Arsenal Technical High School - Arsenal Cannon Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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19' 1212, Ae ' poitman Deep down, sometimes almost forgotten, must surely lie a tender spot in every- one's heart for the small town-the small town, with its Main Street, its few buildings, the pub- lic square With the court house in the center, and last, but not least, the happy, good-natured, contented people that populate the little frame houses, row upon row, on each small street. In such towns, one can almost always find an outstanding individual who is loved by every- one. Sometimes it is a kind old lady or the town's baker. Still other times it is a teacher, a child, or an old man. So it was in the town of Rossville, the most beloved person that perhaps ever walked its streets was the local postman. For years he had been in the post-office service and for years, ever since he had been in the service, the people of Rossville all loved him. No other town could boast of a better friend in need than could Ross- ville with its simple and human postman. Arther Dale was this postman's real name. Yet since their earliest recollections, the people of Rossville had always called their beloved postman by the well-fitted nickname of Happy No other title could have suited him better, for he was always spreading his own brand of happiness everywhere to men,women, children, and even the dogs. There was no special rea- son why Happy should be so happy, for his life had not been as pleasant as it might have been. When his wife died, years before, she had left him with three small children-two girls and one boy. Soon after this, the two girls grew ill, and they, later, were laid side by side with their mother on the little hill overlooking the town. For many years, the kind old postman and his son, Arther, lived happily together in their little white cottage on the outskirts of Rossville. Then one day as Happy and his son were walking home together, the boy spoke. Father, he had said, and Happy could remember every word of it, I want to make a place for myself in this world, so I am going to leave Rossvillef' Happy had been shocked and hurt, his only son was going to leave him for the big city. Yet in his heart he knew that the boy should have a chance at life, so scraping together his last pen- nies, he sent the boy to New York, and later, lost track of him. Some day, thought Happy, he will return and together we shall see the world. But he never had, and as the years continued to slip by, people thought he never would. Of course the people of Rossville all loved Happy, and he loved them. Wherever he went, contentment and gayness followed. Children and dogs were his favorites. All along his route both would follow him-the children, knowing that somewhere hidden among the mysterious folds of the nice postman's sack were choice bits of candy, and the dogs, realizing that they would always find a meal waiting for them at the end of his route. Like many small towns, the main recreation was the movie next door to the Rossville Meat Market. Every Saturday night, the residents of the town would take their families to the movie. Happy had been a few times, but he thought it much more fun to sit in his garden and watch the stars come out. One day, as he was passing the theater, he noticed large gilt letters plastered in a huge sign over the doorway, which read, Howard Tay- lor, the New Idol of Millions of American Women -In the Picture That Made Don Gable Famous -'All-American Lover' with Glenda Rogers. The words looked beautiful as they glittered in the bright morning sunlight, and Happy smiled one of his beloved smiles as he said to himself, What won't they do to make people come to a moviel Yet there is something that fascinates one when he does go. I do believe I'll come to the picture Saturday. But he didn't. It was that week that the people of Rossville noted the change in Happy. No longer would he allow the children to come for him in the morn- ings when he delivered the mail. But if his friends would meet him on the street, he would seem the same as ever. He talked about the weather, the new store, or the school. Yet they noticed a queer look Come into his eyes the min- ute they mentioned his home or something con- nected with his house. It was a look of happi- ness, at first, then of sorrow, and finally, of dis- may. What possibly could be wrong with him? they asked one another. The children were disappointed when they found no candy for them in his sack, and when they asked him, he replied that he must have forgotten it in his hurry to be on time with the mail, and that, perhaps, he would remember to-morrow. But he didn't, nor the next day nor the next. The people of Rossville could not un- derstand what possibly was wrong. Then, like a bolt of lightning a rumor sprang upl Several times someone had seen a strange man enter and leave Happy's house at night. lt was whis- H

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pered that Happy was either trying to hide a man or shield him from the law. A criminal, per- hapsl Soon the whole town was buzzing with excitement. Happy must be harboring a crim- inall Now, in the meantime, the kind old Happy had noticed the sudden change in the citizens of Rossville, and he was as much baffled at them as they were at him. It surely isn't anything l've ever said to them that would make them feel offended, for they are my friends. Why should they shun me and be so frightened when I bring them the mail each day? They actually run away from me as if I were a thief. I wonder if it is because of him. He stopped a minute and then continued, No, they surely haven't seen him yet, for he has never ventured out of my house during the day. I wish I could tell them, but I promised him I wouldn't until he had a chance to write to his gang. He told me faithfully that it just wouldn't do to let the town know that he is here, or else they might go so far as to tear the very clothing off his back. How I wish this was all overl It is getting more dangerous and worse every day. One day the post-office attendants were sur- prised and astonished to hear Happy proclaim in a clear voice as he entered the building, Folks, l'm leaving the mail service today for good. There was a general commotion through the crowd that had rather timidly collected in front of the post office. Even Clansey, the old police- man, was ready for an arrest if Happy tried to make a false move. It seemed impossible that Happy was leaving the mail service after thirty- two years of steady working. They couldn't be- lieve itl They didn't know whether to be sorry or glad. Then, for one split second, everyone stood quiet. If Happy was leaving the mail service, it could mean only one thing. Happy was also go- ing to leave towng not only that, but with a crim- inal, too. The people of Rossville looked at one another, then back at Happy. Each of them had the same question in mind, but none of