Wilson Central School - Crest Yearbook (Wilson, NY)

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STARLIGHT PAGE TWENTY-ONE with a kettle, sinking-. I can never pass a Salvationist without giving a little something, so I stepped up to her. Something about her voice and face seemed familiar. I looked at her more closely. Could it be? Yes. it was my old classmate and friend, Ursula Wolfe. She told me her story. It seems she had been disappointed in love and had turned to the Salvation Army for comfort. I now noticed that she was leading three dogs and she seemed to care considerable for them. I left her with mingled feelings of pity. 1 had already met three of my classmates; would I meet any more? Next day I left for Paris. As I was passing one of the leading theaters of that city, the name of Gertrude Patterson on the billboard caught my attention. Surely this illustrious and immortal actress could not be our Gertrude of W. H. S., I thought. But I must find out, so I humbly inquired of a haughty attendant at the stage door for Miss Patterson. No, I could not see her, she was at rehearsal. Could 1 see her this evening? No, she was to sing before the King of England. Did he happen to know if Miss Patterson was born in America, at Wilson, New York? Yes, he believed she was. I was satisfied. I had heard enough. Think of it, Mr. Mcllroy, our sedate and demure Gertrude a very famous actress! As 1 was compelled to leave for Berlin the next morning I could not see her. Perhaps she would not have known me, anyhow; ten years is a long time. When 1 reached Berlin, I determined to look up Norman Kick, as Glenn had told me lie was in that city. 1 went to call on him, but with misgivings, for Norman had become a world famous cancer specialist. 1 gave the attendant my card and asked for Mr. Eick. I was told that llerr Eick could not see me. He was too busy writing a speech on Woman Suffrage which was to be delivered at the Suffrage Rally that night on “I liter dem Linden.” Imagine my astonishment, Mr. Mcllroy, Norman Eick and Woman Suffrage! Well, finally, on the plea of being an old school friend, L was admitted to his presence. But I was glad to get away, for all that Herr Norman Kick would discuss was cancers and Woman Suffrage. Interesting, you know, but almost too much of a good thing. This episode gave me food for a good deal of thought on my journey to Petrograd, Russia, a few days later. Glenn had told me that Vesta Schweigert was here in Petrograd but he did not know what she was doing. I met Vesta just as she was leaving her boarding place for work, as I supposed. So I said 1 would accompany her to her place of employment and chat about old times. She stared at me and laughed a little and said that that was a good plan. Alas! It was my turn to stare, for the change in cur Vesta was wonderful. She looked as though she had stepped out of a modiste’s window, she was so trim and stylish. We stopped at a large building with the sign “School for Ballet Dancers’' over the door. We went in. I was so dazed that I could not utter a sound, only “trust and obey.” Vesta took me into a large room and left me there. Later she returned with a bevy of girls, all attired in fluffy pink dancing skirts. Vesta was certainly

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PAGE TWENTY STARLIGHT by us made. giving him full power in carrying out our will. In witness whereof we have hereunto subscribed our names. Date Feb. 1st. in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and sixteen. NORMAN KICK. President. IIOMKR .JOHNSON, Vice President. VESTA SCHWEIGERT, Treasurer. MABEL WILSON, Secretary. Witnesses: CORA M. BLAKE. MARY P. IIUBBARD. GRACE I). MARKLE. 326 Fifth Ave., New York, June 12, I92li. My dear M» Mcllroy. 1 simply had to write to you and tell you my experience during this last year while traveling in Europe and elsewhere, collecting material and local color for my next novel. I have already written six “best sellers” and several short stories, but I shall not discuss my affairs any more for 1 realize that you must be busy and your time limited, so 1 will not impose upon you any longer than necessary. but will go on with my story. About a year ago this time 1 took passage for Europe on the “New Allantik.” Having some grievances to report, I asked for the captain—and behold when we met—who do you suppose it was? No one but Glenn Bickford. It was the first time that 1 had seen him since we had graduated from W. II. S., for you remember immediately after commencement he left for the European battlefield where by his wonderful power of speech and his personality he brought peace in Europe. Then he disappeared. Glenn was never one to await his just praise. He told me everything that had happened during the ensuing years. Then he asked me if I would not like to go for a ride. A ride? Well to be sure there was his faithful Ford, in which we sailed over the decks, climbing and descending stairs from tin top of the ship to the bottom. Glenn told me when we were down near the kitchen that he had a surprise for me and 1 could not help but wonder what it was, when suddenly we stopped before the kitchen door and alighted from the car. Upon entering the beautiful large, neatly kept room, we were greeted by Glenn’s surprise, for who should come toward me but my dear old friend Marion Cramer. I was very much taken by surprise and was a long time in realizing that Marion could possibly be “Head Cook” on this ship, but it didn't take me long to come to the conclusion that she was not only cook but also mistress of the ship, “Mrs. Bickford.” 1 certainly had a pleasant trip and reluctantly said farewell when we arrived at London. But here another surprise awaited me, for as I was walking through Trafalgar Square, I saw before me a Salvation Army woman

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STARLIGHT PAGE TWENTY-TWO a very graceful and wonderful dancer. She could interpret the music perfectly. She told me she had been studying eight years and was to make her debut next month. She very graciously and condescendingly bade me farewell. It made me a little angry. I felt like showing her my six “best sellers.” She summoned an attendant to see me out. lie bowed and kneeled before her and said: “Yes, Madame Schweigertsky.” Schweigertsky! Wonder of wonders! I left rather reluctantly for Turkey, for I would not be likely to meet any of my friends there. Rut, alas! the ways of Fate are strange. There was an accident on the track ahead of us and I was compelled to stop off one night in a small, out-of-the-way village in Austria, and 1 had to inquire at a private home for lodging for the night. When the door was cautiously opened, upon my knocking, I peered into a dimly lighted room, past a tall thin man, who asked suspiciously, “What do you wish?” 1 told him my desire and he said, rather crossly, that he did not pretend to keep a boarding house hut would take me in as 1 was an American like .himself. Imagine my joy at hearing this, and still more, Mr. Mcllrov, to find upon entering tin room, that it was no other than my old friend Fred Tschabold. 1 asked him why he was living in this small, out-of-the-way place alone by himself with only an old colored woman (his cook) to keep him company. lie said, “Hazel, on the foundation of our old friendship I will tell you my secret, which 1 have kept hidden from the inquisitive public for five years, but is on the verge of becoming known to the world. I have labored hard and have completed my life-long desire. 1 have invented a “perpetual motion” machine. This machine will do its own repairing and will keep in operation forever, and I hope will be of great service to mankind.” This was Fred’s story, and think how surprised and proud Mrs. Rlake will be when she hears that Fred Tschabold, one of her former physics boys has made himself famous the wide world over. After spending one day with Fred, the track was clear and I had to continue my journey on to Turkey. 1 was rather lonely at Constantinople so I inquired at the American embassy for the Americans which were there. I was told that the Rev. George Norton, a missionary, lived there. Well, Mr. Mc-Ilroy, I can tell you 1 lost no time in looking up George. After greeting me he asked me where I was going, and as it was growing late, he asked me if 1 wouldn't go home with him and meet his wife. 1 assented and he led me out of a side door where a long, low. expensive racer stood. He turned to me with a smile and said, “My only diversion.” He took me through that city at such a rate that I was dazed when we reached our destination. Such extremes in his character. This was the first chance I had had to examine him closely. George certainly did look rather freakish in those strange Turkish pantaloons. lie took me into a room where a rather stout woman sat, brilliantly dressed in Turkish clothes and with a heavy