Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

 - Class of 1927

Page 25 of 52


Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1927 Edition, Page 25 of 52
Page 25 of 52

Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1927 Edition, Page 24
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Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1927 Edition, Page 26
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Page 25 text:

" Everything went off without a hitch, and in a few hours I found myself in the gangsters ' boat, sailing shoreward again. " During the terror-filled months that followed I was haunted perpetually by the spectres of fear that my mind conjured up. I grew to a mere shadow of myself with but one thought in my sick brain, to escape from the terrible thoughts that haunted my soul day and night. " Finally I was driven, literally driven, to the police, by my horror-filled brain. I had no choice at all. I gave myself up, and you know the rest. " I could restrain myself no longer: " Great Scott, man, you saw Miss Wright in the arms of her brother, no m.ere lover! ! " John Evans goes to the chair tonight, a victim of circumstances. — Keith Monroe, H7. THE CHARM OF AN OPEN FIRE The logs are crackling on the hearth And make a ruddy glow, Bright sparks are popping, wood ' s ablaze. When fanned by bellows ' blow. The roaring lends a coziness. And all the atmosphere About the fire and in the room Is one of pleasant cheer. I wish that I could tell you all A woodfire means to me, It truly makes the house a home. Wherever it may be. For walk into a dwelling On any chilly night, And if there isn ' t any fire. The place just isn ' t right. Oh, naught can satisfy me more. Upon a winter ' s night, Than hearthwood blazing up in flame, A fire so warm and bright! — Barbara Brock, H9. AUTUMN Autumn leaves are falling down, Yellow, red, and green, and brown. Slowly falling, circling round, Scarcely making any sound. Summer days have come and gone. Summer winds have sung their song, And to south-lands winging high. Fly the birds against the sky. — Katherine King, H7.

Page 24 text:

" Well, Inspector Traynor of the police force phoned us that he had made an important discovery concerning that aviation mysterv of about six months ago. I want you to cover it, as you knew Evans personally. Get do Yn there immediately, will you? " I assented, and perhaps ten minutes later was running up the steps of the police headquarters of New York. In a few moments I met burly Inspector Traynor. " Hello, Dawson, " he boomed, " we have an interesting case for you. The mur- derer of Miss Dorothy Wright is found at last. Show him in, lieutenants. " The door was opened, and in stepped John Evans! " Well, are you ready to confess fully? " thundered the chief, in an intimidating tone of voice. At that the poor boy looked up and for the first time saw me. There came a half-stified sob, then the confession: " My first contact mth crime came when I took dope, unknowingly. After taking it a few times I found I could not do without it. So that I could get the drug more easily, I joined a gang of criminals who supplied it, " One night I was at the gang ' s hangout, taking some of my life-giving dope, when a dishevelled member of the banditti burst in, voicing in a stage whisper the fact that the police were on our trail, so to scatter for the time being. " I wandered out a back exit, still two-thirds drugged. The first thing I saw was my beloved in the arms of a strange man. She sprang up immediately, and, when apprised of my predicament, led me to a safe hiding place. " WTien the danger was over I crept out, inwardly raging. So Dot had tricked me then. She loved another, meanwhile leading me on merely for the hard-earned gifts I gave her. Well, I would fix her. I would kill her. " I carefully planned the details of it. I would announce that I was to attempt to fly across the Atlantic. The gangsters would be stationed with a ship along my route in the ocean. (Of course no one else would know of this.) Then, just before I took off, I would return and murder Dot. " I would then start the hop, and when I saw the gangsters ' ship below me, would drop from the plane in a parachute, leaving The Pride of New York to fly alone, God knows where. Then I would grow a beard and start life anew under a new name. The police might suspect that I did it, but they would abandon the search for me when they learned my plane had been wrecked. " I would let the plane fly on, as it might be sighted further out, to dispel any suspicion that anything had happened where it did. " One of my confederates would be phoning Dawson at the time that I committed the murder so that I would have an alibi if I was caught. " At last it was the night of the take-off. About half an hour before I had de- cided to start, I slunk away toward Dot ' s house. I had kno ATT. that she was to be alone that evening, as her parents were away on a vacation. " I was at her house I Silently I opened the door. She was sitting with her back toward me, reading. Noiselessly I tiptoed toward her. She must have heard me, however, for — " Why, hello, John — " with a quick spring I was upon her, I clapped one hand over her mouth, with the other throttling her. So she would trick me, would she! The gruesome deed was done! With a sudden revulsion of feeling, I fled, madly.

Page 26 text:

BEHIND A FACE During the middle ages all art took the form of religion. Among the immortal masters, Leonardo da Vinci was one of the greatest. His most renowned work is the inimitable " Last Supper " . So ignorant were the people of his age, and so great was their lack of appreciation of the beautiful and unusual, that the wall upon which this masterpiece was created was soon turned into the side of a stable. It was not until several centuries later that this wonderful painting was discovered. The picture was covered by the remains of many coats of whitewash, and it was by the merest chance that this masterpiece is in evidence at all. The colors were faded and the original brilliance and clearness obliterated by the hand of time and neglect. The figures were dim, the outlines misty, and the features of those biblical characters hardly distinguishable. Yet, with all these defects, there was beauty there which perhaps will never find an equal. Not only is the painting itself extraordinary, but there is a romance about this masterpiece which increases its value to all beauty lovers. Leonardo da Vinci was searching with utmost diligence through the towns of Italy for a model to serve as the Master. He felt that not only was a man essential with a correctly proportioned figure, but that to reproduce the Master ' s character it was necessary for the model to possess a certain degree of spirituality. After much labor he secured a model who was entirely satisfactory. The model was a yovmg man recently freed from a monastary where he had been completing his limited education under the tutelage of monks. It was not many months before this young man ' s task as model was completed. The artist, com- pletely absorbed in his life ' s work, lost all trace of his youthful model. Years passed, and the artist ' s hours of toil showed their results. The painting was nearly finished, but Judas remained to be painted. Leonardo da Vinci began his search for a model. His task was not difficult, for during the first week he found a beggar so suitable that the artist ' s cup was filled with joy. It is not necessary to go into detail concerning the appearance of the unfortu- nate beggar. To say that he filled the part of Judas perfectly seems sufficient. Every one recognizes Judas as a man of evil face and furtive eyes, in every way dis- reputable. Such was the appearance of this man of the streets. It was not diffi- cult for Leonardo da Vinci to entice this man to act as model. The charm of gold indeed did all. While Leonardo da Vinci was working with him, he was amazed at how familiar this man ' s face seemed. He asked the beggar if their paths had met before, and made the amazing discoverj that the man who posed as the Master and his present model were one and the same man. The hand of time had done its work; the years of dissipation and indulgence had reaped their harvest. — Helen Buchanan, H9.

Suggestions in the Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) collection:

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