Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1924 Stanley Burgraaf. Emil Bondinell bequeaths his sportsmanship to Joe Puzio and John Mikulik to help them be- come our future high school stars. Mike Amato has finally consented to part with his sharpie air, and wishes to leave it to Frank Shershin and Irvin Quackenbush, hoping they will not abuse it. Herbert Uhlig, the senior Steinmetz, has been pursuaded to leave a little of his superfluous scientific knowledge to Paul Erber and Joseph McFerran- Albert Katterman leaves his immaculate hair comb to Frances Raynor and Nora Filkin— Keep on the good work, girls. Sam Silverstein wills his reserved manner to C. Hohenstein and Anita (Sonny.) McLain. “Al” Tumarkin bequeaths his ability at news- paper write-ups to “Al” Moro and Chris Plog, to help our future Reflectors to be a success. Helen Bruyere and Jimmie Austin have en- tered into partnership in their bequeaths. Since Helen and Jimmie with their ridiculousness are our class comedians, and since they have de- cided that in their future occupations they will not use this ability, they gladly will their sense of humour to Martha Thomas, Ruth Nymark and Mike Frost to be equally divided among them. Helen Stewart, better known as “Miss Bob White,” wills her sweetness of manner to Thyra Anderson, Frances Werkeley and Helen Dixon, for “to them that hath shall be given.” Elizabeth Jordan gives her ability to remain slendor to Cecelia Hillman and Agnes Bartho- lomew. Confidentially, now, we all prefer Cel and Agnes as they are. Marie Hagens wills her remarkable ability to interest herself in business matters and still re- tain that angelic facial expression to Marie Schiedemann and Tena Scaletta. And here's our little Ethel Schmidt offering to give something. Seeing Thomas Balliman, George Jackson and Sam Weiss evidently in distress, she thoughtfully divides her studious- ness among them to help enable them to gradu- ate in June. Georgette Connors has finally consented to will David McLean her permanent wave, but only after Dave had entreated her to do so. She also thoughtfully bequeaths her ability to carry on animated conversation to Grace Taylor- (Grace is really proficient in this art, but she’s bashful). “Jerry” Gaede wills her basketball ability to Marian Gansereit and Madelyn Anthony to help furnish the future Girls’ Basketball Team with material. Little Tanette Tanis, who is very clever at holding her sense of humor for the privacy of her heart, wills that same ability to Alice Mc- Ferran and Majorie Grossman. Marie Dudasik offered to will her ability to make herself easily understood in a crowd to Hildreth Austin and Mary Frankovic. Hildreth and Mary may use this ability or not, just as it pleases them- Murray Karp reluctantly gives his marvelous waltzing ability to Al DeLuca, and also to Thomas Pontier. Since Maurice is quite a de- bater he consents to give his “gift of gab” to John Kirchoff. Margaret Csik leaves her newly acquired clear pronunciation to Harry Kincaid. We all hope Harry profits by it. Marius DeMattia leaves his stage ability to Elsie Kallen and Ruth Guilfoyle to help them make their senior play a success. Robert Clough desires to leave his success at bluffing to Harry Kincaid (without the know'- ledge of the teachers). «Joe Kiel bequeaths his remarkable musical ability to Anna Barsar, Jeanette Fulton, and Alfred Hess. Mario Sala wills his refined dignity to Elvera Swanson to help her on to her goal as a Societv Belle. Herman Wittig leaves his vitality and energy to Harold Haas, hoping he will profit by it. We Hereby Appoint: Our worthy and be- loved principle, Mr. Walter F. Nutt, to be ex- ecutor of this, our last will and testament. In Witness Whereof: We have hereunto subscribed our names and affixed our seals, this twenty-fourth day of January, in the year one thousand and nine hundred and twenty-four. The February Class of 1924. GEORGETTE CONNORS MARIE HAGENS “ALL THINGS COME—” With a thought well back in our minds re- lative to “Things hard striven for are always the most enjoyed,” we embarked for the citv of our dreams, Washington, D. C. (a dream hav- ing its origin about four years back). It seemed to us that w’e had barely started when Philadelphia was announced. The stop over and tour through the Quaker City simp’y added a zest to our rapidly developing historic- al taste. Meanwhile Independence Hall, that fine old monument to American patriotism, fur- nished direct evidence to Joe Keil that while it “wasn’t cracked when it told it,” the bell which had tolled on July 4, 1770, has since developed a bad split. PAGE TWENTY'-TWO

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1924 fellow he used to go around with—what was his name, Helen? Kiel? Oh yes, Joe Kiel,—I was always afraid that he would do him no good. Helen:—Oh, Maurice, pardon me, but what is that colored paper you’re holding? Karp:—Oh, this is an announcement which bears the names of one or two of our former classmates. (He unfolds pamplet). A. T.:—(Reads) “Adjectives Cannot De- scribe the Marvelous Performance of the Twin Stars, Dc Mattia and Kiel.” To be presented for the two hundredth time at the Bijou Thea- tre, Main Clifton Avenues, Greater Clifton. Karp:—They bring the house down every night with their original act as two tramps who disguise themselves as millionaires. Their antics are worth going a mile to see. B. J.:—And do you remember when they were in the Senior play? That must have given them the courage to make an act of their own. Karp: It beats old Harry how many of the February 1924 Class settled down in Clifton after all their wild talk about Alaska, China, etc. Hobby Clough is at present the Director of Physical Education in the Schools of Greater Clifton, and has developed a basketball team that is famous all over the world. It is the Clough System, all his own, which has brought him this success. M. Hagens:—There you are again. It simp- ly shows that one does not have to know how to play in order to teach the game. Karp:—Here is a picture of Joe Kuzmick. You notice he’s the Chief of Police out there, while the other day when I dropped in to Mike Amato’s Barber Shop—yes, he’s a regular bar- ber now—I met quite a crowd having their hair trimmed up. Mike has a following of the feminine sex that no barber in Clifton can ever equal. H. Stewart:—But what about Georgette Con- nors? What does she do? Karp:—Oh, just as a pastime she conducts a school of music in a studio in the Silverstein Apartments. (Silverstein inherited a fortune from a distant relative and put up these modern apartments). The Connors Music Conserva- tory is a flourishing affair and is considered very exclusive. M. Hagens:—Can you beat that? I thought that Georgette was surely going to stand before the preacher with a certain member of the class- A. T.:—(Looking at newspaper boy just brought up). I’ve still got the old habit of look- ing at the sport page first, and the rest follows. B. J.:—(Looking over shoulder) Al, who’s picture is that, the one of that fellow Irolding a bat ? A. T.:—Believe me or not that’s Emil Bondi- nell, “the mite wonder” from the Sticks, who’s made good in three years of major baseball with the Washington Club, owned by Herman ittig. H. Stewart:—Just like good old Wittig. though. Remember the time we had getting him away from Washington? So he’s settled there now, is he? Karp:—Yes, I had heard of Herm and “Bijoe” before. Incidentally, it was Herm who sent me news of the only two members of the class we haven’t accounted for, Helen Bruycre and Albert Katterman. Katterman is working on a new book the title of which, according to Herm Wittig, is “Four Years and a Trip— (iratis.” Helen is still living in Clifton, work- ing and saving her money. A. T.:- There’s one of our class whom you’ve all forgotten, Jimmy Austin. H- Stewart: -Oh, the duke! A. T.:—Yes, but duke no longer. It’s Sir James Fitzroy Austin, member of Parliament, and very happily married to Lady Sylvia Man- ners. B. J.:—Oh, I remember her; she visited someone in Clifton once. H. Stewart:—And I thought she hailed from Montclair. A. T.:—Well, the frock coat he wears now plain. Her father inherited a title and fortune— B- J.:—Yes, and Jimmy saw his chance A. T.:—Well, the frock coat he wears now hides his limbs anyway. How ’bout a walk on the promenade deck, ladies? (All exit). ELIZABETH JORDAN ALLAN TUMARKIN THE CLASS WILL We, the class of February 1924: being of sound and disposing mind and memory, and realizing that our happy career in Clifton High School is about to end, do make and declare this to be our Last Will and Testament. First—To our Principal and teachers we bequeath our sincere appreciation for all they have done for use since our entrance into this institution. Second—We, the class of February 1924, wish to make special bequests to the next gradu- ating class and hope they will be accepted in the same manner in which they are given: Joe Kuzmick consents to leave his love for policemen in general to Angus Gordon and PAGE TWENTY-ONE

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1924 Our first and only meeting with Dame Mis- fortune came when M. Jupiter Pluvius let fall his wrath on our heads, and incidentally into our shoes on the evening of our arrival at the City of Wide Avenues. Since the shower came after we had seen the wonders of the Library of Congress, we did not lament the fact that our clothes were ready for the wringer. The next day, however, atoned for the naugh- ty behavior of the Gentlemen of the Showers and a tour of the Capitol and visits to the vari- ous public buildings left us in just the right mood to enjoy the sleeping quarters apportion- ed to us at the Cairo Hotel. (We said sleeping quarters, hut as a famous cartoonist has it, “that doesn’t mean anything”). Certain members of our class are very hard to repress, as was illustarted by the following incident, which oceured at the Pan-American Union Building. The guide, a Captain White- hall. was explaining the habits of a certain pro- fusely colored parrot. “Yes,” said the Captain, this particular parrot, though a male, always has the last word.” “A rare bird, indeed,” chimed in Jimmy Austin, and they shook hands on it. The visit to the Museum, old and new, and to the buildings comprising the Bureau of Printing and Engraving, completed the morning tour. The place where money was being made, literally speaking, was extremely interesting. Especially hard to witness, though, was the non- chalant manner with which the employers counted stacks of thousands of real dollars. After enjoying our luncheon at the hotel, we piled into our bus and were off for the Arling- ton National Cemetery and Amphitheatre, and the Lineoln Memorial. We cannot say which of these beautiful memorials impressed us the most. The Greek beauty of the Amphitheatre, truly symbolic of the sacred memories to which it is dedicated, and whose walls last echoed the voice of the late President Warren G. Harding, made us feel queer and more or less awed. Going to the front of the Amphitheatre we paid silent homage to the Grave of the unknown Soldier. The next morning we again climbed a faith- ful bus which was to transport us to the home of the first President of our land. Mount Ver- non was reached very soon. The beauty of Washington’s home in the spring or summer, with the flowers in bloom and trees in 'eaf, could he imagined very easily. Seeing the very room in which George Washington said his last words, and the Tomb in which his remains rest at present, made us realize more keenly the meaning of the word shrine, a word which Mount Vernon typifies exactly. Back to the hotel to rest before the long trip home for some; but for others Washington still held one more thrill, the aseent of the Wash- ington Monument. But first we must relate the incident of the taxi. The weather was rather snappish so we decided we would trust ourselves (and our pocketbooks) to the tender mercies of a modern land pirate. We ensconced ourselves lithesomely on the finely upholstered seat of a Black and White cab and were ready for the short trip. Click! went the meter, and around went everyone’s head- “Oh, only thirty-five,” that from Boh Clough. Click! and this time forty-five. Another click! and it was fifty-five. One more, and now sixty-five. But here we were at last, and as everyone wiped the perspiration from his brow , he heard the chauffeur tack on thirty more because there wTere nine in the car. Well, we were there, anyway, and five of us blithely began the ascent of the monument through the stairway route. There are eight hundred and ninety-eight steps according to the guidebook,—but don’t you believe it, there are fully five thousand. “Just a couple more,” was the encouraging word given to us by a youngster making the descent, and luckily for us he was right. Phew! but it was worth it. Wonderful barely describes the beauty of the City of Washington as seen from the height of a sixty- storv building. But all things must end sometime, and sad as it is to tell you, we had to leave at last, There were no more reluctant departing guests of the Capital on that Saturday afternoon than twenty seniors of C. H. S. The train soon brought us back to our start- ing point, good old Clifton. We bore no grudge against the town for the rude awakening we received in Delawanna, when the bus “bumped the bumped,” for were we not Seniors, and hadn’t we just returned from the fulfillment of our dreams? ALLAN TUMARKIN February, ’24 Casey—“Did Maloney give ye the black eye?” Murphy—“No; only the black. Oi had the eye all the time.” —Exchange. PAGE TWENTY-THREE