A B Davis High School - Maroon and White Yearbook (Mount Vernon, NY)

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WAROON AND WHITE SEA FANTASY One day, back in the year 19- I plan- ned a sea voyage destined to be a long re- membered one. The good ship, Fortune Teller was therefore scrubbed from stem to stern. and a neat looking vessel finally resulted. I sailed the ocean blue with my magic crystal for the realm of Fantasy. In my excitement I had neglected to take with me maps and a compass. but youth being exuberant, always eager for the fray, has no time to think of such apparent trivialities. In the end, however, these very nonentities loom as something big and ter- rifying. So it was with impetuous me. We sailed the ocean blue, my crystal and I. but we never reached our destination. We are lost , thought I. Suddenly a deadly calm pervaded everything. The sea, too, was hushed, was treacherously tranquil. Certainly, this stillness, this change from the normal was a phantasmagoria. a hallu- cination. But Wait, another change is be- ing wrought. Indeed, I am demented now. -such things do not occur, have never oc- curred. Oh celestial dame. hear me. hear me. I entreat you to spare me, to have mercy. for- The quality of mercy is not strained, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the earth beneath. What is that terrible rumble, that fleet- ing flash of light? The earth is angry, the sea is angry. our little vessel is unsteady! It began to rain in torrents: and some Hshes whose faces were vaguely familiar were flung high into the air. The thunder was like that of Thor's hammer. Finally, an unusually brutish wave enveloped us and we parted. Farewell, farewell, but this I say, to thee. oh trusty ship, you have served me well, but this unseen catastrovhe is no fault of thine. It took only a few seconds to say all this: in the interim, I was being devoured by a mon- strous wave. Fortunately, my faithful crystal sank with me. The brine was sim- ply sodium chloride, for I had never sav- oured such sweetness before. As I sank more and more, the cold almost slew me. for I am most susceptible to the cold. I NINETEEN THIRTY-THREE had only my crystal. A thought occurred to me. Maledictions are few! Why had I not gazed into the crystal before com- mencing my trip to see what fate had in store for me? Oh, man, the most asinine of all creatures. surely, your limitations are few! Enough of this raving and panting. -I was almost crossing the bar I was so numb. The tails of some gorgeous mer- maids were tickling me, and I am awfully ticklish. Finally. cold and bewildered as I was, I perceived a beautiful coral castle. which glistened as do the pearly gates in heaven. Summoning sufficient strength, I managed to ring the doorbell, and faint conveniently. When my faltering senses regained consciousness, I found myself in a luxurious palace. reminding me. strange- ly enough, of our own Alma Mater. Heavens, what are those poor fishes doing there, working so hard with such eager expressions on their faces? She, who had revived me, stated that they were cram- ming for Regents. Can you in your flight- iest imaginings, picture these poor fishes under the sea studying for Regents so dili- gentlv? I should never have believed it. had I not seen it with mine own eves. Their inkwells were so dry and clean, that their studious faces were revealed therein. It is of course natural, that even scholars cramming for Regents should desist from studying. Therefore. we wended our way into various rooms. As I directed my course towards the music room. the strains of familiar and dear songs reached my ears. My gaze was arrested bv a figure pounding loudly and clearly with her tail upon the piano keys. Of course, it was none other then our gifted Ruth Walter, surrounded by the musically inclined: Bill Bartlett. Dorothy Colish. Dorothy Berman. Anna Consolazio. Margaret Jacober, Nelson Leonard. Alvin Roberts, and Helen Keith. I could hear above the rest. Lewis Willing. singing Mother Machree . Instead of a benign look transforming his face, a most truculent one was apparent. Poor bov, perhaps he confused his emotions. Oh, music, wherein doth lie your power to soothe and enchant and refresh by the Page One Hundred and Forty-or

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MAROON AND WHITE and morbid a few minutes ago, I became happy and gay, for I had thought of a way to save my father and those precious papers. Why couldn't I speed up the mo- tion of the pendulum? No sooner thought of than done. I grasped the pendulum firmly in each hand and gradually acceler- ated its motion. Would it work? I could only hope for the best and finally, after fifteen minutes of swinging, was rewarded by hearing an exclamation from one of the soldiers. 'My word, that clock must be run- ning a race! I never heard one trick so fast before. I'd even say that the hands were going faster.' Then I heard the gruff voice of the one whom I judged to be the head of the party reply: A' 'The clock does seem to be ticking quite fast, but as for the hands speeding. I think that is due to your imagination. What in the world could increase its speed, anyhow?' Another soldier spoke up: 'Different clocks tick at different speeds. but all keep the same time. I know. I'm a clockmaker by trade.' I was momentarily frightened when I heard them discussing what could hasten the clock's speed, but felt relieved when the second soldier gave his opinion. Would the clock, even with its increase in speed. make up twenty minutes, the fifteen which had passed from the departure of my mother to the arrival of the 'redcoats', and the five which would allow my father a safe margin after the British had left? To me the time seemed to go by extremely slowly, while to them outside-that is, outside the clock-it went fast, I was be- coming very stiff, for I had been swinging the pendulum for an hour. The air in the clock wasn't of the best sort for breathing, and I soon began to feel sleepy. At times I could hardly keep my eyes open, but a hard knock on the head, administered by a very solid pendulum. seemed to tell me, 'Wake up! Wake up! Remember your dutyl' As this thought centered itself in my mind, I immediately threw off the lethargy and began to work with renewed vigor. Page One Hundred and Forty It seemed as though I had been in the clock days, or was it weeks? In reality it was only an hour and a half. The British would leave in fifteen more minutes if I had increased the speed of the clock sufficiently. The last few minutes seemed an age. I could hardly stand up on my feet and began to feel faint. All colored lights, red. blue, yellow, flashed in front of my eyes. At last I heard chairs moving in the parlor. Voices. seemingly from a great distance, came to me strangely dis- tlnct. 'Well, I guess Carroll isn't going to show up. Ricker must have been mistaken, or- 'Or what?' 'Do you think that he could have double-crossed us? A scoundrel like him would do anything' 'No, that's quite impossible. He hates Carroll too much and really means him harm. However, I wouldn't take much stock in his stories after this. Let's go. There is no use wasting -any more time here.' I don't remember much that hap- pened after that. I heard them leave and stumbled out of the clock and groped around for a chair, but I never reached one. Everything went black. My legs caved in under me. and I sank to the floor exhausted and dead to the world. I awoke some time later and saw my mother looking at me anxiously. She had been bathing my face. My father was standing beside her. They both appeared frightened, for they didn't know what was wrong with me. After I had related my adventure, they exclaimed with surprise and admiration. My father said but one thing to me: 'My son, I am proud of you and know that you will make a great general.' After finishing his story, my father's great-grandfather faded back into the shadows, and I thought what a brave and courageous young boy he had been. His father's prophecy came true, for he be- came a victorious general in the Civil War fighting for the right cause, that of keeping our great Union undivided. JESSE IVIEHRLUST, Class of 1934. NINETEEN THiRTY5THREE

