Evening High School - Owl Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

Text from Pages 1 - 82 of the 1935 volume:

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LL , -5 no u - 0 09 5 ' Q W1 iw: A l 083.1 wi .f ,R : 44 ,fin 5 se 'QI ni . , Flfvf K 55 , Sf- E f mf U., A 1324? 3 , Z1 We V 4 ., R x ,M Q? .4 A .. ,QQ Www 4' THE OWL BY THE STUDENTS OF EVENING HIGH SCHOOL 1 9 3 5 W M DEDICATION FX -,JN a most sincere and heart- felt manner we respectfully dedicate this yearbook to our Principal and friend. OTTO K. SCI-IMIED Congratulations from the g P r i n c i p a 1 AM extending my cordial felicitations to the graduates of The Evening High School in the 1935 class. I know that many of you have made extreme sacrifices in coming to school for three, four or five years. I trust the acquisition of The Evening High School diploma will be an adequate and complete reward for your years of effort and work. I wish you the best of luck and success in all ycur future activities. Sincerely, OTTO K. SCHMIED Contents DEDIGATION MESSAGES TO SENIORS SENIOR SECTION MAGAZINE SECTION ADVERTISING .1-:E .vs- ,. , . M, K ,,,. M41 1 I fm -meg z,:w1w 4 ,. Kas-V -A X4 2151 , .4 v?' i:mg . THE QWL C11 UI! THE OWL Eleven Faculty GTTO K. SCHMIED, A.B., LL.B. John O. Benson, B. E. ...,. . Elizabeth Bouchet, A. B. ...,. . joseph J. Broening, jr., B.S.. . . . Frances Brown, A.B., M.A.. . . Bessie Brosowankin .,.,...... Margaret Alice Bryan, A.B.. . . john B. Calder, B.S. .,..,..., . Katherine T. Coan, M.E.D. . . . Elizabeth Landon Chinn, B.S.. . . . M. H. Coblentz, A.B. ....... . Irma Cox ................. W. Wesley Dorn, A.B., . . . Charles E. Frank ............ Samuel L. Goldheim, Ph.D. .. ,..... . . . . . A. David Gombrov, A.B., L.I.B. . Esther Gombrov, A.B. .....,.. . Harold Greenwald, B.S. ...... . Richard R. Griffith, B.S .... ,. Buckley Harris, Ch.E. .... . Norris Harris, P.A ..,...... Mrs. Geo. Harrison, A.B.. . . . H. Brck Heller,BB.A ...... Edw. Hodes, B.S ....,.. Anna Hollander ...... Olga Hollander .....,.. E. Duncan Hyde, B.S. .,.. , Vincent januska .....,..... Harry D. Kaufman, LL.B. . . . . Vivian Little, M.A ......., Ethel E. Lovet, B.S. ......... . George W. Lundberg, A.B.. . . . john L. Lutz, A.B. .......... . Philip Margolis, A.B. ..,,..,.. . Richard lviartin, M.A., A.B.. . . . Principal . ....... Algebra, Geometry, Adv. Algebra . . . . Algebra, Geometry . . . . Physics . ...Music I, Il . . . . Machines . . . . . . English I, Algebra I . ..,.. Stenography I, Arithmetic . .... Stenography III, Typing III . . . .English III, IV . . ..Chemistry II . . . . . .Stenography II, III . . . . . . Early European, English, U. S. History . . . .Typing II, Oihce . . ...... Arithmetic . . . .... Spanish I, II . , . .Business Crganization . . . ...English II, Economics . . . . . . Laboratory Assistant . . . .Bookkeeping III, Accounting I . . . .English III, IV . . . .Typing III . . . .French I, II .. . .Typing II . . . .Typing III . . . .Bookkeeping 1 . . . .Art I . . . .Law ....French I, II, III . . . .Typing II, Stenography Il . . ..Bookkeeping I . . . .English Ill . . . . U. S. History . . .... English I General Science, Chemistry I john F. McAndrew, A.B., M.A. ..... .... U . S. History, English History E. R. McCauley .............. Henry Meyer ................ Brindley J. Mills, A.B. ...... . Charles Mindel, A.B., LL.B., . . James Morrison, B.S., M.S.. . . . Mary Morsberger, A.B. ..,. . Julia K. Mankwell, A.B.. . . . E. Palmer ................ Francis N. Pelling, A.B. ..,. . Dorothy Price, Ph.B. ..... . Fred Reinhold ......... Lillian Rice ........... Ivan Rigby ............. Reuben Roseman, Ph.D. .... . Ben. B. Rosenberg, B.S. ....... . . . ...... Stenography III, IV . .... Bookkeeping I ..... .Spanish I, Latin I, II . .. .Office Accounting I . . . . . .Stenography I . . , . .Stenography III, IV . . .. Laboratory Assistant . . . .English I, III . . . .English II, IV . . . .Laboratory Assistant . . . . Art I . . . .Chemistry I, Ill . . , -German I, II, III Leonard H. Rosenberg, M.A. ........ .... T rigonometry Geometry Henry W. Schlag AB.B Fine Arts ...... .... G erman I, II Irene Segall ..............,.., A. Carey Seward A.B. ........ . Eunice Shay ........... ' Paul Shuster P.A.B. .... . Vera Smalley A.B. ...... . John R. Spellissy A.B. ..... . Ellsworth Tydings A.B. .... . Helen A. Wallace B.S., . . . Marjorie Wallace A.B., . . . Allan Waltham ........ W. W. Wood, Jr. A.B.. . .. Beatrice Wittekindt A.B.. . . . Sylvia Shapiro ........... . . ...... Stenography I . . . .English II, III . . ..Art II 'li at if . . . . Biology QMalej M., . . . .English III, IV .. . .Latin I, II, III . . . .English I, Il .. . .English Il, III, IV . . . . Biology CFemalej General Science . . . . Bookkeeping II . . . .U. S. History, Economics, Modern European . . . .Modern Europe, Early Europe, U. S. History . . . .Secretary 7. . v --1 ' C .- Q . N' .1 H so .-tv' 4. H H 1 W e .. - . -V .. I lr .L-ra-Ama. as ll, it-' .,,.--rn Aiihfig .141 THE OWL Message from President of the Senior Class TAKE this last opportunity to extend my thanks and farewell greetings to my fellow seniors and to my school. I was greatly honored at the beginning of this school year by being elected president of the senior class and more greatly honored with the sterling friendships that followed. It is with the deepest reluctance that I part with that which has given me much honor and happiness. I am con' vinced, however, that such a parting is merely physical. Pleasant interludes in life are not easily forgotten. The manner in which my classmates faced adversity and their untiring efforts assure a successful future. There is a true lesson to be leamed from their cheerful cooperation and determined spirit. We take from our future exactly that which we put into the present. Such a formula for living has been inspired by my acquaintance with the finest body of ambitious and intelligent citizens I have ever known. In this, my farewell address, I feel the inadequacy of words to sincerely express my sentiments. During the brief span of a school year something has been given to me that will be cherished forever. Priceless and eternal, the golden friendships and vibrant memories will continue and grow greater through the years. JAMES P. LIGHTNER President, Class of '35 C Twelve THE OWL Thirteen Message from 4' o You, my fellow classmates, farewell is easier said than done. f Reflecting on the many delightful friendships that I have made, I frankly confess that I am sorry that graduation will mean parting with many friends. The Class of '35 has Worked earnestly toward the same goal and by great efforts has achieved it. I sincerely hope that this goal will be a helpful steppingfstone from which we may better Ht ourselves for the work that is before us. We have grasped the splendid opportunity that this school offers and thus increased the value of our future. I am deeply grateful for the honor of being elected VicefPresident and sincerely hope that what little I may have done has been to your advantage. And these my parting words: May success meet you at every turn, Au Revoir. MARroN L. EAST, VicefP'reside'nt. 14 Vice-President of the Senior Class 'L-. -. THE OWL A Farewell Gesture , by Gsonos KoMMALAN, Treasurer of Senior Class f-LAIME MARcHEs oN! After years of perseverance we have gained Q that coveted objective ffff a high school diploma. We are ready to move on. Some will pursue courses of higher learning, others will settle to a particular walk of life. Whatever we do, life should be richer for us. We have acquired a broader vision of this complicated life we live. Next in order, my warmest thanks to you, and especially to those who have assisted me as treasurer of the Senior Class, for coming through with flying colors. The school term is over and now we stand upon the crossroad of life. It is time for parting. Since our first evening of attendance we have waited, sometimes impatiently, for the day of our graduation, and strangely enough we are now reluctant to say goodbye. We grip hands and utter a farewell which almost refuses to be heard. Our friends gather in groups and laughter rings within the corridors but we are sad ffff like a child on a deserted circus lot. We realize that time does not march on. We march on. Time stays. It was here, it is here and it will be here. The cycle is completed and the overture is ended. Forward we go, typical of the bird for which this very publication is named. We are not flyers of the night, mind you, we are wise birds. As we follow our walks in life let us strive always to be a credit to this institution and to live up to the standards for which it stands. And now, since it can no longer be deferred, I offer my sincerest congratulations to you and best wishes for whatever may be your under' taking in the future. Until fate throws us together in years to come f f ' f Good Luck I Fourteen DTIHEEEEQW EE, Senior Class Representatives EDWARD AMMELL WILLIAM BOWERS VIRGINIA COOPER CARL FLEAGLE AMELIA GAITHER SIDNEY GOETZ LILLIAN HANRAIIAN GEORGE KISPERT GEORGE KOMMALAN, CTTCKISILTCT JAMES LICIITNER MARIE MIAULEIK GILBERT MILLER HELEN PUELTZ THOMAS RATIIGEBEIK WILLIABI ROBINSCIN VINTCUN SWAYNE TERESA SLAGLE IIEORIIIT I. WISI' SENIOR DANCE COMMITTEE JAMES LIGHTNER GEORGE KOMMALAN ELEANOR LEIDNER IJONA LD ATWOOD MARION L. EAST, Chairman RING AND PIN COMMITTEE GEORGE DI. KISPERT, Chairman Fifteen TIIONIAS RATIIGEBER sw, 1 I, THE owL Senior Class History ls, our last year at the Evening High School, is rapidly drawing to a close and the climax of graduation is to be reached in a few days. Even though we are about to receive a high school diploma let this not be the peak of our education. Times are rapidly changing, new business methods are being enforced and in order to keep pace with these developments it is necessary to further our education. During the course of the year the following events took place. The nrst general assembly of the Senior Class was held November 22, 1934, Mr. Schmied, our principal, presiding urged the candidates for graduation to secure their credentials from the schools previously attended. At this meeting the following class officers were elected: JAMES P. LIGHTNER. . . .... .... P resident MARION L. EAST ..... .... V icefPresident GEORGE KOMMALAN .... . . .. .Treasurer ELBANOR M. LEIDNER ,,.. .................. S ecretary The Annual Senior Dance was held December 22, 1934, at the Rennert Hotel. Bob Craig and his orchestra furnished the music for the dancers. There was also a floor show of entertaining quality. Mr. Schmied, Principal of Evening High School, attended the affair apparently very well pleased with the revelers. Another meeting of the Senior Class was held january 16, 1935. The Year Book, rings and pins were discussed. Class dues were set at 83.25. On March 1, 1935, the Senior Class held a Card Party at the Virginia Dare Candy Company, 309 N. Howard Street. This event was a great success financially and socially. The Seniors were delighted to have many of the faculty present that evening. Another meeting of the Senior Class was held March 14, 1935, mainly to give the Seniors information regarding graduation. Incidentals such as diplomas and comrnencef ment exercises were discussed. At the Senior Assembly April 10, 1935, the matters of dress and the graduation dance were discussed. A list of students eligible for graduation was read and Mr. Schmied announced the date for commencement exercises. Plans for a Senior Prom are now in progress. A committee has already been appointed and it has been decided that the subscription will be 31.00 per couple. We, of the Senior Class of '35, welcome the Class of '36 and wish you all the happiness and success in your year that we have had in ours. May prosperity be with you. A ELEANOR M. LEIDNBR, Secretary. Sixteen 'QT' THE OWL Ammell, Edward Davis Bass, Blair Blalock, Adelaide Blumenfeld, Henry Wilbur Bellinger, George Clyde Bosk, Joseph Breighner, Francis J. Breighner, Robert J. Brocki, Lillian Theresa Brown, Francis Armour Bussey, Clement J. Clifford, Thomas E. De Large, James Joseph Dishler, Charles E. Dougherty, Joseph J. Dover, Doris E. Duhan, Matilda E. Durrett, William Clyde Ebert, J. William Finnegan, A. Edmund Fischer, A. Gordon Fullem, Woodrow Funk, Paul William Geppi, John Gerlach, Charles A. Goodman, Henry Franklin Gracie, Robert A. Jr. Green, Gilbert Solomon Grove, August S. , Gwynn, J. Frank, Jr. Graduating Class Academic Hanley, Lois Beverly Henson, Henry Leonard Hobbs, Shirley B. Hoffman, R. Eloise Hopkins, J. Edwin Hyman, John S. Jenson, Josephine May Johnson, Anna Marie Juras, Mary Kone, Dean M. Kommalan, George H. A. Kuchick, George P. Lages, Marjorie Virginia Lanowitz, A. Miller Lappin, Teresa Madeliene Leister, E. Morgan Lewandowska, Christine J. Lightner, James P. Lipp, Joseph V. L'Archeveque, Louis C. Marshall, William H. Jr. Mc Afee, Carey McCurdy, Robert V. McElroy, Thomas Milton Mitchell, Clifford H. Murphy, John Murray, Robert O. Muse, A. Bayly Novak, Clara O'Hara, John Joseph O'Mailey, Dorflizabeth Peters, William . Powitz, Helen Cecilia Pueltz, Helen E. Radavsky, Amelia H. Reicher, Sidney