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LETS PULL TOGETHER
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Co-Editors Harold Bertrand
Literary Barbara Merrill
News Lester Sprague
Sports Robert Osborne, '40
Alumni Ethel Marder
Exchange Virginia Swanson
Humor John Bates
Art Eleanor Hogg
Junior Class Representative Betty Wylie
Sophomore Class Representative Ernest Diamond
Margaret Marr Marie Poland Joy Nevens
Catherine Walsh Leslie Millard
Ada Di Bona Evelyn Smith
Business Manager Irving Sibert
Circulation Managers Attilio Franceschini
Assistant Circulation Manager Eleanor Smith
Advertising Manager John Laukkanen
Madeline Cislaghi Helen Gustafson
Doris Dwyer Pauline Principe
Esther Pearlin Henry Dell
Bernice Cutler Aune Laukkanen
Published Twice a Year Twenty-Five Cents Vol. XLXII, Number 1
SO IT GOES
(Best Senior Story)
(An Interview With Heather
NIGHT OF STARS
(Best Junior Story)
PEACE IS FORGOTTEN
(Best Sophomore Story)
OUR COACHES SAY
WHAT IS YOUR
Ert'a full otogeitjer
Editorial— HAROLD BERTRAND, '38
• Striving to win the semi-annual race, the Golden Rod is being valiantly
rowed by the staff towards its goal — success. In the stern is the editor, coaxing
along the crew, setting the pace, and heading the vessel straight down the
course. On the banks are the Faculty Advisers, hoping that their coaching
will help the Golden Rod cross the finish line triumphantly. Of course, this
race is no new thing. Since 1881 many crafts like the one now seen have
borne the Golden Rod to victory.
But how was the Golden Rod built? Have you noticed the cheering
crowd, rooting for the Golden Rod? Have you noticed the people on the
sides of the course who contributed so that their vessel could be built from
nothing? You are that crowd, two thousand of you and more. Do you
feel that what you have provided has made your literary vessel able to ride
the wave of disaster, has made it safe so that no matter how rough the going
may be, the Failure will always be out of sight behind it ?
It may interest you to know that out of the two thousand persons on the
sidelines, only twenty-three tried to become members of the Staff; twenty-
three tried to become part of the crew. That brings to our minds a question
that is more important. Are you and the crew working together ? A worthy
boat and a shiftless crew cannot make a winner; neither can a leaky boat,
built from faulty materials, and a strong crew. To win this and any other
race, both the boat and the crew should be strong; the cheering sections
should be there to urge on the crew; the coaches should be well-informed.
Each is indispensable; your support and contributions to the Golden Rod
cannot be done without.
The glory of being a winner is not the primary object of this struggle
toward Success. Each semester a new Golden Rod is built, launched, and
raced. The Golden Rod is, in fact, an institution. The winnings of this
contest will go toward the building of a bigger and better Golden Rod that
will be launched in 1938 and will be raced in June of that year. You must
contribute and again contribute. You must support each Golden Rod as
much as you are able. Work with us, the crew, so that no matter what the
race, the Golden Rod will come home being rowed by a happy crew, supported
by a hearty crowd, and always and always the victor in every race to be
But let us dispense with the above figure of speech. We shall end by
saying that this issue of the Golden Rod contains only what you, the school,
have wanted it to contain. Everything you may find here is representative
of you, and we heartily hope that you like you in this issue.
LETS PULL TOGETHER
Dishes! Soapy, sudsy dishes,
In a bright array —
Tiny bubbles clinging fast,
Hiding colors gay.
How I glory in your sparkle,
Luster ware in rows!
Sandwich glass and Dresden china
Hobnobbing with Stowe's.
Now to polish even brighter
Till the last is done,
O you precious dishes, I could
Smash you, every one!
Joyce Thompson, '38
Bit 3ft (&$?&
Best Senior Story— M. JANE MILKS
* The sun is brightly shining on a small,
peaceful farm in South Dakota. Summer
is just awakening. A young farm wife sits
on her back porch, thoughtfully mending
some overalls for her youngest child, Irving,
who is crawling about on the soft grass.
The other three boys are out fishing in the
Missouri River, which borders their farm
on the south.
Mattie was always regretful that one
of her children had not been a girl, for she
did so want to give her daughter many of
the pleasures that had been omitted from
her own miserable life. She was determined
that, if there should be a daughter, she would
not live the life her mother had. That was
all right for a boy, but girls were "diff'rent."
As she sat at her sewing, her mind wandered back to a miserable farm
on a long strip of extremely fertile land projecting out into the river — the
Missouri flats. Floods were an ever present danger and her family abandoned
their home many times when the river rose — thus the cheapness of the land
and the reason why only the poor farmers, like her father, took refuge there.
The family, consisting of a frump of a mother, old far before her time,
a rough, ill-mannered father, four baby brothers, and Mattie herself, huddled
around a large, roughly hand-hewn table. The father was speaking with a
stern, loud voice trying to be heard above the bawling of the youngest child
and the slushing noise of the other children sipping a Western stew known
"Mattie," he hollered gruffly, "You gotta quit school and stay at home
and help your paw with the plantin'."
"Aw, Pa! I da wanna," answered his daughter. "I'll have ta miss school
if I do and I only just got started in the second grade."
"Well, what of it?" answered her father angrily. "You ain't got no place
in school, no how. That place is only for them's got money."
"But gee, Pa! I'm just getting along good and I wanna go to school and
make sumpin' of m'self. I don't wanna be like Ma!"
"Make sumpin' of yourself! Ha! ain't you the high falootin' one. An'
what's the matter with yore Ma?"
"What's the matter with 'er? She's tir'd and wasted and old long
before her time slavin' away on this here farm. I da wanna be a farmer's
wife! I wanna get edjikated and be a lady and maybe marry an Easterner."
"Stop that sassy gabbering. Yo'r the oldest kid on this here farm and
big enough and strong enough to help with the work, and that's what I'm
aimin' for ya ta do. So shut yore mouth and eat yer 'raters."
Mattie was only nine then, but strongly built and very tall for her age.
She had attended school for fourteen months and was now in the second
grade. She was just grasping the mystery of reading words without even
stopping to sound them, and was very happy when she accomplished the task
of dividing with less hesitancy than the other three children in her grade. The
schoolmaster begged the father to let the girl continue, for she undoubtedly
had talent, but the only answer the father gave was, "Her Ma didn't have no
schoolin' and nither did I."
So, in spite of the schoolmaster's earnest pleadings, Mattie was forced to
discontinue her studies in the little wooden schoolhouse she loved so well.
The work increased and more children were added to the already crowded
home. Meanwhile, Mattie had very little opportunity to further her education,
but, determined not to lose what little knowledge she had, she would sit alone
in a dimly lighted attic re-reading time and time again until she knew perfectly
every letter and every word in her precious little "Second Year Reader" she
had so carefully hidden from her father's search. Once in a while she came
upon a newspaper, and would recline in some corner pretending to look at the
pictures, when in reality, she was struggling with the difficult words trying to
pronounce and understand them. She would be ready when her opportunity
came to live in the East.
Thus, Mattie reached sixteen and started to go around with girls her own
age. There were shows, dances, plays, club affairs, and so forth, visited by
Mattie in an endeavor to feed her lonesome soul by social contacts. Her two
oldest brothers were now eleven and nine and more help than she. Her father
began looking for suitors so that he could marry her off. Poor Mattie was
worried. She didn't want to marry a farmer.
One day an excited friend came to see her and tell her of the invitation
she got for the both of them to attend a dance to be held in Sioux City, Iowa,
the following evening.
"There will be some Eastern sailors there," she excitedly related. "They
are on their furlough and with a fellow who is visiting his mother in Sioux
City. They'll all be at the dance. Gosh, I'm thrilled!"
Mattie's heart beat wildly. Easterners! Oh! "I'll go," she whispered.
"Right after I wash the dishes I'll bundle my clothes up and make believe
I'm takin' them to yore house to mend on yore sewing machine, so Pa won't
get 'spicious and make me stay in. Then I'll get dressed at your place."
The scheme was acceptable to both girls, so they parted.
After five hours of driving over dusty roads, the seventy-five miles to the
dance was covered and the nervously excited girls, none the worse for their
hard journey, were helped from the team by their escorts at eight-thirty in the
Gayety was in the air and Mattie declared that she had never had such
a lovely time. Best of all, John Conlon, one of the sailors, danced practically
all night with her and begged to see her again before he returned to the East.
And so he did ; not once but five times, and that last time, the evening before
he was to return to the East and the Navy, he asked her to wait for him.
Seven long, anxious months passed by. Then one day she found one
forlorn letter in the mailbox announcing that he expected to be there within
a week as his service in the Navy was ended and he was already preparing
to leave for the Middle West. Oh such joy! Now she was going to realize
her dream and marry an Easterner. She could visualize a lovely little home
in the city — maybe New York or even Boston.
She could look back now and see all that. A tear left her eye and glistened
on her cheek. That Easterner whom she married bought a farm two hundred
miles from her birthplace and had lived there ever since !
ARTHUR GRANVILLE, '39
* Spinach is a food valued chiefly for its entirely imaginary health-
sustaining properties. Although probably not qualified to designate myself as
a spinach expert, I have nevertheless had much experience with it, and so feel
justified in expressing my views on the subject.
To the best of my knowledge, spinach is produced commercially in huge
bales, several tons in weight, which are made heavier, and consequently more
valuable, by the addition of large quantities of fine sand. These bales are sold
by quarters (nothing smaller) to mothers who, in spite of this, are generally
kind-hearted and nice to all dumb animals. Their children, however, must
have vitamins, calories, roughage, and all the other marvels which science has
invented for the good of the timid consumer.
So-called substitutes for this wonderful panacea have been advanced by
mundane business men who claim that "they're just as good for you." Don't
let them deceive you; broccoli, beet greens, and dandelions are all spinach in
different forms! The price is different, the name is different, they may not
even look alike, but the principle is just the same.
Only within the last generation has America become spinach conscious.
Our forefathers heard no praise of it as a succulent vegetable that would make
another Atlas of one. To them it was merely another blob on the plate before
them, to be eaten and endured.
Those rash persons who have so insistently maintained that the human
race is going to the dogs must surely revise their opinions when they realize
that the trend is really toward the spinach.
An Interview with Heather Angel
By BARBARA MERRILL, '38 and JOHN MacLEAN, '39
*"Will you please sign my autograph book, Miss Angel?" . . . "Mine
too, please?" Such cries as those were floating around our heroine's dainty
head as we jostled through the crowd in the modernistic lounge of the Wilbur
Theatre. Seeing an opening, we ducked through, and there we were at last —
face to face with that twinkling star of the cinema — Miss Heather Angel.
In less time than it takes to become an Angel fan (which is saying a lot!)
we were chatting intimately with this shining figure in the Hollywood con-
stellations, now starring in the play, "Love of Women."
For the benefit of the feminine readers! . . . she wore a smart black
caracul coat over a simple black dress, and an attractive veiled toque. Her
sophisticated clothes only served to accentuate the demure sweetness of her
face, and we were pleasantly surprised to find that she was just as lovely to
see in person as to watch on the screen.
