Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1928 topple over? And to think of trains running under the ground. Well nobody would ever get her to risk her neck in one of those under- ground contraptions. As for those running in the air. Heavens! She would be in mortal dread of capitulating through the air and landing on the roof of some building. When she walked into the lobby of the Hotel Wolcott she stopped and gasped. What a wide staircase and what splendor! Women in evening gowns and men in full dress! Suddenly she felt shabby and coarse. She drew back into a corner and watched the peo- ple. The girls seemed to have no pride. There they were paradin’ up and down laughing, and all sparkly with jewels. Well if they had no pride she had. So stalk- ing up to the desk she stammered a few words to the clerk, signed her name, and was shown to her room. Trembling and embarrassed she threw herself on the bed and began to cry. She was lonely and so all alone. How she longed for Taville. She had no idea New York was so big or held so many people. And never in her life had she thought so much of Taville, here so many hundred miles away from it. She did not go down for supper. She felt too miserable aand was afraid to appear in front of all those dazzling people especially after her humiliation in the Chicago restaurant regarding the silverware. Instead, she went into the street where at least it would be dark and no one would see her. But, to her dismay it was not dark. All the lights of Broadway were lit. She wondered how there could be so much light. Finally, tired and spent, she went back to the hotel. In the morning she did some shopping. She couldn’t buy much but she remembered her mother and father. With her bundles in her arms, once more she boarded a train this time bound for home. All the way she thought of the large pleasant farmhouse and longed to hear her mother’s nag- ging voice calling her “the laziest thing God created.” She watched the wide sweeping prairie with a new wonder. Never before did these scenes hold so much attraction for her. What were the lights, money and splendors of New York compared with the wonderful beauty nature had made? How she cried with joy when she was once more in her mother’s arms back in Taville, the stupidest town in the world. Margaret Sturm, Feb. ’28. DILIGENCE IS SUCCESS The glorious ball of golden fire stood sus- pended in the air amid a mass of gorgeous col- ors. Gradually it began to sink, casting a last loving glance upon the earth. Its dying rays found their way to the lone, silent figure which stood silhouetted against the horizon. Tenderly, caressingly, they played about the bowed fair head, which caught the mellow rays of the wav- ering sunlight, as a soft stray breeze stirred the silken hair. The soothing peace of twi’ight had settled upon the earth as Douglas Danials turned with a deep sigh from his father’s last resting place. So great a love had grown between father and son that Douglas was loath to leave the calm peaceful solitude of the little grave-vard on the hill. His steps faltered as the turmoil within his breast increased and, try as he would, he could not keep back the scalding tears which coursed down his tanned cheeks. People turned to gaze pityingly at the heartbroken young man who was a picture of utter misery with his rumpled hair tossed to the breeze while the im- print of great loss and suffering has already left its mark upon his features. The tiny wainscoted cottage behind its im- posing row of maples and velvety green lawn brought a momentary ray of happiness to his tortured soul. He stood for a moment on the broad veranda his eyes staring unseeinglv far away into the gathering dusk. “Dad, Dad,” Douglas softly whispered, “I’ll fight, yes fight to attain but one goal which now seems so far away.” His head went up, as with added energy he cried, “Your wish must come true, I will make a success of my ven- ture, I will some day be the healing hand to the sick, the doctor of mercy, that you had planned for me.” His frame shook as he exclaimed, “Oh, Dad ! How I wish you were here to help me on, as you would have done had you lived.” Entering the comfortable library he gazed upon his father’s treasures, always held dear. A smoking jacket together with a pipe still lay where they had been carelessly placed bv the tender hands now still in death. A pair of felt slippers under the table seemed to indicate that their owner had thrust them there in a hurrv. Strange memoirs! Ah yes! Strange memoirs of a happy past! V ith the feeling of one utterly exhausted, he at last sank into a chair close to the open wood fire whose merry crackling resounded in the strangely quiet house. Thus he sat far into the long hours of the night with the dying em- bers of the fire casting a ruddy glow upon his thoughtful contenance. He seemed to see in the dimming firelight the dearly loved image of the one who had been to him both father and mother. page ten

