LIFE IN LIBERTY The town had gone to rest. One light after the other was swallowed up into the darkness of the night. The streets were deserted and only now and then a car rushed by. The heat of the past day had created an uncomfortable humidity which was a burden for the whole town. Philip Baker... Show moreLIFE IN LIBERTY The town had gone to rest. One light after the other was swallowed up into the darkness of the night. The streets were deserted and only now and then a car rushed by. The heat of the past day had created an uncomfortable humidity which was a burden for the whole town. Philip Baker rolled restlessly on his bed. He tried to fall asleep but it was just too hot. The air arOund him was filled with tension. In his restlessness he saw himself sitting on a charge of dynamite with the fuse lit. Suddenly, for the instant of a second, a bright beam bathed the whole room in a yellow-green light. A loud thunder like the shooting of a cannon followed the lightning interrupting violently the silence . Phil jumped up and rushed to the window. He looked into the night which was in short intervals lighted by beams of lightning. Without luck he waited for the falling of the cooling rain° Phil was disappointed. After all these hours of sweat and restlessness no relief had come . He returned to his bed to take up the fight with sleeplessness again, It was not only the heat which kept Phil awake. There were other tensions which moved in his mind shouting to be heard. He thought of his friend and classmate Joe Smith, who had been arrested a few days ago because he had declined to leave a lunch counter which showed the sign "Whites Only." Phil thought also of Mr. Jones who lived only a few blocks away. Mr. Jones had registered his name so that he could take part in the last election according to his citizenship rights . Quite clearly Phil saw Mr. Jones' car with its broken windows and the three “K's” smeared over the hood. Phil's tension and restlessness was not only of outside heat. His inside was quite hot also. His eyes were directed toward the wall opposite him. In the brightness of the lightning a large book page could be noticed. It was fastened to the wall. Phil had read its coilitext many times. "The Gettysburg Address" was its? t1t e . . 1 8 1 Show less
The new day came. Through the streets cars rushed in great numbers . At the corner where a bus stopped every five minutes people gathered to go to work. Though the sun shone very bright the air was quite chilly ’1n these early morning hours . There was no doubt that it would be a hot day again.... Show moreThe new day came. Through the streets cars rushed in great numbers . At the corner where a bus stopped every five minutes people gathered to go to work. Though the sun shone very bright the air was quite chilly ’1n these early morning hours . There was no doubt that it would be a hot day again. After a fast breakfast Phil picked up his books and went on his way to school. It would only be a few more months until he would graduate from South High. He was quite proud when he thought of it. His way to school was not too far but far enough to give him time to think about his plans for the day. Right after school he wanted to visit Joe and cheer him up a little. Slowly the hours passed. It was as if the school bell would never bring the last class to an end. Phil left the school very quickly. Before going to see Joe he wanted to get a bite to eat at the drugstore a few blocks away. As usual at this time the counters were very busy and it was hard to find an empty seat. Phil looked around. “Nothing free on this side," he thought. Over at the other counter a seat just became free. Should he go and sit down? For a moment he was not sure. "All men are equal," a voice shouted within him. He saw the face of his friend before him and began to walk. He walked straight toward the empty seat and sat down. To his left sat a tall blond fellow who was about 25 years old. To his right a woman of about 40 was seated. As soon as he sat down the eyes Of his neighbors were on him. The woman to his right stood up and walked away. The waitress came up to Phil. “Can't you read?" she asked in a most unfriendly and harsh voice. "One hamburger and a cup of coffee, please,“ said Phil. "This counter is for whites only. You better leave fast,” the waitress said. "Please no onions. I don't care for any,” he added. "Shut up you burn. Can't you hear what the lady said?" The fellow to Phil's left had turned to him and looked angry at him. All eating had stopped. All eyes rested upon Phil. "Why should I leave? I have as much right as you to sit here. All men are created equal and the money with which I pay is as Show less
