Louise S McGehee School - Spectator Yearbook (New Orleans, LA)

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THE SPECTATOR Forty-seven funeral he didn't come to see her or talk to her none, and thar she wuz livin with her brether and his wife and even when she hed sent her brether down here to git him to come he hedn't come and he hed told her brether he didn't have nothin to do with her. But-thar's so many little things what happened and so much talkin we did, but we wuz finally fixed up and the truth wuz found out. Bud wuzn't hurt so bad and all thet girl's brother had said wuz lies cuz thet boy jest didn't like Bud. Thet gal, she really loved Bud, and him her, so they got married soon and not sech a long time after Bud wuz made head-worker up on the Ranch and them kids even got their own house. So you see, he did know somebody up to Ohio, after alll By Gol1y '43 How Weeping Willow Trees Got Their Name On the snowy peak of Mt. Olympus, in the ancient time of Greece, lived the Gods and Goddesses who ruled over the world. These Gods, some of them beautiful, most of them strong, and others cruel, spent their days in feasting and fun. At the bottom of this majestic mountain lived Meanus, the Goddess of Cruelty, with her only daughter, Sylvia. Sylvia was as sweet and lovely as her mother was cruel and mean. For years she had endured the hardships forced upon her by her mother without complaining. Even though her mother was cruel Sylvia loved her deeply. However, one day in a fit of rage Meanus banished her daughter from the palace and sent her out into the wilds without food or drink. The poor child was terrified at the situation which con- fronted her. After several days of wandering she fell down, weak with exhaus- tion and hunger, into a little clearing surrounded by friendly willow trees. The willow trees, seeing how tired she was, decided to protect her during the night. In the middle of the night a faint murmur dis- turbed the quiet of the small glade. It was Diana, Goddess of the Moon. She bent over the sleeping child to find her dead. The trees realized that their watchfulness had been in vain. In unbearable grief they bent their heads and wept as they gazed upon the still form before them. Diana then tenderly lifted the girl in her arms and disappeared into the night. Some folks claim that a small star may be seen close to the moon. This star is the soul, they say, of Sylvia, and to this day the willow trees have not dared to lift their boughs heavenward after failing in their watch. Betty White '45.

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Forty-six THE SPECTATOR Mississippi Episode Quoted from a story told to my Great Aunt's Great Aunt up yonder in Mississippi by a bum who was always setting up to the big sto'. Well, Bud Thomson come along Main street as usual every Sattidy mawnin for to git the groceries fer them folks up to Dry Gulch Ranch. There sure were not any reason to call it thet but they did. It were not any bigger than any of them truck farms . . . Well, anyway, Bud come along as usual. He wuzn't so new around but he wuzn't old neither. I-Ie had come down from Ohio near about two years ago and thar wuzn't much nobody knew about him except thet he wuz still nuthin but a reg'lar worker over to thet Ranch, faithful as he wuz, too. Other boys they got premoted, then they'd git fiahed when they had drunk 'too much, but Bud, he jest stayed like he wuz, never drunk, never fiahed, and never premoted. Now, usually Bud would stop a second by the post office tl guess he wuz a-hopin thet he'd git a letterl before he Went to the sto'. But I ain't never seen him git but one yet, and thet one wuz to tell him bout his maw up to Ohio twhen she diedl. Bud left town round then but he come back agin a month later and he got himself thet same ole job up to the Ranch. Now I jest always sorta knowed thet boy hed somebody up to Ohio thet he knew becuz he musta always been expecting thet letter from somebody, and so he jest musta known somebody to git it from. Bud he never would say nuthin and then we always did think it wuz good to mind your own bizness, so we ain't never asked him nuthin. Well-anyways-I'm gittin off my story bout thet day Bud was com- ing down Main street as usual when sudden-like thar wuz a pistol shot and everybody looks around and sees Bud stagger and fall down. They start runnin over thar to Bud, and a big bunch gathers and they're yellin to git a doctor and givetBud air and stand back. I wuz runnin over thar when I seen somebody tlooked like a gall runnin to beat the band round down by Slick Trotter's house. She wuz runnin away and so I run after her. When I got by the house thar she wuz settin all crumpled up by thet house cryin like all git-out. It sure wuz puzzling me and I ain't never seen thet gal around these parts before, so I asked her what wuz wrong. She looks up scared like and starts off cryin again. Wel, I jest can't stand to listen to no woman cry, and specially not no gal, so I asked her agin what wuz wrong. She slowed up about then and between her snifftn she said thet she wuz cryin bout killin somebody thet she didn't wonta kill but thet he hed been engaged to her and had no right never even to write her or come see her up to Ohio, even at his maw's

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Forty-eight THE SPECTATOR Character Study She was christened Helen Dorothy Grigsby much to her disgust and uses that as an excuse for all the kicking and crying she did during her first few months on earth. She began school at six and loathed it from the beginning, and, though exceedingly briliant, she hated studying and did as little as possible. At nine, while crossing the street, she had a nightmare --as she calls it, for on crossing she saw a truck four feet away heading for her at full speed and she couldn't movep her feet were as thought cemented to the street- like a nightmare. Next thing she knew, she was in a hospital in a plaster cast with a leg broken in three places. Dot stayed in bed for a year. Finally she was able to walk on crutches and again began school only to have her leg become infected soon after. She was operated on twice and missed another school year. Having recovered, she was extremely upset and was sent to camp to avoid a nervous breakdown. Here she became Counselors' Enemy No. l for she spent her time making pie-beds twice a day, filling pillow cases with hoppity toads and broken dishes, total bill for two months of fun -3450. Thoroughly cured, she was placed in convent Cand don't ask whyl where she skipped Latin classes to go talk to the hired man who was much more interesting than Caesar. He taught her how to smoke and she kept it up in memory of him. Now nineteen and in college, Dot is forever being chased by those of the opposite sex whom she treats unmercifully. She breaks dates to go out with girls, stands up boys who range in looks from Apollo to Clark Gable, and was voted the most popular girl in a school of a thousand. She cusses like a sailor among her most intimate friends, smokes a pack of cigarettes a day, despises alcohol, drives like a maniac, and is the only girl of high society in her city that has worn a path from her house to the pawn shop. She sleeps with lipstick on, hates cold cream and powder, and, in spite of it all, is the best-looking girl in the city. Grigsby's passions are horses, smoking, and above all, flying. Against her family's wishes, she has taken up three planes, one which she flew over her home where her mother was in the yard admiring it. When the fond parent was told who it was, she fainted. Dot adores horses blindly, has had four, her favorite being one she bought from a peddler for S5 because it looked so underfed and sick. The horse died two months later and she bought a black dress and wore it for a week. Her pet abominations are jitterbugs, boy-crazy girls and road hogs. She loves Stardust and lazy music and can't dance to a fast piece: