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

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any razors? Got a new shiprnent of sbaing cream, press a button and it s all latherea, how about . . . hey, Steve you forgot your cnangefu David walked out into ite saeet feeling contempt for Lie greedy liitle man who '.'1ouldI.'t let you out of ide store wiiiout a lengthy sales talk. Unfortunately, David was not ite polite type. He refused to listen to iiis idle chatter. He turned to ao back to his amit- nient, but for some reason, some un- seen force compelled hirn to walk in ine opposite direction. He walked west, towoads me Hudson. Between the warehouses there were little inlets of water, not little really, but in corn- Loarison to the rest of the river they looked so tiny, The water was black ana greasy. 'libre oil slick from the lux- ury liners and little tugs clouded out the beauty and mystery of it. Sudden- ly, David realized why he had come here. He laughed at himself, at his subconscious being for even hinting at this answer. But David was afraid. Perhaps someday his will wouldn't be strong enough to overcome this idea. He knew he must accomplish one thing before he would relinquish his right to life. He had to release what was be- hind that black veil in his mind, the words and feelings that tickled his fin- gertips but never poured from his pen. He turned and walked back to his home, He wondered what the people on the street were thinking. He won- dered if they had been made in such a complicated pattern as he. He re- ceived no answer from the giddy senseless movements of these common- ers. David saw a blind man sitting on the pavement. There was a cup in his hand, a beggars cup. He somehow re- minded David of lan, young bitter lan. Bitter, but David was bitter too. He loathed every living thing because -i 4. 1 X. Q52-. f Q. F ' ' 5 Q I T'-ni J ' T1 CT? ' lfgxx o ff. I LX 1 f' 111-'ff' . i ' 1355923 -if . f - -fav-, 1 ffl' .1 ' -2 . ,' ' 'IZ JJV . ' s- f .n -- 1-fe-2-A fp 9 , V A x ,. ,QQ . X ?,-Qflf f . f f- .jo ,I . T--.J -do 1 they could not understand and accept Suddenly, David knew what be must write. The wonderful feeling of released pressure rnade hir: smile. He was happy now. He started to rung he could barely keep from laughing aloud. He ran, not seeing because he jf was blinded by the words he must cap- ture and record before they escaped into the ether, never to be found again. There was a loud sound and David was thrown into a world of blackness, a world where words and emotions swarmed around him clear- ly, so clearly that he understood him- self and all other things. iPaper, he called, l've got to write it down, help me to write it down, l can't lose this. Before him floated a maze of white. There was someone bending over him. He ached all over, he saw many faces: funny, he didn't recognize anyone. The strange faces seemed to merge in- to one, the one bending over him. The lips on the face were saying, He's dead. But l'm not dead, David called, get me paper. l can't lose this. l've got to leave this for you. Please, l know what l have to write now, l can't lose it. But the face leaning over him heard nothing, not a word. David saw the hands that belonged to the face bring a blanket up over him, cov- ering him, his body, his head. He couldn't cry out for no one heard him. The words he had known, now dis- appeared before him and once again David was lost. 25

