St Louis College of Pharmacy - Prescripto Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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ri E cg: ry I D 1 0 SCENE II. M.: Sit down while I make a thorough examination. My, my, you have a hole in your head as large as a half-dollar. I wish Dr. Rainey were here to see it. My, how he would gloat. We must stop that bleeding. The wail of a siren is heard outside. Eight police squad cars rush by at terrific speed. A commotion is heard in the street. M.: I must stop that bleeding-just keep sitting. I'll look it up in Arny's. tHe gets book, thumbs the pages, mumbling incoherently to himselfj The front door opens, a policeman pokes his head in a shade. Are you alone back there, Morris? He waits for a response. M. keeps reading in Arny. The small print hurts his eyes. But unmindful of the pain and s-elf-inflicting punishment he reads on and on. The guardian of the law stands in the doorway ten minutes and then slams the door and goes on about his business. , M.: Did I hear the door? BLOODY MAN: Naw. M.: But Iim certain I did. B. M.: Wfell, you didn't. M.: Are my wits playing me false? B. M.: Yeh. M.: It says here Stypticin twill arrest hemorrhage, etc., continues with tech- nical descriptionj. I don't think we carry Stypticin. CI-Ie looks vainly over all the shelf bottles.j VVell, I'll have to find out some other means. Monsels sol., that's it Cgivcs description of terms, etc.j. Looks for Monsels sol. on shelves. Gee, we haven't got that either. But here's the powder. I'll prepare a solution. Morris fills a bucket half full of warm Water and dumps two ounces of Iron Sulphate into it. M.: Here, Mister, just duck your head in here. tHe grasps the man by the back of the neck and ducks his head fthe unknown manj into the sol. The man screems in agony. Morris withdraws his head. The man sputters and fumes. It's in my eye, he cries. M.: So it is. I'm sorry. Here's a towel. CThe blood continues to gush forth.j M. Cmeditativelyj : I must stop that bleeding. I haven't a tourniquet. I-Iere, .sit down. fMorris takes a towel and twists it around the man's neck.j B. M.: Ugh, mm, 1n1n, oooow, It h-h-h-h-h-lnirts. M.: Naturally, but I'll stop that bleeding. If it doesn't soon, I'll call an M. D. -or midwife. QM. continues to turn the tourniquet until the man slumps forward in the chaixzj ix if 3 2 iw FJ . Page One Hundred Twenty-Five

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DIQESQQIQILTU e-all The Heroism of Morris Goldstein X-XXL! A short play in a few acts and scenes. SCENE I, ACT 1. Drug store. Place, Hickory and Biddle Streets, St. Louis. Time, 10:30 P. M. Friday nite, February 13, 1931. Morris- is waiting on a bewitching damsel. MORRIS: May I do you for something, Madam or Mademoiselle. FAIR ONE: Yeh! M.: W'hat is it, pleeze? Wie have several specials today. A 39-cent bottle of Lysol with each syringe. 1fVe're also selling 10 5-cent cigars for 49 Cents. Try some. Give them to your dad or lover. Here, let me show you some of these rubber gloves. In pastel shades. The very latest. Guaranteed not to rip, tear, wear or run down at the heel. A prize in each and every package. There are no blanks-. You cannot loose. Try them, I say. Children cry for them. Prevents decay, unnecessary roughness of the hands. The Royalty of Europe, all the crown heads use 'em. And cheap? Only 39 cents each. Special, a pair for 59 cents. FAIR ONE: Gimme change for two bits. I wanna get a street car. .-Xnd say, have you any of those free papers of matches? QM. makes the change, and gives the girl his personality smile Clike Mennsj as she leaves. SCENE I, ACT 2. Time, two hours later. Same place. Morris is busy studying Pharmacodynamics for dear ol' St. L. C. of P. Suddenly the door is Hung open. A wild-eyed man staggers in. His hair is mussed, his clothing is in tatters. He is bleeding at the eyes, ears, nose, throat and piles. 'He is foaming at the mouth. IJNKNONVN Qscreeminglyj: First aid! First aid! Help! Gimme some first aid! At once! M.: What is it, pleeze? Wfe have several specials today. A 39-cent bottle of Lysol with each syringe. VVe are also selling 10 5-cent ciga1's for 49 cents. Try some. Give them to your dad or lover. Or smoke them yourself. Here, let me show you some of these rubber gloves, etc., etc., etc. UNKNOWN RIANZ I want first aid. I'm dying. Stop this bleeding. I beseech you. M.: Vell, come in the back once. You getting our tile fioor spattered with blood. tThey go into the R departmentj K , Page One Hundred 'fwe-nLyfFour

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s-----cil D I2 E 5 e. D I D T o Iss-----Ds M.: VVhat have I done? I've strangled him. I should have known better. XVhat shall I do? Oh,Oh,Ohl just then another siren screams on the streets, a riot squad car stops abruptly at the curb. Ten or ll uniformed patrolmen from headquarters jump to the side- walk. They are armed with sub-machine guns, tommies, gas mask, gas bombs, machine guns, regulation pistols and knives and forks. They rush unceremoniously into the drug store. A grizzle haired ol' s-argent runs swiftly into the back room of the Little Drug Store of Times Square. The lantern jaw lights up with amazement. The eyes dilate just as in T. manifestation of Scapolionnic poisoning. Tisk, Tisk, Tisk, he chuckles. W'hat ho! There seems to be something amiss here. Then he turns the dead man over with his foot. A gasp of astonishment issues from underneath his General Pershing moustache. SARG.: In all my years of shaking down speakeasies on Broadway have I witnessed such a sight. My, my! Dear Morris, you are a hero. Do you know who yonder corpse is? M.: No, Sire. SARG.: IV ell, sure and bejabbers it's Tony Potello, the notorious imposter and chicken thief. Feared by police from East St. Louis to Paris. . M.: But I've strangled him-I must pay the supreme penalty, all my work and slavery at St. L. C. of P. has been in vain. Alas, Dear, Dear. SARC.. : On the contrary, buddy, you're lucky. Tony Potello has been sentenced to die. I-Ie should have been hung Tuesday the 10th at ll 205, but he escaped from the death house. The hangman has been in a quandary, he can't make that 25 bucks for the hanging. The new Chevrolet will go back, he'll miss a payment. Do you know what this blackguarcl just went an' done? M.: No. SARG. : Why, an hour ago, when questioned by a traffic cop on a traffic offence, he picked the cop up motorcycle and all and threw him in to the River des Peres. He is indeed a knave. I-Ie then ran and held up a bank and was shot in the head by the sophisticated steno. He was truly a Wicked man, but has now received his just due. All is well. SARG. Qto officersj : Remove your hats, men. They do. And, my brave boy, you will receive the 25 smackers that the hangman should have got. FINALE. fEntire company sings St. L. C. of P. alma mater songj sc ...QI at 'SJ 3: 2 I-... A 'l I I' Page One Hundred TwcntyfSix '2-