Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1924 An Apology Each contribution found herein Was writ by a would-be-poet. You’ll say it’s not like Shakespeare’s, But, goodness’ sake, we know it. MAN Just as the wind each day blows o’er this world, So does each man pass on his destined way. Some pass just frisking o’er the top in play, They make the grass wave like a flag unfurled; And as they pass on toward the sea-crests curled They make small boats and sailing ships to sway; But passing thru the deserts on their way Are lost among the sand wastes of the world. Then comes he who makes lordly oaks to tall, And ealls young men to follow after him; He, with his sword, makes his a change’d land, He finds new ways in which to help us all; So, passing on, his life does not grow dim, But is to mankind a directing hand. STANLEY BURGRAAE, June ’24 SKATING ON THE OLD PASSAIC The full moon bright, with its silver light, Makes the ice on the river glisten; Like sentinels high outlined ’gainst the sky, Each tree seems to stand and listen. The bonfires flare in the cold night air. On the banks of the frozen stream. Gay crowds laugh and shout as they weave in and out Like the fabric of a dream. From Garfield down through Clifton Town, To the bridge at the Paterson line, We sway and swing while skates clang and ring Through the night air clear and fine. The witchery of night with its moonlight bright Disguises all man-made pollution. Jack Frost like a pall spreads over all A beautiful veil of illusion. Oh Passaic so old, what tales could be told Of winter nights long past, When hearts young and gay sang on their way, With a joy that could not last. Through the golden haze of our youthful days, Fond memory will always take Such keen delight in those moonlight nights, Skating on the old Passaic. GEORGETTE D. CONNORS A WINTER STORM The wintry blasts are blowing shrill, O'er meadow, plain, and lonely hill, The white ice forms about the mill; The shy’s o’ereast With gray ness, heavy, bleak and still. That storms forecast. In flaky whiteness then is lost 'Phe landscape, and the trees are tossed By blust’ring gales that straight have crossed The Arctic ring, Their bare boughs stripped bv blackening frost Of leafy wing. I thought then of the foolish sheep Who wander where the drifts are deep; Of helpless birds whom none can keep From storms to hide; Of silly cattle on yon high steep And mountain side. DAVID McLEAN, June ’24 THE ANT Ant, working in the bright sunlight, Little worker, I, like you, must also labor, In the future. Would I might with your persistence, Come forth victor. CHARLES HOHENSTEIN June ’21 NATURES PLEASURES I love to rove among the trees Far from the noisy town. The autumn colors there I see, Of golden hue, and brown. I love to hear the wood-folk call From distant place to near; The stange low cries that rise and fall Bring Autumn’s solemn cheer. I love to see the birds’ dull hues On a dusky afternoon, And sit and watch the insects too That vanish swift and soon. I love to hear the tinkling brooks As pure as crystal glass. And long to know their turns and crooks And where they end at last. Companionship with things like these For just a little while, Helps in the winning of Life’s race On this big, lonelv isle. HILDRETH AUSTIN J une ’2 t PAGE THIRTEEN

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1921 heard Herb Slivo sav that your father was going bankrupt. Is that----”? “Did he say that?’ Eppv shouted. “Show him to me.” Herb Slivo was brought forth and asked to repeat the statement. “Sure, I went into your store yesterday to get a pair of garters for my father, and your father couldn’t even change a two dollar bill.” The argument became hotter the longer it lasted. It was stopped finally by their arrest. The youngsters exchanged dark glances in school. If looks could kill, both would he dead. After school they again assembled at the club- house- Court opened with the usual orderly proceedings. They immediately got down to business. Judge—“What is the charge?” Policeman—“Charged with quarreling, your honor.” Judge—“What arc the circumstances, Mr. Stein.. Eppv—“Your honor, Mr. Slivo said that my father was going bankrupt. Hut last night I heard him counting, and cverytimc he said a number 1 heard a swish, swish. I’ll bet they were hundred dollar bills.” Judge—“Is that so, Mr. Slivo?” Herb—“Yep, your honor.” The judge was at a loss what to say so as to please both. “I’ll have to think it over,” he said. “Why, your honor. I can settle that question,” spoke up Jimmy. Continued on Page 41 AIR CASTLES A big aeroplane was seen hovering over the Civic Field of Norwood. It swooped and float- ed until it came to a landing in the middle of the field near where three girls and an elderly woman were waiting. Out of the big plane jumped four aviators. The first to appear was De Luca, then Hess, and at last Plog and Erber. “Did you get our wireless to get ready?” one hoy asked the girls. “Are you ready?” came from another. “Surely, let’s go,” was the response as the eight started for the big plane. Who were the others? Why, only Dot, Myrtha, and Mary. Don’t you know them? They were the ones that gave the boys a good time back in nineteen twenty three. The group entered the big bird in which, if one had followed them, he would have seen a large room decorated as were most of those in the big planes. The room was dotted with good sized windows, under which were large window seats. On the walls were pictures of both the Norwood and the Clifton teams of old 19 2.3. In a far