Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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TUE WITAN The Lake The cold winter had ended at last, the slushy snow had been washed away by the recent rain storm and naw was the time to see the lake at its best. As I approached I could see a great line in the distance where the sky and the water seemed to meet. The day was rather windy and the whitecaps came rolling in, and broke on the shore with a thundering sound. Every now and then, it brought with it a dead fish or a piece of drift wood, thus adding to the little pile along the shore. As I stood watching the lake, dark- ness crept over the land and the moon came out to add her beauty to the water. One beautiful ray fell over the water and the rest of the lake was in darkness. The silence was broken only by the continual swish of the waves on the shore. Ella Rea(ron, '33. Traveling Alone One afternoon 1 didn’t know what to do so I went out for a walk. I ended up at my cousin's house After having eaten my supper and played cards until about eleven o'clock. 1 finally decided to start for home. My cousin asked me to stay all night, hut I decided to It was pitch dark outside when I started on my journey. About a quar- ter of a mile from my cousin’s house I came to a graveyard. If 1 went through it, my journey would be about a mile, whereas if I went by the road it would be almost three miles. So, trying to tell myself I wasn't afraid, I decided to go through the graveyard. I walked through the gateway — it creaked so loud that I thought if there were such things as ghosts, it would awake them all. I walked between the many head- stones until 1 heard a moaning sound. Trying to tell myself it was only my imagination, I walked on, while the noise grew louder and louder. I looked up and what should I see but a white thing in the path ahead of me. My heart beat like a trip hammer. The wind started to blow and the pine tree above me whined and howled. But what was the white thing? It must be a ghost. It moved. Upon seeing me it jumped up and seemed to fly through the air, close to the ground. All I could see was a white streak, going like the wind. Still telling myself it was my imagination, I walked on. Finally 1 reached the place where the thing had been. I felt the ground; it was warm. 1 began to run hut it seemed I couldn't run fast enough. Crash! Bang! Oh! what was that? A big lump came in my throat and I couldn't swallow. I looked all around me but no ghost could I see. My legs felt better and I hurried on. I was nearing the gate on the opposite side when the white thing again appeared. It was lying in the gateway of the graveyard, guarding it, I thought. My head seemed to get bigger and bigger and began to ache. The thing saw me and began to run. It ran through the graveyard and around be- hind me. I dashed through the gate- way and slammed the gate so the white thing couldn’t get out. I ran along the road beside the grave- yard. There was a box outside the wall. What was it? Oh! it’s a rough box, I concluded. As 1 came nearer and passed it, I looked over my shoulder and the lid of the box was suddenly raised. “Hey! what time is it, buddy?” I heard a sleepy voice call. I ran as fast as I could without stopping to answer whomever called. Finally I reached home. The doors were all locked but I found my key in my pocket and went in. 1 went to bed and dreamed of ghosts the whole night long. The next morning 1 was told that someone had locked the neighbor’s white mule in the graveyard, and many tomb- stones were overturned and broken. Also, a tramp had been found sleeping in a rough box outside the graveyard gate! Arthur Hogan, 33.

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 Qt; (S1 C3f£) 5 t dT' S1 mT ( ) | LITERARY DEPARTMENT T I Beauty’s Taire Morty wanted it! Wanted it so much his one track mind was surprised it could think so intensely. How to get it was the question churning itself in his head. Morty sat on his back porch and gazed at the object of his longing. Then he arose and paced back and forth and pondered. It did him no good. He just had to have immediate action. Well, now, let’s see. Maybe if he went to them and asked for it they would give it to him. No. that wouldn’t do; it had been in the family too long; they would never part with it. Perhaps he could steal it. But how could he steal a thing as big as that? And then, the police would be after him. A person that steals is put in jail for a long time. Who would come to see him if he were imprisoned? No one, because he had stolen something valuable; no one would care for him. No one cared much about him anyway. Oh, what did it matter? They didn’t amount to anything. Let them do as they wished. ‘T will steal it, I will, tonight,” he decided. There, it was all settled. He would steal it tonight regardless of dif- ficulties or consequences. Night came, and Morty, armed with the necessary implements, set out across his back yard to where Tad and Ella Laine lived. He crept noiselessly around the house to see if everyone was asleep. Listen! Was that a foot- step? He drew up into a shadow and looked behind. No, evidently he imag- ined it. On he went, peeking into win- dow’s. At the back of the house he jumped back startled. A light! Be- neath that door! Why, where did it go? It was there a minute ago. There it is again! Ah, ha, that is