Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1926 “My Cause of Distraction and I got on very well together until a short while ago. The cause of our disagreement is the old story of. He professes his love for me, and only me, hut at the same time goes out with other girls.' Naturally I don’t like it and fail to see how it could be possible that he can gad about with other girls and still persist that he cares for me. I,—well, I stood it as long as a human being possibly could, but finally decided that I must come to you for help. Here I am. The point is this: What shall I do?” As was her custom during the hearing of a case the Specialist sat grim and silent until the very end. The only sign of life exhibited in that stern, cold face was her eyes, which gleam- ed and sparkled with the pent up force of her dominant nature. Her decision came in the positive tones of One Who Knows. Said the Specialist, “What you need is a clever Foil.” “Yes?” pleaded the Distracted Lady anxious- ly. A tear trembled and fell from her eyelid. “I have in mind the very type that we could conveniently make use of,” the Sepcialist said, ignoring the evidently tearful state of her client, “just a jolly good fellow, you know, pleasing in appearance, attentive in manner, carefree and young but not especially serious in intentions. Do you understand what I mean?” “Certainly,” replied the Distracted Lady, “but where in the world shall we be able to find the Foil you describe?” “You are rather young, aren’t you, “com- mented the Specialist a trifle witheringly, “but do not worrv about that. I’ll produce the Foil.” “Where and when?” begged the poor Dis- tracted Lady. “That depends. When shall you see your Cause of Distraction again?” “This noon, at luncheon.” “Very well then. This evening at the Phi Beta tea dance I will introduce you to the Foil. Your part in the affair consists of telling the Cause of Distraction, when you see him this noon, that you are going to the Beta Dance with someone else. Impress this securely upon his mind and watch closely to see how he takes it. Another thing. Be sure that you do not let the Foil know that you arc using him as such. Af- ter all, he is a friend of mine. My car will call for you at nine. That is all.” “How can I ever thank you!” she cried. “Oh toshpail!” said the Specialist. Noon They had returned from luncheon and were sitting in her large, comfortable living room. “But I assure you that I intend to go,” said the Distracted Lady firmly. “Then why don’t you go with me?” pleaded the Cause of Distraction. “I have already promised someone else,” she replied with a very slight but noticeable accent on the “else.” The cause of Distraction rose furiously to his feet. “I don’t see why you had to do that,” he ex- claimed angrily, oh, so very angrily! “I’m very sorry,” she said, but there was no warmth in her tone. The man strode to the door muttering peev- ishly under his breath. “I’m going!” he shouted, and slammed the door with a terrible crash. “Goodbye,” said the Distracted Lady sweet- ly. But her heart was sad. Night The Foil proved to be well adapted to the Heart Specialist's description in both appear- ance and character. He was long-limbed, broad shouldered, bland and smiling. He had light crispy hair, twinkling brown eyes, and a very pleasant air of youthful freshness about him. Painfully attentive he administered and sub- mitted to your every wish, although vou weren’t quite sure that he really meant to because of any desire to be serious. You didn’t care a great deal, though, for you were quickly and assuredly lost in the magnetic charm of his su- preme joviality. One gay and confident, the other doubting yet hopeful. Youth bowed to Youth. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” said the Foil smiling as only he could smile. “I, too, am pleased,” said the Distracted Lady, glancing gleefully to where stood her cause of Distraction glaring furiously at them, obviously jealous. Zenith Three months later there came upon the door of Madam Confidante’s office a slight tapping sound that was, somehow, strangely familiar. The Heart Specialist, who prided herself in the fact that she never forgot even so trifling a detail as a person’s particular knock, recogniz- ed it instantly. Without apparent emotion and in a tone without feeling she calmly said. i • t ome in. PAGE FOURTEEN

