Central YMCA High School - Centralite Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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g g luuvl Q93 wi! Q ff: Literary A. i l It its r '. . fa il, v r l 0 if P i l r n r I r L r I E 1 I s 6 1 n P 5. I P . V ,. 'a E F. V K E r r A 1 V r V v v LP '. . without a struggle? How can things be accomplished if there are no obstacles to surmount, to conquer? You struggled as a babe to become what you have now grown to be, and in that struggle did you not vanquish your boy- hood and in turn your manhood? Are you not now a man? ls that not the finest struggle? Would you like to have gone through life without an effort? just think whether the world would progress if there were no such struggles, no strifes. At your query of 'what is there before me?' l am astonished. Why do you ask what there is before you? Why not look backward? Did you not see your children grown to manhood and womanhood? How many enjoy that privilege? Should not your outlook on life be a little more calm, a little more serene? You have had all there is to offer. A family, long life and wisdom. lf you did not achieve more, if you did not bring about a greater measure of success, whom have you to blame? I repeat that you have had everything there is to offer. For every day of honest effort you have received an equally honest return. Why ask 'What is there before me?' A shock went through the old man's frame, his face became distorted and he tried to rise, but, the effort being in vain, he sank back with a weak hoarse whisper and replied, Yes, oh! yes, honest work, honest return, fine. A privilege to exist, a privilege to struggle and then die. Bah! Go away, take yourself from me. I am tired-tired of myself and tired of your foolish philosophy. Go away l say-go! leave me forever. At this juncture a low rumble was heard and a slow but steady dribble of rain beat down upon the earth. It was dark, so dark that one seemed to feel the closeness of the clouds over him, and Life turning to go, said, Be- ware, old man, in darkness you came into this world and in darkness l have Edecided you must leave it. l depart forever. The clock on the mantel, ticking away in his accustomed place, saw that the old figure in the chair did not move. He gaped, he could not hide his anxiety. Could it be true? His face showed his emotion, his hands stopped their perpetual movement, and with a sudden stop, a sudden realization that all was over, he crashed to the Hoor, for Life had withdrawn from him too. HARRY BRODI. SWEET ALICE Sweet Alice you have captured me With pure and lovely eyes, So pure that they can only see The good that in me lies. To ope your eyes would be a sin, To close them be a lie: So my salvation lies but in Forcing my sins to die. I'll kill them with my love for you, A weapon superfineg Each sin shall die by love so true And then you shall be mine. WILLARD G. MURBACH. lPage 741 ---'-'- - ' mihE1KiJnRfinTm:ium-uIi.T..'3 v4ii i1-5i1Wui.vFnuuu1vm1In rC.M-95.76445-,lH1ivT '771TT. ' . . .v . muummm-wmuumimmminminu vim-vm...-...W - , -.. ,. 1,1 A-gggw. - L+1'- f'd-fw--- - ' .-L '..i1.s:.:1

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.Ill vfzir- vhke -, 'W A - a s 'me Q In ily GL H 5 QQ as Literary THE CLOCK ON THE MANTEL The sun was at its zenith and the heat was terrific. A dry south wind was blowing, making the heat more intense and scattering dust indiscriminately in all directions. The sun and wind had both, it appeared, picked upon the only object ani- mated with life, for coming down the street was on old man. The sun beat down upon him and the wind blew clouds of dust in his path. This man was old, and he had lived long. The weather, what was that to him? His head was bowed and his whole body bent. He walked along tim- orously, each step a pain, a terrible exertion. He dragged his feet with a curious rythm, exactly opposite to the motion of his body. He wore what once resembled a hat and his clothes showed long usage. He had a lean face with heavy jaws, close, thin-set lips and a rounded chin. His eyes caused one to wonder, for they were large and luminous. A young man's eyes in an old, set, and hard face. Could it be possible that the mind remained as active as those eyes? -Did the eyes reflect the youthfulness of a constantly roaming mind? He supported his big bent frame upon a cane of exquisite workmanship. There was a perceptible increase in his dragging strides as he approached a dilapidated house. It was situated on a little knoll surrounded by space for miles around. It was a fine old house, built solid and square, to stand off that terrific pace-maker, Time. He now stood squarely in front of the door and as if his presence without had been felt within, a maid came forth and gave him her hand for more support. They entered his room at the farthest end of the building, and there in front of his hearth, where a small fire was burning to keep him warm, she placed him in his accustomed seat, directly in front of it and left him to himself. The room which he occupied