Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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T HE W I T A N THROUGH A PINHOLE AND WIIAT THE PROPHET SAW THERE Two long, lean, lanky gentlemen with prominent noses and high, in- tellectual foreheads, one of whose hair was partially combed (1), the other of whose hair was partially uncomhed (2), gazed in bespectacled toleration at a third long, lean, lanky gentleman whose hair was red, and whose bristl- ing, ruby beard only partly ensconced r.n enormous mouth which, it was said, had attained its dimensions through continuous conversation (3). The third gentleman was engaged at the mo- ment in an injunctive harangue, which was at such length that he whose hair was partially uncomhed at length felt called upon to belabor his head with a milk bottle; whereupon that person, proclaiming to the world his recent assassination, prepared to depart, and was only prevented by the incident of being accosted in the doorway by a short individual of prodigious rotunl- ity, who bore in his right hand a bil- liard cue and balanced upon his head a chess board (4). Recognizing him, the warring parties became reconciled for the moment; but were soon in the throes of strife again. The very house rocked on its foundations, and suddenly leaped like n thing alive high into the air, and continued its ascent with enormous ve- locity. He of the partially uncombed hair explained the phenomena by ref- erence to physics, saying that the flight was due to the vast amount of hot air in the room. He of the prodigious rotundity bethought him- self of Einstein’s theory; producing a pin he pushed it through the floor. Being displeased with what he saw, when he had applied his eye to the hole thus made, he thrust the point into the red-headed person. The consequent flow of heat was all that could have been required, and the ascent was faster than before. See?” he cried, or rather listen: by Einstein’s thory of relativity, if you could go far enough away from the world and get beyond the rays of light leaving the earth at that time you would see what had happened then, acted over again for you. We have done that. Here, take the pin an 1 make holes for yourselves; you could see nothing by looking through a larger hole than one made by a pin.’1 The others did this, and, applying their eyes to the holes, were con- fronted by the scenes that had taken place in the year 1935. I see,” said someone at length, ob- serving a sour, middle-aged (5) man at work before a desk, that the author of ‘Sphinx in French is writing a sequel to that piece of work.” Entitled ‘Sphinx Everywhere,’ I suppose.” Two gentlemen emerged from the side entrance of a theater, one clad in a gym suit, somewhat the taller of the two, although neither was of a height that would attract attention. He was also more athletic appearing, and cast a basket ball about with groat vigor for a man of his age (6). The other protested, apparently, from time to time, hut to no avail; the man refused to argue. As a matter of fact, both were very thin, because they had wait- ed so long for their next meal; the fact that the smaller of the two (7) had taken Solid Geometry instead of Trigonometry in high school was be- lieved to be the reason for such pov- erty. A deep stentorian voice roared sud- denly, Look!” All to be seen was a vicious old Latin teacher, keeping up the reputation of her race. Don’t you remember her? The conductors used to let her ride half price; she was out of college before they found out (8).’’ In the principal’s office sat an arro- gant, aggressive lady, quite unlike herself of former days, devoid of all the quiet, demure shyness (9). They change like that sometimes,” mur- mured the r'eep voice. Those two will never be white again; while they were waiting for a minstrel sho v to begin they happened into a bakery where they hid tn an oven to escape a policeman. The black was baked in.” (10) On a street corner stood a short, wide, thick lady with fanatic eyes (11) , waving a bone, in an address to a large audience, in the very front of which was a tall, handsome person (12) smoking a cigarette. He was a minister’s son; he listened to this lady's speech every night without fail. He never was able to decide whether the lady knew anything but was con- vinced she would never stop talking. A large lady (13) and a little one (14) some seven seats apart in a trolley car were telling each other they would come over tonight. 1 should think they’d have enough of each other by this time,” muttered a 25

