Manual Arts High School - Artisan Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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S T O R Y A XI) VERSE 103 Rent too much overdue, give you two more days or get out. The questioning gaze from his wife caused him to flinch somewhat. The landlord is getting formal — thanking us for paying the rent. The anxiety passed from the features of the still youthful mother, and the fourteen-year old son laughed boyishly. The woman said happily and with a smile, Isn ' t it grand. Wayne? Since you got that job as a night watchman and Jimmy got that newspa- per job, we don ' t have to worry at all. I ' ll bet after awhile we can even move to a better place. Wayne grimaced and mumbled, )h, sure. Yes, of course. The fact of the matter was that he had no job. His method of obtain- ing cold cash used the slight bulge in his coat pocket. ( )nce as an engineer, he had built bridges and towers of steel. )nce he had been feted as one of the outstanding engineers of the country. Now . . ? Now, Wayne thought, there was nothing to look forward to but the education of his son. To make an engineer of his son, just as he once was! But there would be many lessons in the right way to carry on. If he had known when at his best, well. . . . I ' ve got a surprise for you daddy, Jimmy said in a confiding voice I finished my drawings this morning. limmy ran to a small cupboard from which he meticulously drew a small pile of papers and two much coveted pencils. Then from the papers he took one large, rather be-smudged, sheet and placed it before his father. The drawing was an excellent, though somewhat crude, portrayal of a small suspension bridge. )f course it lacked many features and intricate details but Wayne, as always would explain the needed details one by one and help complete Jimmy ' s drawings. But this lasted only for a short time, for both father and sun had to leave — Jimmy to attend to his papers and Wayne to maintain his life. This meant that he would have to stay out all night and sleep where he could, if at all. He put on a cheerful countenance. Well, guess what ? he lied, Going to be paid tonight. And he added rather haltingly, hating to be so deceiving, End of the week, you know. Then he kissed his wife and walked out to his street with Jimmy. After leaving him, Wayne began wandering aimlessly about, not knowing nor caring where he went in the inky blackness. After a time he passed a noticeably prosperous beer garden, which was not at the time, very busy. Wayne steeled his heart and mind to the task he had set out for himself. Walking to the bartender he quickly drew his gun and said calmly and tersely. Quick, everything in the reg- ister or I ' ll ' The expressionless man behind the bar turned to the register and removed the money from within. Then he handed the fistful to Wayne,

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102 T II E A R T [SAN S ' 36 NIGHTMAN Bv Virginia Merrill Regarded by the Spectator Staff as one of the finest stories to appear in their supplement, it is herewith reprinted. — Art Mikol. The boy in Wayne ' s grip stiffened. Bv Courtesy Of The Spectator It was the ponderous weight of an unpleasant, poorly, shaven man that made the stairs creak so complainingly. The dimly lighted hallway was barely wide enough to permit his passage through it. The abundance of doorways denoted the fact that this was a tenement house. The cor- pulent one stopped hefore a doorway and with a jerkv, bending motion he dropped a paper to the floor. Then with his foot he shoved the paper beneath the door, rapped twice, and left as noisily as he had come. The rapping had disturbed three persons at their evening meal. The food was as meager as the room was bare and poverty striken. An elder- ' y. graying man quickly rose from the aged and cracked table and opened the door. When he saw no one, his eyes dropped fearfully to the thres- hold. After a slight start, he bent down and took the paper in his tremb- ling hands, then turned so his wife and young son could not see his dis- play of nervousness in the shaking of the paper. The note read as he had expected :

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KH T II E A k T I S A N S ' 36 who backed quickl) and carefully towards the door. He thought tin- man had made a funny gesture, but was not sure. Suddenly, and loudly. an alarm went off. He started impulsively. The finger about the trigger contracted. With the roar of the gun and shattering of glass, the barten- der sank slowly behind the bar. Wayne, dazed for the moment, suddenly came to bis senses, turned and ran into a street. As he rounded the corner a cop fired at him from the opposite side of the street. The shot went wild. Quickly he grabbed a boy nearby and forced him between the lines of fire. Wayne fired once. The cop fell, but with an answering roar from his gun. The hoy in Wayne ' s grip stiffened. Wayne turned and ran down the alley to his left and soon vanished from view. An hour later a broken and worn looking man was walking down a street a mile from the scene of the shooting. In the silent dirty fog. into the black night he walked, walked. At the crack of dawn the tenement house stairs creaked once more. Wayne, haggard, dark circles under his eyes, and wrinkled clothing, looked as he felt inwardly. When he entered his room his wife ran sobbing into his arms. Oh, Wayne, Wayne, Jimmy has been shot . . . Dead ... DISILLUSION By Ski. ma E. Moidel 1 cannot see you, et I feel your presence everywhere. Where once I saw beauty — I see it not — hut only ugliness! Can it be you. Disillusion? I cannot bear you. N it I know you speak to me. The voice that once said words of praise — 1 hear it not — but only jeers and taunts! Can it be you. Disillusion ? What powers do you have — That castles in the air must crumble at your touch: That each joy in the child must turn to sorrow in the man ; And love must turn to hate? I know you only as the chill in tin- breeze. As the break in my heart. As the horror in my dream. It must be you — Disillusion!