Lincoln High School - Quill Yearbook (Jersey City, NJ)

Page 94 text:

Q l Bill, with a terrible look on his face, rushes over and shuts off the radio. He sits down. Once more he begins to drowse. As suddenly as before, another terrible noise is heard. It is the voice of a crooner, coming from the house of the neighbor on the right. Tuna Bass, the groaner, is singing about a park, a girl, and the dark. This fact annoys Bill, all the more because his last play has been severely criticized for containing the same sub' ject matter. At once, however, the neighbor shuts off his radio and goes out, saving Shakespeare from becoming a murderer. Lucky that wasn't an opera star, mutters Bill. Hardly has he said these words when from the house on the left comes the voice of a soprano. The neighbor on the left, by name George Bernard Shaw, once was Bill's best friend. Bill goes behind the couch, and comes out with a shotfgun. A woman rushes up to him and screams, Stop, Bill! Where are you going with that gun? To kill my pal next door, says Bill sarcastically. His wife, for it is Anne Hathaway, ponders and then says, Weren't you and Shaw the best of friends? Yes, up till today. This afternoon he said that I stole the play Hamlet, from him, shouts Bill. I didn't mind the accusation, continues Bill in a lower voice, but the thing that makes me mad is how he found out that I stole it. Anne, taking command of the situation, says, Now, Bill, you come and have your supper and forget all about him. You're right, Anne, Bill exclaims. But before I forget, I want to change a line in my new play. Anne, wonderingly, Which one is that? Bill, enunciating syllable by syllable, The one that begins, Music hath charms ..... l Russell Apolant. ak wk as wk wk Teachers, teachers, when you meet One whose ways are not discreet, One who murmiirs classes bore him, And his homew0rk's too much for him, One who keeps assuring you That your tests are none too few, And that schoolflife is the bunk- Teacher, do you always flunk? Ethel Swid. Rita Weiss.

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I-17 -5- .c Music Hath Charms It is just five o'clock in the eveningg the dusk is slowly settling over the suburb. Midway in a certain row of houses is a home which for some mysterious reason seems set apart from the other abodes. A man, slight of build and stooped, enters the dwelling. In the library a light is turned on, which shows to us for the first time the face of the man who has just en' tered the home. It is Bill Shakespeare! Oh, Bill, calls a feminine voice from the rear of the house, did you have a hard day at the theater? Scornfully Bill answers, What a silly question. Did I have a hard day at the theater? Of course I did. I'm the only one that works down there. Why not turn on the radio and rest? questions the unseen cook, for the odor of a wellfcooked steak floats into the library. That's a good idea, Bill responds, perhaps I'l1 be able to grab forty winks while I listen. The foremost dramatist, an undersized, baldheaded man, turns on the switch, and sits down in a big overstuffed chair to enjoy himself. He pulls out his pipe, and a smile of contentment steals over his face as the sweet strains of a modern danceforchestra are wafted out into the room. Then, so suddenly that Bill almost jumps out of his chair, from the loudfspeaker comes the raucous voice of the announcer of the program. Ladies and gentlemen, you have been listening to the delightful melof dies of Ben Lomballee and his Hoboken Syncopators. As you know, this program comes to you every night at this hour through the courtesy of the J. B. CodfFish Company, assemblers of the world's finest sardine cans. In accordance with last week's announcement, tonight we are going to give you the results of our 'You Name It' contest. First prize, a wonderful, three colored fish eye from a genuine, imported, thoroughbred sardine, goes to Jesse B. Codfish-whose residence is at 1776 Liberty Street, Unholy Canyon, South Dakota. The fifty million other prizes have been sent to the other lucky winners. These prizes will arrive at these persons' homes the middle Sunday in a week of Saturdays. The success of this contest has led Mr. CodfFish to issue the following statement: 'My sardine cans are the best on the market. They will keep the wildest sardine in his place. They give smoother performance, are more economical, and have that necessary lift. These assets, combined with the new floatingfpower, a part of every sardine can, have made their users say that they satisfy. Try one once and you will never use a different brand againf Remember Mr. CodfFish's words and also remember 'CodfFish Tunes' on your radio and CodfFish Sardine Cans on your table! This is your announcer, J. B. Shark, now signing off for Television Station ICU. Pleasant dreams, dear friends of the air. n

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On Rowing Near the Shore of a Lake at Dawn With beauteous tranquil world my eyes are met, And sights which halt description at the start: These oars that stroke the water deftly part With eddying whirls that flaw this glass, the net Of clinging mist so easy to forget As time and life go on. 0h heart! Sing with yon winged creatures as they dart From brake and branch. Oh flesh! thy senses whet. In many sorties made upon this lake With gliding waterfplow and petting oar, How was it that I did not care to wake My slumbering soul, and so in this see more Than to the eye was present? Hence, God, make Me keener to the garb that this dawn wore. Albert Engel. The Glistening Cross Money! Money! Fifty thousand dollars! The type stared up at Jim Darnell. Fame! Glory! Honor! Publicity! Contracts! All were his if he could win that hop, New York to Paris. Dangerous, but what rewards. Jim's imagination painted fantastic pictures of what he would do with the A. L. Cresant Prize ..... London, Paris, New York and Broadway. Pk 2k 214 X Pk As Jim shouldered his way through the immense crowd that surf rounded the airport, the raw, misty morning increased his already churlish mood. While giving a cursory inspection to his large Fokker, by now fully oiled and gassed by his mechanic, Jim sullenly pulled on his flying equip' ment. There was yet five minutes to wait for the starting signal. Promptly at fivefthirty, the ships began to take off. One by one they left. Darnell, the last, roared his motor, taxied down the field, and started in immediate pursuit of first place. The wind seemed to freshen as Jim flew toward Newfoundland. Soon the Fokker was in the midst of a violent storm, the plane was tossed about lie a toy by an angry child. Darnell cursed and groaned, consoled only by the thought that his rivals might possibly be in worse straits than he.