A-Z Files 2019

A-ZFILES

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A-ZFILES 2019

Selected Works for the Allen-Stevenson Archives

FILES The Allen-Stevenson School 132 E 78th Street New York, NY

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The A-Z Files is founded in memory of Zach Levy (1985-2011), Class of 2000.

All those who knew Zach came away smiling. He was warm, charismatic, and fiercely witty. He had a big heart and is remembered well for his generosity.

Between his lifelong passion for writing and love of kids, he’d be happy to see this publication born in his honor.

We all miss him very much.

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EDITORS Kerim Eken ‘00 Jonathan Klebanoff ‘00

DESIGN Caitlin Mulcahy Eken

A-S ADVISORS Peter Haarmann David Kersey h’98

ALUMNI RELATIONS Liz Roberts Jennifer Ziplow

STUDENT REPRESENTATIVES Dylan Collins ‘21 Nathaniel Edelson ‘20 Sam Hecker ‘20 Vivek Laddha ‘20 Raam Melvani ‘20 Luke Sarsfield ‘21 Sebastiano Williams ‘21

SELECTION COMMITTEE Adam Levy ‘97 Michael Levy Jonathan Klebanoff ‘00

COVER ART

INSIDE COVER ART

A Sublime Paradise Alex Wlodarczak ‘22

Copyright 2019

Helen Levy Kerim Eken ‘00 Peter Haarmann

Unicorn Dashel Myers ‘22

© The Allen-Stevenson School

Produced by Action Graphics, Inc. 800 365 6687

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“Imagination creates reality.”

-Richard Wagner

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Foreword Randolph R. Schrade ‘76 pg 8 Notre Dame Grey Stevens ‘22 pg 10 Philadelphia Julian Cohen ‘22 pg 12 New York City Justin Durso ‘20 pg 14 Florida Julian Cohen ‘22 pg 16 Untitled Sam Hecker ‘20 pg 18 Song of My City and Myself Pierce Van Der Rhoer ‘21 pg 19 Song of My City and Myself Baylin Goldstein ‘21 pg 20 Overlooking The Mountain Luke Sarsfield ‘21 pg 22 What am I? Andrew Choi ‘22 pg 24 Red Luke Niehaus ‘22 pg 26 Volcán Villarrica Ellis Resnick ’21 pg 27 Islet in an Ocean Joseph Brener ‘22 pg 28 An Extension of Reality Alexander Wlodarczak ‘22 pg 30 Hells Gate Grey Stevens ‘22 pg 36 Out of the Shadows Ajai Singh ‘22 pg 38 Downtown Grey Stevens ‘22 pg 40 The Symbol of France Luke Sarsfield ’21 pg 43 Mystery Story William Jokela ‘22 pg 44

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Self-Portriat Ellis Resnick ‘21 pg 46 Portriat of My Brother Ellis Resnick ‘21 pg 47 An Old Fashion Alarm Clock Chase Myers ‘22 pg 50 The Cold Between the Stars Lorenzo Brigode ‘22 pg 52 Autumn (Verse II) Joseph Brener ‘22 pg 54 Photo Essay Raam Melvani ‘20 pg 55 Yellow Eyes Charlie Getman ‘22 pg 56 Editorial Dylan Collins ‘21 pg 58 La Carpio 2019 Julian Schnitt ’20 pg 60 2019 Upper School Winning Speech Manas Ramesh ‘21 pg 61 Leopard Chase Myers ‘22 pg 64 Playing in Summer Nicholas Hutfilz ‘22 pg 65 Just One Matt Butler ‘02 pg 70 An Island Symphony Benjamin Edelson ‘16 pg 72 91 in Dog Years Damian VanCamp ‘00 pg 78 Piano Solo #1 The Realm of Music Daniel Simmons ‘18 pg 80 Acknowledgements pg 88 Donors pg 89

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FOREWORD Randolph R. Schrade ‘76

W

hen I remember Zack Levy I think of a boy who tried everything at Allen-Stevenson. This included flute playing as some may recall. When one thinks of the Arts, Academics, and Athletics, Zach made a point of trying and doing as much as possible. Fortiter et Recte!

In this issue of the A-Z Files, the editors explore creative music at A-S, from current students and recent alumni.

The works of these pages show that the basic skills learned here lead to the architectural understanding of music.

The work of Benjamin Edelson,’16, has been included in previous issues and refreshed here. We now have a young composer in Grade Six, Nicholas Hutfilz, who is “chompin’ at the bit” to share his work. Daniel Simmons ’18, composed an amazing piano piece performed by Aleeza Meir at a Friday Performance Elective to resounding acclaim.

To the young composers out there, keep-a-going, keep composing, involve others in your work. Music needs to 10

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be an essential portion of a child’s education, as important as math and reading and science and Physical Education.

To all the contributors who are represented this year, congratulations!

Well done and never stop! You are the torch bearers who share Zach’s passions and dreams.

Randolph R. Schrade ‘76 is the director of the orchestra and the instrumental program at Allen-Stevenson, a position he has held since 1989 and was the head of music from 1989-92.

