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

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Everyone comes the first time. Then what matter if they know I have puppets? '- I saw that your operators were of the same family. Is their work traditional? - Yes. It takes long years of training to work the piccoli, Ten, twenty years: you must be strong. The piccoli are not so light. The fingers must be nimble and quick. Perhaps you think you could work puppets? If you are an amateur, it is different. Eighteen inch dolls are not forty inch puppets. - Are you going to increase the members of your com- pany? - Ah not now. I am busy. We travel much. I have not the time to give. Some day perhaps my company will be one thousand. See! He upset the piles of paper on his desk-'AThis is the first step, tHe showed the drawings of the puppets as they first look.l I have no time for more. You have seen the evening performance? No? A pout- ing disappointed look flashed across his face. Then you do not see 'Iosephine Baker' dance? I am proud of her. I felt that I had taken more than three minutes of Mr. Podrecca's time, and I rose to go. I thanked him for giving me his attention, and expressed a hope that he would return to New York. He in turn thanked me profusely for coming to see him, and told me he hoped one day to give a performance for our school. I left him with a feeling of having spoken to a friend who conversed warmly and frankly. To A Dying Moon You were once a crystal goblet- A crystal goblet drifting on the foamy blue of heaven, Ever moving and ever fixed, with the cold wind pouring forth your frozen silver Till it stained the earth with its passionate glitter as it sank through the deepening dusk. Now, broken and wan, emptied and drained away, You lie there in the darkness, only a fragment of shattered crystal- Of a shattered crystal goblet sinking in a foamy sea. Elena Polk forty-three nd

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magazine, that I one day thought of a theatre that would have a wide range in program. I spoke to friends who were interested, and we evolved the Teatro dei Piccolin. It was to be one of wide scope, yet small enough to be friendly. I soon devoted all my time to it. In the afternoon we gave children's performances. In the evening, we gave operas and dramatic pieces that held our aud- iences spellbound. Soon we were using material of the greatest writers and musicians. Our audiences experienced every emotion, so varied was our production. Our company of eight hundred became known, and we travelled. We have been in uncivilized Africa, and in the palaces of kings. 'AI Iow many are in your human company? We are twenty-four all together. We work with perfect harmony of song, gesture and music. A little story I tell often is this: Hln Monte Carlo, they were celebrating the birthday of the prince. Someone suggested that my puppets entertain. The prince was disgusted at the idea of such amusement. Someone finally won him over, and when he left our theatre, he was en- rapturedf' Tell me, do you like the New York audiences? - Ah! Qin Englishj They are divine! Do you understand the French? - Un peu, I replied. - Un peu. Ah! Elles sont magnifiques! Ravissantes! Piacevole! Bellissimo! Incredible! Amiable! He was becoming so excited that he was getting his lang- uages twisted. As I was a native New Yorker, my heart gave a bound. -- Gracie tanto, I said. - Ah, no fin Englishl. You think I say that because you are here? No, no! Of course a little persuasion was necessary. New York is sophisticated. I could not come and say, 'See, I have puppetsg it is a fine showg you should come.' No, that would not do. I must earn a living. I announce the Teatro dei Piccolin. forty-two

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River by Mildred Levin I F I should ever leave my native city of New York, I'd soon for- get about lofty skyscrapers, about sidewalks crowded with a million people and their million stories, and about dazzling gaudy lights. In time, I could even fail to remember dirty little street urchins, hungry beggars, and haunting faces that have passed quickly by me and never come my way again. All these I could gladly leave behind me, but I shall never cease to think of the Hudson as it nestles near Riverside Park on one side, and near the Iersey shore on the other. Although I have seen the Hudson many times, I have but two recollections of it. I shall always remember what happened in the sweltering noonday heat of a summer day. As I gazed out over the water, life departed from me. Under the touch of the blazing sun all the world died with me except the river. Even the earth had ceased to turn on its axis. While a lifeless haze hung over everything, the river had turned its cool waters into glistening diamonds of pure white. How those tiny, myriad pieces gleamedl All through that afternoon nothing lived but the Hudson. Then, as evening approached, darkness descended to overtake her jewels, until there was only a patch of radiance left. Soon it vanished, too, and the world was cloaked in the cool shade of evening. Life had come back. My other recollection of the Hudson is its appearance one dreary October day. New York was awaiting the arrival of a storm. Chill winds played about freely. Gray clouds hung heavily in the sky. Even the waters of the Hudson had lost their calm. They dashed against each other with mock fury in a sad endeavor to imitate the angry surges of great, swollen rivers. The waves reflected the murky thickness of the skies. From somewhere near the banks came the doleful sound of a boat's fog horn. All was a picture of dejection. Yet, my heart was singing, for I loved the sad beauty of the scene. What if the picture was painted in only black and gray lines? It was a masterpiece. Sometimes I wish to leave New York and travel to other lands. Yet one thought holds me back. Are there Hudsons in other parts of the world? forty-four