Art and Design Commons^™

Poems, Ruth O'Mahoney

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(First prize in poetry, Butler literary contest, 1948.)

Cancelled Flight, George Fullen

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(First prize in the short story, Butler literary contest, 1948)

The smell of gas was sickening.

"It's all your fault, Jane," he thought he could hear his own voice saying in a distant room.

It sounded so strange that he forced his eyes open, against the nausea, and tried to focus them. The lurid, dirty wall-paper focussed, receded and focussed again. It only increased his nausea. He had been sick when he turned on the gas.

Front Matter

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No abstract provided.

Volume 15, Issue 3: Full Text

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No abstract provided.

Excerpts From The Life Of Mr. P. Pixie Dash, Barbara Dearing

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"Get away you nasty thing! Who asked your help on this theme?"

"Really, I wasn't aware of what a sour drip you actually are. Funny how you reject me. Me, the only key to security you have. Some people just can't see beyond their noses."

Mr. P. Pixie Dash, senior member of the firm, "Dash, Parenthesis, and Bracket," was lolling against the third line of page three orating on the latest dividend offered by his company.

My Girl, Richard H. Graham

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I jumped onto the fleet landing, jostled my way through a horde of happy, swearing sailors and made my way to a gate that meant freedom after thirteen months of navy routine. I paused momentarily at the gate to determine which good old American street I should follow. With no objective in mind, other than to absorb some clean U.S. air, I chose a street which ascended to a high bluff overlooking San Francisco Bay.

Stop, Look, And Remember (An Impromptu), Thornton A. Klos

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In our every day life we miss seeing many things that would prove of interest to us. An example of how little we are aware of what happens about us until we find things brought into sharper focus is the sudden discovery that a new house or building exists where only an empty lot full of weeds and trash had been.

Abandon Ship, Glenn Johnson

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The clear notes of the bugle sounding chow call came over the loudspeakers throughout the ship. I stood waiting in the mess line, formed topside on the main deck aft. The last rays of the sun caught the signal flags flying - gave them a brilliant cast of red, green and yellow. The new cruiser rolled in the huge swells, leaving a foaming white trail behind her.

The men stood silently gazing at the horizon. The ship gave a slight shudder each time one of the swells crashed into her.

The sharp clanging of the ship's general-alarm bell, followed by …

Exodus, Mary Ann Malott

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The mid-afternoon sun gleamed against (he double French doors at the side of the bungalow. The bright sunlight touched the dulling blue rug in rectangular slits through the venetian shades and changed it for a moment into a sea-blue hue. A gangly pup sprawled as close to the sun as possible, her ears a golden mass of curls dragging the floor and her mitten-sized paws tucked around her. The only movement was a stub of a tail twitching back and forth. In one sudden motion, she bounded at the doorknob and made the metal shades come with a deep clang …

What To Do In A Haunted House, Ray Clausman

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The acceleration of American living leaves very little time for thoughts of ghosts, goblins or vampires. One no longer sees the quiet little villages dominated by their special spirit, nor the gloomy, desolate mansions, the seats of many nighttime escapades. England, however, provides an excellent setting, for there one may find areas still permeated with a true ghostly atmosphere. If one desires to widen his social contacts to include some members of a higher plane, I suggest a visit to that country.

Advertising In The American Life, Donald E. Myers

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Advertising is only a form of propaganda. In many instances it has accomplished ends that are for the good of the people. Examples of advertising for the good of the masses can be seen in the publicity that the new medical discoveries are given. You would not say that knowledge and awareness of penicillin are harmful to people who are not doctor. of medicine. You will not let yourself think that posters asking for contributions to The National Foundation for Prevention of Infantile Paralysis should be burned for "selling themselves" to the American public. Nor will you think that newsreels …

Life Can Be Beautiful, Victor M. Knight

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After reading the last issue of MSS as thoroughly as my somewhat limited capabilities would allow, I have formed one very definite conclusion concerning the contents thereof. I would like to deviate from the usual procedure followed in dealing with the writings of other people and simply state my conclusion on the contents of the magazine as a whole and then try to substantiate my theory. I write this with admiration and greatest respect for the sponsors of the magazine, its editorial staff and its contributors. I am simply seeking reasons for a trend which seems to be developing among …

Culture And Religion, Russell Foster

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Matthew Arnold was a deeply religious man; his training as a child insured that, but in his essay, "Culture and Anarchy," shallow reading might lead to the false assumption that he had little faith in religion. More intensive study, however, makes his underlying faith apparent . True, he found fault with religious organizations which were so self-satisfied because they preached the subduing of animalities that they lost sight of the goal of real religion, a way of life striving for the brotherhood of man.

The School On Scroggy Road, Don Gochenour

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A board board meeting had been called in the parlor of Tom Livingston's home. A representative had come from each farm for miles around, for this was the much talked of meeting out of which would arise the answer everyone was waiting for - whether the farmers in the surrounding area would continue to bundle up their children each morning and ship them off to the nearest school at the county seat via a dilapidated school bus or whether something could be done to start the planning and erection of a school in their own district.

