East High School - Quill Yearbook (Des Moines, IA)

Page 17 text:

e N 4: Allis F1OIl?ld.' One Pterodactyl An amateur of Boston town, So one who knows has said, Onee sought for fame and some renowng So to the desert sped. A ptei-odaetyl's bones he sought, A worthy prize to draw. He wandered to the deserts hot Of California. Ile bought supplies enough for weeks, And to the burning sand He made his way 'cross mountain peaksg There tents he made to stand. Elusive pterodaetyl's bones! Small traee he found of them. He dug until his labored groans W'ere heard nine miles or ten. One day, at last, he spied a green VVhere, ancient ages past, A pterodaetyl loved to dream, And here to break his fast., Rxeitedly he wandered, soon Some gleaming thing he saw. 4- At last, he cried, by the Great Horn Spoon, It's a pterodaetyl's elaw. A long-neeked pterodaetyl 'tis, He qnoth with bursting pride, A specimen as queer as tbis, VVhy seienee will think I've lied. Also this one is short of wing: It is a wondrous beastg All men will make the welkin rinff When I get home back East. o, I-le saw a place to sit and restg Fate, it did lead hini there, For there he found a huge round nest, Inside, three eggs so rare. So earefully, so carefully, He packed those eggs with awe. Some petrified eggs these must beg The bones must be their pa. Page Thirteen

Page 16 text:

e Collegiate Fords As I was meandering home from school one rather damp afternoon, I felt as if I would rather gaze on at the world than try to keep up with it. One of the most amusing sights I witnessed was a Collegiate Fordf' Due to the rainy weather, its fresh coat of 5 whitewash had almost disappeared, reveal- ing the city directory for young men. I Q-fi was rather thankful to be walking instead 5 i, of getting the 9,999 jolts it advertised, EN me f J, and by all outward appearances, the ad- vermsement gvasda very truthful. onci, H We , Q .- le poor or was very wise in o ow- : ' - -4 ing the president's statement, I do not -i - EI choose to run in 192S g in fact, I do not think it chose to run in 1927. On the hood of the engine the following epitaph was written, Engine room, for employees only, but I'm afraid that it was unsafe for even employees to touch the intricate machinery within. On the door, a sign warned everyone, Pray before you enter. This was quite unnecessary, as anyone who thought anything of his life would do so without being told. A person with little will power would not heed the inscription, Don't push, I think I can make it, but would instinctively give the car a helping hand- It has been quite an easy task to keep u J with the St. Vitus Dance , which has been jumping up the street, but I feel that it would be a much more ditli- cult task to originate the titles which adorned the body of the Ford. Donorxiv VVASIIKOVVSKY, '28- The Golf Gallery Imagine, if you can, five to ten thousand persons pushing, squirming, run- ning, stumbling, all straining their eyes and necks to witness a single human execute a golf shot. Kodaks click here and there, movie cameras buzz, pressman stand with notes in hand, messengers run to and fro, and ushers shout loud commands at the milling crowd. I was in such a crowd to observe the golfing skill of Bobby Jones, but found my attention equally divided between him and the gallery. An elderly man at my right touched my arm. Say, Buddy, has Jones shot yet? He is on the tee now, I answered. Jones is dressed in white knickers with sweater to match. His opponent, 'Chick' E-vans, is dressed entirely in brown. The gallery lines up each side of the fairway, leaving an opening about thirty yards wide for the players to shoot through. The exclamation, Oh I forms on every tongue as Jones places a beautiful drive down the middle of the opening. The crowd moves forward a little, but waits for Evans to shoot, and then rushes madly forward, each on-looker seeking a point of vantage for the next shot. The spectators form in a semi-circle around the two white balls, and after a brief wait the two players appear and play their next shots. Again the gallery surges forward, each one praising the two previous shots. On and on they go, pushing, elbowing, shouting, with no respect for anyone else, such is the Great American Gallery. DoN l ALI.s, '28. Page Twelve L 1

Page 18 text:

2 . 's ' ' TP He packed the bonesg he packed the eggs, And with his mules set out. Then with some speed he stretched his legsg He chose the shortest route. Zoologists, when they had heard His thrilling wild report, lrVere anxious till it was absurd To see results of his sport. He opened the eggsjall heard a peep, And then the welkin rang, For three small ostriches did leapg Each shell cracked with a bang. The bones were seeng the men laughed moreg The sport had gained renown For bones of ostrich were before. A poorer, wiser man's this clown. LIAIROLD KELL0liCi, '28, QZBGSD H ow Times Change The old-fashioned ways of amusement are gradually being replaced by more modern ways. There is at least one thing that we have in common and that is dancing. In olden days, young and old came from miles around to attend a barn dance where the music was usually furnished by a couple of fiddles. Now, we may tune in on the radio and have dancing at home or more likely will drive some place where we do the latest steps to the tune of a jazz orchestra. The young folks of that day spent many evenings engaged in taffy pulls, corn poppings, and husking bees while we spend many evenings at the picture shows and buy our candy at the confectioneries or corner drug stores. Where the young girl formerly sat at home waiting for Prince Charming to iind her, in the meantime mastering the art of housekeeping, the young girl of today very busily goes on about her business, meanwhile keeping a watchful eye for signs of l1im . I wonder how many of us girls would be of any use at a quilting bee. I wager that there are not iive in a hundred who attend East High who would be able to ply a needle skillfully enough to satisfy the girls of that day. The mod- ern miss could more easily take a fewduck feathers, the only remaining features of the Thanksgiving feast, and after dipping them into coloring diluted by the proper amount of water, make a beautiful bouquet which she would jauntily pin upon the shoulder of her dance frock, and trip off. Confronted with the problem of driving a horse hitched to an old-fashioned buggy, our youthful escorts would probably lose some of their dignityg while if called upon to drive a Ford, they would respond at once. As a matter of fact, many of them are experienced in the art of one-hand driving, at a great rate of speed. How times do change in fifty years! V'IOLA SEELEY, '28. Paye Fourteen. n 7 l