Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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BOB’S PA Yestidday after suppir I wunted to ask pop if I could go out, ony I dident dass to on account of him being mad at me for falling down on my way home from the cigar store and handing him broken cigars and two hole ones instead of six hole ones, me thinking, G, I wish I could make him laff or something and then I’d ask him while he was in good humer. And I peeked in the setting room and pop was in there reeding the paper with a ixpression as if it would take a hole lot to make him laff. Jest then I had a good ideer, thinking, G, I know wot. I’ll diskize myself in pop’s new hat and rane-coat and come up and leeve him see me and he’ll laff like anything and then I’ll quick ask him. I went down and put on his rane-coat and new hat and started to walk upstairs, walking carefil on account of the rane-coat coming away down farther than my feet and the hat coming down to my nose, me thinking, I bet I look funny as the dooce. I bet I did, and jest then I almost tripped but dident, and I got up to the setting room, and father was still setting there and reading and looking even less like laffing than wat he did before, and I sed, look father, and started to walk in, and just then I almost tripped agen and kepp on tripping and the straw hat came off and fell under me so I had to fall on top of it, and I herd some-thing make a fu jiy noise like straw breaking, thinking this ain’t making him laff. Wich it wasent, and he jumped up and pulled me up by the back of his rane-coat and saw how different his new hat looked saying, I think youve fallen on enuff of my things for one day now I think its time something of mine fell on you. Wich it did, being his slipper. F. Shelkowitz, class of 1923. seven

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He worked frantically over the engine. A muffled explosion was heard, and a spurt of blue flame leaped upward; the motor roared and shot forward cutting the clear blue waters in two. A wild cheer rose from the eager spectators. The other boats were now far ahead of him but he gained steadily on them. When the turning point was reached George was second. He turned, going at full speed, just missing one and scraping another. Such a demon never before existed. He passed the finishing line a good two hundred yards ahead of the rest. George slowed down, his mouth stretched from ear to ear and his big white teeth shining in the sun. That evening he returned the boat to Thomas. “Well, George, how do yo’ all like it?” “A’s sorry Thomas, very sorry, but et’s not fast ’nuff fo me. “What!” “Yes sah! it’s too slow, but don’ yo’ let a thing like a boat make our friendship bust.” “No, no, not at all.” “O’right Thomas, much obliged. Bye.” When George turned the corner he began to whistle loud enough to blow his teeth out. But he had five hundred dollars added to his bank account, and he didn’t even have to buy the gasoline he ran the boat with. William Mair, June, 1922. 81X

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WHEN I WAS TOO TALKATIVE At college I had formed the opinion that nothing was of greater importance than football. I studied football, spoke nothing but foot- ball, dreamed, played and ate football. When I left college, I still adhered to this opinion and became the most enthusiastic football fan that ever honored the face of this merry old football field, the world. In fact it was my habit of talking of football that had a great deal to do with my present good fortune. On the day of the Yale-Harvard game I was sitting in the west-side stands of the Yale bowl. I was talking, as is my habit, to a man on my left. I described vividly many of the plays that I had taken part in and gave no little credit to myself. (I was never modest.) Somehow or other I began talking to the man on my left about the playing of the Harvard team on that long-to-be-remembered day. “Why, sir,” I said, “That was the toughest, roughest, cleanest played game that I ever took part in. There was a fellow on the Harvard team, I think his name was Landon, who could give as much as he took, and my word, he did take a great deal. He played tackle opposite me and gave me the hardest, toughest, all around rough and tumble scrap that I have ever participated in. I’d like to meet that man now. We’d have the longest confab that we’ve ever been in.” “I remember that game,” said the man on my left. “Landon’s work- ing for the United Motor Sales Co.—manager, I think.” “That fellow certainly does deserve what he gets. I am sure that he worked hard for all he got. Why, man, I wouldn’t mind working for him. If he’s as good a business man as he was a football player, he must be a wonder,” I replied. “Do you mean what you say?” he asked. “Now look here, stranger,” I replied angrily, “Don’t you call me a liar if you want to live in peace. When I say a thing, I mean it.” At this he smiled and said, “I think I can offer you a job as sales manager of the United Motor Sales Co.” I looked at him in astonishment and could scarcely utter the words, “Who are you, anyhow?” “Why,” he said, “My name’s Landon. Played tackle opposite you twelve years ago. You gave me twenty bumps and I gave you nineteen. If you accept I’m going to make it twenty all.” Edward Hollender, June, 1922. eight