East Tennessee State University - Buccaneer Yearbook (Johnson City, TN)

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OLD HICKORY Maude Grigg. Willie made a speech on “Why women should have all the responsible positions in the government,” accompanied by much cheering. Then Maude rose and declaimed that she intended to go to the senate or blow up Gay street, that the mines were all laid and could be set off at a moment’s notice. (She was clearly addicted to Bolsheviki methods). Some one be¬ side me clapped vigorously and I was overjoyed to see Tera Harshbarger and Barbara Haire, elegantly gowned, standing beside me. “What have you achieved in the last twenty years ? 1 should say that you were society leaders.” “Oh, no,” they answered in unison, “we taught for the first three years after graduation. By that time the wages of domestic help so far excelled that of teachers that we determined to hire out. So we have cooked for the last seventeen years and are now ready to retire and are going to travel the rest of our lives. But have you seen Madge and Lucille? Come with us and we will take you to see them.” As we started around the corner to where their car was parked we saw a man balancing upon a packing box haranguing a crowd of small boys and loafers. “Why there’s Dewey Humphries.” He came down from the box to give us the glad hand and explained that he was in partnership with Lewis Land and Hubert Huff for the improvement of the health of the people of Tennes¬ see. He presented each of us with a box of liver pills for old times’ sake, and we went on our way rejoicing. I was delighted to find Lucille Sylvester and Madge Ripley, the matrons of a large and thriving orphan asylum, where they taught the children in¬ ductively and deductively and raised them psychologically, according to the precepts laid down by Professor Alexander, so that you could never tell that the finished products had been raised by hand. “You should go to see Professor and Mrs. Burkhart while you are here,” suggested Madge, and I eagerly assented. Mr. Burkhart was now superintendent of schools for the city and had proved himself a very capable one, while Mrs. Burkhart interested herself mainly in caring for their beautiful home. While we were there the door bell rang and who should it be but Evalena Link, balancing a large basket of clothes on her head. “Why Evalena,” I cried, “what are you doing with yourself now?” “Ruth Moon and I are taking in washing and like it tremendously. You should try it.” But I could not stay at this pleasant gathering as my travel¬ ing companion and her broomstick appeared at this juncture. Our next stop was in Johnson City, directly before the home of Helen Browder. I was glad to see her, though it quite touched my heart. She looked so thin and wan, so much more so than in her girlhood. She tried to be as cheerful as ever but her old-time enthusiasm was completely gone. I found out later that she was slowly pining away from a broken heart and already had to wear a board down her back to keep it from breaking in two. She pointed out Miss McDavid’s home up the street where she was happily married at last and made an excellent home for her dumpy little hus¬ band and seventeen cats. When I went to see her she regaled me with the amazing story of Mrs. Rogers’ “Call.” She had suddenly decided that it was her duty to go to Africa as a missionary and forthwith deserted her family and had set out, but upon arriving there had taken up lion hunting. Far back in the hills of North Carolina I found Chloe Baker presiding over a one-teacher school of 135 pupils. She employed all the latest methods of punishment and even had an excellent ducking stool rigged up in a nearby pond, which with the sticks were her favorite modes of punishment. She Page-Thirty-one