Before returning to his Alma mater, Randy continued his studies at Collegiate ‘79, and graduate Magna cum Laude from Yale where he received his BA and MA in Musical Theory and Composition, Piano. At Yale, Randy studied composition under renowned Music Theory and Mathematics Professor David Lewin, along with the distinguished Schenkarian Allan Forte and Kevin Korsyn.

Randy is brother to the late Magical Music Lady Robelyn Schrade James who many in the A-S community remember fondly and credits their love of music to piano lessons with their parents Rolande and Robert Schrade, teachers at The Chapin School and Allen-Stevenson. His passion for music continued with the cello and many early mornings in orchestra at A-S.

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Notre Dame Grey Stevens ‘22

NOTRE DAME Grey Stevens

‘22

In the heart of the City of Lights Our lady shines bright And now erupts in eternal flames Our history has no shame Flags of our allied nations Unite in desolation On the banks of the Seine The passing of Paris’ reign

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PHILADELPHIA Julian Cohen ‘22

Where Where Where Where Where Where

the bells of freedom signified new independence the branches of government form a young new nation the artfully crafted accents and details wow students and adults learn history now the people who formed our nation once presided the independent colonies now lay united

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Philadelphia Julian Cohen ’22

16 New York City Justin Dorso ’20

NEW YORK CITY Justin Durso ‘20

Never Sleeps Empire State Building Wall Street Yankees Opera at Lincoln Center Rumbling Subways Knickerbocker Central Park Island in the Harbor Times Square Yellow Cabs

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FLORIDA Julian Cohen ‘22

Relaxation-Where the cool, blue sky meets the warm, spring breeze

Swimming-Where the refreshing blue water greets activities Family-As you enjoy the experience with those you love Activity-Something fun to do, something hard to get tired of Spring-When you welcome the warmth as the snow subsides Vacation-The great time with excitement and all it provides

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Florida Julian Cohen ’22

Untitled Sam Hecker ’20

Untitled Sam Hecker ’20

SONG OF MY CITY AND MYSELF Pierce Van Der Rhoer ‘21

The occupied mother pushing twins The youngsters barely know they’re kins The commuter rushing down the street The banging of the high heels on her feet The homicide scene straight ahead The man was shot, or so they said This city I love, with its looming skyscrapers above The fresh-smelling fruit cart, the Ukrainian store selling a fruit tart The beat of a tourist’s walk, the rhythm of a local’s talk The heavy melody of engine roars, as the unseen falcon above soars The piercing sound of a car alarm, interrupting the couple enjoying the sunset charm The plane flies overhead, to an LIC airport it is led The helicopter recording news, something to do with a man on the loose The couple of children recently dismissed, discussing a complaint list The doorman watches out, likely for returning girls who often shout The street performer that sings, with his crude instruments making bings 21 woman cursing, The man smoking, the the panhandler begging I seldom not discount such things

SONG OF MY CITY AND MYSELF Baylin Goldstein ‘21

The wails of the infant, the soft susurration of the mother, I watch the sunrise as it illuminates their faces.

The petals come to a stop on the carpet, I view the beginning of a new life, man and wife.

The fire engulfs the night, the ashes smolder on the cobblestone, I witness the screams that will be drowned out by sirens in due time.

The stench of asphalt, the blaring horns, the din of commuters who dare not be late, The blanket on the sidewalk, the cardboard sign unheeded, a sickly example of humanity, The bout between rivals, both blinded by ignorance, one makes quick work of the other, The roused mass, the policeman reassuring their safety, The birds in the park, crooning their song, unbeknownst to the audience, The last seat on the bus, a pensioner and mindless commuter, the commuter takes the seat,

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The silence of night, the lights shining bright, a single car dashes through the barren streets, The snow erases the skyline, the plow reveals the streets, the fire keeps the city warm, What howls of laughter echo the streets, What cries of an astounded tourist, observing a daily occurance in awe, What calls for attention, the ancient hawker, selling goods one didn’t know was needed, I scrutinize the events, but I dare not intervene.

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25 Overlooking the Mountain Luke Sarsfield ‘21

WHAT AM I? Andrew Choi ‘22

What is my purpose in life?

Am I supposed to be an actor?

Or a basketball star? A standout i n the crowd? Should I be an engineer?

Or could I be a scientist?

What if I’m just a Dad doing boring papers?

You shouldn’t think that way, if you work hard you can be any of those things.

Why am I here?

Am I here to save lives? Am I here to wage peace? Or, run our country to success? But what happens if I fail, and I serve no purpose?

If you have a growth mindset you can do anything.

What about as a student? What if I fail?

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No one is ever perfect.

What if in my life… no one ever ‘ respects me?

Why would no one respect you?

Because I could be just a regular boring dad doing the bare minimum in work.

Son, fame doesn’t bring happiness. As long as you’re kind, hardworking, and thoughtful, many people will think of you as a superhero. Little things make huge impacts in life, and doing your best, and being kind, will definitely help you succeed. And don’t force yourself to be a person you’re not. Be yourself.

Those were the last words he ever said to me.

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RED Luke Niehaus ‘22

Red is the color of the blood that seeps through your wounds.

Red is the heart that can hold your love.