She told us that as a child in England she had had a great desire to act,
and had started her career in the Old Vic, that famous little playhouse which
trains potential stage material in the great classics of Shakespeare. She toured
England, India, and the Far East in various plays, but finally succumbed to
the lure of Hollywood. She has made several pictures, her most outstanding
role being in "Berkeley Square." Among her other films are "The Three
Musketeers," "Pilgrimage," and "The Informer," and her latest is "Portia on
Trial." After the Boston engagement of "Love of Women", the company
will go to Toronto. Miss Angel stated that, after this tour is completed, she
plans to resume her career as a movie star.
Now for Heather Angel as a person. She is charming, both to see and
to talk with. In fact, she was so cordial that before long she was interviewing
the interviewers! ! She has a most engaging voice, gentle and low-pitched,
with a slight suggestion of an English accent to lend color to her speech. She
is small in stature with beautiful, expressive eyes and light-brown hair, and
we particularly noticed the delightful smile which lighted up her delicately-
chiseled features as she talked.
By the way, you may be interested to know that her romantic name is
her own and not one conceived by an over-ambitious press agent.
She has found Boston, on her first visit here, to be a very fascinating
city, not only because it resembles London more than any other American city
but also because its people are so gracious and friendly.
We asked her what advice she would give to young aspirants to an acting
career, and she replied, "Of course, you must realize it is a very hard life;
but if you have the ability and the determination to succeed and you do manage
to become comparatively famous, then the rewards you reap are certainly
worth the effort expended to obtain them."
We reluctantly brought to a close our enjoyable talk with this celebrated
actress. She expressed her best wishes for the future success of Golden Rod,
and we departed feeling quite elated that we had had the opportunity to
spend so delightful a few moments with Heather Angel.
BETTY WYLIE, '39
* Curls, curls, curls. The agonies en-
dured by girls for those lovely golden locks
are almost indescribable in all their stages.
Boys, for the benefit of those of your number
who admire our curls, I should like to relate
to you a few of the harrowing experiences
which lead us from the state of the straight-
haired girls to the "we" of today who now
proudly display a headful of curls, a wave
or two, a mass of kinky hair, or what have
"When I was a child, I spake as a child,
I thought as a child — " and I wore pigtails.
Beautiful round ones extending half way
down my back. Of course their location
changed when I reached the adult age of
fourteen, for then they appeared as a coronet
framing my face in a most queenly fashion. Soon, however, the height of
style dictated otherwise, so I was shorn and felt quite light-headed with my hair
reaching only to my shoulders. The fun, though, had only begun. How
trying those first six months were! First I experimented with steel curlers,
denting my sensitive head, then a roll or two, next, finger waves, marcels,
nice hot curling irons, my fingers, or anything else that was in my reach or
that of rny pocketbook's. The usual run of conversation was, "I don't know
what to do." "My hair is always a mess." "My trouble is that I can never
remember how I do my hair from one day to the next." "How do you like it
this way?" But alas and alack, no solution presented itself. And girls were
forever lending bobby pins for those ends that would not behave.
Our distress was almost unbearable when behold, science came to the
rescue in the form of a permanent wave. "Eureka!" or as the ads would say
it, "I never knew how beautiful I could be until I tried ." I got a per-
manent wave. Not that simply, though. First, I washed dishes and took care
of neighbors' dear little children and stinted and saved until my bankbook
showed a savings of seven dollars and my scales a loss of five pounds. The
latter was probably due to the fact that very little candy and ice cream was
consumed during this period.
An appointment was secured, and on the chosen day I presented myself
to the modern magician, the hairdresser. After much preliminary discussion
as to whether I should have a spiral or a croquignole, whether the machine-
less would bring out my natural allure or not, and various other technicalities,
I made the momentous decision — a croquignole — and was ushered to a chair.
The hairdresser searched my hair for dandruff, — etc. This was followed by
an invigorating scalp treatment. (Had my hair washed, in other words).
It was dried via the hot air drier. While under this form of torture, I read
numerous and sundry articles of theatrical interest. Aha! "Robert Taylor
and Barbara Stanwyck are just like that!" "Will Sonya Henie and Tyrone
Power combine forces soon?" It occurred to me that I was certainly behind
the times. The last movie magazine I had seen had been about Clara Bow and
her latest flame. Let's see, "The latest Hollywood gossip says that Gene
Raymond — ". Oh rats!"
"Step this way, please."
Snap ! Crackle ! Pop ! Thus spake my hair as the operator yanked out the
knots. While recovering from this shock, I was nearly suffocated by the most
deadly of smells. Ammonia? Why had I ever willingly consented to such
treatment? My hair would surely turn to straw.
But the worst was yet to come. Twenty heavy steel clamps were fastened
to my hair and then rolled tightly against my head. When they were all in
position, I felt as though I had been transported to some country where it was
the custom to carry the family washing on one's head. I was top heavy, and
sure that if I should make one false move, the perfect balance would be lost,
my neck crack, and my head and all go tumbling to the floor.
Thus I was attached to the electrical machine. And as I thought of all
that had preceded I should not have been at all surprised had I been electro-
cuted. I needed no electric chair; my imagination supplied it and all the rest
of the details.
Then again, suppose, oh horrors! suppose the operator forgot to turn off
the current in time? Remember that movie where the hairdresser removed
the clamps and chunks of hair? How would I look in a wig? One minute,
three minutes, five minutes — oh dear, oh, dear.
But all my fears were ill-founded for to my joy, when the machine was
disconnected and the curlers removed, I still retained my hair, and though I
could hardly feel it, my head was in position.
Another wash, an application of greenish gooey goo, a "set" and believe
it or not, the drier again. My back ached, my eyes watered, my cheeks burned
and my feet itched. But I emerged victorious. My hair was combed and as
I looked admiringly at my reflection in the mirror, and saw beautiful waves
and curls crowning my head, with what strength was left me I smiled and
murmured, "What price beauty?"
LETS PULL TOGETHER
A Ntgljt (§f BUvb
Best Junior Story— HELEN KONDELIN
* He stood at the window, a tall man,
dark haired, tanned and young, but with a
look of strength and determination that per-
haps belied his years.
He gazed on the surrounding country-
side which was quietly falling asleep. In
the vast dome of the sky glimmered a soli-
tary star. Ere long the heavens would be
covered with a silvery cobweb. Farther
north, however, night was being welcomed
by the roar of cannon and noise of battle.
Civil War had made America a land of
strife and discord.
"What in the world is keeping him?"
muttered Gerald Manning as he scanned the
fields and darkening woods. A worried
look spread over his features. The grand-
father clock downstairs chimed nine. With a backward glance, he quietly
left the room.
The reception hall was ablaze with light and the brilliant colors of the
women's dresses. The celebration tonight was an unusual one. For months
on end no festivity had taken place in the neighborhood, but with the news
of success at Harper's Ferry and Antietam, spirits had rallied and pent up
emotions gave way to gayety.
People smiled and beckoned to him as he passed, but he dismissed them
all with courteous bows and hurried along in his search for Marcia Longley.
At last he saw her in the midst of a group of young people. It was her
twenty-first birthday and he had never seen her more beautiful than she was
tonight. Her dark tresses were piled high on her head and the blue satin
sheen of her dress brought out the fairness of her skin and accentuated the
depth of her eyes.
She saw him before he reached her, and leaving the group, she ran to
him smiling. "I thought you were never coming. Isn't the party lovely?
It's glorious to have the home company back even for a few days. It seems
so good to see my old friends. Have you got acquainted with many ? They may
have comrades from Louisiana who know you."
Manning artfully evaded the subject for he doubted very much if anyone
from Louisiana knew him. They wended their way among the dancers.
"Have you seen him?" continued Marcia.
"Seen whom?" asked Gerald.
"Why everyone is talking of it. There is a rumor that a spy is in our
His grasp tightened ever so slightly on her arm. Did she know? Had
he imagined that a shadow had passed over her face?
Just then a laughing couple descended upon them and they changed
"It sure is grand to have some excitement around here," chirped his
little companion. "It does a person good to see a group of men who can
dance. I wonder if they'll catch that spy. I can't for the life of me think
who he is! Can you?"
Gladly Gerald gave up his talkative partner to an admiring swain.
Turning toward the dining room he saw a gathering of men around the
punchbowl. Snatches of conversation could be heard: "It will be the gallows,
I'm afraid." . . . "but are they sure?" . . . "Serves him right" . . . and they
moved away leaving Manning with the appalling thought: . . . Did they
suspect him ?
Gerald was awaiting a message from one of his fellow comrades, but
thus far he hadn't heard the baying of a hound, which was their customary
manner of signaling each other. Why hadn't Dave given him the word?
Surely things were ready now ! He'd have to go on alone for he couldn't wait
much longer. Evidently all roads were being guarded. Guarded or not,
tonight he must get away. Tomorrow would perhaps be too late.
He reentered the reception room. Already many of the guests were
leaving. Marcia and her father were at the door bidding them goodbye.
She beckoned to him.
"Where have you been? I've been wondering if you would like to go
for a canter tomorrow morning, — say around five-thirty."
Gerald nodded a mute assent realizing that it would never be.
Before the last guest had gone, he went to his room, feeling that if he
saw Marcia alone she would surely find out. No one, not even she, must
know of his mission.
Finally, everyone had gone and the house lay dark and still. Picking
up his cloak and some letters, he softly opened the door and as quietly closed
it after him. Thank heavens the floors and stair-case were so heavily carpeted.
At the foot of the stairs he stopped and turned toward the reception hall.
Just one more look at the room where so many happy moments had been
spent. The moonlight flooded the room and outlined his figure in the doorway.
A rustle of satin rose from the window-seat.
"Who is it?" asked Marcia.
He strode across the room and clasped her in his arms. He felt a sob
shudder through her body. After a moment she said, "You are going now,
"I must, dearest! Don't hate me too much!"
"I'll be waiting for you always. Some day when the war is over — "
"Would that you could go with me, Marcia."
"You know that I can't, Gerald. I love my people as you do yours."
For a moment he was undetermined whether he should tell her of his
plans, but decided against it although he realized now that she had guessed
but half the truth.
"Now you must go quickly," Marcia was saying. "A saddled horse is
waiting for you in the stable. Your absence will not be discovered immedi-
ately in the morning for father thinks that we are going riding."
Not trusting his voice, he kissed her.
"The war can't last forever, darling," she murmured brokenly.
He hurried through the entryway into the stable. Leading the horse
out into the night, he mounted and was soon galloping through the moonlit
woods. Manning's thoughts were in a tumult. Evidently something had
happened to Dave. But what — . All around him the world was bathed
in inky silence except for the thud of his horse's hoofs and the snapping of
twigs. High in the heavens above, the stars winked and blinked and raced
along with this solitary rider.
Suddenly Gerald reined his horse to a halt. Just ahead of him lay a
stretch of open road. It was here that capture was most probable. Spurring
his horse and with pulses throbbing he thundered down this path, which
had been beaten smooth by marching feet.
A shot pierced the air. Another and another rang out. His horse
reared at the sound and Manning was thrown. He tried to rise but such a
pain shot through his leg that he sank to the earth again.
Men were shouting and trampling in the woods. Presently they came
upon him. One, evidently in charge, came over to him, brandishing his sword.
"Thought you could get away with it, you damned Yankee spy! Well,
by thunder, you didn't! We found Dave Sawyer's body in the brush and as
sure as I stand here, you'll hang for the deed. That you will."
Dave dead! Numbly Manning realized that his worst fears had come
true. Not only had his friend been killed by, presumably the Northern spy
who was rumored to have been around, but now that same spy was speeding
north to deliver the message that would bring death to thousands. As in a
dream he spoke to his captors.
"Gentlemen, you accuse me of being a spy. Well, you are right, partly.
