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

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 THE OPTIMIST 1 Senior Editor, Helene Englander. EDITORS Robert Nolan Esther Crane Arthur Ward Abigail Van Horn Edith Curren The Twilight Waltz By Evelyn McWhood. THE soft, dreamy strains of a waltz float- ed out on the clear air of evening, the melody rising and falling in rythmic loveli- ness of sound. The player was a girl, her face full of the joyousness of carefree youth, but in her eyes a light, a something not akin to joy— a look of Things Beyond, as if she felt for the moment the pulse of greater, richer power than that of youth. The music cast a spell that seemed to blot out the rosy comfort of the firclit room, that seemed to transport her to another sphere where all was radiant white- ness. Under her gliding fingers the rippling notes took on a lingering plaintive tone. Out in the street hurried feet sped home- ward. Thru the darkening twilight hour scores of workers passed. Some walked with brisk expectancy. They were returning to their homely firesides after the day’s labor. The thought of loved ones waiting there spurred them onto joyous haste. To these the haunt- ing strain of music wafted on the breeze car- ried no sadness, and caused only a momentary slackening of pace, that they might better hear the beauty of the tone. But some there were who passed but slowly, their lagging footsteps telling not of joyful hope and thought of hap- py family life, but rather of listless despair, the bleak outcome of dreams unrealized and hopes long dead. Of these some were too deep in thought to hear the fragrant sweetness of the melody. But one, slowly pacing by, head bent in gloomy meditation, face drawn and white with suffering, paused on his way and listened. Lines of bitter disappointment, tinged with the hopelessness of regret had traced an indeli- ble cloud of sadness on his features. And as he raised his head to catch the strains of music, there was in his eyes the look of a man at bay, the helpless, haunted look that shows sur- render to the overwhelming odds of life. He was ready to give up the joyless struggle for existence. For a moment he stood motionless, listening to the song. Then, as the transient 9

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1»€?l THE O P T I M I ST The Way To Do Things Is- TO DO THEM THAT plan of action applies not only to your studies, but to the start- ing of a bank account. In either case procrastination is an enemy that must be promptly fought and overcome. Others have done that in connection with their studies and in starting their own interest-bearing bank accounts, and what they have done you can do. They decided to have bank accounts; they decided to open them at once; they found ways of saving money to do it, and—they did it! Are you going to confess—even to yourself—that you can’t do what they have done? You know that you can do it; you know that you WILL do it, and this, the largest institution of its kind in New Jersey, urges you to do it at once. Don t put it off another day. Two dollars or more will start for you an account in the SAVINGS DEPARTMENT Fidelity Trust Company 753 BROAD STREET Between Bank and Academy Streets Banking, Trust, Bond, Title, Mortgage, Savings, Credit and Safe Deposit Departments. 8

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THE OPTIMIST 1 beauty of sound, quivering under the wander- ing fingers of the player began to force itself into his consciousness, he drew nearer to hear better the fullness of the message it conveyed. As the music rose and fell he saw the days of the past, when life had been a round of joy and happiness. He saw his youth and all its gaiety, and then his manhood, when hopes were high and dreams things of reality. But as his mind went on, tracing the happenings of the years, the pictures were not so bright. The change had not been sudden, but a gradual wearing off of the gilt of youthful confidence until the hard steel cf reality, cold and unbend- ing lay open to view. With the dashing of his hopes went unfulfilled dreams. His goal lost to sight, the incentive to fight—to struggle on, was drowned in despair until it seemed use- less to try. And now as he stood alone in the gathering darkness the soothing chords of the waltz seemed to find their way into his heart. The icy crust of bitterness that bound his soul gave way to the softening warmth of the music. The idyllic beauty of the sound found an answering note within him, and while he felt its influence, he knew what had been reawakened in his heart—it was Hope, that he had thought gone forever! The plaintive melody had changed, and in its stead there floated on the breeze, tripping notes of ecstatic joy. To the listening man it was like a promise of hope’s reward, and with a glad cry, full of the overpowering vigor of renewed life, he turned and vanished into the night. The notes of the waltz died into silence. Within the girl rose from the piano. In her eyes was youth, but the look of Things Beyond was gone. Who Wins? “IMPOSSIBLE,” repeated Mr. Donalds, as he sat leaning against the arm of his easy chair indulging in argument with his per- sistent daughter. “I do wish you would stop using that horrid word and listen to reason. Because Edith hated it does that indicate that other girls with very' little money are incapable of having a good time at boarding school?” demanded pretty Diana, for to be sure she did look pretty- in her green evening gown of tulle. “Exactly,” declared Mr. Donalds. “It has yet to be proven to me that anyone not able to spend money on the frivolities of the age can endure the life of a fashionable girls’ boarding school. As Edith’s legal guardian, her life there has caused me a great deal of worriment, I don’t think anyone capable of do- ing what Edith could not.” “Is that a wager?” questioned Diana. “Oh, but of course, you do mean everything you say. I’ll take that dare. Let me be the one to prove to you that boarding school is not a most undemocratic place.” “My, how serious my daughter is!” laughed Mr. Donalds, but feared for impulsiveness on the part of Diana. Don’t take back your words just because I’m to be concerned,” insisted Diana. “I’ll pretend to be this poor girl, register at the boarding school, and prove to you that board- ing school is just as democratic as any other institution.” Now, when Diana got a notion determined Diana would carry it to a conclusion. Every- one knew this, and so did Mr. Donalds. Ar- gument, therefore, would be of no avail, Diana was going, and what was more, Mr. Donalds would have to make the best of the situation. The next morning found Diana alert and busy. She had no time for breakfast and if it had not been for her father’s insistence, she would not have had any luncheon. Diana was too occupied choosing her wardrobe. No, she could not take any evening gown, not even her much admired pink, for to be sure, 10