Woodbury High School - Warrior Yearbook (Woodbury, CT)

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Page Twenty-Two To Mary Laukaitis we leave an elevator to carry her up and down stairs at the end of each period. To Ruth Burton we leave a story book of “Brave Knighthood” to enable her to realize that young men are of some use in this world. To Elizabeth Dana Martin we leave a woman sized laugh so that she can be heard when she laughs. To Emily Klatka we leave a life insurance policy to insure her safety running around the Freshman room at noon time. To Katie Kowaleski we leave a lemon so that she may know what it is to be sour. To Florentine Curtiss we leave a box of “Pep Breakfast Food” to make her a little more lively. To Elizabeth Booth we leave money with which to buy her lunches so that she may have a real reason for going down to the restaurant. To Maude Eyre we leave a screen behind which she may chew gum in Latin class so Miss Clark won't see her. To Irene Hoyt we leave a pair of “Wear-for-Ever” shoes for use between the school and Canfield's drug store. To Irma Judson we leave the largest seat in the Senior room. To Grace Platt we leave a gray wig so that the boys will not have a reason for leaving home. To Mae Swanson we leave a moth-proof bag for the basketball mascot so that he won't smell quite so strong of moth balls in the fall. To Melvina Welles we leave an accomplished dancer to whirl her around the hall at noon hour. To Helen Travers we leave a bust of Burt Curtiss to keep on her desk in the Senior room next year. To Dorothy Thomas we leave Dorothy Weasa's directions how to become a REAL vamp. To Margaret Smith we leave a bottle of Mel-len’s Food. To Virginia Wells we leave Dorothy Morgan's height. To Louise Smith we leave a book by Bob Brinley bearing the title, “How to obtain those dangerous curves.” To Esther Lundin we leave a jar of Freckle Remover. To Elsie Dickinson, a box of cosmetics to keep her school girl complexion. To Alida Warner we leave a ribbon so that she will always have a beau. To Phyllis Sharrow we leave a book of jokes so that she will always have a reason to blush. To Helen Belz we leave Amy Poulin's one and only dimple. To Dolly Wight we leave an aeroplane to carry her to and from Sherman Hill. CLASS PROPHECY—1931 Frances Smith—Dorothy Weasa. Introduction:— I will now put on the magic cloak and take the magic wand and see what the pot of fortune reveals to this class of 1931. Ah—I hear music—I can see an orchestra— it is playing in New Milford. It is directed by Robert Fowler, a popular violinist and a great composer of popular music. I can see large buildings—The capital of the United States towers above them all—The White House—A private library in the White House— Two large desks—At one desk sits a girl typing and working industriously—It is plainer—Oh!— It is Lillian Hicock, our much-loved classmate of '31. Faintly I see in the distance on the top of a high hill a white house which seems to be on a large estate of a wealthy banker—Four or five small children are playing about with a girl who seems to be a French maid—Suddenly I can see a nicely dressed lady among a group of other ladies—she seems to be entertaining her bridge club—Now a fine car with a chauffeur and a tall man arrives—The lady meets him and I know at once it is her husband—It is plainer— Oh it is Mary Mirfield, another of our old classmates of 31. Beautiful drives—large dormitories—It is Storrs College—On entering what seems to be the main building I see many groups of students talking—they seem to be very excited—They are talking of a certain girl who entered six months ago. She was so studious and industrious that they have promoted her. She will become a member of the faculty of the Agricultural Department. They are talking of h r home town—it seems as though they said, Woodbury—why— yes,—they did and it is our classmate, Barbara Isham. Massachusetts—large buildings—private offices—Head Manager of the Forestry Department is the most prominent office—we enter—a young lady is dictating private letters to a Secretary. She must be writing to friends in Naugatuck. She is nowT turning to her forestry work—She takes a great interest in the groups out working under her. She looks familiar—It is Dot Weasa—But we didn't have to guess much because of the great interest which she took in forestry while in Biology class. I can see the suburbs of a large city—there is a sign on this large brick building—It is some sort of a home for children—The sign is plainer, it says, “Dawson’s Orphan Asylum,”—specializing in the correct feeding of the children. We enter the building—a woman meets us and offers to show us through the building—She says that she is at the head of the cooking department—we recognize her as Amy Poulin—This leads us to believe she acquired her ability in getting refreshments for English Club of Woodbury High School.

