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

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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

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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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THE OPTIMIST ]W her life there was to be of the simplest. To reconcile herself, however, she had to take her blue serge and her satin. It was Mr. Donalds who escorted Diana to the train that afternoon. Poor optimistic Dad certainly looked far from his usual self; even resolute Diana felt the least bit ready to sur- render, but she did not allow her mind to dwell on this thought. The journey to Mrs. Sander’s Boarding School was not a very strenuous one, nor did it give Diana any time for thought. It was about seven-thirty when she beheld Mrs. Sanders, who ordered a maid to lead her to her room, which of course had been arranged before hand. This dingy room Diana could not but immediately contrast to her own at home; but no, she would not contrast, for to be sure there was to be a great deal more in store for her. Nevertheless being in such a gloomy room was enough to discourage any- one. It was at the supper table that Diana met for the first time the rest of the girls. They looked like a pretty good lot. She was sure everything would turn out well. Why did they all look at her? She was wearing her serge and this was one of her best. It was not at her clothes, but what then ? She was a new comer and oh, well, people must stare at new faces. The supper progressed favorably when Sallie suggested the rink. This must assuredly re- ceive a unanimous vote, for what girl does not indulge in skating? Just as Diana was about soliloquize, “I wonder what’s coming next,” Sallie Vcncon arose with “Oh, but surely Miss Donalds, you’re coming along?” “Gracious! Is this where it’s going to be- gin?” thought Diana, but said: “Thanks very much, I’d really love to go, but you see my things must be put into place, and besides 1 don’t think I have the strength to skate after such a tiring journey.” This excuse was accepted as well as others in following days. It was this same Sallie who a month later insisted that Diana had to go to the Hallowe’en dance. “But Sallie, I simply cannot go.” “Any reason?” asked Sallie. “You may as well be frank, you know. Haven’t you even one evening dress? You know the girls all think that the reason, and anyone of us would be willing to lend you one.” How kind they all were, and oh! how Diana hated such tenderness. She admitted she had no dress for the oc- casion, nor did she care to wear a borrowed one. Diana insisted that she had Latin prose to do and surely prose was of more importance than the dance. Diana’s bet with her father wouldn’t, in honor, permit a borrowed gown, and she had to find some way out. Excuses, excuses. Life for Diana was just one excuse after another. Would she despair so soon? No, certainly not. But I do wish I could attend the affair.” Diana managed to escape into her room without being observed by the others. She flung herself on the bed and began to think, she was almost struggling to keep back the tears. “Oh, Peggy, you do look too cute.” “Why, Jackie, pink is so becoming!” “Doesn’t Jane look adorable,” came from across the corridor. “I do wish they’d leave. I wonder whether Jack’s going to be there,” mused Diana. Jack was Sallie’s brother, whom our little pretender had met a few weeks earlier. Many times had Diana wondered whether Jack had noticed how often she wore her plaited skirt. But now she wouldn’t think of such things; that was not in the wager. Anyway, Jack was going to be one of the supper guests to- morrow. You see, Diana was in every thing but a prose mood. At breakfast the next morning Diana ap- peared in her blue serge, her dinner gown till now. She was going to wear her satin for the first time that evening. As if one night of agony was not enough for Diana, all the events of the night before were here related. 11