New London High School - Whaler Yearbook (New London, CT)

Page 9 text:

BULKELEY NEWS 9 A Local Color Story 'T'HE Athletic tax is ten cents a ■A- week, a sum every one of you can afford to pay when it comes due. The football season is coming on and the finances are low.” Thus spoke Buck Wheaton, president of the Sophomore Class. He was addressing the Freshmen. ‘‘Mr. Wheaton,” piped a small yet steady voice. The owner, a small red-headed fellow rose in his seat: ‘‘Do we have a vote in the sc h ool meetings?” “Do you what?” almost shouted Buck, “you, Freshmen, vote in the school meetings?” He disdained even to answer the question. Hamilton Wells, the snub-nosed Freshman who had spoken to Wheaton immediately started a campaign. The result of that campaign was that he was elected class president. Then for some reason or another a tax collector was not appointed; dues were not collected. It was customary in that school for the president of the Sophomore Class to look after the Freshman athletic money. Wheaton, therefore attended a Freshman Class meeting to determine why no first year money was forthcoming. “The Freshman Class has unanimously voted to support the school in no way whatsoever, until the members of said class have the right of voting in the school meetings.” This was President Well’s official answer to Wheaton’s queries. Almost choking with anger Wheaton left the meeting. He said not a word. “Oh! Well! What’s the difference? Let’s give them the vote,” said the Senior President, “they are not strong enough to run things.” “Never!” returned Wheaton,“they must do as other Freshman classes have done. Force must be used a-gainst them.” Thus the battle dwindled down to two factions; one headed hy Wheaton ; the other by Wells. The day of the first football game dawned clear and cold. A mighty cheer rose from the west stands as the team made its appearance. An answering cry came from the east stands. The crowd looked, rubbed their eyes, and then gasped, for there stood the Freshmen, fifty strong, cheering for the visitors. The Sophomores literally tore across that field but suddenly they stopped . The Freshmen did not scatter but reaching under the stands pulled forth fifty serviceable clubs. They had a far sighted leader who left nothing to chance. Buck Wheaton was blamed by the upper classmen for the revolt of the Freshmen. “This is awful,” muttered Buck to his roommate as after the game they were back in their room, “it’s bad enough to have the Freshmen up in arms but the fact that I am blamed for it makes it doubly hard.” He strolled to the window and threw it open. A pebble was immediately thrown in from the darkness

Page 8 text:

8 BULKELEY NEWS a love ballad. He gazed dreamily at the dainty white-clothed girl at his side. As she spied the car, she sprang from the hammock and cried, “There are the boys.’’ The deserted one gazed unhappily after her and wearily put down the instrument. She soon came back to the veranda and introduced the new-comers to the others. It did not take Jack long to feel at ease among that happy crowd even though he was a complete stranger. Iole Addison led the way to the big hammock in the corner which she had just left. She jumped into it and said laughingly, “Jump in. It will hold two.” Jack took her advice and soon they were chatting away as fast as the others. There was something about her which seemed to attract him more than any girl he had met before. She was rather small and dainty. Her pretty laughing eyes attracted him. A stray curl of light hair dangled prettily near her ear. The afternoon passed quickly. The evening shadows fell softly. One by one the bright stars appeared in the sky up above. The mysterious sounds of night stole through the air. The party now s p o k e in hushed voices, as if compelled to do so by by the fairies of the night. “Let’s all go down to the bungalow,” said Iole. “We’ll build a fire in the fire-place and toast inarshmel-lows.” The suggestion was greeted with joy. Soon they were walking in couples toward Whalom Lake near whose shore the bungalow rested. Iole and Jack walked slowly behind. Soon the others were lost to view. A glorious moon was rising over the eastern woods which surrounded the lake. It’s mellow radiance spanned the water with a bridge of gold. The leaves of the trees seemed to whisper at its beauty. As they walked on through the night, Jack discovered a seat underneath a spreading oak. “Iole,” he said. “This sight is too good to miss. Let us sit here for a while and then we’ll join the others. They took their seats and sat in silence. The gentle breeze had died down and the whispering leaves were hushed as if fearing to disturb the sleeping spirit of night. Suddenly through the silence came the ghostly hoot of a lonely owl. The girl drew closer and a shiver passed through her. What caused him to do it he did not know, but he put his arm gently around her. He gazed at her calm face, bathed in the moonlight. The passions surged within him. He was tempted to steal a kiss from those sweet lips. But instead he rose and said: “Let’s join the others.” That night as he lay in bed thinking over the events of the day, he gritted his teeth and muttered: “I’ll make the team or die trying, because She’ll be there to watch us play.” —Liljenstein, P. 0.

Page 10 text:

10 BULKELEY NEWS without. A note was tied to the piece of Irish confetti. This read: “Votes for Freshmen.” With a smothered curse Wheaton threw the paper into the fire. Grabbing a book he prepared to study but on the title page of the book was seen “Votes for Freshmen.” Throughout the following day epistles like these were thrust upon him everywhere. His paper in his desk, notes stuck wherever he turned all bore the sign, “Votes for Freshmen . ’ Needless to say this got Wheaton’s goat. He began to fret and then decided to tame that cub Wells once and for all. “I’ll fix him so that he’ll see it isn’t safe to fool around me.” Wells roomed on the top floor of Flemingway Hall. Directly above his room was a small attic reachable only by a scuttle. Ham took in these features of his room as soon as he entered it for the first time and accordingly laid his plans. Five youths cautiously approached Flemingway Hall about 12.05 A. M. They were headed by the wrathful Buck Wheaton. Entering by a rear window they quickly found their way to Well’s room. Softly entering they gathered around the bed in which they knew the red-headed one ought to be asleep. ‘ ‘On with the glim ! ’ ’ “It won’t light.” Bang! Hey! Open the door! ’ ’ “It’s locked! Get off my foot !” These muttered exclamations might be heard as the five groped their way around the dark room, stumbling over each other, stepping on their own toes. ‘ ‘Cachoo!” “Kerchaw!” Then the real fun commenced. The door was locked, the windows nailed up tight, the room in darkness, and Hamilton Wells stretched out on the attic floor above was calmly and deliberately sprinkling red pepper down through the scuttle. The five boys below were sneezing as if their lives depended on it, fighting and clawing each other. Suddenly a voice was heard from above: ‘ ‘Votes for Freshmen! G i v e us the vote or you remain where you are until you are discovered by the watchman. You know the penalty. “Never!” returned Wheaton. There followed another ten minutes of sneezing and coughing. Then human nature could stand it no longer. “Open up, the vote is yours.” A shrill whistle sounded and the door was opened as mysteriously as it had been locked. The five piled through the door. The Freshmen received the privilege of voting and showing the same spirit they had displayed in downing the Sophs, they made things hum. 1915. If you can’t see the local coloring to this story read the editorial once more.