Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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12 THE GOLDEN-ROD liven Reginald was there, much though it hurt him. He had taken the doctors advice, or rather his mother had, and he had asked the coach for a suit. There was much joking and “kidding” him when the team saw this lanky “student” running around in a track suit. He ran his half mile alone every day. Once or twice “Red” Kelly, the star half-miler, had run with him, just to show him up and “throw off his stride.” If there was anyone in school that Reginald hated, it was ‘“Red” Kelly. Ever since he could remember, that per- son had been the most impudent creature imaginable. More than once Reginald had been severely “beaten up” by him and his friends. And so it was only natural that “Red” should take this op- portunity to annoy him. Reginald kept up his running faithfully every day, and it was through the coach's kindly interest that Reginald was able to keep out of trouble. So when the coach asked him to attend the track rally. Reginald felt rather obliged to say “yes.” First, they had some songs and cheers and then the captain, Dick Harding, spoke, and immediately following him, the coach. They told about how good a team Georgetown had, but how much better a team Queensborough had. Then they went all through the different events and pointed out the strength of the team. But it meant nothing to Reginald. He was bored. However, when the next speaker was announced, he sat up. It was the prin- cipal, old Mr. Howes. Now, to be a sec- ond Mr. Howes was Reginald’s ambition. He admired the man in every possible way. Anything that Mr. Howes said or believed, was right, and Reginald took it upon himself to believe the same. So Reginald was sitting on the edge of his chair when the old principal began. “My friends,” he said, “we have as- sembled to rally our track team for the biggest meet of the year. We’re proud of our track team, and we’re confident that our boys will put up a wonderful fight, and show that unconquerable spirit which has run in this school for so many years. “I am always reminded on this day, every year, of the first meet we won from Georgetown, some thirty years ago. Georgetown was the favorite to win, but the meet had come to the last event and the score was tied. That event was the half mile, and Georgetown with her two stars in that even: was certain to win. We had but two men who could be called good, and our hopes were given up. But there were two men on that field who had not given up; our two half milers. “It was a terrific pace that they started with! The Georgetown men shot to the front and the others strung out behind. One lap! As they came around the curve into the straightaway for the second lap, we could see the two men we depended on, desperately hanging onto second place. And the Georgetown men were slowly, confidently pulling away. “And as our men sped past the stands a great cheer went up. They leaped for- ward! They gave all they had in that next half-lap! They closed up the gap. They passed the leaders. That was all. They had used themselves up. But wait! The Georgetown men had dropped back. Their confidence, broken: surprised, they were beaten. Our men won. with a com- fortable lead. “And that, my friends, is the fighting spirit of our school, which we will see to- morrow. The son of one of those men is on our team this year; lie’s here right now, but I won’t mention his name.” Reginald was astounded! He had never heard Mr. Howes talk like that be- fore. Perhaps, after all, there was some- thing he was missing in school; something besides studies that was important. For one thing, he wished he knew the boy whose father had won that race. Reginald walked slowly to the library. It was the afternoon of THE meet, but that aroused no enthusiasm in him. He had never seen a meet and, in spite of what he heard the day before, he had no desire to see one. He would go to the

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 11 Reggie Runs a Race 1. Reginald Theobald Partenheimer strode briskly down the street. Undei his arm he carried his school books, his dearly beloved school books. What would this world amount to if there were no lessons to study, and no dear teachers to “remain at the close” for. In fact, studying was the very incentive for his living; he would die of idleness and in- activity if his privilege of doing home work were taken away. So it was, that although heavily burdened with his some fourteen books, he strode briskly down the street from the Queensborough High School to his home. A boy as studious as Reginald was not often found. He would return home im- mediately at the close of school, study until supper-time and then continue the good work until eight o’clock, when he would diligently pick up his work and as- cend the stairs to bed. Some nights his mother let him sit up real late, and those nights he, sometimes, didn’t get to bed until even nine-thirty. This was “Reggie” Portenheimer, or if you please, Mr. Reginald Theobald Por- tenheimer, Junior, and he was the model student of Queensborough High School. Everybody knew him, but nobody wanted to. He spoke to no one. No one spoke to him. He was thoroughly ashamed and sometimes annoyed at the boisterous and ungentlemanly actions of his despised class-mates. It hurt him to go through school side by side with all these insig- nificant people who “flunked” their tests and joked about it. But today, as Reginald hurried home, he was worried. His mother had taken him to a doctor to have him examined, and the doctor had found him to be badly in need of more fresh air. In fact, it was imperative, that he partake in some out- door sport. And, so Reginald was worried as he made his way homeward on that warm afternoon in late May. 2. For some forty years, track had been the major sport of Queensborough High, and Georgetown had been the objective meet. For forty years, the team had striven for the championship of the Western Coast States, and, for forty years, Georgetown had been the biggest barrier to that title. Now had come the week of the annual duel meet with Georgetown. The entire school, and many citizens of the city had been called together to rally with the team for the contest on the morrow.

