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The Piper Staff Editorial Board: Bill Averill, Norman Lyle, Bob Navin, George Rounds, Frances Roura. B11shtess Manager: Sam Bruni. Advertising Manager: Jack Scolaro. Circulation Managers: George Woolfenden, Virginia Watson. EDITORIAL STAFF
Staff Members: Rose Berlin, George De Graff, Annette Lambie, Alice Painter, Bill Seligmann, Charles Fiske, Mary Ann Sprague, Frank McCarthy, Katheryn Wygant, Bill Timm. ART STAFF
Editor: Charles Turner. Co11/ributors: Virginia Stanley, Rhoda Medbury, Bill Seligmann, Frank McCarthy, Helen Stanger. PHOTOGRAPHY
Amateur: Andy Watson, Bill Vinton. Professio11al: Mr. Arnold. TJ,ping: Ruth Heydorn, Leona Purcilly, Virginia Everingham, Mary Ann Mow, Alyce
Mather, Irene Parker, Betty Sippel, Mildred Johnson, Agnes Crawford. BUSINESS STAFF
Advertising Solicitors: Frances Roura, Dorothy McCormick, Patricia Houff, Nick Vicario, Elizabeth Richey, Katheryn Walton, Leona Purcilly, Sam Bruni, Annette Lambie, Bette Elliott, Pat Williams, Betty Forsyth, Marion Tate, Alice Painter, Virginia Watson, Arthur Underwood, Wallace Mclay. Sales Staff: Mary Craig, Bill Seligmann, Nancy Fletcher, Ward Cruickshank, Katheryn Walton, Lucille Wayman, Winnie Watkins, Rose Berlin Bette Elliott, Joan Campbell, Joanne Billings, George DeGraff, Patty Pattison, Helen Riddell, Jack Dunn, Justin Buckeridge, Joe Mack, Ruth Anderson, Mary Ann Sprague, Elizabeth Lynd, Jane Thomas, Adolph Bruni, Bill Pheatt, Dick Eustis, Annemaree Thrasher, Genevieve Gay, Quentin Brelsford. Adviser: Vida B. McGiffin. Yearbook
Member
Copyright, 1938, by George Rounds, Frances Roura, and George Woolfenden
THE 1938 PIPER is an official publication of Baldwin High School, Birmingham, Mich. The Piper Staff acknowledges gratefully the cooperation of the Baldwin faculty, the administration, and the students. Especially it wishes to thank the Mechanical Drawing, Printing, and Typing Classes for valued assistance,
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Take Life as it Comes
W
E oldsters are always giving advice to you youngsters. Often we do so just to satisfy our own ego. It gives us a certain amount of self-importance to say, "Now, I have lived a few more years than you; you really ought to sit at my feet and listen. You just can't know too much about this yourself. You aren't old enough." I don't want to do anything like that. I simply aim to reiterate perhaps just one rule of life which you and I in our personal chats and in the assemblies together have again and again considered. It is as much your philosophy as it is mine ... You, as I, have watched some people meet what we call adversity and collapse and fall to pieces under it. The very same experience has occurred in the life of another; and it is taken, built upon, and the person becomes even stronger and more useful. From this you and I gather that education does nothing for us if it doesn't enable us to meet all phases of life. For example, it is a simple matter for a man to be happy and even useful when all of life goes his way. When a man's salary is fairly large so that he can buy good clothes for his wife and children, shelter them in a fairly beautiful home and provide an extra car or two-well, most men can be reasonably happy under such conditions. But suppose such can no longer be provided because the salary has been reduced or lost entirely or dividends no longer paid. Just how a man stands up under a barrage like this is really wha~ counts. If he moans
about the government or labor or the capitalistic system or his boss or any one of so many things that we can always fjnd to complain about; if he feels that he personally has been unjustly treated and singled out by God for his misfortune, then education once gotten, wealth once possessed, family once happy won't help that man. He must learn that all of life was intended to be met and that he fails where any phase of it completely knocks him out ... For example, you as a student aren't doing well in your studies. How you react to this experience tests character. If you bemoan the fact that the Lord didn't give you brains to compare with those of the brilliant student in your class, or whine about the fact that the teacher doesn't understand you and _has a grudge against you so that you cannot do your best, or that there are too many chores about the house for you to do so that you haven't sufficient time for your home work, or that there isn't a quiet place around the home where you can concentrate-well, I don't need to reiterate, YOU ARE LOST! The test of life is just what you can do under even these adverse circumstances-if they do exist, for you must keep in mind that many of our adversities are really mental rather than actual as you'll soon discover from those morbid souls around you who are always painting so black a picture they frighten themselves and others to the point of becoming ineffectual. Remember this always: You in life will never be called upon to experience that which has not already
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(Co111in11ed 011 Page 96)
Swiss Evening Night's dark shades have almost Blanketed the countryside. At our feet a surging mountain Stream tumbles down, down, down, Disappearing at last into The growing darkness. Nestled deep in a valley, Between two verdant mountain Slopes, lies a tiny Swiss village. Its lights twinkle like hundreds Of friendly little stars, seeming To beckon, beckon us home. And above the sound of the torrent, From some wandering musician In the village below, drifts the Soothing refrain of a song, Borne to us on the wings Of the evening breeze. It is at times like these That men are glad to be alive. When they meditate upon scenes like This, they forget their cares And thrill to the beauty And glory of the Creator. -B. Averill.
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WITH
r 'IEI GOLDSMITH
DISCO¥ERta OJ' TN t
~Cu RVE a A LL''
A
S the last curve broke across the plate to retire the batter and end the baseball game, a very different scene was taking place in another section of the ball park. Fred Goldsmith, the inventor of the curve ball was being besieged by reporters and photographers. He had come to see a baseball game, a ball game as it is played today; but his fame was too far-reaching to permit him his much desired peace. The ball game became a secondary matter as news reporters proceeded to get their stories. This is the picture that came to our minds as we sat in a typical little Michigan farmhouse situated about fifty miles north of America's greatest baseball city. There we found eighty-two-year-old Fred "Goldie" Goldsmith, coiner of that famous saying, "He's a sucker for a curve ball." He greeted us warmly; and as soon as our mission was made known, a battered traveling case packed with clippings, pictures, and souvenirs was spread be-
fore us. Everything we looked at had a story which our host eagerly related. Fred Goldsmith was born in New Haven, Connecticut, during the 18 5 O's. Throughout his youth, he was constantly using his playmates as backstops for his pitching efforts. When only eleven, he made the unusual discovery which later brought him fame and fortune. By holding the ball in a ce.rtain position and snapping the wrist in a peculiar manner, he managed to make the ball go in a curved path. This defied all the existing laws of science and soon aroused the interest of Henry Chadwick, president of the National League and greatest baseball editor of all time. Chadwick invited fifteen-year-old Freddie to come to New York and prove his claim. So before a crowd of 14,000 curious fans, he gave the first exhibition of his wonderful discovery which was to revolutionize baseball. Upon his return home, the owner of the Tecumseh Club in London, Ontario, offered him a job at 3 00 dollars a month. Fred's father strongly opposed baseball as a career, but with the fine salary which was offered, the chance seemed too good to miss. So in 1876, Fred Goldsmith joined the Tecumseh Club. "During those three years in which I played with them, I pitched every game and we won the International League Championship three years in succession. In 1878 we challenged the Chicago White Stockings, the champions of the National League to a playoff serie~. In that series, I pitched and won three successive game~ to make the Tecumseh Club the First World Champions." "The following year saw me in a Chicago uniform under the management of Pop Anson. In the three seasons when I was with them, we won two World Championships. While with that team, we played a three-game series at Indianapolis. The first game, played in the morning, was called at the end of nine innings, a scoreless tie. After fourteen innings in the afternoon, the game was again called, another scoreless tie. The next day we won the third g~me by a score of 1-0, and I had allowed only one hit in the entire . " series. "While pitching against Boston in 1883, my arm suddenly went dead and began shaking violently. It
Photo by courtesy of International News Service
(Contin11ed on Page 98)
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Perchance to Dream E sat alone in the rear of the rick-
a gold watch oo the case of which was engraved his
ety little coach, one of three pas-
name and the words "In token of fifty years' faithful
sengers traveling over this now
service."
He had drawn his life's savings from the
almost-forgotten route. Ahead of
bank and packed his bag that same day. Twenty-four
him in
car two salesmen
hours later he was on his way.
laughed and joked nosily with the
The dream had become a reality.
the
conductor.
He started unseeing
out of the window.
He was going home.
His mind struggled with the misty cobwebs of memory. Clearest in his recollections was the village.
Seventy years had passed above his finely moulded head, and his hair was as white as the snows that fall upon the Vermont hills through which the rusty little engine was laboriously wending its way. His delicately chiseled features were stamped with the mark of a man who has followed his path through life quietly and serenely, untouched by an age that has swept past him. His hands, folded in his lap, were soft and white like a woman's and their backs were traced with fine blue veins. Stately black covered his thin shoulders and a
Red roofs, towering maples, great sprawling lawns of lush grass, rambling old white frame houses. It seemed he was walking its quiet streets even now.
But first,
of course, the tiny engine must grind noisily over the old wooden bridge that spanned Carver's Creek (How often had he fished from and swum under that old bridge!), pant wearily up the long hill, and with a sigh and a wheez, chuff slowly down into the valley on the other side and come to a heaving halt at the little station.
bit of black string was knotted at his throat.
Old Man Shea, the venerable station master who wore red elastic arm bands and carried a roll of snuff
He was going home. For fifty years he had moved
under his upper lip, would saunter nonchalantly from
vaguely through the murk and smoke and grime of a
the murky depths of the little wooden building to greet
great city, following its strange ways, rubbing shoul-
him, saying in his highly nasal drawl, "Well, Jim,
ders with its hurrying press of people; and all that long
you've come back to us, have you? The boys are get-
time he had been living in a dream. A dream of green
ting up a cribbage game at the station house tonight.
fields and green trees, of blue sky and blue water, of
Shall we count you in?"
golden grain and golden sunshine. A dream withal of home--his home and his world, encompassed within
He would nod eager assent. And then Willie Rog-
the bounds of a small New England village tucked
gin, who drove the chaise from the station to the
away in the hills.
Brownell House, would roll up and laugh and crack his
Leaving that home had wrought a
strange change in the boy of twenty who had turned
big whip and holler, "Well, Jim! You just come along
his youthful face to the West long years ago. The boy,
with me naow! We folks at the Brownell 'II treat you
become a man, lived within himself.
Shy, reticent,
right!
You 'member how I used to let you drive my
marked by his tenement neighbors as "queer," he
horses!
You just come along with me!"
worked long hours at his lowly position in a great bank. He would laugh and say to Willie, "Nem'mine, Wil-
His job was his only contact with the world. His mild blue eyes were filled with the inexpressible longing of
lie, I'm walking today!" And then he would be walk-
a man who has been close to Nature, and who, suddenly
ing up the shaded dusty street, feeling again the'touch
snatched away, dreams always of returning.
of the cool spring breeze on his cheek, and breathing deep of the rich spring air. The broad maples would
And then he had been retired. They had given him
cast splayed leafy shadows in the road, and he would
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scuff up little spurts of dust with his shoes kicking at
The end of the line. This is your station. There•s the
the shadows. He would hear the lazy drone of the bees
town right through there." He pointed.
in the fields, and the glorious chorus of the birds in the trees.
And he would throw back his head and his
shoulders and sing with them, for he would be home again-home.
Numbly, the old man turned haltingly in the direction pointed out by the conductor.
A great broad
highway, six lanes wide, ran north and south as far as the eye could see among the hills. It traveled through
In the cool of the long evenings he would gather with his friends at the station house, or sit and enjoy
the center of the town.
Shiny-faced three-and-four-
story stores and buildings lined it on each side. Neat
a pipe with them around the pump in the town square.
little homes were laid out in businesslike rows. Stone,
And all would be peace and contentment. Back where
concrete, brick, and steel were everywhere.
the little engine had picked him up would be hurry and noise and confusion. Here would be quiet, because
station house, the Brownell House, the town pump, the
here would be home.
The old
towering maples-where were they? Industrious little factories had risen where once had stretched green and golden fields. The old man was aware that the pair of
He awoke from his reverie with a start. A clash and
shiny yellow taxis which had replaced Willie Roggin's
a grinding of wheels told him that the train was cross-
chaise were waiting impatiently for him to choose the
ing the bridge. A brief expanse of steel and concrete
one which should carry him into the heart of the town.
flashed past his window. He stared in bewilderment.
The town that had grown up. The old town that had
Where was the old, moss-covered, wooden bridge? And
grown young in fifty years' time. -N. Lyle
Carver's Creek? Why, one hardly knew it was there. A trickle of turgid water.
That was all.
He could
not grasp the change. And then the train was pulling to a stop m the station.
He picked up his worn bag and stepped out
onto the platform, blinking in the sunlight.
A tidy
platform of concrete stretched before him, and a compact building of yellow brick-the station. The station master, a youngish man with glasses and a stiff collar, was busily engaged in transferring the mail. Doubtfully, fearfully, he turned to the conductor, trying to find words to voice a question that was creeping over him with slow dread. The conductor patted. him reassuringly on the shoulder.
Cover and stick out tongue as far as possible. Blow a little, pull a little, and then blow hard. Triple Bubble Gum.
"This is it, pop.
Song writers must live a difficult life-chasing shadows and dreams, grabbing moonbeams, tearing stars from the sky, slaving for their true loves and moving the earth to prove their love. Housewife-"Who's going to worry about Hitler and ,mother World War? It's house-cleaning time!" One wonders if the constantly changing weather conditions will not make the seasons eventually lose their identity.