I am a spy, but for the South, the same cause that you fight for. Here are
my credentials and some letters signed by Lee. The damned Yankee is
probably miles to the north by now carrying the death warrant of many of our
comrades. May God in heaven delay him!'.'
It was a night of stars. Stars falling softly and quietly on one who had
done all he could ever do for his country. Stars racing along with another
who had at least one more mission to fulfill.
By BOB DAVIS
*"People, People, Everywhere!" is a collection of stories of a newspaper
man's wanderings in many parts of the world, taken from "Bob Davis Reveals,"
his editorial column in the "New York Sun." In the clear, vivid style char-
acteristic of a good newspaper man, the author writes of interesting people he
has met and of tales told to him in his travels.
Some names are familiar to all, such as George Bernard Shaw, Mahatma
Ghandi and John L. Sullivan. Others are unknown to most of us, namely Sarah
McNabb, the stork chaser; Ortega, the Mexican bullfighter; Jerome, the man
without any feet, and many more. In the eyes of Bob Davis they are all impor-
tant, for each has a story to offer.
It would take a great deal of searching, outside of Ripley's "Believe It or
Not, ' ' to find a more amazing story than one Bob Davis encountered in Meteghan,
Nova Scotia. It concerns a sailor, Jerome, who in 1880, was found with both
legs amputated four inches below the knee, on a lonely stretch of Nova Scotia
beach. Beside his lay a paper bag containing pilot crackers, evidence, perhaps,
that he had been abandoned by a passing ship. He was moved to a sympathetic
fisherman's house and well taken care of. Nothing was ever discovered about
his past life nor how he came to be left on the beach, for he did not speak a
word from the time he was found until his death forty years later.
People who sit at home and long for romance will find it by reading this
cross-section of life amid varied persons in different lands, told by a man who
found romance in his seven-hundred-thousand miles of globe-trotting.
Bob has a gift for gathering a tremendous number of human interest stories,
a trait typical of a good newspaper man. Another admirable thing about his
book is the way he puts himself in the background and just writes of "People,
People, Everywhere ! ' '
John MacKenzie, '38
f ou (Kmrt Sake M Mttlj fnu
By MOSS HART and GEORGE S. KAUFMAN
• Could your grandfather have retired at the age of thirty-five to settle down
to the tranquil, domestic business of fire-cracker making? That is just what
Martin Vanderhoff did in "You Can't Take It With You." His home is just
around the corner from Columbia University, but don 't go looking for it. A few
members of the family have a propensity for bringing casual acquaintances
home to live with them. Therefore, the gathering under this roof is, to say
the least, unusual. The dethroned Grand Duchess Katherine, of Russia, pre-
pares a meal for the family; a prominent broker, father of Alice's boy friend,
is arrested in this house while a dinner guest and packed off to jail.
One of the sons is arrested for circulating boxes of candy containing
communistic and radical ideas of government. Officials find enough gun powder
in the cellar to blow up the entire city. The first act closes with a terrific
explosion from the gun powder. Everyone is in an uproar, except grandfather ;
he looks as though he could enjoy a good game of darts.
There are two objects for writing this play: first, to make us realize that
in this busy, bustling, and bungling world, life is passing us by, while we are
absorbed in daily, matter-of-fact problems, and second, that the present admin-
instration, with its relief and W.P.A., has created a most dependent group of
citizens. They enjoy their leisure time at the expense of others. Why should
they work? Relief and being on the W.P.A. are much more pleasant! These
government parasites even object because they must personally go to the
government office to obtain their weekly dole.
This play is a brilliat satire on current social conditions presented in a
most hilarious manner. If you read this play without smiling or laughing
aloud every few pages, you are one in a million.
Lillian Russell, '38
By MALVINA HOFFMAN
• While on her journey around the world, modelling the different races
for the Field Museum, Malvina Hoffman had miraculous escapes which make
one's hair stand on end. Her lucky star must have been on watch, however,
for the Field Museum's Hall of Man is the result.
Though the original plan called for painted plaster models with human
hair and glass eyes, Miss Hoffman persuaded the authorities that bronze figures
would be better. These include Chinese, Malays, Hawaiians, and Indian and
The hardships of the journey, Miss Hoffman took in her stride, aided by
her husband, Samuel Grimson, who acted as photographer. They travelled in
stuffy native trains, by camel, motor, and ship, always accompanied by their
twenty-seven boxes of equipment.
She had barely left her hotel in Shanghai when it was bombed by the
Japanese; in the Malay jungles she would have been bitten by a snake had it
not been for the vigilance of the native she was modelling; in Bali she was
nearly hit by coconuts several times while watching a dancing ceremony.
If you once open the book and see one of the illustrations, you won't lay
it down until you have read it from cover to cover, for the illustrations are one of
its most fascinating features. You '11 find photographs of statues of Paderewski,
of Anna Pavlowa, of Hawaiian surf riders, Chinese Coolies, African warriors,
pygmies, Burmese "giraffe-necked" women, and pictures of bronzes in various
stages of the making.
Miss Hoffman must have been a great sculptor before her expedition, else
the Field Museum would not have chosen her, but surely the success of the Hall
of Man and the living quality of this book have given her permanent fame.
Joyce Thompson, '38
Uratfjrr - Snmtb
I've just turned off the radio,
And spurned the many books,
And now I gaze at splattered panes,
With pensive, moody looks.
I watch the swift, fine drizzle
That headlights passing by
Reveal with candid clearness,
Like needles loosed on high.
I hear the pounding rain-drops
Echo through the room,
Penetrate the silence,
Accentuate the gloom.
And then I see the likeness
Of rain to time and life
As it drones on so relentlessly
With its firm, unyielding strife.
Helen Johnson, '38
When summer breezes whisper
And the blue waves gently curl,
I board my trim, swift craft
And watch her sheets unfurl.
In an instant I cast the mooring,
In an instant I start to glide,
With nothing but pleasure before
My troubles all have died.
The borderless sea surrounding
Carries my thoughts afar.
I rock and drift and dream
Till low in the west — a star.
Brenda Davison, '39
A WINTER'S TALE
His hat was an old black derby
With a feather in the band,
His eyes, two sparkling buttons
In a face inexpressive and bland,
Around his cold neck was thrown,
In a jaunty sort of way,
A woolly scarf that grandma knit
With fringe of colors gay,
The children stood and admired their
The fruit of their labor that day,
But the sun shone bright and warm
ere noon —
Mr. Snowman passed away!
Mary Falvey, '39
DOROTHY DYER, '38
* Confound this rain; can't
see two feet ahead. Wonder
what's the matter with the
windshield wiper — worked
okay last time. Guess I'll
stop awhile. May let up a
little. A drink wouldn't go
so bad anyway. Let's see —
where am I? Almost to the
"Blue Tavern." I'll go a bit
farther; rather have more
drinks and less service anyway. What a racket — this tip business. Won-
der if I can make that light. Too slippery — might skid. Okay, bud,
keep your shirt on, I'm moving. Wonder where some of these smart
Alecs would be without a horn. Thinks he's a big shot, I suppose.
Mmmmmm, here's a place that doesn't look so bad; may as well stop here
as anywhere; hope that rain stops. Not bad, this place. I'll have to remember
it. . . Say, this hits the spot all right, all right. . . Gee, didn't know it was
that late. Just one more and I'll shove off. Where's the door? Oho, must've
had one too many. Where the heck — O, I've got it. What a night — bad as
ever. Let's see now, how do I turn here? This is right; I remember the dark
stretch. Not many cars on the road — I'll step it up a little. What's that?
Something in the road ? Must be imagining things. No ! Brakes ! My God !
There was something ! A kid ! Must have been a kid ! On a bicycle. What
if he's dead! Good Lord, what a mess. What'll I do? Can't leave him
here. Wonder where he lives. Might take him to a hospital and say I found
him in the road. They'd find dents in the fenders or something. A cop! I'm
done for this time. I'll get the kid in the back seat anyway and we'll rush him
to the hospital. Perhaps there is a chance for him yet.
Gee, what happened? O yeah, the car couldn't stop. Wonder where
he's taking me. Must be to the hospital. Guess I'll keep quiet and not say
anything. What a smash! Guy was on the wrong side of the road — musta
been drunk. Well, they can't say it was my fault this time. Holy cats, the
same cop! Maybe it won't be so easy. Wonder what my bike looks like —
must be smashed to pieces. I don't feel so bad though. If I keep still maybe
he'll think I'm hurt bad and buy me a new bike. He might have dough.
Pretty swell looking car he's got here.
What will his mother say this time, I wonder ? Kid must have a charmed
life. This makes the third time he's been hit, I guess. Out on a night like this
with no light — well it's the last time he'll do it on that bike. Driver seems
to be pretty jittery — poor guy — probably first time he ever hit anyone. Well,
guess he'll get out of it all right under the conditions. The man couldn't
be expected to see a bike without a light, on a night like this.
If that kid's dead it means prison. The cop must smell the liquor.
Drunken driving and manslaughter — that's what the charges will be. Heaven
knows what that means. Prison, prison! Uniforms, bars. No! Never!
He told me to do forty-five — if I step it up to sixty I can jump the curb and
crash the fence on the curve at the foot of this grade. There's a forty foot
drop to the tracks — that ought to end my trouble. No jail life for me!
2Hjf ICnmt? (§f Hearts nr (ttuptin Stalks
* Side by side, hand in hand, they walk about, these lovers of ours. With
tender glances and soft voices they caress each other. The arms of Psyche,
goddess of young love, encompass them and the merciless arrows of Cupid
thud into their unresisting hearts. The sweet voices of this god and goddess
lull them, all unsuspecting, into a state where air is their floor and things seem
as in a dream. They do not tread the corridors of Senior High; their light
feet carry them to a place where moonlit waters caress the silver sands, where
from the shades of the forest comes the wood thrush's call or the sweet,
clear song of the nightingale. The heady essence of exotic flowers clouds their
brains so that nothing is real but the other.
But this ethereal paradise is short-lived, for the brazen clangor of a bell
jerks them from their peaceful reveries to send them scurrying to their next
class, there to slump in their seats and stare out the window, with unseeing
eyes, enduring life till they may once more gain that celestial state where
nothing matters and earthy things are as far from them as limburger is from
How cruel it is to startle them from their dreams! Instead of harsh
bells why not a chime to waken them more easily? Instead of bare, hard
corridors, why not a carpeted lane strewn with roses to guide their happy feet ?
Let us not intrude upon their peace, let us not divert those warm glances.
It surprises me sometimes that those warm glances don't short-circuit. But
be that as it may, let us leave them alone.
There is a limit, however, so let these people take heed! Let one more
pair of love-stricken young calves get in my way and there will be two less
students in Quincy High!
Roy Hutchins, '39
Best Sophomore Story— DOMENICA DE POLO
• The towering Alps with their old white
heads looked down protectingly on a cozy
little village in northern Italy where, for
generations, peace-loving farmers had made
their homes, cultivated small patches of rocky
soil, and labored to raise their sons and
daughters hoping that they would be the
pride and joy of their old age, when all else
failed. This was not to be. The tender
dreams of mothers, the proud hopes of
fathers for their sons were torn ruthlessly
from the bosoms of those who cherished
them, when in the year 1914 war was de-
Among the villagers was a widowed
mother whose very life was in the keeping
of her only son, Mario, whom she adored.
