West Fulton High School - Wefuhian Yearbook (Atlanta, GA)

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We woke to a mild titillation, produced by a weak electric current that was in- stalled for the purpose of awakening pas- sengers. Our instruments showed that we were ap- proaching the speed of light, and we suffered from no malfunction in any department. We were unaware of motion. The ship glided through the ratified air, penetrating further and further into that infinite continuum. It was a strange and austere world outside the ship. Away from the sun, on the shaded side of the ship, were frigid temperatures far below zero. On the other side was a torrid and scorching deluge of direct sun rays, so that if a person should stand outside, he would be frostbitten on one side and severly burned on the other. Speed was only detect- able by our Doppler screen. The light from the stars changed colors as we increased in speed, due to somewhat of a compression of their waves. We left the atmosphere of the earth far behind and the ship reached for unimaginable distances. Time slowed down . . . almost stopping. ri f jf if I3 ,' if s PA C E R ADAMS E, BAnLEY -ff Jupiter, as opposed to the old idea, was the smallest planet in our solar system. What had been taken for its surface was nothing more than a layer of clouds and other light particles that had not fallen to the planet. It was in a similar state that our planet had gone through. This information I obtained from the learned astrophysicists Harold Har- mon and Lester Duckett. Jupiter, in recent years, had become the center of culture in our known parts of the universe. It had the gay, lighthearted atmos- phere of Montmartre in the ancient city of Paris-art studios, theatres, sidewalk cafes, and basement restaurants-and the erudite atmosphere of the intellectual circles of the Germans. The art studios of Nancy Adams and Patti Bailey had gained world renown. The artists had distinguished themselves with their creation of a new conception in paint- ing. Their profound creations were called paintings of infinite nothingnessf' The can- vasses appeared to be blank, but that was only their ostentatious appearance. They were filled with rich, flowing themes of nothing They had attained the ultimate in The landing on Mars was highly success- ful. Mars was to be the starting point for a study I was to make before starting my novel, Scared Old World. Hester was dis- missed until the next flight. The planet looked interesting and I took up my task with alacrity. The first city I visited was Betenbaugh- ville, named after its founder, Cecil Beten- baugh. It was a pleasant city with streams of mercury running down gently-flowing hills of plutonium storehouses, covered with dirt and made into mounds that approached the size of mountains. abstraction. There were always intellectual discussions and public forums in some part of the city. I attended one. The group was discussing the Feasibility of Finding Further Facts For Fomenting Friendships For Flowery Fe- males. Billy Burger, Editor of the Jupiter- nizm Sun, weekly newspaper, Karen Caswell, secretary of the Judy Kay Bartlett Bureau of Better Beauties, Brenda Bryant, trigono- metric genius, Wayne Allen, noted anthro- pologist, who once thought he had discov- ered the missing link, until Travis Hames came up with his ancestral tree, and Harriet Lee, local school superintendent, were the members of the panel. I left after Terrell The mayor of the town was Willie Ault- man. The city was divided into several pre- cincts, each with its aultman,-ah, alder- man. There was a conflict between the mayor and the aldermen about the price of oxygen for breathing. The aldermen had had a meeting with the mayor's Staff of Secre- taries, which was made up of Diane Pilgrim, Joyce Wright, Janice Austin, Jeri Ann Lan- ford, and Janice Federico. The aldermen, Shelby Sutton, Ronnie Haygood, Lynwood Massey, and Ronnie Hughes and the staff closed their meeting by adopting a resolution which stated: We, the aldermanic board, in conjunction with the mayor's Staff of Secretaries, hereby declare that we shall al- ways hold the opinion that the Earth moon is more romantic from this side. Bearden and his rescue squad was called in to untie everyone's tongue. I walked out with Richard Womack. He told me that he was an oil painter and that some of his works were on exhibition near- by. We walked to the gallery, which was just down the street. On display there were the sculptures of Marilyn Norton and Joan Putnam, mosaics of Ellen Holder and Mar- tha Ann Holley, and the ceramics of Myrna Thomas and Sue Wages. Next door to the gallery were the display rooms of the fashion designers, Betty Sue Horton, Faye Thackston, and June Sailors. Their creations set the vogue on the periph- ery of the solar system. I left the Civic Center, I wanted to meander about the city and study its indi- viduals. In my conversations I learned of one person, James Davis, who walked about with a leash as if a dog was attached to it, and he habitully uttered affectionate words fas one does to dogsj as he strolled along. I approached him and inquired on the matter. He replied: Lies-false, malicious, deleterious, sland- ering, caustic lies. Besides, it's a cat, he said as he leaned over and picked up his chimerical feline and caressed it fondly. I departed for Jupiter immediately. Because of the incasement of the canopy of clouds, the climate of Jupiter was tropi- cal. Walking around the city had drained me of energy, and as I was leaving the studios I noticed a reducing salon where I supposed one could get a cold bath and a rub down. The owner of the salon was Richard Cash whose remedy for obese Jupi- ternians was hardly more than laborious work. The owner and his assistants, Marvin Williams and Richard Cole, always told their customers about one person who had lost twenty-five pounds in one day. Kenneth Holder had exercised strenuously all day with weights, and when he stepped upon the scales, he registered forty pounds more than when he had started. fHe had been so anx- ious to see how much he had lost that he unknowingly stepped upon the scales with twenty pound weights in each hand.J His Weight loss was attributed to shock.

