Lancaster High School - Mirage Yearbook (Lancaster, OH)

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were packed long before the scheduled time for the race. Jack was over in the pit, where his car was receiving its final overhauling, and 1 went over to bid him Godspeed and wish him success. I found him as calm and collected as if this were an everyday affair. He was perfectly confident of winning. At last the gong rang, the announcer intro- duced the contestants, the start was safely made and the race was on. There were seven, contestants. What a thrilling spec- tacle! It fairly made one wish to shout and leap with the very excitement of the moment.—even as staid a person as myself. Round and round the course they flew. Some- times a tire would go flat or a bit of machinery refuse to work. Then into a pit the car would be sent, repaired almost before one could breathe, then out and away again. By the t»me that the race was half over three of the con- testants were out of the game, but Jack was one of the remaining four. He was holding his own. Finally they were entering upon the last round. The excitement was intense. The air seemed charged with a deadly calm; there was not a sound except the roar of the Hying machines. Every muscle was taut; every eye strained. Each of the machines had been let wide open for the final dash. Jack was slowly but surely creeping ahead. Inch by inch the other machines were losing out. 1 All of a sudden a cry of terror arose from every throat. What had happened ? The steer!ng-gear of Jack’s machine had snapiHKl under the intense strain. The machine darted across the track directly in front of the next car. There was a crash, a cry of terror, as the two cars collided. In an instant both cars were in flames. The other two ma- chines got safely by and roared on. I ran with all possible speed towards the scene of the disaster. A chemical engine and a rescue squad were there already. The driver of the second car was found several feet from the wreck, having been hurled from his machine by the violence of the impact. He was badly cut about the head and face. The two mechanics and Jack were in the blazing heap. In an instant the chemicals had smothered the fire and the three men were hauled out from the wreck. Both the mechanics were dead—killed instantly. Jack was alive, but unconscious and mortally wounded. Besides being terribly burned, he had received internal injuries that would cause his death within a few hours at the most. He was rushed to the field hospital, where he lay for about an hour in great pain. He regained consciousness only for a few moments, when he gasped. Tell Nellie—I tried— awfully hard to win—for her.” He sank back again and in a few moments Jack Langdon was with his God. He had driven his last race. rj

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For a year Jack served as a mechanic in the factory, and then his uncle permitted him to go on the road as me- chanic on a racing car. For two years he traveled over the country, participating in many successful racing events. He wrote to me regularly, telling me of his travels and of his hopes. Several times he paid visits to his home village, and each time he was treated as a royal guest. After two years on the road as mechanic, during which time he had himself driven in a few minor races, he re- quested his uncle to put him in command of a car of his own. Added to his request was a statement from the driver with whom he had traveled recommending him as capable of handling a car of his own. Finally the uncle consented to his request and Jack was perfectly wild with joy. At last his dreams were on a fair way towards being realized. The road to success was open before him, and from afar fame was beckoning him on. Happy as a lark, he came home and gave a royal banquet to a host of his old friends in honor of the occasion. That night Jack asked Nellie Wagner to marry him— pretty little Nellie Wagner, the most beautiful girl in the village (excepting my wife, of course). Jack and Nellie had l een sweethearts from the day that Nellie had come to our village, twelve years before. Thru childhood, up into young manhood and womanhood, they had grown side by side. Nellie had been genuinely grieved when she had learned of the dangerous life course that Jack had chosen, and she had besought him not to go, but he laughingly assured her that no harm would come to him. After Jack made his proposal. Nellie gently but firmly told him that as long as he re- mained at his present occupation she would not marry him. Jack left the next morning, his spirits considerably damp- ened. During the next three years Jack rose, step by step, until he stood in the front ranks of the world’s great auto drivers. Fortune seemed to smile upon him always. He had lost but few races. He seemed to have exceptionally good luck with his cars. Never an injury had come to him in all these years. He had many narrow escapes from death, but somehow he had always come out with hardly a scratch. He was frugal and by this time had a snug little sum of money safely deposited in a bank. In the midst of his triumphs he came again to Nellie and again asked her to share life with him. She replied that she would do so if he would give up racing and settle down at home. Jack con- sidered for a moment, then replied. “Well, Nellie, I guess you’re about right about this business. It is too strenuous a life for any one to engage in for long. I will drive one more race and quit. In about six months I am to engage in a contest for the world’s championship at the Meadow- brook race course in Iowa. If I win, I will be satisfied. If I lose, I will quit the game.” Joyously she consented to marry him under these conditions and they began to plan for a church wedding on the Thursday immediately after the great race. Jack came to me and asked me to perform the ceremony, and I never accepted an invitation with greater pleasure than that one. He and Nellie began to look about and choose a site for a home. Jack immediately placed a contract in the hands of a builder for the construction of a beautiful bungalow. Then he went away to make preparations for the great race. Several weeks beforehand Jack sent me an admittance ticket and urged me to come and see his last race. Nellie was asked to attend, too, but her aversion for racing was so great that she refused to go. Altho attending races is rather outside of my line of business as a minister, yet, for Jack s sake, I went. The great day had arrived. The immense grandstands

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A (Eantrgir iH r ft a i iJirrn By Clifford Tibbs. Ted Anderson, an Erie Railway telegraph operator, sat on the platform of his little station, enjoying the beauty of the summer evening. Suddenly he heard the delicate in- strument inside click out the “danger call” of the road. He sprang to his feet, ran into the room and jotted down the message. It read as follows: “No. 24 has lost car loaded with dynamite. Car coming your way. Ditch it.” After reading the message several times, Ted snatched his cap from a peg in the wall and dashed from the build- ing. out into the darkness. He sped up the track with a long, easy stride, that characterized him as one familiar with its roughness. He knew that there was no time to be lost, for the switch at the end of Crawford”s grade was three-quarters of a mile away. He had covered about half the distance, when he heard the long, clear blast of a locomotive whistle afar in the east. His blood now seemed to come to a full stop, for he knew that the approaching train was the famous “Blue Flash Limited,” between New York and Chicago. He knew, too, that this train carried hundreds of sleeping passengers and that their lives depended on him. “If I can only beat it to the switch,” was the thought that flashed hrough Ted s mind as he set out desperately at his swiftest pace. On and on he ran. Nearer and neared approached the train, until the rays of its brilliant headlight flashed through the semi-darkness before him. Suddenly there loomed up in the west a huge, swiftly maving, rumbling object, which Ted recognized instantly as the dangerous car. The small red light of the switch was but one hundred yards farther on. The express now came with a rushing, roaring sound, and Ted could hear its flanges as they clanged on the rail-joints. With a lunge he reached the switch post and fell upon his knees before the lever, while he fumbled in his pocket for the key. The dynamite car drew nearer and nearer and the ex- press seemed but one hundrrd feet away, when Ted un- locked the switch. He pulled th lever. But alas! It re- fused to budge. He gave another tug and fell over ex- hausted, carrying the lever with him. The mighty express shot by with a terrific roar. The dynamite car took the switch and went thundering into a huge sandpile ahead. The car had been ditched, the lives of the passengers had been preserved and Ted Anderson had bcom a national hero—a candidate for a Carnegie medal.