Vandergrift High School - Spectator Yearbook (Vandergrift, PA)

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THE SPECTATOR 17 A doughboy and his dough are soon parted. K.K. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow your bootlegger may die (or get pinched). K.K. If you have a bit of news—send it in, Or a joke that will amuse—send it in, A story that is true—an incident that’s new We want to hear from you—send it in, Don’t wait a month to do it—send it in, Don’t let ’em beat you to it—send it in, Something serious or a jest—just Whichever you like best— The Ed. will do the rest—send it in. K. K. Little daubs of powder, Little spots of paint, Make a lovely lady. Look like what she ain’t. K. K. Rita—“I told dad that Robert was the mark of all my affection.” Georgia—“And what did dad do then?” Rita—“He toed the mark.” —Selected. K. K. Willie says—“A man is a person split half-way up and who walks on the split half.” K.K. It’s rude for a man to fall asleep when his wife is talking—but he has to sleep sometime. K.K. A man in the hills of Ky. Is said by his friends to be ly., When he gets in a feud, If he has a large breud Of sons who can shoot and are ply-sel. “And now, Johnny,” said the teacher, “Can you tell me what is raised in Mexico?” “Aw, go on,” replied the bright boy. “I know what you want me to say, but my ma told me I shouldn’t talk rough.” K. K. It was about five o’clock of a cold, wintry morning in France when a troop train pulled into the station. A disconsolat-aoughboy leaned out the window and accosted an M. P. “What in heck is the name of this dirty, dinkey, low-down, blinkety-blankety hole in hades?” he demanded. “That’s near enough, buddy,” replied the dejected arm-band. “That’s near enough—Let her go at that.” K.K. Rastus—“Keep yo head down, big boy, hyah comes a German division.” Solomon (peeking out)—“Division! Dat ain’t no division. Dat’s multumplication!” K. K. They were talking about tall men, and each upheld the honor of his division. “Why,” said Private Pink, “There’s a man in our division who lights his cigarettes from lamp posts.” “Huh,” retorted Slim Sloan, “That’s nuthin’. We got a corporal so tall he has to kneel down to put his hands in his pants pockets.” K. K. 0 wad some power the giftie gie ’em To see their legs as others see ’em It wad frae mony a short shikts free ’em And foolish notion That toothpicks and piano legs Inspire devotion. K. K. A man is not old until he quits looking. (Continued on Page 20)

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16 THE SPECTATOR From this cabin I set out one day with two companions for a reconnoitering tour taking along only a homing pigeon with which to communicate with my companions in case of emergency. I intended to be gone but a few hours, so took no provisions. We proceeded swiftly, noting the signs of wild life about us, the vegetation, the ice formation; in fact everything which later might be of benefit to the scientists who awaited the result of our expedition. We had gone possibly five miles, when, without the slightest warning a terrific storm arose, accompanied by sleet and hail of the worst sort. Within five minutes we had lost our bearings entirely. It steadily grew colder, and when the chill began to penetrate my clothing, I knew that something must be done, and that quickly, lest we be frozen. I thought of the pigeon, and fumbled in my coat for paper and pencil, to discover, to my horror, that I had neither. A moments reflection, however, convinced me that it could make no difference, for in this cold a bare hand would stiffen and freeze before a word could be written. I knew that another plan must be adopted. Two heads are better than one, so I turned and shouted to my companions. Not one sound reached them, for the words, frozen dropped to the ground—I stooped and picked up several, examining them curiously. They weighed practically nothing, and suddenly I saw the way out of our difficulty. I found that when words were spok- en quickly, they froze together, and issued in a continuous stream from the mouth, much like the tape from a stock ticker. I took our pigeon from the case (we fed him continually on red-hot whiskey, to prevent his freezing) and fastened several words to his leg. Then I began talking as fast as possible, hooking the first word of the string over one of those previously fastened, where it immediately froze. Then I let the pigeon go, and as he climbed kept the string of words coming, with the result that as he flew, a line of conversation joined us. After a lapse of fifteen minutes, during which I talked continuously, the line slackened, by which I knew that the pigeon had reached his cote. We then simply followed the line, rolling it up as we went, and within an hour we were safely at the cabin, where we put in an enjoyable time listening to my oration as I fed it into the fire and thawed the words out. I had given Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, Patrick Henry’s “Liberty or Death”, and Macbeth’s Soliloquy, and was half through “Casey at the Bat” when the line reached the cabin. We found the words to average in length, about a foot per syllable, from which data mathematical students may compute the exact distance which we had gone from the cabin. Within the near futux-e I hope to publish a scientific treatise concerning my observations of this truly remarkable phenomenon. —JOSEPH A. BREIG. (To be continued) AN INDIAN LEGEND N the moons of long ago the little Indian children had to find their way alone from their mothers’ arms to the Land of Sleep. Sometime they grew frightened at the noises of the night and lost their way in the darkness. They missed the daylight sounds— singing birds, whispering leaves, and running water; and they stumbled over roots and stones. The Great Spirit was sad because the smallest children could not find their way to the Land of Sleep. So he went to the Moon Mother and asked her for some tiny stars. When she granted his request, he took the stars down from the Sky Road that leads to Mother Earth, and at the end of the journey he gave wings to each little star. After that, when the little Indian children went from their mothers’ arms to the Land of Sleep the Stars—With Wings flew ahead of them to show them the way. They made a happy company on the road to the Land of Sleep. The little Stars— with Wings led the way, and the drowsy children ofllowed while high up in the sky the Moon Mother kept loving watch. One night when the company had reached the Land of Sleep one little child was missing. All the Stars-with-Wings went back to find him. The sun had gone to sleep behind the high mountains and the music of the day had stopped—only the West Wind softly singing an evening song. After a long search they found the child. He was lying fast asleep, snug and warm under a tall tree. Lying close by on the ground was a little Star-with-Wings. The Indian children loved the Stars-with-Wings better after this. At twilight you may see in the meadows the Star-with-Wings or the Will-of-the-Wisp guiding some drowsy little child to the Land of Sleep.-LILLIAN BLACK, ’23.

