Central High School - Brecky Yearbook (Washington, DC)

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grimly, We won the Yale game. But that Dart- mouth onel Lost my whole month's allowance on that one. Had too much money for a kid my age, anyway. Guess we both did. Never thought I'd live to see the day old 'Spendthrift Spencer' would say those words. They say time changes everything. I guess I've changed with it, said Fred. We both have. They went on talking, in a reminiscent way, forgetful of their present surroundings. They had been very close in college, had roomed together. eaten together, had dates together. They had shared their frequent good luck and their intre- quent bad. After college, they had gone into the stock market as partners. Boy! That was some killing we made in th? fall of '27, said Bill, with a note ot longing. '28 was just about as good. We were smart. In those days one was either a bull or a bear! Not us, though! It was whatever suited our purpose. 'Drive 'em up and sell 'em short l' That was our motto. Too bad we split up. I wonder what ever put the idea into our heads that we could do better alone? It wasn't jealousy. We were never touchy or angry with each other. It must have been just plain restlessness, natural in young men our age, I guess. By the way, what did you do with your share of the partnership ? With a smile. Fred said, I was smart! I put mine in with Sam Insull and his 'Utilities' li' I was smart, too! Mine went into Florida real estate! Say, did you ever get married. as you were always threatening to do ? Yes, I met a swell girl the very week we broke up, met her at a dance and married her three months later. Got a couple of the best kids in the world. Later on this afternoon, I'll take you up to the house to meet the wife and kids. I guess they almost know you now, I've told them so much about you. That's swell. I never did get around to marrying. Kinda wish I had-now. It gets awfully lonesome, living alone. On they talked, covering every minute of every hour of every day, almost, since the last time they had met. Friendships, fun in college, success in business-suddenly they were brought back to earth. Out of a clear sky someone called, Frederick Spencer next. Is Mr. Spencer here? Don't hold up the line. It was the middle-aged woman at the desk. Fred sighed, looked at Bill, and said, I'd for- gotten-for a moment. See you when your turn is over. He walked up to the desk at the far end of the room where the woman, bending over her writing, did not immediately look up. He cleared his throatg she raised her head. Mr. Frederick Spencer? Fred wet his lips and, with a quick glance at Bill, answered, Yes, Your application for W.P.A. has been granted. You will work two and a half days a week at 57.45. Report to Project Number 539, Wilkes and Central Streets. Give this note to the fore- man. Mr. William Sumner next. Is Mr. Sumner here? Don't hold up the line. gyrafiom HELEN DAz '40 Cutting, clipping, Smzbping, snipping, Turning, tipping, Folding, flipping- He is making silhouettes. Tn: Rnvxrw L61

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'THE I Review Vol.. 53 p .Novemlbe1r, H939 No. ll nfmjlzirfiqiq V JOHN Dreams '40 I y T WAS an autumn. morning. .The air was fresh and cool. The sober trees seemed to drink deeply of it, then to bow gratefully. A man walked lightly alone under the trees. He was about forty-five, his hair was turning gray at the temples 3 and he had that settled look a man gets after years of contented marriage. As he walked, he actually felt a spring in his step. It was a new sensation for himg at least, new to him now. Business, it seemed, had always robbed him of his ease, his peace of mind. Now, though fand he smiled a little wistfully, perhapsj, there was no worry about stocks going up or down, no fear, upon opening the morning paper, of finding some war or revolt or change in government which might send stocks tumbling off their already un- easy perches. Stopping in front of a dingy red-brick building, he considered it for a moment. Then, walking briskly, he mounted the steps leading to the front door, which he entered, and went down a long corridor, passing several doors, opening one, and walking in with an air of familiarity. It was quite a large room, where several men and women were talking in low tones. Over at one end of the room stood a desk with a low railing around itg a middle-aged woman sat there, talking to a young man. As his eyes became accustomed to the change in light, he was greeted by a hearty voice. Fred Spencer! You old horse thief! Surprised, he looked' at the speaker, tall, rather thin, one of those men who look as if they carry liver pills about with them. Eh? What? Bill! Bill, Sumner! Where on earth did you drop from ? Their faces wreathed in smiles, they shook hands eagerly and warmly. Oh, I've been around. Say, how are things going with you? Couldn't be better! It's funny, running into you here, of all people. Times have certainly changed since the old Harvard days, haven't they ? Cha,nged? I'll say! Remember the first time we met? Remember it! I'll never forget it, Fred. It was at the first frat dance of the year. I had just asked4Mary for a dance, when you came barging in andclaimed she'd promised the dance to you. We went out beside the boat house. When you took off your coat, I saw the New Hampshire state seal on your watch fob. Then I found you had lived only two houses down the street from me in Concord. Well, after that, we just couldn't iight. Both smiled, glorious memories flashing back into their minds. And that last year! Remember the boat races on the Charles? And the Yale football game? I yelled 'Rhinehart' so much that afternoon my throat still feels hoarse. Bill added, smiling Tn: Rnvxzw l5l

