Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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WALKS THROUGH CENTRAL Have any of you ever walked through Central and felt its pulse and temperature? Have any of you ever frequented the school during vacations or at night? The feeling is one of acute loneliness. One is fearful of the intense silence and quiet that seems to reign everlastingly, and one wonders how the se empty corridors and vacant rooms could ever have been frequented by a jolly mob of howling, singing Centralites. I have walked through Central's halls and corri- dors, up its stairways and in its rooms. And I have done this at various times and periods, hearing Cen- tral's very heart-beats. I have walked through the school between periods, when the corridors are jammed with milling groups and rooms are either being very quickly emptied or very slowly filled. I have walked through Central during periods when its halls are empty but for either a few hurrying figures or a few sauntering Centralites. I have walked through Central during vacation when the forridors are jammed with milling groups halls are empty, and when my footsteps seem to echo and re-echo in the ghost-haunted corridors. | have walked through the school at night, when a few electric lamps, feeble candles! are burning, and illumine the lockers— 'bare, ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. For at night-time, and vaca- tion-time, and Saturdays, and Sundays, and holidays, Central is a morgue where the spirits of Central com- mune, where ghostly, mysterious conclaves are held, and when students are stopped for a moment on their upward jour ney toward knowledge, education, and success! Thus have I walked through Central, feeling its heart-beat, its pulse, its very life at various times. And I have learned to know her hallowed halls, to remember her sacred portals whence 1 went through to get a higher education, and to appreciate the spirit, the grit, and the courage of Central, for, as has been said before and will be said again: Central Leads And Others Follow!” —M. F. “OUR ORGAN” Our Organ! How well it sounds! The very words suggest pride, joy, the happiness of a deed well done, and the flush of victory when a battle is won. Our Organ! It seems to stand alone. Repeti- tion only makes it sound more sweet, and helps us find more meaning in it. Our Organ! No outside contribution, no beg- ging, no “pan handling won this organ, but our own, unaided contributions and efforts. We feel, and rıghtly, that the organ is ours, that every pupil of Central owns or shares it with all the rest of the multitude that have given for a seemingly vain cause and have passed away like ships that pass in the night. But let us not indulge in paeons of praise for our- selves. There is still much to be done, so let us go on as we have before, fighting, struggling, battling ever onward. —M. F.