George E Westinghouse High School - Sketch Book Yearbook (Pittsburgh, PA)

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, I' L f JS' , 1' Pendleton Street 1zNDr.IzToN sTREET! Cobble stones huddled together in spots or with great earth gaps betweeng intervals of cracked and broken sidewalkg little, old weary houses leaning against one another for support-this is one of Americas tiny melting pots. There side by side dwell black and white, American and foreign born in the brotherhood of poverty and misery. All about the place hover the smoke of an industrial metropolis and the shadows of discouragement. Grime can not conceal the lurid pallor of hungry children playing on this street. These are Gods step-children! Only the younger ones exercise Childho0d's prerogative to daydream with the hope of consummation. They build their Aladdin castles in gray clouds, and what shoddy castles these would seem to the wealthy children a few blocks away! liven so, they daily experience the destruction of their castles by the horrid magician Reality, red-toothed and red-clawed. To most of them the pot of gold at the rainbows end is merely a magic means of satisfying hunger, for they are always,hungry-hungry in body, hungry in soul! Their brave Sunday morning attempts to achieve beauty and respectability are not without pathos. Such care that the broken sidewalks and earth spaces mar not the rare new shoes! Such collections of gay, screaming colors! Harmony! VVhat do they know about harmony? They want color, brightness-something to make them forget their sordid surroundings. On summer nights, when the street is deserted by the children, it becomes as a garden stripped of its flowersg for even scrawny blooms brighten discouraged landscapes. Overhead the stars shine as brightly as on Woodlaiid Road, but work- weary eyes see only moths beating hopelessly singed wings against pale street lights. Too long have they gazed downward to remember the beauty above. Often the heat is so intense that even the reward of rest and forgetfulness is denied these weary toilers who contribute the brawn that keeps the wheels of industry grinding. Oh, for one blessed breath of air! Greedily, thankfully they drink in each faint breeze. A melancholy stillness, broken only by the chirp of a cricket, broods over the street. And each wishes for the end of night with no prospect of joy for the morrow. Sometimes human figures seek to identify themselves with the shadows of the street as furtively they slink into their homes. Bitter against life, they prey upon these better favored. Deluded brothers of the moths, they sought the lijght, only to become singed children of darkness. Thus this little melting pot simmers on. Occasionally it bubbles over, and a few ambitious elements escape. More often, however. they become seared against 'Lhe sides or charred at the bottom. VV ith the whimsicality of Caliban, fate decided who shall thrive and who shall perish. And all the while the haze of the mills and the gloom of despair shroud Pendleton street. ' Elisabeth Pinckizcy. D Thirteen .li 7 W ii - Y - T .

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iiiifj 3 ll- i Y 11 1- -, If 1' these old hills in the days of the robber barons! All castles have dark spots in their historyg but the present period was one of bountifully filled storehouses, happy contented people, and peace. But that evening the harvest calm came to an abrupt end. A neighbor brought rumors of a war that was to change the current of the life of each member of Herr john Meister's family. The Holy Roman Empire had been dissolved. Napol- eon was conquering Europe. Baden with other southwestern German kingdoms had shamefully sworn allegiance to him. After the rumor had been discussed at length, jacob, the oldest and most impulsive son, announced his decision: Well, the only way for us to ascertain the real truth is for some one to go to the city, and it might as well be I as another. No amount of parental persuasion could change l1is venturesome mind. Early the following morning he rode away. Two months later a cloud of dust arose along the road, harbinger of a courier with important news. Perhaps it was Jacob himself returning, for no word had as yet been received from him! Herr john Meister hastened to the gate. But whe11 the dust subsided, he saw, not his eldest son, but a horseman in uniform, who handed him a letter. Quickly he broke the seal. and his face went White as he read. My children, he moaned, your brother is dead. He was killed three weeks ago in battle. It is true: German kingdoms have sold their birth-right. Jacob was mustered into the French army and was sacrificed for the cause of Napoleon. Issuing orders for the welfare of the courier and his horse, he went sadly into the castle. Here with white set lips he sat and pondered long. His oldest son had gone away to run down a rumor only to, be mustered into the French army in its conquering march upon Russia. How soon would his other sons be called! For defence of the fatherland, he would willingly make the sacrifice. Yes. old as he was, he would again take up arms. But this was different. How could he prevent the sacrifice of his other sons on the altar of Napoleon's ambition! Fondly his eyes rested upon the vast expanse of rich fertile fields. Then he turned his back upon them. He had made his decision. Infiuence and money enabled Herr Meister quickly to carry out his plans to the smallest detail. Not many nights later dark loneliness enveloped his castle home. Dressed as gypsy horse traders, he and his family made their way un- molested to the Rhine. Here at a little fishing settlement thy discarded their gypsy garb and donned that of Dutch fisher folk. Thus they sailed up the river in a chartered Dutch fishing schooner into Holland, where they again assumed the gypsy disguise-this time as musicians. Dancing and singing their way to the coast, they succeeded in boarding an English boat. Then for the first time they dared abandon their disguiseg for England, too, hated Napoleon. From Liverpool a storm-tossed sailing vessel bore them to their goal-America. Herr john Meister was at last content. He had lost to the greed uf Napoleon his estate, his oldest son, and his native country. But he had given his family freedom-a freedom which his descendants fought to extend at a Gettysburg stone wall on a hot July day in 1863. Mildred Mci.1'11m'. Twelve 1-T li Pu H f 1 l J I In I l i if 4 l 1 Jn. Q 41 - -1- Jlf 'ie

