Center Rush Rowland

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XV

  PARKINSON HAS A CHANGE OF HEART

  Humphrey was waiting when Ira returned from supper. "Thought I might aswell go along and see the fun," he observed carelessly.

  They reached the auditorium, on the second floor of ParkinsonHall, in good time but found it already half-full. A dozen ratherconscious-looking fellows stood or sat about the stage: Fred Lyons, DeWolf Lowell, Gene Goodloe, the four class presidents, Steve Crocker,baseball captain, and several whom Ira didn't know. Mr. Driscoll,followed by Billy Goode, the trainer, came in a few minutes later andjoined the assemblage on the stage. There was a good deal of noise inthe hall, for everyone was talking or laughing. It was evident not onlythat about every fellow in school was to be on hand but that they werehere principally with the idea of finding amusement. Ira and Humphreyfound seats on the left about midway between the stage and the greenswinging doors with the oval lights at the other end of the auditorium.By five minutes to eight all the seats were occupied and a fringe ofboys lined the wall at the back. Ira saw several of the faculty in theaudience: Mr. Morgan, Mr. Talbot and Mr. Tasser. Their presence waseasily explained since they were the faculty members of the AthleticCommittee.

  At eight by the big, round clock over the stage, Hodges, fourth classpresident, who had evidently accepted the office of chairman, aroseand the noise quieted to furtive scraping of feet or coughing. Hodgesexplained unemotionally the purpose of the meeting and introducedLowell. The best feature of Hodges' introduction was its brevity,and the best feature of the manager's talk was doubtless its strictattention to facts and figures. He undoubtedly showed conclusivelythat the Football Association was sadly in need of funds; the figureswhich he paraded proved it; but figures and facts are dull things andby the time he had finished the quiet had gone. Many fellows werewhispering behind their hands and many others were frankly yawning.Ira knew that they needed stirring up and hoped that the next speakerwould do it. But the next was Fred Lyons, and although Fred wanted verymuch to make an appeal that would reach his audience, he failed mostdismally. Perhaps it was because he wanted to do it too hard that hecouldn't. His earnestness was convincing enough, but it so closelyapproached solemnity that it was better calculated to produce tearsthan enthusiasm. Fred apologised for the poor showing made by the teamin recent years and made the mistake, possibly, of placing a share ofthe blame on the lack of support supplied by the school. No audiencecares to listen to a recital of its shortcomings unless it is in aparticularly sympathetic mood, and this one wasn't. Fred asked theschool to get behind the team, to believe in it and to aid it.

  "It's your team and it will do what you want it to if you will giveit support. It can't win without that support. We've got good playersand a fine coach, and we're all eager to do our best, fellows. But weneed your help, moral and financial. Manager Lowell has told you howwe stand regarding money. Last season was a poor one financially andwe started this year with a practically empty treasury. So far we havemanaged to worry along from one game to the next, but we need a lot ofsupplies, we owe money for printing and we owe Mr. Driscoll half hissalary. What Lowell didn't tell you is that he has dug into his ownpocket several times, just as I have, for that matter, in order to keepgoing. Comparatively few season tickets have been taken this year,nearly eighty less than last, and the attendance at the games, with oneexception, has been poor. We need money, fellows, quite a lot of money,and I'm hoping you will give it to us. And we need even more; to feelthat you are behind us and want us to come through. If you will do yourpart we'll do ours, every one of us, players, coach, management andtrainer. I think that's all I have to say. Thank you."

  Fred sat down amidst a salvo of applause, but Ira somehow knew that hisaddress had not carried conviction and that the applause was for Fredpersonally rather than for his appeal. And Fred's countenance said thathe realised the fact.

  Coach Driscoll spoke briefly, dwelling on the ability of the team andthe spirit of it and paying a tribute to Captain Lyons that againbrought applause. He ended by echoing Fred's request for support andstepped back to a hearty clapping of hands. Gene Goodloe did hisbest, but Gene was sadly out of his element. His embarrassment wasso evident that it brought a ripple of laughter, and Ira had hopes.But Gene made the mistake of resenting it and finished his remarksamidst a deep and discouraging silence. Others followed, but the firstspeakers had, so to say, sounded the tone of the meeting and eachsucceeding speaker seemed more lugubrious than the last. Feet shuffledimpatiently and many eyes were fixed longingly on the doors. A fewof those near the entrance had already slipped away. The meeting wasproving long-drawn-out and dismal to a degree. Audible remarks beganto be heard, such as: "Pass the hat and call it a day!" "Question,Mr. Speaker! Question!" "Let's have a song!" It was Hodges who,recognising the attitude of the audience, tried to induce Billy Goodeto say something. But Billy resolutely refused to be dragged from hischair, even though the audience, scenting possible relief from the deadsolemnity of the proceedings, clapped loudly and demanded a speech. Inthe end, Hodges gave the trainer up and took the floor himself.

