University School for Girls - Castanon Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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If -il . WHERE DREAMS WILL COME TRUE You are the pilot- Your plane is your own, If you can guide it And dare to alone. Once land is below, You soar into air. Through storms you must go- All Life is not fair. But where storm clouds lurk, Behind, sun is too- Beyond the horizon Your dreams will come true. So give me my plane- I long to fly high! Hope-my propeller'- Sends me off to the sky. My compass is Truth, By my Dreams I'll steerg Storms are just Living- Of Life I've no fear. For I know brightest sun Darkest clouds can break through. Beyond the horizon My Dreams will come true. Donornv BRAUN, '30 .,..i ' KlTUD77 He never did anything famous unless you consider roping and throwing a calf in twelve seconds a famous accomplishment. He never was well known except in Johnson County, Wyoming and yet, to me he was wonderfull When I knew him I knew nothing of his life and even now that I have heard it, I doubt that it is any different from that of all western boys. For he was just a cowboy named Tud Smith. He was born in Story, Wyoming in IQO2. He was the sixth of fourteen children. Little has been known about his childhood. I suppose it was school and helping father as all ranch children did. It might have seemed a drab existence to us who live in the city of bright lights. 70

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rg... so much to do this week-end it makes me dizzy even to think about it. I have to go to the opera tonight with Johnny, and oh, speaking of Johnny, I must tell you- The other day when he called up from Montreal to ask me about tonight, I had just come in from a ride. I had been up pretty high, and you know how cold and windy it is up there. Well, I was a perfect wreck, you can imagine. My face was as red as a beet and my hair was streaming all over the place. I didn't have time to fix it, or powder my nose, or anything. You should have seen his face when I answered the phone, because, you know, I've always had the luck to be dressed up when he's seen me. I honestly bet he didn't think it was me-I- pardon me. What was I talking about anyway? You were telling all you had to do, answered one of her companions. Oh dear, yes. I'm wearing my new orchid sunrise dress tonight, and I have to go to the hairdresser's this afternoon to have my hair tinted to match it for the evening. Tomorrow morning I have a ballet rehearsal from nine to ten and fencing from ten to eleven. After that I'm going to lunch and the matinee with a friend of mother's and I must get in some shopping sometime. 'Then last night my brother radioed that he would be coming home tomorrow with some friends from college and wants me to go to New York with them in the evening and dance somewhere. Of course he would want me to drive them back to North Carolina Lo school Scpnday aftlerncioigl. Goodness lixrjlowsi wherg Icgll git home and fkjust ave to stu y or an ang is examination on ay. n -o yes-some r1en s from California are stopping off here sometime this week-enid on their way to Europe where they are going to spend a few days. I don't see how you're going to make that tri to North Carolina Sunday, . . . P . if you have to study English, one of the glrls declares. Believe me you, that exam is going to be the .... I don't see either, is the reply. lim not so keen about that trip anyway. Last time I made it, I bumped into a bunch of birds on the way home. They bent the bumper and I nearly went through the windshield. But I was more worried about the birds than anything-poor things. Say, Helen, is it all right if I don't land you? I'm in an awful rush, y'know. Take one of the parachutes on the Hoon The handsome little yellow plane slows down and swoops lower over house- tops and apartment buildings. One of its occupants jumps out, holding a dainty yellow parachute over head .with one hand and waving a gay adieu to her com- panions with the other-a difficult feat when laden with a Latin book, a French reader and a couple of important-looking notebooks. . The other two girls are dropped off in a similar manner. Our very pretty girl then speeds home, lands on the roof of the apartment building where she lives, puts her plane away, and takes the elevator down to her apartment. vii lk lk wk Ill 'Tis Monday morning, and we are back at U. S. G. again. Helen is talking to her friend. Did you get everything done you had to do, darling? I've been worrying about you all week-end. She is answered by a sheepish smile, and a rather small voice saying, Oh, I went to Japan with daddy. The chauffeur took us Friday afternoon in the big plane, and we didn't get home until late last night. Moral: Don't worr toda about what ma never ha en tomorrow. Y Y Y PP JEAN FARLEIGH, '30 69

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.f- ,.,.-,,-. His father owned a small cattle ranch and early one spring Tud was to break his first pony. The pony was a small pinto which he had named Mud. He donned his chaps that morning as he had seen others do and started to saddle Mud. It was difiicult work and took some good patience,but it is a virtue that all Westerners learn early if they are to have comradeship with animals. Bit by bit Tud gained on the pony and with a quick swing up went the saddle. It was only a matter of a few seconds when Tud pulled up his chaps, stroked Mud's nose, grabbed the reins and was mounted. Well-that little pony bucked, reared, sun-fished to the best of his ability and Tud stuck with him. His father who had watched the exhibition smiled to himself. All his other sons had broken horses but none had done it as well as Tud. He would make a rodeo winner out of him. Tud went to Wyoming University at Laramie for one year. During his sopho- more year he received news that his father was dying. The snow was heavy and the trains slow, by the time he reached home his father was dead. The oldest son Ken had taken over the ranch and was running it with his own. Tud felt that he couldn't afford to return to college so he began to work for Ken. They didn't agree on some planting that had to be done so Tud packed up and pulled out . He went to Sheridan, Wyoming and there found work in a garage. The next spring Frank O. Horton, owner of a dude ranch, asked Tud if he would like to be a horse wrangler on the H-Bar Ranch. Skipper, as F. O. H. was called, said the work would not altogether be with the dudes but real range riding would be part of it. Tud agreed to come May first as the out-of-door-life instead of the oily garage sounded good to him. At the appointed time Tud arrived at the ranch and there began a month of round-ups, carpentering, painting, branding, all of which had to be accomplished before the dudes arrived. Tud enjoyed those weeks of real work. He enjoyed the companionship of those men and their stories of the dumb dudes. He waited almost impatiently for the first dudes. They came. The dudes with Eastern clothes, accents and pale faces. Hany, the head wrangler, gave them horses and saddles and they set out on their first ride in the Wild and woolly west. Miss Baher, a spinster, came in every morn- ing for five days complaining about her horse. Hany smiled and each morning gave her a horse of a different name. The sixth day she came in beaming and overjoyed. She had finally found a horse that suited her. She thanked Hany and crossed his palm with silver. Ignorance is bliss -for it was later rumored about the corral that it was the same horse, Dinty Moore, all the while. The wool is pulled over a poor dude's eyesi' many times. The next winter Tud was sent to Chicago with a load of cattle for the stock yards. Arriving at the Union Station he glanced around and decided to walk to his hotel. Tud had read much of Chicago gangsters but he doubted their reality. Walking along in his usual free and easy fashion he crossed an alley. Three masked men held him up and two hundred dollars were removed from him before he could utter a sound. After selling the cattle he quickly returned to the West where men are men! He hadn't tried any bucking for some years but at the Johnson County Fair at Buffalo the next summer, he decided to enter the bucking contest. Tud had drawn Funeral Wagon, a big gray horse with a nasty reputation. He rode the first day and, as he approached the chute, the H-Bar section cheered loudly. He rode Funeral Wagon to a glorious finish, scratching him all the time. He won the first money and also third money in the calf roping contest. Tud returned to the ranch a feted hero, which he still is today. He is still riding the ranges of the H-Bar and will probably do so for many years to come. What makes him seem so fine? Why have I written of him? BARBARA GRAF, '30 71