Townsend Harris High School - Crimson Gold Yearbook (Flushing, NY)

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CORRIDA DE TOROS By Harry M. Simon, Ir. Ceuta is on the Mediterranean seacoast, in that part of Morocco which is Spain's. It is very old--and very Spanish. Did he not al- ready know the fact, the visitor would not realize that he was in Morocco, from a mere survey of tl1e town. Moors are very seldom seen, the Spanish type is strongly dominant. From the Governor down to the humblest beggar, the people of Ceuta love bullfights. These are their major diversion, in fact, ex- cept for fiestas, which generally accompany them, it is almost their only one. They have a large Plaza de Toros, or arena for the fight- ing of the bulls, on the outskirts of their town-not so fine, perhaps, as those in Sevilla or Madrid, but most assuredly, well kept. Every fortnight during the dry season fwhich is the only time when the lights are held, the Plaza is veritably swarming with excited, gesticulating followers of the sport, eagerly anticipating the entertainment to come, reminiscently discussing performances of the past. The favorite matador, generally a young Ceutan, receives a large share of the comment, Gfhe will go to Madrid, yes, he will rival the great Behnonte himself!',-predic- tions for his future are indeed bright. Next to its love of bullfzights, Ceuta is noted for its appreciation of feminine charms, an unusually large number of beauties dwell within its own walls. These, perhaps more so than the men, delight in the Corridas de Toros, the bulliights, these it is for whose adulation so many young men have deter- mined to be, have become, and have died, matadors. It was long ago that the great toreador Salvator, who was gored to death so recently by that tremendous bull, Fernando III, while passing through Ceuta on his way to Spain, following a vacation in Marrakech, was in- duced by the Governor to give an exhibition of his great art in a benefit performance for the families of three young toreadors who had been killed a short time before. It was a grand and gala event in the life of Ceuta, long will it be remembered by the inhabitants of the town. All of the young bloods had in- vited their lady loves to the Corrida long be- fore the great day arrived, great was the preparation of the arena oflicials, of the page thirty-five

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N xl XXX fx 'f ,um u ff-fffT'2.z,,5-1,1 , Xg ffi ff MJ it to t -lm , s 1 ' 1- if n -'LA , llf U 1 p i SONNET An old piano being used as an ornament in a wealthy personis mansion Alone, midst people, thou stand'st, silent and mute, Thy sweet harmonious voice no more is heard. Like a wild, melodious woodland bird, Sullen in captivity, or a lute, Whose timid quav'ring notes once charmed the ears Of old Egyptian princes and Memphian kings, And now reposes, 'mongst other lifeless things, In a dull museum, thou passeth through the years. Alas! 'tis one of God's ironic laws That Man and Matter shall be torn away To serve a viler and more banal cause Than their true bent desires. Happy the day When Man may follow the dictates of his heart, And live with Music, Poetry and Art. William Goldberg. page thirty-foul

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young toreadors, looking joyfully forward to the fame that was to be theirs for merely having participated in the same fight with the great man, and of the beautiful senoritas. Belle of the belles of Ceuta at that time was Solita Esteban: the fickle Solita, the darkly beautiful Solita, of the lithe, slender body,of the flashing black eyes, of the blood red lips, of the raven hair. And chief among the admirers of Solita was Jaime Mendoza: Jaime the proud, ,laime the selfish, aristo- cratic, haughty, accustomed to getting what he wanted, jealous to the death of the object of his passion. Not less than the others of Ceuta did Solita delight in the Corridas de Torosg not less did she worship, did she adore, the toreadors. It was only natural, therefore, that on the great day, at the climax of the fiesta that had begun a week before, Jaime and Solita were among the first to arrive at the Plaza de Toros, nod- ding gaily to friends, smiling condescend- ingly to the poorer ones who tipped their hats in admiration of so line a couple. Like to the most gorgeous picture ever fashioned by the exquisite genius of Goya, Solita was costumed in the traditional fashion of the sport. The beautiful shawl of the Corrida, bright red, with darker crimson and black flowers worked delicately into it, was thrown jauntily about her shoulders-a red rose piquantly caressing the jet blackness of her hair, as it bobbed behind her ear. Gallantly dressed also was Jaime. Though not in uni- form, nevertheless he was by no means eclipsed by the gorgeously costumed officers who wandered about the area in front of the arena. Under his arm he carried a light sword-cane, indeed, he presented a fine pic- ture of the aristocratic young provincial Spaniard on holiday. A gloriously colorful and gay picture was this, police, in black patent-leather cocked hats and tan uniforms faced in yellow and red, patrolled the ground, rifles slung on shoulders, their officers, even more ornately attired, gold and black swords at their sides, were chatting animatedly with acquaintances. Everybody seemed to know everybody else, all was jollity. The shawls of the senoritas- indeed, even the senoras wore them-black, red, and gold predominating, completed a riotous scheme of color nowhere to be found but at a Spanish fiesta. Indeed, Jaime, exclaimed Solita, though we have witnessed many fights, this will be page thirty-six