Lincoln High School - Flambeau Yearbook (Manitowoc, WI)

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THE FLAMBEAU Catching A Train BRUNO JACOB It is not uncommon to hear of a person who “‘just caught the train’’. To one not accustomed to this idiom, it, indeed, sounds remarkable. The person, however, means neither that he captured the train—locomotive, tender, baggage-cars, coaches and all; nor that he pursued the moving ob- ject through city and country until human energy out-distanted iron and steel, and the Marathon runner fell upon the quary of his pursuit. No, not at all! All he meansis that he arrived at the station before the train did, or rather before the train left. Formerly I held the same view, but a short time ago a little incident caused me to revise my meaning of this familiar ex pression. One Thursday afternoon a friend and Iwere walking down town, talking about the progress of the work on our Flambeau, when inthe covrse of conversation, it was remarked that onthe following Saturday I was to go to Oshkosh to arrange for the engraving work. My friend, who had an acute knowledge of train schedules, quickly pointed out that, unless I leit Friday afternoon, it would not be possible for me to return on Satur- day. That was a new situation for me. Having a particular desire to be in Manitowoc Saturday evening, I at once determined to leave the following afternoon. But then it would be necessary for me to go to my home in the country, to secure among other things some pieces of that green paper curiously engraved, which I would need for my trip. Theonly time to do this would be at six o'clock, and then return the next morning. This would conflict with my interests for the evening, but, after some reflection, I decided to go. There were a few imperative matters that required attention, and, despite my efforts to expand time, it was a quarter to six before my work was completed. : I hurried tomy room. ‘‘Norris,” Isaid, hastily throwing afew things into my suit case, “I’m going home tonight.” ‘‘What’s the—” ‘Yes! I must goto Oshkosh tomorrow afternoon. Can’t get back Saturday unless I do.” “Well. you’d better do some tall hustling. You've just four minutes to make it.” Still buttoning my coat. I left the house at a fast pace. Instead of the usual route to the depot, I took the most seclusive one convenient, for this would enable me to exert a little more speed. I started to run, but burden- ed with an overcoat and a suit case, it was a laborious task, and at the end of one block, it had quite exhausted me. I walked again, but with paces that must have reminded the other pedestrians that were out-distanced ofa contestant in a walking race.

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ness world. It is even more essential; because we are building our habits during the time we attend school. If we do our school work faithfully, we will be so in the habit of doing faithful work, that we cannot help but do the same when we leave school. Faithful work in school means the preparing of each daily assignment with utmost care and study. Ifthis is done, the result is inevitably a good mark at the end of the quarter. What does a good mark mean to you? Does it merely mean that you have passed and not “‘flunked’? It should mean more than this. A good mark proves that you can do what you set out to do, and also that you are nota failure. But it is not the lazy, indifferent students who get the good marks; it is the studious, wide-a-wake ones, or those who do faithful service. To which class do you belong? A Boy’s Version of Life in the Spring ORLEAN GEORGENSON Aw whut’s th’ use a-livin’”? A settin’ here all day with nothin’ else to say But thim ol’ lessins fer whut we git no blessins’ Aw whut’s th’ use a-livin’? Aw whut’s th’ use a livin’ Whin th’ fishin’s so fine, and ya got a new line Jest bought frum th’ squire, but whin ya ’nquire The folks all say, ‘Right to hum you stay There’s wood ta pile an’ hew, no time for play fer you.” Aw whut’s th’ use a-livin? Aw whut’s th’ use a-livin’ Whin ya can’t go a swimmen’, cuz at home all the wimmen Persuade yur dear ol’ darlin paw thet there’s loads of wood to saw? An’ whin ya go inspite, an’ stay ’till ya can’t see light— A knowin’ all a-long thet yur doin’ somethin’ wrong, An’ th’ ol’ beech rod is ready, held in a han’ so steady— Aw’ whut’s th’ use a-livin’”?

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THE FLAMBEAU Suddenly a whistle blew. Six o'clock! Iwas still four blocks from my destination. Often I had waited an hour, two hours, three, and even four hours for that train! HowTI wished that now it would wait only five minutes for me! ' At the next corner a taxi swung into the street, and—to my infinite joy—stopped. I quickened my pace and when yet several feet distant hail ed the driver with a ‘‘Sir’’. He stopped and I continued, ‘Can youtake me to the ‘oo Line depot?”’ ‘Certainly.’ he replied, as he proceeded to crank the car. Thurriedly got in and when the chauffeur took his position, Iasked, ‘Can you get me there in time to catch that six o’clock train?’ “Well I'll try’’, and we were under way. It was only four blocks, but in my estimation, the chauffeur was driving much too slow; although, in the eyes of the law he was, in all pro- bability, driving too fast. At any rate, we made good time; and in less than a minute, we were on the bridge—less than a block from the depot! ‘“There she goes!” the chauffeur called out, slacking up in disgust. I glanced out of the window. By the Eternal! The train was leaving —already a hundred feet from the depot! ‘‘Go ahead!” LI yelled, ‘We’ll make it! We’ve go¢ to!” The chauffeur did not stop to argue, but jerked open the throttle, so that the car fairly bounded forward. Dropping a coin through the window on the driver’s seat, I shouted, “Here’s your money. Now é¢rivealong the trackas faras you can, and give us speed!” By this time the train had gained another hundred feet, and although the driver did as directed, the side of a railroad track is not a speedway, and a high velocity, could not be attained. Knowing that it would be impos- sible for the taxi to gain all of the intervening distance, I opened the door and with one foot on the running board placed myself in readiness to jump and continue the race afoot, the instant any obstruction should interrupt the course of the car. The driver played his part well, and ina short time we were withina hundred feet of the rear car again. Here a switch post made itself ob- structive, and the further course of the taxi was cut short. Before the car stopped, however, I had bounded from it and was off like a runner ina re- lay race where college honors are at stake. I never professed to be arunner or an athlete of any description, tut Iam almost inclined to think that I made as good time as that taxi. I cer- tainly did run. Before I realized it, I had gained eighty feet on the object of my pursuit. But those last twenty feet! I’llnever forget them—they seemed like a mile! For while the trainhada steady acceleration, my