Cleveland High School - Beacon Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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W Twenty-Five Years his immediate family should see the destruction of their home, for within two years she too died. The land and the house were divided among the heirs, who later sold it to the St. Louis Board of Education for Cleveland's new portables. By Gregory Lucy-From an Orange and Blue. THE PRUNTY HOUSE Miss Prunty, spinster, lived alone In the largest house I have ever known. Full twenty rooms it had, or more, And a stepping-stone outside the door. F lowered carpets were on the floors, And fireplaces it had in scores. Somehow, I was invited in- Donft ask me how it happened sog I must have worn my welcome thin For l was ten.- And little old .Miss Prunty, even then., Was rare-with hat-pins and a cameo. Never a care in. the world had she, But sat and stroked her tabby cat, Or listlcss, slept from pale cnnui, And I was free to wander through The solemn halls for treasure trove. Miss Prunty's bedroom had a stoveg Beside the high four-poster hed A pitcher stood in bowl of red 5 A clock to chime the hour at nightg And speaking tubes of porcelain white, Set in the walls of faded roseg A nd sailorls ancient chests for clothes Held secrets of her furbelows. The parlor and the sitting room Downstairs were chill and sparsely hare. How quaint the horsehair sofas there- The walnut and the cherry wood,- The portraits that on easels stood, The frosted globes of chandeliers- The Lincoln with two damaged ears. Like old m.useuni's was the air, As heavy as the silverware. Pcxqe Sixteen

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of Memories In the late sixties Prichard sold his home to a young man by the name of John Byrne, Jr. Many years Byrne lived in the old house with his wife and children who were all born there, and there they grew to Woman- hood and manhood enjoying the proud aristocratic air of the old mansion. As Byrne's children were enjoying the freedom of the estate a gallant Frenchman, Dr. Francis Haydel, was departing from his home state of Louisiana in search of new adventures farther north. It was only a matter of fate that threw the charming Elizabeth Byrne and the handsome Dr. Haydel together. They were married in the famed old chapel in the Byrne's home, a beautiful place of worship. The young Haydel and his wife lived for some time with her father. It was long before another story was added to the beautiful home, making twenty-three spacious rooms. The years passed on: children were born to Francis and Elizabeth, all possessing the same cultured air of their father and mother. On cold winter evenings the family would sit around the quaint fireplace in the spacious parlor and tell riddles or perhaps Dr. Haydel and his father-in-law would have a game of chess, for that was Haydel's favorite pastime. This hap- piness lasted for many years and was at last broken with the death of John Byrne at the age of eighty-two. The country between the two towns was now the scene of many large estates. Among the most noted were the Blows, the Flevins, the Milten- bergers, the Mauntels, the Imbs, and the Withnels, all owning stately mansions and retaining all the old southern customs and airs. This lasted until Forest Park was developedg then many old families moved westward. Dr. Haydel was older now, his hair was snow white, but he was still the tall slender gentleman of past years. His eyes could see the city of St. Louis creeping nearer and nearer. At last his was the only home re- maining, a tall stately old fashioned residence among hundreds of modern brick structures. The Virginia reel, the round dance, and the chess were gone, instead jazz and bridge. Horseless carriages had replaced the gilded carriages drawn by beast. The telephone was now the errand boy. Finally Dr. Haydel breathed his last. The historic mansion was sold to Charles Prunty, who resided there for twenty-four years, beautifying the grounds even more and growing to love the old place. Six years ago Charles Prunty too passed away and the mansion became the property of his sister, for he had never married. But Fate did not decree that any of Page Fifteen

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of Memories How big the Prunty house, how square ! The mansard roof-the kitchen wing- The stiff, V ictorian, formal plan. Here was a playhouse for a king! How many times a sighing door Whispered a challenge to explore! Ten years have put an end to play- N ow I can see the whole decay, The dark green blinds-the tall buffet- Miss Prunty with her spectacles, Placid amid the disarray. Time won the day, 'tis as I feared, The old frame mansion disappeared,- Like dusty scenery for a play Long done they carried it away. The shutters, window-sashes fell. Miss Prunty's passing broke the spell. The proud facade is gone. ,Tis well I memorized the columned porch, The gray slate roof, And made a picture with my pen. You see, I loved the Prunty House, And loved it well-when I was ten. Roy Coleman, Alumnus. n 11 1 fm nm' V EE! EEE A L A ll 'Im an J' mm mm mm 1 mm mm JII rl m 1 HIL m , umm mmm mmm mmm ,.,5,mm,m, F711 'MINT IH mmi In Inn I 7 l' ' w 5 hmp 5 m mn- EH EHIEH I L mmm 4 , IQ' 'fl H ' ull! 'I 1? + m ' mmm mmm mmm T m ' I N Ml 'III M 'MIM HI lflll -M ,W--j mmm mmm mmm mm Immlmm bf 'H ' IIUIIMH ll! UMR WI Ill!! Ill WIIIMEIIHI Ililllillm all IM ITM lllfil HH m IIIIIHIM IM HI 'HDI P . MTI - mmm mmm mm mmm QmimmQ A -l:.::1:::1.Yc Page Seventeen