Walkerville Collegiate Institute - Blue and White Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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BLUE AND WHITE cars. These small, dusty trains may be going to Cairo, Alexandria or Palestine. They consist of a series of small com¬ partments, each accommodating six or eight persons. Four unfortunates must ride backwards while the remainder put up with the results of the engine smoke pouring through the window. Woe to the thoughtless tourist who has appeared in spotless white linen. In Ceylon one has not even the con¬ venience of a train. Europeans who visit Colombo and who wish to visit the tea plantations at Kandy are driven out in long black hearse-like cars, which almost turn over at every corner. If one wishes to see the city only, there are rickshaws in abundance, waiting to be hired. These vehicles are drawn by thin brown Ind¬ ians who do not appear strong enough to pull a toy wagon, much less a rick¬ shaw containing a well-fed Englishman! They are, however, anxious to be hired and because of this the tourist forgives himself for his apparent cruelty. After being jostled and bumped about the countryside in such novel ways, one is pleasantly surprised to find modern hotels, refreshing, cool and clean, in most Oriental cities. Weary travellers are met at the door of a Cairo hotel by a swarm of coolies who seize all the bag¬ gage in sight and carry it triumphantly to the tourist’s rooms. The b°drooms and sitting rooms are decorated in nale, cool colours and. during the heat of the day, the shutters are closed. A few mo¬ ments after arrival one is surprised to hear a knock at the door and to see a coolie entering with a tray bearing tink¬ ling glasses of ice cold lime juice. What a reward for a day busily spent! Hotels of Palestine and Svria stand out in contrast to those of Egvot. Es¬ pecially in Syria, as one climbs the Leb¬ anon mountains in late afternoon, a gra¬ dual coolness is felt. Mt. Hermon in the distance shows its can of snow to make travellers forget the heat of the valley. The inns are small, res°mbl’ng over¬ sized cottages more than hotels. Tour¬ ists must find their own way in, look a- round for the manager, and secure rooms. No lime juice is offered, nor is it necessary, as the temperature has fallen considerably. There are no shutt¬ ers or even screens on the windows, but the beds are heavily draped with mos¬ quito netting. Women who live in these fascinating lands have ideas about clothing which would make a European lady’s hair stand on end. Whereas the latter arrive in the Orient with fashionable, expens¬ ive dresses, presumably to impress the natives, the former are oblivious to fa¬ shion and often even to cleanliness. The higher the temperature the more cloth¬ ing they wear, until they almost resem¬ ble small mountains moving slowly along. Their faces are covered with thin, flowered veils so that their faces may not be seen by the public. The men are just as picturesque as the ladies are drab. Arabs from the country wear long, white robes, sandals and flowing white headgear, held on bv a black rope, wound around the head. Underneath the head-dress is a piece of red flannel which seems to protect the wearer from sun stroke. Men of the towns wear either grey or roddish trousers, with coats to match. Many of them try to imitate the Engl¬ ish, though their own dress is more practical. Their heads are covered bv tar-booshes, which are brimless, red felt cans, with silk tassels at the side. To compensate for the heat of the Or¬ ient, its charm is breath-taking. Day dawns soon after 4 a.m. and, from a train one can make a shadowy camel caravan crossing the sand in the dim¬ ness. The heat of the dav is made gay with th cries of the street-vendors call¬ ing out thei wares in many tongues; or one mav enioy a quiet hour of siesta in a darkened room. The night is a time of enchantment. Stillness reigns and palm trees silhou¬ ette thpmselves against a sky more beautiful than any one can imagine. La¬ zy fishermen loll against their graceful boats, wh’le from somewhere across the 1 •ater a deep-toned bell tolls a call to i prayer. W{ er so ex on th at a al is st 2C tl dl ri w v b; ir a y t d V a c fi n t e c t 8 C i t 1 ( I Page Thirty

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BLUE AND WHITE OUR JUNIOR HOCKEY TEAM Let’s give a cheer for our hockey team, The hockey kings of the realm; What prowess they showed as to victory they rode With a capable coach at the head. With might and with main take up the refrain, The Walkerville champions still be praising; Recall with a thrill their bountiful skill, Their record of victories amazing. So strike up the band and give a big hand To the lads who brought home the bacon. May their place in the sun be second to none, And their memory never forsaken. ROSS WALTON, 12D. At The Ball Park “Put it down the groove” we heard him say, Out at the ball park, one sunny day. The pitcher pitched a wide, high curve, But the catcher said, “Of all the nerve, I told you to put it right down here, And not where the ball would scratch my ear.” The pitcher saw red but, of course, ’twas a fit, And could be credited to nothing but it! The catcher and pitcher then started to boil, And it looked as if it might end in a coil; But then came the umpire and soon cooked their goose, By persuading them to cool off in the “hoose”. BILL McNAUGHTON, 9E. If I were Queen of Babylon, I’d wear a splendid silver gown; I’d never dust, nor sew a seam . . . On golden sands I’d lie and dream! Slave-girls would do my bidding then— I’d never work at