Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1928 He walked at a fast pace up the Rue de la Fontaine and turned down Re Boulevard. He stopped at 113, ran up a flight of stone steps and rang the bell. He was immediately ushered into a large room. A moment later a young and beautiful girl came hurriedly into the room. “Ah Rem, how very seldom I see you. Since that night three months ago,” she blushed, “I have seen you but four times.” “Rene,” he squeezed her hand tenderly, “you know how much I love you. If I don’t come very often you know I can’t. I’m always thinking of you; I—Oh, Rene why think of the past? Are we not together now? I will see you very often soon again at the party.” “Oh yes.” She seemed happy. “Mother says I could wear those famous pearls which were almost stolen twice. “Yes, Ah here comes father.” “Father this is Monsieur Irriem who has invited us to his chateau.” Monsieur Valera was perhaps sixtv years old. He had an intelligent and somewhat fas- cinating gaze which when leveled at a person caused the latter to move uneasily. On this occasion he walked rapidly toward Rem and greeted him courteously. “Yes, ah yes,” he soliloquized, “I’m very glad to see you so that I can offer my apologies for being unable to accept your invitation. “Oh, well, maybe you’ll honor me with a visit some other time.” “Surely.” The evening passed in such conversation. Rem left at ten and walked slowly home- ward. “The old bird doesn’t like me much,” he mused. “Well,” with a sudden burst of en- thusiasm. “everything is coming along first rate even at that.” At seven on Thursday evening the majority of the guests were already collected in Rem Irriem’s spacious and beautiful salon. Rene, possibly to be decidely fashionable, came late. Rem went to the door immediately to meet her. Ah, come in. Now we’re all here.” Time passed rapidly with the customary ex- citement that is a positive feature of French gatherings. Some of the guests formed in groups and walked through the building. Others went in pairs. Rene and Rem formed one of these pairs. They were seated on a marble bench in an in- conspicuous corner of the main salon. At eleven o’clock or there about Rene sud- denly noted the loss of her pearls. ' Oh, Rem they’re gone.” “What’s gone?” “The pearls.” “The pearls ! They’re gone ! “Yes gone.” “Wait,—wait here. I’ll get the police.” “Yes, yes do so.” This conversation had not reached the ears of the guests who already showed the effects of too much liquor. Rem calmly walked out of the main door and ran quickly, by a side entrance, to the second floor. He stopped before a door; looked both ways and walked in locking the door behind him. Out of his pocket he drew a long, shining, pearl necklace: the famous “Million Franc,” Valera collection of pearls! Rem Irriem’s calmness and exterior coolness disappeared. “How simple,” he cried. “Every- thing was ‘pie’ as the Americans say. One mil- lion francs! Equivalent to about forty-two thousand pounds. I’ll get forty thousand sure from dad. I’ll leave for Arabia now and be there in sixteen days.” Monsieur Remif Irriem. native of Arabia, was never heard of again. Rene Valvera drove her “Parisian” slowly home. She almost cried at the thought of Rem’s hypocricy. She wondered what her father would say—she reached home. Rene opened the living room door and walked silently in. There, contrary to any expecta- tions, for it was late, sat her father, on a big comfortable easy chair reading a thick volume of I he Life of Napoleon.” Upon her en- trance he looked up, welcomed her with a pa- ternal welcome and continued reading. “Father I have something important to say to you.” “Monsieur Valera looked up. “Yes?” “Father I—the— “Yes?” “I lost—someone stole—Rem— “Your Arabian friend ‘Borrowed’ your necklace. Is that it? he asked sarcastiacallv. “Yes, How— “Well, Rene, time and experience are the best teachers. I didn’t like this Arab from the first. My suspicions were correct.” But mother s necklace. Your suspicions didn’t save that.” “Oh my dear daughter, don’t worry over the loss of that necklace you were wearing.” He seemed to enjoy the situation. “It cost me exactly twelve francs. The original is lying safely on the second shelf in that safe,” he said pointing a steady finger at a small, barrel shaped steel structure. Anthony Tubbiolo. June ’30. PAGE FIFTEEN

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THE KEF LECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1 9 2 S THE PHANTOM SHIP I Out from the harbor sailed one day. Blown by the breeze about, A tiny ship upon its way To brave the sea of doubt. II The name inscribed upon the boat To mark its way through strife. Was one so easily to note In large letters was “Life.” III But sailing there t’was not alone. From out some corner came Another ship, much like its own Ambition was its name. IV Ambition was a phantom dim, A ghostlike, haunting ship, And light shone through its every limb Too frail for any trip. V But fated to sail on the sea Together o’er the tide, They could not peaceful travelers be Or comrades side by side. VI The ship called “Life” encountered storms Where waves were high and mad; Ever Ambition’s ghostlike arms Dimmed any light it had. VII And when through peaceful moonlight calm This fated vessel sailed. The phantom stretched its ghostlike arms The peacefulness assailed. VIII And after “Life” had run the race. What work it did, well done. Still stared Ambition’s haunting face Recalling work undone. IX There’re many encounter the bitter fate While sailing the sea of doubt Having Ambition their haunting mate Haunting the trip throughout. Ellen Phillips, June ’30. BY SUBSTITUTION Remiff Irriern, Arab, reclining with evident p'easure on an oriental couch, was inhaling the perfumed smoke of a Turkish cigarette. The light from a green shaded electric lamp re- vealed a face and figure molded into a rare masculine beauty. His clothes suggested the French “dandy.” Rem was deep in thought. Ever since he had left his native country to come to his fa- ther’s chateau he had been trying to concoct a scheme by which he could put a conspicuous bulge to his almost hollow pockets and when a dim light did flicker in, he grasped at it with enthusiasm and worked on it until he had a prospect in view which he considered positive. As he took a long last puff from his cigarette stub, he rose, rearranged his tie and made ready to go out. At this point, three