S. Robinson, William L. Rund, Clara Rupp, Wilfred Edward Samuels, Robert Schueler, C. Carroll Schweikert, Elizabeth M. Seidman, Milton Silver, Leonard Smith, Leonard Bayard Smith, Sheldon, F. Smith, Wells Anthony Speer, Hilda Spengler, Josephine C. Stafford, Jack Pearce Stein, William J. Jr. Stover, Sarah Miriam Swayne, Vinton R. Jr. Van Court, Edwin W. Walsh, John Hanley Watkins, Regina Marie Weinberg, Felix B. Wheat, Edgar W. Jr. Wicks, Robert J. Williams, Douglas R. Wm, GC0rge Worthmann, Edward Brewer, William Grafton Broderick, Woodrow Camma, Joseph J. Cammarata, Lucille Clyman, Miriam Dorothy Deems, Margaret Zehrfeld Dietz, Philip J. Douglas, Hilda C. Fleagle, Carl Joseph Frost, Frederick A. Gaither, Amelia H. Gebhardt, Lois Elvira Goldstein, William Gordon, Regina Hanrahan, Lillian E. Herschel, Jerome E. Commercial Hooper, Edward Russell Keeney, Kenneth W. D. Kelly, John G. Kelbaugh, Carroll Ellsworth Kispert, George John Kroh, Esther Virginia Larrimore, Lucille S. Leidner, Eleanor M. Link, Elsie Louise Lipsky, Louis Mauler, Marie E. Memmert, Dorothy Magdalene Michel, Elizabeth Miller, John A. Morgereth, Madeline E. Paskuskas, Michael J. Patrick, Adele Sophia Pennington, Evelyn Cathe Rand, Margaret Loretta Reichlyn, Beatrice Rhodes, Dale Hearst Rock, Albert Henry Sherman, Wm. G. Siegel, Eleanor Silverman, Irene Snyder, Louis rine Steedman, Dorothy Charlotte Irma Sweeney, Patrick J. Taragin, William M. Teevan, Mary Martha Thornhill, Catherine C. Wdzieczna, Elizabeth M. Weiss, Mildred Julia Wheat, James D. Adler, Leonard Armstrong, George L. Baker, Thomas Harvey Baier, Charles A. Belz, Joseph Francis Boeckman, Bernard J. Bowers, William F. Burger, John J. Clark, Joseph Cooper, Phoebe Virginia Coughlin, Sarah M. De Legge, Edward A. Desverreaux, J. Norris Dickinson, Frederick, Jr. Dittell, Charles Joseph, Jr. Dornbusch, Matthew J. East, Marion Lester Forsyth, Jack Garelick, Sydney W. General Garrison, William J. A. German, Sheldon L. Glassner, Albert W. Goetz, Sidney Goldscheider, Julius Goldsmith, Virginia King Green, W. Donald Hall, Martin David II Hall, John Carmel Hart, Howard R. Hatton, Charles R. Janney, Nicholas L. Kenney, John J. Kent, Patrick, J. Kessell, Dorothy Koehler, George William Kontner, Frederick Henry Korycki, Vincent J. Lange, Elsa Marie Lefkovitz, Morris May, Marian Edith Miles, William Miller, Gilbert Hill Miller, Henry J. lvliller, Manuel Miller, Paul L. Nake, William Onderdonk, William H. Pohlner, Marian Agnes Provenza, Stephen P. Rathgeber, Thomas Rudman Irving Schochet, Nathan Slagle, Teresa Starkey, Norman S. Stevens, Lillian Freeman Wheeler, William Uhler Wills, A. Leo Yenkinson, Mary Zepp, Millard H. Seventeen J 'Y -.4-fr, fflfltffi . ,pax N, - riff 'gui ' hi A v-1-?- vw THE OWL JAMES P. LIGHTNER President SENIOR MARION L. EAST Vice-President CLASS GEORGE KOMMALAN Treasurer ELEANOR M. LEIDNER Secretary w OFFICERS Eighteen 'Tt S ...rv-v-v 1ll1:f15i THE OWL .Y-,-.. LEONARD ADLER THOMAS H. BAKER JOSEPH FRANCIS BELZ BERNARD J. BOECKMAN Nineteen ED. AMMBLL CHARLES A. BAIER HENRY W. BLUMENEELD GEORGE BOLLINGER THE OWL J. BOSK WILLIAM GRAFTON BREWER WOODROW BRODERICK J. J. BURGER WILLIAM F. BOWERS LILLIAN BROCKI FRANCIS A. BROWN CLEMENT J. BUssEY T -wenry ,i THE OWL JOHN J. CAMMA P. VIRGINIA COOPER JAMES J. DELARGE PHILIP J. DIETZ Twenty-one .4.L..i.. JOSEPH CLARK MARGARET Z. DEEMS J. NORRIS DESVERREAUX CHARLES E. DISHLER THE OWL MATTHEW J. DORNBUSCH HILDA C. DOUGLAS MARION L. EAST A. GORDON FISCHER J. J. DOUGHERTY WILLIAM C. DURRETT J. WILLIAM EBERT CARL J. FLEAGLE Twenly-t-wo THE OWL JACK FORSYTH J. WOODROW F ULLEN WILLIAM J. A. GARRISON JOHN J. GEPPI Twenty-three FRED. A. FROST PAUL W. FUNK LOIS E. GEBHARDT CHARLES A. GERLACH THE GWL SHELDON L. GERMAN VIRGINIA K. GOLDSMITH JULIUS GOLDSCHEIDER REGINA GORDON SIDNEY GOETZ WILLIAM GOLDSTEIN H. F. GORDON' ROBERT A. GRACIE, JR. Twenlyfour THE OWL GILBERT S. GREEN MARTIN D. HALL, II LILLIAN HANRAHAN CHARLES R. HATTON Twenlyjfve AUGUST S. GROVE LO1s BEVERLY HANLEY HOWARD R. HART JEROME E. HERSOHEL far THE OWL R. ELOISE HOFFMAN J. EDWIN HOPKINS JOSEPHINE MAY JENSEN KENNETH WILLIAM D. KEENEY EDWARD R. HOOPER JOHN S. HYMAN MARY JURAS CARROLL E. KELBAUGH Twenty-.fix THE OWL PATRICK J. KENT GEORGE KISPERT D. M. KONE MARJORIE LAGES Twenty-.seven DOROTHY KESSEL GEORGE KOMMALAN GEORGE KUCHICK TERESA M. LAPP114 THE OWL LUCILLE LARRIMORE E. MORGAN LEISTER JAMES P. LIGHTNER JOSEPH V. LIPP ELEANOR M. LEIDNER CHRISTINE LEWANDOWSKA ELSIE LOUISE LINK LOUIS LIPSKY Twengy-eight THE OWL MARIE E. MAULER DORCTHY M. MEMMERT WILLIAM MILES JOHN A. MILLER Twenty-nine MARIAN EDITH MAY ELIZABETH M. MICHEL GILBERT HALL MILLER MANUEL MILLER THE OWL C. H. MITCHELL A. BAYLY MUSE ROBERT V. MCCURDY WILLIAM NAKE L MADELINE E. MORGERETH CAREY MCAFEE THOMAS MCELROY CLARA NOVAK Thirty THE OWL JOHN J. OQHARA ADELE S. PATRICK MARIAN POHLNER STEPHEN P. PROVENZA Thinjy-one Doms ELIZABETH OSMAILEY 1 EVELYN C. PENNINGTON HELEN CECILA POWITZ HELEN E. PUELTZ '. THE OWL AMELIA A. RADAVSKY THOMAS RATHGEBER BEATRICE REICHLYN WILLIAM L. ROBINSON MARGARET LORETTA RAND SYDNEY REICHER DALE H. RHODES IRVING RUDMAN Thirty-Iwo THE OWL CLARA RUND C. CARROLL SCHUELER, JR. WILLIAM G. SHERMAN TERBSA S. SLAGLE Thirty-three WILFRED E. RUPP E. SCHWEIKERT IRENE SILVERMAN SHELDON F. SMITH THE CWL WELLS ANTHONY SMITH HILDA SPEER JACK PEARCE STAFFORD PATRICK J. SWEENEY LOUIS SNYDER JOSEPHINE C. SPENGLER VINTON R. SWAYNE, JR. WILLIAM M. TARAGIN Thirty four THE OWL MARY TEEVAN JOHN HANLEY WALSH ELIZABETH M. WDzIEczNA WILLIAM U. W HEELER Th iriyfve EDWIN VAN COURT REGINA M. WATKINS JAMES F. WHEAT ROBERT L. WICKS THE OWL DOUGLAS R. WILLIAMS GEORGE J. WIST FRANCIS J. BREIGHNER Armstrong, George L. Bass, Blair Blalock, Adelaide Breighner, Robert J. Carnmarata, Lucille Clifford, Thomas E. Clyman, Miriam Dorothy Coughlin, Sarah M. De Legge, Edward A. Dickinson, Frederick jr., Dittell, Charles J. jr. Dover, Doris Eliz. Duhan, Matilda E. Finnegan, A. Edmund Gallagher, Robert Garelick, Sydney W. Gaither, Amelia Hubbard Glassner, Albert Goodman, Henry F. Green, W. Donald Gwynn, J. Frank jr., Hall, john Carmel Hensen, Henry L. jr., Hobbs, Shirley B. janney, Nicholas L. johnson, Anne Marie Kelly, john G. Kenny, john Koehler, George Williams Kontner, Frederick Henry Korycki, Vincent J. Kroh, Esther Virginia Lange, Elsa M. Lanovvitz, Alvin Miller Lefkovitiz, Morris L'Archeveque, Louis C. Marshall, William H. jr., Miller, Henry J. Yenkinson, Mary Murphy, john Onderdonk, W. H. Pasksuskas, Michael Peters, William T. Rock, Albert Henry Samuels, Robert Schecket, Nathan Seidman, Milton Siegel, Eleanor Silver, Leonard Smith, Leonard Bayard Starkey, Norman S. Steedman, Dorothy C. Stein, William J. jr., Stevens, Lillian Freeman Stover, Sarah Miriam Weinberg, Felix B. Weiss, Mildred julia Wheat, Edgar W. jr. A. LEO WILLS EDNA J. WORTHMAN MILLARD H ZEPP MAGAZINE qw V' 45K ,M f if? 4A, , SECTICDN ml-...U num. ,Q -. H N. N.-f vw 4 N .-.-. N-ff fw '- vm few -fy N- . r t- as Q s Q Q52 Q Q a 11' H E M M gt T mgmwsasmssmg gmss gmwmgmwmgtagmgstmmmms Volume XII Number 4 Trusting Unto Death By ROBERT MCLAUGHLIN Dusk was enveloping the park that was serving as the temporary home of Caslin's Circus, billed as the Greatest Show on Earth. A mild breeze, carrying a threat of rain, brought relief from the sweltering heat of the day. Lights were beginning to dissipate the darkness. A steady hum, seeming to gain in volume as more and still more people jostled their way into the grounds, rose on the night air. The strange and diverse sounds of caged animals, the cries of vendors hawking their wares, the smell of food, animals, sawfdust, and earth all combined to form that rancid odor characteristic of circuses. All of these things seemed to blanket the park and, for the time being, made it a world apart. The tent, which served as the dressing room for the Flying Flynns, star performers of the show, was similar in appearance to the other tents in the row-a greyish White streaked with brown, caused by rains and frequent contacts with the ground. But tonight an ominous tense' ness seemed to hover above it. The interior of the tent was lighted by four or five unshaded electric bulbs, casting a glaring white light over its occupants. The Flying Flynns were known as the best of aerial artists. John Flynn and his wife, Florence, were ordinarily a happy con- genial couple. Their hazardous occupation had united them more closely than most married people. His humor and wit, coupled with her charming smile and gracious manners, made them Thirty-nine the most liked couple in the show. But tonight none of these things were evident. john, a tall muscular man, was seated on a trunk in the cenf ter of the tent, a black cloak flung over his shoulders and partly covering his red spangled trunks making a strange contrast with his white, drawn face. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and began to pace back and forth, alternately glancing from his wife, who was surveying her' self in the mirror of a dressing table, to the entrance of the big tent, which was visible through the open flap of their tent. Florence Flynn, a tall attractive woman whose raven black hair, olive complexion, and flashing black eyes proclaimed her foreign nationality, turned and admonished her husband. john, please restrain yourself. You are working yourself into a highly nervous state, and after all, dear, tonight of all nights you should have complete control of your emotions, I know! I know! But I keep seeing you fall-twisting and turning. Lord, if that net hadn't been there! Let's call it off for another week? This is only a minor stop of the company and I'm sure Mr. Caslin would consent. john, you have been saying that for three weeks. My falling this afternoon wasn't your fault. I started my swing too late. Your arm is as good as it ever was. It has been four months since you wrenched it and the doctor claims it has healed nicely. l F? ' J 1 . A flllgfiilfi f.f,-1.57 f .., if J, Mx.: ... - . 'ilaviz THE OWL I suppose you are right, but there IS some' thing missing. I seem to have lost my confif dence. Until today I felt as though everything would turn out all right. In practice our form and timing has been perfect, but the thought of that crowd makes me as nervous as a cat. And remember, tonight we use no net. After all, john, we have done this same act hundreds of times and thought nothing of it. My confidence in you is as unshaken as it ever was. A man's voice interrupted them with, You go on next, Mr. Flynn. liithey walked hand in hand across the space that separated their tent from the big show, the rain that had been threatening all evening started to fall in big drops, bringing with it a cool breeze that fanned John's feverish brow. The ring master in a sonorous voice was describing the feats of the Flying Flynns to tier upon tier of seats filled with humanity, upon whose flushed faces excitement and appref ciation were discernible. a 'LWe now present the Flying Flynns, the greatest aerial artists of the day, who will per' form at the top of this tent without the safef guard afforded by a net. I take pleasure in presenting to you the Flying Flynns, Florence and john ran lightly to the center ring and bowed to the crowd which was giving them a loud ovation. As John surveyed the panorama of faces that circled the tent, a cold sweat broke upon his forehead and his mouth seemed suddenly dry. Florence flashed him a comforting smile as she grasped the rope that was to lift her to the platform at the top of the tent. As she was being slowly pulled to her position, John started to climb the rope ladder that was his means of reaching their platform. They stood side by side on their precarious perch. Florence swung out into space. She flung her body over and over the bar, like the hands of a clock circling its face, until the count reached a hundredg then swung back to her place and bowed to the plaudits of the crowd. The dillicult part of their act was Florence's dive from the extreme top of the tent to where she was caught by John who was swinging by his legs thirty feet below. With a sound of rolling drums, she glanced down at John who took his cue and began swinging to and fro. As the drums beat a faster temp, Florence leaped. Falling, as straight as an arrow shot by a bow, she clutched john's hands, and at that moment a terrific flash of lightning accompanied by a clap of thunder seemed to shake the tent. That jar was enough to break their timing. John felt an excruciating pain burn through his arm, his hold on Florence slipped. He tried to regain it, but it was too late. With a shrill scream she fell, turning over and over like a grotesque bird. Seeing that broken body lying still and crumpled, john allowed himself to slip from the trapeze, into oblivion. Forty W' '0- ,yi 3 . , THE OWL Forly-one GWL ADVISERS IVAN RIGBY ELIZABETH L. CHINN VINCENT JANUSKA LLLLT QW L LLLEMLLLLL M Student Council Officers LOUIS FUN I4 ..,.,.,. ..,..,. P 'resident NORMAN GORSUCII .... , . . .VicefPv'eside11t MARGARET ALLEN ...,.....,..,...... Secretary CLASSROOM DELEGATES AUITA AHEARN CARLOTTA ALDERMAN EDWARD AMMELL EARL S. ARRINKYTON HERBEIIT BORLEIS HAZEL DORSEY CHARLOTTE HALL EDWIN KIRBY GEORGE KGMMALAN ELEANOR M. LEIDNER DOROTHY LOLLMAN JESSE MAZE.IKO C. P. MILES MILLARD ZEPP HAZEL MOORE JOHN MOORE WILLIAM NAKE EDWIN PERKINS HELEN PUELTZ DALE H. RHODES WILLIAM ROBERTS GERTRUDE ROSBNSTEEL ALBERT SCHAPIRO KATHERINE SCHMIDT MARIE TBRJUNG AGNES TRAWINSKA LORETTA ZENTZ F ortyftwo THE OWL Each year THB OWL CLUB has awarded a medal to the student with the highest averages in studies. There is no longer an GWL CLUB in existence and the school itself is not in a position to offer an honor award. To encourage good fellowship and school spirit THE OWL MAGAZINE continues to carry on the gesture originated by Tm: OWL CLUB. The award is of no great financial value but it has made students more diligent than they would have been ordinarily. Trying to capture the prize created a higher standard of scholarship. lt also brought something which cannot be evaluated .... Knowledge. P. J. Swnnmzv, Editor. Fmtyfthvee . 