Winchester High School - Aberjona Yearbook (Winchester, MA)

Page 17 text:

Tob to Bottom-. The Biggest Question- J. D.; Beauty Culture; Tid-Bit; Tense Moment. On the record you might be heating up some al¬ ready overworked theme for English, or still straining for the perfect one-handed basket. Off the record you might be pleading for a scarce coke or whirling at the Totem Pole. But now YOU are a senior, liv¬ ing the last of many weeks, many months, many years in W. H. S. And although you are spending these last days as the senior of four months ago, you are trying to think back to the very first in high school — and can’t quite cover the span. That was a day though. You wandered mid¬ period into the wrong ro om, and you despaired, for there were no bright horizons before the freshman mind. But, swallowing hard, you held class elec¬ tions, raising Courtney Crandall to the presidency, with Jackie Hammond VP-ing, which left Cinny Newton as scribe and Bob Cummins with whatever jingle he might collect. You were a class of ideas — slightly revolutionary, but nevertheless ideas. You were behind the footlights in every D. A. production; you organized a ping-pong tournament, and spread the fever to upperclassmen; you highspotted Vau- Devil; you made the varsity football squad, and that of hockey and track. You had A” lunch, and learned about cafeteria food. You felt the first terror of mid-years. And You debated the Sudeten question. Freshman year passed away and You became a Soph. Snatches of that year frolic through your brain. You were part of the main building and an upperclassman. Needing a head on your composite shoulders, y ou gave the job to Ralph Swanson, with Palmer Worthen as his second. Secretary Pride and Treasurer Provinzano filled the remaining bill. You delved deep into all activities, and made giant con¬ tributions to the sports world.

Page 16 text:

Seated: Mr. Nichols, Mr. Know Iron, Dr. Alley, Mrs. Stacy, Miss Bronson, Mr. Graves, Miss Mackedon, Miss Allison, Mr. Keeney, Mr. Butters, Mr. Albro. Middle Row: Miss Wilfert, Miss Hannon, Miss Melanson, Miss Fenton, Miss Bennett, Miss Peabody, Miss Bailey, Miss Carmichael, Miss Clark, Mrs. Lobdell, Miss Hall, Miss Skornik. Back Rovt: Mr. Smith, Mr. Hayward, Mr. Rodgers, Mr. Cooper, Mr. Small, Mr. Stevens, Mr. Bartlett. Enthusiastic, super-chic Miss Mackedon carries on French traditions in W. FE S., assisted by never shy, never quiet, petite Miss Knowlton. With North and South American unity increasing ’every day, Miss Allison’s job of teaching Spanish has assumed added importance. Miss Bronson, who always finds a job for the worthy, heads our efficient commercial department. She is herself an expert typist and shorthand-er, and she directs a large staff of teachers. Miss Skornik is a newcomer this year. Everyone knows Miss Ben¬ nett’s dimples! And very few are unaware of Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Smith, those super-athletes, who really do have a connection with the school in a teaching capacity, in addition to their coaching. Not many schools have as expert, youthful, and sympathetic coaches and athletic directors as we have here. Mr. Knowlton (Ffen), is a whiz in more ways than one, and Miss Fenton (Debs), isn’t an inch be¬ hind him when it comes to judging the Vau-Devil acts or a basketball foul. The girls are also lucky in having as exuberant and friendly an assistant coach as Miss Weber. Some of the cadet-catchers” around the school might do well to see Miss Niven about the receipe for those brownies, or some of those snappy desserts, as it would add greatly to their home appeal.” Those personality classes that Miss Niven holds are a great help, too. Mr. Leary and Mr. Branley have important jobs now with the war — mechanical drawing ex¬ perts are in great demand at the moment, and both teachers are helping the government by building model planes for airplane spotters. When that annual spring exhibition comes around, many people are astonished at the wide scope of art work attempted and successfully done by high school students. Of course, all the praise for this falls back on the teachers, Miss Goodrich and Miss Keller. Both masters in their fields, they combine teaching with so much fun that periods spent in the art room are generally considered among the best. Everyone is so accustomed to seeing Miss Wilfert around the library now that it seems as though she’d always been there. Always ready with a kind smile and the right book, she is one of the best-liked teachers in the school.

