Gettysburg Academy - Osoga Yearbook (Gettysburg, PA)

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wet- - 1- - -2 --------- H o s o cs A ----------- - -M-64 QF is Q NW THE FOOL Poughkeepsie . . . bellowed the porter of the New York Central Express. Poughkeepsie.w He shouted again, at the same time peering through the blue haze of the smoker. mAh, heyah you is sah,', he exclaimed, eagerly waking the bewhiskered man with the brown derby out of a sound sleep. I-Ieyah you is. This hcyah is Poughkeepsie, sah. Ainit that wha you git off, sah? The bewhiskered man grunted disgustedly. No, you fool, I get og at Hudson. Get out of here. Across the aisle four men were playing a hand of poker and sympathetically observing the incident. These porters certainly do take the cake for being foolsf' snorted the drummer. Ushow me a better example of Mr. Fool A-I and I'lI eat my shoes. Oh, I don't know, mused the college man, Ir all depends upon a man's viewpoint. Now do you fellows really know what a fool is?U Do I . . U burst in the drummer indignantly. Well, say, if it werenit for fools, whereid I be . . If I didn't know a fool when I saw him, how could I rake in a 200 per cent profit on this stuff I'm selling? Yes sir, you bet, I know a foolf, The man of leisure lit a twenty-five cent cigar and did not offer his companions a smoke. l'Yes, Iive seen a fool, too,', he said. 'QI know a man who is rich. Yet he works day in and day out, accumulating money he never enjoys. That man is a fool.', Wal,', remarked the farmer, reflectively, spitting out of the window, reckon I know what a fool is, tew. Last time I was in town, one of them there gold-brick fellows tried to catch me up on one of his bunco games. But I wanit no fool, by gosh. . 'i The college man smiled. Q'Gentlemen,', he said, gif you will allow me, I will tell a little story. Ir is of a fool I once knew. The tale is old but a true one, and it may be that you never heard of just this kind of a fool. It was several years ago that the incident occurred, although I can remember it as though it were yesterday. It was at old Columbia. I know the story as an eye witness. uThe Fool, for as such he had earned his name, was a great, mammoth, awkward, young giant. He was a titan, a perfect mountain of solid beef and musclegbut that was all. He was a physical perfection, but further than that, he had achieved nothing. Studies? Oh, yes, he was well in his studies. Fools often are, you know, -strangely inconsistent. But, nevertheless, he had no head. You see, he was a fool. He could not enter the frats. He was not disagreeable, but taci- turn-odd. He desired no company but his own. The coaches, however, could not behold two hundred pounds of solid muscular energy lying idle without dreaming of the possibilities of such energy. He was urged to try out for the various athletics. This, probably, in response to the yearnings of the great forces within him, he agreed to do. He tried baseball. You can imagine the result. When at bat, he could not hit a ball without sending it crashing through the fence,- but he had no judgment, and could seldom hit it. He was too lazy to run bases. He was never known to catch a fly. In fact, his baseball career expired, in a tremendous burst of misspent energy within six days. The track meet called for followers. The giant dreamily listened and replied. But his great, inherent laziness barred him absolutely, and he turned for new opportunities to prove the power of his superhuman strength. The coach of the crew received him with open arms: but soon dismissed him in a temper. The Fool, ever faithful to his name, confidently ignored orders, snapped oars, and swamped the boat at least every other time. No, as a member of the crew, he was not a success. Then came football. By this time his ill-fame as an athlete had reached all the coaches. Yet, his splendid physique could not be overlooked, and he was begged to try out. He did so. The coaches groaned often and feelingly. The big fellow seemed absolutely incapable of grasping the plays. He knew, always and forever, just the wrong thing to do at the wrong time-and he always did it. Still, for the sake of his powerful shoulders and two hundred pounds of iron sinews, the coach was tempted. And so the Fool, in spite of himself, became an athlete, and joined the ranks of the gridiron as a substitute. The football season was a glorious one for Columbia. Victory followed victory that year. The whole university was wild with enthusiasm. The football warriors were heroes, and even The Fool, who had not engaged in a single game, outside of the scrub issues, was held in good natured tolerance. Brint- son alone, now disputed Columbiaas right to the championship. uThe day of the great game arrived. The home city was hlled with the supporters of Brinston, automobiles and train- loads arriving in steady streams. The populace was rife with football zeal. Never before in football history had such in- tense excitement been known. Each side was absolutely and T561

