Vandergrift High School - Spectator Yearbook (Vandergrift, PA)

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16 THE SPECTATOR SLUMMING T was the outcome of my Social Service visit to Grogan’s Alley that brings about this story. Jane and I always hated to visit this particular place, for of all our visits there seemed to be more heartache and misery in the tenements of this district than in all the others taken together, no matter how terrible they may be. I shuddered as we entered the alley. We soon separated, Jane to go her way and I, mine. My attention was soon attracted by a thoroughly drunken man. I noticed with pain, that he wore the dear old khaki of which we are all so familial-. I admit I was frightened but I decided to try to pass him. As he approached me I noticed his sunken eyes search my face with a look that I could not understand. I was astonished to see that he was very young and—well—handsome. I drew my coat more tightly about me as I attempted to pass him, but he would not have it that way. He caught at me, but I, having the advantage, on account of his condition, cleverly dodged him and fairly flew down the street. I hurried into a dirty hallway for my first visit. A pitiful cry floated to my ear as I walked down the hall. As I opened the door and gazed into the room I felt like turning my back on the misery within, but my duty called me and I calmly walked over to the bed where lay a woman. She was not over twenty-eight, but she looked so worn and haggard she might have been taken for forty. I greeted her cheerily but she only shook her head and turned away. I picked up the baby and began to quiet its crying. When I left that room an hour later both the occupants were sleeping peacefully and the room had a much better appearance. Thanks to my hour of faithful efforts! I gave a little happy sigh as I went my way. As I walked along the narrow hallway I heard footsteps of a person coming in my direction. In the dim light I recognized the young man of my encounter in the earlier part of the day. The sight of me seemed to quiet his nerves for I thought I could see some of the pain- leave his face. He spoke and then I realized he was sane and sober. My heart missed a beat. He seemed to understand my mystified look for he began to explain his conduct of our former meeting. He told of his endless search for work. His last resort had been gambling. He had been tricked into a game by a ring of crooks and, fortunately, he had won. The crooks had dragged him and stolen his winnings. When I met him he was suffering from the after effects of the drag and the pain had crazed him. He apologized for his actions, saying that he knew what he was doing but did not have the power to check himself. I forgave him and then he invited me to his home. After a moment of hesitation I accepted and followed him down the hall. He stopped before the door of the room I had just left. He opened the door and gave a little gasp of surprise when he saw the transformation of the room. He then bade me to sit down as he walked over to the bedside and lightly kissed the forehead of the sick woman. She opened her eyes and seemed relieved to find him home again. We then had a little three cornered talk and I discovered that the man was not her husband as I supposed him to be but her brother. The woman was a widow. I learned that before the war they had been accustomed to luxury, but the war had wiped away all their fortune. He liked business but had never had an opportunity to see what he could do, owing to the war. I determined then and there that he should have his chance for there were those few thousands that my father had left me waiting for a chance for a good investment like this. One year later as I entered a little store room, my eyes searched hungrily for the manager. Later as I sat in his neat little office, I smiled as I thought how closely related we soon would be. No, I did not marry Jack Kearns for what would a little crabby old maid like me want with such a young man as Jack? No, I was thinking of Jane, my niece, who was to marry Jack the next day and— I was contented! —Ethel Buckley, ’26.

