Phillips High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

Page 31 text:

The Mirror through. See what a rent the envious cop did make in the gas tank of the lofty Ford, and as he plucked those cursed things away, mark how the gasoline of Caesar followed it! This was the most unkindcst gash of all, for the foot of Twentieth Street hill, while all the tank ran gas, the Great Ford stalled. Oh. what a stall was that, my countrymen ! Good friends, sweet friends, let me stir you up to a sudden generosity. They that have done this deed are traffic cops. What private reasons they have, alas, I do know; maybe for his money. 1 come not, friends, to steal away your wealth. 1 am no orator as Brutus is; I have neither wit nor words nor the power of touch to take away men's wallets.20 1 tell you that which you yourselves do know and bid your purses speak for you. 1 put a word in every stripe of Caesar’s uniform that should move the pennies of your purse to rise and pay. All—We'll pay. 1. Citizen—We'll go on his bond. 2. Citizen—No, pay the fine. 3. Citizen—Away then, come seek the jailer. Anthony—Enough, avaunt! But pass the hat. the sound of pennies27 will be as music to mine ears. Then we’ll away to Caesar. Written by English Class of Central High School. Christmas Number of Mirror. 1921 Modernized notes by Ben F. Heyward. Phillips High School. 26. Dough. 27. Tokens. [29]

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The Mirror 3ru.—I am sworn into the office, O Caesar. I have pledged to show partiality to none. Therefore, faithful Cassius, take him hence to the county jail. Cac.—Et tu Brute! ACT III Scene 1 Kru.—Birminghamites and jitney21 riders, hear me for my cause and be silent that you may hear: Believe me on my word as a traffic cop and have respect to my red and green sign, that you may believe; censure me in your wisdom, but keep low your voices lest the judge may hear that censure. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar, this is my answer. Not that 1 loved Caesar less, but that I loved my commission on his fine more. Had you rather Caesar were free and die all pedestrians,22 than that Caesar were in jail to live all free walking men? As Caesar loves me. 1 weep for him; as he was wealthy, I took his wealth away: as he is strong, I fear him; but as he was speeding, I arrested him. There arc tears for his love, a fine for his wealth, chains for his strength, and punishment for his speed.23 Who is so base that would go on his bond? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is there so foolhardy as to dare the traffic cops? If any, speak, for him have I offended. I pause for reply. All—None, Brutus, none. Bru.—Then none have I offended. Here comes Mark Antony. For my sake, stay here with Antony; I depart, and there are yet things of value in the Ford. Anthony—Friends, auto owners, and fellow sufferers from traffic laws: Lend me vout ears. The fines that men pa live after them. Unbroken laws are oft forgotten with their bones. So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus hath told you Caesar was stingy. It it be true, it was a grievous fault, and grievously hath Caesar paid for it. Here under leave of Brutus and the rest—and Brutus is a traffic cop, so arc they all. all traffic cops—come I to speak in Caesar’s behalf. He is my friend, faithful and just to me, but Brutus says he is stingy, yet Brutus is a traffic cop. He has broken many laws, whose fines did oft the Judge’s pockets fill. Did this in Caesar seem stingy? When that the pedestrians have cried, Caesar wept. Was he stingy with tears? I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, vet here am I to speak what I know. You all did love him once not without cause. What cause holds you then to pay for him? Oh. fines: Thou art fled to traffic cops, the chauffeurs24 have lost their money; bear with me. My heart is in the county jail with him. I must pause until it comes hack to me. But yesterday the Ford of Caesar might have '■tood against the world; now lies he in jail, and none so kind to go his bond. If you have cents, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this Ford. I remember the first time Caesar ever rode in it. ’Twits on a summer’s evening in Pratt City, that day he raced the B.R.L. P.23 Look, in this place ran the traffic cop’s handle bars 21. Driver of machine opposite of perpetual motion—u er of hydraulic break . 22. Those who choose to run or lie very still. 23. Ten miles an hour. 24. Motorist . 25. Birmingham Electric Company. [28]

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T he Mirror WEDNESDAY What an important day! This morning I got up at 6:30 in order to have time to dress as carefully as 1 could ; not that I think “Clothes make the girl,” hut I think they make possible an interesting revelation of individual attractiveness. For example, Greta Garbo off stage in dark glasses, very sporty clothes, and a mannish hat pulled down, shows no apparent attractiveness. Hut on stage there’s really no one more attractive, the cynosure of all eves in movie audiences. Today I would play my role on stage. I ate my breakfast too hastily and waited impatiently for the 7:35 car. At last! The perfect beginning, I had thought. Hut—1 had missed him. I got to school and loitered at my locker—no Hill. At 8:15 1 just had to get an O. K. to my locker again. To get there 1 went by his session room door and on around by his locker. HORRORS! There he was talking to a little brunette. I managed to say, “Hiva,” but that was all—and I’d so wanted to tell him we were going to a dance Friday night instead of the movie. Throughout the day I enjoyed the lonely companionship of my dejected spirit. Although students were all around me, inside 1 couldn’t have been more alone. Finally the seventh period bell rang. 1 had written an essay on “The Progress of the World” for geography. It was a long one. Mr. Thomas gave me nearly all of the period. It covered a lot of territory—and Hill was in the class. At the close of the day I returned a book to the library and then literally ran out of the building. 1 couldn’t bear to go out with the crowd, and I couldn’t help running either. I must get home to get hold of myself—to think, to sit by myself —and think. There I would find rest and contentment; instead, I opened the door into a living room filled with happy, chattering ladies, enjoying a Wednesday afternoon of bridge. I only spoke and disappeared, breathing a sigh of relief only when I beheld my little writing desk littered with papers, still unchanged from last night’s inspiration on “The Progress of the World.” I had dinner with the family. I wasn’t hungry but 1 ate almost greedily. I returned to my room and my desk. 1 would write another geography paper. Hut I must roll up my hair first. 1 parted it into a thousand strands and rolled each one carefully on my pencil and pinned it securely with a bobby. Just as I was thinking how nice it would look tomorrow, even until seventh period, I heard the door bell. It scared me out of my wits. Then “Hello. Come on in-----Ruth!” It was like the call of the wild. My hair all rolled up and a caller! Well, 1 don’t care; one of the neighborhood gang, I thought. Hut it wasn’t. It was Hill. Just dropped by to say he didn’t like the way I had spoken and wanted to know why I was acting so cool. I could never tell him the truth. Ididn’t want him to know; instead, I told him a little white lie. I said I had been in a hurry to get to the office. 1 wanted to ask what he and the brunette were saying. I couldn’t. He seemed not to suspect or understand the cause of my confusion. Maybe she was just a girl in his session room and he was just talking casually and walking to the door with her without giving it a second thought. Anyway, wc are going to the dance Friday night. It’s 9:30—I can write my geography paper and sleep in peace. [30] —Ruth Kirkland