George E Westinghouse High School - Sketch Book Yearbook (Pittsburgh, PA)

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iiiifj 3 ll- i Y 11 1- -, If 1' these old hills in the days of the robber barons! All castles have dark spots in their historyg but the present period was one of bountifully filled storehouses, happy contented people, and peace. But that evening the harvest calm came to an abrupt end. A neighbor brought rumors of a war that was to change the current of the life of each member of Herr john Meister's family. The Holy Roman Empire had been dissolved. Napol- eon was conquering Europe. Baden with other southwestern German kingdoms had shamefully sworn allegiance to him. After the rumor had been discussed at length, jacob, the oldest and most impulsive son, announced his decision: Well, the only way for us to ascertain the real truth is for some one to go to the city, and it might as well be I as another. No amount of parental persuasion could change l1is venturesome mind. Early the following morning he rode away. Two months later a cloud of dust arose along the road, harbinger of a courier with important news. Perhaps it was Jacob himself returning, for no word had as yet been received from him! Herr john Meister hastened to the gate. But whe11 the dust subsided, he saw, not his eldest son, but a horseman in uniform, who handed him a letter. Quickly he broke the seal. and his face went White as he read. My children, he moaned, your brother is dead. He was killed three weeks ago in battle. It is true: German kingdoms have sold their birth-right. Jacob was mustered into the French army and was sacrificed for the cause of Napoleon. Issuing orders for the welfare of the courier and his horse, he went sadly into the castle. Here with white set lips he sat and pondered long. His oldest son had gone away to run down a rumor only to, be mustered into the French army in its conquering march upon Russia. How soon would his other sons be called! For defence of the fatherland, he would willingly make the sacrifice. Yes. old as he was, he would again take up arms. But this was different. How could he prevent the sacrifice of his other sons on the altar of Napoleon's ambition! Fondly his eyes rested upon the vast expanse of rich fertile fields. Then he turned his back upon them. He had made his decision. Infiuence and money enabled Herr Meister quickly to carry out his plans to the smallest detail. Not many nights later dark loneliness enveloped his castle home. Dressed as gypsy horse traders, he and his family made their way un- molested to the Rhine. Here at a little fishing settlement thy discarded their gypsy garb and donned that of Dutch fisher folk. Thus they sailed up the river in a chartered Dutch fishing schooner into Holland, where they again assumed the gypsy disguise-this time as musicians. Dancing and singing their way to the coast, they succeeded in boarding an English boat. Then for the first time they dared abandon their disguiseg for England, too, hated Napoleon. From Liverpool a storm-tossed sailing vessel bore them to their goal-America. Herr john Meister was at last content. He had lost to the greed uf Napoleon his estate, his oldest son, and his native country. But he had given his family freedom-a freedom which his descendants fought to extend at a Gettysburg stone wall on a hot July day in 1863. Mildred Mci.1'11m'. Twelve 1-T li Pu H f 1 l J I In I l i if 4 l 1 Jn. Q 41 - -1- Jlf 'ie

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-i i 7 -1? 41 i-i lw W v i ,?Qj Yiil LITERARY The Refugees or long before Napoleon endeavored to conquer the world, my great grand- father was born. His father, Herr john Meister. was owner of a vast estate in Baden. A tall stately man. whose military bearing betrayed the nature of his early training, he liked to ride a fine white horse of Arabic breed, which was as fast as the winds and as tireless. Distinguished, indeed, were man and steed, each with a pedigree that reached back to the Crusades. On his land lived many serfs over whom he held power almost of life and death. His castle, built by a robber baron, stood on a hilltop overlooking a beautiful valley through which like a silver ribbon flowed the Neckar. Fertile grain fields flanked it on both sides until they gave way to great forests, in which the wild boar roamed. Thatch-roofed mud huts of the peasants clustered about red-tiled cottages of the overseers. On winter nights when the ground was covered with snow. the ice in the river thundered like distant cannon, and great limbs cracked from the frost with the report like that of a rifle. Then thc wolves would howl and make quick raids on sheep or on some luckless wanderer. At this season the beautiful valley was as cruel as the sharp claws of an angry tiger, but in spring. summer. and autumn its softer moods made of it a garden spot-a play ground for artists. No more beautiful place could be found on earth with its valleys, hills, and mountains, its forests with towering trees that had stood since Germany was young. Harvest time was a happy season in this old German estate, and this particular .luly day in 1807 began no differently. The sky was deep blueg the fields were fragrant with freshly cut grain 3 and the air was filled with the melody of a German folksong about a knight and a maiden as the workers beat time with the swish of the men's scythes and the clip of the women's sickles. To the family of Herr john Meister on the hill the fields stretching out at their feet looked like a great flower- dotted meadow-so many were the peasants and so gaily were they dressed. Their bright neckerchiefs simulated swarms of colored butterflies. :X picture of peace. oh. so different from the scenes of blood and death and wars of conquest about Eleven ,,.J:--tra.,-r ee gg: e ,fo ai.-To f f -,f

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, I' L f JS' , 1' Pendleton Street 1zNDr.IzToN sTREET! Cobble stones huddled together in spots or with great earth gaps betweeng intervals of cracked and broken sidewalkg little, old weary houses leaning against one another for support-this is one of Americas tiny melting pots. There side by side dwell black and white, American and foreign born in the brotherhood of poverty and misery. All about the place hover the smoke of an industrial metropolis and the shadows of discouragement. Grime can not conceal the lurid pallor of hungry children playing on this street. These are Gods step-children! Only the younger ones exercise Childho0d's prerogative to daydream with the hope of consummation. They build their Aladdin castles in gray clouds, and what shoddy castles these would seem to the wealthy children a few blocks away! liven so, they daily experience the destruction of their castles by the horrid magician Reality, red-toothed and red-clawed. To most of them the pot of gold at the rainbows end is merely a magic means of satisfying hunger, for they are always,hungry-hungry in body, hungry in soul! Their brave Sunday morning attempts to achieve beauty and respectability are not without pathos. Such care that the broken sidewalks and earth spaces mar not the rare new shoes! Such collections of gay, screaming colors! Harmony! VVhat do they know about harmony? They want color, brightness-something to make them forget their sordid surroundings. On summer nights, when the street is deserted by the children, it becomes as a garden stripped of its flowersg for even scrawny blooms brighten discouraged landscapes. Overhead the stars shine as brightly as on Woodlaiid Road, but work- weary eyes see only moths beating hopelessly singed wings against pale street lights. Too long have they gazed downward to remember the beauty above. Often the heat is so intense that even the reward of rest and forgetfulness is denied these weary toilers who contribute the brawn that keeps the wheels of industry grinding. Oh, for one blessed breath of air! Greedily, thankfully they drink in each faint breeze. A melancholy stillness, broken only by the chirp of a cricket, broods over the street. And each wishes for the end of night with no prospect of joy for the morrow. Sometimes human figures seek to identify themselves with the shadows of the street as furtively they slink into their homes. Bitter against life, they prey upon these better favored. Deluded brothers of the moths, they sought the lijght, only to become singed children of darkness. Thus this little melting pot simmers on. Occasionally it bubbles over, and a few ambitious elements escape. More often, however. they become seared against 'Lhe sides or charred at the bottom. VV ith the whimsicality of Caliban, fate decided who shall thrive and who shall perish. And all the while the haze of the mills and the gloom of despair shroud Pendleton street. ' Elisabeth Pinckizcy. D Thirteen .li 7 W ii - Y - T .