South Side High School - Optimist Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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THE OPTIMIST My Refuge By BERNICE RODEMANN gjCROSS the road the creek de- scends in a steep fall. The bank on one side is sheer rock; on the other side a grad- ual decline. We used to creep down this lower bank and come out at the bottom of the fall, which formed a deep basin, almost round In this basin was a boulder large enough to seat three girls. We reached it by crossing the creek a little lower down, then coming up along the base of the highest cliff. Right at the bottom of the cliff was a little oblong patch of weeds and stones and a shallow little stream ran along on one side of it, thus making this patch an island which we called “Green Island.” “Green Island” and “Rock Island,” men- tioned before, connected by a few step- ping stones. Thus the water on one side of “Rock Island” was shallow enough to wade through, and on the other deep enough to drown in. We used to lie on this island and deep or read, hanging our feet over the edge and letting the cool water trickle over. The incessant booming of the fall was like a tragic song of nature and I used to love to lie on the island, listening and dreaming for hours. Perhaps you would ask the question, “What were your dicams?” If I had been a great writer the voice of the water would have told me hun- dreds of wild tales and songs. If I had been a great painter, the beauty of the nature around me would have inspired my hands to make a poor imitation. I was neither a poet nor a painter, just a simple city girl who loved the country, but the water told me many stories and the spot formed many pictures in my mind. I can see it now, the singular, whole- some, inspiring beauty of the wild glen. The trees on the cliff above could hardly be heard for the water, but still their faint whisperings and pleadings were audible. Occasionally a bird would rest on them and trill out a song. The wind sobbed a lullaby. The tumble of the water was like the roar of a mighty wave. No human voice could be heard from above in that wild place. It was like a retreat of nature which nothing could in- trude upon. I would lazily gaze for hours at that mighty fall resembling life in its ever noisy, never ceasing downpour; gaze at the fish apparently stationary in the water. The spot was generally shady and restful, but sometimes a sunbeam would Bicker through from overhead, and some- times a cloud would pass over. Then the who’e spot would suddenly grow darker, darker. The falls would boom, it seemed almost louder than before and the whole world resemble a tragic scene on life’s stage. Even the birds hushed and trembled, the trees bent in terror and the flowers cowed as if fate had laid the heavy, prophesying hand of a dark fu- ture over them. The Rainbow By GLADYS M. KAISER Come, let us chase the rainbow. Whose gauze-like lines of splendor Make glad our hearts and bring to us Life, joy, and feelings tender. Life that is worth the Jiving, joy that may shine though tears Of tenderness and happiness Through rainbow-colored years. 8

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fojfl THE OPTIMIST ] With a little resentment, she thought of Bob, and her experience of a few hours before. For a moment she was back in the dazzling ball-room, dancing with many of her admirers, and paying little attention to Bob. With a smile of satisfaction she remembered the disap- pointed look on his face when she had refused again and again to dance with him. Yes—Ann loved to tease Bob, but she was too proud to be lectured by him or anyone else. And, furthermore, just because she had gone with him, didn’t give him any right to dictate. She felt that she would show Mr. Bob that she was not to be trifled with, and would give him a fright by slipping away. Now, however, she was paying for her im- pulsiveness. Ann was still being followed. She felt she simply couldn’t endure this suspense any longer. At the next corner, under the friendly illumination of the street light, she nervously pulled out her hat- pin. Who would ever think that this desperate looking person was little Ann Leonards? She still wore her masque costume. One black ring was still dangling from her ear. Anyone might have taken her for some heroine, posing for a moving picture, as with flashing eyes and gleaming hatpin, she wheeled round to face her tormentor. In another moment, however, Ann found herself in the strong, protecting arms of Bob. My Garden by the Sea By SARELIA HAHN I Through the labyrinth I’ve sped, by the broad linden tree Where the jewel-like jasmine grow. And morning glory nods at me. As winds through the flow’rets blow. Here children have gathered. Joyous band. To hear strange tales From the Magic Land. Rustling leaves dar.ee in the tree In my garden by the sea. II Tall grasses bow down, as the angry wind sent Comes thund’ring his rage from the deep; Every tree its boughs has bent. And waves like wild horses leap; Lone seagull cries, Black clouds assemble. Gushing rain flows, Mighty rocks tremble— Yet the arched rainbow we’ll see. Near my garden by the sea. Ill When calm, solemn eve in her long robes of grey, Has lulled to rest the day, And lady-moon gliding in halo of light Through fleecy clouds steals her way. When birds are asleep. As the moon doth soar. In sadness I wander When these flowers are no more— The waves of life will dash as free. Nigh my garden by the sea. 7

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 THE OPTIMIST The First Annual Outing By LOUIS SCHRENZEL HEN I recall the first annual outing of the Jolly Six” Club, I must revert to my boyhood days when an outing was a milestone. When that outing was held a few years ago I was a happy participant: it caused me then much pride on account of our wonderful achieve- ment; now it serves as an effective anti- dote to relieve any blue” feeling. After much heated discussion, a com- mittee of a half dozen was appointed—the total membership was six—to formulate ways and means for the arrangement of this momentous affair. The members of the committee dickered and argued, harangued and fought over possible means of providing a conveyance to some outlying suburb. Finally the committee agreed to hire a horse and wagon. For- tunately the father of one of the mem- bers was a vegetable peddler and he most philanthropically consented to allow us the use of a wagon for one day. All that was now to be done was to hire a horse. The committee marched in a body to a livery stable where horses were hired out cheap for the day and by skilful bargain- ing got a horse for a day for the munifi- cent sum of one dollar. The horse was a lean animal with a pair of hungry eyes, a set of bruised legs, a white body almost entirely hidden by freckles,” upon which the whips of im- patient drivers had often found a target, and a bespattered nose. Figuratively speaking, “the horse had one leg in the grave.” The steed was hitched to the wagon and we set out for Bray Farms. Urged on by the continuous coaxing of the driver, the horse trotted on for a few moments. Everything seemed to go right with us, as we sat in the rig. Fiee wagon. cheap horse, beautiful day, all served to bolster up our good spirits. We soon reached the outskirts of the city. We were bouncing along leisurely, for-the horse was now walking, and plain- tive pleadings to “git dep” found a cold ear. We were resolved to reach our des- tination before noon; so force took the place of peaceful means in attaining our end. In relentless fashion the driver lashed the animal until it broke into an irregular trot. We were now at least ten miles from our starting point, just at the borders of an adjoining town. The green grass and budding trees filled our youth- ful breasts with joy. At the junction of two streets the horse suddenly stopped. No amount of coercion could make that animal move a step. A burly traffic policeman told us in no un- certain terms to move on and be quick about it. The animal remained deaf to our pleadings; it did not budge. We de- scended from our shaky rig and endeav- ored to ascertain the cause of the trouble. One bold fellow inspected the hoofs of the horse, another tenderly rubbed his legs, a third attempted to console the ani- mal by patting his nose—all were doing something. I saw a wistful look in those small eyes—a look that spoke hunger. We fetched the oats bag and handed the en- tire contents to the horse. We waited eagerly until the animal had consumed his feed while the policeman was threat- ening us with arrest if we didn’t move out of the way. But our horse calmly enjoyed his repast until ene impatient policeman pulled him to the side, spilling the feed. We were stranded. We be- came so loud-voiced in our complaints that we were warned to ‘‘shut up” if we didn’t care to spend the day in a “cooler.” (Continued on page 15.) 9