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

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THE SW almost to the lake when Mary Jane declared that she was tired and seated herself under a huge elm. Well, Mary Jane. I thought you were the little girl who just adored the wilds and could walk miles and miles without tiring, teased Jack, sitting down near her. I am, and I can, retorted Mary Jane, but, Jack, I stopped because I wanted to talk to you. Yes? queried Jack in a puzzled tone. UWell, then, shoot. Jack, began Mary Jane hesitatingly, I admire you Cyes, I know you should never Hatter a boyD and I like you. I should like to know you better. I wish we two could be good friends, good pals. Howiabout it? 'iWhy, Mary Jane! gasped Jack. Yes, I knowt I sound bold, unusual. But honestly, I think we'd gain by each other's friendship. I-I-. You little honey, said Jack, as a broad grin spread over his face. I think I see what you are driving at. I know you're not chasing me-you're too direct for that. You've always been a fine, intelligent girl, and because I admire you, too, Mary Jane, I think I know how to take your proposition. You look mighty sweet in that pink outfit. I wonder why I didn't get this idea myself. My Love By MIRIAM LIGHTER, '31 Dancing like a fairy seems The only lady of my dreams, I loved her from the very start. She was the lady of my heart, And every time I look at her, I love her more, I do aver. The sweetest voice my love possesses, In shining velvets always dresses, She is the fairest of the fair, With smiling eyes and flowing hair. A mouth that wears a smile most sweet, With kindly words she'll ever greet, She'll laugh and prance about all day, She is the gayest of the gay. Her I shall always idolize, And win I must this goodly prize. L'Envoi I know you think this all cliche, Because you've heard some others say The very things I now portray: But lovers always talk this way. Speed By HARRY HAMMYNDE COTTINGHAM, '31 Give me a launch with throttle wide, To skim across the surf, Give me a horse with lengthy stride To pace across the turf. Give me a plane with clean cut heels To dart across the sky. Give me a motor with spinning wheels- It is for speed I cry! Page Fourteen

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THE ANOTHER MARY JANE ROMANCE By CARYL M. BOTHE, '31 Mary Jane was puzzled-very puzzled. She rumpled her blond curls, wrinkled her smooth brow, and closed her blue eyes. Suddenly she sat erect. Familiar steps approached the class room door. Hastily Mary Jane powdered her nose and patted her hair. Her welcoming smile was brilliant. Well, Jack, and how was the class meeting? 'iGood enough, Mary Jane. Gee. I don't have my English contract done. I don't know what I'm going to do. We-ell-I could give you mine. It is done, and I needn't hand it in until tomorrow. Mary Jane, you're a peach for sure! Thanks, said Mary Jane, holding out the desired contract. Then, in a voice which she tried to make casual, she questioned: Are you going to the dance tonight? Sure I am. I'm stagging it with a bunch of boys. You going? i'No. This was very brief, almost sharp. Aw, come on, I want to dance with you. Do you? Sorry, Jack, but I have another date. Ohl Well, thanks for the contract. See you in study. As Jack's broad shoulders and long legs swung through the door, Mary Jane breathed a very soft but vehement, Darn it! Again her brow was wrinkled in thought, and her thoughts were not very pleasant ones. I wonder, she pondered, 'lwhy Jack just doesn't know I'm alive. Funny when I'm so convenient. Why, I've rescued that curly-haired dim-wit from at least ten escapades. And now I've given him my contract. I'm just a little fool-I'm so easy. Oh, well. While stealing glances at Jack's clean-cut profile during study, Mary Jane had a sudden inspiration. She would never, she contemplated, get to know Jack intimately through his initiative. Why shouldn't she speak to Jack directly about their friendship? She knew, deep in her heart, that they were the types that would appeal to each other on further acquaintance. Jack was just too blind to make the advances. She was no fool. She knew that she was not unattractive. She was utterly disgusted with the pretext and scheming most girls resorted to in their friendships. They were so superficial-even sneaky and false. She was sick of that sort of thing. Why shouldn't friend- ships be made by a calm declaration of the desire for that friendship? She would make her declaration in calm, friendly words, putting the thing on the basis of learning to be good pals. Wouldn't any nice boy be willing to give the thing a trial? Of course, the boy must be made to see that she was not chas- ing him. Boys hated that. They must pursue. Oh, well, she would make only the initial move. After that, it would be up to him. When Mary Jane left the study hall, her eyes were twinkling and her lips were puckered in a soft and happy whistle. I The next week Jack and Mary Jane attended the picnic for the senior class officers and representatives. No, Jack did not ask Mary Jane to go with him, but they were thrown together on the ride to the lake. For the first time in their acquaintance, Jack saw Mary Jane. Needless to say, he was entirely pleased with the vision of pink, white and gold loveliness that confronted him, for Mary Jane was adorable in a sports costume of pink. After the picnic lunch, Jack and Mary Jane decided to explore the noisy little brook flowing through their camping grounds. They had followed it Page Thirteen ' T'l 1

