St Mary Catholic High School - Marathon Yearbook (Marietta, OH)

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'ElInIIEIIIIIIMIIQLIEIIIHIIEIIFI 0 n I I llllllmllgllgllgi Ianni E211 Zlct when ?1lfltIe're barriers Lida Magnani: I don't suppose I'll get there, if I do, I'll probably act smart. Virginia Suder: I'll be so glad to get there-I won't know how to act. Francis Miller: I'll be an old man but I'll act young. Paul Heiner: Never saw one act like he should-I'll revolutionize the code. John Bauer: I'll act so dignified that the Freshies will feel blue-turn yellow-and look green. If-???? Ruth Thieman: If I ever get that far I'll probably know how to act properly. Gertrude Bauer: I'm not counting my chickens before they're hatched. Mary Albrecht: I've got a good imagination-but that's too much for me. Blaine Dye: I'll act like an important man, display all the knowledge that I can, then I'll be happy. Robert Dyar: I'll show what I know about dignity-I'll shame Chester- field himself. Vera Brockmeier: My imagination won't stretch that far. Howard Bosner: I'll feel big-even though I may still be little. Dion McDermott: I'll carry myself with my fellow-students, and act like a Senior should. Walton Hackett: I'll paint the school red-everyone will know about it when I arrive. Ruth Cullen: By the time I get there-there will be a new set of rules for the perfect to follow. I'll have to wait. Ola Curtis: Study hard, act dignified, be polite, and try to be natural. Ethel Congleton: It's hard to tell-I won't cross any bridges till I come to them. Mary Hardy: Snub everyone who isn't what I am-then I'll be acting like a regular Senior. Ruth Bentz: I'll play Malvolio-wear yellow stockings and cross garters. 40

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IEIIEIIlmlllllllmllHum!IE!Imuh!:gumIIIlullllIllIlullllIIImmllIIIllllllllllllmulIIIlllllllIllIIIIllllIIIllllllllIlllllllllllllglllglllgllg be Grey Elaine Two men sat in the inner oflice of the American Publishing Association. The one at the desk was of promiscuous proportions, and dressed in as good a manner as possible for a person of his stature. When he talked he did so with confidence, like one who had had years of experience in his particular kind of business. For A. Jason Fund- lison was regarded as the authority on popular iiction, in fact, on most literary work. The other, Allen Dwight, a would-be author, was the direct antithesis of his older companion. A young man in his early twenties, he was tall, handsome, and unlike most of those who followed his profession, a young giant. Fundlison was absorbed in reading the document he held in his hands. It was very lengthy, containing about two hundred neatly typewritten pages. As he read, his face remained motionless, no sign of interest or annoyance showed on it. Dwight across the desk from him sat eagerly and expectantly awaiting his friend to speak. Finished, Fundlison placed the paper on his desk, leaned back in his chair and squarely facing the other, spoke in his usually drawling tone. Allen, I'm afraid your story won't do. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you know we must be careful what we take to publish. A story to be a success must have the ability of appealing to the public and that is what your story lacks. Dwight had half sensed this ever since the publisher had started to read his story, so he was somewhat prepared for the blow. Nevertheless he was greatly disappointed at the failure of his story, and this sudden setback dampened his usual lively spirit. He shrugged his shoulders, Well I guess that's the way with us writers, hit or miss. Guess I'm not cut out for one. A sigh escaped his lips as he rose. Fundlison came to his feet and walking around the desk, placed his hands on Dwight's shoulders. Buck up, Allen, plenty chance yet for you to be a successful writer. Go to it with a vim and vigor and you're bound to win. Dwight's face brightened perceptibly at this encouragement. The publisher seeing that his words had struck home, continued, My boy you have the ability to write, and if you hit it right your book will go over. Now as soon as possible I want you to write a story with a plot that will catch and hold the attention of the reader. When you have finished it bring it here to me and I will publish it. Allen needed only these words of cheer and advice. You're right, Fundlison, I'll not be a quitter and if I don't write a story that's a whopper, something will be radically wrongf' That's the way to look at it, said the publisher, have the idea that you're going to make good, and you are bound to win out. The change that had come over Dwight was remarkable. Thanks to you, Fund- lison, or I would have given up long ago. He looked at his watch. It's four-thirty now so I had better be going if I want to start that story tonight. Thought I might do a little work on it this evening after dinner. Good idea, Allen. Good-night and good luck to you. Thanks, Fundlison. Good-night. PF ik H1 Bk ak Eight o'clock found Allen in his room at the boarding house. At last ready to begin his story he sat down to think out the plot. For the next few minutes many of the recent events that happened passed through his mind. He again recalled his interview with Fundlison. I must write a good story, he said to himself, if I want to make a name for myself, and besides I need the money. He smiled. That is the most important. Say I must get down to work, he told himself. Different ideas suggested themselves, but not suiting him were discarded almost as soon as they were thought of. His thoughts again left the trend of the story. Jean 42