Westerly High School - Westlyan Yearbook (Westerly, RI)

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Tiif. Senior Year Book — 1945 Class History One decade and two years ago, we, the Class of 1945, brought forth upon ourselves a new life, conceived in intense study and dedicated to the proposition that “there is no royal road to knowledge.” Twelve years have flown by since that first day when, innocent and unsuspecting, we skipped eagerly to school, with curls and pig-tails, red apples and our little hearts just brim full of childish enthusiasm. (Ah, the folly of youth!) Since then we have engaged in terrific combat, testing whether our class, or any class, so steeped in knowledge could long endure. We did. We are met on a battlefield of that great twelve year war .... a final battlefield . . . . graduation day. Let us pause momentarily to cast a retrospective eye o'er our little regiment, the class of nineteen-hundred and forty-five. Before launching into a factual account of our past, allow us to abandon our extreme modesty just long enough to say that from the very beginning, our class has been outstanding. When in the eighth grade at Junior High, some of our class members—namely Lawrence Matarese, Marilyn Frechette, Alec Houston, and Joe Keegan — played leads in the beloved Gilbert and Sullivan creation, “H. M. S. Pinafore.” And then in our last year at Babcock, our ninth grade basketball squad blithely upset the lordly sophs (class of ’44) of Westerly High. The autumn of ’42 saw us timidly approach Samuel E. Ward High School Building. Green? Oh, man alive, were we green! ! And scared, too, because, you see, we had heard all about the terrible tempered Mr. Maxwell. We tip-toed up those 10,000 stairs; up into the peanut gallery where dwelt the lowly soph, and slipped meekly into our seats. It was somewhat of a blow to find ourselves among so many strangers, but we soon learned that these quaint classmates we had acquired hailed from “rural” districts such as Hope Valley, Richmond, Charlestown and the more urbane (wow!) Ashaway. Our slate of sophomore class officers was: President, Frank Coy; Vice Presi- dent, Joseph Keegan; Secretary, Marilyn Frechette; Treasurer, Sally Briggs. As a rule, sophs are apt to be ignored in the whirl of school activities, but somehow we were different. After the first few English assignments, the Class of ’45 was represented on the Senior Board. We were represented on the football, the basketball, and the baseball teams. Our boys weren’t first stringers to begin with, but they worked hard and played hard, paving the way for future championship teams. In the spring of our sophomore year we were urged to participate in the Martha C. Babcock Essay Contest. “You probably won’t win,” cooed our upperclassmen, fondly patting our little heads, “but it will be good practice!” So, reluctantly, we entered, and no one was more surprised than we, at the outcome. First award went to Sally Briggs; second to Doris Bradshaw and third to Pearl Maki. The sophs really had a heyday. Before we knew it, the year was over and school had adjourned for a couple of glorious months of rest. The faculty had certainly earned it, for they had come to know the trials of school life during war time. It was with a bit more self-assurance that we launched our Junior year. My, but weren’t those sophs a silly acting lot! We spent the first week of September in ’43, shaking our grave heads sadly, and muttering “WE never acted that way.” Junior class officers were: President, Thomas Salimeno; Vice President, Simon Majeika; Secretary, Sally Briggs; Treasurer, Corinne Palm. Being a Junior is knowing the joys of -4 9 is—

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Tiif. Senior Year Book — 1945 President's Address Parents, Faculty, and Fellow Classmates, here and in the Armed Forces: We, the Class of ’45, are about to leave our beloved classrooms and take our positions in life, which at present is one of uncertainty and disagreements among nations. Three all too short years ago we met together as timid Sophomores, but since that time, we have risen to the rank of Seniors. We have now completed our high school education and are prepared to receive our diplomas after twelve years of stress and struggle. For many of us it will be our final day together. Some of us will soon enter the universities of this country in order to further our education, others will find positions in business and industry, and some of us will join our classmates who have sacrificed the remainder of their education to serve in the present conflict in the hope of freeing the world of further barbarous attempts to destroy our democracy. At the present time we have classmates serving on every battlefield in the army, navy, coast guard, and marines, and in the shipping lanes of the merchant marines. But school life is not all on the serious side. We will long remember the proms, shows, concerts, and athletic contests we witnessed and participated in while at Westerly High School. The humorous remarks and actions of our classmates will remain with us for the rest of our lives. We, the Class of ’45, think that the athletic teams of 1944-45 were the greatest teams in the history of Westerly’s athletic system. We will long remember and be thankful that we had the opportunity to be instructed by such a brilliant all-around athletic coach as James Federico. In our minds he will always be the “coach of the year.” The basketball team of 1944-45 especially deserves a great amount of praise. Although they lost the final game, that is all they lost, because they showed the people of the State of Rhode Island that sportsmanship comes first at Westerly High. The happy and prosperous days of our high school life are over, but the memory of these days will forever inspire and elevate us, the Class of 1945. JOSEPH KEEGAN, President, Class of 1945 -«e{ 8