As she stood on the sidelines, with a heart too full of tender pride and bitter
sorrow for common tears, she watched all that her seventy years stood for,
marching with the rest of the youths, full of life and anticipation of victory.
The flag that floated before them held in its silken folds the lives of these
youths and the broken hearts of mothers, wives and sweethearts. And so
the flower of youth marched away from the safe secluded gardens.
Cannons roared; guns barked; men moaned in agony; women screamed
in horror; Death was a constant companion; war had begun! Mario was
amidst all this. Along with his companions he fought at the front, heedless
of rain, snow, bitter cold, stifling heat, rotting food, biting cooties, scurrying
rats, physical pain, heart-breaking sorrow, and all else that spelled war. The
very rivers from which they drank flowed red with the blood of those who
had died protecting their banks. A year had gone by. Day after day, week
after week the struggle went on with not a spark of hope for peace.
One night Mario was left on guard over a few of his sleeping com-
panions, the small remnant of Company K after the memorable encounter
at the Piave. He had had a hard day, but with the never-complaining spirit
of a soldier he undertook his task. As night spread her blanket over the
battle-torn world and the stars twinkled as though glad to be thousands of
miles away from that ruthless planet, Earth, that never learns even by experi-
ence that war is futile, Mario's thoughts wandered far from their abode to
dwell on the sweet, more humane things of life. How beautiful the world
really was, how peaceful and quiet, how far away and unreal the war seemed.
Mario heard a step. "Halt! Who goes there!"
"Just Luigi, Mario. Put down your gun. Golly, but I was thirsty.
I just got up to get a drink. Would you like some? Here." After giving
Mario the water and exchanging a few words, Luigi departed for his tent.
The whispering of the winds and the fragrance of the pines drifting
lusciously past Mario's nostrils threatened to make numb his tired senses.
He must not sleep. He must not! Dear God forbid that this should happen.
The lives of those men sleeping were intrusted to him. The whispering of
the wind went on, the fragrance of the pines grew sweeter. Sleep beckoned
that tired youth to rest and he answered.
In the still of the night came the enemies as if they knew that the guard
had fallen asleep, to attack the unsuspecting survivors of Company K. First
they seized and tied Mario, who had awakened too late to give the signal,
but not too late to realize what he had done. He repented with a broken
heart the weakness which had led him to fall asleep, when if he had been
awake, he could have given to his comrades a chance for victory, instead of
letting them be caught in a trap like rats. The enemies made prisoners of
all the other men in the camp. As they were being led away under heavy
guard with Mario at their head, on only one face was there a gleam of triumph,
and that face was the face of the traitor who was responsible for this predic-
ament. Thus Mario and his comrades were led to Austrian prisons, victims
While Mario was in prison, his thoughts wandered back to the bitter
night when they had been captured and wondered how he could have fallen
asleep. No suitable explanation entered his aching head as dawn broke,
flooding the earth with sunlight.
Silence, then footsteps were heard coming nearer and nearer to Mario's
lonely cell. "Who could it be?" Mario wondered. The footsteps ceased.
Mumbling was heard. Mario grew tense and braced himself against the
rough stone wall of his cell to hear what was being said.
"and," said a voice full of bitter sarcasm, "I disguised myself and
became a respectable member of their regiment."
"This voice sounds familiar," thought Mario.
The voice continued, "When Mario was on guard he was thirsty, and
I, like a gentleman, offered him a drink from my canteen. How was I to
know that I had put sleeping powder in it?" A loud laugh from both
men followed this bit of grim humor and the men departed.
Mario's head dropped to his hands. He had heard all that he wanted
to hear and more. So this was how it had happened, this was the way in
which he had been betrayed. As he dragged himself, heavy in heart, to the
crude bench which he used for a bed, it all came back to him with sickening
revelation. He, Mario, had partaken of the water that was to put him to
sleep and cause this catastrophe, just as the traitor and spy had said. As
these thoughts raced about in his head, a spark of hope kindled in his bosom.
He knew now that he was innocent, and knowing this, he could perhaps
convince his countrymen who now disdained him. His own conscience clear,
he could hold up his head. He need no longer call himself a traitor; he need
no longer shelter the pain of being a man without a country. Yes, he was
innocent. He knew it and those who loved him knew it, but who else would ?
Doubt crept over the heart that was joyous for but a brief time. How was
he to prove his innocence? The traitor that had done this wrong to him
would never confess and he had no way of proving his innocence. Thus we
leave this embittered youth, hating the world that had wronged him.
When the Armistice was declared the same mothers that had stood in
the sidelines in the village, stood there again that day, hoping against hope
that their sons would return with the others. Among them was Mario's
mother. Her old face lighted with hope and expectation that was to be
quenched. No Mario marched in the ranks. She walked home, tears blinding
her eyes, the flickering flame of life nearly gone out, a broken, pitiful woman.
When with trembling hands she opened the door of her home, before her
stood her son, Mario, the lines of the past suffering erased from his face at
the joy of seeing his old mother once more. After a hard battle with himself
he had decided to take the only road back and that was to try to prove his
innocence. Had he stayed out of his country he might have escaped the
inevitable punishment of martial law for one failing in his duty. He could
not at any price, give up his life without a supreme effort to save it.
It was a beautiful sunset; the church bells chimed the "Ave Maria." Mario
stood bound and blindfolded, his back to the grave that was to be his resting
place, his face forward to the sunset that he could not see, his strong body
the target of those men with guns. His generous heart was full of forgiveness.
The guns barked twice in succession interrupting the chimes, and Mario's soul
ascended into Heaven along with their melody. His attempts at proving his
innocence had failed and he was caught and killed as a traitor. Such is war,
ruthless, treacherous, and unfeeling. May the good God grant us everlasting
By ROSE MACAULAY
• In her delightful essays, ' ' Personal Pleasures, ' ' Miss Rose Macaulay
presents a varied and unusual array of subjects. Common, everyday topics
such, as church going, getting into bed, and going to parties are brought to our
attention. The author expresses opinions which have often occurred to us, but
which we are not able to expand upon as clearly or as bluntly as she has done.
The author's knack of using words that convey her meaning particularly
well adds to the keen humor of the compositions. After a vivid, or imaginary
or very inspiring description, there is invariably in the last paragraph some
common-place remark which breaks the spell and brings one down to earth
with a jolt.
"Book Auctions" is especially enjoyable. The sales room is quiet except
for the auctioneer who never ceases to talk and coax and wheedle his clients into
buying. The flip of a notebook, the blowing of a nose, and the tilt of a hat
signifies to the presiding god that the price offered for the book in question is
being raised. During the proceedings, the author unfortunately has the hiccups
and finds herself the owner of a volume which she heartily does not want.
The essay about the old family album is also very amusing. How many
people discuss and pore over this precious heirloom in just the way Miss
Macaulay relates it, criticising, pausing to tell stories about the person in
question, commenting on the style of dress, and skipping the unmentionable
ancestors! The essay ends with this comment: "Poor figures I feel most of
us will cut beside them, when the album shall imprison us, too." This is a
sad but true observation which will be endorsed by future generations.
Peggy Syme, '38
Volume — INCREASING
TIME MARCHES ON AT
8 Welcome, Sophs.
9 Mornin,' teacher.
17 Constitution Day — out at
25 Hooray! Quincy 14, Brain-
2 Three more cheers! Quincy
12, Brookline 0.
9 Too bad. Chelsea 27, Quincy
11 Deficiencies — remember?
12 Our regards to Christopher C.
14 Juniors and seniors hear Mr.
Howard P. Davis.
16 Shucks! Quincy 0, Attle-
25 Ouch! Newton 21, Quincy 0.
30 A triumph — well done! Quincy
6, Weymouth 0.
5 Lively North rally.
6 Quincy 0, North 0. So what?
6 "Music goes round" — in the
gym. Varsity Dance.
10 Armistice assembly program.
11 Day off. Armistice.
13 Wow! Quincy 27, Fitchburg
16 Report Cards — as if you for-
19 Brockton rally.
20 Must we tell? Brockton 32,
23 City pays honor to Dr. Hunt-
24 Thanksgiving holiday — be-
ginning at noon.
25 Ah! Turkey Day!!
14 Science demonstration by
17 Basketball season opens with
18 Hockey season opens at the
20 Greetings! — deficiencies.
21 Annual Christmas program.
23 Christmas vacation.
25 The Season's greetings.
1 Happy New Year.
3 Back again.
VARSITY DANCE ENJOYED
For some 350 students and their
guests, the "music went 'round and
'round" merrily in the gym on No-
vember sixth. The event was the
Varsity Dance, sponsored by the
Student Council. Following through
this theme, attractive sports murals
colorfully decorated the gym. Mem-
bers of the football team were
guests of the Student Council. Hugh
Russell's orchestra furnished the
melodious tunes that kept those
present well occupied for the even-
GREAT INTEREST SHOWN
IN NEW CLUBS
During this fall, two new clubs
were formed in the school, the Rifle
Club and the Riding Club.
The Rifle Club was organized by
Mr. LeCain, who is the director.
The members have become affiliated
with the National Rifle Association,
and they are going to shoot for
official N.R.A. medals. Later, it is
planned, a representative team will
be chosen to compete with other
school or club teams. Plans for
practice include Swingle's Quarry
and the Armory. The officers are
Jack Jones, president; Francis Sal-
tus, vice president; Lawrence Cope-
land, secretary; and Robert Kel-
THE RIDING CLUB
Have you seen any bent knees
or heard any creaking bones lately?
Well, that is the way Quincy High's
Riding Club advertises. This new
club meets every Monday in suit-
able weather and starts out from
Ferguson's Riding Stables in Brain-
tree. The group rides through trails
in the Blue Hills under the instruc-
tion of members of the Ferguson
family. Who knows but that in
the future, stabling for horses will
be as much in demand by pupils as
parking space for bicycles?
JUNIORS AND SENIORS
HEAR MR. HOWARD P.
On the fourteenth of October, the
senior and junior classes were privi-
leged to hear Mr. Howard P. Davis,
commentator and foreign correspon-
dent for "News Week" magazine.
Mr. Davis, who was brought before
the students through the efforts of
Mr. Hardy of the Y.M.C.A., was
introduced by Robert Dobbyn, sen-
ior class president.
Mr. Davis's subject was the politi-
cal and economic situations con-
fronting the world today. He told
us that Germany, Italy, and Japan
(the "have-not" nations) have de-
veloped in such a way that the peace
of the world has been jeopardized.
He also told us what these nations
are striving toward, and what the
result would be if ever their aims
should cross those of the greater
powers of the world. Blaming the
way in which the Allies treated
these nations at the close of the
World War, he cautioned us to be
broad-minded and tolerant, and to
respect the other fellow's point of
view, and there proceeded to warn
us of the results if we do not con-
sider the other person.
Mr. Davis's power to hold the
attention of his audience strongly
indicated that this subject proved
very interesting to all. He is, most
assuredly, welcome to speak here
again at any time.
GIRLS' CLUB ACTIVE IN
The Girls' Club has done its usual
good piece of work during the holi-
day season. The Thanksgiving col-
lections which were turned over to
the Family Welfare Society, were
the most successful in recent years,
showing the excellent work of the
club and its members. The annual
Children's Christmas Party, a regu-
lar yearly club activity, was a most
pleasant affair for the children in-
vited. Each guest was assigned to
a club member, who saw that the
youngster enjoyed himself and was
supplied with a gift from Santa.
Games were played and carols sung.