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18 THE SPECTATOR “You didn’t know who I was this morning!” “No? Who were you?” K. K. Many 100'A Americans seem to be making an unpatriotic choice between the flag and the flagon. —Selected. K. K. One of the great surprises (and disappointments) of a football game is that the cheer-leaders never seem to get injured. K. K. Now that the flapper is disappearing and takes shorts skirts and bobbed hair with her, we must look for something else on which, to blame everything. K. K. Of course the United States would fall into decay without Lady Diana, Clemenceau, Andy Gump, and others to tell us how to run it. K. K. Why should America be especially selected as the stamping-ground for every wildeyed orator who has a new (?) idea. K. K. The Congress of Vienna was one of the most unfortunate happenings which ever afflicted humanity. The monocle was introduced at this gathering. K. K. In Raratonga, the most popular of the Cook Islands, a cocoanut tree is planted for each year of each child’s life until old enough to plant for himself. K. K. If every inhabitant of America should plant one tree, or raise one flower, or place one statue, per year, what a Utopia America would become. K. Iv. A boil in the kettle is worth two on the neck. K. K. “There will one day spring from the brain of science a machine or force so terrible in its potentialities, so absolutely terrifying, that even the man, the fighter, who will brave torture and death in order to inflict it, will be appalled, and so will abandon war forever”, said Thomas A Edison in a recent interview. K. K. Edison should know, but in our opinion there is no terror demoralizing enough to stop man in the heat of battle. We believe that not fear, nor legislation, nor persuasion, nor anything but good old fashioned love of fellow-man will ever stop war and its consequences. K. K. A fearless judge takes speeders to the hospitals and the morgues to view victims of auto carelessness. If a few of these speeders were in asylums for the mentally unsound, the world would benefit. K. K. We’re away ahead of a Monarchy. They have no choice of their rulers. We can take any one of two. K. K. Color-blindness is not uncommon, but blue and yellow are two colors no one is blind to, say scientists. Did traffic cops of failing eyesight have anything to do with the making of the 1023 auto licenses blue and gold. K. K. More men are color-blind than women. Men aren’t used to handling delicate shades of paint. K. K There are dry goods clerks who wish more women were color-blind. K. Iv. The teacher was illustrating words ending with “ous”. He gave as examples: venturous—full of venture; hazardous—full of hazard; then he asked the pupils to give some. Willie’s hand sought the rarefied regions and upon being recognized answered triumphantly “Pious, full of pie”. K. K. Germany wants to mark the allies. K. K. Some of the big guns were silenced on that November II, but others at once began work on their memoirs.