Lakehead University - Yearbook (Thunder Bay, Ontario Canada)

Page 24 text:

THE NOR ' WESTER COME ALONG WITH ME, JOHN ZAGAR - Continued He was a big man, six feet or slightly more, solidly built. A great head of hair topped his huge frame. Its colour was neither blond nor brown but somewhere between the two. As his head moved toward me, a halo that suited John Zagar moved with him. The head stopped; his eyes peered into the murky depths of the room; into that which was and would always be in this place he called home. His eyes were grey, a very mild colour for such a violent man. His nose was well-formed and his chin was square and determined. He was whistling Rock of Ages — his mouth puckered up as if he were about to blow a trumpet. I could see that his teeth were still white. I wondered if he could still spit through them as expertly as he used to. Telephones rang continually and little men answered them with a harsh bark. Horses ' names flashed on the well-lit board and a mass of human puppets fought to catch a glimpse of this mechanical monster to which their strings of destiny were securely fastened. John Zagar could have been a good man if he had been born on the right side of the tracks. As it turned out, he was hard and ruthless. On his way to the top he had smothered all opposition. His downfall came in his never- ending quest for power. Power to create; power to destroy; power so that he could order a host of little men around and drive a big car. As he stood there surveying his domain, Zagar did not realize how flat his back was against the wall: the solid wall of the law. Because one of his pup- pets, envious of his master ' s success had squealed, J went up to the big man and said, Come along with me, John Zagar . This year ' s prizes for contributions to The Nor ' Wester go to Cal Duthie for his cover design, to Neil Ornstein for his short story Journey to Rutuf , which the judges placed first among the entries, and to Brooks Rapley for his short story Come With Me, John Zagar , which placed second. Neil Ornstein won a second award for being the student who collected the greatest number of advertisements for The Nor ' Wester. 22 —

Page 23 text:

THE NOR ' WESTER COME ALONG WITH ME, JOHN ZAGAR And then there was John Zagctr. He was an unlawful brute. Why, when John was only Little Johnny , he could spit through his teeth better than any of the boys. His incisors always gleamed white in the midst of his blackened face. And whistle! He could make a steam engine sound hoarse. Johnny had the habit of collecting toads but his warts were not a result of his interest in the class Reptilia. He could usually be found at the old sump hole swimming with the Jones boy and Peter Selbian. They swam without » the conventional outfit, and whenever the fluttering of the ground snipes tele- graphed the approach of an enemy , they took to the water and found refuge in the muddy depths. Yes, John was a rough youngster but he had a way about him that drew you to him. His smile was pleasant with a catch of devilment at the corners of his mouth. But these were only little things and I never pictured him as a rogue. John Zagar Men ' s Wear ' that was what the big sign hanging over the door said, and it gave a great illusion of cleanliness and simple living. The sign looked as if a Puritan had painted it. But just inside that door and around into the back room was a den of vice, a twentieth century Newgate, and yet, the palace of a king. For John Zagar was a king, secure in his own office. He had no rivals. I opened the door into the back room and walked in. It was like walking from a church lobby into a smoky boiler room. The walls were covered with a thin film of cheap paint spotted with soot and dust. The floor was made of rough boards. The cracks between the boards were a blessing to the janitor as they made good depositories for his sweepings. A number of light bulbs hung from the ceiling like spiders at the end of their webs. At the back of the room, in sharp contrast to its drab surroundings, was a huge coloured board across which flashed lights and names in a mad medley. To read this board was like trying to find a street number along Portage Avenue on a busy night. Blue-grey smoke hung over the heads of evil men, and mingled with the reek of garlic and cheap wine. In this crowd, John Zagar stood out. — 21

Page 25 text:

THE NOR ' WESTER