Lincoln High School - Quill Yearbook (Jersey City, NJ)

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The Job Charles Moore was a squealer. We told him what he'd get if he said anything about the Warner job, and then he went and spilled the whole thing to the cops. They sent Tony and Joe up the river for it. The Boss told me to get Charley, so I arranged the job. It was going to be a nice clean job. Toots hired the apartment at Fortyfsecond and Seventh. Toots used to be sweet on this Moore guy. She'd been all set to marry him, but just before he squealed, she saw him out with another dame. That broke 'em up nice. When she heard that he'd turned pigeon, she wanted to handle the killing herself. We calmed her down, and showed her how she could Hx him if she worked with us. She would have done anything to get back at him. I moved into the apartment Toots had hired, with my duds and a neat little Springfield 3Of3O. That rifle was a honey. It weighed just seventeen pounds, and was guaranteed to shoot a onefinch group at a hundred yards. With telescope sights and a muzzle rest I could hit a nickel with every shot, at seventyffive yards. I learned to do that in France, 1918. This was the layout. I was to be up in my room, with the window open. I'd sit back from the window so they couldn't see me from the street, but I could cover Seventh Avenue to the south. I had a Maxim silencer on the 3Of3O. It spoiled the accuracy a little, but not enough to matter. We figured out a spot on Seventh Avenue that was just seventyffive yards from my window. We had a guy in the outit who could work a transit. Then we spotted a rickety old car, with a knock like the crack of doom, next to the place to cover the sound of the shot. I put Lefty in it. The bulls didn't know him, and he had a nice innocent face. Toots was to make up with Charley, and then bring him down Seventh to the spot. Lefty had to start the car just before Moore got there. Then it was up to me. The whole job was a natural. It took Toots five minutes to make Charley think that everything was O. K. again. After that she had him ready to do anything for her. Then she phoned me. I worked out a time schedule for Toots, and then we got going. Five minutes before Toots was to arrive I put a highfspeed, steel' jacketed cartridge in my Springfield. I only loaded with one, because a full clip unbalances a rifle. I had a dandy telescopefsight on the rifle, and I picked out Toots and Charley about two blocks away. They were talking slowly, and I could see that they were arguing about something. Lefty started his motor at the right time. I could just about hear it. I took off the safety, and set the sights right on the white handkerchief Charley had in his upper left coatfpocket. I wrapped my Hnger around the trigger.

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vnuv-1--'Q- It Happened One Night One WINTER'S day in LONDON, DURAN a RAYNE, the KING was ABEL to hide from his NOBLES, disguise himself as a TAYLOR, and enter a BARR in order to observe his subjects. The place was patronized by both GOODMAN and GROSSMAN. He found a KOPPEL of old menus to REID, and then asked a waiter, Give me a COLE BOTTLER SI'IERRY. Then he secluded himself in a hidden corner of the room. Suddenly a PORTER entered. Addressing a MILLER, he said, MABRY you have the PRICE of one of the EEINSTEINS of ale sold here? But the MILLER, instead of answering, rudely turned to a husky FISCHER, BROWN from labor under a blistering sun on hot seas, and said, Great SCOTT, I CANTWELL see how this man HASS such nerve! HWELLEN, you're WRIGHT, was the answer. The PORTER ROSE in great EUREY. He was MADDE'N a tiger. Think you're WEISS, don't you? he asked. Aw, go slip on an ORENGE PEEL, interrupted the FISCHER, AKIN for a fight. The PORTER started to TURNER around, divesting himself of his RAYNEfcoat. And then the CANNON exploded. NEVINfSeven thousand years was there such a battle. The RUEBE and the tough PORTER fought desperately. The SCALES were even. Even a BUTCHER never saw so much blood. The PORTER led with a WRIGHT to his opponent's TEMPLE, who dodged with a LIGHTEOOT so that his aggressor hit empty air. The gentle KING, in his secluded corner, was horrified. He told a SINGER, who before the fight had been singing CARROLS, to call a KOPF. He started to TURNER way towards the HALL, but a KOZAC inter' rupted, and would not permit him to go. The men were in an awful CLINCHfyj when suddenly the BARR' tender yelled, PULLfej way! That must have been an official password or signal, for the men stopped at once. They were an awful sight, being almost BAER. Some waiters, busy as BEAVERS, started to clear the floor, everything exSCHEPT the floor being by this time peaceful and orderly. The puzzled KING turned to a BAKER, To be FRANK with you, he said, I CQDANCY how to deSEIFER this. These men don't seem to know the difference between REIKEN wrong. You don't understand, he was told. They HADDER do that. They made a BUCK for doing that! The NOBLE ruler went home with a larger fund of understanding than he had ever acquired before in so short a time. Lillian Bregmtm.

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Charley stopped suddenly. I was following through on him, and his stop threw my sights off. I brought them up carefully, took a little breath, Wand then Toots seemed to faint right into Charley's arms. I could see through the telescopefsights that her lips were moving. She was telling him something. He threw a quick look up toward meg and then, half carrying her, he ducked into a doorway. They got clean away. We never found them. We didn't try hard. I could, of course, have had them both as he caught her, but,-well, I liked Toots. Eric Weiss. Rain A solitary figure stood bitterly gazing up at the early morning sun. Sud' denly he lowered his eyes and pensively scanned the surrounding country. As he looked, he saw his land . . . dry, barren land that once was moist, breath' ing soil. The sun had done this . . . the sun that looked so friendly, that men loved for its warm heart .... It was cold, this sun .... It was greedy . . . cruel. God, why could it never stop shining . . . for a day . . . for a few hours? The past six months it had been emitting torrid rays that burnt his crops, dried his creek, and ruined his hopes. He couldn't ask Mary to marry him now . . . he had nothing but this arid land. That was not enough to offer. His childhood aversion, rain, was now his god. Rain, the soft patter of a shower or the violence of a storm . . . what did it matter as long as his thirsty land was given a drink? The sun was slowly stealing away his life along with that of his soil. At first he had resisted . . . but what was the use of continuing to exist? It would take years before the farm would yield a good harvest. In the meantime what could he do? Ask the government for aid? . . . No, he had his pride. Before stooping to that, he would rather die. Death? . . . Suicide? . . . That was cowardly. But then, what diff ference? The sun was a coward too, in fighting against him, for he had no chance to hit back .... He could only stand helpless, and watch while the sun destroyed. He would not surrender to that inaccessible ball of fire .... He would not suffer the torture another day. What of Mary? . . . Would she understand? . . . She was young, she would soon forget. He would write a farewell note, then he would put an end to his misery and suffering. With a dragging step, the farmer crossed the fields to the ramshackle house. Even this gave evidence of the sun's ruthlessness: the paint that once