short consecu- tive knocks sounded telling him that Nasi, a man in his hire, was behind his door. “Come in.” His voice was high and showed a trace of eagerness. A short, stocky middle-aged man with an un- kempt beard was framed in the doorway. He closed the door carefully, took his hat off, and walked in. “Well,” inquired Rem, wdiat news?” “The young lady accepted and will be here with the others at eight on the next Thursday.” “Who read my note?” “Mademoiselle Rene. She accepted right away, She loves you, don’t —” “Did she give you a note for me?” The man silently handed him a blue, per- fumed envelope, and retreated to a corner where he waited. Rem Irriern read the contents with a sinister smile. “Dear Rem, I received your invitation with an un- limited degree of pleasure. Mother and father thank you for theirs but they will be unable to attend. I will come alone. Rene.” As he read, the expression on his face be- came a triumphal leer. “Mother and father won’t come. Ha ! that’s good,” he mused half aloud. “Twenty-nine guests; a real French social party—fine? Nasi.” “Here.” “Go down to the salon and take a last look over everything. We have only two more days before the party.” The servant walked out quickly. Rem once more arranged his tie. He took his cane from under an aged bookcase and he, also, stepped out. PAGE FOURTEEN

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THE K E F L E C T O R CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 19 2 8 THE RISE TO FAME As Marie Moniva walked down the many flights of stairs she thought of her past; what amusements had she had behind those brick walls, the only good times that she could think of were those when she sat at the piano in the little old fashioned sitting room singing the songs of her childhood. Now she rejoiced over these happy moments as she reached the street. Her short well worn coat barely covered her knees and the hat, a purple felt adorned with a simple black ribbon, was crushed on her bushy unkempt hair. She stood perfectly still for a moment and looked around. Just above the door out of which she had just come she read two words which seemed to stand out in large letters, “Orphan Asylum.” “Yes, I leave you now,” she thought, “to see what this outside world has to offer me.” She didn’t know which way to turn and stood, motionless thinking of the responsibilities which had fallen on her young shoulders but she again plucked up her courage saying to herself, Well other girls have been in this very same dread- ful position.” “What can I do,” lurked in her mind. “Take care of children? Oh no! no patience for that. Housework? no again, I’m too thin and small, it would be too strenuous but maybe I could—my, my was that a child’s scream I heard?” Grasping her suitcase tighter she ran quickly toward Pine Park and there in the duck pond found the object of her search. Its head bobbed up and down and suddenly disappeared. Quickly she plunged into the water and with a vigorous pull, pulled the small unconscious boy out of the water. When she finally reached the bank dripping wet she was surrounded by a cheering crowd of people out of which emerged a short stout woman who came running toward her with out- stretched arms. Bewildered and amazed, Marie stood motionless not even aware of the cold which was gripping her now soaked body hold- ing tightly to the little boy in her arms. Suddenly she awoke from the trance which she seemed to be in, and handed the little boy to the tearful woman who was his mother. She thanked Marie and invited her to her home to dry her clothing. So taking her suitcase and putting the woman’s wrap over her shivering figure, she walked hastily with the woman to a waiting car in which sat a doctor who soon brought the. little boy back to consciousness. Sitting beside the doctor was a middle-aged well groomed man in uniform who now drew Marie’s hand toward him and placed in it a shining gold medal which was her reward for her bravery. She thanked him heartily and sank back into the ear closing her dreamy eyes. After what seemed a very long time to Marie she found herself standing before a very small weather-beaten cottage which needed more than a coat of paint. The next moment she had entered and was sitting in a small par- lor furnished shabbily but having an air of pure cleanliness about it. Here she sat and told the woman whose name she now learned was Mrs. Bradley that she had just left an asylum to start her own way in the world. Thus it came to pass that Marie became like one of the family at Bradleys. The following week she found work in a de- partment store in the city in spite of her six- teen years and earned just about enough to pay Mrs. Bradley for her hospitality. Even though she detested this work the very noise of which made her nervous, she worked there for a very long time creating a very good reputation for herself. On Marie’s seventeenth birthday Mrs. Brad- ley had managed to prepare a very delicious supper. After this fine repast, Marie was re- quested to play and sing at the old forlorn looking piano which very badly needed a tun- ing. While this was going on inside a destitute old man, the very picture of sorrow passed the little cottage and Marie’s voice came like music to his ears. It rose higher and higher and grad- ually died away into a low, sad melancholy murmur. It stirred the very heart of him and the next minute he was telling Marie how her voice had stirred him, given him courage and sealed his past forever. He further told her to have an interview with some great music master which she instantly said she would do but the words kept ringing in her ears—her fu- ture—w'hat about it—rise to fame—were her dreams coming true? She couldn’t say but she determined to try very hard to please who ever her master would be. The following week she went to the studio of Monsieur Dauphel who marveled over her voice and told her that with a little polish and culture she would soon rise to fame. This in- terview cost Marie twenty dollars which was far too much for her to pay and while paying her second call at the studio she told the Monsieur of her plight. At first he meant to dismiss her but generosity soon overpowered him who had always been very strict about the payments of his services and he decided to cultivate Marie’s voice for five dollars a lesson if she worked hard. She was overjoyed and promised to do her best. PAGE SIXTEEN