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON H I ; H SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1 9 2 8 At five o’clock he went down to the flying field, carrying with him a pigeon which he had kept in his observatory. A large crowd was at the field, even though it was early morning. Forte came in the hangar, smiling as he waved his arms to the people. Forte was very much surprised to see Davies as one of the spectators at the field. Me had said goody-bye last night and the professor had told him that he would not come down to the field. Forte did not ques- tion Davies, who gave Forte the pigeon. Davies wished him good luck and started back to the observatory. He stopped near the wood which bordered the field, looked back to where Forte was standing and proceeded to his astronomical building. He gazed through the telescope and saw Forte flying toward the sea, amid the shouts of the people. The papers had a large write-up stating that Forte would reach land within thirty-five houre. Seventy hours later a pigeon was seen to alight on the large dome of the Paris observa- tory. Several minutes later Davies was read- ing the following note which was attached to the leg of the pigeon: Land below, broken wing, dropping fast, willing to die in H. B. Davies folded the note containing the grue- some contents and slowly walked near the tele- scope and gazing through with tear dimmed eves said, “What you predicted, I am afraid has come true.” A. Kaplan, Feb. ’28. H ETTIE ’S D IS ILEUS IONMENT People came. People went. But they al- ways left her there in Taville. She could see them, silhouetted against the western sky from her kitchen window. She was so forlornly mad to travel that she hated the trains and the people on them for not taking her along. She had no gifts, no beauty, no brains. She might have been pretty if she had pretty clothes or a graceful carriage. But she slouched all the time. Even her name was ugly: Hettie Slatmire. The town she lived in was the stupidest town in the world. If only she could get some money to go east with. That was her one ambition. “What you wan’na go east fur? You ain’t got good looks nor purty clothes or lots of money. What spunk have you got? You’re just nachelly born lazy,” her mother would rail at her. But Hettie thought differently. If she only got to New York with other women, swell clothes and money! In her spare hours Hettie went to the neigh- boring farmhouse and did odd chores for a few dollars a week. At the end of two years she had six hundred dollars saved under the floor board in her bed- room. One morning when Hettie went down to the kitchen as usual her mother cried, “Lan’ sakes! Don’t you know today is washin’ day? Now you march right upstairs and take off yer good things and none of yer high falooten idears neither, young lady.” “But, maw, you know you said I could go east if I got the money. Well I got it and now I’m leavin’ for New York on the eight o’clock train. That’s why I’m dressed. You call this dressed? Wait till you see what my things will be like in New York. I’ll send you some to show you what you’re missin’.” Hettie’s mother was too astonished for words. To think that the daughter she thought had no gumption at all should save all that money and then go east. For the mother her- self had a longing at certain times, for the life of ease and luxury, but she never admitted it to a soul. Hettie boarded the eastbound train bravely with her small suitcase, containing all her worldly belongings, clutched tightly in one hand and her pocketbook, with all her money, in the other. She was shown to her compartment and pro- ceeded to make herself comfortable. She lounged in a seat and dreamily watched the passing landscape. This was what she termed the essence of life. Just merely to sit and travel away from Taville. The train stopped at several stations on the wav and at one Hettie bought some candy to nibble on. Arrived in Chicago, she stepped bewildering- ly from the car a forlorn looking little figure. She inquired for a hotel and was directed to the Hotel Blackstone. What a pretty room but oh, such a lot of money to pay for it. She began to realize how small six hundred dollars was in a big city. She was afraid to venture into the street alone. It was her first night in a big city and she was a little awed. A few days later Hettie again got on a train, this time bound for the great city. Time seemed eternal but finally the train pulled into the terminal at New York. This time when she stepped onto the plat- form half a dozen men rushed up to her and shouted Taxi! taxi!” right in her face. The nerve! If a man had done that out in Taville she would have slapped his face. But, New York was different. When she found out what a taxi was she stepped gingerly into one and directed the driver to take her to a good hotel. What buildings! They made her shudder. What if that big tall one on her right should PAGE NINE

