Page Four
Just Another Statistic
The old man gazed at his image in the mirror. He studied the white
whiskered face, contemplating the unpleasant task of shaving in cold water.
His eyes stared intently at the sad face being reflected in the mirror. Slowly,
his mind wandered back into the valley of memories. He re-lived the many
happy moments that memories bring. How the years did fly by! It seemed
as if it was only yesterday that he was only seventeen, and running away
from home to go to sea. The sea intrigued him, so for thirty five years he
sailed far and wide. There were many memories, that came into his mind.
One of them was the day he went to see his family. It was five years after
he left home. This was a bitter memory, because he learned that his parents
had died. He was the only son. There were no relatives, and he was all
alone in the world. So back to sea went Bill Tidley, until he was retired,
that was almost three years ago.
The door of the room opened suddenly, and an irritating feminine voice
brought Bill back to reality. The land-lady, Mrs. Peters, came in to perform
her daily pretense at cleaning the shabby, meagerly furnished room. In her
cracked voice, Mrs. Peters began to grumble and complain of worldly ills,
including her own health. Bill hurriedly put on his battered hat and coat,
.excused himself and left. It was torture for him to listen to the incessant
grumblings of his land-lady. He yearned for someone to tell his troubles to,
but no one would listen. When he tried to tell the land-lady, she immediately
retorted with a series of her burdens. All of the other roomers were elderly
men like himself. There was no use trying to talk to them. They would all
have troubles ten times as great as his, and besides, they were always trying
to borrow what little money he had.
Bill left his rooming house as quickly as he could. He hated the sight
of the dirty, dilapidated, old building. The inside was as filthy as the outside.
How he wanted to leave, and, get a room elsewhere, but he couldn't afford
anything better. He had a very small income, and he had to cut meals to
pay for the cheap room.
It was pretty tough to be old and helpless, all alone in the world, with
out a friend. There was nothing for you to do, but roam the streets, sit in
a pool-room, or on a park bench. You couldn't afford a movie. No one
wanted to sit and talk with you because you were old. All you could do is
walk the streets, and talk to yourself as you walked.
This is just what Bill would do. Up and down the streets he would walk,
all the time talking to himself. The children in the neighborhood thought
this was silly. So silly in fact, that they would make fun of Bill. They would
jeer at him, and skip up and down alongside of him, laughing at him. When
they saw that he was ignoring them, they would become irritated, and
gather stones to throw at him.
In order to escape the barrage of stones, Bill would seek refuge in the
corner pool-room. Of course he wasn't welcomed here because he had no
money to spend, but Bill would seek refuge in the men's room. Here he
would gaze at the sorrowful figure of himself reflected in the mirror. There
was no one to comfort him, so he would talk to his image in the mirror,
complaining of the cruelties inflicted upon him during the course of the day.
Here in this rendezvous, he would pour out his sorrows to his reflection,
until one of the older boys heard him and started to tease him. Now he
would leave amidst the jeers of the older boys in the pool-room. He would
have to go out into the street again, to find another place of refuge.
Bill walked down the street to a cheap restaurant. He walked in and
took his usual seat, in a far corner, against the wall. Here he sat quietly
waiting for the waiter to serve him. The waiter was well aware of Bill's
presence, but this was an every day sequence, where the waiter kept Bill
waiting in order to discourage future visits. Finally, the sneering waiter
served Bill his meager meal.
After eating, Bill left the restaurant, and started to walk the streets
again. Now the sky was slowly becoming dark, and tiny drops of water
began to fall intermittently. Bill headed for his room, to get out of the rain.
Back at the rooming house, Bill paced back and forth in his room. The
rain was pouring down now. Once again Bill found himself thinking of the
bitterness of life. He tried to rid himself of this attack of Weltschmerz, but
he couldn't. All he could think of was all the unkindness he had been sub
jected to since his retirement. Then with grim determination he walked
over to the dresser, removed a pistol from under a pile of clothing, pressed
the barrel behind his right ear, and pulled the trigger. There was a sharp
report from the pistol, and Bill slumped forward. The gun fell to the floor
with a loud thud, and Bill's body slowly settled on top of the gun.
Downstairs, Mrs. Peters heard the noise and rushed up to Bill's room.
When she found the lifeless body on the floor, she uttered a shrill scream.
In a matter of minutes, the room was a bee-hive of activity, with the land
lady and roomers rushing in and out of the dead man's room.
Someone managed to call the police, and they made the usual investiga
tion to determine the means of death. Mrs. Peters kept up an incessant
prattle explaining how ungrateful the man was, to do such a thing in her
rooming house, after all she had done for him. The police managed to
squeeze a few sensible answers to their questions from the locquacious land
lady, then removed the body to the morgue. Later, all of the known facts
concerning the death of Bill Tidley were typewritten on a prepared form,
sent to the proper bureau, and became another statistic on a wall chart.
WOMEN'S ORG.
DANCE
COOPERATIVE
D
Friday AI RY
March 30
FARM FRESH MILK
9 - 12 Hazleton, Pa.
