Commerce High School - Commerce Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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chemistry room are coming up to torment me. The smallest will be first, followed by larger ones; they’ll march up the steps in single file, and come and surround me. I suppose they’ll nearly tease me to death and then explode and kill me with all their old acids, and bases, and sulphides. Well, such is life at night. My! What do I smellt Cheese, combustified hydrogen of zinc, oranges, or—Bless my soul! It’s doughnut crumbs, right on this very desk! Oh, now for a grand old feast before I lay me down to sleep. EMMA APPLEBY, 1912. Eljp (EanMfmtrs THE school bell rang and a large group of excited boys, ranging from fourteen to twenty years of age, dispersed with reluctance. After lunch they had all gathered in the Gymnasium to talk over the prospects in Baseball, for the Spring. It was the latter part of February, basket-ball was over and the next thing of interest would be baseball. And so after hastily eating their lunch, they gathered in groups and took note of this or that new candidate and bewailed the fact that the best pitcher the school afforded, had graduated and without him the team would be incomplete. The sudden and mysterious disappearance of most of the boys at noon, for about a week, led to the discovery that these secret meetings were being held. They were not prevented, however, from holding them, except that the ones concerned must be punctual at the next class. Thus it had gone on day after day and at last a notice was posted on the bulletin board, one day, that the candidates for baseball were to report at the “Gym” the following day after school. The next day the fellows strolled in, both in groups and individually. Jim Lawrence, the big captain, was there before the others, and as they filed in, he took mental note of each and wondered if he would be favorable or not. This was his senior year at Verdi High School and he hoped to make it a success. He wanted his team to have a victorious season and as he viewed them all together he thought he could accomplish his purpose. There were about forty candidates, four or five of whom were those who had played the year before. There were some there too, who had nearly made the varsity team the year before and hoped to fill the places left vacant by the graduates. One of these was a fellow of eighteen years, of strong build, with dark hair and blue eyes. He was known as “Beauty Dawson,” because he evidently made people know he was good looking and with the aid of plenty of money, he attempted to domineer over all those who came near him. He intended to make an illustrious record for himself as the “pitcher of the Verdi High School Nine.” He also expected to be captain for the next year. He had no doubts as to being pitcher, for the position was vacant and he was acknowledged to be the best in the school at the time. As he stepped into the line of candidates, he got directly behind a tall, broad-shouldered fellow of about seventeen years, who was studying some 127

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go home about eight o’clock, just the way all society people do. It will be fine. You ask your mother, Sadie, and I’ll call for you. Oh! My Goodness! Look at that clock! What shall I do? There’s only five more minutes before the bell rings, and I’ve never even looked at my spelling. Give me that book. Quick. Don’t be so awful slow. Some day when you start out for school I wish your mother would chase the dog after you, and make you hurry. Then if she chases the dog faster, the dog would chase you fast, and then you’d all be nice and warm. (I tell you what, Sadie, I’ve learned how to be economical since I studied economy). Why just think! You wouldn’t need any fire in the house! Well now, let me see. What on earth were we talking about before we started talking our last talk? Oh yes! It was about those definitions. An optimist is one who always looks on the bright side of things, and a pessimist is one who always looks on the dark side of things.” Just then the bell rang and the two girls hurried away. Well, that set me thinking. I just applied it to myself. Last year at the time of my dreadful calamity, (I can’t forget the audacity of those children listening to me), I was situated on the side of the study-room opposite the window’s. It wasn’t very light over there, and I always had to look at the wall because my face was turned that way, and I can’t turn around very well. Once in a while someone opened one of the doors near me, and let in a bright streak of light, but he always shut the door immediately. These streaks frightened me because they were alw'ays so unexpected, and usually occurred when I was seriously meditating on some topic. Why, a person couldn’t be more frightened if he was on a little sail-boat out on the middle of the ocean on a wild, stormy night, than I was on those awrful occasions. Well, as I said before, that wall was always dark, and as I always looked on the dark side of things, I must have been a pessimist. This winter I was placed on the side of the room nearest the window's, and nowr I look on the bright side of things, therefore I must be an optimist. This school is a wonderful place. Early in the morning I can see the sun rise (if it does), and I stay at school all day, and at night I talk a while and then drop off to sleep. Sometimes I w'ake up in the middle of the night, when it’s awful dark and creepy, and I can hear the rats and mice running all over the floor and the desks, picking up crumbs that the boys and girls drop on the floor at lunch time. I’m nearly tired to death of their midnight feasts. They even get up on the desks and bounce me up and down and stuff me full of old crumbs which they find. I’ve sworn off eating so much and now' I live mostly on fresh air, geometry, calculus. (I’m not quite sure about that one), and arithmetic, civics, economics, and a number of other interesting things. I wish I could study economy, I’m sure I’d put it in practice more than those children do, (I mean those who spill their crumbs on the study-room floor when teacher isn’t looking). Why I’d eat every one of them if I died in the attempt. Oh, I wdsh it wouldn’t get dark so soon. Every night about this time, I hear queer noises, and I always imagine that all those dozens of bottles down in the 12G

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lesson while waiting for his turn to come. Tie was a good looking fellow with clear-cut feature, light hair and blue eyes. Ilis clothes were neat and of a dark color, a direct contrast to those worn by Dawson which were conspicuous for brightness and the variety of colors. At the first glance Dawson knew this fellow was a new pupil, for he hadn’t seen him before. He wondered what position he was trying for. He turned to one of his companions and said in a voice, loud enough to be heard, “Say, I wonder who that Hayseed is yonder that’s studying so hard. Looks like a regular mamma-boy, doesn’t he.’’ The last remark was greeted by a boisterous laugh by Dawson’s friends. But further conversation was cut short and the line moved up. The young stranger was apparently cool, but his eyes flashed while attempting to answer the coach’s questions. “Name?” “William Webber.” “Age?” “Seventeen.” “Ever played before?” “A little.” “What position?” “Pitcher.” At the mention of pitching, Dawson straightened up, surprised, and angry that anybody should presume to take his position. Later his anger grew into hatred for the stranger. About a week afterward, the weather being pleasant, practice began. The experienced players were placed in their old positions: Hamilton, as catcher. Ward as 1st baseman, Howell as 2nd baseman. Madden as shortstop and Lawrence as 3rd baseman. Substitutes were placed in the other positions while a second team was formed out of the best of those that were left. Dawson was placed as pitcher for the first team while Webber was given the same position on the second. April second, the first game was played with Lawreneeville School. The day was clear and brisk. The game was to be played on Verdi's grounds at two o’clock in the afternoon. Both teams were anxious and nervous although they denied this fact. The first inning ended without either side scoring. At the end of the fourth inning the score was 4 to 2 in favor of Lawreneeville. Dawson’s arm was tired, apparently, for his pitching had no vim in it. The deliveries were all of the same kind and seemingly very familiar to the opposing team. Good fielding on the part of the Verdi’s, however, prevented the score from going higher. The Coach disliked taking Dawson out because he was not sure of the quality of Webber’s pitching. But he knew he would have to do something, for at the end of the fifth inning. Dawson was exhausted and the score favored the opposing team. At the beginning of the sixth inning the Coach crossed the field and motioned for Webber. The boy needed but one bidding. Dawson, however, would not agree to go out of the game without making some trouble. He looked at ■Webber and muttered, “Mamma-boy,” and walked off the field. The game began in earnest then for the new pitcher inspired confidence in his team-mates. His pitching was a mystery to the Lawreneeville team and as the first man 128