Red is the stop sign that halts your progress.

Red is a pomegranate seed broken from the pack by your hands.

Red smells like the fire that is eternally burning your lungs.

Red tastes like the vengeance that your steak must have for you.

Red sounds like your family ornaments crashing to the floor.

Red looks like your anxiety boiling over.

Red makes me wish that my generation had nothing to fear.

Red is your other life.

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Volcán Villarrica Ellis Resnick ’21

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ISLET IN AN OCEAN Joseph Brener

A

‘22

Persian carpet lay beneath a brown, leather Chesterfield and a matching ottoman. The walls were plastered in a light beige wallpaper that complimented the old-fashioned look of the living room. The entire room was illuminated by a baroque chandelier that was situated directly in the center of the room.

It was evident that the house was lavish, which wasn’t surprising, being that my Grandmother was the founder of a successful furniture company.

Just a few days prior to her death, my grandmother had chosen to bequeath her house to me for a reason I am still unsure.

She was a strange individual and had always been reluctant to take part in any family celebrations or holidays.

This had gradually aggravated our relationship to a point where we would only convene once or twice a year. Her infrequent visits typically consisted of simple and non-extravagant things, such as lunch or tea, which as a child I found quite boring.

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I had many questions concerning my grandmother as a child, many relating to the appearance of her house, which she had concealed for an unclear reason. I had presumed, taking into account her posh way of dressing and elevated occupation, that her house was imposing. Therefore I had not given the offer to inherit the house a second thought. It was, afterall, a much better alternative to my previous city apartment which was small and cramped.

As I proceeded into the house, I examined the place I would now regard as my home. Tracing my finger along an old, rusty wooden drawer that stood in the entranceway, I was startled by a woman emerging from behind a wall.

“Hi, you must be James Lancaster,” the woman said with an outstretched hand. I shook it. She was dressed in black garments and wore a pair of thick, brown-rimmed glasses. Her ebonycolored hair was slicked back.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, eyeing her warily.

“My name is Ann Stuart, it’s nice to finally meet you. Accompanying your residency at the estate, you James Lancaster, are provided with a personal secretary.” She pointed towards the Chesterfield, signaling for me to sit

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33 An Extension of Reality Alexander Wlodarczak ‘22

ISLET IS AN OCEAN

as she sat down herself. I remained standing, however, for I had never seen her and was skeptical of the fact that she actually wanted to help me. Seeing that I was disinclined to sit, Ann stood back up.

“I previously worked for Barbra Lancaster, your grandmother,” she said, trying to reassure me. “But as you know, she passed away, so now I work for her heir, you.” I listened quietly as she spoke.

“My job comprises of managing the paperwork of this house, as well as managing your personal life. That includes things such as booking plane tickets, scheduling appointments, and doing correspondence.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a woman dusting the drawer I had been examining earlier. “Does she come with the house as well?” I asked.

Ann looked at me as if I was stupid.

“Yes,” she responded. “In addition to myself, maids, chefs, and gardeners are all included with the house.”

I nodded, pleased with what I was hearing. I had ultimately been convinced she was genuine. I was excited to embark on a new life, a life in which gardens did not need to be tended by me, nor food prepared by me. This lifestyle differed so greatly from the one I had 34

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previously, I wasn’t sure how I would adapt to it.

The remaining hours of the day went by in a blur. I settled into my new home, ate a delicious dinner prepared by the chef, and went to bed. The last 24 hours had been a whirlwind and, quite honestly, I was exhausted. My head sank into the plush, silk pillow like an anchor, as I boarded the ship of sleep.

The next morning I groggily climbed out of bed, descending the stairs, expecting the house to be completely deserted. It was, afterall, 6:07 in the morning, and unlike many, I was an early riser. However, when I reached the foot of the staircase, I was surprised to see Ann working quietly at one of the living room tables. She appeared to be filling out paperwork, her eyes fixated on a couple sheets of paper. She was dressed in the same black garments she wore the day before. I was still wrapped in a cashmere robe I had found folded in one of my drawers. Her hair was perfectly made. I questioned whether she had slept or not. Nevertheless, I admired her dedication and concentration for her work, for I, and presumably most people, weren’t as attached to it as she was. Avoiding disrupting her focus, I crept back up the stairs and returned 35

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to my room, the rustic steps creaking as I ascended.

Within the next half hour, I showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen expecting the chef to be already preparing breakfast. A moment later I realized that the idea of preparing my own breakfast had not even entered my mind, and to my surprise, within less than a day, I had already acclimated to the life of my grandmother. Approaching the kitchen, just as I had anticipated, I saw the chef heating up two blintzes on a skillet. To his right lay a box of berries which I assumed would be incorporated into the dish.

I sat down on one of the stools situated by the counter. For some reason, at that moment, a spontaneous urge to introduce myself to the chef came to me, for I wanted him to be accustomed to my presence; remembering that the preceding day, though I had the opportunity to do so, missed out on my chance. Aside from Ann, I hadn’t been introduced to any of the household employees. I decided to also acquaint them with myself.

“Hi, I’m James,” I said a little too forcefully, cringing.

