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

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Twenty-Five Years The ponderous black hands of the clock move slowly and hesitatingly from hour to hour, as though confused and bewildered by the centuries of ceaseless rotation. Above the face of the clock is a tower with two sub- ordinate turrets on either side. One of these turrets is adorned by an image of a cock, precisely before the striking of the hour, the cock sends its automatic crow over the ancient quarters of the city. It has an appealing sound, as though it called forth memories of sad deeds which it has wit- nessed during the centuries of its constant service. The other turret, at the striking of the hour throws open its heavy doors, and a ghastly figure of death appears, holding an hour-glass in its hand, and a scythe across its shoulder, and rings a bell-it gives forth a dreadful, touching, ominous sound as it flows through the sober air. The middle tower opens, and the dreams of the maker reveal them- selves in all their glory. A wooden figure of Christ enters, and turning its head, looks down upon the street below, makes the cross as a sign of bless- ing. It passes out of sight, followed by wooden figures of the twelve apostles, each figure bending its head in greeting, and passing out of sight slowly, and hesitatingly. The figure of Judas comes last, with an avari- cious look on its face, and a money bag in its hand. When these figures pass out of sight followed by the figures of death, the towers close, and the hands continue their routine until the next hour. Mary Wecka, From a Former Beacon J X U J 5 ,oi X 7 K QIVCLGLQKL Page Twenty

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of Memories thoughtful, suggestive, often stimulating. He had a real gift of silence. It expressed comment, approbation, reproof, applause. His friendly solicitude was extended to animals also. At one time a visitor was having difficulty in trying to keep his too devoted dog from following him into the house. The host, however, said, No, no, he doesn't want to wait out in the cold, while we are in here enjoying ourselves. Let him stay. I always like a good dog. The dog seemed to understand, and trustingly settled himself at the feet of the kind gentleman who inter- ceded in his behalf. Thus Grover Cleveland radiated kindness, while he held righteousness the one law of the world, and lifted higher the hopes of all mankind. Minnie Vavra, June Beacon '16, A REMINISCENCE OF CHILDHOOD DAYS IN PRAGUE As I look back over the days of my early childhood, visions of the old relics which still stand in the city of Prague, rise before me. One of the well-remembered and interesting buildings is the so-called Blind Man's Clock Tower. This peculiar name is the result of the fate of the maker, who was made blind after completing the masterpiece, so that he might not give his efforts and creations to other cities. It stands in an ancient, narrow street, facing one of the old city gates. Its broad firm front stares in dreary vacancy across the busy streets to the river. It is built in the Gothic style, but the black, worn stones have lost their proud powerful look, and seem to be brooding in mournful melan- choly, upon their by-gone days of glory. Its walls gradually rise to the sky with a lonely forsaken air. The face of the clock itself is built into the top of this tower. It is about three meters in diameter, and looks with hurt pride and a crestfallen expression, on the heedless street below. The twenty-four hours which are painted black on yellow ground, awe and bewilder a modern time reader. Directly beneath these are the signs of the zodiac, painted in what seems to be a blue, but which is so worn and weatherbeaten that it loses itself among the other colors, none of them stands out clearly, but all mix with a blurred aspect. Page Nineteen

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oi Memories BRIDGING THE YEARS Do you remember when Hillis Duggins wrote this for the Beacon? SPRING ON THE MISSISSIPPI The hern are building their nests in the glen Where the moss from the oak hangs the lowest: The mangrove trees are skirting the fen Where the run from the spring flows the slowest. The cypress wails o'er the waters black Whose great deep flows silently onward- The marsh of azalea and wild hardack Becomes the abode of the rnallarfl. The air is atune like a humming bird's wing. The swamp's like a kingfisher's feather. Oh come, let us go and dance in the spring As light hearted children together. ' He is now the Canon of the Episcopal Church in Paris, France. Do you remember when Merle Fainsod was editor of the Beacon and won a Debating C ? He wrote International Socialism and the World War. After receiving his Ph. D., he was appointed on the Harvard U. Staff. Do you remember when Melville Cole was a competitor in the Rifle Club? He was awarded a fellowship for research in wood preservation for the American Society of Wood Preservation Manufacturers and has now a responsible position with that Society. Do you remember when Ted Straeter entertained you at the piano in the Aud? Now he and his Rhythm Singers may be heard on the Kate Smith Hour. Do you remember when Francis O. Schmitt was a member of the Botany and Latin Clubs? He is now Dr. Schmitt, Professor of Zoology at Washington U. Do you remember when Grace Niebuhr was a Football Maid and Associate Editor of the Beacon? She now has a dancing school of her own. Do you remember when Maury Tuckerman played Blue Beard? The Orange and Blue reported him as The meanest little villain ever viewed upon the American stage. He appeared in Maurice Evans' production of Hamlet which played in St. Louis this past winter. Page Twenty-One