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cross quafor in an ce ox JASON GEIGER '40 NEW YORK, July 15, 1939: On board the S. S. Uruguay, South America bound, a new utility butcher. Lct's join him for a taste of lite at sea and a visit to Barbados, Rio de Janeiro, Santos, Montevideo, Buenos Aires, and Trinidad. July 15 I woke up about midnight of the 14th. The light was off, but there was someone fumbling at the door. Who in the name of profanity is that? 1 asked, putting my tongue between my teeth to keep them from chattering with fear. All I could hear on that big empty ship was the gentle lap- ping of water on the sides and this mysterious fumbling at the door. Ssh! It's only Joe, said the fumbler thickly through the door. Okay, Come in, I said, switching on the light. Joe walked in. He was tall and had a shock of black hair that now was unkempt and drunk-looking. Yes, even his hair looked drunk! I gathered that he had had my job of utility butcher the last trip, but had been tired because he had been dead drunk fifteen times, which h: acknowledged was a few too many. Then he took his suit case and went out of my life like a light. That was my first real experience of life at sea! About eight hours later, I stood in the galley. feeling every inch a sailor in my dungarees and work-shoes, waiting for my future boss, the chief butcher, whom I hadn't seen yet. Finally I ambled bashfully around to the butcher shop and asked a man there whether he was the chief butcher. He said he was, and I said I was the new utility butcher, all ready for work. And he put me to work all right! We were loading meat for the trip, and I had to take it from the longshoremen and hang it on hooks in the icebox. By some lucky stroke of fortune, I escaped becoming stiff and sore from the un- wonted exe -'se. fAt least now, at ten P. M.. I'm not.j l finished work at five and went ashore to eat supper, but I had to be back on board at eleven to be sure not to miss the ship, which is to sail at midnight. Now it's only a couple of hours until sailing time, and the passengers are begin- ning to come aboard. Everything is chaos, and I'm beginning to get scared. Sunday, July 17 At last life has settled down to what seems to be a rather pleasant routine. We go to work at 6:30 A. M. and work until nine, but we eat breakfast from eight to eight-thirty, so that we work only a couple of hours. Then we are off until 10:30. At that time we either sleep, read, or go on deck to sit in the warm sun and yarn with others who are off now. We work from 10:30 until two, with another half-hour off for lunchg and at two we repeat what we did at 10:30, although at that hour more of the crew are on deck, ready, willing, and anxious to talk. One bell is sounded from the bridge, and back we go to work until eight. Then we all take a shower, and Freddy the Belgic fotherwise. the third butcherj gets drunk or goes to sleepg Trotsky fMorganstern, the sec- ond butcherj goes gallivanting off to visit with some of the pretty stewardesses and suchg and I, Geiger, usually go up into the sailors' mess room to listen to their salt-and-profanity-flavored con- versation. At about ten I go to sleep and make ready to ask for five minutes more when it's time to get up. On the whole, the life of a seaman is pretty good. The day is broken up a good deal, so that time passes quickly. However, in the deck force and black gang it is even better. They work two watches in twenty-four, of four hours each, with eight hours in between, and fifteen minutes' coffee THE REVIEW l7l