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Page 19 text:
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Page 18 text:
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Wfl0Pl'1f1!f The pale lonesome moonlight drifts through the smoky atmosphere surrounding the Fox Hole Hotel, yet never touches it. After all, what self-respecting moonbeam would dare cross the path of the 'tFox ? Inside all is light and merry for the senior class of 1950 will soon be gathering for its twentieth reunion. In the corner, having just finished sweeping the great ballroom in which the festivities are to be held, is Tom Condon, trying to clear his clouded memories of twenty years ago when his classmates elected him most likely to succeed. He tries vainly to recall the future plans of his buddies of yesterday, and slowly, oh, so slowly, he sees images of them on the ballroom floor. There was Junior Ackerman, who was fleet of foot and was supposed to be by one and all the greatest athlete of years to come. Alas, thought Tom aloud, t'The closest Ack ever came to being an athlete at all was being a peanut vendor in Detroit's beautiful Briggis Stadium? As if by magic the cloud lifts and the dimpled face of Evie Miller smiles at the lounging form of T. C. He wonders, t'Wally Miller, wasn't he the one we voted to go directly to Hollywood? I wonder what could have happened to him? He looks so ragged and beat-up, but let's hear from Wally himself. I believe that is he who just entered, Yes, croaks Wally, I started for Hollywood and a contract with Charles Cohen's super hydro- genic filming corporation, boasting of having on its payroll the most beautiful girls in the world, but en route I stopped in Las Vegas for a few days and while there saw a familiar name on a palatial gambling hall. It was the Hawk's Nest , belonging to none other than that notorious card sharp, Black Sandy Brandt. I stopped in for a few hands of pot 21. By using certain methods taught to me by our old buddy, Elliot Greenberg, who now owns and runs Michigan State University, I won the famous Hawk's Nest while the evening was still young. It was a very nice night out so I decided to drive around for a while. On my way back into the heart of the city I picked up a hitchhiker, male of course, and it turned out to be none other than Chuck 'the shmuck' Hyde. I also engaged with him in a friendly game, but it turned out that he was the one that had taught Greenberg how to play. The last thing I saw of the Hawkis Nest, the Mayor was having it shipped to Fort Dodge, lock, stock, and dice tables. Evie was interrupted by the entrance of 'Tex Ambrose, the successor of Frank Costello and Lucky Luciano. But wait! Who is this following Tex? Why it can't be Bad Jim Rutherford, Tex's right hand gunman? But it is, and armed to the toenails, too. As Tex is checking in his Stetson, and Bad Jim is being stripped of his hardware, only until he is prepared to leave, of course, everyone's attention is drawn to the strange figure that is completely filling the doorway. On second inspection we find that it is not some vicious creature from Mars, but a man dressed in what seems to be waterproof long underwear and a diving helmet. When he goes over to the hat check girl we discover him to be Bob Henebry, that famous deep fish-er man. Now we hear some strange rhythmic noise that is coming in stronger every moment. Be- fore the unusual throbbing noise can be recognized by anyone thus far present, Howie McPherson comes rushing in with the look of a hunted man written in every line of his weatherbeaten face. t'Someone save me, he cries frantically. 'iThat's the Rev. James Watts who claims that he has discovered Buddhism to be the true faith, and these many long years has been trying to con- vert me. Then as a couple of the boys quiet the Gimp, Jimbo Watts enters, surrounded on all sides by religious fanatics and other relatives of Mahatma Ghandi, while all the while, his more faith- ful and less violent followers beat the drums of the Congo. At the door Jimbo makes a sign to his Exalted High Priest, whom we recognize as none other than Porky Pollock. Pollo turns, and in his clear distinct bass loudly proclaims, The master wishes to spend a few days in silent prayer. Leave, infidels, so that he may gain your redemptionf' At these words everyone looks at his neighbor and thinks to himself that this is going to be quite a historical 'tprayer meetinli' At this stage of the party, all present are interrupted by the clanging of a bell and the wail of a siren. We rush outside just in time to see a fire engine whiz by followed closely by a police car. Next comes an ambulance. Knowing what to expect, some of our group step part way into the street and as soon as the ambulance is past, haul in George Moose,' Engel. To think that a woman like Mary Ann could turn George into a common ambulance chaser. The ringing of the bell on the fire engine is replaced by the bell on the Super Chief that just pulled in unnoticed by anyone. Then the cries from the strong lungs of the college students who are disembarking drown out all other sounds. 'tIt's just those college kids again,', explains Dave Bersell. They're still idolizing 'Sails' Bale for modernizing the whole teaching field. Now our party is almost completed, for Dan Stilling is rolling in a keg of Old Style Occo- namowac and Jag is right behind him to serve it. Jag always wanted to go on a busman's holiday and now his fondest dream has been realized. He is without a doubt the only one from the whole class who became exactly what we expected him to be, a bartender who tells the customers his troubles. Now that Bobby Birkholz is here with his numerous camp followers, the old gang is rais- ing an uproar that will never be surpassed, for: Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind, Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of Auld Lang Synef' FOURTEEN
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