Newtown High School - Newtowner Yearbook (Elmhurst, NY)
- Class of 1942
Page 1 of 44
Pages 6 - 7
Pages 10 - 11
Pages 14 - 15
Pages 8 - 9
Pages 12 - 13
Pages 16 - 17
Text from Pages 1 - 44 of the 1942 volume:
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The Seri be
PUBLISHED BY THE STUDENTS OF
NEWTOWN HIGH SCHUGL
ELMHURST, NEW YORK
Centenary Issue May 1942
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FRIENDSHIP ON THE SCALE by Ellen R. Mayer, page four
HERITAGE by Jeremiah O,Mara, page six
LET,S KEEP ,EM FLYING by Joan Sommer, page seven
THE DATE by Rosemarie Licater, page eight
LIFE AND A RIVER by Donald E. Soergel, page nine
ON USING A FORK by Ruth Ward, page ten
IT's A MAN,S WORLD by Fred McCarthy, page eleven
AMERICA,S FAVORITE GAME by Lois Eimer, page twelve
IT's SPRING by Joan S. Harris, page thirteen
THE HCITY OF CHARLESTONU by Otto Hartmann, page fourteen
WE Two by Jane Randle, page fifteen
JACK LONDON by Wilma Petersen, page sixteen
JEWELS by Anne Lichtman, page seventeen '
THE ARTIST by Cynthia Price, page seventeen
IN DARREST AFRICA by William Green, page eighteen
THE FEW by Sidney Knowles, page nineteen
COMMUTING BY Bus by Robert Snedeker, page twenty
THE PACT by Mary Sterling Kilgus, page twenty-one
THE MIRACLE by Bernard J. McShane, page twenty-two
ADRIET by Gladys E. DeFeo, page twenty-three
MOTHER NATURE,S PRCGRAM by Olive Gately, page twenty four
A LITTLE BoTTLE by Betty Morin, page twenty-jive
VoICE or ANNEX 13, page twenty-eight
ON BEING ALONE by Dolores Lawson, page thirty
DooMED by Jean Fishkin, page thirty-one
EXPRESS OUTWARD BOUND by Donald Soergel, page thirty two
REVERIE IN BLUE by Helen Grossman, page thirty-three
CAUGHT by Helen Johnson, page thirty-four
A DoG SETTLING DowN BY THE FIRE by Robert Johnston, page thirty four
Friendshzp on the Scale
THE LAST notes floated out of the open window. Dick stared at the piano.
At last the black and white keyboard had yielded to his imagination. He had
played his song, his song. It was a song as beautifully blended as a butter-
fly's wings, as velvety as a night in June with the sky hanging like a. blue
velvet curtain overhead, as sweet as a blood-red rose and as inspiring as the
khaki and the red, white and blue.
Dick had sat hours at the piano trying to put into sound what the
music within him said. Surely his song would be accepted in the national
competition for amateur song writers. Hurriedly he got out paper and pencil
and jotted down the notes.
Dick was a sophomore in college. He came from a family where there
was always just enough to eat-not poor but not especially well-to-do. If he
could win the prize for the song, it would mean that he would have the money
for his whole college career without playing soda fountain every night. He
would then be able to start saving. His friend, Warren, and he thought that
the song-writing competition was a gift from heaven and since they both were
very musical they were set on winning one of the prizes. Warren needed
money badly because he wanted to marry his girl as soon as he graduated.
He was a senior, came from the same type o'f family as Dick, and was prom-
ised a job because of his high scholarship. All he needed was a small amount
to get settled.
Dick looked at his watchg 7 o'clock and he was supposed to be at the
store at 7 P.M. He threw the songsheet into his drawer and dashed off. He
got to the drugstore all out of breath, donned his apron and started to dis-
pense sodas with not much thought as to his boss's financial position.
Warren came and visited him. He was very excited.
"Dick, I've 'ust written the son of m life," he announced solemnl .
J 8 Y Y
"Hey, what are you doing? You're putting too much stuff in that soda."
Dick took his friendly advice and spilled the whole mess into the sink. War-
ren only shook his head. A good thing the boss wasn't around.
"After you get through here, Dick, come around to my joint and hear
my song. I just sat at the piano when I suddenly got an inspiration. I don't
think I could write another, I put my whole heart into this one. By the way,
how is your 'opera' coming along."
"Fine," answered Dick handing a sundae to someone who wanted an ice
cream cone. "You must come around tomorrow and hear it."
"O.K. S'1ong pal," and Warren dodged out of the store because he had
seen the boss coming.
Slowly eleven o'clock came around. Dick left the store in good humor
A after having treated himself to
a soda at the owner's expense.
He felt so free that he broke
into a run. His long strides
soon brought him to Warren's
Warren, his hair tousled,
opened the door. "Come in,"
he said, "Pm still improving
' my masterpiece."
He seated himself' at the
piano and started playing,
after ruflling his hair with a
very artistic gesture. Dick
listened, thinking of his own
song. He felt as though he
could hear it. 'Suddenly he
sat up straight and listened
intently. Was he dreaming?
That was his song. His own
l song. It was a different ver-
! Q e sion, but sure enough the theme
was his. It couldn't be. He was stunned.
"Well, how do you like it? What's the matter with you?"
"N-n-nothing," stammered Dick. "I was just thinking. I like it a. lot.
It's swell. Best thing you ever did." It was an effort for him to say any-
thing at all.
At night, as he tossed about in his bed, he tried to reason it all out.
He was convinced that there was no foul play. It was possible for two people
to have similar songs. The songs were not exactly alike and yet they dis-
tinctly had something in common. Naturally, they couldn't both be entered
in the contest. What should he do? If he told Warren about it he would
tear it up. And Warren needed the money more than he did. He could get
another job and work harder while Warren was graduating and wanted to
marry. But why should he be the victim?
Dick urged. He lied to himself and then told himself the most bitter
truth. He, too, wouldn't be able to write another song. He got up and
went to the window. In the distance he saw the horizon getting purplish-blue.
He'd go and tell Warren and they would try to Work it out between them.
But then one of them would have to give in and Dick felt sure that he couldn't
let Warren make the sacrifice either. b
Dick whirled around as his alarm clock rang. He hadn't slept a wink
this night. He dressed, poured a pitcher of cold water over his head and
took his books. He couldn't eat any breakfast. He met Warren after school.
"Hello, boy, you look as if your best friend died. Can I come with you
and hear your song?"
Dick bit his lip. He looked faraway where the plain and the horizon
met. Then he turned a steady gaze on Warren.
"No," he told him, "the song was so terrible that I tore it up."
"Gee, I'm sorry old man. I hope you'll have better luck with the next.
You know, I showed mine to the music department head this morning and he
is convinced that Pll win a prize. Wouldn't that be swell ?"
"You bet it would," exclaimed Dick. "Come on, I'll treat you to a hot
dog, I'm starvedf'
And pulling Warren with him, he fairly flew down the hill. Now he knew
what it meant to feel as light as a bird.
ELLEN R. MAYE11
Because our sires fought and died
At Lexington and Valley Forge
To cast the tyrant yoke aside
Of proud and imperious George,
Because they strove for freedom's charm,
And stood for Rights of Man,
With heart and soul and brain and arm
Let's make what sacrifice we can
And win the war.
Letfs Keep tem Fbfing
Which would we rather have
Four freedoms or four tires?
Whom would we rather have rule us,
Americans, or those liars?
Why do we waste those things
That will keep America free?
Make it a haven for those oppressed
Away from all tyranny.
Why do we just sit at home
And shout for MacArthur's men,
Those men who are fighting so bravely,
Outnumbered by one to ten?
Of course we should cheer for the soldiers
But our voices won't conquer the fightg
It's the men that sweat and die for the cause
And suffer all day and night.
Why don't we help them by buying
The bonds that will win the war
Send them the ships, and the tanks, and the guns
To help what they're fighting for?
Come on you American people,
Let's keep our side from dying,
Let's save our money and buy the bonds,
Come on! "Let's Keep 'em Flying P'
"I CAN,T do it fellows! I can't," remonstrated Billy Smith as he banged
as h ssh 'scald
the telephone receiver in place. Have a eart, e moaned. Il 0 anything
but that !" He looked apprehensively at the boys around him. How could he,
Billy Smith, call up the most beautiful, most glamorous girl in town and ask
her for a date to go to the zoo . . . no less. Impossible! Why the very thought
of it made sweat pour from his brow. But he had to go through with it if he
wanted to become a full fledged member of the ...... club.
"Aw be a sport Billy. We want men in this club not mice," chided Danny.
"Asking a pretty girl for a date is a cinch !"
"I know she'll turn me down and besides I don't think Gloria would like
to go to the zoo . . ." replied Billy dolefully.
"But you've got to make her accept your exciting offer," replied Joe.
"After all a date to the zoo comes but once in a life time !"
"All you have to do is turn on the charm," Johnny jeered. "That's simple
enough and it always works on the women."
"Look where it' got me," exclaimed Bob who was always boasting about
his many female admirers.
"Good and broke," retorted Billy. "I have to save my money for that
new camera and . . ."
"Well what are you complaining about !" ejaculated Bob. "The zoo is
cheap enough. Say-you're not getting cold feet, are you?"
"Why no! That is er er .... I'll show you who's getting cold feet,"
indignantly. "Give me the phone !"
A ff?-'ZX "Now we're getting some-
Gx place P' exclaimed J oe.
3- 'l fw,',,,,,, "Hello, Is this the resi-
X! 5 'f gf -:r Tf4'K WW 1'A
' y " A vm, , I ' IS' ff? dence of Miss Gloria Brown P"
H ' y F X I 12 f.f, '4
f, ' i f ga Billy asked meekly.
X if ' i f , fl N "Why all the formality?"
. ly' X pf' 9? I interrupted Johnny. "She is
g 1 . ! in your Chem class."
F! by wx 'fssshr' cried Billy. "May
,ff X W , - l I please speak to Gloria P"
, ' V l ' , ' "Hello, Bob," came a
if Q A X lib y g X shrill voice over the wire.
