Isaac Newton High School - Newtonian Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

Page 19 text:

THE NEWTONIAN 17 The Mad Sorcerer (Bennie Cramer, XIB—First Prize) “I tell you, I can prove my words!” shouted Professor Stanhope. The scene was the huge Hall of Science at the Century of Progress, World’s Fair, in 2034 A.D. The speaker was a grey-haired, keen-looking man close on 50. His brilliant grey eyes were gleaming- with anger as he shouted at the laughing crowd before him. The Professor stood beside a queer-looking machine, the object of his life’s work. It was shaped like a ball, plated with a shiny metal that nobody had ever seen before. It was about 10 feet in diameter and had an observa¬ tion window at the side as well as in the floor. A tiny door led into the interior. The inside of the machine was padded. There were two seats to hold passengers; the instrument board was covered with glistening dials; at one end there was a switchboard controlling the speed. In the centre of the board was an “anno-meter” divided into centuries and all the while ticking off the years of time. Zero marked the present moment; to the right of zero were the centuries of the past, and the left divided those of the never- ending future. One of the curious spectators suddenly asked, “Do you mean to call that thing a “Time Ship” which can go into the future?” Professor Stanhope’s eyes blazed—“Yes!” he cried, “with my Time Ship I can conquer time, and not only can I go into the future but into the past as well!” The people thought he was a crazed fanatic. Was not the thing he was suggesting impossible? “How can you go back into the past? The events are over and cannot be recalled,” yelled someone in the crowd. “I will prove the truth now,” shouted the professor as he leaped into the Time Ship. He pressed a lever, there was a rush of air, and the people were left looking at nothing. The Time Ship had gone! The Time Ship was travelling through a world of mist. Stanhope could see nothing about him. At any minute he might be killed. Then—suddenly the Ship stopped with a jar that threw him out of his seat. He arose a little dazed, opened the door and stepped out. The Time Ship stood near a forest. To Stanhope the place was familiar but he could not recall where he had seen it before. A little way off he could see the outline of a gaunt mediaeval castle standing out stark and bare in a world of desolation. He left the Ship where it was, as there seemed to be nobody about, and advanced towards the castle. The structure was crumbling and in ruins. Only in one place did il seem solid and to this the professor wended his way. He entered, and per¬ ceived in front of him an old man poring over a huge volume. The man looked up, and then continued his reading. “Who are you,” asked Prof. Stanhope, “and what is this place?” “My name is Aldanis, sometimes called the Mad Sorcerer by the people, but I be but a humble dabbler in the sciences of medicine and alchemy. I dwell here alone and my eyes have not gazed upon human face for three years. Verily this be the year 1539 of our Grace, and King Henry doth rule over Merrie Englande. But who art thou? And from whence comest thou?” The Professor’s eyes were alight with triumph, he had succeeded in going into the past! But how was he to convince this man of the truth of his story. However, he would try. He began boldly: “The tale I am about to tell you, Aldanis, will sound mad, but I have proof to verify it. You look like a clever man and I think you will under¬ stand me. I have come from your future into your present. Ten minutes ago I was living four hundred years after your death. I invented a machine whereby I could get back into the past and have come back to King Heni’y’s time; if you will come with me I will show you things that will amaze you— 1 will show you what happened to King Henry, and who was King after he «ied. Come, you will be a prophet, and not only that, but I will show you how you died four hundred years ago, or rather how your death will come about. Will you follow me?” The alchemist was amazed and intrigued; he had seen visions of the future, with men flying like birds, and here was his chance to discover if he had visualized aright.

Page 18 text:

