Center Corner
Blowing
Short, fat, and innocent looking,
I. at the age of six, thought myself
the most important person in the
world. To prove this importance to
my timid little sister, Roseanne,
I started one day to teach her all
the profane language I had learn
ed in my daily tours of the neigh
borhood. Some I pronounced most
accurately; others I distorted; to
Rose they were new, interesting
words. Rattling them off at a great
rate, I did not notice my mother
standing behind me. Finally dis
covering her, I recognized the dis
approving gleam in her eyes. This
called for action. I scrambled to
my feet and made my exit. Mother
followed at my heels. Round and
A feeling of tension spread over
the crew of the “Messy Bessie” as
we prepared to go into our first
mock battle with another company
of tanks. The sergeant calmly
watched the rest of us nervously
smoking cigarettes and wandering
around aimlessly. Suddenly the or
der, “Mount tanks!” startled us out
of our reveries. For a moment no
one moved. Then, as in a delayed
line buck, everyone rushed to his
hatch. I squeezed through mine
and slid into the hard seat below.
I heard Bonace, the big shouldered
fullback from Ohio, grunt disgust
edly as he wormed through the
drivers hatch. “They don’t make
these damn holes big enough for
woodchucks!” he grated out as he
dropped into his seat. I grunted
confirmation and nervously fed a
belt of tracer ammunition into my
bow gun. The sharp metallic clicks
An aerial fight which I shall nev
er forget had its setting high over
the wide, muddy Yangtze River in
central China. Three of us, Ira
Binkley, Joe Ehrle, and myself,
flying silver P5l Mustangs, were
on a normal mission of searching
for and finding trouble. Our trou
ble dropped out of the sky in the
form of three little planes, bright
ly marked with red balls. Buzzing
along, our motors hummed their
song of contentment when the
warning shout from Joe, “Zero!”
snapped us out of our complacent
attitude. Darting a glance to the
rear, I saw the enemy pursuits, in
a bank, bearing down on Joe in the
tail position. Almost blacking out
in the turn I swung around and
brought the pipe of my sight onto
the lead plane. The wing edge of
the enemy plane blinked and the
tracers curved behind Joe. I throt
tled the little, black firing button
viciously and the lead plane rolled
over, flame streaming from its
wing roots. Joe pulled into a steep
chandelle and proceeded, as if he
had been doing it all his life, to
The Notor
There it stood in bold, black
print, “Painter to assist - Doctor
Penrod,” the most dreaded of all
student assignments. While I
scrubbed, the grotesque tales of
Doctor Penrod continued to rush
through my memory, Then sudden
ly the notorious, little doctor
strode into the room, cast a with
ering glance in my direction, as if
I were a germ that had dared to
invade his room, and roared for
the sponge count. Trouble began.
The clamp on the instrument ta
ble had not been fastened; and, in
the next moment the instruments
were over the floor. In the confu
sion and chaos which followed, the
Bubbles
round the house we ran, and after
several laps she caught me, then
marched me directly into the bath
room. I had a sketchy idea of the
coming event, but had no chance
to make any good excuses. With
one hand holding me, mother grab
bed the big green box of soap suds
that gets clothes whiter—Rinso—
and poured them down my throat.
First thing I knew, I had become
a human bubble pipe. The harder
I sobbed, the more bubbles I blew,
Looking like “Old Faithful,” I de
jectedly walked from the room,
broken in spirit but clean in mouth
and mind.
e Battle
Before t
from my left rear told me Simmons,
the gunner, was ready also. The
sergeant’s voice crackled over the
interphone, “Start motors.” Bonace
pressed the starter and then, one
by one, the dead tanks rumbled to
life, each growling like a dog
whose bone had just been snatched.
“How many of you guys are scar
ed?” snapped the sergeant. A sharp
intake of breath slipped over the
interphone. Beads of nervous per
spiration slipped down my face,
but I couldn’t force myself to be
the first to admit I was scared.
“If you jokers lie like that the rest
of your lives, you’ll all end up in
hell!” asserted the sergeant. With
that remark, everyone felt better
as we threw silent curses at the
sergeant. Bonace savagely ground
the tank into gear, and we rolled
off into battle.
by Ray Reed
Fight
A Doi
tack himself onto the tail of the
last plane of the three plane forma
tion. The second “rat” after pass
ing overhead, was jumped by Ira,
my Wing man, who had wheeled
around with me. Rolling over in an
attempt to follow the flamer, I
watched as the plane, looking like
a childs toy on fire, erupted in a
ball of orange and black smoke.