! "U11hh." he groaned.
Lfnhllllllrfli V N! W N1 A Q XX Gtfrhis is
N U I1 ' l "She thought it was you,
Q it-sd xi, . a..n.w-M-'-'Bob," he said in an undertone.
"Tha.t's just pretensef' returned Bob who seemed to know his women.
"Billy? Which one?" she questioned.
"The Billy in your Chem class," he replied.
"Oh Billy Smith. Yes, of course. This is indeed a pleasant surprise,"
she answered coyly.
"She said it's a pleasant surprise," he whispered.
"Well, get to the point !" Joe prodded.
"Here goes," he said trying to appear unperturbed.
"Gloria," he began, "for the longest time I've waited for this moment
to come and finally it has arrived." He hesitated .... "Pd like to ask you if
. . . if . . . well if . . . you have the Chem homework."
He was at loss for words now. The whole world seemed to sink beneath
him. He hardly had enough courage to continue. But he had to. What would
the fellows think if he backed out at this stage of the game? What must Gloria
think of his stuttering like a booby? In spite of his good looks, Billy had never
found time to think about girls, he did not even know why they clamored for his
attention. He hadn't any time to lose now. He cleared his throat and sud-
denly gained a new confidence.
In a twinkling of an eye it was all over. Yes, he had asked her and she
had accepted. It all happened so suddenly that it left him speechless. He
could hardly believe his ears when he heard her exclaim, "Why I'd be delighted."
It all had seemed so simple .... Unless the fellows had made an agree-
ment with .... Well what did it matter now?
By the look of relief and contentment on Billy's face as he sauntered
nonchalantly into the club room a few weeks later, one could have guessed that
his initiation date had been anything but a failure. Billy certainly had killed
two birds with one stone!
LIFE AND A RIVER
Life is like a river, Ofttimes, one branch, -
Sometimes it flows along serenely Which at first SGCIIIS C0111P19-001173,
With scarcely a ripple Tranquil and easily accessible,
To mar its calmness. Is too late discovered
At other times, As leading nowhither.
There are rapids and waterfalls As a river must finally merge
To try usg With a larger body,
Only the hardy survive. So must our existence be engulfed
Somewhere along the course By that relentless vastness
There is a fork. Known as Eternity.
DONALD E. Sonnenr.
ON USING A FORK
PRIMITIVE man had no implements for eating that exist today, and therefore
he used the old faithful extremities. He didn't have to worry himself to a
frazzle about the manner in which he picked up the cutlery or the way he held or
used it. He thought that food should be put into the mouth as quickly as
In these advanced and civilized times QI often wonder if they arej we
come to the stage where man now employs a little, delicate instrument known
as the "fork." It is supposed to keep our hands clean and help us to get our
-food into our mouth, but what I have observed seems to indicate another
picture to the story.
In the corner of the restaurant, where he hopes no one can see him, a
timid man shyly sits down to indulge in some dainty morsel. He picks up his
fork as if it might break and then starts to take up his food. He tries once,
then twice, then a third time but he is unsuccessful in his efforts to pick up
the little rolly-polly peas which seem to be playing tag with him. First he
goes after it, it rolls away. Then another try but it rolls again. This time
it is halted by a staunch mountain of potatoes. Then, finally a hit is made
and the pea, one lone pea, is brought onto the fork. A sigh of relief is ut-
tered, but just before reaching the mouth plop goes the pea and falls on
the plate. He knows stabbing food is not the right thing to do so now he
must renew his strength and continue this endless struggle for existence.
There is another man in that restaurant, but he, a mighty man, has no
worry about who sees him. It is even better for his social life if many see
him. He takes his fork and holds on to it as if he were to make a kill. He
holds on to it so tightly that I don't think heaven or earth could make him re-
lease his weapon. He makes a plunge and jabs the carrot through the neck.
The kill is made. The man, who has this method of using his fork, never fails
to make his kill for just below the waist is a part of the body which seems to
protrude a little.
And now we see a man that has no regard for appearance. It seems that
he has a little trouble getting into the seat. This man could rightly be
called a baby blimp. When he takes his fork in hand, he makes a little moun-
tain of meat, potatoes and spinach on it. He thinks a fork is a steam shovel
onto which one piles heaps. He also uses a fantastic method to get this peak
of edibles. He uses a "pusher." This is usually a piece of bread that goes
around like a shovel cleaning the snow off the ground in winter.
After observing these three methods of using a fork, I have finally come to
the conclusion that they are all insane and indirect and too much work.
Therefore I recommend that the practice of eating, which occurs only three
times out of a day of 24: hours, should be given up. In its place one can
take some vitamin pills that are just as nourishing and which take no trouble
at all because one need not jab them, stab them, push them, or shovel them
with a fork.
Itfs a Mania World
I HAVE BEEN told, ever since I was a small boy, that it is a man's world. But
I have been slowly disillusioned until now I not only doubt that it is a. ma.n's
world, but firmly believe that it belongs to the so-called weaker sex.
If a boy is hurrying through the halls to his next class and he bumps
into a girl, who drops her books, he must of course apologize and pick them
up. But if she is hurrying, and his books fall, he must also apologize and
pick up his books.
Have you ever stood in line in the lunch room and seen a girl push in
ahead of a boy? If the boy dared tell her to go to the end of the line, he
would be frowned upon, not only by the girls, but also by those of his own sex.
Ah-h, for the good old days when only boys were considered important
enough to be educated. But women wanted equal educational opportunities,
and now that they have them, they still expect to be treated as they were
when knighthood was in flower.
If they are the weaker sex, it is only because they have been babied and
pampered since they were born, and led to think that boys and men were put
on earth merely to do the bidding of the fair sex.
So the next time a girl knocks my books from my hands, I will probably
apologize and pick them up. After all, what can a person do when the male
sex is as firmly opposed to any change as the women are?
AMERICAS FAVORITE GAME
THE ORIGIN of baseball is obscure, but in the United States, Abner Doubleday
got up a scheme for playing it in 1830. In the New England States in 1830
there was a game called "townball" which was played on a square Held at the
corners of which were four-foot posts which were used as the bases. To score,
the players had to run around these posts, and if they were hit by a thrown
ball they were "out." The side that got 100 runs first, won. Later the
game was modified a little and bags were used instead of posts. The game
was limited to nine innings and the number of players fixed at nine. It was
ruled also that the ball was to be tossed to the batter. This is not very im-
like the modern game.
The first match game between clubs was played on the old race-course
in Flushing, Long Island, New York, in 1831. From then on the game grew
in popularity and new clubs were organized and new rules were set down and
there were salaries for the players. In the beginning of baseball, fully two-
thirds of the spectators bet on the games. Wagers totaling S100,000 were
reported on one game in Philadelphia, while in some cities a special booth in
the grandstand, in charge of an auctioneer, sold pools on the game. There
were no long sessions of pre-game practice in the early games of organized
baseball. Teams appeared on the field five minutes before the game started.
Players have a language of their own to describe incidents, individuals,
and plays in the game. Listed below are some of the more familiar expressions
used by diamond performers:
An els-Small white clouds
.if I ,V p, 5 . 1..: 1 ,-I .f' ,',v 3,,':'-.ff-!,r.'l -f , .
Y". IQ: - ...I .Q helpful in Judging lugh ihes.
"iz ,QM iffaifijfjr Bullpen,-Extreme section of
fit ..'- the Playing field, reserved for
125. i' "" "ft:.2f'?fz'V:' :LE '.i':'fsi11?f - - -
'-Q':f-'i .,Q:g.1Z,..'EpLV:' warming up relief pitchers.
" ' 1".a?2i,"'.'i, ?Y!-'C . .
.gif . " 'rw Oman or zll-Baseball.
,fu .- .I . 4 -1 .ff :L-3 1
' ff' 'Q Teacher-Manager.
" fi' 'ii-: 1 . f Wolves-Spectators who con-
""'e f ' .
3 M15 ." A'V'ff.i-K'-:silff stantl ride a la er or team.
.T -.-,.. X Tin", u"""" .ff'f."' "liar
Q sy ' x Q. Tools of ign0ra'n.ce-Catch-
'fS:.2x1,,g -'framtrdii 43309 .iii-'arf , -
I! "ralph - X, Sg3:Q+'-gg er s paraphernalia.
" X -.' X ::
Bxsp. 1, yt, Sweetheart-A star player,
ONilLL SQA '-YQ vigai.-x D 1 h , h
lf --+1 I --,gpg 1 X -an usual yt epitc er.
""':.:.:.:.:.:.j.:.:.j.:.: Qin T Blind Tom 01' T0bb6T1UIH'
,me U, :fri '::..'-'-Q:-I-:ff-fl .
,' I .gizf ' Gillette-A ball thrown at the
'V -3" HFEEQQIT-.1 T ,EA
, fg' " ,mv batter's head.
There's a certain team in New York that I think is the best team on the
face of the earth. They've got everything it takes to be a swell team. They've
got the best players, a forceful manager and the most faithful fans. No,
they're not the New York Giants or the New York Yankees, but this marvelous
team is the Brooklyn Dodgers. Here is a little about the history of the name,
Dodgers. It's a contraction of Trolley Dodgers. When they won the pen-
nant in 1889 and '90 they became known as the Bridegrooms because the
married men out-numbered the single fellows on the roster. They've also
been called, "Superbas," "Robins," "Infants" and even "Our Bums."
As if by a princess with mystic device
Mother Earth's lovely wonders unfold
From the pretty carved shimmering oft-changing ice
And the dark, barren lands of the cold.
The yellow of daffodils springs to our view,
The grass, and the blue of the heather,
And the oak trees displaying their foliage new
Each trying to outdo the other.
The farmers are busily planting their grain
In hopes of a good harvest season.
The robins are nesting, at home once again
And of course we all know the good reason:
The butterflies flit from flower to flower
And the plump white clouds float above,
So lazy and carefree from hour to hour
And a young man's CPD thoughts turn to love.
