Gettysburg Academy - Osoga Yearbook (Gettysburg, PA)

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T---r -------- 'H-HOSOGAH' ------ ------ HUMQX, . Q 9 XXX? 2 l s QW t os, Qxw 1X0 X04- J I A A TYPICAL DAY AT GETTYSBURG ACADEMY Six-fifty-five arrives with the accompaniment of someone ringing a cowbell madly. Of course, no one pays any attention to it. Seven-thirty: A combination of plates rattling and frequent bursts of conversation are heard by the passerby. Eight o,clock: A hurried throwing together of blankets and tossing a pillow in the general direction of the head of the bed is called bed making. Eight-fifteen: Used for classes, study hall, or study in the rooms. Nine o'clock: Chapel consists of reading the Bible, praying, and waiting for a favorable announcement as a free night out for all or a lecture at eleven o'clock. Twelve-thirty: After a brief period of silence during the giving out of the mail, there is a grand rush for the dining hall. One o'clock: Majority of students go up town for one reason or another. Two o'clock: Classes, study hall, or room. For the adventurous youth, movies land demerits, if caught.j Three-thirty: Baseball, swimming, and all other sports, including study-hall. Six o,clock: During the course of supper one hears frequently the familiar phrase, Cookies downf' Seven-thirty: Study hall for many, room study for many, 'Knights out,' for a very few lucky ones. Nine-forty-five: Study hallls over, there is general visitation of students between rooms. Eleven o'clock: Lights out and numerous Academy night owls start out for unknown destinations. Three o,clock: The last night owl has Hnally gotten to bed and quiet reigns supreme over the Academy. T591

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19 AQA- -1- ------------- o s o G A -------------- ---34 Then followed the most wonderful exhibition of one-man football as had ever been seen before. The stands had never been in such a wild frenzy of excitement, and shouted them- selves hoarse, where before had been only disgust and despair. Truly The Fool was showing himself a perfect master of football. Not even the great Travers had been known to make such wonderful plays. Three minutes only now remained of the game and the Columbia supporters were calling, pleading, begging, for a touchdown. The Fool heard. The signals for Columbia were given. Straight as an arrow came the ball back to the half, who, holding it for a punt, seemed suddenly to change his mind and prepare for a pass, drawing back his arm. Even as he did so, The Fool, with action displayed in every fibre of his body snatched the ball from the halfback and tucking it under his arm dashed down the rough and broken field. Tackler after tackler was hurled aside by that dread, straight arm that never failed to clear a path. The stands went wild. A touchdown seemed imminent now. Columbia would win. Nearer and nearer The Fool came, gaining momentum at every stride, shaking of man after man until there was but one man between him and the coveted chalk line. The captain and quarterback, for such it was, cast a hurried look of despair about him and seeing no other man to help him, gave an exclamation of dismay. But gathering all the forces at his command he braced himself to meet the impact. Small benefit was the preparation though, for The Fool was not to be stopped by anything human now. He crashed into the quarterback with one mighty plunge that left the Brinston a huddled hgure on the field. Away sped the giant form with the ball tucked under his arm. The goal . . The goal . . . He would reach it now. Nothing could stop him. The great audience sprang to its feet. Hats were in the air. Strangers slapped each other on the back. The whole vast assembly made the grandstands fairly rock and the very earth quiver with one mighty roar of ex- citement. The Fool . . . Ah, where was the fool of him now . . Thirty-five thousand souls were proclaiming him im- mortal. l'But five yards now to the goal . . The once fool with triumphant features, plunged on. The hero of the moment heard the roars of approval, heard the cheers that rose in mighty crescendoes, and -- a shrill, pitiful scream from a front box where a woman sat with blanched, horror-stricken face, and who did not know the glory of a wonderful victory. He, who was about to snatch a glorious victory that would idolize him forever, had heard that voice before somewhere- somewhere on the campus, sitting beside a motherly old lady. He had also heard a woman's story. l'Five yards more... And the atmosphere was being rent with thirty-five thousand cheers for the wonder of him. But five yards more . . . And the huge, human tornado ap- peared to stumble and fall. The ball rolled, unheeded, to the sidelines. The fool of him had returned. A silence, the dead, terrible silence of the nonunderstand- ing fell upon the multitude. What was this? Did they really see this? Five yards only to the goal of a great victory and the man actually falling in a stupid heap. No, it could not be, It was incredible. Suddenly, as the fallen man arose, the shrill blast of a whistle cut the silence like a knife. The game was over .... Columbia had lost. Then, the mammoth audience awoke to the significance of it all. Yells of anger and scornful derision broke forth. Pandemonium spread over the grandstands and the field. Thousands lifted up their voices in cursing him. For a moment The Fool stood there. For a moment he stood there gazing upon the sea of wrathful faces, listening to the groans and hoots that were heralding for him disrepute for life . . . He lifted his great, good-natured visage to the skies in despair .... Then the fool of him mastered the rest of him forever, and he smiled-deliberately smiled, and strode calmly from the fieldf' The college man paused and drew a long breath. Well,'y remarked the drummer, 'twhat became of the widow's sonfw There was a brief silence. i'Gentlemen,i' said the college man, that widow's son was If' Again, a brief silence. UAnd yetf' mused the drummer, 'Tcl like to shake that fool by the hand. Heis my idea of a manf' ,QW .w vp if ,4Qa 'teresa vm N... .1 - I Q 4-,, an-7' 5581

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Mr. -f --------- H--osoGA-H--H -------- -- FAMOUS SAYINGS OF FAMOUS PEOPLE Mr. Hoffman: NoI I haven't any changelv Mr. Ulrich: 'KNOW for tomorrow, take .... Mr. Richard Wolfe: Stop thatl Take twof, Charles Wolfe: For all practical purposes . . Mr Mr Ziegler: Cum on, cum on, get in your room. Saunders: 'qWell, you see it's this Wayan?-U Harry Bradshaw: 'gWanta go home in a box? Burton Brush: 'QSO long gentsg guess I'I1 be amblin' Robert Crede: A hunting I will gof' Edward Fasold: I feel tough todayf' William Gibbs: Yes Sirlv No Sir! Robert Haldeman: Don't call me Poo-tink! Jack Hannestad: Tweet tweetf' William Hindman: You,re so smallf, Bruce Hockman: Q'I,m just as tough as I look. Harold Hockman: No kiddin', fellas, she looks jus William Hollis: Me is de rebelf, Peter King: Aw stuffln Harry Leliner: You through, Doctorfw John Merton: Aw gee, Sir! Arthur Rogers: Wish I was fatf, David Ross: Now you wouldn,t fool me Banks Sieber: Gimme a kiss, sweetheart. Romeo Wagner: You're lousy! Lloyd Witzel: How about a butt! Clarence Wolfe: Yeah?', William Utz: 'Tm warnin' youll, alongf, t like Sari Maritzi would ya?7' Stuart Burbee: I ought to know about themg I've been there.', William Lynn: Perhaps you won't believe it, but after I wrecked the last one we bought two new ones. Joseph Lotito: My guess is as good as the next one. Philip Arras: Is it time for the bell?', Al McGaw: mAh, can th, stuiflv George Longenecker: Now when we played . . . I Fred Overdorf: Can I bowllv Robert Moore: Darn, I only got three letters from her today? Frank Graff: Do it the Graff wayf, I60l