St Thomas More High School - Utopian Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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ua! a PllASlIIll CRUISE O SAY THAT he looked impressive, even in a T-shirt and blue dungarees, is to register my first impression of the man who stepped from the dock to the deck of my boat that day in Hawaii. Though of only medium height, he had a massive pair of shoulders. He wore his Navy ofiicer's cap with an ease that suited well the clean-cut lines of his weather-beaten face. A wisp of soft black hair was visible under the visor. His voice suggested a military training. Are you the owner of this ship, Mr .... uh? Masters is my name, I told him. Matty Masters. How do you do, he continued. My name's jim Malone. While waiting for my reply, he slowly surveyed. the ship. It looked good to him. Yes, I said, I own the Blue Dolphin. What can I do for you? I want something about this size for about a month's voyage. At the moment I am not pre- pared to pay the fanciest price, though I will look after the provisions and a few extras, and maybe, when we get back, do a little better. In fact, if my venture succeeds and I like this ship, I may be in a good position even to buy her at a right handsome price, just for pleasure. I realize that all this doesn't make much sense, but if you will settle for the over-all picture, it's about what I have in mind. With no immediate plans, and with a bank account that was but a shadow of what it had been when I came to the islands, I decided to listen. Go on, I said. Our destination would be Luoano, ex- plained.Ma1one. Ever hear of it? If you mean the island to the south of the Carolines- That's right. Been there, by any chance? No, I replied, but I know of the place. We THE UTOPIAN . BY WILLIAM C. McGINNIS, '51 won't need a month to get there and retum. True enough. However, I have some business there which- Here he broke off momentarily, then went on to explain that a short stop-over should be profitable to both of us. His casual manner somehow led me to the conviction that this was to be no more than a pleasure cruise with a touch of business on the side, possibly to collect an old debt or something. Why he had picked my ship was no profound mysteryg the fewx others still in port that summer afternoon were owned by natives. As I said, he impressed me: maybe that wasiwhy, despite the loose ends, I shook hands with him and closed the deal. The next morning, after a sound sleep, I came on deck to see a cloudless sky, and Malone trudg- ing up the dock with a large box on his shoulders. Several even larger ones on deck showed why he was bathed in perspiration. He must have got an early start. In fact, he seemed a bit impatient that I was apparently unready to set sail. I read his thoughts and assured him that in another hour we would be under way. I counted upon his having provided at least enough supplies to make Luoano, where it would be easy to replenish our needs, if necessary. Malone came aboard, dragging the last of the boxes after him. From his pocket he pulled an old rag with which he wiped his brow and arms. My references to wind velocity and favorable directions met with his instant approval. Since I talked with you last, he observed, I learned something that will make an early arrival highly desirable. I wondered, but said nothing. By the way, he continued, if you have no objections, I would like a young friend of mine to accompany us, a native boy named. Siki. Know him? .61

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listening to radio programs, or from watching sporting events or other spectacles. But he con- cluded by encouraging us to look at the world about us, the everyday world of family, friends, and chance encounters. Before beginning my own assignment I took down my Webster Dictionary from the shelf to look up the definition of the word personal- ity. Personality, said Webster, is distinct- ness or excellence of personal and social traits. Distinctness or excellence -these were not quite the same thing. There were people in my own neighborhood who had very odd traits, but these traits did not always proclaim excellence. At length I selected a person who seemed to me worthy of discussion-one that I thought would be of interest to my classmates. This essay does not concern itself with my own attempt at a character sketch. Rather, the essay had its origins in the personality sketches of the other students. Not in the sketch of this or that particular student, but in all of them taken together. For the next few days in the English classes there was summoned to my im- agination a most remarkable gallery of portraits. Students had observed the people about them, and certain of these people had made indelible impressions upon them. Through the sketches of my classmates I met priests, policemen, trolley motormen and conductors, milkmen, neighbor- hood characters, friendly and unfriendly employers. It is interesting to note that of the priests who were sketched for us one was a pastorg another, a curate: a third, a professor, and still another, a missionary father. It seemed to me a good thing that priests were high on the list of interesting personalities, for it established the hope that some of our own classmates may some day be inspired with a vocation. In one or two cases there actually were celeb- rities. One of these was Joe Di Maggio, the great Yankee slugger. True, this was only a brief 60 . and casual meetingg nevertheless, it constituted a thrill that any boy of our own age must envy. The other celebrity-one not known to most of the boys, yet a personality of world renown-was Mr. William Kincaid, the first fiutist of the Philadelphia Orchestra. The student who made his acquaintance is himself an ardent student of the Hute, and it can be well imagined what inspiration he must have received and continues to receive from