Westwood High School - Chipmunk Yearbook (Westwood, CA)

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Page Twenty-four THE CHIPMUNK Literary

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THE CHIPMUNK Page Twenty-three SEVENTH GRADE First Row: Fae Phelan, Virginia Fowler, Wilma Klotz, Norma Williams, Evelyn Norton, Beatrice Martin, Mary Lorda, Miss Bloxham, Miss Parker, Rosie Conley, Elizabeth Allison, Martha Roemer, Katherine Beckstrom and Ella Gunn. Second Row: Clifton Prusia, Kenneth Andrews, Frederic Gleason, Jack Reavis, John Ciaglio, Francis Bickel, Francis Miley, Clarence Goodridge, Fred Dixon, Ralph Bergstrom, Brenton Dippel, Allan Mc- Laws and Mae Dade. Third Row: John Lorda, Peter Ciaglio, Bobbie Allen, Charles League, Marvin Bullivant, Cecil Williford, Clifford Hall, Willard Luce, Jack Rogers, Harry Rosencrans, Harry Bates, Abbie Barnett, Earl Potorf, Bennie Valley and Milton Jeanny.

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THE CHIPMUNK Page Twenty-five PRIZE SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL STORY CURIOSITY WINS THE DAY Romany fires burn brightly any time, any place, any where, but the flashing eyes and gleaming hair of one Juanita made them seem the brighter. Juanita’s family wandered, as all gipsy families do, forever on and on. Wherever they roved, Juanita, with her tambourine, danced to the wild Hungarian melodies of her brother’s ancient violin. Her mother was dead, but the old grand-mother told fortunes, while the father passed the hat. A carefree life is a happy life, and gipsy life is carefree. When one is happy, one finds time to sing, to love, and to be beautiful. Juanita was beautiful. The tawny skin and raven hair of Hungarian plains were hers, enhanced by shining teeth, and great black eyes. A drizzling rain was falling as the little group plodded, about dusk, into a small mid-western town. They were hungry, tired, and dirty, and a gipsy is never too welcome. There could be no dancing tonight, and there was little money in their pockets. “Perhaps”, said old Pedro, the father, “we can beg a little food. We no can buy it without the mon, and we no can dance tonight.” With that he left the camp. That was the last seen of old Pedro. Next morning all was bright and sunny except three gipsy hearts. They were hungry, and old Pedro had not returned. “I will hunt for him,” volunteered Carlo, Juanita’s handsome brother. “Oh, Carlo,” cried Juanita, “do find him, and, yourself, do not disappear. Do bring us some food”. At that Carlo also left the camp. He was gone for hours, nor had he yet returned when, toward noon, a band of irate people came upon them unexpectedly and carried Juanita and her grand-mother off to a dirty, smelly jail. Hearing a great racket outside and the cries of many people, “Lynch them! Lynch them!” Juanita asked the jailor who it was they wished to lynch. “You, Scum of the Earth.” On being asked why, he replied angrily. “For killing old Doc Benson last night. Don’t try to be so in- nocent.” “Killing---------------” Juanita stopped. She could not realize what had happened. After a long while she again spoke to the jailor. “And my father, where is he?” “Your father? What the..... do you think I know about your old man? Shut up. Don’t talk to me anymore.” On going to the little village near which they were staying, old Pedro was forced to go through muddy country lanes. In the pitch black of a field near by, he saw a figure hurriedly passing from one sheltering fence post to another. Being by instinct a curious person, he left the road and followed this suspicious creature. The man, for Pedro was now convinced that it was a man, slinked from post to post