Warren G Harding High School - Echoes Yearbook (Warren, OH)

 - Class of 1938

Page 107 of 154

 

Warren G Harding High School - Echoes Yearbook (Warren, OH) online collection, 1938 Edition, Page 107 of 154
Page 107 of 154



Warren G Harding High School - Echoes Yearbook (Warren, OH) online collection, 1938 Edition, Page 106
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Warren G Harding High School - Echoes Yearbook (Warren, OH) online collection, 1938 Edition, Page 108
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Page 107 text:

The CAULDRON Nineteen Thirty-eight WELL-MATCHED Dennis Madden, Eleventh Grade The hot August sun beat down mercilessly on the bronzed backs of the two boys. They were engaged in a hard-fought tennis match, and as usual, their well-matched games kept the score very even. In the far court, Iohnny Watson prepared to serve. Using his pet stroke, which he had affectionately named the Cannonball twist , he finally took the point and the game. Bill Thompson, his opponent and friendly com- petitor for many years, picked up two balls, and together the boys walked from the sun- baked court. Nice match, commented Bill, as he pulled on his shirt. Another of those close sets that X are hard to lose, came the reply. the Lakeview Country Club that Iohn- ny and Bill were perhaps as evenly matched in tennis and in everything else as two boys could be. ger score takes her to the dance, see? I feel pretty good today. That date's as good as sewed up. Better arrange to let me have the big car that night, will yuh, dad? I guess that can be fixed if you win the date, replied his father. Gee, that's swell! concluded Iohnny, as he grabbed his racket and balls and started for the Country Club. When lohnny arrived at the courts, he found Madge there talking very earnestly with Skinny Holloway. Bill had just arrived. Bill won the toss, and elected to play Madge last, figuring that she would be tired after the first match L A and would fall easy prey to his siz- What happened that afternoon is now Country Club history. Iohnny came hcme after the match and stayed in his room until it was tt , Qi .ij It was almost a tradition around V .- za zling drives. V -fx I guess I pay for the cokes this time, Iohnny. That's right. I sure enjoy a hard game of tennis, but the part I like is coming back into this cool clubhouse. Over their tinkling glasses the two youths chatted boyishly about topics of the day. Their conversation drifted quite naturally to a dance to be held the following week. Are you dated up yet, Bill? inquired Iohnny, sipping the last bit from his glass. No, I've been sorta waiting around to ask that new girl, Madge Pearson. Say, I know her, replied the other. In fact, I was thinking about asking her my- se1f. I tell yuh what we'll do, proposed Bill. We'll each play her a set of tennis, and the one who beats her worse can take her. Oh, boy! You're on, enthusiastically answered Iohnny. We'll go see her now and arrange the day. The two boys suited their actions to their Words and arranged to play the next day. We'll flip a coin to see who plays her first, explained Bill, as they struggled home in Maggie , the old Chevy, which the boys owned mutually. The next morning at the breakfast table, Iohnny was just finishing his description of the set-up to the family. -And the one who beats her by the big- time for lunch. He walked dejectedly into the dining room, and seated him- self at the table next to his father, who was regarding him with a humorous twinkle in his eye. Well, son, he asked, how did you make out with your match? Did you get the date? lohnny continued toying with his salad and didn't answer for a long moment: then he explained in a low, shame-filled voice, No, I didn't get the date. So Bill won the bet and got the date, did he? Nah, he didn't get the date either. You see, Madge beat both of us 6-0, and she's going to the dance with Skinny Holloway. TO A PEN Iohn Martin, Tenth Grade You write the words declaring war On nations you've disclaimed. You send men far away to fight- For these you should be blamed. You sign a truce to end a war, Bring peace Where war was blazed. An arbitration pact you sign- For these you should be praised. When I have just a little time To waste, that I'll not miss, You help me write a verse or two- Should you be blamed for this? 103

Page 106 text:

The CAULDRON Nineteen Thirty-eight GERM CITY Alice Knappenberger, Twelfth Grade Down deep in my mother's jaw, near the bone, where a tooth used to be, is a colony of germs. About a week ago these little devils found a cozy spot, down between the roots of a tooth and began to build a colony. The carpenters of the group began to build homes, and each time a nail was driven, mother felt more pain. These little germs had automobiles and conceived the idea of running them along the nerves in her jaw: after all, that saved them the trouble of building highways. lust when the houses were completed, a terrible earthquake swept over Germ City : when the survivors regained consciousness, they discovered that their shelter, the roots of the tooth, was gone. The brave hellians were not discouraged by this catastrophe and immediately began to rebuild. Now Germ City is complete, and last night the germs celebrated by having a dance, with Backy Goodman and his painsters furnishing the music. They really had a hilarious time, because they wandered away from Pain-More Inn and went up to Ear-Drum Tavern to do the Big Apple. It seems that the longer they danced, the more they swung it: and if you think that it is fun, having about fifty million germs doing the Suzy Q on your ear drum, just ask my mother. I certainly hope that these devils have worn themselves out by dancing all night so that tonight they'll take a rest and get a good sleep, or better yet, that they are so tired they'll just die from exhaustion. May the Germ City crumple, never to be felt again. THE NEWSY Dorothy Barlow, Twelfth Grade In the gray dusk of a November day, I sat in a cozy little tea room, and looked out upon a wet and woebegone world. It was raining -a fine drizzling rain, which the wind grad- ually whipped into a stinging Wet snow. People were scurrying along the glistening walks, their heads bent against the biting blast of the wind. They had but one thought in mind-shelter. Leaves, papers, and other refuse were lying in the gutters. On the pavement, puddles began to widen into min- iature lakes, through which the pedestrians splashed. Dripping umbrellas bobbed up and down in the jostling crowd, and street lights exhaled a feeble pool of light, which was immediately blotted out by the murky twilight. A little newsboy paused in front of the window and blew upon his benumbed fin- gers. His soggy cap was pulled down over his ears, and under one arm was tucked a bundle of newspapers, wet and bedraggled. He wore a sodden jacket, that had once boasted of being an olive green, but which was now faded into a muddy yellow, with dark streaks here and there. One leg of his tattered knickers had slipped down over a broken shoe. He turned and looked wistfully in the window of the tea room, and tried in vain to pucker his lips in a nonchalant whistle. His big brown eyes were fixed long- ingly on our table, but he didn't seem to see us. A tear sparkled in his eye for an instant, then rolled down his cheek, mingling with the raindrops. He caught my gaze and started abruptly. He tugged at his cap, jam- med one hand into his pocket, and swag- gered away into the milling crowd. IRISH EYES lane Martz, Twelfth Grade When eyes of laughing, Irish blue Made from a piece of Heaven's hue Dance with naughty, impish glee, Sure, they steal the heart of me. Whether a tear they hold, or smile, They have the power to beguile. Within their depths, disguised, there lies A tiny glimpse of Paradise. 102 A MELODY Birdie Mae Hostetler, Tenth Grade The sun's bright rays, with dazzling light, When shining on the sea so bright, Are beautiful, a melody To echo through eternity. A picture to treasure, ne'er grow old, And richer in value than silver or gold, Is the clear white sails on that summer sea, A picture, a treasure, a melody.



Page 108 text:

The CAULDRON Nineteen Thirty-eight THE Y's TAG fNoIe: Tag is a beautiful cocker spaniel that is known to everyone who frequents the Y. W. C. AJ Peggy Moran, Eleventh Grade Somebody's coming. I'll put on my best Sunday manners. She will be sure to notice a nice dog like me, then. Hmmm-, that rattling of paper doesn't sound so good to me. It's that laundry man again. I guess I'l1 have to get down and bark. Bow-wow! Well, thank goodness he's gone and won't be back for another week. Will you look at those unruly children? Now, if I were actually resting, I just wouldn't stand for their boisterous talking. Humph, one of them is beckoning to me. Well, I just won't go. Now those ladies look as though they were going to do some business.-Well, anyway, you might call it a committee meeting, even if they did only buy some candy. Oh, oh, there's my Missus comin' up the walk. I'll wait by the door for her. Wonder if she remembered to get my supper? I'm about due to have raw egg beaten up in milk, 'cause she says that's good to keep my coat nice. But I don't like it very well, 'cause it doesn't till me up enough. I hope it's liver tonight, or else hamburger and carrots. Now, under which radiator did I leave my ball? I want her to throw it so that I can run after it. Of course, putting my nose down on the floor is rather dirty business some- times, but l'll just have to do it in order to find my ball. Whoops! Here it is. Oh, Mis- sus, please may I have my ball? Right here it is under this heater. That's it. Now, throw it. Oh, boy, I'm off! Apply the brakes. I'm near the fatal spot. Now to hold the ball in my mouth until I get back. Ah, perfect tim- ing. Missus, I'm worn out. Will it be all right if I take a little snooze? Say, Missus, are you going out again? What? I can't go with you? Oh, my! Once I jes' thought The world was great, But now I'm sure that 'tisn't, 'Cause you has gone To where I ain't And left me where you isn't. C les' Missin' You, by Gibson! WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS --- Irma Kymalainen, Twelfth Grade The road rambled on through the forest, and soon a log cabin sprang into view through the foliage of stately conifers and gentle birches. I greeted the sight with child- ish joy, and why shouldn't I? There on the threshold of the cabin sat my grandfather- and I had traveled five thousand miles to see him. Twinkling blue eyes in a well-worn face greeted me. He was as staunch as an old oak tree-and so obliging in a shy way. The rest of the household, including my aunt, my uncle, and their eleven children, ranging from two to seventeen years, re- garded mother and me with a thoroughly polished curiosity. People coming from America were rare, and wide-eyed interest grew rapidly in the adjacent villages and farms. That evening when my grandfather had his trustworthy pipe puffing away the cares of the world, neighbors began to come in to see the Ameriikalaisia fthe Americansll. The questions that were asked amazed me. Imagine! They wanted to know if we had 104 cheese and buttermilk in America! Did we have brown bread in America? Yes, indeed, Mother told them: we had brown and white bread. White! they gasped. All white? That passed over like a wave of doubt. Sweet Grandpa sat in silence for a long time and then decided to change the subject by saying, Are the waves on the ocean really as big as a man? Yes, came the answer from Mother. She hated to horrify him by saying that they were many times bigger than a man. This was greeted with heads that swayed in dismay and lips that whistled out exclamations of wonder. Finally, a man that had been sitting in the corner, unnoticed and listening to the ques- tions and answers most carefully, ventured forth with, Do you live way at the edge of the world, then? This was almost too much, but Mother an- swered, Yes. By the look in their eyes Mother thought, O, goodness, I guess they thing our feet hang over the edge! But she didn't bother to explain, for, Where ignor- ance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise!

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