  "Well, you've heard us all, fellows. You know what is wanted of you. Solet's get down to business. We've got some slips here and some pencilsand some of us are going to pass them around to you in a minute. I hopeevery fellow will contribute. The Association needs about three hundreddollars to get to the Kenwood game with. That means that some of usmust give liberally. But before we start the collection perhaps there'ssomeone that would like to say something. If there is let's hear fromhim. Debate is open."

  No one, however, seemed to have any message to deliver, although therewas plenty of whispering and subdued laughter. Finally, though, a tall,lean youth with an earnest manner arose at one side of the hall andcleared his throat nervously. Hodges recognised him and sat down.

  "Who's the giraffe?" whispered Humphrey. Ira shook his head.

  "Mr. President--er--Chairman, and Fellow Students," began the earnestone. "I've listened carefully to what has been said and as near as Ican see it doesn't amount to much." Some applause and a good deal oflaughter rewarded him. "This football team of ours needs money to go onwith, they tell us," continued the speaker, encouraged by the applause,"but I ask them: Why? This is an age of efficiency, gentlemen, andwhen something is proven inefficient it is discarded. Seems to me thisfootball team has proved itself about as inefficient as anything couldbe. Seems to me a football team's excuse for existence is--er--iswinning games. If that's so, this football team of ours stopped beingefficient three years ago. I ask you what use there is in contributingmoney for the benefit of something that has outlived its usefulness. Iclaim that it's poor business, gentlemen. I maintain----"

  But he didn't get any further, for the audience was laughing andshouting its applause by that time. At last someone had waked them up!The idea of discarding the team appealed to their sense of humour andwhile the tall youth went on making faces and waving his hands theaudience gave way to hilarity.

  "Good scheme! Discharge the team!"

  "Pay 'em off and let 'em go!"

  "No wins, no wages! How about it, Fred?"

  On the stage the fellows were smiling, but not very comfortably. FredLyons was whispering to Lowell, and the latter was shaking his headhelplessly. Somewhere in the back of the hall a second speaker wasdemanding recognition and there was a general craning of necks asHodges rapped for order. Someone pulled the long-necked youth to hischair, still talking and gesticulating.

  "Mr. Chairman!" began the new speaker, "I want to say that most of usfellows would support the football team if it would show itself worthsupporting. Isn't that so, fellows?"

  Laughing agreement arose about him.

  "That team hasn't won anything worth winning for so long that no oneremembers what it was they won. They talk about wanting three hundreddollars. Well, maybe they do. But I say let them show something first.This school is just as loyal to its teams as any school, but it wantssomething for its money. I say let's give the team a hundred dolla
rsnow and tell them to earn the rest!"

  "That's right!" someone called. "We're from Missouri!"

  A young, second class fellow jumped up and declared in a thin, highvoice that he "seconded the motion." Hodges rapped for silence.

  "No motion has been put. If you want to put a motion we will vote onit. But I must say that many of you are wrong when you think this is avaudeville show. Please try to talk sense. Are there any more remarks?"

  There were several, but they weren't serious and the speakers didn'tstand up. Hodges looked slowly around the hall and then turned towardthe table beside him.

  "If there aren't," he announced, "we will proceed with the purpose ofthe meeting."

  "Mr. Chairman!"

  "Mister--" The chairman paused, at a loss, and Fred Lyons whisperedacross to him--"Mr. Rowland?"

  Ira, on his feet, conscious of Humphrey's wide-open mouth and of thefour hundred and more curious gazes, moistened his lips and took a deepbreath. He had acted quite on impulse, which was something he seldomdid do, and he was still a bit surprised to find himself standing therefacing the meeting.

  "Shoot!" called someone, and many laughed.

  "Mr. Chairman and--and fellows," began Ira slowly, "I----"

  "Louder!" came a demand from the back of the auditorium.

  Ira made a new start, facing so that he could make himself heard at theback of the hall. "I want to tell a story," he said.

