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

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My Dear Brother by Phoebe Rogoff Q HILE I would never have accused him of such f a thing, my mother insisted that my dear ' brother had leanings-musical leanings. And so, amid violent protests, dear loseph was placed, leanings and all, under the tutelage of one Mr. Tsutz. Now Mr. Tsutz was an Armenian and becomingly starving. Nevertheless he was a really hne player and never deserved the suffering ,he was hence- forth to undergo. For my dear brother's benefit, a piano was acquired at a moderate price, a piano such as one does not run up against every day. ln the first place, it had not the vigor which one ordinarily expects from a piano-it was a bit feeble, and this weakness was attributed to the fact that the instrument was, well, one might say, seasoned, To be exact, it hailed from the days when pianos were pianofortes, and it still retained that rare old flavor-no, better, tang-of the clavichord. Necessarily, it had developed in the course of its full life, a few odd habits, For instance, when an innocent player pressed one note, he was often rewarded by the sound of three, while if, at some more capricious moment, he pressed down two together, not a sound issued forth. The ivories were by now a deep, rich yellow, trimmed with black, which obviated frequent washings. Une leg was just a trifle shorter than the other, which gave the dear thing a Leaning-Tower-of-Pisa aspect. The stool, too, had a graceful slant, which necessitated intensive training before a sitter could feel perfectly confident of his seat. Scattered at random over the wood of the piano, were little carv- ings, evidences of the artistic inclinations of some former owner. And lastly, but by far the most perplexing, were the pedals, for on certain notes the right-hand pedal acted as a sustaining force, while on other notes it softened and on still others it had no effect whatsoever. We finally decided, however, not to use it at all, since we never knew whether the next note was going to sound anyhow, so why waste energy pressing down pedals? The glance which Mr. Tsutz bestowed on our venerable twentyaone l 1

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The Better Light You are like a star That stares unblinkingly into the dark, Fearless. l am like a lamp That blinks and may be blown out with one breath At will. Yet even a star May be torn from its height and flung into Darkness. And a little lamp May burst forth into flame and set fire to The world. Rita O'Neill O Milkweed Little bit of fairy-down, floating on the breeze, It was l who set you free to wander as you please. I who plucked you from within the dried walls of your pod And set you free to find a bed in the unbroken sod. I who watched your merry way as you hurried into flight I who smiled a wistful smile as you faded from my sight, Little breath of balmy air, blowing glad and free, Find that bit of fairy-down and waft it back to mel llma Schramm twenty

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instrument had not all the respect which was its due. Happily the Armenian had little or no sense of humor, and so he merely glanced once at it askance and then ignored it, humiliatingly- crushingly. Poor Mr. Tsutzl He had so many afflictions visited on him by nature-how cruel of my brother to have tortured him more! I can remember how he would enter the living-room and how his shoulders would sag miserably as soon as he caught sight of young Ioseph, perched perilously on top of the stool. The Armenian would unwrap himself hurriedly, find a corner as far from the piano as possible, clench his teeth and tell my dear brother to begin. Now my brother actually displayed originality in playing the piano. ln the first place, he would invariably play the right hand alone for the space of two or three measures, and then join in with the left hand, with which he would begin at the beginning! Imagine the horror it brought to a musician's soul, in realizing that his pupil's right hand has just finished the fifth measure and his left is but commencing the third! Nor was this all. My dear brother had another custom peculiar to himself. He would commence his piece in a rollicking, jolly rhythm, would suddenly swing into a whirlwind speed and then just as suddenly settle back into a mov- ing, funeral crawl. This metamorphosis would occur approx- imately five to six times during each rendition, and Mr. Tsutz's color would change as often. Another faculty which my dear brother possessed, and which l could never cease admiring, was that of starting a piece in waltz time and ending in march rhythm. Now Mr. Tsutz, needy as he was, was too much of a musician to stand such flagrancies for any fee. And so, having delicately informed our parents that Ioseph was not making all the progress that might have been expected, he quite abruptly left. This did not end my dear brother's musical career. After heated debating and fiery orations, it was decided that the sum of fifty dollars was to be sunk in the purchase of that far nobler in- strument, the clarionet. l seldom heard him practice, since that occupation was for- bidden him by our parents when the family was about. Whenever company came Ioseph must play. So, dutifully he would dig up his long black instrument and trot into the living room. Standing in the middle of the room he would place it to his lips-and now watch his face! The eyebrows move gently up to the middle of twenty-two