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HI OH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1928 CHAPTER II Time had wrought great changes upon the once happy-go-lucky youth, leaving a serious- faced hard working young man. The great pathway of life was hard and rough traveling for Douglas, but as some other weak-willed young man might not have done, he kept dog- gedly onward, his lips set in a grim straight line. After his father’s estate had been settled, Douglas found that the cottage alone remained and this he decided to lease to an old couple who had expressed a desire to make the little cottage their home. Now a college education would cost money but of this there was very little. “Therefore the next best thing to do,” thought Douglass, “is to find a suitable posi- tion at which I can earn a sufficient amount to cover my expense at college.” But this was more easily said than done, for it was many months of weary interviews and inquiries before he secured work. All this while, his money was slowly diminishing, so it was with a thankful heart that Douglas tackled his self-imposed work, vowing that as long as there was a bit of breath in his body he would not “lie down on the job.” Time waits for no one and a year had slowly rolled by with nothing of an exciting nature happening except the day when Mr. Grayson, his employer, had announced an increase in Douglas’s salary, which was accepted with the greatest joy, for this would help his savings multiply. To Douglas’s chagrin, on counting up his hard earned savings lie found that he had only enough money to carry him through a year at college. Of course this Was a bitter disappointment to the youth. He was now fac- ing a new difficulty: should he continue work- ing for another year, or go to college and try to work his way through by doing extra work after classes. He decided on the latter and in due time sent in his resignation to his employer. On the day of his departure, Douglas’s co- workers accompanied him to the station to bid him good-bye. He had so arranged that he could take a train which would stop for at least a half hour at his home town. In this short time he had decided to visit the last rest- ing place of his parents. The snug little village and the cozy cottages seemed to calm his racing heart, but the quiet peace of the tiny graveyard on the hill appealed to him more than ever. Tears dimming his vision, head bowed, he stood gazing sorrowfully at the two graves. He stood in the deepening twilight as he had that memorable day when he had seen the remains of his beloved father lowered into that yawning chasm, now a mound. CHAPTER III Rah, rah, rah! Renault’s, Renault’s! Rah, rah, rah!” The cheer was deafeningly shouted by an enthusiastic group of young men who were jostling out of the Renault’s station. Each young man wore that same big grin which can be seen on the face of every freshman who thinks that college is one great joke—a life of fun and pranks—wild parties and dances. Yet not on every one’s face, for there in the crowd could be distinctly seen, the grim face of Doug- las. He knew that college for him would mean long hours of work and study. Had he not vowed to make a success of his venture? Had he not vowed to make his Dad’s dream come true? He smiled grimly as the merry crowd pushed him on his way. Renault’s Medical College at last and at the entrance gates a group of Sophs with wide spread grins of anticipation for approaching freshies! “Hi, there Pretty,” cried one boisterous fel- low, “let’s show these freshies around the town,”—adding with a wink,” They want to join the T Am A Booba club. Oh yes! they’ll enjoy it they will. Ha, Ha.!” Thus with much bantering back and forth Douglas Danials, and his recently acquired friends, entered into the merry life at Renault’s. CHAPTER IV Crash! Bang! “E-e-eow! H-h-he s-s-spi- spilled th-the c-c- coffee o-o-On m-m-me.” “Say Splutter drop the chatter. You’re not dead yet.” “Y-Y-yes, I’m a-a-about d-d dead,” stut- tered “Chick” Zarn with a queer look on his face which sent the young men into hearty fits of laughter. “Here, here, what is all this noise?” cried a deep, kindly, masculine voice, “Douglas Dan- ials I never thought that you could cause such a rumpus.” “I’m sorry sir, but it wasn’t done intention- ally,” answered a much besmeared student. The remains of what had been a soft boiled egg clung to his sunny hair, while his immacu- lately clean white apron and blouse were ac- tually drenched with coffee and stained with eggs. So sorry a looking spectacle as Douglas then presented had never before been seen. Even the kindly Dean himself was inclined to smile but instead he kept as straight a face as was possible. To add to Douglas’s misery and embarrassment, his fellow students, unable to contain themselves any longer, let forth roars of laughter. About to flee to privacy of the kitchen. Douglas was halted by a friendly hand on his shoulder. PACE ELEVEN