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i q--z '-9' - -imap, -11 all Y 'Z' 'is Y 7 ., , JI' Old Jerusalem in New Jersey o MANY, religion is the only differentia of orthodox and reformed Judaism. But those who look closer detect also the essential characteristics that separate the Old World from the New and age from youth. These elements I sensed, but did not fully comprehend until my first visit to orthdox relatives in New Jersey last summer. I imagined myself transported into a foreign land. True, my parents had attempted to prepare me. Don't forget what I told you about not being critical, Father warned. You adopted modern Judaism because you felt that the religion of your ancestors was not sufficiently liberal and broad for youg always remember that the truly liberal person respects the ideals of others. . Some find amusement in customs differing from their own, added Mother. Don't speak of religious customs in a facetious manner, however peculiar they may seem to you. Those dear old people take life seriously and would be hurt if you did not join them reverently in their ceremonies. Since courtesy is only kind- ness be very careful what you do and say. Yes, Mother, I'll try my best. Don't worry, I answered in a carefree tone of voice. This brave front gave confidence to others, but my soul was not without trepidation. Therefore, when I boarded the train and settled back in the cushions, my magazines and box of candy lay neglected beside me. Perplexing questions tangled my mind. I would be with strangers in customs although relatives in blood. Fear gripped me lest some impulsive expression of my liberal opinions might cause' offense. Are the people of that little orthodox Jewish settlement much different from those with Whom I had associated all my life? How do they act? And what will they expect of me? During the night a new worry troubled me. How should I greet my uncle? Was it to be a formal how-do-you-do accompanied by a cold kiss on the cheek? or a warm glad-to-know-you followed by a violent hand shake? or just a short hello? How stupid of me not to have asked Mother. And so far into the night I rehearsed different ways of greeting them, until I'm sure that the occupants of the adjoining berths thought I was talking in my sleep. The warmth of my welcome at the station gave me confidence. But soon after entering the home, I became conscious of an uncleis disapproving glance. Pain- fully I racked my brain for something that I might have said that hurt his feelings, but I had not the slightest idea of what it could have been. Perhaps he's naturally grouchy and looks like that all the time, I consoled myself. Nevertheless I was puzzled. That evening when my cousin Riva and I were alone in the living room, I asked her in a roundabout way whether I had done or said anything wrong. Smiling, she answered, It's nothing much, only that father remarked on your not having kissed the mezuzah when you entered. You know that is a little scroll on which are written the Ten Commandments in Hebrew. It is an ancient belief that in order to keep the evil spirit from the home one must kiss it upon entering. Don't you have one at your house ? Yes, I replied, I received one at temple for honor grades. But no one pays any attention to it at home, and I never inquired into its significance although I knew what it contained. Riva, I want to ask a favor. Please coach me so that I do not break any more of your customs. Well, there's one I should like to break myselff' she replied. Fourteen fl, gilt H I1 ' ' 41. :r 1 4'