16 THE NEWTONIAN ROOM 16, IX a. RECIPE. — Real men, hook-up players, ignorant scholars, good looks, and combed hair. Mix well and what have you? Room 16, and a terrible head¬ ache. But after all is said and some more is said, we are one big happy family, headed by a capable guardian, Miss Neil. Our class president, Jimmy Durante, is Primus Novak. Next comes our sports’ captain and rock-eating geologist, Angus Welsh. Our class scholars are Stanley Holowitch, Lawrence Joyce, and Mike Phillip. Our would-be comedian is Victor Kolt. Next come our love-birds, Nestor Harack and Clarence Welham, who do nothing else but hold hands and stroke each other’s hair. Our chief kibitzer is Mike Kolida, and the assistant kibitzer is Bill O’Kalita. John Maxsemchuck is our Romeo without a Juliet. The family compact consists of Mike Chudy, August Grenzowski, Walter Mykytuik, and Toris Monczakowski. Our politicians is Joe Peiluck. Our tall man is Metro Riby, alias (Shorty). Bright boy of the class is Kasmer Hass. Musicians, John Kornek and Paul Paly. Shop-wizard, Bill Sokol. Argument specialists, during class, are Tony Kruk and Jack Smith. Next comes Mike Medwick, our diamond-in-the-rough, along with our naturalist, Peter Tretiak. Back-to-the- land associates, John Plytka and Wallace Oatway. Our petit tough man is John Boyd. Joe Jackiew, our “dis” and “dat” man. Joe Caryk is our would- be athlete, and last but not least Mike Dubranski, our electrician. But after boiling it all down to a fine point, our Room 16 of boys top all rooms, bar none, in the Isaac Newton School, in any respect. ROOM 13. The curtain rises in September, 1934, to begin the old play of “The School Term”. In this scene Miss Morrow acts as director. The leading lady, the president, Marion Oddy, is noted for her artistic work. Next we notice Mary Shalay, our vice-president; Helen Popiel, secretary-treasurer: and Minnie Muzychuk, our sports captain, who also represented us in the skating races at the Amphitheatre. Susie Classen leads the rabble, which consists of her faithful followers: Eileen Kachanowsky, Annie Hamara and Sophie Dyk (when she’s here). Elizabeth Loewen is one of our best students in History. Mary Kurylo tries to be a graceful dancer. Helen Maroy, Millie Okalita and Jennie Mylymuk supply music for this play, while Emeline Burbell, who models the latest styles, dances. Helen Mykytyn is our shy little violet, but Olga Woz- niak is the very opposite. Our one social activity, a tramp, followed by re¬ freshments and stunts, was greatly enjoyed. In our stunt Minnie Martinchuk, a promising elocutionist, read the story of “Lochinvar”, while Olga Korneluk acted the part of Lochinvar’s blushing bride with Margaret Wozniak and Katherine Loewen as her bridesmaids. Our midgets. Sabina Wysocki and Wanda Warecki are great contrasts to Sophie Migasiuk and Lily Hreehkosy. Zonova Prosken takes part in all our sports. While Adela Bilinski is winking at the boys, Helen Mills is trying to disprove everything Mr. Bowman says. Nellie Walus is always sick (of Mathematics). Annie Paly and Winnifred Boore are seen but not heard. Annie Dwizona is our ambitious reporter (at least she hopes to be one someday). Stephie Grenzowsky and Kathleen Bilin¬ ski are always quick to leave at twelve and four. As the curtain falls in June, Miss Morrow is trying to usher us off the stage before beginning the play of another year. GRADE XI, MATRICULATION A, ROOM 17. (Continued from Page 3.) future. We gave Max Z. plenty of practice for his future position as Speaker in the House of Commons. Without Paul P. political discussions in our room would not have flourished. Olive K. might become a movie star if she went to Hollywood. We shall in the future, I am sure, hear Anna P. speak on the public platform. In the annual concert, Gr. XI A was represented in th“ orchestra and the chemical vaudeville, and more than half the “actors” in the play came from popular Rm. 17. We also won the inter-room debate. So on the whole, I don’t think our room did too badly, do you? With fond memories of 1934-35, GRADE XI A.

Page 20 text:

18 THE NEWTONIAN “Yes, I will come, I am old and worn and can lose nothing- Do thou but lead; I follow.” Thus was Aldanis taken into the future—Stanhope’s present. He was shown aeroplanes, telephones, radio, television, he could see and speak to men hundreds of miles distant. He was shown a history book with reference to a certain magician, Aldanis, who had been burnt at the stake for telling the people stories of a visit into the future. He was shown a flashlight and he was so interested in it that he kept it to take back with him into the past. “With this as proof,” he thought, “I will convince my people that I have gone into the future. I will tell them of battles to come and shall be hailed as a prophet. They will not kill me, and I shall defeat Destiny. Now, take me back to my own time,” he eagerly asked. He was taken back to his time, and Stanhope departed for further ad¬ ventures. Immediately Aldanis travelled to to the King’s Court and revealed what had happened. He showed his flashlight and the King was afraid. “He is a wizard, burn him at the stake and break his rod that turns night into day,” he cried, for he saw that if Aldanis once convinced the people, his own princely power would go. So poor Aldanis was burnt at the stake; he had not defeated human destiny! But what of Professor Stanhope; he had gone back and told the people of, his adventures into the past. But they laughed and said it was only an illusion. Then he pushed a lever over to the left and vanished into the future. Of his further adventures, no one ever knew. Did they deserve to know? Finis. The First Sons of Canada (Anne Jurens) We are accustomed to think of the Indian as the personification of all that is vile. He is spoken of as mean, cruel, revengeful, as one who has nothing to recommend him, whose every characteristic is opposed to civiliza¬ tion and humanity. But after all there is something to be said on his side. The Indians were once sole lords of the whole land and then they were different from what they are now. It is true that they were fierce and war¬ like, cruel and revengeful; but they were simple and honest, staunch in their friendships and firm in their sense of honour. It is their contact with civilization that has warped their natural charac¬ teristics; and the white man is largely responsible for the condition of the noble red man. The free son of the plains has been taught the vices of the white man. much to his disadvantage. The following story will serve to illustrate the point of a red man’s sense of honor and friendship. A chief belonging to a tribe, friendly to the whites, had settled with his daughter near one of the frontier forts. The commander of the fort and his family gi ' ew to have a high regard for the dignified red man, and this feeling was fully reciprocated by the ducky warrior. But the peaceful tribe suddenly rose, and began a series of depredations and murders. The troops were called out to subdue them. The commander summoned the friendly chief and his daughter to him and was surprised to see the chief appear in full war-paint. Without waiting to be questioned, the Indian announced his departure. “My people are on the war-path. They are foolish, and will be slaugh¬ tered; but they are my people and they call me. I go to join them. I am sad at heart, for I must war against my white friends. The white man will conquer and I shall die, and so farewell!” This was the last they saw of him. He was true to his people and for their cause, died. His words proved prophetic for today the Indian is rapidly vanishing from the land of his forefathers.