Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

Page 33 text:

THE REFLECTOR Betty opened the note. At exactly the same time as she read, Will you go to the dance with me, she heard the same words. Looking up, she saw Bill. Why-ah-Jimmy just asked me to go with him, and--f' Did you accept? queried Bill. No, not yet. You see, he sent me a note and you asked me at the time I read his invitation in the notef' she explained. Then I've got the greater claim. I asked you personally, he argued. Betty didn't know what to do. She wanted to be polite, and Bill's argument sounded logical. Still, she really wanted to go with Jimmy. Please give me until this afternoon to decidef' she pleaded. All right, said Bill. There was nothing else he could say. After school the three of them met. I've figured a way out of the difficulty, Betty announcd. As you probably know, many of the students have been surmising and argu- ing about which of your cars is the faster and who is the better driver. Now, to settle this argument suppose you have a race next Saturday. Your car will be out of the garage by then, won't it, Jimmy? Yes, it will, replied -jimmy. But how does that solve the prob- lem of who's going to take you to the dance?,' Why, that,s simple. I'll go with the winner. That,s too easy,', said Bill. Why don't you give Jimmy a chance? Q'I'm satisfied, said Jimmy, trying hard to control his temper. It's an even chance. Although your car is newer and more expensive than mine, they have about an equal amount of power. It will be a test of drivers. I think it's a great idea. And may the best man win. Then they went into conference. They decided that the race would begin at two o'clock on the following Saturday on the Lincoln Road at a point just on the outskirts of Middleton. The drivers would follow this road for about five miles-to Ben Johnson's farm. Ben Johnson was Betty's uncle. When they arrived there, they would circle the farm and return over the same route. Red Jackson would be starter-they knew he,d consent-and he and Betty would be the judges. Word of the race spread rapidly, and on Saturday a large crowd of students, and some older folks, gathered early. Bill was there early also, bragging about how easily he would beat Jimmy. Jimmy didn't arrive until exactly two o'clock. Red gave them the Hnal instructions and started them off by shooting his younger brother's Fourth of July cannon. Jimmy let Bill take the lead from the start, but never let him get more than two or three hundred yards ahead of him. When they reached the farm, Bill was leading by about three hundred yards. Then Jimmy decided it was time to begin closing up that space, and bit by bit it was lessened, until at a point approximately a quarter of a mile from the finish line he caught up with him. Bill had done his best, but realizing now that he was beaten, he Twenty-nine

Page 32 text:

THE REFLECTOR explaining satisfactorily to Pop, left via the back door. Bill ordered an ice cream soda, and, after consuming it hastily, went back to Betty,s house, which was only a block away and around the corner. A vine running up the porch obstructed his view of it, but when he arrived there he found Jimmy waiting for some one to answer the bell he had just rung. So you're over here to speak to Pop on important business, sneered Bill. And you're here just to try out his sodas, retaliated Jimmy. Before the argument could progress any further, Mrs. Harris opened the door. Hello, Jimmy. Hello, Bill, she greeted. I suppose you boys are here to see Betty? I am, said Jimmy. So am I, echoed Bill. 'Tm sorry, boys, but she's gone to the movies. Is there any message I can give her? No, I didn't have anything important to say, lied Jimmy. Neither did I, added Bill. l'Sorry to have troubled you. No trouble at all, said Mrs. Harris. But if you'll excuse me now -Joe and Moe are just coming over the radiof, Okay. Good-night, Mrs. Harris, said Jimmy. Good-night, repeated Bill. Good-night, boys. I'11 tell Betty you were here, said Mrs. Harris, allowing the door to slam after her. USO-long, squawker,', said Bill. Here's hoping you forget the cheers. Good-night, 'Red Grange',,' answered Jimmy. Here's hoping you get the signals mixed up. The next morning Jimmy waited in front of the school for Betty. He had to see her before Bill did. Bill knew, now, that he had compe- tition and would be as anxious as Jimmy to see Betty. I-Ie did not meet her before school began. She had come early and entered the building to do some extra typing. The bell rang. jimmy wouldn,t see Betty until fourth period, and he knew Bill would see her first period. What should he do! Ah! That's it. He'd ask his sister, who was also in that Hrst period English class with Betty and Bill, to give Betty a note. He took out a pad, scrib- bled hurriedly, and then ran after his sister, whom he saw just entering the school building. He gave her the note, and cautioned her to lose no time in giving it to Betty. As soon as Betty reached room 207, Ruth Hunter pounced upon her and handed her a note, commanding her to read it immediately. Ruth was anxious to please jimmy today. Her birthday occurred soon, and she was expecting something valuable from him. Twenty-eight

Page 34 text:

THE REFLECTOR swerved sharply and forced Jimmy through the fence. Then he straight- ened his wheels again and sped on, chuckling to himself. Bill, the great football hero, was a good winner but a poor loser. Before Jimmy could restraighten his wheels he crashed into a hay- stack. He wasn,t hurt, and as he shifted to reverse it seemed as if the car was not badly damaged. But when he regained his place in the road, he found that he could not go forward: his shift was locked in reverse. It's all over now, he decided, as he continued homeward in reverse. As he sped along as fast as possible backwards, he was hoping-an almost forlorn hope-that something might have happened to Bill's car, and that he might still win. He was near the finish line now. just a few hundred yards to go. Bill must be there already. When he turned that bend in the road he would be able to see the finish line-see Bill, triumphantly receiving the congratulations of the students. If Jimmy said anything about the dirty trick that had been played on him, Bill would deny it, of course. There was no proof, so he might as well not say anything. He wouldn't. Then he turned the bend, and-could he believe his eyes? Lady Luck was smiling on him at last. A railroad crossed the road just two hundred yards before the finish line, and there was Bill, waiting for a freight train to pass. jimmy still had a chance. Not much of a chance, to be sure, but it was a chance. Bill could drive forward, and it was easier to drive forward. Still, perhaps Bill would stall when he tried to start. Perhaps--. But now Jimmy had caught up to him, and just as the end of the train passed. Jimmy shot across the tracks without stopping, without even slackening his speed. Bill, having seen Jimmy hit the haystack, felt secure. He thought he had no more competition. He didn't care how long the train held him up. He had stopped his motor. Then, just as the train ended, Jimmy shot past him. He lost time in starting his motor, then he be- gan to close up that lead of jimmy's, but the distance to the finish line was too short. Jimmy crossed it with a lead of approximately three yards. Bill knew he couldn't stay there now. After all his bragging during the week and at the beginning of the race, he knew he would be the object of much jeering for letting jimmy beat him-and in reverse at that. Therefore, William Jennings Dawson did not stop but continued straight home as if he thought the race was still in progress. The next Friday night the Junior Prom was held, and the charming Miss Elizabeth Harris was seen in the company of that young speed demon, Jimmy Hunter. After quite a few dances together, they decided to sit the next out. In that case the out,' meant out of doors. They strolled, arm in arm, toward the river that flowed alongside the school. And then-. But we'll have to end our story here, because what happened after that is none of our affair. RALPH B. TOMPKINS, June 1933. Thirty