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

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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

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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 Dark things appear in future dint We surely must get rid of him. (As he finishes. Sir Saturday, the innocent cause of all the trouble, enters with a number of his followers. Clouds appear on the horizon and for a time it looks like rain.) Sir Saturday: I listened awhile to that sissy While he said what he thought of me He knows not that he plays with fire By the way! Which one was the lyre? Sur Plus: Sir! Wouldst thou insult me thus? And me the noble son of Plus. I’d challenge thee to a duel But I fight not with a mule Tomorrow we will knock you dizzy As sure as I own a Tin Lizzie So take the hint and skip away Before we change it for today. If Countic will not let you hike I think we'll all go out on strike. Chorus of Knights: Tho one like you is brave as ten We do not want non-union men. We’ll fight you till we all do drop For we must stand for a closed shop As Plus just said you'd best be gone A train will leave at early morn. Sir Saturday: You’re all a bunch of green Hay- seeds I could even sell you a stock of beads. If Sir Plus is afraid to fight His champion will make it right So let him name that worthy one That justice might quickly be done Besides just making him repent I’ll practise for the tournament. ACT I, SCENE II (Two hours later, Eastern Standard Time. Courtyard of the Castle. Regulation ring is laid out in preparation for the bout between Sir Sat- urday and the champion of Sir Plus. The con- testants climb into the ring from opposite direc- tions, and the referee announces to an audience made up entirely of knights.) Referee: Friends! Romans! Upholders of the right I wish to announce a fierce grudge fight Between Sir Sat, the Prince St. Tartar. 31 And Sir Buckle, knight ot the Garter. The latter chosen champion To Plus the fighting Irishman. The rules they be not hard to read But wo be he who fails to heed That kicking, biting, hitting in a clinch Makes one a candidate for a grand lynch. The bout will go till one that wins Is found left standing on his pins. It will start when bells are rung The loser never will be hung. (At this the two contestants advance to meet each other, but arc stopped by the appearance of the Count of No Account, their master, who is very indignant over their contemplated fight. The other Knights disappear to give the count plenty of room, as the stage is now over- crowded.) The Count: War Dogs! Arc ye about to do Something that ye would always rue? If ye will have your fight right now The winner shall regret I vow. Tomorrow’s tickets arc all sold out We'll make this fight the leading bout And when the gate receipts arc in A goodly share for one to win. The winner will get all the loot The loser a big wooden suit. So save your pep for the next joust While I go get the show a boost. (Exit the Count with Sir Saturday. Enter the knights of the Pool Table.) Sir Buckle: Altho I’m but a visitor I think I have been treated raw. In trying to settle a gentleman’s quarrel They mistook me for a professional I think I’ll give that Sat some rights Then I'll join the Arabian Knights. Chorus of Knights : Sir. we sympathize with you With Countic also we arc thru His life’s not worth a broken plate He's nothing but an old cheap skate If you will give that Sat a smack. We’ll make you the Royal Hat rack. We’ll fight no more in this old grotto Live and let live will be our motto. (Exit the knights with Sir Buckle in their midst.)