The chef didn’t even look up. His eyes remained fixated on the skillet.

I could tell he was a timid man.

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Something you wouldn’t expect from such a large person, but nevertheless, he was timid. Feeling quite odd after his nonverbal response, I replied, trying to make things less awkward. “What’s your name?”

This time he looked up. His mesmerizing blue eyes put me into a trance; his iris was in a shade of blue I had never seen before, certainly not in an eye.

His skin was a light caramel color and his features were soft and gentle. I had to admit he was a beguiling man.

“Baptiste,” he said.

We both proceeded to stare at each other until we eventually averted our eyes. He continued to cook. I sat there watching him, silently. Baptiste didn’t seem like the kind of man my Grandmother would hire for she had been harsh and intimidating, nothing like he was. Ann resembled my Grandmother in some aspects, but Baptiste couldn’t possibly be more unalike. As a corollary of these thoughts, I contemplated whether there was something between my Grandmother and Baptiste that I wasn’t aware of. And if it had to do with his introverted personality.

Upon smelling the wonderful aroma of the blintzes, I instantaneously looked up from my lap. It was only at that moment I realized I’d been 37

Hells Gate Grey Stevens ‘22

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unconsciously staring at my lap for the past few minutes. The blintzes, both of vibrant golden color, were enclosing a variety of berries and ricotta cheese.

Unable to bear a second longer, I dug into the blintz, indulging in the palatable flavor. The taste was just as I had imagined: creamy, sweet, yet savory at the same time. I had never tasted anything so delicious, but knew now that Baptiste cooked for me, it was only a matter of time before that changed.

OUT OF THE SHADOWS Ajai Singh ‘22

PROLOGUE Dad raises his glass to make a toast.

Looking out onto Sengekontacket Pond he says, “I would like to make a toast to my two children who have recently graduated college.” Everyone smiled.

My hands started to get sweaty. I rubbed them on my pants and they stopped sweating. Throughout dinner, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I was going to do after the summer. Dad is already setting up a desk for Alex at our store in New York. I could help Dad with the family company. I did study chemistry so I could create new diamond formulas.

After dinner, I go right to sleep, tired from wakeboarding and celebrating. When I wake up, I hear my dad call out to my brother, “Alex, I have to get back to the office to finalize the formula so I won’t be able to go sailing with you today. I will see you in two days. Also, tell Ariana I said bye.”

“Ariana thinks I’m not good at knots so she won’t go out on the water with me, but as we all know, I am the knot master.”

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“Alex, take mom instead.”

I roll my eyes. I hear the front door close and the car engine start.

CHAPTER ONE - Gone Getting back from Japanese Jujitsu, I start making dinner for Alex and I. We are having tofu veggie stir-fry. Pulling out the ingredients, I realize that I forgot to get rice.

“Alex, can you get some rice from the store?”

“Sure, I will be back in 15 minutes.”

Thirty minutes later, he’s not back. My hands start to sweat. One hour later, I start pacing. Where has he gone? Why is he not back? I pick up my phone and see a text from Alex. It reads, “I am at 111 Henry St. Come here. I need to show you something.”

That is a weird text, he was only going to get rice. Why didn’t he explain more in his text? I call my dad. He picks up on the third ring. My words rattle fast like the wind, “Alex has been gone for one hour and all he was getting was rice from the store downstairs. Also, he sent me this weird text.” I read Dad the text, “The problem is, Dad, he always explains more than that.”

“That is weird, try calling him.” Dad seemed distracted.

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43 Downtown Grey Stevens ‘22

OUT OF THE SHADOWS

I should go to this place and check it out.”

“Ok. I would come with you but I have to log the diamond formula. Be careful and call me if anything seems off.”

“I promise.”

Walking briskly down Henry St. towards an old tenement building, avoiding raindrops as I go, I see a black car in front of 111 Henry Street. A man in a black trench coat speeds past. In his haste, a note falls from his pocket. Grabbing it, I run closer to the building.

Hoping this might be connected, I dart into a darkened alleyway and tear open the note. The note reads, “Get him”. Before I can connect the dots, I am out cold...

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The Symbol of France Luke Sarsfield ’21

MYSTERY STORY William Jokela ‘22

PROLOGUE December 3, 1946 Shards of glass were scattered across the floor as Detective Harvey Phelps stepped inside the rundown motel room.

A swarm of reporters was gathered in the parking lot.

“Never let the vultures distract you,” Harvey’s partner explained. Sean Walsh had been in homicide investigation for six years and it showed. Sean’s hair was graying at only 31 and he had permanent dark circles under his eyes, but he was determined to close any case he was assigned. Harvey nodded absentmindedly as he observed the crime scene. Harvey walked over to the two bodies being inspected by the coroner.

“What happened here?”

“Double homicide, pretty gruesome, whoever did this took their time,” the coroner replied, “I found this on one of the bodies.” He handed a key to Harvey.

Thanking the coroner, Harvey continued

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to investigate the cramped room. He wandered aimlessly until something in the bathroom caught his eye, a medicine cabinet with a small padlock holding it shut. Harvey reached for the key and unlocked the cabinet door. As the lock fell to the floor, a pile of gambling chips cascaded out. Sean ran into the bathroom when he heard the commotion, after seeing Harvey and the gambling chips he sighed and put his head in his hands. “Guess our case is going to Vice.”

