Eastern High School - Echo Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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7' rl The EASTERN ECI-IOl5+-M if Follow the Romany Patteran By Jean Dockhorn, '33 Follow the Romany patteran East where the silence brood.: By a purple wave on an opal beach In tlzc hush of the M alrim woods. o SANG Michel's violin. As he reached the end of the gypsies' song, he maneuvered skillfully into a blood stirring dance of his native Hun- gary. The notes rose and fell on the mellow even- ing air and mingled harmoniously with the call of the birds in the trees. From the group of listeners gathered on the wagon steps and around the camp- fire, a figure detatched itself, stood poised for a moment, and then threw itself into the tempo of the music. It whirledg it dipped, it was the wind, and then it was the lightning, again, the moonlight Hitting through the leaves of the trees. Michel's face glowed with happiness as he bent his body to the will of his instrument, his eyes glued with affection upon the gracefully moving figure. VVhen the music ended with a defiant chord, the figure Hung itself to the ground, exhausted. The Bo- hemian faces around the fire expressed great ad- miration, but they were used to this performance, for F edya danced for them every evening. Again Michel drew his bow across the strings, and this time a song of his people vibrated the sounding board, The folk around the fire joined in the song, and soon the little woods on the outskirts of the great Budapest resounded with their gay and care- free voices. Here, as everywhere, the gypsy caravan, al- though an accustomed sight, had attracted a sma'l group of spectators. Among them was an agent sent out by the great theatrical producer, Gold- baum, and ever watchful he was for some new form of diversion for the fickle public. As Feclya finished her dance, he made a note on the back of the inevitable envelope and left the small grove. Skikfk The gypsies were astir early the 11ext morning. There was always much to be done in the way of obtaining food and sometimes long trips had to be made in order to secure this necessity. F edya, too, was awake with the birds as it was her duty to amuse the children and look after them until their morning meal was ready. Gaily she hummed as she went about her tasks, stopping now and then to kiss the black head of one of the babies or to execute a little dance step. And why shouldn't she be happy? Was not this her spring? Wouldn't she choose her mate before they went into winter quarters again? Was there any reason why she shouldn't be happy? Yes, there was, but she did not know it, nor did any of her people as they guided the tall, well dressed man to the wagon of F edya, the dancer. As she bid him usarazanl' or welcome, she wondered what had brought him to her. He spoke then, in a low, well-modulated voice. You dance, Fedya ? Yes, sir, I make an attempt to amuse my people at our fires. You dance very well, Fedya. You have been born with a gift for dancing. Would you like to dance in the great cities before many people? You would receive much money and be able to buy many earrings, bracelets, and red gowns. You would like that ? All the while he was speaking, Fedya's eyes were growing wide with wonder and delight as she saw unfolded before them visions of splendor and wealth. I should like it very much, but would you really want us ? Us, whom do you mean ? Why, Michel, of course. He plays for me to dance. He makes wonderful music on his violin. He makes the wind and the rain, the lightning and the thunder, the birds and the flowers, the sun and the moon. He makes very beautiful music. Yes, yes, I know that, but we have other vio- linists in the city. We do not need him. The city is big and there are many people who would pay much money to see you dance. There would be a great orchestra with many musicians to play for you to dance. You would have lovely costumes, scarlet, green, purple, with much gold jewelry. You would make much money and be able to buy many things for your people. Wouldn't you like that ? Oh, that would be grand! But I should miss my people. You would soon learn to do without them and there are many people in the city. Would you not like to come for a little while ? 13 E..-