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I Must Write Joan Burnos TlME lS infinite. Time is intangible. Yet we grasp at it, reaching into the unknown .... The words flowed from the pen unevenly, haltingly. Suddenly David threw the pen down. The ink splattered on the paper in little black pools in which he could see his reflec- tion laughing up at him, pointing at him. The room rocked and echoed with the reflected laughter. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it sub- sided. The room became quiet again. Through the thick heat of the summer night the noises of the street below reached David's window. Familiar noises, for Seventh Avenue was alive with people, laughing people, sweat- ing people, sad people. The regimental click of heels on the sun-heated pave- ment formed a steady, precise beat in- termittently With low voices and shrill laughter. Somewhere a radio blared out the Star Spangled Banner. A ball game was about to begin. David could see the people in the ball park under the glaring floodlights which brought out all the imperfections in their clothes, skins, and, to an imaginative person, even their souls. He could hear the crack as the bat connected with the twisting ball. Oh, yes, there was no doubt about it. David had a great imagination. He could write any- thing from trivial stories for pulp mag- azines to articles on the care and pres- ervation of lampshades. This wasn't what he wanted, though. David wanted to Write something great, not for glory or money, but because it was within him and it had to find an outlet before it ruined him. 24 David walked towards the table and reached for a pack of cigarettes, only to find it empty. He crumpled the cello- phane wrapper in his hand. Empty, he muttered, just like all the people and things around me. That was enough of allegories, he had to have a smoke. He closed the door of his apartment without bothering to lock it. What had he to lose? Nothing of value in his home. lf anyone needed it more than he, he was welcome to it, He walked to the drugstore, ac- knowledging his n e i g h b o r s as he passed them on the street. He regarded them as simple creatures with no wills of their own. The unexplorative look in their eyes sickened him. Then he passed the only man he had ever felt any pity toward. This was lan, who before the war had been a promising contemporary artist who showed the most magnificent possibilities. During the war his optic nerves were injured, resulting in total blindness. He became an embittered old man at thirty. To David, lan signified his own future, but he was afraid to think of what was to come. The proprietor of the drugstore was standing outside, 'lHi, Steve. How are you tonight? For some reason this man had always refused to call David by his right name and stubbornly per- sisted in calling him Steve. He gave the excuse that he had once known a man named Steve who so closely resembled David that it was uncanny. David hated this store because the odors of the chemicals, tobaccos, and confec- tions so cluttered the air that he could almost feel the walls reaching into him, trying to steal his own supply of oxy- gen. He took the pack of cigarettes and put fifty cents on the cash plate. Need

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Campus Capers Mary Murolo SOMEWI-IEBE IN the realms of Iohn Adams has sprung an old tradition of rivalry between the Campus and Clipper staffs. lt was even rumored that there was a chalk dividing line in the Publication's Office. The area in which the typewriters were located was the neutral zone. I would like to clarify these false rumors and give a brief sketch of the Campus Seniors from my viewpoint as a Clipperite. I went to Boom IZU to interview the staff. Someone said, A member of the 'Clipper, ' and I was the center of attention. Muriel Zeiler, the editor, was sitting at one of the desks in the mid- dle of the room, chatting. She invited me in and we began our talk. Muriel reads as a hobby. She likes baseball, the Giants being her favorite team. She collects popular records, es- pecially Xavier Cugat's as she likes Latin American music. Muriel is plan- ning on going to college to prepare for a career in journalism. During her lei- sure time, she loves to write long let- ters to a special soldier in Korea. Muriel introduced me to blond, blue- eyed Ann Conway, who is better known as This, You may have seen her working in Gertz or at Idlewild. The airport and planes fascinate her. She likes swimming, baseball, basket- ball, and hockey, and is active in these sports outside of school. This is a 26 good dancer and likes the peabody and Charleston. Nancy Heiser, known as That, stopped drawing on the board and came over to find out what was going on. She's going steady with Walter johnson who is attending St. Iohn's School of Pharmacy. Muriel in- terrupted at this point and joked, That's why he's going with you, 'cause you're a pill. That joined the laughter and proved that she could take a joke. She likes basketball, and St. Iohn's, of course, is her favorite team. Co-editor Barbara Dumas was the most difficult Campusite to find. I got a clue to her whereabouts and was told she was measuring the stage. We finally met in the hall, and leaning against the wall, I jotted down some notes during the interview. Barbara is going to go to college and wants to make teaching English and music her career. She is a member of the Dawn Patrol under the direction of Mr. Iacobson. It is her duty to arrive at school at 8 a.m., open the side doors, then see that no one enters the building. Barbara loves to hear Mr. Froehlich talk about his alter ego with its chalky-white face. Her hobby is watching kissing gouramies kiss, lgouramies are fishb. You're probably wondering why Barb was measuring the stage with a twelve-inch ruler. It was done to determine the size needed for a backdrop in the Variety Show. I hope that I have acquainted you with the members of the Campus staff, and proved that there is no rivalry between the Campus and Clipper We really think a lot of them and will miss them after we graduate.