Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

Page 18 text:

T E S E N10 R EM A G N E 7 Mio Figelio, Tony Darrell Gregg Say, I have one boy what plays— whats’ you call heemp De footsball, dat’s heem. An’ my boy, he isa de bes’ boy ona dat team. yeh. My Tony he beats dat whole game, dat’s Tony. I• irs’ tarn he come home an’ say if he can go outa for dis here teem, I tells heem geta busy ina de store. 1 don’ wants heem bring not-ings more’ round dis here house, no. One, two, t’ree dog, sometam. 1 no like dem dog. All tarn dey maka de troub’: digga somebodys grass; bita somebodys kid, yeh! I tells heem, no, yeh, but 1 no un’erstan’ den. Nex' day he don’ come home right away, no. We hava stay ina de school, he say. Nex, day, nex’ day it is de same ting. What’s de mat’, 1 say. No gitta de lesson, he tella me. Den he come home wit’ de skin all olTa de face. What for de skin offa de face, I say. He an’ noder boy dey have de fight, he tella me. But I don’ like for Tony hava de fight —teara de clothes. 1 le licka de oder boy, yeh? Sure. Dat’s all right den. But all tim he have stay ina dat school. What for, 1 say, No getta de lesson, hava de fight, get put ina de Study 1 fall. What is dat Study Hall, I say. Place where dey make you learna de lesson, too. All right, I tella hem, hurry up learna dat lesson an’ come home work ina de store, yeh. Saturday come. Tony he don’ eata mucha de dinner, not vera mucha de hungry, he say. I don’ mind. 1 go ina de store, sella de fruits. Purdy soon I cal la Tony. He don’ say not’ings. All right, 1 looka to find heem, pulla de ears, yeh. learna heem de lesson. But 1 canno’ fin’ dat Tony. His broder, he’s vera much scarce; he say Tony he play de foots ball games. What! Tony playa de foots ball games an’ me work in the store. Huh! Wait 1 getta heem. My wife she watcha de store. I taka Frankie an’ go fina dis foots ball game yeh! 1 bringa dat Tony home. Frankie, he’s little boy, maybe ten, ’leven year old. I le canno’ walk so fas’ as me, no. But he can run, yeh, an’d make heem hurry up fin’a where is dis foots ball games. Frankie he’s good boy, he can fin’ heem right away quick. I heara de lots a’ peoples maka de lots a’ noise. Dis band it plays alia tarn one vera fas, musics. Me an’ Frankie, we come toa de gate. Dat man he say canno’ go in. Whats’ de mat’, I say. I le wanta de mon,’ he says. I tella heem he catcha de wrong fella, I don’ hava de mon’, no. I want my Tony. Dis man he say it is all right, I can go in if 1 hurry up come back out. 1 go in. Dat oder mans, he laugh. I Iika smasha de face? Everybody is stan’ up maka de vera much holler. 1 canno’ see Tony, too mucha peoples. Frankie he say come he know where is Tony. Me an Frankie, we climb pasa dat peoples an’ I sees Tony. One boy he trows de ting bigger as a pine apple. Tony he catch data ting, ran vera fas’ right ata me. 1 runa for to catch heem but I canna’ run so fas’ as Tony. 1 le get away. Oder mans dey try for catch Tony. He pusha one fella in his face wit’ de han’. He fall vera hard. Everybody dey make vera much holler. I lika dat, too. I tella Tony for to push ader mans, too. Onea mans he runna in fronta Tony, catcha heem by the feets. 1 lika for to catcha heem by the neck, yeh, I bus to de head. Both fall ina de mud. Den onea cop he catch me bya de arm. What for you try for stop data boy, he say. Tony he run away from de store, I come taka him home. What’s de mat’, dats my boy, he say. Yeh.

Page 17 text:

7 H E SENIOR £M A G N E T every quarter hour, whether or not he was making progress. Until midnight everything went well. Ham was safe and finding out a great deal—hul then the signals stopped; two hours dragged by and then a huge crash followed by a single word flashed back to the waiting operator, Done—” There was a deathly silence. Gappy was notified— Call Red, was his only comment. Red came, tousled and sleepy. I le made Cappy a drowsy salute and stood at rumpled attention. Red,” said Cappy, and his voice was hard, Red, you’ve got to go over.” In the flash the somnolent dough boy was wide awake, alert, ready for his orders,—a man, and a soldier. He did not speaK until Cappv’s commands were given and then, “If I don't get back when the rush is over, take care of my belongings, Cappy.” That was all and with a quick clasp of Cappy’s hand, he was gone into the shell-torn night, smiling his everlasting smile, the fire of his gleaming hair smothered out by his helmet. Cappy knew no rest that night. The winged messages flared back and forth like fire flies, from scout to operator and back again, until the small hours. And then, within two minutes, came two O’ K's—one from Red and one from the “Big Chief.” The advances were on! Every Yankee niuskateer rushed forward, facing the hellish blare of cannon; quaking as an unseen gas polluted the morning air; waiting for the unguessed shell from an aeroplane above, dealing death and worse. And all the while the three sisters went on with their spinning, stopping a million times to break the threads with their skinny, nimble fingers. They must have been busy that night. While Cappy led his men across, Red was retreating, seeking some rude shelter in which to repair his damaged telephone. Finally there peeped up at him a de-lapidated morsel of stone wall, making an angle, an ideal shelter—one side of which faced his enemy while the other protected his right side. Here he worked busily while time flew, missed by the shells which whistled and cracked all around and above him. It seemed he could hear a voice calling, even amid the din and noise around him. It appeared to be far away, weak, yet recognizable. I le looked around the side of his hiding place, but saw nothing; yet he was sure—and—suddenly he knew. 1 le peered cautiously over the top, to see the object of his thoughts, Cappy torn and bleeding. Red pulled him within the rude shelter and rested him as comfortably as he could on his own strong arm. I le felt a dry hard lump in his throat, for he knew that Cappy, his buddie, was done. “Red,” the dying man’s voice made him start, “I guess you’ll have my things to take care of—smile old scout, and take off your helmet,” he struggled hard for strength to go on. “1 want to go out seeing you like—that—his voice limped into silence, but his eyes were rational and smiling. And then and there George William Henry did the hardest thing of his life— he smiled, and his red hair gleamed in the early light, while his heart tugged at its bonds, while those watching eyes grew dim, until the body bacame limp in his arms. Cappv was gone—Cappy, his Buddy, was gone—.

