Altavista High School - Nuntius Yearbook (Altavista, VA)

Page 27 text:

Sm cam cr ee ) rm) cr) cr) cr) cr cr cam) cme cm ) am ) ca) er) ) n ) am ) (| m ( ) em (| cemmm{ ) am () eme ( ) mm ( e SS (TED (| D () D ) ( ) -D () -SD ) -SD ( ) D () D ( ) | |) e | ee e Limited, bound for California, and on this trip there came a curious combination of events which make the prophecy I am giving you tonight. We were entering the western prairie country, and I was reading a little while earlier of the trouble the farmers were having in s elling their crops to advantage. At a small station, the train having stopped on signal, a party of two mem entered the Pullman and took a section behind me. Paying no particular attention, gazing over the passing countryside, I was startled to hear the word ‘‘Altavista,’’ and, linked with it, the one-time familiar name, “Lewis.’’ These two names took me back to old Virginia, and risking the consequences, I looked over the back of the seat, and, there, sure enough was our own Lewis Vaughan talking to the other man. I said, ‘‘Hello, Lewis, you don’t know who I am, do you?’’ He jumped up, reached out both hands and said, ‘‘Well, I’ll be blessed if if isn’t ‘Monk.’ What in the world are you doing here?’’ With that the other grabbed me, drew me over the back of the seat into their section, calling me ‘Monk,’ and asking about a million questions all at once. When we got straightened out I found the other one was Elbert Richardson, and here three of us from this graduating class were suddenly brought face to face. At my suggestion, each fellow told what he had been, doing since graduation night. Elbert Richardson said: ‘One day I had been writing for Senior English what I wanted to be. I was very much taken’ with outdoor life and the protection of birds. On the margin of the paper was written, ‘You wish to be an ornithologist.’ This was some big word, and I thought that if I could be as big as the word I should cer- tainly fill quite a place in life. And that’s just what I am, with some more to it. I took a special govern- ment course in wild animals and with this I studied forestry, and entered the Forestry Service. Here I am, just having received promotion as Chief Forester of Yellowstone Park. I love my work, and while some of it is pretty hard, especially fire fighting, I’m in love with it, and am thankful for that word all you fellows laughed at, the word that led me to be an ornithologist. “What about you, Lewis?’’ I asked. Lewis was a bit shy about telling of himself, and I wondered if he had made a failure. He certainly looked successful. Most of his account came from Elbert, who told me that Lewis had made a name for himself as a lawyer. I asked Lewis, ‘‘Are you the chap who won that million-dollar suit in Chicago last week?’’ And so it was. Lewis intends to return to Virginia one of these days, at least so he says, and we all wondered why. At Kansas City, Elbert left us, when, what can you imagine happened. Two very attractive young women boarded the train. Lewis woke up and shouted, ‘‘Look who’s here!’’ Hardly altered since we sep- arated were Annie Turner and Booker Wood. Neither had the name now, but if I were to call them ‘‘Mrs. So and So,’”’ we should none of us be the wiser. Annie had just completed her second term of mission service in China, and was returning to San Francisco to take the steamer back to Canton. She had been called to America to arrange for taking complete charge of a new station to be opened in the interior of China and was full of enthusiasm for her work. Booker Wood, who had taught near Altavista for two years, had answered the call of the west, and while teaching had met the man whom she married. He was, and still is, a professor in one of our Western Colleges. Booker looked very happy and thoroughly satisfied, and, a few hours later, when they both left the train, we wished them godspeed in their undertakings. Tired of talking, I turned to glance through a book that Annie had left for me to read, telling me that I would find it the surprise of my life. From the outside it looked well gotten up, the binding was above the ordinary. When I opened it I said to myself, “‘Nothing doing.’’ Not a picture in it; only dry-looking essays! Presently I found myself absorbed. In simple, yet beautiful English (not that I was ever much of a judge), the book carried me back to things that I had lived through, and I lived over again. ‘I wonder who wrote this?” I thought. Turning to the title page, there was the familiar name, “Joe Robertson.”’ “This can’t be old Joe who used to ride the grey mule:to Altavista High,’ I said to Lewis. He took the book, turned to the next page, and said, “I guess it is; look here.’’ And there was a dedication, “To my fellow classmates of 1926, of Altavista High School, Virginia.’”? And then followed the names of each of us, and that’s about as near as I shall ever get to finding my name printed in a book, and maybe the same to many of us. We stopped over at Salt Lake City as I wanted to see the sights. There was a fine college there and a big game of football was scheduled for the next day. Illinois was playing Utah. It was a wonderful game. and some of the plays Illinois made seemed pretty familiar. We waited around the locker rooms to see the visiting team come out, and, once more Lewis shouted out, “Say, Monk. look who’s here, Harry McCoy!”’ The same old Harry, my old right tackle on the ’25 team of A. H. S., now famous coach for the University of Illinois, the man whom Red Grange patted on the back the other day, saying, “McCoy is the greatest coach Illinois ever had!’? The last we saw of Harry was next day. Standing on the rear plat- form of the train he shouted as he waved good-bye, “Hurrah for Altavista High and the ‘Demons’.” iE is the summer of 1936, just ten years from today. I find myself comfortably settled on the Sunset PAGE TWENTY-THREE oo Che Luntiuvu os SD ( AD ( ) RD () OED ( ) RD FE) ED ¢ ) aD () a ( ) RD |) AD ( ) ED) RD ( ) ED () |) CD | ) SD |) CD ( ) RED () |) a) ce ©, LL) A A A A) A A) A SS A A A) A) A) A) (|)