The party was enlivened by the
gayly decorated tree and the appear-
ance of Santa Claus himself. The
Christmas Party has become one of
the most important of the activities
of our school.
LETS PULL TOCETHER
5 H RECCED
■- -ya^- ^*r — • -
Weatfier — SNOW- COLD
PARENTS' NIGHT OBSERVED
Quincy High observed Education
Week this year by holding another
of its successful Open-House Nights
on Wednesday evening, November
10. The first part of the program
was conducted in the auditorium.
Paul Boland, President of the Stu-
dent Council, welcomed the parents.
A talk on Horace Mann, father of
American education, was given by
Richard Sager. The orchestra was
on hand to render selections. Fol-
lowing this program, teachers were
in their rooms so that parents might
have an opportunity to speak to
TRIBUTE PAID TO
On Sunday, November 21, Dr.
Nathaniel Hunting, one of our city's
most beloved citizens, who for
thirty-seven years was a member of
the School Committee, passed away.
Up until recent years, Dr. Hunt-
ing had been actively engaged in
school affairs and since his retire-
ment from the School Committee
he showed, in many ways, his inter-
est in Quincy's schools. More than
a few families boasted that he was
the family doctor. At the Quincy
City Hospital he was a great fa-
It was, therefore, only proper that
the city should honor one of its
great men as it did. All schools
were closed during the afternoon of
November 23, as a mark of respect
to Dr. Hunting.
SENIORS: It is time for you to
be making plans concerning your
graduation pictures. Have them
taken early, before the great rush
begins. Be sure to have at least
one pose with a white background
to be used in the Golden Rod.
Have the photographer make a
glossy four inches wide by six
inches tall This will be free of
charge with your order, and if you
request it, the photographer will
send the glossy directly to Quincy
BOOK WEEK OBSERVED
General Motors Demonstration
Presented to Students
On Tuesday, December 14, we
had the privilege of viewing a re-
markable science demonstration
brought to us through General
Motors. To explain some of the
reasons for what happened is be-
yond our power, but we can attempt
to tell what we saw.
Strong magnetic fields were set up
by means of high frequency Alter-
nating Current, which produce a
heating effect on metals. By using
this field a nail was heated red-hot
as the current passed through it.
Non-metals were not affected by the
magnetic field. This field was set
up by passing a current through
a wire coiled around a solenoid.
A Tesler coil was set up with
1,000,000 volts in it. This high
voltage caused two neon tubes to
light when held in the hands of the
demonstrator, who acted as an an-
tennae. By means of neon tubes
and a photo-electric cell, a voice and
musical sounds were transmitted
through the air from a phonograph
to a loudspeaker in the same man-
ner that the radio works.
This fine demonstration caused
wonderment among those unfami-
liar with the study, and excited no
little interest in modern science. All
'chose who saw the exhibit were
well-pleased with the time they
spent in the hall that Tuesday.
JOHNSON VS. SMITH
Didn't Smith and Jones use to be
the most common names? The
Smiths are still on top as far as
Quincy High School cognomens go,
but are tied by the Johnsons, and
the Joneses are but three! What
comes next, Sullivan? No. The
MacDonalds, and they're just one
ahead of the Andersons. DiBona,
Thompson, Murray, Murphy, Buck-
ley and DiTullio are runners-up.
Is your name in fashion these days?
Through the united efforts of the
English and Library departments
of our school, all students were
treated to an unusually fine series
of sketches as an observance of
Book Week, which started Novem-
On Tuesday, November 16, they
were presented to the sophomores,
and on Thursday, November 18,
they were viewed by the upper
classmen. An afternoon perfor-
mance, to which the library staffs
of the various junior high schools
were invited, was given on Tuesday
The stage program started with
several students browsing in a li-
brary. The background showed the
bindings of several oversized books
that opened like doors. After dis-
cussing the different stories, the
browsers knocked on the back of
the books and out of them the
characters appeared. They then pro-
ceeded to act one of the interesting
scenes from the book. The pro-
gram included the following:
"Life With Father," by Clarence
Day, with Dorothy Gilliland, Nor-
man Coffman, Charles Henderson,
of the sophomore and junior
"Northwest Passage," by Kenneth
Roberts, with David Sternberg,
Robert Dobbyn, David Cheney,
John Bates, Walter Foster, Eu-
gene Tangherlini, Francis Saltus
of the senior class.
"Surprising the Family," by Frances
Lester Warner, with Hector Pi-
mentel, Eileen Young, seniors.
"Scott of Abbotsford," by Gunn,
with John McLean, Virginia
"The Hurricane," Nordhoff and
Hall, with William Cohen, Anne
Donnelly, Eugene Pearlin, Mar-
dita Thompson, sophomores.
"Works of Rudyard Kipling," by
Kipling. Twelve girls of the
senior class gave an exhibition of
choral reading using as selections
"The Bell Buoy" and "Smuggler's
Those students who were browsing
included Edna McConaghy, Fran-
cis Ranieri, Betty Wylie, Ann
Daley, Jack Jones, Richard De-
QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL
HONOR ROLL FOR THE QUARTER ENDING ON NOVEMBER 12, 1937
Class of 1938
Mary St. John
Sn f nu Knout Mr. lurnljam?
An Interview With Our Supervisor of Attendance
By BARBARA MERRILL, '38
• // you haven't met the gentleman, you really should; for Mr. Burnham,
Quincy's efficient Truant Officer (or, to be technically correct, our Supervisor
of Attendance) is such a fine person to know socially. As for business con-
tacts, I suppose we should be thankful that they have been few and far between !
Mr. Burnham has served six years in the capacity of Truant Officer, and,
though he is an accountant by profession and has worked in several other
fields, he finds his present occupation the most interesting of all. It is not
that he enjoys intercepting the wandering feet of some of our classmates, but he
does like the associations with both pupils and parents it affords him, and also
the opportunity for setting many a youngster on the road to happiness and
Working in connection with the Welfare Society and other social organi-
zations, he is in a position to lend valuable aid to those needing assistance.
Through his office are also handled the working certificates necessary for
those under twenty-one years engaged in any employment.
He has found that most parents are only too anxious to cooperate with
him and are appreciative of the School Department's efforts to keep their
children in school.
This incident that he related to me I found rather amusing. One beautiful
spring morning he was reprimanding a boy who had played "hookey" the
preceding day, which had been rainy, cold, and thoroughly disagreeable.
Mr. Burnham asked the boy, who had spent the bleak day wandering through
the woods, why, if he was planning to skip school, he had not at least selected
a more pleasant day. The youngster's ready response was, "Well, sir, I didn't
think you would suspect me on a day like that."
Mr. Burnham is very much interested in athletics and enjoys working
with the boys on the Legion teams. He has made a great many friends in
the schools during his career as Attendance Supervisor, and has had the satis-
faction of having many an offender come to him after graduation and confess
that his sage counsel had helped to lead him to worth-while achievements.
EMILY VAILLANCOURT, '38
• The firelight traces each seam in her countenance and each seam tells
a story. She is old, incredibly so. The rosy reflection of the flames softens
her features and the countless furrows seem not so deep, as she sits meditating
by the iron pot from which steam odored with rabbit meat, rises and mingles
with the air above. Her sharp, beady eyes were once soft and dancing eyes,
whose caressing glances captivated the dashing gypsy males. With age and
wisdom attained, bearing children, the trials of hardship, her youthful
expression has changed to one of shrewdness.
As dusk clothes all drabness and austerity, so also is the gypsy woman
enfolded in its fading light. We see her in the twilight by the fire, stirring
the stew. Only a faint outline of her bent back is visible. Wisps of hair
fall about her face and are blown back by the rising steam. Her greasy spoon
is suspended in mid-air as she unseeingly stares at the pot. Dancing shadows
play in the hollows between each bone of her hand. Half naked children
shriek joyously as they smell supper cooking and they crowd around the pot
with tin cups, ready to devour their share. Rangy dogs come forward with
their lolling, dripping tongues. Rabbit stew waters their mouth and fills
their stomach cavities rapidly, but still their ribs show through flea-bitten flesh.
She serves each one, expressionless and tireless. After supper, music
and dancing occupy all but her. Deformed and toothless, she sits back in
the darkness, watching the merrymaking before her. Youth was having its
fling. Once she had been the object of ardent glances and had danced to the
gay accordions and jingling tambourines.
Almost a century drifts past her as she dozes off contentedly. As her
eyes close, this worn woman relaxes. Her once luscious, full lips, now a
thin purple line, droop. Veined, almost transparent eyelids slowly close
over tired eyes as she sleeps, content with the world and her share of life in
it. And we leave her thus.
Mxxivx QDtur £>ib? &?&& Unm^tunrk, Jfeaae
• Although school seems to be viewed by adults as a form of recreation,
we pupils can assure you it is far from that. Of course, there is no physical
labor involved, except in climbing stairs, but we really do work with our
minds. Isn't it natural for us to object when our working hours extend into
time we should have for fun? When our fathers have finished their work,
they may go home and forget their labors, but we, who love parties, moving
pictures, and companionship, must study French, do mathematics, make a
map for history, and do that Library assignment for English. All this often
takes four or five hours, which added to our regular working hours, makes
at least a fifty hour week. Yet, what is it we study in P.V.A. or read about
in the papers? A forty hour week.
Each teacher seems to forget that we have homework for other teachers,
and sweetly remarks that it will only take a little while, not more than an
hour, to do the assignment, but what if we have other homework ?
When I have worked an hour or two after school, I grow tired, rather
silly and restless, I am unable to concentrate, and my work the next day is
Even a Sophomore could see that the more subjects we take, the more
recreation we ought to have, yet the exact opposite is true. We have more
assignments which means more work.
If we must have homework, some system should be arranged so that
pupils taking the largest number of subjects should have the least homework.
We, the pupils, urge that a new system be established, so that the coming
generation may escape from the drudgery and long hour of toil which it is
our lot to endure. —Barbara Cosgrove, '38
M (% Age SJtmtt ©f Ailflrtira 3mx?
* A year ago, a rule was handed down by the principals of high schools,
barring all boys, nineteen or over from all school athletic teams. The injustice
of this rule can be easily conceived. Many boys have lost a year of school
on account of misfortune. Sickness, accidents, and family circumstances which
hindered the child from entering school at the required age are only some
of the unfortunate situations which are depriving students from giving their
athletic services to the school. Boys aspiring to be athletes have had their
athletic careers stopped. Not only students have voiced their disapproval
but high school coaches as well, who state their respective teams have been
greatly weakened. A boy reaching his senior year, expecting it to be his
greatest in athletics, finds himself ineligible; thus the coach has to look for
someone less experienced to fill the vacancy.
This enforcement does, however, keep "college boys" from participating
in high school athletics. This rule is primarily for those boys who have no
regard for scholastic achievements or who fail to live up to the standard of
the school. Why not bar only those boys who have failed scholastically and
not those who have been unfortunate? g Helin '38
* Twenty -Nine
Louise Benedetti, '37, is at Boston University, C.L.A., and Frances London,
a classmate, is at the P.A.L. division of the same college.
Herbert Coffman, '36, is another alumnus at Boston University. He
has elected the C.B.A. course.
John Bone, President of the class of '37, and William Butt, '37, are now
studying at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Teaching still seems to be the most popular feminine vocation, for
Bridgewater State Teachers' College has enfolded such students as Betty Milne,
Amelia Acebo, Dorothy Stoler, Mary Ellard, Fannie Szathmary, Lora Von
Bergen, and Norma Wolfe, and Framingham Teachers' College has claimed
June Catler and Stella Smith, all from the class of '37. Barbara Dobbyn, '36,
is Treasurer of the sophomore class at Bridgewater.
