Broward Community College - Silver Sands Yearbook (Fort Lauderdale, FL)

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e von l41'5e L7 .gobn ageakkervvoob Lgllush-AHB glgauor West BENEZER Marlowe had lived in the great city of London for the full sev- enty-three years of his life. Se- vere hardship and heavy toil had made a hard and bitter man of him and he had learned early in life that one would receive help only when one could give some- thing in return. This pathetic bit of knowledge, along with other twisted philosophies of mankind's attitudes, had turned Marlowe away from society. He had be- come a virtual hermit obsessed with the passion of carrying out personal vengeance upon his fel- low man before providence saw fit to take him from the society of the pitiful world. For the past forty years Mar- lowe had made his meager living as the proprietor of a small pawn shop located in a back alley of Piccadilly Circle. His miserly ways had amassed him a fortune which he kept locked away in a storeroom of his establishment. Marlowe had made both home and occupation out of his shop and he was rarely seen leaving it, even for just the slightest mo- ment. To his customers he was always pleasant, greeting them with a smile and good cheer. But this was a mere mask cover- ing Marlowe's character, for be- hind his smiling shell, lived a being whose vengeful and bitter outlook upon life would eventu- ally lead him to a horribly mor- bid fate. It was the Autumn of 1891. Night had fallen upon London as clouds of fog rolled out from the Thames and spread themselves thickly over the city. Ebenezer Marlowe had retired from his daily activities and, as the chimes of Big Ben mournfully tolled the hour of eleven o'clock, he was having a disturbed sleep. As he lay on the dingy cot of his bed- room, he could hear the chimes tolling again and again. Suddenly they stopped and all was silent. Once again Marlowe attempted to pass into a slumber but a dull and sporadic rapping on his front door brought him to his feet. Lighting a candle, he hesitatingly walked down a narrow passage- way into the front room of his shop. The rapping continued. Marlowe, a man not easily fright- ened, called out harshly and clear- ly, Who is it, who's there! Noth- ing but silence was his answer. Again he called and again re- ceived only silence. Not wasting another moment, Marlowe quick- ly went for his revolver safely secured in a cabinet drawer. Clutching it tightly to his side, he moved once again towards the door. Then, with swift speed, Marlowe unbolted the latch and threw the door wide open. He found himself face to face with a rather startled youth car- rying a small bundle over his back. Marlowe demanded the youth's business. The boy, having fixed his eyes on Marlowe's re- volver, stammered out his story. Marlowe was told that a Maxi- milian Danvers, who was thought by many Londoners to be a stu- dent of the occult and of sorcery, had passed away the day before and, leaving little capital with which to pay his unsettled debts, it was found necessary to sell sev- eral of the man's personal effects to obtain sufficient money for the funeral. The youth explained that the bundle he was carrying con- tained a number of Danvers' be- longings. Marlowe passed the boy a harsh look and asked him to step in. Once inside, the bundle was hastily opened and Marlowe began a careful study of the var- ious articles. Marlowe scrutinized everything as though he were searching for a lost and very valuable gem. But he was unimpressed by the lot save for one object, a small mahogany chest locked tightly with both chain and padlock. De- termined to acquaint himself with the chest's contents, he demanded the key for the Chest from the boy but was told that there were several keys in the bundle and that the boy had no knowledge as to the one which fitted the pad- lock. Marlowe impatiently tried every key he was able to find 23

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Being a critic is good for the ego. The critic is master of all in the field he surveys, and can praise or wither at will. I, for my part, cannot claim to be a literary expert, and so it seems perhaps presumptuous of me to judge the efforts of those who are far more talented than I. I read a great deal, both for knowledge and for pleasure, and I know what I like. On that perhaps flimsy basis are my opinions formed. There are times when I have goofed com- pletely, as when SHIP OF FOOLS, which I thought tedious, was a best seller. However, my views usually reflect those of others who have read the same books. My reviewing subjects are, because of our quarterly publish- ing schedule, not necessarily cur- rent. My choices are from the Best Seller list, from popular reprints, books much talked about, and ran- dom selections so good or so bad as to be worth reviewing. Let the reader beware. Topping the best seller list this summer was Arthur Haileyis HOTEL, a big novel with some- thing for everyone. Set in a large New Orleans hotel, this book goes behind the scenes of the hotel business through a variety of ap- pealing characters and situations. Central character in the related episodes is Peter McDermott, the efficient, young assistant manager, who has a blot on his record to live down, and two pretty girls to live up to. Peter must face a be- wildering series of crises that in- clude a racial incident, a hotel thief, a tipsy diplomat and his wife covering up for a crime, and 22 NN REVIEW hy Ann Bardsley a tragic accident. Minor crises and characters help to lend an authen- tic flavor to the business that read- ers of HOTEL will never again consider rather tame. HOTEL has an exciting climax and the traditional happy ending. It is an excellent choice for a long, lazy, Sunday afternoon. The current civil rights move- ment has inspired a host of books about the South and its racial crisis. Some of these volumes are excellent, while others are merely collected cliches by uninspired hacks. NVE SHALL OVERCOME, by Michael Dorman, will surely rank among the best non-fiction to come out of the social revolution taking place south of the Mason- Dixon line. Mr. Dorman is a re- porter for a New York newspaper and has been on the scene of all the southern integration crises dur- ing the year 1962-63. He does not claim to be unbiased, but does make a sincere effort at objectiv- ity. Most of the integration activ- ities of that year centered upon the college campus and, appropri- ately, the book opens upon the tragedy of Ole Miss and closes with the peaceful desegregation of the University of Alabama. Michael Dorman recreates that momentous year with an accuracy that keeps the reader on the edge of his seat. He goes behind the headlines and beneath the slogans. The Ole Miss riots are revealed in shocking detail, as are the fran- tic negotiations between Gover- nors Wallace and Barnett with the Department of justice. WE SHALL OVERCOME is an in-depth, reporter's eye view of a national crisis. Once begun it is hard to put down. Sober historians and gossip lov- ers alike will delight in Lillian Rogers Parks' MY THIRTY YEARS BACKSTAIRS AT THE WHITE HOUSE. This remarkable book, first published in 1961 and now reprinted in paperback, is an intimate glimpse into the White House and its occupants as seen by the maids, cooks and butlers who work there. Written in a lively, entertaining style, BACKSTAIRS AT THE VV HITE HOUSE surprises us with some goosepimply ghost stories about the spirits that haunt the, Presidential mansion, especially the rather well-documented ap- pearances of Abe Lincoln. The joys, sorrows, and idiosyncrasies of first families from Taft through Eisenhower are revealed through the eyes of the author, a White House seamstress, and her mother, who was head maid before her. Housekeeping problems, weird gifts like the scroll written in blood that one first lady received, parties, exotic guests, and visits by crackpots bringing personal griev- ances or messages from Cod are recalled by Mrs. Parks with wit and a trace of nostalgia. This fascinating memoir serves an added purpose. Every reader who has ever had an embarrassing experience-no matter how hor- rible--can feel comforted by the knowledge that his humiliation has been topped by the diplomat's wife who actually lost her satin panties in the presidential recep- tion line. MY THIRTY YEARS BACK- STAIRS AT THE WHITE HOUSE is well worth reading, and hard to forget.

