Spartanburg High School - Spartana Yearbook (Spartanburg, SC)

Text from Pages 1 - 132 of the 1924 volume:

TO WILLIAM G. BLAKE WE, THE SENIOR CLASS, AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATE THIS VOLUME OF THE SCRIBBLER He is a friend zvhose helping hands Have never failed us when in need. His is a heart that understands; His is a spirit horn to lead. Faithful to duly, patient, true. In him our trust has ever lain; His high ideals our lives inspire. He const not say, “I've lived in vain.’’ L. S. DIRECTORY EDITORIAL STAFF Nancy Lee Scruggs, ’24............. Olive Russell, ’24 i Sarah Cudd, ’24 |.................. Bob Dargan, ’24.................... James Carroll, ’25................. Bettie Elleen Hutchins, ’25........ Blanche Creech, ’24................ Tucker McCravy, ’25................ Dorothy Harris, ’24 ) Evelyn Dillingham, ’24 (... George DePass, ’24................. William Willard, ’25 (Manager; | Ruth Pickens, ’25 ..... Elizabeth Crews, ’25 | Louisa Ligon, ’25.................. ......Editor-inChief ... .Literary Editors ......Athletic Editor ....Exchange Editor ..........Joke Editor ..........Art Editor .........News Editor .....Alumni Editors ...Business Manager ..........Advertising Circulation Manager Reporters Leslie Hughston, ’2 ........... Elizabeth Wallace, ’25.......... Jean Ligon, ’26................. Carolyn Gore, ’27............... Miss Alexina Atkins.............. Fourth Year Class ....Third Year Class Second Year Class ..First Year Class ...Faculty Adviser SCRIBBLER STAFF The Scribbler junior Class ANNIE KELLAR ADAMS “A dillar, a dollar, a len o’clock scholar. What makes you come so slow? ''If I hadn’t forgotten my powder puff, I’d been here long ago.’’ 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Girl Reserve Club. 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation ; Girl Reserve Club. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. JESSIE ALLEN Ne troubles jamais le trouble, jusqu’d le trouble vous trouble. 1921- 22—Girls’ Club. 1922- 23—Secretary of Class; Athletic Asso- ciation. LUCIE ALLEN Laugh, and the zeorld laughs with you; Weep, and your Mabeline runs. 1920- 21—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. 1921- 22—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation; High School Glee Chib. The Scribbler 5 GRACE A EM AN Deprived of many a wholesome meal, in barbarous Latin doomed to wrangle. 1920- 21—Literary Society. 1921- 22—Literary Society. 1922- 23—Literary Society. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. ALLEN ARMSTRONG His manner zoos gentle, and the elements so mixed in him that nature might stand up and say to all the world, “This is a man.” 1922- 23—Football team; basketball team; baseball team. 1923- 24—Football team; baseball team; bas- ketball team; Hi-Y Club; Literary Society; President of Senior Class. BONITA ATKINSON “Nita, they say, is a scandalous flirt, And alzvays has pranks in vieiv, Though after all ’tis no so strange, For golden-haired seraphs are few.” 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Member of N. S. H.; Member of G. R. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety ; Member of N. S. H. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; Member of N. S. H.; High School Glee Club. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety ; Vice-President of Glee Club; Member of N. S. H.; Member of C. G’s. 6 The Scribbler JOHN BARNETT I invoke one morning and found myself famous. FRANCIS BELL Hang sorrow, care killed a cat, and therefore let’s be merry. 1920- 21—Athletic Association; G. R. Club. 1921- 22—Athletic Association: G. R. Club; Basketball Team; Literary Society. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; Basketball Team. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; Basketball Team. JAKE BERLIN “His marks, the capital of Germany.’' 1920-21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic 1922- 23—Athletic 1923- 24—Athletic Association. Association. Association. The Scribbler PAULINE BROCK He is icell paid that is well satisfied. 1920- 21—Literary Society. 1921- 22—Literary Society; Athletic Club. 1922- 23—Literary Society; G. R. Club. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Glee Club. HENRY BRpOKS “Whatever is worth doing at all. Is worth doing tc'elI.” WINIFRED BROOM “Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise. 1920- 21—Literary ciation; Club. 1921- 22—Literary ciation. 1922- 23—Literary ciation. 1923- 24-—Literary ciation. Society; Athletic Asso-Class Secretary; G. R. Society; Athletic Asso- Society; Athletic Asso- Society; Athletic Asso- 8 The Scribbler RUBY BROWN It is tranquil people Who accomplish much. 1923-24—Athletic Association. ELEANOR BROWN Love many, trust few. But paddle your own canoe. 1920- 21—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. 1921- 22—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation ; Glee Club Pianist. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation; Glee Club; School Pianist. 0 SALLY BEA BROWN “Your rosy cheek an’ yallozu hair. Gaes us gae maiden forever mair: 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association. The Scribblkr 9 PALMER CALVERT Ay, every inch a king. RICHARD CARR “The surname Carr, with the prefix Dick. Is the sign to all—a real gold brick.” 1920-21—Baseball; Footffall; Track; Athletic Association. 1922- 23—President Junior Class; Hi-Y; Glee Club. 1923- 24—Hi-Y ; Glee Club; Athletic Asso- ciation. LOIS CARTER Love virtue, she alone is free. 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; G. R. Club. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 10 The Scribbler EUGENE CASEY The corners resound when his laughter rings. DOROTHY CECIL She grasps the skirts of happy Chance And breasts the blozvs of Circumstance. 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. KATHERINE CLAY Honor and shame from no condition rise; Act well thy part, there all the honor lies. 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24— Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. The Scribbler 11 MARCELLE CLARK Her hair ivas not more sunny than her heart. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Secretary of Class; Girls’ Club. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Secretary of Girls’ Club; Junior Usher; Literary Society; Secretary Literary Society (Second Term). 1923- 24—Athletic Association; President Literary Society ; Glee Club ; Vice-President Class; Senior Usher. AI LEE N COMER ’Tis not a proud desire of mine, I ask for nothing superfine. 1920- 21—Secretary LiterSry Society (Union Hi). 1921- 22—Literary Society; Basketball Team (Union Hi). 1922- 23—Literary Society. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Member of Ath- letic Association. B. KING COUPER I zvottld rather be right than President. 1922- 23—Literary Society; High School Band. 1923- 24—Literary Society; High School Band; President of Hi-Y Club; Cheer Leader. 12 The Scribbler BLANCHE CREECH I'm sure care is an enemy to life. 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; Member of G. R. Club; Varsity Basketball. 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety ; G. R. Club; Varsity Basketball. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety ; Glee Club; Art Editor of Scribbler. SARAH CUDD If love be music, flay on. 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Director of Literary Society. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety ; Girl Reserve Club. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety ; Glee Club; Literary Editor of Scribbler; Winner of Essay Medal; Class 'Historian. ROBERT DARGAN If he be not a fclloio with the best of kings, Thou shalt find him the best king of good fellou’s. 1922- 23—Basketball Team; Baseball Team; Football Team; Hi-Y Club; Editor of Joke Department. 1923- 24—Basketball Team; Baseball Team; Football Team; Editor Athletics: President Literary Society. The Scribbler 13 JOEL DEAN Sighed and looked unutterable things. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Hi-Y Club. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Hi-Y Club. GEORGE DrPASS In basketball, just yell for ‘Sheep’; He racks ’em up with many a leap. 1920- 21—Hi-Y; Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Basketball Team; Hi-Y; Dancing Club; School Band. 1922- 23—Basketball Team; Literary So- ciety; Athletic Association; Hi-Y; Cheer Leader; Debating Team: Dancing Club. 1923- 24—Basketball Team; Director Liter- ary Society; Scribbler Staff; Athletic Association; Hi-Y; Cheer Leader; Dancing Club; Manager Football. LUCILE DERRICK The look composed and steady eye Bespeak a steady constancy. 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1921- 22—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 14 The Scrtrbler EVELYN DILLINGHAM She’s all my fancy fainted her; She’s lovely, site’s divine. 1920- 21—Athletic Association; Member of N. S. H.; Scribbler Reporter. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Member of N. S. H.; Scribbler Reporter. 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety ; Secretary of Class; member of N. S. H.; Circulation Manager of Scribbler. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; Alumni Editor of Scribbler ; President of one branch of Literary Society. REGINA DONKLE A siletit, great soul; she was one of those who cannot but be in earnest; whom Nature herself has appointed sincere. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Censor Lit- erary Society. DOROTHY ELY If to be zvcrc as easy as to know tvhat were good to be. Dorothy would be it. 1922- 23—Glee Club. 1923- 24—Glee Club; Athletic Association; Treasurer of Literary Society. The Scribbler 15 ST ATI A EZELL Best be yourself ini ferial, plain and true. 1920- 21—Literary Society (Boiling Springs). 1921- 22—Literary Society. 1922- 23—Literary Society. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. JAMES T. FAIN “Little but loud.’' 1920- 21—Literary Society. 1921- 22—Literary Society. 1922- 23—Literary Society. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Hi-Y Club. 16 The Scribbler GWYN FINLEY “An honest man is the noblest work of Godr 1923-24—Literary Society; Hi-Y Club. EVELYN FI RESHEETS My tongue within my lips I reign; For who speaks much toil I speak in vain. 1920- 21—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; Glee Club; Member of G. R. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety ; Glee'Club. DELIA GABRIEL Quiet and thought fill, modest and meek. Knowing much more than she lets herself speak. 1922- 23—Girls' Club; Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association. The Scribbler 17 REBECCA GAFFNEY Not exactly afraid of ivork, but rather not to be intimately acquainted with it. 1920- 21—Athletic Association; Member of N. H. S.; G. R. Club. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety ; Member of N. S. H. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety ; Member of N. S. H. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety ; Member of N. S. H. HARPER GAULT “Whosoever keepeth his mouth and tongue, keepeth his soul from evil.” 1922- 23—High School Band. 1923- 24—President of High School Band. NELL GOSSETT I should worry and get a ivrinkle. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Secretary of Class. 1922- 23—Girls’ Club; Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 18 The Scribbler CHARLES GREEN Mot that I love hooks less, But that I love girls more. 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Hi-Y Club. 1921- 22—President of Athletic Association; Hi-Y Club. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Hi School Band; Class Treasurer. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Baseball Team; Hi-Y Club; Vice-President of Class; Class Prophet. LOUISE HAMMOND “Like unto the crimson rose That opens in the morn. 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety Director. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety ; High School Club. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation ; Glee Club; Class Secretary. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Secretary of Literary Society; Glee Club. THOMAS HARMON ‘‘The empty laugh that bespoke the vacant mind.” 1920-21—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Baseball Team. 1923- 24—Baseball and Football Teams; Athletic Association. T me Scribbler 19 DOROTHY HARRIS To foliate foolish precedents and to wink with both eyes is easier than to think. 1920- 21—Athletic Association; Member of N. S. H.; Reporter of Scribbler. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Varsity Bas- ketball Team; Literary Society: Member of N. S. H. 1922- 23—Athletic Association : Captain of Basketball Team; News Editor for Scribbler; Literary Society; Member of N. S. H. 1923- 24—Athletic Association : Literary So- ciety ; Cheer Leader; Member of N. S. H.; Alumni Editor of Scribbler. JUANITA HAYNES She possesses a peculiar,talent of produc-ing effect in whatever she says or does. 1922-23—Critic Literary Society; Member Basketball Team (Fairforest Hi). SARA HECKLIN Leave silence to the saints; I am but human. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 20 The Scribbler RICHARD HENRY “All great men arc dead, and I’m feeling sick.” 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Baseball Team; Athletic Associa- tion. 1922- 23—Basketball Team; Baseball Team; Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Class Vice-President; Captain of Basketball Team; Baseball Team; Athletic Association. WILLIAM HERTZOG he noblest mind the best contentment has. 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Literary Society. LESLIE HUGHSTON “And as for love. God wot., love not yet But love I shall, God willing.” 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Glee Club; Ath- letic Association. 1923- 24—Football Team; Glee Club; Sckib- bi.Er Staff; Censor, Literary Society; Athletic Association. The Scribbler 21 VIRGINIA HUTTO Lithe, blythc and merrie was she. 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; ciety. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; ciety; Usher. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; ciety; Usher. Literary So-Literary So-Literary So-Literary So- CLYDE JARRETT I know a hawk from a hand-saw. 1923-24—Literary Society. KATHERINE KELLY Sweetness and patience crown this gentle maid. 1920- 21—Literary Society (Pauline High). 1921- 22—Literary Society (Pauline High). 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 22 The Scribbler PALMER KING A man he teas to all the country Hear. 1920- 21—Literary ciation. 1921- 22—Literary ciation. 1922- 23—Literary ciation. 1923- 24— I ,i terary Society; Athletic Asso-Society; Athletic Asso-Society; Athletic Asso-Societv; Football Squad. SARAH LEVIN “I uni never at anchor, I never shall he. I’m sailing the glass of infinity’s sea. 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. ' Thk Scribbler 23 CALLIE LINEBARGER “Forever from worry and core I'm free; IVhy aren’t they all content like me?’’ 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association. LOUIE LOCKMAN He was a man. Take him for all I shall not look upon his like. 1923-24—Baseball Team ; Literary Society ; Hi-Y Club. LILLIAN MABRY Laugh, and the world laughs ivith you. 1920- 21—Girls’ Reserve. 