Lick Wilmerding High School - Commencement Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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- LLWJQQ.q..H,-.f,.---.E.f-f.nn- . TJMZQL The Winner of the Race STANLEY KLOPSTOCK, ZSX. ' ' msg N a bleak, cold athletic field, on which the sun was already setting, a bitterly fought track-meet between Yale and Harvard was taking place. Huddled in little groups, each college hoped fervently that its men would win-for there was a tied score and this last relay would decide the t meet. The set expression of the runners showed they meant to win or die in the attempt. Work, the famous runner for Yale and last man in the relay, was urging his team-mates on. We've got to win, fellows, he was saying rapidly, we've got to win - and there's only one way we can do it -- Fight ! A shrill cry telling the rooters of the final relay brought excitement to the mob, but only dread to Bruce Harrington, third runner. of the relay. He had always been rather cowardly, and already an icy sensation was creeping up his back. Suppose I should lose the race for Yale ! was the thought uppermost in his mind. Here was his one Big Chance - would he make good? Of course, no one would know he had been a failure if he did lose. How could they tell? Yet an insistent small voice kept calling, Yes, but you would know that you're a coward, you couldn't look your team-mates in the eye. Forget your dreadg you're a Yale man, and for once in your life-FIGHT!! Bruce Harrington never felt the burden of responsibility so heavy on his shoulders as he did then. The runners were lining up, while the rooters implored them on to victory. Harrington hurried to his place, still fighting the mental battle that would make him or break him. Get on your marks - Get set - GO ! ! and the white clad figures were off, each fighting for his Alma Mater. Bruce, waiting with straining muscles, thought the second runner would never reach him. Already Yale was losing ground. 'fCould I make up that lost ground for Yale? Hashed through Harrington's brain. He forgot his despair, himself, everything but the race. For the first time in his life, Bruce Harrington's fighting blood was up - at last a Man's Man! On came Harvard, a faint triumphant smile on the winning runner's face. How Bruce hated that smile! And then the Yale man reached him and he was off like a shot. He saw the Harvard man tearing along as if he never would lose an inch of lead. Bruce saw him falter, hardly noticeably, but that little was a gift of Heaven to the fighting Yale man. ' It was then that Yale started gaining, slowly, inch by inch, yet remorselessly as Fate - lighting to overcome that ten-yard lead. The Yale rooters went mad. Come on, Yale! Fight it out-keep it up, Harrington ! rang out their joyful cries. And Yale was winning. Bruce was tied with the Harvard runner, then Yale led - and when Yale's last man, Work, took the baton he was three yards ahead. Try as Harvard might, Yale kept up' the lead, for Harrington's game fight had put I: Page 28 :I

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- June, 1927 I in L1W1L I A Dog's Life J. MCCAULEY. Ga! Nm AM nothing but a common fox-terrier. Like others of my kind I am fs -ff. forced to work my paws to the bone in order to insure myself a liveli- hood. I work, let me tell you, sometimes a goodly twelve hours a day fa ,C without overtime pay. I travel about the country, with the rest of my dog raglan friends, playing at the various vaudeville theatres. I am known by the name of Prince and am quite a handsome animal, if I do say so myself. I have soft fur, white spotted with brown, and beautiful long ears that are the envy of my companions. There are twenty-live of us in the team and each has his special act to perform. I have been at this job for seven months now and have advanced rapidly. I was first discovered by my manager in an advertisement for dog biscuits in a prominent magazine. I have hopes, however, of quitting this job and going to Hollywood, where I'll show some of those so-called dog stars how to act, even if I am not one of those sophisticated German Police dogs.. There goes the bell which always rings five minutes before curtain time, and I haven't put my ewelled collar on yet. I want to appear especially attractive today, for who knows but that a certain manager may be in the audience. Here comes the rest of the gang, so I'll have to run to my place. The music starts, and Bubbles, that stuck up , bushy-tailed, dull-eyed, wire- haired terrier, comes out to put on her act. Look at the way she struts out, trying to keep time with the music. I hope she trips! She thinks everyone ought to kiss the ground on which she walks, just because her twin brother belongs to old man Rockefeller. I can trace my ancesters back to the reign of Terror! Listen how the people applaud. Ah, at last my chance arrives. The first thing I have to do is to sing the scale. Here I go, --I might have known that I would start on the wrong key, but I'll have to make the best of it. Listen to that unappreciative audience laugh. That man in the box seat is getting his money's worth. He has his mouth opened so wide that I can almost see what he had for lunch. I honestly believe that we dogs have more grey matter than those furless animals who class themselves as human beings. Well, here I am on the last note and I'll make it as loud as I can - ouch, I knew it, I bit my tongue as usual, and just on the day that we're going to have spare ribs for dinner. That was a good song, I know, even if the people don't thinks so. I have a good voice of which I am justly' proud, and have won the title of the Dog Caruso among my friends. Some day I may be able to play in light opera, who knows? Now I have to do my juggling act. I have to stand on my hind legs and balance a big red and white ball on my nose and at the same time walk across the stage. Here I go, -1 I do wish that squeaky orchestra would play something else besides Hearts and Flowers every time I do this act. Crash! VVho put that banana peeling on the stage? See how the people are laughing. They thought my fall was part of the act. Here comes the boss. He gives me a compliment and tells me to keep up the good work. VVell, goodabye until tomorrow. f Page 271

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June, 1927 g ggivkgr g api gf laLVQLgL1FI-. gg g wonderful spirit into Wo1'k's running. ln the next moment the race was over. Yale had won. No wonder the Yale supporters went wild with joy, and paraded the men around the field upon their shoulders. Vllork was made a hero. There was a silence when he raised his arm. UNO, fellows, he began, I didnit win the meet for Yale-it was HARRINGTON l Tiger Spirit MARGARET VVILSON, 301. The tumult of expectant voices, Cheering heroes strong and bold, The happy tiger crowd rejoices On that field of black and gold. VVith banners waving, voices cheering, Our applause the team empowers, The foe retreats, our onslaught fearing - lVe win! The day is ours! Vacation LIJCILLE GALER, 303. Away with your books, away with your pen, ' Summer is here, and vacation again. Off to the mountains, down to the shore, Forgetting all cares and studies of yore. Happy and carefree, gone are our woes, Bask in the sunlight, play or repose, Yachting or swimming, -motoring, too. joyous and gay, the whole day through! A Comparison MILDRED BANKS, 29X. Old-fashioned miss, you're gone today, Another miss now takes your place. Your golden tresses, now shorn away, Were far behind in fashion's race. New-fashioned miss, we love your smile, Another could never take your place. Your hair and dress and sportsmanship Are far ahead in fashion's race. l Page 29 ll