Richmond Hill High School - Archway / Dome Yearbook (Richmond Hill, NY)

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normal, for although his free time has been spent in many ways, and he has given much of it to Richmond Hill, his marks have not suffered. Johnny never quite had the marks to make Arista, but he has managed to get com- mendable grades in most of his subjects. Johnny is just one member of a large class, but he is our idea of the typical Hillite. He has devoted himself to furthering his school's progress, in a small Way perhaps, but with as much energy as any important officer gives to his job. We who have Worked for Richmond Hill throughout our four years here feel that we have gained more than academic knowledge from our experiences. We feel that the spirit of activity and the thrills of accom- plishment have broadened our horizons as Well as given us an interesting world to live in. The experiences we have stored up and the lessons in sportsmanship, cooperation, and leadership cannot be easily recorded, but surely they will serve us in later years as we have served Richmond Hill. To those of you who have never. known the joy of being unceremoni- ously ushered out after the five o'clock bell has rung, because the school must close, we offer our deepest sympathy and we urge you to experience this sensation at least once before you leave the portals of Richmond Hill. It is, therefore, because of our feeling about the significance of Rich- mond Hill's projects in our lives, that we dedicate this book to the enter- prises carried on in special classes and after school. This book is intended to illustrate and honor the work done by those who spend their years at Richmond Hill-g'Giving faithful service ever, Richmond Hill to thee. g etty Page 8

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gorewora' FIRST impressions are often lasting impressions. Thus it was with Johnny Morton, who first entered the halls of Richmond Hill by the back doorg namely, Annex 56. Johnny's first impression of his new Alma Mater was a true one, how- ever, and became a firm conviction in a short while. He had decided that Richmond Hill was a beehive of activity, kept buzzing by the zeal of eager and enthusiastic Workers who enjoyed giving their time to school service. In his very first term Johnny found a multitude of ways to get into extra-curricular school life, for he was drafted to be a Dome captain, urged to run for class office, invited to join a dramatic group, welcomed into the Latin club, favorably recommended for captain of the handball team, and informed that life would not be worth-while without that uopen sesame to all Richmond Hill events, a G. O. card. Never in his life had Johnny felt quite so important, not even as a superior eighth grader in elementary school, for here were people who were doing things, and they wanted him to do things too. He and his fellow annexites were convinced that their monetary con- tributions made possible their prize-winning publications, that G.O. could not exist without their five cents and ten cents, and that their attendance was essential to the success of all Hillite social functions. Of course, by his sophomore year, Johnny grew quite blase, attributing the salesmanship pressure to mercenary motives, but his third and fourth years found Johnny one of the salesmen, earnestly selling tickets and sub- scriptions to practically anything for fifteen cents to G.O. members, ten cents to non C.O. members, those poor culprits who hadn't the intelligence to save money by joining the General Organization. Johnny's interests have undergone many changes during his four years at Richmond Hill, but he found a companionable group to join in order to further each transitory enthusiasm, from basketball to music, from scientific research to baseball, from dancing to journalism. If he had had the time, Johnny could, in his Senior year, have become a member of almost thirty different organizations, but being an average Hillite, he has remained content to serve as an active member of Forum, substitute on the baseball team, member of a Senior Committee, alternate class officer, and Dome sales captain. His scholastic record has been quite

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CAUGI-IT THE humidity that hung about the docks had penfaded the tenements and made sleep impossible for Peter. His small forehead was damp with heat and the fear that his older brothers might awake. He lay listening to their even breathing. All day they had mocked him and made him the butt of their ill-humor. He was better off with them asleep. A faint glimmer, appearing through the skylight, told him that it was light outside. He crept from his meagre portion of mattress and slipped down the stairs and out into the early-morning fog that stretched along the wharves. His bony feet sped over the piers. He dodged from one to another, feeling in crannies, pulling out yellowish, well-thumbed books minus covers. Skipping along the river's edge, his bundle of books clasped under his arm, he reached his favorite nook among several piles of wooden railroad ties that had been discarded at the end of a wharf. The tracks from which they had come lay behind him. Some empty cars stood upon them. Beyond these were a few stores, dirty and uncared for. Below, he could hear the gentle lap of the water. No one used this pier any more, but he took his usual precautions against the possible arrival of his brothers. Unearthing the rope he kept on the pier, he tied one end of it to a wooden pile and, holding tightly to the other end, scampered back across the pier to his retreat. If his brothers should come, they would trip over the rope into the water and he could slip away before they climbed out and discovered him. Satisfied with this make-shift protection, he settled down to read, his feet dangling over the water. As he grew more absorbed in the books, his pinched face rounded with pleasure. The rope grew lax between his fingers and stretched limply across the uneven boarding. Further along, the hoarse laughter of longshoremen broke the silence. A ferry boat hooted and steamed across the river-its smokestacks issuing forth a mist of their own. The sun rose further, and with it a hum began to rise from the city. Voices sounded louder and at more frequent intervals. Trucks rumbled along Tenth Avenue. Voices of stewards on one of the liners lying in dock re-echoed. One liner nosed its way down to the upper bay, people shouting and waving from it. Still the boy's small head was Page 9