St Josephs College - Footprints Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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is a bitter one. They are always trying to get the upper hand and to obtain an unfair advantage. I don ' t like this kind of door. There is another kind of door that is more unpleasant than the revolving door. Think how grim the cold snap of an iron bar door must sound to the criminal. That door stands between him and freedom. Liberty is on the other side of it. How hopeless is the sound of the lock ! The first click of this dour must awaken fear in a criminal ' s heart, no matter how callous he may be. There are many other kinds of doors that we have not considered. A stage door always has a particular significance, even though most of them are made of some cheap wood covered with green baize. They are very commonplace to the passerby, but, to the excited and enthusiastic matinee fans, they seem to be the entrance to a land of romance, a glorified fairy- land. There is a strange glamor about them that is entirely absent from the long, narrow, stately bronze doors that grace some of our dignified public buildings. The latter may be more magnificent, but every fan will find them much less interesting than the dingy, ugly, old stage door. We have by no means exhausted the kinds of doors that exist in our universe. Many of them are famed in song and story. Others have peculiar associations, bitter and sweet, for each one of us. A plain, simple, white door excites thoughts of home and of the love awaiting us there. There is a throb of pity for the gaping window and door. for they offer mute testimony of the house with nobody in it. We have man} ' , many doors with varied purposes. All contain possibilities. Adventure, danger, excite- ment may lurk behind a closed door. A door led Alice to Wonderland — after she had found the magic key. A door may open before us and show us fame. Who knows? And, in that very thrill of uncertainty lies the chief pleasure that doors afford. MARY STACK. ' 27. -4 20 $ -

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Doors I DON ' T know how you feel about it. but doors have a great fascination for me. They arc like visionaries beckoning one to a strange land. They are kindly things, for they light the way to the future and mercifully hide the past unless —well, I suppose some people are unfortunate enough to open doors to skeletons better left forgotten in the cover of night. But then, some people always have a perverse, unhappy faculty of blundering into trouble. Few things express character the way doors do. They are usually very decorous and seem to admirably adapt themselves to fit their surroundings. When you see a heavy, massive, oak door, you always think of it as belong- ing to ;t ponderous stone building. The cathedral door is different from the front door on a suburban home. The former is heavy, cunningly carved and has little slits of windows at the top. It is dark, high and massive, and ter- minates in a graceful point that places it in harmony with its Gothic setting. It is a door made to withstand a battering ram. One can imagine it with a wild, barbaric foe on the outside and within — sanctuary. It shuts a man inside and leaves him alone with his God, while the forces of the world vainly try to enter. The door of the suburban home plainly shows that it is the entrance to the house of man. It is (at least, the one I have in mind is l plain and simple, hut not without its charm. It is made of some nondescript kind of wood and is painted in attractive green and tan panels. At the top of the door is an oblong window frame with eight small panes of glass- very pleasing to the passerby, but the bane of the housekeeper ' - existence, (low tempting are the bright brass door knob and the equally bright knocker! bove the door, there is a number plate bearing phosphorus numbers which are sup- posed to shine at night, hut which never do. somehow, when one has left the dealer ' s shop. This door tells you that there is comfort, peace and security within. It breathes the spirit of the home and Eairl) glows in its own quiet way. It protects the pretty little mother with her happy children. shutting out all intruders and keeping the famih safe and secure within the little home. When the man of the house comes home, it opens readily and greets him cheerily for the little door can love. The palatial city mansion would never he content with such an unsophisticated door. It has its own type and. whenever one sees a grilled door, with its solid, metal frame, its long plate glass, the intricate pattern of the iron work running from the top to the bottom of the frame on the outside of the glass, its dull iron knobs, curiously wrought, it always recalls the dignified city house. It comports itself fittingly among its fashion- able companions — the beautiful stone of the walls, the carefully planned lawn, the broad marble steps. Grilled doors are a luxury and proudlj pro- claim the fact. Consider the mishaps that revolving doors cause. Many a careless traveler has found himself wedged in a door of this type because he foolishly persisted in carrying his suitcase the wrong way. I have seen many a Stranger stand looking helplessly at these relentless doors. Often he would rush at them in much the same manner that Don Quixote attacked the windmill. Sometimes he would give it a gentle push and it wouldn ' t move at all. Then he would exert his full strength — only to have the door spin around so quickly that he wouldn ' t get out at all. These doors arc- cynical things. They sneer at the weak humans who attack them. Their philosophy §| I9fc

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Franz Schubert IT is a sultry afternoon in ugust, 1825. In the garden of a dilapidated Viennese coffee house, seated at a table, are five young revelers, drink- ing, laughing, and singing in the midst of the bustle of a popular tavern. Mugs and dishes arc clattering, children are squalling, roysterers arc shout- ing, waiters are rushing hither and thither, glasses are clinking, and general ci iiifnsii in prevails. The five young revelers are now laughing loudly at a joke which has just been narrated by one of their number whom they address as Franz. As the laughter dies down, it is seen that Franz has been commenting upon a Shakesperian play which he had witnessed the previous afternoon. In his thick, blunt fingers he holds a volume of Shakespeare which he thumbs nervously as his friends laugh and chuckle at his wit. His short, stout body with his low forehead, projecting lips, stumpy nose, and short curly hair. presents an appearance which is fully in harmony with the general riot ami disorder of the inn. Suddenly Franz ' s bulging little eyes light upon some verses in the book at which he has been glancing through his thick spectacles. Turning to lleinrich. who its at his right. Franz says. 1 have a pretty melody in my head for these lines, if I could only get a piece of ruled paper. My dear fellow, says Heinrich, Ruled paper costs money, and having no money. I have no ruled paper; though I truly believe that if I had ruled paper, I should prefer to have money. ud besides, my dear Franz, a clever .schoolteacher like yourself should be able to write on the air. As the others join in Heinrich ' s laughter at this jest. Franz reaches across the table, picks up the menu-card and begins to write quickly with a short stumpy pencil. What Franz Schubert wrote in the midst of all this riot and confusion was the divine melody of Hark. Hark, the Lark, a song which embo one of the most delicate dreams of tenderness that the heart of man might ci mceive. It was with just such sudden inspirations as this that Schubert com- posed most of his masterpieces. In his happy-go-lucky way he would dash iil ' f. on the spur of the moment, a tune that was ringing in his head. Hence, it is not difficult to realize that he excelled in the composing of songs above all other musical forms, to such an extent that he has come to he known as the Father of the Song. Schubert was always poor. He worked hard and suffered much. Even his greatest masterpieces failed to bring enough money to support him. it he kept on producing music in his hasty way. always writing new pieces and never revising old ones, because music consoled him in his misery. Xot having had much schooling, he knew but little of the technique b) which Beethoven and the other composers of his da) found themselves bound. Schubert always adapted his music to the thought of the text which he was using. Hence for him music was purel) an expression of emotion. In this accidental way. and without knowing it. Schubert became a leading exponent of the Romantic School of music, a school which more full) expresses feelings, and hence is not formal and exact as the Classical School. Schubert ' s musical training might he said to have been accidental. B) chance he became an Imperial Chorister when a boy, and by chance a lew friends gave him lodgings in which to live while he produced his many pieces. Salieri, the Italian musician, met and encouraged the hoy in his 6(21)3.