The Wistful Fable Of The Willows Of Willow Lane, R. Hancock

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Although willow trees, weeping willow trees, genus Salix babylonica (in case any botanist is listening), spring from the earth, there is something unearthly about them. This was the first profound observation in an exhaustive and exhausted one-man study made recently. It was discovered also that they provide atmosphere. Many writers have made good use of a stout willow; some use them as trapezes for school skipping farm boys in blue jeans, characters Iike Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn; several use them as an aid or receptacle for hiding passionate love letters, lockets, charms; many, for background in murder mysteries, and …

Capek's Masterpiece, Charles Lukenbill

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In R. U. R. Capek dramatizes the impending danger to mankind's vitality of machine-like efficiency. Here is a pleasing fantasy attempting to develop a notion implicit in Mrs. Shelley's Frankenstein, the peril of man's creating a monster destined eventually to destroy him. Of course, Capek changes this notion somewhat by giving it a social application. It seems that he is primarily concerned with the future of mankind. However, his "planetary consciousness" has not a scientific basis; it springs rather from a desire to save human values from the enslavement of industrial civilization.

Poems, Diana Harvey

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The Broken Song and The Three Moments by, Diana Harvey.

Carved In Stone, Robert Hulce

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The small, green table stood in a corner of the makeshift dugout. A shaded lantern spread its dim light through the silent shadows, its small blades of dull shine reaching across the interior of the Command Post. Old cigarette butts and long-gray ashes claimed their place upon the sodden earth floor.

Transplanted, Carolyn Finn

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Katy sat in the park and watched the pigeons strutting pompously along the walk. There were pigeons in Dublin, too, she thought. When she half closed her eyes and shut out the sounds of the metropolis she could imagine herself back in Dublin again, in the little park across the street from her father's novelty shop. If she tried real hard she could feel the old Katy O'Brien, the Dublin Katy O'Brien, still stirring deep inside her. A cold April breeze made her start, and shiver; and she rose from the bench to go home.

Poems, George Fullen, George Coffin

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Escape by, George Fullen and Twelth-night Ballad by, George Coffin.

Hollywoodism, Frank Slupesky

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Due to recent excavations of our archeologists in the area which was known to the Americans as Southern California, we have every reason to believe that one city in this area was quite similar in materialistic splendor to the city of Babylon, which just a few thousand years before flourished in Asia Minor. Our excavators agree that this city, called Hollywood, was the center of the curious craft of motion picture making. This is a significant fact since the motion picture, rather than any other phase in American life, epitomizes the shallowness to which American culture had degenerated by the …

We Killed Some, We Loved Some, M. R. Huntzinger

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She certainly didn't look like the German women whom we had read about before the war. She was tiny and slim, gray and wrinkled, about five feet two inches tall and weighed about a hundred pounds. Her sparkling eyes were sharp and expressive, and she was quick, scarcely stooped and very spry for a woman of such age. Her name was Betsy Holtzendoner. She was seventy-five years old, a widow and the mother of five children.

Easter, Ruth O'Mahoney

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Sing with joy

He comes

He comes He comes

Dance and be gay

Reprisal, George Fullen

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Sam was just too tired to pay much attention to the soldier who paused at the entrance and slid his eyes over the long, low building which was a combined Post Exchange and Red Cross Club. On the side toward the ocean, numerous posts had been imbedded in the ground and round tops nailed to them to serve as tables. A sign announced that It was a beer garden. Here were gathered the worshipers of sun, sea air and beer, and not a few who found watching specks on the horizon become ships and the surf leaping high against the …

Front Matter

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No abstract provided.

Volume 15, Issue 2: Full Text

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No abstract provided.

Articulate Flier, Evelyn Hammond

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Bernie Lay's flier may be inarticulate, but mine isn't. He is my cousin Gib, Gilbert Robert Hendren Browning (my family is addicted to long names), and when he isn't flying, he loves to talk about everything.

Last Laugh, Jack Fultz

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Co-pilot Arnold Thurber's sly, cunning eyes became mirrors of wide-eyed terror and disbelief as he watched the bomb-bay doors of the huge bomber close the last inch. With haste born of desperation, he whirled and fought madly to return to the pilot's seat. Already the huge aircraft had started to spin. Reaching the pilot's seat, he saw, with glimmering hope, that pilot John "Speed" Lawson had the salvo switch shoved back in place.

I Have Before Me A Photograph, Lester Isaacs

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I have before me a photograph.

Not just another picture to be looked at and casually turned aside but-

One of monumental significance.

To me--

"Sonnet 29", Grace L. Whipple

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Allyn Wood uses symbolism to a rather large extent, and quite effectively, I believe. We are introduced to one of the cats, with its characteristic reserve and mystery, in the first paragraph, whereby an ominous atmosphere is created. Miss Wood continues to bring in cats and more cats until we feel just as Argus did about their penetrating presence. The cat, that creature of abstract mystery, quiet ubiquity and impenetrable character, certainly symbolizes the very existence of father and son in a house made mysterious by the father's continual probing for knowledge of what is beyond mortal senses to know.