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

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III Since he thought he knew all the tricks, He entered local politics, Because he was a prodigious dub, He was let into the Tammany Club. IV Soon beyond his wildest dreams Euriah was judge in the Borough of Queens, Because to court he never came late, He was made a Surrogate. V Because he wanted to be more famous, He branded himself an ignoramus, KUnwittingly, though, I must confess, By writing a verdict of 9,000 words, Ninety hundred, no more, no less. VI Because he was the worst of all, He was installed in City Hall. There he reigned for over a year, Without applause, Without a cheer. VII They mocked his eyes, his jaw, his face, They hounded poor Eury all over the place, But in November the folks grew tired, And so another Mayor hired. And this, I am sorry to tell, Spelled iinis for Eury Snell. Epilogue Oh, where is Eury, where is he? Let me confirm your hopes, your fears, He still does nothing constantly, Just as he's done for sixty years. That was the story of Eury Snell, I hope you have attended well, So all join in and toll his knell, Hale, Eury! Farewell, Snell! page fifty-seren

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neck was a license tag, proclaiming him to be the property of my master and mistress. As we walked, I nodded briefly to my acquain- tances, aware of the honor he bestowed on me by accompanying me. You can be certain that I was envied. Beebo was indeed the hero of the town! As we walked, I saw Sir Colvin, his head bandaged, and his tail between his legs, sulking. Ever since that momentous day he had been a complete outcast, dis- graced. As I passed him, I held my head high, at the same time glancing admiringly at Beebo. As I said before, I always knew there was something else to Beebo besides his good looks. I EURIAH SN ELL Richard Cohen Prologue I desire to tell Of Euriah Snell. Please do not flee, But bear with me, And I'll unfold, In a manner bold, The tale oft told Of old Eury. I When a boy, He was a curse, As a youth, He was still worse. II When he left college, He lacked no knowledge, But he was shy On how to apply The fundamentals And incidentals They tried to grind Into his mind- But as you can guess, Without success. page fifty-six

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THE PHILOSOPHER A Play in One Act By Harold Fleck Dramatis Personae Dr. F randpoodle, a professor of Ethicsg a timid, scholarly man, he is small of stature, and he blinks his eyes incessantly behind dark-rimmed glasses. Mrs. F randpoodle, wife of the professorg a stout woman of very excitable nature, her attitude is always of great respect for her husband. Detectivejolomon, an amateur detective, friend of the F randpoodles. Mr. Crabstone, friend of Solomon and the Frandpoodles. Approdite, colored maid of the Frand- poodlesg her outstanding characteristic is the presence of two buck teeth in her upper jaw. Scene: Parlor of the Frandpoodles. This is a huge room on the ground floor of their home. To the right is a French door leading to the side streetr, through it pours the light from a street lamp. At the center, to the rear, is a highly decorative fireplace. Above it, on the wall, is a huge picture. At the center, to the foreground, is a large table, fancifully carved. There is an electric table lamp on it, and a few chairs of an antique nature placed about it. To the left is a stair- case leading to the bedrooms. The walls are crowded with pictures of all sizes. Scene I Prof.: You see, my dear, I have won again, and now I shall retire to my study. KHe gets up from the chair.J Mrs. F.: It's very early, and why must you work so hard? I really believe that you won't be appreciated for such labor. Prof. fremoving his glasses and blinking violentlyl: The recompense for intellectual work is not perceived, but rather . . . con- ceived . . . ahem . . . ahem . . . that is, my dear, the joy is brought forth through the medium of the means and not through the end achieved. That inner joy that only the rational being can experience, is all mine. That is the only joy we should desire . . . nothing else, for all other pleasures are vain . . . futile . . . sensuous . . . Continence is the only road to freedom . . . ah, yes! Good night, my dear. page fifty-eight