Commerce High School - Commerce Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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“THE BRIDGE.”—A PARODY. I stood on the bridge in the morning, As the clocks were striking the hour, And I thought of the terrible warnings, I’d received from those in power. And, like the waters rushing, Among the great stone piers. A flood of thoughts came o’er me, That filled my heart with fears. How often, oh! how often, I had watched that bridge swing wide. And had wished that the draw could not keep me, From reaching the other side. But I sat in the car and waited, Until the boat had passed, And the car rolled o’er the viaduct, And school was reached at last. But now those fears arc forgotten, They lie buried in the sea, And only the tardiness of others. Throws its shadow over me. Yet, whenever I cross the river, On its bridge with great stone piers, With the clang of the bell on the viaduct, Comes the thought of other years. And forever, and forever. As long as the river flows. As long as the viaduct opens, As long as the signal blows. The time—8:30—in the morning— And the tardy bell, shall appear, As the symbol of order in school days, And its wavering image here. ELMA MANTEY, 1913. 58

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RECEPTION AND EXHIBIT OF SCHOOL WORK. N the evening of December thirteenth, that much-looked-for, much adver- tised event came off. This was the exhibition at our school of the work of the pupils, which had for its purpose the acquainting of parents with our actual class work, and showing the great need of a larger and suitable building. First notice that the future held something out of the ordinary in store for us came about a month before the exhibition. We began to see strange signs in the halls and rooms of the school, and when we asked the why of it, we found out that in the near future, the High School of Commerce was to entertain, educate, and instruct the people of our fair city of Cleveland by means of one great, grand, and glorious exhibition. When we came to school that night, with perhaps the exception of the faculty, we were all in a merry mood. Mr. Hoover, however, not recognizing our state of mind, thought that a little music would cheer us up, so he set up his phonograph (or was it a graphophonef) and we had some music?? but nay, Mr. Hoover, it really was not necessary. At this point, Ye Common People came in and a round of introductions to the faculty followed. .Soon the program started. It was so long and diversified that it was not possible for one person to see everything that was going on, nor is it possible to mention it all here. At half past seven Yc Common People went to the Assembly Room and heard some music by the High School of Commerce Orchestra and Glee Club, This was followed by suggestions by Mr. Weimer, and then came an interesting illustration of first aid to the injured by the Gym Class under Mr. Warfield. After this, the people went to the different rooms to view the exhibits. From half-past eight to ten o’clock the rooms were so crowded by interested persons that it was almost impossible to move from one room to another to see exhibits. The crowd was a record-breaking one and it seemed as if everybody was present. It is hard to pick out any events which deserve special mention in the attraction which they had for the visitors. And yet, there were some classes and exhibitions of work without which the evening would not have been the grand success that it was. There were the typewriting and shorthand exhibits. salesmanship class, spelling contests, and the debates. I must not forget to mention the German store. They really talked German in Room six from nine-thirty to ten. Strange, but true! A basketball game between members of the Gym classes marked the close of the evening’s events. The tremendous success of the exhibition was due to co-operation between the faculty and the student body. Co-operation is the only way to accomplish things. The work shown, together with the crowded condition of the class-rooms and the lack of adequate space for our visitors themselves, certainly brought home to them the fact that, while the High School of Commerce is accomplishing grand results, the city of Cleveland is in need of increased facilities for develop- ing commercial talent. ALBERT MENDELSOX. ’13. 37

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DAYS AT COMMERCE. TIME: Five years from now. Place: Living room of my home. The folks have gone away and taken the children with them. Not wishing to go with them or to the club, I have remained at home. I am sitting in an armchair before the blazing fireplace, thinking of those dear old days back at Commerce High. While gazing into the fire, I suddenly realize that it is dissolving into a familiar scene. The blazing logs have given way to a row of chairs. In front of the center chair is a large writing ‘desk. I begin to hear unusual sounds and raise my head to gaze about me. Instead of being in an armchair, I am back at my seat in room twenty. Above the constant roar of street cars rushing by, the rustling of papers, and the few sly whispers, can be heard the bass voice of the teacher in charge. Suddenly there is perfect quiet, even the street cars have ceased their noisy grind, every pupil is studying. Surprised, I look up, to see that Mr. Weimer is walking through the room. He has no more than left when, as if by magic, the sounds begin again, and the few mischievous whisperers, always found in every class, are instantly at their old tricks. At one side of me, Billy Ililberer is telling String Russon about the new signals. On the other side Kipfstuhl is borrowing a knife from Jimmy Donnelly. In front of me, Hy Greenburg is giving Joe Smolik some candy, while behind me two small girls, flatlets, are telling each other about the new dress each is going to have for Easter. At the same time, John Norris, Harry Thomas and Walter Isaacs are deep in a variety of amusements. Who would ever dream of these boys as wasting time during study hour? The confusion gradually dies down, and my eyes seem to be growing dimmer. I close them, only to have them fly wide open at the sound of a clear, sharp voice. I am no longer in room twenty, but in room fourteen, and taking dictation from Mr. Harrison. He dictates a letter and calls upon me to read it back. I manage to decipher several lines, but suddenly come upon a word that I cannot remember. I hesitate, but only for a moment, as a whisper from somebody behind me recalls the word to my mind. The hesitation has gone by unnoticed, and I am given one hundred per cent for the recitation. It was welcome then, but I deeply regret it now. All grows dark before me once more. Scene after scene flashes before my eyes,- only to disappear at an anxious moment. First I am in room one. Mr. Hoover is reading John Graham’s letters to the Salesmanship Class. Then I see Mr. Ditmer giving the Bookkeeping Class some rapid calculation. Now I am in Mr. Gordon’s room, reading the story of ray trip to the steel mills. Then in Mr. Gehring’s German Class, and last but not least, in Miss Amidon’s English Class. These thoughts all come and go before I have a chance to check them in their rapid flight. Suddenly I hear the dismissal bell ring and jump, only to find that it is the front door bell being rung by my people who have returned from the play. I get up and open the door. It is done automatically, as T am still in a stupefied condition. 59