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OLD HICKORY was a bakery and I asked the proprietor, a small, dark, fat man with a de¬ cidedly aquiline nose, if he knew the sleeping lady next door. „ “Oh, that is Delpha Meredith, an old classmate of mine in ’19.” There in the inner doorway stood Yetta, his wife, now a fat and cheerful dame. She took me hospitably into the living apartment. There on the dining-room table sat thirteen blue bowls await ing the morrow and on the window-seat were thirteen piles of school books, while before the fire were thirteen pairs of little shoes toasting their toes preparatory for a warm wel¬ come to their owners. I entreated her to go to Anne s and Estelle s succor, and set out to find Sister Smith as she had directed. She was starring in the Tollies and I found her in her dressing room, having just returned from her act. She wore a much abbreviated dress of gold brocade. Cassie Smith, now a movie actress, was calling on her. They were preparing to go see Georgia Taylor and Ora White, who were with Ringling Brothers, then in winter quarters on the outskirts of the city. I was amazed to find Ora featured as the fat lady—the only one in cap¬ tivity weighing five hundred pounds. And Georgia was the snake charmer, and Ora proudly told me that Georgia had the most promising future before her of any in that profession in any American circus, as one look from her quite cowed them for a week. I had hardly gone two blocks from the circus when I saw someone shak¬ ing a door and loudly demanding entrance in the name of the law ' . There was something familiar in the tall figure. “Why hello, Essie Kiser,” I cried, “are you a policeman?” “Oh no,” she whispered confidentially, “that is just a ruse to get inside. That is the only difficulty I have. If I only get in they always buy one be- fore I leave. I am selling the most marvelous book that has ever appeared before the public. It is a treatise on “Hookworm vs. Tennessee” and other equally interesting and timely topics. It is compiled by Lewis Land and Hubert Huff, who have become ardent disciples of Mr. Buice. Mr. Land is making a house-to-house campaign and is selling medicine which will cure any disease. He can safely recommend it because he invented it himself. He is doing it solely for the uplifting of humanity. But you should have a half dozen copies of this wonderful book for your library, so that when you have worn out one you will have another to fall back upon immediately and will not have to wait till you can locate me to procure it.” She grasped me firmly by the shoulder and I should have had to invest heavily, but at this op¬ portune moment my lady of the broomstick jerked me unceremoniously up behind her and we whirled away at a dizzy height toward the South. We hovered over a beautiful little town nestled among the foothills of my beloved home state, Tennessee, then dropped lightly up on the majestic campus of one of the South’s bst Universities. Within the hall of the build¬ ing before me I could see a blue-overalled figure busily scrubbing the mo¬ saic floor. I stepped to the door. “Could you tell me whether any of the class of 19—why Dawson King, in overalls?” . .. . . . T “Oh yes, I am head janitor here, quite a responsible position, I assure you. I handed in my application for the presidency six years ago when Uncle Sid was called to Harvard, but someone else had gotten theirs m be¬ fore me, but they had this vacancy, so I took it.” “Good-by,” I said, and turned away. . , ... “But wait, don’t you want to go to the theatre tonight? Two militant suffragettes who are running for the senate are to speak. We hurried o . I stood spellbound, for there upon the platform were Bill Fulton and Page Thirty

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OLD HICKORY had gotten her ideas from Professor Alexander, who recommended them highly. She told me that Nettie Bunch, Ruth Jeffers, and Jessie Mackie were ' teaching in the next county and employed the same methods as herself. She took me home with her to see Laura Reece, with whom she boarded. Laura seemed younger now than she had at the Normal 20 years ago She wore coquettish curls over her ears. But Chloe confided to me that Laura had given up hopes the year before and yielding herself at last to crochetted shawls and fingerless gloves, had settled down as a confirmed old maid. Our next flight was a long one, and horrors! When we alighted it was near a large pond whose banks were writhing with alligators. I retreated to a fence and sought refuge on the post. But who was the damsel stepping so blithely among them? No! As she approached I saw that she had the ample proportions of middle age. What had deceived me was the brown hair bobbed and frizzled about her ears. But the winning smile and brave eyes proclaimed themselves Leota. In my joy at seeing her again I slipped from the fence and recklessly jumping ’gators ran to meet her. She showed me proudly over her alligator farm, of which she had made a great success. She knew each of her pets by name and they followed her about like dogs. She took me up to the house and introduced me to her husband, who was perfecting the invention of automatic wings which were to be attached to My guide drew me away and headed our queer quest toward home, but I pleaded, “Oh, surely you have not forgotten Lorna. My whole trip wou lose its pleasure did I not see her.” Then we left the winds behind m our haste until we could hear the sullen boom of the ocean and saw the North¬ ern Lights gleaming on the horizon. And off the coast upon a rocky island, a lighthouse flashed its warning, and there I found Lorna faithfully tending the light like a vestal virgin of old, leading a rather secluded life but a su¬ premely happy one as she asked nothing more than to dwell beneath the Bnt- 1Sh My fire had gone completely out and I was numbed with cold and cramped from sitting in one position so long, or was it from the fatigue of my jour¬ ney? I put my hand to my hair and it was damp, whether from the salt spray of the ocean or the mists of the night which crept in through the win dow, I know not. JEMIMA McCALLA. Page Thirty-two