Mechanic Arts High School - M Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

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JUNE, 1925 TH E M 19 The Coveted Letter By DAVID HAYNES It was during my senior year at Dart- mouth College that I became associated in a mutual bond of friendship with a rather unusual character, by name of Reaper Phil- lips. This young fellowihe was a youth of nineteen-aspired to earn a letter in some branch of sport. It was his most treasured ambition. He had, for two years, striven with an indomitable courage to attain the coveted but had failed. It seemed to be always his fortune never to quite make anything in the college athletic world. He had tried out for bootball and basketball, but was never able to make the team, he had even been a promising second on the varsity crew, but that was as far as he ever got. Now it must not be inferred that Phil- lips was without ability or courage, for be- sides being editor of the college's leading newspaper, he was president of the senior class and of his fraternity, and as for cour- age, daring, and tenacity, not only had he shown what he possessed on the football field in the annual Varsity-Scrub's game, but he had shone in student affairs. Reaper would end his college career by graduation in June: it was now February and he simply had to have a letter. In the two preceding years, Phillips had been looked upon as a fair candidate for track: although he was never promoted from the third team, nevertheless, he thought that he would have a better chance in that line of athletics than in either baseball or on the crew, so with the first track candidates in the spring we find Reaper. There were some fifty-five or sixty candidates. Of these, Phillips' squad, the half-milers, consisted of fifteen. I think that I need not tell you that Reaper was by no means looked upon as a very likely man. After the first general reduction of the team, he was a bit astounded to fmd his name among the still-eligible: this was a stimulant to him--there was still hope. With the advent of April came the annual inter-class meet. Phillips was entered in the 880 and finished sixth apparently without exhaustion. It was in evidence that he was improving. In the Hve dual and triangular meets of the year, Reaper was never able to place. Though he strove with all his might, some- thing was lacking. On the termination of these meets, there was one remaining, the National Intercollegiate Track Meet, which represented the finest athletes on the cinder path and in the field of America's tracksmen. It happened the night of May first, a night I shall always retain in memory, that the mysterious actions of Phillips began. He had come home that night in the most down- cast mood and without greeting me stood for some time leaning against the closed door of the room. When he had absent-mindedly returned my greetings, I inquired concern- ing the cause of his actions and voluntarily offered to help him: he thanked me warmly and said I could be of no assistance. Know- ing from the character of my friend that further questioning would be futile, I re- turned to my f'trig which I was intently studying previous to his entrance, and now and then cast a worried glance in his direc- tion. A profound silence now followed dur- ing which Reaper heaved a deep sigh and dropped himself into one of the arm chairs of the room. A few moments later he arose, went to the hall door and opened it, appar- netly with the intention of leaving, but sud- denly he changed his mind and began a rest- less pacing of the room, finally stopping in front of a window facing the campus and gazing wearily into the black night. On turning from this position his eye was caught by a picture on the wall opposite him. Reaper stood before this photograph of a Dartmouth track team of many years ago some five or six minutes in silent contempla- tion, then as if caught by an idea, he snapped his fingers, rushed towards the desk where I was studying, wrote rapidly for a few min- utes, and without procuring his cap rushed from the room.

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20 THE M H JUNE, 1925 I was now in a state of perplexity and wondered if my roommate had had some trouble with the faculty or student body. I carefully examined the photograph he had so intently studied. Dean Lawton was the only person in it that I recognized. Since it was such a plausible reason and I could think of no other, I attributed Phil- lips' unusual actions to his being in love. I remembered he had sent Laurette Vale, daughter of the history professor, chocolates, flowers, books, and other little knick-knacks lovers indulge in and I remembered that he had frequently been seen in her company. With this thought, I dismissed Phillips from my mind and once again plunged into trig- onometry. It was twelve o'clock I believe, though I am not positive, for I was half asleep, when Phillips returned softly whistling a gay tune under his breath and apparently in the best of spirits. Late in the evening three days afterwards, I met Reaper as I ascended the steps to my room. Evidently he was in great haste for he curtly greeted me and shifted a large brown package to a place upon his person not so conspicious to my gaze and disap- peared across the campus. '4She certainly has captured that lad, I murmured to my- self. Many hours later I heard the tired click-clack of some one's heels as he mounted the steps. The sound was becoming more audibleg finally it stopped before my door- Phillips entered. I-Iellol said he address- ing me gaily, 'Ait's certainly hot out: isn't it? 'AOh, not so very, l retorted freezingly, still smarting from the remembrance of his attitude towards me in the early part of the evening. But Phillips continued to talk, not heeding my anger. Well, old friend continued he, drop- ping in a chair in the most fatigued man- ner, I am certainly one tired happy man. When you met me on the steps this evening, I-I. Suddenly he checked himself as if he was fearful of disclosing a secret. Oh, it's no use explaining, said he: A' you would only make light of it and probably laugh at me. The next evening long after twilight, as I was returning from a lecture. I observed Reaper leave the dormitory and in his at- tempt to get away quickly, he dropped a package which he immediately retrieved, and peering in all directions he sped off in the darkness towards the stadium. Naturally, since I was unobserved and my curiosity was already aroused in my friend, I thought I would shadow him. Across the campus, I pursued Phillips. Not once did he change his pace or stop: occasionally he would look behind, but to my good fortune I was not seen. When we had arrived at the athletic stadium, it must have been an hour or more before I, from a comfortable position on the stadium wall, unobserved, saw Phillips dis- robe by the faint rays of the rising moon, then dress in his track attire. Ten minutes had not passed before I saw the figure of a person cross the stadium and address Reaper in an amiable tone. The identity of this character was disclosed to me, when his face became illuminated by the flickering light of a match which he used to light his cigar. I gasped: it was Dean Lawton, an intimiate friend of Reaper's and one of the alumni who had come to Dartmouth apparently for commencement day. But why had he come so early? The solution came to me like a flash. On the night of Phillips' unusual actions he had got in touch with Lawton and probably urged him to come to Dart- mouth as soon as possible to coach him. Lawton or as he was known on the campus, Speedy Dean, had been one of the greatest runners in college during his youth. Now he was a retired coach of a Western college. An animated conversation soon began be- tween Phillips and Dean. Suddenly I saw Reaper begin to pace back and forth, while Lawton was evidently making comment on his A'form. It was fully an hour before I saw Reaper like some specter travel the dis- tance of the track three times at a rather fast pace. I was certainly amazed. Did my friend intend to compete in the National Intercol- legiate Meet against the pick of Americas best athletes? For many a night, did I, with a certain keen delight, watch my friend, a runner sil- houetted against the inkiness of night, rac- ing against time, For many a night did I follow Phillips like some treading panther across the campus, through by streets, over fences, into the old stadium. l believe it was the sixth night of Phil- lips' secret training, that I brought my stop