All Saints Commercial High School - Excelsior Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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All Saints Commereialil Seihlooil myself in the hands of the bookkeeper who posted me. Idid not think there was a sound space on my face but nevertheless, I was again placed in a machine and the word cancelled written right across me. Finally I realized that my journey had come to a close, for I was enclosed in an envelope and addressed to my rightful owner who insert-ed me in a large package of checks. Immediately, I recognized my companions of the check book. My! how happy we were to see each other! We were soon busily talking about our experiences. Yes, here I remain the same yellow check but quite different from when I started. I am marked and creased, but I am very happy, for I have not only enjoyed myself but at the same time I have aided others. I Adelaide Volk, '31 . Ol The AlleAIH6TlCHU 96676 I HE essentials-personal and educational-to success in the business world, what are they? We may well compare the business world to a football stadium. The world sits in the stands-watching. The players take their places. One end is in view-the gleaming goal postsvSuccess. The game is on! Let's go! You are only the ball. Courtesy carries you past the Krst ten-yard line. Tact, Poise, and Neatness manage a trickplay which lands you on the forty- yard line. You are half-way across the Held. But-what do you see before you? You are confronted with usituationsn. To all appearances you will have to rely on your own- resources. Responsibility lurks in the next fifty yards., Initiative, Practicality, Coniidence, and Perseverance are the perfect Four Horsemen. Loyalty is an excellent tackle. Temptations of more or less importance are swept away by the force of his play: Knowledge and Intelligence are super-guards. They prevent errors from slipping through with the ball and discover new means of kicking a goal, stealing yards, and outwitting rivals. Everything moves in perfect harmony. I-low can you lose? You don't! The thrill of soaring over the goal-posts is an inspiration not only to attain greater glories for yourself, but also to encourage enthusiastic but less experienced participants in the Game to employ the All-American Eleven for ultimate, victory. g Dominga Durlacher, '30 Page 34

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A1111 Saints Commercial School T he Autobiography of at Cheek 643045 Y life as a check has been one of adventure as well as one of service. For a long time I was the first of many brand new yellow checks in Mr. Anthony Gilmore's black and white check book. My how stuffy it was in that place, with not a streak of light but only fifty companions! But joy! I was the first selected for a journey. One bright sunny day, on Mrs. Gilmore's birthday, my master, ever courteous about such things, secured the book in which I was concealed, to my great enjoyment opened it, and started to fill out the spaces on what is known in banking terms as my face. I-low happy I was! Mr. Gilmore filled in my number, the city, the date, the bank in which I was born, to whom I was to be given, for what I was worth, and finally his signature. I was given to Mrs. Gilmore who immediately indorsed me, placed me safely in her new purse and carried me downtown, where I was presented in exchange for a dress. I was still the happy crisp check which had a few hours before been lying peacefully between the covers of the check book. But my adventures had started-I was to enjoy the whirlwind of commercial activities. At the close of the business day I found myself on the cashier's desk, where I had been placed with many unknown companions. One day I was released from my captivity, indorsed by Mr. Elwood, the Manager, and given to a painter for services rendered. I was creased in a cruel manner and carried by my new owner to the First National Bank where twenty-five dollars were given in my stead. There was no difficulty in obtaining cash in exchange for me, but the complicated machine built for my circulation was to me a new experience. From the teller's cage I was sent to a sorting table where busy clerks checked off the figures written on my face. By this time I was badly mutilated but could not escape being put into a machine which printed across my face my new residence, First National Bank . I was next put into a dark bin with many associates, all of whom claimed the same birthplace as myself - The Corn Exchange Bank . The following morning my companions and I were arranged in a neat bundle, placed in a large black bag and carried by the Bank messenger to the Clearing House on Cedar Street. When I again saw the light of day I found myself in a spacious room with hundreds of other checks. A bell was sounded and before I realized it I was being once again returned to my native bank. Before noon the same dayl found myself in the bank from which I had originally started. I wondered if I would ever be returned to Mr. Gilmore, and if so, would he discard me as being worthless. But I was to be handled and rehandled before returning to him. At the Corn 'Exchange Bank I was proved, examined and listed for Mr. Gilmore's statement. I then found Page 33

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All Saints Commereiiall School A Busy Lunch Hour QXSEXD Dear Polly, I am taking a few minutes at lunch time to tell you about Pat's merry adventure. All the facts are before me and I am giving them to you in logical order. So, here goes. One day our vivacious friend suggested an exploration of the belfry tower of the church. With Pat at our lead four of us sneaked up the choir stairs. We went all the way to the top of the staircase. With trembling knees and excited giggles we stood before The Door. Excitement reigned within and without as Pat grasped the doorknob. The Door flung open. Half a moment later we were standing within The Door making scathing comments on the ordinary-ness of the tower room. A scuffling noise drew our attention to the farthermost and darkest corner of the room. A figure crouched low against the wall. Our high nervous screams echoed and re-echoed as we made a dash for the stairs. We fell in a heap at the bottom of the staircase, gasping for air and wailing, It was a ghost , No, it was Satan himself , Oh, no, it looked like a hunch-backed maniac to me. Maybe it was Lon Chaney , sobed Peg hysterically. Where is Pat? Red answered the question herself by tumbling down the stairs and landing on us, a scared and yet exultant look on her face. In her hand she held a beautiful, pearly-colored stone. I found it at the foot of the ladder leading to the steeple, not two feet away from where we were standing , she replied to our questions. Bess, a sceptic and critic, looked at the stone and decided its worth. A A five and dime special , she stated. Pat sighed and put the stone in her pocket. As we stumbled into the church proper our glances met that of a tall, lanky, swarthy-skinned chap. I can hardly say that he glanced at us. I-Ie actually stared. While we rushed through the alley Peg caroled, Hey, that dark black-clothed man looked like a clothespin to me. Mightn't we saye-a shadow? . Bess wanted to know. Next morning Pat saw the Shadow again. She told us about it before the bookkeeping period. I could swear that I have seen that man more than once since yesterday. I had the feeling I was being followed. But on the train this morning he stood right across the way from me and stared in the most terrifying manner. Page 35