New Bern High School - Bruin Yearbook (New Bern, NC)

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ONE AFTERNOON in late September the Bruin editorial staff gathered on the lawn of the Tryon Palace. The restoration had been an- nounced as completeg and although we could not go inside until after certain furnishings arrived from England, we were eager to see what had been done there. To walk along the gracefully curved galleries and raise my eyes to the coat of arms across the facade of the palace was to say to my imagination, Wake up and live! The sun was sinking quite low and the skies darkening with that mystery-laden haze that comes just before dusk. It was not difficult to let my mind take me back to the time when this building was brimful of life, to hear the stern voice of' William Tryon call for his carriage, and then to hear the hoof-beats of horses, the rumble of car- riage wheels. I trembled under the impact of gun-fire from the Regulators, and I fled in panic from the heat of the destructive flame of 1793. Lost in these imaginings, I wandered well away from my companions and presently found myself going through a rear door, inadvertantly left open by some Workman. I slipped quietly through the vast public room and stopped to admire the carving above a great marble fire- board. No sound from outside reached me-no mur- mur of familiar voices. Alone I stood before a gate open upon the vast land of things that were and are no more. I shivered-it seemed that a cold breath had blown u on me I dr m p . ew y sweater close about me and turned to retrace my steps, but a low, firm voice said, Don't go! My scalp prickled-chill seized me! Believe me, I would have been just a streak through that room, but my feet refused to obey me. The voice went on- I know you want to run-but think how foolish you will look, running from nothing. Who-Who are you? I think that weak rasp was my voice, I had felt some- thing pushing at my throat. Wh-Wh-Where are you? Far be it from me to harm you, came the answer. Just give me a second and I will be with you. Sheer will power forced my eyes to turn in the direction of the sound, and I saw above the mantel a wavering gray cloud take shape, become a figure clothed in colonial garb, and step down from the mantel to stand before me. He took charge of the situation immediately. Young man, he said, I am Master Tom-sometime rector of Christ Epis- copal Church, and instructor of the young. I officiated as school master in this very building before the time of its destruction. For nearly two centuries I have had it in mind to return to New Bern to make certain inquiries. Several times I made the effort, but this building having been destroyed, there was no place to house me. A spirit, you see, must have something of the familiar to hold to, or he cannot materialize. Now that my erstwhile abode has been restored I have come back, and I want to know what you have done with . . . I don't have anything that belongs to you, I interrupted, backing off and easing toward the door. Oh, yes, you have-and so do all citizens here. I am speaking of the dream we left you. Dream? Yes, the dream of a free world. What have you done with it? Don't tell me you have lost it! You're talking to the wrong person, I told him. I'm just a student at New Bern High School. I . . . Then you are the right person, for there can be no democracy without edu- iContinued on Page 107 j 1

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cation. Your fore-fathers-the men who gave all they had to lay the foundations for a great free world- knew the value of education. They organized a school and set aside the taxes collected on spiritous liquors com- ing down the Neuse River to pay the teacher's salary. Strange, it was, to have a man's livelihood depend on a commodity he was morally bound to exhort men not to use. But to return to our subject! This beautiful building itself, abandoned as the seat of government, became the community school. I was headmaster. I loved the work-'twas a pleasure to see young minds wake up and grow. Believe me, I never let them forget that theirs was an unusual lot-the privilege of having a voice in the government. But, now, I am making a nuisance of myself, rambling on in this fashion. Oh, no, sir, I exclaimed, my fears miraculously gone. We of New Bern are quite history-conscious. It is refreshing to talk to one who participated in the events. You know, of course, that the Old Academy Building is still in use? The one built in 1806? That pleases me. I was an old man, but I remember with what delight I watched the construction of it. Come, I would look upon it. And somehow I found myself following him down the street, breathless in my effort to keep up with him and gasping with alarm every now and then when he seemed about to walk right into cars or other obstruc- tions. He seemed, however, to know what he was doing and walked unerringly toward the old building, always within my sight but always slightly ahead of me-a fact for which I was profoundly grateful. It relieved me of the necessity of carrying on a conversation which I might have found difficult to explain to passersby. I followed him into the building, ready to cope with his inevitable wonder over the strange desks and other equipment, but to my surprise, he searched the hall with his eyes, then rushed from room to room. Finally he turned to me in consternation and pain. It's gone! What is gone?i' The copy of the Declaration of Independence that used to hang here in the hallway. It should not have been removed. Always it should hang where young Americans may read it. Don't worry, sir, I soothed him. We are re- quired to study it and even to learn portions of it. I be- gan to quote When, in the course of human events . . . We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal . . . Stop! Stop right there! What does that mean to you? Well, sir, to us today it means equality of oppor- tunity-that is every individual has the right to choose his task in life and to develop his powers to his own satisfaction. It is on that concept that American educa- tion rests today. And as he nodded in contentment, I told him about our. . .