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

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THE OPTIMIST he stopped to talk and in the meanwhile his wares melted away. Y hen we pulled into Newark, I hoarded a trolley manned by Jacob Schocnholz and Arthur Collani. It may. by the way, interest you to know that Sophie Hutt, president of the Teachers’ Union, and ice-President Eleanor Hubing are calling a strike. Among their supporters arc Dorothy Honda and Ruth Edge. But. talking about schools. Eleanor Kennedy has just received a prize for punctuality at Vassar. Not surprising when you come to think of how early she used to come to South Side. Last night as Richard Nuffort and I were re- turning from the Prohibition Officers’ Ball (we were rather tipsy from partaking of too many nut sundaes), it seems we were making quite a bit of noise, for all of a sudden up rush Police- women Gussie Rauchbach and Mildred Werner and haul us in. So what do we do but engage Evelyn Tcpperman as our counsel. Talking about trouble. Leah ManhofT was around the other day soliciting subscriptions to the “Police Gazette.” To get rid of her I told her to call next door, where Madeline Ehrich and Jennie Rabinowitz are living. Ow! my wife. Bertha Knobloch. just asked me for money. I’m so upset I can’t continue. So I remain, as May Maine, the economics teacher, would say. badly bent—your friend ALPHA. All Except Me D. Dorothy Gann Our Senior Prom comes off next week My friends were asked, e’en Janet Beak, all except me. Our Senior Class went up the State On a nice long trip to every lake—all except me. Ncbody knew their French today. She called on no one. I must say—all except me. This month my girl friends all have passed They might graduate at last—all except me. Everybody’s bobbed their hair Their parents didn't even care—all except me. The girls all have such stunning clothes Such hats and shoes and pretty hose—all ex- cept me. The whole Senior Class is really bright— They can go out now. every night—all except me. Just what is the matter here. Arc all the girls so very dear—all except me? Yet Bob tells tne 'most every time That all the girls aren’t worth a dime—all ex- cept me. He says the girls all rouge and paint. And look at you—so you can faint—all except me. He said that he docs like girls small. The girls these days seem very tall—all ex- cept me. He told me girls should have long hair. And all their necks look very bare—all except me. Cause girls always fret and pout. Hob never takes young girls out—all except me. He says be doesn’t know' one girl Who doesn’t smile and flirt and twirl—all ex- cept me. So 1 won’t really worry, then. And I won’t have to say again—“all except me.’’ The Radio Bug By Harold Mantman I light the bulbs. And turn the dial. I listen close. And wait awhile. I watch the loop. And fix the ground. I twirl the knobs And catch a sound Just a minute. What do I hear? Harrison. China. Or Salamandcrc? Sh! It’s coming. Too soft and weak. Something’s the matter. With my grid leak. I test the batteries. Both A and B. To find out where The trouble may be. At last I hear it. A symphonic band It must be playing In some distant land. Ah! Now he's announcing The voice from afar. This is station W O R 29

