Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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26 tup: tattler June. 1922 In her excitement Jean dropped a letter which she had received that morning. Jimmy picked it up and as he did so he could not help seeing what was written on the paper. This is what he read “Tommy diet! of an overdose of Chloroform at ten this morning. Funeral to-morrow.” R. S. MARLOWE. “Oh! mother, no wonder Jean was nervous.” exclaimed Jimmy as he showed his mother the letter. When Jean next came into the kitchen Mrs. Brown looked at her sympathetically and said. “You poor girl, why didn't you tell me?” “Now. just you keep your lovely self out of this kitchen,” said Mrs. Brown. “How old was he?” asked Jimmy. “Hush. Jimmy,” cautioned Mrs. Brown as she conducted the puzzled Jean to her room. Everyone was most kind to her. The next morning she came to the breakfast table laughing. “Did you find a letter of mine from home? 1 have lost it,” said Jean. “I found the one about Tommy, that's the reason we are so sorry for you. lie was your little brother, wasn't he?” asked Jimmy. •R. S. Marlowe is my small brother Richard, and Tommy is or rather was his hull pup, the homeliest and worst tempered dog ever received into the l osom of a respectable family. Tommy has cast a shadow over all my vacations for more than a year. He killed my kitten, and ate my Venetian lace collar. 1 hoped he would have Italian indigestion but lie didn’t. He stole door-mats for blocks around. Property on the street appreciably declined, for prospective purchasers refused to buy so long as “Dick” Marlowe kept a dog. Often “Dick” has rescued him from would be dog murderers, but this time I suppose he committed some supreme enormity, probably chewed up the neighbor’s baby or one of father’s Persian rugs.” The relieved Brown family laughed heartily, with the exception of Jimmy who said that when there was a death if only that of a dog he could not understand how anyone could laugh. Weeks passed and Jean began to feel the lure of the desert. She enjoyed wandering over the desert and examining the grotesque rocks, many of them as high as a one story house. The refreshing air. the miles, and miles of land covered with nothing but God's handiwork, the kind, wide awake westerners who seemed never to be jealous of one another, all made Jean adopt a different outlook on life. She began to realize what a snob she had been. In a letter home to her father she said: “My enthusiasm is just cutting its eye teeth. Arizona is wonderful but riding a mountain burro, horrors! There is a lurch to larboard, then a lurch to starboard with a sort of ‘shiver my timbers’ interlude.” During the following week Jean and the Brown guest she had refused to meet, Jack Vincent, a handsome mining engineer, who was an Easterner and one year out of college, became good friends. They took long rides into the Canyon and over the desert. She often wondered what her Eastern friends would think if they' could hear some of their conversations. They were not at all little cut and dried exchanges of compliments, on the contrary they discussed many things besides their own petty affairs and often got into heated arguments. In fact Jack remarked to himself one day that if the young lady (meaning Jean) had ever been impolite enough to stick out her tongue he would at present be a cinder.

