Franklin K Lane High School - Senior Echoes Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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TO A FRIEND Can I begin by calling you a friend? Your love and kindness mean much more To me Than iusl' The common Triendship which does end In pain, and sorrow, and humiliTy. For you who share so Treely whaf is yours, And love your Tellow man as God does ask, For you who smile, and Thus make IighT my chores. And make The hardesf work a meager Task, Could I buT Tind The proper words of praise, I-low Then would Shakespeare look in jealousy AT clever eulogy and Turn oT phrase, And lines To live Through all eTerniTy. BuT Io, I'm noT Trom common Tar aparT, And have no more To offer Than a loving hearT. William NesTor As Anne Turned The key and opened The door, The darkness seemed To reach ouT wiTh long grasping arms To enToId and smoTher her. She had a sTrange sensaTion of sTranguIaTion before The click of The IighT swiTch broughT a Tlood of reassurance To The dark corners oT The one-room aparTmenT. Funny, she'd never had any Tear of The dark before. AII ThaT overTime on The nighT shiTT is making me iumpy , she ThoughT. NexT monTh I'II be back on days again, and l'll feel beTTer. She puT her coaT away and sTarTed Toward The kiTcheneTTe To make a cup of coTIee. IT was Then ThaT she remembered The small blue envelope she had Taken Trom her mailbox downsTairs. LiTTing iT from her handbag, she smiled aT The round, childish wriTing ThaT spelled ouT: Miss Anne Rogers, 320 W. l25 ST., New York CiTy, N. Y. IT was a leTTer Trom her room maTe, Alice Ross, who was spending a well-earned vacaTion upsTaTe on her aunT's Tarm. Anne opened iT and read: . Annie Dear, Y lT's so good To be away from crowds and courTrooms. You know, I was beginning To eaT, sleep and drink lawyers, and Thieving murderers. I'm so Thankful ThaT ScoTT Bender goT all ThaT was coming To him. I read anoTher accounT OT The case This morning. Seems ThaT Bender will be hanged in June, -and all because OT my evidencel IT kind of worried me Tor awhile, wiTh some of his gang sTiIl loose, buT I'm a diTTerenT girl now, Annie. You should see The improvemenT This heavenly place has broughl abouT. Anne Tinished Alice's IeT+er, Tull oT gossip and bubbling over wiTh enioymenT, and TeIT a liITIe beTTer Tor iT. Alice Ross had always been The peppy halT of Their Team. JUNE I945 I I

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THE RETURN Q- 'I 'r ,Cc fix up 4- -jr-.A They say There is a sTory behind every New Yorker. if 11 Y IT was one OT Those Typically hoT days made hoTTer by The absence oT shade. IT was odd, buT inTo The eTher came a sTrangeness, a someThing ThaT served as a symbol oT ThaT human beehive, The GheTTo. a melodic sTrain, so Toreign To This aTmosphere ThaT I began To ask where had I heard This beTore? Could This slime and TilTh produce someThing so beauTiTul? The air was gone, buT The melody lingered on. I could do no more Than waiT To see The Tace oT The one who had Tingered his violin wiTh such compassion. And Then he came. He was The GheTTo. In his cloThing could be seen The experiences oT a cheap and crowded exisTence. BuT iT was in his eyes ThaT I read my sTory1- wk 'Y wk The quieT room was disTurbed only by The heavy breaThing oT The man who lay on The ugly, broken bed. AT a Table saT a young man, his eyes Tixed upon his violin. Suddenly he leaned Torward and Touched The insTrumenT wiTh reverence. IT wouldn'T always be This way: his TaTher TilThy Trom a day's labor, his moTher slaving To give Them Tood and cloThing. In his imaginaTion an audience appeared beTore him, lisTening To him inTenTly: and Then came a shrill call To supper To break his vivid dream. BUT wiThin a year, wiThin one shorT year- Y if lil ElecTric IighTs now shouTed Saul RayTeld, ConcerT VirTuoso. No longer The broken room: buT now The broken hearT. He sTood beTore his dressing room mirror. a picTure oT perTecTion, sTill Thinking of his moTher slaving in The kiTchen, his shorT shabby TaTher reTurning home each day TilThy and exhausTed. They had reTused To leave The GheTTo even Though Saul had oTTered Them The luxuries oT his wealTh. A door opened and his paTron enTered, requesTing him To include in his reperToire a selecTion well liked by a wealThy Triend. In The mind oT This greaT musician ran The ThoughT ThaT an arTisT should be Tree To play Trom his hearT, noT his pockeT. He sTepped upon The sTage, a puppeT playing