Woodbury High School - Warrior Yearbook (Woodbury, CT)

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CLASS PROPHECY Raynall Coley—Margaret Smith The scene takes place in a modern laboratory in the year 1945. The world famous scientist, Raynall Coley, is discussing with his assistant Margaret Smith his latest invention in scientific analysis of medecine. The scientist is working on some apparatus at a table as his assistant enters. Scientist: Come here! Look! at Last! Assistant: Have you really perfected your invention? Scientist: Yes, look here—Here is a substance only as large as a common tablet but if one eats it, the effect produced will be such that he will be able to see just what his classmates are doing at the present time. Assistant: Whom shall we try it on? Scientist: Well suppose you try it first. However if you don’t want to risk it we can call in someone else, although I’d rather— Assistant: No, let me have one. I, too would like to see if it will be a success. Scientist: Here it is. Just eat it as you would a piece of candy. Assistant: It is growing dark. I feel strange— dizzy. I can’t seem to remember—It’s clearing slowly. I see—Ah! What is it? Yes it is a group of fashionable women, drinking tea and eagerly listening to someone—a man. He seems to be reading something. Poetry—oh! I recognize him now, my old classmate Robert Abbott. He certainly looks as though he were enjoying himself. He was made famous by his excellent poetry in high school. Now the scene is fading. But wait—another scene presents itself. It is a private office—modern in the extreme. A young woman is seated at a desk. She is examining a magazine labeled True Story.” There is a small sign on the desk It reads, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF. Yes, I know her. It is Helen Belz, one of the few girls in my class of ’33. We all remember her ability in writing love stories for English compositions. She appears very business-like and also capable of holding the position. Another scene. I see multitudes of flowers. It seems to be a warm climate. In the distance are long beaches filled with masses of people sunning themselves or bathing in the surf. It it California. So this is Hollywood! Let us look further. Now I can see hugh buildings and many actors and actresses. As I look in on one set I see a handsome young man surrounded by a large group of actresses. He appears very pleased; as though he enjoys being the center of attraction. So Bobby Fray went to Hollywood so that he could find plenty of pretty girls to amuse him. It seems to take a longer time now between the sketches of events concerning my classmates. Now I am at a dance. The place looks familiar. Wait! I know the place. It’s the old Woodbury Town Hall. Someone nearby is saying that it is Old Home Week. Everyone seems to be having a good time. Someone else remarks that the orchestra is marvelous. Lo and Behold! There stands Candace Thompson, conductor of Ye Old Village Band. She always had talent for music. The scene changes slowly. The effect of that tablet must be wearing off but at least I am able to see one more scene. This seems to be in a kindergarten. A young woman is occupied in helping a small child build up a pile of blocks, and at the same time keeping the other children busy and satisfied. She is extremely patient. There seems to be something familiar about her. A knock at the door—she rises and goes to answer it. It’s Maude Eyre. Well she certainly ought to be successful. She always was patient with children. I feel queer again. Everything vanishes. I feel perfectly restored but how can I find out about the rest of my classmates? I must confess, Raynall. that your experiment was a success while it lasted. Scientist: Yes it was marvelous. Now I’ll try one and perhaps I will be able to find out what the others are doing. Assistant: Yes, you try now. Scientist: I seem to be in a daze. Now my head is clearing. I can see a large race track— people cheering in the stands. It is the Indianapolis Speedway. A man in a racing car crosses the finish line and comes to an abrupt stop a few feet away. The judge hands the driver a cup amidst cheering and the camera men ask him to remove his goggles so that they may take a picture of his. He removes them. Why—its Harry Hull our Class President. He surely got plenty of experience driving that chewy” to and from school. Everything becomes a blank— no— another scene. This time I can see a young man in the midst of a group of men and women; he seems Page Sixteen