1921- 22—Girls’ Reserve Club. 1922- 23—Girls’ Club; Glee Club; Athletic Association: Literary Society. 1923- 24—Glee Club; Literary Society. 24 The Scribbler MARION MABRY The girl who loins is the girl who works. The girl who toils while the next one shirks. 1923-24—Athletic Association. AGNES MALONE IVil’st thou have music? Then seek her. 1920- 21—Literary Society (Grover Hi). 1921- 22—Literary Society; Basketball Team (Grover Hi). ROSALIE MARCHANT A little learning is a dangerous thing. 1921-22—Secretary Literary Society (Clifton). 1923-24—Athletic Association. The Scribbler 25 EDITH MARSH Fickle and changeable is woman ever. 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Girl Re- serves. 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. ALAN MAXWELL 1 am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. 1923-24—Literary Society. LOUISE MILLER If you’d make this life zvorth while, IVear rainbow colors and a cheerful smile. 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 26 The Scribbler SADI MILLER “Her only books rvere the boys’ looks. And folly’s all they taught her.’’ 1920- 21—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. JULIUS MIMS “Act well your fart, there all the honor lies.’’ MARGARET MULLINAX As sweet as the rose that grows by the river’s brim. 1920- 21—Literary Society; Literary Society Director; Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Class Secretary and Treasurer: Athletic Association: Literary Society; Hi School Club. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Hi School Club; Athletic Association ; Glee Club. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Glee Club; Literary Society. The Scribbler 27 ELIZABETH Mi DOWELL “Of mystic beauty, dreamy grace. 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association. eula McDowell The way to have a fridnd is to be one. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. RUTH McKOWN Men may come and men may go But I'll go on forever. 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—-Literary Society. 28 The Scribbler MARTHA PATTERSON “Our ivcc modest golden-tipped flower.” 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association. ALICE PECK There’s nothing so becomes one As modest stillness and humility. 1920- 21—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. ROBERT PICKENS ‘‘A girlie’s heart-beat always quickens When she sees this boy named Pickens.” 1920- 21—Hi-Y ; Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Hi-Y; Literary Society; Athletic Association; Secretary Dancing Club. 1922- 23—Football Team; Glee Club; Censor Literary Society ; Athltic Association ; Hi-Y; Secretary Dancing Club; School Band. 1923- 24—Football Team; Glee Club; Ath- letic Association; President Literary Society; Cheer Leader; Hi-Y; Secretary Dancing Club; Class Secretary. The Scribbler 29 EARL POOLE Suit the action to the word, The word to the action. 1920- 21—Literary Society. 1921- 22—Literary Society. 1922- 23—Literary Society. 1923- 24—Literary Society. RUBY PROFFITT All things come to him ivho zvait. Therefore why should I hurry? 1920- 21—Literary 1921- 22—Literary 1922- 23—Literary Athletic 1923- 24—Literary ciation. Society. Society; Girls’ Club. Society; Girls’ Club; Association. Society; Athletic Asso- OSCAR REEDER His heart, the heart of man 1920- 21—Literary Society; Football Team; Hi-Y Club. 1921- 22—Literary Society; Football Team; Hi-Y Club. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Football Team; Basketball Team. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Football Team; Basketball Team. 30 The Scribbler ALBERTA ROGERS Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt; Nothing so hard, but search will find it out. 1920- 21—Literary Society. 1921- 22—Literary Society. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation; Member of G. R. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. OLIVE RUSSELL Oh! for a seat in some poetic nook Just hid udth trees and sparkling urith a brook. 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Member of N. S. H.; Member of G. R. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; Member of N. S. H.; Member of G. R. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Director of Literary Society: Treasurer of Glee Club; Member of N. S. H.; Varsity Basketball. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety ; Secretary of Class; Secretary of plee Club; Member of N. S. H.; Member of C. G’s. NANCY LEE SCRUGGS She plays the game for all there’s in it; She plays the game, and plays to min it. 1920- 21—Athletic Association : President of G. R. Club. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety ; Basketball Squad; Winner of G. R. Honor Ring. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety ; President of G. R. Club. 1923- 24—Editor-in-Chief of Scribbler; Ath- letic Association; Literary Society ; President of Class; Director of Literary Society; Cheer Leader; Member of Happy-Go-Lucky Clubv The Scribbler 31 DOROTHY SEASE O wad sonic power the gif lie gie us— To see ourselves as ithers see us. O. no! Tm satisfied with a mirror. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Basketball Team; Literary Society. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. ERLINE SMITH A little dah of powder, A little bit of paint; But zv ten one’s such a history shark. It isn’t such a taint. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. LOUISE SMITH Tonight she will dance at the palace With diamonds in her hair; The Prince will praise her grace. The loveliest dancer there. 1920- 21—Medal of Story-telling Contest (Gastonia. N. C.) 1921- 22—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. 1922- 23—Literary Society: Athletic Asso- ciation; Glee Club; G. R. Club. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Critic of Literary Society; Class Poet; Member of Glee Club. 32 The Scribbler DENA SPIGEL Give me true friends and music, And life ivill be a pleasure. 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Secretary of G. R. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Treasurer of G. R. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Glee Club; Literary Society. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; President of Glee Club; Literary Society; Member of Happy - Go - Lucky Club. JOHN SYLVESTER STONE “Hitch your wagon to a star.” 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association. VERNON TANNER They are never alone that are accompanied by noble thoughts. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Glee Club. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Glee Club. The Scrirrler 33 PAULINE TARPLEY Come what come may. Time and the hour run through the roughest day. 1920- 21—Literary Society. 1921- 22—Literary Society. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Girls’ Clul); Sec- retary of Class; Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Critic Literary Society; Athletic Association. THOMAS MASON TARPLEY Silence is golden; I am solid brass. 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Hi-Y ; Athletic Association; Band. 1922- 23—Glee Club; Hi-Y; Athletic Asso- ciation ; Literary Society; Band. 1923- 24—Football Team: Glee Club; Pres- ident Literary Society; Athletic Association; Winner of West Point Scholarship. FAE THOMAS Yours is the charm of calm good sense. 1920-21—Literary ciation. Society; Athletic Asso- 1921-22—Literary ciation. Society; Athletic Asso- 1922-23—Literary ciation. Society; Athletic Asso- 1923-24—Literary ciation. Society; Athletic Asso- 34 The Scribbler LILLIE BELLE THOMPSON Common sense is nature’s gift, But reason is an art. 1922-23—President Literary Society (Clifton). ALEXANDER TILLINGHAST I slept and dreamed that life teas beauty; I woke and found that life was duty. 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Hi-Y Club. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Hi-Y Club. THURZA TINSLEY 1 rue as the needle to the pole, or the dial to the sun. The Scribbler 35 EZBERT TONEY “If Algebra you fail to see, for information, come to me. 1923-24—Literary Society. R. B. TROGDEN Laugh, love, and live longer. 1920- 21—Baseball Team. 1921- 22—Baseball Team. 1922- 23—Captain Baseball Team ; Basket- ball Team. 1923- 24— Baseball Team; Hi-Y Club; Lit- erary Society. ELMER TURNAGE Hitch your wagon to a star. Keep your seat, and there you are. 1920- 21—Literary Society. 1921- 22—Literary Society. 1922- 23—Literary Society. 1923- 24—Literary Society, Hi School Band. 36 The Scribbler LLOYD TURNER The greatest truths are the simplest. So are the greatest men. 1923-24—Literary Society. ROSWELL VOGEL He zvins that laughs. 1920- 21—Literary Society. 1921- 22—Literary Society. 1922- 23—Literary Society. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Hi School Band ; Basketball Team. The Scribbler 37 ROBERT MARSDEN WALLACE “I’ve never felt the breath of love, Nor maiden’s hand in mine.” 1920- 21—Hi-Y. 1921- 22—Literary Society; Director, Band. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Band. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Class Lawyer, Athletic Association. MABLE WATKINS “Still they gaced, and still the wonder greiv. That one small head could hold all she knew.” 1920- 21—Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Athletic Association. 1923- 24—Athletic Association. LUCY WHITE “My heart is whole, my fancy free, Run on, sniall boys, don't bother me.” 1920- 21—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; Hi School Club. 1922- 23—Athletic Association; Hi School Club. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. 38 The Scribbler RUTH WILLARD “Yc gods, end this school life. And make tivo lovers happy.” 1920- 21—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1921- 22—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety; Hi School Club. 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; Glee Club. 1923- 24—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety Critic. JAMES WILLIAMS He hath a daily beauty in his life. 1922- 23—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. 1923- 24—Literary Society; Athletic Asso- ciation. EUGENE CHRISTOPHER WOFFORD ‘‘Absence of occupation is not rest. A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.” 1920- 21—Hi-Y ; Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Band. The Scribbler 39 THOMAS WRIGHT “Here is a guy zvho half his life has spent Toiling at Algebra in a city grey.” 1921- 22—Literary Society (Clifton). 1922- 23—Athletic Association ; Literary So- ciety. 1923- 24—Athletic Association; Literary So- ciety. MARION YOUNG “I ant the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.” 1920- 21—Hi-Y ; Athletic Association. 1921- 22—Hi-Y ; Athletic Association. 1922- 23—Football and Baseball Squads; Hi-Y; Athletic Association; Literary Society. 1923- 24—Football Team; Hi-Y; Athletic Association. j EDITORIAL DEPARTMENT j Editor-in-Chief—Nancy Lee Scruggs •—W—� • —....—....—....—....—....——m—....—.... . Thought One of Love’s ringlets fell to earth. A tender spirit, breathing mirth, This sparkling spray of sunshine caught And wove it into joyous thought. Estelle Cohen, ’25. -----------o----------- To Our Principal Throughout the coming years let us not forget him who has been our guide, our friend and companion; who shared our sorrows, our joys, our hardships; who was ever ready with heart and hand to help us on our way. How patient he has been with us! How kind! How gentle! How often he has sacrificed his time, his strength, his pleasures for us. Never was there a nobler, more true, and Christian character. Long will his influence reign over us, and long will our love be warm for him— our beloved principal. N. L. S. The Scribbler 41 Gratitude The sun shines down, the wind doth blow The flowers to and fro; Yet on their slender stalks they stem The tide of joy and woe. Their faces bright look up to heav’n. In thankfulness to Him Who shelters them from every harm, And keeps them snug and trim. So we should turn our faces up To where our Father reigns, And thank Him for His shelt’ring arms That lift us to high plains. Alice Peck, ’24. o- •v Happiness Sometimes I used to sit and dream Of days that were to be. I hoped that only happy ones Were held in store for me. And as I dreamed, the priceless hours Went by on fleeting wings. The golden moments slipped away With unaccomplished things. As for those days of which I thought, They never seemed to come, Although I longed with all my heart To taste the joy of one. But now I’ve learned that joy comes not To those who idly wait. They find true happiness who use Their live for others’ sake. Lucie Allen, ’24. 42 The Scribbler Just Smile Since smiling bids the sunshine come, And frowning bids the rain, Just smile and bring the sunshine on, And you’ve the world to gain. Just smile and you’ll remember that A thorn grows with the rose, And joy accompanies sadness thus Wherever sadness goes. Be like a man who at his work, Can burst out into song, Just look your troubles in the face, And smile and work along. Mary Stelling, ’25. ------------o----------- Air Castles We’re forever building castles, Castles high on hills of Hope; Many vanish, some are shattered, That’s because we mourn and mope. If we live with love and laughter, Work till all our tasks are done, Then our castles will not vanish, But will tower toward the sun. Life would not be worth the living Were it not for hopes and dreams; They’re what makes us strive and struggle, Make life really what it seems. Sarah Cudd, '24. The Scribbler 43 STATISTICS OF THE CLASS OF 1924 Somebody shook the ballot box, and Io! see what fell out i. Laziest. Frances Bell Thomas Harmon 2. Most Dignified... 3. Neatest.......... 4. Most Original.... 5. Most Talkative... 6. Most Studious.... 7. Most Enthusiastic. 8. Luckiest......... 9. Unluckiest....... 10. Daintiest....... 11. Optimistic...... 12. Pessimistic..... 13. Impulsive....... 14. Care-free....... 15. Sensational..... 1 Reggie Donkle William Hertzog {Reggie Donkle Robert Pickens ! William Hertzog Nancy Lee Scruggs (Joel Dean Sara Hecklin I Lillie Belle Thompson Leslie Hughston f Dorothy Harris | Jimmie Fain ( Nell Gossett I Thomas Harmon I Louise Miller | Alex Tillinghast | Annie Kellar Adams | Vernon Tanner I Marcelle Clark {Richard Carr I Gwyn Finley ) Rebecca Gaffney 4 Erline Smith ( Allen Armstrong j Bonita Atkinson | Richard Carr (Dorothy Harris Eugene Wofford 44 The Scribbler 16. Unselfish...... 17. Most Logical... 18. Most Natural... 19. Most Stylish... 20. Biggest Giggler.... 21. Most Popular... 22. Most Attractive.. 23. Shyest......... 24. Wittiest....... 25. Best Looking... 