corner there was a very up to date radio set. There were two doors, one opening into the control room and the other into a hall which led down toward the tail of the monster. On each side of this hall were doors which if opened would bring to view neat staterooms. Two other doors led into a combined kitchen and dining room. “Europe,” shouted Erber, and immediately the big plane started to move. Erber was landing in a corner of the room and was speak- ing into a large instrument resembling a Radio Loud Speaker. He was directing the course of the big plane by the means of the Derr method of aviation. After adjusting some machinery, Erber re- tired to an easy chair and sat down to watch the couples enjoy themselves by dancing to the music of a big radio which gave forth the fam- iliar tune of the day, “Kirchhof’s Fox Trot.” This was being played by his world famous orchestra which was broadcasting from Hess’s big factory in Clifton. Hess, by the way had turned the old high school into a big radio manufacturing center. “Hey, what’s that following us?” someone shouted. There was a rush to the windows and all found themselves staring into the face of an Air Cop. Gordon, the cop, wrote out a ticket and handed it through a window. “Keep your speed under one thousand miles an hour or I’ll pinch you,” it read. Just like Gordon. Up to his old tricks. I hat day was Saturday. On Sunday morning the machine was circuling Fmgland and finally came to a stop over London. Another Derr in- vention had made it possible to keep the plane stationary. P'.rber and the chaperone woke up the bunch and made them listen to a sermon preached by the Reverend Stanley Burrgraaf from his new Radio Church on the corner of Union Avenue and Main Street, Clifton. After the sermon the plane alighted and the young couples stepped out and started to view London by means of the new Aero cars. Din- ner was served in the Hotel MacLean, while in the afternoon an opera was enjoyed in the hotel opera house. Early in the evening the plane was directed toward the United States. The next morning found the party at home and al- ready for “aw gee, I was only sleeping, Miss Smith. Do I have to come in for detention?” PABLO PAGE TWELVE

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THE REFLECTOR C L I [TON H I C. II SCHOO L FEBRUARY 1924 THE JUNIOR PROM “Well, dear, did you have a good time?” asked mother, who, upon hearing Dottie’s foot- steps, had hastily made her way to her daughter’s room. “Oh, mother, it w’as wonderful,” sighed Dottie happily. “The decorations were beau- tiful. And such music!” “Tell me all about it, dear,” invited Mother. “Well—There! I started my sentence with “well.” Dottie shrugged her shoulders help- lessly, and continued, “The hall was very picturesquely decorated. Large red tulips covering the lights made the room just a trifle shadowy and mysterious. From the ceiling white moss hung down as realistically as if it grew' there, and was set off by dainty green and white panels covering the entire walls. The whole effect was completed by the Meadow- brook orchestra, playing splendidly on a palm banked stage. Enthroned on their bower in one corner of the room, the hostesses greeted the guests, who were presented by the ushers. The custom of introducing the guests and patrons is a new one, but it worked well. It seemed to give the affair a more friendly atmosphere. I like the idea, don’t you. Mother? Oh, yes, and the prettiest little girls in trim, white aprons and gay dresses served the refreshments as nicely as you please.” “Were there many there whom you knew?” “Oh yes. Elsie and Marius were there, of course, and Elsie looked to pretty for words. Helen Werner, Lee Adams, and Marian Hanna were among the belles of the evening and— Why, I forgot about the Grand March! Art Argauer and Agnes Bartholomew led, followed by David Nadell and Ruth Hulbert. Dear me! I can’t seem to finish telling you about it, and I’m so tired.” “You can tell me the rest tomorrow’,” said Mother smiling, “but go to bed now. It’s one o’clock. Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Mother,” answered Dottie sleep- ily. “MISS BOB WHITE” “A fine performance,” was the verdict of the many hundreds who saw “Miss Bob White” on the evenings of January 17 and 18 at Wash- ington Hall. It was said that had the Seniors given the play for a third time they w'ould have made enough to make a trip to the moon, but the staid members of the class thought Wash- ington, I). C., a sufficient trip, and the project was accordingly dropped. It was a great play, however, and the Seniors should pat themselves on the back for the re- markable way in which “Miss Bob White” was carried off. The play centers about the adventures, or better, misadventures, of two millionaires who were forced to be “Weary Willies” for two months through the loss of an election bet with an English Duke. The “tramps” happen upon the farmhouse of a Quaker farmer, w’ho puts them to work. In the meantime Miss Livingston, a society belle in love with one of the tramps, follows them up to the farm where she is disguised by the farmer’s daughter as a milkmaid, and asks to be called “Bob White.” “Bob White” manages it so that her million- aire lover falls in love with her. Upon the completion of the bet the millionaires invite their rustic friends to their palatial home where all is revealed. The union of “Tre Billion” and “Bob White” is effected; the consent of the Quaker is received for the troth of “Phyllis,” the farmer’s daughter, and “Jack,” a farmer PAGE FOURTEEN