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June. 1922 THE TATTLER Many people came, including a well known musical critic. Jean’s father who had come to New York for the event, knowing the critic was there asked his opinion of Jean’s playing. “Your daughter has talent, Mr. Marlowe.” The critic seemed to avoid comments on Jean’s ability further than this, but Mr. Marlowe was not an individual to be disregarded. ‘‘If she has talent, what is the trouble? Will she ever become an artist? She has studied under the best professors in the country, I will send her to Europe if you think it would he advisable.” The critic finally told Mr. Marlowe frankly what he thought, lie said that Jean had unusual ability, as to her ever becoming an artist he would not venture to say, but something unusual would have to take place if she did. He called her a cold fiddler.” A girl’s boarding school, too much money and too much attention had led Jean to think that her playing was above criticism. She played for praise, not for the love of playing. Iler technique was fine but there was no soul in her music. That June. Jean graduated and much against her wishes was taken to Arizona by her father. Mr. Marlowe left her in care of a family living not far from Flagstaff. “No. thank you, I do not care for dinner this evening,” said Jean. “Oh! my dear, after your long ride you must be hungry and we are to have a guest this evening, answered Mrs. Brown with whom Jean had stayed for two weeks now. “Thank you. but I am too tired to meet anyone this evening.” Jean went to her room. The minute the door was closed she threw herself on her bed and sobbed as only an unhappy girl can sob. She hated 2f the desert, everywhere she looked was desert, red colored, dreary desert. The Brown’s had coaxed her to ride over to Sunset Pass from which the San Francisco Peaks can be seen so plainly. The week before they had ridden for hours with nothing to see but the chocolate drops on the desert. True, the peculiar looking brown colored mountains did look like chocolate drops, but a box of Ragtime Chocolates would interest her more than the mountains. At the end of the journey, the painted desert, they had witnessed the famous Snake Dance given once a year by the Hope Indians. The Indians had spent weeks in collecting the largest, most poisonous snakes they could find. The dance was a very sacred affair to them. All during the dance one or more of the dancers would leave for a few minutes. Jean had learned that they were putting medicine on themselves. This medicine was a preparation known only to the nope Indians, and would prevent the snake bites from harming the men. Thinking of the many things she had seen in Arizona and of the seemingly happy lives led by the Browns, Jean fell asleep. The next morning she felt ashamed of herself for refusing to meet the Brown's guest the evening before and so she offered to help in the kitchen. It was a new experience for her and she was very awkward. As she was lifting a kettle of boiling water she tripped and dropped the kettle on Jimmy the twelve year old son of the house. “I’m awfully sorry. Jimmy. Docs it hurt?” anxiously inquired Jean. “Not in the least, it’s really a pleasant sensation to have boiling water poured on you.” replied Jimmy very politely.

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June. 1922 THE TATTLER 27 One afternoon as the two were sitting on a rock near Clear Creek. .lack asked her if she would do something for the people of Winslow, a nearby town. He was helping them get up a benefit concert and although they had several talented people on the program they wished her to play. Several people had heard that she was a fine violinist. “This is a wonderful chance to do something for these western people,” said Jack. Jean promised she would play. Why hadn’t she ever played since she came to Arizona? At last she could in a small measure repay the kindness shown lier. The night of the concert Jean was very nervous. All thoughts of personal glory had left her mind, but she was worried for fear she would not please her men friends. She played as in a dream and scarcely heard the hearty applause, but the look in Jack’s eyes and the words of praise. “It was wonderful, little girl,” which Mr. Brown whispered to her. She had hardly recognized her own tones. On trying to please others she had at last forgotten her own self while playing. There was soul in her music now. She was feeling just a bit lonesome because it was the first time she had ever played in public without her mother or father. Suddenly she heard a beloved voice and looking saw her father standing with outstretched arms. The Browns had telegraphed to him. and unknown to Jean he had heard the concert. She disliked to leave Arizona and promised she would return for visits us often as possible, but at last, she was going home. One year in Arizona had given her the longed for something which the critic had said she lacked. The east and a career as a violinist at last. MAXINE MORGAN, 24. THE ADVENTUROUS “GOB John Bingles. Esq., of Peppersburg, Iowa, had decided to join the navy. He had seen a poster at the post office which said, '‘Uncle Sam wants you.” After a deep deliberation of ten minutes in which he signed the questions pro and con he had decided the sailor’s life was the only one for him. He came from good salt water stock for his grandfather had captained a prairie schooner across the plains in 1849. Therefore he at once set out for the nearest recruiting station and tiled an application. The recruiting officer asked him. “How much does a 16 pound shot weigh?” “I dunno,” replied Johnny. “Well, then, what time does the twelve o’clock train go?” asked the officer. “Oh. twelve pounds,” replied Johnny, a great light dawning upon him. After this Johnny and several other young men with the same desire were shipped Parcel Post to Newport News and there were assigned to the nearest and most modern battleship ever constructed. “The Ford Flash,” guaranteed non-sinknhle if kept water tight. This ship was three hundred feet long with a narrow tapering bow measuring fifty feet across and easily ran at the amazing speed of eight knots per hour. It was armed with four twenty centimeter guns, fore and aft, capable of throwing a sixteen pound shell a distance of twenty-five feet. It was also coated with rubber to the depth of three feet. Its motive power consisted of four Ford engines guaranteed not to