Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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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

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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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TUE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1926 He turned to the telephone and wasted a number of precious minutes attempting to reach the doctor, but the only answer central would give him was, “Sorry. They don’t answer.” Something must be done. He remembered see- ing her turn down Henry Street, so he rushed off in that direction, stopping a second to tell the patrolman on the beat to watch the store so no one would carry off the safe and cash register. Fear lent speed to his heels and short- ly he arrived at Henry Street. “What house did she enter? Thev are all alike.” By this time Joe saw himself laid out in a coffin with his friends silently and sadly mourn- ing over him. “This will never do. How can I ffnd her?” He was walking slowly down the street let- ting his gaze rove every which-way when his eye encountered an orange splotch far up on the dark expanses of the tenement. “That must be the sick-room. I had better investigate.” Into the hallway plunged Joe on his way to the top floor. His path was blocked by the accu- mulation of ages. Discarded baby carriages, broken bird cages, filthy mattresses; everything the tenants had no use for at present seemed to be out in the passageway in order to hinder him in his quest. At last the top floor was reached. He rush- ed through the dirty unkempt rooms until he came to the front bedroom. There was the woman pouring out a dose of the medicine in what appeared to Joe as the largest teaspoon in the world. Joe’s heart stopped beating. “Wait a minute. Let me see that label. Did you give her any of this stuff yet?” Glaring up at him was a plain blank label, and when the lady gave him a negative re- sponse Joe’s heart resumed its natural function. He gave her explicit directions and a dropper, and then went back to the store. But not to sleep. When old man Miner came down in the morning he found the store open for business and the place all cleaned up; even the floor was freshly mopped. Something was wrong. Joe was in the back crimping the prescription labels. “What’s the matter, Joe? Aren’t you feeling well? What are you doing?” “I’m all right. I’m just fixing these so they don’t stick together; they might give us some trouble some time.” Stanley Woodruff, June '26. COURAGE “I’m afraid, I’m afraid,” sobbed the boy, as he sat at the table with his head on his arms. President Lincoln had just issued a new draft. Men, money, and more men were need- ed! Lee’s victories in the east had instilled fear in the hearts of the countrymen in Penn- sylvania and New York. Union soldiers were deserting at the rate of a thousand a week! Officers were finding hundreds of excuses for “vacations.” Lincoln realized that an important step must be taken, or the war might result disastrously for the North. The new draft was put to work in Pennsylvania and New York, and was caus- ing riots and mob attacks. Thomas Amor had been notified of the draft. He was but a lad of sixteen, called to duty to fight for the honor of his country. His father and older brother had just been killed in the terrific battle of Shiloh. This episode had in- stilled fear of war in the boy’s heart. He was afraid! He lifted his head at a sound in the hall. Soft, steady footsteps came until they were outside his door. The boy re- mained motionless. The door knob was turned quickly. The door opened and closed. The first thing that Tom seemed to see through his blurred eyes was a gorgeous blue cape, wrapped around the body of a tall, lithe man. As the man came nearer, Tom’s eyes cleared and were drawn to his quiet, forceful features. He saw clear eyes, looking steadily into his, seeming to pierce his soul. This man lifted his right arm and pointed at the boy, saying in a kindly tone, “Do you know me? I am Courage. My talc is a tale of the highways and byways, and the broad, white plains, and the midnight pines, and the mystic- tinkle of hidden brooks on moonlit hillsides. “It is a tale of the sea, of battlefields, of pal- aces and humble cottages, of the roads that cross and recross everywhere—railroads, mud roads, and the straight, straight road of duty. The desert wastes of Egypt know it, the cold snows of Labrador, the rice fields of China,— and the streets of Philadelphia. “I can infuse bravery and courage into every human being. For doing brave deeds, some are called heroes. You are afraid now, but you will not be so on the battle-field. PAGE SIXTEEN