beTore a group oT immaTure children. He looked aT his audience. In The balcony were his people, The people he had known, had lived wiTh in The GheTTo. Below were The rich, so calm, so emoTionless. Among Them was his paTron's wealThy Triend, in a drunken sTupor. Again Saul looked Trom The coT'Tons down To The Turs, while The IighTs burned wiTh all Their glory upon him. lk lk lk He ThoughT again oT his parenTs, how They had undersTood his love oT music, how The Tears had Tilled Their eyes when he played. STarvaTion? Perhaps, buT every exTra penny wenT inTo his lessons. Their every prayer was Tor his happiness. Now he knew! He would go back To his people who knew and undersTood him. No longer would These Talse Taces appear beTore him, no longer The scum, who saT asleep in his Tull-dress suiT. His soul was brilIianTly igniTed. IT had Tound iTs way home aT lasT, a home in The GheTTo- Perhaps iT was odd, buT everyone in The audience had TelT The sudden change: had TelT The elecTriciTy in The air. They didn'T know ThaT iT was a soul which had Tound iTs way home! Ik Ik ii Indeed There is a sTory behind every New Yorker. Doris FiTTing IO SENIOR ECHOES

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AIThough They looked so much alike people offen misTook Them for sisTers, Alice had always been more popular af school and had more daTes Than her besf friend. Whenever Anne had one of her moods , Alice had been able To snap her ouT of iT. Even by mail, her old friend had been able To bring a spark of cheer To The small aparTmenT. Anne puT The lasT dish on The shelf and puT ouT The lighT in The miniaTure kiTchen. A reflecTion of The sTrange sfifled feeling swepf over her, and she hurriedly closed The door and prepared To go To bed. The room seemed Too silenT, excepT for The slow, sTeady Tick of The alarm clock on The Table. WhaT's wrong wiTh me TonighT? she asked herself, impafienfly Tugging aT The sleeve of her bafhrobe. I'll Take an aspirin and go righT To sleep insTead of reading. Tomorrow I'll be fine, and l won'T jump aT my own shadow. She puT one small whiTe TableT inTo her mouTh, Then reached for a boTTle and Took anofher. .She snuggled down befween The cool sheefs and Turned off The small lamp nexT To The sTudio couch. Immediafely The warm oppressive air swooped down aT her, and around her, leaving her gasping. Don'T be so silly, Annie , she said aloud. You've really goT a bad case of iiTTers. BuT she couldn'T laugh off The sTrangling, TighTening ThaT was gagging her. She lay back and Tried To sleep, Tossing This way and ThaT, vainly Trying To rid herself of her TormenTor. Finally, wifh beads of perspirafion Trickling coldly down The back of her neck, she goT up and snapped on The lighT. She opened The door, and wenT down The hall To The Telephone To call Dr. Bafes. She puT down The receiver wiTh a sigh of relief. l-le would be over in an hour, as soon as he finished his hospifal rounds. When Anne Rogers re-enTered The aparTmenT, she did noT see The man aT firsT- he was sTanding aT The opposiTe side of The room, fingering a small leaTher handbag, examining iT closely. Oh! gasped Anne, as The scarred face looked up. Then, WhaT do you wanT? Gef ouT of here!l as he flung The bag aside, and puT his hand inTo his pockef. He walked across The room and closed The door: Then sTood wiTh his back To iT, facing Anne. So you're The lousy dame who senT Bender up? l-le smoThered her weak proTesT wiTh, You been playin' hard-To-geT, ain'T you? Well, Today I caughf up wiTh you on 43rd STreeT, and Tailed you here. Anne was in a frenzy of fear. BuT, you're misfaken. l'm---. ShuT up. Save your breafh, sis, because in iusT Ten seconds you're goin' To need iT. The noise won'T boTher you neifher. This silencer will TTx ThaT. l-le whipped a revolver ouT of his pockef, and poinTed iT aT Anne. Oh no, no, no, you'rei . Anne felT The sfing of The lead as iT pierced her flesh. Then The hoT blood bubbling up and choking her. She drew a breafh, buf iT was blood, hoT and heavy where iT sTuck in her Throaf. Her hearT gave a final sickening lurch, and The blackness came closer and closer, down and around her, Till finally iT closed in forever. As he Turned ouT The lighT and closed The door, The moon rose high over The ciTy, and in her paTh looked down on 320 W. l25Th ST., ApT. BZ. There on The floor of The large room was a small leafher handbag, and on iT, in shining gold, gliTTered The inifials A. R. MeTa Moore I2 SENIOR ECHOES