prudy Dower of the Junior Class. “Lightning Morrone, so named because he is always streaking and flashing around, donates his anchor, and several telephone poles, which he uses to stop his car, to William Jacobson. “Lynthia Browning, whose flashing smile and delightful personality would never make one suspect she has her ‘lows’, gives her easy charm to Pauline Merrill. “Frances Houser, whose love for flowers, especially buds, has been noticed, leaves this advice to Betty Krugler: ‘No matter how rosy the petal—don’t pluck while forgetting the thorn.’ “Richard Matzko, the Room 4 funster, leaves the school for the aged, which we have founded for his tottering jokes, to Eddie Hyde. “We, the Belle Monte Boys, who hold meetings daily in Room 5, want to advise the further study of Italian and French, for it has helped is appreciate the true beauty of the teaching staff. “We’ve had to do much coaxing, but we finally persuaded Catherine Dunn and Eleanor Morrison to confess all, and give Phoebe Cottrell some advice on bows (beaux). “Cupid Dolan and Pee Wee Smith have written a book entitled ‘Gone With the Spring,’ with hints on swimming holes, soda fountains, and a group of best-seller excuses for wary teachers. This they dedicate thoughtfully to the Junior boys. “Those philanthropic, phlegmatic, inquisitorial lairds of verbal manipulation, Gilbert Hicks and Roderick Hemphill, to facilitate the propitiation of commendatory verbiage, commensurately offer a Dog-eared Webster (second-hand) to Bud —«5{ 12 )?►-

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Thf. Senior Year Book. — 1938 is trying to convince Mario Gradilone (professional football coach), Beverly Wilson, Angelo Stella, and Kay Hughes, aristocratic night owls, that Madame Renee Kahn, the celebrated pianist, is not billed for the main event, but is merely an honorary guest of the club along with her compay stars—Virginia Weeks, Irene Sturgeon, Elizabeth Sawyer, Frances Westman, and Arlene Wardman, vocalists. The last named recently attained high C in the operatic selection, “Mie Lady In College,” written by that talented composer, Professor John Cherenzia. On the same bill with Madame Kahn is Rubinoff’s threat in femininity, Jean Sherman. What is it?—an earthquake? The building seems to be swaying after that deafening explosion. These ultramodern structures are built, supposedly, to outlast their builders. But the architectural company of Paul Dinwoodie and Prescott Dawley has guaranteed the building for two months—this is only the third week in operation. Listen to the ear-racking applause—The main event of the evening takes the spot. Referee Pee Wee Smith is climbing into the ring to get a better view of the sixth seat in the third row— (Connie he see, I wonder). At the ringside Henry “Gable Fred Hoye” Jackson, national radio interpreter, is giving the final decision of the preliminary bouts to the 15 odd million women who are anxiously awaiting his voice. To all who are interested he still devotes a good part of his time to that mass of links—I mean kinks in his hair. John Hearn, Eugene Gervasini, and John Healey, star reporters of the “Mroz Tribune,” of which Eddie is the editor, are desperately trying to interview well known celebrities who are impatiently awaiting their money’s worth. Among these prominent figures is Colonel Richard Parnigoni, wealthy producer in the television field, who at present is feverishly emptying the contents of a five cent bag of peanuts. The young lady two rows behind the colonel who can barely be seen under her dazzling collection of diamonds, sapphires, and fingernail polish, is Barbara Edmonds, multi-millionairess of the world’s most flourishing newspaper, “The Kenyon Teletype.” Seated behind that well known sports commentator, Dave Lownds, are two gifts to the scientific world—Professor Roderick Hemphill, who has recently made public the completion of an eight course dinner in the minimized form of a tablet, and the eminent eulogist, Gilbert Hicks, who appears slightly uncomfortable in his present surroundings. Apparently the seat should have longer legs. Hopelessly attempting to close a sale are two attractive young cigarette girls, Peggy’ Thompson and Esther Fiore. Outwardly resisting their advances is that traditional woman hater, Dr. David Sisson. and his assistants, Richard Matzko, the world’s ping-pong champion, and Prent Lamphere. The latter pays more attention to the next seat, where a lively brunette, Ethel Himes, is exchanging shy glances. Prent has been reading up on the modern romance book, “What to Do and When to Do It,” written by two men of the world, Alex Ferguson and Donald Payne. The crowd goes wild as Announcer Wallace Browning gives a few details of the fight and Bud “A1 Capone” Clarke, flyweight champion, comes bounding down the aisle, all leg gestures. His seconds, Charles Richardson and Pete Levcowich. try to separate a mass of arms and legs that unavoidably have become tangled in the ropes. Tiger Pat Adamo, the challenger, is nonchalantly accepting the attention of a few of his female admirers, Barbara Driggs, Freda Harvey, Ida Mae Chapman, Claire Cercena, and Helen Cekala. Ida Mae is blushing—perhaps that’s part of her technique. Pat’s attendants, Joe Alice and Clifford Catto, w'ho divide their time between the diamond and the ring, are briskly rubbing the goose pimples from the Tiger’s back. There’s the bell. Both step forward daintily to the tune of “I Double Dare You.” (At this point, the prophecy becomes too real. Henry Jackson shouts.) HENRY—Come on, Bud. give it to him ! The old one, two. STAN—Go on, Pat, whittle him down to your size and annihilate him. FORTUNE T.—Please, the spell is broken. I am unable to continue. CATHERINE—Oh, please try again— we promise to keep quiet this time. FORTUNE T.—No, it would be use- -■ ■( 14 )S»