Hunter College High School - Argus Yearbook (New York, NY)

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IMPRESSION DE NUIT LONG the southernmost rim of Manhattan Island I walked, listening to the water beat rhythmically against the rocks, and suck into the hol- lows of the rotting wharfs in little swirls and eddies of sound. The night above was intensely black, varying into shades of darkness, yet the clear lights on water, earth, and sky made the scene a vivid etching in black and white. Blue-black the waters turned as they receded, shading into the coal blackness of the sky. Far-off lighted ships glided over the horizon and sailed into the borders of the heavens like great jeweled phantoms. To the east, three diamond braclets encircled the dusky arm of the river, and a thousand stars above reflected in the water from a thousand launches gay with lights. Away across the bay shone the Statue of Liberty clothed by night in white sanctity. The black, formless sky flowed along the angles made by her two rays of light, and the night was an enormous jeweled tent upheld by the great white hand. Within were priceless treasures, rows of colored gems, shimmering shafts of laughter, and a beautiful rose cloak of romance. But the dawn came piercing this hiding-place, and looted all the treasures with his gleaming sword. Grace Clanz, A7 HAVEN A sweet and gentle nun is Night, Who does the fiercely blazing light Of day with kindly shadows veil. At evening, stepping slow and calm, Her mission soothing brows with balm- By little lanterns silvery pale She sees a world o'errun with careg And yet from pain and grey despair To raise us, never does she fail. Each morn she leaves a world rebuilt, Refitted once again to tilt With Chance,-and though we lose, to learn That our significance is nought, W Our joys and sorrows dearly bought. And when our spirits ache and burn, And tumults rage within our hearts, To heal the wounds of cruel darts To Night compassionate we turn. Hazel Grace Boger, Bg4 Page Thirty-five

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RADIO INTERVIEW E were escorted into the broadcasting room just three minutes before Philco went on the air. As we crossed the threshold, our eyes viewed a never-forgetable picture. Dark red curtains hung from the high ceilings against the walls. The orchestra was seated in the center of the room facing a platform on which stood Harold Sanford, the musical direc- tor. To his left on a lower level were two microphones. Before one was Henry M. Neely, Philco's Old Stagerf' and before the other was Jessica Dragonette and Collin 0'Moore. In the far corner of the room, M. J. Cross was announcing into another mike that this was uStation W ,I Z, broad- casting the Philco Hour of Old Theater Memories. Then, with a hello everybody we were taken back to the old days by the beautiful song Mem'ries', sung by Miss Dragonette. It seemed strange that such a tiny thing ffive feet two inches, could embody such a powerful and yet sweet voice. As she sang she seemed to breathe beautiful melodies into the hearts of every individual of her radio audience. She was not in the room, but in the homes of all who were listening. After the brief half hour was concluded, Miss Dragonette took us to the reception room where we had a better chance to view the charming lady. Her hair, exquisitely blonde, falls in rippling waves on her forehead and is caught gracefully at the nape of her neck. The yellow of her velvet wrap reflected the light vividly to her hair that frames her soft, grayish-brown eyes, which are clear and large. But about her self, In a quiet and sincere manner, Miss Dragonette told us just a little about herself, letting a tolerant smile play around her mouth. Despite the fact she is so well known, her attitude is unassuming and her poise is admirable. I have only been in this city since I left school, four years ago. I studied at Georgian Court in Lakewood, N. J. When I came here I entered the theatre. Miss Dragonette had a solo part in The Miracle and played Kathie in The Student Prince. In the Miracle she was not visible to the audience, but sang the part of an angel above the clouds. In this role she was com- plimented by Feodor Chaliapin, the famous Russian Basso. I received letters from all over the world, from the sick and the needy. These letters mean all the world to me, she said, it makes me so happy to think that I bring them happiness. When I sing, I sing to them. I feel that I am with them, singing to each one. This is especially true, for as she sings, she uses gestures as if they can see her. She is oblivious to all that goes on in the room. Her thoughts are with her audience. I have sung ever since I was a child, yet I have only studied since I have been here in New York. I am still studying. Miss Dragonette says her ambition is to he the greatest radio artist, but she is already one of the radio's Hall of Fame. As we left her, she gave us each a red rose, a fragrant remembrance of a delightful evening. Bemice Stamilman, Ag8 Pon Thirty-four

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PET ABOMINATION SUPPOSE everyone has some pet abominations. As I am no exception I have several, of which there is one I particularly dread,-little sister's birthday. By resting a few days I prepare myself for this much- dreaded day. Who wakes me up early that day? Who has done nothing but advertise her birthday for a month in advance? Why, little sister, of course! She doesn't let anyone forget that her birthday is coming. All of our neighbors are aware of the fact that their little lady friend is going to have a big day. She is nine now-quite grown up! I can think back to that remote time when birthdays meant so much in my life, and having had similar experience, can sympathize with my petite soeur. However, sympathy is lacking when we are in the midst of a typical Ciceronian sentence with which we have been struggling for the last fifteen minutes and along comes little sister to sweetly remind us not to forget to buy her something for her birthday. Someone may ask, Well, what about little brothers? All I can say is that I haven't had any experience with little brothers, since I have only one big one. But I don't think they can compare with little sisters when it's a question of birthday nuisances. It is encouraging to know that my pet abomination will not be long lived, for soon my little sister will no longer be little and I shall have no Ciceronian sentences to have interrupted. Ethel Sankows, B6 INTANCIBILITY A verdant woodland is my mind to me, A cosy nook in which, on beds of pine And hemlock, racy, fresh, like wind-tossed hair, I rest my weary cells, each stepped in thought, And, watch the clouds, pure fairy fleece, float on Through space and time. They know not walls nor hours: And I with them am free, untrammeled by The tug of earthly ties, and I exist But in a thought. Pulsation is an age, I tread in fairy rings with ecstasy Sublime, unfettered, from the flesh detached. I- know myself, and I am one with that lllimitable power pervading All. Elizabeth Ash, A4 Page Thirty-six