Central High School - Spokesman Yearbook (Erie, PA)

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. .,, , .Q N M ZA, Fir, QQ c bs assi' chs Young lady, said Christophe to the girl, this is not a funeral march, although I did write a very beautiful one. I hope they play it, you will enjoy it. This is a lively dance. No doubt, they played it last night at the Junelandf' The girl snapped her gum, and remarked to the other that she couldn't sit through an hour of this and decided to meet Frank right now. Hans watched her as she left and his heart ached when he saw how few people were in the audience and fewer listening. There was a multitude of vagrants who, trying to catch some sleep, would angrily shake their fist at the music, when it reached its high spots. They must have their sleep. At length, the disillusioned spirits decided to nnd some other place of music where they were sure their works would be appreciated. A Purple Pup sign caught their attention. They stood in front of the place and heard strains of lively music, in fact, very, very, lively. Come, my friend, let us enter here. It must be a freak exhibit, I, myself, have never seen a purple dog. So saying, Christophe took his collegue's arm and entered the night club. A blare of loud music greeted them. People, supposedly civilized, were hopping and whirling all over the small dance fioor in time to this mad blare. Himmel, cried Hans, clapping his hands to his ears, this is bedlam., We must have entered a madhouse. But where is the purple dauschhundt'?i' The two shades wandered to the orchestra where the musicians were taking a rest. Next on the program, called the announcer, will be a new piece, called 'Wah, dah, dah,' The crowd shrieked with laughter at this and the orchestra started, at first softly and slowly. Hans, Christophe cried, it is the prelude to my Dreams of Childhood! The time is all wrong. No, it isn't my song after all. That is my beloved aria-that which they're playing now. Too loud, too fast. Ah, what have they done to it? It doesn't sound like my beautiful aria! lamented Hans. They went to the orchestra. Thieves, thieves, you have stolen our materpieces. Give them back, fools, lunatics! they cried. The leader laughed and continued sing- ing: Wah, dah, dah, that's what they're singing now. Sing it, folks. And the crowd answered, Wah, dah, dah. -AUDREY COWAN AN IMPRESSION The most wonderful monument in the world is not made by human hands from gilt and marble-it is built by love and sacrifice,-it is the towering cathedral. Cathedrals are messengers from eternity. Their works of art present the delicate beauty, the inspired joy of a good life: their sturdy, protective massiveness stands for the power, the mercy of Him whose spirit fills themg their brave defiance of the ele- ments, and passing years, that very durability, which reigning, while less noble works crumble, symbolize the immortality of the soul. I know one friendly cathedral which is delightful to visit just before the sunset hour. Golden rays filtering through the brilliantly colored windows bring the scenes on them to life. In the rose hued beams of light, which play on the pure white marble altars, the much sought Holy Grail is easily found. Everywhere there is a solemn hush. Only the faint rustle from the garments of saints walking amid the misty arches breaks the silence. Here there is peace for those who seek itg here we may meet Him who always awaits us. Indeed, cathedrals serve manifold purposes in a community, they stimulate, they nourish, they inspire. They live for us and serve to arouse our nobler deeds and aspirations. Their beauty is divine and amid this beauty is Divinity. - JAMES CONDREN ON CENTRAL No more banging of doors to keep them shut, no more noises vibrating through the halls, no more squeaky boards and treacherous stairs, no more fiimsy excuses to go over town for a periodg in fact, no more fun! I think everyone, in general, feels the same about our new high school. Everyone in Erie whether rich or poor, worthy or unworthy can look upon Centrol as his Alma Mater. Suddenly without a hint, they are all left without one. In the cold. We, the June graduates, will be the same. We can sympathize with our parents. Our parents with us. 116

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'u:1ib'-f . 'X 53:11 c hs assi? cos Even the teachers have grown to look upon the change with utter dislike. In spite of the age and inconveniences of Central, it still worms its way into one's heart and sticks there. I think many passers-by will look at one another, after seeing the ancient site, with an understanding tear in their eye. What days those were for them! What days they are now for us! Fun, excitement, laughter mingled with some work, sorrow and tears constitutes Central. Of course, there are exceptions as in every school. There are those industrious, never-tiring persons who think of nothing but study, study, study! But would there be much fun without planning dances, parties, teas, and every possible social function? I imagine every student could ramble through the entire building, at random, blindfolded, pointing out the rooms, oflice, library and study hall with ease. Poor Central! Think of her once happy halls, Hlled with hosts of students, laughing, playing, worrying or calculating, silent and re-echoing with silence. No- friendsg no foes, just an empty building full of regrets at losing its charming host of friends. But even if they are gone, even when it is being torn down, brick by brick, it can say: I made them happy while they were here thus fulfilling my commission so I, too, a111 content. -POLLIE NASON THE GAMENESS OF A -- It was an awful struggle, he was by far her superior and he showed little or no me1'cy. She looked at him pitiously and squirmed to rid herself of his fierce grasps, but he always kept the upper hand. At length he threw her on the sands at his feet, for an instant she lay there panting and half-decided to give in. Suddenly she noticed a Hash and looking up saw her assailant approaching with a huge knife. She knew this man was vicious but she did not think he would be fiend enough to kill. Wiggling and scrambling she made a last attempt to escape. In an instant the knife Hashed thru the ai1' and caught her just below the head. It was a mighty slash and her little body did not stir again. He next attacked the body with the knife and as we sat eating the flesh and meat we all remarked the gameness of the little fish. -BILLY NEWTON STAIRS What odd but useful and necessary contraptions they are! High ones, short ones, wide ones, narow ones, stone ones, wooden ones, log ones and pebble ones. The first time one discovered what they were was when he was a little tot and when Mom dressed him in his play clothes and gave him her permission to play in the mud and make those much loved and remembered mud pies. He was so anxious to get his soft pink hands in the black, soft. oozy mud that he ran out the back door in haste and started down the old wooden steps. After it was all over he cried, I faw down and go boom! A few years passed and one morning as he was coming down to breakfast, late as usual, he tripped on the soft stair carpet, sumersaulted, rolled and fell down those high, narrow second floor stairs. Even though it did hurt he tried to be manly and keep back the tears. Next came school. As young legs are stronger than old ones the First grade room was located on the third floor. And according to his now established custom he had to see if these steps were any softer than the others. The steps were not so wide but it was a long way to the bottom which he soon found out. His motto he now changed to Never again. Then there are those narrow high cellar stairs so hateful to every boy. How many times have they been the cause of the downfall of a jar of Mother's most de- licious jam. If there were no cellar stairs it would give the poor always tired-out boy an excuse for not firing the furnace or bringing up that much needed basket of potatoes. Better let sister do that. A sure sign that winter is coming is when the janitors bring out the board planks from the cellar and adjust them on the City Hall and Post Oiiice stone steps. Those nice hot blistering stone steps in the summer and glassy icy ones when King Winter reigns. Seems to be the very best place for sleighing. But since this is impossible what is better than to go to High School and ascend and descend that worn and much trodden stairway, the reproduction of the famous stairway in the Grand Opera House 118