Waco High School - Daisy Chain Yearbook (Waco, TX)

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pronounced my name very distinctly. This sound seemed to break the spell, and l wheeled around to discover from whence it came. There was not a soul standing close to me. Even the spectral doorkeeper had dropped back against the wall at the sound of that voice pronouncing my name. Taking for granted that my name was really all that he wanted of me, I fixed my attention on the rest of the people in the large room which l had entered. There was the most curious, novel, and altogether motley conglom- eration of beings that l had ever seen gathered together in one place. And those people! l-low unusual they seemedl Or were they people at all? They had the shape and size of ordinary human beings, but they hardly had the aspect of natural, everyday people. There was something lacking. Their faces were real and animated enough, although not beyond comment, as some of them were gesticulating strangely. Finally l hit upon the difference. They were not substantiall They were shadowy, and by straining my eyes l could even see through theml Ghosts. Again my teeth chattered and once more fear crept over me. l was just be- ginning to wonder if I couldn't shrivel up and hide somewhere when l heard something that made my head swim. Imagine how l felt. It was like coming from the darkest of tunnels into the brightest of sunlight. Someone was singing that song. It dicln't matter that his voice was shaky and hollow. The mere words were enough to give me new life. But, l thought, what on earth was he doing singing that ditty in this terrible place? Well, by cracky, look who's here! l jumped and turned around to see the grinning countenance of Royston Haney! An old classmate of mine back in my high school days. l certainly felt relieved to see someone whom at least l could feel at home with. i'But, Royston, where on earth are we, and what are you and all these other people doing here, and how and when and why did they bring me here, and by all means tell me who that was singing that song? l-le laughed a laugh that sent shivers through me, but that was meant to be a merry one. More puzzles. One question at a time, he protested. ln the first place I'll tell you where we are. We are not on earth at all. We are in that region that has no name. This houseboat is the place of the court of judgment where mortals are judged before they are taken to their Final destination. All these people here are merely awaiting their turn to be judged in that adjoining room there. Here he pointed to a door that was entirely black. h Then that explains the reason why they all look so weird and phantom- like. They are not people at all, but only ghosts. He laughed again. You are confusing your pronouns. You should say we instead of they. l realized this mystery had not yet been solved. I ques- tioned him further. But who in the name of all that's reasonable was that singing that song a few minutes ago? Why, .couldn't you see who that was? Or perhaps you wouldn't have known him anyway. Why, that was our old friend, lsadore Adelman. He used to be a fruit vender and entertained his patrons with that song. But you haven't yet told me the name of that dark and dismal water- way out there. PAGE TWENTY NINE

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I' Mid-Year Class Prophecy GQ! X69 T was a dark, dull and soundless night. The atmosphere held a pecul- fi' iar tenseness and warmness difficult to define or describe. If it was summer, the air was vibrant with none of those peculiar noises which are to be heard on any calm and peaceful summer night. ' l l looked overhead and there were no stars. There was no wind. Darkness held illimitable dominion over all. l held out my hands. l could see them but nothing else. Where was I? l seemed to be sitting or rather reclining in something which was, with- out a doubt, in motion. l endeavored to arouse myself and sharpen my senses. Lol l heard a small but regular splashing sound and an infinitely small click-click immediately afterwards. Evidently then, l was in a boat. But on what nocturnal voyage was l being taken unknowingly and unwitting- ly? What River of Silence was this that l was on? There seemed to be a hushing influence in its very flow. No murmur arose from its bed. l called out to question my pilot ffor surely l must have one of some kindl. There was no answer. Nothing but this all engulfing blackness. It was a mystery all insoluble. The mournful influence of the unseen was forcefully as- serting itself upon me. There was a tightening of the senses. A dull, cold chill spread over me. There could be but one explanation. Death, in approach- ing me, had stalked with his black shadow before me, and enveloped his vic- tim. I was overpowered by an intense sentiment of horrow, unaccountable yet unendurable. How long this state of uncertainty continued, l cannot say. But finally l saw at a seemingly great distance away, a feeble gleam of imprisoned light. And before l could even begin to wonder what it was the boat stopped. l was assisted by invisible hands CI could not feel them, but knew only that a force was compelling me to step out of the boatl, right into this patch of dim illumination. l stepped on some steps, and as l did so they swayed gently beneath me. l knew then that l must have been entering a houseboat of some sort. But just as l had crossed the threshold, a detaining hand was placed upon my arm. l turned and saw at my side a figure, the sight of which benumbed my very organs of thought. lt was impossible to connect its ghastly expression with any idea of simple humanity. There was that cadaverousness of complexion, and that large, liquid and luminous eye which are associated only with the thought of spectral creatures. The garments that he wore seemed to float about him rather than cling to his person. ln a hollow voice, which served to intensify my fear the more, he asked, Your name? He was evidently a doorkeeper. My teeth were chattering and l was still unable to think. After a few seconds, which seemed like hours, l managed to say, l-I can't remember. At this answer he burst forth in unholy glee. Needless to say, I was ter- rified beyond expression. At that moment from somewhere nearby a voice Z.. , as ' -rf A . tr-,lf - - . PAGE TWENTY-EIGHT