this acquaintanceship. Of the numerous neighborhood characters, the one which stands out in my mind most clearly is the ancient bearded gentleman who seemed to spend all his time perusing books in a neighborhood branch library. According to his biographer, the library was this old man's uni- versity and he seemed to be a person of inex- haustible lore. He had a quaint philosophy of life-one that incorporated the principle of non- work-and just who he was or how he managed to get along without money no one seemed to know. Of course there were the students who, not feeling competent to deal with people they actually knew, resorted to what I can only call a second-hand acquaintanceship. These stu- dents chose such personalities as Dan Seymour with the friendliest voice in radio, Arthur Godfrey, whose nonchalance is the delight of fans and the terror of sponsors, and Sid Cesar, whose ability to project himself into real-life situations has almost made him a mirror of humanity. But in the end it was perhaps just the ordinary people who made the greatest impact. Since most of us, vocationally speaking, are destined to be ordinary-the milkmen, policemen, and day laborers so vital to smooth running of our society -it is encouraging to note that we too can foster those elements in our personality which make us not only acceptable but inspirational to our fellow man. THE UTOPIAN

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I've heard the name, but can't place him. Anyhow, it's O.K. with me, provided you assume full responsibility. What about his family? I have arranged everything. For a kid thir- teen, he's a fairly capable hand to have aboard, as you'l1 see. Malone stuck his forefingers into his mouth and gave two sharp blasts. From amidst the confusion along the waterfront appeared a bronzed youngster clad in a pair of khaki trou- sers the legs of which had been trimmed away at the knees. Under his arm was a small package, his wardrobe no doubt. Siki bounded up the dock with the grace of an antelope. Me go, too, Meesta Jeem? he hopefully inquired. Malone nodded, then introduced me to the new arrival. I made a last minute check of everything and prepared to hoist sail. By eleven o'clock we were under way, pointed south by southwest. Once around the cove, we began to heel to starboard. The mainsail flapped noisily as it began to suck in the breeze. I fancied that from the shore, my 29-foot Blue Dolphin, with her white sails gleam- ing in the sunlight, made an attractive picture. Malone and the boy went below to unpack and stow our gear. The following afternoon, thanks to a good run all the way, we caught our first glimpse of the Carolines. We counted upon reaching Luoano about nightfall, or with the aid of a full moon, shortly after. Malone had ruled out my suggestion to lay over until the following morning. If we can make it tonight, then to- nightl he grumbled impatiently. The last traces of twilight still lingered in the West when Malone, standing in the bow, pointed to a dark mass barely distinguishable on the pur- plish horizon. I glanced at my map and at the binnacle. It should be, I said, feeling very grateful for a successful trip, and not a little bit proud of my navigation. An hour or so later we were looking for a suitable location in the mouth of Luoano har- bor. Under foresail alone, we eased our way in. When Siki's sounding line told me what I wanted to know, I called to the boy to cast the anchor over the port bow. Malone, however, stopped him with an excited Wait a minute! Seizing his binoculars, Jim peered intently at the outlines of a sleek looking yacht moored about 100 yards to our lee side. We can't stay 62. right here, he added with an air of desperation, though I want to be close enough to read her name as soon as it's light. We glided quietly by, and hove to about a half mile further down the coast. As we sat smoking in our cabin that night, Jim Malone explained that the one name we wanted not to read the next morning was that of William West, owner of the ship which bore his name. If that's the West, he confided, things are going to take on an entirely dif- ferent complexion. When I rolled into my bunk that night, it was with little expectation of a sound night's sleep. It now appeared that Malone had been a lieutenant in the last war, had been commis- sioned to scour this area for possible naval bases, had made Luoano his personal headquarters after he had chanced to find a valuable pearl in the water here. He believed there were plenty more where that beauty had come from, and planned to return for them when possible. The one real drawback, he said, was that another lieutenant, John Dorne, originally a close friend of Malone, shared the secret, and the same in- tention. Later, after a quarrel, Dorne had gone his way, and, as Malone now knew, had spilled his plans to the boss of a gambling establishment where he had worked before the war. William West, the boss, told his friends he was off for a long, much-needed vacation, left the States, and joined up with Dome, both to finance the cost of the diving, and no doubt to see that Uncle Sam's Custom Men collected no taxes from their haul. Dome met me in a San Francisco restaurant one day a few months ago, Malone said at sup- per that night. Though we were not the friends we had been, he was at least decent enough to tell me of his intentions, and even invited me to tie in with him and West. I wanted no part of West and his mob, and told him so. Soon after, Dorne telephoned me one night to clear out of town if I wanted to stay alive. West was afraid I might inform the authorities about his in- tended vacation in the Pacific. I cleared out all right! I headed for Hawaii by Clipper . . . and here I am. Yes, I rolled into my bunk that night with a worried mind. There hadl seemed little else to do but follow with what Malone had started. The . THE U TOPIAN