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

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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

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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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UYCAROON AND WHITE THE LAST JGURNAL OF A CONDEMNED MAN IN THE YEAR 1779 They will be coming to take me away --away to the gallows in two short hours. A short prayer, the tying of a black hood about my head a short. quick jerk. and my stay upon this earth will be ter- minated. Inglorious? Yes. Cruel? No. In point of fact this will be the only kind act that has been performed for me in the past few weeks. For when a man's faith in his fellow men has been destroyed. when his trust and confidence in those about him have been undermined, what is the use. what is the aim, what is the earthly good of the prolongation of his existence? His is a sorry fate. a useless struggle with his soul which ultimately ends in madness. My attitude towards man since I was so cruelly and foully deceived has been one of distrust tempered with hostile sus- picion. which vents itself indiscriminately on anyone who crosses my path. Even the old and decrepit jailor who brings food to me is usually an innocent victim of my almost insane wrath. Since the reading of that fateful letter on the night follow- ing my trial my mind has been in a half stupor. But now as the hour of death draws nigh my brain seems to be clearing and I am in full control of my senses. It is because of this that I have decided to set down for posterity the true version of my crime. I wish to state here that I feel sure in my heart that I pursued the right course in the Hrst place. although it ulti- mately turned out to be the wrong one. The story which I am about to relate opened on a stormy night during the autumn of 1779. The scene was the liv- ing room of my small farmhouse in Mon- mouth and I was just making everything ready for the night when I heard a knock at the front door. A thousand thoughts and fears went streaming through mv mind. Who could it be at this time of night. I asked myself. Might it be the British whose early arrival was much her- alded in rumors rife in the village at that time? Or was it just a neighbor coming iNETEEN THIRTY-'IIIIIHE over for an evening smoke and chat? Another knock, impatient, and louder than the first one woke me from my reverie and sent me hurrying to unbar the door. A gust of wind and rain accompanied my nocturnal visitor in and extinguished the lamps in the room. but before complete darkness fell upon us I was able to ascer- tain beyond doubt that he was neither a British soldier nor a neighbor. In fact l was quite sure he was a perfect stranger to IHC. In the dim shadows of the darkened room I was just able to see him shaking the rain oil' his cape. but as yet he had not spoken a word. However. when he perceived that I was moving towards the table, presumably to relight the lamps. he called out rather sharply in a voice which seemed vaguely familiar. Avast there. matey, leave the glimmers doused. I'm used to the dark and it's easier for me to talk and think when my eyes are not be- dazzled. The harsh tone of my visitor's voice with its salty tang of the sea scattered my already bewildered wits, but even in my state I felt that I subconsciously knew this man. I stepped up to him. Who are you and what right have you to order me about my own home? I asked. He chuckled unpleasantly. Before many more bells ye'll see what right I have and ye won't be so chipper about it! With this his scarcely visible figure sank down into a chair. By now I had recovered from my momentary stupefaction and my temper was fully aroused by the hih-handed ac- tions of my unwanted guest. With a smothered exclamation I made as if to leap upon him and drag him bodily to the road. Seeing my intent he said quick- ly, lVIatey. I wouldn't do that if I were ve! And then, Don't ye know me. Tal- bot? Dumbfounded at his knowing the name which I had given up years before, I Page One Hundred and Forty-three