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19--------------H--M----------- ----------- o s o cs A ----- -M ----1--M --------f----------34 x K OSOGA LODGE In the South Mountains situated not far from the historic Pine Grove Furnace stands the Osoga Lodge, a week-end and football camp where many pleasurable leisure hours are spent. Osoga Lodge is maintained by the school, and after a week of study at school, one is glad to get away from its restrictions and out into a natural atmosphere. The environment which surrounds the camp is of unques- tionable natural beauty and historic wealth. Barely two miles from camp stands the original Pine Grove Furnace in a little settlement of the same name. Ir was here that part of the shot was made during the Revolutionary War to supply the needs of XVashington's army. The furnace has long ago been aban- doned and now stands as a memorial to its own once great production. This district was noted for the iron which was mined from its hills, the output being so great that a branch of one of the major railroads of this state was extended to the mining district. A few years ago several of the mines being dug too deeply, struck underground springs and were flooded. Thus the iron production was discontinued. The natural beauty and magnificence of the surrounding country is inspiring and is the constant theme of poets and writers. Beneath the hill on which the cabin stands lie the somber waters of Laurel Lake. Towering above the lake with the majestic grandeur stands Pole's Steeple, crowning the heights of the wooded slope which surrounds it. In the hills in the vicinity of the lodge is situated an immense group of boulders which form the apex to a mountain of no mean height. This is recognized by the National Geological Asso- ciation as one of nature's works of art and is appropriately called Hammondls Rocks. Osoga Lodge is situated on a bluff overlooking Lake Laurel. Its commanding position demands the attention of all passers-by. It is built upon the style of a Swiss chalet though the native architecture is outstanding through the fact that it was erected with logs cut from the surrounding forests. The cabin is a rather large building painstakingly constructed to Ht the needs for which it was planned. As one approaches the Lodge one notices the distinction of the wide roof and broad porches which surmount it. As one enters he is immediately conscious of the keynote of its formation-expansiveness. The large center room which is used for a dining hall, a living room, and a sleeping room is set off by a massive stone fireplace fClass ,3I gifrj while above is a sleeping balcony. There is a kitchen in the rear of the cabin which is considered to be the most important room by many. Before school starts, football camp opens under the direc- tion of Coach C. R. Wolfe and extends up to the time when school is about to begin in the autumn. Stiff workouts are given the players before their 'final debut on the gridiron. If one might be there some cool autumn morning he would per- haps see Hips' boysy' doing Poleas Steeple or pounding the road toward town. Later the week-end camp opens and a certain number of the students are allowed to go there accompanied by a master who cooks the food, gets the water, etc., etc. Nlany hikes are made by the fellows, one of the best being to Tumbling Run, a dis- tance of about seven miles. Another to Hammond,s Rocks, which leads through mountain trails especially beautiful in autumn, to the summit of a veritable castle of stone surmount- ing a precipitous ridge. For those who like canoeing there is Laurel Lake and a decent sized canoe at request. In back of the camp is the State Forest Reservation and at times nearing dusk many diminutive deer will steal out into the clearing in which the camp is situated. Those who like swimming should go to Fuller,s Lake, formerly an abandoned mine, which serves its purpose to the greatest extent. U51

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19-M -------------- - o s o G A -------------- t34 unwaveringly confident of success. Speculators took advantage and fortunes were wagered. l'In the forenoon, The Fool, apparently the least concerned of all, strode lonely and silently as was his wont, across the campus. Reaching the opposite side, he gazed about him in the hope of finding an unoccupied bench. Such, however, could not be. The campus was teeming with life. All benches were occupied. The bench nearest him, however, held but one person, an elderly lady, dressed in black. Her face was pleas- ant, but deeply furrowed and unnaturally sorrowful. Ar the furthest end of this bench, the Columbian seated himself and gazed gloomily into space. To his surprise and annoyance, the lady addressed him. M 'Excuse me, sirf she began timidly, 'but you appear to be a student. Will you please tell me what side you think will win this game?' 'Columbiaf replied The Fool, briefly. Y' 'Oh, it mustnitf faltered the woman. 'It mustn't. What will I do?' 'Don't know mam,' said The Fool, his wonder getting the best of him. 'In trouble?' uAnd then the woman, as is the way of all who bear the burden of a grief unshared, burst into tears and sobbed out the story that she had known alone too long, thankful to have found at last a person who appeared to sympathize. 'QIt was pitiful, little tale that he listened to. The poor woman, it seemed was a widow. Of all the world's millions, she had but one to care for and to care for her. This was her son. To her, the boy was everything and when it became ap- parent that journalism was his forte, she desperately resolved that he should have a college education, poor though they were. Then came several long, weary years of hard, pitiless work for the boy, unselfish sacrifice and self-denial by the mother, and miserable pinchings for them both. But the money was finally saved and the boy fairly started on his career at Brinston University. With great economy, he would be able to com- plete the four years' course. Everything seemed bright untill- the thing happened. The boy was captain of the Brinston football team and of all its supporters the most zealous and confident. For him Brinston was supreme. There was no chance for defeat. Loudly he had proclaimed his faith. All knew of it. Yell leaders took him for a model of school spirit. He infused his team