Julia Richman High School - Spotlight Yearbook (New York, NY)

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GB 0 Barron, Bafffm, 'IXUAOQ got' Me Miran- The interests of people are varied. Some collect stampsg some collect autographs, some collect books, some find scrap-books an interesting pas- timeg others have discovered that collecting humorous sayings and witti- cisms is fascinating. I guess I'm just different. I collect buttons. Buttons? Those ornaments on one's dress, coat, suit, or blouse. They serve their purpose. Some say theyire old-fashioned. It's zippers that are in vogue. But, I like buttons-modernistic cork, old-fashioned pearl, wooden Mexican sombreros, tiny Schiaparellian hands, classic circles on men's suits, sparkling sequin discs on girls, gowns, huge moon-shaped knobs on a manis overcoat, minute delicate specks on babies' undergarments . . . buttons! To me, buttons are not solely, ua fastening to be sewn on an article of dress usually as a catchf' as Mr. Webster terms them. Buttons are people. Individuals with a life of their own. They come into the world shining and glistening in their immaturity. How do they go out? As a child of average intelligence, my parents were ever trying to comprehend my total lack of interest for dolls-those adored objects of girlish devotion. I refused to play with Mary Jane of the flaxen curls and Patsy Lee of ringlets. For hours I would sit in the remotest corner of my father's department store, oblivious to all my surroundings. There Was Johnny Doughboy going off to war, marching in the midst of all the other soldiers. I had hundreds of round brown buttons. And there was Mary Rhine- stone-a dazzling creature. The illumination of her character showed itself so aptly in the brilliancy of her features. Perhaps she was destined to marry George Broderick F itzmaurice Patent Leather-the happy-go-lucky playboy of her dreams. The blackness of his tuxedo always recalls the density of his career to my mind. And Andre Splotched-who was destined to become a great artist. I can visualize the Vermilion, the green, the aquamarine and multi-colors of his palette. They were in readiness for the slightest wim of his brush aspiring towards a great masterpiece. The study of buttons is the study of people. Yes, richman, poorman, beggar man, doctor, lawyer, Indian Chief-theyire all there. BEVERLY SUSER QD ef Qt' Q o Q52

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Must Ann have a garden?,7 uOh yes, gardens can be to children like-like music to grown-ups. HAH right, if it won't be too expensive. It won't, I'11 help with itf' 6'Are you ready to go in the other room? 4'Yes. Come Ann dear, comef, We went in the other room, all three of us. Father led me to the window and we looked at the rain together. I cooled my hands on the glass and he whispered words to me about a garden and the springtime that was not too far away. Father asked what melody I would like to hear and I knew I must go to bed soon. We both turned around. Mother stood looking down at the deep couch where she had been sit- titng. She bent forward and picked up the violin. It was crushed to pieces! How had it happened? Later she said she sat on it by mistake. I can never forget her face. It looked so cold, almost frozen. Father, tall and care-bent Father, was life- less for a moment. A tiny part of him must have died with the passing of the music. Father came back to life soon and Mother grew less cold. Words be- came more frequent. Violins are expensive, you see. There was no music for Mother at least. But there were ghosts of melodies from the dead violin for Father and me. In the spring he made me a garden, and the lonesome tree bloomed and before long the rain stopped falling. Yes, one can grow to love inanimate things like the rain, lonesome black trees, or a violin. What makes me think so? I know, because .I've done it. MIGNON HOMER SORROW INTELLIGENCE -5- OR - Flight of laughter Thereas nothing like an I.Q. Glistening and free, And how the students know it Now nought is left To boast of their bright genius But the 6ChO in II16- When their marks, alas, don't show it. RITA SCHWARTZ RITA SCHWARTZ

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Beneath the roar of the Third Avenue Elevated, and tucked away inconspicuously between stores much larger than ,YJ33llf itself stands a tiny little candy shop known as HJoe's. It is M, Osxq named in honor of the proprietor Now, it could have been 9 called Ye East Side Candy Shoppe or the ululia Richman Stationery Qtore being situated a few blocks from this well- Ats known institution of learning When we questioned the pro- prietor about the christening of his store, however, we discov- ered that he didnt want to put on a1rs,7, as he expressed it. Besides he thought the good plain well-known name of Joe was quite appropriate for his little shop. We promptly made 5 r I apologies and assured him that no offense was meant. Upon considering what he had said, we came to the conclusion that Q .gf Joe was right. The name did suit the store. 'X .-.5 is WWQ, -. I ff a'i' H ,iz AA- -! 1,-0 .L . I 1 D i fab if 7 . i I . f at gi' . . . ' . t t 5 - 7 - ca ' il I . 7 O' 1 i 7 -F.: i Danna-Q ay V f ' Now, let me tell you a little about Joe himself. Joe is a small, inconspicuous man of about forty-eight. He is the kindest, most sympathetic man, I think I'11 ever know. From six o'clock in the morning until about ten at night, Joe stands patiently behind the little counter, living in a world all his own. He continually scours the silver and marble fixtures. Joeis patience holds us in a sort of awe. He can stand for fully ten minutes fwe timed himj pointing out candy to a dirty-faced little boy. When the speechless customer finally decides what he wants, Joe accepts a copper penny and chuckling softly to himself, watches the little feet run out of the store. When we reprimand Joe for being so patient for a penny, he simply smiles and says, HPatience, my children, costs you nothing and gives you a great dealf, Joe has an 'chonor system. He says he cannot be bothered with writ- ing up accounts for his various customers fand he has manyj. He puts them on their honor, seeming to forget all about their debts until they pay up. We have used this system many times when our allowances were diminished. When we pay him back, Joe simply looks at us a moment and says, '4Yes,