The pieces made scattered splash
es in the muddy river below.
Brushing away the perspiration
with my forearm, I took a quick
look around. Joe was climbing to
ward me; and Ira, over near the
river bank, was putting the fin
ishing touches on what he had
started to do. The last Jap flamed,
hit a wing tip, and spread itself in
a fury red ball along a row of
trees. We three buddies, climbed
together, joked and talked between
ourselves, victors but stall glad the
fight was over. I looked hack and
all that marked the graves of the
enemy were the three plumes of
black smoke etching the setting
sun.
ious Doctor
doctor, his eyes' bulging, stomped
momentarily from the room mut
tering profanely. The second tray
was set up and we started again.
With all the excitement and strain,
I felt the room becoming hot and
stuffy. Little streams of perspira
tion started to run down my back;
my nose itched; and, temptation
kept nagging at me to reach up and
scratch it for just an instant. The
irritating desire left when the sud
den roar, “Mosquitoe” rang in my
ears. Frantically I searched the tray
for the tiny instrument, realizing
too late, that it had been forgot
ten on the second tray, His out
burst left me panicky for a mo-
by Elizabeth Dunlap
by Edwin Beethoven
THE NITTANY CUB
It was the opportunity I had
longed for the-chance to jump a
horse. Zip, a massive beast, was
the unlucky steed chosen for the
occasion. Zip shifted uneasily,
sensing my nervousness. I gather
ed in the reins, partly to steady
the horse and partly to steady my
self. I thought doubtfully of his
bulk and tried to picture him
soaring gracefully, over a jump as
I had seen trimmer animals do.
“It’s impossible,” I murmered to
myself. Even though Dale had re
assured me that Zip was capable
of taking four rails, I could not
imagine him clearing two with
those great hoofs. He showed every
drop of the plow-horse blood in
him, and I was convinced that his
master must be- prejudiced. Dale
finished adjusting- the rail and cal
led out a few instructions. I walk
ed Zip away from the jump for
Just a Letter
To Santa Claus
Dear Santa,
We here at Behrend Center
realize that the mails to the north
pole are always over crowded at
Christmas time, so we decided to
ease this situation by sending you
a joint letter telling you what we
want for the holiday.
From my questionaire, I see that
Shirley Linder wants a private
bowling alley. Nancy - Merrick
wants only a little snow for
Christmas. Bob Gallagher would
be pleased with a ‘49 Olds. Bob
Cross is hoping to see a grand
piano in his living room on
Christmas morning. Bob Butsch
would like to have a new suit,
while John Bifulco wants a fin 1
lined ink well. Don Bebko wants
Jean' for Christmas, or for any
other holiday of .the year. Jim
Taylor .wants someone to do ,h&
chem for him. Vinnie Mayo wants
a new Buick. A winning ping pong
bat is all that Wes Pfirman wants
for Christmas. Jim Mullard wants
an electric train and A 1 Leibau
wants some tinker toys—well well!
Marvin Marcus isn’t particular;,
he wants 2 or 3 beautiful girls. Mr.
Belferman wants a pair of the
most vizarre sox ip town. Miss
Ficker will take all the pretty blue
eyes available. Gene Chesley thikns
that this Christmas would be a
merry one if everyone would re
member his meal ticket. It seems
as though the work in the kitchen
is getting to be too much for Joe
Rynewicz; he wants a dishwasher.
John Pagonis always has his mind
on school. He thinks nothing could
be nicer than having a 3 in
everything. Ed Beethoven is get
ting ready for winter. He wants a
pair of skiis. Jerry Musser wants
a beautiful blond sitting under
his Christmas tree, while his
shadow, Dick Dunn wants a
beautiful brunnet. Bill Keough is
still trying to decide between a
blonde or a red-head. Mary Hough
and Betty Lou Volk want a man.