7' . Aal.-..s. .Lulu .. lngngir- .. L,-.him at .BL --s.. .Y M--Am-an ' 4.4 J I if THE OWL . Owl Representatives . WILLIAM AGEE FLORENCE AMERNICK GEORGE ANDERSON BERNARD BERTLINC FRED. BLOCIIE CLEMENT BUSSEY JOE CLAREK WILLIAM CONWAY RITA LE CUYER J. J. DAUGHERTY EDWARD DEWITT WILLIAM C. DURRETT ANN ENGELMAN NORMAN GORSUCII K. L. GUNTRONS ERMA HACKETT HOWARD HART LOIS BEVERLY HANLEY JAMES HAUPT ELLEN HEISS ESTA HELWIKI HELEN HOBES JOHN S. HYMAN JAMES JONES AMELIA KALICENSKA EDWARD KERINS HOWARD KRIES ELSIE LINK C. P. MILES ROBERT MURRAY HELEN PUELTZ FRANCIS PENNINOTON WILLIAM PIERCE G. E. POLKLER RUTH PEEIFER WILLIAM ROBERTS ALBERT ROCK GERTRUDE ROSENSTEEL ELMER SCI-ILILTZ SAM SILVER HAROLD WOOLRIDGE MILLARD ZEPI-I FOTIQY'-JCOMT EZ Y THE OWL OWL STAFF MARGARET TIMMERMAN Associate Editor PATRICK J. SWEENEY ARTHUR CRONHARDT Alumni Editor CHARLES A. GERLACH Staff Assistant MARGARET E. DISHLER Secretary Forty-jvc Edlf0f'1H'Ch1Cf CHARLES R. DUNN JOSEPH J. BARNETT Circulation Manager Business Manager CALVIN BOUGHMAN Art Editor JOHN G. KISPERT Staff Assistant THE OWL In Appreciation ,V HE OWL extends its sincere thanks for the kind and willing service it has been given by its faculty advisers. Without their generous help 'tTHE 0WLql could not have hooted through this trying season of many diiliculties and unfurled its banners over a twelfth year of service. And so, thank you, Miss Coan, Miss Chinn, Mr. Januska, Mr. Rigby, and Mr. Harris, for your splendid cooperation. THE OWLN is also very grateful to the Dance Committee for the fine assistance it offered to make the Owl Hop a great success. Messrs. Zepp, Michetti, Funk and Dunn we needed your services, you gave them cheerfully, We were glad to have them-Many Thanks! Casualty A winding trench A blinding glare! A darkened sky A vvhizzing shell! Two walls of earth Sound gas'alarm! While bullets fly Ring out a knell! And a thought of home and you. And farewell to home and you! A firefstep bed A stab of pain! A starfshell bright A gasp for air! Great cannons roar One smile that's light And flash their light As you are fair! Then a thought of home and you. And my home is gone !-and you! A homing heart A life that's small A humble death Not mourned at all Save by those at home-and you! Written in Sector 304 Auocourt, France Sept. 17, 1918 ALFRED Aucusrus KIRK Fortyfsix THE OWL Fortyfseven City College How beautiful she stands upon the hill! Against the sky, so tall, so proud, so still, A castle scene of old, In mute farewell her silence speaks to me And bids me keep alive her memory As distant days unfold. In falling autumn dusk I saw her shade, Those lurking shadows, they will never fade Before my dreaming mindg I saw her eyes through darkest wintry nights, How like her wisdom gleamed those many lights That beckoned all to find! I saw the storms in fury 'round her beat, And snows lay lovely patterns at her feet In humble servitudeg I marveled as I viewed the setting sun Enhance her beams with splendor it had spun From springtime gratitude. I saw the stones of gray that form her walls, I joined the band of knights who roam her halls, I answered every bell, And nowlmy shield is bright, her voice is still, I leave my castle there upon the hill And wave a fond farewell. -M. R. TIMMERMAN The City's Lullaby The sudden screeching of tightened brakes, The endless rambling of rolling wheels, The tireless pattering of running feet Of children-games they play with squealsg The rattling bounce of trolley cars, The clanks of much unheeded bells, The murmuring buzz of friendly news, Its echoed hum each voice retellsg The thunderous approach of a mumbling train, The hissing strength of its laboring steam, The soothing tales of distant chimes, The swelling bars of a baby's scream- All sounds that kindly prick my ear, As gathering cheerful unity, They tangle all their notes, and leap Upon a chord of harmony To lull my drowsy mind to sleep. -M. R. TIMMERMAN 15. THE OWL Senior Class Officers on Parade JAMES LIGHTNER. The graduating class was wise in selecting the competent Mr. Lightner for its President. He has taken keen interest in his job and has worked with untiring efforts in assisting the seniors to reach their goal without too much worry and difficulty. Mr. Lightner believes in keeping busy. Besides coming to night school for five years to pursue a course of Social Science, he works during the day for the Gas Company and on his offfnights assumes the position of a dutiful husband. Before coming to night school he completed work for a B.C.S. Degree at the Y.M.C.A. After leaving school this year, his next ambition is to work for a C.P.A. Degree. It is another ambition of his to some day travel to California to visit his wife's relatives. Happy Landings! MARION EAST. Mr. East, who also has been coming to City Night School for five successful years in order to follow the General Commercial Course, is wellfliked and appref ciated by his student companions. His assistance as VicefPresident in making this year's graduation a successful one, was a great asset to the struggling senior class. Like all other ambitious people, he is not content with merely attending school by night and doctoring fountain pens by day, but studies astronomy as a hobby and plays the violin as a pastime. Besides this, he is married, and, well, you ought to know what that means. GEORGE HENRY A. KOMMALAN. This young man is the one who has done much to spread a cheerful spirit among the graduates. They enjoyed having him as their Treasurer as much as he enjoyed being it. He considered it a lot of work, a lot of worry, but also a lot of fun. Mr. Kommalan is being graduated with an Academic diploma, having pursued the LatinfMathematic Course. Although he has only been coming to night school for two years, he has found that to be time enough to learn that it demanded many sacrifices. Previously, he completed a year at the Y.M.C.A. Business College. Subsequently, he hopes to attend the University of Baltimore to learn the twists and turns of a counselor at law. More sacrifices! Mr. Kommalan likes detective stories and talks about them, and he is blessed with a crop of golden hair and a fine baritone voice which he uses to sing in the choir of Grace and St. Peter's Church. He used to sing with a dance band and has been in a radio contest. When he travels, his motto is See America First. After that comes England-his kingdom and his weakness. He leaves us with his jovial outlook: I like the world in general and hope the world likes me. ELEANOR M. LEIDNER. The senior class is fortunate in having Miss Leidner as its Secretary. She not only has taken a very great interest in the position and labored zealously at the many tasks assigned her, but has created a pleasant atmosphere among the students. Her congenial nature has added many new friends to the great number of them she has made in the six years in which she has been coming to City College to secureaCommercial diploma. Before that time she spent two years at Eastern High School. Next year she does not intend to sever her connection with City, but hopes to return to study bookkeepf ing and Spanish-and probably to make more new friends: Miss Leidner works in the Personnel Department at Hecht Brothers during the day. Her special hobby is dramatics, which she has been studying at the Y.W.C.A. for two years. During that time she has taken part in several onefact plays. May her future success greet us with bright lights! Another hobby of Miss Leidner's is dancing. Her travels up to this time have been confined to Virginia and New York, but she is now making plans to journey to Bard Avon How we envy her! Forty eight THE OWL The monthly luncheon at the New Howard Hotel March 13, 1935 READING Ctocicwisiz Coursinnj: Dot Walling Myrtle Richards B Robinson Alvin Doddson Margaret Warfield Henry Clay Edwin Brown Grace Burgess john Hornick Rose Ellen Hagan john McCormick Dolly Dunham Charlie Harrison Loretta Schlingman Bunny Hare Alma fStarj Costen Anita Yocum Dot Baker READING COLYNTER'CLOCKWISE QINSIDED: Harry Westerman Earl Arington Catherine Ruth Margaret Schultz Frank Fistek Mary Dressel Forty nine Mary Healy Dorothy Peterson Hap Cronhardt Mabel Timherman L'Betty Longest Charlie Dorn CA'Schlingy D Betty Lampe Margaret Lee Smith Louise Schlee Sarah Alice Boyle Pierce Ereck Katherine Sykes Margie Preisinger Cbiggles No IQ Edna Shorko fGiggles No aj Sophia Scheer Margaret Waitkus Catherine Fries john Mitchell Valzlad Milasek Bill Bremer A Remarkable Student THE OWL One of the most interesting characters now attending night school is Mr. Alfred A. Kirk. There are many of us who still aspire to the musical achievements which he already possesses. However, perhaps, unlike Mr. Kirk, we did not start soon enough. At the age of eight years he began to study music seriously in Pennsylvania, where he received all of his elementary education. Later he came to Baltimore and continued his progress in music at the Peabody Institute and there received two scholarships- one in piano and one in composition. He has also studied voice, violin and baritone horn and plays the pipe organ at the Reform Church which he attends. Since the age of twelve years he has been giving lessons in voice, violin and composition. He now teaches in Hamilton where he lives in a five-room bungalow containing two studios. Mr. Kirk's chief interest is in concert piano work. Many of us will recall the fine exhibition of his skill at the last Assemble here in the Auditorium. A lover of music, he naturally is fond of Operas and considers Carmen his favorite Grand Opera and The Tales of Hoffman his favorite Comic one. He admires the American composer, MacDowell, and the French composer, Debussy, Strange to say, one of his greatest ambitions is to play the piano for one full hour without a single mistake. Even artists have their difficulties. Music does not comprise all of Mr. Kirk's abilities. About the age of ten, he began writing poetry. Several of his poems have been published in THB OWL. The majority of his later poems relate to the War, in which he served in the 313th Infantry. He now belongs to the Fifth Regiment. Mr. Kirk has chosen for a hobby the collection of furniture and art objects, including grand pianos, me' lodeons, violins, etc. As a pastime he has produced a fair amount of work in water colors and oils. Mr. Kirk was born at Mechanic's Valley, Marylandg spent most of his life in Pennsylvania, has traveled to France and Italy, and if he ever travels again, he expects to return to France. The fine culture of the French people greatly appeals to him. This is his fifth year at City College, where he is working for an Academic diploma. He hopes to graduate next year. A seemingly queer remark he made was that he has given up trying to speak the Ba1timorean Language. He claims it is very much different from the English he has learned. Of course, Mr. Kirk likes to read, and he especially enjoys plays and books of travel. Rudyard Kipling holds the place as his favorite author. As he parts from City for the summer, he is looking forward to spending many delightful hours swimming and canoeing. Like most of the rest of us, he likes to come to night school, but just now has a touch of Spring Fever and is glad the end of May is near at hand. The Ship of Learning Oh, there are so many ships sailing along the sea of learn' ing at our Evening High School and so many, many mid- shipmen, members on board, anxiously awaiting their arrival at the port of success, there to receive their com- mission after completing their cruise in Academic, Com' mercial or General waters. Our ship, though its crew be modern, is very old, dating away back to ioo B.C. Three nights of every week the captain and his crew board this boat and spend 45 most pleasant minutes reading, and discussing Caesar's own writings in Latin and translating them into English. Some' times we meet with a squall and then, at other times, we run straight into a high sea storm, but with the worthy personage of Prof. Mills as our captain and a crew of about zo, fthe majority of which can take or at least try not to fear the storm and the others, well-they just hide