Calhoun School - Ink Pot Yearbook (New York, NY)

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Q 1936 INK POT ' But Anna had already thrown herself at him pleadingly. Please, she cried, I have a son, my husband is dead and our food is giving out. That's your worry, he replied, but behind those heady eyes, there was perhaps a little sympathy, mixed with admiration for the woman who stood before him, not fiinching, but with steady eyes and an erect body. She walked from the room, shoulders back, head high, but when she emerged all will power had left her. She looked years older and her figure bespoke an air of despondency. Months passed and still she found no work. At last, in desperation, she placed her child upon the cold steps of an elaborate home. Pinning on the warm blanket a note, Take care of my child or place him in a home. He is a Jew, but how can a little child help that? If you keep him tell him his mother loved him, and that he should never forget to fight for his rights, but if in despair he should always remember to have faith and hope, for if one has those two things there's life. She kissed him again and walked slowly away. She did not know how long she had walked, but soon she came to the Temple and halted suddenly. She gazed at it in awe and, finally, mustering all her strength she limped onward. Wearily she climbed the steps and then, as the last time, she was alone. She could not reach the pew, and she sank to her knees on the cold stone floor. With her last breath she prayed, Dear Lord, grant a dying woman one last wish. Take care of my son and guide him and his people to glory and peace. EDITH WILSON, '39. One Rainy October Night MY cab pulled up to the corner and stopped with a short jerk. Upper New York lay black and shining in the rain of October 10, 1935, at six-thirty o'clock. Trolleys groaned along One Hundred and Twentieth street, and here and there a one-time luxurious automobile honked its horn, slammed on its brakes and went screeching around the curb with an alley of water splashing the nearby pedestrians. The red, blue and yellow lights of Loew's Motion Picture House and Keith's R. K. O. lay in the reflection of puddles of the heavy downpour. The Broadway Heights are crowded with people hurrying to and fro along the streets. A man bumps into a lady carrying parcels from Woolworth's, the string comes undone, she scowls and utters something beneath her breath, he begs a quick, meaningless pardon. Then he hurries on into the movie, pausing but for a brief moment to gaze at the picture of Joan Crawford, glamorously gowned and illuminating. He fingers for his change, pays the cashier and enters the show. A young woman emerges hurriedly from the sweet, homey, delightfully smelling Cushman's, a small boy clings to her laden-down arms, she holds her umbrella with difficulty, they rush for the crossing, she bumps umbrellas with another, but is safely across the street. On the corner below the lights of Liggett's drug store stands a young lady, apparently waiting for someone. Her hat is pulled cockney fashion over her right eye, her coat is held tightly about her neck, one button is gone, her flimsy hose are clinging with wetness to her ankles, her shoes are soggy and wet with water. She gazes impatiently up and down, up and down. No one comes. The light has changed, my cab drives on. JULIET F1scHL, '36. Forty