Northeastern University is attended by Fred Hoffstein, Walter Skoglund,
William Steele and Paul Haynes, all of '37, and Russell Ross, '36.
Bernard Collins, '37, is a member of the freshman class at Holy Cross.
Betty Nelson and Virginia Salorio, '37, report that they are members
of the Y-Club at Simmons College, and Shirley Bean and Madeline Shipsey
are doing well in their studies as members of the freshman class.
Marie Gillette and Miriam Colburn, '37, are attending Colby Junior
Sidney Brick, '37, is a freshman at Colby College.
Bruce Marshall, '36, is enrolled at Clemson Military Academy, South
Carolina, where he is taking an engineering course.
Parks Hunt, '35, is studying for the ministry at the Gordon Bible College.
The Varsity track meet at Harvard was won this year by Carlton
Mabel Coy, well known Secretary of the class of '37, has moved to
Houlton, Maine, where she is enrolled at Ricker Junior College.
Margaret Morin and Newton MacLeod of '36 are making exceptional
records in their studies at Radcliffe and Harvard. Both are recipients of
scholarships for their sophomore years in recognition of high scholastic
Arthur Johnston, '33, a senior in the College of Engineering, North-
eastern University, has been chosen Vice-President of the Student Council
Out for Business
Lila Peterson, '37, is attending the Massachusetts School of Art, and
Esther Wallin, '36, is studying fashion-illustrating at the same school.
Jose Acebo and Douglas Bailey, '37, are attending the Bentley School
Bertha Leppanen, Vice-President of the class of '36, is in training at
the New England Baptist Hospital.
Jean Donaldson, '37, is in New York, where she is studying for the stage.
Toini Tirri, '37, is a student at Wilfred Academy.
Warren Freeman, June '29, formerly Director of Music at Hyannis
Teachers' College, is now Director of Music in Belmont, Mass. Mr. Freeman
and Miss Harriet Barbour, daughter of a former Superintendent of Schools in
Quincy, a graduate of Q.H.S. in 1919, and the author of several books, have
recently published a book on music.
Alfred Starrett, '34, is choir director at the Boylston Street Congregational
Church, Jamaica Plain.
Louise Rood, June '32, and Dorothy Firmani, Feb. '32, are cellist and
violinist in the Trio D'Or.
Eleanor Lindquist, '36, is at present playing in the MacDowell Orchestra.
Francis Tatro, June '31, a graduate of the New England Conservatory,
is the director of music in Franklin, New Hampshire, and is also teaching in
The Working World
John Lewis Miller, June '21, is the new Superintendent of Schools in
John Marshall, '32, Bowdoin College '36, is now working in Mobile,
Marion Fuller, '33, Bridgewater State Teachers' College '37, is teaching
school in Attleboro, Mass.
Marion Myrbeck, popular member of the class of '36, is working for
the Kistler Leather Company.
Carl Nielson, '36, is on the staff of the "Quincy Patriot Ledger."
Phyllis Papagni, '33, is employed in the main office of the Bethlehem
Frederick Harvey, January '31, Northeastern University '37, received the
degree Bachelor of Science in Chemical Engineering with Honor. He is
now employed by the Calco Chemical Company of Bound Brook, New Jersey.
Warren Kirkland, June '32, Northeastern University '37, received the
degree Bachelor of Science in Industrial Engineering. He is employed by the
Monroe Steam Turbine Company.
"Ifyat 3 Snjog Mast At QlnUegp"
Impressions from the Class of '37
"Perhaps the most outstanding feature of the Forsyth Dental Infirmary
is the stress laid on the professional manner."
Constance Viner, Forsyth Dental Infirmary
"All I can say is that I would enjoy being back in Q.H.S., for in my three
years there I had one swell time. fames Whelan, Holy Cross College
"What I enjoy most is the dormitory life. They have wonderful contests
to offer, a wide variety of amusements and grand food."
Lois Walker, Skidmore
"What I enjoy most at college is college. There are so many fine things
that a lowly freshman is confused and held in awe." Ronald Vanelli, Harvard
"I enjoy especially the sports in which we participate, and the swimming
pool of which the college is so proud."
Alice Evans, University of North Carolina
"The many splendid acquaintances I have made have impressed me most
of all. I am hoping to join the orchestra." Edward Immar, Suffolk Law School
"I enjoy almost everything at college. I've made the first Glee Club and
joined the Athletic Association." fune Catler, Framingham
"I enjoy my secretarial course, living in a different section of the country,
and, of course, sports." Ruth Young, Alma College, Toronto
"It was one of the greatest thrills I've ever had to sing the Maine 'Stein
Song' for the first time as a member of the University."
Hugh Lusk, University of Maine
"I derive the most enjoyment from contacts with such interesting people
as the great Cyrus Dallin." Eunice DeWolfe, Massachusetts School of Art
"Outside of Amherst, I find English Literature and Psychology so absorb-
ing that college life is both busy and most interesting.
Genevieve Ash, Smith
"Everything about college is perfect. I think the friends I've made are
the nicest part of all." Kathleen Moran, Regis
"While making a detailed study of Benny Goodman, I never-the-less
find time for bull-sessions, but still find it most difficult to lose weight."
Jack Crosby, Brown
"It's fun just being a Freshman, even though we did have to wear green
hair ribbons until Thanksgiving." P e ggy Brown, Jackson
"So far initiation week was what I enjoyed most. It all added to the
air of informality and friendliness at college." Virginia Grossman, Sargent
"I find dorm' life loads of fun. I have gone out for archery and basket-
ball." Edna Brown, Bridgeivater
"I was very much impressed by the spirit of friendliness, and I have
joined the dramatic club here." Bette Cutler, Boston University
To the Student Body:
At the close of a season that was gratifying to the coaches in many respects,
it is indeed a pleasure to express a few thoughts concerning football at our
school. Our past season was pleasing to the coaches because of the consistent
improvement shown by the team during the course of the campaign. All
credit is due to the boys who worked so hard improving themselves in order
that they might represent Quincy High School in a creditable manner. Their
spirit and loyalty are highly commendable.
A second thought concerns the student body. Your whole-hearted support
of the boys who represented you on the football field was certainly noticed
and appreciated. Loyalty to your school and its activities and a genuine interest
in its welfare will help you to enjoy your school life. It will also encourage
boys to do their utmost to warrant your interest in them. With the continued
rise in spirit at our school it is inevitable that we shall all enjoy ourselves more
in all our activities.
It is difficult to say a great deal concerning the future. However, after
reviewing the progress made in the past few months, it is not too difficult
to visualize a football team of which you can be justly proud, and for which
we hope you will continue to cheer. The coaches have great confidence in
the future success of Quincy High School football teams and we hope their
efforts warrant your encouragement. Sincerely
To the Pupils of Quincy High School:
The basketball squad has been practising since the Thanksgiving vacation,
and rapid strides have been made. It will take time before any definite lineup
is established, as I shall have to become acquainted with the abilities, initia-
tive and idiosyncracies of the candidates. There are many seniors with an
average amount of ability, but, to date, no one can be classified as a star. That,
however, can be expected for the boys must first become acquainted with the
type of offense and defense they are to use this season. They are concen-
trating now on the fundamentals of the system.
I have been asked by many, "What kind of a team are we going to have
this year?" and invariably my answer has been, "I don't know because I haven't
worked with the boys long enough to predict."
I doubt very much that we are going to be a tournament team, but,
judging from the spirit of the boys, our opponents will have to be A-l if
they are going to defeat us.
We promise our school supporters one thing, and that is thirty-two
minutes of Basketball, provided our team receives the inspiration a team needs
to nose out an equal opponent in a close game. To this end we ask your
loyal support, and if that given the football team is any criterion, we have
every reason to believe it will be forthcoming.
w'vnJuw uo\of<* P«s*«- —
Laft>< J'.lifjTouce — 3 prffesr
me*«. «mi twit*
^•« fina TMtfVTiji'no Ulfav coitTmI !.
Starting off a new era of foot-
ball under Harry Downes and Mon-
roe McLean, Quincy High's new
football coaches, the team completed
the first successful grid season in the
past three years. The Quincyites
gained wins over Braintree, Brook-
line, Weymouth and Fitchburg. Chel-
sea, Newton and Class A Brockton
handed the locals losses. Attleboro
and North Quincy fought Quincy
to scoreless stalemates. The opposi-
tion outscored Quincy 87 to 72.
Leading the scorers was George
Comi with 24 points. Ed Broderick
had 19; Henry Barsella scored 7.
Others who figured in the scoring
were Harold Bertoni, Al Mountain,
Johnnie Salvucci, John Joyce, and
Captain Monte Marchant.
Bright lights in the Quincy lineup
all year long were Cecil Kilrain, Cap-
tain Monte Marchant, and Gordon
Howley. These three boys started
every game, and their playing was
of the highest calibre.
Coach Downes presented his first
Quincy High football team at Brain-
tree, where Quincy won over the
Braintreeites by a 14-0 score. There
Mountain and Comi made great runs
to score. Joyce kicked two successful
The red-clad Brookline High grid-
sters were the second to fall before
Quincy, this time by a 12-0 margin,
George Comi and Ed Broderick go-
ing over the last stripe for Quincy.
Fate began to take hold as the
Red Devils from Chelsea High
crushed Quincy by 27-13 after a hard
battle. The team continued to slump
as Class C Attleboro held Quincy to
a scoreless contest which featured
the brilliant playing of both teams'
linemen. Next week, Class A New-
ton, paced by hammering Guido Cas-
toldi, handed Quincy a sound 21-0
beating. Taking advantage of
"breaks," Newton built up an early
lead which they never relinquished.
Making their third appearance on
South Shore soil, the Quincyites
outplayed Weymouth High to win
6-0. This game saw Ed Broderick
go over for the winning score. Comi's
punting against the wind was one of
the features of the game.
North Quincy was next on the list,
and the verdict went down into the
books as a scoreless tie. Both teams
had a chance to score, but the chances
Fitchburg was next to feel the
wrath of the ravaging Blues who,
unaccustomed to mud, ran wild to
beat the upstaters by 27-7. Johnnie
Salvucci and Eddie Kroesser were
The final game of the season saw
the Class A leaders, and also
Quincy's greatest rivals, Brockton
High, taking the Granite City lads
into camp easily, chalking up a 32-0
score. Captain Frankie Saba of
Brockton was brilliant, scoring three
times. Sam Franco and Bernie Gold
also tallied for the red-outfitted boys.
We expect great things next year
from the junior class players, Myr-
beck, Comi, Kroesser, De Santis,
Mullen, Mollica, Di Bona and Ber-
toni, and sophomores Jack Kilrain,
Pecce, Pettenelli, and Ed Buckley.
JUNIOR VARSITY FOOTBALL
Harold Walton, '40
The Quincy High Junior Varsity
football team started the 1937 season
by journeying to Braintree where they
topped the Wampatucks 6 to 0.
Johnnie Salvucci went over for the
score after Quincy had made a march
down the field. The following week
the Jayvees played Milton to a 13-13
stalemate. Dobbyn and Parziale
tallied for Quincy. Returning to Mil-
ton shortly after for another game,
the Quincyites were badly outclassed
and lost 19-0. This seemed to hurt
their vanity, and they promptly tram-
pled over Thayer Academy, winning
26-0. The team ran wild in that
encounter with Dobbyn, Sansatini,
Winslow, and Patten counting.