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King of Swing
T
HE KING was brushing his teeth. Monarch of all he surveys, undisputed ruler in his field, Benny Goodman is nevertheless an extremely likable, modest, and retiring young man who, as King of Swing, is still able to wear a hat in lieu of a crown. It was our privilege to interview Mr. Goodman in his dressing room at the Fox Theater shortly after he and his band had finished "swingin' out" before a wildly enthusiastic mob of swing fans who packed the house to its very rafters. Rather tired after his strenuous session, he was stretched full length on a couch, attired only in shirt, shorts, and bath robe when we entered. The friendly smile with which he rose to greet us put us completely at our ease, and the interview proceeded on a strictly informal plane thereafter. In a few minutes, as a matter of fact, Mr. Goodman felt free to go over to the little washstand to brush his teeth. This operation consumed the better part of the time we spent with him, and a good many of our questions were answered through a foamy froth. But the King of Swing was sincere at all times, and his kindly helpfulness and co-operation made it possible for us to acquit ourselves better than we had expected. "I first began to play when I was about ten years old," Benny recalled for us. "My father picked out the clarinet as my instrument. and both my parents saw to it that I kept at my practising. It was at that time that I decided to follow a musical career." "And how long was it before you organized your own band?" we asked. "I formed my first band three years ago," he replied. "Before that, I had played a lot with other bands and orchestras. I've played with symphony orchestras, too, you know. The members of my first band were fellows I had met while playing with other outfits, and we got together. Most of the present members of my band were with our original group." We mentioned that we had heard his band play several symphonic numbers on the radio not long ago. And it was at once apparent that Benny Goodman's first love is classical music. He was keenly interested in our reaction to the symphonic numbers, and was definitely pleased when he learned that we liked them. It is our belief that some day Benny Goodman will
turn from swing music to the classics, but strictly as a hobby. It was at this point that he rose from the couch and went to the washbowl where he produced toothbrush and powder and set to scrubbing his teeth. "This is the way to brush your teeth," he said, demonstrating for us. "Massage the gums. It's good for 'em." "What do you think of the swing maniacs who get out in the aisles and shout and danc~ when you play?" was our next question.
"If they want to do it, why let 'em. After all, if that's what they like, why should we stop them? Personally, I wouldn't do it myself. But then, I'm older than you are. It's the younger generation which goes for swing most. "My favorite song? I haven't got any. Any good song is a favorite with me. Any song suited to our style. But then you don't hear the tune after the first chorus anyway; so it really doesn't make much difference." "Would you give us a bit of advice for young musicians?" we queried. "Would you advise a youngster to enter the popular or the classical field?" "Both," he replied, "I played classical as a boy myself, but I believe a young fellow should be able to play both. Tell your young musicians to learn all the technique they can. To learn the fundamentals, because they're what count. It's just like football. A fellow may be a natural, but he's got to learn the fundamentals-blocking, tackling, and holding the ball before he's a;iy good to the team. "Tell 'em not to be afraid to play swing. Swing isn't anything new. It's always been here, but it's more emphasized now than it's ever been. They don't need to be ashamed to play swing. "Tell 'em to get themselves a good teacher. Tell 'em But tell 'em that a teacher can't teach 'em everything." to work hard and to master technique.
And certain it is that no teacher ever taught likeable Benny Goodman the style that has placed him on a pedestal before several million adoring fans. Because swing belongs to Benny Goodman, and Benny Goodman is swing. -N. Lyle -J. Scolaro -N. Vicario
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High School Principals of the Michigan Education Association and now is very active in that same organization as a committee chairman in charge of Professional Problems and as the Michigan Co-ordinator of Discussion Groups. It was in this capacity that he spoke before the National Convention in Atlantic City this spring.
"I'LL
see you at the game!" With this challenge still ringing in all ears, the students slowly filed from the auditorium. They had met Mr. Bechtold for only the second time, but already he had inspired them to a new school spirit which they had seldom seen in Baldwin. When Mr. Bechtold assumed his duties in September, he based his whole program of school activities on awakening a dormant spirit in the students as a whole. The immediate results were surprising. Today, as we prepare for our summer vacation, we can not help looking back over the past school year and seeing the new day that has dawned in student enthusiasm at Baldwin. Mr. Bechtold was born in Girard, Illinois, where he attended public school. He graduated from Illinois State Normal University and received his M.A. degree at Columbia with special recommendations. His first job was teaching science in a rural school in Illinois. After eight years as a teacher and a principal, he went to Flint where several positions led up to the principalship of the Longfellow School when it was built in 1929. After a successful term he came here. As an educator, Mr. Bechtold has long since made a name for himself, both in state and national organizations, He is a past president of the Department of
Of course, Mr. Bechtold is not without his human side. His charming wife finds him a perfect husband to cook for because he eats anything and everything and enjoys it. After a hard day's work, he finds great relaxation in reading, preferably a good detective story; and he can easily provide himself with a quiet evening's entertainment by reading a good book or a magazine. However, we should not surmise from this that he does not indulge in any other amusements. He loves to dance, and he attends the movies as often as his work permits. He likes to play bridge only as a relaxation and not as a competitive game. He has always been very interested in sports, both as a spectator and as a participant; but in recent years he has been unable to find sufficient time to devote to any sport. While we are talking about his interests, it is fitting to mention his fondness for young people, particularly boys. He has been active in several boys' organizations such as Boy Scouts, YMCA, and Hi-Y and has always shown a ready desire to co-operate in any fine youthful activity. During the summer, Mr. Bechtold finds his interests turned to far away places. He loves to travel and especially to drive a car. He is constantly intrigued by the desire to visit new places, see new things, and explore interesting roads. As we close this glimpse into the life of Mr. Bechtold, we hope that we have made you know him better, not as our principal, but as a man and friend.
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-G. De Graff
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Stretching From Their Sleepy Hollows
w
HEN vivid summer days were lengthening into the golden autumn, my year of life began. Then it was that every heart was vibrant with anticipation of what might lie ahead . I remembered.
into the school. Throughout each day I lived within the very soul of every student, hearing not only the outward noise and turbulence, but capturing each thought of the humble and proud alike.
I waited, too, with cheering, throbbing crowds when hopes were high as the clouds which raced above us and when defeat brought silence and despair.
And now the glistening, frosty winter has passed, and spring has come. My work is finished.
Each morning when first the dawn light silhouetted desks which had rested all night in darkness, silently, as has ever been my wont, I glided through empty, echoing halls and vacant classrooms. I watched as first the sun's rays sent their warming light
My theme is that of joy and hope, of sorrow and disappointment, of eager, milling classes and of quiet nights of communion with these walls of which I am a part. I sing of all the beauty and the spirit which is the very memory of youth. I am The Piper.
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With the Empty Rooms of Learning
Herc the Shining Halls A wait Them
Here Their Place of Sport and Revels
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Idle Teachers Stop to Gossip
Eager Students Seek Admission
Baffled Pupils Seek to Master
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While Their Comrades Chatter Gaily
Thoughts of Study Left for Pleasure
I
Seeking Guidance for the Future
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•\.
Tapping at the Keys of Knowledge
Learning How to Wield the Needle
Delving in the Realms of Nature
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Singing Songs of Christmas Tidin,:s
Music of the World's Great Masters
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CONTROL RDOtl STU If
Quips That Rival Even Benny's
Swinging Out in Loyal Spirit
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Home-Packed Lunches Greet the Hungry
Pangs of Hunger Drive
Or the Eating Place of Kenny
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Then the Student Bored at Learning
Customs Old But Not Forgotten
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Congress Officers Elected
Together
Board of Strategy Deciding
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Loyal Spirit, Strengthened Courage
Finds the Fighters Tense and Waiting
Patriotic Feeling Calls Them
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Night Life Finds the Students Willing
Finds Young Romance on the Dance Floor When the Time of Sleep Approaches
I Thank You for a Lovely Day
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Granville Hunter Don Dupward
George Forester
Don Patterson
Bob Andrews
Rollie Langerman
Coach Whitney Rodney Grambeau
Bob Peabody
Lorne MacDonald
John McDonald
UNCOI.N PARK -26-
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Phil Carey
Clem Hoover Punk Colgrove
Bob Etter
Quent Brelsford
1937 State Track Champs •
Frank O'Donnell
George Gorman
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.
Prints from the Exhibit of the Baldwin High School Camera-Club -32-
...,,I ...,, I
QUILL AND SCROLL First Row: Norman Lyle, Bob Navin, Bill Averill, Frances Roura; Second Row: Sam Bruni, George Rounds, Jack Scolaro, George Woolfenden, Virginia Watson, Alice Painter. Not in picture: Kate Osborn.
No Elmer Blurl is Piper ad manager Jack Scolaro ... His staff stl a new advertisi,,g sales record in Ibis, his second year as ma11ager .• , "Bilich" is a lwo-lcller foolba/1 man ••• member of Quill and Scroll •.• and honor student ..• acquires a new car periodically ••. likes real Jtalio11 spaghetti ..• and dislikes blonds .•. thinlts swing mmic i11 111oderatio11 is all right ••. is a model of sartorial elegance •.. und bis e:rperimcc as o manager helps him keep his girls it, line . •. his hobby: shooting ••• bis ambilion ... you've KJ~ssed ii .. . lo be a11 advertising e:re~live.
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,
A true son of Sunny ltoly is Saverio Nino Sam Bruni ••• present President of the St11dtnt Congress, ht hos wielded the gavel os J.,rnident and vice-president of bis class ••• hos served os b11siness manager of lbt Piper .•• in on honor student and member of Quill and Scroll ••• prefers clossicol to popular music ••• liltes to tot onytbing good and wonts plenty of it ••• Hobbies: stomp-collecting, chess, bowling • • • He's mode two trips lo Italy in the lost four years ••. hopes some day lo be o medical olloche to some big diplomol.
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State q11arter-111ile cba111pio11 Phil Carey will a1111ex his fourth track. letter this spri11g . . . a11d toke his place with Baldwi11's i111111ortals • . . A three-letter football mo11, he captained the team last fall. Hos su1 ed as presider,f of VorsiJ:,• Club, treornrer 011d vicepreside11f of his class, vicc-prrsidc11t of St11de11t Co11gren . . . wonts to ow11 a farm some day ... pla11s lo study medicine ..• likes to wear old clothes ... doesn't like girls ... wo11/d like to leom to fly as a hobby, b11t sadly ,,Jmits he does nothing abo11t it .•. his pet peeve, himself.
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John Gellatly, presidrot
Fred Adams, vice president
Mary DeMong, secretary
Elizabeth Richey, treasurer
Norman Lyle, pmidrot
Bob Bolton, vice president
Joan Campbell, secretary
Mayfa Gracey, treasurer
______ Caps and Gowns by courtesy of Collc111ate Cap and G01v11 Co.
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Owen Middlebrook, Jr.
Edward Clark
Eleanor Wood
Frederick Adams
Shirley Smith
William Paulus Frances Stanley
Peggy Bailey
John Corson
Jeannette Sadler
Nicholas Vicario
Elizabeth Richey
George Rohl
Dawn Palmer
Beulah Martin
John Gellatly
Helen Martin
William Grimmelsman
Mary DeMong
Virginia Barden
Mary Staples
Robert Whalen
Muriel Conley
Edward Bissell, Jr.
Dorothy Maclean
Donald Russell
Duane Roy, Jr. Edward Kvet
Donald Donald Porteous
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G. L. Weyhing, Jr.
Lillian Hart
Hazel Mott
Bob Etter
Virginia Maclean
Ethel Dutton
Marion Tate
George DeGraff
Dorothy McCormick
DavidMcKinney
Barbara Phillips
Jim Conwell
VirginiaLockrow
Georgina Hind
Marian Porter
ElizabethOlsen
George Forester
Ruth Roberts
Frank McCarthy
Andrew Watson
Jeanne Ellis
Justin Buckeridge
Allen Tewilliager
Bernard Carey
Jack Clemons
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Alice Painter
JoanBuchda
Leona Purcilly
Byron Colgrove
Dick Muttersbaugh
Ted Johnstone
Jack Scolaro
Mary Drury
Cleon Hoover
Rhoda Medbury
Sam Brum
Kate Osborne
Frank Peabody
Frances Roura
George Woolfenden
Beatrice Wright
Phil Carey
Frances Chandler
Norman Lyle
Genevieve Gay
Robert Navin
Virginia Bell
John Ferris
Joan Campbell
Bill Averill
Marion Noel
Dorothy Trump
Marianna Bell
Bill Pheatt
Mary Pattison
Waunetta Lilley
George Rounds
June Pointer
Anna MaryAdams
Elaine Leaf
Bob Bolton
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John Howlett
Edna Pickard
Edward Hopper
KatherineWygant
Bill Timm
Florence Scott
Dick Erwin
Nancy Fisher
Bob MacGregor
Anna Bell McDonald
Don Patterson
Betty Forsyth
Mayfa Gracey
Betty Housworth
Charles Allen
Paul Potere
Milton Pearsall
Ann Day
Annette Lamble
Phil McCullough
PhilPollock
Virginia Watson
Dean Yocom
Sylvia Johnson
Wallace Kelley
Caroline Maclean
Al Jones
Edwin Good
Joan Seligmann
Betty Dick
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Bob Lovaas
Norma Essex
Jack Bell
Agnes Crawford
George Gorman
Joy Johnston
Whitney Colenso
Betty Sippel
Bob Hopkins
Dorothy Ribolin
B111 Neely
Betty Abbott
Carroll Anderson
Beatrice Sandoval
Glenn Waggoner
Alberta McDonald
Fenwick Geggie
Gladys Barrett
William
Carolyn Denman
Don Lackie
Faith Parkyn
Clarence Heth
Doris Moore
Marjorie LaRa
Bill Price
Bob Stevens
Loraine Stanley
Bob Goes
Ario Johnson
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MacLeod
.
I
Frank O'Donnell
Don Bottomley
Barbara Johnson
Amelia Frank
James Laing
Jim Lawler
Mary Bassett
Elaine Carnahan
Helen Riddell
Mary Grace Odgen
George Woodward
Joanne Billings
Elizabeth Brusse
Photographs Because you want the best, telephone 90 5
• fJlje
ARNOLD STUDIOS
-43-
Beating Around the Australian Bush U AVA PASTE felt the beating of his heart shake his whole being as he looked anxiously around at the faces of the tribal elders. They were all cold and uncompromising as they sternly considered the punishment that should be given for his unpardonable sin. He had called the eldest son of the medicine man's brother a grooval! What a fool he had been to use the term on someone who had so much political influence.
Professor Paramecium Piewaddie was immersed in his scientific research of sex expression in spinach when the tingling of the doorbell roused him from his studies. He opened the door and peered into the face of a messenger boy with his bloodshot eyes. He reached out with his trembling fingers and took the telegram from the lad, giving him a gentle push down three flights of stairs. Returning to his inner room, he opened and read his thirty-page telegram. It was from Eggle Noggen himself, owner of the Nasturtium Museum of Unnatural History.