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I left the Physiological Conditioning room WANDERINGS OF A SPACEMAN I dip: into the future far as human eye can see, an hour before dawn. The night had been warm and humid and now it was raining. The rain felt cool to my face and hands in contrast with the discomfort I felt from my pressure suit. Saw the vision of the world and all the wonder that would be I stood outside the door of the Condition- Tennyson ing Center a moment looking into the sky. I had always been awed by its vastness and depth, and had never failed to be a bit ap- prehensive and excited before penetrating that depth. I always felt as a young boy does when he first receives his flying license -tense, but with a lightness in his stomach. I entered the monorail conveyor that was to transport me to the launching station. The car rushed over the four hundred yards in a few seconds, and as I stepped out, the awesome dimensions of my ship loomed be- fore me. Its metallic jacket glistened from the rain and the floodlights that were di- rected upon it. The nose would have been invisible, had it not been for the contrast that the sky, which had begun to lighten, provided. I felt a slight fear just looking at it. The ship was the zenith in inter- galactic transports. Its photon power plant produced 150,000 degrees Kelvin tempera- ture and supplied ample sectons to approach The instructor turned to me and said, I'm Mr. Hulsey, affectionately known as Bill. He chuckled as if he had said some- thing hilariously funny and said, This is Steve Hester, your navigator. I acknowledged the introduction-an ab- surdly foolish action as I had spoken. to him as I entered. The instructor continued, Now if the formalities have been effected, we will pro- ceed to utilize this room. He spoke as a teacher of young children, who had been rude and needed reprimand- ing. I felt his attitude to be hardly ap- propriate. Much to my abuse was the reply of Mr. Hester, Quite right, sir. Before the apparent coalition of the two against my self-respect had thoroughly reg- istered on me, the instructor spoke again. On second thought, we'll dispense with this silly instruction. If you don't already know how to fly, you'll never survive this trip anyhow. the speed of light, thus enabling trips to planets and galaxies thousands of light years away. I stood watching the ship, feeding my ex- citement for several minutes, and then real- ized that I had to report to the briefing room. As I started into the briefing room, I heard someone call my name. Alton Doby came under a light, and I saw that it was he who was calling.. Alton was in charge of the group preparing the power plant. He had showed a remarkable ineptness with engines and mechanics from an early age. It seems that he once constructed some sort of vehicle and met with disaster. He ran off the road into a field-no, a grove-ah, yes, Grove Theater, it was. The metal for vaporization has been in- serted. Everything's ready, said he. Thank you. I'll leave in twenty minutes, I said, turning and stepping into the door of the building where the briefing room was. I had to pass through an outer oflice in order to get to it. The room was a large one, but there were only two desks, one at either end. Sitting at the desks were Mary Ann Eberhardt and Faye Pruitt. They were both talking into dictaphones. QI later learned that they were talking to one an- other. The office general flunky and top wage earner, Kenneth Johnston, by wiring the phones into a two-way communication system, had defeated the purpose of the department head, Phil Harris, in separating them.j I passed through the outer office and pro- ceeded down a long corridor. At the end of the corridor was the briefing room. When I entered the room, the instructor had his back to me. I took a seat next to the only other occupant in the room. I rose and left immediately. Hester fol- lowed me out. We walked out toward the ship without speaking. As we came closer to the elevator that was to carry us up to our control compartment, I saw that the operator on duty was Arnold Marquardt. We all spoke as we stepped onto the plat- form. I never failed to expect Marquardt to speak in French. His name sounded ter- ribly Frenchy. He spoke fluent English, however, as he demonstrated with a pro- fusion of it as we ascended. fNeither Hester nor I had a chance to utter a single diph- thong.J As we rose alongside the ship, I looked down. All the men, but one, had discontinued their work. Though he looked disproportioned by the height, I recognized that he was Jimmy Ritchey. He was check- ing everything in the electrical system. He was a thorough electronic engineer. When we reached the control compart- ment, Marquardt opened the door and we stepped in. Our seats were before an instru- ment panel, cluttered with guages, meters, dials, levers, and a large television screen. As we were strapping ourselves in, the scratchy voice of Bob Tutterow came over the speaker, This is the tower. Prepare for count down. We finished strapping ourselves in and signaled the tower that we were ready. The count down began: . . . six . . . five ...four...three...two...one... We heard only a clap and felt a crushing lunge.

