REUNION CENTRAL

NEW MEMBER REGISTRATION

WHEN THE TOWER CLOCK ARRIVES

     A hush comes over the crowd assembled in the amphitheater of Lane. The speaker is about to arrive. He has given up his annual vacation for the realization of the life dream of the students of Lane. The roof is so crowded that many students have been forced to land their helicopters in Dexter Park. An electric thrill flows through the crowd as the speaker's rocket ship has been sighted. It is unbelievable that he has come all the way from Mars for this occasion. There is not a sound from over ten thousand students and alumni, for the excellent manners and personalities of Lane students have gained nation-wide recognition. A student of Franklin K. Lane is one of the most respected members of the community. A phone rings in the General Office, but no one budges, for the faithful robot is there 24 hours a day at the little wooden switchboard. Yes, it's the same switchboard. The robot answers; "Hello, Franklin K. Lane High School. What can I do for you?" "This is student number 1037 from official room 113. Would you please arrange to have the ceremony trans­mitted to my T. V. set? Color and four dimensional, of course. Thank you." This is nothing uncommon, as 13,000 additional students now study on the Lane Home Television Plan.
     Ah - but let's return to the field, for the rocket ship has landed. The speaker steps out, sporting a fine Martian tan. One can hear a pin drop as the crowd waits in anticipation. He begins:
     "Fourscore and seven years ago our forefathers promised to the students of Lane, a tower clock, dedicated to the purpose that all latenesses be abolished. Now we are engaged in a great endeavor, testing whether this school, or any school so dedicated can long endure. We have come to dedicate a portion of yonder tower as a final resting place for the long-awaited Lane tower clock so that those who do not possess atomic watches may still enjoy the benefits set forth by this institution. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. Let us resolve here and now that the tower clock shall forever run and that the government of the students, by the students and for the students, shall not perish from the earth."
      The applause is deafening, as the tower clock is unveiled. It is majestic, standing high above the busy streets around F. K. Lane. But just as the crowd is about to dis­perse, the Board of Education air-plane circles overhead (they haven't made the switch to rocket ships yet). What news could this antiquated wreck of a plane bring? It lands and out steps the Board of Education crier. "Hear ye, Hear - ye! The building situated at Jamaica Avenue and Dexter Court will no longer be used as a Public High School! Therefore, all students will report to the new school located at Miami Beach." The crowd is in an uproar - ninety years of work for nothing! The speaker turns in disgust and heads back to Mars. The students scurry to their helicopters to set off for Miami. And there I stand all alone with only the Tower Clock and the tomb­stones for company. "Still, perhaps it's better," I said to myself. "Just think of all the students who would have been injured trying to beat the clock." Now I leave the lonely building, never again to see a student. But I can sleep to the steady tick of the clock, and so I jump over the fence, and climb back into my grave.

Stuart Golann

JUNE 1953

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