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Page Twenty-One . •• I- To Adam Wittek a drum to help him make a little more noise. To David Appleton we leave a library so that he may have a wider range of questions to ask of any typists who might be visiting school. T« Wayne Tarbox a diary in which to write down all funny little happenings. To Frank Somers we leave a flashlight to help him find the bright spots in life. To James Rowley a compass so that he can tell where he is going. To George Morris we leave a time table to help him to get to school on time. To Brewster Reichenbach a toothpick so he will know how it looks to be really skinny. To Harry Hull we leave a bed so that he can rest occasionally from his hard work. To George Coad, Charlotte leaves a goodly supply of candy and chewing gum to hand out to the rest of the girls. To Benny Gwiazdowski we leave the task of showing the class of 1932 how a Senior should act. To Oscar Lovdal a book on astronomy so he will learn how to become a basketball star. To Kenneth Bradley a ladder with which to climb to success. To Stanley Lusas a banana peel so he will make a slip once in a while. To Russell Coburn we leave Brinley’s “Secrets of Bluffing Revealed” in ten volumes. To David Stiles an elephant so he will have a trunk in which to carry home his books every night. To Sigurd Lovdal a parrot so he won’t have to do all of the talking. To James Wilson some moth balls to preserve that school girl complexion. To William Swanson a broom to sweep the cobwebs from out of the corners. To Kenneth Minor we leave a butcher knife so that he can make people think he really is going to do something. To Frank Matula a rolling pin so he will be able to show who’s boss. To Gertrude Smith a set of compasses to aid her in her study of architecture. To Robert Weasa a pine tree to remind him of that somebody. To “Joe” Krakauskas we leave a Ford truck to carry away all his “knock-outs.” To Luigino Bruni, a package of firecrackers to wake him up. To Reginald Wittek a job as a traveling salesman so he will have a new line to give his friends. To Gerald Taylor we leave Jimmy Lockwood’s ability to entertain his classmates. To George Salokas, instructions on how to become the answer to a Maiden’s Prayer. To Philip Scoville the job of attending Davison’s road stand in Minortown so that he will be nearer Alida. To Miss Clark we leave some earmuffs to protect her from the loud voices of the class of 1932. To Mr. Coombs we leave a horse and wagon to remind him of the good old days. To Miss Brucker we leave a separator to separate the Juniors and Sophomores from the Seniors and Freshmen. To Mrs. Coombs we leave a year’s subscription to the “Good Housekeeping Magazine.” To Mr. Clark we leave an omnibus to transport the Agricultural Boys. To the Sophomore Class we leave a magnet to draw them closer together. To the Freshman Class we leave a Book of Etiquette. To Norma Robinson we leave a jar of honey that she may always retain her sweet disposition. To Margery Butler we leave Dorothy Morgan’s position as class giggler. To Nettie Clements we leave directions on how to keep those stray locks under control. To Alice Tuttle we leave a fashion sheet. To Beatrice Lautenschlager we leave a tone control, not for the radio but for her voice. To Anne Plungis we leave Bob Brinley’s ability to slur over words so that her mistakes may not be audible to the teachers. To Irene King we leave a pick and shovel so that she won’t have such a hard time finding the answers to her algebra problems. To Catherine Minor and Frances Plungis we leave a tube of glue so that they may never be apart. To Warren Mansfield we leave an axe so that he won’t have to use his penknife to cut up the school desks.

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Page Twenty-Three ❖ ' I can see a small town in a valley—The church steeple towers above all—A small bungalow beside the church—It is the parsonage—In the house a woman is working industriously in the kitchen—a stalwart man is in the study—He seems to be preparing a sermon—The woman enters the study and speaks to her husband—It ».s Dorothy Parkin, who has married a minister. I can see a building which seems to be some sort of a telegraph school—I can hear the clicking of a telegraph machine. The operator is Charlotte Crofut—who is studying telegraphy— and taking a special course in “code”—(Coad). What? A voice orders me to see Dorothy Weasa and give her this cloak and wand so that she may reveal what she sees. Frances L. Smith, Lo! a large white building looms up—nearer —nearer—the large white door slowly opens— a spacious dignified room comes into view. A gorgeously carved desk—a stately young, stalwart, cheerful gentleman is seated behind it. The flourish of drums. The President of the United States—our dear old class President, Robert Brinley. He acquired the ability to act as President during his Senior year as President of the class of 31. Wait—another vision—a big newspaper office—many desks of sub-reporters—busy young men—the picture fades to the front center desk —-a young lady, tall, slender, and dark haired. She is the head of this big newspaper firm which directs the Naugatuck, Roxbury and Woodbury papers. “Why”—it is our smiling news reporter and classmate, Dorothy Morgan. We believe she learned this trade in Woodbury High, where she was school news reporter. racer—our classmate, Burritt Curtis—who has taken many honors for racing since his days in Woodbury High School. A large hospital—moanings, screechings and we meet the head nurse, a gruff spoken person, who has developed the new method of sticking pins and tacks into her patients as a new' w'ay of curing people. We believe, however, that she first learned this art in Woodbury High, and we soon recognize her as our classmate, Es-tella Dickinson. We see a small town—a circus—Everyone is excited. We enter the tent. The chief point of interest in the whole show is a monkey. The monkey really is a young gentleman and he is performing some very thrilling stunts. Hanging on a rope by one hand and swinging himself at a great speed, then letting go to fall in a big heap into a net. We believe he developed these animal antics in Woodbury High by hanging out the Senior window by one hand and performing other tricks for our Senior teacher, Miss Clark. We soon recognize him as our classmate and humorist, Harold Davis. Another vision—I can see Mrs. Coombs w'atchful eye, the vision fades—darkness—Reluctantly I give up the magic cloak and w'and, thankful that the visions didn't fade, before I had seen into the future of each of my classmates. Dorothy Weasa. “Fifth Avenue”—a wonderful shiny car comes into view—a lazy, sleepy, yet dignified looking Compliments of chauffeur at the wheel. We follow it. A beautiful apartment, spacious and lovely, and we come face to face with our sleepy classmate, James Lockwood. Another scene—and a lovely one—a cute little kitchen, an apron—a child’s toy—a young lady is preparing dinner—singing to herself. Why it is our sw'eet tempered classmate, Elizabeth Partridge, who is waiting for the return of her husband, who has something to do with trees. Still another vision—an odor of antiseptics— a prominent Roxbury man—a dentist’s office—a sweet vision in white—the dentist’s helper— wavy hair—a sweet smile, and we come face to face with our quick tempered classmate, Frances Smith. CURTIS HOUSE ❖ ❖ It fades—we draw nearer—a race track—confusion—a tall, thin young gentleman clad in a leather jacket. Why—it is the world’s champion • ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