26. Best All Around 27. Cutest......... j Agnes Malone ( Allen Armstrong j Alice Peck | Richard Henry | Olive Russell { Richard Carr ( Sadi Miller ( Robert Pickens (Blanche Creech Oscar Reeder ! Evelyn Dillingham Robert Pickens {Evelyn Dillingham Robert Pickens j Julius Mims ( Delia Gabriel ( Marcelle Clark j Buck Tarpley S Evelyn Dillingham Allen Armstrong ( Robert Dargan ( Nancy Lee Scruggs j Bonita Atkinson | R. B. Trogden Cutest— Bonita Atkinson, R. B. Trogden Wittiest— Marcelle Clark, Thomas Tarpley Most Enthusiastic— Dorothy Harris, James Fain Most Popular— Evelyn Dillingham, Robert Pickens Best Looking— Evelyn Dillingham, Allen Armstrong Best All-Around— Nancy Lee Scruggs, Robert Dargan ‘•FRANTIC FOLLIES”: THE SEE-SAW CHORUS The Scribbler 47 CLASS POEM, ’24 The time is now at hand when we must cross The threshold at the parting of the ways, Which forms a golden link between the past And untold mysteries of future days. Behind us. in the vale of long ago, Lie all of childhood’s fancies, hopes, and fears; But memory will cherish and keep green The toils and triumphs of our yesteryears. The dawning day with all its splendor brings An era, rich with promise, full of hope, To us who turn with eager, buoyant, feet To start our journey on life’s upward slope. Our eyes are fastened on the distant goal Toward which the pathway of the future leads. The milestones on this road to happiness Are measured by kind words and friendly deeds. Perchance the highway which we tread will be A rugged one, beset with hidden snares. Perchance at times ’twill seem that joys are few, That life is chiefly made of griefs and cares. But just as every rose must have its thorns To guard it when marauding hands are near, So must each life have thorns to make its joys, In contrast to its sorrows, doubly dear. 48 The Scribbler E’en tho the satin bloom be bruised, the rose Its exqusite perfume doth freely dole. Its fragrance is not marred. So in a life Each poignant heartache fructifies the soul. May vve, the steadfast Class of ’24, With flaming courage meet the painful blows Which fate may rain upon us, and survive, And fill the world with beauty like the rose. Just one more wish before I say farewell— May rich fulfillment your ambitions bless, And may you at the shining rainbow’s end All find the golden treasure of success. Louise Smith, ’24. -----------o----------- THE NERVE OF SOME PEOPLE HE TRAIN pulled into Bancroft just at twilight. The first thing I saw was Cousin Josephine, standing on the plaform, smiling expectantly and peering about near-sightedly in search of me, her week-end guest. “Here you are!” she cried as she discovered me. “I almost missed you in the crowd. Come right over to the car. We shall just get home before night.” “Oh! What a lovely new car!” I exclaimed as she led me to a beautiful blue coach and proudly opened the door for me to enter. “Yes,” she said, evidently pleased, “I got it only yesterday, just in time for your visit. The old one was quite disreputable.” The car moved smoothly through the crowd under Cousin Josephine’s guiding hand. She blushed with pleasure as I complimented her capable handling of the wheel. Cousin Josephine prided herself on doing anything well that she undertook to do at all; and although she was fifty, she was a fine driver. Chatting pleasantly about the latest family gossip, we left the town and sped along the highway which led to Cousin Josephine’s home four miles from Bancroft. It was a fine open road. Cousin Josephine, stirred out of her usual caution by her pride in the new coach, proposed to show me “what it could do.” At The Scribbler 49 first we seemed the only people on the road. Presently the lights of an approaching car shone on our windshield. As it drew nearer, which it did pretty fast, there was a shout from its driver. “Halt!” he yelled. “Drunk,” said Cousin Josephine calmly. “Perhaps we’d better get on.” And she did get on. But so did the car with the drunken driver, who yelled louder than ever. Cousin Josephine kept her eyes on the road, and her foot on the gas. I would never have believed it of her, but the speedometer said fifty-five an hour, and it was creeping up. Still the pursuers were gaining, and— Mercy on us!—there was an ear-splitting explosion. “The tire!” I groaned. “A pistol shot.” replied Cousin Josephine, unperturbedly. “Good heavens! What shall we do?” I cried in considerable consternation. “We must get on,” said Cousin Josephine without a tremor. Her Revolutionary ancestors would have been proud of such coolness and indifference in the face of danger. With her hands on the wheel, her foot on the gas, and her eyes on the road, Cousin Josephine showed not the faintest sign of fear except in her speed, which had now risen to sixty-five, with the yells growing nearer, and an occasional shot splitting the air and sending cold chills up and down my spine. “One more mile,” murmured Cousin Josephine. “Maybe they will run off the bridge when we get there,” she said hopefully as we sped on. Just then another sound caught my ear, the loud, raucous chugging of a mortorcycle. Ordinarily I abominate it. Now I hailed it with joy. Its rider would rescue us from our drunken pursuers. On it came at break-neck speed, passed the pursuing car, drew nearer and nearer, came alongside. But goodness! Here was no rescuer, only another assailant, who in a vicious voice ordered us to “Halt in the name of the law.” Cousin Josephine, disdaining to notice him, drove on. Her blood was up. Another shot rang out, and simultaneously something burst right under us. This time I knew it was the tire. The race was up. We jolted and jumped up and down on the road for a breathless minute. Cousin Josephine, realizing her defeat, let OFFICERS CASTALIAN LITERARY SOCIETY, SECTION A OFFICERS CASTALIAN LITERARY SOCIETY. SECTION B 52 The Scribbler up on the gas. We came to a stop with jerks that would have upset one less composed than Cousin Josephine. She opened the door and demanded to know why she was thus insulted, driving her own car to her own home in a civilized community. “Your own car!” jeered the uniformed motorcycle man, reinforced now by the occupants of the car we had all but eluded. “Well, if you ain’t got cheek!” Cousin Josephine drew herself up with freezing dignity. “You forget yourself, my man. I shall report you to the authorities for drunkenness and disorder, and for offering insults to ladies. If any of you are sober enough, you can put on my spare tire, so I can proceed to my home.” Such courage and self-possession was not without its effect. The men looked disconcerted and shifted a little uneasily. He of the uniform spoke again, hut with more reserve. “Ye don’t seem to understand, ma’am. But this ain’t your car, and we’ve here to get it in the name of the law.” “You shall answer for this outrageous impudence, sir,” said Cousin Josephine, emphatic but self-possessed. “Not my own car, indeed! But I do not condescend to such a foolish discussion. Get the tire on and let us proceed.” “Come on, Sam,” muttered one of the men. “Must be mistake somewhere. Let’s get the tire on and get out o’ this.” I he uniformed one showed some disposition to stand his ground, but deserted by his comrades he weakended, and with some inaudible sounds, which might have been a threat or an apology, he mounted his sputtering machine and tore off into the night. The other two replaced the tire they had by such repeated efforts succeeded in disabling. Cousin Josephine, always a lady, thanked them civilly but coldly, resumed the wheel, and with me. trembling and inarticulate, proceeded to her home. Arrived there we put away the car, had our supper, and to my relief, for I at least was worn from the excitement, we went early to bed. I was almost asleep when Cousin Josephine, apparently referring to nothing, remarked, “I wonder whose it is anyhow.” “Whose is what?” I asked rather ambiguously. The car, ’ she said. “It really isn’t mine, though it looks Thi: Scribbler 53 just like it. But the number isn’t the same. I must have gotten mixed at the station and got in the wrong one.” “Good heavens!” I gasped. “When did you find it out ?” “When I was watching those impudent rascals take off the spare tire. It was too late to say anything then, though.” “But what on earth will you do about it?” I urged. “Return it, of course,” was the matter-of-fact reply, and in two minutes she slept the sleep of the just. Jean Ligon, ’26. ROSEBUD MEMORIES In a Southern rose-decked garden, Sits a figure old and gray. She is dreaming, while the sun-dial Tells the happy hours of day. 'Twas a sunny Maytime morning. Birds were twittering to their mates. She must watch her lover leaving For the War Between the States. W hat a noble young Confederate Was her hero brave that day. As she placed the fairest rosebud On his shining coat of gray! But returning came he never From that far-off Northern land. So she still sits dreaming, dreaming, With a rosebud in her hand. Pauline Brock. ’24. 54 The Scribbler SEAWARD! HE MOON is climbing up the billowy ladder of clouds. Occasionally it blooms forth as a full-blown rose, through a tinseled vista in the sky. A slender girl comes down the walk. Her eyes shine like jet, and her hair is raven black. She reminds me of a lovely moth, trying its tender silken wings in the dusk of eventide. Such exquisite beauty is rarely found now. Gracefully she steps in and flings her mantilla back from her wan face. Her gondolier, old, grey-haired, steers the Golden Dragon seaward. “Yolanda, once, when your mother and I were riding, the moon shone like this. She sat where you are sitting. There was a fable then that whoever sailed in a gondola on their wedding night unseen, would live a wonderful life together without sadness. ‘We rode on our wedding night far down the gleaming water, and no one saw us. We lived, laughed, and loved, and you came and lived with us. You are like her. I sometimes dream it is your mother and not you that I see every day in the sparkling sunlight. “A tiny child you were, playing midst the flowers, and your little laugh sounded like the silvery tinkling of a spraying fountain. “But one day your mother went away, and I realized that the moon was watching us as we drifted down the stream. Your mother promised to come back and help me teach you things, and she comes. I see her every night. I see her now, Yolanda, but she is calling me yonder in the mist, and I believe I am going to her. Take the Dragon back with you.” The old man fell in a crumpled heap at her feet. “Daddy! Daddy! We are near a fog and I can’t steer past it, and—oh, I can’t see!” Death is sometimes cruel, and the old man does not answer. She falls, and softly the calm waters gently lap the sides of the gondola as she floats on down the stream—seaward. Olive Russell. ’24. The Scribbler 55 THE WOOING OF AN ORCHID Beneath the azure sheen where ivy twines There grows a sapphire orchid; not demure. But stately, tall and fair 'mongst clinging vines Far, far away from din, it dwells obscure. But near the orchid blue a galax lives. As he unfolds his leaves like hearts of green, He'murmurs, “Who has beauty more to give?” Then one bright day the orchid’s flow’r is seen To ope her blossoms, delicate and rare, And cast her fragrance on the sun-kist air. He glaces first, then sighs, and winks so shy; Now boldly flirts and hurls his red love darts. Within his heart both love and worship vie. And on her heartstrings fairies play of love, And in her soul they breathe that song of old. She smiles at him, as sings the cooing dove. By chance through this wild glade a couple stroll, And seeing this sweet flower pluck her bloom. Then says, “Tomorrow is my wedding day. I’ll put this blossom in my bride’s bouquet.” Frances Bell, ’24. -o IN THE VALLEY “De-own in th’ vaalay, In th’ vaalay I would ge-ow! Where th’ birds are singing An’ th’ su-wheat flowers gre-ow!” UCH was the doubtful melody that proceeded from small Joe Williams, aged, eleven. Joe was in a happy state of mind, due to the fact that he had successfully escaped Aunt Jemima’s vigilant eye and was now on his way “down in the valley.” Reaching a turning point in his path, he inserted two fingers in his mouth and let loose a mighty blast of air. After two or three fruitless attempts he transferred his attention to a more hopeful noise manufacture. Raising his head he oscillated his “Adam’s apple vigorously up and down, at the same time singing in a minor FACULTY GIRLS’ BASKETBALL SQUAD The Scribbler 57 key. The result was surprising. This small boy might have been mistaken for fog horn. Joe proudly inserted his thumbs under the armholes of his jacket and remarked, “That ought to bring him.” It did bring “him.” Bob Jones swung himself down from a nearby tree. “What’d she say?” he questioned. “Nuthin doing,” came the sour reply. “Let’s go anyway. Pa ain't here, and ma’s gone to prayer meeting.” “I’ll beat ya there!” “Last in’s a suck-egg dog!” Down the path they flew. Ahead loomed a typical country “swimmin’ hole.” A sign entitled, “No Swimming Allowed,” had been changed to “No Wimmin Allowed,” which showed the temper of the boys for respect of law. Both hit the water at the same time, and immediately had a fight as to which was in last. Water and mud splashed and plunked. Oh, they were having a glorious time! “Ow-ow-ow-oooo!” “Joe! yonder comes old man Johnson. He said he'd tan the life out o’ us.” “Beat it,” came the frightened reply. Mr. Johnson and his hound were seen rapidly approaching up stream. Both boys shot for their clothes. “What you done with my pants?” “Gimme my coat. How the mischief did these pajamas get here?” “You, mutt, where’s my other shoe? My clothes is all gone. You sucker, where’d ya hide ’em?” “I didn’t touch them. Put on these pajamas. Let’s get out of here.” “Whatd’ya take me for? A monkey? I ain’t no clown.” A twig snapped. “Wimmen!” yelled Joe. They dived half dressed into the water. “Aha!” said Aunt Jemima. “We’ve got you now,” added Mrs. Jones. “Take off those pajamas and put on your clothes. Oh, you are cold, are you? 58 The Scribbler Well, you will soon be warmed in no gentle way. Come now, let’s see your pajama suits. They were well placed.” Mr. Johnson arrived. “We caught ’em red- handed, Mrs. Jones. Pajamas in the daytime! Ha, ha, ha!” B. King Couper, ’24. -----------o----------- THE FIRST BUTTERCUPS The small elves circled round a miser’s bag Of yellow, gleaming gold, they say, And soon the elves had hastened with the sack And fleeing they had paved the way. Then softly came the fairies from the trees, All dressed in robes of purest white, For they had slyly seen the leaking sack, Just as the elves had made their flight. So there the fairies had a joyous dance, And out of dewy leaves did sup, Then o’er the gold the magic wand was waved. And lo! A field of buttercups. Lucille Derrick, ’24. -----------o----------- A LITTLE FUN E, and who I mean by “we” is myself, the Freshman basketball team, and Roy Bobo, a taxi driver, who had driven us from Spartanburg, were fixing to settle for the night in a special room in the Y. M. C. A. at Davidson College. It was an extra large room and had nine cots in it. Each one had a pillow, too! That meant a lot of fun. Nobody else was in the building, so we could cut up all we wanted to. That hadn’t happened very often on our trips. We generally had to keep quiet or get kicked out, and we barely missed getting kicked out most of the time. Roy had been in bed about half an hour and was sound asleep when we returned from the drug store about midnight. A penny blackjack game was soon started and almost as soon stopped. Everybody was full of life, for they had suffeied a bad The Scribbler 59 defeat at the hands of the Davidson Freshmen, and were trying to drive the gloom of defeat away. AH of us prepared for bed. Then off went the light. Everything was quiet for almost a second and then, S-s-s-w-i-sh-sh— thump! a pillow hit. It was the signal for action. Immediately pillows were flying thick and fast. Nobody could see