Bennett High School - Beacon Yearbook (Buffalo, NY)

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22 The BEACON AUTUMN Dark muddy skies, And a drip, drip of rain Autumn has come- To Buffalo again. Huge elms swaying, Like ghosts, in the cold, Autumn has come, The year's getting old. A whistling wind, And a falling of leaves, Soon they'll be off, Leaving bare, bleak trees. Dark, muddy skies, And a drip, drip of rain, Autumn has come To Buffalo again. --John A. Merrill C2101 1928 YOUR GOAL As I was searching my desk for a long-lost paper the other day, I came across a clever little blotter which is printed by a local insurance company. At the top was this: The world steps aside for the man who knows where he is going. The man who knows where he is going is the man who gets somewhere. No one makes way for the aimless wanderer. The person with no definite purpose must expect to be tossed about, jostled and pushed among the crowd. He dares not object, for it matters not where he goes or whether he ever gets beyond first base or the 40-yard line. But if he were to have a goal marked with his colors, and if he Worked for, struggled for, the reaching of that goal, he could not stay back, he couldn't mark time. It is the people who saunter on with no particular purpose or destination who are held up and robbed and assaulted as they walk along. These people who mark time who ruin their prospects. The people who don't care where they are going are the public failures, the private failures, and the worst failures. Students of Bennett High School, have you something to work for? Have you a place on the team, on the honor roll, or in a society that you want to hold? If you haven't, get one. Know where you are goingg the getting there may take care of itself. -Lorna Knibb C2275 1929

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The BEACON LADY MOON The moon looks in at my window, Aloof is she, and cool, Her face makes a shiny shadow That glitters on the pool. She walks down the garden closesg Her slim hands, silver-white Caress the ivory roses That open to the night. -Kathleen Donnelly 11095 1927 AS OTHERS SEE US 1 was walking slowly homeward, When I saw approaching me, Quite the oddest little figure, Gracious sakes, what could it be? It was leisurely advancing, With a graceful, languid mien, Robed in colors that would waken Envy in a Gypsy Queen! Draped about the gorgeous vision, Was a trailing, scalloped gown, Matched in splendor by a headpiece Without equal in the town! Scarfs and beads were gayly dangling, On this figure so petite, That was slowly drawing nearer, On two most amazing feet! From one arm a bag was swinging, Made of silk and ribbon grand, Surely this wee gaudy creature Must have stepped from Fairyland! But just then, the vision spied me, Waved a hand, and then I knew! For a voice called gayly to me, Auntie, look! Fm dressed like you! -Louise Mroszczak C3239 1931

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The BEACON za DAD 'S REVELATION The Board of strategy of Jimtown village was gathered around the log fire in Lem Brown's general store, as was cus- tomary on Saturday night. Dad Mullen was perched in a precarious position atop the numerous bolts of muslins and vari-colored ginghams on the prin- cipal counter. As usual, he said little but thought plenty, being the butt of numerous attempts to kid him because of his continued silence. Just now, however, he was besieged by several others to explain the cause of a long standing feud between him and Joe Simmons, who acted as general publicity agent for the village while making the rounds as sole agent of Duncan's horse liniment. Dad hesitated for awhile, but seeing that he would eventually have to say something, began with, Well, it was like thisg away back in the 80's, Joe an' me was acting up purty well on the ball field aroun here an' it was'nt long afore we got a real reputation for playing the old game. 'Bout that time the manager of the ole White Sox sent up a. scout to snoop aroun' a little and see whut he could see. Two weeks later found us atop a horse-drawn bus in the stock yard district of Chicago, lookin' for a boardin' house that would'n be too steep for our pocket books. The next day we reported out at the ball park, and after lookin' us over in our new uniforms, the manager told us to come on out and meet the gang. They, of course, gave us a queer once- over and made a lot of wise cracks about what would happen to us when we first saw big time pitchin'. I did'n say nothin', but Joe, he got purty durn sore an' ef it had'n been for me would a taken a punch at somebody. Well, we did'n git a chance to show whut we could do for about two weeks, but one day the boss sent in Joe to bat for the pitcher. 'Speed' Mullen was pitchin' for the other crowd, and boy, whut speed that guy had. Joe got a squint at the first ball and right away dropped to his knees and let out a squawk to the um- pire that the ball was too close to his head to call a strike. The crowd roared and the umpire told him to git up and act like a man. Well, he did better the nex time and was finally throwed out at first base. That night at the supper table, where we was seated with a few other boarders, I seen Joe acted up to a purty durn good looking gal, Lizzie Jones by name. However, I did'n say nothing. But during the nex two weeks a real change come over Joe. He even shaved every day and begun to twist his mustache with wax. He was wearin' a fresh shirt and collar to every supperg too much Continued on page 49