Westerly High School - Westlyan Yearbook (Westerly, RI)

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The Senior Year Book — 1939 and from our class, too. Rita Paldino was the algebra professor; Sully Koulbanis, gym instructor; Margaret Behrens and Leila Foley in the English Department; Jean Herrick, riding instructor, and Mary Kelly, dietician. That mugt be an ideal school. We circled around and concluded our drive at Dr. Visgilio’s hospital. There I met Jessie Sawyer, Florence Tamer, Helen Raithel, and Elaine Boucher, all nurses of the genuine type. No wonder Pat was a good doctor! 1 was about to bid adieu to the girls, when a call came in for the doctor to go to “Cook and Culley’s Gymnasium” where Neal had been unable to revive Sam after a vigorous struggle with the punching bag. That’s all I had time to see, as I knew Lois and Ray must be waiting for me somewhere else in the World of Tomorrow. Now, Ray, you tell what you saw. RAY—That was some experience for me! The part of the World of Tomorrow that I visited was patterned on the scale of a small town. I noticed a very distinctive building and there were many women standing in line waiting to enter it. I wondered what the attraction could be. Then I saw a sign over the door which read, “Madamoiselle Link’s Dress Shop,” the proprietor being that charming young miss, our own Millie Link. Next I noticed Viola Dabrowski and Elaine DePerry entering the shop. Well, if you think the women’s hats and dresses of today are absurd, the hats which they wore would practically make one cross-eyed. They varied from something that looks like a frying nan to a sailboat turned upside down! Walking a little way further down the street, I passed by Irene Bromley, Dot Clarke, and Elva Crandall, they, too, adorned in the -latest fashions and talking so fast they reminded me of the ’39 track team! Soon I came to a vast area covered with luminous colors, and was I surprised when I saw I gtalie Fiore, Marion James, and Phyllis Grenier working with their garden tools in their world-famous petunia bed! They have entered all their varieties in numerous flower shows, but the blue-streak variety won the praise of every critic. Directly in the middle of the street on the next block stood a huge crystal ball. The attendant was a cute little miss, Dot Lawrence, who declared that she could FRANKly tell me anything I wished to know. I asked about some of the girls and learned that Theresa Perra, Elizabeth Main, and Eleanor Mimande were running a prosperous knitting studio and giving instructions to representatives from Eskimo land where fur-bearing animals are rapidly becoming extinct. Their creation of new winter caps with wimples to keep the men’s beards warm and cozy during the raging snowstorms were the talk of the nation. Jeanette Keena was doing a bicycle act in a circus, according to Dot, and Rose DeSimone had a large hairdressing firm featuring “Uppidv-Downidy” hairdos with Pauline Merrill, the studio nurse, taking care of the astonished and bewildered customers after they have seen their “crowning glorv” in the mirror. (The mirror, by the wav. being made of a new substance which is guaranteed not to break!) Going past a modern apartment. I heard someone causing quite a commotion over the song, “Three Little Fifis” and saw Lena Strawderman. a happy little bride, entertaining Edna Bednarczvk, who had just returned from a goldfish expedition in the Orient. Again I heard music, this time beautiful strains from a violin which I was told was owned by Francetta Weimar and had come from a very reMOTE part of the world. Shortly, I met Ethel Vredenburg and Margaret Anderson, who are working as stenographers for Barbara Kenyon, the owner of the Kenyon Kookery Korpora-tion. Just then they were featuring their annual “Kooking Kontest” which starred the noted Russian dancer, Jessica Mit-chellski. Nearby, suspended from a hickory limb in a little yellow basket crouched Angela Nardone and Rita Alexander where they claimed to get astounding inspiration for their newest book, How to FALL in Love Painlessly.” After wishing these girls success in their subject, my eyes 16 )►—

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The Senior Year Book — 1939 covered it to be our own Pat Visgilio, who, as a prominent and prosperous Doctor of Medicine, was returning from a meeting with the board of trustees from his own hospital. He offered to show me the city. Just then his chauffeur drove up in the latest streamline model limousine, and I found him to be none other than Louis Giorno. On our way through the city I remarked to Pat on the large number of chain stores, and was especially interested in the name of them—“Great International Stores, Inc., William Anderson, President.” Pat suggested we stop for tea at “Dottie’s Tea Shop” owned and operated by Dottie Tet-low. She had four very charming waitresses, all graduates of Florence Kennedy’s Hostess Academy, who were quickly identified as the Misses Jean Williams, Charlotte Spear, Frances Weeden, and Juliet Capalbo. I noticed particularly that Miss Williams was very busy at a table occupied by many honorable gentlemen whq proved to be members of the Bachelors’ Club, Ronnie Carlson presiding. Other familiar faces at that table were those of Walter Brown, and Johnston Hepburn. After stopping to chat a few minutes with each of them, we made our way to the car but were stopped by a newsboy yelling “Extra! Extra!” and guess what it was all about! Lois Maines had won the Nobel Prize for contributing most nobly to the literary field, both in prose and poetry. Such grand news! I was thrilled. This sudden pause also caused me to glance across the street to a building exhibiting a sign which read, “Join Our School of Singing, Dancing, and Dramatics Under the Supervision of Miss Prudy Dower, D. G. A.” (Doctor of Graceful Arts). That was all I needed. We immediately crossed the street and entered the building. We didn’t see Prudy, however, as she had just recently signed a radio contract and was away at the studio. But her attractive assistants, the Misses Connie Phillips, Gil-da Garafolo, and Betty Champlin, were carrying on very nicely. Jean Crockett was seated at the piano fingering the keys in great style. Speaking of the graceful arts, Pat told me that if I were staying longer, he would take me to Hollywood to see I’lee Rippe-toe, the latest find in the movie industry, and Janet Macomber, the chief make-up expert there. Francis Card was there, also, taking a screen test. Now he will have more female admirers than ever. But as time did not permit my seeing these old friends of mine, I was contented simply to hear such wonderful news about them. As we left that building, I saw two very-familiar names on the door of a large office: Berarducci and Fusaro, Certified Public Accountants. I began to realize then that our class was certainly getting places. On our approaching the car again. Pat murmured in a low tone, “Don’t look now. but those two young ladies coming out of the Parisian Style Shop are this season’s most popular debutantes, Joy Beattie and Mary K. Robertson. I hardly recognized them. But they recognized me and came over to the car. They could scarcely wait to tell me that Josephine Santoro and Joe Cappuccio had won the National Debating and Oratorical Contest. We invited them to come along, but they had to decline our offer as they were on their way to the dock to say good-bye to Jim Harvey, who was sailing to Europe to serve for a year as exchange professor at the Sorbonne. We headed for the outskirts of the city and on our way passed many little unique pop-corn stands all under the sole ownership of Harold Howard. Hr had some good assistants, too—Bill Burdick and George Fish. A little farther on, we passed a laboratory in which James Beebe, biologist, and John Drew, physicist, experimented. On going further, we found parked at the side of the road an open touring car in which sat “Syl” Cofone and “Banjv” Gencarelli engaging in a terrific argument with the State Cep Frank Crandall. I understand they were on their way home from the Golden Gate Exposition. A little slow, but then! After wishing them the best of luck, we drove into a road which led to the State University for Women. of which Ruth Whitford was dean. Most of the faculty- came from Westerly “•s( 15 £• -