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THE OPTIMIST | Feb. 22, 1970. ly Dear Sylver: I have so much news that if I don't put it right down I'll forget it. I sup- pose you know that two great Broadway stars arc suing their husbands for divorce. Sure you guessed it. They’re South Siders. Thelma Fried- fc-ld is suing her husband, George Friedman, who i«. president of the Barber Union and Mabel Cohen is suing Dr. Norman Levy. Some scan- dal. eh? Red Grabclsky and Jupe Goldberg have just ojwncd a big drug store, and have as soda clerks Minnie Ball, Helen Gottlieb and Lillian Zimetbaum. Irv Binctsky, jockeying a Ford, came in first in a 44« handicap race with a handi- cap of 420 yards. After puncturing four tires, breaking the steering gear and burning out the bearings, he won. Isador H. Plain, the former chemistry shark, has discovered a way of making banana oil cheap. He says he got the idea while watching his wife, formerly Helen Grecnblat, giving a lecture on Why Girls I.eave Home. Charlie Spitz and Red Stern are coaching the ping-pong team at Scatter ville, Barber s Col- lege. while Nick Brescia is teaching the under- graduate barbers how to cut a | erson without disfiguring him. George Chidnofsky and Sam Kinhorn have started a firm of butchers. Yes. they’re doctors. Jacqueline Dolph is still asking foolish questions, but this time at college. If you remember, she got her practise in the Vergil class. After years of ambitious work. Harold Hey- man and Elwood Smith are managers of delica- tessen stores in the firms of Barth and Fried- man. Gosh! I hear footsteps. That must be Joseph Korany, my tough landlord, coming to collect my rent—which I haven’t got—so I better close this letter and door. Hastily yours. ALPHA. P. S. The suit I am now wearing I purchased in the second-hand store run by the two Franks, Grammar and Fink. The saleslady that stuck me on the suit was Dot Gann. She can still talk faster than an adding machine. Now the light is growing low and my pen is running dry ; so whether I like it or not. 1 must close. A. July 4. 1970. Dear Sylvester: In order to celebrate the holi- day which comes this week. I took a trip to that summer resort. Sing-Sing on the Hudson. The first thing I saw when I reached Sing- Sing was Eugene Buck and John McDonald in stripes, but the warden. Morris Barr, wouldn’t let me speak to them, because they were in for squeezing juice out of a rock. But I did speak to one of the guards. Arthur Durvage. who told me Buck and McDonald were mild compared to some of the women prisoners; Lea Loebel, Irene Krajewski and Mabel Olphin, for instance. At the station I met four of the train crew. Milton Haase, the fireman; Warren Wilson, the engineer; Eddie Iversen, the brakeman, and Morris Lubin, the conductor. After the train started, I went into the smoking car and there I met Gertrude Tarchis, Pearl Cohen, Emily Schmuker, Gladys Easton and Mildred Schroe- dcr—a regular rouge gallery—all smoking pipes. When I got home. I found a letter notifying me that Esther Van Moppes had formed a jazz band with Carl Kress. Keada Sicgler is busi- ness manager. Reada, you know, could always talk. Herbert Knitter and Herbert Rcch, after their years of experience in the lunch room, have just opened their own ice cream emporium. William Cackle, the radio shark, has invented a coilless wireless set. Chute a feat, chr You re- member Jimmie Pappas, don’t you? Well, the poor fellow is all thru as a runner. He tried to run the home with Gertrude Sala, and when he gets out of the hospital maybe he’ll realize it. The other day I went down to Asburv Park, for a day. for the simple reason that I found a ticket good for one day only, in front of the station. While I was sitting on the sand. I saw a fellow in a scarlet bathing suit come along. He had embroidered over it the following in- scription. “Handsome Hahn, the working girl’s friend. Sure enough, it was Elvin Hahn. After a while I felt hungry, so I walked over to Newell Coe’s Incandescent Hot Dog Ranch, where I had a bite. Say, when I saw that Helen Munt- rick and Norma Ayres were waitresses, my stomach leaped with joy, for I thought I would get away without paying, but nothing doing, for Yetta Feiman, the cashier, called George Geng, the bouncer, and I had to part with fifty cents. That put a dent in my wallet, so 1 stepped into the first hock shop I saw and proceeded to pawn my watch. I thought the pawn shop guy’s voice sounded familiar, and when he pulled his beard out of the way, sure enough, it was Meyer Kravitz. He was so glad to see me that he called out his two apprentices, I. Kuskin and Will Abramson. Did you know that Benj. Levy is a train con- ductor? I didn’t know it until he tried to get my ticket from me. When the train pulled out a fellow came thru shouting. Ice cream cones! Get ’em while they’re hot. You guessed it! It was Arthur Burkhardt. Mary Inglin and Anita Rowe were on the train, so when Art saw them

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 63 1 THE OPTIMIST When Nighthood Was the Hour An Uproar in Four Acts. Herr Thomaso von Winnermann. UPROARIOUS PERSONAE The Count of No Account—ten oar Sir Buckle. Knight of the Garter Milady, his wife—soaprano Knights of the Pool Table—all tones Sir Loin, a tough guy—anytonc Sir Saturday, Knight of the Bath—bury tone Friday, his devoted varlet and a poor fish—bass Chorus: maids, pages, men-at-arms, servants, lords, and what not. Accompanied by the Orchestra ACT I, SCENE I (Knights of the Pool Table arc seated in full regalia. Their leader, Sir Loin, is standing cue in hand.) Sir Loin: Knightics! We have not gathered here Just to drink up all the beer. Oh, no! It is quite far from that We would discuss that loafer Sat. The daily jousts will soon begin I'll knock him for a hunk of tin Now what I want you all to do Is tell me what he did to you Of course I have nought to complain But sight of him gives me a pain. Begin to tell ntc all your woes Anything we say surely goes. I-et liars begin to say their pray'rs They will be blasted in their chairs. Sir Tax: Last week my wife collected his rent The next day my poor nose was bent. He is a wicked wretch you sec For he took it all out on me. I move we get a husky rail And make this wise guy takr the trail. (He sits down amid great applause.) Sir Loin : Before we proceed in this affair Why doesn’t Sir Rene sit in his chair? Sir Rene: Chief! An awful curse has come my way So I must stand up foi a year and a day Sir Sat at shooting craps last night I beat For revenge he put a tack on my scat, Altho he is a hunk o’ leather I move we give him tar and feather. (As Sir Rene finishes his memory gem, he is greeted with a shower of glycerin tears. Sir Rum arises and speaks.) Sir Rum : What Sir Rene said took all my vim I move we all stand up with him. Sir Loin: The words you say arc surely just But it would ruin the Table Trust. (To the rest) We’ll have Sir Rum begin his talc I wonder why he looks so pale. Sir Rum: That runt he surely did me dirt He put a flea in my knight shirt. We were matched together in Seattle one night I was too busy and lost the fight. I move we take none of his sass On him we can use lethal gas. (He sits down and is also applauded: Sir Plus, the Poet Knight, is asked to speak and docs so, accompanied by a lyre.) Sir Plus: He gave me a crooked deal And made me sick one night Now when I eat a good meal I lose my appetite. N tl me .j rooJltxf Jr I 'I nd mi r » • wif 0nr nti,ht A'cvt l a n « I my arfirftfc 30