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Lincoln School was a long, rectangular, two-story, red—brick building perched on its hilltop overlooking the dwellings of both rich and poor as well as some in between. It had a kindergarten presided over by Miss Cubby, a tall, plump and very pretty woman who sometimes made me sorry I'd skipped kindergarten. After that came eight grades, each with a first and second half. The principal was a big, kindly, jovial man and bachelor, James A.Shea, maybe in his late 30s. Each school-room had a cloakroom and a dressing—room for its teacher. Mr. Shea's office was at the end of the hall on the second floor and it was desirable not to be sent there by your teacher, this being the ultimate punishment, to be "sent to the office." In the basement, were the boys and girls lavatories as well as a sloyd classroom and all the heating and janitorial equipment, coal bins, etc. The school bell rang twice before each session, the first time, I think, fifteen minutes before the deadline, and the second time, five minutes before. It seemed to me from my training that to be late to school was equal to a capital offense in seriousness; I don't think I was late more than a time or two in my whole six years at Lincoln. And we walked to school regardless of weather and without exception -- and sometimes it got down to 20-below and there was a lot of snow, but we got there on foot. Nor do I recall the school ever being closed because of weather. Moreover, we went home to lunch.

The routes from the poor quarter and the rich quarter converged a couple of blocks from school and from that point on, the pupils from each quarter would trudge along on opposite sides of the street frequently yelling good—natured insults at each other. In the winter, the two sides would exchange barrages of snowballs as they went up the hill toward school. The other side used to call us the "rich somethings" —— I just can't remember the term -- and we‘d refer to them as the "Lincoln toughs" But actually we all got along quite well together at school and I had some good friends on the other side. We'd all mingle at recess and play tag and pom-pom—pullaway together. There'd be a fistfight occasionally at recess (the boys were on one side of the school building and the girls on the other, at recess) with almost the whole crowd of boys swarming into a circle around the contestants and yelling, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT. This yell drew a crowd fast. At such times, Mr. Shea would have to wade through the crowd and stop the proceedings. But these fights would occur between any pair of boys regardless of what section they came from. Lincoln had no auditorium so maybe once a term, we'd all be marched the several blocks to McKinley School where they had one and we'd be treated to a Victrola concert, a rare thrill. Finally Lincoln got a Victrola which was taken around to the various rooms, where concerts were held. I was greatly honored one day to be called to the office and be asked by Mr. Shea if I would take home and dispose of, a large package of used phonograph needles —- he wanted to be sure no one got hold of them