New Utrecht High School - Comet Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 9 text:

tithe Qllumet again . . . it was cold . . . but he felt warm inside . . . his head drooped . . . he dozed . . . Mathers is a boy . . . stealthily, he is creeping down the stairs with his brother. . . they peek into the living room . . . father is decorating the tree . . . mother enters with some packages in her arms . . . Oh dear, she sighs, now where did I put johnny's sled? . . . father says, We'l1 hang Clyde's skates on this side . . . then Clyde is pull- ing him by the arm . . . SH . ..let's go back to bed before we're found out . . . SOMEONE tugged at his sleeve gently. Mathers started, opened his eyes and turned around. A shabbily clad person, with collar turned up, cap pulled down over the eyes, stood before him. Mister, could you spare a dime for a cup o' coffee. I haven't eaten for the last two days, whined a hoarse voice. A slight alco- holic odor came from the man. No, Mathers harshly answered as he turned to walk away. Immediately he was sorry for what he had done. The man's fig- ure somehow reminded him of his brother. Clyde would be about the same height as this bum, but better built. Hey, you, he called, C'm back 'ere. The man approached him silently, cau- tiously. Mathers refrained from asking for his name as he had intended to do. Instead, he thrust a dollar bill into the poor fellow's hand and walked away rapidly, for he did not want the wretch's thanks. He could not afford to part with dollar bills so easily, but the man reminded him of his brother so much . . . The panhandler stared after Mather's re- treating figure for a long time. Slowly he dropped his eyes to the bill crushed in his horny hand. With trembling fingers, he wiped away a tear that had rolled down his leathery cheek. Ay, Johnny, he whispered huskily, you've at least given me something to get drunk on. He hunched his narrow shoulders and disappeared into the gloom. AS Mathers left the park, the white pave- ments seemed to assume a cheery aspect. The pureness of the snow seemed to cover the ugly sins of mankind. For the first time Mathers noticed the merrily decorated win- dows. He even looked into some and saw beautilied trees. His heart felt lighter. Work tomorrow- Only half a day, then he'll be free to go out and enjoy himself. He could not understand why he had felt so sad before. THE good deed had cheered Mathers. He never saw this article tucked away in an obscure corner of the following day's paper: VICTIM OF POISONED BOOZE Early this morning an unconscious man, suffering from the eHects of drinking diluted wood alcohol, was found near the Christ- mas tree in Carmel Park. He died in the ambulance as he was being taken to Gou- vorneur Hospital. In his pocket was found an old envelope addressed to Clyde Mathers. No other clew to his identity has been discovered. He appeared to be about thirty-five years of age, is five feet, nine inches tall . . . THE END Seven

Page 8 text:

joseph greenspan E night air was sting- ingly cold. The snow fell slowly, silently covering the streets and the stoops of the houses and the window ledges with a virgin whiteness. The brightly lighted windows were gaily garnished with mis- tletoe and red wreaths. It was Christmas Eve and cheer per- vaded the atmosphere. Not so in the heart of Mathers who trudged through the almost deserted streets. He had expected to purchase some holiday clothes with a long anticipated bonus, but Mr. Watkins, his employer, did not hand out the customary Christmas checks. He did, however, place his arms akimbo and very heartily wish them a very merry Christmas. Also, he reminded them that they would have to work half a day to-morrow, Christ- mas. Tired after his full day's work, Ma- thers plodded his way home. AN elderly man, arms full of packages, muffler flying, his face flushed and happy, brushed past Mathers. Merry Christmas, he said, and scampered on his way with alacriry. Mathers smiled bitterly, a merry Christ- mas. No time for holiday for him, he'd have to work to-morrow. He shook his head sad- ly. Life had dealt harshly, unjustly with him. He had nothing but sorrow and none with whom to share it. Of course, the man hastened homeward. His family and friends were waiting for him thereg a merry group to welcome him home with good wishes. There was no one waiting to welcome him, Mathers, at his home, a little musty room in a slovenly boarding house. The landlady no doubt, will cast an annoyed glance at him as he enters and perhaps wish Szx THE GOOD DEED him, in her shrewish manner, a merry Christmas. She will cer- tainly remind him that his rent is due on the first. It would be a happy holiday if his brother Clyde was with him. They would talk about old times, go out for a good time and get drunk. When Mathers had last heard from his brother, Clyde was in a Western prison. That was five years ago, he must be free now. What if he were wait- ing for him in his room now? Mathers be- gan to walk rapidly, almost run. Then he paused and shook his head hopelessly, Clyde did not know where he lived. MATHERS had no desire to go to his stuffy room. Nothing awaited him there but loneliness. This evening, when everyone was supposed to be cheerful and happy, he felt sad and disheartened. A chill clamminess was in his heart. He decided to go to the park and look at the great Christ- mas tree, gaily decorated with colored lights that flashed on and off. AS he entered the park, the snow began to fall more rapidly than before. An oppressive hush, magnified by the distant rumble of the elevated trains, seemed to set- tle around him. Mathers gazed at the tree in silence. He was awed by the grandeur of the great tree with its many-colored lights blinking in the white stillness, the giant sky- scrapers barely defined through the falling snow. Into his simple heart the inexplicable sublimity of the scene seemed to instill a warmth he had never known before. Mathers leaned against the iron rail and slowly shut his eyes . . . god, how tired he was . . . to-morrow he would have to work

Page 10 text:

charles devlin ln An Artist It Would Be Temperament E felt like hitting someone . .. any- one. just to feel the solid flesh under his lists . . . ecstacy. The freshman in front of him irked him. Someone poked him gently in the ribs as he walked down the hall. He turned around with a glare in his eyes . . . Must be some wise guy! But it was only Jim . . . good old Jim . . . but he wished he'd stop poking him in the ribs . . . so uncomfortable . . . a most irritating habit. Why didn't that teacher shut up? All that talk about Napoleon, and Bismark, and Cromwell . . . that was all bunk . . . they were a bunch of fools, anyway. He didn't see where they got their reputations . . . probably had good press agents. He thought of home . . . Gee! he'd be glad to get back home . . . out of school. Somehow, the day passed like a ton of bricks in an Austin . . . That itch in his hair both- ered him . . . why did one have to have itches? They were of no earthly use . . . as far as he could see . . . Same way with bugs . . . he'd never understand why the good Lord had put them on earth. Take, for instance, mosquitoes . . . pesky things. . . HE came into the house, singing. He jumped into the air several times . . . almost hit the ceiling. His mother told him to stop it: he was acting crazy. Why couldn't Eight he be himself anyway? People were awful . . . a bunch of gloom bearers . . . why couldn't he act the way he wished? . . . he was flaming into a terrible rage . . . He'd show them . . . he'd act the way he felt. HE left the house, quietly humming. Nice day, he thought . . . won't do homework now . . . in the evening was the time . . . no use wasting such a swell day . . . The man in the grocery store irritated him. Why did he have to stand there, gap- ing and talking with thecustomers? The store was a place of business . . . not a gab mart . . . what right had he to discuss anything else . . . he felt like choking the talkative customer. He left the store singing again . . . the world was a great place. Swell weather. Nice clerk in the store. His mother was a great pal, even if she did send him to the store . . . He decided to do his homework when he reached the house . . . instead he turned on the radio. Bet there was some good mu- sic on . . . he was feeling great . . . felt like loafing . . . listening to the radio. The thing began to buzz terribly . . . why did it have to buzz? He turned the dial . . . didn't seem to be any music on. Terrible state of affairs . . . no music . . . he felt like swearing heartily for all he was worth HE left the house, muttering under his breath. He met jenny . . . had a talk with her . . . he felt great . . . Jenny was a pretty girl.