good as yours . ” Phil was calm but he knew that others around him were not so calm. "So you think you are as good as I am. You better go back to the slum where you came from ,‘,‘ yelled the blond fellow. "Get out Nigger,ll someone shouted. "Call the cops,” someone else said. Phil still sat... Show moregood as yours . ” Phil was calm but he knew that others around him were not so calm. "So you think you are as good as I am. You better go back to the slum where you came from ,‘,‘ yelled the blond fellow. "Get out Nigger,ll someone shouted. "Call the cops,” someone else said. Phil still sat calmly on his seat. The shouting of protests from the counter increased. Suddenly Phil felt a push and he found himself on the floor. Looking up he saw before him the blond felIOW. l‘If this doesn't cure you I'll teach you some manners,” the fellow said. Phil stood up slowly. A deep silence lay over the whole room. "You are not too polite," Phil said. "You need some manner-teaching yourself." This was too much for his white opponent. He aimed his fist at Phil's face and hit him hard. The mob laughed. Phil stumbled backwards toward the door which opened at this very moment. Two policemen came in. Phil landed right in their arms. The evening had come. The heat of the past day lay heavily upon the city. "It's rather hot in here," said Phil. “It's been this way all day," replied Joe. With his right hand Phil gently touched his chin. "I sure hope it will rain tonight," he said. "I hope so too. We could need some cooling off in these parts," answered Joe . Norbert Mokros PERSISTENCE To try Is to forget All failures and defeat, For it takes courage and patience to Repeat. Diane Olsen 10 Show less
ME* : Silence. The top . . . And at something. In search of Into the sky The rocks, reaching Trees standing far from *This poem to be read from the bottom up. TO A WOMAN Soft drooping curve of hair Plunges pasta flashing eye , Outward. Smear of burnt wood eyebrow Saucily tilted saying: “Know me .... Show moreME* : Silence. The top . . . And at something. In search of Into the sky The rocks, reaching Trees standing far from *This poem to be read from the bottom up. TO A WOMAN Soft drooping curve of hair Plunges pasta flashing eye , Outward. Smear of burnt wood eyebrow Saucily tilted saying: “Know me . ” And I cannot know her As I would. David L. Johnson 11 Show less
SENTRY DUTY He was wet and cold and hungry and he was fifty thousand light-years from home . A strange yellow sun gave light and the gravity, twice what he was used to, made movement difficult. But in thousands of centuries this part of war had not changed. The flyboys were fine with their sleek... Show moreSENTRY DUTY He was wet and cold and hungry and he was fifty thousand light-years from home . A strange yellow sun gave light and the gravity, twice what he was used to, made movement difficult. But in thousands of centuries this part of war had not changed. The flyboys were fine with their sleek spaceships and their fancy weapons. When the chips were down, though, it was still the foot soldier, the infantry, that had to take the ground and hold it, foot by bloody foot. Like this lousy planet of a star he'd never heard of until they'd landed him there. And now it was sacred ground because the Aliens were there, too. The Aliens, the only other intelligent race in the Galaxy. . . cruel, hideous, and repulsive monsters. Contact had been made with them near the center of the Galaxy, after the slow, difficult colonization of a dozen thousand planets; and it had been war at sight; they'd shot without even trying to negotiate , or to make peace. Now, planet by bitter planet, it was being fought out. He 'was wet and cold and hungry, and the day was raw with a strong wind that hurt his eyes. But the Alien: were trying to infiltrate and every sentry post was vital. He stayed alert, gun ready. Fifty thousand light- years from home, fighting on a strange world and wondering if he'd every live to see home again. And then he saw one of them crawling toward him. He drew a bead and fired. The Alien made that strange horrible sound they all make , then lay still. He shuddered at the sound and sight of the Alien lying there. One ought to be able to get used to them 12 Show less
