Seth Low Junior High School - Spectator Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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FISH EYES Characters Jim Hanvy .................................... Detective Mary Jones ......... Powers, Girl Friend Bill Powers ........................... Bank Cashier Mr. Gray ........................ Bank President Scene I Place : First National Bank-New York City. Time: 3 oiclock in the afternoon. Bill: Weill be on easy street soon. I got away with it as easy as you could snap your fingers-$Ioo,ooo grand too. Now Iill go in and tell that guy Gray that it was missing when I first got the dough. M ary : Swell, Bill, but watch it. As soon as you tell Gray, the bulls will be down like a pack of blood-hounds with that flat-foot detective, Hanvy. Bill: He better watch out. Heill be full of air-holes some day. S cene II Mr. Grayls Oiiice. Bill: But Mr. Gray, it was missing when I started to count it. M 7. Gray: I believe you. Go home and wait until you are summoned. Bill: But Mr. Gray don,t you suspect some one? Mr. Gray: No, not just now. Wait until you are called. Scene III Place: In a little room occupied by Bill Powers. A few days later Bill: I tell you Mary that detective Hanvy is driving me crazy. All he does is sit around and gape at me with those lish eyes of his. He knows I stole itehe knows it. If he would only call an investigation or something like that. M ary : I know it, but hang on a little bit longer, it will blow over soon. And then we,ll be on easy street for the rest of our lives. S cene I V At the bank. Bill tTo himselfl : I can,t stand it, I just canlt. Iim going to confess. Bill: Mr. Hanvy I confess I stole. Now will you stop looking at me with those eyes? H anvy .' Why what do you mean? There was a robbery in your cage a few years ago and I was just trying to iigure out how it was worked. I didnit have any suspects lined up yet. But I guess now you saved me the trouble. THE END 0' o O MOTHER Should you search the sky and earth For life,s gift of greatest worth, You shall find above all other, Life's most precious gift is mother. Anita Leder, R02 David Brady, RB6 T H E S P E C T A T O R Page Twenty-seven

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AN EMBARASSI NG SITUATION HE incident which I am about to relate occurred a few years ago but I remember each little detail as if it happened yesterday. It was just before a spelling test and I discovered that I had no ink. With the consent of my teacher, I went to the closet for some. I noticed that my teacher was irritated for I annoyed her with petty details, such as, discov- ering the closet was locked, obtaining the keys, using a dozen different keys before using the right one and other little things that would vex the most sweet tempered person. After delaying the class for about ten minutes, I ran to my seat with the can of ink, feeling, I can assure you very much like a goose, very conspicuous and very much like the prize dunce of the class. But fate with all her mis- chievous pranks had to make me the laughing stock once more for just as I was about to be seated, I slipped and fell, ink and all, getting the ink all over myself and another unfortunate victim, my neighbor, Selma Bernholtz. Now, how would you feel if you were in my place? In other words I felt as though I were a fool, a ninny, a simpleton, and everything else per- taining to stupidity. The mess was Cleaned and cleared. I knew my teacher was exasperated and provoked but got the better of her temper, for she only said, disgustedly, IlWell, Laura, did you get enough ink Em And I, thinking she had meant in my inkwell, replied, tho, Mrs. Taffet, I didnit get anyW At which those Children laughed, as I had never heard them laugh before. Strange as it may seem, every word is true. Yet, I saved the day, for we didnlt have a spelling test. Laura Dunn, R03 0 0 O SETH LOW. OUR SCHOOL T last I am a student of Seth Well do I remember the days when I used to gaze with open admiration and awe at the huge white building of which I am now so proud. Well do I remember how I used to envy those students that marched proudly from within its walls. Well do I remember how I used to wish that I, too, could attend Seth Low. Nor am I sorry! For here we are treated as if we were high school stu- dents; the teachers are not any better -but, somehow they are differentre more likeable. It is indeed a pleasure to be here. The building itself is beautiful and Low l Page Twenty-six attractive. Its halls are clean and nice. It is not so much those things alone that have made me lirm in my opin- ion of Seth Low. It is the fine spirit that prevails here; the spirit that never says tidiefi One meets new friends, new com- panions. One becomes older mentally. One is swept along in the general rush to oneis goal. I could continue to praise Seth Low. I could tell of the tradition of the school. I could write of the heroes of Seth Low. But, it would be ilold stuff? We, who are here know. Yes, we love our Seth Low! Judith Vogel, RA5 THE SPECTATOR

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FOR THE LOVE OF THE BULLFIGHT It is a gala day in old Madrid, it is the day of the bullfight. by curiosity we enter the grandstands Drawn and prepare to watch the national sport of Spain. We look around and see beautiful women in mantillas, ven- ders selling sardine sandwichesa greasy, dirtyaimpossible to eat for The band plays the military music, and the bull useand programmes. enters the arena through a small hole. The bull has been starved and an- noyed for days in expectation of the coming event. The matadors in blues, greens and yellows wave red blankets. The bull is very nearsighted, he can only see redahe dashes at the Cloth. The matadors swiftly step to the side, one pranees on a horse, the bull tears toward the horse, and rips its side open. The horse falls in a pool of blood, the crowd cheers, as the mata- dor plunges a spear in the bullis side. Then the matadors dance about in circles, the bull goes around too, and is weakened by the loss of blood of his wound. After the bull is suf- iiciently tired, a bugle is sounded, and all the other matadors but the chief one leave, and the principle matador draws a sword. He watches a moment and then plunges the sword into the bullis brainethe bull is dead. The crowd cheers ilBravo, bravo? and the great brave m matador takes his bows. The bull fight is over. Donald Keene, RB I Page Twenty-eight A HARROWING EXPERIENCE In-two, three, f0u7;0ut-tw0, three, four; In-two, three, four; Out-two, tand everything went darki. We were enjoying ourselves im- mensely at the birthday party, when, without warning the lights went out. I heard a loud and deafening report somewhat like a gun, but in that room I felt a sharp and piercing pain go through it sounded like a cannon. my shoulder, and my senses left me. When I came to, I found myself in a small room that was illuminated by a tallow candle that flickered with the breeze that came through an open window. My shoulder ached hercely and my Clothes were full of blood. I heard footsteps approaching and then the door flew open. I saw a sight that startled me. There a man stood with a face that only a mother could love on pay day. His eyes were twisted around in a peculiar manner, two fingers were missing from his left hand and his right ear was gone. He came towards me, and I started to get up, but I found that I was tied to a bed. In his hand, he held a dissecting knife. He tore my shirt and jacket off my chest and just as I was about to be cut up I awoke and found myself on a white bed in a hospital ward. Then I remembered that I had awakened from the effects of ether that I had received before my operation for appendicitis. Gilbert Miller, 9B7 THE SPECTATOR