Ensley High School - Jacket Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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THE GLEAM 27 Why the Pilgrims Celebrated Thanksgiving Many years ago a small vessel landed on the shores of a new world. The men had taken great risks in crossing the waters in such a frail boat, but what did risks mean to them, when a new land full of adventure, life and liberty awaited them on this new shore? A land to call their home, a land in which they might praise God in their own way. They knew that even as He had brought them safely to this new land. He would also help them in their new life. So with new hope the first Pilgrims landed on the shores of America. They were prepared for many things, but not for what they found. A coast of rocks and sand, a land of wind and snow. The trees grew tall and strong. Their limbs, which were many and large, were covered in snow. They seemed to be great white beings, ready to bury under their heavy load, any one who dared to disturb the peace of their land. Not a living creature could be seen. Where were the Redmen and animals they had heard people speak of? This scene before them was not the land they had dreamed of. Their first impression was certainly not of success. They had brought only a small supply of food for they had expected to find more in the new land. It was not a surprise, when the next snow fell, to find their supply fast disappearing. Their tools for building were very poor and only rude log huts were built. They did not keep off much of the cold. Many people were dying from cold and hunger. A Pilgrim could not feel safe or happy when looking at their small band of houses covered with snow. There were tracks in the snow where they walked and many had never returned. They could not be happy knowing that in the houses their little band was fast disappearing. What could a new colony do? The Indians were none too friendly with the white men, for they looked on them as intruders in their home land. But when they found the people dying from starvation their hearts seemed to have softened, and they brought their piece pipes, and smoked them with the white men. This brought a welcome friendship between the Indians of America and the new settlers. The Indians taught them how to grow their first corn and pumpkins. They killed game and taught them to prepare it for food. Then one day after a harvest a ship was seen. “More supplies!” was the welcome cry. “Let us give praise!” cried their leaders. A great feast was prepared. The Indians brought game roasted and prepared for the dinner. Great rows of pumpkin pies were cut to serve. All the people joined in the great service of prayer and song of thanks. This day opened a new world for the faithful Pilgrims on new soil. They called it their first Thanksgiving. LMOGENE SPEIGLE, ’26.

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26 THE GLEAM | Literary Articles The group of Thanksgiving themes which introduces our literary section are those that were selected by Miss Luttrell to be given before the monthly meeting of teachers at Phillips High School. Thanksgiving I drift and drift in the deep sea of thought; And I gaze on a world of brown; Leaves that hang trembling at the crisis are caught And brought dancing to the ground. In yonder field brown cornstalks wave, As if beckoning to the sky; And perfect calm over all prevails save Lone, wandering winds that sigh. The sleek, yellow pumpkins from their fat sides peep Toward the tall, stately trees so bare; While the stern, black crow his vigil keeps O’er the ripening grain with care. Apples so red and rich brown nuts, Stored in a corner away, And the flash of the sickle as the grain it cuts Lend brightness to the children gay. Out from the laughter and happiness of all The fatted “turkey” strays, A pathetic note mingled in his call, For ’tis the last of his gobbling days. While o’er my mind all this does run, Its welcomed meaning holds, ’Tis “Thanksgiving” day chucked full of fun And various surprises untold. GRACE WILKEY, ’28.

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28 THE GLEAM Thanksgiving Thanksgiving is nearly on us, The gladdest day of the year, And yet my heart is heavy, And on my cheeks, a tear. This bright blue autumn weather Now holds no charm for me, For I’m at the shrine of the muse, A-pleading on bended knee. Yet despite my suppliant begging The muse turns a very deaf ear, And that’s why I’m mourning Though Thanksgiving is nearly here. WALTER BROWN, Jr., ’27. o Too Much Thanksgiving Dinner The sun was sinking to rest and a fine cold rain was falling fast. Mr. Dratmouth, who had just finished a New England Thanksgiving dinner, led little Dratmouth into the drawing room, selected the largest soft chair, sat down in front of an open fire, and began telling little John about the first. Thanksgiving the Pilgrims had had. Mr. Dratmouth diligently filled his friendly pipe and puffed away with the greatest of pleasure. Suddenly Mr. Dratmouth felt queer, something unusually strange was happening to him. First the stem of his pipe began to stretch until it was almost a foot long, then his suit changed into a Quaker gray, tightly belted with a wide black belt about the waist, his shoes had large silver buckles on them, and the thin gas flames flickering uneasily around the logs in the grate were no more. Glowing, greedy flames were licking the green sap out of a giant oak log newly felled by his own ax. His quietude was rudely interrupted by a savage yell, even louder than little John yells when he is on the warpath. An arrow whizzed by his head and stuck, quivering, into the opposite wall of the room. His wife came running into the room. She too, had gone through this extraordinary change, for the dinner gown, which had been much discussed in the past week, was no longer a dazzling affair, but a long grey dress with a severely white collar. The door burst open and amid the howling winds and hideous cries, a stream of painted savages poured into the room, rushed upon them with raised tomahawks, and one brave child of the forest seized Mr. Dratmouth by the hair and raised his tomahawk--