Central High School - Red and Black Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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if if t me t a M .. - ll, llliltltltlltutltldtt t im!! 'M , ,, -ff . l'l .ff'l-IEL 12.23 .asrslla 5L..,cxC,lQ. CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH By Virginia La Rue, '35 A happy, bronzed, and bearded man, A swaggering, long-headed lovable male, Whose name was John Smith. Say what you can, They hadn't the right to put him in jail. He often sailed the ocean blue, With an honest mind, and a heart that was trueg His saucy ways, and adventurous life, Brought him hardships and days of strife. He was dumped in the sea, or so 'tis said, Till everyone thought he might be quite dead, But although he was soaked in the briny ocean, They never aroused his slightest emotion. He laughed at the gallows and scorned the guns. The people trembled when one cried, Injuns g But not John Smith, for he shouted with glee, And his bullets whizzed like the hum of a bee. His many adventures one could not tell, And why he once occupied a prison cellg Accused of being a traitor, and such, They later proved he got Wi'ngfield in Dutch of all our early American heroes That sailed the broad blue sea, John Smith, the ambitious daredevil, Did much for this land of the free. ' kv Amt. .bvllluc Twenty-four

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I 7 Xa, lil C 4. 1 fd 3: 1 --gi L' fi-A V I K L ,, rr? , ' rrrt X .M ff dl I 1. J , f f A I- . A , , i ummm ., M111 WIZIZIZIIZIM fl W i r If .r'f'l--llzg 3227 iii il-..4lCflC., dress like that which she says l wore when l came to her. Now she remembered, vaguely, every- thing that had happened. ul can answer, 'Yes' to all those ques- tions, said her father, and add that you have a small locket containing a minia- ture of your mother. Nas-al My fatherlu Suddenly she rushed to him and put both arms around his neck. Yes, you are my father, she said. ul know it! Oh! I just know it. Her father, overcome by his emotions, held her close to him, kissing her tenderly. The old Indian woman stole silently out of the lodge so that they would not see her tears. A'lVly baby, my precious baby, her father uttered in broken tones. l thought l should never see you again! Father, I want to go with you, but I dislike leaving neinggo and nas a, my other father, because I love them dearly. And my little ne kau nis fbrotherl, and nedah wa mah fsisterl, but I love you better than all of themf, This last was said in a whisper. The next day, father and daughter left the Algonquin tribe forever, and there were many whose eyes filled with tears, for they loved the beautiful lshatasapa. ONCE UPON A TIME By Jo Tamalis, '35 The fire is burning brightly, And amid the flames I see A castle and a garden In the land of fantasy. The castle is surrounded By a host in armor bright 5 They are battering the wall away To free a captive knight. See! the wicked prince is taken, The keep is opened wide, And the noble knight is smiling As he steps to meet his bride. There is music in the garden And a table set for two- But my dreams are sent a-flying, For the log's burned almost through Yes, the castle is in ashes- 1 must quickly end my rhyme And leave my fancies to the land Of Once Upon a Time. , V ff .,,1w .-:gn l 'u Wi 5 .. . Wi ef, 15, H 'ri Q' 'N l 'f 'Qi 'fill' Ll 'I 'nm 3 --. ' - - ll l 'i ll l l lflll iy, -- Q' , 4 . f Twenty-three

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.Az ima M1 umm IWIQIQIZIIZIIIII '21 Wu p 31 'E L .. ' A :Q iii J Yi i HAIP I . L f .ffl-li. 3.22 .QFSIT 34.321, AN OLD TYIVIE YARN By Wayne Brinkerhoff, '35 E SAY ye want ta hear a lnjun story? Wall, l ain't adoin' nothin' right now, so l guess maybe ye'd like ta hear about Baldy Ackerson, would ye? Wall, 'twas nigh onta sixty summers ago, when l was a strappin' young feller, 'bout twenty-seven years old, an' Baldy was my wagon mate. l-le was close ta forty-five then, an the top of his head as bald as a hen's egg, but he had the bushiest mustache an' eye- brows as l've ever seed, an' they was black as coal! l-lis cheeks was fat an chubby an' rosy, like a baby's. Baldy was a little teller, 'bout five feet three, but he weighed 'bout two hundred and ten pounds. Bein' somewhat of a dandy, he always wore a black sombrero an' a broadcloth shirt an' a doeskin vest with brass buttons on it, an' his pants were tucked in a pair of calfskin boots that was always shined. l-le was a jolly partner, always talkin' 'bout New York Che claimed he come from theref, and the swell team an' bug- gy he usta have. l-le wasn't scairt o' noth- in' except one thing. He could trade bullets with the best of 'em an' flinch, and once l seed him start, whirl, YICVCI' an' pull his gun at the same time, an' blow the head off a rattler not four feet from him an' never even sweat. But if you mentioned lnjuns an' scalpin', he'd sweat cold sweat, turn pale an' groan, lovin'ly rubbin' his head all the time. fscared 0' bein' scalped, ye see., Wall, we was crossin' what's now Kan- sas an' there was only five wagons in our train. It was close ta sundown so we pulled up an' stopped at a place where tha sage brush was a little thinner than the rest. We had enough water for a coupla days or so, so that didn't worry us. There was sixteen men in the train an' no women cause it was a supply train, carryin' only pots an' tin pans, cloth, needles, an' such for the settlements fur- ther west. We drew tha wagons inta a circle an' made our fire in tha center. After supper ,lake Slanders was a- thrummin' his guitar an' singin' kinda' melancholy like an' we all felt homesick- ness gnawin' at our innards. Tears, even, were in some 0' the feller's eyes. Even Baldy was quiet. Have you ever been out on the plains at night, son? No? Then you can't realize how we felt. There was a full moon out, makin' things most as light as day, but when the fire died down, it seemed to pull darkness down around us an' the strummin' o' the guitar seemed to make the silence deader. The wind was a-moanin' an a-sighin' like a lost soul fmaybe it wasl, an' shivers chased themselves up an' down my spine as thoughts of death an' such went through my mind. Then we all was froze in our tracks by a bloodcurdlin' yell that seemed to come from everywhere. We all dived for our guns but one, Baldy. l had a glimpse of his clinched, fat hands, his wide, staring eyes, his white face, an' gaping mouth. l-le looked almost pitiful. l didnlt have much time to look at Baldy then. l grabbed my gun an' Hoppecl under a wagon an' began firin' at clumps of sagebrush that moved. The camp was Twenty-Eve