Plainfield High School - Milestone Yearbook (Plainfield, NJ)

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Lz THE ORACLE ings. There his mother sat, her head in her hands. Her eyes were moist but she was not weeping. She looked up as Basile.came running to her. “Mother,” he cried, ‘“won’t they let you in?” Because you worked so hard for me you never had time to learn to write. “Oh, mother,” he sobbed, “you dear, unselfish mother, must all our hopes, our dreams end like this?” “Hush, my boy,” she replied in the sonorous language of the women of Sparta. ‘Moses might see, but not enter the promised land. Am I more worthy than he? Tho’ I may not enter, you must stay. This is the opportunity of your life time. A great career lies before you; you must stay here and succeed.” Basile felt his brain afire. Through the window he could see the mighty city which lay across the river,—it called to him. Near at hand stood the Statue of Liberty,—it beckoned to him. Why not stay? Surely God would not have brought him to America if he was not to stay. This opportunity will never come again. Then he saw his mother return in poverty to Pipol. Alone she would struggle with failing strength to earn her bread. Some day word would come that she’d died of over-work and a broken heart. “Then swelled within him the Spartan Spirit of his ancestor who fell at Thermopylae. Turning from the window he clasped his mother’s hand and whispered, 134F not stay, mother. I'll go back with you to Pipol. ‘Together we’ll work in the evening when the villagers gather about the old stone well I'll teach you to write and when we've earned another passige, together well enter America. The great liner, piloted by the fretful tugs, swung out of its dock and across the harbor. At the rail stood Basile and his mother. “The mists of the sea rolled in again to swallow up the city. The last Basile saw was the Statue of Liberty,—its arm raised as if bidding farewell. Good-bye,” called the lad, waving his arm, “keep guarding till we come Ss ”? again,

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THE ORACLE 1 the cool evening.air. “There they found Leon, a lad with whom Basile had become acquainted. ‘Together they watch the city, bathed in its man-made light and at Leon’s request, Basile told him the simple story of his life: Ever since I was a very small child, and made little houses of wooden blocks, my great ambition has been to become an architect. “The chance of accomplishing this was very small in the lazy, little fishing town of Pipol where we lived.. When I was ten the war broke out and my father went to fight for Greece. Later we received the little testament which they said was in his hand when he was found dead after an attack. Life was hard after that. Mother worked night and day mending nets. I worked some, but mother insisted that I go to Father John’s School every day, for she was determined that some day we would come to America where I could realize my ambition. I like the school and quickly learned to read and write. Often I'd offer to teach mother to write, but she’d smile and say to wait until the nets were mended,—that time never came. I remember in the evening she would sit at our door busy with needle and skein and I upon the step beside her doing my lessons for the next day, for Father John was as strict a teacher as a priest. When the rude fishing crafts were tied at the wharf, the men would bring their meagre catch in baskets to the large stone well in the middle of the town. About the well the gossiping women clustered, buying fish for the morrow’s meal and scolding the little urchins who scampered about the group playing “quick stick” till dusk gave way to darkness. After seven years we had saved enough money to pay steerage passage—so we came and mother, he said, turn- ing to clasp her hard hands, “for all of this you are responsible.” The night passed and with the early morning the steerage passengers of the Macedonia were taken in the smaller Government steamer to Ellis Island. Fortunately, the examination was to take place at once. A matron told them to put their baggage in the corner of a large room and await their turn in line for the examination. “The kindly surgeon who gave Basile his physical examina- tion pronounced him quite perfect. Basile happy, but a little impatient, asked if he could land immediately but the surgeon said that first he must take the Literacy Test. Basile had never heard of this test before, but when he found it cons isted of elementary reading and writing, he laughed at his fears. “The test was taken and the Official had just told him that he had passed when a terrible though flashed into his mind. ‘Tell me, sair,” he gasped, “must my mother take this test ?” “Certainly,” replied the Officer. ‘‘Everyone who enters must be able to read and write.” The icy hand of terror and dismay clutched Basile’s heart. He rushed back blindly through the crowd to the corner where they had left their belong-

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HE SORAC TE 13 A Plea (As written by Howard Fischer, winner of First Courier-News Prize) it is a firmly authenticated fact that Plainfield is one of the few cld towns of New Jersey. During “Revolutionary Times” it was on a great highway which connected the two booming cities, New York and Philadelphia. Mention has been made again and again of Plainfield in the journals of colonial men. Another, and perhaps the chief reminder of her age, is the number of her colonial homes and buildings which still exist. Indeed, her Quaker Meeting House must have been built for no insignificant community. Yet. nearly a century before the Friends erected their great building, the old Martine House was standing. Colonial homes are surely among our most interesting buildings. In the first place they are beautiful. “They have a certain unity and balance that many of our modern dwellings lack.. Together with completeness they have an air of quality. Nothing in them seems to have been half way made and nothing spared. Yet, as a rule, they do not have the appearance of being too fancy. From the historical standpoint also, these homes are interesting. Most colonial houses were the sites of scores of important incidents. In many cases they are the birthplaces of distinguished men. ‘There is actually a house in Plainfield which was the headquarters of the illustrious Washington. For still another reason, colonial homes are of interest. “They stir our imagination. By their dignity and beauty we are moved to wonder what powerful men must have lived in them. What quaint costumes the first owners must have worn! What a collection of incidents must these houses have witnessed. “Truly, because of beauty, historical value and power to create reflection, ancient buildings are interesting. Of course, once the only buildings in town were colonial, because Plainfield was a colonial town. Recently, however, they have been rapidly disappearing because of several serious reasons. ‘here is a decided lack of care shown by many people toward their old family homes. “They seem to value them at little and to begrudge spending money to keep them in repair. “The eld Boice Mansion was neglected for so many years that the firemen could not extinguish a blaze which was purposely set to it. Another reason for the disappearance of these homes is that the properties often fall into disinterested hands. I know of an old mansion, of e xcellent proportions, with the well known two-story portico. It is now kept as a cheap eating house. Each year some part of it decays and is not replaced. People whose ancestors never had anything to do