Prattsburgh Central High School - Franklinite Yearbook (Prattsburgh, NY)

Page 13 text:

FRANKLIN ACADEMY HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAI The Senior Class STANIDINU Qheft to Hightj Erva Wraigllt Ella McDowell SICATICD Qlloft to Riglltj Cornelia Pratt Delos Saunders Park Arnold Dorothy Stone Ernest Kennedy Qnot shownj

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8 FRANKLIN ACADEMY HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL THE DUTCH DETECTIVE 'F On Thursday, December 21, the pupils of Franklin Academy presented the fliree entitled, The Dutch Detective. The proceeds of the play were used for song books. UA HT. Otto Sclnnultz, a correspondence detective .... .... I' Irnest Kennedy I'lunk Qlarleck, escaped from the asylum---U .... Ilelos Saunders .Iabo Grubb, the police force of Splinterville .... ---Errol Wheeler Major Hannibal Howler, on the War path ....... ---Harold Cook Augustus Coo, a newly-wed -- ------ ------ ------ ------ L e s ter Sisson Gladys Howler Coo, his bride, the Major's daughter ------ Helen Blood Ambrosia McCarthy, queen of the lunrh counter ------- Edna Andrews Miss Araminta Sourdrops, who loses her Jabo ----- Marjorie McConnell Hortensey Smatters, escaped from the asylum ----.---- Mildred Brown Katrina Kraut, from Hamilton Cidy by der Schtate of Ohio ---- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ---- Isabelle Peterson The play was repeated on March 14th.

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10 ' FRANKLIN ACADEMY HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL LIT - A , it fr A A x Sambo T was an afternoon in the latter part of J-ulyg the sun was beating its hot rays down upon the little village of Hopetown Center, Connecticut, making the streets, which were unprotected by any shade trees, resemble an oven in temperature. The little village seemed entirely deserted except for the one solitary person sitting on a bench in front of the village hotel. This lone being was anold colored man a.bout 70 years old, his pure white hair seemed to form a halo around his pitch-black face and to set off the redness of his lips, the bigness and blackness of his ears, the shininess of his nose, and the roll of his big, white eyes. Like all the other members of his race, he was dressed in an old, rusty black, shiny suit, very much the worse for wear and tear, his feet resembled canal boats in size and shape, his hands, quivering and shaking, looked as though they had seen hard work during the greater part of his life, for they were large, rough, and hard. Sambo, for such was his name, had indeed spent most of his life in hard work, before the war he had been a slave, after it, he had done whatever he could do to earn a living for his family. Now, in the sunset days of his life, Sambo, the last leat upon the tree, earned his living hy running errands for the hotel, and between errands dreamed and mused over the days of his youth. On this particular afternoon as Sambo was sitting in his usual place, on the shady side of the hotel, peacefully smoking his corncob pipe and thinking of how the cotton fields on the old plantation in Virginia would look on a day like this, he received a shock that sent his memories whirling back into the days of the war, when he was a slave on the plantation of Colonel Harding. Down the street came a young lady, who resembled the daughter of his old master so closely that the picture of an incident which happened during the Civil War came vividly to his mind.