On second thought, better make
it two men. Mr. Gallagher wants
ment; but, slowly my fear was re
placed with the ridiculous desire
to fasten this boisterous, little
creature, to the chandelier with one
of his droll mosquitoes, He must
have sensed that I was so fright
ened by his raving, and the rest of
the day went along smoothly for
both of us. When we had finished
the last case, he . rumbled, “Elmer
Sex Appeal!” In some way, this
Blue Beard of student nurses, had
heard the nick-name I had dubbed
him.
by Janice Fainter
First
Jump
about thirty yards, turned, and
coaxed him into a Lumbering can
ter. Panic gripped me'as the jump
approached, and I missed the rhy
thm of the horse’s long strides,
nut old Kip, a veteran hunter,
knew just what to do. We took off,
and I felt the thrill I had dreamed
of as the twelve-hundred pounds
of horse flesh beneath me hurled
himself into the air. I rose tensely
in the saddle and leaned forward
toe far for-ward. A sudden, heavy
jolt jarred me loose, and I clutched
desperately at leather, hide, and
mane as I slipped over the withers
to hard, unyielding earth. More
surprised than hurt, I looked up at
Kip, who stood where I had fallen,
gazed down upon me a scornful
expression in his eyes. He knew as
well as I that my first jump was
not a success.
to be surprised, Santa, so just
fill his stockings full of every
thing good. Dick Collman has his
eye on a chem answer book. What
for, I wonder. Don Blair wants a
small brunnet. Cythinic Loesel
would be very happy if she had a
Town and Country convertible.
Prances Finesod merely wants to
pass history. Carol McKrell wants
to pass Spanish. * Janet Brown
wants a small item—a ‘49 Buick.
Judy Thomas wants her hair to
be eleven forty-seconds inch long
er. Meida Moskowitz wants the
U. S. Navy, while Sally Dickson
wants the Marines. Ray Sturgulew
ski is being very practical this
year. He wants a new clutch plate
for his car. Gib Brownlie says
that “All I want for christmusth
is my two front teeth” John Fal
cone wants a million dollars and
Ken McDonell wants a car load
of money to pay all his bills.
Margie Fleming wants a special
somebody sitting under his Christ
mas tree on -Christmas morning.
Nan Weston wants a little coal to
keep the home fires burning. No
please, Santa. Ruth Gross
still can’t make up her mind. We’ll
come back to her next year. Jo
Anne George wants a hair brush
to paddle the kids in the library,
Benny Beniard also wants a hair
Frank Gatto
Best in Shoe Repair
WESLEYVILLE, PA.
y Compliments of ?
I Erie YMCA j
§ I Oth and Peach Sts. ?
I ERIE, PA. |
by Lois Braden
Dmitri Erdely
Gives Concert
The sonorous, golden tone of the
cello still lingers in the Behrend
Concert Hall (Student Lounge,)
where Mr. Dimitri Erdely, versa
tile cellist with the Erie Philhar
monic Orchestra, played a charm
ing program for us on Sunday
evening. Accompanied by Mrs.
Mara Reed at the piano, Mr. Erde
ly chose for the evening a sonata,
a fantasie and asseberzo, and among
the program music selected were
“Lol Nidre” and “The Swan.” We
wish to thank Mr. Erdely and Mrs.
Reed for relinquishing some of
their valuable time for our enjoy
ment.
brush. Maybe he and Kip want to
have a battle, huh ? Don Scalise
just says ahh-hh-hh when any one
asks imh what he wants for
Christmas. Jack Spacht wants 3
in chem. Bill Richards already
has a new car so now, all he wants
is a machine to do his Spanish.
Ray .Metz wants someone to give
him a diamond. Bill Klaban wants
a red suit just like yours, Santa.
Ray Reed wants a beautiful blonde.
Looks like his Christmas came
early! Miss Davis wants a new
outfit, all in brilliant red. Won’t
that be nice? Mr. Turnbull thinks
that he would like to be on a
peaceful south sea island with all
the best history books in the
world. Mr. Gottlund needs a new
ski cap and Mrs. Gottlund already
has Chen so she is satisfied.
I guess that completes the list,
Santa, except for my request,
black cat with green eyes ?
Thank you from all of us.
Merry Christmas!
Marilyn Garden
dts/ww*
REAL ESTATE/ MORTGAGES/
32 E. 9th St. Phone 2-3681
GOOD LUCK
BEHREND CENTER .. .
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