Bravely he tried to pass off his nervousness by thinking how lucky it was that he didn't like watermelon, but all in vain. No, Guava Paste, the time has come. You have mixed your fritter batter and now you must sit in it.
"Oh rapture!" he sighed. "Oh ecstasy!" he murmured. "At last they are sending me to capture the balloon-nosed parallelo-biped. I will go into the Australian bush with my army of followers and singlehanded bring back the ferocious two-legged beast.
As he was meditatively wiggling his toes in the dust, he heard the voices of the elders addressing him.
"This calls for celebration," he said, gaily climbing out the window. "I'll go out and become inebriated with rum and butter toffee."
"Racka backa soda cracka, racka backa boo, igloo igloo smig." ("Guava Paste, we, the ancient and hoary members of the tribe, after due consideration of your case, have reached a decision.")
A month later, having landed in Australia and having secured a native guide, he set out on his quest into the trackless bush from whence few men return.
He ceased writing the name of his loved one,
::-
W oozlebird, on the ground with his left big toe and looked up. "A grooval in the hand is worth two in the bush," they continued. "Therefore, since you have called the nephew of such an illustrious tribesman a grooval, you shall leave the village and not return until you bring with you a groova/." Two hours later, Guava Paste left through the main gate of the village with his clean socks and a bottle of "Nuit d'Amour du Potage des Choux," that some missionaries had once given him, wrapped up in a big hanky, and a sorrowful picture in his mind of the look on Woozlebird's face when he had told her what was to be his fate. Before he was out of sight, he looked back for one last glimpse of his home town. There he saw the evil face of the eldest son of the medicine man's brother, the man who was the cause of his undoing, leering at him from over the top of the gate. "Somehow," he thought to himself, "I must manage to capture a grooval, so I can come back and save Woozlebird from that fiend's clutches." So, wiggling his ears defiantly at the evil apparition, he marched off into the trackless bush from whence few men return. i•
Spirogyra Wimpfen-Figgens was one of the gayest playboys in town when he wasn't on one of his expeditions; so it was little wonder that the Sneetch Biological Research should consider him the most appropriate man to send to the Australian bush to capture the i11sectivoro11S eohiccup, whose mating call is the well known spasmodic convulsion of the diaphragm,-a loud and unmistakable "hie." As he stood at the edge of the bush with his little party of followers, peering into the deep gloom beneath the trees, a determined look spread over his face. "I must succeed," he muttered. "If I come back with the eohiccup, I might even be promoted to the head of the janitor division of the museum." So, gritting his lollypop between his teeth, he took the decisive step forward into the trackless bush from whence few men return. ::-
Professor Piewaddie gazed rapturously at his surroundings and said ominously between hiccups, for the poor man had notoriously poor digestion, "This looks like the place, hie. You pitch camp here, and, hie, I'll scout around and see if I can find any trace of the, hie, balloon-nosed parallelo-bi ped." (Conlin11td on Pagt 51)
i•
-44-
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-45-
struggles Nelson Eddy and Lawrence Tibbett encountered in the early stages of their careers. But temporarily, at least, I have been forced by popular demand to bend my talents in another direction. And so I turn to my harmonica. It has been said that man's best friend is his dog, or
perhaps the horse, or even his wife. But I rise to protest this point.
A dog may turn on his master and
bite him. Does the harmonica? Never. A horse may throw his master to the ground and inflict serious injury. Will the harmonica? Never. A wife may burn the toast, or open cans of fruit with her master's razor. Would the harmonica? Definitely, never. Thus it is that, at those times when my heart and soul are consumed with the urge to make music, I re-
"MUSIC hath charms to soothe the savage
tire to my room, remove my shoes and place my feet
beast." What, then, must be the full extent
on my desk, polish up my old harmonica, and hold deep
of its effect on those gentle folk whose very
communion with my soul. There is a certain spiritual
souls cry out in ecstasy when the bow is drawn across
outlet for me in my music, such as it is, comparable
the violin, or when the piano's golden voice is released
to the effects of prayer or fasting. Earthly cares fall
by the manipulation of its magic keys?
away from me, cynicism brought about by contact with this mortal world leaves me; I have new vision,
For my part, the very reverse of the above quotation is true.
I am not soothed or calmed by music.
The
serene monotony of my otherwise placid existence is shattered by the sweetest of dulcet tones.
new hope, new faith. My repertoire, definitely limited, is of such a size
At the
that playing it completely through takes the better
sound of the first note, my eye lights up. I am filled
part of half or three-quarters of an hour. Occasionaly
with a strange fire. I stir restlessly, and the close ob-
I am able to master a new composition and thus grad-
server sees that I am keeping time to the music with
ually augment my list of selections. From my simple
all parts of my anatomy-my head, my hands, my feet.
opening number-Hinkey Dinkey Parley Vom-on
Music awakens in me a wistful longing, a hitherto I say well-con-
through Frankie and Johnny, Red Wing, Wabash Bfoes, Humoresq11e, and all the rest-to the final imposing rendition of Massa's in de Cold, Cold Groimd-
trolled because I am fully aware of my own short-
1 play steadily, loudly, and absorbedly, literally inter-
comings.
mixing trills, tremolos, brilliant runs, crescendo effects,
well-controlled desire to try my hand at producing liquid notes in harmonious sequence.
I struggle desperately against the over-
powering urge to make music.
It avails me naught.
and labored breathing.
Eventually my better judgment fails me, and I am swept away on a surge of ambitious and rash emotion. I must give voice to my fevered soul!
And when at last I emerge from my solitary soulpurging, tired physically, it may be true, I am renewed mentally and spiritually. Perhaps I am glassy of eye
Long ago I came to the conclusion that my family
and short of breath, strange bells and echoes may ring
and immediate circle of friends are not properly ap-
in my ears, but I am most assuredly-A BETTER
preciative of my cracked baritone.
MAN!
I do not harbor
resentment a:gainst them because of this; I know what
-46-
-N. Lyle
In New York there's a newspaper young people would rather read When you come to decide which New York paper is going to be yours you'll naturally like the paper other young people like . . . the paper that's younger in the way it writes the news. One paper there conducts a "Biggest News of the Week" contest in which thousands of students give 250-word reasons for their choice of which news is biggest. That's the Herald Tribune. One paper publishes "Clips"-a selection of news stories sent every other week to student subscribers so they can see how news is put together. That's the Herald Tribune. There's a paper which issues a booklet-"The Financial Section of a Newspaper" so that
24
HOURS
OF
students young and students old can understand all the financial news, tables and charts. That's the Herald Tribune. There's a paper which makes a point of covering all branches of school, prep and college sports-even conducts a Football School each year for some 500 school and college coaches, climaxes it with an annual fall classic between college All-Stars and the New York Giants. That's the Herald Tribune. There's even a paper which has organized 20,000 young gardeners in and around New York into a Junior Garden Club Council ... and a paper which maintains a year-round School and Camp service for parents who want to pick the best. It's the Herald Tribune.
WORLD
-47-
HISTORY
On Your Absence The world is strangely empty and the house is strangely still, The window box you watched o'er is barren on the sill. The hall clock's tick is muffled, and my heart is muffled, too, No sound is heard within the house-yet all there speaks of you. The breakfast nook and kitchenette, the roses on the wall, The willow shoots you planted are now grown straight and tall. And yet when sunset's slanting rays light up your window pane, The willows seem to bow their heads in sudden, lonely pain. Each picket in the fence keeps ever watchful vigilance, Each flagstone in the walk awaits your shyly downcast glance. The reason for your absence I know they'll never learnI cannot bring myself to tell them that you will not return. The dog lies still upon the hearth-can it be that skies were blue? That world and house were once alive with the loveliness of you? And now the world is empty and the blue skies turned to gray, And my heart is dead because-because you've gone away. -N. Lyle
Sprig Has Cub
Hash Counter Plates
I cringe at the sound of a sniffle, I shrink from a cough in despair, I just haven't the stuff to say "Piffle," I just haven't the strength for the dare!
Substantial plates of soulless white, Chip-resistant, lubricous with grease. (Except for those vestigial incrustations Of dried-on foodiness from prt!vious meals;) And fruitful microbes live on them, no doubt, In scattered dots of prosperous colonies Heartened and increased by frequent dips In water mildly warm and greenish-brown And fringed with grey of soapy scumminess; -They are stacked in, swished rather free of dirt, Then taken out again, dabbed with a towel, And piled once more with hash; -Great heaps of stodgy, pungent-smelling hash -For hungry men. -B. Phillips
I see visions of kleenex around me, And quinine and capsules piled high, I see handkerchiefs out to surround me, And "non-sting" drops to put in my eye. You could get me to tame a fierce lion, Or beard a cross bear in his den But you'll never catch me ever trying To sneak off without rubbers again! -K. Wygant
-48-
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-49-
CAR
A Farmer Looks at Golf I reckon 'twas a month ago That, in a roadster bright, Two city chaps com'd tearin' up Fer lodgin's fer th' night.
"The object of th' game," sez one, "Is this: knock from the 'T-ee' This little ball into these holes. They're all about you, see?"
They sed they's lookin' fer some "links," 'N that they'd lost their way; They claimed the next day, with their "clubs" Some "golf" they aimed t' play.
Thet little ball they knocked aroundOf course, I ain't so smartBut t' seemed to me the object wuz T' put it whar it warn't!
I tried t' tell 'em I had links Jest !yin' in th' barn. The gosh-durned things jest laughed And sed thet someda-v I would larn!
Th' way they fig'red up th' score(Wal, I don't like t' boast)I guess they must've added points Fer which one cussed th' most.
Next mornin' they sed If I'd like t' take a little run Out to "th' links," they'd do their best T' show me how 'twas done.
And I still swear that no sane men Will work all day in sun T' chop up land thet they kin see Don't need no plowin' done.
We dashed off in th' car, n' they Both sed it wuz "a lark,' When I wuz plumb surprised t' find Them "links" wuz jest a park.
These city slickers ain't so smart! I almost threw a fit T' watch 'em chase thet ball around. They could've carried it! -R. Berlin
Birmingham Fruit and Grocery Co.
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AND CONVINCE YOURSELF A Grand Place to Brow&e 124 N. Woodward
-5(}-
Phone 65
'
(Conlin11td from Pogt 44)
Half a mile away a stranger to Paramecium Piewaddie, but an old friend of ours, Spirogyra WimpfenFiggens, was tramping through the trees, leaving his footprints on the mud of Australia. "This is where eohiccups should hang out if they hang out anywhere," he muttered, savagely chewing up his all-day sucker. "I'll hide in the brush a while and see if one doesn't come along pretty soon." So, clambering in among the foliage surrounding the clearing in the bush, he watched with his beady eyes for the coming of the eohiccitp. Professor Piewaddie faltered. He had come far without seeing any sign of a parallelo-biped. Suddenly he became tense. His nose quivered with ecstasy. There on the ground before him in the mud were unmistakably the footprints of a two-legged creature. Surely it could be none other than the one he was seeking. Making his way slowly through the bush, he followed the tracks, hiccuping all the while, until he came to a clearing. There he paused, gazed at the tracks on the ground, gave a few little hies of delight, and scurried into the brush surrounding the clearing to wait until the beast he was seeking returned. As Spirogyra Wimpfen-Figgens sat munching some shredded whiscuit, he saw a strange creature enter the
clearing. Its frame was wracked with hiccups as it studied his footprints on the ground. Suddenly, as though frightened by his strange scent it bounded through the clearing and into the wilds beyond it. Very clearly this was an eohiccup. He would go back to his camp to get ready a trap. Then tonight he would come back and lie in ambush for the timid beast. So, thinking of plans for the cunning trap, he left his hiding place and retraced his steps back to camp. Paramecium Piewaddie had waited but a few minutes in his hiding place before the object of his quest came slowly out of the vegetation on the other side of the clearing. Subconsciously he wondered at the striking similarity the rara avis bore to a human being. It seemed to be thinking deeply as it wended its way back whence it had come. Then, leaving his own hiding place, Paramecium trudged back to camp, making plans to return that night and lie in ambush to capture his quarry. In a tree above a clearing in the bush, Guava Paste lay, drowzily wondering if there really was such a thing as a grooval. Lying there he looked into the clearing below. Suddenly, a strange animal came into it. It looked around, then hid on one side. Soon came another animal, making strange sounds, studying the tracks of the first one. It darted to cover on the other side of the clearing. A few minutes later the first one (Conlinutd on Pogt 102)
CAMP CHIPPEWA TRAIL for GIRLS Miss Lena Morgan, 613 S. Jackson St., Jackson, Mich.
On beautiful Elk Lake Riding, Canoeing, Trips, Crafts
-51-
This is the Piper Talking
T
HIS is The Piper talking! After all, you've seen me scurrying through the halls and over the grounds. You probably think it's about time I get a chance to say something here. Well, it is. The staff, however, advised me to write about Baldwin. Said after all I was a symbol around here and should know a lot of interesting things. Well, frankly, I thought and thought on what to write about, and just no inspiration appeared. So finally at my wit's end, I decided that I'd just jot down a few facts out of my notebook. So I'll turn statistician, crack my notebook, and let a few float into print. Eight hundred students, both junior and senior high, daily cram Baldwin's 3 5 class rooms . . . There are 2 50 doors in the building, all but a few being opened and closed every day ... There are 70 clocks, wo,rked from a master-timekeeper in the office ... Now, let's take a swing down the hall ... 70 hall guards are on duty throughout the day . . . About two hundred students are reported every month for infringing on
hall rules ... There are thirty-one trophies in our new Trophy Case, three-fourths of which were won by the track teams ... There are 5,500 window panes in the front part of the building alone, the gym having 1,480 panes in itself •.. By the way, did you know that the gym can seat 1,000 people, although 1,700 people have been in it at one time? ... There are 60 footlights on the stage ... Baldwin has a very adequate fire system, yet there has never been a fire ... Our oldest caretaker is Tom Ashwell; been here 21 years ... Facts on upkeep: ... Takes one ton of coal to get up s~eam in boilers ... Four tons of coal burned daily ... Chimney on side of building 80 feet high ... Only four brooms are used a year; oilmops are used to keep the halls clean ... Windows are cleaned with water and chamois ... Now let's truck down to the office ... Mr. Bechtold has had about 1,000 "booked" appointments since he been here . . . An outside phone call comes into the office every five minutes ... Teachers are interrupted, from outside sources, on the average of 21 times a day during class hours ... There are 4 5 dial phones in the school and two outside phones ... Facts and figures
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CLASS OF 1938
MAX
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DETROIT BUSINESS UNIVERSITY
INC.
