Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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T H E W IT A N foot. How can 1 get out of here? Is it too late to play in the World Ser- ies? What will Joe think of me? How far from the Yankee Stadium am I ? All these questions rushed to my head at once. All of a sudden my thoughts were interrupted by the entering of one of my captors. By chance he was the one that I had felled by my blows. Probably he came to get revenge. He came toward me and gave me a brutal kick, which would have jolted an ox. Why, the yellow dog; if I had only been free. I would have batted his brains out! “You're lucky I’m not burning you. you rat!” he said in a revengful tone, “we’re keeping you for a hundred thousand dollars ransom.” Before 1 was able to ask him a question con corning the Yankees, he went out. 1 was wondering how the Yanks were coming. 1 wondered what the news- papers were printing. I wondered these and a million other things be- fore I was interrupted by shooting from outside. All of a sudden, to my surprise, three bluecoats unbound me and carried me to their patrol wagon. “How did you ever find me, and where are you taking me?” I asked one of the bluecoats. He responded, “A bunch of gang- sters, headed by their famous gang- leader, Windy Wilson, held you for a large sum of money, which they al- most received.” Then after an eighty-mile ride, we came in sight of the stadium. There was a crowd of a hundred thousand, and they were all in an uproar when I ran to Joe McCarthy in civilian clothes. “Where have you been?” asked Joe very quickly. “I have no time to explain; wait till after the game.” The score was three and nothing in favor of the Chicago Gangsters when Joe put me in as pinch hitter. Three men on, two out. The crowd was yelling my name when I came to hat. The opposing pitcher was the cleverest pitcher in the game. 1 saw him wind up in bis graceful style, and saw the old apple coming towards me. I closed my eyes and swung for all I was worth. The result was the solid crash of ash against leather. The ball went soaring over the center-field barrier. The game was won. The following day all the newspa- pers were adorned with my pictures ard the accounts of the previous day. I received my cut from the series and also other donations from mil- lionaires. The winter I used as my vacation in Florida, waiting for the next season. Dominic Arioli, 11-2 HOMECOMING Miss Martha Cutts sat placidly knitting on her front porch. She was a small, wrinkled old maid of sixty- four and, dressed in her out-of-dab brown merino dress with the libbons at her neck and the cat at her feet, she looked the very picture of con- tented placidity. But she was not. There were, in- deed, some misguided souls in Deer- wood who thought that her vague and absent-minded smile was merely a trap to lure passers-by onto her porch, there to pour forth her tale of woe. It is certain that she was always suffering from the inconsideration of someone, or something. Her cat, her garden, her butcher, the weather; even but Miss Cutts never said thisi God seemed to have some strange grudge against Martha Cutts. The sun had set, and it was begin- ning to get colder. Martha was on the point of going in to fetch her shawl, when she saw a smart roadster, far smarter than those usually seen in Dcerwood, draw up to the curb. A young man and a well-dressed, grey-haired woman stepped out. The woman stopped before the house next door. Like it, granny?” The young man’s voice was teasing. “George, it hasn’t changed at all!” Her voice was rich and full, with a youthfulness that surprised Martha Cutts. Then, by the voice she recog- nized the lady. It was Lavandar Walsh, the famous soprano, who had been born in Deer- 20

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T H E where he lived. All day and far into the night she thought about him and early the next morning she hovered near her geraniums, glancing up and down the street. She was finally re- warded by the appearance of‘ Mr. Winks around the corner, and she busied herself pushing the earth closer to the stems of the plants, which was not at all necessary. When he paused in the street as before, she glanced up and smiled, while he tipped his hat. This went on each morning for some time and finally Marie decided she would sweep her tiny porch about 9:00 o’clock. When Mr. Winks arrived, instead of seeing her in (he window, there she was right on the porch. Holding his hat in his hand, he ven- tured: A fine, cold mornin’, isn't it?” Marie agreed by vigorously nodding her head, and said. W I T A N “It certainly is; 1 guess this cold snap is about over.” Mr. Winks then began nodding his white thatch of hair, and again ventured, “Quite fond of flowers, eh ?” “Yes, indeed! You are too, aren t you?” Um Hm, ’specially geraniums. How do you get yours to grow so nice?” “Just by loving ’em, I guess. Wouldn't you like to come in and see ’em? It's warm inside, too.” Marie had really longed for companionship without knowing it. They went in together and as they chatted merrily over the tea Marie brewed a few minutes later, the ger- aniums looked on and smiled com- placently. Illinor Raymond, 32. AN EXPERIENCE DURING MY BASEBALL CAREER It was on the third of April that Joe McCarthy sent me my contract for $85,000 a year. Seeing