themq selves below deck until the storm is overj, we intend to conquer all of these storms and steer safely into our port by the end of our term as midshipmen should on the good ship Latin II. True, when we first boarded this ship way back in September we wondered just how our captain would be in the discharge of his duties-whether he would steer us safely or whether we would lose time finding our way back from the wrong course, whether it would be a pleasant trip or not-oh! so many whethers came but they have disappeared almost like magic entirely from our view. So far it has been a most pleasant voyage and I am sure it shall continue so. And so to our Captain Found loyal and true The Latin II Midshipmen Take their hats off to you. Your hours spent with us During your reign this year Have not been wasted Have no fear. Come on, class, one and all and continue your cruise with your able captain this year. And here may I breathe a fond hope that we who intend to return for Cicero and Virgil may be privileged to have him for our captain for those two years. A Latin Il Cruiser. Fifty THE OWL Of An Indifference By N. PARR KING Pete Brown's third hand roadster of four wheezing cylinders and two flapping mudguards crawled rebelliously along a strip of moon drenched concrete. Pete, himself, hunched over the steering wheel and drove with all the grim' ness and determination his eighteen year old nature could arouse. Beside him sat an equally determined but pouting girl. She strove vigor' ously for dignity, her firm chin high in the air and eyes staring straight into space with such severeness that they scarcely seemed to blink. For some time they rode in utter silence delibf erately ignoring each other. Presently the boy screwed up his face until it resembled fallen bakers dough. So it's final, he bellowed above the noise of the groaning car. You're not going to marry me, eh? The girl wagged a small curly head and turned her palms upward in despair. I told you I couldn't marry you just now. Why? the boy demanded, his voice heavy and curt. Because l Because? What kind of an excuse is that? I don't know, just because, the girl replied slightly indifferent. Pete studied her for a moment. You don't care enough that's it. You're totally indifferent as to what we do and I think it's mean of you. It's not that, Pete, it's just that we're so young and haven't seen life yet. I think we should go around and experience things before settling down. ' Suddenly the car went no further. It pranced backwards and forwards like a bucking horse. Pete drew the emergency break and the machine settled quietly. He turned toward her. L'Look here, Nancy Hayden, we've been going around together for ages. Either we get mar' ried or we don't get married. We'1l settle it here and now, once and for all. He brought down his fist as though striking a table top. Nancy remained pensively silent. Well, barked the boy, irritation carving deeper lines in his face. You stop shouting at me, Pete Brown, Nancy fired back suddenly. Who's going to stop my shouting? he roared savagely quite close to her sweet oval face. If you don't like it go on and get out! He flung open the door. Guess you think I want to sit by like a white rabbit until you find some Park Avenue boy or be satisfied to marry you F iftyfone when you get ready. Bah, what a cad l With the suddenness of a spring released, she was kneeling on the seat clutching his throat with one hand and bringing the palm of her other against his beardless cheek. Her eyes flashed like blue steel in the sunlight. You take that back, Pete, or I'll dig the eyes right from your head. It was nothing for him to overpower her. In a second he had her wiggling and helpless. You get out of here, he snarled between tightly closed teeth, throwing her hands from him as though they were contaminated. Nancy's expression deepened. You'll be sorry for this, she said slowly as though in warning. Someday we'll meet again and I'll hurt you so that you'll not be able to stand it. She slid out of the car and stood aside waiting for him to drive off. He stared coldly at her, his eyes almost hidden beneath the drawn brows. It's typical of you, he said, his lips drawn so tightly that they were mere vivid white lines. It's just like you to want to crush people to the last bit. He set the car in motion. If we ever meet again rest assured thatl will be on my guard. With this he released the brakes of the car and rattled around the slow curve. For some time he motored along trying to think sensibly but his brain refused to function, he was conscious of a strange emptiness within his heart. Suddenly he sat rigidly straight. He turned the car around abruptly and with all possible speed started back to where he left Nancy. His eyes scoured the wayside peering intently at the approach 'of each figure. None of them, however, was Nancy's. Hopefully he cruised an even distance in either direction from where she had been standing when he left her but after a weary search returned home. Two days later Pete drove into a junk yard and after a few minutes bargaining walked out with a hundred dollars in his pocket. He purchased an eighty dollar motion picture camera, paying twenty dollars down and promising to dissolve the balance in monthly payments. More money was spent for Elms and for clothing. Packing is newly acquired assets in an old valise, which had long lost its color from wear, he left the vicinity without a word to anyone. It was his intention to seek a place on a passenger liner but he had to be satisfied with the next best thing. One hot misty evening he was on the deck of a tramp steamer when the boat slipped THE OWL from the harbor toward the open sea bound for South America. Pete leaned against the rail idly puffing a crumpled and bent cigarette. His eyes gazed upon the red glow of the city lights against the northern sky. Under that same sky was a girl, and it bothered him because he did not know whether he was making the right move. He tried to make himself believe that he was doing the correct thing but his heart rebelled- -how it rebelled against the action! He landed in Rio de Janeiro missing all the excitement and enchantment. The city held no fascination for him and he gave vent to his feel' ings of wanderlust. He roamed through the Amazon Valley and into the far fetched corners of the continent. His restlessness drove him on to the Dark Continent and it was on his twenf tieth birthday that he landed in Cairo. He lingered on the fringe of the Sahara and served three months in a Morocco jail for not revealing the identity of a man who killed an Arabian. Asia was his next place of adventure. He smug' gled himself into the sacred Lima Monastery high upon the Tibet Plateau. Suddenly, while living as a priest in the cloister walls a desire to see Nancy gripped him. It burned with white heat in his brain. He wanted Nancy ..... indeed, he wanted her badly! With the sud' denness with which he had embarked upon his wanderings so did he start homeward. It was September, four months later, when he again encountered Nancy. From his 'post behind a sock and tie counter in Carswell's he viewed people with unseeing eyes. For the moment he was absorbed in thought. His eyes fell upon a girl standing a little from his booth and then passed on. Absently he began straightening his stock when again his eyes rested momentarily, upon the girl. He continued with his task when suddenly he flashed her a startled look as though abruptly waking from a dream. He peered at her intently, surprise sweeping over him and his mouth hanging open. Waving customers aside he approached somewhat hesitantly. If you're the person I think you are, will you wait a moment, please? HI think I'm the person and I'l1 wait, replied the girl, smiling slowly, bringing white teeth into play. He gasped a little, tugging at the lobe of his left ear, and returned to his customers. As quickly as possible he disposed of them, and between quick glances he devoured as much of her loveliness as each darting glance would per' mit. Her beauty was of the more subtle and lasting quality. Sparkling eyes of blue conf trasted with a complexion of pearly pinkness. He returned to her. Is it-is it-why it is Nancy Hayden! he exclaimed having a great difficulty with his voice. Pete Brown, of all people! For a few moments they looked at each other unmindful of the vacant pause. But then .... even the casual observer could see that some' thing tender lingered in the eyes of each. He observed her with abashed admiration while a slow flush crept upon the girl and her eyes glowed. I don't know how long you'd been standing there. Something clicked and there you were. Even then I wasn't sure. I was sort of afraid . . . . . funny isn't it? I was afraid too, she murmured. They studied each other for a silent second. The instant of time reflected a summer night of long ago in the eyes of each. Something about being on one's guard? he questioned. The girl nodded, regarding him with dark, serious eyes. I've come a long way to see you, don't let's spoil it by talking about what we did to each other years ago. Couldn't we call a truce for a little while? She extended her hand smiling and he was about to take it when a customer intervened and demanded attention. Let's go to lunch, he said quickly. Oh, I'd love it. When? I'll stop in to see you and then we can arrange it. A light went out of his eyes. i'Oh well .... that's all right I guess. His voice was flat with disappointment. Bye, she said turning and walking towards the stair. His eyes followed her all the way. He continued to watch even when she descended. First her slim ankles vanished, then shapely limbs and hips, her graceful back and shoulders disapf peared and before her good round head dropped below the floor horizon she turned and gave him a quick pleasant nod. It shocked him. It made him alive. It was like new life being charged into a weary restless body. Each morning he Went to work hoping that this would be the day she might come in. Often he looked around trying to see if she might be coming. Now and then his breath caught in expectancy, only to expell slowly in disappointment. Twenty days of such restlessness and disturbance marched by slowly and then hope ebbed away like a receding tide. No longer did he entertain any thought of her return, just when he settled down, she returned sweeping him completely off his feet. He saw her advancing and the world seemed to tilt, everything went into nothingness except the two tones of blue which composed her sim' ple frock. At close range, healthy eyes as well as a lovely mouth wore a happy demure smile. He became aware of the transparency of her QContinued on page 705 F iftyftwo THE OWL Old Man By ROBERT J. HANSBN The party solons worked the old man for a good thing-good for a muchfneeded gift to the party warfchest, year in and year outg good for having his farm at their disposal for oyster roasts, crab feasts and bull roasts. There they herded the faithful to hear their mouthpieces fall lungs and tonguel save the county for you, dear peepulf' from the thieves, squanderers of the public money, and political deadbeats. Their deepest and only regret was that they themselves could not feed at the public trough. The old man fell an easy victim to the cajoling of the political spellbinders. It was food and drink, wife and child to him. It had always been that and bid fair to always be. The old man was in no way a politician. He was a dirt farmer in the truest sense of the word. He loved every speck of dirt on his farm, every twig in the woodland adjacent to the fields, and every drop of water in the old mill stream. He had been born on this old farm in the backwoods, his bare feet had left their imprints in the wake of the steelfsheathed plow, his arms had brought the ax down in mighty swings to fell the giants of the woodland, and in the evenings he had rested his weary bones by the old mill race. His father had been a ripfsnorter in local backwood politics. Here the folks took their politics seriously, often not knowing or caring who was in the White House as long as Uncle Jed was perpetuated in his job in the county Court House. His father had been the boss, undoubtedly because he was the roughest ustumpfjumpern in that neck of the woods. As if that were not enough, he was gifted with a pair of leather lungs that put the hogfcaller to shame and ran a close second to the husband callers. He was rude, but he was honest and held steadfast to the ideal that a public office was a public trust. He was typical and about the last of his noble breed that has been ostraf cized by today's sophisticated political practices. What! No law degree? My, my, and you intend to do what you promised in your camf paign pledges? You would never, never do! You have no tact, you cannot speak for hours and not say anything or juggle figures to balance the budget, thereby fixing a pleasing tax rate although there is a matter of a notfsofpleasing box car number deficit. No, today he would never have been boss or even a ward heeler. He couldn't have missed being a iirstfclass Communist. The