was devoid of any home touches. The only other object that shared his room was the mantel clock. The clock's face remained the same, in contrast to that of its master. The longer he worked the less he was troubledg but those around him wearied of his long years of pounding out the time. For did he not have the proofs? Did he not see his master grow old? Did he not see the family reared and broken? Ah! that life should contain so much and mean so little! Life! at the mere thought of that word, the figure in the chair stirred. His mouth opened, his hands moved and his eyes flashed his thoughts. Life, he said, What is it? A thing to be gotten and then a thing to be thrown away. Suddenly Life stood before him and said, What hast thou against Life? Hast thou not now enjoyed life for almost a century? Enjoyed life! A fine opinion you have of yourself! Enjoyed life, hal Look at me. Do you see in me any resemblance to a babe in his cradle? From childhood to manhood l have struggled. l struggled as a babe in the cradle to become a boy, and no sooner a boy, than to be a man, and here I am a man, an old man, and what is there before me? Another struggle, perhaps, for who knows what death may bring? You say you have struggled, said Life. That in a great measure is true, but do you know of any achievements of great worth that were obtained fPage 731 - -'-' - - '- '-Mm7Erirnmmi-hrV-I--1.3.3-J-T.u.lw-ml-I' uifrwvmsvm' .14-',-1.-1-'14--1:14'- 4 ...,.,11AA

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, sa- 2-in '. c ' We Q12 cz no Il grail 6 de er- - Literary CLASS PROPHECY-DAY Midnight finds me seated at my desk, upon which lie an open book on medicine, some prescriptions, a crystal ball used as a paper weight, the eve- ning paper, and a skull, the emblem of my profession. For ten years I have been a practicing physician. Today I have been so busy that this is my first opportunity to glance over the news. At once my eye is caught by the headline, Jack Owen, Chicago's own track star injured in an aeroplane crash. His manager, continues the article, ML Otto, says the injury was not severe, but has turned the case over to his physicians, Dr. Shaw and Dr. Terborghf' I am thus reassured, because I have heard of the remarkable ability of these physicians. ln another column I see the title of an article, The Development of Chem- istry, by L. C. Anderson: also the announcement that Prof. A. Olson, of Harvard is to give a lecture upon Ladies at the Woman's Club on Tuesday. I then turn to the editorial page and among the staff see several names, which seem familiar. There is C. Porter, as literary editor: M. Kirby, as city editor, and W. Corski, as sport editor. These items send my thoughts into the past. My classmates of long ago pass in review before me. I fall into a reverie. Where now are all my friends? Are they all happy and successful? Suddenly I hear a voice and sit spell- bound. Have no fear, although a skull is speaking to you. Little did you know that in this skull which you have looked upon as your property, lives the spirit of Hermes Tresmigistis. I know your thoughts. Past, present and future are all alike to me. Look into the crystal upon your table and you shall see what you seek to know. Timidly I obey, and in the crystal depths I see the White House in which two men are in conference. I recognize one as our President, john Sweetman, who is discussing with his secretary, B. Feldthouse, a bill introduced in Congress by Senator Harney, of Illinois. The bill provides for an increase in the salary of the vice-president, and is strongly opposed by A. Lilyfors, who holds that position. Mr. Lilyfors states he would refuse to accept an increase unless the people insisted upon it. As this scene vanishes, a stage appears upon which Claude Smith, who takes the part of leading lady, with haughty words, refuses the ardent pro- posals of the leading man, Hartney. Next Garth, who has been recog- nized as a rival to Paderewski, plays upon the piano a selection by L. Crosby, the famed composer, while the audience sits fascinated. ln the audience I see such prominent men as S. Ellison, the criminal lawyer, A. Alderson, Chi- cago's greatest architect, and Bell, who is endeavoring to retain his heavy- weight checker championship, which he recently won from Van Reekum. This scene then changes and I find myself once more in the halls of Central Prep. In the office of the Principal I can see C. Goonrey, who is busy talking to some of the students. ln the study hall I see S. Levitus, the geometry in- structor, talking to H. Wheeler, the English instructor, about the appointment of G. Varonis as director of the School. In the Spanish class I see W. Murback trying to explain to a class of freshmen, the whys and wherefores of Spanish. In the gym I see Mulacek and Torres trying their hardest to keep the Junior School boys from raising the roof off the house. fPage 751 , .. . --.vu v ummvumn-ummm-1-www.-n--v--nw-m.4 mmm in -.1 v v ...ni I .l .., . . .. .... .U Q YLLLVAA :I-1,,--f-. -L--'1--1.4,-Ag.,5--LDL. -4, ,-