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

Page 77 text:

one or two other men. In an attempt to save their not-so-highly prized work of art, they grasped frantically for it. With a herculean tug, I freed the front door, and leaped to the street. Chet and the other boys, thanks to Providence, were sauntering along, taking in the sights and sounds. Quickly they sensed trouble and re- quired no invitation to get going as I picked myself up and headed down the block to the car. Ya think, you're scared! panted Chet. Ya shoulda been with us! The hour seemed like a year. We wuz jest commin' for ya! The sight of the six of us, or their greater concern for their merchandise, must have dis- couraged the two old men. We doubted that they would summon the policeg actually, we didn't wait to find out. We piled into the car, veered around the comer and disappeared, headed for home. Home! I never thought the word would mean so much, or that I would even see home again. The trip home was lively. Though I was in no mood to talk, with the memory of the last hour still fresh in mind, I eventually yielded to persistent requests for details of my experience. The highly colored facts needed no further embroidering. The boys were visibly impressed. Hank commented upon the pitifulness of be- coming entangled in such practices. All had derived a new concept of the word danger, At 11:35 we pulled up at our house. I hoped that my ,adventure wouldn't show upon me. Chet was the :first of the group to remember our bar- gain. I'Iere's my buck, he said, you eamed it! Tlie others in turn paid off with similar observations. Ronnie reluctantly lished in his pockets for the remaining quarter. As I stepped from the car, he flipped the coin from his thumb. THE U TOPIAN . We all had a good laugh before Chet ripped the car into -gear and began to pull away. Be seein' ya! he called to me. Thanks for the contributions . . . and the ride, I said. What a time we would have to- morrow night, just Debbie and I! I slept fitfully that Friday night. Such dreams! Saturday moming, after breakfast, I called Debbie in order to complete arrangements for our date. The ensuing telephone conversation merits relation in detail. It began: Hel1o! Hello, Debbie. YesP Rudy. Oh, hi! About our date tonight. What time shall I pick you up? Well...er...yousee...uh...I'mnot allowed out tonight, Rudy. But that won't break our date, I hope. You can still come over, and we could watch the television, and dance or something . . . that is, if you want to. Why-uh, sure . . . sure. Gee, that's swell, Rudy. I'm glad you agree. You know, I'd much rather stay home anyway. It's so much more fun staying home on a date for a change. Yeh, that's right! Can you be here by eight? Sure thing! Eight's fine! Okay, then! I'll be waiting. See you at eight. Goodbye. Bye! I hung up, banged my fist against my head. Inside, images begain to whirl: Girls! Money! Bets! Cigarettes! Opium dens! . . . Oh, brother!! .73

Page 76 text:

spiral staircase. There was no banister. The cold walls and the darkness, save what little yellow- ness his half-dead flashlight spread, intensified my nauseated feeling. At the foot of the steps we reached another door, slightly built it seemed to me. From beyond it came a stream of sounds far more unearthly than those I had heard out- side. Screams of pain from several people pierced the air, while occasional bursts of laughter punctuated the dull rumble of a dozen people talking to others or to themselves. 'Someone was evidently hysterical with laughter. To my great surprise, the door was unlocked. My companion merely unlatched it and nodded to me: In there! Practically petrified I edged my way in, instinctively saying at the same time, a fervent act of contrition. As never before, I meant I firmly resolve to amend my life . . . While my eyes were adjusting themselves to the gloom and smoky haze, 1 entertained recol- lections of The Snake Pit. By comparison that was a children's birthday party. The patrons of this dingy establishment seemed to have grouped according to their respective moods. Three middle-aged men were huddled in a corner, sobbing like uncomfortable babies. Another group of people was evidently trying to exter- nalize the inward surge of emotions the smokers were experiencing. Then I saw something which, had I been less frightened, would have made me laugh. A tall, thin man was perched atop a stool, addressing an imaginary audience. Between puffs of his hopped-up cigarette, he proceeded to claim himself master of the universe and emperor of all earth's continents. No one opposed him, at least here. So far as I could see, he was probably a frustrated husband, a fugitive from a nagging wife. The laughers were the most nearly-normal, though they, too, would have made a psycho- pathic ward look like a pilgrirn's picnic. I glanced at the radium dial of my wrist watch. l0:45l A small, beady-eyed man ap- proached me with a box of cigarettes. How many? he asked. Onel I quavered. I took it and went to a corner close to the door. No one minded that I slumped down to smoke alone. While pre- tending to reach into my pocket for my lighter, I pocketed the cigarette and instead, removed one of my Chesterfields. I crouched unnoticed, and cautiously lit it. 72. Twenty dragging minutes passed. The little man returned and asked again: How many? I held up my index finger, and with the other hand, extracted the potent package. I repeated the process of pocketing the dope-stick and lighting my own cigarette. I began to wonder whether the others would expect me to cry or laugh or shout. So long as no one observed me, I would do none of the three. More people came in, and a few more passed Out. As I finished my cigarette, I glanced at my watch. ll:20! Phewl I sighed. My thoughts turned to leaving . . . what to say . . . what to do! I concluded that I should simply rise and Walk out and up the stairway. By the time I would reach the street, the required time would have elapsed. As I rose to my feet, both the dope distributor and his partner who had let me in approached me. Did they sense that I was about to leave? Smilingly inanely, I whispered confidentially: I was just thinking of going. I've had enough for tonight. Together, they wedged themselves against me like a pair of book ends. The white- haired one countered: That's all right with us, but how about the 55.00 for the weeds? All my previous uneasiness returned. I tried even harder than before to conceal it. Should I I explain that I would have to get most of the money from my friends at the corner? Would they actually have that much on them? Would these two gents believe me? As one began to reach into his jacket, possibly for a concealed weapon, I decided to exit hastily. Having pretended I had dropped my wallet from my hip pocket, I wheeled and lurched for the door. Like an antelope, I shot up the stairway, but despite their age, the two proprietors were on my heels shouting and cursing. Dizzy from my hasty ascent of the spiral steps, I bumped into the door of the shop, reeled into a large, Oriental vase which toppled and shattered on the floor. The sight of this greater loss tem- porarily stunned my pursuers, both of whom stopped dead in the middle of the room. In that important instant, I reached the front door, grabbed the knob, and . . . found it locked! Panicky, I whirled about, seized a life-size statue of some Greek gladiator and shoved it in the path of my pursuers, who were now joined by . THE UTOPIAN

