Eastern High School - Echo Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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H The EASTERN ECI-Iofspw if Aflisfitting Laughter By Dorothy Roycroft, 34 LL is at an end! Life holds nothing for me. I am disillusioned and I can carry on no longer. Farewell, cruel world! I go to the window and look down into the street fifty stories below. I step up on the window sill and then- I think! Ah! say I, this is not the time nor the place. Eight generations of Smiths are behind me and probably eight more are yet unborn. Shall I be the weak link? No, a thousand times no. I shall protest. I shall rise up and cry unto all the world 'Down- ' Oh, hush ! you say, in a disgusted tone. Tell ine, for the sake of these unborn generations, what you are raving about ! I am slightly weakened by this dash of ice water, but I begin to tell you the reason for my newly- begun crusade against misfitting laughter. Have you ever heard the laugh of a dainty, petite girl sound like a fog horn? I-Iave you ever listened to a broad, cherry-looking person cackle like an emaciated hen? Have you ever heard a silly little giggle and turned around to see a tall, slender creature with a Grecian nose? Have you ever heard a graceful, fairy-like girl snort like an angry war horse? Then, my child, if you have not heard these, the Fates have saved you from one of life's bitterest disappointments. But I can- not allow this. I, who have suffered so much, must tell you of the palpitations of the heart upon hearing such misfits. My first experience occurred back in the days when I was a freshman at Eastern. Those were the good old times when we had such things as depressions and crushes. I, along with the other twenty-five hundred girls, had a crush. Her eyes were blue and fringed with black lashes. Her nose was straight and had the barest perceptible tilt. She was tall, slim, and blond, and divinely built. She had a lovely voice. It reminded one of a silvery stream of water slipping gently over a moss-covered rock. You can easily see from this description why she was popular. Scores of girls haunted the places she fre- quented and I, being merely human, followed sheepishly. I strolled one afternoon into Gon- trum's, a nearby confectionery, and there sat my idol. Perhaps I shouldn't say my for she didn't know such a being as I existed, and then, too, about one hundred and fifty others lavished their affections upon her. She was sprawled in a chair, tilted against the wall. You've seen the posture in magazines a hundred times. It resembled closely a leopard cat stretching on the floor of a zoo. In one graceful white hand she held a coca.- colag the other she waved about airily as she poured forth a stream of art in her liquid voice. Around her, an admiring throng of crushes had gathered. I pushed through the mob and found myself finally at her feet. I was just about to try to attract her attention when she laughed. I-Iave you ever been struck between the eyes or in the sensitive spots around the nose? If you have, you can appreciate my sensations when that girl laughed. Shall I call it a laugh? Surely, it was deserving of a more fitting name. It was a cross between Lily Pons, Galli-Curci, and Caruso. It thrilled to high C and fell abruptly to a note so low that no instrument yet invented could reach it. It rose again on a sharp, discordant note, quivered upward for two octaves, fell one, and rose four, only to come crashing down to the original bass. I can't do it justice. No human could. A thing like that you have to hear before you believe it. When that last cord fell, my illu- sions came with it. Illusions are fragile things and mine couldnit stand the shock. It was about equal to a slight ease of blood-poisoning, a touch of chronic appendicitis, and double pneumonia. Well, my dear, that was the beginning. Since, I have had many, many disappointments of this type. I have heard the gentlest of girls snort and creak with laughter. I have seen men and women shake and rock back and forth with a laugh that wouldn't let itself be heard and that put them in absolute misery while it lasted. Once in a while, I hear some pleasant chuckles, but I believe they must have belonged to the generation before mine, for they are very rare. Now, after my tragic experiences, do you Won- der that I am- disgusted? Do you not sympathize with me for the cruel blows life has dealt me? Are you ready to fight in this righteous war against mistitting laughter? I have poured out my soul to you, and I am ready to begin my crusade. Will you be the first of my followers? A Fern By VIRGINIA HALL, '33 Green lace Wowmz. by elfifz hands, .Mounted on fragile stem, And flecked with drops of dew, A fern at dawn! -..gf 12

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ti ffwEfTbeEASTERN Ec1-1o1a+- 11 and now she's got scarlet fever, and she slept with the baby and he's got it, too. And I can't go into the house and the neighbors won't let me in theirs because they say I'd give them the fever, and I haven't any place to go. While the two were sympathizing with Sally, a car came rattling down the road. Here comes Larry at last. He'll help me, rejoiced Sally as she and Susan ran to meet the car. Larry, they cried together. 'Lo, kiddies, said a cheery voice as he brought the car to a stop and opened the door to allow the two to clamber in. VVhat're you up to now P VVhere've you been so long, Larry ? asked Sally. Somethin' dreadful's happened while you were away. I've been in bed the past two weeks, Sally. VVhat's happened that's so dreadful ? just then Gloria reached the car, and the man practically forgot the two little girls as he looked at the older one. You must be Gloria Stephenson, he an- nounced after his admiring scrutiny. Why, yes, I am, laughed Gloria. And, I take it, you're Larry. Right first guess! W'on't you ride to the mills with us? Hop in the back kiddies. On the way down the hill, he was told of the catastrophe that faced the Bells. After inquiring for himself, he went for a doctor and a nurse. Then, after settling everything at the Bell's and the Bromley's, he drove the two children out to Morton's farm and left them. there so that they wouldn't develop the disease, By the time they left, twilight was approaching and, after riding a few miles, they stopped at a roadside inn to eat. Then they danced a bit to the radio in the corner of the dining room. Three hours later as they turned into the Stephenson driveway, Gloria wondered when she had ever enjoyed herself more. For the first time, ber life seemed worth something. The day had been jolly, too, despite the sights she had seen at Shipton Mills. The young man just seemed to make one gay if she wanted to be or not. She had enjoyed her first cheap meal in a roadside inn, and