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Evening was falling as I left the salon. The light of the sun shining through the canopy was so diffused that there were no sharp outlines and shadows as on the earth, but everything was pervaded equally with a rose-colored hue until a Stygian darkness slowly took its place. I went to my hotel, and before retiring, ate, and watched a show. The performer was Clyde Eberhardt. He sang, played the saxo- phone, piano, clarinet, and guitar all at the same time Qwell, almost-as he went from one to the other so quickly that he seemed to be playing them at one time.j He was very talented. He was, in his youth, Cto use a hackneyed jokej a band aid, assistant to a band instructor in school. I learned that there were several widely- known entertainers staying at the hotel. George Cloud, drummer, Bobby Satch Hester, and Betty Lou Lacy, clarinetist, had formed an ensemble that featured some sort of ancient music that they called Jazz , these were to perform at the hotel the fol- lowing night. Anna Marie Specht, the gifted soprano, was also at the hotel. was working on a synthetic food, made from sawdust. Phillip I-Iulsey had contrived the idea: Harry Winters was doing the experi- ments, Billy Brackett was the taster, ju Don Baldwin was the laboratory technician who did tests on Brackett to find his re- actionsg and Martha Braswell developed reci- pes from the synthetic food. Some of her Shredded wood Cbreakfast cerealj All of these appetizing delicacies could be At the back of the room was another concoctions were: . Sawdust-stuffed Chicken :::1:::a,. I 3:31:11 Jello and sawdust :' i' M A D 'F' Sawdust under glass I I A A Whole Wood Bread Cr ..-, , , prepared with a wide variety of flavors. A trip to one of the hospitals in the city had been planned for me. I got an early start. I asked the receptionist, Frieda Bell, at the information desk in the lobby of the hotel to tell me where I could find Dr. Ron- nie West. Upon receiving the information, I started down a spotless corridor until I came to the room where Miss Bell had told me to go. I opened the door and found my- self in an amphitheatre. Dr. West was stand- ing below me with all the students that were studying under him. He was conclud- ing his lecture: Now then, are there any questions? A pretty co-ed, Linda Dolan, raised her hand and asked, What should be done if a patient develops an allergy for oxygen in his alveoli? Have him transferred to another hospital immediately. Janice Niver, Sarah Coleman, Jane Elling- ton, Gary Cooper, William Everidge, Diane Davis, and Jo Ann Armstrong, had been working on a project and had come up with a problem. They had been doing psychologi- cal studies on Sharon Pike and had been sending electrical impulses to her hypo- thalamus. The impulses had disrupted the regular mechanisms in the body and Sharon slept with her eyes open and walked about with them closed, she developed chill bumps in heated rooms, and went about exclaiming that the three sides of a triangle didn't equal 180 degrees. They expressed their problem to Dr. West, who was an avid reader of mathematical books. He replied, I suggest that first you read a book on Riemanian Geometry and then . . . uh, have her transferred to another hospital. After the lecture and questioning, I walk- ed down to see Dr. West. He was to carry me around the hospital and point out things of interest. He carried me to a laboratory. The room was rather large and there were at least twenty people in it. He intro- duced me to some of them and explained what they were working on. Jean Chastain, Jerry Boleman, Marilyn Boyd, Jean Painter, Nancy Williams, and Trudy Broome, were working on a new perfume which they called: Noon in Bellwood. Another group group, the largest. They were thrashing out a problem by debate. The problem at hand was that of what emergency actions could be taken if the Speaker of the House in Congress should develop acute leprosy of the larynx. The members of the discussion, Patsy Allen, James Haygood, and Ronnie Bell, were bit- terly opposed to the suggestion by their supervisor, Frank Pitts, for replacing the malignant larynx with a woman's. After seeing the rest of the hospital, I went to lunch. The restaurant where I ate was Hobbs' Hoedownf' A singing group, known as the Pterodactyls . . . or some- thing similar to that, had been hired by Jerry Hobbs and were singing as I entered. Jerry Castleberry, Joe Whitehead, and two others, whom I canlt remember, were singing You Give Me Suspended Animation, Baby. After eating, I rose and started for the door, but I saw Wayne Costley sitting at a table with Jimmy Levy and Frankie Hall, and Went over and spoke to them. As I again at- tempted to leave, my right foot, somehow, found contact with Costley's foot, and I careened off across the floor, stumbling, grabbing at tables, bumping into Waiters, spilling trays, prostrating an old gentleman and his wife, and eventually coming to an abrupt stop beneath a table. I struggled to my feet, there was an imposing silence throughout the restaurant. Blushing and feel- ing very ashamed for my oafishness, I turned my head down and started out quickly. I ran into a post, head-first. Laughter rang out. Everyone was convulsed. With an in- dignant frown on my face I stood and gave all a threatening stare. Once again they all became silent. Then, I turned, with an air, and left. As I stepped onto the sidewalk I heard a spontaneous peal of laughter from within. At the end of the street was the library. I thought that that would be a good place to mend my wounded ego. The library was devoted to French writ- ers,-Guy De Maupassant, Honore De Bal- zac, Gustave Flaubert, Alphonse Daudet. The librarian, Ann Stewart said, French- men are so wonderful. She permitted no books of any other nationality. Her assist- ants, Janice Tapley, Janice Camp, and Claudia Cannon, were guilty of reading Dostoevsky, and Tolstoi, however. Such reading had to be done in secret, of course, or Ann would report them to Glenda Rob- inson, reformist, woman suffrage leader, and the most influential lady in the Ladies' Dis- criminant Order of Selectified Lassies.