boy had fallen heir to all the work on F iftyftlzvee the farm from his early youth, but in no way did he show promise to fall heir to the position of his father in political circles. He could not live up to his father's name, nor could he sucf cessfully live it down, as names have a way of sticking when they can be worked to the tune of the merry jingle of coin into the party war' chest. So he had become a hangfover in political circles and was generally known as the Old Man. He had never gotten anything out of politics and, strange to say, he did not appear anxious to do so. Politics were his meager source of selffimportance. He delighted in these young bucks coming to seek the old mans' advice, never noticing that the boys always had empty pockets rather than craniums. How he revelled in having his picture-taken at some political rally-appear in the papers. Sure! That's him. You could almost recognize him if it weren't for that pole. He never seemed to mind it, though. He was present at all the roasts, feasts and beerfests, to eat and drink his fill and gladfhand the ladies. Then, one day, like a bolt of lightning out of a clear sky, the party solons made the happy choice of selecting the old man as candidate for the leading county public office. It was the party's call that was not to be denied. So the old man rose to the occasion to do battle and unwittingly save the hides of those who coveted the position with its influence and opportunities for graft, but not at the price of the verbal bar' rage impending. It had so happened that the Women's Auxiliary and a couple of Housewives' Leagues were out to scalp the incumbent. Every stoppedfup drain, every rut in the road, every vacant lot that was an eyefsore, was marked up against the poor man. Then for the coming election, a little lady came forth to run for the office. A little gives lie to her true proportions. She was a size that was a warning against any asperations by a mere man. She had been the leader of the grand assault on the poor incumbent whose only fault was that he kept a dignified silence, being unable to get a word in edgewise. No amount of persuasion could move him to seek refelectionffor he had had occasion to feel the sting of a woman's tongue. Undoubtedly, the little lady was earnest and sincere in her aspiration for the public oflice to render a public service-a motive not akin to most males. How anxious she was to brow- beat and give a verbal dressing down tothe is .. ss r THE OWL politiciansl And now entered in the field against her was a meek, mild, pleasant, likable dirt farm' er. She was furious. She construed it as a political conspiracy to bring her into ridicule. Was she chagrined? STO dip into the vernacular, for the staid English cannot describe it, she went haywire and nuts Up and down the county she unleashed a stinging campaign of ridicule and personal abase against the old man. Her campaign and hollerings easily put the antifsalooners, the klufkluxfklan, the holy rollers, and dry bishops to shame. How she ridiculed his dress-of either looking like a farm hand or then again of dressing up like a squire. Once, when he had in his unspectacular but thoroughly businessflike campaign remarked that if elected he would plow right in and do the best he could, she seized upon this utterance with a vengeance. Yes, he would plow, all right, with the politicians behind the plow holding the reins, while he would be out in front depriving a pair of mules out of a jobwa fitting substitute. Near the very end of the campaign, the little lady thought of a wonderful idea. What an ideal She would engage him in a public debate in the town hall. Up to now the old man had not taken her scathing criticism and ridicule seriously. He had just considered the source and let it go at that. But this invitation to meet on the same platform with her was too much. He was loath to accept it. He knew how she would attempt, and how near she could come, to giving the truth to her criticisms and ridiculing, personal remarks. He wasn't much to look at, he admitted to himself. Abraham Lincoln had said the same about himself. The old man took heart and his mind turned to thoughts gleaned from Carl Sandburg's intimate and masterful biography of Abraham Lincoln: The Prairie Years. Those long, lean, bare years given in the making of a man and fitting him for the great destiny that was to be his. The old man thought and pondered about the simplicity, modesty, humility, and the unswervf ing courage and dauntlessness of Lincoln. A smile came to light the old man's face as he thought of Lincoln's ready wit. The night for the public appearance of the candidates in the town hall arrived. Such a crowd had never before assembled. From the speaker's platform up to the topmost tiers of the gallery was a seething sea of people. How pleased was the fair one with her idea! This crowd and its attendant publicity represented the balance of power in the election. Everyf body was there but the old man. Still, that did not deter the little lady from starting the meeting, as that was just what she had expected, so she said. He was afraid, actually afraid to take or to defend a stand. Cn and on she continued to deride, ridicule, and criticize him. The crowd sickened of it. They were disapf pointed. They had not thought the old man would quit, although, apparently, public opinion and the election were against him. There is both a power and a magic in public opinion. Then at that moment when doubts ran high, the old man did make his entrance upon the scene. He captured the scene. He became the center and attraction of all eyes. For a split second, like just before lightning bolts out to strike tall pines set against a stormy sky, there was a silence-but only for a second. Then, a thunderous gale of hearty, infectious laughter, and howls of surprise and joy swept down from the topmost galleries, over the audience, up to the speaker's platform Cto which the old man was approachingb, and over to be lost on the echo. Could one believe his own eyes? There was the old man dressed in a worn pair of blue overalls and a Prince Albert coat, topping it off with a broadfrimmed straw hat blocked after the fashion of a high hat, and lo and behold! he was leading a team of mules. He tied the mules to the platform and slowly, deliberately, and seem' ingly unmindful of the uproar, took his place on the speaker's platform. He stood there with the waves of popular acclaim beating upon his head and shoulders, and he liked it. Anybody would have loved it. It was a thunderous ovation, tendered not to a foolish old man, but rather to a man who had not quit, a man who had dared to give the little lady all she asked for-and more. I left my plow out at the door, he began, only to be cut off by the deafening howls of laughter. Much as Lincoln had done on the political stump, the old man effected an apologizf ing pose and stated facts that Lincoln had given utterance to. Am I afraid of the little lady? Yes, in a way, for a woman is the only thing I am afraid of that I know can't hurt me. To hold a right opinion in all things, he continued, at all times leads to bewildermentf' He had sounded the keynote of indictment of the little lady. Vain as the search for a man who should be neither a living man or a dead one, should be the search for any real truth in her wholesale denouncement of me, he said. He wove argument upon argument, gesturing slowly with large, loosefjointed hands, and ended with the words that Lincoln, the youth of twentyfthree, had used to finish his first cam' paign for public office. If the good people in their wisdom shall see fit to keep me in the back' ground and out of this public office, I have been too familiar with disappointments to be very much chagrinedf' Q F i ftyffowr THE OWL A thousand steam whistles and sirens full blast might have mingled in the scene unnoticed following the old man s speech. Hats and papers and everything movable went hurtling through the air. Chairs came crashing down from the gallery upon the diehard adherents of the little lady. That poor soul, need it be said, fainted, suffered a nervous breakdown, and in the future confined her efforts to more ladyflike activf ities, having fully but sorrowfully learned that uwhgit kills the skunk is the publicity it gives itsel The Man Who Saw By CHARLES A. FECHER George Dawson pushed aside the tall, gaunt bush that stood directly in his path and stag' gered out into the little clearing. For a moment he stood in the center of it, clutching his hair with trembling fingers that would no longer obey his will. Sweat streamed down his face. Alter' nately, he went hot and cold. Always he could see before him gleaming faintly in the darkness, the dead, bloodfcovered face of Randolph Canning. There was no moon and only a few faint stars shone in the heavens. His eyes, accusf tomed now to the darkness, could make out the figures of the gigantic, denuded trees all about him. To his excited and fearfstricken imaginaf tion, their branches seemed incredibly long fingers, all pointed accusingly at him. He made his way to a stump at one end of the clearing and sat down. Burying his face in his hands, he gave vent to a low groan. There was no remorse in that groan, no contritiong only abject fear that already the forces of justice were reaching out after him. Sitting there, a prey to all conflicting emotions, he mentally reviewed the crowded events of the day. He had been seated at his desk in the Second National Bank hard at work that mornf ing when Randolph Canning, millionaire railroad man, had come in to see Ralston, head of the institution. Because his desk was close to Ralston's oflice and because the latter, with his customary carelessness, had left the door slightly ajar, he had heard every word the pair had spoken. And as he listened, the evil idea that was responsible for his present predicament was slow' ly formed in his mind. It seemed that the big railroad purchase he had been hearing so much about was to be completed in a few days. Can' ning's company, the C. J. E-? W., was to take over the assets and liabilities of the K. Es? M., and the former firm had agreed to pay a truly stupendous amount for goodwill. The final transaction was to take place at Canning's palaf tial country mansion on the following night, and Fiftygfivc he had come to draw the last payment of seventy' five thousand dollars now to have in readiness. Ralston had protested. Seventyffive thousf and dollars left unguarded in a private house for even one night. Ridiculous! Unheard of! But Canning had laughed at him, saying that he would be a good burglar indeed who could get into his house. And the result was that Can' ning left the bank a few minutes later carrying a small, black leather bag in which were seventy' live thousand dollars in crisp new bank notes. Dawson had followed him with his eyes as he left, a maelstrom seething in the innermost ref cesses of his mind. Seventyffive thousand dolf lars! He kept repeating it to himself, dwelling on it. He reviewed his own life, a life of poverf ty and subjection, of dull and hateful monotony here in the oflice. Always he had regarded those above him with resentment, hate. And now, here was his chance! Seventyffive thou' sand dollars! He knew the location of Canning's country estate. Nearly everyone in the community knew it. And he was fairly familiar with its interior. A few years back when the building of it was going on, its princely luxury had at' tracted a great deal of attention and an article about it had appeared in the Sunday paper together with a diagram of the first floor. For some reason he remembered it perfectly and he was convinced that getting in would be an easy job. And it was. Even now he had to marvel at the ease with which he had accomplished his entrance. But the events that followed! He shut his eyes and once again emitted a tortured groan. Armed only with an old revolver, he had made his way to the library, entered it with ease, and started to work on the safe when Ran- dolph Canning had surprised him. Scarcely realizing what he was doing, he had raised his revolver, leveled it, pulled the trigger and the body of Canning fell dead at his feet. For a moment he had stood there, scarcely able to move. And then there were footsteps THE OWL in the hall, followed by the sound of someone fumbling at the doorknob. He had turned as the door opened and there, framed in the doorf Way, he saw the Hgure of a grayfhaired old man. For a split second the eyes of the latter rested right on Dawson's face. For a moment they both stood there thus and then Dawson with an animal snarl of rage once again lifted the revolver and tightened his grip on the trigger. But to his horror, the hammer fell on an empty cartridge. He saw the old man suddenly open his mouth and then, over' come by terror, he fled. But even as he sat here now, with tortured spirit, he knew that he had escaped too late. The eyes of that old man had stared straight at him. He would be sure to recognize him. And even now, perhaps, the whole countryside was being searched for him. He would be