ESTABLISHED 1895 1728 W. Maple Rd. Birmingham 1212
3087 W. Grand Blvd. Madison 8782
United Artists Building Detroit, Mich.
-52-
around the clock ... Nobody ever gets a chance to meet a new girl; too many fellows around ... Average fellow spends $1.2 5 on a date ... Five percent of the students go steady ... Seven hundred "studes" feel 40 cents is too much to pay for admission to a theatre ... Think girls look funny who put sun tan cream on their faces and forget their arms ... Fifteen percent of Baldwin's family eat uptown ... Average lunch: egg salad sandwich, malted milk, and sundae ... Eighty percent of the fellows in school wear sweaters ... About forty percent wear watches ... Benny Goodman is the idol of all Baldwin's "cats" . . . Miss Poppleton is a Big Apple addict ... Coach Whitney has a hide-out on the top of the building called the "Crow's Nest" ... 620 Pij,ers sold last year ... Mr. Toothacker is Baldwin's oldest and most prized institution, having taught here 20 years ... Greatest grudge of all students-having to pay five cents for a phone call ... Number of bricks in building-pardon while I count them---one, two, three, four, five ... six .. ~ seven ... -B. Timm
Rain in the City The leaden sky and thick, lifeless clouds Make union with smoke and dust that rise From darkened city streets. The pall enshrouds All mankind. Were there ever blue skies? There might have been. But now the rain Is loosed from them in great gray strips That beat like lance tips on the window pane And run in sordid puddles down the streets. Great blocks of griiry st,.me are coursed With wet mud streaks. The people below, Rolling stones in a man-made canyon, are forced To seek a hasty shelter 'gainst the blow. The storm clouds cease their rumbled mutter, The city's spawn again take up a tinsel dream. Black water rushes madly down the gutter, A match box bobs its head upon the stream.
There are so few beautiful women, song-writers are beginning to serenade donkeys.
-N. Lyle
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-53-
A Question
of Honor When Steve came of age he applied for a position on the force. At first he was refused, but he was not discouraged. When he was accepted, he was put on a beat in a lonely part of the city. He worked diligently and soon received a promotion which took him to a more populous district. Contentedly he patroled his beat, made friends with all the kids, and won the respect of all for the fine young man that he was. One day while Steve was going about his duties, he was hit by a car. The driver had lost control when he swerved to miss a dog. For several weeks, Steve hung between life and death. But he never gave up, and he gradually began to improve. It was not long before he was able to leave the hospital.
TEVE MURPHY shot himself last night. Briefly the morning paper told of his passing and of his work on the police force in the last year and explained that the incentive for suicide was poor health. However, since I have known Steve for some time, I wish to believe it was something more.
S
Steve had always lived in the big city. Since he was barely able to talk, his one ambition was to be a policeman. As years passed, this idea was always uppermost in his mind. He did not want to be just any policeman. He wanted to patrol a beat, make friends with the kids, and be an aid and friend to all in t-he neighborhood.
But Steve had not gone through the experience without a mishap. He had to have his right arm amputated. When he had sufficiently recovered to return to his job, he reported to his chief but found there was no position for him. The chief explained that because of the loss of his arm he couldn't be put back on the beat again. After a great deal of pleading, Steve succeeded in persuading the chief to let him take a corner near a school where he could help the children across the street, confident that he could make good in spite of his infirmity. And he did make good. He soon knew all the kids' names and greeted them cheerfully as they came to and from school. They all liked him, and he enjoyed his job. Yesterday as Steve gave the okay for Billy Myers to cross the street, a car came whipping around the corner. Sensing the danger, he made a lunge for Billy·to snatch him from the path of the car. His action, although in time, was of no avail. On the impulse, only the stump of an amputated arm moved. Billy was dead when they picked him up halfway down the block, and big-hearted Steve felt that he was to blame. He couldn't reconcile himself to anything but a life of service. Steve shot himself last night. -B. Navin
- 54-
newspaper in step with the tempo ... of a great com ... Streamlined for easier reading .. . PACE WITH PROGRESS IN THE
Mock Election Returns Clossi/icolions Best Looking Best Personality Best Dressed Best Dancer
Girls
Boys
Katharine Wygant Dorothy Trump Betty Forsyth Dorothy Prussing Nancy Fisher Harriet LaPere Genevieve Gay Marion Kirk
Gene McCullough Don Patterson Norman Lyle Robert Bolton Jack Scolaro Bill Osterman Bob Myers Don Porteous Frank McCarthy Phil Carey Phil Carey Bill Holmes Norman Lyle Sam Bruni
Best Athlete
Anna Mary Adams
Best Sport
Genevieve Gay Betty Forsyth
Most Humorous
Jean Cromwell
Most Brilliant
Barbara Johnson Eleanor Kelly Dorothy Trump Joan Campbell Rose Berlin Joan Campbell Rhoda Medbury Virginia Stanley Mary Ann Neff Betty Dick Joan Packard Mignon Conway Christine Smith Adele Na dell
Most Versatile Most Original Most Talented Gum Chewer Biggest Buck Passer Biggest Loafer
We Are Ever R.eady
George DeGraff Andy Watson John Bathgate Charles Turner Don Patterson Bill Spinning Warner Forsyth Duane Roy Robert Bolton
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-56-
Yes, Indeed !
A
RE YOU a yes-man? Do you stammer about and invariably answer to every question?
On my own initiative I have made a study of yesmen about school. Seventy-seven per cent of us are just uhm-hm-men or semi-coma acquiescers. This stage of yessing is still curable, but unless taken in time may become chronic. Following is a conversation between two semi-coma acquiescers: "Hi," one of them says lackadaisically. going to church?"
"Are you
"Uhmhm," yawns the other, not even realizing that he is talking. (The reader will note that this bored, don't-give-a-darn attitude is one of the first and major symptoms of an uhmhm-man.) Then, still unconscious, the two fellows amble to church. Think how embarrassing it might be if victim number one said "jail" instead of "church"! Victim number two would have gone along just the same and gotten the family escutcheon all stained. The "I'll-say" period, or more specifically, the "You-said-a-mouthful" stage is next. When a person gets to be this much of a yes-man, all his former ennui
leaves him, and he becomes full of artificial vigor. He forces himself to keep his spirits up and chirp agreeable answers to every question. The other day I was talking to a boy who used to be a fine chap before this thing got him. The minute I saw him I knew by the glassy look in his left eye and the crooked way he smiled, revealing his molars, that he was stricken. I usually hate taking advantage of my friends by making human guinea pigs of them, but I steeled myself and remembered it was all for science. "Hello," I said. "Wasn't the English test awful?" "Gee, I'll say," he answered spontaneously. "But then again, it was comparatively simple," I countered. (This was the supreme test.) "You said a mouthful!" said my friend. Obviously he was about to launch into the really treacherous no-phobia or simple-yes stage, in which the patient merely answ.ers "yes" to everything. Now, are there any questions? Don't 1 think this is going a bit too far, you ask? Yes, I certainly do! -Joan Campbell
I
-57-
I Am a Sissy AM A SISSY. By chis I do not mean that a gangster movie will throw me into a swoon, nor even that I scream and grow faint at the sight of blood. However, I am afraid I am definitely not rugged. It isn't chat I haven't tried, either. Many are the brave, tooth-gritting attempts I have made to pick up a snake, laughing nonchalantly, as I repeat to myself, "It's just a little animal like everybody else; in fact, it is rather cute in a slimy sort of way, isn't it? Brr!" and I am forced to back hastily away, wondering if I can ever hear the word "snake" again without feeling slightly ill.
I
I am frankly terrified by worms, and I don't think mice are the least bit cute. It's even worse with spiders. The very name of the little demons does something to me. Spiders, Ugh! Can you imagine a more appropriate word for the nasty, stringy, shiverssenders-up-the-back? The mere sight of one can turn me into a nervous wreck, though I am aware chat it is
probably a sign of something very disagreeable in my character. Another thing about which I am a sissy is taking long, healfthful, deep-breathing walks in the country -and especially if I am not dressed for it. Just as I am getting into the spirit of the thing and am beginning a nice "communion" with nature, something flicks up from the ground in a sneaky manner, and makes lace of my new two-thread chiffons. If I continue to stride along, I am very likely to be forced to come co terms with a slaughterous barbed-wire fence; or I may step into a hole which the animals of the region have cleverly concealed with grass so that I may have the fun of turning my ankle. Perhaps someday I will overcome my aversion to some of the things which keep me from being an outdoor girl; but I won't particularly mind if I don't. I wouldn't want to pick up a snake, anyway.
MOULTHROP SUPPLY CO.
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-58-
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I
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BIRMINGHAM
BRANCH
234 NORTH WOODWARD AVENUE
-59-
Dear Marj,
you didn't. You had the wind knocked out of your sails instead.
I've just received your last letter and as usual disagree with your sentiments something terrific.
Three years later you graduated. from that institution of learning. (Remember when you dropped your diploma in front of the assembly and then tripped on your dress and almost did a back-flip trying to pick it up?)
There you are in the big, bad city tasting life in the raw, yet you write home like all the other spineless, excitingless so-and-so's, because it built you up to an awful letdown. Maybe it did. But why did you let it? Wasn't it because you arrived with the impression that the world was bowed at your feet, that you'd "smile and mow 'em down?" Now you're disillusioned because you didn't dazzle seven million people. Don't let me discourage you further, but you've only been there a year. Rome wasn't built in a day, but it wasn't built in twelve months, either. (I'm not sporting gray hair and specs; so don't take this brain child too seriously.) You were about fourteen when you graduated from grade school and gloried in the worshipful glances of the insignificant kids who had a few more years to go. Then you entered high school to "slay" the entire student body with your Look-who-I-am attitude. But
Where was I? Oh, yes. When you graduated from high school your sense of greatness had returned, and you set forth to make your first million in a month. You didn't-again you were deflated. Would you say education built you up to an awful let down? I'd rather call it something like the "stupidity of inexperience" and let it go at that. What if your ship hasn't come in yet? Don't sit back and wait for it. Change the tide and make it come in. Anyway, why get discouraged? You can't buy the best things in life with money. I hate to stop now, but I can't send much more on three cents. As ever yours, -L. Purcilly
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-60-
It Probably Has Happened to You VER one thousand seats in the theater and where do we draw ours?-directly in front of one of those individuals who get a great deal of enjoyment from finding fault with the acting, setting, costumes, and story, and who can't keep still. Using a very sarcastic tone that can be heard eight rows ahead, he proceeds to pick the picture to pieces and point out all the defects.
O
The picture has a cast whose combined annual incomes could buy the United States Government two or three battleships; we have been waiting months for it to appear at the neighborhood theater. But, alas! when it finally arrives fate puts her finger on us. We are destined to be pestered all evening by that word machine behind us. "Holy mackerel! Did you see the way he socked that fellow? A blind man could tell that was faked!" There he goes with his infernal chattering! Although we cough, squirm, even turn around to glare at him, he looks at us as if we were doing all the talking. But he keeps up his conversation!
By this time we have lost the plot of the story; but after all, we came here to see the picture. Once more we turn our attention to the screen. It doesn't seem to get us anywhere. From behind us comes another "What's she supposed to be drinking? You can see there's nothing in that cup." In desperation we anxiously look around, searching for another seat. Our hearts sink as we cannot locate any and realize what we have to put up with. Oh, sure, we could call the usher and ask to have the "gentleman" quieted. But from his physical appearance that would just make a greater disturbance. Meanwhile, it seems to us that here is an opportunity for some enterprising young inventor to make a million dollars-if he could invent a theater seat that, after its occupant had spoken a hundred words or so, would sink through the floor, drop the malefactor into a chute, and deposit him on the street outside, witl;i his money back. It's worth a try, isn't it? -B. Averill
FBILL OLDERSHAW
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OLDERSHAW MOTOR SALES DODGE and PLYMOUTH 47.9 SOUTH WOODWARD
PHONE 642
-61-
To the Trophy Case Shining bright in the golden light The trophies row on row Recall the feats of bygone meets That all who look may know: What teams have done, what races won, How high they placed the bar, What records set, what players met, And who the heroes were. And while the years roll quickly by, the Trophy Case stands fast, In everlasting memory to achievements of the past.
-G. Rounds
"May His Tribe Increase"'
-62-
11
1 hope you don't mind if I continue
reading this serial story!'' • Deep reader interest is what makes some newspapers better advertising mediums than others.
• REAL interest to readers has enabled Iowa's Des Moines Sunday Register to almost double circulation in the past ten years. Although published in a city of 40,000 families, The Des Moines Sunday Register now has more than 315,000 circulation, and is read by every other family in the ENTIRE ST A TE OF IOWA. The whole state becomes the "Sales city" where two and a half million people spend $750,000,000 yearly to buy goods at retail.
• No other newspaper in the country so thoroughly covers an entire state. In fact, most big city newspapers do not reach as many families, IN THEIR OWN CITIES as The Des Moines Sunday Register does in the entire state of Iowa. • So what, sez you? Well, here's what: • Should any of you graduates ever get into the advertising business, you will impress your boss with your knowledge and good sense, and save money by depending on consistent "big city" advertising in The Des Moines Sunday Register to do a complete selling job in Iowa! • Smart advertisers are doing it-with profit.
The ~ e s Register and Tribune -63--
Saturday's Child OTHER is very subtle about this. She applies the pressure to me gr.adually, dropping the first of a series of delicate hints early in the week. "Norman," she says, coyly but firmly, "either you are going to clean the basement Satu,:day or you are not going to get the car for a month!"