after awhile, but he'd never been able to. Such repul— sive creatures they were , with only two arms and two legs, ghastly white skins and no scales. J Ermon L. Deen UNCONSCIO USLY CONSCIO US Sylvia certainly you see I cannot catch the can Of moldy mice that missed me As round the room I ran. The... Show moreafter awhile, but he'd never been able to. Such repul— sive creatures they were , with only two arms and two legs, ghastly white skins and no scales. J Ermon L. Deen UNCONSCIO USLY CONSCIO US Sylvia certainly you see I cannot catch the can Of moldy mice that missed me As round the room I ran. The solid square surrounding me Hangs hollow by my head And brings the buzzing of the bee Back to the bubbling bed. Dandelions are drifting down Finally falling to fox's fur His teeth are taller than the town Bob, bring the basketball, brrrr! Carolyn Jone s 13 Show less
AUTUMN GHOSTS I I walk the woods in solitude in autumn's smoky haze, And thrOugh the leaves of brown and gold, proud Red Men go their ways: A phantom draws a bowstring, and a phantom deer leaps high, And phantom hunters raise aloud their wild, ghostly cry. But when I try to follow them, to join... Show moreAUTUMN GHOSTS I I walk the woods in solitude in autumn's smoky haze, And thrOugh the leaves of brown and gold, proud Red Men go their ways: A phantom draws a bowstring, and a phantom deer leaps high, And phantom hunters raise aloud their wild, ghostly cry. But when I try to follow them, to join them in the chase. They fade in shadow, steal away, then run again their race. And I again am left alone, among the darkened trees , Yet hear a faint and haunting cry, borne back on autumn breeze . Julie Medbery 14 Show less
THE WINDOW The streets on the East Side are narrow — very narrow. Second Avenue is not only narrow, but :sinister in appearance. Few would venture to stroll along these long shadowy pavements , especially after dark. When night seeps down through the spaces :between the buildings, the streets are... Show moreTHE WINDOW The streets on the East Side are narrow — very narrow. Second Avenue is not only narrow, but :sinister in appearance. Few would venture to stroll along these long shadowy pavements , especially after dark. When night seeps down through the spaces :between the buildings, the streets are checkerboards of light and dark, reflecting stars and lamp posts , Among the 10,000 dwellers of Second Avenue :there was one - one who had watched, listened and thought about his neighborhood. Yes , here , at his front window he had watched the overwhelming growth of boredom explode, inciting struggle and revenge. Angelo was not one of the gang. Back in High School he had been interested in music - taken several walks down to the Village to gaze at the many paintings which lined the streets in the spring and early fall, But lately it was as though he had resolved to concern himself with the gangs - or even more strongly, had decided to leave the city and find the freedom his thoughts craved“ And so, almost by compulsion, his interests had widened. He wanted to see everything — everything! St. Dominick was his home church. It was an ancient picture of Gothic strength. The windows were huge , multi—colored, giving the inspiration needed for times of contemplation, Angelo spent much time here within the cloistered walls of peace“ Each time the power of peace settled itself in his mind, he would go home, determined to speak to the gang, to try to help. But something hindered him, At times, as he watched the gang in action, there was a cancerous force within him, restraining him from movement or speech. He had known for a long time what that force was -- fear. What else could it be, he had questioned, that could stop him from saying something? 15 Show less
Now late evening, Angelo sat at the front window watching the darkness below. He could not sleep. So, in desperation he had pulled up the large easy chair by the window and tried to relax. He wished the quiet of the city would lull him into sleep. But as he sat here uneasiness took hold.... Show moreNow late evening, Angelo sat at the front window watching the darkness below. He could not sleep. So, in desperation he had pulled up the large easy chair by the window and tried to relax. He wished the quiet of the city would lull him into sleep. But as he sat here uneasiness took hold. Something was going to happen. He could feel it. He leaned forward, straining to see through the shadows