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concert. Perhaps we had better not try to claim the honor, since there are already two contestants for it. Anyway, several members of our class took part. They were: Maude Eyre, Candace Thompson, Elizabeth Martin, David Appleton and Raynall Coley. The Junior year we had seventeen members. F our failed to return: Rabert Fumire, because of the illness of his father; Irene Hoyt, moved away; David Appleton, because of illness; Russell Coburn because he joined the class of ’32, and Robert Weasa, married. During the year we also lost Elizabeth Booth. We had one new member, Willard Boiney. Our teachers were; Miss Clark, Mrs. Coombs, Miss Brucker, Mr. Clark and Mr. Coombs. About the first of November Miss Brucker left to take a better position in her home town. Miss Scott took Miss Brucker’s place. We held a class meeting and elected our officers—President, Raynall Coley; Vice-President, Margaret Smith; Treasurer, Stanley Lusas; Secretary. Helen Belz. During the year we purchased our class rings. In May we gave our first class social. On the 19th and 20th of November certain members of our class took part in the Operetta, Bits O’ Blarney.” They were: Raynall Coley, Frank Matula, Maude Eyre, Candace Thompson and Elizabeth Martin. Willard Boiney and Raynall Coley were members of the Harmonica Band” which played between acts. Raynall Coley helped design and paint the scenery. During this year some of the boys became interested in track, basketball and baseball. Some of the girls also developed into basketball stars. Two of our class impersonated sen’c-s at the Class Day Exercises. Harry Hull as Henry Can-field and Willard Boiney as Oscar Lovdal. James Rowley was Marshall for the Class of ’32. The last social event of the year was a Prom given by the Class of ’32 and the Class of ’33.The Juniors on the Prom Committee were Margaret Smith, Raynall Coley. Maude Eyre and Willard Boiney. We started with fourteen in our class our Senior year, having lost James Rowley and George Coad. After about a month we lost Willard Boin-y who moved away. We all worked and managed to pass our Mid-year exams. And, speaking of working—throughout the four years some of our class members had been striving to see who should stand highest on the honor roll. These members were, Stanley Lusas, Sigurd Lovdal, John Gudzunas (who left us at the end of our Freshman year., evidently not on account of a lack of ability to keep up), Russell Coburn ,'who graduated last year), Helen Belz, Maude Eyre and Elizabeth Martin. Our teachers were Miss Clark, Mrs. Coombs, Mr. Clark, Mr. Coombs and Mr. Knox. Mr. Knox had begun with us in September and as the months went on we had learned to admire and respect his ability and industry. On the third of April we had a new English teacher, Miss Mer-win, to take Mrs. Coombs’ place. The class officers were: President. Harry Hull; Vive-President, Raynall Coley; Treasurer, Margaret Smith; Secretary, Elizabeth Martin. Helen Belz was absent about a month because of an operation for appendicitis. In the fall, several of our members took part in the Operetta The Fire-Prince.” They were: Raynall Coley, Maude Eyre, Robert Fray, Stanley Lusas, Robert Abbott, Frank Matula, Elizabeth Martin and Margaret Smith. Raynall Coley, Robert Abbott and Elizabeth Martin painted the scenery. On March 21st we went to have our pictures taken and although we later had many candidates for the best looking people in the class, the camera failed to make any queer noises that day. During Christmas vacation we gave a dance which was quite a success considering how little practice we had had. Tonight we commence a new period of our lives. We shall again be making history which we hope will be a credit to our training. CLASS GIFTS Frank Matula—Robert Fray To Harry Hull, we give Major Cambell’s racer, so that he may be able to make better time. To Oscar Johnson, we give this set of Farm Implements to give him a start in life as a successful farmer. To Raynall Coley, we give this book of alibis to refer to in case of necessity. To Sigurd Lovdal, we give this book on how to overcome bashfulness. To Robert Abbott, we give this book on how to become a gardener in his spare moments. To Stanley Lusas, we give this book on how to dance, so that he may dance with the co-eds at college. To Maude Eyre, our class baby, we give this bar of castile soap to preserve her baby complexion. To Helen Belz, we give this book of humor, so that she may see the bright side of life. To Candace Thompson, we give this music box, so that she may always have music. To Margaret Smith, we give this car, so that when one of her boy friends breaks a date she won’t have to walk. To Elizabeth Martin, we give this sewing basket, so that she will not be getting into mischief | when she goes away to college. Page Fifteen

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to be demonstrating the proper way to hold a young lady when dancing. I see now that he is a dancing instructor. He now turns toward me and—Frank Matula! Another scene immediately appears. It is a circus, a real circus. As the picture becomes more distinct, it reveals a man standing on a platform and yelling in a loud voice something about fli-as. Oh yes, he is telling the people that inside one may see trained fleas. We go inside the tent. The first thing I see is the back of a huge muscular man. He seems to be angry with one of the fleas and is trying to make him act as he wishes. As I approach I discover that it is none other than our class Valedictorian and humorist, Stanley Lusas. This scene quickly disappears and changes to another in the same circus. This time it is a lion’s cage. In it are several lions. A man is among them. He has his back turned toward one of the lions and it seems—yes, one of the lions is preparing to spring at him. But before he can, the little blond trainer turns around and stares the lion straight in the eye. The lion trembling, creeps off to a corner with his tail between his legs. At the same time I recognize Sigurd Lovdal, the world famous lion tamer. Again the scene changes and I am standing on the forward deck of a large pleasure yacht, off the Florida coast. Seated in a chair in front of me is a blond haired man with a characteristic Swedish face. He is leisurely smoking and reading. His face turns this way for an instant and I recognize Oscar Johnson, who is now a successful farmer off on a pleasure trip to southern waters. The scene fades rapidly and another takes its place. I am in a large building. Typewriters are clicking and phones ringing. Seated at a desk in one corner near a window is a young woman. She is busy drawing cartoons for a New York Daily. As I approach in curiosity, I recognize Elizabeth Martin. Now I feel peculiar—dizzy—all these scenes are revolving in my mind. Slowly, very slowly, it is growing lighter. At last—Why hello Margaret! It feels good to be normal again but didn’t it seem good to see our classmates again and find out what had become of them. I can’t realize it yet. CLASS POEM C. Robert Abbott We pause, as on some hill that only Youth can know, gazing far out yonder through a veil like falling snow. Dim it stands, and shining phosphorescent, pallid white; faint forms there outlining years still out of sight. Beneath it all, a-clutter, Life is freely strewn; and we catch glimpses, glances, tinted silver by the moon. It is so ghost-like, quiet, that in awe we seem to tremble, for ’tis ours to start it’s clamor; ours to fit and to assemble. How great this fleeting moment is, alien to Earth and common clay; we know as yet no space of time; no saddened life to choke the gay. Nor are we drunk like Age is, in the World’s old, wr tched ways; sitting, dreaming dreams in stupor; in a crabbed, stubborn daze. Ours are visions, tall and clinging fresh like breezes from the North, spirited and gaily bringing new ideas of value forth. So much to do, so many things undone, the greatest works are yet to be; perchance it may be one of us that makes a mark for Time to see. As we descend this vantage point and choose our course, and let youth go, let us hope, that we are wise in choosing; that the way not taken has no better show. Though this complex world may oft confound us with it’s many wiles, may we come through proud and happy, with a laurel crown; a wreath of smiles. And all those misty visions that we had ere we began, may they grow to true proportions, stretching broad, the world to span. Page Seventeen