found, identified by the, old fellow. Then a trial, conf viction, the gallows! He could have screamed aloud in his mental agony. One thing, he knew: he could sit here no longer. He must be up and gone! They must not catch him! But the forest was so big and it was so dark. Could he get out before morning? He would have to get out soon, for perhaps they were getting bloodhounds ....... Panting, sobbing, unheeding the branches that obstructed him, he rushed on. The crackling of twigs, the sighing of the wind, he attributed always to pursuers. Men! and bloodhounds! They must not get him. And so, on he raced, through all the long hours of the night. And always the forest was before him, seemingly grim and defiant, endless. He cursed it inwardly, shook his fist at it madly. But never was there an end to it. At last, after countless eons, it seemed, the dawn came. He stood gazing off toward where the sun was slowly coming up out of the grey sky. The east! In that direction lay safety. But how far had he traversed during the night? He did not bother, but ran blindly on. And suddenly the forest came to an abrupt end. A meadow possibly two miles wide stretched before him, broken here and there by miniature hills and valleys. He started across it. Surely, he had evaded pursuit by now. The old man would never identify him after all. But he must get out of the country, and that quickly. He came to the top of a small hill ..... The smile faded on his lips. Scarcely a hundred yards away, standing in a small group, were a number of men. They appeared to be holding an impromptu conference. The star on the chest of one told him that the sheriff was superintending the hunt personally. He was speaking to someone beside him, apparently urg- ing him to go back. And then, suddenly, Dawson got a look at the other's face. His jaw dropped, and he uttered a terrified yelp. The old man, damn him! He started to run. Dimly he heard a cry of 'iHalt! He went on blindly, stumbled, went down ....... They were on him now. Rough hands grabbed him, jerked him to his feet, babbling in terror. NI did it! he gasped, I did it! He glared around wildly and saw the figure of the old man, who, oddly enough, had not stirred from the spot where the sheriff had been talking to him. He saw me do it, otherwise you'd never have caught me E Who, him? demanded the sheriff. 'iHim see you? Why, man, you're crazy. That's Jeff Peters, Canning's old servant. He's been blind for years. Wartime Buddie By CHARLES RABEL The articles in a particular jewelry store held my attention and admiration for quite a few minutes. While admiring these lovely gifts, I was confronted by a stranger who asked in a pathetic manner, Say, mister, could you stake a guy to a bite to eat? I ain't had nothing to eat all day. Nonchalantly, I turned to face the one who had addressed me with the expectation of offer' ing no more than a sympathetic word. How' ever, his manner was frank and honest and it was hard to pass him by. A three days' beard on his sunken cheeks, in addition to his untidy clothes, seemed evidence enough that this unforf tunate one was in need. Then as I examined him more closely, he seemed strangely familiar. My mind raced, trying to place him, but he was just beyond reach of my memory. You wouldn't mind telling me your name, would you, fella? I asked. Tim Mahaney, he answered. A full minute elapsed before I was able to F ifty-six THE OWL say with a note of surprise, Sure enough. Well, I'll be! Don't you remember me, Mahaney? I don't believe I do, suh, he replied. 115th Division, Infantry B, I suggested to him. Gee, I know, he blurted, Captain Peters, and at this he reached out his right hand to meet mine. Yeah, I softly enlightened him in a sarf castic manner. Well, you sure have changed a lot 'Cap'. So've you, Mahaney. Remember those ter' rible days in France? Yeah, he answered, I think it was a great old war, everything from the women to the crap games. Remember that machine gun nest that our outht cleared out? Mahaney stopped here. He never was the kind who boasted or looked for praise. How' ever, I continued for him. L'And I was felled by enemy bullets and left for dead and who came along but good old Mahaney. Gee, I guess I owe you my life. You took an awful chance, you old scrapper! The sudden change in Mahaney's color was detectable as I reminded him of his bravery. He seemed uneasy as he said, Aw, 'Cap', that was nothing. We had a good time, didn't we? You bet we did, fella. I was anxious to know more about Mahaney and I suppose he felt the same way about me. Are you married, 'Cap'? My negative answer to this took a long while to sink in before Mahaney laughed and informed me how lucky I was. L'What makes you think that way, fella? Well, he said, I've had plenty tough luck and having a wife to look after makes it tougher. You know, since I've been married I haven't been able to look for a good job. I was forced to stick to the punk one I had. Then the depression came and I suppose I'm just out. How long have you been out of work? Oh, about a year, I guess. Huh, that's not so terribly bad. Well, it's bad enough, he answered. The tough part of it is that I've got a prospect for a job in Brooklyn and train fare is Four Dollars and Fifty Cents and that's Four Dollars and Fifty Cents more than I have. I've pawned practically everything I own except my shoes so far, and I'd sorta look funny without them. I guess I'm just beat 'Cap'. No you're not, Mahaneyf' I answered, as I reached into my pocket and pulled out a five spot and handed it to him. Here you are, and I hope you get that job. I've got to be going. Gee LCap', thanks, he responded jubilantly. Good luck, Mahaneyf' 'LSO long, 'Cap', and same to you. We parted. I walked down to the next corner and opened a large door to a redfbricked building. Well, Peters, what are you doing back here? rang out the voice of a sternffaced, elderly gentleman seated behind an old desk in the office of the central Relief Commission. Er, I'd like to get some food, Sir. Some food ! he cried with surprise. What did you do with the Five Dollars I just gave you half an hour ago for your week's allowance? I put it to a good cause. What kind of cause? he demanded. Aw, forget it, Sir, I only came back for a match. Have you got one? Office Machines By WALTEK CONWAY Perchance it may appear odd that the students in the Machine Class sit in front of their machines with a perplexed frown on their worf ried faces. This phenomenon is not difficult to explain. Usually the solution of a mathematical problem has presented itself. Nevertheless, the operators of the various contrivances are enthuf siastic about this class in which time flies by all too rapidly. Perhaps it is ludicrous to see the amateurs' fingers hesitate and waver on the unfamiliar keyboard, but to the amateur it is a serious Fifty 'seven business. He is striving to master this baffling assemblage of keys, gadgets and levers, he is striving for the attainment of some object. That object is to wrest out of a hidden maze answers to problems in the shortest, quickest manner man has ever conceived. Everyone is cognizant of the saving in time and energy that the machine accomplishes. Nevertheless, it is only after one operates the machine that the full force of this assertion is understood. As each student proceeds down the long valley of questions to the rising sun of THE GWL answers he realizes over and over that the brain of man developing such marvelous machines is wonderfully and fearfully made. It is doubtful whether we realize the extent of work completed in the machine course. In this class one acquires knowledge and skill on the Comptometer, Monroe, Dalton and Bur' rough Machines, on the Dictaphone and Edif phone, and in Filing Systems. Not only does one obtain legerdemain, but likewise nimbleness of the brain. The remarkable degree of profif ciency acquired by the students comes through the incessant practice and making the most of fortyffive brief busy minutes. Three quarters of an hour wellfspent in gaining a useful, practical skill is well worth the time and effort. In Self-Defense By CHARLES W. EACKLBS The train was leaving the station, and in a few minutes the conductor would be coming through the cars collecting tickets. John Wilson had no ticket and no money to pay his fare. He knew he had little chance of succeeding in his plan of blufling his way to New York, but he was determined to try. For nearly three months he had been in Boston, unsuccessfully seeking work. The small amount of money he had when he arrived in the city did not last long, and during the last few weeks he had often been hungry. He had pawned his suitcase and all his clothing, except what he now wore, to pay his roomfrent. He had no friends in Boston to whom he could go for help, and the only course left open to him was to return to his home in New York. After many vain attempts to get a ride in an automobile or a truck bound toward New York, John decided to board a train and ride as far as he could before being put off. He chose a train which had a fast schedule and a reputation for being on time. It made few stops, and he felt sure no stop would be made just to put him Gif, but that instead he would be carried to the next regular stop, which would be a long step on his way toward New York. He thought a great deal about what he would say to the conductor. He decided that his best plan would be to act with much more confidence than he really felt. He would be casual and nonchalant. He thought up an elaborate story, which he did not expect the conductor to believe, but which would have the merit of taking a lot of time in the telling. The more time it took, the closer to New York the train would be when he had to get off. As last the conductor stood beside John, who immediately began telling his story. He told the conductor his name and said that he was a reporter for the New York WorldfTelegram. He said that he had been sent to Boston to cover a story there, and had lost both his luggage and the railroad pass which his paper furnished its employes when on special assignments. If he could get to New York his paper would pay the railroad company for his fare. He tried to elabo' rate on this story but the conductor stopped him. john had tried to visualize the conductors reaction to his story, and he was prepared for nearly anything except what actually happened. The conductor said, Well now, that's quite a coincidence. In the car just ahead of this is Mr. Harvey, the editor of the WorldfTelegram. I know because he just handed me a pass such as you say you lost, and it had his name and title and all on it. If your story is true, he is your boss. Now if you will just come along up there with me, we'll see what he has to say about you. If he says you are telling me the truth, every' thing will be all right. But if he does not know you-well you won't like what's going to hapf pen to you. By an enormous effort, john managed to hide his surprise and chagrin. Of course this Mr. Harvey did not know him. His bluff had not worked and he shuddered at the implication in the conductors last words. Mr. Harvey was well dressed and dignified in appearance. The conductor simply said, Mr. Harvey, Mr. Wilson here says he works for your paper, and he lost his pass. Is that right? Mr. Harvey, with only a casual glance at John, replied, Why yes, that's right. Come and sit here with me, Wilson. We'll take care of this when we get to New York, conductor. Thank you. The conductor made a memorandum in his note book and left them. As soon as he was gone, John turned to Mr. Harvey and thanked him for helping him out of his difficulty. He confessed that his story had been untrue and he expressed surprise at Mr. Harvey's telling the conductor that he knew john. Mr. Harvey's reply was, Well, you see son, I had to do it. My name is not Harvey. I found this pass I am using. If you were really employed by the WorldfTelegram, and I had said I did not know you, I would have proven myself a faker. So you see, I had to do it in selffdefensef' Fiftyfeight THE OWL A Storm and a Story By G. W. MAUGANs The long, gray motor bus roared along the narrow, tree flanked road, climbing steadily through the foothills, up into the Blue Ridge Mountains. The snow that we had driven into three or four hours earlier had developed into a blizzard here in the foothills. The driver slowed down now and then as if to feel his way along the road, for the wind came in blasts that drove the snow in great gusts of white against the windows of the coach so that only at intervals could one see the white hills outside. Having been on the road since early morning Cand it was now late in the afternoonl I had fallen into a doze, interrupted only by a word now and then from my companion, john Harrison. Finally the violent blasts of the storm became so strong that any attempt at sleep became im' possible. I straightened up in the seat to dis' cover that my friend had made the acquaintance of a rather striking middlefaged man who sat across the aisle. Despite the slight gray at the temples, the man's tanned features and rugged