Birmingham High School - Piper Yearbook (Birmingham, MI)

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I ' 3 6 61174: East :Pylon Jack Long 35 The National Air Races are held yearly in various parts of the country and attract many of the great names in aviation. I have had the good fortune to view several of these air classics. After seeing the Air Races, one wonders how anyone can become excited while watching a few horses bounce around a dirt oval at about thirty miles an hour. The races present every type of plane known. Size ranges from the hugh Boe- ing Transport to the tiny Heath Bullet. On arriving at the show we see a dark red monoplane-going through its qual- ifying dashes for the main race of the afternoon. It is thrilling to watch him as he screams down from the heavens at some two hundred and fifty miles per hourg yet if we could foretell the future,we would never allow him to enter that race. The race stunt men are shown here in all their glory. One flyer-purposely drops a wheel while in the air and after stunting comes in for a landing onthe one remaining wheel. He does it so beautifully that as far as we of the specta- tors knovg two wheels are unnecessary to a good safe landing. The Army and Navy flyers are Hdoing their stuff.H Close wing formations, three planes tied together at the wing tips execute perfect loops and after the act land with those connecting cords still intact. One visiting English stunt man has a saddle on the outside of the fuselage of his plane. From this saddle he flys the plane with the nonchalance and ease that might be displayed by one of his more conservative brothers on a fox hunt. Parachute jumpers? They take up three planes and dump twenty jumpers out into space at once. nHeads up, folk, you can't take 'em home to the kiddies.n But all is not so amusing. A high wind is blowing. The jumpers are trying to hit the field by slipping their 'chutes. In doing this they drop with increased rapidity, and no one laughs for speaks until that 'ohute blossoms out into a billowing cloth of safety. A rain storm hits us, and it's everybody under the stands until the rain storm is over. Here I discover that there is nothing so conducive to sociability as a good rain. Here, for once, the rich are usoakedn just as much as I am. Af- ter a few more events the field is cleared for the main race, this being the fa- mous Thomson Trophy Classic. - There are eight well groomed entrants. Six of them are of the inverted in- line engine type. The other two are Wedell williams Racers,powered by radial en- gines. One is flown by Roscoe Turnerg the other is piloted by Doug Davis of At- lanta, Georgia. Davis is the one who was going through his qualifying dashes as we came in. All eight leave the line and climb into starting position. The race is on. f continued on page 56 D 12

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Gonversalion Kirk Martin '36 Wherever people are gathered--conversation will certainly be present.Every- one oonverses,from the neighborhood pest who buttonholes you on your way home to inform you of his latest golfing achievements to the feminine diplomats of the afternoon bridge club, where the important question of how Mrs. Haughty New Cas- tle will wear her hair this fall is tossed from tongue to tongue. ' At any social gathering one invariably comes upon conversation. when the planned program of the evening is interrupted or finished, someone is bound to bring up the weather. This is a very conventional opener, since there must be weather, be it good,bad, or just ln between. Mr. Jones will now tell his exper- ience at sea in a tidal wave,and after being duly discussedxin its past,present, and future stages,the weather will be put away on the conversational shelf until the need for its presence is felt once more. Unfortunately this will leave many a poor soul with a particularly juicy contribution on his or her tongue, and a cheated feeling in his or her breast. This state of distress soon passes, however, as the half opened mouth, the faintly wild glitter in the eyes, and the contorted facial features--all denoting readiness for instant action signify. The human breakfast is always a subject sure to find a 1ng's conversation. The gentleman know that a cup of black coffee and to be exact--suffice as his regular place in the even- on your left feels that all present should a slice or two of well toasted toast--burned morning repast.The fat woman across the room absolutely abhors grapefruitg but since it is on her diet, she supposes she will have to endure the abominable variety of the citrus family for a few weeks, at least. The timid creature with the goatee enjoys ham and eggs, he informs the rest, while the auditor, Mr.Figger, likes his eggs boiled just three minutes, no more and no less. Pancakes and oatmeal are favorites with many, and will always find a warm defender. Polit1cs,the unemployment situation, the bridge tournament,the quintuplets, and the latest---and longest---books will each take a turn at bat. the conversational Then suddenly all will be silent. The information at hand is exhausted, and the very existence of the conversation is threatened. The experienced host will recognise this fact, and if resourceful, will immediately bring up a new topic. The camel furnishes ideal subject matter for just this occasion. The camel is--as are whales and submarines--one of those topics about which everyone knows and about which no one knows anything definite. Try it some spark of interest glint in the eyes of those assembled. The shyly states that she somewhere read that a camel's humps beest's instinctive habit of sleeping on its back. The man on time. Notice the small blond woman are formed by the her right politely but firmly assures her this is wrong.'The humps,' he insists magnlf1cently,N are an outgrowth of the mother camel's method of carrying her young.9 A voice from the depths of an easy chair scornfully condemns the statement made by the bald headed man that camels can go for sixteen days without water. Meanwhile,the aud- itor ls musing to himself in a very loud voice on whether it is figs or dried prunes with which he associates the camel, or is it a dromedary of which he is thinking? f continued on page 65 I ll

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Cn Getting a Small-'Eown Haircut Bob McCutcheon '35 As I stroll aimlessly down THE street, a faded red, white and blue pole catches my eye. It strikes a familiar note in any blissfully blank mind. Uncon- sciously, I reach for my ears. Yes, they are well covered with hair. This is a deplorable state of affairs. I head at once for the striped object. Luck is with me, for I am the only customer. nNow,H think I, nfor a speedy job, and soon shall I be on my way again.N While the 1ong,thin barber lays aside his pipe and paper, puts his suspend- ers back on, and carefully adjusts his green eye-shade, I settle comfortably in the chair. With a happy sigh, I reflect on the good things in life. Nwant a hair cut, do ye?N asks the barber. As he turns on clippers, he con- tinues, UNow I always says that if a feller---N I cut him short with WYes. And don't make it too short.n It is easy to see that he is about to fall into his usual discourse on the weather. Alas, I am powerless to stop him. The following conversation goes something like this: , Wwell, looks like she's goin' to rain.n WYes, I wouldn't be surprised.N feasting an experienced eye at the sky, which always looks iike rain through his w1na0ws.J nYep! Sure wouldn't hurt the crops none.n nYeah, I guess they could stand it.n nlope! Wouldn't be 'tall surprised if it rained before noon.n NHe11, neither would I. Our garden could use it all right.U WYep! She sure is dry. 'Twould do a world of good to the crops, all right? This goes on indefinitely, usually until some farmer or gossip enters. Auto- matically I am eliminated from the conversation,which gradually swings into dif- ferent channels. Presently I am listening to stories of fish of amazing size fwhich the nar- rator landed only after a long struggle 5 or narrow escapes from hunger-maddened bears. Many's the time my heart skips a beat as the barber stabs an on-rushing bull in the heart with the scissors, which whistle perilously close to my right ear. I hold my breath as he sneaks closer' and closer to an unsuspecting deer, draws a bead njust behind the shoulder,N and fires. This to the accompaniment of wildly slashing shears,which half cut and half tear appalling quantities of hair from my head. C continued on page 14 D 13