December 5, 1946 Sean was furious after the chief gave the case to Vice. He would stomp through the precinct talking about Mory O’Leary.

Sean hated O’Leary with a burning passion, and it didn’t help that O’Leary was now the head detective on the double homicide.

Frustrated, Sean left the precinct without a word. That was the last day Sean Walsh was seen. Harvey Phelps saw himself as the one to blame.

CHAPTER 1 February 12, 1951 The ashtray overflowed as Harvey Phelps, P.I, lit another cigarette. Smoke clouded his cramped apartment and dust fell from 47

Self-Portrait Ellis Resnick ‘21

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Portrait of My Brother Ellis Resnick ‘21

MYSTERY STORY

the ceiling when the subway passed.

Breathing deeply and leaning back in his chair, Harvey decided to rest his eyes before he continued with his most recent case. It annoyed him that he had become the person worried wives would come to about unfaithful husbands, but he knew that he had to get money somehow and put up with it. His train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. Harvey rose and opened it. A pale woman with dark red lips dressed all in black stood in the doorway.

She wore a veil and wide-brimmed hat over her wavy black hair, clearly trying to conceal the bruise next to her left eye, and she smiled in such a way that Harvey felt like he was in a trance. “I would like you to investigate a case, Mr. Phelps,” the woman said. Harvey awoke from his stupor and asked the woman to sit down.

“Let me guess, your husband hit you and disappeared into the night.”

“You’re entirely wrong, I received the bruise when a book fell on my head. I came to you because my sister has gone missing and it seems the cops don’t have any intention of finding her.”

“Ms.-” “Arnold, Jude Arnold.”

“Well, Ms. Arnold.”

“Please, call me Jude.”

“Well, Jude, I’m not sure I’m the man

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to come to regarding missing persons, you see, I’ve been looking for someone myself for five years and haven’t had any luck,” Harvey didn’t know why he was sharing this with someone he had met only a couple minutes ago but his thoughts had no effect on his words.

“There’s nothing I hate more than a selfpitying P.I., I’ll pay you ten dollars upfront and fifty if you find my sister.”

Jude stood up to leave.

“I’m going to need more information if you want me to find your sis.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay longer. I have a… prior engagement, but I’ll be here the same time tomorrow. Goodbye, Mr. Phelps.”

Before Harvey could say goodbye, she was gone.

An Old Fashion Alarm Clock Chase Myers ‘22

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IL FREDDO FRA LE STELLE THE COLD BETWEEN THE STARS Lorenzo Brigode

‘22

Libro I Dei Diari Di Russo Book I Of The Russo Diaries PROLOGO PROLOGUE I sit on my stoop, the same one, letting the cold fall air dilute my mind. Luca pedals by, the angles of his face sharp with age. I look to him imploringly, his piercing blue eyes seem to gaze sadly at mine. He takes a deep breath and shrugs, his broad shoulders only retreat when his breath did. Avoiding my eye, he continues on his route riding his rusted blue bike, his father’s, now that he had outgrown his old one. As he glides off, the golden leaves stir on the street in his absence. Looking at my untouched newspaper, on my lap, my hands rise to cover my face and massage my temples, to soothe the still lingering pain.

“Atlas…” maybe that came out because I felt as he did, carrying the weight of the sky, the real Atlas, not the myth, always carried nothing less

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than the weight of the sky. I look up with an old fire in my eyes. Even though I couldn’t see myself, I knew that was what I looked like. An ache fills my body. It flows through with what it caused, to be consumed by fire again… Atlas… my mind seems to whisper.

Picking up my paper, I straighten my shoulders and walk inside. Furious, I open my computer and bang on the space bar. I cannot contain my thoughts, I have to tell his story, I look at his photograph, framed and sitting on my desk. Then, the words, thoughts, and my mistakes flow, born from my fingertips…

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AUTUMN (VERSE II) Joseph Brener ‘22

An interpretation of Emily Dickinson’s poem Autumn.

https://youtu.be/CLR-YtHqnK4

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PHOTO ESSAY Raam Melvani ‘20

Connected Together

Finding a Deeper Appreciation

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Grateful

YELLOW EYES Charlie Getman ‘22

Yellow eyes always alert, detecting the slightest movement of its prey.

Deadly patterns, intricately woven yet simple and terrifying Needle-like beak, sharpened by the skeletons of hundreds of rodents Flexed talons, well practiced in the art of grabbing the next victim Yellow eyes always alert, detecting the slightest movement of its prey.

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Yellow Eyes Charlie Getman ‘22

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EDITORIAL Dylan Collins ‘21

Josephine Rizo survived chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation, but her finances did not. Money was already tight when doctors told her that she had breast cancer. Josephine then took a pay cut and eventually lost her job and insurance coverage. Her concern should have been about her health, but instead, she had to focus on more than $50,000 in medical bills.