By Henry Paulick
HAZLETON COLLEGIAN
Margwarth Announces
Dance Committees
The Women's Club is sponsoring a
Blue Jeans Dance on Friday, March
30, at St. John's Hall. The dance,
which will feature modern and square
dancing, will be an informal affair.
Dance music will be furnished by
Scotty Parson's Orchestra from 9 to
12. Syd Rudman will be on hand to
call the square dances. Punch and
cookies will be served by Women's
Club members.
Jane Margwarth, president, has
announced the following committees
for the dance.
Regulations Committee—Mary Lou
Gagliardi, chairman; Candida Rama
viglia; Josephine Donish; Beverly
Morgan; Helen Honsberger; Loretta
Romanofsky; and Dorothy Romanof
sky
Decorations Committee Betty
Perna, chairman; Paul Williams;
Ruth Bones; Shirley Petchel; and
Milly Romanell
Refreshments Committee Jane
Margwarth, chairman; Irene Rond
ish; Pearl Paternoster; Betty Harlor;
Charlotte Boddin; Josephine Magag
na; Dolores Swenson; and Rita Brad
ish.
All students are requested to drag
out their blue jeans or overalls. lum
ber shirts, and straw hats. Syd will
be calling "swing your partner and
circle round." Let's all turn out for
the ladies' club and make their dance
a booming success. Remember, the
greeting is "Howdy, partner," and
the dress is informal.
Hershey Cites Plan
To Defer Students
(Continued from page 1)
In addition, all college freshmen in
the upper half of their class would
be deferred. All second year college
students in the upper two-thirds of
their class could take a third year
course. All third year college men
in the upper three-fourths of their
class could go ahead with a fourth
year.
Also graduate students and pro
fessional students of medicine, den
tistry, veterinary medicine, osteo
pathy and optometry would be de
ferred without taking any tests, pro
vided their schools certified they are
meeting scholastic requirements lead
ing to degree.
A FRIEND
The Penalty
She walked up the steps of the State Penitentiary Adminisration Build
ing. The hall inside was filled with guards either going on duty or off. Every
one knew her and that helped. She didn't have to speak. One guard told
her to follow him. She was led to the warden's office. The warden jumped
to his feet when she entered.
"What time?" she asked
"Eleven tonight."
"Can I see him now?"
"Yes, but may I advise you to—well to be as little emotional as possible
It'll help him. Mrs. Johnson, if there's anything I can do."
She didn't answer but walked to the door and waited for him to follow.
Without a word the two walked through what seemed to be an endless
number of corridors, waiting now and then to be admitted through locked
gates. Finally the warden stopped. A guard unlocked the door to a small
visiting room. She'd been here before. The warden left but the guard came
in with her and sat down behind a small desk. Then the door on the op
posite side of the room opened and he walked in.
They just looked at one another for awhile; then he walked towards her.
They spoke of ordinary things as strangers would do, each not knowing how
to put words to thoughts. Then he held her close. Finally he broke the
emotional silence.
"I can't understand it. I've tried to find reasons for all of this, but.
darling, I can't. I'm innocent, so there's no reason possible why I must die."
"I know you're innocent. I believe it and I love . . ."
"It's funny that you believe me so easily when the whole world thinks
I'm a murderer. Only one person says I'm innocent—my wife."
Then he screamed his innocence to the guard to the world. She had
to leave. The warden met her in the hall. He asked if she were returning
home tonight. She told him she had a room in town and that she would
leave tomorrow. He reminded her that if he could do anything to help her,
he would. They reached the door leading outside. He told her he had a car
waiting and a man to drive her into town.
She entered the hotel lobby. The clock said 10:00. She bought a maga
zine and got the elevator. She walked down the hall to her room, opened
the door, turned on the light, took off her coat.
The magazine could have been filled with blank pages for she paged
through it as though she were looking for a particular article. Her eyes
never became fixed on anything in the book until she turned over the back
cover and then she stared at the back page ad for minutes not seeing a
thing.
She wanted a cigarette. Her bag was on the dresser. It seemed so far
away. She got on her feet and walked to the dresser. Her watch lay beside
the bag. Without looking at it she turned it face down. She took a cigarette
from the bag and tapped it hard on the dresser top, but the tapping took on
the rhythm of the ticking watch so she stopped.
When she struck the match the tiny flame attracted her attention to
the mirror. She leaned closer. Even this dim light enhanced her features.
She twisted her face several times into various poses until she found one
that emphasized her eyes. They were clear now. Her features seemed so
much sharper on the side away from the light.
The image stared back at her and smiled a little. It moved it's eyes to
the right the left and then wrinkled it's forehead. It wondered why
everything was so silent. Then it spoke.
''Oh, that trip tomorrow. Then it's all over. You have a new world to
go home to. Try to make it a happy one. You're young, beautiful black
hair blue eyes -- yes, you are beautiful and you're young and it's all over.
You're beautiful, young, and you don't look like a murderess at all. It isn't
as though you got off scot free. After all, you did pay some penalty. Justice
did take your husband from you."
You can't wear overhead . . .
Why pay for it?
MOODY'S MEN SHOP
Open Evenings
Broad 6 4th Sts., West Hazleton, Pa
Friday, March 30, 1951
By Hughie Brennan