Central Middle School - Ceejay Yearbook (Kansas City, MO)

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aBnopfeuoi i siiM !l!;T ;Hni i !i.si i!: i i;ss!i (Compensation Prize Story of First Year Class GEORGIA RUTH COX In the midst of a large manufacturing city, stood the colonial mansion of the late Colonel John N. Robinson. Although it was in the industrial district, Colonel Robinson still clung to the only home he had ever known. It had belonged to a long line of eminent men before him. It was surrounded by factories of every kind and by the busy hum of industrial life, yet it still held its place as one of the most elegant and beautiful of all homes. The master of this mansion, Colonel Robinson, was considered a financial wizard. People came from all four corners of the earth to seek his advice and recommendation. One evening the papers told a startling story of how the Trust National Bank, one of the leading banks of the city, was short one hundred thousand dollars. People at once were set to whisper and gossip. The bank examiners had gone over the books time after time and again and again, but to no avail. The bank was short the money. The next day a sudden, fascinating, yet horrible hush spread over the entire city. Colonel John N. Robinson, the much respected president and citizen, was accused of embezzling the sum of one hundred thousand dollars from this bank. It was thought he had failed in some enterprise and had stolen the money to cover his losses. Both the rich and the poor had entrusted their money to this bank — the rich, their large capital and the poor, their life savings. The citizens were enraged and disap- pointed and after a thrilling, lasting trial, Robinson was given a life term in prison. Ten years had passed and other men had taken Colonel Robinson ' s place in the world. Most cities grow in size and industry, and this city was not exceptional, conse- quently in the ten years that Colonel Robinson had seen nothing but bare prison walls, this town ' s industries had grown too large for their present homes and were expand- ing into new territory. A large furniture store was to be built upon the ground where the banker ' s once beautiful home was rapidly falling to ruin. As the wrecking crew started the task of tearing down this home, the older members of the town felt a sorrow that after the many generations of successful and famous men had owned and honored it, that its last master should be so disgraced. One evening the sturdy foreman of the wrecking crew walked into the manager ' s office and handed him an old, yellow, flimsy letter, which, he said, had been found in a box, concealed in one of the walls. The manager opened the letter with trembling hands for he realized it might solve the old mystery of the stolen money. The letter read: Colonel John N. Robinson was not guilty of embezzling the funds of the Trust National Bank. The thief was I, Richard, the butler, whom he discharged. I warned him I would get revenge and true to my word, I have. This discovery created great excitement and gossip. People who had gone against him when he was pronounced guilty, were ready to befriend him now. One bright summer day, Colonel John N. Robinson walked forth again into the fast-moving world. He went to make new friends and prove to those, who still doubted, his innocence — determined that he would again become successful. The promising sun shone down as though to guide his steps toward his goal. toM IE Page Ninety

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Ts % W The couf s Soliloquy Prize Poem of Second Year Class NORMAN KELLOGG When I see the bright stars twinkling just above the prairie ' s rim, Then I want to steal up closer ' cause they look so far and dim, And they look a lot like campfires as they flicker, flare and pale. They bring back days long vanished, days when campfires lit the trail. Once we found a ring of schooners by the watch-fires careless glow; Nearing them we saw fire spreading to the wagons row on row, The heroes ' days were over, for we heard the redskins wail, As they danced the scalp dance ' round the campfires on the trail. Once again I saw the fire-glow through the desert ' s evening haze, Found a miner thirsty, dying, yet he fed his campfire ' s blaze! For the fierce wolves howled around him but he lived to tell the tale, Grasp my hand and called me pardner ' side his campfire on the trail! Sometime soon I ' ll again feel restless, take my gun from off the shelf, And go down that silent trail just to find out for myself, Whether the sun is a great beacon, whether that moon ' s a signal pale, Whether those stars that burn forever are the campfires of my trail! ll O vo li Page Eighty-nine

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c . o 5 1 zA Holiday Prize Poem of First Year Class JOY MINTURN I like to have a holiday To do the things I please; Of course I like to go to school But still I like my ease. I like to have a holiday To be in bed awhile, To draw, to think, and lazy be — No class within a mile. I like to have a holiday To fix a lunch I like, To eat at home or take with me On a long and jolly hike. I like to have a holiday To sit out in the swi ng, And have a visit with a chum Without a care for anything. I like to have a holiday To read my favorite book, With pillows and a plate of fudge In some quiet, cozy nook. I like to have a holiday Just to be with mom; She ' s a dandy pal to help me And to get ideas from. I like to have a holiday, I think it ' s good for me; I ' m eager to get back to school ' Cause I ' ve my play you see. t:;,i ::is;fei-£:LSiK;i fii ! Page Ninety-one