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T H E W IT A N SHOEMARKS IN A CONCRETE WALK Being a brief history of the Class of 1926 “Ho, hum,” I sighed as I settled for my sixth period snooze. Then the jolly old Maytime sun streamed in the window, the hard-wood seat softened and I stretched my legs. Drifting thoughts, well—they just drifted, till a dreadful one happened along and casually reminded me to attend to this here class history. I shivered as I had on a certain October evening long ago and a series of painted faces with braided or molasses-covered hair passed by. Stockinged feet thumped up dark stair? covered with prickers. Whack! A ballplayer made a homerun on the feat of someone's trousers. Then oysters—ugh! And cold water! I awoke promptly, then found my fing- ers immersed in the inkwell! But I laughed all the same—the old mem- ory was still 0. K.—I hadn't forgotten that initiation of four years ago. Again the hum of words and the generous sun compelled me to slum- ber. 'Fifty-nine whirling dervishes—no it wasn't — just fifty-nine frantic freshmen holding their first class meeting and electing “Prof Butter- field (the younger) and “Wally” Sex- ton and a certain Miss Rhoda Decker as officers. And then, weeks later, came a super-extra special Frosh Re- turn Party where good dancing and punch were returned for that some- what “evil” initiation. The thoughts were coming faster now and in greater variety—things that had happened at undecideable times. The Lion Tamers' Club, the good old-fashioned assemblies in the attic, summer days and study hall “or the campus” beneath the ancient, tranquil oaks, a ten to eleven score when East High and Charlotte met, Miss Abbott’s “Sunset Class, on.' Frosh teams, the surprise we enjoyed one opening day when we found the school renovated and enlarged by sev- eral new class rooms, the library and the librarians, the operettas. More memories came, of former all-schol- astic athletes, of successful “skips to Fang's, of the first eighth period, of new class members and ot former ones. “Describe a business cycle the Economics teacher said. I awoke and, with usual stupidity, mentioned that it might be a two- wheeled vehicle with handle bars and wire basket on the front of it. That was that, and I again nodding. More thoughts, of the smil ingest and reddest-haired school-marm in town, our advisoi; of uproarious student elections, of Senior-girl candy vendors, of the famous “Ballyho Bugle.” A million more memories whizzed along, each bringing a touch oi humor and tinge of sadness because they were over. I thought of the schoolhouse itself, grim and prison- like on a wonderful spring morning when a fellow felt that he must ski]) and then peaceful and lovely and such, making him feel sad on a late after- noon when things are quiet with just one bird in the trees and the low sun behind them that cast little spots of light and shadow—of passive alienee that rested him but still made him feel like the very devil for not having les- sons finished or being tardy or things like that. B-r-r-i-ang! — Seven o’clock — time to get up—no, guess it isn't—just the period bell. Another day almost done. Gonna get out of this doggone school for good soon. Wonder will I draw a blank diploma? Oh, well! wx had a good time while it lasted! John Konath Maher, Historian 21

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T H E W I T A N pin-hole gazer, '‘they haven’t changed any. A tuft of yellow (15) meandered gayly down the street, to enter, after a while, a little shop. It merged soon, accompanied by a short, little person wearing a green hat (10); she had been a mathematical prodigy in school, which may have accounted for repeated re-election to the mayor's of- fice. ,4I voted for her,,f remarked the deep voice. As they went down the street, a slender, calm-appearing form (17) gazed after them; she seemed too cultured to be engaged in the millinery business. Her partner (18) smiled slightly as her arrow-straightness joined the scene. “Looks as if I would have to get my own supper, growled he whose hair was partially combed, as the social light of the city left her home (19). A bright young man, with hair the color of a carrot upon whose should- ers (20) rested a lean, muscular man (21), awaited the starting signal. “Oh, I read about this in the paper, said the crimson verbosity, “they’re mak- ing a dash for the pole. The big fel- low will jump it when they arrive. A tall fellow appeared to giggle as he fired the gun (22). No doubt he was thinking of the great advertising value of this dash. A grouchy-looking assistant (23) noted something down and he and his boss left the field together. A slight, young lady, by long prac- tice regarded as the best penman in the world (24), was tearfully explain- ing the sudden disappearance of her husband to two alert people, the world’s best detectives; one of whom adorned as she was by huge horn rimmed glasses, had started as a news editor on a school paper (25); liking detective work better, she had not con- tinued in a journalistic profession; the other (2(5) had given up a position in the moving pictures. They caught the culprit in almost no time at all. He had been lead astray by the en- terprising manager (27) of the local basket ball team, a man who had gained much valuable experience in that line, as well as in others, during his high school course. The last seen through any pinhole was an open air studio, maintained by four artists: a tall (28), a short (29) and a small (30). They posed alter- nately. The small one did the work; the others pretended to. There was another (31) who really ran the place, but she never showed herself. A tall lady with light bobbed hair (32) at- tempted to enter, but was threatened with arrest; she left. The four in the uprooted house were never seen again. He whose hair was partly uncombed wrote this manu- script, but he finished it late, and lost it, as it was his custom to do with everything. It was never found. Baxter Waterhouse, Class Prophet. 2f