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The Senior Year Book — 1939 came upon Eleanor Shippee and Eleanor Panciera leading their prize Guernsey cows to the State Fair. Then I heard a honk-honk” and turned to see Harry Tourtellotte and James Rose speeding down the main thoroughfare in his newly painted “pinkablue” jalopy. The colois were the very artistic combination created by Betty Kugler, who is also a world-famous portrait painter. The occupants, Nancy Alfiero, Margaret Lynch, Dot Fowkes, and Kay Jones, were enjoying the ride immensely but were a little indignant over the increase in price from five to seven cents admission to pay for the painting. Jumping in with them, I was told they were on their way to a barn dance. Didn’t we have fun there! The Hill-Billy orchestra was composed of Ginny Anderson, Josephine Bianchi, Thom-asine Blackler, and Blanche Dawley. Dot Bressette was proprietress. Mary Carlson and Irene Monti were holding the spotlight in a new kind of dance on contortion which they called the “Suzy Jones.” I staved there as long as I could stand it, and finally persuaded Harry to take me back to the place I started from. As we chugged along (we thought we were speeding at fifteen miles an hour) we noticed overhead a bright orange and purple airplane making all kinds of dangerous swoops and curves around us. It finally came to rest in a pasture (of all places!). Out popped Julia Ligouri, Mary Littlefield. Dot McLean, and Irene McCarthy, who had just completed a round-the-world flight in one day, three hours, and seventeen mmutes. What a climax, and what a great world, the World of Tomorrow is! Bv that time Rita and Lois found me and we came rushing out to tell all the news. LOIS—When I went in I walked first to a large dock and was thrilled to find a ship called the Thirtv-Niner” about to embark on a short cruise down the river. I seemed so interested that the captain invUed me to come along and I gladly accepted his invitation. All on board waved to friends on the shore and prepared to be comfortable. It was just dusk, and upon the deck could be seen the celebrated actor. Ray Smith, silhouetted against the setting sun. At his side stood a vivacious Spanish dancer, and both were intent upon their discussion, which, by the way, centered about the prospects of a moon. Below sat Stanley Suddarth, Professor of Physics at Vas-sar, and John Reardon, a devout follower of Einstein, deep in a debate as to whether the fourth dimension goes up and down or across. Altogether it made a beautiful picture, and Bud Saunders, New York’s example of an eligible socialite and model, vowed he would write home and tell his favorite interior decorator, Joe Pucci, all about it. Most prominent among the passengers was Walter Miller, the first U. S. President to be elected for a third term. As dusk settled upon the group. Captain Ken Taylor pompously sauntered over, reading a book. Frank Realini, the magician, didn’t have to look at its title to find out it was a history book, for the Captain's hobby is well known. He has written many books of history, published by Ma-jeika and Prizito, Incorporated. There were few women aboard the liner, much to Gerard Pothier’s satisfaction. He was by himself, probably brooding about his ill fate in having been made Principal of Westerly High School. As the group sat thus, there was suddenly a piercing shout The Captain rushed about the boat, aM finally located the commotion. Stretched out on the deck lay George Trovato, of haberdashery fame. A huge and ugly dog stood by, and unsuccessfully trying to escape was its owner, Bum-Bum Sposato. Doctor Jimmy Spezzano was called, and came dashing in with his right-hand man, Peter Levcowich. Peter bravely ran at the dog, brandishing the cook’s meat-cleavar, and the canine retired. A bad gash in the head marred Trovato’s lovely countenance and dulled his brilliant mind. He was nut to bed promptly, tucked in by his efficient secretary, Wilfred Priore. Meanwhile, preparations were being made for the evening’s entertainment. Ernie Vetelino could be heard warbling “Oh. Marie!” Carl Weall and Reinold Schilke, in their ring, were punching make-believe men around, each wishing the dummy were the other. Joe Bingley was putting on his trusty mustache and —«( 7)8—