Evening High School - Owl Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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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

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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

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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