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Why, that is the famous River Styx. You surely know what and where that river is supposed to be. l did, and my mind was instantly filled with gloomy conjectures. After I had been judged by that awful tribunal in there l would have to be rowed across to the other side of that terrible river. And after l arrived on the other side what would l find in store for me,-the land of eternal gladness and sunshine, or the land of eternal hotness, but not sunshine? But away with these dismal thoughts. l determined to pass the time as pleasantly as l might until l was called to be judged. And one of the best ways to do that, l soon found out, was to talk over old times. Royston, l said, have you any idea what has become of any of those old classmates of ours back there in old Waco Hi? He became interested at once. Well, let me see. l believe l know what has become of a great many of them. First of all thereis Stephen Flood. l am sure that he is known all over the nation as being one of the powers in the labor world. A leader of the National Bricklayers' Union, you remember. Yes, l replied. I remember him and l also know, of course, of Gail Hamilton, the scintillating star in the operatic world of today. There is Martha Torbett, too, who comes in this list, leading lady of the land when her husband, President Googow, was in office. Also Mae Ellen Bergstrom, president of the largest woman's college in the country, and Boone McReynlds, who held a world's record for speaking I4 hours in the Senate without taking a drink of water. But it is of some of those other worthies that l wish to hear. How about Poe Lovett, Pauline Adcock, Mary Alice Baker, Charles Saxon and Nick Mainer? Well now, Poe Lovett, I believe, is a power on Wall Street, a sort of magnate of finance l think they call him. You never hear of him in the papers because he is so modest and unassuming. Pauline Adcock, the last l heard of her was as an old maid school teacher. Mary Alice Baker won the giggling mara- thon in I930, thereby gaining international prominence. l am surprised you haven't heard of it. Charles Saxon was the power behind the throne who came very near electing W. Bryan in l936. Nick Mainer is beloved by a large congregation as a Baptist minister. l might just as well tell you about all those l can think of, since you seem to be so interested. Well, now, there's Greta Brister, Ruby Davis, Albina Farek, Lucille Keton, Ethel and Erna jackson, Ethel Kelly, and Thelma and Juanita Smith who have all united their means and ability in a noble enter- prise. They have established a million dollar home for homeless canaries. Then there's Lionel Ellis, the famous inventor, who made a fortune from his invention of a collapsible stepladder: and Joseph Weiser, a well known detective in his State. Arnold Wakefield, if my memory serves me right, was a book agent, and Womack Gillum made a tidy sum as a silver tonguecl soap salesman. And do you remember Eska Gage, one of the beauties of the class? She won fame on Broadway as one of the best of a pulchritudinous lot of of stars engaged in the fascinating art of high kicking. Allene Mahoney, another attractive member of our class, married an ltalian by the name of Count Spagettinzza, and the last l heard of her was that she was well known in the ltalian court circles. Speaking of court circles reminds me of another worthy classmate. Minnie Miller is who I am thinking of. She, soon after the completion of her high school course, studied to be a missionary. PAGE THIRTY