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T H E R E F L E C T ) R CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL F E B R U A R Y 19 2 6 “Stop,” I shouted. “Now run along or else mamma will come along and spank you.” And I glared fiercely at the departing infant who had so queerly described the part of our country lying east of the Appalachians. After a five days’ run we arrived at Haifa. Here a shore boat came alongside to greet the visitors. It was a smart rowing boat with seven long oars, and the men who rowed it were dark skinned and wore bright red fezes. The sun Hashed from their oars as they rowed with a short, sharp stroke, sending the green hull of the graceful cutter smartly through the blue water. As they rowed they sang, the melody coming faintly at first, then growing clearer with a steady rhythmic cadence; and as the boat dashed up beside the gangway the oars were dropped bv the rowers with a swift, dramatic flourish, the song ended in a wierd rising note that seemed full of the joy of life, and the men laughed until their white teeth gleamed. After examining the city we left for Beirut, Jaffa, and then Alexandria. When we docked at Alexandria, all the peddlers in the near vicinity of Northern Africa must have rushed up the gangway, overcoming the weak attempts of the Masters at Arms to stop them. They strutted up and down the decks displaying their wares, and when one of the crew asked the price of a string of yellow beads we received the startling reply, “Ten dollars.” After ex- amining the beads 1 promptly bid the Egyptian Ponzi twenty-five cents cash in good American money. To my surprise the bid was accepted, but 1 refused, knowing that I could buy Mr. Woolworth’s products cheaper in the United States. At the gay city of Alexandria we also encountered different species of guides well versed in the art of guiding, and bills of fare of gigantic proportions which contained as much printing as the Encyclopedia Britannica, but meant little more than an ordinary menu. After leaving port and taking a last look at the Sultan’s five million dollar yacht, we re- turned to Haifa. Again the sandy plains and the sloping hill of Mount Carmel greeted us. Leaving Haifa we went through the calm sea to Naples, and after getting the most possible enjoyment out of that city we turned our eyes homeward. Through part of the Mediterranean, past the huge Rock of Gibraltar, into the rough Bay of Biscay, and then we steamed into the Atlantic Ocean. The time was long and the sea rough, but on the fifteenth of September, after pass- ing Nantucket Light Ship and Fire Island, we saw Coney Island, and then the gracious lady herself appeared holding her flaming torch high overhead as if welcoming us back, and signify- ing that our cruise was over. Fred Domina, Feb. ’2( . SAID THE SPECIALIST An exceptionally light tap upon the door of the office occupied by the Heart Specialist aroused the same into the realization that she had a visitor. She arose from her chair with- out haste. Serene, calm, and dignified, she made her leisurely way to the door and opened it. Before you are introduced to the visitor who is, by the way, to be known as the Distracted Lady, it is best that you know something about the Specialist -somewhat of the novel methods of her exceedingly strange business. First of all she was a “Doctor of Hearts,” a few of her lesser titles being “Hatcher of Affairs, “Mender of Hearts,” and “Madam Confidante.” Her plans seemed never to go amiss. With cool certainty and grim silence she heard a case to the end. Meanwhile her agile brain was in- specting it through a remarkably keen mind’s eye, sifting it and tearing it apart, placing each fact into a compartment of her extensive brain especially designed for it by merit of its importance. Thus at the end of a tale of woe she hesitated not an instant, but gave the ver- dict in tones so sure and certain that she seem- ed to challenge the very heavens to oppose her. But let us return to the Distracted Lady. She had taken a seat directly opposite to the Heart Specialist and was nervously fingering her hand bag as though she were at a loss as to how to begin. She was a very pretty girl, and, oh, so very young! She had crinkly brown hair that con- tained an abundance of queer little red lights, mischievous blue eyes, a very obstinate nose and laughing lips. But they weren’t laughing now. “Well?” inquired the Specialist in a strange- ly toneless voice that, like herself, betrayed not the least particle of emotion. The Distracted Lady stole a hasty glance at her advisor, hesitated a moment, swallowed hard, and began. “I suppose my case is rath- er common,” she said, her naturally musical voice husky with emotion that, try as she would, she could not conceal, “but anyway, it was like this. My—well, you don’t mind if I call him mv Cause of Distraction, do you?” The Heart Specialist solemnly shook her head. The faint glimmer of disdain upon her usually expressionless features dimly suggested PAGE THIRTEEN