in the dark. It was throw at random, but even then quite a few hits were scored. The light was hanging over the foot of my bed, so I decided to turn it on. I was greeted with a barrage of pillows as soon as they could see. These swept me off my feet. The boys were at such close range that dodging was out of the question. I did not mind, for 1 landed on the cot. Then “Red,’’ with one of his graceful dives, left his feet about five cots down the line and landed right on top of me. The cot collapsed and piece's of it flew everywhere. That was not the worst of it, for the whole crew followed Red. At the end of it I could easily believe I was just a very flat batter cake. Our attention was then turned to Bobo, who had been forgotten in the business of the evening. He had just waked up; and, let me tell you, he could have slept under the mouth of a sixteen-inch cannon more easily than in that room, but even at that he had done it until the cot caved in. He drawled out in a sleepy, foggy voice, “Why don’t you boys cut out the racket and go to sleep?” A pitcher full of water was close to Willy, and a second later it was empty. The cold water woke Bobo fully up, but even then he could not prevent his cot being turned over, himself thrown on the floor, and the cot piled on top of him. Suddenly everybody stopped and looked at each other, for a cry like the scream of a woman in distress rent the air. It had come from underneath our window. We did not know what to do. If it was a woman that had screamed we would have to help her. All of us except Bobo, who had not untangled himself, rushed to the window and looked out. Everything was quiet. It surely was some dark night. Quickly we all jumped back, for that blood-curdling cry was repeated. We had started for the door when we saw Bobo. He was in hysterics, laughing. I thought, and I guess the others did, too, that he had lost his FRANTIC FOLLIES”: THE DOLL SHOW GLEE CLUB CHORUS IN THE MIKADO The Scribbler 6i mind. Then he said, “You crazy hoboes, that is only the Davidson wildcat down in the basement.” He surely had the laugh on us that time. We were glad to quiet down and go to bed after that scare, but not so very willing to turn off the light. R. B. Trogden, ’24. DREAMS Very fragile things are they, Rosy fancies filled with gold, Things that never with us stay; But they bring us thoughts untold. Out of drab reality We are raised to plains on high, Where in stately majesty We hold sway, both far and nigh. We have wealth within our grasp, Power, fame, and wondrous love, And e’en when daybreak lights the land, They lift us high to planes above. Henry Brooks, ’24. -----------o----------- THE DOG’S DAY HAD BEEN “sent off” from the house as usual. Sis was forever and eternally entertaining. It seemed that was all she thought about from morn till night. And she wouldn’t even let me stay and work in my laboratory, as she said the odors were very disagreeable. day,” I thought viciously as I started off w’ith fishing rod and bait towards the lake, “I will get even with her, all right. She needn’t think that she can treat me like a dog all my life! If it wasn’t for papa—. Oh, well, my day will come because ‘Every dog has his day.’ ” Soon I reached the lake. After untying the small boat, which was fastened by a rope to the post, I started rowing on the lake. Later I cast my line in hopes of catching “something.” After several minutes I became drowsy, for it was a very sultry after- “Some 62 The Scribbler noon. The boat was slowly gliding along with the current, when suddenly I was almost jerked overboard. This startled me, and I thought I surely must have a huge fish. Excitedly I tugged and tugged at the line until I pulled it out. But it was no fish that I had caught, but a square steel box, which immediately sent my heart racing, for my first thought was that a pirate’s ship might have been sunk in the lake. Silly thoughts! How could a ship of any kind sail on this small lake? But anyhow, I examined the box thoroughly. It weighed at least ten pounds and was about a foot long. Then I wondered what could be inside. So I shook it and heard something rattle. But how was I to open this box of heavy steel ? It could not be opened very well by pounding a rock against the box. So I started rowing toward the bank, anxious to take my new treasure to my work shop. There, perhaps, I could open it with some of my chemicals. On arriving home I went immediately to the barn, my laboratory. But to my disgust I thought of Sis’ warning. “Don’t you dare play with your chemicals this afternoon.” Then and there I determined that whatever was in that box she would not get her hands on it. But my curiosity was unabated all that night. 1'he next morning I gulped my breakfast down as quickly as possible, hearing only snatches of the conversation at the table, which were something like this, “Mr. Cragan . . . Yes, a fanatic . . . worth millions . . . had killed himself.” Then Sis exclaimed, “For goodness sake, Mother, make him quit gulping his food down like that.” I looked up to see Sis piercing a hole through me. I meekly rose, and gruffly excused myself. As I eagerly started out the back door to go to my beloved work shop, I stumbled over my little sister, who was making mud pies on the back steps. Girls, again! Why in the world do they always have to be in the way ? Hurriedly I jumped up and flew to the barn. I could scarcely restrain my emotion in excitement to see what was inside. By means of powerful acids which I had, I finally prized the lid off. And behold! there was another box inside. I lifted it out of the steel box and looked at it, all wrapped in brown paper tied with a heavy cord. I turned it ever, and on the back there was written, “This box must be The Scribbler 63 opened on July seventeenth or not at all.” I tore the wrapper off quickly, for my curiosity was so aroused I could hardly wait. But to my astonishment another box was found within the second one. Here, indeed, was mystery! What did all of this mean? I could not fathom it. I hastily looked again and in amazement read, “Do not open this box until you have thrice thrown it into the lake.” Well, was I really seeing this? Everything certainly did seem queer to me. But I might as well carry out the instructions. Some luck might come of it. just as well as hanging up a horseshoe. So I hurried to the lake. After donning my bathing suit, I nervously threw the box into the water. But I immediately jumped in after it. Three times I did this, feeling more foolish each time. After obeying this instruction I rushed home, feeling that now I could open the box. This I did by filing the lid off. In my imagination I could see diamonds, rubies, and all kinds of costly stones. With trembling hands I raised the lid. Imagine my astonishment at what I saw! There was nothing but a folded paper on the bottom. Well, I had never felt so tricked in all my life. After all my hard work, was this the only reward? I sat for a few minutes looking at the piece of paper. Then I picked it up and carelessly unfolded the small white paper. A thought suddenly occurred to me: it might show where a buried treasure could be found. W ith this added zeal I unfolded the paper nervously, and to my astonishment read: “The person who finds this box after my death and does what I have commanded will be heir to all my millions. If the person had disobeyed me by not throwing the box in the water, I had the box so fixed that on filing the lid off a tinder inside would ignite and burn this paper. But by first throwing the box into the water it rendered the tinder on the inside harmless. (Signed) M. R. Cragan.” I could not restrain my joy. I was worth millions! Why it was hardly credible! Now, I could “lord” it over Sis. With this thought I ran to the house and breathlessly told my story to father, who on hearing it was so amazed that he could only stare at me. Then he said, slapping me on the back. “Well, son, you are indeed right, as we read in the paper this The Scribbler 65 morning that Mr. Cragan had suddenly become insane and that a note had been found stating that he would throw his fortune into the lake. People have been draining all the lakes to see if they could find it.” Then Sis spoke up, “Yes, and if it had not been for me driving you away from home, you would never have found it.” Anyway, I had my day! Ruth Pickens, ’25. -o------ TO A NEWLY BUILT HOUSE Your shining newness does not charm me With its calm dignity and pride; I have not any longing to see What your huge door reveals inside. You are a cruel, heartless thing, No love dwells in your placid walls, No silver memories now ring With sweetness down your gilded halls. When time has rubbed your gloss away, When life has loved you all she can, When folks have left their scars that say You’ve known the joys and woes of man. Then, I’ll come back and love you so, I’ll love your walls of brown and gold, I’ll love them dearly ’cause I’ll know What boundless treasures they must hold. Estelle Cohen, ’25. 66 The Scribbler AN UNUSUAL DEBUTANTE HE NIGHT was a hot and sultry one in the middle of June. In each bedroom of the Sellam home, windows were high as possible, curtains pulled back, and doors wide open—even the back outside door—to help to moderate the intensity of the temperature. Jane Sellam had just reurned from a debut ball, given by Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien for their daughter, Laura, and was endeavoring to find repose in sweet dreams of the happenings at the ball. She was dreaming of what a beautiful debutante Laura was, what a lovely hostess Mrs. O’Brien was, how “perfectly wonderful” Jack had been to her that evening, and what a “hit” Laura had made in the society of Faddenton. All these particulars were running through her mind, one right after the other. At the moment when she was dreaming of how marvelously beautiful “Laura, the debutante,” looked when the dancing was in full swing and when she was so intensely watching her, a very unusual and strange occurence took place. All of the preceding afternoon. Dick, Tom, Lucy, and Cecile Sellam had played circus in the lot behind the house. Of course, there had to be a menagerie, and all the animals on the place which were suitable, the children made perform. Muffy, a three-months old pet calf, had been the star actress, dressed in an old, worn-out blue taffeta of Mother Sellam’s debutante days. She also had on a dainty little hat of blue crepe paper. The performance reached the climax when Muffy, arrayed in this costume, stood straight up on her hind feet, walked a few steps, lowered her head and then, on all fours, jumped and hopped around as if she were giving the latest ballet. The children were carried away with delight. However, the circus was suddenly stopped by the exciting news, Uncle Jerry has come!” and the children hurried to the house to see their much-loved uncle, forgetting everything but him for the rest of the day. “Oh, horrors!” Jane exclaimed, sitting straight up in her bed. “Who can it be? Jack, look! Where am I? Oh-o-o!” To her amazement and disgust she saw that it was not the club house, not Laura, the debutante, whom she had been so intently watching, but Muffy, giving her “ballet” with much more increased animation and vivacity than she had shown at the The Scribbler 7 circus performance. Then she began bleating as if she were singing to make it the merrier. At first jane was too dazed to collect her wits, but after a few minutes she rushed into her mother’s room. The loud noise had awakened Mrs. Sellam, and Jane met her starting to her. “Mother!” she distractedly cried, “Muflfy’s in my room cutting all kinds of antics. Do come! Quick!’’ “Well, I supposed it was Laura still ‘hitting.’ You talked so excitedly about what a ‘hit’ and a sensation she caused, I supposed she was. still on the job,” Mr. Sellam ejaculated half sarcastically. Dick, by this time, was up to seek the source of the commotion. He dashed into Jane’s room and led Muflfy out the back door, whence she had come in and locked her in her stable. When Dick crawled into bed Tom said, “I wisht I’d seen her. She sure musta been ‘ballin' the Jack’ some. Everybody in the house is waked up. Gee, but Jane nearly had a ‘coniption’ and fell in it.” “Yes,” Dick answered, and added, “I betcha Laura O’Brien didn’t make any more ‘hits' tonight than Muflfy did. Tomorrow, when the Sand Man isn’t throwing sand in my eyes, we’ll have Muflfy repeat her performance in the ring in the lot as ‘Muflfy, the Debutante.’ ” Rebecca Kerr, ’25. -----------o----------- OUR RAINBOW Fiery flashes cut the sky; Rolls the thunder near; Storm clouds, bursting furiously, Fill each heart with fear. Rain-drenched flowers upward peep; Rays of sunshine beam; Gorgeous rainbows span the blue; Many colors gleam. So to us you bring the thought, Beauty sprung from gloom; ’Cross the darkness of our lives Lovely rainbows loom. Eleanor M. Brown, ’24. SSV'IO HVHA QNOJHS The Scribbler 69 “OLD MISE” LEAVES TOWN B' ■■■'1 GANG generally consists of from five to ten boys who hang together. They get into trouble together and share joys together—because measles, mumps, and rabbit tobacco affect all boys alike. And they get well together—because no one of them is willing to miss any planning for the future. They have their individual ball teams and high signs. Always they are huddled together in one corner of the class room. On a whole their motto is: “If we don’t hang together, we will hang separately.’’ There were six in our gang and we were the worst bunch in town; every mother’s son of us was in mischief all the time. We were looked upon as criminals and were all expected to land in prison sometime in spite of our mother’s wanting us to be presidents of the United States. Now we secretly cherished the desire of becoming notorious train robbers, so it was not much chance of our being presidents. In our town lived a stingy old man called “Old Mise. Everyone laughed at him, for he was very superstitious and extremely afraid of ghosts. Everyone hated him, too, for he owned and lived in a large old house, nearly in the center of town, which was wanted by the Chamber of Commerce for a town hall. However, “Old Mise” refused to let the town have it under anv conditions, in spite of the fact that it was supposed to “haunted” by “hants” of a very desperate nature. “Old Mise” was interviewed, begged, pleaded with, enticed, flattered, slandered, and threatened; still he refused staunchly. At a meeting in our cave we decided to run “Old Mise out of town, and thereby acquire the house for town progress. We agreed on the method that we would use, and as Hallowe en was soon coming we set that as a date to demonstrate our methods of warfare. Well, Hallowe’en came at last. A full cold moon was shining that night as we slipped into the house. We hunted and found some good hiding and then made ourselves comfortable till “Mise” retired. Soon he went to bed, and although it was a mystery to us to know how he slept on that mattress filled with 70 The Scribbler corn shucks, he was soon fast asleep. We stole into his room with white covers over us, and stood around his bed. We began moaning and crying. Then “Mise” woke up. We moaned in weird tones that we were the spirits that lived in his garret, the kind of spirits that drink blood. The corn shucks rattled, for “Old Mise” began to tremble. Four of us held him down, while one boy cut off his hand with a piece of ice. Another poured warm water down his arm for blood. W tortured him, scared him. and cut him into imaginary pieces, inside of a half an hour. Then as we relaxed our hold on him he sprang out of bed. 1 hrough the window we saw him leap, jump fences quickly enough to break and shatter all hurdling records, run fast enough to put running champ, Charlie Paddock, the “California Wonder,” in the shade. His face was so white it made his white night shirt blush for shame at its dinginess. The last people ever saw of him was his heels and his night shirt, flying to all four principal points of the compass. Although the people of the town never knew the cause of the trouble, they had suspicions, and the police captured us. Needless to say it was the proudest moment of our young lives. But “Pride goeth before destruction,” and our fathers came and had us released. They declared they were going to beat us till the blood soaked through the seat of our thick corduroy pants. But about half an hour later I was down at the drug store, dreamily feeling the crisp dollar bill in my pocket and drinking chocolate milk. Soon my five confederates walked in in the same condition as myself; and no blood stains showed on the seat of their pants. We were objects of admiration for the whole town, and had so many applications for young hopefuls by their worshipping mothers that we had to build a new clubhouse. “Old Mise” has never been seen since, so the city condemned his property. Now stands a huge, magnificent skyscraper in place of “Old Mise’s” house as a memorial to our gang. Baxter Haynes, Jr.. ’25. The Scribbler TEACUPS FORTUNES Sometimes when I’ve been very good, As good as good can be, Aunt Mary gets the tea-things out, And we enjoy some tea. Then, when the cups are empty and With drinking we are done. We turn our teacups upside down. And then begins the fun. Three times we twirl our cups around. I guess this makes a spell; For when we’ve finished doing that, Our fortunes Aunt can tell. She just looks at the little leaves That cluster in the cups, And then she tells my fortune. ( Do you s'pose she makes it up ?) I’m going to have a visitor Who’s very thin and tall. I’ll also get a present, and I’m going to a ball. At least that’s what Aunt Mary says, I really do not know Just whether it is true or not; But, oh! I hope it’s so. She tells me many other things; Assurance she receives, That all the things will happen, since They’re written in the leaves. Perhaps my fortune will come true; Perhaps ’twill never be. But anyway, ’tis jolly fun For Aunt to read the tea. Louise Smith, ’24 THIRD YEAR CLASS The Scribbler 73 LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF THE CLASS OF ’24 EALIZING that our days in thus august institution are few, we, the members of the class of ’24, hereby express our desires as to the disposition of our most prized possessions. Therefore, be it known to all our fellow sheiks, flappers, countrymen, and other citizens that we are of sound mind and body, are under the influence of only one brand of spirits, and are provided with the proper legal authority to make out our will. Our banker, Dr. Ike Ilium, will vouch for the truth of the statement that we are of sound mind. The far-famed insane specialist, Professor I. Cheatham, will stand back of the statement that we are of sound body. Dr. Ima Knutt, our physician, will inform the questioner that we could not buy more than one form of spirits because of the depleted condition of our bank roll. Therefore, we, the Senior Class of the Frank Evans High School, do hereby bequeath our valuable possessions to the following persons: Our president, Allen Armstrong, bequeaths his robe to the head of the rising Senior class. Our historian, Sarah Cudd, wills her love of nosing into musty old school records to the historians of the future. The class poet, Louise Smith, leaves the privilege of using blank verse to the bards of the rising generations. Charles Green, the class prophet, leaves his imagination to the prophets of the lower classes. The censors of the four literary societies will to the censors of next year the power of getting to be “high man” with their best girls by excusing those petty misdemeanors of studying and talking during the meeting. Richard Henry leaves his wicked eye for the basket to Torrest Bourne. Evelyn Dillingham wills to Alice Ellerbe her string of boys. Blanck Creech leave to Catherine Stallings her artistic talent. Sadi Miller bequeaths her dignified Senior ways to Peggy Scruggs. Joel Dean leaves his love of massive language to Albert Allen. 74 The Scribbler Ruck Tarpley leaves to James Carrol his ability never to tell a lie. Alexander Tillinghast leaves to George Dean Johnson his ability to spiel off history. Frances Bell leaves her power of concentration to George Brannon. Eugene Wofford wills his M. T. degree to Tom Phifer. Robert Wallace wills his Anthon’s Virgil to Betty Eileen Hutchins. Ezbert Toney leaves “that there” Math Muse to Mary Stel-ling. Thomas Harmon wills his laugh to Clyde McWhorter. Stiles Ezell wills to his brother Wiles his nickname “Scat.” Bob Pickens leaves to Fred Sparnelle his football ability. Dorothy Harris wills to Mallie Bomar her lip stick and rouge. Mabel Watkins leaves to Tom Dixon her poetic inspiration. Virginia Hutto leaves her curls to Louisa Ligon. Dena Spigel leaves her trilling voice to Mildred Franks. Richard Carr leaves to Perrin Dargan his sport model automobile. Jake Berlin wills to Samuel Weidman his unrivaled agility in physical training. Louise Hammond leaves to Mary Macomson her sixty-miles-an-hour tongue. Rebecca Gaffney wills to Rebecca Dillard her perfect shingle bob. Ruth Willard leaves to Elizabeth Crews her privilege of riding home with Professor Blake. Reggie Donkle leaves to Rebecca Kerr her hair pins and nets. Bob Dargan wills to John Carrington his sheik eyes. Pauline Tarpley leaves to her would-be teacher her exhaustive knowledge of Algebra. Louise Smith leaves her light fantastic toe to Mary Freeman. Margaret Mullinax leaves to Nancy Trimmier her love of Physics. Sallie Bea Brown wills her love of the phrase, “Oh, ain’t that cute!” to Chester Gwinn. Sheep DePass leaves the leadership of the rooters to Billy Willard. The Scribbler 75 Elmer Turnage leaves his powers of hypnotism to “Farm Hand” McCravy. Marion Young leaves his quarters to Selwyn King. Sworn under my hand seal this sixth day of June, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and twenty-four. (Signed) Robert Marsden Wallace. ------------o---------- A LAKE Oh, lovely lake, so shiny blue, Your borders fringed with grass, Your ripples flowing fro and to, While happy hours pass. The water lilies ’dorn your face, The boats go sailing by, The children, striving in a race, Toss up your waters high. From out the cloud there peeps a star, Its light a misty glow, And seeing you from heights afar, Mirrors its face below. Bonita Atkinson, ’24. ------------o---------- AN ACCIDENTAL HERO HE LEADER of a boys’ gang in East Side. New York City, must possess all the essential qualities of leadership. Pat McGinty did. He was Irish, had red hair, a sunny disposition, was quick and alert, and would fight—and usually win—whenever he needed to. This crowd was not so rough as you might think. They had many sterling qualities. Instead of sulking around Guiseppe’s fruit stand, trying to “pincha da banan,” as other little roughnecks did. they passed their long hot days in the innocent amusement of playing games—just boys’ games. The gang’s best game, “Crooks and Cops,” was very exciting. They would divide themselves into two groups—cops and crooks. The crooks were given a chance to escape, and away they would 76 The Scribbler go, over fences, low roofs, down back streets, front streets, in cellars, and in short—everywhere. Then, you see, the efficiency of the cops was proven by just how many crooks they captured and brought back. The game this hot summer day began with Pat as the leader of the crooks. He made a brave get-a-way, peered quickly around to see that no alert cop was trailing, then he and his two-right-hand men dashed into a dark cellar and hid in three empty barrels there. Just as quiet as mice the small boys crouched in their hiding places, waiting rather impatiently for their pursuers to burst in on them. They waited, waited, waited; but no one came. Suddenly, a figure, followed by another figure, came creeping into the cellar. The boys, hidden in the dark corner, could see only an outline of two persons. Pat seemed to think that the mysterious figures were the cops of the gang. But the intruders, just as silently as they had entered, turned and left. Then Pat remarked, “Ye gods! that was some scare those kids gave us. I’m hot as fire and wet as water. Les’ check out and have a laugh on them cops.” As the boys came out of the cellar, more footsteps were heard. They all dashed back into the open barrels and doubled up in individual knots. The footsteps crept into the black corner near the barrels, and one owner of a pair of easy walking shoes whispered something unintelligible to another owner of a pair of easy walking shoes. Pat’s overworked heart nearly jumped into his mouth when something started feeling around his hiding place. Then the footsteps walked away, and Pat resumed his breathing, and swallowed his heart again. To his dismay, the unknowns returned. The Irish boy managed to contort his body so as to be at the bottom of the barrel. The two strangers, now recognized by Pat as two huge great Apaches, started quarreling. This led to fighting. They seemed to be struggling to obtain possession of something. Pat’s hair rose, stiff in terror. Three pistol shots rang out in rapid succession. Far away, a police whistle blew. A pile of excelsior, covering Pat completely, was thrown hurriedly over him. Over this the frightened man dumped in many bundles and scraps of paper. He put the top on the barrel, took it out to the street. The Scribbler 77 loaded it on a truck, and drove away as fast as the truck would run. pour motorcycle cops dashed out after the truck. In the meanwhile, Pat managed to breathe through a crack in the barrel. Then he heard pistol shots whizzing about the truck, some striking near the barrel. He crouched low in it, trying to avoid shots, but at the same time twisting his neck into a thousand pains. Now something had happened! He was bouncing over bumps, bumps, bumps. What was wrong with the driver? He had surely lost control of the car. Maybe he had been shot! The runaway car jumped off the road, ran like some mad elephant across a held, and crashed into a boulder. The jar of the collision threw the barrel out of the truck. Down the hill it rolled, until it finally stopped in the gutter, partly broken up. The cops jumped off their motorcycles and stood for a while as if completely spell-bound. They beheld a very startled red-headed boy, slowly emerging out of a fabulous pile of yellow hfty-dollar bills. “Whew,” yelled Pat as he wiggled out of the million-dollar barrel. “It's hot as blazes in that oP barrel.” The pursuing cops stood, glared, stared, glared again, too startled to move. Then all together they rushed up to the inviting yellow bills—to Pat—to the wounded counterfeiter. All having been captured, the policemen led their haul to jail for explanations. Needless to say, Pat became the local hero and idol. He marched and strutted around town with a following like that of a monkey-grinder. He even had the chance to gaze on his glorified countenance in the newspapers. Pat was a hero. John Carrington, ’26. 78 The ScRIBIiLKR SONG OF THE LARK One glorious morn in early spring, W hile walking through the meadows gay; I heard a song come from the sky That filled the earth with happy lay. I raised my eyes and saw far up, A tiny speck ’gainst Heaven’s blue. Bursting it seemed with life and joy, As ever up and up it flew. 1 thought, dear lark, exuberant, free, Your notes bring happiness to life. W hat would we do ’twere not for song Through all the sadness, sorrow, strife? Maxik Patterson, ’27. a SUMMER The lovely world in summer time Wears flowers in her hair. How young she looks! Her dresses green Are trimmed with colors fair. The summer, of the lakes and fields, Makes places full of dreams, Where always chatt’ring, never still, Forever flows young streams. Soft clouds are crumpled into frills, Against the pale blue sky, By gentle summer winds. And birds Sing summer songs on high. Dorothy Ely, ’24. The Scribbler 79 THE HOUSE THAT DIED SPLENDID old mansion, still proudly holding aloft its classic, time-stained columns, stood in the midst of a wilderness that had once been an old-time garden, and seemed to ask sadly why I had broken the quiet peace and solitude of the place; why I had dared disturb the wild rose-vine that had so long twined over the rusty gate; why I had lifted the rusty latch and slipped through the opening made when the gate creaked backward upon its hinges. A surprised grey squirrel had chattered to me of my impropriety, and then whisked himself into a secure abode in a tree top, and from there proceeded to continue his lecture. It seemed as if I were an intruder, indeed, for blue jays also scolded from their leafy homes until they raised a din that rang through the old garden. Forgetful of these monitors and the world just outside the ivy-covered garden wall, I sat by the ancient sun dial. It had numbered the hours of many days of sunshine; it had felt the beat of rain, and sometimes, but rarely, had been transformed into a fanciful phantom by snow storms. I went into the house. It had been long years since time first began to hang her symbol of cobwebs. Dust covered the fine old furniture. On the thick library carpet lay a china doll, dressed daintily in the fashion of almost a century past. Even as I fingered the little silk dress, it became dust in my hand. But why did not the house resound now with the happy laughter of children, and why did not the winding stair know the tread, dancing and lithesome, of a happy maiden? On the once glossy floor of the ballroom lay a lace fan. One almost imagined the most delicate scent of old lavender lingering about its dainty folds, and the apparition of a beautiful, aristocratic face of a lady smiling over this bit of lace and carved ivory. Where was that fair woman now? Was she a wrinkled, white-haired old lady, or had she been a victim of the ruthless scythe of heartless Time? Who knew? A resounding shriek brought me back to the present. I real- The Scribbler 81 ized that I must hurry if I would arrive at the station in time to catch this same shrieking train on its way to the city and report this visit to the place to the real estate firm for which I worked. As I rode home I could not bring my mind back to the present. It still lingered in the old-fashioned garden, or wandered among the beautiful rooms of the old mansion. Questions haunted me. Where were the characters of the tragedy, who had so suddenly left their home never to return? I have tried in vain to puzzle out the mystery. Only the man from whom we bought the house knows the story. Io me, it remains a sealed book. Cecile Chapman, 27. a SUNSET I was watching the golden sunset As it lit up the western sky; Could a thing of more radiant beauty Ere be painted except on high ? Varied colors were flitting slyly, Here and there on a blue background; Were they gaily dressed fairies dancing, Or the rainbow midgets regowned? But, alas! as I watched, they vanished. There was left just a twilight glow; Then the whole sky was darkened with shadows, Where, oh, where did my sunset go? Sarah Cudd, ’24. 