that Joe was the highest bidder, I thus be- longed to him. I was one of the greatest hitters of the league by breaking Babe Ruth’s home run record. As for my fielding ability, 1 was not credited with an error in my whole career. Every team in the league was seeking me, but only in vain, because the Yankees outbid them. During the season 1 stole more than Ty Cobb, hit more home runs than Babe Ruth, fielded better than Frankie Frisch, and was looked at as the one-man, super-human baseball team. Our team had not lost a game and was twenty games ahead of the team holding the second position. All the papers were decorated with my pic- tures, and movie contracts were con- stantly coming in; even a multi-mil- lionaire wished to adopt me as his son. It was on a dark night, while going on a stroll, that I finally became con- scious of seeing three men following me. They reminded me of gangsters, probably hired to bump me off; so I started on a faster pace, only to find them pursuing me also at a faster pace. Not wanting to start an argu- ment, I started to run, only to tiip over some darn thing, and fall. Not able to get up right away, they all pounced on me. Seeing the first bruiser coming towards me, 1 threw out a left hook aril crossed over with a crashing right hand that fairly knocked him senseless. Before I had a chance to defend my- self against another bully, I was the victim of a black-jack, and only saw black. It must have been about four days or so (I don’t remember plainly; I am not expected to know) that 1 found myself in what appeared to me to be an old abandoned shack. 1 tried to get up and stretch my weary limbs, only to find myself bound, hand and

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THE W ITA N wood and lived for a great many years there. The young man was evidently her grandson. As she watched her old-time play- mate walk up the steps, a thousand memories surged thru her mind. Lavandar and she, playing, as chil- dren. The one golden-headed and graceful, the other brown and awk- ward. Lavandar and she at school. Lavandar walking home with other girls, forgetting her, then remorseful afterwards. Lavandar dancing every dance at the church sociahle, while she sat them out miserably. Lav- andar singing in church at Christmas. Then news had come less frequent- ly. Lavandar was studying abroad. Lavandar married an Italian prince. Lavandar’s daughter married an American millionaire. Lavandar’s husband died and she returned to singing. Lavandar was now about to retire. She felt bitterly envious, but some- how, remembering their former friendship and seeing her present suc- cess, Martha Cutts was inclined to forgive her her happiness. She prob- ably would have if she had not heard a young man’s voice floating through the window of the house next door. “Who’s the old dame on the porch?” And a woman’s mellow tone answer- ing, “I didn’t see her. It’s probably old Mis. Cutts. I used to play with her daughter, Martha. She’s probably a buxom matron now.” And two laughs, one old and one young, blending in the still night more dearly than the people knew. Martha got up and walked into her house. She went upstairs, closed the windows, said her prayers and gave the cat a vicious kick. Elizabeth Donoghue, 32. REVENGE Jackson stared, blinked and stared again, finally convinced. Sitting just a few feet from the orchestra stand was Jane Smith, whose ancestors had owned his ancestors, whose father had been his master, and, the girl who had struck him a smart blow across the face with her riding whip because her horse had been hurt while he was in Jackson’s care. Because of this he had lost his job at Smith’s mansion and had been driven from home. Jack- son had vowed that some clay he would get his revenge—at last his chance had come. Jackson was the orchestra leader of the Apollo Night Club and it was time for the next dance. He would have? his revenge now because Jane was rising to dance. He conducted the orchestra faster and Jane and the other dancers danced faster. Longer and faster the orchestra played. The dancers were beginning to sway craz- ily and Jane was beginning to look t rod and pale. Still the orchestra played. I here was a sudden commotion—a woman had fainted—Jane was being carried from the room. Jackson's arms fell exhausted to his sides and those who were not too weak ap- plauded. It had been a great dance, but greater still Jackson had had his revenge—Jane had been his slave for at least one dance! Helen Lanignn, ’32 THE AWAKENING Everything lay clothed in silence and in darkness. Not even a breath stirred the trees, or bowed the flowers, or bent the reeds. The stillness and the loneliness seemed to mock me. The oppressing quiet seemed to smother me like the intense calm be- fore a sudden summer storm. All nature held its breath awaiting the approach of dawn. As night withdrew her blankets of dark and the light crept slowly hack into the sky, so peace and understand- ing seemed to pass from the world above to the world below. The trees lifted their heads to the breeze; the flowers raised their faces to be kissed by the ardent morn; and the reeds bowed in salutation to the first faint glimmer of the dawn. Slowly, steadily, the light grew till only a grey veil covered the sky. Then, suddenly the veil was rent and the (Continued on Page 41) 27