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T II E R E F L E C TOR CLIFTO N HIGH SC H O O I, F E B R U A R V 9 2 6 The erstwhile Distracted Lady entered, very noticeably happy. Her laughing lips were part- ed in a joyous smile; even the tiny red lights in her crinkly brown hair twinkled furiously, as though from sheer joy. Her mischievous blue eyes sparkled radiantly in close competi- tion with the dazzling diamond on the third fing- er of her left hand. Unmoved by the Distracted Lady’s evident happiness the Heart Specialist serenely greet- ed her. “You’re looking well,’’ she said, her tone, as usual, monotonous from the absence of inflec- tion. “Have you heard?” asked the Distracted Lady anxiously, ignoring the Specialist’s polite interest in her welfare only because she desired to speak of the one thing entirely enveloping her mind and completely suffusing her heart. “No, but I can see,’’ Madam Confidente re- plied, gazing meaningly at the sparkling gem. “Indeed I can see,’’ she repeated with great finality and greater satisfaction at her own wit, “that you have your cause of Distraction wrap- ped securely about your finger.’’ “No-o-o!” protested the erstwhile Distract- ed Lady laughing, “the Foil!’’ Mabel V. Harhison, Feb. ’27. PRESCRIPTION NUMBER 3430 Buzz ! Buzz ! Zuzz ! sang the buzzer. “What in the world is that? Who is waking me up at this time of night? I suppose someone has an earache so they think it’s all right to call me out.’’ Joe Moss was a prescription clerk in Miner’s Bowery pharmacy. It was bis duty, as junior clerk, to sleep on the tortuous iron cot in the storeroom on warm nights, and under the coun- ter on cold nights, to satisfy the wants of the poorer section of New York’s Eastside. Joe was tired. He had been up most of the night before, and then had put in a hard day’s work dressing windows. He resented this get- ting out of bed late at night. “Why couldn’t these people come during the day? The door is open sixteen hours a day. Isn’t that time enough for them?” This was the third time that week Joe had been called from his warm bed to answer the bell. “Well, I bad better see what they want be- fore they push the button through the wall.” As Joe started for the front door he saw a lady stamping up and down in her impatience. In her hand was a prescription. “Well, that is better than a nickle’s worth of oil of cloves; we’ll make some money on this jot.” When he opened the door the woman rushed in, nervous and excited. “Fill this for me in a hurry—my little girl is almost dead.’’ Joe had never been in a hurry in his life. He bad an unwritten code not to hurry when he was called on duty at night. How could a man at that unearthly hour of the morning be in a hurry ? Joe scanned the prescription. Morphinae sulphate gr. XVrI Aqua Dis. qs. a.d. oz I Sig. gtt. v.g. 3 hrs. Dr. Hogan. “Well, this is important. I had better get a move on or this kid will pass out in a hurry.” Joe was sleepy and tired or he never would have done what he did. Instead of in a neat dropper bottle he dispensed the prescription in a regular one ounce bottle. He then wrote the label and pasted it on the bottle, smoothing it down to make a neat package. In his hurry he cheeked it but once, and then hastened out to give it to the woman. He followed her to the door in order to lock it and, while doing so. watched her turn down Henry Street, a street of dark, dreary, odoriferous tenement houses, every one alike. “I guess I had better clean up that counter before old man Miner gets down in the morn- ing or there will be trouble.” He was taking the graduates over to the wash-basin when his eye caught a familiar ob- ject on the floor behind the sales counter. Pick- ing it up he scrutinized it. “Five drops every three hours, Dr. Hogan.” “Why, that is the prescription I just filled. What label did I paste on the bottle? Here is where I make ray first mistake.” Immediately there flashed across Joe’s vis- ion the scene in the bed chamber. The woman opened the package and saw a regular bottle and a label. And what that label called for or what directions it gave, Joe did not know. “That lady will not know what to do. She’ll give that child a teaspoonful of that medicine and then where will I be? A teaspoonful of that medicine is enough to kill a couple of men.” Joe then saw himself behind the bars at Sing Sing. Then he saw himself being led to the electric chair; in his fright he could almost feel the current as it surged through his body. “This will never do,” thought Joe. “I must get that prescription back tonight.” PAGE FIFTEEN