82 The Scribbler FULFILLED DESIRE RANDFATHER was a stern old veteran, with snowy locks and twinkling blue eyes. He was getting very old, and although still hale and hearty, realized that he was on his last stretch. Fondly his mind would recall the stories of his youth as we sat together by the crackling fire in the winter. These tales were many and varied; stories of old plantation times, and the day when he had followed those two noble chieftains—Jackson and Lee. On this last subject Grandfather had always been silent. The love he bore those men would be belittled by words. For four years he had toiled under them as a standard bearer. He still had the tattered old battle flag, which he proudly boasted, had never touched the ground. In all the years it had never passed out of his possession. His one last wish was that in some way he could die with this banner in all its faded glory above him. It was May the tenth, exactly sixty years after his captain’s death, that I persuaded him to leave his home in the country for a visit to me. It was hard work, but I succeeded. Just before leaving his home I slipped upstairs and got the flag and his old uniform. My object in this was that I had promised to get a flag for a monster parade which was to be held that day. I kept what I had done secret till we reached my home, for I thought he would be more easily persuaded when he knew the flag had already left its accustomed place. This I found to be true. After an early dinner I began to try to get him to put on his old uniform which I had had cleaned. At first he was reluctant, but finally yielded to what he thought was my boyish fancy. How noble he looked as he stood in all his six feet-two, with his old hat covering his white head! He seemed much younger as he viewed himself in a mirror. Then I told him about the parade. He consented to keep on his suit in respect for his old commander. We went down along the street where the line of march was to come. Luckily we obtained a place just in front of the statue of Jackson. How his eyes gleamed as he laid the wreath which we had brought at the base of monument! Soon the parade came along. How handsome he looked, almost young again, as Tite Scribbler 83 he gazed at float after float which portrayed the life of the sixties. At last came the troop of cavalry, which was dressed as Confederates. At the head of this floated Grandfather’s flag. Stiffly he came to attention with all the ardor and spirit of a regular. Just as the flag came abreast of us, the band crashed into the immortal strains of “Dixie.” Evidently the horse whose rider carried the flag was not used to such, for he became frightened. Just as evident was the fact that the rider did not know how to manage him, for he let go the staff and grabbed for the reins. Hardly had the flag quivered when Grandfather bounded from my side to the rescue. Proudly he clasped his flag before it reached the ground, but doing it was his doom. The unruly horse had become worse, and in its prancing struck the old soldier. knocking him to the ground. We placed him on a stretcher to carry him away, but at his command we laid him before the statue where he could look once more at the face of his beloved commander. There was a smile on his face as he at last turned to us. “Boys,” he said, “I am content. My greatest wish was to die for this flag. It has been more than carried out. Who could wish a better place to expire than near a statue of that man and underneath an open sky?” So speaking, he crossed over the river, and together with his old comrades rested in the shade of the nalms. Leslie Hughston, 24. 84 The Scribbler (iur (§itm Ijitnutr x= x x== ,= —”— X —X—X= cr3 8 Business Experience My first jump into the business world proved far from my expectations. I imagined myself the millionaire of cartoons— a diamond-studded man who started selling papers and was now riding in a Rolls-Rough. I thought I would become a financier, and have men beg for the loan of a few millions. Accordinglyl robbed my bank and gathered all told the munificent sum of three dollars and eight cents. With this capital I started my business career. Boldly, I, the future millionaire, walked down the Wall Street of the town. My purpose was to invest in goods and fixtures. A piano box, a crate of Asa Candler’s delicious and refreshing Coca-Cola, and a million placards encompassed the major part of my investments. Thus I made a serious venture into the business world. A day later I was ready to come face to face with the cold, hard world. All the boys and girls came to envy and to buy. But soon their nickels ran out. Then they stood in groups and crowds around my business establishment—their eyes green with envy and their mouths watering at the corners. Business became dull. Undaunted. I bragged of my former profits. Then two other competitors, on the strength of my bragging, opened for business. They also had visions of Easy Street. But fate was against all of us; divided, business diminished. Day by day I sat and looked at the tempting array of ice cold drinks. I yielded to temptation and started drinking. One suggested another, and I imbibed the drinks at a fast rate. My profits disappeared. 1 began to check up—liabilities three dollars, assets ten drinks. Where had my profits gone? I had only drunk a few. but just the same all my profits had gone gurgling down my red-hot tophet. Thoughts of suicide came to my millionaire brain. I had half a crate of those dog-gone delicious and refreshing Coca-Colas left. I tried to stop drinking; but the habit, the curse of drink, had too strong a hold on me. Drink, The Scribbler 85 drink, drink, the curse of the universe! I finally drank up the rest of niv business and retired, a hopeless bankrupt. But after careful consideration, 1 decided 1 didn’t want a diamond stud and a Rolls-Rough anyway. Thomas C. Phifer, ’25. A Burlesque in Three Acts—“ ’Sail Right” I--1NTRODUCTION Two gentlemen had evidently been imbibing from some caustics of corn crush. From their actions as they splashed down the middle of Main Street, arm in arm, in a driving rain, they were most certainly in high “spirits.” II—Body (Rising Movement) “Shay, friend, dosh you believe in coffee, I mean coffee pot?” asked the first of the second. “Well, ’sail right if I don’t, but wash has coffee kettle got you to do with it?” asked the second of the first. “Doush your automobile drink from a tea pot?’ again asked the first of the second. “I jush ’lieve your dome ish all hollowr inside; ’sail right if ’tish,” likewise again replied the second to the first. “Hurrah for Shanta Claus! 1 hash it. I meantish the Tea Pot Dome scandal.” shouted the first to the second. “Oil right, you win,’’ ejaculated the second to the first. Their conversation was interrupted by a big puddle of water that blocked their progress. “Halt! Fair damshel I am Shir Walta Raleigh,” bowed the first to the second. Ill—Falling Movement With this he took his coat and placed it, submerged, in the puddle. Then the second, with a strut that would have put to shame the Queen of England, sloshed across the puddle. Becoming entangled in the sleeves, he fell with a resounding splash. “Ish a little fish now. but ’sail right,” sputtered the second to the first as he sat up in the less intoxicating beverage. As such scenes as this do not last long since prohibition, and as Miss Atkins said that brevity is the soul of wit, it is time for the climax. 86 The Scribbler IV—Climax and Conclusion A big policeman aroused from his dreams against a doorway by this turmoil, rushed to grab the humid humans. He was welcomed by a chunk of mud from the'little fish, hitting the arm of the law squarely in the eye. The next welcome was from the bench (judge) the next morning that went to the tune of $25.75, in varied notes (U. S. standard). Although still a little groggy, both plunked down their fines, each getting on key with the right notes. “Judge! ’Sail right, ’sail right, ’sail right,” mumbled first and second as they passed from the hall of justice. Robert Pickens, ’24. -----------o----■------ Imagination The bright summer sun shone down as the fresh world stirred about, beginning the day’s work. The robins chirped merrily as they circled around hunting food for their young. The smell of the freshly-watered lawns and the nods of the gay nasturtiums and periwinkles filled Henry Wells’ heart with the love and joy of living. Henry was short and fat, with a smile and joke for everyone. As a pastime he practiced law in the city of Philadelphia. Whistling gaily this cheery morning, he stopped at the corner to wait for the trolley, whose rumbling he heard in the distance. With a friendly greeting to the conductor, he slipped into his seat and unfolded the Morning Astonishcr. This morning he could not keep his mind on the paper, and presently his eyes roved up and down the aisles, scanning the different faces. Yes, there were the two Germans going down to open their shop. There was the shopping mother, the office girls, the man who worked in his own building. All these Henry passed over without comment, but at a sudden turn of the car he was attracted by a lovely yet pale face under a large yellow hat. Interested, he closely observed the girl’s face. “How pretty, but how pale she is,” thought Henry. “Now she frowns and bites her lip. Surely she is in trouble,” thus mused Henry. The girl squirmed and turned, drawing her light summer cloak tight The Scribbler 87 around her shoulders. “Why, the poor dear is in trouble. Maybe she intends to drown herself.” thought the startled Henry as he remembered that the car went down to the water front. I 11 stay and see. Such a lovely girl and such a lovely day. She would not want to kill herself without cause.” On, on. the car went with Henry’s imagination speeding along almost as fast. Much to the surprise of the conductor the lawyer passed on by Tenth and Walnut, the end of his morning ride. “Yes. she is going to drown herself.” thought Henry as the girl, with a pathetic limp, hurried from the car into the Wilson boathouse. “She limps! What shall I do? She is going down to the river and then jump off. Shall I buy a ticket and follow’? he thought, pacing back and forth before the ticket office. “Hello, Lottie! You here?” rang out a loud voice as a handsome young man approached the girl. “Here is the cause of all the trouble. She is trying to escape from him,” the mind of Henry ran on. “Yes, Cousin Jim, I’m here at last. Oh! I’ve been so afraid I wouldn’t get here in time. Isn’t this a lovely day for a picnic? I’m so thrilled! I can’t go one more step till you get this tack out of my shoe. Hurry, and let's be off for a glorious day,” bubbled the happy girl with sparkling eyes. Lucy White, ’24. o- How True! “Oh, hello, girls, isn’t this wildly exciting? Just like one of those sw’ell bridge luncheons!” cried Helen, a typical twentieth-century girl. “They are just too sweet for anything. 1 just love ’em to death,’’ put in Sue, a boyish form in her close fitting coat suit. “Girls, let me tell you something.” shouted Betty, the hostess. “What? wailed Sue. “Do tell,” cried Helen. And a “Say, don’t be so slow,” came from Sarah. “Well,” started Betty, “have you heard of that new boy that’s moved here ? They say he worth millions—’’ “Yes, ves, yes.” cried Sue excitedly. “Isn’t he too sweet for words? And his car!” 88 The Scribbler “Say,” Sarah said, “he’s some sport. Why he even wears ties and socks to match his car!” “What’s more,” cried Sarah, “I know a boy whose aunt’s niece knows him.” “What ?’’ cried the other three at this display of knowledge. “Well, girls, come on and play a rubber or two,” said Sarah. “Oh, I’ve bought me a new frock for the dance Friday night,” laughed Sue. “What color? Oh, I want one so, my old one looks like a sack. I just wear it to everything,” moaned Betty. “I'm in a pickle! I can’t find a thing to wear in my hair since I’ve cut it this way,” replied Sue, showing the back of her head clipped as nicely as any boy’s. “Well, you can wear those flowers of mine,” spoke up Helen. “How sweet of you, honey,” crooned Sue, crunching a bonbon and reading “Photoplay.” “Well, I do declare, I see where Richard Dix is to marry Lois Wilson,” wailed the excited Sue. “I could tear her limb from limb,” said Betty. “She's just a tack,” put in Sarah. “And he is the Sheik of Sheiks,” moaned Helen. “Have you ever seen such eyes?” cried Sue. “Well, girls,” said Helen, glancing at her watch. “Why, it’s six o’clock I must away! Betty, dear, I’ve enjoyed the game so much.” “We certainly have,” said Sarah. “Come over home tomorrow and lets continue the game,” spoke Sue. In a whirl and a dash the twentieth-century debutantes were away. Dorothy Harris, ’24. ------------o----------- The Solomoble Even the most common of those four-wheel things called automobiles need a very tricky and expensive substance called gasoline to run them. This substance has the general appearance of water, except that it will not serve quite so efficiently for drinking purposes, and will not extinguish a fire as quickly as “H Too OH.” The Scribbler 89 Gasoline is like silver and potatoes, in that it is obtained from the ground. Hut this substance that rises mystically from the deep is not pure gasoline. It is know at petroleum. After getting its many by-products from the petroleum it may be called gasoline. A few of its by-products are “Stacomb,” used for making tea (hounds) ; kerosene, used for setting houses on fire; and vasoline, a substitute for stacomb. You can see now why these oil men charge thirty cents a gallon for the stuff. If you had to extract all those things from that oily mud you'd charge a dollar a gallon for it. So the only way to get around using gasoline is to invent a car that runs without it. 1 have done it! This machine is called the “Solo-moble.” You’ve all seen a steam engine. If you have not, I will define what one is for you. A steam engine is an engine that runs by steam. I put a small steam engine under my hood and ran my solomoble by steam. But, as you know, a steam engine requires steam. To make steam you must have a fire. To make a fire you must have fuel; and gasoline is a fuel. Hut 1 am not using gasoline. I’m using the heat of the sun. I placed a large concave lens, or in other words an exaggerated reading glass, on the top of my solomoble and focussed it on the boiler of the engine. I almost sold this solomoble patent to a couple of New Yorkers, and would have if I hadn’t given out of gas while showing it off, ten miles out of town. Julius Mims, ’24. -----------o------------ Heard in a Movie Show “Oh, looky, Ma,” cries a small boy behind us. “How you s’pose they get them folks to do all them things without gitting mixed onct? D ’y s'pose they can see us from behind that sheet?” Silence from Ma. “Gosh, Ma, lookit that girl hit at them big marbles. Gee, wish I could show her onct how to knock ’em out.” Quiet for three seconds. “Say, Ma, d’y