Page 78 text:

.14 fufid BY WALTER McINTYRE, 51 WO YOUNG college mining engineers, searching for silver in Peru, stopped briefly at the juris River to refresh them- selves. was really thirsty, remarked jim Bailey. So was I, replied Bob Renton. What's that iloating there in the river? How should I know? retorted Bob. Jim waded out to the object, which was toss- ing to and fro on the waters. He scooped it out of the muddy stream and returned to the shore. It's a tin can that's got a note inside. Let's see it, jim. Wait a minute. I'll read it, countered jim. Boyl Listen to this: 'Please, whoever finds this note, please come and help me. This terrible experience of mine started a week ago, Septem- ber 21st . . . ' That's only ten days ago, interrupted Bob. His companion resumed. . . . Juan Hernando, my partner, and I were prospecting for gold in the Quinto region. juan had made the choice, to which I was op- posed, of prospecting there. It was growing dark, and we decided to pitch camp immediately and get a good night's sleep. I was exhausted and fell asleep almost at once. Suddenly I found myself wide awake and staring up at a big black native. juan, who had a fair knowledge of the III ll 74 . .., ., - 1 1 f, gf -, ': .... - I . if V ll . .1 Qsifi f ' i3-Q it -lv ee.. -trr a T' . lil fg2f'1wy1- ,- 3 ' .1 -yi..s,V,.lg 9 .4 -gg, It .1 f .' S r ff 5 'A-:rang-.f:f1sg'., ,.?,1 -- ' Lg ' : 4 4. 5 xff f lf il lil-13' . '7-lTi'- ' 7 fl 5 , ' . I uf. g y!!! .Qi 3 E fi 2 L-VI.. .. , ill-,iff if f yillpfi . I li 1 1 Z sis : , , 5 I , ,q y, g will -' 'TSE . 'Fir-fi ' ' - ' ' ' Nj,.lJl-iff.. ' Y' jj. ml'f 7N Nkglkiia EKLIIJ' 3 .553 -4 ,I ' . lk A'7 a,Y ' i'. 11'3 . , , XX. 'gi I 2 5.5 1. i? I D' if 13 , 51 'fi' ' ' xi.-if - jf , I 'fgsg-65,21-'-' 3? ' I YA Nik' NR if 2 'Q ix it ' IN S fm? W '- 12 A W W , ?s'jff-5525 .13 xv: X . V-,,-, li?-iigh t, rf . ,, rx lx xx. t .wx uf, Lg. - '. -, - -' iv., lg J - ' X , A ff! x 'Nwggm m 7, 'K .X ' ragga' W cl . , g1.Xxi.bil.X ,'5,,RX .i 5 XX regional dialect, was able to engage him in con- versation. I learned from Juan that the native was friendly and that he had lost his way in the jungle. I decided to give the native the extra blanket and settled down to rest again. . . . The next day the native returned our favor by taking us to his tribe. We were greeted and treated royally. The chief, who had little respect for white men's ways, rewarded us for THE UTOPIAN