below. Then, as if in a dream, he saw five boys moving toward him, weaving in and out of the shadows as they came. By instinct he turned, to look at the opposite end of the street. Yes, a man was coming toward the boys. Angelo tightened. He realized there was nothing he could do. Only sit and watch, helpless - yes, made helpless by the same mind which told him what he must do. The boys came to the middle of the block and separated. Two stood at the lamp post watching the length of the street. The remaining three leaned care- lessly against the concrete siding of the apartment building. The man came nearer, walking at a slow but steady pace . Now he was in the light. As Angelo watched, the boys surrounded the man, and with animal force tore at his clothing. In seconds his upper clothing was gone - scattered on the concrete. There were two at his arms now, pinning him to the pavement; two more securing his feet beneath him. The man squirmed, caught in their mingled trap. His pleas easily heard. At that instant the fifth boy, with an air of cere- mony, stepped into the light of the lamp post, in his hand a piece of shining steel, pointed upward. The pleas became screams; the cries of a tormented body. The body, limp now, fell back outstretched. All was quiet once again. The only sound break- ing the stillness came from Angelo, as he turned his back to sob. Joyce Birkeland 16 Show less
MIST The mist drifts in as soft as silken hair That falls in ringlets from a sodden sky And covers up a day that was quite fair And beautiful to see. Then I ask why? Why take away the golden summer's day And steal the glory of the noon day sun? Why does the mist have this great right-of-way As... Show moreMIST The mist drifts in as soft as silken hair That falls in ringlets from a sodden sky And covers up a day that was quite fair And beautiful to see. Then I ask why? Why take away the golden summer's day And steal the glory of the noon day sun? Why does the mist have this great right-of-way As from the day it has a battle won? But mist has beauty too, beneath it's shroud. Each tiny shimmering drop is like a pearl. Mist covers up the harsh and dims the loud And does a time of tranquil peace unfurl. This time of peace mist gives to world and man Is like a gift to us from God's great plan. BOnnie Jean Hanse SNOW Silently it comes-«softly with tenderness Making everything it touches virginal and fresh. Heaven's night eye surveys the green and white Vestal virgins sleeping coldly. Off somewhere a wolf breaks the unmarked air. The holy ladies stir at the low crying of the wind. And their haughty purity is sprinkled to the hills . Naked they await God's next onslaught. David L. Johnson 17 Show less
BEAT OF THE NIGHT Batter, batter the bongos! Zing, slap, zoom on the bass! Wail long and high on the keening horn, Plead with throaty voice . The night grows old, and the beat of the night Pulses strong, pulses weak, pulses, pulses Endlessly, through dark streets, the empty dark, sad streets of... Show moreBEAT OF THE NIGHT Batter, batter the bongos! Zing, slap, zoom on the bass! Wail long and high on the keening horn, Plead with throaty voice . The night grows old, and the beat of the night Pulses strong, pulses weak, pulses, pulses Endlessly, through dark streets, the empty dark, sad streets of old houses and decay. The throb, throb of the night pounds in the young Blood, flutters in the old; it vibrates Through the dim-lit street, it beats And it batters and it crashes In the dark, open doorways . Bank, bang BANG the drums! Plead and moan on the long, winding horn! Sway and writhe in the unrelentless rhythm of the throbbing , pounding,,lonesome, sobbing Night. Julie Medbery DYING OF DAY Fiery shafts of piercing sunset Streak for their goal on a summer-green hill, Glancing, gleaming , Shatter themselves on indomitable rock, And the blood of the sun dyes undulent grasses. A night bird mourns the waning of light And strains to recall glad life. But the shafts lie broken, Bleeding, dying, As ebbing life and light depart. Julie Medbery 18 Show less
