Newark School of Fine and Industrial Art - Fawcett Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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ARTS AND CRAFTS | A Јо = B r

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MUSEUM RESEARCH De Art students are constantly being trained to love fine things, —fine in their color, their proportion, their simplicity or subtlety of design and they know it 15 skill and taste, rather than money, which produces beautiful things. The museum collects such things from all over the world, in order that people coming here and enjoying them will learn to know and appreciate good design and good workman ship. The art school can adapt museum objects to practical designs, which may be applied to articles of everyday use and thus both institutions working together will help to bring enjoyment of beautiful things to the people of Newark. For the Newark Museum—Beatrice Winser.

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CLASS PROPHECY Пау hy: hool, 1927 ose genuine surprises—a warm, bright spring day in the middle of March. As I joyfully did my daily dozen, to the inspiring strains of the radio, I suddenly realized that the day was Tuesday, our landscape day, when we go out of doors to paint, so I snatched ту paintbox and hastened off. Within a few minutes, I was painting busily in one of Newark's n most charming, quiet road and Market Streets—when suddenly 1 dropped my brush, which rolled into the center of the street. I rushed to retrieve it when something gently bumped into me and I must have fainted, for upon awakening I found myself seated in front of a man dressed in armour and on horsebac k. [ squirmed around to see who had so rudely picked me up, when I gave a shout of surprise for the man who held me in his muscular grip was Harry Dragonetti! Why, Harry,” I exclaimed, “whatever happened to you, you've changed so. “Calm down now, Miss U. R. Temperamental, don't you know that the army makes a man out of anyone? he asked. | nodded my head and kept quiet, wondering about the change I was seeing since | awoke from my faint. Suddenly, however, our horse stumbled and kicked off one of his shoes. Harry angrily stopped his horse in front of a large establish ment—we alighted and entered. Rows of blacksmiths stood in front of electric anvils and shod horses which were seated comfortably in soft needlepoint armchairs. The master horseshoer came toward us and took our horse away and, while he was feeding the horse char- lotte russes, I saw something familiar about the shake of his head. “Why, Freddie Mauer, is it really you? Madame, do you realize this is the year 1940 and I am a prosperous horse- shoer? I do a flourishing business. “What became of automobiles? I asked. You remember a girl named Lillian Miller? Well, she bought up all the different automobile concerns, including the trifling one of Henry Ford, and invested the money in mining interests on the Sahara Desert. Within a year she lost all her automobiles so that the horse returned—and— here is yours. Goodbye.