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

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and showing some signs of progress, I was urged to try for first place. This was done less because of interest in me than from a desire to defeat an unpopular member. I made the attempt. Three times I paired him in the examinations: and then I went down with typhoid fever. Two of us had contracted the fever and the principal came to see us. My classmate died, and the principal contracted the disease. I-le came back to school too soon. The last time I saw him was one bitter morning when the school building was on fire. There he stood, without an overcoat, fighting the flames with the water turning to ice on his clothes. I'Ie won that fight, but had a relapse, and we never saw him again. I was at the I'ligh School about two and one-half years. Our school gave a play to raise a fund to lay the foundation for a public library, and I was asked to carry the flag. I felt sorry for the girls who took the parts of the Southern states-the prescribed declarations did not seem to come natural to them. I adored the girl who represented the Union-the very girl that, had almost fallen off the front seat when father and I first invaded the senior room. How the spokesman of war did make the windows rattle: and how gentle and quiet he really was. How the company could drill and march under the severe discipline of a classmate who had always made a joke of everything serious. But however interesting it all was, it seemed as nothing compared to the fact that I was bearing the Stars and Stripes every night for a whole week in a large hall packed to the guards. I was not even dismissed when, the first night, marching across the stage, I hooked the gas chandelier, all ablaze, with my flagstaif and came near precipitating the stampede of an admiring audience. The refugee boy had his day: errors were overlooked, credits were marked large. Our class was a chivalrous one-natural champions of the girls. I had my one big fight to resent a careless remark about a girl classmate, and to take my place in the esteem of my class. I wrestled with the studies-wondering now what trigonometry and calculus could pos- sibly have meant. We had German, a little Latin, and French. Two of us fthe other, Washington E. Fischel, who afterwards became a distinguished physician, and my dearest friend for lifej even sent a whole school into hysterics by our performance-in French-of the duel scene in Moliere's Tartuffe. My friend never complimented me on my French, but in duelling he thought me rather realistic. Declaiming was at its height then. We still took patriotic speeches very seriously. I had some advantage in that I could saw the air more promiscuously with my long arms than my less-favored classmates, Willis's Prometheus was my specialty: and after I had for the first time gone through the suffering tortures of that recitation, my class- mates held out great hopes for my future. I have since then been at great pains in public speaking to keep my arms and hands from interfering with what I am trying to say: Salvini, in Othello's address to the Senate confirmed my growing conviction upon that subject. Other- wise, all moved along in a beaten track of common harmony. I made many friends, chiefly in my class, and have much to remember in gratitude. How much they gave me in just accepting me as one of them! My escape from grammar was rewarded by my selection as valedictorian by my class- mates. My subject was True Manhood. I held forth to an audience that was not entirely new to the ordeal. Teachers were as relieved as I was at having me recite my piece without a breakdown. In that audience sat Father and Mother-grief not forgotten, but happiness un- deniedg and with that the Texas refugee boy walked off the stage. - , ij ,Wm ijxlxl UI fx V09 1 ' -F ,q'm 2'.-' I '1 ' , 3 li ff' 3-'Ti ' 1. :-fLi',If.J -'--- .,,', .1 ---- ---- -N sf.. M' I' I NU- -. ' ..u, +l'i1Wl-' i I, . .1 'L . X Ag i T TT .J mm. .. ,L I. .-:..,' - X num , ,f jzfgg I A. , - yn- 1 D 11' 'at 'L - , , 0 , . V gi umm 'I 1-5, hx X ' , .m .6-5. -. X X . .,... K... A , W.. ffzfdrxf.:-: .- ist 1 J ff iv ff- .6i-.,mi:'- 55,5 Af, ' .,-','j-,'c-,'jf':f M3 ?,'ftQ3f , an ' 1 W ',f?i'f'i- .1 gf. ,- -f iqzk. , Agngcgjvl niggas- rim. 5 I' ' , ,. l Q, '. ,:::Ef3' army' :- ,, , qv. -' .v5:',V 02? ' url 'Q oiilocg 3 is fm ii .vw .ww , ., , Zm . I Page Twenty-six