JOAN S. HARRIS
THE "CITY OF CHARLESTON"
THE STUBBY blunt form of the tramp steamer, City of Charleston, groaned
as she shouldered her way through the heavy seas, her rusty plates streaming
spume at each turn of her screws. She was heavy with cargo and low in the
water and couldn't have been making more than 10 knots. Her hull was
painted a navy blue, but here and there great blobs of rust stood out in bold
relief. Topside she was a grimy, slowly graying white, while her solitary
stack was once a brilliant crimson. All in all she showed her age.
I served aboard her as an officer. I had just finished college when the
job was offered to me by the Skipper of the City of Charleston, who was an
old friend of the family. As I had studied navigation, he took me on to sup-
plement my knowledge with actual experienc1+I really didn't hold any posi-
tion on boardg my tatus was similar to that of a midshipman on a man-o'-
war. The Skipper owned the tramp and worked her free lance. He could
get a cargo most anywhereg he had a sort of sixth sense when it came to this.
Three bells struck in the half light of dawn and the ship was very still
except for the reassuring throb of the engines and the splash 'of the rollers
as we cut through them. I was still half asleep as I made my way up to the
bridge where the mate stood drowsily rocking on his heels as the helmsman
hummed faintly to himself. Our course was NE-by-E-we were bound for
Los Angeles with a cargo of copra and crude rubber from the Dutch East
Indies. The mate yawned and then nodded glumly as he went off Watch. I
tore a page from the grimy calendar that hung next to the Chronometer-
December 7, Sunday. I smiled at the prospect of a Sunday dinner which
aboard ship is a real treat.
I chatted with the helmsman-some quick mental calculations placed us
about a day and a half's run off Oahu, main island of the Hawaiian group on
which Honolulu is located. Taking my place at the open end of the bridge I
waited for the Skipper. As I peered out towards the horizon I saw the smoke
of another vessel. I kept watching her trying to make out what type she
was. Slowly but surely she kept bearing down on us. She must be one of
those fast luxury liners I thought. As she came still closer I took the binocu-
lars from their cabinet in the Wheelhouse and began to look her over. By
now she was plainly in sight, and I could make out her slim hull and gun
turrets. She was in the cruiser class but not like any in the United States
Navy. Her superstructure seemed piled on in a haphazard manner, and her
two stacks were bent over like a shipis ventilator.
The Hrst shell smacked into the blue about 250 yards off our stern.
There was a terrific explosion and a huge geyser of water to mark the spot
where she hit. The helmsman looked at me with an expression of numb sur-
prise on his face. As for me I was speechless. By now the men on the whole
ship were awake for I could hear shouting below decks. Then the second shell
came over, only this time we were hit. There was a second rending crash as
the radio shack and after deck were torn to bits. The third shell hit us for-
ward. The ship was already going under-I grabbed a life belt and went
over the side. From there on everything is black.
It has been exactly three months and thirteen days since that heinous
Sunday. A few days after it, I awoke in a sea of iiuify white like all hospital
beds. I was in Honolulu where I had been taken after being the sole sur-
vivor picked up by a United States naval vessel. I now know just as everybody
else does what happened that Sunday.
That cruiser was Japaneseg it was one of the unknown number that
escorted an aircraft carrier. This aircraft carrier was the one which launched
those deadly dive-bombers on that sneak attack on Pearl I-Iarbor. The reason
my ship was blasted from under me was to prevent its warning the navy by
I believe that the aircraft carrier and its escort were later dealt with suc-
cessfully by American bombers.
When I was very young, you see,
There wasn't one but two of me.
Now one was good, the other, well,
You know I really needn't tell.
The other liked to do the things,
The ones that mother's anger brings,
The ones you really wouldn't do
Unless they turned their backs on you.
I Wasn't bad, just couldn't be,
'Cause then I wasn't one but we,
But gee it was a lot of fun
When there were two instead of one.
,gh f -l EVER SINCE time began the
Q V I! world has benefited from great
,.Jltg g,,:.,, ,,4:: 5 f., T E E men and their teachings. We
:N AV,. p iv E Q must not forget the near-great
ff M-' ,, 'l1lf.'L 43 3 5' teachers who have summarized
M J! if I ,,,s" the teachings of other , making
, I3 ' V H X it possible .for the masses of
s 1 A nf!! W, diggs 'X people to enjoy them.
hp. . xhpf if -1. Libraries contain many
Wi ' "" J r "': J ' "ii1i in volumes of these books of
knowledge, but the average person has little or no time to peruse them. He is
too busy, for relaxation he prefers to read a short story or a novel. Yet in
the reading of a good novel, a lesson may be learned which will be of benefit
to himself and others with whom he is in contact. An American writer by the
name of Jack London made efforts in this direction.
In his first book, The Call of the Wild, he portrayed in story form some
of the ideas of Charles Darwin. His story, The Sea Wolf, deals with the
brutal materialism of certain German philosophers. In his story, Martin
Eden, the artistic trait is brought to the foreground by the introduction
of some of the ideas evolved by Kant, Nietzsche and Herbert Spencer. In the
very interesting story, In the Valley of the Moon, his warning was given to
the American farmers to hold on to their land, for being close to the soil and
nature, they derived happiness. Thoreau and Emerson would have enjoyed
reading this book. Michael, Brother of Jerry, exposed the tortures that
animals go through backstage in learning to perform their acts.
Jack I.ondon had an inborn ability to weave ideas from great men into
mnnv of his stories and novels. He Wrote them with a charm that made in-
teresting reading and in this way reached the masses. We should all feel proud
of his accomplishments and that he was one of our own real Americans.
Can diamonds ever equal the dawn
For pure majestic splendor?
Can gold ever give you the thrill
The fresh green grasses render?
Can precious jewels cleanse your soul
Like pure faith in God?
Can anything equal the feel of the earth
That once your ancestors trod?
Is there anything like a human man
Who strives on for his goal?
Is there any beauty to equal
The beating heart of a soul?
Is there any thought so beautiful
As that of a world without strife?
Is there any story in any book
That equals the story of life?
How does he know
Which way to steer that pencil in his hand?
It seems to go
Quite, oh! you know, without the least command.
It makes a stroke,
It makes a scratch, all perfect in design
VVhy does that pencil
Choose a route so opposite from mine?
My drawings look like big mistakes.
Our works you can't compare.
I think he must have all the breaks,
And talent plus, to spare.
The one essential difference is,
And of this, I am sure,
He knows his art, while I am called
A mere rank amateur.
IN DARKEST AFRICA
How rr started I don't know. Perhaps it was the pickles and ice cream
I ate, or maybe it was the fifth Welsh rarebit. Anyhow, I found myself in
the heart of nowhere, a friendly little jungle on the African continent. Boy,
was it friendly! The place teemed with sociable ten foot snakes, amiable man-
eating lions, neighborly crocodiles, picturesque swamps, carnivorous plants, and
other enjoyable forms of biological creation.
I had just finished making preparations for a short hike, about 500 miles,
into the interior. I carefully packed my razor blade, water pistol, sub-machine
gun and other weapons that were later to be my protectors. I set out with no
one as my guide. After trekking about fifty miles I entered a clearing. Looking
about, I saw facing me three of the most ferocious lions conceivable. The lions
were short, tall, fat, skinny lions. I felt my heart to see if I were dreaming, but
it was gone. It had jumped out of my mouth in fright. Undaunted, I took a
bowl of wheaties from my pack and quickly downed it. I now felt ready for
anything-anything except lions. But was I afraid? Did I lose my courage?
Did I flee toward the nearest tree? Yes! About a quarter of the way up an
enormous tree my progress was halted. Why? Because I rudely bumped into
a leopard. I wonder what Emily Post would say about that. The leopard
glared at meg I glared at himg he snarled at meg I moved to another tree.
A swishing sound caught my sensitive ears. I looked above me. There was
the scourge of the jungle-a deadly python, or maybe it was a wha-sha-ma-
call-it. I was too scared to find out. This time I could not flee, for below me
was a man-eating gorilla. Heaven only knows that he would have gotten
indigestion if he had eaten me. I reached for my pistol. It was gone, fallen
s in my scramble up the tree. The lions
'E-gf' Ay' "X were playing with the sub-machine
J + gun, and all were closing in on me. I
" ' A still had a weapon more dangerous
than those that I had lost. Besides,
if things got too hot I could always
give the denizens of the jungle an icy
stare and then climb the stair out of
danger. But back to that terrible
'eil if '
'l 4 ,
:wi ii i . l . '
a ' A "VIR . A 3.1, 2
Q11-1 ,FN . --' y , weapon. This weapon was so deadly
j I 115' 6 - JM 6' Q' - X, fra and terrible that men cringed at the
V' y I s if, sight of it. Without a moment's
i3 ill, , fl' ii ,' hesitation, I drew my trusty sharp
5, wi . 'ex dangerous razor blade from my
Slash! Bang! Crash! Roars, growls, and yells filled the air. Blood flowed
faster and thicker than Niagara Falls. Suddenly there was a crash louder than
the rest. Believe it or not, that crash was my salvation, for I found myself
on the iioor of my own room grappling with the pillow and holding my covers
in my hands.
Now dear reader, if your blood pressure is pounding, and your heart
is throbbing, don't be afraid, because you too may have thrilling adventures
like mine by just eating a mince pie or some similar dish before retiring. I Wish
when you retire tonight that you have pleasant dreams.
PIERRE OPENED the drawer and lifted out the large black revolver. It had been
used against them in 1914 and now it was to be used again. Yet this time
it was not to be used by a proud young officer leading an army on the field
of battle. Tonight its master would be a stealthy creature who darted from
shadow to shadow, a creature more like an animal than a man, and who killed,
only to slink back through those enveloping shadows to wait, and to pray that
he would not be caught before he could kill again.
For a moment a feeling of futility swept over the pale man. What good
was all this? One army might defeat another and thereby win a war, but a
handful of defeated men certainly could do no good by killing off a few unwary
He sat there for a while, staring at the flickering candle on the table.
Suddenly he arose, opened the door and stepped out into the night air. The
coolness of the wind seemed to lift him from his lethargy. In the East there
wasa red glow in the sky and a dull rumbling could be heard.. The channel
ports were being bombed again by the English flyers. Good luck to them!