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H The EASTERN ECI-Iofspw if Aflisfitting Laughter By Dorothy Roycroft, 34 LL is at an end! Life holds nothing for me. I am disillusioned and I can carry on no longer. Farewell, cruel world! I go to the window and look down into the street fifty stories below. I step up on the window sill and then- I think! Ah! say I, this is not the time nor the place. Eight generations of Smiths are behind me and probably eight more are yet unborn. Shall I be the weak link? No, a thousand times no. I shall protest. I shall rise up and cry unto all the world 'Down- ' Oh, hush ! you say, in a disgusted tone. Tell ine, for the sake of these unborn generations, what you are raving about ! I am slightly weakened by this dash of ice water, but I begin to tell you the reason for my newly- begun crusade against misfitting laughter. Have you ever heard the laugh of a dainty, petite girl sound like a fog horn? I-Iave you ever listened to a broad, cherry-looking person cackle like an emaciated hen? Have you ever heard a silly little giggle and turned around to see a tall, slender creature with a Grecian nose? Have you ever heard a graceful, fairy-like girl snort like an angry war horse? Then, my child, if you have not heard these, the Fates have saved you from one of life's bitterest disappointments. But I can- not allow this. I, who have suffered so much, must tell you of the palpitations of the heart upon hearing such misfits. My first experience occurred back in the days when I was a freshman at Eastern. Those were the good old times when we had such things as depressions and crushes. I, along with the other twenty-five hundred girls, had a crush. Her eyes were blue and fringed with black lashes. Her nose was straight and had the barest perceptible tilt. She was tall, slim, and blond, and divinely built. She had a lovely voice. It reminded one of a silvery stream of water slipping gently over a moss-covered rock. You can easily see from this description why she was popular. Scores of girls haunted the places she fre- quented and I, being merely human, followed sheepishly. I strolled one afternoon into Gon- trum's, a nearby confectionery, and there sat my idol. Perhaps I shouldn't say my for she didn't know such a being as I existed, and then, too, about one hundred and fifty others lavished their affections upon her. She was sprawled in a chair, tilted against the wall. You've seen the posture in magazines a hundred times. It resembled closely a leopard cat stretching on the floor of a zoo. In one graceful white hand she held a coca.- colag the other she waved about airily as she poured forth a stream of art in her liquid voice. Around her, an admiring throng of crushes had gathered. I pushed through the mob and found myself finally at her feet. I was just about to try to attract her attention when she laughed. I-Iave you ever been struck between the eyes or in the sensitive spots around the nose? If you have, you can appreciate my sensations when that girl laughed. Shall I call it a laugh? Surely, it was deserving of a more fitting name. It was a cross between Lily Pons, Galli-Curci, and Caruso. It thrilled to high C and fell abruptly to a note so low that no instrument yet invented could reach it. It rose again on a sharp, discordant note, quivered upward for two octaves, fell one, and rose four, only to come crashing down to the original bass. I can't do it justice. No human could. A thing like that you have to hear before you believe it. When that last cord fell, my illu- sions came with it. Illusions are fragile things and mine couldnit stand the shock. It was about equal to a slight ease of blood-poisoning, a touch of chronic appendicitis, and double pneumonia. Well, my dear, that was the beginning. Since, I have had many, many disappointments of this type. I have heard the gentlest of girls snort and creak with laughter. I have seen men and women shake and rock back and forth with a laugh that wouldn't let itself be heard and that put them in absolute misery while it lasted. Once in a while, I hear some pleasant chuckles, but I believe they must have belonged to the generation before mine, for they are very rare. Now, after my tragic experiences, do you Won- der that I am- disgusted? Do you not sympathize with me for the cruel blows life has dealt me? Are you ready to fight in this righteous war against mistitting laughter? I have poured out my soul to you, and I am ready to begin my crusade. Will you be the first of my followers? A Fern By VIRGINIA HALL, '33 Green lace Wowmz. by elfifz hands, .Mounted on fragile stem, And flecked with drops of dew, A fern at dawn! -..gf 12

