Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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SPECTATOR 15 Smokestacks George Mozgo, '22 BQ Isat dreaming near an open window overlooking a small manufacturing city. I had sat there before but this time the scene took on a new meaning for me. An air of enchantment crept over me. The spell was soon broken, however, by the-shrill whistle of the distant mills and I awoke from my revery with a start. My glance wandered to those mills attracted by its high towering smokestacks, which shot upward and hindered the sky and earth from grasping friendly hands. They stood there like guards, but what were they guarding? My mind traversed a familiar road of thought, for you cannot think hard in a manufacturing city, yet you can- not stop thinking. I looked down into the valley where those tall sentinel stacks threw their long black shadows and my eyes met a scene of squalor. In the shadows of the stack nestled a little town where the mill hands lived with their families. The children romped joyfully in the nar- row streets. Suddenly those stacks poured forth volumes of black smoke. Then I realized the destruction for which they were responsible. A feeling of rebellion entered my heart. I knew that the stacks were robbing those tiny chil- dren of their right to pure air. Old Mother Nature is also injured. By many ages of toil Mother Nature had beautified the surrounding hills with giant trees, dainty vines, and wild flowers so that they had the appearance of being covered with a massive carpet of intricate patterns interwoven as no human hand could weave them. Yet Mother Nature and her children enjoyed this beauty only until men whose hearts and souls were en- grossed by business came and built these offensive smoke- stacks. The trees and flowers bowed down before the puffs of smoke. They withered and died because they were rob- bedof the pure air upon which their lives depended. The birds that made these groves of trees ring with their joy- ous hymns departed to a land where smokestacks had not intruded. Year after year, I must go farther away from my pres-

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14 SPECTATOR J of Senor Felepi and the solution of the vexing murder. The Senor had been found, and, as Brandon told his story, the villagers stood aghast, moving only to faintly comment on the weird tale. Senor Felepi had been found in the thickest part of the forest, slowly dying from wounds and exposure, having been dragged from his home by the now dead panther, at his side. The panther had been killed after a violent strug- gle with Senor Felepi. It was the panther that had been responsible for the deaths of Senora and Senorita Romano, and now Felepi Castillo. Contrary to the supposition of the villagers, Felepi's name was cleared because of his brave struggle in trying to defend his mother and sister. The blacksheep of the Castillo family had been proved a hero and, though dead, he was honored by his fellowmen. As years Went on, the Castillos were never more heard of, save in stories told by the villagers and carried by travel- ers and strangers to the outer World. The old Manor still stands as a Warning against evil and as a ratification of the Weird, and often false, tales current in that locality. 4 l 4:13. Xi a Cliff Il' 1: x si -

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l6 SPECTATOR ent home to seek nature's beauty. I cannot rebel against destructive smokestacks because, after all, they are in- cluded in the scheme of human life, but I cannot but regret the desolation they bring. - 9 The Ghost ln Peggy s Parlor- Dorothy Kime, '211f3 1 Peggy's parlor was a picturesque room at the extreme end of the second floor of a certain boarding school in Maine. It was reputed to be haunted. The- legend ran that there was once attending this school a beautiful, but delicate girl, named Peggy Wood, whose lover had deserted her. On restless nights, when sad memories haunted her, she was known to steal into this parlor, where she sat Weeping or playing mournful melodies on the old piano. All this had happened long ago, but, because of the tradition that Peggy's ghost had been known to return at infrequent in- tervals, the parlor still retained its romantic name and its reputation of being haunted. - Sl' ik Sk ik wk Miss Stubbs, a nervous, superstitious, yet strict, little person was the hall teacher on the second floor of the school. The girls in her charge knew her Weakness and were very fond of relating to her in sepulchral voices, the tale of the return of Peggy's ghost. Miss Stubbs was known to tremble visibly on some of these occasions, even while reproaching the girls severely for believing in such nonsense. Now this Miss Stubbs, nicknamed Pat, occupied the room just next to Peggy's parlor. This room commanded a View of the entire hall, a particular grievance to the girls occupying it, for Pat persisted in keeping her door wide open. Consequently, no visiting between rooms and not a single midnight feast took place that either Miss Sfubb's watchful eye or sharp ear did not detect and report One day the girls of Floor No. 2 were discussing on the campus the monotony of their uneventful life. e Something must be done, declared one girl. We haven't had a feast or trunk party for ages. I'm simply bored to death. Betty Mason, a lanky, vivacious girl, who was the lead-