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MAROON AND WHITE hour? But enough of this, I must away and away. As I approached a dimly lighted room, a wild clamor greeted my ears. Well, well, if there wasn't socialistic- ally inclined Leslie Oakley with her hair wildly disheveled. quarreling acrimonious- ly with the placid and unruffled Florence Basso. I tell you, the Socialist Party is the Party , maintained Leslie. It is not , emphatically declared Nor- man Arenander, an ardent Republican. uthe Socialist and the Democratic party combined are not worth a dried up fig. Such spectators as Frances Dering, Abra- ham Pinsker. Martin Warshafsky, Jess Weiss, Edward Meury, Edward Gottschall. Imogen Curoeschel. Charles Ryweck, Con- stance Forth, and Jennie Gravirio were highly amused. Really, children, I man- aged to interpose after they had wrangled bitterly for an hour. you mustn't take your politics so seriously . I escaped just in time to avoid being hit by one of Maggie Jigg's inevitable vases. Being interested in the HI-NEWS I went to the Publication Room. Harvey Isaac. the chief, was receiving the results of this assignments. A pleased expression pervaded his countenance as he read article after article and handed them to Mr. Kurtz. who carefully corrected every error with his little green pencil. Crowded about him were Ira Zweifach, Howard Gilson, Marion Fink, Harvey Isaac, Leba Fierst. Dorothy Trachtenberg, Grace Kryske, and Robert Clark. I was at home in that atmosphere, but since there was an exigency for haste, the hour being late, I left to go for some fresh air, Searching my way about, I came upon the tennis courts. I burst into laugh- ter as I beheld Lenny Feinblatt playing tennis vigorously essaying to play, with obstreperous Nora Platt. Loquacious Freddy Neuberth was keeping score when- ever he ran out of words. The intricate pattern of some weeds was the net, which was held up at both ends by crabs. What amused me most was the agility of the two players, both running hither and thither on the tips of their tails. Oh. well, I was to see more fantastic spectacles. Since basketball is one of my favorite sports, I visited the boy's gym. Eddie Williams, Swede Jansen, and Angelo Fi- relli were demonstrating how basketball is to be played. As they scored baskets, the spectators grew wild and animated, their tails wagged to the left and the right,- the uniformity of their wagging was a sight to behold. The flowing locks of such beauteous mermaids as Claire Stolz. Edith Beladino. Inez Buonodona. Rhoda Kaplan, Mary Bath, Doris Cotton, Betty Gilbert. Harriet Preston, Eileen Garofano. and Theresa Consolazio, acted as fans for the youths, who were perspiring copiously. When the game finally terminated. I left with the rest of the crowd. Once more I found myself in the luxuri- ously furnished palace. Silence reigned. Outside, the rhythmical surging of the waves were beckoning softly, mysterious- ly. I wanted to think of the people and the things I had seen, but this was decided- ly no time for serious meditation. Again I heard the music of the waves,-they were luring me. I was succumbing slowly but surely to Prince Somnolence. Then, I knew no more! RosE CONSOLAZIO, Class of 1933. EVENING IN APRIL The long. cold hngers of the winter air, Which caught and clung to every twig and tree, And held enchained each little brooklet fair. Have slipped away and left all nature free. The brooklet now enriched by gentle rain Ciurgles to the world aloud in glee, And gossips to the world in glad refrain. As it gambols to the open sea. From the dark deep of the placid cool, Where the soft reeds gently bend and sway, Rise myriad sweet voices of the pool To greet the color of the dying day. And where the purple shadows softly creep Beneath the bud of crocus and of rose, Gems of crystal clearness from the deep Lightly on the velvet dark repose. Then over the peaceful world is gently thrown A richer canopy than any ancient earl's And the moonlight iills the fields just grown With a flood of lustrous. liquid pearls. ALICE MENOW Class of 1934