The next week saw the all im-
portant game between Brockton and
Quincy. Although they fought
staunchly, Quincy was humbled by
20-7. Bob Dobbyn rang up the only
The season was due to close the
next week after the Weymouth
game. Weymouth, considered a
strong eleven, succumbed to the lo-
cals by 19-0. The feature of the
game was Shine Buckley's 50 yard
sprint for a touchdown. Sansatini
and Banks also scored.
Orchids to Mr. Hudson for his
splendid work with the Junior Var-
sity throughout the season. Outstand-
ing mail carriers were Bob Dobbyn,
Shine Buckley, and Babe Sansatini.
Considering everything, Quincy
High's Junior Varsity did an excel-
lent job in winning three, losing two,
and tying one.
Harold Walton, '40
With a good group of puck chas-
ers coming back from last year's
Quincy High hockey team, the out-
look for this season is very bright.
Practice began about the first of De-
cember with Captain Bill Maver, a
wingman, leading the list of return-
ing veterans. Others who saw action
last year and who are out for the
team are Charlie Winslow and John-
ny Parziale, who are both juniors
and play the wing position. Fred
De Rico and Dave Pitman, two ex-
perienced goaltenders, will battle for
that place. Ed Mullen will be seek-
ing a defense berth. The Smith
brothers, Roy and Dave, will be out
for defense and center spots.
Others who look impressive are
Gordon Howley, Kennie Norming-
ton, Charlie Erwin, Al Johnson, Ed
Broderick, John McDonald, and Ken
Morton. Coach Hudson has ex-
pressed his joy over the way the
team is shaping up.
The team was scheduled to open
the season on the Saturday before
Christmas against Walpole, whom
Quincy won over and tied last year.
In Captain Maver, the team has
an experienced leader. Maver was
a first string man on last year's sex-
tet, showing up so well that he was
elected to lead this year's team. Fred
De Rico, a goalie, was one of the
best at that position in the Bay State
Another year has passed, and still
Brockton continues to beat our
Quincy High gridsters. This year
the score was 32-0 for the Shoe City
Orchids to Coaches Harry Downes
and Monroe MacLean for the way
in which they handled our first suc-
cessful Q.H.S. football team in three
years. Next year we shall have a
better team, we hope.
Congratulation, Coach Wilson, for
the great cross-country team that you
produced, winning eight and losing
one. This season, Captain Quilty,
Howard Hatch, Gordon Rowe, and
Captains-Elect Sibbald and Simpson,
were outstanding runners.
Private operator 9% reports that
Tubber Tropea, chubby football
guard, says that he puts on poundage
by eating spaghetti. George Comi,
known as the leader of the Barbary
Coast, enjoys eating sandwiches after
With two sports already successes,
in as far as wins and losses go, more
are expected to follow. Both Varsity
and Junior Varsity football teams
hung up good records, while X-
country was more than successful,
winning eight meets and losing one,
To the "Quincy Patriot Ledger"
sports department we extend a hearty
"thank you." Throughout the sea-
son the editor, Don Vincent, did a
fine job in keeping our school in the
limelight, covering long practice ses-
sions and all games in rain or sun-
shine. May Mr. Vincent continue as
sports editor for many years to come.
Armando Reggiannini, '40
Under the leadership of Coach
George A. Wilson and Captain
Roger Quilty, the Quincy High
cross-country team completed one of
the greatest sessions in the Blue and
White history, winning eight and los-
ing one. The lone loss was handed
them by Brockton by a 26-30 score
In the opening contest of the year,
the Quincy boys barely defeated Ar-
lington by a score of 27-28, and also
beat Northeastern University fresh-
men by the same eyelash score. The
first home encounter of the season
was easily taken from Milton by a
score of 21-37. This meet was fea-
tured by having Quilty, Rowe, Sib-
bald and Simpson finish in a tie for
first place. The boys brought home
another close win fr^m M.I.T. fresh-
men at Franklin Park, 27-29. Again
appearing on the Quincy course, the
locals easily ate up Sandwich High,
crunching them to the tune of 15-40.
The Quincyites pinned a sound de-
feat on Weymouth by a 17-40 mar-
gin. The Blues also trounced Brain-
tree by the score of 23-32, and nar-
rowly won over North Quincy by
27-29. In the New England meet at
Providence, Quincy finished eleventh.
The boys who showed up well
throughout the past season were
Captain Roger Quilty, Gordon Rowe,
Howard Hatch, and Co-Captains-
Elect Dave Simpson and Alex Sib-
Wrestling should reach a new high
in sports this winter as Coach Leland
Anderson is ready to introduce his
'37-'38 product. Coming back this
year for grappling are seven veterans,
Bernie Paolucci, Archie Brown, Bus-
ter Milchunes, Irving Liss, Tony
Mollica, Wally Griffin and Ray Di
Bona. Many other aspirants are ex-
Paolucci is expected to go out for
the 118 pound division as is Archie
Brown. Both boys were regulars
last year, Paolucci in the 118's and
Brown in the 110's. Buster Mil-
chunes will probably move from the
118 class to the 126 and is expected
to do a favorable job. Irving Liss
will hold down the 165 pound class,
provided he can make the weight.
Liss, a big boy, has put on pounds
since last year. Tony Mollica, fresh
from football, will be out to get Dick
Fee's vacated 145 pound spot, while
Wally Griffin will compete with
Tony for the place. Ray Di Bona
will step out of the 126 class to 135
The team should be one of the best
in the state. Irving Milchunes, a
three year veteran, has been elected
captain for this season. Milchunes
was state champion in the 100 pound
class in his sophomore year.
Joseph Cauljield, '40
Having shaped up the basketball
situation for a few weeks, Coach
Munroe MacLean issued a call for
his first Quincy High School hoop
aspirants in the closing days of No-
vember. With a few veterans return-
ing, Coach MacLean has something
to start with. A few of those veter-
ans are Johnny Joyce, Ralph Gra-
ham, Frank Giachetti, Fred DeSantis,
Cecil Kilrain, Henry Barsella, Bob
Dobbyn, Vernon Levinson, Francis
Ranieri, and Ed Leahy. A blow was
rendered to the team's hopes when it
was revealed that last year's captain,
Bob Comporato, was ineligible be-
cause of the age limit.
Last season's sophomore players,
with such worthies as George Page,
Art Mackie, George Johnson, Ed
Kusser, Vernie Johnson, Al Moun-
tain, Archie DiTullio and Nick Pepe
are expected to give the veterans a
merry battle for all positions on the
There are also members of last
year's junior high school teams who
are not to be disregarded. Among
the most promising are Jackie Petti-
nelli, All Star forward, and Russ
Patten, center, from Point; from
South come All Star forward Babe
Sansatini, Gino Petitti, Shine Buck-
ley, and Sonny Nicholson, guards;
Dick Hansen and Ken Morton rep-
* Though the use of bow and arrow dates
back over two thousand years, the Indians
were best-known of those people who used
them. Nowadays, archery has become a
popular modern sport for developing poise,
grace and strength. From the first day of
its introduction in our school, archery proved
of great interest to the girls in Quincy High,
and over one hundred have attended prac-
tice. Their splendid co-operation with Miss
Baker and her student assistants, Marjorie
Goodwin, Pat Estes, Betty Carter and Betty
Wylie, have proven that they are grateful
to the School Committee for this new sport.
"A sissy's sport," calls someone, but that someone is mistaken. Though
ping-pong has not the physical requirements of many sports, it has others,
such as steadiness of hand and swiftness of thought, which are much harder
Of the many proficient girls who play, M. Burns, B. Merrill, M. Erickson,
F. Kramer, E. Robinson, C. Salverio, E. Mandelli, K. Caron, D. Sawyer, F.
Surette, E. Nimmo and M. Goodwin have shown the most exceptional talent.
These girls have already started on their second round of wins and promise
to continue their good, steady, fast style of sport.
* Why did Quincy High have a very successful football season ? More
boys reported to practice, Coach Downes and the team have worked hard,
and last, but not least, the cheering and enthusiasm of the fans have increased
one hundred per cent.
Our cheerleaders, John Bates, Tom DeCaro, Ken Jenkins, Al Shannon,
Margery Moran, Pearl Raiche and Lucille Rigo and substitutes, John Laukkanen,
Charlie Winslow, Dorothea Norton and Lena DeCesare, who were under the
capable leadership of Misses Palmer and Jenkins, have done exceptionally
Not only have they officiated at games, but also have planned and carried
off three rallies. The blue and white outfits, too, have brought favorable
comments from all.
Rah! Rah! Rah! Cheerleaders!
Uljat M ftfur (greatest Unrrg?
Virginia Swans on, '38,
Traffic; the girls pick on me.
Falling down stairs.
Where my next nickel is coming
Getting my lunch.
Keeping on the first football team
— and— B-B-B-Brockton.
Dancing. How can I ask a girl to
dance when I can't lead ?
Trying to keep thin.
Getting bald. I've got dandruff.
Going over to Coddington; brrr —
Never worry; if you don't believe
me, ask my wife.
Getting through cafeteria period
I don't worry for the Golden Rod;
I worry for I !
Planning the North-Quincy rally.
Keeping my nose from getting red.
and Clare Ward, '38
My stomach; it's always empty.
Ringing the Coddington bells.
Girls; will I ever understand them?
Preventing runs in my silk stock-
Whether or not my child has got
My right eye.
Students; I wish they could tell
their right hand from their left
hand, and be able to follow traffic
My sleep; I go to bed every night
Keeping my latest boy friend.
My report card.
Making the next period.
Ah W? gw 3t
ONLY A TRAFFIC OFFICER— BUT—
Who said his traffic position was dull?
Mine gives me much over which to mull,
Like latest loves and football scores,
Lines, and what's to be seen in stores.
And sometimes a latest song or two,
Or just why he and she are through.
I learn Robert Taylor is simply divine,
And the circle's not tangent to the line.
An opinion is offered that "she's a mess,"
While the latest dirt "you'd never guess!"
And ' ' the history test was simply terrible ! ' '
"My dear, her gown just isn't wearable!"
That loving pair I cannot hear,
But I won't bother to lend an ear,
For the tender words are just the same
As those he says to every dame.
Thus with three minutes of standing there,
I feel quite qualified to bear
The banners of Winchell and a host
Like Pythagorus, Dix and Emily Post.
Diana Taplin, '38
There's always a pooch in the corridors,
There's always a howling din,
There's always a line in the library,
When the crowd starts filing in.
There's always a jam in the lunchroom,
When we stand for hours in line,
Itching to grab a sandwich,
Or trying to change a dime.
There's always a dash for the tables,
To save ten places for eight,
And twenty minutes to hash over
Somebody's latest date.
There's always a classroom boner,
And a wise-cracking classroom wit,
And a teacher to hold the class over
While everyone's throwing a fit.
There's always a crowd at the pony,
When the 2:30 bell's gone by.
Now do you know what I 'm talking about ?
Dear old Quincy High!
Helen Johnson, '38
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Five Years From Graduation
Will you be well established in a good job?
Will you be shifting from job to job because you can't
find the work you want.
Will you be just out of college, without any business
training to sell an employer?
Plan your future now. You will need training to be a doctor,
lawyer, teacher . . . and business training if
you plan to enter business.
BRYANT & STRATTON
334 Boylston Street, BOSTON
at the "ARLINGTON" subway station Telephone KENmore 6789
Home Cooked Luncheon and Dinners
served daily in our Restaurant.