school again. If I grew tired of all this play, I’d let my sister rule one day. DOROTHY WOODS, 9E. TO A GIRL Tall she stood and fair Like a Grecian goddess of old, With her pale golden hair Tumbling softly about in folds. Deep in her eyes there glowed An unquenchable fire That leaped and flowed And clambered higher and higher. Stately and proud she carried herself Down the long, straight road; Onward she moved, nor tarried, And soon she reached her goal. BOB GREEN. On My Future When I consider how r my days are spent In this large structure that is called a school, I wonder if, some day, I will resent These days spent under very lenient rule. For when I leave to face the big wide world, Where life is cruel and taxes often high, I’ll think of all the joy I saw unfurled And all the friends I sadly bade good¬ bye. I will not think my knowledge useless then, As I do now while I am writing this; For who know? I may not, like the rest, Complete my life in a state of wedded bliss. And if, in years, I am a real success, I’ll thank this school for so much happiness. RACHEL CORNETT Travel in The Orient The best and only way to enjoy a trip to the Orient is to be prepared for an entirely different life. For example, a Canadian must not forget that he is liv¬ ing in a modern century and travel back to the past. There are many things for which he must prepare himself. Oriental modes of travel are an educ¬ ation in themselves. Passengers disem¬ barking from fast luxury liners at Port Said are humbled at once by being driv¬ en to their trains in open springless Page Twenty-nine

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BLUE AND WHITE We Westerners are fortunate in many ways, living as we do in our ultra-mod¬ ern land, but without doubt we miss something which is found in these old, exotic countries. We have speed, econ¬ omy and invention, but they have a thrilling beauty, an ancient charm, and at the close of day, peace. LOUISE ARMERDING, 4B. A Tight Spot My job is that of radio announcer for a very small station in a small town. I also serve as advertising manager, ass¬ istant engineer, telephone operator, stenographer and general repairman. In addition to all this, I run the phonograph turntable. One of my most unpleasant duties is sitting un all night, three rights a week, playing swing records which are requested. I am the fellow who says “This program comes to you by means of electrical transcription”— in other words, “We are going to play a bunch of old phonograph records for you”. There is another guy at the station. He is the owner and chief engineer, and does all my duties when I’m not there. We don’t have an easy time of it like announcers in large stations do. We can’t just sit around and announce every fifteen minutes. Whenever we aren’t an¬ nounci ng, we have to type letters, wea¬ ther reports, news, advertising script or else we have to solicit advertising. One evening we were carrying a lovely opera from New York. There must have been a bad storm raging along the way some place, because the telephone line carrying the program was blown down and the program went off. I got up to the mike and said: “Due to conditions beyond our control, we are forced to dis¬ continue this program. We now bring you a transcribed musical interlude.” That is the way they do it on all the big stations, so that’s how I had to say it. Most p°or l ' 1 would have understood me better if I h d sa ' d: “The wire can¬ ning this program broke, so we will play some records for you”. I got un and went over to the turn¬ table, put on a record, and turned it on. There was silence—absolute silence. I tried to shake it into action, but to no avail; the turntable just wouldn’t turn. There was nobody at the mike and I couldn’t leave the station in silence while I tried to fix the turntable motor, so I walked back, desperately trying to think of something to say. First I said “Due to more conditions beyond our control, we are not able to present the transcribed musical inter¬ lude”. Then I looked out of the window at the weather conditions and gave the audience a hastily- formed weather re¬ port.. Next, I looked at my watch and ■ave the audience the correct eastern standard time, but the trouble was that 1 think mv watch was five or ten min¬ utes fast. In desperation, I started dis¬ cussing the European situation, a sub¬ ject of wh’ch I know little or nothing. I was finally going to give up and tell the listeners exactly what happened, when I remembered that I had some commercials and news reports typed out. I left the mike for a momqpt to get them. For a seemingly endless ten min¬ utes, I read every bit of news—up-to- date news, state news, any kind of news, over the air. Then I began reading com¬ mercials. I plugged Lux soap, Luckies and Camels, and different brands of pat¬ ent medicines and home remedies all in the same breath. I think I was begin¬ ning to lose my loud and excited-sound¬ ing voice which all announcers have, in m der to rush their listeners into buying the product. Just then, I remembered the govern¬ ment restriction which prohibits adver¬ tising over three minutes in length. I decided to say goodnight to the audi¬ ence (if there was any audience left by this time), pull the main switch, and go home, when suddenly, the good old op¬ era came on again, loud and clear. Opera has always been the kind of music that I have hated most but I was certainly overjoyed to hear this one. I’m sure that I let out a “whew” that the mike picked up, but I didn’t have to worry about where the next words would come from. ART BLAKELY, 13B. Page Thirty one