M
Mother does not have to tell me some things more than four or five times before I realize that she is quite serious about them. I begin to understand along about the middle of the week that I might actually have to clean the basement on Saturday. And being an old hand at this game, I try to lay my plans accordingly. Mother is also an old hand at this game. So between Monday and Saturday, I am able to make no telephone calls without Mother standing by and immediately vetoing anything that includes the word Saturday. A mother's trust is a beautiful thing.
every turn, playing her trump card-my use of the car--on an average of three times a day. I see only one hope left for me. If I should stay out quite late this Friday night, perhaps Mother upon seeing my utter exhaustion on Saturday morning will not have the heart to rout me out of bed and down into the basement. I resolve to stake my all on this card. Thus it is that having taken my leave of the family early Friday evening, I tiptoe cautiously in late Friday night. Bright and early Saturday morning, at an hour when only chickens and farmers should be rising, Mother bustles into my room, flings wide the curtains, throws back the covers, exposing my chest to the dewy morning air and my eyes to the repulsively golden sunshine, and roars in a cheery "good-morning" voice, "Get out of bed, you lazy sinner! That basement is going to be cleaned today, and you might as well start now. I'm not going to wait breakfast for you!"
By Friday night the situation has become acute, and I have become desperate. Mother has blocked me at
It is the last shot that strikes home. Sleep for me now is out of the question. If I am to be forcibly made
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-64-
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to work, I had better plan to do so with the aid of a bit of breakfast. Bleary-eyed, brain-befogged, I stagger out of bed and crawl into my shirt and pants. Wearily, with a minimum of effort, I weave my way downstairs. Completely exhausted, I collapse in my chair at the breakfast table. A lone piece of burned toast, left as mute evidence of the fact that breakfast has been served, is abruptly swept out from under my nose, and I am left to contemplate the shiny waxed surface of the bare table. Gradually the thought simmers through my consciousness-my near unconsciousness-that Mother did not wait breakfast for me. Efficiency is the keynote of our household.
lay of the land. This is wise because an undertaking such as this requires much thought and planning beforehand. I must not take aey hasty action. One does not go at cleaning a basement haphazardly. The first thought that strikes me is that it is a very large basement. Oddly enough, my first conclusion has always been that it is a very large basement. I decide that with Mother in such a "get-things-done-in-ahurry" mood, I had better not wait, at least not today, for the basement to get any smaller. So I set to work mentally to divide the territory to be cleaned into squares.
A slight blank follows this incident. This blank may be attributed to lack of sleep or to lack of nourishment, or partly to each. At any rate, my next sensation is that of flying through the air, soaring as it were. I will not say that Mother threw me down the basement stairs. Nor will I say that she frushed me down them. Let it suffice to say that Mother e11co1traged me to go down into the basement and get to work.
Then I estimate how many strokes of a broom will be necessary to sweep each square. Take that corner, for instance. By shifting the box resting there so that its short end faces me, I can cover up fully one-third of the square. Then I will turn the ironing board so that one of its !~gs rests partially in the upper third of the square. Two-thirds cleaned all ready, and the other third wasn't dirty anyway. So why bother with that part of the basement?
The technique of cleaning a basement is this: I seat myself on the bottom step of the stairs and survey the
Finally I add up the number of strokes required for each square and arrive at a minimum total of sixteen
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- 65-
strokes. This should clean the basement as thoroughly as any mother could wish. After all, I clean the darn thing every week-almost. Suppose I cleaned it seven times a week? Or suppose we had seven basements? Seven times seven is fifty-four, times three hundred and sixty-five days in a year is-why, I'm nothing more than a mere slave around this house Who does she think she is, working me this way? Figures don't lie, and when I present these to her, she'll surely have to bow to my superior intelligence this once! And then I remember how many times in the past Mother has proved that my air-tight arguments won't hold water. I wake myself up and vow that now or never is the time when I must actually get down to real, hard, manual labor. I crawl over to the corner where I have made up my mind to begin. What is this? A goldmine in our basement? No, it's only a pile of old magazines, saved for the rag-man. Well, here is a splendid starting point. I shall weed out the unwanted magazines and throw them away. A magnificent project. But obviously I must not throw away any that might be used at some future time. I must carefully choose which shall be saved and which shall be dis-
carded. And the only safe way of doing this, of course, is to read each one through from cover to cover. I must be thorough or nothing. Mother will be proud of me . .. When the friend whom I had previously arranged to have call for me at ten o'clock Saturday so that I might have an excuse to avoid cleaning the basement knocks at the door at the appointed time and is admitted to the basement, he finds me blissfully immersed in a pre-war serial entitled, Heaven Will Protect tbe Working Girl. With his assistance I am able to negotiate the stairs and to get out of the house before Mother finds that I am gone. She will never discover my deceit because she only goes down in the basement once a week to hang freshlywashed clothes. Perhaps she will read this essay and thus know the awful truth. But I don't care. When I grow up, I'm going to live in a flat. -N. Lyle
Classroom boner-The Colossus of Rhodes is a superhighway which has no speed limit.
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- 67-
An American Looks at London's Hyde Park
A
HALF MILE from the historic Buckingham Palace and a mile from the heart of the city of London, stretch the wide green acres of Hyde Park. Here, in addition to enjoying recreation provided by boating, swimming, driving, and concerts, the teeming millions of London gather daily to hear men (and women), speak on social, economic, and political policies. On a wide gravel expanse near the Marble Arch, one of the most frequently used entrances to the park, ninety per cent of these orators can be found. Sunday is the one day of the week on which the largest multitudes gather around these demagogues because this is the only day the average Englishman can afford to spend away from his business. Many come to the park to participate in these discussions, either as spectators to watch the amusing incidents that develop, or to seek information. Jokers and hecklers are invariably included in the crowd.
At one spot, mounted on a platform some three feet square, is an enthusiastic follower of Karl Marx, holding a red flag in one hand and using the other to emphasize his remarks. This fellow knows what he is talking about. Without the aid of note~ he speaks with a fluency that many men would give a great deal to possess. All the information he will need is committed to memory, all of it instantly available. Nor does he talk wildly nor in an obstreperous fashion. He speaks as though he were trying to sell his audience a new automobile. But he has his difficulties; for directed at him from various points of the gathering, comes a variety of remarks. Some can be definitely recogni~ed as the efforts of the hecklers and jokers, trying their best to get him to wander from his original subject.
S. 0. Wylie Bell
WHEN YOU THINK OF
and Son
FLOWERS
At times the hecklers become a little too personal. When this occurs, he immediately begins to get per-
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sonal with them. Each starts out mildly with statements concerning the other's stupidity and ignorance; if the throng allows it to continue, they hurl back and forth insults directed at each other's families and friends, race and religion, or anything else that comes into their minds. When any of the people grow tired of the radical's arguments, they push their way toward the edge of the crowd in search of a new and more interesting speaker. A few of these may stop to listen to an ardent British subject as he heaps praises upon the British Foreign Office for the excellent bit of work it did in regard to that last international crisis. At the edge of the walk is a white-haired old man, telling all those who may care to listen how the world can free itself from the yoke of war and bloodshed which has been around its neck since it was created. All it would have to do, he says, is follow the simple rules he has just discovered after years of research and painstaking efforts. The assembly usually listening to this type of speaker is composed of women who feel it their obligation to save civilization from destruction. (Their husbands are probably over at the Communist's meeting listening to the speech advocating revolution for the working classes.) On a platform a hundred feet down the path stands a man who appears to be a hard-working farmer just in from the country after a hard day's work. As he
addresses the gathering, it is evident that he has a mouthful of broken, crooked teeth, yellow with tobacco stains. His hair is snarled and unkempt; he is not dressed very neatly. He strongly avows that he is an atheist, declaring the Bible full of nonsense and prayer useless. He knows he has never received any help from God yet. From the grinning countenances of the people as they listen to him, one realizes that they don't really agree with what's being said; but they receive a lot of enjoyment from the talk. In gatherings like these there is bound to be at least one humorous speaker. A new arrival at the meetings can immediately locate this type-he is the one surrounded by the greatest number of people. One humorous speaker who appears in Hyde Park nearly every Sunday is a negro who claims to be an African prince. He has resided in London for the past twenty years. He gives his profession as "selling tips on horse races, when I am not making a speech." With two colored feathers in a headband and a Union Jack in each hand, he is supposed to be defending the Jews. In order to get in a good joke and to make the crowd laugh this fellow wanders off his subject deliberately. He is remarkably good at it, too. No one knows how he brings it up., but suddenly he is telling the English women present that they don't know how to "get their man;" that, if they would only use the "medozulla" the native African women
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- 69-
use, they will "get him every time." The people seem to like this kind of speaker and do not tire of him, and they will listen to him as long as he will continue talking. This is a typical cross-section of the speakers and subjects of the speeches that are found in Hyde Park. To an American, who believes he comes from a country where there is considerable freedom of speech, this spectacle of such unrestrained freedom is intensely interesting as well as somewhat bewildering. The first time he attends one of these demonstrations, he usually remains from early in the afternoon until ten o'clock in the evening, even forgetting his dinner because of the attraction. -B. Averill
Rosalie . . . ..... .
. . . . . ..... Rose Berlin
The Memory of You
. . ...... Fritz Adams
Yott Can't Stop Mc From Dreaming . .. ... Bill Vinton The Lady ls a Tramp .
. ............ Betty Dick
Tha11ks For The Memories
. ... . . Frances Chandler
Sweet Someone . .. .
. . . ... . . . . Bob Meyers
I bouble Dare Y 011
... . . ... .. ... . Ansky Neff
It's W 011derful .
.........
. .THE PIPER ... . Jim Todd
All Of Me
Y Ott Can't Have Everything. . . . . . . . . Betty Forsyth
Fuzzy Wuzzy
Great Day
Ah, fluff of varied and colored hue, How many's the time I've cursed at you! And rnany's the time I've said, "Begorra," I wish my sweaters weren't Angora. For what could leave me more distressed Than pinky fuzz on Johnny's vest?
Who Know s
.. . .... Madeline Pease
Flapperette
. . ..... Marilyn Ely
Commencement Day; Senior Skip Day
Time On My Hands
. Miss Stickle
I Wanna Be In Winchell's Co/1111111
Rhoda Medb11ry
-K. Wygant.
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314
For Service Call 8 7
-70-
Its squat legs bowed, che old chair stands In its corner, and <!reams of the liccle hands That once seized hold of the worn old scat
Morning Comes Early A meadow lark sings In the early morningAnd the sun rises Red Over the hills. Grey mist from the lake Floats slowly upward, and Dew quivers on a Spiderweb Lace-work of diamondsShimmering among The grasses. -P. Pattison.
To guide the first seeps of liccle pink feet. Each scratch and mar on its widespread arms Is a memory sweet of a small child's charms. Each worn bare spot on its soft mohair pad Speaks of mother love for a cow-headed lad. The tow-headed lad has long since been gone. The mother's returned to the Home in the Dawn. And the old chair dreams the long hours away, Feeling the sweet touch of a lost yesterday. -N. Lyle.
God made the world and rested God made man and rested Then God made women Since then neither God nor man has rested.
Disillusionment Each word that falls from your sweet lips Is fragrance from the flowers, Each sparkling glance from your dark eyes Is like a glimpse of scars. But darling I can't eat your words Nor dine upon your looks; So I'll just have to pass you up And get a girl chat cooks.
-D, McCormick.
The most ungrateful person in the world is the fellow who borrows one's paper to copy and then complains that he can't write with the kind of pen one has.
If all the world's a stage, there are a few too many international bit-part actors clamoring for the leading role.
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- 71-
PHONE 1891
The Great Astra HE THREE RINGS appeared distorted through the haze of smoke and foul air in the great tent. Five thousand people, young and old, gasped and laughed at paint-smeared performers.
T
But in a nearby tent, unconscious of the slice of humanity close by, stood Astra and Tromby. Astra was the star of the show. Astra swung from a chromium bar sixty feet in the air. No net was waiting to catch her, if she should fall. It had taken her years to gain confidence, but now she had conquered one of her greatest fears-performing without a net. The other fear was cramps. Astra had lost a sister who suffered a cramp while on the high wire. A cramp in Astra's tiny hand, or even a finger, would send her hurtling to the sawdust ring below. They were calling her now for her last show. Tromby was taking her away. Away to Switzerland to be married. Yes, Astra would give them a show tonight. But she must hurry. Before going out the door she scooped cold cream from a bottle labeled Actors' Facial Supplies and dabbed it on her face.
As she was pulled to the top of the tent, she noticed how sultry and hot the air was. How she hated these conditions! Now she was on the safety platform. She wiped her forehead. Her face cream was running. She leaped for the bar. Around and around she swung. The crowd gasped. Her left hand, wet with the cream from her face, slipped. Her small body wrenched sidewise, then plummeted into the center of the shocked crowd. Tromby lifted her broken body from the sawdust. The morning newspapers told of the death of the great Astra, of how she had had a cramp in her arm, in the middle of her act. Yes, presses roared with that story, but no one knew of how she had slipped to her death because of a little face cream. Yes, it was ironic. For you see, Tromby was owner of the Actors' Facial Supplies Company. -B.Timm
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-72-
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Arizona Impressions I. Flat white walls Throw a snowy sheen 'Gainst a sea of sand And cactus green.
II. Thrusting Its swollen fingers Rudely Into the sky, Vainly snatching At bits of Cottony cloud, The saguaro Disdains to notice Men-insects Passing by, Nor heeds the voice Of the wind Roaring fierce orders Aloud. III.
The fringe on purple mountains to the west Glows with the golden light of setting sun. The sheet of darkness on their slopes is prest, The stars hang our their lanterns-one by one.
-N. Lyle.
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-73-
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- 74-
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-75-
Child Stars HEY should be typed as "just one of those things" but they aren't. People, mostly the very young or the very old, think that they are cunning. I think-(Being an older sister to small fry who are greatly influenced by these fiends, have I not the right to think?)-that they are just a lot of foul balls literally thrown at American audiences. They are publicized as being unspoiled darlings who are always giving their poor, unfortunate stand-ins their favorite rabbit of which they already have too many.
