Lincoln High School - Flambeau Yearbook (Manitowoc, WI)

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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

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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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THE FLUAMBEAU power was being exhausted; and it seemed as though I was running on an endless belt. Yet I kept on. OnceI was strongly tempted todrop out, but my contempt fora quitter and my tenacity held me to it, andI plunged forward again with new effort. Under ordinary conditions I would have declared myself com- pletely exhausted, and no one would have doubted my word. Yet now I somehow commandeered reserve power, and, in spite of the steadily in- creasing rate, dwindled the remaining distance until only a yard separated me from the rear railing of the coach. One leap and my hand clutched the iron rod, and somehow my foot got ona step. It was an insecure position, and an instant later I swung out again. Could I stick? I could feel my grip loosening and my foot slipping and I thought all was lost, but I swayed back again, and was finally able to climb to the rear platform. The train was then crossing the bridge leading to the ship-yard. Had I been a few seconds later, I would have been compelled to turn around and sluwly make my way back to whence I came. Perhaps this sounds much like a yarn to you? Ithink it must. But if you will only ask the unfortunate taxi driver, whom I happened to stop, or the cop I passed at post-haste speed, they will verify the foregoing state- ments and uphold my veracity. Or you may ask any one of the score of working-men I passed, and they will tell you thaton acertain evening, a young man ran up the track like one possessed; or even the brakeman on the train will recount my landing and my exhausted condition as I stumbled into the coach. If ¢hzs be not evidence enough, you must go on for the rest of your days disbelieving my little tale, for I’ll not do it again to show you. How Graduation Effects Some Seniors MANILA LARSON Forever-more, when will I ever be able to get ready? That pesky telephone has rung twenty times inside of an hour, if it has rung once; and I do believe everybody in the neighborhood has called on me this afternoon. Ido just love to have company, but when I’m all anxiety to get into my graduation gown, youmay be sure I am in no mood for entertainment. Well, now the door has closed and it’s time for me to get ready. Hark! There’s mother calling again,---‘‘Jane, the telephone.”—Glory be! Hello— yes, its Lucy,—Sure at 8.15. Meet you? Can’t bedid! You call here fer me at fifteen to eight.—All right—Good-by. Whew! climbing those stairs so often makes me tired! Think I’ll lie downand rest in Dad’s big chair for just five minutes. I’m all ‘“‘insky,’’ and have lost all ambition. Good-bye, five minutes, you surely madea French call. Oh, there’s Lucy. Hello, dears I’m so glad you came early! - Yes, I know I’ma slow