physique further bespoke the strength and deter' mination that the strong character of his prohle displayed. And you have been through these parts before? I heard John ask. Oh yes, was the reply, but that was a good many years ago. And something in the slow and deliberate way in which he spoke caused me to take an interest in the conversation. Then I heard him ask: How long do you think it will be before we reach Baltimore? John turned to me questioningly. I had made the trip a number of times before so that I knew that in about an hour's time we would reach Mountfair View Inn at the top of the mountain where we could have dinner while waiting for the bus that was to take us on to Baltimore. This last stage of the journey usually had taken about three hours. I volunteered this informaf tion. As the man turned to thank me I had an opportunity to see him more clearly. Striking, something about this man. He seemed old and yet there was an appearance of youth in his gray eyes and at the corners of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair and, as if speaking to himself, said slowly, Strange,-but I don't seem to recall much of Baltimore,-but that seems so long ago. My inquisitive friend took up the thread. Fiftyfnine Were you formerly a resident of that city? he asked. Well,-yes, was the reply. I studied there for a while,-ah,-music, that is. That sounds interesting, said John, for he was quite an accomplished pianist himself. You have made it your career? No! was the quick reply, circumstance intervened, and I felt no desire for music ever again. I left the city, went West and have, for these past eighteen years been more or less sucf cessful in the fruit growing Held, in California. That is one reason why I am making this trip East. You see, there is a Fruit Growers Assof ciation Convention in Washington tomorrow. I missed the train at Pittsburgh but fortunately was able to catch this bus. Very little was said in the next halffhour and soon there was a slackening in the speed of the coach and a moment later we drew up beneath two large electric lights that were gleaming in the darkness falling outside. I knew that we had reached the crest of the Blue Ridge Mounf tains and had arrived at the Inn. The other pas' sengers moved forward preparing to leave the bus. There were only a half dozen others beside my friend and I. No sooner had we stepped outside than we got a faceftofface meeting with the storm. The wind was terrific as it whistled around the cor' ners of the Inn. The snow seemed determined to penetrate our coats. The Inn itself looked very much like the pictures one sees of the little Swiss chateaux hidden away in the white blanf ket of the Alps. However, led by the driver we reached the door and crowded inside. A cheerful place indeed. A large stone fireplace at the far end of the dining room seemed most appealing for the moment so John and I handed our overcoats over to the attendant and strolled over to take advantage of its cheering warmth. The rustic furniture that was placed about the room was quite in keeping with the rough conf struction of the Inn. Overhead, broad, sturdy rafters rose up to meet the ridge beam from the center of which was suspended, by a heavy long' linked iron chain, an electric light in the form of a large brass lantern. It cast its odd shadows upon the unfurnished pine panels of the wall and threw a bright circle of light on the dining table set beneath. My study of the surroundings was broken by the kindly voice of a rather elderly, whitefhaired THE ,,. OWL lady who introduced herself as Mrs. Graver, the proprietress of the Inn. You all are to make yourself quite at home here for a while, for you see as I have already told your chauffeur, a phone call came from Hampton, down the mountain, that is the bus depot, who explained that the bus which is to meet you here will be over an hour late due to the storm. So please be seated. We will dine, and then we shall see what can be done for your entertainment. ' ' There was a hurried general introduction all around and we were seated. john sat at my right and our new acquaintance, who had intro' duced himself as Mr. Carman, sat next to John. Among the other guests, my attention was drawn to the rather tall, darkfhaired lady who sat at the left of our hostess. She wore a dark blue traveling suit set off by a broad white lace collar that gave an enhancing contrast to the dark waves of her hair. A charming smile added still further to her pleasant features. Her blue eyes seemed to be laughing despite the perfect poise she maintained. At a quick guess, I surrnised that she might have been in her mid' dle thirties. Our host introduced her as Miss Allen, who was stopping at the Inn, having arrived earlier in the day. The lady nodded slightly as she glanced around the table. And then as her gaze fell upon Mr. Carman, I was certain I saw her start ever so slightly. Her eyes had a frightened look, but for an instant only, then she regained her composure and smiled again. Apparently, Mr. Carman had not noticed her. My friend and I became too preoccupied with the excellent fare set before us to take any fur' ther interest in the other diners. However, after a while I did notice that Miss Allen was looking our way and her gaze seemed to linger on Mr. Carman. John noticed it also. She seemed to be studying him. Soon, however, the hostess spoke and Miss Allen turned to conf verse with her. Coffee was brought in and we were soon chatting amiably. Then our hostess rose and we all prepared to leave the table. While it is unfortunate' that you are to be delayed by the snow, I believe you will be pleased to hear that Miss Allen, who is the music super' visor for the schools of this county, has kindly consented to play a few selections for us this evening, said Mrs. Garver. A piano was pulled forward from one of the corners of the room and Miss Allen took her place before it. Then she turned to announce her selection. As I remember, it was one of Bach's Concertos. Again she shot a strange look at Mr. Carman. But he had taken his stand by the Hreplace and was anxiously watch' ing the tall grandfathefs clock that stood at the opposite end of the room. The rest of the group had gathered at the side of the room where Miss Allen was about to play. The music arranged, she commenced to play. Softly, yet conhdently came the music as her fingers glided over the keys and now I saw her face was lit by a happy, rather expectant smile. She played well, and I think we all enjoyed the selection. Even our silent friend, Mr. Carman, had strolled over beside me to listen. Miss Allen made a grateful acknowledgment of our applause and then went on to say, I have a few light numbers here with me in my case and I am wondering if there is a vocalist among you who might render some variety to our program? She looked questioningly at the group around her, but no one spoke. Then Mrs. Garver spoke, Possibly there is a pianist here who will play for you, Miss Allen. I have heard you sing before and I know that we will enjoy it if you will render us a selectionf' At the mention of Miss Allen's name, I saw Mr, Carman start and shoot a searching glance at the lady at the piano. It seemed that it was the first time that he was conscious of her name. She stood up and spoke: Very well-that is if someone will play. I touched john and whispered, Go ahead old man, I want to hear her sing, for I knew he could do justice to practically anything placed before him. In a moment he was beside the lady and they were conversing in low tones. The music was apparently familiar to him for he immediately placed it on the piano before him. Miss Allen made a few comments and then turned and spoke to us, I will sing Chaikowsky's 'None But the Lonely Heart'-a number that I am sure you have all heard before. And again that lightning quick glance at the tall, lean figure beside me. He was leaning forward, every muscle tense. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that his eyes were riveted on the darkfhaired lady who was about to sing. In a moment, the room was hushed and she had lifted her fine soprano voice in the opening bars of the music. The beautiful composition seemed even more beautiful that night. For' gotten was the storm that raged outside the Inn. Even the fatigue of the day s journey had van' ished. The tense figure beside me seemed to have turned to stone-so still was everything in the room. On and on she sang-perfect conf trol, with the shading so delicate that the voice seemed to be something apart from the room and the surroundings. A perfect symphony in Sixty 173-- I.. THE OWL itself. I believe we all felt more or less under the hypnotic spell of the singing. But too soon it ended. It was over, but the audience seemed as if in a trance. Not a sound was heard for at least thirty seconds. Then the stillness was broken by a low cry from the taut figure be' side me. Catherine ! Catherine l Yes, Paul, was the barely audible answer. In three gigantic strides, the man was beside the singer, had clasped her hands. Is it really you Catherine? he said. Yes, I am afraid it is, was the soft answer. And a faint tinge of rose glowed upon her cheeks. Aside, I made a mental note never again to attempt to guess a woman's age. She seemed so young now, so beautiful. Not a person had spoken in the interval. Then Miss Allen spoke slowly, Oh, Paul, I recognized you the moment you entered the room this evening. But I was afraid to speak. I couldn't believe it was really you-Oh, I'm so glad to see you. You haven't changed at all. Then Mr. Carman was speaking, Why it's-it's a miracle. I can't believe my eyes. You're still the same fine, sweet Catherine Allen I once knew. But your hair, you're wearing it differently. Oh, but I should have recognized you immediately, but I couldn't expect to nd you here. I-it seems impossible! After all these yearsfl Then you're not .... ? was the hesitating question. No, dear,-there has been no other, was the man's soft reassuring answer. The couple seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that anyone even breathed around them. Oh Paul, why didn't you wait for an ex' planation that night, entreated Miss Allen. Let's not talk about it dear, it seems so long ago, and I was so very foolish, the tall man answered, with a smile. Then they both turned, looked startled for a moment, and then Mr. Carman smiled broadly. Miss Allen blushed and as the rosy hue rose to her cheeks, her blue eyes seemed to 611 with something that made them fairly shine as she glanced up at the man besfde her. And she, too, was smiling. I am afraid we owe you an apology, said Mr. Carman. And I noticed his voice sounded much younger, and in his grey eyes was the sparkling youth. Strange indeed, the effect of this most powerful of emotions upon man. He was speaking, his eyes on the dark head at his shoulder. You see, Miss Allen and I were very close friends some years ago, but there was a slight misunderstanding between us, that I am afraid I must admit was all my fault. I see it all now -I was hasty in my actions and in my subsef quent decision. But I left Baltimore where we were both studying music and went West to start life anew. But it's all right now, were the quiet words of the girl at his side as she laid her hand reas' suringly on his arm. He tumed to Mrs. Carver, who seemed very amused over something, Mrs, Garver, can you put up a very old man for the night? he asked. I hardly believe so,l' she said, her motherly countenance shining and her eyes twinkled. You see-I am afraid my accommodations would suit only a very young man. Fair enough, was Paul Carman's laughing reply. I feel almost like a boy again this even' ing. Then I shall wire my regrets to the com' mittee in Washington. For you see, and his voice took on an air of mock sternness, I believe I shall have some very, very important business to attend to in the next few days. Is that cor' rect, Miss Allen? Yes, whispered the girl softly, but her gleaming smile and her glistening eyes spoke more convincingly. And his arms were around her,-and we all turned our heads for just at that moment came a long blast from the hom on a big motor coach that had just pulled up before the Inn. The Way to a Man's Heart By VIRGINIA B. H1zssoN The sun beamed brightly through the spacious drawing room of Colonel Lee's mansion which was situated on one of the highest hills in Virf ginia. Betsy Lee, the late Colonel's daughter, was sitting in the easy chair by the window Sixtyfone listening to the crooning, haunting but happy melodies of the darkies in the fields nearby. How happy they were! They had no good cause to be, for they were slaves, waiting for the day of freedom. The tears trickled slowly on Betsy's Q THE OWL cheeks as she thought of them and of her own sad lot. just then, Liza, the jovial colored mammy, who had been born and raised on the Lee plantaf tion, came into the room. What's demattah, chile? said she. Oh nothing, replied Betsy, drying her wet cheeks. Chile, why is you crying? You is de richest chile in dis county. ' Yes, Liza, but money isn't everything in this