I remember goint to the Clapp Memorial for the Friday Night Canteen with Arthur. Friday nights were for the teeny-boppers of the day- Weymouth's Junior High School students. This was like Disney World to most of us. The Clapp Memorial offered bowling, basketball, pool, and dancing -all under one roof. And, of course, there were the girls.....girls from distant, exotic lands.....like South Weymouth.

While waiting for the bus at Thompson's Corner, Arthur introduced me to Sen-Sen, the reigning breath freshener of its day. We would also compare the relative merits of Vitalis and Wildroot Creme Oil to determine which would ensure the best "do". All under the mistaken belief that these aids would somehow add to our allure when what we really needed was a healthy injection of growth hormones since nearly all the girls towered over us.

The music at The Canteen was provided by a DJ. It was there that we learned the Foxtrot, the Waltz, and those truly sophisticated numbers, The Mexican Hat Dance and The Bunny Hop. It was also our first introduction to the Multiplication Dance which, upon command by the DJ, you switched partners and danced with the girl closest to you. Aside from meeting new people, it provided a unique opportunity to stomp on the toes of a dozen different partners- all within a single musical set.

It was at The Clapp Memorial that boys learned the meaning of " the longest walk in the world". The "Ballroom" was a large square room with boys lined up on one side and girls on the other. It seemed like it was at least 60 feet to walk over to ask a girl to dance. If you summoned up the courage to be one of the first to walk across the room and your desired partner refused your offer, you had to do an "about face" and return to face a platoon of your "buddies"- cackling hyenas who took sheer delight in seeing one of their own "shut out". Of course, one option would be to ask one of the other girls but by that time, you were seen as "damaged goods".

Arthur, the ever-resourceful one, figured out a face-saving move that would offer some relief to bruised egos and that was simply to exit the double entrance doors post-rejection rather than face the ridicule of our cowardly wallflower friends. A few games of basketball or a couple of strings of bowling would neatly fill the bill until we were ready to return to the battlefield.

Shortly before 10:30pm the DJ would play "Goodnight Sweetheart" signaling evening's end. With Arthur, however, that didn't mean the fun was over. Perhaps he was a budding Consumer Advocate at the time but he argued that the bus fare was unreasonably high and he devised a plan to "lower" the cost. As a large group from North Weymouth congregated at the bus stop across from the Coffee Cup, Arthur would lead the first "platoon" on to the bus. No one had the correct change thus forcing the driver to make change. During the commotion, Arthur would quickly bolt to the back of the bus and open one of the large side windows. Then, with military precision, we would hoist each other through the open window and quietly occupy the nearest seat. I swear, that if there were 60 kids on those buses, at least 40 of us would return to North Weymouth as "guests" of The Eastern Mass. Bus Company.

While Arthur was great fun at The Canteen, he really saved his best work for the venue least receptive to frivolity..and that, of course was.....CHURCH! You see, during those years at Bicknell, Arthur, Vic Battaglioli, and I served as altar boys at St. Jerome's. Once we were able to memorize (not understand) the Latin responses, we were on the altar before packed congregations. Resplendent in our black cassocks and white surplices, we were the very picture of boyish solemnity. That was a scenario tailor-made for the impish Arthur St.Cyr.for he had patented a variety of comic faces and gestures that would bring one of the Queen's guards to his knees. And if he could catch your eye, it was all over! What made it worse, of course, is that when you're in a place where laughter is verboten, the pain of trying to hold yourself together is absolutely gut-wrenching. But still hilarlious.

The other night I had a dream that I met St. Peter at the pearly gates and was asked if I were truly sorry for the transgressions I committed during my life. I reflected thoughtfully , donned my most pious expression, and was about to respond in the affirmative when I suddenly noticed Arthur peering out from behind St Peter's robes giving me one of his patented grins. With all that was at stake, bolstered by a lifetime of self-mastery, I could not hold it together. The next thing I heard from St Peter was " Sorry, Jack...try us again next year".

Arthur, old friend....so long for now....and thanks for showing us the lighter side of life.

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