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T WAS on a Monday morning early in 1865 that father and I presented ourselves at this school. It was cold, and in all essentials We still appeared in our pioneer attire--that sort of clothes wore well. Cn the first floor of the High School we met a young girl, no doubt a pupil. She must have been a lady, for she almost suppressed a smile, and in the nicest way directed us to the room of the principal on the next floor. We went up, not without misgivings, approaching awe. The principals desk was in the room of the senior girls. Their desks faced the entrance: and as we came in, the customary response was instantaneous. I shall not attempt to repeat a scene to which I, at least, was not new. They were nice girls-some of them I met often in later years, when We were all graduates of the High School. But nice as they were, all human nature is akin, and the effect of our unheralded apparition was not unlike the first stampede in the boarding-school. With the principal it was different. He was tall and slight- wearing a black cutaway, I think, which helped me to feel at home. I had one, too: mine was brown. His hair and beard were dark and wavy, setting off features as regular as a Greek's. A kindly smile played about his lips as he took my hand. The mission was soon told in father's broken English. There was ground for hesitancy. We applied in the middle of the year, which was against the rules: besides admission was conditioned upon regular examination. I could not meet a single one of the rules. But we were in America, and we were fortunate enough to strike a respecter of the reason of the rule. He gave me a piece of chalk and sent me to the blackboard. The principal asked questions, and to the tune of unmistakable sup- pressed laughter, I gave undeniable evidence on that blackboard of my unpreparedness. But the principal was a man of resource. He saw one cause of my trouble and turned to German. That was my salvation. I could write German well enough to make me bless my stars that no lithographer ever captured me as an apprentice with the prospect of designing visiting cards for life. Well, said he, about some things you know nothing: about others you know more than half the junior class, and since you are a refugee, I will give you a chance. In that fashion I was admitted. As we left, he said to me that I must come to his house in the eve- ning so that he might show me how to catch up and use my books. How American it all seemed to me: and how American it was, judged by the modern rule-ridden methods. Now and then the principal would appear unannounced before the lower classes to try them out. One day he asked a question of our class, which was met with common silence. With that well-known twinkle of his eyes, looking at me, he said, I know one boy who can answer my question 3 I did, and I never knew whether I was more grateful for his generous help or for the rare luck that carried me through. But the luck of a refugee did not stop there. At the end of the school year we had the usual examinations. I made them all but one. Grammar was and is a mystery to me. I never knew Why natural speech should be complicated by so many conflicting rules: to me they always seem like obstacles to free expression of thoughts. I read the paper of questions: and certain that I must fail, I took it to the teacher's desk and said I could not answer a single question. I know you can- not, he said, and we will not say anything about it. He never did. and I did not for fifty years: but at the time I thought how wonderfully American it all was. Since then I have hesitated to mention this ex- perience. I would not have missed the general influence of that school- the association with members of my class, and with the faculty, who counted among them not only the principal, Mr. Childs, but his assist- ant, Horace H. Morgan: Davidson, a Greek scholar known in this coun- try and abroad: Miss Schaefer, after- wards principal of Wellesley Col- lege: Denton I. Snider, etc. I was admitted to the second class, School life 100 years ago as an artist thinks it was. Notice the drinking bucket, the rattans, the slate, and the fact that children are of all ages

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In his valedictory speech Charles Nagel held forth on an ideal which - he was later to exemplify in his own life to the admiration of many thou- - .' sands o Central alumni. The years have touched him lightly and his generous heart has endeared him to all St Louzsans Next I wish to introduce to the radio audience a woman who might well person: y True Womanhood a woman who devoted her li e a ter . :-Qi, F . . ' 5 if . . I I '. . ' . ig, graduation from. Central to .educating young Americans. May I intro- g duce Miss Virginia Stevenson, formerly a teacher at Mary Institute, and - one of the alumni of whom Central is proudest. She will tell of her high- school days. Miss Stevenson: THE Senior Class of the Central High School of St. Louis. in 1870, chose for its motto, when it graduated, the well-known line forsan olim juvabit meminisse et haec lper- haps, hereafter, we shall delight to remember these thingsl. As I graduated with this class of 1870, even though I entered earlier, I considered its motto as expressing my sentiments, too. Entering the Central High School in September, 1864, I lost part of two years, from '67 to '69, but returned in September, 1869, and graduated with the class of 1870. During 1867 and 1868 my father's regiment in the Regular Army was stationed in Wyoming to guard the Union Pacific Railroad tthen in process of constructionl from the Indians. Living in tents until the forts were built was a delightful experience. A return to St. Louis and the Central High School was doubly interesting. Having chased the antelope over the plains, I was keenly interested in chasing German verbs to their lairs and English writers to their dens. In Iune, 1870, our class assembled in what was then called Verandah Hall, on 4th Street between Washington Avenue and Lucas Avenue. Why we did not use the hall of the Central High School on Olive and 15th I do not remember, unless it was the fact that Verandah Hall was larger. We girls wore voluminous white dresses with blue sashes. A spray of white flowers, artificial, decorated our heads. Our hair was arranged in two horns, one on each side of the middle parting. The back hair was plaited and brought up to meet the horns that were carefully shaped over what we called rats. For each of us the great moment of the occasion was the reading of the long and prosy essays with which we afflicted our admiring parents. There were probably twelve or fourteen of these efforts. The boys delivered their lucubrations as spontaneous orations. We girls read ours from papers tied with ribbons. My subject was The Use of Art in Perfecting Characterng in it, I proved to my own satisfac- tion, if not to that of the perspiring audience, that the study of art was all that was necessary to develop a perfect character. One girl excited my admiration by using in her essay the ex- pression, aeons beyond in the great hereafter. There was some meat in a phrase like that. After receiving our diplomas, we went home to a midday dinner. . Ah! how my small brother and sister admired me! As I was asked by the yearbook staff to give my recollections of the Central High School, I shall now mention my first impression of the dear old school. As I approached the building, I saw a long line of boys led by a beautifully developed man. I believe that his name was Hammersley. The boys, with their chests unnaturally puffed out, were learning to walk in proper style. My next memory is of the great examination for entrance to this enchanting place. Our teacher at the Eliot School at the corner of 15th and Pine had warned us that we must not turn our heads or roll our eyes around for fear that we might be accused of cheating. But she need not have worried, for no girl who ever came under the influence of Miss Kate I. Wilson would ever condescend to cheat. I was thirteen years of age and fairly crammed with geography, history, grammar, arith- metic, both kinds, particularly that brain-twister called mental arithmetic that prepared us so nicely to carpet floors, build canals, dig wells, and shingle houses-all with a certain or un- certain number of men. . I often found myself with one-quarter of a man on my hands. But all this developed the brain-maybe! After passing our examinations, we were summoned some days later to the large hall on the third floor of the Central High School to hear our per cents. As I chose German instead of Latin, I went into the German class conducted by Mr. Iohn Keller. He was a man of high ideals and infinite patience: he made me love to hear and speak the German tongue. As I had an excellent memory, I learned the German words that translated long English sentences without taking the trouble to fit the English word exactly to its German equivalent. This cold-blooded slaughter of lovely German sentences gave place in time to a Page Twenty-seven