  "I want to tell a story," he said]

  "Naughty! Naughty!" cried a facetious youth.

  Ira smiled. "It's about a horse race. Down in Maine, where I come from,there was an old man who owned a horse." There was a nasal twang inhis voice that brought chuckles from many and smiles of anticipatedamusement from more. "She wasn't much of a horse, fellows. She wasabout fourteen years old, and her front knees sorter knocked togetherand she had the spring-halt in the left hind leg and she was blind inone eye and couldn't see any too well outer the other. And she wasfat and she was lazy because this man I'm telling about didn't useher except to drive to the village once a week in an old rattletrapbuckboard to get a pound of coffee and a sack of flour and so on. Well,one time when he was in the village he saw a notice about a trottingmeeting to be held at the Fair Grounds a week or so later. So all theway home that day he talked it over with Old Bess and she switched hertail and flicked her ears and between them they decided to enter therace. So he went in to the village again and put down his entry fee andborrowed an old sulky of Peters, the blacksmith. It wasn't a very goodsulky to look at, but Peters put a new rim on one wheel and tied somebaling wire around it here and there and the old man hitched it on backof the buckboard and fetched it home. And every day after that you'dsee him and Old Bess jogging along the turnpike.

  "Well, it came the day of the meeting and the old man and Bess wentto the Fair Grounds. There was a heap of betting going on and theold man he strolled around and strolled around and pretty soon he'dmet about everyone he knew and he didn't have a red cent left in hispockets, and he calculated that if Old Bess won he'd be about fifteenhundred dollars to the good, because everyone he laid a bet with gavehim perfectly scandalous odds. When it came Old Bess's time he droveout on the track and everyone howled and the judges got down out ofthe stand and asked him to go away and keep the peace. But he wouldn'tlisten to 'em and so they had to let Old Bess start. And that's aboutall she did do. Once on a time she'd been a pretty good trotter, butthat was a long way off, and maybe the old man didn't realise it. Therewas just the one heat for Old Bess. When the other horses started sheswitched her tail once or twice, looked around over her shoulder andjogged away. Pretty soon they met the other horses coming back, butOld Bess didn't take any notice of 'em. She just jogged on. And afterawhile a man came running up to them and asked wouldn't they pleaseget off the track because they were starting the next heat. And so theold man he turned Old Bess around and she jogged back. And that's allthere was to it. But one of the men that had laid a bet with the oldman was sorter sorry for him, guessing he was just about cleaned out,and he said: 'Old Man, ain't you got nary sense at all? Didn't you knowthat horse o' yourn had spring-halt and epizootics and was knock-kneedin front and fallin' away behind?' 'Why, yes,' replied the old man, 'Iknowed that, I guess.' 'An' you knew she was fourteen or fifteen yearsold, didn't you?' 'Ought to, I lived right with her all the time.''An' you knew she was stone-blind in one eye, didn't you?' 'Yes, Iknowed that, too.' 'An' you knew she was too fat, anyway, didn't you?''I sorter suspected it.' 'Well, then why in tarnation did you bet onher for?' 'Well, I'll tell you,' says the old man. 'She's _my_ horse,an' what's mine I stands back of. An' win or not win, she's the finesthorse an' the fastest trotter in the State o' Maine! Get ap, Bess!'"

  Ira sat down.

  The clapping and stamping and laughter might have been heard acrosson Faculty Row. It went on and on, and Hodges, smiling broadly as hepounded his gavel, might just as well have been hitting a feather bedwith a broom-straw!

  "Get up!" urged Humphrey. "Go on! They want more!"

  "There isn't any more," said Ira, smiling. "And they don't need anymore."

  And maybe they didn't, for it was a vastly different gathering thatscrambled for the slips of paper and put down figures and names.Perhaps tomorrow or still later some of them would regret the sizeof the figures, but just now they were in the mood to be generous,for Ira's story had succeeded where all the rest of the oratory hadfailed. They still chuckled as they passed the slips along and werestill smiling when the pledges were dumped on the table. Among them wasone which bore the inscription "$2.00--Humphrey Nead."

  The meeting broke up then, but most of the audience waited untilthose on the stage had hurriedly reckoned up the pledges, and whenHodges held up his hand for silence and announced the total to bethree hundred and forty-one dollars they cheered loudly and long. Andwhen Steve Crocker pushed past Hodges and called for "a regular cheerfor the Team, fellows, and make it good!" the result indicated thatParkinson School had experienced a change of heart!