Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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BORDERLAND SKETCHES said, Te po Russkuf' CThat is the Russian sty1e.J Vladimir did not recover from the blow for half an hour. Since then he has never shown anybody how to fight in the American way. I THANK YOU More known that any other person in Russia was Petro, the Horse Thief, of Vyadka, who was known all over Russia for his skill in stealing. Petro, whose last name no one knew, spent about half of his time in Vyadka because it was a great market place for horses. He was often seen down-town in Vyadka riding slowly on his black Arabian horse. He usually wore a fur hat and a short overcoat, with a whip suspended from his belt on the right side. All the rich people who saw him, greeted him-not because they liked him, but because they knew that if they didn't say something to him they would soon find some of their horses gone. Petro was always invited to weddings and parties because people wanted to be on good terms with him. Many villages in Russia paid him money annually so that he would stay out of their properties. Yet, as bad as he was, he was arrested only once in his life. That was when he stole horses from the mayor's manor in Vyadka. Petro was immediately accused of the deed, for the mayor knew that no one else would dare to enter his premises. Twelve men land men they werelj were sent to get Petro. After a long struggle, in which most of the mayor's men were wounded, Petro was finally brought to the mayor, who was granted the right to judge the thief. The mayor, however, liked the courage and boldness of the thief, so he sentenced him to only one year in Siberia, where criminals from all over Russia were sent. The mayor also begged Petro to change his habits, after he should be released. A little over a year had passed when the mayor received a letter from Petro. Hoping that Petro wrote to him regarding his change of morals, the mayor opened the letter. It read: I thank you very much for sending me to Siberia, for I have learned from the other prisoners many new tricks in stealing. AN OCCUPIED TOWN The following incident happened about ten years ago, a short per- iod in history, but to me, a long time. I sometimes wonder whether it really happened or whether I merely dreamed about it.

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BORDERLAND SKETCHES LEON FRISCH MY NATIVE TOWN HOUSANDS of miles from the shores of America, in south-eastern Europe, where Poland, Russia, and Roumania meet, is located a little village, named Zaleszczyki, This peaceful-looking town is enclosed on all sides by mountains, and on three sides by the beautiful meandering Dniester River. Zaleszczyki is inhabited by a very peace- loving people, most of whom have never traveled farther than fifty or sixty miles from the town. It was in this village that I was born and spent the first twelve years of my life. Although I have lived in America almost five years, I can still picture the town and remember the many incidents that took place there. THE MARKET PLACE . In the heart of Zaleszczyki is the market place. In the center of the market place are two rows of stands, and at each side a large open square, where the horses, cattle, and sheep, which are to be sold, are herded. At the stands are sold bread, meat, fish, and all other kinds of food. What a place it is! One can hear a dozen languages spoken on the streets. Here one sees Ukrainian peasants selling merchandise, Ger- mans, Russians, Poles, and a few Roumanians. The peasants are clothed in white trousers and heavy white shirts, hanging to their knees. Mingling with the crowd are dogs and other domestic animals. Many children are playing about the streets, and usually two or three in- sane or intoxicated persons are seen Wandering about. Quite often a horse runs wild, and then the whole market place is in turmoil until the animal is captured. With the singing of the blind women, the yelling of the bakers, and now and then, the howling of a dog which has been caught by the dog-catcher, it would indeed seem a strange place to an American. THE RUSSIAN WAY Although it had only been two or three weeks since Vladimir, a former resident of Zaleszczyki, Poland, had returned to his home town from a visit in America, everyone was talking about his exhibitions in boxing. The people of this town had never seen anyone fight in the American style, so when Vladimir, a tall, skinny man, returned and showed some of the strong boys how to box, he soon frightened them. As some of his friends worked in our bakery, he often used to be there. One day while Vladimir was showing some of the men how to box, one of them asked him, in a joke, to show Ivan, our stoker. Vladi- mir took it seriously, and started to show the husky Ukrainian peas- ant how to box. First, the American hit the Ukrainian with a left to the stomach, then with a right to the jaw, and said, Te po Americanskuf' CThat is the American style.D This angered Ivan. With a full swing, he hit the American on the side of his head, dropping him to the ground with terrific force, and

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BORDERLAND SKETCHES The town of Zaleszczyki was one of the places involved in the Rus- sian-Polish boundary dispute of 1920. One hot summer night, as our family was sitting on our steps chat- ting to our neighbors, we were suddenly aroused by flames rising high towards the sky in the location of the business section. We childen were at once put to bed, and the older members of the family proceeded to go down-town to flnd out what had happened. They were not able to see much, as soldiers kept them back, but they heard that the Russians had taken the town, having driven out the Polish troops. The next morning the streets were full of innumerable soldiers. Their high fur hats, with beautiful bands hanging down from the back, and their long, black coats with whips extending from the side, proclaimed them Russians. What a sight they began to make out of this peaceful town! All the surrounding mountains and rivers seemed to tremble when the soldiers herded through the streets, laying about them with their naheikas Cwhipsl. These consisted of long narrow strips of leather, tipped with pieces of lead. Woe to anything living that came in contact with these whips! It was as if one were burned or cut when one was struck by these loaded weapons. Everywhere in the business section, smoke was still rising from the burned buildings. In the residential sections, on the smoking ruins of houses, were set up huge kettles, from which the Russians served free tea to the soldiers and also to the public. By this time, the crying of the people had been quieted, and all that could be heard was the clatter of the horses' hoofs and the hilarious singing of the soldiers. This con- tinued all day. At night, the soldiers began to go about to the houses and call for wudka fwhiskyj. Early the next morning, a group came to our bakery and ordered my grandmother to bake bread for them. She did so, but when she asked to be paid, they threatened her life. Next, the soldiers took away the people's clothing, except that which they wore, and burned it in an incinerator. Millionaire and poor man, alike, were forced to sweep the dusty unpaved streets. Anybody who resisted giving his money to the soldiers was whipped, or, as happened in many cases, was killed. The people were helpless. It seemed as if the Russians would con- tinue to hold the town under their control. In about two weeks, how- ever, the Polish troops succeeded in r-ecapturing the town. These occurances were a few of the many things which induced me to come to America. 1