Jersey Shore High School - Orange and Black Yearbook (Jersey Shore, PA)

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JERSEY SHORE HIGH SCHOOL 15 OUR SISTER T would be hard to say how James, Mary, and I expected Anne to look that night - certainly not the way she did look, standing there a head taller than the fifty-live other eighth grade graduates. To us she had always been big sister. I was only two years her junior, and James and Mary were two years younger than I. We had never given Anne much consideration. XVe recognized her as the one who washed our hair, got us ready for Sunday School, and helped us with an occasional arithmetic problem. Ever since we could remember she had been tall-much taller than the children in her class at school. In her short skirts and childish clothing, similar to those of the other children, she made a very un- gainly sight. She was, it seemed to our immature minds, a very unhappy girl. In spite of the fact that she neglected her lessons disgracefully, her grades were superior to those of any other student in the class. The only thing that she really enjoyed was her music. She had taken lessons from the local music teacher. She quarreled constantly with the other girls at school. Recently we noticed that she rarely ever joined them in their games at recess time. Nor did she take an interest in supervising the games of the smaller children. She ignored the whole student body, and even the cutting remarks of the principal, reprimanding her for her sullenness, could not change her disposition. At home, as in school, she was awkward - falling over various objects, or more often, stumbling over nothing at all. She was subject to violent tantrums and strange moody spells, during which she would back herself in the room that she and I shared and admit no one. Being used to this Anne, there was little wonder that we scarcely recognized the tall blonde girl who stepped haughtily to the front of the stage and delivered the first honor speech. She wore a white gown designed for the young lady that she was, rather than made on a pattern like that of her companions. Her short blonde hair fell in soft waves about her forehead. On one shoulder of her dress she wore a corsage of pink rose buds. She did not look into the faces of her audience, but rather she gazed triumphantly out over their heads. Her level gray eyes seemed fixed on the ceiling at the back of the auditorium. Her speech was about Music as a Means of Expression for the Young. When the exercises were over and Anne emerged from the stage door, we ran proudly to greet our newly found sister: but Anne scarcely noticed us. She showed us hastily aside. In response to her gesture we ran home before her. Once I looked back and saw her striding along the narrow street, head high, and shoulders back, holding her diploma at her side. Instinctively something told my childish mind that Anne was

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I4 THE ORANGE AND BLACK the store switchboard was not operating at that time of night. He turned and began the climb to the roof again and by the time he reached the roof he had a well formed plan. Jim had not lived an uneventful or dull life, for he had been a wireless operator on ship board during the Great War. Now his training could be applied in a useful way. He had for several years played with radio apparatus as a hobby. Such a situation as was present gave Jim a great opportunity to prove the worth of radio and foil the burglary, taking place on the fourth floor. He nervously pulled the switch, controlling the neon sign on the top of the building. Then cutting a large 50,000 volt line, he dis- connected part of the sign, laying the two ends about two inches apart. Then breathlessly he closed the switch. As it contacted a blue flame leaped between the ends of the spliced wire. He had made an ingenious spark gap which would cause considerable interference on all radios within a small radius from that point. He began to open and close the switch, using it as a key. Through the ether crackled an abbre- viated message. Cm 2 Kel. Stre burglry. 4th flr. Help! Help! He repeated the message continuously, trusting that some one would pick it up. A block away from this scene, seated in a bachelor apartment, Bill Stuart, R. C. A. Technician, listened to a late program on the radio, Suddenly a crackling interference broke in, over-riding the volume of the station. He turned and walked to the window muttering an oath against the flashing neon sign, on the Keller building. But to his sur- prise only four of the letters were illuminated. Then as if struck by a bolt of lightning he realized that the interference cutting in and out was in the form of code. He grabbed a pencil and paper and copied the clicking message. The following morning four bewildered gangsters stood in the police station in line. Jim Melroy, identified two of them, while the others were obviously their companions. Bill Stuart was waiting for Jim. As they walked out of the line-up room, arm in arm, Jim said. Say! Bill, that's another one we can chalk up for your radio, and both laughed heartily. The four disreputable characters over- heard them and looking at each other, shrugged their shoulders in a gesture of non-comprehension. Charles Scheid, '3 8.

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16 THE ORANGE AND BLACK dreaming of next year when she would go away to high school, to companion her own mental age, and to further instruction in her be-f loved music. I turned away disappointed. Why was she so brilliant? Why did she love her music so? I didn't want a genius or a musician for a sister: I wanted to playmate. Doris Coseo, '37. O 00 O CRAZY DREAMS One evening before retiring I ate a pickle. And that night I dreamed that- Mr. Grugan was fickle. Then I nibbled on a carrot. And dreamed that- Rae Gundlach outtalked a poll parrot. Oh. I downed a hot dog And then I saw- Miss Reitz get stuck in a bog. I ate some limburger cheese And spied Miss Levegood- Performing on a trapeze. Next I ate a half-baked potato And dreamed of- .Iigg's eye being punctured by an unpleasant tomato. Then I mis-digested some strawberry whip And dreamed that- Mr. Bowes had another attack of grippe, I indulged in some corn And lo! ---- our Schonie played a fog horn. But now my dreams are getting so bad- They're turning into nightmares. l'm afraid to go to sleep, Because of the awful scares. Take my advice-Don't eat Before going to bed. Or you might wake up And find you are dead. Kathryn Bergstrom, '3 7.