Lakehead University - Yearbook (Thunder Bay, Ontario Canada)

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LAKEHEAD TECHNICAL INSTITUTE YEAR BOOK Field Trip . . . Arts NKNOWN to the other faculties of this noble institution, Arts students are required to go out on field trips, to make the long arduous journey into the vast unknown in search of knowledge. Every second Thursday, the Port Arthur Public Library beckons to us to solve the mysteries of Library Science or as one Arts student so aptly put it — What good is that stuff anyhow? At the hour of 2:30 p.m., ye old intellectuals are to be found assembled before the doors of this awe-inspiring edifice fully prepared for the venture. The equipment varies according to the need and intellectual capacity of each student. Each boy carries a zippered binder containing the following: A pen containing no ink, a copy of Foo, a broken pencil, a deck of cards, some frog ' s arteries which were left over from Zoology, a bat- tered copy of Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (that ' s French for Applied Science), half an eraser, a picture of the person the boys of this school admire more than any other: Pago, and several pages of notes taken during a lecture to prove to University Forestry that Arts students can at least stay awake. The girls ' equipment differs somewhat. In their binders one will find a pen without its top, a straight pen without a nib, an English-German Dictionary, four pencils, H.B., 2H, 3H, and 6H (you never know when you might just happen to be walking through the drafting room and be asked for a pencil), a tube of lipstick, some Kleenex, a copy of Modern Screen, a compact which from time to time opens on its own accord covering everything with a film of powder, a copy of True Love, and a page of notes taken on the character of Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice because Laurence Olivier was so won- derful in the movie. It was in this manner the members of the Arts Faculty were gathered suitably equipped for Library Science several weeks ago. We left the school early, that is, not quite as late as we left the time before, and moved off slowly down Cumberland Street glancing now and again at our maps and compasses to keep from straying off the trail. All went smoothly until we reached the vicinity of the Lyceum Theatre. Here we faced our first challenge. The time had come for us to make the big decision of our lives. Should we continue on our way to the Library or should we answer the call of culture and go to see a double feature which happened to be ' The Dakota ' Kid and for added enjoyment The Body Snatchers. Not only was this double bill of the highest calibre but it was Foto-Nite. As Shakespeare once said, Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ' em. Who wouldn ' t want that Foto-Nite

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LAKEHEAD TECHNICAL INSTITUTE YEAR BOOK DEATH I n m mm i ONE . . . TWO . . . THREE . . . |||| The rifle shots broke the northern stillness. The sound | echoed across the frozen Sikanni River, was absorbed by the j dense forest. A marauding wolf heard and was startled. | The man who fired those shots hoped and prayed that his call for aid would be heard. He shut the cabin door, crawled ijj! ' Ill back to his bunk. John Pick was afraid, mortally afraid, be- W I cause John Pick was dying — slowly, painfully, horribly. I Two days before, Trapper Pick had eaten tainted food. Now his belly was bloated and burning. As he lay on his bed in agony, John Pick knew he would die unless the poison was taken from his stomach. Now he waited for help. But distracted by fever, and pain, and fear, he lost all sense of time. Primitive John Pick took up his eight-inch hunting knife, plunged it into his swollen belly. And he waited and wondered, wondered which would come first — help or death. In his warm cabin in the forest, George Farrel was skinning the day ' s take from his trapping lines. The only sound he heard was that of burning wood and whistling wind. He heard nothing else. Nor did Farrel ' s huskies hear anything, but they sensed something. The huskies, more wolf than dog, grew restless and began to howl. And Trapper Farrel understood huskies, and he too sensed something . . . that something was wrong. By a kind of blind instinct Farrel broke camp and set out on that long journey to the cabin of his closest neighbour — John Pick ' s cabin. And the storm broke upon the traveller and his sled and his dogs. Farrel struggled through the cold and raging blizzard and as the storm began to die he found the cabin. Death had won the race. George Farrel put the body high in the branches of a snowy fir tree, safe from the wolves. Near the cabin, barely visible in the snow, lay the bodies of three huskies. To save them from starving, John Pick had shot them. Before leaving, Farrel ' s rifle spoke the requiem. One . . . two . . . three . . . The rifle shots broke the northern stillness. The sound echoed across the frozen Sikanni River, was absorbed by the dense forest. A marauding wolf heard and was startled. —A. M. S. — 24 —

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L AKEHE AD TECHNICAL INSTITUTE YEAR BOOK FIELD TRIP— ARTS prize thrust upon ' em. After determining by statistics the slim chance each of us had of being thrust upon, we decided it would be best to carry on with our original intentions. At the corner of Cumberland and Arthur Streets, we found a crowd of puzzled people staring up at the sky where nothing appeared to be happening. Wishing to look into this strange spectacle we drew nearer where, much to our amusement, we discovered a certain small town forester, filled with awe, regarding the numerous stories of the Prince Arthur Hotel. We left him mut- tering to himself in the best of Parisian French and made our way up the mighty slopes of Arthur Street. The way was hard particularly for the Fort William students who are unused to the thinner atmosphere and treacherous tenain of this mountainous district. The Port Arthur students found that in order to make any progress they had to tie ropes around the Fort William students and haul them up the hill. It was five minutes to three when we arrived at the library where we found Mr. Todesco gazing fondly into the headlights of a yellow convertible. When asked if a blonde had gotten out of it, he looked puzzled and answered, A blonde what? We let the matter drop and after finding the car was locked, we went inside for our lecture on bibliographies. Since then, Miss Murphy, Miss Booking, and Miss Aedy, have been doing something which has been neglected by most libraries. Bibliographies of bibliographies have been written but since no one has written a bibliography of a bibliography of a bibliography the girls are working on it. Mr. Adderley is out compaigning for the addition of a comic book section to all Public Libraries and Miss Nattress is wondering if a librarian would classify her Year Book under the Fine Arts or Twentieth Century Literature. When last seen, Mr. Todesco was heading in the direction of a yellow convertible. — L. A. Word got around that the Engineers were taking an English course while at L.T.I., and although it is hard to prove while in the school, we picked up this copy of a typical engineer ' s business letter to a financeer and the reply. Dear Dad: No mon No fun. ■ — Your Son. Dear Son: Too bad You sad. — Your Dad. — 26 —