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without success. Surely the pad- lock key must be somewhere within the bundle. Once again Marlowe attempted to find it. Thrusting his hands deep within the bundle, his fingers suddenly touched a long metal object. He withdrew his find and discovered, much to his delight, that it was a key. He hurriedly attacked the padlock with it, which at a turn of the key, fell open. Removing the chain from the chest, Marlowe opened it and found six small scrolls carefully stored inside. Upon examining one of the scrolls, he found it to be covered with Arabic lettering and some sort of a strange design. He replaced the scroll and told the boy he would pay five pounds for the chest and its contents, no more, no less. The bargain was sealed and the boy, returning the other articles to his bundle, brought the sack up over his shoulder and quickly left the shop. ARLOWE returned his re- volver to its hiding place, and with his newly pur- chased prize in one hand and the candle in the other, returned down the passageway to his bed- room. Placing the candle on a table, Marlowe removed the six scrolls and took them to the light for a more careful examina- tion. He found all of them to contain Arabic lettering and six different designs, one on each of the scrolls. The greatest of curi- osity now aroused, he acquired a burning desire to discover the meaning of the scrolls. Marlowe had a vague remembrance of hav- ing a book somewhere in his pos- session which dealt with Arabic writing. He realized that if he could only find that book, the problem of deciphering would be greatly lessened. He began an extensive search of his shop which lasted throughout most of the night, but as the first rays of the rising sun streamed through the city of London, Ebenezer Mar- lowe found his book. 24 It was now Sunday, and as was customary in keeping of the Sabbath, Marlowe's pawn shop was closed for the day. This gave the old man the entire day to pass as he thought best and the foremost thing on his mind was the deciphering of the scrolls. He worked with his task at a fever- ish pace, not stopping for a mo- ment. The day passed into night and it was not until the following morning when Marlowe closed his book and returned it to its storage. The task had been com- pleted, and for the first time in many years, he felt almost over- joyed with accomplishment. Mar- lowe had discovered that he had in his possession a formula for the retaining of youth written by an unknown prophet some five- hundred years after the birth of Christ. The first five scrolls con- tained the secret of the formula itself but the sixth scroll was a curse, or something like a warn- ing, to all those who used the for- mula without the consent of Al- lah. Marlowe reasoned that there were a chosen few whom Allah believed pious enough in spirit to be blessed with perpetual youth and only these few were able to use the formula without conse- quences. Marlowe believed this sixth scroll to contain nothing but a ridiculous and pagan superstition not worth anything but to be ig- nored and discarded. He also learned that the six strange de- signs appearing on the scrolls were concerned with the curse of the sixth scroll. He found them to be taken from an ancient lunar calendar and reasoned that the fate spoken of in the curse would be fulfilled on the night of a full moon. This time element Mar- lowe also ignored but concerned himself with only one idea-per- petual youth. He thought to him- self what a grand thing it would be if he could regain his youth. With the fortune he had amassed over the years he could easily ful- fill his dream of vengeance, and at the same time, he could enjoy all of the fun and frolic of the day. This was the chance he had been waiting for and fate had fi- nally seen fit to grant him his wish. Ebenezer Marlowe was now trapped in his own obsessions and it would be a mere matter of time before he would feel the sting of the ancient curse. In the days that followed, Mar- lowe could be seen making fre- quent trips to the druggist shop a few blocks away from his own establishment. His acquaintances began to wonder what the old man was about but Marlowe would speak to no one. He re- mained as silent as possible, and to the amazement of everyone, Marlowe's shop was closed to all business. Actually, Marlowe's trips to the druggist were for the pur- pose of gathering all of the needed ingredients for his experiment and his shop was closed so that his work might not be disturbed. It was just one week exactly after Marlowe had purchased the scrolls when he was ready to make his experiment. He re- checked the measurements of his ingredients with the information he obtained from the scrolls and found everything to be in readi- ness. The great Parliament clock