T
But even if they are only one-quarter as insidious as I make them out to be, they will still continue to bite soundly in the stomach all visitors to the set. ihat is, providing their teeth are their own. Usually, as they are growing out of the "little fat legs" stage into the awkward stage, they grow out of their little white teeth. Some kindly studio dentist makes them a plate (which causes that adorable lisp!) and the brats cheerfully gag through their lines. The show must go on, you know! As the years go by the curly-headed moppets, like the rest of us, grow up. Mothers tear their hair, and fathers become frantic. If Snooksie Wooksie's hair keeps getting straighter and her legs longer and lankier, where are Snooksie Wooksie and her hair-tearing Ma
and frantic Pa going to get their next meal? Snooksie's mama will always tell you that she is really deep down in heart, "teddibly" happy that her treasure is growing up. She wants to take her away from Hollywood the Sordid and put her in a charming little French convent. Well, don't let her fool you, buddy. Deep down in her heart she's scared to death. Afraid of the juggling acts and little theaters in Kansas that were so much a part of papa's and her own earlier days. Snooksie Wooksie and the ever-present Curly Simple are soon eclipsed by that inevitable adolescent with the mature voice. She doesn't look a day over twelve, my deah, and you would never guess that she was just fourteen her last birthday. The last one she counted! This not-so-rare specimen is the gushing child whose doting female parent was badly frightened by Peter Pan. She scurries about the screen busily making the world a happier place by her songs and acting disgustingly jeune fille. Her name is always an awe-inspiring one like "Banana Turban." Ugh! Her sparkling eyes and hair-flung-back-in-careless-abandon attitude give old men a new lease on life.
- 76-
And a little child shall lead them. Uh, uh. Not me! -B. Forsyth
CAMPBELL-EWALD COMPANY HENRY T. EWALD, PRESIDENT
GENERAL MOTORS BUILDING, DETROIT, MICHIGAN
-77-
Doctor Blank, Botanist You look at flowers scientifically Noting examples of hypogeny; -Dissect to view their ovaries' formations; -Have lectured hours on stamens' adaptations; Sometimes you're stirred to smiling eagerness Thru finding some rare specimen to press And file away upon a labeled page; Oh, plainly, Doctor Blank, you are a sage!
Still Life
But I've been moved to ask-It is a pityPray, had you noticed, sir, that flow'rs are pretty? -B. Phillips
A lamp threw gold highlights On the polished dark mahogany And made tempting the pile of leather-bound hooks. A dull copper bowl, filled with glowing apples, Rested on a fringed shawl Thrown carelessly over a corner of the table. On a grac:eful, carved chair, Covered with rare old tapestry, Was curled a sleek, yellow cat, Purring contentedly in the warmth From the fireplace. -J. Campbell
e.At LAWSON & SON
THE CLUB If you have had a good time, enjoyed our hospitality be sure That we have enjoyed you and your friends, too. We hope you will always have pleasant memories of The hours you spent
Dealers in
Lumber, Coal, Brick, Lime and Cement
at
SHAIN'S
PHONE 111
Drug Store and Soda Fountain
-78-
Firmament
Return of a Memory
The sky Is a heavy blue veil Covering sparkling silver sequins And clasped with a golden crescent. The stars Are tiny diamond chips Scattered haphazardly Upon a cutter's blue velvet. The moon Is a solid gold disc Displayed to best advantage Against the blue of some rare gown. The world Cycles, as a darksome sphere Gathering into itself All serenity of infinite space.
Soft velvet and Irish lace, Blue china cups and tea leaves, Wispy scents Of yesterday That recall a lovely face, And a half-forgotten love seat 'Neath the eaves. Green lawns and maple trees, Swallows darting past in sudden flight, I met her thereAnd left her Spite of all her soft voiced pleas. Why comes she now to mock me In the night? -N. Lyle.
Grave little dog, such a serious face! Am I, a mere human, so much out of place? Is the sadness implied in your eyes really true? Are you bored with those who write poems about you? -N. Lyle.
-W. Seligmann
Russwin Finish Hardware Paints and Varnishes
Congratulations
•
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THE CLASS OF '3 8
from
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• 116 S. Woodward
160 WEST MAPLE Phone 255-256
-79-
HORIZONTAL I. Our principal
9. Well-known dancer and cheerleader
10. Eleanor Kelly's marks 12. Period of time 13. A back on the football team 17. John Bathgate's campaign
manager 18. Small underground animals 19. To make a mistake 20. Waits 22. Skill (pl.)
2 3. A girl cheerleader ( first name and last initial) 24. National Association for the
Liberation of Otters (abbr.) 2 5. Self 2 8.
French article {pl.)
29. Position played by McCarthy and Patterson on the football team {pl.)
For the Purest Grade "" A" Milk
HILLY ACRES
Would you show your thoughtful11ess?
Flowers
'JJAIRY
from
BREITMEYERS 356 W. Maple
3 Stores 106 Witherell, at Broadway Book-Cadillac Hotel Hotel Statler DETROIT
BIR. 1923
(Opposite High School)
-80-
31. Piper adviser (initials)
57. Wing
32. An event in a track meet
59. Fraction
18. Girl's name 21. Nautical distress signal
34. Student photographer (initials) 61. Soon
26. Wealthy American family
35. Pronoun
27. Prepares for publication
63. Student Congress President
30. A gay song
36. Coniferous tree
VERTICAL
37. One of the Jones boys (initials)
33. Constellation
40. Teacher celebrating his twentieth year in Baldwin (initials)
1. Gc!ntleman from Georgia (Ini- 39. Poetical term for attractive girls tial and last name) 2. The Crawford girl's first name 42. An opera singer {last name)
41. Phonetic spelling of the word
3. Exclamation of defiance
43. Bind
4. Farewell (contraction)
45. Detroit Police Station (abbr.)
3 8. Preposition
table 43. Attempt
5. Sailor
48. Grow old
44. Antonym for the word new
6.
49. Scotch name
46. A doctrine or system {pl.)
7. Romance language
50. Cereal
47. First name of Spanish teacher
8. Demons
51. An easy thing (Slang)
9. The Coach ( first and last
51. Poetic license for past tense of the verb soar
52. And peace (Latin)
(We co1}1dn't do this one)
names)
53. Athletic organization {initials) 11. A Junior Adviser (First and 54. Girls attending a coeducational school 14. 55. (We couldn't do this one) 15. 56. Religious factions 16.
56. French coin 57. Indian weight
last name)
60. Contraction of I am
Beverage
67. French Contraction
An attempt
-J. Campbell.
Before
-R. Berlin.
The Birmingham National Bank COMPLETE BANKING
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-81-
Just Looking, Thanks Whimsy is as whimsy does - ask anyone. And you can bet they think this year's spring fashions are the whimsiest ever! It's fun to be young and pert of feature because if you are, the hats will set off both these advantages to perfection. Bonnets are big, and my lady's whims are veils and brims .... Or those little excuses made entirely of flowers. Colors are simply lush! Such as strawberry pink, cornflower blue, or wheat yellow. Collarless pastel coats with contrasting skirts are tops! Stripes are leading the parade. We gals are stealing the pin stripe right out from under the male population's noses. Prints are in! Oriental patterns, the louder the better. Pleats in the spotlight coming backward or forward. Gloves and bags match in bright colored suede. Feet first in shoes; navy or black gabardine pumps embroidered in flowers, or try some of those new Mexican red kid ones. Incidentally, the latest in evening shoes are silver cutouts with open toes, and peeping out from the toes are tiny nosegays of posies. Snooky, don't you think? She will wear lots of those
new "Lido" sandals with built up soles and tied around ankles. Jew e I e d clips adorn lapels and the gadgets are so plentiful in this year's crop of accessories that one can't help being original girl number one. For the same reason kids save the icing until the last, we end our report with formal what and wherefore. They are made in cobwebby lace and chiffon in either plain colors or large prints. Huge skirts and drop shoulders and tied around the waist with wide satin ribbon. Wear flowers by the dozens in the hair even if the date docs object to eating petals while dancing. -R. Medbury.
Cora, with dramatic flare Put chewing gum in grandpa's chair. Though grandpa was humble when he sat, He was stuck-up after that.
As traditional as a diploma on Commencement Day.
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- 82-
Escape THE SUN was just sinking in the west. A quiet evening breeze brought back sweet memories of a spring night, an orchestra playing in the background and the one girl in his arms. Hell-he must keep those things crowded into the back of his mind. Not too far back, but not in the light. He had to reach the gate before sundown. Tomorrow his disguise as a broken down old hag might not pass the scrutinizing eyes of the guards. Tomorrow would mean another day before he could have her back in his arms. His gait quickened. He could already feel the breeze and almost hear the orchestra. But she was not in his arms. Try as he would, he could not imagine the messy, old split-cain basket being the One. The gate-he must reach the gate. Not too fast now. Careful, not too anxious. Take it easy. It will be soon enough. He is passing through the gate just before it closes. Ah-he is through. Don't run, don't run, Why not? The wig is falling off.
Suddenly he feels her in his arms. The machine guns, sticking their ugly snouts from the grey walls, break the still air with harsh barkings. The sun seems to linger a little longer to see it all and then hides its face behind the horizon to shut out the sight. Never again will he hear the soft music or feel the light breeze, but he will always have Her in his arms.
-C. Bennett.
Public Enemy DURING most of the class discussion he takes no part. He seems to be thinking of nothing in particular But let anyone use a word that he can easily transform into a pun, and he immediately springs to life. Without waiting for recognition from the teacher, he drops his brain child into the midst of the group. Most of his attempts are feeble, but he can never see this. Sometimes the class can discourage these outbursts; many times it doesn't succeed. Then the victims simply suffer in silence, abiding their time until the "mental marvel" sees his efforts being wasted.
-B. Averill.
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-83-
When I Was a Boy "--and after I had milked the cows, and fed the chickens and pigs, I had to walk four miles to school, sometimes through snow three feet deep. Yes, we had terrible winters in those days." As Pa finished the same story for about the hundredth time, a terrible thought struck me. It did not concern the awe-inspiring tale which my father had just told. Rather, a question arose in my mind as to what I was going to be able to tell my offspring which would make my personal stock soar in their eyes. Surely I couldn't tell them of getting up at eight o'clock and of the long tramp of three blocks to school. The impression made is obvious. They could even prove that cranking the family car to take me all that way was much before my time. Even the idea of my working so hard after getting to school would hardly go over because probably by that time the P. T. A. would have had all work in school abolished and my kids wouldn't know what homework was. I might narrate on the difficulties I had in getting and holding
my women, but they would probably derive the idea that I was not the heart-breaker that I really was. Maybe I could tell them that-. No, not even that would go over. I guess that my only opening would be the late hours that I kept on school nights and the early hours on the week-ends. But even that might fall flat, for by that time sleeping may be proved unhealthful and old-fashioned. If this happens, I can see only one way out. By staying single, my worries are needless. -R. Navin.
The younger generation isn't really fast. As a matter of fact it is extremely slow in catching on to the way the oldsters did things. Gossiping is a sure way to lose friends and interest people. Sunburn precaution: Don't put off till tomorrow that which you can prevent today.
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-84-
An Interview With the Missing Link
A
LOT has been said about the Missing Link. Scientists have spent years of toil in search of this mysterious creature. Every so often the papers report that some unknown scientist has a line on the link, but it has always turned out to be a false statement.
At last an expedition was fitted out to try to find the Missing Link to interview him for The Piper. Finally, the searchers were so close to the Link that they decided to send a messenger ahead to get the story. Straws were drawn, and I won. I entered the presence of the Link. He voiced a low, melancholy wail. There he sat on a one-legged stool placidly writing reams of ghost stories. His mannerisms were much the same as those of a human being in that he threw papers all around and chewed the ends off his pencils. As he seemed to be a fellow journalist, I asked him why he was writing these hair-raisers. He groaned, "These sheets of prose help me in my spare time work. I spend my spare time eluding the general public and haunting the scientists."
When asked if he would like to appear on a program at Baldwin High School, the Link answered with a coquettish roll of his eyes, "Most students act more like the missing link than I do." This sounded like No. "When were you first missed?" I asked. "I was living in the Lost Continent of Atlantis when I was left out of the 1500 B. C. census," he replied, "and i have been among the missing ever since. The whole trouble started when two men were sent to put my name on the list. It turned out that it was on the list twice, and each of the men hastened to correct his mistake. Both crossed my name off. This left my name out of the census. "I beg to leave you," said the Link, "for I hear another scientist coming." He was gone!
-J.P. Buckeridge. Sophisticated Swing . . .. ....._..... . .. . . Mr. Berndt Pennies From Heaven . . .. . .. . . , ... Red Cross Ftmd
Secretarial Training-Accounting Business Administration and other courses open to High School and College Graduates
7 West Lawrence Street
PONTIAC
Incorporated under the Educational Act of the Michigan Statutes as a "Class A College, empowered to grant degrees." THREE SCHOOLS IN DETROIT AND ONE IN SAGINAW -85-
Date Doin's ATE doin's begins at what is termed the "teen age," starting at the tender age of twelve or thirteen when Bill is informed by his fond and loving parents (Bill has doubts about this) that he is escorting little Connie Somebody to Miss Frickenweller's Friday evening dancing class. This is usually sprung on him at the last minute so he hasn't time to develop fits, pneumonia, appendicitis, or anything serious.
D
is in the depths of despair. He gives the doorbell a mighty jab. Maybe she got the measles or mumps all of a sudden. He brightens at the prospect, but his hopes are shattered as the door is flung open and a small bunch of femininity descends upon him. Arriving at their destination, Father remarks that he'll call for them at eleven and leaves with a parting grin. Bill grabs Connie by the arm and gives her a shove through the door so that she fairly explodes into the lobby.
After being dressed up like a regular sissy, very much against his will, he pulls the old stand-by, croup, which has always scared his folks stiff. It's working! He begins to relax until he sees his mother approaching with a sinister-looking bottle. It's remarkable how quickly he recovers. Father calls that he's brought the car around and for Pete's sake will Willie please hurry up? He's getting worse than his mother! The reluctant son comes slowly out (hoping he'll break a leg on the way) and slumps into the back seat. He is scrubbed and brushed within an inch of his life.
Girls! Why did he have to know any girls? One was as good as another-good for nothing. He takes his time getting into the ballroom, vainly trying to think of some last minute excuse to get out of this nightmare. He feels himself beginning to sink as the music starts. He is completely sunk when he finds he is framed to dance the first dance with Connie. Somehow he manages to drag through it. He gets a good grip on a bow-thing on the back of her dress which sure makes a swell steering gear. After being caught several times trying to sneak behind drapes with a fellow sufferer to end his misery, he finds the evening
By the time they arrive at this Connie's house, he
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finally ends. He breathes a sigh of relief and makes a determined vow never to get mixed up in one of these things again even if he has to join up with a band of hermits for the rest of his life!