TO EMILY WITHOUT WORMS, ETC . . . . . jDear Willie, My dear, it was so lovely getting your letter, and "when you hear the circumstances under which I was suffering you'll surely know I did suffer! It seems 'that on the day of Tuesday, April 16, 1951 (see Uasterix) there was scheduled at Kelly... Show moreTO EMILY WITHOUT WORMS, ETC . . . . . jDear Willie, My dear, it was so lovely getting your letter, and "when you hear the circumstances under which I was suffering you'll surely know I did suffer! It seems 'that on the day of Tuesday, April 16, 1951 (see Uasterix) there was scheduled at Kelly Hall, a Historie test for 104B, Our Eastern Heritage, 1—3200 p.m. and at 8:00 a.m. I arose to begin the first reading of 'the scribbled notes from the past three months . What a task! My Task is finding someone who can speak Arabic , because I have received my induction papers 'to the Khan's Navy. 0 sad world. I yearn to write a great novel. Not junk like the Fantastic Toe. Read some of John EPercy's things in Ab Intra; good huh? No one here appreciates it much. Also note Thad Drury's bit of ;art. Do you remember my introducing you to a lady, lsingle, but not too old, black hair, quite short, on the i‘bus one day, and I told you she was a Sunday school teacher? well, if she should read that, I'm afraid she "wouldn't reCOgnize poor Thad, her own king, nay, her ?‘0wn kin, namely cousin! I must tell you what we learned in English today: "Lord Wellington entered on his head a helmet on his feet a pair of well polished boots on his brow a clOud in his hand has favorite walking stick in his eye fire-—- . “' Tomorrow is the day of the Phy. Ed. test for which I haven't studied. It is on volley ball though and I really know quite a bit about it. I must give a cheer ‘for the Democrats, George, Rah, rah, because they really have it. Speaking of people named Psmith, did you hear that the one had flunked algebra? Bless her pointed hear° (Did you ever see a pointed hear? it's just like an eye-fire.) Also I think you should spend your money more wisely. There are many people in Europe who can't go to college. So please stop spend- ing all your time with your prayer rug and study some 19 Show less
algebra once in a while. This next semester is a crucial one. Yah. So Willie, be true, blue glue, and stick to your books, (cf. fish glue PU). Every time yOu go into the Rainbow look at the floor and say, I hope you don‘t judge my morals by what I'm going to say, but I'm a mid-Victorian and then... Show morealgebra once in a while. This next semester is a crucial one. Yah. So Willie, be true, blue glue, and stick to your books, (cf. fish glue PU). Every time yOu go into the Rainbow look at the floor and say, I hope you don‘t judge my morals by what I'm going to say, but I'm a mid-Victorian and then look up into his eyes and smile , and say thank you, and walk away. I am the receiver of the yellow rib-bone or what- ever it is one gets, a 100 point job at least. Today we went to have our pictures taken at the gym. we were just coming in and some one ran out and said, better hurry because the Rolling Players are lining up now. Of course it was necessary to go one mile out of the way to get upstairs and downstairs etc . and I came panting up the stairway and there was agroup just ready for the final click. I frantically stopped them and said I had to be in this picture too so they placed me in the middle of the second row, no less, and took the picture. When it was over , someone said, "Why Alba, I didn't know you were in Ushers Club.” I'm not. 0 gad, I've done it, gotten in the wrong picture. What shall I do. The shame of it. I'm to be branded a Bewildered One (BO) . . .Will of Tapioca! I think that a good thing would be to use the song, "You Belong to Me" as a theme. Also to shoot all orientation teachers . What kind of adamant course is that any how. I think I shall perish. How about a write in for Pogo? If you want to be sick tomorrow just sleep with a bar of soap under your arm, and you will wake with a fever. . .I have never tried it. I never touch the under of my arms with water or soap. I am entirely unsafe, entirely. The honorable Dr. W. , dear that he is , said that no human being is capable of guessing the right answer and that whenever said R. L. had achoice he inevitably guessed wrong, so as advice he told us that if we must guess , to guess and then to take the other answer. What a man! I got another A- on my Latin test today. 20 Show less