she wouldn't let herself think of the pleasure she had had while dancing. She re- flected upon the scene her family would raise if they heard the car rattle up the driveway, with the daughter of the house sitting high on the hard seat next to Larry. But what would happen when she insisted upon seeing him as she knew she would if he asked to come again? I shall see him no matter what they say, she resolutely deter- mined as the car was brought to a standstill. Then she heard her companion say, Would you care to go back with me tomorrow to see how they're getting along F' 'Td love to, she found herself telling him. What time shall I be ready ?,' Suppose we go in the morning and spend the afternoon at Newland Beach? Does that meet with your approval ? f'Fine. I'll be ready, about-ten ? All right-see you at ten. Goodbye. She stood watching the car rattle back to the road and when she couldn't see anything but the tail-light, she listened to its rattle and imagined the boy riding down the lone, dark hill with the brilliant stars above and the first glimpse of the moon beginning to rise above the willow trees that shaded the road. Then she abruptly turned and strolled toward the house. Have you finally gotten home P asked her father, when she entered the library. Lizzie has been worried to death about her 'dear chi1e.' Where have you been P P Father, have you ever heard of a boy named Laurence Norton, she demanded irrelevantly. 'WVhat do you know of him ? he inquired. I, believe he's a social service worker over at the mills. I should say I have heard of him, exclaimed Mr. Stephenson. His father is our biggest cus- tomer. The Nortons live on Long Island-worth millions. I remember now that Carl did say that his son had come to Kentucky to do social service work. It seems that the boy got some queer notion in his head about not inheriting his father's money unless he had proved himself worthy of having it. He is rapidly making a name for him- self, too. I don't believe you'll find many rich menis sons as fine as he. fC0ntinncd on Page 1041 Winds By Ensna CooK, '34 I love the winds that ripple th-rough my hair Soft, mellow winds, with their nzysterious air.: I love the winds of Illarch--the frolicky kind . you know, That make -it feel like spring-yet end with snow. I lot-'e the winds that bring the mist and rain And slash it up against my window-paneg And then the winds that howl around my door by night, That whisper, moan, or call in tones of might. Yet best of all I love the winds that sing And tell all nature to awake to greet the glorious spring. ...gf 11 ig..- I

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7' rl The EASTERN ECI-IOl5+-M if Follow the Romany Patteran By Jean Dockhorn, '33 Follow the Romany patteran East where the silence brood.: By a purple wave on an opal beach In tlzc hush of the M alrim woods. o SANG Michel's violin. As he reached the end of the gypsies' song, he maneuvered skillfully into a blood stirring dance of his native Hun- gary. The notes rose and fell on the mellow even- ing air and mingled harmoniously with the call of the birds in the trees. From the group of listeners gathered on the wagon steps and around the camp- fire, a figure detatched itself, stood poised for a moment, and then threw itself into the tempo of the music. It whirledg it dipped, it was the wind, and then it was the lightning, again, the moonlight Hitting through the leaves of the trees. Michel's face glowed with happiness as he bent his body to the will of his instrument, his eyes glued with affection upon the gracefully moving figure. VVhen the music ended with a defiant chord, the figure Hung itself to the ground, exhausted. The Bo- hemian faces around the fire expressed great ad- miration, but they were used to this performance, for F edya danced for them every evening. Again Michel drew his bow across the strings, and this time a song of his people vibrated the sounding board, The folk around the fire joined in the song, and soon the little woods on the outskirts of the great Budapest resounded with their gay and care- free voices. Here, as everywhere, the gypsy caravan, al- though an accustomed sight, had attracted a sma'l group of spectators. Among them was an agent sent out by the great theatrical producer, Gold- baum, and ever watchful he was for some new form of diversion for the fickle public. As Feclya finished her dance, he made a note on the back of the inevitable envelope and left the small grove. Skikfk The gypsies were astir early the 11ext morning. There was always much to be done in the way of obtaining food and sometimes long trips had to be made in order to secure this necessity. F edya, too, was awake with the birds as it was her duty to amuse the children and look after them until their morning meal was ready. Gaily she hummed as she went about her tasks, stopping now and then to kiss the black head of one of the babies or to execute a little dance step. And why shouldn't she be happy? Was not this her spring? Wouldn't she choose her mate before they went into winter quarters again? Was there any reason why she shouldn't be happy? Yes, there was, but she did not know it, nor did any of her people as they guided the tall, well dressed man to the wagon of F edya, the dancer. As she bid him usarazanl' or welcome, she wondered what had brought him to her. He spoke then, in a low, well-modulated voice. You dance, Fedya ? Yes, sir, I make an attempt to amuse my people at our fires. You dance very well, Fedya. You have been born with a gift for dancing. Would you like to dance in the great cities before many people? You would receive much money and be able to buy many earrings, bracelets, and red gowns. You would like that ? All the while he was speaking, Fedya's eyes were growing wide with wonder and delight as she saw unfolded before them visions of splendor and wealth. I should like it very much, but would you really want us ? Us, whom do you mean ? Why, Michel, of course. He plays for me to dance. He makes wonderful music on his violin. He makes the wind and the rain, the lightning and the thunder, the birds and the flowers, the sun and the moon. He makes very beautiful music. Yes, yes, I know that, but we have other vio- linists in the city. We do not need him. The city is big and there are many people who would pay much money to see you dance. There would be a great orchestra with many musicians to play for you to dance. You would have lovely costumes, scarlet, green, purple, with much gold jewelry. You would make much money and be able to buy many things for your people. Wouldn't you like that ? Oh, that would be grand! But I should miss my people. You would soon learn to do without them and there are many people in the city. Would you not like to come for a little while ? 13 E..-