Currently, in America, most citizens are covered by private health insurance but, 27.3 million Americans are not so lucky. People without coverage often go bankrupt because of the cost of healthcare. Therefore, despite the jobs America’s healthcare currently creates, we need a universal healthcare system.

Healthcare needs to be universal because private healthcare companies make patients pay too much for healthcare, and you do not need to sacrifice good healthcare for universal healthcare.

According to a graph by the New York Times, 21 out of 22 hospitals in the New York City Area charged patients excessively. This leads to Americans paying more than what is necessary on

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medical bills. This often arises because hospitals are for-profit organizations.

Furthermore, the typical family in the United States spends 11% of their income on healthcare. In the UK they spend only 4.5%. Therefore, people in America pay more than double their British counterparts on healthcare. The difference is that Britain has universal healthcare while America does not.

You do not need to sacrifice good healthcare for universal healthcare. Of the 20 countries with the best healthcare, 90% of them have universal healthcare.

Additionally, according to the Institute of Medicine, the American economy loses $65 to $130 billion annually as a result of private healthcare costs.

Since healthcare is a human right, private healthcare companies make patients pay too much for healthcare, and you do not need to sacrifice good healthcare for universal healthcare, there needs to be universal healthcare in America. The only way we can get it is to elect people who are willing to stand up against the private insurance companies. If universal healthcare is adopted, then Americans can spend money on things other than keeping themselves alive.

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La Carpio 2019 Julian Schnitt ’20

2019 UPPER SCHOOL WINNING SPEECH Manas Ramesh ‘21

Christopher Columbus. The one who supposedly “discovered the new world”, as well as the one who has his own day celebrating his “success”. We all know the story that we learned in elementary school. However, recently I learned of a man named Leif Erikson. This man traveled to North America, 400 years before Christopher Columbus. Erikson was trying to do everything he could for his enslaved friend, his kids, and himself so he could live up to his father’s legacy of being a good Viking. Erikson should be honored for his outstanding skills as an explorer who was the first European to discover Canada. Thus, Erikson deserves his own holiday and kids should be taught his story to represent not only Vikings, but the Europeans.

What did he do to earn this honor?

First, Erikson was the first person to ever reach North America, after rumors of land west of Greenland encouraged him to set sail. According to the New York Times, Erikson went through thirteen different storms, 3 different outbreaks of infectious diseases, and limited

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2019 US WINNING SPEECH

food supplies just to explore the area of North America he called “Vinland”.

Unfortunately, he died on his way home to Iceland. And now, as we know it today, no one gave credit where credit was due.

Erikson also explored a little bit of what is now Canada, and also set up his kindred to be leaders. And still, he gets no credit for these accolades.

Now, compare his story to Columbus’s.

Christopher was a man who tortured the Indigenous people in the Caribbean, knowingly spread diseases, and caused death on a wide scale. While Erikson set out on his own, Columbus had support from the Spanish monarchy. He was also backed up by news sources who exaggerated his adventures. Yet, Erikson was the one who did everything by himself and tried to help his community.

None of this makes any sense. If Columbus is celebrated for something he didn’t even discover first, why can’t Erikson get some sort of credit for his effort and success? In fact, according to Forbes, Erikson did what Columbus couldn’t do. He set up a route to go somewhere in hopes of finding land for his people to live after Iceland was suffering through an extreme weather crisis. A professor at Dartmouth wrote a speech stating that Columbus was “in financial trouble and discovered North 64

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America for his own satisfaction, not for his people.” Erikson, on the other hand, died trying to save Iceland.

Leif Erikson, the Viking, should be rewarded for his contribution to the world because he gained knowledge for the Vikings and promoted their culture.

If Christopher Columbus is praised then Erikson should be rewarded for the sake of the Icelandics and the descendants of the Vikings that live in America.

But how do we spread something that hasn’t made its way through the media?

We take it to the media ourselves by protesting against the statues celebrating Columbus, and spreading word of Lief’s exploits across social media.

There is a group called LIEF committed to doing this. You should follow them and promote their message. That way the people who are uneducated about what really happened with the discovery of North America and Christopher Columbus will know the truth.

65

Leopard Chase Myers ‘22

PLAYING IN SUMMER Nicholas Hutfilz ‘22

Playing In Summer https://youtu.be/b-Yt8h-b0Tw 120

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JUST ONE Matt Butler ‘02

I think I ask too many questions And I know I’ll never understand How to help all those around me When I am just one man And there’s so many who feel helpless That there’s just too much to be done But I know that it makes all the difference That revolution has begun If I can help just one And he can help just one And she can help just one If we can help just one I’ll put my heart into my labor And I’ll burn my back under the sun I’ll share the harvest with my all my neighbors I’ll work until my hands are numb If I can help just one And he can help just one And she can help just one If we can help just one

72

A-Z FILES

I always gave to the collection Always hoping I’d get something back So now I’ll offer this reflection To all the mourners dressed in black Lord knows it’s so hard to pray When mercy only comes to some But we seek forgiveness when we rise each day Because our work is never done If we can If we can If we can If we can Just One

help help help help

just just just just

one one one one

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNGDP8ISb9s

Matt Butler is a folk artist, a rock’n roller, and a storyteller. His debut solo album, Reckless Son, was released to critical acclaim in September 2016. Immediately following the release, he wrote and performed “Just One,” the original song for the feature length and nationally distributed documentary Generation Found. In November 2016 Butler played a show at Albany County Jail. He has since performed more than 100 shows in correctional facilities, including six shows at Rikers Island and a Behind the Walls Tour of state prisons throughout Ohio.