With this he grabs his overcoat, yells goodby, and slams the door before either father or mother can open up on the time-to-get-in sermon.
Time: Four years later. "Oh, I'm feelin' like a million." A rather cracked baritone issued from the shower. "I've got a date with an angel." The door flies open as Bill sprints for his room. "Mom, oh Mom, did you get my pants back from the cleaners?" Receiving a satisfactory answer that they are on his bed, he dresses in haste. "Whew, nine o'clock! And I promised Connie I'd be on time tonight!" Connie, what a girl! And is she a snooky dancer! "Feelin' like a million." Say, Mom, did you order those flowers? Darn this tie! What? No! I said gardenias! "Sweet Peas," he mutters to himself. "You'd think she was a baby." He reaches for his tux coat and gazes at his reflection. "Hmm, not bad, not bad at all." He makes the stairs in three jumps. "Dad, where's the car key?"
"Say, Dad." (This is spoken confidentially), "how about a little extra, huh? It's an extra super date. Gee, tl-ianks, pal!"
Upon reaching Connie's, he touches the bell lightly and talks congenially with her parents. Not that he particularly enjoys this, but Bill's policy is kept up on the family angle. Connie practically trips coming down the stairs. "Wow, now there's a definitely devastating dame. Wait till the stag line sees this!" As they arrive at the dance, Bill fairly runs a relay to get on the floor. The orchestra is thumping out rhythm. And Connie! Is she coming through, or is she coming through! -R. Medbury.
One In a Million . .... . ..... . ....... Zibbie Richey Happy Landing . .. .. ..... . ....... Glen Waggoner In Old Chicago . ................... Barbara Rupp All You Want To Do Is Dance . ....... Don Porteous
DRINK Always Open
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Good Food and Quick Service Try our Sunday dinners
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Pontiac 4121 Birmingham 1660
-87-
You Might Have Been a Headache, But You Never Were a Bore! ELL, dear, it's all over. You're satisfied, 1·m happy, your parents are glad-that makes it almost unanimous.
when I allowed you to demonstrate your culinary art in the preparation of something you called "Banana Surprise." That was my worst mistake.
Think back, darling. If I can stand it, you certainly can. Don't you think it would annoy you some to find shaving cream carefully transferred into the toothpaste container? I often wondered how you accomplished it. I don't suppose I'll ever know now.
You looked so adorable and silly in that apron and your hair in your eyes. I wanted to hug you. I thought, "What a cute story to tell mother." Enough of that.
W
Of course, the hairbrush scared me the first time I found it in my bed. The third time, it was exceptionally irritating. It shows perseverance, I will say that. Every time I see a hairbrush, I think of you. Your ingenuity is something your mother told me you had, but I never believed it. Mothers are likely to exaggerate. I remember how many times you placed the salt in the sugar bowl and just how many times I spoiled a good cup of coffee .. Really, darling, aren't you getting a little old for that sort of thing?
"Banana Surprise" cam~ on the table and I found my mouth watering. The crust of cinnamon and brown sugar on top got me. Then to bite into it and find it filled with cotton. Oh, darling, wasn't that carrying it just a little too far? Well, it's over and you have gone home to mother. Usually it's the other way around. I hope you're happy and that there were some parts of your life with me that you enjoyed. I do hope your parents are well and get a kick out of you, but not the same brand I received when I bent over to pick up something I dropped. Your Aunt,
-K, Wygant,
The "straw that broke the camel's back," came
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- 88-
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Notre Dame The lofty cathedral Rises above the squalor And vice Of the city. Its saints dream in their cool Marble niches, and far down the nave, White tapers shine in their gloom. There the light from the stained-glass Windows Mellows the work-worn face Of an old woman As she kneels, her gnarled hands Folded In prayer. -R. Pattison,
•
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-89-
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- 90-
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264-68 W. Maple Ave.
2 8 3 Brownell
-91-
Phone 2020
The Muddy Footprints A VE YOU ever had the horror of a situation dawn on you long after the thing happened? I have and I don't think I'll ever get over it. I've never told anyone this story for fear he'd think me over-imaginative, but judge for yourself.
H
It happened one night last spring. My windows were wide open when I went to bed, and as I looked out my window, the stars were all reflected in the pools of water on the ground left by the afternoon's rain. I woke up in the middle of the night and looked at the clock by my bed. It was exactly three A. M. As I closed my eyes to resume my slumbers, I felt a very uneasy sensation. I felt as though there were someone in the corner of the room behind me, staring at my back. It was a weird feeling, but I dismissed it from my mind as the effect of eating too many indigestible things before retiring, and went back to sleep. The next morning was superb. All the trees had on new green lace dresses jeweled with thousands of tiny diamonds from yesterday's rain. It was the sort of
morning that makes one feel that to be merely alive is unspeakably wonderful. On the front page of the paper that day was related in great headlines and gory details how the police had slain the "Tiger Killer" in a mad chase the night before. There had been a great deal in the papers about this case lately. The man was a maniac. No one knew quite why he made his killings. They seemed to have no connection with each other. He lived in a world of his own creation, and his imagination evidently provided sufficient reason to his crazed mind for the murders that had so shocked the district. He was called "Tiger Killer" for his stealthiness and horribly barbaric manner of killing his victims. He had been in a padded cell and straight jacket in the best guarded of institutions, but he had escaped-God knows how. And now the poor demented creature was dead. Of course, it was just. He had unmercifully killed several other people. But my heart welled with pity for anything that was dead on a day like this.
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FEED STOREA full line of "Wayne Feeds" for horses, cattle, pets and poultry. located at the comer of Telegraph Road and Twelve Mile.
- 92-
The killing had occurred at 4:45 that morning in a swamp a few miles from where we lived. The chase had been a close one. Only, for a little while in the morning, from 2:45 to 3:30 he had managed to elude his pursuers entirely. The police believed that he had found a garage or house door open and had hidden until he thought they had abandoned the chase.
Everything--For the World of Sport
Then I remembered what had happened the night before,-that peculiar feeling of someone staring at me. I went up to my room and sat on my bed. From 2:45 to 3:30 his whereabouts had been unknown, unless-! An open window would do as well as a door if one had a ladder. We had a painter's ladder outside ready for use as soon as the weather was right. I looked at the floor in the corner. There were two faint muddy footprints, as though somebody had stood there for a long time.... -A. Lambie.
Griswold Sporting Goods Company
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-93-
On Hirsute Adornment
I
T IS my firm belief that sooner or later the meekest of men, the most confirmed mouse, will be strongly moved by the urge to express his masculinity. Moved, in fact, to the point of satisfying this urge by some wild flight of fancy that will indubitably surprise and even shock the most blase of observers.
little plot of ground which he can call his own. Mine happens to be on my upper lip. What was more natural than I should grow a moustache? I at once satisfied two desires: I expressed, or perhaps defiancly asserted, my masculinity, and I had the thrill of cultivating something alive and growing.
The gratification of this desire may be in the wearing of a particularly loud bow tie, or in going hatless for a day, or in eating dill pickles and strawberry ice cream before retiring. The action is always peculiarly unsuited to the man. In my case, I grew, or rather cultivated, a moustache.
The process was simple. When I shaved, I merely neglectd to drag the razor over that portion of my face immediately beneath my nose. Nature did the rest. True, I diligently combed and brushed the growth each night, but I modestly decline any further credit.
There is a true joy for me in watching things grow. In the early spring I delight in getting close to nature and seeing the little green things push their way through the soil to the surface and sunlight. I love to run my fingers through the grass and rich black loam. I long to help the little green things in their struggle, to nourish and aid and cultivate them. At one time or another, every man is master of a
Results were not immediately forthcoming. It was some days before the first faint shadow made its blushing appearance. Stirred to the quick, I studied it in the mirror. Alas! it was blond! Only one who has long anticipated a hardy red growth, or a sturdily masculine black brush, or even a distinguished iron-gray affair, can appreciate the anguish of soul that was mine. But I persevered. I was not thus easily swayed from my true course.
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Once the ground was broken, however, my moustache grew by leaps and bounds. In due course of time, it became actually bushy. I was proud of it. Despite its strawlike texture and extreme youth, it was a respectable moustache, one not lightly passed over. And in due course of time, I dropped the habit of lowering my head and slinking humbly past people. I threw my stomach out, my head back, and bared my ornamented countenance to the world. I repeat, I was proud of it.
and coolly the result of three weeks' time and care! "Oh, judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason!" Semper idem. -N. Lyle.
A diller, a dollar, a ten o'clock scholar What privileges has he? He has lots and lots of them For he's a good P. G. How can it be that such as she, From earthly forms a thing apart, In her two tiny shell-pink hands Can easily twist and rend my heart?
In my mind's eye as I walked down the hall, hordes of women threw themselves at my feet. Actually, my little six-year-old sister was impressed to some extent. Also, my mother looked up unguardedly at my face one day at the dinner table, and choked on a piece of asparagus .... I bow my head in shame as I recall how I came about disposing of my beautiful little moustache. It was simply a case of fickleness on my part. Like a child with a new plaything, I tired of it, and took the easiest way out. I shaved it off. Oh, most vacillating of creatures! Oh, most weak of will and indecisive of mind! To destroy so abruptly
I built a wall around my heart And thought myself quite worldly wise No pomp or power could touch me there Yet I lost my heart to two brown eyes!
You Can't Marry Ten Pretty Girls ..... . .. . Bill Price Pardon My Southern Accent . . . ...... .. Bob Bolton High, Wide, and Handsome .. . ... . . Coach Wurster I'm In the Mood For Love. . . . .. .. Marilyn Prussing Me, Myself, and I. ..... . . . ........... . Sam Bruni
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(Continued from P•gt 3)
been experienced by someone down through life and by someone who has not only met the experience, the crisis, but built upon it and become strong because of it. You have lost a good friend through misunderstanding! That accomplishment you most dreamed of has not been realized! Some one dear to you has died! The fortune you once thought would come your way no longer exists! You are disappointed in love! You have been falsely accused! You have been compelled to leave the shelter of the family circle! You failed in the last exami-nation! You can't have the clothes you desire! You aren't too well physically! You didn't make the team! Your parents don't understand you! You have been caught in the very act of doing that which your conscience all along reminded you was not right! You're convinced there is no just God and that nothing is to be gained by praying to him! You have learned human beings can be most hypocritical! The floods of life are washing away things most precious to you! The rains are beating heavily upon the personality structure you have set up!
If I were giving advice I should say to high school students, "This is most important: That you learn to meet all of life as it comes your way regardless of whether you like it or not. Then and only then can you be strong and healthy and vital." But I don't need to give you this advice, my good young friends whom I came to know so well; for you and I together in our chats and assemblies have already learned this truth. I'm simply reiterating what you already know.
A black eye is that type of humiliation resulting from shock of the iris for which there is no immediate cure, no practical means of concealing, and no sound explanation. -G. Rounds.
Well, what of it? Others have been exposed to these things! Why shouldn't you? It is then you must learn to say to yourself, "Nothing shall deter me. Nothing shall cause me to whine and complain about what I call the injustices of life. I'll meet whatever comes my way with all I have, believing that in the long run God intended life to be good and kind and generous to all of us-to each of us." ...
Tires and Tubes
We strolled along the garden path, Seeking seclusion from the crowd. The moon looked down with startled eyes, Then blew its nose upon a cloud. You and your smile are out of my mind. I swear it! I swear it!-and yetLove has a way of remembering When spite has told me to forget.
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SHAVE'S SERVICE
Quality Market and
Groceries CITIES SERVICE PRODUCTS Guaranteed Lubrication
GEORGE L. SHAVE, Proprietor
138 W. Maple 784 S. Woodward
Birmingham, Mich.
-96-
Phone 243
Obituary Notice Moonlight, reflected from A seemingly white ribbon Of pavement, Illuminating shapeless forms. Two glaring lights Swiftly moving, Flying Over concrete. A sharp curve Leering, A tearing, roaring crash, A heart-rending shriek, Then down, deep down. Silence. Sunbeams, dancing over A broken cable, Sliding on Splintered glass, Skipping over A tree-filled ravine, Leaving it dark, Still, silent.
Smarty . . . .
Warner Forsyth
I'd Do Most Anything For You . . .
. . Jack Scolaro
Double Or Nothing ....... . . Sacred Hour . . . . . .
. Walton and Better . Activity Period
The Gentleman Obviously Doesn't Believe In Making Love . . . . . . . . . . . . ... Bernard Carey The Little Fraternity Pin ............ Harriet Lapere S1vert Varsity Sue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sue Wood You' ve Got Somrthing There .... ... . Nancy Fisher Ei 1rrything You Said Came True , .. Mr. Ray Bechtold I'm An Old Cow Hand . .. . ...
. . . . . . . Bill Cobb
Let's All Sing Like the Birdies Sing . .. .. ... Glee Cl11b l'i•e Got a Feeling You're Fooling . ... Mignon Conway Every Day's a Holiday
. . . . . . Ray Sorenson
-L. Purcilly.