with the violence of it. A week before the Columbia-Brinston game came the crisis. He met at last a man who dared to declare in his face that Columbia's team was superior. Drunk with the excitement of argument, the foolish boy wagered his entire fortune on the outcome of the game. The Columbia man was wealthy and greedy. A less excited person held the notes. The act was done before a considerable number of the students. Before the eyes of honor, the wager was binding. Not once had the confident captain of the Brinstons felt a tinge of regret. For him it was a sure investment. His fortune would be doubled. He knew. But the widowed mother was not blinded by the artificial wis- dom of enthusiasm. She alone knew the tortures of doubt. She thought of the consequences of the loss of their little earnings, saw her boy forced from college, beheld him strug- gling in the world without the education that could alone bring him success, tasted the bitter scorn of those who would sneer and say, 'There is a fellow who might have had a career had he not gambled it awayf Yes, she, the mother, thought of all these things. She knew. To this grieved woman, The Fool listened as in a trance. His great face at first passive, became soft with the tenderness that the lonesome giant seldom felt. just the faintest trace of tears was in his eyes. just the faintest trace of a tremble was in his voice as he spoke. 'Madam,7 he said, KI had a mother-once. I have feelings and sympathy-but-' and here he stiffly rose from the bench, 'after all, what is the use? I cannot help you. In fact, I can not even hope that Brinston will win. You see I play on the Columbia team.' Then coldly and without even a glance backward, the huge Columbian strode away. But the widowis tale had somehow sunk deeply, for you see-he was a fool. The widow gazed after him, torn by two emotions. She was warmed by the evident sympathy of his first words and chilled to the heart by the cold revelation of his last, that he was actually a member of the team, that could cause her so much sorrow. And through it all she did not know that-he was a fool. 'lThe huge amphitheatre had never presented a more won- derful and impressive spectacle. The Blue and Gold of Columbia was flaring forth definace across the gridiron to the Orange and Black of Brinston. Cheers were echoing and re- echoing. The great game of the year, of football history, was on. Q'For the first three quarters of the game the two teams had battled for supremacy by all the will and strategy known to the greatest football players that ever graced cleats. Such playing had never been seen before. As yet neither side had been able to make a single score. 'lThe vast crowds were hushed in expectancy when the whistle blew, announcing the beginning of the fourth quarter. With the score even and both sides now positively crazed by the desire for victory, something was sure to occur. Then hap- pened the thing that the Columbian supporters were most praying against. Travers, the mighty captain of Columbia, the hero of the season, did not get up after a particularly fierce tackle, and when he did not get up after five, ten, and hfteen minutes, the stands groaned aloud. For who was there to go in, with the two regular 'subsi incapacitated, one from injury and the other from scholarship. Ar no time during the game had things looked darker for the Blue and Gold. Then, while the thousands of people wagered the chances of the various candidates getting into the game, wonder turned to amazement, and amazement to speechless paroxysms of despair, as amid deathlike silence The Fool, The Fool, above all persons, lurched lazily forward and made his way with uneven steps far down to the end of the field where the Columbians were gathered rallying for the last desperate stand. He was acknowledged by a curt nod from the rest of the players, but from Talbott, acting captain, he received one word, 'Fightf The game was again on. The Fool plunged into the com- bat. He, The Fool, took the position of Travers, the mighty football hero of Columbia. Loud were the murmurs unfounded, for The Fool was loyal to his title. The action had scarcely started, when he blundered, deeply and uselessly as was his way. The quarterback of Brinston drop-kicked the ball over Columbia had been the cross for the Hrst score of the game. scored against. The grandstands united in one mighty roar of protest. The Fool was houted at and hissed. And then it happened, No one knew it, neither the stands nor The Fool. But it did. The taunts of the grandstands had somehow awakened something else in him besides the fool of him. Something in him was to be set loose that had never been so before. It now only awaited the opportunity. The Brinstons, flushed with the triumph of the newly ac- quired score, were pushing themselves steadily to their oppo- nents, goal line. Ir seemed as though nothing could stop their terrific hammering charges. Around the end came the phalanx, well bunched and with a desperate light in their eyes. When, with a mighty upheaval and crash, the wedge was broken, the interference bowled out of the way and the runner hurled back for a loss of five yards. People in the stands rubbed their eyes and wondered. What was this? Was Travers back on the field? This time would tell, as again the flying wedge started intent on skirting the other wing, but again as before they were met by a human whirlwind, a huge red-eyed being, with a battering ram for a head, and a body of steel whip-cord. Again was the phalanx broken and scattered, and again was the runner thrown for a loss as with a fierce tackle, The Fool brought down the Brinston. The Fool had come to his own. . . E571