Bronx High School of Science - Observatory Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

Page 44 text:

At this point, nobody chooses to enter the ojjice. Marknzan: . . . Uh, I never saw it. Balamuth: lBangi Bell: fllingj The bell here is merely a device of expedience, it brings an end lo an otherwise interminable discussion. Intermission The audience will kindly read the following program notes from the Playbill: This year is one of transition and innovation. It is the first full year under the inspired advisership of Mr. Canell. It is the first full year in the New Whosambob. Where on the road to publication do we stand? We are three-fourths of the way into deadline month. We have ,received one-fourth of the copy. Deadline month is the new regimels solution to the problem of deadline day lthat day on which, according to old yearbooks, the copy was supposed to come ini . For the record, deadline month is that month during which the copy is supposed to come in. Scene II We remain in the same playing areag action takes place the seventh period. Who's here? There are Messrs. Canell, Markman, and Swaybill and an unsightly group of juniors draped idly over chairs, tables, and window sills. Ellen Bay, guardian of the Esoterica of the Intelligentsia, bubbles into the ojice. Miss Bay: Guess what everybody! lim 2000 words over-set, not counting the science column. Close on her trail is Dan Lowenstein, curator of page three. Lowenstein: I have so many holes in my page it looks moth-eaten, counting the science column. The careful observer will note that Larry I. Platt, the cheerful cherub of page jour, was in the ojice from the beginning of the scene, but judiciously awaited his turn to speak in the proper numerical order. Platt: Did somebody say there won't be any sports page this issue? I Wish somebody would tell me what's going on with my page. Conspicuous by his absence is Pete Rubinstein, editor-in-chief. His whereabouts have not been conclusively determined, but there is a general feeling that he has been in conference with Mr. Tajfel for the past two months, trying to secure clearance for an editorial advocating the violent overthrow of the S.0. Sub laecie .fdefernifafiri U N TI TLE D Men say: HGive us proof. THE STARS They look up and are disappointed. The Stars, encompassing all nature, ls not He, looking down, also silent watch over all restless Earth disappointed? With blinking mockery. LEO LI-:VY LARRY MILLER 40

Page 43 text:

LIR EY Picture if you will a room hidden in the depths of the campus level of our school. Dominating this room is a long table, on which is strewn a tremendous pile of manuscripts .... Look familiar? It is in fact the same room described on the preceding page. But there is a serene difference. Where confusion reigned, a stately order presides. The hitherto strewn-with-copy tables lie spotless. Why? The room IVIICHAEL NIARKMAN is empty. It awaits its next players who daily unfold a piece of the saga of the freely-censored press. Scene I The action takes place in and around The Room before the jirst period. First to appear is Survey Advisor, Arnold Canell. He is necessarily first-as faculty adviser, he holds the ojfice key. He penetrates in succession the outer and inner offices, pausing to note that the vaguely dentisty odor is still issuing from the unused vaguely dentisty cut nle. Mr. Canell takes his seat, busies himself sorting his mountainous mass of morning mail, and awaits the unimpeachable Mr. Balamuth. Dave Balamuth arrives for his early-morning conference with Mr. Canell. The Two decide whom they shall oppress as the most incompetent, insujeralnle editor of the day. This unfortunate is invariably next to appear. For this morning, we have chosen Roger Swaybill who, as editor of the yearbook, insists that his name be included near the beginning of the article. Balarnuth: Where's your make-up? Swaybill: Oh this. Oh . . . No, my dermatologist went heserk yesterday with his sunlamp. I take ultra-vio . . . Balamuth: Wherels your make-up! fThis last is said innumerable decihels louder and is punctuated with a sharp hang on the tahlej Canell: Moderation. Balamuth: Incomplete sentence, sir. Canell: So was that. Swaybill: I was go . . . errr . . . Well, I gave it to . . . At this point, Michael Markman, managing editor, enters, carrying the manuscript of his first novel, Le Brun et Le Noir. Swaylyill: lLooking aroundj . . . to lVIarkman. Balamuth: IVIARKIVIANI ltwo bangsj Markman: Good morning. Balamuth: Whereis the page-one make-up? Markman: I gave it to . . .

Page 45 text:

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