He turned about and walked towards the door, his mind filled with many
thoughts. Suddenly, he stopped and turned again to the East. A certain
phrase had leaped into his mind. Never have so many owed so much to so few.
Yes, perhaps that was it, perhaps that was the reason he had searched
for. Yes, France, too, will someday owe "so much to so few"!
Pierre opened the rusty gate and started slowly down the dark road. The
weight of the revolver in his pocket was reassuring. He walked on, his eyes
still on the glowing horizon in the East.
COMMUTING BY BUS
521Mi9"' 3' f
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e fag gifffla
fggki f I' k pl! A V
HAVING nrnnnn on the bus to and from Newtown many times, I feel I am
qualified to acquaint those fortunate few who haven't, with the facts of a
ride home from school.
As the bus appears in the distance, the rush is on. The question of who
will be the fortunate one to have the door open in front of him is quite evident
as each tries desperately for this position.
The bus comes to a halt and three or more find that only one body may
occupy a given space at a given time. The lucky one jumps in as the other
two hit the sides and bounce back. The few empty seats are soon occupied
and then comes the fight for position, everyone refusing to move to the rear,
each struggling for a place near the exit. Soon the last one is packed neatly
in and the bus starts.
We then come to the one and only advantage, provided you wish to
classify it as such. You find, to your amazement, that falling is impossible
without the cooperation of the other commuters or passengers.
You finally adjust your breathing to the tempo of the majority and you
realize your destination is nearing. Now the herculean task of getting off
confronts you. You finally see an opening and dart towards it. You natural-
ly knock a few of the unwary and unprepared off their feet, but that is just
a matter of course. You finally reach the door and stagger out. After put-
ting yourself together again and making sure you are still in one piece, you
reach the decision that it would have been easier to walk.
IT WAS a picture that would have delighted Norman Rockwell's eye.
The frilly feminine dressing table had never been in such disarrangement
-its drawers open revealing very personal things of all different colors which
must have been a mystery to the small dirty nine-year-old boy who was
perched on the satin-covered stool, his legs twisted little-boy like around the
rungs. But what was he so absorbed in . . . his face wreathed in delighted
smiles? A little pink book, bulging, and spilling letters . . . oh-h-h a diary!
The picture was suddenly charged with actiong a glimpse of long' blond
hair, swing skirt and flashing eyes. A math and a French book went flying
across the room-and J anie's voice, shrill with fury, "Bobbie l"
After the dirty little boy had dashed from the room-dropping every-
thing as he went, Janie sat down on the bed and forgetting her dignified
sixteen-year-old front began to cry in angry sobs. She stared at all her
secret dreams so nakedly revealed as they lay on the floor. Suddenly some-
thing caught her eye, and she gasped. Jumping off the bed, she picked up a
photograph and stared at it although she knew very well that it was a very
bad shot, taken into the sun, of a boy in a football helmet, with freckles and
"Oh, he wouldn't-he wouldnft tell !" Janie whispered in anguish. Then
she thought of the mischievous glint that Bobbie wore in his blue eyes, and to
what lengths he would go to get the attention of his football hero. The look
on J anie's face then, I will not attempt to describe.
Bobbie had never grinned so engagingly across his plate at his sister
before. His parents looked suspicious, and silently decided that something
was a-brew. But Janie ate her supper in lumps that night, her heart sink-
ing lower and lower. '
Her plaid skirt lacked some of its usual swing, the next day, as she turned
away from the group of boys clustered about the steps of South Side High.
"Gosh, how they'd tease if they knew . . . knew that a silly little sopho-
more has a lot of secret dreams about a football hero-a senior, too-who
could have the cream of the crop." She looked down, not seeing the scuffed
toes of her saddles, but seeing only her carefully built-up front cracking,
smashed to bits. " -
Suddenly she stopped, staring across the street in unbelieving amaze-
ment. She shaded her eyes against the sung sure enough, there was her
brother walking with his usual swagger. But at his side was a small mite of
a girl with long red braids, smiling up at him. And he was carrying her
books, looking a. bit embarrassed.
A slow smile crept across J anie's face. She stopped at the corner and
called sweetly across the street, "Hello-o-o Bobbie !"
He stopped, recognizing the tone in his sister's voice, and his face turned
a. slow, painful red, The boys on the team--if they ever found out! They
were the town's acclaimed women-haters and he was the ringleader!
The smile left J anie's face and she stared across the street into Bobbie's
eyes. Neither of them said a word, but they knew that in that moment a
silent pact had been made.
Janie turned down the block. The swing in her skirts reappeared and a
weight fell from her shoulders. A sisterly smile flitted across her face. He
was sort of a cute little fellow . . . her brother.
MARY STERLING Kn.sUs
THE BUS pulled out of New York, headed for Chicago. All the people
aboard were laughing and chatting gaily with one another. At the first
stop, a woman and a child got on and took their seats. Next a man got on,
and because it was the only seat left, he sat down directly opposite the
woman and child. The people in the bus were quiet now, for this man was
not like the other men on the bus. His clothes were patched and he was badly
in need of a shave. Sensing that something was wrong, the man became very
Then the child spoke, "Do you think it will rain tomorrow, mister?" she
"I hope it won't,,' replied the man, and before long both man and child
were engrossed in conversation. Slowly the people began talking and laugh-
ing again and once again the bus was full of laughing and joyous noise.
In a suburb of Chicago the bus stopped and a woman and a child got
off, but before she left the child turned to the man seated across from her
and said, "You know mister, I like you." No rags did the child see, but a
human being with a heart like herself. ,
When the bus pulled into Chicago and a man left it, with head high,
everybody on the bus knew it was because of a child's words-I like you-I
BERNARD J. MCSHANE
THE SMALL, battered raft floated on the torpid, green sea. A white bird flew
over it, and the sun's rays were hot and blinding. A miserable, half-starved
figure sat on the raft. I was that figure.
At the time, I was thinking of a strawberry sundae. It was so hot. I
tempted myself with the thought of eating the sundae, and of the ice cream
sliding, cool and delicious, down my throat.
Then I began to pray. I pleaded with, and made promises to God, if
only He would deliver me from this horrible situation. I was hungry from
the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair. I wondered how my shoelaces
would taste. Stretching out on the raft, I began to think of my past life.
What a life!
I thought of my little sister, and wished that I hadn't pushed her off
the roof in a fit of temper. I hoped, that when I was dead, she would forgive
me for all the things that I had done to her. Especially the time I put her
head in the rain barrel, and she almost drowned.
I remembered the time that I went to my first date. It was with a gawky,
red headed boy with too many teeth, a million freckles and an annoying way of
stuttering. His name was Bertram. Poor Bertram. He took me to a dance
and introduced me to his best friend, Tom-I went home with Tom.
Then, after two weeks and three days of an ardent courtship from Tom
CI was thirteen years oldj, I fell madly in love with his older brother, Jim.
Jim was twenty-four and was going with a girl his own age, but I was daunt-
less. I hounded him day and night, never letting his weary eyes rest from the
sight of me. I didn't get any place, so I changed my tactics and avoided him
entirely. fln wars they always change their tactics to confuse the enemy.j
I guess he missed me, because a weary week later he came over to my
house. He was really delivering my mother's groceries, but I never doubted
that he had come just to see
,fx EE l me. He left in a hurry, but I
- ' , 'fi felt that it was from bashful-
If fif .
W f il ffffwg, j ness. All boys in love are
H ,HQI utuyh ff- bashful.
"3Zi5i57i'i ...Rx x ...M After two months of
,,,.,..e, - M". worry and work, I finally
wx tricked him into asking me out.
...ig , QF' - . We went to the movies. It was
' 7 -:I N iiirfw so romantic. I went steady
Ik fo " """4'wiQW"fQXfX'4kfw"0" " ' with him for twelve days and
Q? 2 JAM 533, then tired of his company.
P7 if Ah, fickle youth!
After Jim, came Joe, Bob, Jack, Pete, Henry, Butch, and Frank. All in
Sitting on that raft I vowed that if I were saved, I would never break
another heart again.
Just at that moment, I saw a ship on the horizon. I waved frantically
and after a while a boat was let down and rowed over to me. Forgotten was
my chaste promise to God, out came my lipstick and mirror-an officer and
the cutest sailor were my rescuers.
By the time we had reached the harbor, I had given the sailor my name,
address, and telephone number, and had extracted a promise from him to write
me twice a week, and to come to see me if his boat ever docked near my house.
I was fifteen theng now I am sixteen, and so much older and wiser.
GLADYS E. DEFEO
MOTHER NATURE'S PROGRAM
When summer's gentle breeze
Stops whisp'ring in my ear,
And cool refreshing mornings
Hint that fall will soon be here,
The chipmunks and the squirrels
Gather stores of nuts and food,
For the cold and dreary winter days
When shrubs and trees are nude.
The streams stop their babbling song,
The days grow short and the nights grow long.
Then colder and ever colder
The winds begin to blow,
So southward go the robins
To avoid the winter's snow.
But soon when winteis over,
And the sun shines warm again,
Spring comes-and then the summer
To inspire the author's pen.
The cycle is perpetual,
Its end is still unknown,
But then again, to whom
Has its beginning e'er been shown?
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A e'e-f of 79
GSSOME NIGHT P' Dick Steele laughed as he helped his cousin Fran Wright out
of the car. "A double feature movie, a comedy, a newsreel and a bottle of
perfume for the ladies !"
"But such a little bottle," Fran added ruefully.
They had stopped at Fairville Airport to pick up Dick's flying coat. Then
they rounded the corner of the administration building-and the coat was
At the other end of the field, flames shot high into the air. Dark figures
were silhouetted against the red glow.
"The grass is on fire !" Dick yelled, and started to run. But Fran
pulled him back.
"Dick!" she said sharply. "The experimental ship with the radio con-
trol. What's it doing on the ramp? Look !"
Dick turned. "It can't-" he began. But there, its propellers turning
slowly, stood the Army test ship.
