Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

Page 28 text:

Peggy: Hello, everyone. Phil: Hi, Peggy. Kay: Hello, Peggy. Bob: Hullo. Kay: Well, I'll run along since you've come to manage these he-men. Bob: Me, too. Peggy: Oh, Bob, wait. Phil: Maybe I'd better go, too. Peggy: No, don't bother. Bob, there's something I want to tell you. Bob: Yes? Peggy: Well, you know I went out with Bill Evans last night. Well, I'm sorry, but I'll have to return your pin. Bob: Let's be friends.-All right, I know when to quit. So long. Come along, Phil. Phil: Gee, that's tough, old man. Bob: That's all right. I'll get over it, but gee, it hurts. X5C'ell, here's your class. I hate History, and now I've got to listen to it for a whole period. Phil: Why you used to like it. I remember your saying- Bob: Qlixcitedlyj, Say, who is that stunning girl? . Day Dreams I wish we lived in days of old, When maids were fair, and knights were bold. I'd be a maid with golden hair, And you a prince, who'd dangers dare In some tall tower far from home To rescue me, a captive lone. I'd dream about you, one dark night And next day you'd ride into sight. When you looked, I'd wave my hand, And somehow you would understand. You'd kill the dragons at the door To set me free to sing once more. Then when we reached my father's land, You'd ask him for my fair white hand. Full gladly would he grant you this, And wish us happiness and bliss. We would be wed in splendid state. You'd find I made a lovely mate. Within a castle on a hill, With happiness our days we'd fill. I wish we lived in days of old, When maids were fair, and knights were bold. M. H omcb The REFLECTOR- rj- - ...'-21'-1 24

Page 27 text:

Kay: Well, I do. Bob: He's a big nuisance. But, gee, I don't blame him. Peggy sure is a swell girl. She's the nicest girl I've met, ever. Kay: From my Lothario brother. The boy who would never fall again. Bob: Well, don't you think I've sufficient excuse? Kay: Yes, but Peggy is really too nice for you. Bob: Yeah, that's just the trouble: I think so, too. Kay: Such humility. Ssh, here they come! Phil: Thanks, awfully. Come along, Kay: let's eat. Bob: Always thinking of your stomach. Phil: So long, Bobbie. Be good. Kay: Good-bye. Bob: Good riddance. Peggy: Bob- Bob: Nothing much. We were saying how long we seemed to have known each pin. other, and, well, I thought that maybe you'd wear my graduation Peggy: But, Bob-that means- Bob: will you? It means that I like you enough to want you to wear my pin, Peggy: Of course, Bob, if you want me to. Bob: Gee, that's swell. Here, let me put it on. ACT III. Scene: Corridor in Newton High, two months later. Phil and Kay talking Bob approaching. Phil: Doing anything tomorrow night? Kay: No, not that I know of. Why? Phil: I have two tickets to a show, and I thought you might like to come along. Hello, Bob. Kay: Yes, I'll go. Whats the matter, Bob? You look down in the mouth. Bob: Aw, there's nothing much the matter. Where did you say you were going? Phil: Over to see Southern Sunshine , I hear that it's very good. Bob: Yeah, it's all right: I saw it last night. Kay: Why, I thought you were going to a dance with Peggy last night. Bob: Well, I didn't. Phil: So, Bill Evans is beating your time at last. Well, well! Our Romeo can't hold his girl. Bob: Whos been kidding you? Phil: No one. But I've seen Bill and Peggy around quite a lot together, and I know Bill is taking her to the Senior dance. Bob: Yeah? So what? Kay: Oh, Bobby, I'm so sorry. Bob: Well, you needn't be. And don't call me Bobby. Kay: All right, Robert. Here comes the woman who blighted your life. Rally round. The REFLECTOR - 23

Page 29 text:

Mysterious Night A star is mirrored in the lake, One solitary diamond from some pirate's loot, And moonbeams slowly o'er the mountain fall, Enveloping the trees in mystery. -Eleanor Roericb Backstage On Opening Night By Callaryfz C. George FTER walking down a long, dark, quiet alley, I come upon the stage entrance. At last I have reached my destination. After a cheery hello to Mr. O'Brien, the stage door-man seated in the outer ofhce, I open the inner door and a gust of warm air blows on my face. Shouts of laughter and talking issue from every direction. A. blaze of lights welcomes my arrival as the huge spotlights are being placed in their positions for the first scene of the season's newest play. I try to cross over to the center of the stage, but I am stopped by two burly men who are occupied in moving a large piece of scenery. It seems as if no one is idle. Everyone is bustling with excitement. As another piece of scenery is being moved toward me, I run over to a quiet corner where I can observe everything unnoticed. From this point of vantage I can see the various dressing rooms. The more brilliantly painted ones belong to the principals in the cast. As the doors open occasionally to admit a maid with gayly-colored costumes, l can catch a glimpse of the glamorous people who occupy them. Once more I am obliged to move as a massive cabinet is pushed near my corner. This time I approach-the door of the leading lady's dressing room, for I know I shall be undisturbed there. I breathe a sigh of contentment as I smell the grease paint, for I am a true lover of the theatre. Suddenly quiet reigns as the door near me opens. Miss Brownlee comes forth. She is a woman of medium stature and rather plain-looking for the glamorous roles she portrays on the stage. Her one striking feature is her rich auburn hair piled abundantly above her fore- head. She is clothed in a quaint black gown whose plainness is relieved only by a string of pearls suspended from her white neck. All is in readiness as she nears the stage. The stage hands scurry off as the last piece of furniture is placed in position. Miss Brownlee crosses to the center of the stage, and the rustling of programs and conversation in the audience ceases, for she is a majestic figure and demands attention. As she speaks her first lines, a young man joins her. I watch both intently. You may wonder, dear reader, why I, too, am not preparing for the play, but my part is that which many of us portray in real life. I, alas, am Miss Brownlee's understudy. The REFLECTOR - - l- 25