Commerce High School - Commerce Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

Page 132 text:

“Home!” “Home!” made him run the faster. He heard the shrill, “slide!” and he slid, reaching the plate a second before the ball did. The game ended with a score of 8 to 5 in favor of Verdi. The boys lifted Webber to their shoulders and paraded around the field. Many were the “three times three for Webber” given. The election, the following day. was a unanimous victory for the hero. Dawson, after hearing the result, quit Verdi High School and started in at another school where, he said. “Decent playing would be appreciated.” AMANDA HEIMBERGER, 1912. Aintt halite's (Chirkrn Supper AN unpainted, weather stained cabin, stood in the midst of a group of beautiful Carolina palm trees, and in their shade romped a little pickaninny. His big, dark eyes rolled and sparkled with delight as the delicious cool breeze played with his dusky curls, that hung about his shoulders. Yes. Jim had curls; not tight woolly ones, but beautiful, soft, silky curls. As he stood on his little bare toes to reach a big, glossy leaf that hung down, he heard a voice from behind. The voice belonged to Jim's grandfather, who had just come out of the cabin. He was well known, in the little near-by town of Sanford, by the name of Henry Patrick, for he was head deacon in the Methodist Church and in his younger days had been the most powerful singer in the congregation. “Now. Jim. I reckon you bettah jest ’have yourself dis here day, ’cause yer ole mudder is guan ter hab chicken for supper, an’ if 1 sen’ you all to bed you doan git none.” Henry was a bow-legged, stooped, white-haired negro, who appeared to be eighty years old. but in reality he had not passed his sixtieth birthday. Jim didn't get a chicken supper every day and he naturally became interested in the prospect of one so soon to come. “Lawdy. Mister Henry Patrick. I’se did all you don’ tol’ me an I aint deserbin’ ob dis here talkin’,” answered Jim, rolling his eyes and grinning at his grandfather, for Jim knew how to be polite, but he didn’t make use of his knowledge unless he could attain his desired result in no other way. “Jim,” the old man’s voice was one of command now, “you jest go long right smart an’ git dat wood for your mudder.” Since Henry was too lazy to do anything else. Aunt Sallie, his wife, had always insisted that he should carry in wood, and Jim on any other occasion would have reminded his white-haired grandparent of this fact, but a chicken supper was a chicken supper. Jim took the wood into the kitchen and for once was careful to get it into the box and not on the white, newly-scrubbed floor. “Jim.” the voice was like a man’s, “Jim! You heali me? I aint guan ter call you all day.” Jim didn’t answer other then to roll his eyes and grin. 130

Page 131 text:

struck out and the second one did the same, they began to grow alarmed. The surprise, however, was not limited to these for the Coach now blamed himself for having given Dawson so much attention and letting this fellow shift for himself. The game ended with a score of 10 to 8 in favor of Verdi. Dawson sulked, secretly mortified that the game had been won without him. Some of the glory which had fallen to his lot until now, was transferred to Webber. Honors, however, were now evenly divided, as Dawson and Webber pitched alternately. Dawson was looking forward to pitching the last game because Webber was to pitch the preceding one and the captaincy, in a great measure, depended on the final playing. The game was the deciding one of Walton and Verdi High Schools. A pennant was to he awarded to the winner. These schools had been rivals for several years and the balauce had hung pretty even, until they agreed that this game should decide the championship. The game started and Dawson began to pitch with a swaggering air, glad that he had triumphed over Webber. The thoughts of the captaincy were running through his mind and he was wondering whom they would dare to nominate against him when his election was so positive. Suddenly he heard somebody call from the grandstand, “Say, beauty, wake up, this isn't practice.” Anger surged over him, that anyone should call to the future captain in that way. He capped the climax by sending the next ball wide from the plate. The Coach, disgusted with his poor attempt at pitching, motioned for Webber to take his place. Dawson, hardly believing this, did not move at first until he heard the cries from the grandstand, “Don’t you know enough to walk when you're told to, Beauty,” or “Hurry up, Beauty, clear out, we want to see some pitching.” Angry at himself and at those around him, he retreated to the sidelines and the game went on. It was a hard fought contest and the score persisted in being tied. At the beginning of the ninth inning, it was 5 to 5. The Waltons batted first. The first man went to first base on balls, the second struck out, the third batted a “grounder” which gave him time to get to first base. The next man was put out at first base. There were two men on bases now, 2nd and 3rd, and two men out. Webber noticed that the man on third was trying to steal home and caught him with a quick turn and throw to third, when lie was not watching. Then the Verdi boys came in resolved to raise the score. Their playing was similar to that of the other team. There were two men out and two men on bases when Webber’s turn came to bat. One of Dawson’s friends called out, “Mamma’s-boy is going to try to bat.” Webber heard it and gritted his teeth. The first ball he did not strike at, the second he missed. The excitement in the grandstand was felt by the batter. He knew he would have to strike at the next for he would be sure to miss the last. He struck and the bat and ball met with a clear, sharp crack. He started to run, for although the ball had gone out beyond the outfielder who was playing in too far, he would have to hurry. He passed first, second, then third and the cries of 129

Page 133 text:

“Stan there an grin! Where am dat ignorant ole man of yourn? I done tell him ter fetch dat ’ar wood. You go long wid you an tell him fo' to git hisself long here right smart, ’fore I comes arter him.” Jim knew too well what was coming and decided to champion his grandmother no matter to what extremes the case might go. For every time in the family jars that had arisen, since he could remember, his grandmother, right or wrong, had come out victor. In the meantime Henry had goue to the stable; his usual retreat. Jim started on a run but soon stopped. The idea of a coming conflict appealed to his excitable imagination. “The longer it takes him to get there the moah he’ll kotch it,” mused the curly headed, grinning little imp of darkness. Henry was talking to a younger fellow who pretended to work, but who loafed around the stables, which belonged to “Mas'r Harry.” a prosperous southern gentleman, and .apparently didn’t like the thought of being interrupted by Jim. “You jes run chil’ an doan you bodder me no moah.” “Mammy, she done tell me for to tell you to git long heah right smart.” Henry’s stooped shoulders straightened and his bowed legs sprung a sharper cum as he yelled at the boy. “You jes tell dat ole woman ob mine dat she aint got no string on me.” Jim had accomplished what he intended, so he started back at once in order to cut off any contradiction that his worthy old grandfather might add. The half hour that had elapsed since Aunt Sallie had sent Henry for wood was sufficient cause to put her into a sweet mood. “Where am dat ole man?” greeted Jim when he put his head in at the door. “My pop”—Jim’s father died before his boy was old enough to know him and Henry had been “Pop” to Jim from the time the little fellow was old enough to talk. “My pop, he said you doan got no string on him an he aint cornin’ for you all.” Aunt Sallie’s fat sides shook as she laughed, a derisive, malignant laugh, and she waddled out through the door-way. Her head bobbed up and down as she grumbled to herself about the good for nothing “ole man what I done got to keep.” After Jim had informed Henry that his presence was desired at the cabin, and then had left no chance for him to add a favorable message for Aunt Sallie, Henry decided that he had better busy himself some'place where she would not be apt to look for him. As a rule he could walk to Sanford in an hour, but he was in a hurry today and covered the distance in a remarkably short time. He stayed in town until he thought Aunt Sallie’s temper would have cooled, and strange to say arrived home just in time for the chicken supper. The fact that no one eats at Aunt Sallie’s table without an invitation accounts for the anxious look on Jim’s face and also for the uncomfortable angle 131