Maynard High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Maynard, MA)

Page 12 text:

10 THE SCREE CH OWL six or seven fellows, men of the Order of the Red Dragon, gathered there. He called them together and explained in a few words what he wanted of them. Their enthusiasm was evident, and when Bob left the room a few minutes later he took two of them with him. The others waited until half an hour later the telephone rang, and a short conversation ensued. “They’ve got him — but we’ll have to make it snappy because he’s im- patient to get home and study.” A few minutes afterwards they were standing before Andy Howe’s house, which was in total darkness. Two of the boys went in — the others kept watch outside. The beam of a flashlight moved about in an upstairs room — a quarter of an hour passed before the two returned, disappointed. “No go — it wasn’t anywhere in the room.” “Perhaps he’s destroyed it.” When they returned to the club room. Bob was already there. At their story, he looked round at them. “There’s only one thing we can do — call a special council meeting to- morrow evening — I’ve a plan.” When Bob got back to Dave’s house, Dave was lying on the couch that Bob had left a few hours before. Evi- dently he had given up thought of studying. He looked up inquiringly as Bob came in. “Where have you been ?— pal?” “Seaching for excitement. Took Andy Howe out for a college ice.” Dave looked at him in amazement. “You did “what?” “Took our friend Andy out for some ice cream. And had a nice little chat with him — All right! Wait a minute! I took him downtown to get him out of the way while Ken and a couple of the fellows went in and searched his room — his folks are out of town this week. We didn’t find anything.” “You didn’t think you would, did you? Of all the clever little boys — ” “Well, it might’ve been a good idea — would’ve been good, if it had worked. But I’ve got another good one.” “If it’s like the rest of your — ” “Quiet! It’s a swell idea — can’t help but work. I’ve called a council meeting for tomorrow night. We’re going to have a substitute ear made — it’ll be just like the other. We’ll keep it quiet, and no one can say it isn’t the real thing, because if anyone does, he’ll be the one who knows where the ear is. How’s that for an idea?” “Why didn’t we think of it before? Great, son, simply marvelous. The only trouble is that we may not have time to get our voters alive to the fact that I’m in the run again.” “We’ll begin right away — every- thing’ll be easy.” The meeting was duly held, and Bob’s plan met with instant approval. The news that the ear had been found spread thru the school like the wind and Dave’s friends regained their old enthusiasm one hundred fold. The new ear was eventually smuggled into the sanctum and fitted into the dragon’s head. With special ceremony it was handed over to Dave and once again he was a candidate. Elections were held — Dave Mars- den won by ten votes. Football season passed, basketball came and went, baseball reigned at Semple Academy — still, the stolen dragon’s ear was missing. On the second of May, Bob w?s again reclining on Dave’s couch while Dave sat at the desk trying to shake money out of his bank. “Did you hang any May baskets, Davey ?” “Yeah — only about uh — two dozen — uh — Didn’t have time for more.” “LAUNDRY!” “Gosh, I almost forgot — laundry man — be back in a minute.” Dave re-entered the room a couple of minutes later, carrying his laundry bag over his shoulder. “Guess I’ll sort this out — Well — will you look at this ! Those laundries ought to know better than to put colored things in with the white

Page 11 text:

THE SCREECH OWL 9 Sung-’s close observation, said, ‘‘Have you chrysanthemums as beautiful in your Japan?” “Very few,” answered Lee Sung. “There are only a few similar to these, and they are seldom seen. Did your seeds come from Japan?” “Why, yes, I believe that’s what my mother told me when she planted them, that they came from someone in Japan.” “A little boy, perhaps?” “I think it was. He must have been about ten years of age, if I remember rightly.” “How old would he be now?” “Oh, I should judge he’d be nearly thirty.” “I’m about thirty.” “Are you — ” “Perhaps I am, for there are no chrysanthemums as rare as yours and mine!” The professor took a long look at the young man. Then he smiled and approaching the young Japanese, shook his hand heartily. Having recognized the boy at last he invited him to his home to meet his mothev. “Me, to whom no one else will speak?” “You gave us your friendship in Japan. Come, let us give you ours in America.” D. Marsden, ’32. THE SACRED LEFT EAR OF THE RED DRAGON Synopsis It was one of the laws of the Order of the Red Dragon, Semple Academy’s most select and influential secret society, that their candidate for class president must have in his possession the Sacred Left Ear of the Red Dragon. Just before class elections, the Left Ear was stolen and this took Dave Marsden from the list of candidates. Bob King, Dave’s friend, blamed the dastardlv deed on Andy Howe, Dave’s football rivsl and op- ponent for the office. Elections were almost at hand — the Sacred Left Ear was still missing. Conclusion Two more days passed; the mem- bers of the Order of the Red Dragon and the other Seniors whose candi- date Dave was grew more and more despondent, finally losing all trace of hope. In three more days elections were to be held — no doubt Andy Howe would be the successful candidate. On the evening of this second day. Bob King sprawled on the old leather couch in Dave Marsden’s room, and watched Dave as he tried to concen- trate on his English assignment. More than once a blank look came into his eyes, and Bob knew he was seeing little of what was printed on the page of the book lying open on the desk before him. Dave was worried about the election ; so was he. Whose idea was it, anyway, mak- ing the possession of the Sacred Left Ear necessary before a man of the Order could take part in the race for class president? For the hundredth time Bob asked himself this question — and for the hundredth time he told himself that Andy Howe was respon- sible for stealing the sacred organ, and that he had hated and distrusted the football captain the first time he had seen him. With a sudden resolution, Bob swung his feet around and planted them on the floor. He rose and started for the door, speaking to Dave as he went. “Going out — may be late. Don’t work too hard and perhaps I’ll bring you something nice.” Dave nodded, and moved his eyes to the top of the page, trying once more to make sense out of the page he had been looking at for two hours and had read a dozen times. Bob strode down the street, his hands in his pockets. The idea that had come to him while thinking of Andy Howe was slowlv becoming stronger. He entered the building where the club room was, and found

Page 13 text:

THE SCREECH OWL 11 clothes! Guess Til go out to meet Jones’ bull with this scarlet shirt — and these flannels — perfectly good pair of pants they were — Hey! for the love of, — Bob, look! What does this look like?” “It looks like — the sacred left ear of the Red Dragon ! ! !” E. Priest, ’32. JUST A KID We have read so much of George Washington as the best, the noblest, the purest among men, that it was really a relief to read of his life when he was just a kid getting into trouble, like the rest of us. Recently I ran into such an article in the Liberty Magazine, and it appealed to me so strongly that I must write of this Washington, the boy. As I remember it, George had gone swimming one sweltering summer day in the Rappahannock River. Piling his clothes on the bank he hopped in. As he was splashing around, two so- called modest town girls appeared on the scene. They took one good look at poor Georgie, giggled, stole his clothes, and returned to the village — leaving mankind’s noblest son in a most embarrassing situation. How Washington got home, the author failed to say. But I imagine he returned in a barrel. He would have reached his destination unde- tected had not Martha caught him creeping up the stairs to his room, without even a necktie on. Then the fireworks started. “Georgie,” she cried none too softly, “Come down to mother immediately. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, roaming around the countryside like Adam himself? Come down, I say!” Young Washington came down the stairs, head lowered, his face the color of a very red frankfurt. “Mother,” he said, “You know I never told a lie in my whole life . . . Don’t you. Mother?” “Yes, son.” “Well, I went swimming today and two girls from town stole my clothes.” “They did, did they? Well we’ll see about that. And as for you, young man, you go right to bed.” “Without my supper?” “Yes.” And that night the Father of our Country went to sleep on an empty stomach, and all because of two girls with too much sense of humor. Fred Johnson, .’34. THE OLD SPRINGFIELD RIFLE As Sergeant Robert Young looked at his honorary discharge from the A.E.F., he sighed in relief. “Boy,” he exclaimed, “It surely seems good to be going back to the United States after six months in France.” He looked at his Springfield rifle and smiled. “You’ve helped me out in plenty of tight squeezes, especially that time in the Argonne Forest — .” His voice trailed off as he mused over his adventures. About eight years later, we find Mr. Young married and with two children, Robert, Jr., and Barbara. By his work as a lawyer he has be- come fairly rich and has been elected Assistant District Attorney of Illinois. Bobby, Mr. Young’s six-year-old son is at just the age at which he is interested in cowboys and gangsters. He has naturally been attracted by the Springfield rifle hanging over the fireplace and for this reason the rifle barrel has been blocked with cement. Because of his work as Assistant District Attorney, Mr. Young has, of course, made many enemies among the gangsters and rum-runners of the underworld. He has collected much information that would do a great deal of harm to certain underworld characters if it was ever published. To lessen this danger, two of “Scar- face” Moran’s henchmen have been sent to steal these papers. As one man worked to open the safe another collected the more valu- able household goods to make it seem like an ordinary robbery. Among