Page 18 text:

The best or nothing was your maxim; three of You grabbed first-team numerals in football; two in bas¬ ketball; two in Cross-Country; and practically the whole hockey team to yourself. Pete Provinzano made history while yet a soph; he was elected var¬ sity captain of basketball. It was also the year You wore saddle shoes dirty, got priorities in balcony seats at assemblies, tussled with Yul-yus Kaisar (sur¬ rendering yourselves and all your possessions). Seniors were anxious over your vote for a new student coun¬ cil; You stayed in study hall only as long as You could stand it, and then went to both lunches. You stayed your greatest number of detention periods. You were recognizedly old men”, but wanted to be a lot older. Before You realized it. You were climb¬ ing the ladder again. Junior year was all pink and sunshine. You dusted off your dreams for a little actual use. In the chief executive’s shoes was Bert Callanan, with Leo Treacy in the background. R. B. Harris was secretary; Bill Dowden, treasurer. After a trial-and-error interval, Student Govern- bent, firmly planted on its feet, provided a bi-weekly airing for your radicalitie.s. You completely re¬ vamped the Red and Black, and stole the show at the Class Play. Nor was that your only stage appearance during the year, for yours were the substantial leads in productions under Miss Bailey’s supervision. You did everything there was to do, and got a kick out of doing it. As for the sports field, You kicked up more dirt than ever before. Pigskinning was a specialty (just over the goal line), and basketball—ah, there were none like You, with seniors forced into the hazy fringe of the spotlight. Baseball was another of your specialties — all yours! Not that with some of your parlor-gaming feminity there was none of your shine, either, but they were only the customary first-mag¬ nitude stars. You had fun doing everything everywhere. You heard Frenesi” make a hit — and then You heard it some more. In Europe war was raging all over the place, and You were tied up in Bundles for Britain”. Even then, You still possessed sufficient heat to fight out the election in the fall. Then came the incredible day you woke up to find yourself a senior, and kept telling everyone you didn’t feel like one. You weighted your new position s in school organizations and on class committees with a kind of personal objective. You went to more games and cheered a little louder; You breezed into A. A. dances oftener; it was the last time. You saw Dean Derby and Grace Fillipone receive the Wheeler and Mansfield cups. For Your final group of officers you elected Dick Murphy, Bill Dowden, Barbie Coss, and Donny Drew as Pres., Y.P., Sec., and Treas. respectively. Statistically, this was your climax year of prece¬ dence setting; it was also your fullest. On whatever field of sports You tread, golden imprints were left behind. Football, basketball, baseball, tennis hockey, it was all the same. Victories were almost a habit as each season closed and a new one opened. And with theactivities, small, big, urgent, casual, You rallied one hundred per cent. None were ever quite the same when You quit them at the year’s close, but every¬ thing was for the better. Perhaps most of all You will remember the second Monday in December. You were dazed by the news from Pearl Harbor, and the auditorium’s atmosphere reminded You of the clouds’ captive electricity be¬ fore the storm. You hung on the President’s every word. And after the address, You felt not lost but very personal in the struggle. A few of You were shortly on the high seas or in the Army ranks. You found Yourself bending to war restrictions: no cars, no records, taxes everywhere. You swarmed into first aid classes; You knit for Red Cross; You bought bonds and stamps. Those were the days, and the things. And again, in a symbolistic manner, they bring back to You a myriad other wonderfully aching memories: the sol¬ emnized Christmas pageant, the pleasant doldrum of a study hall in May; or the scintillating sting of snow in your face on early winter mornings (which, be¬ cause of the time-saving changes, You appropriately dubbed the Dawn Patrol”). You let homework go the way You’d alweys felt it should go. But we still had a lighter side. The Connecticut Yankee” was a smash hit; You schemed the tenth Yau-Devil in reds, whites, and blues; Prom was seventh heaven; graduation but a month away. You can rermember lining up in the Gym. Gosh, were You really that short by comparison? You had visions of yourself grabbing the sheepskin and sprint¬ ing headlong up the aisle, and out — for good. And so here You sit at the end of it all, fingering over the pages to your own particular write-up. Maybe your picture will look better in print than it did in the proof. You hope so, anyway.