Latest in
SPORT SHOES
BRUNSWICK VOCALIAN VICTOR
DECCA RECORDS
For the Sub-Deb in all the new
Sells Electric
Spring and Summer
W abeek Building
Colors
292 West Maple
RADIOS REFRIGERATORS IRONERS WASHERS
CLYDE E. HORNUNG Fisher Building
-97-
(Conti1111td from Pogc 5)
hung useless at my side and I had to retire from the game. I pitched for Baltimore the next year, but I wasn't much good. I completed my baseball career umpiring two years in the American Association, and I have never pitched ball since." We wondered about the records which Mr. Goldsmith had established and how they had stood up through the intervening years. "I hold several records which are still standing today. I have already mentioned a few, but I forgot to tell you about my long distance throwing record. While I was still with Tecumseh, the league held a distance throwing contest. I threw a baseball 131 yards, two feet, nine inches, a record which has never been duplicated." "Did the other pitchers soon pick up your delivery and use it against you?" we asked. "Not at first. I had a monopoly for five or six years. Meantime, I had developed several other kinds of curves, including the drop." "What do you think of the game today compared with baseball when Chicago was the World Champion?" we queried, hoping not to set off a touchy subject. 'Chicago in 1882 could have beaten any team which is organized today. The players were better and tougher. I have never seen a ball player who could
measure up to King Kelly in his prime. In those days, the ball players had to be tough. They played without gloves, and catchers had broken and deformed hands for life. As for the game itself, there isn't much difference. From appearance and feel, the ball is very much the same. The rules have changed very little, and we played the same number of games in a season that mod· ern teams play." "Did you ever play any other position besides on the mound?" "Oh, I played a little first base, but I wasn't very good at bat; so I did most of my playing as a pitcher. My lifetime average was around .300; pretty fair for today's game, but it was low for the 1880's. But then that isn't the only change that has taken place. In my heyday, I was paid only 5,000 dollars a year, a wonderful salary for an early ball player but not like today's." As we prepared to leave, Mr. Goldsmith brought out a leather folder which he opened. Inside was a solid silver plate, given to him to honor his life of service in professional baseball. It was a life pass to any ball game in the major leagues. As we made our way to the door, our attention was drawn to the pictures on the wall. They were paintings done by Mr. Goldsmith as a diversion in his later years. We could not help pausing to pay honor to such a man who had done so much to deserve a peaceful old age, the "greatest no-hit pitcher of all time." -B. Navin -G. Rounds
BIRMINGHAM'S
BELL BROTHERS SERVICE STATION
Leading Dry Cleaner Phone 2200 Office and Plant Located at
328 North Woodward
Friendly Service
BECK Cleaners & Dyers
Phone 709 Our Trucks pass your door twice daily
-98-
3 14 East Maple
The Keepers of the Halls A VE YOU a slip? This question is asked of you by a hall guard at least half a dozen times a day. The best answer yet devised to this question is the producing of the slip which the guard will then minutely examine. If the slip is satisfactory, one is permitted to continue to the next guard where the business is repeated all over again. The big difficulty comes when the answer to the question is negative. This response should quickly be followed by a plausible explanation, applicable to the attendant circumstances. If your explanation is accepted, a series of purely form questions methodically follow. Where are you going? Why? What is your name? Why? Where were you born? Why? Where do you live? And so on. The number of questions depends on how busy the hall guard is, how much the guard wants to know about you, and how willing you are to talk.
H
The average time required to go the full length of the school under this procedure is a little more than seven minutes, by actual test. There is an art to getting one of these much coveted
slips. Some of the teachers can not refuse when you apply with your sweetest smile. A few are influenced by a pleading tone of voice and you can even find one or two who will give you one if you simply ask for it. However, each teacher must be handled in his or her own way at the discretion of the student.
In all this discussion we have forgotten one thingthe hall guards themselves. Sponsored by the Student Congress, they willingly give their time to carry on this worthy project, and they are fast becoming a school institution which soon will be taken for granted as being part of the decorations. We shudder to think of the vacant halls if they were not on duty. It would be so lonesome walking down the halls if we did not have someone to talk to us when we are trying so hard to go somewhere in a hurry. -B. Navin.
Whistle While Yott Work. . . ..... .. Frank. McCarthy If Yott Ever Should Leave .. . .. . . Mr. Toothacker
We
Kroger Grocery
FRIGIDAIRE
AND
COMPLETE REFRIGERATION
Baking Company
ELECTRIC RANGE DELCO HEAT
166 West Maple St.
WE DELIVER Phone 9143
Harry E. Bissett Co. Grocery Mgr.
Meat Mgr.
Clarence C. Girodat
Earl Bush
171 Henrietta
Birm. 1271
BIRMINGHAM, MICH.
-99-
One Moment, Please
T
HE GOLDEN haired operator leans back in her chair at the second floor switch board and stretches.
"Why is the whistle blowing? I'll connect you with the whistle. "Scores? I can't tell till the games are over, sonny.
"That was an excited man who wanted to know what the score was, and when I told him it was tied at nothing to nothing in the second inning, he yelled, "In whose favor" "Yes, this is leap year. "Cure for a black eye? One moment, please. connect you with the Information Department.
I'll
"One night the voice of a very fashionable lady, you know, full of ah's and uh's, telephoned a message to the Society Club. Her name was Mrs. John Sponduleux Mortimer Gotrocks, or something like that. When I asked her to spell it, she got mad and hung up. Oh, well, things are always like that. "How do you spell Methuselah? please-.
One moment,
"The time? stopped ....
One moment, please.
The clock has
"Once a woman called up and was going to let me in on a little secret. Tha~ dame whose picture was in the paper yesterday was my husband's sweetie, and I know she lives in Birmingham, and her first name is Maizie, and I'm going to find out that dame's last name if it's the last thing I do, and-. "One moment, please." -B. Andrews.
Wake Up a11d Live . . Frank O'Donnell Linger Awhile . . . . ....... . . ... .. . Piper Staff Hold Your Man . . .. . . . .. . . . Dorothy Trump Yott'i•e Golla Be a Football Hero ... . .. . . Phil Carey
MANY BALDWIN HIGH YOUNG PEOPLE
SINCLAIR Paint and Glass
meet their friends each Sunday night at
Interior and Exterior Decorating
SENIOR HIGH CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR
Complete Line of Pittsburgh Paint, Glass, Brushes, Varnish. Also Mirrors
Exclusive Distributors of IMPERIAL WASHABLE WALLPAPER
THEATRE BLDG. Phone 2503
FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH 6:30 P. M.
201 South Woodward
- 100-
We Who Drink On a cold January morning many hard years ago I first started to drink. Although still strong I fear I am a slave for life to a craving which gnaws at my vitals.
CROSSWORD PUZZLE SOLUTION
Like all other unfortunates in the same situation, I have increased my quota from a pint a day until now I can take on a quart with the ease of Atlas upholding the sky. How long can I go on this way? Yet we do no wrong. It is not our fault, for down through the ages this habit of mankind has been thrust upon us from every side. Billboards entice us in summer by showing a glass filled to the brim being sipped by some healthy individual under a weeping willow tree. In the winter they persist with the suggestion that it keeps one's vitality up and then one stays warm. They neglect to mention the heavy woolens and fur coats one wears. I criticize myself for the addict I am, but still I go on drinking my glass of milk. with every meal. -J. Buchda.
VELVO
PONTIAC'S
Soft-Curd Homogenized
QUALITY
MILK
STORE
2910 APR '38
Nature's Most Nearly Perfect Food Improved UP-TO-THE-MINUTE boys and girls, full of pep and vim, know that Velvo Milk (Homogenized) is an important health aid, You'll enjoy the rich flavor of Velvo Milk (Homogenized)and you know it isn't fattening, skimmed! Order Now. Our truck passes your door every day,
OAKlAND DAIRY 3044 MAR '38 AN INDEPENDENT ORGANIZATION Oak.land County's Progressive Independent Dairy
Pontiac, Mich.
Since 1896
Phone 2-2618
-101-
(Co11lir111ed from Page 51)
came out and departed the way it had come. No sooner was it out of sight than the other, continuing the strange noises, left its hiding place and disappeared. Guava Paste scratched his head as a great truth dawned on him. These must be groovals! Perhaps the groovals would come back. With this hope in his bosom, he put lengths of vine around the clearing. With one end of the vine in his hand, he returned to his tree top. That evening two stealthy figures approached the clearing from opposite sides. Both entered it and started to set their traps in the darkness. With a convulsive jerk, Guava Paste pulled his vine. They were his prisoners. All night Paramecium and Spirogyra lay in trembling. Thoughts kept flitting through the mind of each. Each wondered what manner of savage had caught him in such an unsportsmanlike way, and what peculiar animal was in the trap with him. At last morning came. The two hunters stared at each other in amazement. Each apologized profusely for having mistaken the other for his quarry, but "it was such a natural thing to do, don't you know?" During the journey to the village, vainly they tried to persuade Guava Paste that they weren't groovals;
but he wouldn't be convinced. In the first place, they didn't have any identification papers saying they weren't, and besides he had to bring them back so he could marry the fair W oozlebird. Years afterwards, a party of explorers found twowhite-haired old Englishmen in a little village in the middle of Australia. They told strange stories of far off lands to the native children at their knees, the children of Guava Paste and Woozlebird. No amount of pleading could get them to leave. They had found happiness in oblivion, and had forgotten the"long years of struggle before they entered the Australian bush from whence few men return. -A. Lambie
Little Louie-Louie was a worm; Little Louie-Louie was sitting on the railroad tracks. Around the bend came a little Chooie-Chooie going tooie-tooie. But little Louie-Louie just said fooie-fooie So the little Chooie-Chooie going tooie-tooie Made little Louie-Louie all gooie-gooie! What will happen to the classic game, "Button, button, who's got the button?" when all the buttons are replaced by zippers?
First Methodist Church
Compliments
of
of Birmingham
MOSLEY'S, Inc. SUNDAY SERVICES
LINENS and LACES
Morning Worship - 11 :00 Church School - 9:45 Primary and Beginners' School, I I :00 Epworth League - 6:30 A CORDIAL WELCOME 120 Fisher Building
EXTENDED TO ALL
DETROIT
-102-
Advertising Directory In appreciation of those who have made possible thepublishing of this magazine. Adams Florist, Bingham Road . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 Arnold Photographic Studios, Birmingham .. . . . 43 Beck Cleaners, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 Bell Bros. Service Station, Birmingham . . . . . . . . 9 8 Bell, S. 0. Wylie, Birmingham ... , . . . . . . . . . . 68 Bingham, H. Kenneth, Birmingham ... .. .. , . , 9 5 Birmingham Fruit and Grocery Co... .... . . . . . 50 Birmingham National Bank . . . .. .. . , . . . . . . . 81 Bissett, Harry, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 Borden Farm Product, Pontiac . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84 Bradway, Judson, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 Breitmeyers Flowers, Detroit .... .. . , . . . . . . . . 80 Broock, Max, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 Brown-Newton Shop, Detroit . . . . . . . . . . . 82 Brownell Photo-Lithograph Co., Detroit. . . . . . . 93 Business Institute, Pontiac . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 5 Cadillac Motor Co., Detroit . , . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 Campbell-Ewald Co., Detroit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 Chevrolet Motor Co., Detroit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 Chippewa Trail Camp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 Deer's Beauty Shoppe, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . 94 Des Moines Register and Tribune, Des Moines, Iowa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 Detroit Business University, Detroit . . . . . . . . . . . 52 Detroit Creamery Co., Detroit . . . . . . . . . . 66-87 Devon Gables Tea Room, Long Lake Road . . . . . 65 Dickinson's Men's Shop, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . 71 Dixie Diner, Birmingham . . . . ....., . . . . . . . . . 87 Erwin & Smith Grocery, Birmingham . . . . . . . . 96 First Presbyterian Church, Birmingham ..... .. . 100 Forster, Henry, Flowers, Detroit .. ....... .. , 57 Grand Laundry, Detroit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 Griswold Sporting Goods Co. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 3 Grit Publishing Co., Williamsport, Penn. .. . . . . . 67 Harpur, Inc., Detroit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 Hi Speed Gas, Birmingham. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 Hilly Acres Dairy, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 Hornung Shoes, Detroit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 Howell, Rice A., Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 Huston Hardware, Birmingham .. , . . . . . . . . . . 72 Johnson's Milk, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 Kennedy Dairy, Detroit .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 King, L. B., Detroit. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 Kroger Grocery, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 LaBelle's Books and Gifts, Birmingham . . . . . . . . 50 Lancaster Hills Service Station. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
Lawson and Son, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78 Levinson's Department Store, Birmingham . . . . . 74 Matthew's Tailor Shop . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 McBride Hardware Co., Birmingham . . . . . . . . 79 McBride's Tea Room, Birmingham .... . . . . . . , . 60 McClellan Feed and Salt Co., Birmingham . . . . . . 70 McKee Service, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70 Milks' Super Service, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . 94 Methodist Church, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 Mints Ice Cream. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 Moseley's, Detroit ... . ........ . . .... . ..... . 102 Moulthroup Supply Co., Birmingham. . . . . . . . . . 5 8 Mulholland, F. J., Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60 New York Herald-Tribune . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 Oakland Dairy Co., Pontiac . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 Oldershaw Motor Sales, Birmingham.... . ... . . 61 Olsen's Market, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 Original Little Flower Shop, Birmingham . . . . . . . 7 5 Osborne, E. W., Sales and Service, Birmingham . . 90 Parks Coal Co., Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 Parmenter, Florist, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68 Peck, Charles R. Sons, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 Photographic Shop of Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 Pontiac Motor Co., Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 Sells Electric, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 Sfire Brothers, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 Shain's Drugs, Birmingham. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78 Shave's Service Station, Birmingham. . . . . . . . . . 96 Sinclair Paint and Glass Co., Birmingham . . . . . . . 100 Snell Service Station, Birmingham. . . . . . . . . . . . 86 Standard Oil Co., Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84 Sternal, F. E., Birmingham. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 St. Louis Globe-Democrat. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 Stroup's Market, Birmingham . ............... 91 Sumner Motor Sales . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 Traub Brothers & Co., Detroit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 8 Twin Shop, Birmingham. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7'J Wabeek Pharmacy, Birmingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 Waite Bros. & Co., Pontiac . . . .. , . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 Walton's Jewelry Shop, Birmingham. . . . . . . . . . . 82 Williams' Boot Shop, Birmingham. . . . . . . . . . . . 72 Wilson Drug Co., Birmingham. ... .. .. ...... 88 Winningham Chevrolet Co.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . n Wines, T. J. Co., Detroit. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 Wright, Kay and Co. ............ .. ........ 7l
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Everything For BETTER Pictures
Photograph taken by JamesMock with Korelle Reflex. Setting F .8 6 min. exposure.
• Film for all cameras
• Developing
• Still cameras
• Enlarging
• Movie cameras
• Framing
• Camera accessories
• Dark rooms available
• Lighting equipment
for class use and
• Printing and developing supplies
personal instruction
• Personal photography • Commercial photography
PHOTOGRAPHIC shop of BIRMINGHAM Telephone: BffiMINGHAM 2292 Joe James
Ted Donaldson
Jim Mock
- 104-
Litho In U.S. A.-Brc