them dared to voice it. Then, through the crowd came the voice of Silas Marker, the storekeeper. Do ye mean that you're leaving the post office for good? he asked in a threatening voice. Why, yes, answered Happy simply. For some time I have wanted to tell you that-, he got no further, for again came the angry voice of Silas Markeri We all know why you are leaving. You needn't make up any excuse. We all know that you have been harboring a criminal from the police in your home. We've known it all along, but we ain't going to stand for it. The jail is still a mighty good place for people like you and your friends. The crowd all nodded in assent, watching and waiting anxiously for the reply that Happy would give to that. The bewildered Happy stood there for a second, his eyes searching the crowd for an understanding. Then the full meaning of it all dawned on him, and instead of begging for mercy, as some of the people thought he might, he began to laugh. At first it was kind of a chuckle, then a roar. The citizens of Rossville looked at one another in amazement. They couldn't understand what possibly could be funny at such a time. They looked at each other, then back at Happy. Happy looked at them all and laughed all the harder at their bewilder- ment. Oh, friends, he said, when he had caught his breath again, you are all so wrong. So very wrong. If you had only let me explain, this never would have happened. You see, I really have had a mysterious guest at my cottage for some time. I have wanted to tell you, but I promised him I wouldn't 'til he could be prepared. You see, my mysterious guest was not a notorious criminal, but my son, come home again. This morning he boarded a train for Hollywood where I am to meet him later before We start to see the world. He has made a place for himself in the world, and you may be surprised when I tell you that my son didn't get on the train this morning as Arther Dale Ir., but as a person alto- gether new and different to Rossville, yet famil- iar too. My son is none other than Howard Tay- lor, the movie star. To-morrow I shall say good-bye to you. Arther was sorry he did not see you. And he told me to tell you that when he is no longer famous, then he and I both will come back to Rossville where we really belong and live the remainder of our lives. But please forgive me if I have been rude to you, he finished, looking down into the surprised faces of his old friends. You see, being the father of a sought-after movie star is dangerous business. Happy smiled down at the little children be- side him-such innocent, sweet, simple children who still didn't understand what it was all about. Then, putting his hands down deep into his pockets, he said with almost a break in his voice, for he really hated to leave his kind friends after' so many years, Now, you very little ones, what would you say if I should find some candy for you way down deep in my pockets? IOHN E. THOMAS nw 6

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7-tee uaeehhg In the hunger of night for glow- ing day, in the yearning of parched soil for soothing rain, and in the craving of an aspen for the wind's pursuit, I found fragments of my longing for swift, smooth flight. I had no desire to satisfy this longing by lifting frail, silver wings against a deep blue sky or by urging a quiver- ing needle to race from fifty to seventy-five miles an hour. I wanted to fit my body to a springy leather seat, to reach down with my legs till they touched two firm dark pedals, to grasp a shin- ing black tipped bar in eager hands. I-low I longed to own, to ride, and to treasure a bicyclel Night after night in the quiet darkness of my room I saw maple-shaded streets, cinder-rough- ened paths, and clover-scented roads, and heard their clear insistent call-saw, heard, and thrilled. Every worth-while possession deserves a sac- rifice. By passing up rich foods in favor of sim- pler and less expensive dishes, by reading about school basketball games instead of at- tending them, and by making my best bib and tucker do, I accumulated twenty-one dollars. After a final recount of my treasury, I crammed the bills into a small coin purse. Thirty minutes later I strode into a downtown sporting goods store. A vigorous, white-haired man advanced. What can I do for you? he inquired. I'd like to see some bicycles, Ireplied. This way, please, the salesman invited. In the rear of the store stood a brilliant fleet. My guide's voice describing the different wheels' merits flowed on. The time taken by these word pictures offered me the chance to slip an inquir- ing finger under the price tags. I immediately decided that these steeds were too inexperi- enced, too unaccustomed to long stretches of pavement, too innocent in the ways of the world. Do you have any second-hand bikes? I ven- tured. Yes, Bill will help you. Take the stairs to the right, my companion retorted in a tone of not- too-well concealed disgust. I followed the steps which led down into a compact, modern workshop where a yonng man was bending over a bicycle skeleton. As I en- tered the room, Bill straightened up. Hello, he greeted me. Want to look at some wheels? I nodded. Bill stepped into a storage room, I fol- lowed. There between two boys' models my bike stood. Slender and streamlined in design, new in appearance, and serviceable in con- struction, this wheel would have pleased even the most exacting. Several minutes later I marched out of the door minus twenty bills, but far richer than I could have imagined in thoughts of the open road. I must have been born with an intense desire to peddle over shadow-darkened dust. Else why would the sight of spinning wheels compel me to don a sport jacket and seek new paths to conquer? A long, straight concrete strip lies un- rolled before me. The steady rhythm of the pedals stirs my blood. I want to lap up the miles. I want to speed past dusty fence posts and not glance back. I would like to race a locomotive. Perhaps I might win. Fasterl Fasterl My gasping lungs and twinging leg muscles make the world a reality. A twist of the handle bar introduces me to a rough, winding country lane. Curious maple branches shake inquisitive fingers in my face. A capricious breeze rumples my hair and passes on to rock-white cherry blossom cradles. While tracing tire patterns in damp, black soil, I lose and find myself. DOROTHY PAUL lffatie I looked in the mirror the other day, And back at me looked a face so gay With eyes the color of blueberry pie A mouth too rosy ever to sigh. But as I looked, it dawned on me This was not I, But my sister Marie- EDNA IOSEPH 14 giant When nights are warm and moonlight glosses Orderly rows of ferns and mosses Gracing the slopes neath the huge white dome With which man replaced his adobe home, As a coyote inspired by demons' criesg From paths of mist in the starry skies The phantom Don Antonia flies Astride his favorite stallion's back. And an old vaquero nods and says, Cursed is the Rancho Los Felezl BILLIE HOUGHTON 111, QM'