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 13 library and study until about three and then put on his suit and go to the track. After the meet was over he would run his daily half mile. The afternoon was rather too warm for a track meet. It was one of those warm, drowsy days, and as Reginald went diligently through his lesson on differen- tial calculus, he slowly slipped down in his seat. Scon he was asleep. He awoke, with a start, as the town clock slowly struck three. He hoped no cnc had seen him, for he considered it very thoughtless of himself to fall asleep in such a place. He walked briskly over to the school, and carefully put on his track suit. He had just finished lacing his shoes, when, the door slammed, and in rushed a young man. He grabbed Reginald by the arm and shouted. “Hurry up! They’re all waiting for you. You must be crazy, the meet’s nearly over. Ye may be too late as it is.” He was panting, evidently in quite a rush. Reginald had never seen the man before, but he was so bewildered that he did not ask questions. He was pushed into a flivver, waiting at the curb, and ihcy shot off. 4. Fhe meet started promptly at two. In the “hundred”, Georgetown had won first and third, Queensborough’s man placing second. The mile had come out just the opposite, the blue and white man winning easily. The field events were evenly divided and as the time approached for the last event, the half mile, the score was found once more to be tied. The half-milers gathered the coach for a few last minute words. “Red” Kelly would set the pace. And Brooks would follow directly— Brooks! Brooks! Where was her The field was searched for Brooks, but he was not to be found. Then somebody remem- bered. He had been called away and would be late getting to the meet Probably at the locker room, now. So a fellow was found who had a “flivver” to go and get him. But he didn’t know him. “Tall, thin fellow, he’ll be the only one there, anyway. Hurry up!” A few minutes later the flivver rattled up, and “Red” rushed over to give Brooks the instructions, when out of the car jumped Reginald. “Red” was “flab- bergasted !” “Where’s Brooks!” he cried. “Brooks.1 Who Brooks? Brooks Who:” slowly asked Reginald. “Oh you poor saphead!” shouted Red, pushing him violently aside. So violently, in fact, that he sat down, none too easily. “Where’s the guy we sent you for:” he fired at the driver. “Isn’t that him: He was in the locker room, so I brought him along.” Meanwhile Reginald, thoroughly an- gered at the meaningless proceedings, picked himself up, and “yanked” Red around. Reginald was not accustomed to being knocked around, and he had de- cided to let Red understand it, then and there. A whistle blew! With one look at Reginald, “Red” turned and ran for the track. Reginald was angered. Trying to run away from him, was he: The coward! This en- couraged Reginald, and with his fighting spirit up, he dashed madly through the crowd to the track. There was Red crouching down with other fellows in track suits. Trying to hide on him! He always knew that Red was a coward. A gun went off! Reginald jumped, and turned to see Red running wildly down the track in front of the other runners. With grim determination Reginald sped after him. He would give Red the beating of his life. The time had surely come. Slowly and surely he crept up on that group of runners. He passed the strag- glers! He was even with the “bunch!” He passed the bunch and was second only to “Red,” who had taken the lead from the start. One lap had been covered! He put every ounce of energy into his legs. When they had gone another half-lap Reginald saw a waver in “Red’s” previ- ously steady pace. He was “cracking.” Xo coward could stand that pace. He was slowing down! Reginald slowed down! He reached out to grab him, but he heard a shout. He turned his head,