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

Page 96 text:

LOWER A It is in the Lower A class that the final touches of worldly wisdom are mingled with all the other subtle changes which the Harris student undergoes during his transition from the naivete of the Lower C to the polished self-assuredness of the senior. Behind him he has two and a half years of intellectual training. He has participated in the activities of clubs, councils, and teams. Now he is prepared to lead them, to take charge of the aiairs of the entire school. With this fact in mind the class of June, 1934, tried not to slacken the pace in its stride towards that ultimate destination. It achieved recognition when five of its mem- bers were inducted into the Arista, the greatest honor which the school has to be- stow. It was well represented in the Held of athletics, there were Lower A's on every Harris team. The banquet, traditional func- tion of the pre-senior class, was heartily sup- ported, and was a great success. The council did its work sincerely and seriously, and ac- complished much during the term. Judging by this performance, the present graduating class need certainly have no fear that there will be a lack of capable men to carry on its work next term. S. Alterowitz ...... ............. P resident M. Aronstein ..... ..... V ice-President H. Blondheim ...... ,......... ......... S e cretary L. Goldstein .... ......................... T reasurer L. Levey .......... ...... G . 0. Representative Mr. Dennett ....... ........... F aculty Advisor page ninety-two

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UPPER B PROPHECY During the past year I found out: Alan Kramer, famed for coyness, now acts as a Japanese girl in a 'hit', play written by one Fred Charlton. Kramer, with the aid of the Askinasi Elocution School, has recovered his lost lisp. Charlton was succeeding in his journalistic career fselling papersl, before he was made by his play. The great lover of the Jap girl is none other than Mason Abrams, who has condescended to leave Shakespeare for a short while. Everett Cohen, the famed essayist, is now writing his memoirs, he guarantees that no word of less than four syllables will be included. The only essayist comparable to Cohen is Edward Junger, who has written just one piece- On How To Avoid Homework --an overwhelm- ing success. Little children thank him. Across the street from the theatre in which Charlton's play is running is its greatest com- petitor-the Jacobson Theatre. There Alan Jacobson, the Jester, daily convulses audi- ences with his sparkling wit. The butt of his jokes is Ned Weissberg, whose recompense is permission publicly to Haunt his Arista pin on an azure background. Wechsler, the pro- fessional football player, is Jacobson's best customer, he comes to the theatre twice for every time Alan sees him play. It was not difficult to find Victor Hersch- berg. He is world renowned as the author of the revolutionary Quantum XYZ theory and several language books. . . The other day I turned to the fourth page of the New York Dimes-Postalgram and was knocked over by a full page advertisement of Robert Pelz wearing gorgeous green underwear. On the next page was an eulogistic address made by Joseph Loeb, Jr., the famous politician, in which he,compliments Edward Weitzen and Arnold Friedlander for having solicited the most Red Cross funds. . . '?r7eitzen's glamour was caused by his unkempt hair. . . The rest of the U.B Class has, I've been informed, created a union for a two-hour, forty dollar minimum wage week. The Communists call them conservative. . . page ninety-one

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THE GOOD SHIP 'GLOWER A 'SW'l D - 1 lt 1 ayton Dennett, ship s first mate, And Seymour at the helm, Old Lower A was iron clad, No storm could overwhelmf' So said the aged seer Whose crystal was not clear. After a month or so, the craft Was tossed into a squallg And all the hands were called on deck, The cook, young Dong, and all. The spume flew fast and free, It was an angry sea. There he was in slicker and boots, Stooped and dripping wet, Yet lending all a helping hand And even smiling yet, While poor old Jack stood near, Pale with mortal fear. There Murray, his head o'er the rail, Suffered from the tossing, Kosen sat and cursed Neptune For making such rough crossing. But Louis, calm and cold, Sat counting out his gold. And Robert Warren, Hillel, too, In deep melodic tone, Emitted to the roaring sea A loud and fearful groan. The other men joined in- A high and awesome din. Then all on deck at once recalled Their gala, grand banquet, But why remember pleasant things When they were wringing wet? Their vessel insecure, How long could she endure? That single thought of banquet eve Drove from their heads their plight And dwelled but on that happy time, What joy that banquet night! Newton at the splendid feast There ate a juicy steak, While Lehn and Colvin, busy munched A deep pineapple cake- There, at the Cabin Grill, Where Morty paid the bill. And all throughout the raging storm Memories lingered on, Till tranquil was the ocean blue, A still, but misty dawn. Absorbed in memories gone by, Enrolled in foggy fold, Wondering, the group sails on, What does the future hold? When on the Senior Sea, How will the sailing be? page ninety-three