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iz .-ef The EASTERN ECI-iogaw -4 I must ask my people. VVe will decide tonight at our fire. Tell them how much money you will make and how happy you will be in the city. Then they will let you come with me. Here is some money. Give it to them tonight. I will return tomorrow, and, if they say 'yes,' you must be ready to come with me. Do you understand F Yes, yes, I understand. I shall tell them tonightf! Then, farewell until tomorrow. Farewell xc HF wk All day Fedya worked with a new song in her heart and a brighter sparkle in her eyes. All day she thought with delight of the oys which awaited her in Budapest. After what seemed an intermin- able length of time, the evening meal was over, the animals were watered, and the children put to bed in the gay wagons of the caravan. Finally the folk gathered around their huge fire, which threw grotesque and flickering shadows among the trees of the grove. Loudly they called for Michel and his violing breathlessly they listened while he drew toned beauty from the seemingly inanimate strings. Again a clamoring, this time for Fedya and her winged feet! As she finished her saraband, instead of seeking the step of her father's Wagon, she faced her people. Glancing iirst at Michel and then at the ruddy faces on which the Hames of the fire caused fantastic shapes to form, she began, Today a man came from Budapest to see me. He asked me to come to the city and dance for the people there. He said I would receive much money. He gave me this to give to you. In the city I will earn money for scarlet gowns, bracelets, and earrings, and I shall be able to send many things to you. The man will come tomorrow for his answer. Please, oh, please, let me go! She saw the elders glance quickly at one an- other , she saw the parents signal their sons and daughters to retireg she saw her father dismiss her to her bed. The elders would decide. As she passed Michel she saw the look of pleading and sadness in his eyes. Slowly she turned her head and entered the wagon, the only home she had ever known. lk an wk For what seemed endless years, she tossed on her pallet, waiting for her mother to bring her the results of the conference. Suddenly from beneath the window of the wagon, she heard softly the strains of Where My Caravan Has Rested. It was Michel's way of telling her that she would go to the city. It was his way of saying that a pat- teran would wait to show her the way to him if she should ever need it. ik lk Pk The next day, the agent came again and left joyfully in the company of Fedya, who bade a gay farewell to her friends and kinsnien. Shower- ing them with promises of good fortune and wealth, she departed with their blessings. The last thing she heard as she left the abode of her fathers was the plaintive tone of a violin as it told her to follow the Romany patteranf' Pkvkflf In Budapest Fedya lived with the other dancers of Mr. Goldbaum's theatre. It was lots of fun working and playing together, but Fedya longed for the out-of-doors and the open air. There was no time for that. All day she must dance,-in the morning, rehearsalsg in the afternoon and even- ing, performances. The performances were her delight. Then it was that the great theatre was dimmed and became a sea of appreciative faces in place of row upon row of inanimate chairs. The stage was a miniature gypsy camp. There were two tiddlers, a guitar, and some singers for Fedya to dance to. Her skirts were voluminous hoops of scarlet, purple, and yellowg her arms gleamed with the Hashings of gold bands, from her ears dangled huge rings, and in her hand she held a tambourine which accentuated her every movement with its jangling sound. Then she could dance as she pleased-she could burn with all the fire of a Hungarian dance or drift lazily to the strains of a Viennese waltz 5 she could whirl in the passion of a Spanish love song or glide gracefully to a chant of the peasants. VVhen she finished, there would be a storm of applause, and gold and flowers would rain down upon her. It was at night after she had gone to her bed that the feeling of loneliness would creep over her. She missed the friendly rustling of the trees and the sleepy twitter of the birds outside her window. She missed the deep blackness of a summer night, with the stars seeming like cold and distant diamonds. She missed the sight of the moon as it cast its beams upon the ripples of some river. She missed the gay, light hearted ways of her people, and the treble sound of the children's chattering voices. The city was not as friendly as she had expected it to be. True, she made money and could buy whatever she wished in the way of finery, but one could not buy love and friend- ship. Most of all she missed Michel and his com- panionship. She missed the tones of his violin. It was after a night spent in such a manner, tossing on the bed and thinking of the gypsy life, ...Ei 14 tg...