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

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li ITLKELEY NEWs 11 “This is the Mug.” DOW was about to join the colors and a number of his friends thought it would be a fine thing to present him with a loving-cup. So they bought the cup, planned a big formal banquet, and chose Keeney to make the presentation speech. Frank was skeptical himself, but at length he prepared one which met the approval of the whole bunch. Of course all this could hardly be kept secret, and Dow hearing of it, prepared an eloquent speech of acceptance. The night of the banquet came. Everytning went well until it was time for the presentation. Keeney was called upon. Gravely he stood up, looked at Dow, and then at the sea of faces all staring at him. It was his first attempt at making a speech. Suddenly he began to realize that something was the matter with his knees. His face became scarlet, and a large lump arose in his throat. And together with this came the realization that he had forgotten every word of his speech. Clearly he must do something, so, after a suspense that was heart-rending, the best that Keeney could do was to blurt out: “This is the mug.” Now up to this time, Dow had been perfectly calm. He had his speech down cold. But now he was clearly excited, for he couldn’t give his eloquent speech after a presentation like the above. But of course he must make some acceptance of the gift. So Pip stood up, went through all the stages through which Keeney had gone, and finally managed to respond, with a perfect bow as he spoke: “Oh, so th-th-that is the m-m-m-m-mug.” -Q. E. D.

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10 B ULKELE Y NE TP that we lose the game, kid.” It was just before the game. The Johnsville players were assembled in club-house. The stands were packed. There was the same old rivalry between the two teams. Joe Ranney was sitting alone in one corner, his head plunged in his hands. “Fellows,” spoke up the coach, “you’re going in this game to win. You have those fellows beaten already. Ranney won’t be able to play, but Williams is to take his place.” “Ranney can’t play?” How quickly the faces of the players changed! That confident look was gone. They lacked pep. Williams was nervous. The whole team quivered. The game was over. Johnsville had lost, and had lost badly. Williams had pitched a ragged game. The Oxwell playees easily hit him. Ranney had witnessed the whole game from the club-house. How his heart ached to get out there! How he would have loved to be on the mound. But no, he had flunked, and he must pay the penalty. School was resumed on Monday. All of the students were ordered to report in the Assembly Hall,—something unusual. When they were all seated, Professor Bacon arose. “Students,” he said, “you all know that we lost on Saturday. Ox-Well beat us, beat us badly. And you all know the reason why we were beaten. Because Joe Ranney didn’t pitch. Now, I want to tell you that Ranney could have pitched if he had to.” “Ranney could have pitched if he had wanted to.” A low murmur ran around the room. “Yes,” continued the Principal, “on Thursday night, I happened to be in Brown Hall. I saw a figure come in by the rear window. I crouched down by the door, and watched it. It was Joe Ranney. He walked up to the desk, and found the paper on which were the questions for the Latin examination. He had picked up the paper, and was about to read them, when he muttered, ‘God, I can’t do this. If I can’t play fairly, I can’t play at all.’ And turning, he left the building.” All was quiet in the room now. The students were speechless. They just stared. Joe Ranney hung his head low. “You see, fellows,” Professor Bacon said, “Ranney could have played, if he had wanted to cheat. But he didn’t, and even though we lost to Oxwell, we lost fairly.” The students were still quiet. Finally they emerged from their trance. “Come fellows,” shouted the voice of Bob Whaley, “let’s give a cheer for Joe, good old Joe.” And all that rang in Joe’s ears was “we lost fairly.” —X. Y. Z. ’18.

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12 BULKELEY NEWS The Coming oi Arthur. A S ARTHUR STANDISH lazily lounged on the window-seat in his room in Lawrance Hall overlooking the Campus, his eyes taking in the numerous scenes before him, he pondered over his situation. From all parts of the Campus came the hearty greetings of classmates meeting each other with tales of vacation accomplishments. Through open windows in Farnum Hall now and then there reached him, the strains of an impromptu orchestra, rendering the season’s popular musical hits. From the direction of Connecticut Hall the stirring strains of “Bingo”, warbled by a quartet of Seniors, came to him. But a few years back, when “preping” at Berkeley in that small Minnesota town, he was more than a student star reflected. As stroke on the crew, and as star end and captain of the football team he had won something of a reputation. But it was as champion interscholastic wrestler of the state that he gained the greatest fame. When he had decided to come to Yale, all Berkeley saw in him a great cause for future worry for Eli’s rivals. Arriving rather late in New Haven, Stan had been forced to occupy a single room in a far corner of one of the Freshman dormitories, the adjoining room being unoccupied, isolated him completely from his classmates. His retiring nature prevented him from making acquaintances, which at this period of college life, are so easy to acquire among homesick boys. So Stan, lived pretty much alone, rubbing elbows with his classmates only when attending classes, football games or class events. He knew most of his classmates casually, joining them when brought into actual contact with them but modestly refraining from thrusting his company on them. The opening of his Sophomore still found him pursuing his unobtrusive course. The greetings between his classmates and him were a little more cordial than the year before, due to the strange bond which comes between men who have braved together dangers of first year flunkings, warnings and conditions. Yet he had no real chum. His reminiscent mood was changed when after watching a few students roping in portions of the Campus, he realized that there was work ahead for all loyal Sophomores this night. “Rush Night”, the Freshmen’s first big night when they are introduced to campus life, meant that all undergraduates should appear on the campus. The two upper classes take their places along the outside of the ropes and hazard guesses on the outcome of the events. Sophomores and Freshmen are herded into separate groups, later to be marshalled into battle lines by “Y” men, who to the hero-worshipping Freshmen seem god-like. This year there were very few “letter” men to manage or Sophomores to take part in the Rush. The call from “Over There” had been heard at Yale. The spirit of “For God, for country and for Yale” had sent