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Q 1936 INK POT ' Faith T HE wind howled and blew the sleet in all directions. lt was a wretched night, a night in which a mother should be home before a blazing fire telling bedtime stories to a sleepy-eyed child. But for Anna life was not like that, warm and cozy, but hard and cold. She was walking now with her head down, her chin against her chest, to brace herself from the wind's sharp fangs. Laughter from above caused her to jerk her head and look upward. Glancing into the window she saw young men and women, warm and gay, laughing and joking, with evidently nothing better to do than drink to each other's health in champagne. She turned away with a disgusted look and muttered to herself, They squander money, those young fools. While people starve and fight for life they drink champagne. A chuckle escaped her, but the almost black eyes fiamed with fire and vengeance. Soon she came to the poorer section where in the midst of the bitter cold she came upon the Temple and entered its holy portals. Its very silence was reverent. She sat down in a pew and soon her face relaxed from its tense expression and the dark eyes filled with tears. One could see from the finely chiselled nose that she was not common. Folding her hands, she lifted earnest eyes and said, Why am I here begging help from YOU? ls it because I'm a Jew? Surely that cannot be the whole truthful reason. Tell me, dear Lord, how can I keep from becoming like my parents and grandparents. They cringed, shied from the fact that they were Jews, because the people told them they were no earthly good in this world. That is not true, I know it, I feel it. Help me to keep my courage, restore my failing faith in my religion, my people, and myself. She sat quietly for a moment, not an eyelash blinked, not a finger moved, and then she got up and went into the cold night, head up, shoulders back. As she reached the top flight of stairs leading to her room, she heard the lusty cry of her baby. Opening the door, she ran to the crib and picked up the soft bundle, smothering it with kisses. You want your supper, don't you, darling? she said, and went to the closet to get some milk. She heated the milk, put some in a bottle and gave it to the child. Then she put him to bed and rocked him to sleep. When the dark eyes had closed in contented slumber, she lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. The room was very small, but she kept it immaculate. Slowly her gaze turned to the child and filled with tender compassion. Little Ralph, she whispered, your struggle won't be as hard as mine, for I shall make it easier for you if I can. But, my darling, always remember, never give up your hopes or faiths, for where there's hope and faith there's life. The next morning dawned cold and crisp. When Anna awoke the sun was streaming into the one small window. She dressed quickly, made her breakfast and her child's and went over to Ralph. After dressing him, she took him to the janitor, who kept him for her while she looked for work. Emerging from the house, young, hopeful and lovely, she gave no inkling of the rebellion that surged in her heart for those who make life so difiicult. Walking to the car, she took out a nickel and rode to her destination. Upon entering the room she noticed that there were many ahead of her. Finally when it was her turn, the man asked, Age ?', Thirty,,' she replied. Experience ? None in this line, she answered Religion ? he shot at her, and the beady eyes were cold as he awaited the answer. Her body stiffened, but she answered steadily, I am a Jewessf' Sorry, you won't do. Next, he called impersonally. Thirty-nine

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Q 1936 INK POT Q Sumet and T wilzglat in the COUMIUI HAVE you ever stood on a hill gazing at the crest of another, larger hill in the distance to watch the sunset? If you haven't, you've missed one of the wonders and glories of nature. It is no wonder that artists of every period paint sunsets and the twilights which follow them. A sunset always appears to me as if the sun in all its glory and magnificence is saying goodby to the world, and wanting to leave a lasting impression behind it. The sun seems to sink slowly to the crest of the hill, becoming more orange and redder all the time. Finally in one last plunge of glistening color it appears to hit the hill top, and bound off behind it. Then its sparkling rays, thrown up from behind the hill, gradually become dimmer and dimmer until they melt into the onrushing shadows. The many colors of the sky fade into a greyish white and-twilight is here. It seems then that the world stands still for a while contemplating what to do next. The silence is soon broken by the faint twittering of the birds as they settle in their nests, and by the tinkling of the cowbells as the cows are let out to pasture for the night. By this time the greyness has turned to black, and here and there a twingling star may be seen in the sky. -IUDITH FRANK, 36. Der Kleine Karl ER zu Fritzens Haus kommt, bringt immer etwas Gutes fur den kleinen Karl. Karl ist ein ,Iahr alt. Er ist sehr lustig. Er lauft und springt gern. Er ist sehr froh wenn jemand mit ihm spielt. Jeden Tag sagt Fritz zu ihmg Gluten Tag, mein kleiner Karl. Wie geht es heute ? Woof! Woof! bellt Karl. CONSTANCE Mamowrrz, '39. Bellum PAUCIS annis ante bellum in Europa cum familia in pace habitavi. Pater meus et frater fuerunt agricolae et studio et diligentia magna laboraverunt. Agros pulchros coluerunt et copiam cibi frumentique semper habuimus. F riter meus cotidie ductus est solus equis in agr6s. Sed tum bellum miserum incepit et hostes clamantes venerunt in agros nostros et friter meus conspectus a militibus interfectus est. Pater captivus retentus erat itaque mater in fugam se dedit carro parv6 ut auxilium et libertatem pro pitre pararet. Doizorl-xv NVEITZNER, '39. Forty-one