world. I Yessum, I knose dat, too, but jest de same, tit's sompimf' said Liza. Look, heah, yor fad' der was a ni ole gennulman. Your mudder was de granit lady dat eber libbed. Now, listen heah, you git out ob dat humor and git to smiling, will yuh? Come on, honey, mammy will bake sum ob her special gingah cookies for yuh. I Betsy smiled in spite of herself as she looked atlyiza with her broad grin which disclosed her Hari white teeth. ' 'f' little later, old Liza came in triumphantly bearing a huge plate, full of cookies. She ex' pected a welcome smile, but she found Betsy in the same mood. The girl's face was red and swollen from her constant weeping. Poor Liza did not know what to do. Listen heah, chile, sumpons on yoh mind. You betta tell yoh mammy all about it. Can I help yoh? I'll try to unnerstanf' ' Well, it just seems that I must tell you, said Betsy. Maybe I'll feel better if I get it out of my system, as you say. ' i'Well, I'se listeninf' A Well, I+I'm thankful for all this. I mean for all my property and such. I 'Well you should be, interrupted'Liza. f'What I need Liza is a few nice companions. Qffourse, I mean boys. It just seems as if the boys come around once or twice, and sometimes three times, but that's all. They never fall in love with me. Why look at Mary. just the other night, Freddie Parker told Mary that he loved her. Before the evening was over, he proposed to her. All of my friends will marry, and I'll be left an old maid. Tell me, Liza, how shall I act when Allan calls tonight. I like him better than any other boy I know. I want to keep him. He'll come tonight, but I just know he won't come often. What can I do, Liza? sobbed Betsy. Chile yoh put on yoh bestest dress, dat one you got for yoh coming out pahty. Den yoh take him to de flowah garden. In de moonlight, he sho will git romantick. Ef he don't, I'll be thinkin ob sum odder way, replied the loyal old colored mammy seriously. Following her advise, Betsy wore her green evening dress. As she walked down the broad staircase, she was a heavenly vision. The delif cate green of her gown was a pleasing contrast to her golden blond hair. Tiny tendrils of curls were gathered low on her neck and encircled the radiance of her sweet face. She looked far lovelier than she did for her coming out party. As soon as Allan arrived, Betsy suggested a stroll through the garden down to the river's edge. It was a warm night, but there was a breeze by the river. Myriads of stars clustered overhead like twinkling jewels in a setting of azure blue. A delicate, crescent moon shaped through the fragile tracery of a weeping willow tree which gracefully dipped its foliage into the quiet river. It was a perfect setting for a romantic episode, however, it failed to move Allan. He just strolled by Betsy's side, chatf tering nonchalantly. That night, Betsy climbed the stairs dejectf edly and flung herself disconsolately on her bed, crying as if her heart were broken in a thousand pieces. At breakfast, Liza inquired about the night before. Betsy told her of the unsuccessful stroll along the river's edge. I was talking to de darkies last night. Dey gib me sum ideers. Dey tole me dat ole sayin, 'De only way to a man's heart is by his stomickf Dey sez to feed him sumpin good, and mebbe dat will anchorage him, advised Liza. Don't be silly Liza. He gets enough to eat around here. You are the best cook in the South. Surely no one can beat you in cooking. What more could he want? ' Dey sez dat is de trouble. He wants you to cook, not me. I'l1 teach you right now. No, Liza, that will never do. I'll never learn to cook. I'll never try. Allan was not like the others, he continued to call, but never proposed. Finally, Betsy's birthday arrived. Allan was invited to dinner that evening. Liza made great plans and great preparations for the best dinner possible. In the last afternoon, Betsy was suddenly startled by a scream from the kitchen. She flew down the stairs to find Liza lying on the kitchen floor. The old mammy had had a. serious fall. Her ankle was badly'-wrenched. g There would be no hustle or bustle for Liz? that day. my My 1 There was only one thing to do L'i 7 - superintend and Betsy must do the , 5i?:ljf1. In the midst of the cooking Allan arrived. g y was standing over the fire, busily stirring the soup. Her face was flushed, her hair was in a charming disarray. Allan stood in the doorway with an amused look on his face. Bgsy sew Sixty--two f ,iw -wi.3ig-Laws. If ' THE I-. 1 as I I 0 OWL ir. L ,. r dinner very daintily. The dinner was ai real success. After dinner, Betsy and Allan strolled down to the river's edge just as they did that unforf gettable night not so long ago. When they reached the house again, Betsy found Liza on the lawn laughing and dancing with the other darkies. I done did dat so yoh git a chance to find de way to dat man's heart. By de look on yoh face, it worked out to profection. Come on all yoh darkies, les sing foh da happy couple, called Liza. Betsy looked soulfully at Allan, who thanked Liza heartily. With Betsy in his arms, he said to Liza, Liza we can't do without you. You'll have to come and live with us. a A Literary Man ' By WILLIAM J. Fosrak A' Books are the food of youth, the delight of old ageg the ornament of prosperity, the refuge and comfort of adversity, a delight at home, and no hindrance abroad, companions at night, in traveling, in the country. As I topped the rise of the hill, which was splashed along its crest with resplendent gold of the setting sun, I paused a moment to view my surroundings. The glowing pencil' like fingers were slowly withdrawing as the sun sank gently below the next ridge. It was just about the time of evening when numerous bird whispers issue from the nearby trees and the nighthawks and owls take wing in search of prey. I gazed into the slowly settling valley below me. Several hundred feet down the gentle pinefstudded descent I saw a small cabin, through whose windows a soft lamp glow penetrated. From the chimney a thin streak of whitish' purple smoke forced its way up through the settling dusk, telling a weary traveler that at this part of his journey he would find the comforts of a fireside, the genial hospitality and the simplicity of the mountain folk. I, being a traveler, and knowing the language of the counf try after a fashion, was not entirely unprepared to meet that situation. I made my descent swiftly and presently I found myself upon a neat little path leading up to the small cottage. A short knock caused the door to be opened by a robust and healthy man. He was dressed in the simple garb native to the surroundings. Upon courteously asking what I wished, and being informed that I was a foreigner traveling the country partfway on foot, he extended to me the shelter of the cozy interior. I thanked him and stepped within the door. The room which I entered comprised nearly the entire cottage. Opposite the door was a huge fireplace from which poured forth a mellow heat and glow--highly welcome after the chill of the outdoors. I was invited, after having met his wife and small boy, to share their meal with them. Supper finished, we seated ourselves before the fireplace and in- dulged in conversation relating chiefly to my history and the news of my country. My new friend, who was rather inquisitive, kept a steady flow of questions directed toward me, which I answered as well as I could, hardly finishing one before arfother was asked me. At last I found an opportunity to Question him upon a matter which had interested me since I had entered the cabin. I referred to a shelf of books- be' er of them myself-which was situated upon the v .gIf'2.g1f b left of me. This, it seemed, struck the keynote o Tj Q3-21 'end's personality. Fiithen on, our conver' fliiix ,sr n literary. Fi' 4 ' A me how he had been taught to read by his fatherjto whom these books had previously belonged, also, how he had steadily developed his ability, making his books all e more enjoyable on those lonely nights away in the M tHe r ed to the fact that his wife read them Sixtyfthrec g thoroughly and was delighted with their content, and that he was now teaching the boy to read so that he might not . ,vm W., F ' of this little family after the day's work was finished w flfi l H 5 they had gathered around the hearth. 31 ' Upon answering his questions pertaining to literat .153 Eff 75:3 W, my home country, he was delighted to find that so . :,, f,f,1f'f, -Eigtfliii' printed matter was placed within the reach of most o '11Qj ,.7l li5 ' people. He was, however, somewhat taken back by th Qigff-Qi ' attitude assumed by many of my countrymen to TG f7 is-ll J' U, , . l:e deprived of this great privilege. Books were the jo W' at ' 3' f literature. That thousands, who have innumerable oppci Q 'N A I tunities to read End books through access to the libraries and the economical cost of printed matter, do not exercise this advantage, to him seemed a capital offense. He explained to me the difhculties of obtaining books- situated as he was-and that books, when once obtained- were digested thoroughly and cherished among the choige possessions of the household. A small library, which usually handed down from generation to generation, I I -3 , essential part of almost every home in that district. ' .-Y' 'u as 5 , lr , f. ,il J! i 1-r' , sz 'R '-fly 4: , ai I 'ln Q. Ps ,Ir g 14,1 139 Y' were obtained very rarely and whether or not they weredf ' ' . ' the finest text-which somehow they very often were- they were read sincerely and thoroughly. He then turned to me with a very logical question. He remarked that due to the fact so much literature was.on hand in my country, some would naturally be g ' and Q, , vb 33 ,,.I .5 ,V . ,- v',f'xr,' .A 'E , others not so worthy of your efforts. Knowing t t the . , - lg: ' 9 people were besieged with a steady flow of materia.l,,. I 3 wouldn't it be a hard matter to discriminate between which , ,,,, 1 4.3, ws, should be read, from that which shouldn't? A ,, jeg I Q i I explained that herein lay the fault of many p '15 , ' 'lf' classifying them thusly: by many, an indifferent attitu ' ,5 ' taken, others read merely to have read g while i 5 W 2- though sincere enough, are unable to choose material ill 'U' ' l i ' befitting their purposes. This latter type wander abolit persuaded this way and that by the numerous catalogs booklets with which they come in contact. ll Throughout my entire explanation he remained very attentive and eager to learn of the people who shun golden opportunities through ignorance. The time soon arrived when we were obliged to bring our conversation to a close. His main regret, he expressed, was in not having the luxury of constant company with many, many, more books than those with which he was familiar, As I made ready to depart, I felt reluctant to leave. More than likely I should never see him again, in him I felt I had found a truly remarkable disciple of the literary world. What possibilities this man might develop if he were to have the advantages of some less appreciative folk! What a lesson this literary giant-whose background consisted of a few small books-could teach to the many illiterates who have before them a wealth in volumes! l of ADVERTISING 7 I 'AX x Xxlxjr ,N , 'fx'-1-' I I ,fx .gg '-Ivplg. '15-jlxi N- ir, Nt Q ' QT,,f,Sqb 'i ri-:'5f'x .' 5 I ' I, J-Sgggff' . f,Q SECTION n.-umn 1.4.21-ummm. -1 lm- s UNIVERSITY or BALTIMORE FOR MEN AND WOMEN Approved by The Maryland State Board of Education Recognized By The State Law and Accountancy CC.P.A.j Examiners School oi Law EVENING CLASSES Sessions Begin Monday, September 16, and Monday, September 30, 1935 LL.B Degree awarded to those with a High School Education or the Equivalent upon Completion of the ThreefYear Evening Course Cflualifies for Maryland arid Other State Bar Examinationsb School oi Business Administration DAY AND EVENING DIVISIONS Sessions Begin Monday, September 30, 1935 Bachelor's Degree in Business awarded upon completion of the Required Courses Courses Accountancy CFor C.P.A. 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Caton Avenue Phone, Gilmor 5636 The Maryland Title Guaranty Company TITLES TO REAL ESTATE GUARANTEED JUDGMENT REFERENCES FURNISHED Nlunsey Building Plaza 8810 Lord Baltimore Hotel 700 Rooms 700 Baths Unparallelled Facilities for Banquets and Dances He Profits Most Who Serves Best ull: , 5' fgl Milf RINTED PIECES PRODUCED BY THIS ORGANIZATION HAVE ELICITED COM- MENDATION FROM BUSINESS HOUSES THROUGHOUT THE UNITED STATES REESE PRESS EROWL 103 seUTH sT12EET PRQDUCT OF REESE PRESS ...1 --,11.!- 1- - 1 - Ki 1.7 -- 1 A-,Q 1 - J W ' 1 A 1 1 1 A 1., 4 1 '1 11 , ,- ,1gtf:1i411, .1 '15 g511.- 4 va 1 . I . f 1, .1 'W I ' R ' 'A E, Q, . v, ,. ,ri - .. s .Y W 1 ' W W ' ' W' : .- ' Al f W 1 W W 1 W , u W w' ' 1 1 , 1a L 'C W 1 11 W 7 1 . 1-9 W 'fa W -'39 1 I 71 1 -1-g ,.. W 1 , 1 1 1,5 W 1 1 1 A 1 W W L W 1 1 W 1 1 : 1 1 1 W W A 1 W 1 . 'JH W .1 W 1 W W 1 W W W 1 1 W W 1 7 ' . 4 f . 1 rfb . :' W -Wm ,Q .vj1 T I W5 ' fy g Vx: , , ' 1, 1, ,, 1 , ii: L, y 1 f 'aff 2... .111f4. ' :,- ...' 2, 1- 1 . 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