Modern Screen (Dec 1949 - Nov 1950)

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Jobs waiting in hospitals, sanitariums, medical offices, private duty, armed forces. Women and men. 18 to 60. High school not needed. Professional outfit included. Easy payments. Cancellation privileges. Mall coupon ___now. G I EN WOOD" "CAREER ~ I C H O O IT 7050 Glenwood Ave. Dept. N4-II Chicago 28 III. Send Tree booklet and full Information on Practical Nunlni Addre^ A8t CitS -Stale outsider called one of them a "mick" or a 'heinie," a "kike," a "nigger" or a "wop" —any of the expressions that continue to divide the world, all five boys dove in with heads down and fists flying Theirs was one world, and they fought for it. It made them tough. They had to be the leaders. They played hookey as often as possible in order to roam the streets, and they were fast becoming material for the underworld. Then one day they were rounded up by a weary truant officer, who gave them a piece of paper on which was written the name of Al Schwartz and the Jones Memorial Settlement House. "You're to go see this guy Al— all five ol you, he said. "And no funny business or the cops'll hear about it." The boys were filled with disgust at the prospect, but they knew they had to go. They approached the settlement house silently and glumly, their thumbs hooked in their belts. Al Schwartz met them at the door. He was a big man with a round face touched with the blue of a heavy beard. His nose was sharp and his teeth uneven, but there was something in his smile that made the boys immediately warm toward him, though at that moment they would have died rather than admit it "Hiya, fellas," said Al. They looked at each other and sniffed. This guy knew from nothing. The form of address in their circles was "Hey, bum." They stood still, close together, and eyed Al suspiciously. He motioned to the open door behind them. "Come on in." They swaggered past him, taking care to look defiant. ^We're going to play a game," Al said. A game!" said Tony. "Holy chee." Al smiled at him. "You see that desk over there? Now, that's a bank. This chalk line on the floor represents the street, and the police station is in that corner! I want you guys to figure out how you can rob the bank in less than five minutes without the cops seeing you." The kids looked at him wide-eyed. What kind of a game was this? But they wasted no time. Frankie barked orders. Tony was to be the lookout, Emil and Mike would stay in the car, and he and Johnny would handle the bank itself. Al Schwartz rose two degrees in their estimation that day. They went back again and again, and subtly and deftly, Al Schwartz began to wean them from the streets. have you seen page 8? thing for all five boys. They began to see mat there was a more interesting way of lite than the streets of New York The neighborhood grocer, who used to stand guard over his fruit stand when he saw the kids coming, now smiled from under his big moustache and gave them each an apple. You gooda boys," he used to say. And mothers, catching their offspring playing hookey, would yell from their fire escapes, "Shame on you! Why don't you be a good boy like Frankie and Bernie7" Little girls began to point at the boys and giggle among themselves, and Tony's*school desk was flooded with anonymous love notes. At twelve, Tony joined the Boy Scouts, and at thirteen he began spending his summers and holidays as an assistant junior counselor (dish washer) at the settlement camp. He progressed to assistant counselor (forest guide), and by time he was sixteen he was teaching dramatics to the kids at the camp. The greatest regret of Tony's life is the fact that today he is unable to learn the whereabouts of Al Schwartz. Letters to New York settlement houses have brought no satisfactory response, and the kids in New York can give him no help, but Tony goes on looking, for he feels that he owes Al a great debt. J^T atur ally, the boys said nothing of this £ activity to the other kids in the neighborhood. They said nothing even to their parents, who as a group were happy these days because of the mysterious dearth of bloody noses and black eyes. The word got back to the school, however, probably through Al Schwartz, and one day the boys were requested by the principal to g^Ve one of their plays in the auditorium. The five held a consultation as to the wisdom of the proposition. All but Tony admitted grudgingly that it might be fun to put on a play they'd done many times for Al. "It's easy for you guys to say yes," Tony told them. "But what about me? I'm the broad in the show." But they finally won him over, the school stage was attacked by King Arthur and his knights, and the applause was deafening. The next day the five heroes went about the school halls with slitted eyes and doubled fists, and none of the other kids dared to make a comment. A few days went by before an outsider ventured to remark that it had been a good play. The ice was broken and from then on Tony's gang, with the help of Al Schwartz, became the stock company of P.S. 82. The new respect offered them did some Tt was fortunate, too, that Tony was "7 started on the right path at that particular time, for when he was twelve his younger brother Julius met a sudden and violent death in New York traffic. To spare his parents, Tony himself went to the hospital to make the identification, and to this day he cannot speak of the tragedy without visible emotion. It shook Helen and Manuel Schwartz to the core, and from that time on their whole lives were centered around their first-born. Had Tony been inclined to go wrong, the added sorrow could conceivably have killed his parents. As it was, their pride in him knew no bounds. His confirmation at the age of thirteen was a joyous affair. For ten dollars, Manuel bought Tony his first suit a green check, double-breasted outfit that buttoned in the wrong places, which Tony remembers as perfectly awful— and which was never worn again. As he repeated his prayers on the rostrum, Tony could see from the corner of his eye the teacher who had drilled him in his lessons for this day. The man was shaking his head sadly, and as Tony muddled through a badly memorized prayer it occurred to him that the teacher was thinking, "This kid will never be nothin'." His parents, oblivious to the mistakes, beamed with pride. Manuel had hired a group of Hungarian musicians to play for the reception at the apartment afterwards, and the singing fiddles delighted the guests. Manuel was happiest of them all. He had arranged with the orchestra to play until midnight, and although the last guest had departed by ten o clock and Helen Schwartz had gone to bed exhausted, Manuel signaled for the musicians to continue, and sat alone in his big chair until the witching hour. Ft was a big day for Tony, but more * clearly than anything else, he remembers the advice his father gave him at the reception. All evening Manuel had been proudly watching his son, and after a time he called Tony to him. "Bernie, my son," he said, "you have a good face now. When yoiiar^rowiivmi