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THE SPECTATOR 15 be at the front by midnight or we will never see home again. Everyone looked' in wonderment at one another until Jim broke the silence by saying that he would load it on his track and take it through immediately. Woi-k began to load the track. No argument was aroused as to who should drive the track through for Slim Jim was the only one capable of handling a loaded truck of this size through the almost impossible roads that led to the front. No time was wasted and Jim was soon in position in his truck for the perilous journey. Everyone was anxious to know who Jim would choose for his companion on this journey. He started the engine and gave a last look over the camp; then called out with a sturdy voice “Shorty.” In an instant a little short fellow, that made the company view the two as Mutt and Jeff, was sitting by his side. The truck moved off and a cheer of good luck went up as they left the camp. Onward they sped. For hours neither spoke a word to each other. Finally Jim said, “Shorty, this truck must reach the front and one of us or both of us must see it through.” Silence was again between the two. The only sound was the roar of the powerful engine of the track and the continual almost deafening roar of the guns, and the shells exploding near by. Jim all at once jammed on the brakes and checked the speed of the car just as a large shell passed and burst near by. “Whoo-oo” gasped Shorty, “that was a close one.” “Yes”, laughed Slim, “that’s close enough to this load of German Talcum Powder.” All went well till something happened to the truck. It stopped and in a place very uncomfortable to both boys for they were by this time nearing the front and the shells were bursting close at hand. Slim Jim leaped from the seat and immediately started to look over the engine while Shorty crawled under the track to see if he could locate the trouble and fix it. Soon both boys leaped into the seat and the truck started on its way. Not a minute too soon for a large shell burst in the spot in which the car had stopped. Shorty looked at Slim, patted him on the back and said, “Stick to it, Slim, we’re almost there.” After these words Shorty dropped from his seat dead. He had been hit with a piece of flying shrapnel. Slim also got a piece in the right arm putting it out of use. He still pressed on harder than ever though very weary both from the loss of a friend and partner and from the lack of blood that was gushing from his wound. Almost exhausted and very weak he came in sight of the dug-out that was to receive the powder. With new spirit and hopes he pressed the track to its utmost. Soon he reached the trenches and brought the truck to a halt, just as a piece of shrapnel struck the front end of the huge truck. Slim Jim fell helpless to the ground. He was immediately picked up by some soldiers that were coming to meet him. Jim came to some hours later and found himself in one of the cots of the Red Cross quarters from which he had started. His first words to his companions who had gathered around him were, “Did I get there in time?” The answer to this was the pinning of a medal on him by the captain who said that Jim had saved the day. —Kenneth Smith, ’24. TONY AND AMERICA OU know Tony; he’s one purty nice boy. He go fight for America; he ketch nice suit and gun, he go kick German man and knock the stuffing out. Tony he write home, he says he dig zee trench. He says he talk zee French. He says he fight little bit, eat little bit, and take zee prisoner. Tony he say German shoot and hit Tony in the leg. Tony he go to hospital; Tony says there nice nurse and he hate to get well; but he say U. S. best country on earth and he be glad to fight some more Germans for Uncle Sam. Then he says he marry nice French girl and start fruit stand. Tony says he bring back piece of Kaiser’s mustache and frame it. Tony he one nice boy. I’m his papa. —James Ruth, ’28.

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THE SPECTATOR 17 JOHNNY—A HERO sn |OHN Wilson, Jr., was very angry. Just at the beginning of a game of “Hare and Hound”, his mother called him from his pals. Johnny went, scowling and grumbling to where his mother stood. “Johnny, dear”, began mother, “run down to the store and get me some vanilla and I will give you a nickel.” “Don’t want to go,” said Johnny sourly. For a while mother coaxed but when Johnny appeared obstinate, she lost her patience with him and said, “Now, young man, you march down to that store and get what I said and then you can stay in the house for the rest of the evening.” At bedtime Johnny stalked to his room and there made the terrible resolve to run away. Taking his little bank and slipping on his coat, he opened his window and stepped out on the balcony. He swiftly climbed over the railing and slid down the rainspout. What should he do? Johnny sat down on the steps to think. At last he decided to take a last visit to the state bank and look at his beloved statue of Lincoln. As he drew near the bank, he was surprised to see three men silently open the back door of the bank and dart in. Johnny thought this strange so he quietly tip-toed to the door and peeped through the crack. He drew back, astonished and dismayed, for he had seen the men open the largest vault and go in. At last he ventured to look again. He could not see the men but he could hear them move the papers around and whisper. Johnny stood for a time in thought and then crept away. As fast as his fat little legs could carry him, he ran until he arrived at the door of the police station and kicked the door with all his might. One of the night police opened the door. Johnny hurriedly told his story. The officers consulted together a few minutes and concluded that there might be some truth in the child’s story, but how did he happen to see the men? Johnny told the policemen that he had started to run away. Starting immediately for the bank, tne men and the boy reached it by the way of a dark alley. Going to the door, they looked in, to see several sachels full of money, bonds, and the like. Then the policemen waited in the shadows until finally the burglars came out of the bank. Suddenly the thieves found themselves surrounded by officers of the law, who demanded surrender. Two quickly put up their arms, but the third whipped out a revolver, shooting as it came out of his pocket. The bullet sailed unerringly into Johnny’s arm. The last thing Johnny remembered was being lifted carefully from the ground where he had fallen. The next morning, mother read the head lines of the daily paper to him: SMALL BOY MADE HERO BY SAVING THE STATE BANK “O, mother,” cried Johnny happily, as he put his uninjured arm about her neck, “Ain’t you glad I got mad at you?” —Virginia Young, ’28. A MODERN DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE — -.1 HEN, in the course of High School life, it becomes necessary for the jjgOTj students to disso've the paternal bands which have connected them with the most exacting faculty, and to assume among the intellectual powers of the world an equal station, to which the laws of nature and intellect entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of learned critics requires they should declare the causes which compels them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident:— That all men are created equally brilliant: that they are endowed by the school board with certain unalienable rights: that among these are freedom of whispering, chewing gum, and day dreaming. We, the Seniors of V. H. S. feel that by right of the long train of abuses and indignities that we have endured from the faculty for the past three years, we may throw off their control over our daily lives, and institute a student government, which shall give those privileges which we feel are due us. The history of the reign of the present