Just that afternoon Captain Allison had said, "That ship is tremendously
important to our nation's defense! It must never be left unguarded!"
Dick felt his mouth go dry. Why was it here-alone?
A shadowy figure dropped from the ship and scuttled toward the hangar.
I-Ie heard Fran catch her breath.
"Dick," she whispered, "that Was Jasper Lehman."
Jasper Lehman! He'd been ordered off the field weeks ago.
"Come on, Fran," Dick said shortly, "let's see what he's up to."
They crossed swiftly to the waiting ship-climbed in.
"We don't dare use a flashlight," Dick urged. "We can watch from here.
And if he comes back-"
As they crouched in the darkness, there came the sound of quick footsteps.
The steps came into the ship. The heavy door shut with a thudg Dick and
Fran saw Lehman enter the pilot's compartment.
"He's getting into his safety belt," Dick muttered. "Say-!"
The rest of his words were drowned out in the thunder of the engines as
the throttle was pushed quickly home.
"He's taking off," Fran cried.
They felt the ship lift. The engines steadied to a dull throbbing. Dick
turned to Fran. She knew his face was set and tight. She could tell from
"Lehman's got no business with this ship," he said. "And I'm going to
see that he heads back for the field !"
Moments later, Dick, with Fran close behind, jerked open the door to the
pilot's compartment. Lehman was peering at a map, but he turned at the
sound. His eyes widened. Then his evil face hardened into a sneer.
"Well, if it ain't teacher's pet with his gal friend P'
"This ship belongs to the U. S. Army, Lehman," Dick answered evenly.
"Turn it around. We're going back."
"Not a chance," Lehman's mouth curled. "This ship and me are goin' to
keep a date with a couple of guys on a boat."
"Spies P" The question cracked like a whip.
"What do I care?" Lehman came back. "They're willing to pay me fer
the radio control equipment."
"This ship's no amphibian," Fran put in.
"She's got a parachute, ziin't she? Me an' the equipment's going down in
that. You two can take care of yourselves." The sneer in his voice changed
to a snarl. "Now, get back in that cabin, both of youse! There's six hours of
fiyin' ahead an' I can't be bothered. Get goin l"
The hours went by as Dick and Fran, back in the cabin, wracked their
brains. Too late, they realized they should have jumped upon Lehman. Now
the door was locked. Suddenly Fran grabbed Dick's arm.
"Can you fly this ship, Dick ?"
"In a pinch. why?"
"Is there any coffee in the galley?"
"Should be." Dick was puzzled. "But Fran, I don't-wait-what are
you going to do?"
Fran had already disappeared into the galley. Five minutes later she
returned with a steaming cup of coffee and rapped on the door of the pilot's
compartment. She motioned for Dick to follow.
Lehman peered out, saw the coffee, and opened the door wider.
"I thought you might like a cup of coffee." Fran said sociably.
Lehman grunted, taking a. few sips, and then said "Tastes funny."
"Oh, that's just because the coffee's stale," Fran replied indilferently.
Lehman glanced at Fran, blew on the liquid, and then gulped it down.
He handed back the cup, and Fran peered at him strangely.
"Do you feel all right?" she said.
"Sure," he snarled. "VVhy not?"
"I just wondered," she said innocently, and turned away.
As she did so, the plane lurched, and a small vial tinkled to the door-
Lehman turned white as he stared at the floor, then clutched his throat.
"Poison! You've poisoned me! You-."
"I-I didn't mean-."
"Get out of my way," he screamed as he stumbled toward the cabin door.
"The first aid kit, where is it P"
"Quick," whispered Fran, "get the controls, I'll close the door."
Later, much later, after Dick had set the plane down at Fairville Airport
after Lehman was in jail and the ship carefully guarded, Fran laughed.
They were having coffee in Captain Allison's office as Fran explained her-
self. "That was perfume in the coffee, not poison."
"But where did you get the perfume?,' Captain Allison demanded.
"Oh," said Fran, "didn't you know? It was ladies' night tonight at the
-DKX 1xN'- i
OICE OF ANNEX 13
A SOLDIER'S GOODBYE
"Hurry son, it's getting late,
All the children at the gate,
Waiting there to see you go,
Hurry son, you're awfully slow.
"My land, boy, you've not yet packed,
All the things your suitcase lacked,
Tooth brush, comb and razor, too,
Hurry, what's got into you?
"There you are, a nice big lunch,
And some cookies, too, to munch,
Now let's be oil' or we'll be late,
Say goodbye to the boys at the gate.
"N ow there's the train, over there,
Have you got your ticket? Where?
One more kiss before you go,
Hurry son, you're awfully slow.
"Write me often-don't forget,
For if you do, you'l1 soon regret,
Now be right good, and come home soon,
Hurry, Hurry, Oh my son."
"I'1l be back, never fear,
I'll be back in one short year,
I'll write you nightly, just you wait,
Now goodbye, or I'll be late."
As the train pulled out, a tear I spied,
And I suspect that mother cried,
How could I forget to write,
P11 write her every single night.
WE ARE LITTLE FRESHMEN
We are little Freshmen,
As proud as proud can be,
Because we hail from Newtown,
As you can plainly see.
On our first day at Newtown,
We hunted high and low,
We tried to find our classrooms,
But progress sure was slow.
They say we're only freshmen,
And do not understand,
But when it comes to Newtown,
It's the finest in the land.
J Ames WEBB and JOHN NELsoN
There was a kitten,
With a bad disposition,
He scratched and he scratched
Till we called a physician.
When the doctor arrived,
'Twas a mighty good thing
Our cat was nine-lived,
For the doctor prescribed,
A good whack on his hide,
Some adhesive patches
To cover our scratches.
Two bucks for the physician,
Ended Kit's bad disposition.
fAlso the kitten.,
A WINTER SUNSET
The sky is clear, the day is still,
The only sound is the cold wind's shrill.
Above the horizon, the red ball
Hovers, amidst skyscrapers tall.
Slowly it sinks, its heat and light
Are fast driven, and in steps night.
The sun's last rays light the dim blue
Then like lost hope they suddenly die.
The sky is dark, the night is still.
The only sound is the cold Wind's shrill.
How can I sing of flowers and trees,
Of babbling brooks, and shady nooks,
When men are dying in agony
So life may be good and life may be free?
How can man sing in captivity?
Or be happy, living in slavery?
Then each to his task till the battle's won
And a new and better life has begun
Only then will my heart sing again.
CF ANNEX 13
ELLERY QUEEN, DETECTIVE
Ellery Queen, deducer of fame,
Whose logic puts Sherlock to shame.
Yes! He's the ace,
In every case!
His mind is like a new-born flame.
Pince-nez dangling, faultlessly dressed,
He attacks his work with a certain zest.
Clues, he is always at his best.
As a detective, Ellery's aces high,
That fact at least, you can't deny.
When trouble brews,
He'll never lose
Any time, like a spider trapping a fly.
His library contains many a book,
But only intrigue gets a second look.
From Lupin to Hailey,
From Christie to Bailey,
Ev'ry criminal from killer to crook.
He inherited his traits from the elder Queen,
Cunning and caution, a brain crystal keen,
A sense of duty,
That no golden booty
Could swerve, or besmirch a conscience now clean.
Oh spring, it is a wond'rous thing, In the pond that's deep and dim
For in the trees, birds start to sing, All the different fishes swim,
And when the wind goes humming by, And the clouds up in the sky,
The trees all give a mighty sigh.
Go hurriedly a-passing by.
ON BEING ALONE
IF YoU'vE never been alone, you don't know how trivial conversation and com-
panionship can seem. By alone I don,t mean the absence of companions,
necessarily, I mean the calm, serene feeling one gets when shut off from the
useless patter of his fellow man.
One should be alone for at least two days a month. It clears the brain
of others' opinions and allows the poor rushed gray matter to relax and quietly
form some opinions of its own. It also allows other people some freedom from
the opinions of just one person or clique. On the whole, it's fun because one
gets to know himself.
There are some kinds of people who should be alone: the uncommunicative
type who is confused by people or just hasn't anything to say and is there-
fore of no use conversationally to anyone. Then there is that seldsh type
who wants to keep his ideas to himself. The next is the minor criminal, the
punster and his more blood-thirsty brother, the practical joker, who is im-
practical in modern society.
There are many ways to be alone. The best is never to cultivate any
friends from your unhappy advent on earth to your more fortunate depar-
ture. If you have friends, though, there are ways to remedy your youthful
mistake. The most inconvenient is to leave town because one usually has
business to conduct. The remaining solution is to get your friends away.
If you read the ads, this is easy to do. All that is necessary is a hint that
she has tattle-tale gray hair or her bedroom floor lacks glamour. If We
know human nature, she should never speak to you again. The next is even
easier, develop an annoying habit such as wagging your leg in tempo with
the conversation. If the conversation is exciting, Wag your leg like a sema-
phor. You could say "I told you so" or "It's just as I predicted."
We are experts on being alone through the annoyance method, so, if you
have any problems when following these directions, write to us. If you suc-
cessfully carry out these simple instructions you will either be alone or be shot.
I'r coU1.nN"r happen to me. That sort of thing happened to other people
but not to me. Thus I sought to convince myself that I wouldn't meet the
same fate suffered by my friends, though a small insistent voice constantly
reiterated, "There is no escape."
For days I had been in a state of nervous anticipation. I started when
spoken to and found myself mumbling to myself like a rich miser with hoards
of gold in the bank. But the anxiety suffered during the days of waiting Was
as nothing compared to the wave of terror that surged over me as I woke up
one morning and realized that at last the dreaded day had arrived!
I walked out of the subway into a veritable downpour of sunshine, birds
trilled sweetly and to the casual observer all seemed right with the world.
But not to Jean Fishkin. I was in no mood to enjoy the beauties of nature.
My feet turned reluctantly toward the hitherto friendly building which now
seemed like a grim torture chamber sardonically smirking at my discom-
fiture. As my dragging feet brought me nearer to its malevolently grinning
jaws a preliminary Butter of fear ran lightly up and down my spine as though
a musician were practicing his scales.