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The Senior Year Book — 1945 a happy medium; a state of equilibrium. The Sophomores respect you and the Seniors, with a little effort, accept you. More members were added to the Senior Board. Sally Briggs was made assistant editor. Gene Cercena, Joe Siciliano, Francis Nardone, and Jack Fox were first string football players. Stonington beat us soundly 14-0 and 13-0, but we don’t talk about that. After a year’s omittance, prize speaking was held once again. More glory for the Class of ’45. Doris Bradshaw was awarded first prize; Marilyn Frechette, second, and Elinor Gray, Corinne Palm, and the school cat (who strolled dramatically across the stage at various intervals) were given honorary mention. Under the supervision of Miss Dorothy Hanson the East-West Club was organized. The purpose of the club is to learn about and to promote better understanding between the United States and our Oriental and Latin-American neighbors. In its first year of existence the East-West Club brought Gayetri Devi to our members and to the people of Westerly. We are graduating this year leaving among other things, our young, but growing clun, and we hope that our successors will keep up the good work. It’s a marvelous idea and worthy of perpetuation. Well, mighty as he was, Achilles had his vulnerable heel, and so, too, have we a weakness. Financial entanglements! In attempting a Junior Prom, we suffered severely from the pangs of impecuniosity. It was embarrassing indeed—the deplorable condition of our exchequer—but we managed somehow, and the Prom was a huge success. (That’s what they always say.) Our basketball team with “C. T.” Barber, Bob Ulles, and Joe Siciliano was just simply super—swish. We enjoyed an undefeated season; won the Class B championship; and lost the State championship by one heartbreaking point. 'Twas a sad, sad day, indeed! But if our basketball team was superswish, then our baseball team with Joe Siciliano, Don Barber, Bob' Ulles, and Johnny Grossomanides was just plain out of this world, because we not only enjoyed an undefeated season, but also enjoyed (immensely) the State championship. Oh, those big, strong, wonderful boys! Hustle and excitement of finals and then another year was over! September, 1944—A little martial music, maestro, if you please, for yonder cometh the mighty Seniors. . . . The whole school rises, in a gesture of respect, as the Seniors march into the auditorium. Our class marshal, Robert Beattie, has joined the Navy, so Don Barber (the exalted Mayor of Potter Hill) leads the procession. Somewhere in the ranks will be Joe Keegan, class president; Dot Harman, vice president; Mary Geary, secretary, and Corinne Palm, treasurer. This year, in the absence of Mr. Mudge, football duties were turned over to Coach Federico, and in typical Federico-fashion the boys were drilled and drilled and DRILLED, until we had a team with a capital “T.” In recent years we haven’t been extremely successful on the gridiron, but this year the tide changed. Games won 6; games lost 2; games tied 2. Let us pass hastily over the West-erly-Stonington Armistice Day game (18-0 trouncing. Remember?) and linger a while over the Thanksgiving Day game. Ah, ’twas a victory far greater even than the Battle of Bunker Hill. Although the skirmish ended in a 6-6 deadlock, there was mighty jubilation in Westerly camps that night. Our gallant boys stood firm in the face of overwhelming odds, and repulsed drive after drive of a rough ’n’ ready Stonington eleven. Capt. Tom Piccolo, Jack Fox, Bob Beattie, and Buba Urso (with the able assistance of some underclassmen) held down the line, while Joe Siciliano (with the able, assistance of some underclassmen) did a little cutting up in the backfield. Reluctant as we may be about mentioning undergraduates in our own personal history, we simply cannot overlook a marvelous maneuver by a couple of Juniors. . .. Stonington was leading 6-0; Westerly’s ball; Irving Panciera took the ball from center; calmly, but hastily, looked over the situation; enemies charged him from all directions but Irving io fr-