Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

 - Class of 1933

Page 28 of 68


Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1933 Edition, Page 28 of 68
Page 28 of 68

Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1933 Edition, Page 27
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Page 28 text:

Air Trouble Qne afternoon while I was in Kansas City, I heard an airplane crash. As I was interested in airplanes, I decided to see the plane. On arriving at the scene of the crash, I found that the front part of the plane was almost demolished and that the pilot, co-pilot, and one passenger had been killed. The two saved had been taken to a hospital before I arrived. The police were trying to keep back the crowd, but one man slipped past them. When ordered back, he showed the policeman a card and began to examine the plane. I was watching him when he happened to notice me. It was Starling, my college chum. " Well, hello, Roberts. I had no idea that you were here, " he said. " Hello, yourself, Starling, " I replied. " What are you doing here? " " I ' m investigating this crash for the company that owns the plane. It seems that this is a new model of plane, and they want to know why it crashed. " " But when did you turn detective? " " Soon after college. Would you like to help me examine the plane? " " With great pleasure! " I replied. He walked to the spot where the motor was. It was almost destroyed, but Starling noticed many things that escaped me. He leaned over and picked up something. He showed me two pieces of metal. One was a flattened piston, but the other I didn ' t recognize. " Now here is something interesting, " said he. " When two pistons from the same engine look so different, something unusual has happened. " " That a piston? " I cried, as it was a shapeless piece of metal with one piece jutting out. " Yes, you will notice the connecting rod of this piston closely resem- bles the piece sticking out of the other. " " What made them different? " I asked. " One has been melted by great heat. Probably an explosion, " Starling replied. " What do you think caused it? " I asked, but Starling was deep in thought. Finally he said, " I have to get back to town now. I ' ll call at your home about three o ' clock to-morrow. Good-bye. " The next day when I saw Starling, I asked how the investigation was progressing. He replied that he had been making inquiries and experi- ments and that he believed that it had been more than a mere airplane accident. " What then do you think it was? " I inquired. " Murder! " was his reply. " That explosion was not a natural one. It had unusual force. " " What caused the explosion then? " " Liquid air, " was the prompt reply. " Liquid air! How could it? " " It was fed into the engine with gasoline. The heat of the engine ex- panded the liquid air, and, as it compressed to 2,200 pounds per square

Page 27 text:

looked about, he could see the sun was coming up. The Alhambra was not so weird by day as at night. Just then a gua rd of the Alhambra came along. Bert told him his story, and the keeper who knew Bert ' s relatives took him to their home. Bert thanked the guard and told his mother of his strange night. Lois Bradshaw. The Piece of Jnile " IVl Y ' WHAT A GLORIOUS day! " murmured Janet. " Just the sort of a day for horseback riding. " Little golden sunbeams found their way down through the arch of tall trees and danced merrily upon the path before her. It was a dreamy, drowsy, summer day, and Janet upon her slick little " Blackie " was sauntering aimlessly down the little mountain path. Suddenly the silence was broken by a shrill cry and a shriek of pain. Janet started, and Blackie stopped short. " What was that? " cried Janet. There it sounded again not very far from her. Then from around the bend of the path came an Indian, shrieking madly. Janet Morgan, her father, mother, and brother were spending their summer vacation in the northern part of Mexico. There were many In- dians around these parts, but most of them were friendly so Janet was not greatly alarmed to see this Indian running toward her. She hur- riedly dismounted, ran toward him, and asked him what was the matter. The Indian didn ' t seem to be able to stop yelling long enough to tell her, but he pointed with his free hand to a snake which was gliding rapidly away. Janet understood at once, having had experience of this kind be- fore. She pulled out her pocket knife, opened the wound, and sucked the poison out. Then, tearing her handkerchief in half, she bound up his hand as tightly as she could. The Indian made signs of gratitude and disappeared into the woods. Janet climbed back onto Blackie and started for home. Their camp was very plain for Janet ' s family was not very rich. However, they had been able to send Janet ' s brother to college, but Janet ' s possibility of going to college was not very bright. It was of this denied pleasure that Janet was thinking as she sat in the doorway of the cabin the next morning. Suddenly she lifted her head, and there in front of her stood the Indian! In his arms was something he carried with great care. Janet greeted him and asked about his hand. The Indian, not being able to speak English, made signs showing it was better. Then he placed the package he was holding so carefully in Janet ' s lap, making signs showing she was to keep it as a gift. Janet looked up to thank him, but to her surprise he was gone. She opened the package and gasped with surprise at what she saw, for in the package was a large piece of fine, old Mexican jade which Janet knew was very valuable. She took it into the cabin, and her father told her that the jade would be worth enough money to start her on her college career. How thankful Janet was that fate had guided her along the path to where the Indian was. Shirley Becker.

Page 29 text:

inch, you can imagine its tremendous power. Liquid air fuses metal when in contact with flame, and that explains the condition of the piston. " " Well, who was the murderer? " said I. " That remains to be seen, but first we must know the intended vic- tim. Here is what I have learned about the passengers: the pilot, David Burwick, killed, born 1909 in Boston, has been a pilot about a year, just transferred to this route, well liked by all. It isn ' t likely that he ' s the one. Co-pilot, James Martin ,killed, born 1898 in Omaha, flew in the war, been on this route about a year and a half, a bit grouchy. " " Maybe he was the murderer. He was probably jealous of the young pilot, " said I. " Let ' s get them all, " answered Starling. " Carl White, killed, born 1900 in New York, had been fairly successful in business. He was going to see about the sale of some wheat. Lawrence Towers, born 1897 in Denver. He flew in the war and brought down the plane safely when his pilot was shot down by Germans. He is a newspaper reporter now and was there to get a story of the flight. He got a story. Have you read his write-ups of the accident? " " Yes, " I answered. " He poses as the hero. " " To continue: John Baker, born 1901 near St. Paul. He had worked his way up in the company that owned the plane and was along to report on the plane ' s performance. He says he heard a strange noise in the gas tank, which, he thinks, was a leak. There you are: three dead, a company official with a broken arm, and a newspaper reporter only bruised and scratched. What do you make of it? " " Nothing at all. In fact I don ' t believe it was a murder, " I ventured to say. " I hardly expected a lawyer to believe me, " said Starling, chuckling. " The more I think about it the more— —Let me see those names again, Roberts? Peculiar that— -Why, I have it all now! I have to follow up this clue, Roberts. Meet me at the Downtown Hotel at 8 o ' clock to- night. " With these words, Starling left the room. I must admit that I was completely puzzled over the case, but I decided to be patient. Eight o ' clock found Starling leading me out of the hotel into a wait- ing taxi. When the taxi rolled to a stop, we were in front of a hospital. " But Starling, " I protested, " here you have dragged me to this hospital without a word of explanation. " " You will pardon me if I seem neglectful, " he replied as we entered the hospital, " but I have been planning my next move. We have come here to see Towers, the newspaper reporter. " " He seems to be making the best of his misfortune. " Inside an open door we saw a photographer taking pictures of a man in bed. We caught expressions like these: " Get a worried look on your face; don ' t forget you have had a terrible experience; what luck! best story I ever got; that ' s better — hold it; ' bye! " When the photographer was through, we entered, and Starling said, " Good evening, Mr. Towers. I am from the airplane company, and I want your version of what happened. "

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