Hesitantly I opened the door, took a few tremulous steps, then, with a
sudden exultant burst of courage I dashed wildly up the stairs only to subside
weakly against the wall as my courage ebbed away.
Terror clutched at my heart strings, and at the same time I felt as
though an agitated swarm of butterflies were exploring my lower abdominal
region . As I walked down the all-too-short corridor, fear wrapped itself
around me in a vise-like grip, and a clammy sweat broke out over my body.
The pounding of my heart roared in my ears as though someone were bang-
ing on a sheet of tin with a sledge hammer.
All too soon I reached my destination. A cowardly feeling overcame
me, and I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to run to the safety of my home.
But no, this cowardice was intolerable. I took a deep breath, squared my
shoulders, and marched resolutely into the room, determined not to let a
mere Regents exam frighten me any longer.
EXPRESS UUTWARD BOUND
THE FIGURE stood huddled in the darkness at the end of the yard. His cloth-
ing was torn in places and patched in places. By the faint light shed by
several reluctant stars, he saw the freight train about to get under way. He
ran across the tracks to the train and lifted the latch on the door of the first
car he reached.
Once inside, he groped his way to the corner and threw himself upon the
floor. Utterly exhausted, he fell asleep.
And as he slept, he dreamed. He stood in a land of ice and snow. The
intense cold permeated his body. The bare ground was swept by a pervad-
ing wind which rose now and then with an eerie howl.
Involuntarily he shuddered and drew his tattered rags more closely
On he plodded, where he knew not. The gray, lifeless sky seemed to
encompass him on all sides. The horizon appeared to be drawing nearer.
He garnered new strength and hurried forward.
"That's funny," he thought. "The horizon is right on top of me. In
another moment P11 be there !"
He lingered on the brink for a moment and then he burst forth upon a
heavenly paradise. The air was warm and sweet and songbirds flitted in the
trees. Everything seemed fresh and new. Several of his friends came up to
greet him. He hadn't seen any of them for a long time.
"Welcome," they said, and they invited him to join them. For the first
time in a long while he was happy. . .
It was morning. The train grated slowly to a stop. A brakeman made
his round of the cars. He paused before one and hesitated. With a might-
as-well attitude, he lifted the latch and hoisted himself into it.
In the dim light, he perceived a body in the corner of the boxcar. Hur-
rying there, he bent to his knees. His haste was unnecessary, as the man was
dead. The brakeman shrugged his shoulders and decided to report the case.
As he jumped to the tracks, he read again the wording on the side of
"National Refrigerating Co.
. DONALD Sonnem.
REVERIE IN BLUE
PETE STARED at her. He'd been staring at her for some time now, good thing
she didn't notice it or it would inflate her ego, if it were possible to inflate it
any more. Why shouldn't she be conceited? Weren't they all crazy about her,
and wasn't he one of them?
The subject of his interest was a beautiful creature across the room
from him. She spelled loveliness in every sense of the Word. To him her hair
was the prettiest color of gold he had ever seen. She was slim, too, not skinny
nor plump like some of them. There was no doubt about it, she was more
beautiful than any he had ever seen, and he'd seen plenty, why even now the
room was full of them.
Carrying the torch, that's exactly what he was doing. He tried to tell
himself that she wasn't worth it, but it was no use kidding any longer. Noth-
ing but a coquette, that's all she was, why even now her dark eyes were search-
ing out every male in the room.
She was a little coquette, true enough, but there was nothing quite like
her singing. Were there any virtues that she didn't possess? Oh, she knew
she could sing, the little devil. The others had tried to outdo her, but she
wasn't the type to be outdone. Never even kept at it continually like the
others, just sang when she wanted to, and always her notes were as clear as
She was looking at him now and Pete's heart was thumping in staccato
tempo. It's funny how he always felt like turning handsprings whenever she
looked at him! He loved the way her soft voice trilled his name. He hated
to be called Petey, it sounded so very infantile, but when she said it, why it
took on a new meaning, almost sounded cute.
Now, her gaze was averted towards the door which was opening. Oh!
there he was, Mr. Benson, he always seemed to disturb Pete's reverie. Every
day Mr. Benson broke in on them and why?-he had to fill the bird dishes
with food and water. Pete sighed, yes, she was the most beautiful canary in
Benson's Pet Shop, and he a plain ordinary parrot.
THE MOMENT had come-the terrible moment I had feared for years! I knew
that discovery was a matter of seconds. The sweat stood out on my browg
my hands were clenched in an agony of expectation.
Vainly, I tried to convince myself that I was attaching too much sig-
nificance to the turn of events,'that it was my guilty conscience warping my
judgment. Those accusing eyes behind thick spectacles, boring into my very
thoughts, told me differently.
What a long sinister face he had, my tormentor! He was definitely the
Latin type, and his speech had an unpleasant hiss that reminded me of a
snake. His gaze rooted me in my seat. It was steady and accusing. I tried
to tear my eyes away, to act nonchalant. Feebly, I brushed an imaginary
curl out of my eyes, and smiling vaguely, fastened my gaze on a picture at the
end of the room.
I heard a step near me, nearer, nearer. I glanced wildly about me like a
cornered animal. There was no place to hide the evidence.
His voice came then, hissing softly between those cruel white teeth:
"Senorita, you will please to follow me P'
fOh, the Gestapo would have no terrors, after what followed. For I
was caught--caught eating candy in my Spanish classlj
A Dog Settling Down by the Fire
WHEN WE THINK of a dog lying by the fire we usually think of a large room,
with firelight flickering about everything and a man moking his pipe. This
usually brings to our minds the thought that a dog does lead a lazy life. But
do we ever think of the dogs lying by camp fires keeping watch while their
When the sun sets and the blackness of night closes in, the shepherd
knows that he can sleep in peace, for his dog is on the job watching the sheep
and keeping wolves, coyotes and mountain lions at a safe distance. Daily he
makes his rounds keeping the sheep from wandering off or stampeding.
Hunters also use dogs, as most of us know, and without his dog the hunter
would be at a loss, for dogs have what we call a sixth sense which no human
being possesses. He can smell and hear birds and animals at a great distance
before the hunter would ever know they were there.
VVhen next you see a dog lying by a fire remember there are hundreds of
dogs lying by fires keeping watch and doing their jobs thoroughly. They're
wide awake while their masters sleep soundly and peacefully. There is no
loafing, for the dog knows he has a job to do.
Ronnnr JoHNs'roN, Annex 12
Friends 0 cribe
Francis Abadie, Harold Abel, Richard Abrams, Maria Acerno, Marjorie Ackerman,
Angelina Adamo, Teresa Alivino, Barbara Altree, Louis Anastasi, Frank Anderson, Annex 89,
Roy Anuskewicz, Gloria Apgar, Constantine Apostolides, Sophie Apostolides, John Asgian,
Charles Atkinson, Jr., Marion Austin, Robert Aversa.
Jane Babinski, Babs Babitts, Alfred Bacharach, Ellen Backer, Emil Balaban, Fred Balke,
Robert Banning, Helen Barberio, Francis Barnabee, Ann Barcelona, Ronald Bartosiewicz,
Robert Bartsch, June Becht, Ursula Becker, Dorothy Beer, Muriel Behunger, Rose Beller,
William Bennett, Walter Bergman, Shirley Bernstein, Doris Bertram, Gloria Bethel, Albert
Biagiotti, Leon Biggane, Anna Bilello, Fred E. Bird, Beverly Bleich, Meta Block, Martin Blum,
Robert Bluto, Madeline Bockelman, Herbert Boldt, Geor e Bolender, June Bollin, Irene Bona-
cum, Providence Bono, James Booth, Ralph Bowman, Sliirley Brass, Margaret Braun, Janet
Brauns, Daniel Brecker, Jacob Bregel, Alphonse Brennan, Bob Brennen, Minnie Breuer,
Patricia Brooks, Donald Brown, Ralph Brightman, Frank Briguccia, John Brindisi, William
Brouk, Warren Bruggeman, Helen Brule, Thomas Bruno, Frances Buccellato, Ruth Buckley,
Jeanette Buedingen, Mildred Buder, Frank Buhner, William Bulman, Walter Bunchuck, Elaine
Burden, Janet Bynne, Muriel Byrnes.
Louis Cabanach, Grace Cabello, Peter Caiozzo, Rosemarie Cantor, Joseph F. Caputo,
Berry Carlson, Edith Caro, Presentation Carrascosa, Christina Carter, George Cassidy,
Thomas Cavagnetto, Jeanne Cavanaugh, Ernest Cerami, Charles Champouillon, Donald Chura,
Cliiord Ciapetti, Marie Cifu, John Cincorra, Kenneth Claasen, Lawrence Clare, Edward
Clarke, Grace Clarke, Gunther Claus, Edward Coleman, Vincent Colleti, Jean Conkey, Charles
Conrad, George Cook, Eleanor Cooney, Leonard Costanzo, David Coyne, Edward Coyne, LeRoy
Craft, Harriet Crean, Catherine Criscuoli, Lawrence Crockett, George Croluis, Teri Crossan,
Joan Crotta, Joe Cunningham.
Marjorie Dahl, Ernestine Damits, John Daniels, Raymond Dankel, Edward Deeks, Louis
DeGennaro, Alice Dehler, William Deichert, Connie Delivie, Joseph Delmore, Ernestine
DeLuca, Peter Deluca, John DeMattina, Olga Demrick, Leo J. DeNicola, Thomas DeNucci,
Gloria DePercio, Lucille DePierro, Florence DeSetto, Robert de Vries, James Dickson, Robert
Dietscb, John Dillon, Eugenie Dilimetin, Elizabeth DiPoto, Violet Dittmer, Gunther Ditzel,
George Dolderer, Catherine Dore, Walter Dorer, John Dorfmann, William Douda, George N.
Dozoryst, Jr., Nanc Dunham, Christopher Dunn, Doris Dunn, Thomas Dunne, Mary Dudley,
William Dralle, Wihiam Drew, Betty Drugan, William Drummond.