funny— just the street light behind that large maple tree. Everything looks all right, but it might not be. “Well, I'll have to take a chance anyway. Have to be awfully quiet to get away without dis- covery.” Finally assured, he went to his task with a will. Hauling and tugging he finally arrived home with it. Since he had that afternoon decided where he would put it, he had soon finished. He went happily off to bed, his mind at rest. Waking once before daybreak, he sat up quickly wondering if he had only dreamed of his possession. No, out in the kitchen lay his implements for work. It was not a dream! it was reality. He sighed contentedly and fell asleep again. When the first rays of the morning sun crept into his room, he awoke. Wheel 1 have it now. I wonder what they’ll do about it. Oh, 1 don’t care. Yippee! It’s mine.” How beautiful it was. Gorgeous thing, at last it was his alone. His eyes shone as he leaped out of bed. Pulling on his shoes (he hadn’t both- ered to undress the night before) he went out to look at that thing of beauty he owned at last. There, the beauty he had admired the day before had flown, and it had be- come a poor, sad. wilted, lilac bush. Elinore Raymond, ’32. 28

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THE WHAN Static The expenditures of this county dur- ing: his administration, ladies and gen- tlemen, were $85,000, $14,000 more than—then mix two eggs with one and one-half cups of milk and add sugar— the next number by Handsome Harry’s Halfwits will be the “Funeral Parlor Blues ' followed by—Mr. Allegretto Strangulosa will now sing, “When It’s Midnight in Germany. It's Wednesday Over Here. —Amalgamated Dug Bis- cuit, 49%, Gypsum and Steele Copper 87%. Kendrick’s Horseradish—squack, —then, ladies, after you have hung the curtains,—blah, blah,—stir well and let boil for 20 minutes,—poo-poo-pa-doop- squack,—at the sound of the gung. it will be exactly 4:61 o'clock, Eastern - Central-Daylight-saving Standard time by the courtesy of the Spring-less watch company.—Squack— I turned the dial back to 0, shut olf the radio, and went to bed. “Awah” “Proceed, Kingfish. Coining as this did from a person of irreproachable grammar who never stooped to the use of slang, we were not only surprised hut we were made more certain than ever before of the ability to worm their doings and idio- syncrasies of speech into the hearts of the American people of those eminent comedians—Amos and Andy. A mo- ment after, our friend said with all seriousness “Ah’s regusted. We have heard many funny fellow's. Their sayings have stayed in our minds for many days and we have often burst out laughing at the thought of their amusing faces and side-splitting antics. But did anyone ever hear of a comedian or pair of comedians who have set the whole nation to repeating their odd pronunciation or abandoning all else to sit silently beside the radio for 15 min- utes nightly? (It is surprising to think that more people have not been slaught- ered in cold blood for disturbing the air of sacredness around the speaker between 7:00 and 7:15) Business men consider a radio on the front of their building to broadcast Amos and Andy a valuable asset, and it is said that business has increased many hundred percent for the Pepso- dent Co. since the advent of these clever black-face artists. Personally, we would give an awful lot to be either Mr. Correll or Mr. Gosdcn. Misery Have you ever been so dumb as to be haven’t, don’t get that way. and if you have, I feel sorry for you. The worst part of it is fulfilling your assignment. As you sit there, with the rest of the unfortunate ones, you hear joyful voices outside the “prison walls. You hear the clang of baseball spikes on the pavement and the cheering of your classmates, who are competing in an inter-class ball game, which you could be taking part in, had you the brains, or shall I say had you studied After sitting in the “misery room oi an extra period, which seems about fiv extra ones, you are finally let loose By this time the inter-class game and matches are about over and you are left alone, like a prisoner who ha. just been released from prison. If True did per- mit you to play you would probably be ruled out of the game, because of elig- ibility rules. You are not able to take part in any inter-sehola tic or school affairs and are looked upon as the “low- er class students. And now, at the close, I swear that if I do ever get off this misery period, I w’ill never get back on it again, as long as 1 live. One Who Lives in Misery. Sense and Nonsense Sergeant Killip had his eye on a black car which for the last four months had been breaking all speed records this side of Charlotte High School. It seems that the Sergeant’s day had at last arrived. “There’s that black roadster and it’s the last time I’ll sit here on this new cycle and watch him pass.” Well folks, the race was soon on, up Lake Avenue and the Copper’s new cycle was doing its best. “Pull over, there, you; what is your hurry this time, buddy? Pete Ahrns threw back his head of nicely brushed hair and showed that winning smile, greeting the officer: “I am on my way to get a working permit before the close of school, of- ficer. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Then get started before the rest of Char- lotte’s boys get up there ahead of you. ’Bye, and good-luck, son.” Charles C. Newland, 9A. 30