Bennett High School - Beacon Yearbook (Buffalo, NY)

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20 Bennett Beacon MOON MADNESS When the silx cr radiance of the moon above Enchants the world, sets common things at naught, Light minds run riot, and the dreamer's thoughts Are given up to fire and phantasy. What means it that this dull, drear world of ours Will change not with their dreams for good or evil? It is the hour when the world seems changed, Changed by the quiet, and the radiant glow That glorifies the meanest things, and makes The hearts of men beat faster, ere the morn Can break the spell that madness makes divine. Margaret O'Brien 1227, 1932 THE WORLD THAT WAS A good book is like a glass of cold, sparkling spring water-it delights, satisfies, and refreshes. The World That Was, written by john G. Bowman, and published by Macmillan ff? Co., is a truly delightful story. The tale deals with the adventures of a very small boy, perhaps four or five years of age, whose imagination permits him to converse with birds, trees, and flowers. His father and mother are the main objects of his adrniraf tion and affection, and his country yard forms the imaginary forest primeval where Indians and bears roam freely. It is a simple story, telling of his desires in the future, his first exploits in the world of business, and the great adventure of going to school. The theme of the story is unimportant, for it is the magnificent way in which it is told that makes the novel enjoyable. Full of childish fantasy, and sprinkled here and there with youthful expressions, it transports one back to the times when one was small, but large in imagination. I know nothing of Mr. Bowman's life but it is evident that he possesses a great knowledge of the psychology of the young child at that age when filial loves form his chief emotions. The book, written while on board a freighter in the Mediterranean, seems to reflect the calm beauty of that sheet of water together with the rustic simplicity of American farm life. As one reads of busy bee hives and singing birds, the world of which Burroughs, the naturalist, speaks so reverently, seems to spring into life and color. The World That Was is a great favorite of mine. To obtain the full meaning you must read it for yourself. When you have Hnished I feel confident that you will agree with me in regard to its light, airy theme and pleasing appeal. Grosvenor W. Bissell 0245 1933

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Bennett Beacon 19 SQUIRREL HUNTING Contentedly I made my way toward our meeting place. Everything about me seemed so bright and cheerful, yet so quiet and beautiful. More than once I slackened my pace to enjoy more fully the beauty of that August morn, to listen to the plaintive call of a distant bird or to study the brilliant colors in which the trees were already bedecking themselves. I reached my goal and found my companion there. He was sprawled on a bed of moss, happily smoking his pipe. His gun lay beside him. From a distance, his arms and legs seemed of ungainly proportion to the rest of his body. When I had come closer, he sat up and greeted me in his own cordial way, his face shining with the joy of anticipation. He was dressed in trousers much patched, and scarcely long enough to cover his legs. His footwear consisted of homefmade moccasins in which he could glide noise- lessly through the woods. He wore a light brown jacket and his cap only half covered his mop of dark hair. Here was a character indeed. His face was cheerful, and his eyes alert. His speech was all his own, and I have never heard anyone else use that same odd dialect. It was with him that 1 was to go squirrel hunting. We started up the mountain road planning to go through what is known as the cut and to skirt the large swamp on the other side, a jaunt of eight miles. Red squirrels were the desired game, and I felt sure of getting a few, for Marsh, my companion, had never been known to go hunting and come back empty handed. He knows the woods better than we know the rooms of our own house. The walk through the cut was an interesting one. The many woodland creatures were all stirring and about their business. Often a shrill cry of warning heralded our approach. All sorts of game crossed our path. We saw a large buck deer, chipmunfks, rabbits and one red squirrel. I told Marsh to take the first shot, as I thought we might make sure of the first quarry. He raised his rifle and taking quick but deliberate aim knocked off number one. Around the swamp, the squirrels were in abundance and when we hit the back trail, we each bagged six. All moming we had circled the swamp and that with great success. Now at noon of that glorious day, we returned well rewarded for our trip. Walter A. Noehren f206j 1931 STACCATO Clear October day . . . impetuous crowd . . . swarming stadium . . . orange clad players . . . scarlet opponents . . . kick off . . . brilliant play . . . run . . . excitement . . . cheering . . . foul . . . disappointment . . . losing battle . . . game over . . . spirit not crushed . . . early autumn twilight . . . orange sun . . . finer day tomorrow . . . more games to come . . . better luck. Mary Templeton f207j 1931

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Bennett Beacon 21 A SHORT SHORT STORY Sandy Osborne slid down to his knees as the whistle blew ending the third quarter. The score board read: California 6, Virginia O. As he sat there, he was one awful sight. His mouth was bleeding, one arm of his jersey had been torn away, and one eye was starting to close. In the last attempt to score they had given the hall to Osborne because he was All' American halffback and the fastest of them all. Suddenly the waterfboy ran out with something under his arm. He handed it to Sandy. It was an old jersey, faded and torn, but as it went on the whole stadium rose and cheered. On the back of the jersey was a forty' four. Tears welled in Sandys eyes as he put the jersey on, for that jersey had been his father's! Only too well did both schools know Osborne, Sr., and only too well did they know what he had done, how he had scored. Now the teams were lined up to kick off, for California had made her touchdown in the last of the third quarter. The whistle blew and California kicked to Virginia and to Osborne. He reversed his field, started, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, sixtyffive yards, and was downed only twenty yards from the goal! Tears came to his eyes, as he recalled how his father had done the same, only his father had crossed the goal line. The stands were mad with joy, and were shouting for a touchdown. The quarter was calling signals- 41f39f72f44. They were his! Sandy's!! Now he was going around left end, but to make only five yards. The next play brought the ball to the tenfyard line for a first down and the goal to go. Signals-and Sandy went through the center and-time out for Virginia-number fortyffour was stretched out on the ground. No, he was up again. Sandy was walking around in circles, swinging his arm up and down. The minutes were passing quickly. Now the teams were lined up. And Sandy went through for a touchdown! The score was now 6f6. Would the kick for the extra point go between the uprights? It did, squarely. Both teams spent the few remaining minutes in punting the ball out of danger, and the game ended, Virginia 7-California 6. They carried Sandy off the Held on their shoulders. But Sandy was looking at that jersey. Some one heard him, Now, what will he say? I've ripped the sleeve off. Arthur Geyer 1220, 1932