Fairbury Cropsey High School - Crier Yearbook (Fairbury, IL)

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Nigger Fishing THERE is hardly a single American sports lover that is not a rabid football enthusiast. The main reason for this reaction is that this great all-American game is not merely a test of brute strength but is more and more be- coming a game of wits in which the little fellow with an alert mind is pitted against men twice his size. This is also true in our every- day life. It is not necessarily the wealthy class who attain lasting honor and success, even though they do have a strong foothold and a decided head-start against their less fortunate brethren. In the long run it is the cagy fellow filled with an earnest desire for progress that eventually reaches the desired goal. There are many great football colleges in the country today such as Minnesota, Notre Dame, I ex- as Christian, U. S. C., Pittsburgh, Duke, and many more. However, not a single one of these teams would have received national rec- ognition in 1938 had it not been for their decided teamwork and exceptionally staunch determina- tion. These two characteristics combined with true skill are in- valuable on the gridiron. Another analogy is necessary. In everyday business life we come across innumerable barriers and stumbling blocks which impede our march toward success. Many instances require teamwork to overcome, and as in football, if combined with the necessary grit will produce surprising results and heretofore unconquerable obsta- cles can be tackled and cast into oblivion. A FTER perusing carefully The Complete Angler, by Izaak Walton, I have come to the con- clusion that there is a decided con- trast between trout fishing and the sport of fishing with a pole and line, or, employing a localism, “nigger fishing.” What could give one a keener feeling of anticipation than to lay your head on your pillow at night, knowing that when the morning dawns, you’ll be preparing for such an outing? With what ener- gy! What zeal! To anyone un- acquainted with the sport of pole and line fishing it seems such a waste! But to the devotee there is a promise of a day full of rapture in the beauties of nature, of the joy of feeling a tug on a line, thd thrill of the catch, the delight in the sparkle of the sun on the cap- tured fish. Beyond and better than these, the complete relaxation from daily cares, a rest that soothes the most harassed spirit. Aside from the pleasure one de- rives from the actual sport, aside from the bodily rest one enjoys, there is the bliss of solitude, a sol- itude that gives a man a chance to look within—“to see himself as others see him,” as Burns puts it, and to be inspired to bigger and better things. Of all sports, “nigger fishing” is one of which it can undoubted- ly be said, that the anticipation is no greater than the realization. CATHRYN WINK. LESLIE TAPPAN. Page 20

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hereon bequeath my daredevil driving to that killer-diller Mar- tin. I, Jim Lester, leave my razor- edge press of my said trousers and that captivating haircut to Romeo Craig. I, La Verne Metz, leave all I possess to the ever-blushing Reu- ben Huber. I, Jack Morris, leave my Freshman girl friend in hopes that during her years of taxi driv- ing she will neither achieve nor ac- quire any new love affairs. I, Eddie Orth, will my heart- breaking habits to Harry Bruce, that he may continue to thrill the F. T. H. S. co-eds through com- ing years. I, Herbert Patrick, leave to Bill Freed my ingenuity in con- tacting certain girls for dates! Better luck next time, Bill! I, Lola Range, leave to Lois Bedell my graceful walking hab- its, hoping that she will cultivate them and bring them to perfec- tion before she graduates. I, Evelyn Reany, proudly leave my hearty giggle to the shy and demure Virginia Munz and hope she will not disturb as many as- sembly teachers as 1. I, Maurice Ricketts, leave my unprofitable omnibus service to Velda Gerber that she may gain more financial return than I. I, Lillian Reis, bequeath my im- promptu speeches to Mary Ann Munz. I, Wilma Rinkenberger, leave my friendly disposition to that quiet good natured Ray Bills. I, Alice Roach, will my chic and petite characteristics to Floyd Masters, as they have helped ad- vance me for many years. I, Wayne Russell, bequeath my mild tempered mannerisms to that quiet dear, Valerie Fultz, that she may carry on where I left off. I, Bill Shepherd, leave all my loquaciousness to my sister. Nuflf said! I, Harold Ward, will my rapid- ity of motion to Jessie Frances Bartlett with hopes that she will gradually increase her speed to equal mine. I, Ogarita Wessels, will my front seat in assembly to George Walker that he may be kept out of mischief. I, Robert Wessels, bestow upon Glen Wilken my marvelous dra- matic ability with true confidence that he will come to as successful ending as myself. 1, Joan Williams, leave my temper to Louise Hirstein with faith she may not have as much trouble in her next three years controlling it as I. I, Cathryn Wink, hope with all sincerity that upon leaving all my troubles with school work to Ross Hildreth that he will not grow gray with worry. I, Eldora Zimmerman, be- queath to Anna Lou and Pauline the urge to carry on the good work and live up to our name. The above document has been signed, published and declared by the above named Senior Class of 1939, in the presence of us and each of us, who, in their presence and at their request, and in the presence of each other, have here- unto subscribed our names as wit- nesses. Alva Clinton Watson, City of Fairburv, State of Illinois. Mary Elizabeth Sharp, City of Fairburv, State of Illinois. Page 19

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Manslaughter TIE stood over the still white form in the road. She was dead. No—she couldn't be. But it wasn’t his fault, she had loomed before his car before he saw her. She was dead, there could be no doubt about it. Ah, but who was there to see? It was dark. His head reeled as he wiped the blood from the fenders with his hand- kerchief. Then he thought of the party — bottles and dirty cards, and young bodies swaying to the exhilarating tempo of music. There, no one would ever know it was he, the bumper and radia- tor were clean. He tore his hand- kerchief into tiny bits and cast them into the night breeze, to be wafted far from that horrible scene. But what of the future? Always that inner dread and un- certainty. Condemnation, lingers accusingly pointed. They couldn’t do that. They couldn’t! They would never know though, he would see to that. lie contempt- uously rolled the white form into the ditch with his foot. He would leave, and never come back. He would be freed of the scene for- ever. His car roared down the road. He was hysterical with fear, but there was joy in escape, and he threw back his head and laughed. It was a long wild laugh. Then a dark object loomed ahead in the slender shafts of his head- light beams. I Iis laugh was cut short by a startled cry as the car crashed into the tree and blossom- ed into a hugh molten light. Then all was still. The silence that fell was the silence of death! Frkshman Math The freshmen come to me for help, I know not why they come. Perhaps they need encouragement, Or cannot find a sum. Regardless what the reason be, I always like to aid. For when I think I’ve helped someone I always feel repaid. For still I hold in mind the time When I too saw my doom, So why should I someone refuse Who cannot ’math consume? I sometimes think I ought to get A payment for my work. Yet when I see someone succeed I’m glad I did not shirk. It’s odd how stumped some people get When called upon to add, Yet when they've reached the hard sought end, They’re far from being sad. So though I am about tired out And wish they’d let me be. Perhaps some day they’ll know their math. And help a green freshie. Cathryn Wink. A MAN’S success is no greater than the man himself. This is entirely true in our rapidly moving industries today. If success along with virtue and happiness is de- sired we must catch the ball squarely, run through all possible opposition, and cross the goal standing up. LESLIE TAPPAN. Page 21