Donald Earl, Dorothy Eberle, Konrad Eggart, Corinne Ehleiter, Richard Eibell, Lois
Eimer, Irene Eitel, Helen Elpel, Frances Emma, John Ericson, Ellen Espeland, George Ett-
linger, Robert Evans.
Carl P. Faber, Henrietta Fabianowicz, Nina Falek, Marion Falter, Mildred Farrell, Wini-
fred Farrish, John Fay, Henry Fazzari, Rose Fazzari, Frank Felix, Edmund Ferasin, Jewel
Fewkes, Robert Filardi, August Fingerle, Gabriele Finizio, Muriel Finkelstein, Ieo Finn,
Michael Fisanti, Jean Fishkin, Frederick August Fisler, Carmine Flammia, Thomas Flannigan,
Camille Fodor, John F. Foertsch, Jeanne Foley, William Forsbach, Betty Foster, Jane Fox,
Winiiield Fox, Anthony Franchina, "Fred," Irwin Frank, Anthon Franklin, Joseph Frascello,
Peter Frayler, Muriel French, Ivan Furcick, Corp. Harry Furphy.
Ruth Galaid, Francis Gannon, John Geider, Claire Genor, John Gerber, Eugene Garofalo,
Arthur Garner, Helmuth Geiger, Peter George, Joseph Germann, Horace Getchell, Helen
Gintoli, Annette Goldfarb, Sydell Goldish, Joan Iago Goodacre, Doris Goodman, Andrew
Gooley, Natalie Gordon, Robert Gotty, Virginia Graef, Anna Grannadeo, Anna Granata,
Carmine Granata, William Granneman, Paul Greenberg, William Grieger, Rosemary Griiiin,
Lillian Grocka, Henry Groenert, Evelyn Gronberg, William Gross, Helen Grossman, Louis
Gruebel, Sophie Gusewick, Marilyn Guterman, Jane Gutkowski.
Norma Haberman, Sylvan Hackmyer, Ann Hamill, Lila Hanaway, Bill Hardy, Erwin
Harisch, Florence Harley, Mary Harlow, Tommy Harmon, Arthur Harring, John Harrington,
Joan S. Harris, Ann Heaney, Elizabeth Heaney, John Hebranki, Fred C. Heerlein, Jr., Murry
Heinbinder, William Heitman, Muriel Heller, Robert Henneberg, William Hetterich, Jeanne
Higgins, Marie Hill, Agnes Hills, Shirley Hirsch, Arthur Hirschberg, Catherine Hodnett,
He en Hoeppner, Lorraine HoEman, Richard Hofman, Ralph Hofstetter, Mary A. Hogan,
Dwight Holford, Robert Holm, Thomas Holt, Richard Hoolan, Morris Horowitz, Marion
Houston, Margaret Howard, Garth Huckins, Stephen W. Hutt, Joseph Hyland.
Carmine Iacches, Eileen Ignacio, George Ilse, Matthew Itner, Muriel Ives.
Casper Jacobs, Clive Jacobs, Florence Jacoves, John Jaferis, Daniel Jamieson, Norma
Janelli, Henry Jaran, Mary Jederlinick, Annette Jewell, Howard Jewell, Carolyn Johnson,
Adolph Jonaitis, Peter Jung, Marion Junge, Fredrick Jurgens.
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Karban, Muriel Kelly, William Kelly, James Kempf, Jack Kenney, Jean Kennedy, Thomas
Kennedy, Donald Kent, Ruth Kent, Howard S. Kenyon, Olga Kerelchek, Joyce Kiernan,
Audrey Kiesewetter, Claire Kilbourne, Susan Kimmey, Pauline King, James Kinney, William
Kinsey, Raymond Klabouch, Walter Klumann, Virginia Kleinman, Le Roy F. Koelle, Richard
Komoski, Frederick Koops, Lucille Kopp, George Kornelussen, Marceline Kossof, Stanley
Kossotf, George Kotoukis, Mark P. Kours, Raymond Martin Kowalinski, Alfred Kraft, Marion
Ilirameg, Anne Krauser, Ralph Krause, George Krebs, Edwin Kreles, Stephen Kulba, Anna
Stanley Lageski, Raymond La Falce, Hilda Lampetio, Daniel Landon, Anne Lanier,
Frances Lansman, Anthony La Scalzo, Melba Lazos, George Leavy, Anita Lechtenstein,
Elaine Lechler, George Leddy, Beverly Lefkowitz, Marie Leihman, Patricia Leonard, Leslie
Le Rouge, Dorothy Levenson, Jocelyn Lewis, Margaret Leydon, Richard Lieke, Irene Limbach,
George H. Lind, Mildred Litterello, Raymond Lipton, Helen Logue, Marie Lombardi, Joy
Longueil, Robert Lorick, Marjorie Lossee, Harry Lazarus, Barbara A. Lustig, Eleanor Lutz,
Phyllis Lynch, Jacqueline Lyon.
Eugene Mack, Margaret MacThomas, Carol Mady, Anne Manderino, Sally Manderino,
Geraldine Manisero, Renate Mannheimer, Keyman Magdalena, Raymond I. Magner, Jr.,
Eugene Maiforth, Robert Mallon, Eugene P. A. Malloy, Cappy Marandbill, Vivian Martling,
Joan Marbin, Joseph Marcuir, Angelina Marino, James Marten, George C. Martin, Margaret
Martoui, Frank Masopost, Gene Massa, Teresa Masterson, Robert Mattfeld, Robert Mayer,
Victor Mayer, Warren Mauris, Edward McAllister, III, Cleo McAvoy, Dorothy McCarthy,
Fred McCarthy, Arthur N. M. McConnin, Harold McCormick, Robert McCormack, Joseph
McCue, Margaret McCue, James McDonnel, George .McDowell, Marion McGivney, Virginia
McGowan, Rosemary McIntosh, Helen McKenna, Grace McKeough, Dorothy McLaughlin,
Evelyn McMahon, Donald McNamara, Jr., Thomas McNulty, Pat McNierney, Bernard
McShane, Jean Meade, Geraldine Merdes, Klaus Meyer, Catherine Miller, Frank Miller,
Kenneth Miller, Leona Miller, Ruth Miller, Eileen Millerick, Lawrence Minet, Angela Minietta,
John Mistler, Mary Hope Minton, Peter Mohr, Alex Molnar, Gladys Montarcini, L. F. Moody,
Thomas Moonis, Helen Moran, Lillian Morrell, Alvin Morshburn, Franklin Morton, Stanley
Moss, Florence Motyka, Barbara Moy, James Mullaly, Eleanore Muller, Elroy Mulligan,
Josephine Mullins, Lena Munday, Catherine Murphy, Pauline Murray, Roger Murrel, Dorothy
Musachio, Bernard Mutz.
Mary Napoli, Hubert Naresca, Manuel Navaez, Anne Negri, John Nelson, Dorothy
Nessick, Theresa Novellino, Elvira Nucatola.
Arthene O'Brien, Arthur Ocuto, Theodore Oman, Jerry O'Mara, Violet Omeliano, Alfred
0'Reilly, Lois Osborn, Henry Osofsky.
Evelyn Padla, Martin Panzer, Frank Pascaretti, Robert Pasqualone, Concetta Paterno,
Stewart R. Paul, Helen Pellegrim, Michael Pentaleri, Franklin Pepe, Charles Perceval, Marilyn
Perlmutter, Ann Perrone, Marilyn Peterka, Phebe Peterkin, Ruth Pettingill, Paul Pezar,
Robert E. Phillips, Jr., Adele Picoult, Karl Pilati, Nancy Pirro, Betty Pisa-Relli, Margaret
Pitello, Richard Poggioli, Ben Pohalsky, Pat Polisciano, Harriet Pollock, Stanley Pominowski,
Josephine Ponterio, Catherine Pontorno, Muriel Potts, John Portelli, Douglas Poudrier,
Stanley Powell, Hasso E. Preisendanz, Thomas J. Prendergast, John S. Previte, Emma
Preziosi, Cynthia Price, Gloria Punyon, John Purdy.
Lola Radchuk, Jane Randle, Floridea Rankins, Anthony Ramancauskas, Charles Rappa,
Gerald Reddin, Robert Rediger, Audrey Regan, Paul Reich, Mildred Reitman, Sydell Res-
nick, Norman Revitz, Ted Rhoades, Billy Rhodes, Adele Rica, Edward Rice, Joan Rice,
Patricia Rice, Alfred Richards, Ralph Richeimer, Dorothy Richter, Marion Riebe, Dorothy
Rinderknecht, Donald Ring, Walter Ringstrom, Frank Riso, Evelyn Roberts, Scott Roberts,
Anthony Rode, E. Duane Roll, Harold Romar, Eileen Rosenberg, Maxine Rosenbloom, June
Rosenzweig, Corinne Rossi, Burton Roth, Caryl Rothschild, Doris Rozett, Paul Rubin, Phyllis
Rudnick, Helmuth Ruppe, Robert A. Russek, Anthony Ruvulo, Dorothy Ryan, Thomas Ryan,
Donald A. Rydell.