Everytime a professor goes out of town we have a test. But anyway, I got Hic and Huc wrong. We were ' supposed to say Stay Here, maneo hic , and Come Here (hither), venio huc. I forgot the Hic and the Huc and got it wrong, what a child here. Listen to the name of i this song. . . l'Reba the... Show moreEverytime a professor goes out of town we have a test. But anyway, I got Hic and Huc wrong. We were ' supposed to say Stay Here, maneo hic , and Come Here (hither), venio huc. I forgot the Hic and the Huc and got it wrong, what a child here. Listen to the name of i this song. . . l'Reba the Amoeba". ‘ Here I am on the second sheet already. Wouldn't you like to take orientation courses and shuck them >into the Garribia river? Headlines: "Rolling girl throws orientation course in Gambia. . .local girl shucks orientation. . .Omnsk student changes curric- ulum. . .former WHS student falls off tricycle. former Bolton girl wins spelling bee. . ." impossible, gad! V I have a part. in the new play "Antigone" from the same three part play of Sophocles (you know, I told you about it; Oedipus Res in part I etc.) Should be quite good. I wish you could come to see it. I have the part of the nurse to Antigone and Ismene. I don't imagine I'll do it black face though---not clean enough. And we don't want anything dirty in it - - - or sexy- - - consider the audience! Then. . . did I tell you . we are doing "Murder in the Cathedral", or Tom is dead, we loved him well. I trust you will take the opportunity to read T. S. Eliot and realize that it is quite effective and certainly w0uld be interesting read and interpreted by a Quartet. Well, I'm completely off my rocket to the moon, Willie, I hope you have stuck by me this far. We discovered this morning that one never says "I have been really lucky today" but "I have been very lucky today". Both are correct however. I shall put some English gems in my letters quite regularly because I realize that you don't learn English at your school. We don't learn typing here. We do learn Latin, or until we started on the fourth conjugation we did. I have found out that the sign of the drug profession of old (old Rome) is a snake. Since I am in love with a pharmacist from Brest by the name of Vladimir Ornoff 21 Show less
. a fine Lutheran lad. . . I feel it only fitting and proper that you accept this picture of a snake to hold next to your heart forever! or at least in your pocket book. My dear Willie , you must read Thomas Wolfe if you ever read anything. That man does more with words than can be done. . .... Show more. a fine Lutheran lad. . . I feel it only fitting and proper that you accept this picture of a snake to hold next to your heart forever! or at least in your pocket book. My dear Willie , you must read Thomas Wolfe if you ever read anything. That man does more with words than can be done. . . wonderful. I imagine it gets pretty flowery after a while, but for a short selection its wunderbar. I can (could) do nothing but screech and my emo- tions went completely out of control because you insist on using my maiden name on your addreSSOgraph machine . We had quite an intriguing man here who spoke about otters and he had two of them with him. They are quite wonderful little pets and I feel that we need one because they walk with their backs humped. (CLDT-crushed lips dOn't talk! Today's plank may be tomorrow's driftwood.) I'll close now until we again have that delicate pudding for our evening board and then shall send you a paper dipped in it. Love you in your Burgundy Burlap dress . Did you hear about the house with the B .B . walls? Did you get my scroll? I love you out loud Willie! Hark the Phantom of Rolling every shrieks before a death. Mjork 22 Show less
EDITOR'S WORD Long ago in Wales, there was an edict that all bards should be put to death. . . for as long as their songs rang out in challenge, King Henry of England found himself powerless against the Welsh. We are glad to hear in this day of spineless living on the part of manythe voices of... Show moreEDITOR'S WORD Long ago in Wales, there was an edict that all bards should be put to death. . . for as long as their songs rang out in challenge, King Henry of England found himself powerless against the Welsh. We are glad to hear in this day of spineless living on the part of manythe voices of the bards still challenging us to be ourselves against all opposition. The bards still sing! The dawn of each new day is a throbbing prelude to the deep, mag— nificent song of Life; as a new day dawns in the growing future of Augsburg College, we of the Writers' Club, imbued with a valiant spirit and deeply in earnest, hope that you, the reader, will consider our craftsmanship as a worthy adversary to spineless living. We also hope that as you walk through the forest of life, we may be allowed to blaze the trail. ErmonL. Dean Show less