s’pose she don’t know any better? She ain’t hit one yet. I ain’t never seen nobody shoot marbles with sticks! Is that a new way, Ma?” 90 The Scribbler “Hush, Johnny,” answered Ma, at last, “they are playing golf” “What’s ‘golf,' Ma?” No answer. “O-o-o-oh! Ma, lookit that little boy eat ice cream. Is it real cream you s’pose?” “Oh, my, yes.” “I wish I had some ice cream, Ma. Hear, Ma, I say I wish I had some cream like that little boy.” “I’ll get you some when the picture is over, Johnny.” Five seconds later. “Say, Ma, can’t you tell ’em to stop shooting golf till we get back? I bet they’ll do it if you ask ’em.” “Just wait till I get you home, Johnny.” “Then you’ll get me some cream, won’t you? You said you would. Anyhow they have finished golfing now, Ma, so I bet its over. Let’s go, the rest ain’t good a bit, ’cause Bobby said his Ma said it wasn’t.” No answer from Ma. “I feel like I’ll git sick, Ma, if I don’t git some air or something refreshin’, like.” “Well, young man, I’ll take you home, but what you’ll get will be far from refreshing!” We heave a thankful sigh, and settle back in our seat to enjoy the picture. Grace Alman, ’24. The Pirate I was an easily frightened, scared, timid kind of boy, but my soul reveled in dark, bloody plots of the old Spanish Main. So it happened upon a certain cold, stormy, winter night at about twelve o’clock that I was reading an extremely exciting book called. “The Dripping Dirk.” But suddenly my dreams were interrupted by a slow, sliding step at the base of the stairs. I snapped off the light and immediately was transformed into a brave sea captain, who was heroically guarding alone an immense treasure from his treacherous mate. The slow, cautious footsteps gradually came on. My imaginative mind saw the foul mate, dagger in teeth, cutlass in his The Scribbler 91 right hand, pistol in his left, slowly stealing out of the forecastle, sneaking from shadow to shadow, coming to assassinate me. The hollow, resounding footsteps were now on the landing. The traitor was past the mainmast of my galleon and almost at the bottom of the steps leading up to my cabin. But on came the footsteps gradually stealing up the stairs as if feeling the way. The assassin was now creeping up the steps, almost within reach of his prey, and I, on my part, more tightly gripped a knotted club, my only weapon. But. listen! The steps were coming swiftly across the corridor. Now the burly scoundrel was making his last rush, and I prepared to die bravely. The door burst open! A dark figure loomed against the lighted background! I drew back my club in expectation of the attack. But, no, no attack came. Instead of the surly voice of the pirate growling, “Now, 1 got you,’’ I heard my master’s voice, my mother’s, sleepily saying, “Tom, the cow’s out; go bring her back.’’ Samuel WidEman, ’25. ------------o----------- Tramps The wind was howling 'round the door, And Jim an’ me was on the floor. The lightning cracked, the thunder roared. I jumped up, but Jim, he snored. A brick came flyin through the door An’ hit Jim, lying on the floor. Well, he jumped up, and how he roared! But me! I lay down quick and snored. Now don't you know that ’hind that door, An’ underneath that cabin floor, The wind, it beat, an’ howled, an’ roared. But Jim and me, we lay and snored. Olive Russell, ’24. A Harmless Murder Old Miss Carry Gossip was rocking away in her room. She had been to see all the neighbors, carrying news from house to house, and—well, not casting stones at anyone, but simply tossing 92 The Scribbler bricks, for Miss Gossip believed that “If anything is worth doing at all, it’s worth doing well.” As she rocked, she saw a man come up the walk whom she recognized as the mysterious character who occupied the apartment just over hers. That was one person in Bloomington, “The C.ty of Distress,” that Miss Carry knew less than nothing about —and that would never do! She admitted that he really had her puzzled, for the things that happened up there were certainly strange. It was a settled fact that he sometimes sat up for half a night, doing what, no one knew, but she noticed that he had been unusually quiet about whatever it was, and things looked awfully suspicious. So she determined to sit up that night and find out a little something. About ten o’clock two other men came tripping up the stairs, greeted the man in the upper apartment, shut the door, and all resumed its usual quietness. Then about midnight she heard a noise from upstairs, “Whee-eek-sput! zowie-bam!” Then a voice came in a low despondent tone, “Dead, stone dead!” As quickly as she could, the half-hysterical woman ran to the phone. “Operator, hello operator! Give me police headquarters, quick! Police! Come down to Doolittle Street right away. Three men are having a terrible fight, and one has been murdered.” The police made a record run, reaching the apartment in less than five minutes. They found the woman wringing her hands and begging them to hurry to the room just above. Up the stairs they went, and paused before the door to open it quietly. To their dismay and astonishment, before them were seated around a radio three men, one of them moaning, “Dead! The batteries have gone dead—stone dead!” The police were thoroughly disgusted, and Miss Carry Gossip had nothing to tell the neighbors the next day. Mary Stelling, '25. The Scrirrler 93 Cre« Editor—Bettie Eileen Hutchins Teacher—“So, you don’t know what letter comes next to H?” Boy—“No, ma’am.” Teacher—“What have I on each side of my nose?” Boy—“It looks like powder, ma’am, from here.” “Did the men in England ever wear dresses?” “Of course not.” “Well, I saw a picture of George Eliot, and he had on one.’ An Old Colored Mammy—“I’se wants er ticket fer Ida.” Ticket Agent (after ten minutes searching of railroad guide) —“Where is Ida? Old Mammy—“Settin over dar on de bench.” Hiram (holding his head as he dashes madly into a hospital) —“Give me something for my head, Doc; quick, give me something for it!” Busy Doc—“I wouldn’t take it as a gift.” “My brother sure was a bum guy.” “How’s that?” “Why, they had to burn the school house down to get him out of the first grade.” There was an old fellow named Crockett, Who parked his false teeth on the shelf, For fear that if left in his pocket, He would sit down and chew up himself. 94 The Scribbler He—“I think there’s something (lovelike about you.” She—“Not really?” He—“Sure; you’re pigeon-toed.” Hoarding House Lady—“Do you want a room?” Pat—“No, I want to disguise myself as a banana and sleep in the fruit dish.” James—“Pop, do you know the Latin for People?” Father—“No, what is it?” James—“Populi.” Mother—“James, how dare you call your father a liar?” “I see you have one of those William Tell ties.” “Whadda-you mean?” “Pull the bow and hit the apple.” “On what kind of a horse do you think Paul Revere took his midnight ride?” “Oh, I think it was a nightmare.” Ball Player—“I caught four flies yesterday.” Innocent Co-ed.—“Oh, are you helping fight typhoid, too?” “Mother, may I have a nickel to give to the old man who is crying, outside?” “Why, certainly, dear; but what is he crying about?” “He’s crying, ‘Hot roasted peanuts, five cents a bag!’ ” Two Scots were fishing, but were new at the game. “Got a bite yet, Jock?” “Naw,” said Jock, “I don’t believe my worm’s half trying. Clarence (at the restaurant)—Waitaw, have you any green peas ? Waiter—Yes, sir; have some? Clarence—Yass, bring three. W’aiter—Anything else ? The Scribbler 95 Clarence—Well, you might bring me a strawberry cut in thin slices. Waiter—Is that all? Clarence—Mercy, yass. What do you think I am—a perfect gourmand? Inebriate (addressing a barber pole)—Now, a’ leash shir of you zebras has got to get out. Whassha think I am, an animal trainer? Officer—I found them clutching one another and wrestling all over the road. Prisoner—It ain’t true, yer honor. We wasn’t fighting when the cop nabbed us; we was a trying to separate each other. Did you see service in France? No, but I read his poems. Ed—Is Bill as forgetful as ever? Eddie—I’ll say, why he has to look himself up in the directory when he gets ready to go home from classes. I hate women, and I’m glad I hate ’em ’cause if I didn’t hate ’em, I’d like ’em, and I hate ’em. AIN’T LOVE GRAND? Her Fiance—I’m so sorry I missed your party last night, but it completely slipped my mind. She—Oh! Weren’t you there? Her hair is brown, Her eyes are blue, Her lips are red, Her nose is, too. Indignant Customer—Really, Mr. Gubbins, you get dearer and dearer every day! Grocer—Not so loud, mum. My wife’s powerful jealous. 96 The Scrirblkr Editor—Are you sure that this has never appeared in print? Struggling—Oh, thank you, sir. Did you ever read “To a Field Mouse?’ No, how do you get them to listen? Prof. John—That’s the third time you’ve looked on Westbrook’s paper. Stude—Yes, sir; he does not write very plainly. Joe—Tell me, Bill, what must I do? I have burned my hand with sulphuric acid. Bill—Read Carlisle’s Essay on Burns. ODE TO THE BOYS Twinkle, twinkle, little hair, How I wonder what you air; Up above the lips so brave, Why in thunder don’t you shave? La Mar (at fair, handed his girl some candy and said)— “Sweets to the sweets.” Gladys (handing him a cracker, said)—“Crackers to the cracked.” Father—“Your letters are exactly like the musical scale. Son—“How’s that?” Father—“They begin with dough and end with dough.” Movie Director—“You have to do a number of falls; how are you on falls ?” Applicant—“Me? I rank next to Niagara.” Old Lady—“My good man, are you afraid of work?” Tramp—“No, ma’am, I can lay right down bv it and go to sleep.” The Scribbler 97 “Well, well, lost your job as a caddy?” “Yes, sir; 1 could do the work all right, but I couldn’t learn not to laugh.” Doc—“Have you guarded against the spread of this disease?” “Oh, yes, Doc; we have even bought a sanitary cup, and we all drink out of it.” “I knew a man that stayed home at nights with his wife for fifteen years.” “That was true love.” “Oh no, it wasn’t; that was paralysis.” Old Gent—“I believe tips are forbidden here.” Waiter—“Dat’s all right, sir; so was apples in the Garden of Eden!” Father—“Daughter, what time did you come home last night ?” Grace—“At a quarter of twelve.” Father—“Grace, you are not telling the truth; it was three o’clock.” Grace—“Well, isn’t three a quarter of twelve?” Beau—“So Mary is your oldest sister; who comes after her?” Kid Brother—“Nobody yet, but Pa says the first one that comes after her can have ’er.” “Whatever troubles Adam had, No man in days of yore, Could say when he had told a joke, ‘I’ve heard that one before.’ ” Jane—“That horrid conductor glared at me as if I hadn’t paid my fare.” Mary—“Well, what did you do?” Jane—“Why, I glared back as if I had.” 98 The Scribbler More Brains (at piano recital)—“What’s that charming thing he’s playing?” Less Brains—“That’s a piano, y’ dub.” He “Did you know I could read your thoughts?” She—“I’m sorry if you’re at all sensitive?” Oh, would I were a river, So I could always stay in bed. “Hie, haven’t I seen you before in New Orleans?” “No, I have never been there.” “Hie, me either, it, hie, must have been, hie, two other fellows.” “What is the penalty for bigamy?” “Two mothers-in-law.” Willie (aged five)—“Ma, is Papa’s razor sharp?” Ma—“Yes, child; why do you ask?” Willie—“ ’Cause he’s been trying to cut a strap with it every ‘ time he shaves and he hasn’t cut it in half yet.” Teacher—“Georgia, where was the king of the Lombards crowned ?” Georgia—“On his head.” The Scribbler 99 FOOTBALL In looking back over the season, one first thinks of football. While we did not do as well as we wished, and as well as was expected of us, we did our best. Not wishing to put out an alibi, I will say that we were hindered by more injuries than ever before. We did our best in spite of the numerous changes in the line-up. Here are the results: Spartanburg Hi ........... 3 Spartanburg Hi......,.....14 Spartanburg Hi ___________ 0 Spartanburg Hi ........... 0 Spartanburg Hi ........... 7 Spartanburg Hi ........... 0 Shelby Hi.................52 Cowpens Hi --------------- 6 Union Hi ................. 6 Greenville Hi ........... 19 Clinton Hi ...............19 Gaffney Hi ...............47 BASKETBALL For the first time in several years we lost the Up-State championship. However, we got the best of our opponents, making 171 points to their 126. We won against every team we played except Parker Hi, who beat us by one point in the elimination contests for the Up-State championship. This line-up was also changed many times. Captain Henry was the best bet for the Old Red and Black, making more points than any other member, The Scribbler 101 and playing a strong passing and defensive game. The results were more encouraging than the football ones. S. H. S.................... 29 S. H. S..................... 16 S. H. S.................... 18 S. H. S.................... 22 S. H. S.................... 42 S. H. S..................... 5 S. H. S.................... 16 S. H. S.................... 23 Total S. H. S........ 171 Campobello Hi .......... 13 Greenville Hi ............ 15 Greer Hi ................. 20 Clinton Hi ___;........... 11 Cedar Springs ............ 13 Greenville Hi ......... 17 Greer Hi ................. 13 Parker Hi ................ 24 Opponents ........... 126 Thus we won five and lost three. BASEBALL Well, we almost broke even in this sport. Greenville Hi, the Up-State Champs, was the only team to defeat us without being defeated in turn by us. We had ten games scheduled, but played only nine, for the Woodruff game was cancelled on account of that team having to play in an elimination contest. We lost the first four, won the next three, and then lost one and won one. Only one was lost at home. The Line-up Trogdon ....................R. F. Henry ..................... S. B. Berry ......................S. S. Sparnell ...................F. B. Fleming.....................L. F. Dargan .....................C. F. Lockman...................- T. B. Greene ........................C. Harmon ........................P. Gregory .......................P. Jennings played regularly after the first few games. Substitutes.—Armstrong, c.; Ligon, p.; Willard, 3b.; Satterfield, outfield; Tarpley, infield. 102 The Scribbler The Spartan Hi ............... 5 Spartan Hi ............. 2 Spartan Hi ............... 6 Spartan Hi ............. 1 Spartan Hi................17 Spartan Hi............... 10 Spartan Hi................ 7 Spartan Hi ............. 2 Spartan Hi ...............10 Total................60 And so we won four, lost opponents 76. Games Laurens Hi ............... 6 Greenville Hi ...........11 Gaffney Hi .............. 7 Greenville Hi ...........17 Union Hi ................16 Gaffney Hi .............. 8 Woodruff Hi ______________ 4 Union Hi _________________ 5 Laurens Hi ............... 2 Total.....................76 five, and scored 60 points to our The games follow in detail. SPARTAN HI, 5; LAURENS HI. 6 This was our first game. We played it away from home. Being somewhat nervous, we lost it in the ninth inning by one run. Harmon pitched well, but was not ably supported. Score by innings R. H. E. Spartan High ....................................... 5 6 6 Laurens High ........................................ 