Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLEC TOR , On Eb's face was a grim smile. On Sylvia's, a look of horror. On Phil's, fear, anger, and surprise played a game of tag. He thought of jumping out with the girl, but that would be fatal, he knew. He tried to get control of the steering wheel, but suddenly they were at the bottom of the incline. The road turned. The car did not. A sickening crash came as the frail fence gave way to the onrushing behemoth which was Ebenezer Stiles' auto. Far out over the cliff it shot. Time stood still, as, for an awful moment, the car seemed to hang there in space. Then, like a plummet, it fell, striking the terrible rocks below witl1 a ghastly explosion. Livid sheets of flame shot out on every side. 'K 'F i 'lf if Next day the sign still stood in the window ofa general store in Colinsville. Closed for the Night. It would be a very long night. The dawn was a good way off. All of which transpired because one young man forgot to check his supply of gasoline. ' Youth, Take Heed! By Dorothy O'C0nner, june, '36 Youth, listen and take heed, We, the aged, have lived, and know. Then the children cry this answer, We need not your help, foolish old ones. Be careful 'ere your Rubicon be crossed too soon, Stay awhile beneath the guardian wing. Ye know not life, its pitfalls cleverly concealed. Yeal advice ye give freely. We will none of it. Wherefore were we born unto this world? To live, to love, to learn. These things ye have already done, And, now that your day is nearly o'er, Ye bid us tarry until it is too late. We would see the glories of the world, Love and be loved. Can'st not understand? We are like unto you, for we are your children. 21

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THE REFLEC TOR 1 i , So, young man, you're not satisfied with breakin' up my business, now you're stealin' my daughter and breakin' my heart! But, Mr. St-- He got no further. Don't 'Mr. Stiles' me. I've heard enough from you, Sylvia. Get in the car. Up to now Sylvia had quietly looked on. But, father, he loves me, she cried. You don't suppose I'm blind, do you? I-I love him, too! What! Yes, we were talking of getting married, Mr. Stiles, said Phil. Sylvia, get in the carl Did you hear me? She obeyed, climbing in the back. Eben got in and started the car going. Where are we going, father? We're goin' home! There was an ominous look in his eyes, and his jaw was set. For the minute Phil was taken aback at what had just occurred, but not for long. Quickly he locked his car. ' Wherever that girl goes, I go too, he said to himself. No telling what the old man's likely to do now. The rattle of fenders and other loose parts, and the roar of the motor drowned out all sounds of Phil's pursuit on foot. Quickly he caught up with the aged machine, for Stile's car never could go very fast. Then with a leap Phil landed on the spare hung on the rear. He climbed over the back and tumbled on the floor beside the startled Sylvia. Shh, don't let him know I'm here. I'll try to help you out of this mess. The girl was too upset to say anything. just then, anyway. So old Ebenezer drove on, unmindful of his extra passenger. Soon he came to a fork in the road. To the left was the dangerous road leading directly home. Eb approached the fork without slackening speed- what speed there was. He took the left fork. At that time both the girl and Phil were crouching on the floorboards. She was helping him get in a comfortable position where he wouldn't be seen. She did not see which way they had gone. Suddenly the car gave a lurch, which sent Sylvia against the left door, and threw it open. She would have rolled out had not Phil grabbed her. ' That was close! she breathed. Then she got the impression that the vehicle was going downgrade. She sat up and looked out. Nine hundred feet ahead the Devil's Slide was charging directly at. her! Father! Father! she screamed, the brakes, the brakes-put on the br-- She got no farther but sank to the floor. The awful realization dawned upon her that the machine was now a mad runaway, hell-bent for destruction! It gathered speed every fleeting moment. The telephone poles seemed like teeth in a comb. The two in the back bounced around, trying to catch hold of something, but every time something came within reach, the car swerved and knocked them away. 20

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THE REFLECTOR - l - iQ1... - Defense Against Agents By Harold rlliller, june '36 The person who can successfully defend himself against every kind of pedzller or panhandler who comes to his door is truly a genius. There is a surprising number of people who make their living by door-to-door soliciting, as I learned while I was trying to make repairs on our back porch one day last summer. The day was one of the hottest that I have experienced. There was not a cloud or a haze in the skyg everything that grew in the ground was parched to a crisp-seemingly crackling in the very slight breeze. Old Sol was having a Hne time and was operating under full capacity. As I was slowly replacing old rotted boards in the porch, a young man of about my own age entered the yard. At his side was carelessly slung a canvas bag such as is used by the vast hoards of magazine peddlers, of whom this youth-was a member. The first intruder was an easy one to dispose of. One merely had to repeat that old slogan, Sorry, but We have ours delivered by mail. When this excuse had worked like a charm, and the young man had gone, I resumed my repair-work. A few minutes later, when the vegetable-man came, I had to climb the forty wearisome steps to the attic, where mother was doing some dusting. To my infinite disgust I had come all the way from the ground floor in vain-I learned that we needed nothing in the vegetable line that day. Down the stairs I came in a sullen rage and sent this peddler away. Next came the newspaper boy, who was collecting for the week's subscrip- tion. When I reached the attic this time, I was told that I must search for mother's pocketbook, for she had forgotten where she had left it. In fifteen minutes, after an exasperating search, I succeeded in locating the money and paying the paper boy, who immediately left. Once more I picked up the hammer and began laboriously pounding nails into a new board. Soon I noticed that a familiar cat was, as usual, in the garbage can and was quite joyously pushing tin cans onto the ground. Since picking up tin cans is not one of my favorite sports, I easily disposed of him with a well-aimed rock, at the same time satisfying my desire to throw some- thing at somebody. Fifteen minutes later a policeman appeared on the scene. Suddenly I re- membered the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, but I did not know how it could have acted so quickly. How many dogs do you have here, Sonny? asked Mr. Brassbuttons. Wl1y, only one, sir, I replied, a sinking feeling coming to my stomach. I was well relieved that I was apparently not to be punished for the cat epi- sode, yet I could not help but be concerned about my dog, which is one of my closest friends. Now don't try to stall me, said the blue-clad enforcer of the law. The people in this neighborhood have been complaining about a bunch of hounds here for the past week. 22