| Description |
A collection of yearbooks from Weber Normal College which comprise the years 1919 to 1923. Included in the yearbook are photographs of students, class officers, faculty, the Board of Trustees, athletics, and departments within the college. It also contains sections about the clubs and organizations within the Academy, literary pages, student poetry, and advertisements from local businesses. |
| OCR Text |
Show THE CALL OF THE "SIREN" IT was the day of the big game, and just two minutes before the sig- nal for the first "kick-off" was given. The ball grounds were deco- rated on all sides by noisy, boastful boys, and feverously excited girls. Some were seated in cars, but the majority were standing like a thickly growing hedge on the tape which marked off the field, and which was constantly being patroled by linemen, who ran from end to end in an attempt to keep the spectators back. In an obscure corner, just outside the field, Coach Rogers, of the local team, was giving his players some final advice. "Now, fellows," said he, "if you never win anything else in your life, win this game. Bert, get that ball and go right through, see?" "Ya, Bert," joked one of the players, "jes' imagine that 'sweet young thing' of yours is down at the other end in her big green car and honking that 'siren' at ya. Then you'll make it all right." Bert Crawford was at that stage of life when he felt that he had tasted of "true love." "There is only one woman for me," he had told the fellows; and who could that be but the attractively fascinat- ing young owner of the green car with its shrieking siren. He walked with her every day, talked with her every day, watched her every day and was continually murmuring her name every day. At last the game was ready to start. Both teams were in their places. Hysterical laughs, and boisterous shouts were heard from all sides of the field. The signal was given and the visiting team "kicked-off." Not much ground was gained and the two teams stood at a deadlock. Neither side advanced and the first half ended with no score. The intermission between the halves was of the most ter- rible suspense. Giddy girls were talking half unconsciously and risky boys were just a little bit sorry that they had bet two to one on their team. But the second half started with new enthusiasm and vigor. Time flew fast, and the visitors were gaining. They kept pushing, push- ing, pushing the locals back. There was one yard to be made. In a |