6 10 3 SPARTAN HI, 2; GREENVILLE HI. 11 Another away from home, and another loss. This time 11 to 2. The Red Electrics got away with a five-run lead in the first, and they were never overtaken. The hitting of Eskew and the pitching of Huff had a lot to do with the G. H. S. victory. Score by innings R. H. E. Spartan High ........................... 000 110 000— 2 7 4 Greenville High ........................ 500 003 30x—11 11 2 SPARTAN HI. 6; GAFFNEY HI, 7 Lost in the ninth again 1 While in Gaffney, Tom Harmon showed the Cherokee lads some real pitching, striking out fourteen of the opposing batters. The trouble was that Tom was not backed up. The Scribbler 103 Score by innings R. H. E. Spartan High ......................... 000 030 003— 6 8 8 GafFnev High ......................... 110 000 302— 7 9 4 SPARTAN HI, 1; GREENVILLE HI, 17 Same song, fourth verse. Huff, the Greenville southpaw, and eight other Red Electrics beat us for the second time. Enough! Remember, they are champs! Score by innings R. H. E. Spartan High .................... 001 000 000— 1 3 8 Greenville High ................. 502 310 033—17 18 3 SPARTAN HI, 17; UNION HI, 16 This was our first victory. It was a regular swat fest. It was a see-saw game, but it ended to suit us. For the first time in the season we had hold of ourselves. Our losing streak was broken, and our first win was marked up in the won column. Trogdon, Lockman, and Fleming led in the hitting for the Old Red and Black. Score by innings R. H. E. Spartan High ......................... 203 140 511—17 19 5 Union High ........................... 330 200 125—16 15 3 SPARTAN HI, 10; GAFFNEY HI, 8 Our second. Revenge is sweet. It was a hard uphill game for us, having to go up against an eight-run lead, but we did it. For S. H. S. Henry and Lockman did the best work. Alex Fleming knocked a home run, but failed to touch second. Score by innings R- H. E. Spartan High .......................... 000 500 14x—10 9 5 Gaffney High .......................... 140 300 000— 8 10 5 SPARTAN HI, 7; WOODRUFF HI, 4 Fred Sparnell pitched us to our third straight victory. The Woodruff Hi’s made seven miscues, which aided us in our 7-4 victory. Berry was the hitting star for Spartan Hi, making three safeties out of four tries at the bat. It now stands three to four. Coming! The Scribbler 105 Score by innings R. H. E. Spartan High ....................... 100 303 OOx— 7 10 4 Woodruff High ....................... 020 000 200— 4 10 7 SPARTAN HI, 2; UNION HI, 5 Union Hi broke our winning streak in Union. Vaughn fanned seventeen Red and Black batters. He was the trouble. Tom Harmon’s pitching and R. B. Trogdon’s hitting were the features for the S. H. S. Score by innings R. H. E. Spartan High ..................... 000 010 001— 2 8 4 Union High ....................... 030 020 OOx— 5 8 4 SPARTAN HI, 10; LAURENS HI, 2 Playing at home, we won our last game against Laurens Hi. “Bill” Gregory yielded only four hits to the swatters from Laurens. The victory was never in doubt. We were resolved to win, and we did. Jennings and Trogdon fielded well, while Henry led in the slugging. Score by innings R. H. E. Spartan High .................... 301 000 33x—10 12 1 Laurens High ..................... 002 000 000— 2 4 2 OUR COACH What the boys think of him. “Fifteen ‘Rahs’ for our pal and coach.”—Ned Austell, Captain of Football. “ ‘E Pluribus Unum.’ ”—Dick Henry, Captain of Basketball. “He is Edward S. Tillinghast and has no equal. ‘Nuff said.’ ” —R. B. Trogdon, Captain of Baseball. 106 The Scribbler WEARERS OF THE “S” FOR 1923-1924 Football Ned Austell (Capt.) Oscar Reeder Fred Sparnell R. B. Trogdon Bob Dargan Allen Armstrong Ed Edwards Alex Fleming Wilbur Berry Robert Pickens Keitt Smith Otis Poole “Buck” Tarpley Sam Wideman Basketball Dick Henry (Capt.) R. B. Trogdon Billy Willard Bob Dargan George DePass “Pete” Bourne Roswell Vogel Oscar Reeder Baseball R. B. Trogdon (Capt) Charlie Green Fred Sparnell Dick Henry Wilbur Berry Lank Jennings Louie Lockman Alex Fleming Bob Dargan Tom Harmon Bill Gregory AT THE “BLOCK” BANQUET The above men, together with some alumni, professors, and coach, met at the annual “Block” banquet at the Franklin Hotel. After the banquet part was over, some fine speeches, mostly concerning school spirit and clean athletics, were enjoyed by all. As was the custom, the next year captains and the Block Club president were elected. All were nearly unanimous. The three captaincies, so well filled by Ned Austell, Dick Henry and R. B. Trogdon, of football, basketball and baseball, respectively, were turned over to Alex Fleming, Billy Willard, and Fred Sparnell in the same order. Tucker McCravy was elected the Block Letter Club president. ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION A new athletic association was formed. A committee composed of the three captains, the coach, and a school representative, appointed by the faculty advisor, has formed a constitution with standard by-laws. This constitution was worded by Mr. Clatworth, Coach Tillinghast, and Mr. Alverson. A similar committee composed of like representatives will serve each year. The Scribbler 107 THE BACKING What could be done without school backing and good spirit? Mr. Jenkins has headed this movement. Every member of every team will heartily thank him and every backer. Keep this up and you cannot lose. No player on the gridiron, the court or the diamond has done for the Old Red and Black as much as Mr. Jenkins. We wish to thank him and his many followers for the fine support and splendid spirit that has been rendered us. There are other years ahead, don’t stop! So let’s “Do well our part, there all the honor lies” And may our teams march high as the skies. Advertisers Have Made This Magazine Possible THOSE WHO ADVERTISE WITH US Bell-Brown Motor Co. Bishop’s Band White Bank of Commerce Chero-Cola Bottling Works Cannon Fetzer Co. Caldwell Drug Co. Carolina National and Dollar Savings Bank Campbell, Miss C. M. Crosby, Paul E. Cecil’s Business College Coca-Cola Bottling Works Central National Bank DuPre Book Store DuPre, Wallace D. Dearman, Geo. Dixie Cake Co. Dean, Geo. A. Ezell, Dr. W. C. Elite, The Farmer Long First National Bank Ferguson, R. H. Greenewald’s Goodlett, Mrs. Mary Hobbs-Henderson Co. Heinitsh Drug Store Hammond-Brown-Wall Co. Herring Furniture Co. Jordan Coal Transfer Co. Kennedy’s Drug Store Law. A. M. Co. Ligon’s Drug Store Littlejohn Bros. Liles, Floyd L. Morgan, J. E. Mimnaugh’s Shoe Store Montgomery Crawford Magnolia Oil Co. McFee McDowell Bros. Nissen’s Shoe Store • Price, Harry Piedmont Shoe Shop Standard Cloak Co. Sheridan, J. H. Sanders Racket Store Trakas, N. S. Tennent, E. S. Vogel Son Wilson’s Drug Store Willard’s Filling Station White-Parks-Belk Co. Wright-Scruggs Shoe Co. White, J. W. Y. M. C. A. PATRONIZE THOSE WHO ADVERTISE WITH US • I i i i i i I • WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS WILSON’S DRUG STORE “The Rexall Store” “THE BEST IN DRUG STORE SERVICE” 1 i i ■ 4 +--- i i +•■ T +■ GOTO BISHOP’S REX THEATRE BUILDING For the BEST SODAS AND ICE CREAM CANDIES STATIONERY AND TOILET ARTICLES KODAK FILMS KODAK FINISHING PIEDMONT SHOE SHOP THE HOME FOR FINE SHOE REPAIRING AND GOOD SHOES 143 N. Church St. Phone 548 Welcome to our store, young ladies and young men! In our Shoe Department ask to see the Belk 100 per cent. Shoe. Girls’ Ready-to-Wear and Hats. Second floor. Paige Hats for Girls. Boys’ Department rear of store. Agency for Boy Scout Uniforms. WHITE-PARKS BELK CO. I WE SELL IT FOR LESS f + • + i t. r. mcdowell c. e. mcdowell n. o. mcdowell McDowell brothers REAL ESTATE AND i 4 PHONE 1083 CONTRACTING 12-14 Cleveland Law Range SPARTANBURG, S. C. +------------ THE DuPRE BOOK STORE BOOKS STATIONERY AND PICTRUES SPARTANBURG, S. C. A. M. LAW COMPANY STOCKS—BONDS—INSURANCE Andrews-Law Building 4 SPARTANBURG’S GREATEST STORE Outfitters to Men, Women and Children GREENEWALD’SJnc. I What are your boy and girl doing with their spending money and earnings? Do they know the VALUE of money? Do they know that a few dollars SAVED each month will later pay their way through college or start them in business? They SHOULD know—and be trained to SAVE! But do not make the mistake of saving FOR them. Give them an allowance from which they are to BANK a part, and then encourage them to add to it from their OWN earnings. Consider what it would have meant to you if YOUR father had adopted this plan. If you do, there is little doubt but that you will begin now to form in your children THE HABIT OF THRIFT. Central National Bank Spartanburg, S. C. I i i HOBBS-HENDERSON CO. j A COMPLETE DEPARTMENT STORE SPARTANBURG, S. C. TOYLAND NOW OPEN i —Spartanburg’s Largest and Best Toy Store Finest Toys at Popular Prices Basement j “FASHIONS HEADQUARTERS” THE STANDARD CLOAK CO. j READY-TO-WEAR, HOSIERY, GLOVES, PURSES HANDKERCHIEFS, LADIES’ NECKWEAR, MILLINERY | 113 East Main St. Spartanburg, S. C. ! i i • THE ELITE CONFECTIONERY AND TEA ROOM SODAS—ICE CREAM—CANDIES—LUNCHES Agents for NUNNALLY’S ♦ KODAK FINISHING DON’T GO BY- COME BUY J. W. WHITE QUALITY GROCERIES LIBERTY STREET PHONE 712 MONTGOMERY 8c CRAWFORD HARDWARE, HOUSEHOLD GOODS AND SPORTING SUPPLIES Spartanburg, —------------------ South Carolina DIXIE CAKE COMPANY (INCORPORATED) Spartanburg, S. C. Prof. Jenkins—“What is the definition of superior, Miss S---?” Serious Minded Student—“Mother says, used in conjunction with quality, it means Dixie Delicious Cakes.’ “A Flavor For Every Taste” FOR FANCY FRUITS, PRODUCE AND CONFECTIONS CALL 141 N. S. TRAKAS CO. OLDEST AND BEST IN CITY LET ONE OF THE LESSONS OF YOUR SCHOOL DAYS BE THAT OF SAVING MONEY THE ONLY SURE AND PRACTICAL WAY TO LEARN THAT LESSON IS BY MEANS OF A BANK ACCOUNT IT TEACHES THRIFT, PROMOTES ACCURACY, INSURES SAFETY, AND PAYS INTEREST +- CarolinaNationalBank Dollar Savings Bank QUICK SERVICE PHONES 1247 AND 1248 LITTLEJOHN BROS. QUALITY GROCERIES E. MAIN ST. SPARTANBURG, S. C. ZLlli J. H. SHERIDAN ARMY AND NAVY GOODS SPECIALTIES HABERDASHERY 144 N. Church Street Spartanburg, S. C. HARRY PRICE EVERYTHING IN BOYS’ CLOTHING Agent for A. G. SPALDING’S SPORTING GOODS COMPLIMENTS GEO. A. DEAN Andrews-Law Building HAMMOND-BROWN-WALL CO. HIGH GRADE FURNITURE FLOOR COVERINGS, ETC. N. Church St. Spartanburg IT PAY TO TRADE AT 1 118 E. MAIN ST. SPARTANBURG, S. C. j C7ie Store of Quality class { RINGS j PINS AND MEDALS I CLINCHFIELD COAL REDUCES HOME EXPENSES Sold by IORDAN COAL TRANSFER CO. 144 Morgan Ave. Terms Cash Phone 1992 992 j AGENTS FOR— JOHNSTON'S CHOCOLATES CALDWELL DRUG CO. Corner Main and Converse Open Day and Night WILLARD'S FILLING STATION Corner East Main and Converse Streets A Good Place to Buy Your Gas and Oil, Tires and Tubes ----------------PHONE 1196------ HIGH SCHOOL BOYS AND GIRLS COME TO I | NISSEN'S, OF COURSE FOR GOOD SHOES I FLOYD L. LILES CO. j ONE PRICE CLOTHIERS i FOR WOMEN, MISSES AND CHILDREN i i SANDERS’ RACKET STORE Plant Your Dollars Here and Watch the Savings Grow 161 E. Main Street Spartanburg, S. C. “QUALITY WITHOUT EXTRAVAGANCE” McFEE’S FANCY GROCERIES East Main Street PHONE 267 j MRS. MARY S. GOODLETT j UP-TO-DATE REPAIRER I Sell and Repair Bicycles. I Sell and Repair Combination Safes. I Repair j Guns and Pistols. Fit Keys to Locks, Sharpen Saws, Scissors, Mowers and j almost everything. Awning Making a Specialty. Trunks, Valises and Um- brellas Repaired. 1 PROMPT ATTENTION TO ALL ORDERS 160 N. CHURCH STREET PHONE 434 | J These schools are located in two of the best sections of the Carolinas. The surrounding territory affords great, rich and fertile fields of opportunity for young men and women who are anxious and willing to train themselves for the demand of business. Consider your friends and neighbors. Consider the successful—those who live well, dress well, who have comfortable incomes—in what field are their efforts rewarded? Where do they get their incomes? Isn’t it from the great field of business either as employers or high-salaried employees? Business is easily the greatest field of opportunities in the world today— both for men and women. Business offers more opportunities and richer opportunities than all other trades and professions combined. Not only does business offer big rewards and rich rewards, but business offers quick rewards. Business does not ask your age. Business does not ask your sex. Business asks only one question, and that is, “What can you do?” Hundreds of successful students have made their start in these schools. Our Department of Telegraphy is preparing young men and women for operators. Why not you? Call or write, and let us tell you more about how our courses can give you a double assurance of success. CECIL'S BUSINESS COLLEGES Spartanburg, S. C. Asheville, N. C. ■ On the way to college. A plan to provide the means for your boy or girl. R. H. FERGUSON, Manager Spartanburg, S. C. Ki wc aawiiiOiwi«,aninno«w� i� iimHi When-— you want visiting cards, either printed or engraved BAND WHITE i anwnaoM ■ Tnmiwt � iMilO— ■tw i imp —— OB Herring Furniture Co. Everything for the Home Agents for the Columbia Grafonalo and Columbia Records lt 7 N. Church Spartanburg. S. C. BELL-BROWN MOTORS CO. Oldsmobile HEINITSH’S HYGIENIC CREAM FOR CHAPPED HANDS—CONTAINS NO GREASE HEINITSH STORE Sixty-Five Years in Business on the Square ADVERTISING PAYS That’s Why We Advertise With You WE WANT YOUR BUSINESS FOUNTAIN PENS—STATIONERY—FINE CANDIES AND SODAS KENNEDY’S DRUG STORE KENNEDY HAS IT! PHONE 162 WHEN IN NEED OF SHOES RUN RIGHT TO THE SHOE STORE Wright-Scruggs Shoe Co. START RIGHT KEEP RIGHT TRADE AT Ligon’s Drug Store PURE DRUGS, KODAKS AND KODAK SUPPLIES, TOILET ARTICLES AND SEED SEND HER WHITMAN’S SAMPLER—SHE KNOWS THE BEST WALLACE D. DuPRE Wholesale and Retail AUTOMOBILE SUPPLIES Opposite Postoffice DR. W. C. EZELL OPTOMETRIST 102 Kennedy Place Spartanburg, S. C. WE EXAMINE EYES AND FIT COMFORTABLE GLASSES FOR UNCOMFORTABLE EYES MAN-MAKING ACTIVITIES HIKING—SWIMMING—CAMPING GYMNASIUM—BIBLE STUDY—WEINER ROASTS JOIN THE “Y” TODAY TELEPHONE 94 174 N. CHURCH STREET THE GEO. DEARMAN CO. (Incorporated) WHOLESALE CIGARS, TOBACCOS AND CANDIES Spartanburg, S. C. COMPLIMENTS OF i ♦ E. S. TENNENT LADIES’ HATTER AND CORSETIERE Spartanburg, S. C. Charlotte, N. C. DRINK COMPLIMENTS J. E. MORGAN VOGEL 6c SON FINE FURNITURE AND WHITTALL RUGS SELLERS’ KITCHEN CABINETS 165 N. Church St. Send Your Friend a SCRIBBLER WINTER BRINGS NO DREAD TO THE MOTORIST WHO USES OUR SERVICE GAS, OILS, ALCOHOL ALEMITE LUBRICATION AUTOMOTIVE SUPPLIES MAGNOLIA OIL COMPANY SERVICE STATIONS MIMNAUGH’S “SHOES OF QUALITY'’ WONDERFUL SHOES — FOR — WONDERFUL GIRLS 101 MAIN —-—-—-—- SPARTANBURG Our strongest argument for new business is to have you inquire how we serve “old business” BANK of COMMERCE “The Friendly Bank THE HOME Dr. Frank Crane 1 If you want to save the world, don't take to the pulpit—go Home. 1 If you want to reform society, don't mount the soap-box—go Home. fJNo movement will move unless it starts in the Home. No Reform will reform unless it originates there. No Law will stand unless it is favored there. JNo Religion will prosper that is not usable there. Q No Education is of much account that does not include the Home. IThe real Unit of either Politics or Economics is not the Man, but the Home. MAKE YOUR MONEY HOME AT THE FIRST NATIONAL BANK RESOURCES OVER FOUR MILLION Cents make dollars—Save them. Girls and boys make women and men—Help them. BAND WHITE, PRINTERS, SPARTANBURG, S. C.