Newtown High School - Newtowner Yearbook (Elmhurst, NY)

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After you get through here, Dick, come around to my joint and hear my song. I just sat at the piano when I suddenly got an inspiration. I don't think I could write another, I put my whole heart into this one. By the way, how is your 'opera' coming along. Fine, answered Dick handing a sundae to someone who wanted an ice cream cone. You must come around tomorrow and hear it. O.K. S'1ong pal, and Warren dodged out of the store because he had seen the boss coming. Slowly eleven o'clock came around. Dick left the store in good humor A after having treated himself to a soda at the owner's expense. He felt so free that he broke into a run. His long strides soon brought him to Warren's joint. Warren, his hair tousled, opened the door. Come in, he said, Pm still improving ' my masterpiece. He seated himself' at the piano and started playing, after ruflling his hair with a very artistic gesture. Dick listened, thinking of his own song. He felt as though he could hear it. 'Suddenly he sat up straight and listened intently. Was he dreaming? That was his song. His own l song. It was a different ver- ! Q e sion, but sure enough the theme was his. It couldn't be. He was stunned. Well, how do you like it? What's the matter with you? N-n-nothing, stammered Dick. I was just thinking. I like it a. lot. It's swell. Best thing you ever did. It was an effort for him to say any- thing at all. At night, as he tossed about in his bed, he tried to reason it all out. He was convinced that there was no foul play. It was possible for two people to have similar songs. The songs were not exactly alike and yet they dis- tinctly had something in common. Naturally, they couldn't both be entered in the contest. What should he do? If he told Warren about it he would tear it up. And Warren needed the money more than he did. He could get 5

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Friendshzp on the Scale THE LAST notes floated out of the open window. Dick stared at the piano. At last the black and white keyboard had yielded to his imagination. He had played his song, his song. It was a song as beautifully blended as a butter- fly's wings, as velvety as a night in June with the sky hanging like a. blue velvet curtain overhead, as sweet as a blood-red rose and as inspiring as the khaki and the red, white and blue. Dick had sat hours at the piano trying to put into sound what the music within him said. Surely his song would be accepted in the national competition for amateur song writers. Hurriedly he got out paper and pencil and jotted down the notes. Dick was a sophomore in college. He came from a family where there was always just enough to eat-not poor but not especially well-to-do. If he could win the prize for the song, it would mean that he would have the money for his whole college career without playing soda fountain every night. He would then be able to start saving. His friend, Warren, and he thought that the song-writing competition was a gift from heaven and since they both were very musical they were set on winning one of the prizes. Warren needed money badly because he wanted to marry his girl as soon as he graduated. He was a senior, came from the same type o'f family as Dick, and was prom- ised a job because of his high scholarship. All he needed was a small amount to get settled. Dick looked at his watchg 7 o'clock and he was supposed to be at the store at 7 P.M. He threw the songsheet into his drawer and dashed off. He got to the drugstore all out of breath, donned his apron and started to dis- pense sodas with not much thought as to his boss's financial position. Warren came and visited him. He was very excited. Dick, I've 'ust written the son of m life, he announced solemnl . J 8 Y Y Hey, what are you doing? You're putting too much stuff in that soda. Dick took his friendly advice and spilled the whole mess into the sink. War- ren only shook his head. A good thing the boss wasn't around. 4

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another job and work harder while Warren was graduating and wanted to marry. But why should he be the victim? Dick urged. He lied to himself and then told himself the most bitter truth. He, too, wouldn't be able to write another song. He got up and went to the window. In the distance he saw the horizon getting purplish-blue. He'd go and tell Warren and they would try to Work it out between them. But then one of them would have to give in and Dick felt sure that he couldn't let Warren make the sacrifice either. b Dick whirled around as his alarm clock rang. He hadn't slept a wink this night. He dressed, poured a pitcher of cold water over his head and took his books. He couldn't eat any breakfast. He met Warren after school. Hello, boy, you look as if your best friend died. Can I come with you and hear your song? Dick bit his lip. He looked faraway where the plain and the horizon met. Then he turned a steady gaze on Warren. No, he told him, the song was so terrible that I tore it up. Gee, I'm sorry old man. I hope you'll have better luck with the next. You know, I showed mine to the music department head this morning and he is convinced that Pll win a prize. Wouldn't that be swell ? You bet it would, exclaimed Dick. Come on, I'll treat you to a hot dog, I'm starvedf' And pulling Warren with him, he fairly flew down the hill. Now he knew what it meant to feel as light as a bird. ELLEN R. MAYE11 HERITAGE Because our sires fought and died At Lexington and Valley Forge To cast the tyrant yoke aside Of proud and imperious George, Because they strove for freedom's charm, And stood for Rights of Man, With heart and soul and brain and arm Let's make what sacrifice we can And win the war. J'EnEM:mH O'MAnA 6'