Page Two
Ah Christmas ! That season of the year that makes the first
semester wonderfully short and helps pull (0) down .to (-1).
But we love this spruce-scented A.W.O.L.
Out of town people will go back home with trophies of a par
tially completed battle of the books. Family groups will welcome
home with open arms and gifts aplenty that stupid guy who sat
flunking next to you in your history class. This college' Joe will
meet the old high school mob (he will naturally wear his Penn
State sweat shirt) and hold all listeners in suspense as he rambles
on (with dangling cigarette) about Penn State co-eds.
Santa will leave Jack Intellectual a "Little Einstein Set," and
many happy. Vacation hours will be spent in the fourth dexnension.
Babs will crash into her hometown like thirty or more rein
deers and fashion these strictly "Anthracite Dresses," with the
air of a Vassar 'Moll.
Sad Eye Sal will probably take her two gardianias from the
pointsetta prom and press them in her hope chest with the other
things of sentimental value.
Phil will go home and sit around with his pipe as if nothing
exciting ever happened to him.
Harry will spend every moment of his vacation with Hedda
(the real thing—not the nine-iby-twelve glossy).
Yes, the vacation, will be just what everyone needs—a bowl of
wheaties for those last few weeks of the semester.
In a few hours Highacres willl be forsaken and tears will not
blemish the faces of Jose and Hilda, college students exemplar.
The Yule log in the fireplace will burn for the empty chairs in the
lounge, and memories of twelve grueling weeks will be reflected
from the scorched bricks of the hearth.
A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU - HIGHACRES, R.D.I.
For The
To Mike Arlotto—a comb and brush
set.
To Bobby Vilushis—a transfer.
To Chad McCracken a "jumbo"
size of peroxide.
To Fritz De Fluri a leadership
award.
To Nancy Byorick a new deck of
cards.
To John Laubach two packs of
bubble gum.
To Milly Romanelli
sneakers.
To Teddy Yuhas a , cromagnon.
To. William Thomas a "3" in comp
To John Wessinger Second Lt
bars.
To Aaron Lintz a laugh meter.
To Marilyn George—a tutor in econ.
To Paul Corazza appointment as
mayor of Freeland.
To Grace Brendalin
.~ ;`
~
OLD WOOD TO BURN
Synchronize Your Watches!
roletariat
branding iron.
To Bruce Lustgarten a bus ride to
Shickshinny.
To Andrew Tait long sideburns.
To Janet Szutowicz a bodyguard.
To John Kalanik a director's
award.
To Sheldon Vilensky—book of Emily
Post.
To Mike Hildebrand—a copy of the
drawing master plates.
To Fred Dendler—a shave.
To Walter Stone a box of Ry-
basketball
Krisp.
To Lee Palmer a guitar.
To Jimmy Geffert a girl friend.
To Billy Koehler—one talky-tom-no.
To Joyce Bevan—an ROTC appoint-
ment.
TO ALL STUDENTS FROM THE
FACULTY DAILY SHOTS OF
ADRENALIN.
platinum
HAZLETON COLLEGIAN
appJ
Petu (
Pear
Bettley was a college man five
feet tall and a yard wide a real
guy. He drank like a fish; he was a
mobile smokestack; he was a card
shark; he was a , hit with the women
but he was unlike his college buddies
in one particular respect. Although
he was a hardened veteran of nine
teen winters, he still wrote an annual
letter to St. Nick. Yes .... this one
flaw in Freddie Bettley's character
had him earmarked as a campus
queer.
Each year from Thanksgiving to
Christmas, big little Freddie was as
bright an example of American
youth as one could possibly feast the
eyes upon. He helped people put
their xhains on, he shoveled pave
ments free of charge, he did chemis
ti y experiments for his classmates,
he swore off smoke, drink; and wom
en, and he played first trumpet for
the Salvation Army band. In this
manner Fred always prepared him
self for the greatest day'of the year,
Christmas.
Freddie's friends laughed aloud
whenever he told them that Santa
left only coal in the stockings of bad
little boys. Poor Fred couldn't figure
out why the boys laughed for he
was sure that Santa Claus kept a
record of all the good and bad things
that we do before Christmas.
This year Freddie asked St. Nick
to overlook the unfavorable traits of
his friends --- "Please, Santa, put the
coal in my stocking Give my pres
ents to Bob, Jack, Joe, and the rest
of my friends." Frederick would be
happy in seeing his friends happy.
And then it happened!
Bob, Jack, and Joe, the same Bob,
Jack, and Joe that Freddie had re
membered in his annual letter to
.101 A aO--,
e
HAZLETON i.'- -,- - - ) COLLEGIAN
•
HAZLETON UNDERGRADUATE CENTER
PENNSYLVANIA STATE COLLEGE
Highaeres, R. D. 1, Hazleton, Pa.
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF ..
ASSOCIATE EDITOR
FEATURE WRITERS
SPORTS EDITOR
WRITERS
PHOTOGRAPHER ....
FRED
Santa, told poor Fred Bettley that
there is no Santa Claus. "No Santa
Claus—but there IS a Santa Claus,"'
said' Freddie with his eyes full of
childlike fear. Everyone who talked
to Fred that day answered his ques
tion about Santa Claus with a laugh
or a—" Santa Claus ? .? ? ? Are you
kidding ? ? ? ?, "
Freddie failed two Bluebooks that
week for he could not forget "his"
Santa Claus and the scorn that he
had been the object of.
The laughter of the students who
associated Christmas with mistletoe
and vacation did stop, however.
Freddie was found in Sid's skating
pond early one morning with his
throat slashed from ear to ear. At
tached to the bloody beer can was a
letter addressed to Santa Claus,
North Pole.
The letter read:
Dear Santa,
I could not wait until Christmas
for you--The world laughed at me
because I believed in you. They say
there is no Santa Claus but I know
you will read this letter. I visualized
you as being not a tangible but an
intangible—and I was happy in my
thoughts. The world has gone com
mercial and Christmas is only a
WORD. This is not the type of world
for me; I would rather die than live
in a materialistic society where you,
Santa, aren't allowed to exist.
We must recognize and envy those
children and grownups who still hold
fast to the old ideals of Christmas.
We must leave them in their happi
ness, for our laughter will make
them unhappy like ourselves.
STAFF
JOHN MOONEY
JAMES GEFFERT
JEANNE McGRORY, CHAD McCRACKEN
RALPH PERILLA
ANN PEIFER, BETTY HARLOR, MARION JANOSKY
*. WALTER STONE
GiiRD- 0
December 20, 1949
Faithfully yours,
Frederick Bettley