Butler was honored as a 2017 Leader in Mental Health Awareness by the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) alongside Pulitzer Prize Winner Ron Powers and Super Bowl Champion Keith O’Neil.

He joined the 2018 Vans Warped Tour where he performed daily on the Transform Stage and supported FEND Movement, an opiate prevention and education initiative for teens. While on tour he 73 released two new singles and launched the Just One Foundation which brings art with a mission and a message into underserved communities.

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Benjamin Edelson ‘16 is currently a senior at The Collegiate School and will attend Princeton University next fall. He is in his third year as a Horn Major at Juilliard Pre-College and his second year as Principal Horn of the New York Youth Symphony, as well as a member of the NYYS Composition Program.

91 IN DOG YEARS Damian VanCamp â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;00

A-Z FILES

Damian VanCamp ‘00 began drum lessons at Allen-Stevenson in 6th grade, and has since played with numerous musical groups. One of his first was formed with classmates Sam Moss ‘00 and Jessie Rhodes ‘00, for which he authored/co-authored many songs. Two years after earning his BFA in Photography from the Rhode Island School of Design in 2007, he began a photo series called “Catalogue.” Designed as an exploration of the act of documentation, the series is comprised of photographs of his hand-written songs. Damian currently works as an architectural lighting designer in NYC.

PIANO SOLO #1 THE REALM OF MUSIC Daniel Simmons ‘18 P I A N O S O L O #1 The Realm of Music

  44  

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Daniel Simmons

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                               rit.                                                                  

  



12

 44       

15

Andante

4   4  cresc.

  

 



      

      

accel.

  

  

44 44

A-Z FILES

18





21

            

   

   



   



 

30





   2



  

















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  





 



83

















      







      





  



  

    

      

        

  

 

   

   27

  

 

   

  

  

Affetuoso

              

24









  

PIANO SOLO #1 THE REALM OF MUSIC

33

  

36

  



  

         



    42



  

 

    





         

 

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45

 



 

      





   

      





    39

    

     

           





 



 

  



 



43 43 3

A-Z FILES

    43

47



 3   4



     

51



 

  



     



54





  

  

   





   





 

60

  















 





  





 



 

   

 





























85



  





 

 





  

 













57







  

4



Waltz (con rubato)











PIANO SOLO #1 THE REALM OF MUSIC

   

63





   



  



66

  69





 







  

 



              

72

    

      

75

     

 

 



 

 

 

   

 

  







 



 

 

   



  

  



 





8

 

            

  







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   

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   





  









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







  





     

  

  

 

5

A-Z FILES

     

 4 4

78

           

82

 4 4  

 

Energico



 





                   

 

    



3

                     

      



           

88

     

6

Exspansivo      

  

92

  6







    

85

    

             







    

   

   

 









    

  

  

          



 



  

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



   

87

   

    

  

 

 

      

PIANO SOLO #1 THE REALM OF MUSIC

95

    

98







   

   

 

 



 

101







 

 







         



        

     

 











 

 

 



    

 

  







      



 

 

 









 

 

104

107



       













    

  

         



 

   

15

 al niente

 7

A-Z FILES

Daniel Simmons â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;18 began his musical journey at the age of four with the piano. He was introduced to the viola in second grade at Allen-Stevenson, and it was love at first note. By seventh grade he was writing and composing music for various instruments.

Daniel attributes his strong musical foundation to the excellent music program at Allen-Stevenson. From Kindergarten through eighth grade, Daniel was supported and inspired by dedicated teachers at A-S. His love for music blossomed under the expert and magical guidance of his favorite teacher, the late Ms. Robelyn Schrade-James. His viola teacher, Denise Cridge, helped him build a strong foundation of technique and artistry. Randolph Schrade taught him to love and appreciate orchestras. Michelle Demko strengthened Danielâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s confidence in his singing through chorus and Gilbert and Sullivan operas. And Aleeza Meir, the schoolâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s pianist, accompanied and supported his many solo viola performances and helped him express his musical ideas through composition.

Daniel is currently a sophmore at the Dalton School where his viola presents a strong voice on the orchestra. He spent two years at the Manhattan School of Music Pre-college Division where he took weekend classes during the academic years and he currently attends the Juilliard Pre-college, where his major is the viola. This opportunity has allowed Daniel to explore courses in music theory, ear-training, composition, film scoring, chamber music, and orchestra. Daniel also participated in the InterSchool Orchestras of New York and the Metropolitan Youth Orchestra from 7th-9th grade. His summers are spent at music intensive programs, including Tanglewood, The National Youth Orchestra 2, the Sphinx Performance Academy, and MSM Summer. This summer, he will spend three weeks at the Curtis Summerfest.