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UWM HIS MAN By ELMER BAEKER, '31 The hard, bitter Alaskan wind howled desolately as it drifted the falling snow into huge white billows and fantastic figures. The monstrous breakers tried vainly to smash the granite shores of Bristol Bay. The colossal towers of rock were transformed into pinnacles of ice in the intense cold. All life had retreated before the frigid fury of the great North. Even the inanimate objects seemed to have hidden away until only the naked trees, crackling and tossing under the power of the gale, and the expansive stretches of wind-blown snow, appeared in the stretches of the landscape. In. the lee of a cliff, where the tempest was least severe, a column of smoke rose doubtfully to a certain height until the current of the storm caught it and hurled it away. Smoke was the symbol of human life, the factor that betrayed the presence of man in this God-forsaken, tempestuous land. Inside a cabin were two men. One lay on a rude bunk, his eyes listlessly fixed on the ceiling. The fire blazing through the cracks in the sheet-iron stove flickered on his face, giving a saffron hue to his haggard countenance. Though languid and dying. he was undoubtedly a man of the North, lean, hard. and bronzed. The other sat taking deep lungfuls of a black British cigar and gazing with troubled thought into the clouds of smoke. A single tallow candle cast its very uncertain light, adding an air of grotesque simplicity. Finally, the silence was broken. Why did you ever come to this God-forsaken country? The man on the bunk raised his head. His eyes became hard as he met the stranger's gaze: then he again relaxed. I love this country, he said. Nature is my God, the wildnerness is my temple. The winter Winds' howl comforts me. The raging elements make me feel the littleness of humanity. The great polar stars help me to forget, Forget what? queried the stranger. Forget what! he cried. Forget what I can never forget. I killed him, the rat, and I wish he were alive so that I could kill him again! With that his madness passed and he fell back, exhausted, on his pillow. Finally, he spoke again. I was young and happy. I was barely a man when my father died. Then he came. He was a drunkard, a fool. He beat my mother. He broke up the family. He let us starve while he saturated himself with liquor. He sent my mother to the grave and he buried her in a plank box. He made my little brother a cripple. I killed him. I broke his skull with an ax. They sent me to jail. They made me a murderer for killing a dog. They sentenced me to the gallows. They were going to hang me! he screamed. Hang me! Damn them! But I got away. I killed two of them. I lay in hiding for a week, crawling through the meshes of the human drag-net they laid' for the boy mur- derer. They called me a fiend, a maniac, a menace to society. Finally I came here to live, or rather to suffer. I cursed humanity. I fought nature without tools and with an arm that the king's lead had rendered useless. I'm dying now. If you ever see brother Joe, let him know. Fare- well, stranger. He died. The stranger relit his cigarvand puffed furiously for a while: then he slowly took out a report blank of the Northwest Mounted Police. Page Fifteen