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

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Sandy cursed softly as he bounded for the yards. The West Bound Express was backing up for a start when he sighted it. Sandy stood panting on the tracks. He scanned the yards and made for a grain car. Hey, off the tracksl' a voice came to him from behind. A burly brakeman was standing a couple of cars down. Sandy moved down a ways. There was a lurch in the cars beside him, and the train started to roll. Sandy sped up as he headed for the grain car. The brakeman ran up behind him: I said get off the tracks. Sandy smacked the brakeman again the moving car and let him bounce off on the ground. Two others started after him as he raced down the tracks. He was breathing hard. A policeman joined the other two. Sandy jumped for the railing. His hands gripped the bars. He pulled himself up and toppled into the car. The West Bound Express was moving fast now. Sandy rolled over in the corner on his stomach, breathing convulsively. Pk Pls Dk In the dingy foyer of the Mason-Arms Apts. a big man in an overcoat and hat walked up to the managerls door and rang the bell. The door open- edg Yes? I guess no one is in, he said. When Mr. McKay comes in, will you give him this wallet. I found it in the telephone booth at the corner drug- store. He must have misplaced it. Good day. I Am Young I am very young My life is very unimportant now. Everybody is talking about grave matters, important things- I am too young to be included in the conversation. My life has been made of small things- Recl shoes and ballet tlancers and small white flowers are all mixerl up in my life. Organtly curtains are important to me. I sway to music that no one hears. Let them discuss their grave matters. I will make a wish on the first star Anil smile at the first white flower. Twenty-four

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The Criminal By Sam Barru A tall young man stood by the window of the dingy little room on the second floor of the Mason-Arms Apts., smoking a cigarette. A tie dangled loosely from his neck. He pressed the butt of the cigarette against a tray with nervous fingers, adding another to the pile of stubs. A peroxide blonde with a heavy smear of lipstick, stuck her head through the doorway of the kitchenette. l'Ready for another cup of coffee, she asked. The young man swung around. I didn't want any more coffee, he snapped, And turn off that radio! 'iRelaX, honey, the girl returned. He took another cigarette from his case. 'lYeah, relax. Youlre not in on this jobf, By the window, Sandy stiffened suddenly. He went for the door, sail- ing back, 'iBe back in a minute. A guy just walked to the end of the W I hall, he glanced down the stairway to the door of the managerls room. A big man in an overcoat and hat was talking to the manager. They looked up the stairs. Sandy jumped back to the wall, as they turned to look in his direction. The words of the manager, Second door to the right, came floating to his ears. For cripels sake, I got to get out of here with this ice, he barked at the girl, rushing back into the room. Lock that door, quickly! You stay here and stall 'em off. They donlt know you. Here, you'll need some dough, if I got any! He fingered his pockets feverishly for his wallet. Must of misplaced it, he muttered. 'Tm Hat busted anyway. So long. He started for the fire escape. There were sounds on the carpet outside. A dull knock sounded on the door. Sandy! the girl was crying. You said you would never leave me like this again! Another knock on the door stabbed through the room. Sandy jumped for the fire escape. Go open the door. All right, Sandy. The girl wasn't crying any more. 'This time it's for good. Don't bother to come back because I won't be here! Sandy half heard the words as he sprang to the street. He broke into a run on hitting the sidewalk. Suddenly he checked himself. He glanced at the apartment. The girl was coming down the iire-escape with her grip. Twenty-three

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Sport Highlights . . . By HENRY GOLDSTEIN Observations Made At Random: fFor location of RANDOM, we suggest you use the nearest Atlasj Basketball referees in the P.S.A.L. cir- cuit next year ought to lead Utopian lives, for after many years of hard work, trustee Suey Feit is getting out on good behavior. Charley Grohsberger is certainly mak- ing those critics who chided him unfairly about his indoor track performances sit up and take notice . . . Charley's brilliant outdoor work thus far has more than olf- set his disappointing work on the pine boards . . . However, not many people know that Grohsberger was suffering se- verely from stomach trouble during the entire indoor season. We've also had a decided predilection for a lithe young chappie named Wenger. Juicy,', as his teammates have affection- ately dubbed him, has, it seems, shattered a few important records lately. We even hear that civic leaders are thinking of erecting a monument to the Corley Island Tornado, right in the middle of Mermaid Avenue. Bernie Kupferschrnidt seems set for the captaincy of the basketball team next term, and that reminds us-We under- stand that Coop and Johnny De Mare have been a-feudin ' a bit, and had a little seance in the gym after school, one day, beating their respective brains out. Come, come, lads! That's not the kind of spirit that will Win ball games! We hear Joe Labate, the Dodger scout, has been giving Big Joe Foppiani the old Slobodka. Lenny Mormando is already on the Dodgers' payroll down at the Bums' farm in Johnstown, Pa., after his sparkling coverage of the hot corner last year. Since Coach Abe Warchaiser's sparsity of cranial vegetation has never yet been accurately accounted for, we thought we'd try to disseminate light on the subject. Mr. W.,s energies were so depleted and his patience at such a low ebb because of the futility of his football charges, that the grey hairs that graced his cere- brum, started to do nip-ups and departed from their roots. Well, that's about all for now, chillun! We trust we have not tickled your risibil- ities to any great extent with this idle banter, so like the altruistic little souls that we are, we'll take it on the lammy. TRACK lt is a foregone conclusion that this term's track team is the greatest to grace the cinders and the pine boards since the lush days of Barney Hyman. Concrete evidence of this is the fine performance of Coach Browne's mercury-gaited contin- gent throughout the indoor season. After the Dickinson meet, scheduled for the Jersey City Armory, was postponed, fthe Army had priorities on the use of the Armoryl, the Green and White spiked shoe brigade fought into a fourth place tie with Bryant, Morris, and Boys, at the City P. S. A. L. Indoor Championships at the Garden. In this meet, Utrecht's modern proto- type of Buck Rogers, Justin Juicy Wen- ger Hew down the runway in the record- eclipsing time of 6:4 seconds, with team- mate Eddie Friedman close on his heels. It took a P. S. A. L. Games Committee a number of weeks to ascertain the true Twenty-jive