89

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

W

e would like to thank everyone who has helped us get here. This is the seventh edition of the A-Z Files, which would not have been possible without the generosity of all our donors and the support of the entire AllenStevenson Community. Thank you to David Trower for allowing us to memorialize our childhood friend and to David Kersey for guiding us in the appropriate direction to do so. Liz Roberts and Jennifer Ziplow who have picked up the torch this year in helping us reach our goal. A special thank you to Peter Haarmann.

His sustained encouragement year after year makes the A-Z Files come to life. He is joined by the wonderful assistance of Steven Cohen, Susan Lukas, and Aidan Fennelly. And finally to the Levy Family: Helen, Mike, and Adam, we greatly appreciate you allowing us to share the spirit of Zach with a future generation.

We appreciate Randy Schradeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s reflections on Zach and his persoanl relationship to him and other talented alumni- the music department would not be the same without him. A heartfelt thank you to all!

90

A-Z FILES

DONORS Zachary P. Levy ‘00 Memorial Fund

NOBEL SOCIETY Michael & Helen Levy, Lawrence D. Hite, Richard & Denise Mulcahy PULITZER CIRCLE Zeynep Eken, Helen & Howard Freedman PEN/FAULKNER FELLOW Arielle & Cliff Bayer, Ayse & Necdet Bezmen, Meredith Thalheimer , Joan & Charles Blanksteen, Caitlin & Kerim Eken ‘00, Nermin Esen, Izzie Lerer, The Ken Pollak Family, Fran Lippa & Rick Rohn, Beth & Bob Sheehan, Will Sheehan MAN BOOKER BOARD Josh Aghravi, Dan Friedman & Michelle Andelman, Anonymous, Virginia Volante Appel, Paul Arnhold, Berin Bezmen, Jonathan Blanksteen ‘00, Jamie & Aaron Books, Lauren & Ryan Borg, Joshua Chaffee, Anne Chellas, Ian M. Dana ‘97, Matthew Dresher, Jess Eisen, Allison Feldman, Ginevra Figg, Micheal Friedman & Lauren Fedorko, Alex Friedman, Alex Funk ‘00, Lara & Adam Gillman, Jordan Gillman, Paul 91

A-Z FILES

& Renee Haas, Steven Handwerker ‘03, Scott Handwerker ‘00, Debbie Cooper & Kevin Handwerker, Tim Howell, Dana, Jeff & Matt Hynick, Lauren Wood & Conor Izzett, Tim Kirby ‘00, Jon Klebanoff ‘00 & Maya Deshmukh, Susan Hirschhorn & Arthur Klebanoff, Brian Lamb, Ethan Levy, Adam Levy ‘97, Erin Levy, Jacqui & Ron Liberman, Jamie Magid ‘91, John Murray, Katie Robin, John Rosen, Rachel Rosenberg, Emily Rudman, Benjy Sarlin ‘00, Matthew Scharfstein ‘00, Kate Schlosstein, Megan & Midhat Serbagi ‘97, Dillon K. Springer ‘00, Joshua Steinberg, Christopher Stone, Deborah Forte & Peter Stone, Nicholas Tapert ‘00, Cameron Tung, Kevin VanLandingham, Melissa Wilner, Rachel & Jared Zolna NEWBURY CLUB Anonymous, Anonymous, Jessica Barrett, Jamie Bass, John Benedetto, Talin Bezmen, Lauren Appel & Karyn Brownson, Jordan Cerf, Katy Cheng, Tim Clinton, Susan Crile, Amy D’Annunzio, Serra Eken, Amanda & Zach Fox, Lauren Freedman, Louise & Howie Freilich, Elaine & Arthur Friedman, Claire Friedman, Mike Fung, Lindsey Goodman, Lauren & Brian Koffler, Ben Krauss, Abby Leber,

92

A-Z FILES

Josh Levy, McFly Levy, Ben Lewis, Sam Lichtenburg-Scanlan, Tal Madanes, Lisa Ray, Alex Rosario ‘00, Sarah RuelBergeron, Hadley Springer, Samantha Steinberg, Carter Stone, Damian VanCamp ‘00, Jas Wagstaff, Jeff Warren, Melissa & Jared Weil, Jay Woodworth & Frances Fox, Jessica Zanan SUPPORTERS Jonathan Aghravi, Beth Appel, Guillermo Artiles, Caitlin & Eric Bitzegaio, Ari Bornstein,David Braily, Jay Caretsky, Ben Carron Greg Cayne, Brook Cohen, Sarah Claspell, Leila Cohan-Miccio, Matt Cutler, Andrew L. Daidone, Ashley Eisenstadt, Matt Elkin ‘99, Adam Fields, Jack Germain, Pete Haarmann, Alex Ingram ‘03, Derek Jacobs, Tommy Kahn, Brian Kennedy, Alex Klein, Prescott Loveland, Andrea Lusso Matt Moskovciak, Jack Pesin ‘97, Josephine Porco, Janna Raskopf, Mike Schutzer, Becca Skolnick, Laurence Smith ‘00, Ashley Springer ‘97, Maria Sternfeld, Gilmar Valencia, Paul Welsh, Alex Whitman

93

THE ALLEN-STEVENSON SCHOOL 2019