John Adams High School - Clipper Yearbook (Ozone Park, NY)

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not blind. The sweetest words I e'er recall is when the umpire mur- murs, Bawl! Umpire James Kturning slightly crimson about the neckl-Str-i-i-ke tuh! Now try and rhyme that oif! Player Poe- Strike two! Ye Gods! What words are these? That ball would cut a lizard's knees. Umpire James-That'll be about all the poetry today I guess. You're lined ten dollars, young feller. Now try and make a rhyme for that. Player Poe-No line shall ever still my song whene'er a thieving ump is wrong. Pll sing- Umpire James-Yeah! Well, here's another theme to croon about, Mr. Poe. Twenty dollars! Sing something about that. Bawl-l-l-l thre-e-e! Player Poe-Hark! What was that? Ball three? My word! Can this be true that I have heard? But truth prevails with even chumps and even, at times, with baseball umps. Umpire James-Foul-l-l Bawl-l-l-l! Player Poe-Ah, true it is, it was not fair. It bit the grandstand way up there. Umpire James fScowlingJ-Foul-l-l-l Bawl-l-l! Player Poe-Another foul he did not miss! Oh glorious truth, what joy, what bliss! The next ball, too, perhaps he'll trace. And on four balls give me my base. Umpire James Kas vicious line drive strikes near third base foul lineJ- Fowl-l-l-l Bawl-l-l-! Player Poe fin amazement as he returns from first basel-He called it foul! How truth will flit. Right on the line that onion hit. The James boys steal with no remorse-though Jesse always used a horse. Umpire James-Keep right on, Mr. Longfellow! That last poetical in- spiration'l1 cost you twenty dollars more. A-ha! I thought so. That kinda took all the poetry outa you, hey? Player Poe-No cursed pelf my song shall still. With rhythm I will smite that pill. Umpire James lsuspiciouslyl-What was that last crack? If that cursed pelf stuh' means what I think it does after I look it up when I get back to my hotel, it'll cost you fifty dollars, Mr. Tennyson. Now get in there and bat. Stri-i-i-ke thre-e-e-e! ! Heezout ! ! Player Poe-Out! Out you say! Oh, woe and grief! To you porch-climlr ing, wall-eyed thief! If . . . Umpire James froaringl-That'll be enough of poetry, Mr. Poe, it's C Please turn to Page 501 6

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DIAMON D DUET I BERNARD RUTSTEIN Time-The last half of the ninth inning. The Scene - Groundhog Stadium, the baseball plant of the Big League Groundhog Club. The characters-Moe McCune, Manager of the Groundhogsg Patrick Poe, a Groundhog player afflicted with a touch of jinglesg and Ossie James, a reputed relative of Jesse James. Manager McCune-Now listen, kid. The sacks are loaded, there's two gone, and we gotta get a hit. Now don't try to kill that ball. Use rhythm and take a nice, smooth cut at the pill. If you swing from the toes and strike out, it'll cost you a hundred plasters. Use rhythm. Now go up there and get your hit. Player Poe--I gotcha, boss. Rhythm, that's me. QTo himself as he goes to the plate,-Why, makin' rimes is my middle monicker! Umpire James-Bawl-l-l-l-l one! Player Poe fsoftly singing to himself,-A guy I like for umplng games is good old umpire Ossie James. For what he sees, that's what he'll call. I know the next will be a ball. Umpire James-Stri-i-ke one! Player Poe Cfrowning a littlel-If that there wild one was a strike, Herb Hoover's aunt is Denver Mike. But any ump, though good and kind, is apt to be a little blind. Umpire James fwith digrlityl-Was you addressin' them poetical re- marks to me, young feller? Player Poe fdisregarding umpire as he continues softly siugingj-How passing strange they pay some guys good wages just to use their eyes. If I should bat like they can see, Pd owe the Groundhog Club a fee. Umpire James-Just one more verse of insultin' poetry like that'll cost you ten dollars. Bawl-I-l-l tuh! Player Poe-Oh, joy and rapture unrelined! Sometimes an umpire is 5

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GRIENTAL FANTASY A o 0 by SARAH KISCH Arabia's silver moon illuminated the Sultan's gardens in a most entrancing pattern. Now, low-foliaged trees were whispering to each other. Perhaps they were telling each other of the exquisiteness of the evening, of the beauty, the silver beauty of the moon. Perhaps they were whispering the secrets of the flowers, the secrets of the lily-white lotus flowers. Here, a wind passed, and it seemed as if the trees sighed, a silken, sad, uncertain sigh . Perhaps they were thinking of the lovely prince, so young, so fair, who at evening, would walk through the gardens of the Sultan as if in search of something, or someone . . . There, by the side of the black pool, glimmering jade green some- times, and sometimes silver as the moon fancied . . . sits the comely youth. He gazes upon the whiteness of a lotus flower. Gazing thus, a silken swishing attracts his ear. The sounds are pleasant. They set his every fibre tingling with a strange ecstatic touch. Almost reluctantly, as if he believed that he was dreaming again, he turned and saw Billa Sel. He saw the Princess, real only in his im- agination. He stepped forward. Shyly the Princess retreated. Again he stepped forward. The trees sighed. A sigh, too, escaped from the lips of Billa Sel. With her hand stretched gropingly out, she came towards him. He was real, then, he who was real only in her imagination . . . The moon shone silverly upon the once black pool. It was a round, full, cheerful moon now. Somewhere on its edge, spirits of peace hov- ered, while the wind passed caressingly through the whispering, low- foliaged trees. 7