Page 19 text:

THE SENIOR (MAGNET i Com on, we seea de coach, he tella me. We go see noder mans. I don’t tink he was no coach den. But I don’t know den. Dis coach man he is de fella what tells de boys, alia tarn, hitta de oder fella vara hard, yeh. He’s nice man. 1 tells dis coach fella what I wanta my Pony. He tells me, Tony plays de game for his school. He talk vera much dat my Tony is one vera good boy, he runna so fas’ as nobodys can catch heem Canno’ 1 fin’ somebodys w'ork in my store. Costa tie mon’, 1 say. Dis coach man is vera sad. Den noder boy he tucha me ona my arm. He is not so strong as Tony but he will work ina my store. Dis coach man he look for long tarn at dat boy. Dat is fine, he say. 1 le lika dis boy vera good. Alla tarn dat peoples dey maka vera big noise, yeh. I canno’ hear myself tink. De lika vera good to see my Tony lika de mans. One, two’ t’ree, what lots a mans, 'bout ten, 1 count, what helps l ony licks dat bunch. Tony he is talks all tarn—48, 17. 56— lika dat. Den de mans he t’rowa de ball, dats what Frankie tella me what is it, de man beside Tony he catcha dat ball an’ run away from oder man's. Onea big fella he’s try vera hard for to catch data man but Tony he canno’ fighta de whoie hunch right away, so oder fella he catcnes de man wit’ de ball. De peoples dey lika dat too. Tony can fight lika good boy. Some more tarns dey crawl on de han’d and de knees lika de little babys’ an’ oder mans run over top. Dat's a purdy good fight, I say. Dis coach fella, ne say, yes, dey maka de onea good fight. He tella me, won’t I sit down? He is vera nice mans, dis coach fella. One tarn Tony talka de numbers. Dat one fella he t’rows dat ball. 'Pony he grabs it quick an’ run vera fas’. One, two, fella dey try vera hard for to keep order fellas away from 'Pony but dat big fella what talka de numbers, he catcha Tony. Tony he maka two, t’ree steps an' ’noder fella he grab Tony, too. De whole bizzness, de fall. Oder fellas get up. Tony he is hurt! What dem two fallas do to my Tony, huh? De coach mans he runna out, but I beata heem. “Tony, Tony! My Tony! 1 killa dat whole bizzness!’’ 1 picks my Tony up. His face it is all dirty and wet. Mio Padri!” he says an’ dats all. i lika my Tony vera much. 1 talka to heem very fas’, but he don say nothings. Dat coach mans he puta de water ona my Tony’s face. He leta me holda my boy. 1 le is one vera good mans, is dat coach fella. He’s tella me ruba one han’ vera good, he ruba de oder. Alla tarn he put de water ona my Tony’s face, fro to get dat dirt an’ mud off. Purdy soon my boy moves. 1 ruba dat han’ vera fas’. It is a vera good bizzness, dat ruba de han’ My boy get well purdy quick. We ruba de legs an’ de han’s. It is purdy good now', say my Tony. He will get up. But it is vera hard for to walk for my Pony. De coach man he say come on to dat bench and sit down, but Tony says no, he will lika dat mans yet. Oh, my Pony is one vera fine boy. It is all-right. Purdy soon Tony he can walk purdy good. Dat coach mans he gives heem one pat on de back an’ says he is one vera good boy. Dal peoples dey yell for my Tony, too. Dem fella dey get ready an’ Tony he talka dem numbers some more. Dem fellas is all purdy good boys, dey fight lika my boy, yeh. Purdy soon oder fellas dey geta de ball, but long he’s don’ get man, he’s hava it purdy long tarn. Alla tarn Tony he talka dem numbers. Onea boy he trows de ball an’ oder boy he catcha it. Tony he hi’ta one mans. Oder boy he hita noder. Big buncha feets an’ heads ina one pile. Oh, it is funny. Den one mans he is gonna fight disa boy wit’ de ball, but he t’rows it away higher as his head so’s he canna’ get it. Dat maka de mans vera mad an’