Bennett High School - Beacon Yearbook (Buffalo, NY)

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Bennett Beacon I 7 THE SUNRISE BREAKFAST It's three o'clockg time to get up! I slowly came to a sleepy, half- conscious state to find a coldfhearted riding councilor shaking me violently and repeating those unwelcome words. After rousing myself to the point where I remembered that I was still at camp and that it was the day of the sunrise breakfast ride, I bravely forsook the cozy blankets and encountered the icy air of a Rocky Mountain August morning. I discovered that my tent mate had also been awakened and was enjoying the experience even less than I was. After fumbling around with my bugflight for some time fit was still pitch darkj, I managed to get myself pretty completely dressed. I was still stiff with the cold and washing in water one degree warmer than ice did not help matters any. All this finished, I stumbled down to the stables where some fifty horses were assembled. When I had waited for several minutes with a number of fellowfcampers, I was given a horse. Soon everyone was mounted and we started down the road at a brisk pace. As we trotted along, it became perceptibly lighter, and rounding the bend from which one can look out over the tiny town of Steamboat Springs, we saw the street lights of the mountain metropolis suddenly blink out in tribute to the coming day. Vv'e passed through the town, crossed the river, and took a trail which wound up the side of a sage covered hill. By this time, our lingers and toes were numb with cold. ' As we climbed higher and higher, the sun seemed to be climbing too, although we could not yet see it, the scattered clouds near the horizon were tinged a deep pink as a token of its approach. Suddenly someone cried, There it is! Vvlith a single movement we all turned to the eastg a blinding flash of light had just appeared above the crest of the distant hills. Slowly it climbed until the whole fiery sphere was visible. Now the few wandering clouds had disappeared, awed by the stupendous spectacle, and the broad valley which lay stretched below us like a vast patchwork quilt was flooded with golden light. We continued on our way and soon reached our destinationha rocky cleft in the mountain side. As we were all too cold to admire the gorgeous view which the spot commanded, we scuttled around and collected wood for the fire. Soon there was a great blaze and breakfast was prepared. There is no need to tell of the steaming aroma of the coffee or of the fragrance of the bacon. Let it suffice to say that we ate as only those can eat who have been riding two hours in the frosty morning air. Breakfast over, we spread ourselves over the rocks and relaxed to our heart's content. We dozed, we sketched, we looked at the view. And when, after an hour or two, these occupations began to pall, we gathered the sweaters we had shed, fastened them to our saddles, untied our nags, mounted, and ambled slowly homeward under the broiling sun, feeling very satisfied with life and convinced that at all costs we would attend next year's sunrise breakfast fwith glovesj. Jean Brownell 1223, 1932

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16 Bennett Beacon LOVE CALL Musing, I heard it. The Hrst plaintive, golden note Swelling-dying. Followed by four higher, Silver clear. Longing, Desire unvoiced. Silence. The answer. Bursting upon the quiet, joyous and unrestrained, Expectant. Silence. Again the first. Now with exuberance. Exultant. Vesper sparrow's song of love. Dorothy Phelps Johnston 0071 1931 A DEEP SEA FISHING TRIP As I recall, the funniest, yet worst, day I experienced was the time at party of us went deep sea fishing, chaperoned by a nurse and her sister. Cf course we decided on the day after one of the most violent storms on the coast of Maine. The Captain said it was one of the roughest ground swells he had been on in a long time. When we reached the open sea we were all well and happy, but after going a mile or two I looked around from the bow of the ship and saw our chaperon with a weird look in her eye and the most beautiful shade of green on her face. I laughed as she dashed madly to the side of the ship, but he who laughs last, laughs best. After going about fifteen miles, we lost sight of land and the Captain lowered the anchor. Then the fun began. I had just cast my line over when I noticed that the ocean was heaving and, being of a sociable character, I joined it. To make matters worse, I was lying in front of a hatchway where the Captain was making lunch. It consisted of fish chowder and coffee. The odor of the food rushed out to me and I rushed to the side of the boat. A prize was offered to the one catching the largest fish, but our party were too busy catching their breath. After tossing around all day, the skipper weighed anchor and we were off. When the word passed around that we were going home, hope spread over our faces. Home at last! But for dinner they gave us fish. We looked at each other, gave a sickly smile and left. Mary E. Adams 12211 1932

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18 Bennett Beacon ANGEL PAVEMENT Angel Pavement, a new novel by J. B. Priestly, has been compared by many critics to the works of Charles Dickens, this compliment is certainly deserved. For those who find enjoyment in the study of human nature fand who doesn't?j this book will mean four hundred and ninetyffour pages of fascinating reading. It is the story of the occupants of an office situated on an outfoffthefway London street called Angel Pavement. The plot, which happens to he the least important part of this book, is concerned with the effect on each of the characters by the arrival of the blunt, crude, domineering Mr. Golspie, not to mention his lovely daughter, Lena. There is not one of the characters who is not drawn in a perfectly natural, lifelike manner, the reader has the same definite reaction toward each one as he would have toward an actual, fleshfandfblood human being. He feels liking for Miss Matfield, sympathy for Mr. Smeeth, amusement at Stanley, the Nshadderin' ofhce boy, and so on down the list of characters. Anyone who reads Angel Pavement will make the acquaintance of a whole bookful of intriguing characters and also enjoy many hours of real entertainment. Jean Brownell f223j 1932 NEXT! Who's next? Don't those two words sound rather ominous when the dentist comes to the door of his office and you find that your toothache has disappeared? You just know he'l1 bring it back again with the added stiffen- ing of your entire body, when he lays his shining, coldly sinister looking instruments or the tray before him. just then, as you recall that particular one saying Painless Dentist, you realize that you are a conirmed non' believer in signs. Ah! You have a pleasant time until he is saying Next! to someone else. Next, says the grocer to you. You know he's in a hurry,-there are several after you, but still you can't remember what you came for. It is a none too pleasant experience as you mutter confusedly to yourself, Coffee, bread, butter, sugar, no, oh, what was I supposed to get? Finally, after taking a great real of time, you either remember or go home to find out and then return to wait impatiently until the grocer again says, Next Then-the barber has a peculiar way of saying that exasperating word when you are debating within yourself whether or not to have that hair which took so long to grow, cut. You seat yourself reluctantly in the chair and tears coma to those beautiful eyes fas you fondly' believe themj as you watch your tresses cut off mercilessly. You feel very blue indeed until the time comes when he has finished. Then you regain your self-respect as you realize how nice it looks and you walk with happy heart and light step out of the picture as I run out of words for this article. Marion E. Klein fl23j 1933