In our Food Shop you will find
delicious bread and cakes for your
Private Dining Room available for
1237 Hancock Street
Telephone Granite 3698
TUXEDOS FOR HIRE
READ 6* WHITE
III Summer St., Boston, Mass.
Woolworth Bldg., Providence, R. I.
LADIES and MENS
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III SUMMtR STRUT
" 9re.UB. 7930
S* WOOLWORTH BUILDING
' ' ' CASPEt 3447 .
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wy r?rer MWMv r-i w r v i v i v i v i yrsTO ^ ^ ^
Give a Thought - Jq ^ FUTURE
HAVE you thought of the time when you will be ready to take your place
in the world of industry? Have you picked the career you wish to follow?
Why not, then follow the example of
many other New England girls . . . choose
Beauty Culture, the profession that in-
sures success . . . that means good posi-
tions — a professional career and a pleasing
The Wilfred Academy of Hair and Beauty
Culture is an ethical school manned by a
faculty of world famous authorities in
all branches of hair design and beauty
culture. It thoroughly trains you to be-
come an accredited professional.
A Wilfred diploma enjoys unequaled pres-
tige with beauty experts everywhere.
It entitles ycu to respect and honor and
it is a guarantee that you are well versed
in all the fundamentals of this fascinating
Call, write or phone for illustrated booklet 9E Day and Evening Classes.
Register now, so that you may be sure of a place in our classes
the day after your school term is over.
of BEAUTY CULTURE
492 Boylston St., Boston, Mass. KENmore 7286
Also NEW YORK, BROOKLYN, PHILADELPHIA, NEWARK
How would you like a Cozy
Study Room or a Play
Room of your own.
• You'll be surprised to find how
easy it is to Convert Waste Space in
the Attic or Basement into an Extra
Room for study or for play. It costs
very little .... and it can be paid for
by the month. Ask Mother or Dad
to bring this ad to us ... . and we'll
talk it over with them.
Spare Room in Attic — Insulating
Board 3c Sq. Foot
Play Room in Basement — Wall
Board 2l/ 2 c Sq. Foot
130 Granite St., Quincy, Mass.
Telephone President 7100
Quincy 's Most Modernly
Equipped Printing Plant
Plant and Office
163 ROBERTSON STREET
Telephone President 7171
PRINTERS OF THE GOLDEN ROD
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: Telephone Connection
Jewelry and Gift Shop
\ Gifts for all occasions
1462 Hancock Street
South Shore Buick Co.
Hancock and Adams Streets
Telephone Granite 4520
For Your Good Health
R. E. FOY & SONS, Inc.
: 1177 Hancock St. 39 Franklin St.
Pres. 1234 Pres. 24IO
\ Compliments of
West Quincy Shoe Repair Shop
\ 249 Copeland Street W. Quincy, Mass.
Antonio Pelligrini, Prop.
WEST QUINCY TAILOR SHOP
Cleansers, Dyers and Tailors j
253 Copeland Street W. Quincy, Mass.
Tel. Granite 6894-R
D. Quintiliani, Prop.
Tel. Granite 4278 Prompt Delivery
MONTANI OIL SERVICE
GAS, RANGE AND FUEL OILS
: MOTOR OILS
1 333 Quarry Street West Quincy, Mass.
Frank Montani, Prop.
TECLA'S BEAUTY SHOPPE
246 Copeland Street W. Quincy, Mass.
For Appointments call Granite 9894-M
Tecla Comis, Manager
: Compliments of
CARPENTER and BUILDER
JOBBING and REPAIRING
398 Quarry Street West Quincy, Mass.
hanlon corset shop
Style and Surgical Fittings
1363 Hancock Street
TELEPHONE GRAnite 0893 j
\ Compliments of
■ 248 Copeland Street Quincy, Mass.
THE ALHAMBRA TEA ROOM \
1371 Hancock Street
Homemade Ice Cream
and Tasty Sandwiches
J.||j.^MJ.IJ.lJ.I.I.IJ.rmxr.W.LMAIAttlJJJJ.U.I.IALI,UJ.I.Ll.l.r.lJ.IJj.L 1/ j l ij. | JJ;
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■ , .| V I V I VPi 1V t y i y i y i y|yr,T. <i y i< .My i ^
JOHN HALL FUNERAL HOME
(Owned and Operated by Mrs. John Hall)
19 Cottage Avenue, Quincy, Mass.
Telephone President 2670
We appreciate your patronage
THE RIALTO STUDIO
1479 Hancock St.
Gra. 171 l-W
Used Furniture Bought and Sold
JOSEPH P. McCABE, Prop.
96 Washington Street Quincy, Mass.
Tel. Granite 3668-M
12 - 4x6 Mounted I - 4x6 Glossy $3.50
I - 8xlO Colored and Framed $I.OO extra
PIERCE SANDBERG STUDIOS
364 Hancock Street Quincy, Mass.
Telephone President 2247
Prescription Work a Specialty
H. D. COLE
C_y4 Complete Optical Service
7 Depot Street
Tel. Pres. 0974 Quincy, Mass.
THE RICE STUDIO
of Portraiture Unusual
Offers Special Prices to Graduates
You can save at least 30% by
having your graduation pictures
made by your local photographer
Our New Address
39 Temple St. Quincy, Mass.
Telephone President 0565
A GOOD SALARY
Secured by girls completing courses
on Comptometers, Burroughs Calculators,
Elliott Fisher Billing, Dictaphones, Type-
writing. Day and evening. Enroll any
Monday. Diplomas and free placement
for graduates. Positions have been ob-
tained for all our graduates to date.
234 BOYLSTON STREET
"The School of Positions"
DOROTHY "Q" BEAUTY SALON
and BEAUTY BAR
4 MAPLE STREET QUINCY, MASS.
Telephone President 5600
RUTH R. WEST, Manager Open Friday Evening
Carroll's Cut-Rate Perfume Shop
Patent Medicines and Gifts
Tel. Granite 0939 1419 Hancock Street
Patterson Flower Stores
Elsie M. Patterson, Proprietor
FLORIST and DECORATOR
Quincy Store — 1259 Hancock Street
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ma^j B3B35ESg3BSBSfflSB5^B™B^g^g^BSBB3BB!EBfflffi^BSl^gfflBgB^S5IBEBBEaBlEBI^^^na 3EBE
E. B. RIDEOUT...
Professional weather forecaster for
the New England area, is foretelling
that "the coming Winter will be
colder than normal with snow which
will last through."
with a pair of
"WHITE'S" SKI BOOTS
in White, Brown or Elk Skin
1433 Hancock St. Quincy, Mass.
Next to Lincoln Stores Phone Gra. 5275-w
WM. WESTLAND 6- CO.
Equipment for every sport
1555 Hancock Street
AT GRADUATION TIME
The exchange of Photographs with
Classmates keeps school-day friendship
for all time.
Our special school styles will appeal to you
17 School Street, Quincy, Mass.
Telephone Granite 0552-J
Candy and Fruit by Telegraph
9 DEPOT AVENUE
TELEPHONE PREsident 6960
SHADE & SCREEN CO.
Window Shades and Screens
26 School Street Quincy, Mass.
Tel. Pres. 6307
Carriker Motor Co.
DeSoto and Plymouth Cars
Also Dependable Used Cars
68 Washington Street
Telephone Granite 4730
5» M Wl M W» M Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art A rt Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art A* Afl Art Art A* Art Art A* Art Art Art ArtArt Art Art Art A*
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C. F. CARLSON
AIR - BUS - CRUISE
At Published Tariff Rates
12 Maple Street
8 Depot St. Quincy, Mass.
"The Sign Says Typewriters"
Telephone Granite 0051
Spic <S* Span Barber Shop
A shop that sells and caters i
234 Copeland St., West Quincy
HOME COOKED FOODS
DAILY SPECIALS j
Home Baked Beans and Brown Bread j
WATCH YOUR BARBER
Does he sterilize his scissors, combs, and razors?
We comply with the Mass. Barber License for our patrons safety
25 Granite Street Quincy
\ IT PAYS TO LOOK WELL - Give me a fry
Opposite Free Parking Space j
E. SCOLAMEIRO, PROP.
Open till 6 p. m. Saturdays 10 p. m. ;
We carry S. S. Pierce canned goods
DIEGES 6* CLUST
Silent Glow Dealer for 5 Years
\ Demonstration until 9 P. M.
11 If we made it, if s right"
SILENT GLOW SALES &
CLASS RINGS FRATERNITY PINS
CHARMS AND MEDALS
Ralph Chiminello, Mgr.
FOR EVERY SPORT
121 Water Street : Quincy, Mass.
PRIZE CUPS AND PLAQUES
Telephone Granite 1361
73 Tremont Street Boston, Mass. E
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JoSSK'SS 6 PUBL 'C LIBRAE
QUfwcy. mas T \ol R f £ J
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HAVE YOUR EYES EXAMINED...
by our State Registered Graduate Optometrist
Every modern scientific instrument
insures the accuracy of the most thorough
We deliver lenses and frames of first
Our prices for eyeglasses are very
50 cents down and 50 cents a week
will pay for your glasses.
KAY JEWELRY COMPANY
1509 Hancock Street
Telephone Granite 5094
Thoroughly Experienced in High
School and College Publications
394 Atlantic Avenue
Telephone HANcock 9546
Dodge — Plymouth
CARS and TRUCKS
7 Independence Avenue
for the best hosiery
1500 Hancock Street
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College of Liberal Arts
Offers a broad program of college subjects serving as a foundation for the under-
standing of modern culture, social relations, and technical achievement. The purpose of
this program is to give the student a liberal and cultural education and a vocational
competence which fits him to enter some specific type of useful employment.
College of Business Administration
Offers a college program with broad and thorough training in the principles of
business with specialization in ACCOUNTING, BANKING AND FINANCE, or BUSI-
NESS MANAGEMENT. Instruction is through lectures, solution of business problem?,
class discussions, motion pictures and talks by business men.
College of Engineering
Provides complete college programs in Engineering with professional courses in the
fields of CIVIL, MECHANICAL' (WITH DIESEL, AERONAUTICAL, AND AIR
CONDITIONING OPTIONS), ELECTRICAL, CHEMICAL, INDUSTRIAL ENGI-
NEERING, and ENGINEERING ADMINISTRATION. Students select, at the begin-
ning of the sophomore year, the course in which they intend to specialize.
The Co-operative Plan provides for a combination of practical industrial experience
with classroom instruction. Upperclassmen earn a portion of their school expenses and
make business contacts which prove valuable in later years.
Bachelor of Arts
Bachelor of Science
(For Men and Women)
Providing complete courses of university grade, for high school graduates who find it
necessary to work during the day but wish to study for further advancement.
School of Business
Programs in Accounting, Management,
Law and Business, and in Engineering
and Business, under instructors actu-
ally engaged in the fields in which they
73% of graduates hold executive posi-
tions in business. Preparation for the
C. P. A. examinations. School grants
B. B. A. degree. Individual courses
available to special students.
School of Law
Furnishes to high school graduates a
program of studies equivalent to the
two years of college work required for
admission to the study of law.
The School of Law
Prepares for the bar examination and
for the practice of law. Case method
of instruction. LL.B. degree conferred.
Graduates of Quincy High School may be admitted without examinations if grades are
satisfactory to the Department of Admissions.
Catalogs or further information sent upon request
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS A
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