Ruth Sabarese, Eileen Safarik, Anita Salerno, Philip Salina, Robert Salomon, Angelina
Salvatore, Francis Salvoni, Manuel Sanchez, Harry Sander, Kathleen Santora, Santa Santoro,
Anthony Santoriello, Genevieve Sapia, Helen Satz, Virginia Savage, William Scanlon, Elizabeth
Sehack, Robert Schaeier, Virginia Schaf, Lucille Sehaller, Robert Schandel, Anne Scharback,
Edward Schoenfeld, Douglas Schoonmaker, Dorothy Schmidt, Mildred Schmidt, Helmut Sch-
mutzler, Joseph Schneider, Richard Schneller, Helen Schroeder, Charles Schubert, Jr., Donald
John Schutz, Joe Scottilow, Henry Seib, Ruth Seiden, Carmela Sedita, Gertrude Selurch, Lor-
raine Semerena, Ruth Seneck, Charles Senzil, Louis Serlen, Claire Sexton, Charles Shannon, Wal-
ter Shaver, Gloria Shea, Theresa Shea, Mary Sheerin, Richard J. Sheridan, Allan Shepp, Sey-
mour Sheroif, Marian Shuker, Roslyn Shulman, Bennett L. Silverstein, Dorothy Simonetti, Grace
Simonetti, Anthony Simoggio, Gloria Simms, James Sisti, Harry Skottke, Evelyn Smith,
Virginia Smith, Virginia Socci, Donald Soergel, Eugene Solar, Joe Sottilaro, Burton Sparer,
Hilda Spector, Richard Spreckelsen, Mario Stath, Walter Stegmaier, Lewis Stein, Eleanor
Stelma, Marian Stevens, Stephanie Stoekj, Henry Stone, Margaret Strauch, Franklyn Streck-
wald, Joan Suatck, Francis J. Sullivan, Jane Sullivan, Phyllis Sutcliffe, Gerard Sweeney,
Bill Taafe, Martin Tanner, Mary Tassi, Rae Taube, Robert Tawoda, Robert P. Tebo, Jr.,
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Theodoreau, Valirie Thomas, Lawrence Thomaschek, Elaine Thompson, Haskell Titchell,
Frank Treubert, Michael Tristano, William Tichanski, Doris Tierney, Anna Tilotta, Natalie
Tiranno, Maurice Tofani, Jeanne Toley, Marie Tomlinson, Leonard Tower, Jane Tuoky, Vivian
Tuysuzian, Jeanne Turnbull, Sue Tyler.
Arlene Ullman, Beatrice Ulrich, Charlotte Unkel.
Frank Vaeth, Joseph Valentine, Alfred M. Valinoti, Charles Valls, Alvin Van Court,
George Van Hessen, Frank Vargish, Angela Venza, Edward Verbel, Emma Louise Vercruysse,
Dora. Vlachos, Irene Vlachos, E ena Vitale, Vito Vitti, Violet Vogel, Elsie Von Hollen.
Charles Wagner, Howard Waldman, Marianne Walker, George Waiderlick, Joe Waslikof,
Gloria Wassar, James Walsh, May Walsh, Lawrence P. Ward, Ruth Ward, Robert Warner,
James Webb, George Weigl, Estelle Weinstock, Chester Wernicki, Morton Weisman, William
Wesemann, James Wiesmann, Peter Williams, Doris Williamson, Fanny Willig, David A.
Wilson, Grant Wing, Julia Witzke, Victor Wolf, Mahel Woods.
Fred Yacavone, Doris Young, Jean Youngling.
Walter Zabel, Edward Zack, Socrates Zaferiou, Paul Zafiris, Mary Ziemianezuk, Shirley
Zoll, Peter Zona, Johanna Zrubek, Seraiina Zurla, Helen Zukwich.
Ann Leubert, Roberta Hartman, Ruth Sanossian, Eleanor Lockhart, Justine La Barbera,
Marie Inciardi, Eleanor Hornlein.
Sponsors of Scribe
Florence A. Allen
Margaret F. Anderson
James J. Anderson
Arthur C. Doerr
Muriel J. Drummond
Ruth J. Amold Charlotte Eggleston Henry Reinshagen
John J. Baker Mildred Ellis Hilda M. Roberts
Ruth Bass Elizabeth Hatchett Arthur E. Robinson
Katherine E. Bassett
Charles S. Berman
Hulda V. Berntson
Marie B. Bischoif
Fannie P. Blxankenhorn
Florence W. Brown
Dr. Arthur A. Bryant
Ruben F. Cohen
Thomas E. Croake
Catherine M. Curran
Cairie E. Day
Margaret E. Henning
Nellie P. Hewins
Eugene V. Holzer
Grace K. Hynes
Alice E. M. Ittner
Alice E. N. Kerr
Raymond S. Kidder
Elise Kup er
Harry E. Mack
Maxine F. Marcus
Sophie H. Marsante
Elizabeth D. McLean
Laura F. Moody
William J. Murphy
William J. C. Schneider
George H. Schoettle
Harry M. Spitzenberg
Edith F. Staver
Katherine G. Vincent
Eugene J. Thompson
Elsie L. Vint
Freda G. Von Sothen
Edith M. Ward
A Friend at Annex 4-
Annex 89, Newtown Hig
I XX :
SPORTING .na STATIONERY
Model Airplane Kils - Founfain Pens Repaired
84-28 ROOSEVELT AVENUE
Complimenfs of . . .
BEN'S BEAUTY SHOP
NINTIETH ST. and THIRTY-SEVENTH AVE.
HAvemeyer 4-2609 Sforage
Remodeling - Repairing
Refail and Wholesale Prices
43 I8 9I I' PLACE
By The Bridge Elmhurst N. Y.
The Busy Corner Dealer in
Groceries - Delicafessen - Candy
Ice Cream - Soda
88-37 FIFTY-FIRST AVENUE
Elmhurst L. I.
SAM ROSE MANNIE ROSE
O U E E N S
:-: 28 ALLEYS :-:
32nd PLACE and QUEENS BLVD.
ai Rawson S+. Subway Sie.
Long Island Cify, L. I.
CHIN and LEE'S
Economical - Delicious - Nurriiious ,,
c I-I o w M E I N V Www
I23-l27 BANK STREET WMI, lm ml Wal
CI-Ielm 3-6840 New York Ciry WNW I
SERVES DELICIOUS HOT LUNCHES
a+ AHrac+ive Prices
Tasfy Sandwiches - Mill: - Ice Cream - Coolcies
Pie - Candies - Cake - Salads
Thousand Window Bakery of
LOOSE WILES BISCUIT COMPANY
EDWARD F. KLOEBER. O.D.
I - Eyes Examined Prescripfions Filled
6 1 xx VISION CAN MAKE THEM Speck' PHCSS
X N io All Newiown Siudenrs
N HAPPY, BENEFICIAL. O,,,o,,,E,,,,ST
lligggl O O R V I S I O N 86-57 BROADWAY
A T E R R O R . Elmhurst L. I.
Nr. Queens Blvd. HA. 4-0277
Bowl For Healih
Jackson Heighls Bowling Alleys
I4 Brunswick Speed Alleys
Resiaurani' and Drinks
83-I7 ROOSEVELT AVENUE
Larry Schlesser HAvemeyer 9-9834
I and 2 Family Houses
NEAR NEWTOWN HIGH SCHOOL
AND 8fh AVENUE SUBWAY
G E O R G E L U T Z
ee-is QEuPEEryri+ aIpL:LEvARo
Complimenis of . .
MIKE'S SANDWICH SHOP
Opposile lhe School
LEWIS RADIO SHOP
We service all makes - All popular records
82-33 BROADWAY Elmhursf. L. I.
SPECIAL: 3 RECORDS FOR 88C
HAvemeyer 9-2520-252 I
JERRY'S MEAT MARKET
PRIME MEATS - PROVISIONS
69-42 GRAND AVENUE
Maspelh. L. I. Paul Caslellano, Prop.
N Ewiown 9-2459
MEDINA BEAUTY SHOPPE
Specialize in Feafher Cui
90-49 CORONA AVENUE
Elmhursf. L. l.
JOHN P. GERING
A'Horney and Counselor ai' Law
87-I4 GRAND STREET
Elmhursi, L. I.
NEw+own 9-282I John Forcina and Son, Props.
Wholesale and Reiail
FANCY FRUITS AND VEGETABLES
lmporfed Olive Oil - Macaroni and Spagheffi
92-22 CORONA AVENUE
W. B. DICKINSON
43-26 NINETY-FIRST PLACE
Opposife Fidelify Naiional Bank
Elmhursr. L. I.
ROSS RADIO CO.
Radio - Everylhing in Music - Radio Service
Complefe sfock of popular records
40-29 82nd STREET
Nexr ro Jackson Theafre - Jackson Heighis. L. l.
Complimenfs of . .
9I-Il CORONA AVENUE
Elmhursl, L. I.
"Always The Besi ln Film Enferfainmenf'
Residen+ Mgr. Theodore Sclavos
NEw+own 9-9066 Frank Cosra, Prop.
Filling Prescripfions is Ihe Hearl' of our Business
Service Io Ihe Sick
Prescriptions called for and delivered
80-26 BAXTER AVENUE
Cor. Layfon Sireef Elmhursf. L. I.
M. H. LAMSTON, Inc.
5 81 I0c STORE
The Srore of Friendly Service
Complefe Luncheonefle Service
37-47 74'rh STREET
Jackson Heighfs, L. I.
H . K R A M E R
enocemes AND oeucATEssEN
Ice Cream - Candy - Cigars - Tobacco
All Phone Orders Promplly AHended To
48-36 9O+h STREET
HAMILTON EMPLOYMENT SERVICE, Inc.
B O Y S '
Come in for Immediaie Openings -:- Commercial-Technical-Sales-EIC.
See Us for 'rhe Opporiuniiy You Are Besf Fi'r'red for
and Good S'rarI'ing Salaries . . .
Hudson Terminal Bldg .... 50 CHURCH STREET
New York Ciiy
F, W, WQQLWQRTH CQ, MISHKlN'S 82nd STREET
I02-09 NOCRTHERNL B'OULEVARD 37-Zuzlggi-?:ssN ET
Jackson HBIQIIIS. L. I.
Queensboro Bowling Cenfer
83-IZA 37th AVENUE
Sundays. Monday fo Friday 20c per Gam
un+iI 6 P.M. Excepi Holidays.
Open Alleys Thursday, Friday, Safurday and
THE OPEN WINDOW
ssnvme FINE Foon
79-09 ROOSEVELT AVENUE
Jackson Heighfs. L. I.
Complimenfs of . . .
QUEENS ROLLER RINK
B A M M A N N ' S
FINE conrecnonenv ,
Ice Cream - Fruil' Ice: - Fruif Punch
Families, Parfies. Weddings and
90-47 CORONA AVENUE
Nr. Elmhursi Bridge HAvemeyer 9-9844
lv. NTED AT 'rl-ln comm' PRESS BR00KLYN1.65
IZIHRATR' A4" Q
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