Page 26 text:

a ses FT LI | [ate DT EU Cs fae re rire reer oe ISTORY N one glorious September morn in 1922 there assembled in the Freshman room of old A. H. S. a bunch of crude material to start out their first year in high school. Who should be in the bunch but three former classmates who had started in the first grade with the historian, Dorothy Smith, Alta Belle Carr and Emily Johnson. There were other old classmates who had joined us in the higher grades—Cuyler Smith and Lewis Vaughan in the fifth; Ella Doss and Catherine Payne in the sixth. With these there were some entering A. H. S. for the first time, Mary Mattox, Harry McCoy and Elbert Richard- son. These constituting most of our light brigade, we were ready to start out to attain our high school ambition. Of course we, like all other rats, were expecting an easy time and as many privileges as we could take advantage of, but we were disappointed in our expectations because it wasn’t long before we learned that Algebra and Latin demanded study, if we expected to pass. This year a new principal had come to take us in charge. Everyone was eager to learn his name and ! ! ' ! ! j } ! ! i ! ! j j i ! ; i j ! ReGen Ghilds. : This was a very interesting school year for us, but a little dificult because our studies were new and j we had to become accustomed to our new teachers and habits of high school life. j Entering school in 1923 as Sophomores, some dropped out, while others joined to make up for the loss. = These new-comers were: Essie Baker, Annie Turner and Thomas Yeaman, a very desirable trio. Nothing i of very much interest happened during our Sophomore year, but, despite the fact ous studies were getting j harder and harder, we were forging ahead toward our goal and hoping each tomorrow would find us nearer bs than today. ‘ The following, our Junior year, we could begin to look back over our past high school days and realize i how much a rat really has to do ere he can become a Senior. This year five new-comers filed in as Juniors: ] Ruth Calloway, Booker and Willie Wood , Joe Robertson, and, after mid-term exams, Reese Smith. 4 We were very badly crowded and getting more cramped for room every year, but we made the best i of it, and, by the time school was out, arrangements had been made to make an addition to the building. j Being so happy that we were now Juniors, and so eager were we to become Seniors, this year passed re quickly by. : And then, in the fall of 1925, there entered a body of noble and enthusiastic pupils who were to form | the Class of ’26. 4 Olen Jones, one of last year’s Senior class, and one of our faithful students, was waiting to give us a ' hearty welcome. ! At last we were dignified Seniors, mostly just Seniors, still working hard for our reward—a diploma! 2 We were still up against it for room as the construction of the new building had not been completed. } But by February of ’26, we were able to spread out as some of the lower grades were moved into the new : building. Our classrooms had been enlarged. a The class hadn’t been organized long before it began to consider putting out an annual. This took i much consideration, but by a large majority vote, backed by the promise to do our best, we decided to pub- = lish an up-to-date annual. i We shall never forget how faithfully our editor-in-chief and president worked, nor the thrill we got r out of having our “‘beauty struck’? for publication. j Of course, we, like all Senior classes, thought ourselves the smartest and best class that had ever grad- i uated. Although we have a few less apt, we have a number of whom no school would be ashamed and Wwe point with pride, to our valedictorian, who, with others of the class, has made a splendid high school j record. KENNETH WALKER, rt Historian. ! } ! j ‘ x PAGE TWENTY-TWO $ ' : | j ! | ! : j } : i ) ' } ‘ i i ‘ LJ j | : i : get a good look at him. But we were not long in suspense until he was introduced to the school as Mr. ! t : j i ! ' | } j t } : | j } i i : ! } f { ;

Page 28 text:

A) A) A) A A) Ch ry JQ u 1 ti u 8 (CO , mos Roaming around Salt City we went into the public library and here was another unexpected happening. The librarian was none other than our Emily Johnson. How we did talk over old times, in spite of the notice, ‘‘Silence.”” Lewis remarked to Emily that if we kept up we'd have met all of the class of ’26 by the time we got to our journey’s end. Emily said, ‘““You won’t be able to do quite all of that, but this will help; it came this morning—read it.’’ Postmarked “Cuba,” it was a long letter from Essie B aker. Essie is another of our class who is doing mission work, and she is at the head of a hospital for women. She took her degree at Johns Hopkins after graduating as a‘nurse. In connection with the mission is a large school and Essie was writing to tell Emily that Willie Wood, who had been teaching English at the Teachers Col- lege at Farmville, was expected on the next boat to fill the chair of English at Havana, and it was rumored that Dr. Thomas Yeaman, who had become famous as a specialist in tropical diseases, was to visit the island in a few days to check up on some scientific data he had been gathering for the United States Government. As we were about to leave, Emily said: ‘Wait a moment; come into the radio room, and see if you can tell who this is.’ With very little static we were listening in to Richmond, Va., which was distributing from the Senate Chamber. Somebody was making a speech in favor of better farms and farmers, and bet- ter roads. ‘‘Who do you think that is, Monk?” ‘‘Search me,” I answered, and then the speaker made ref- erence to the roads he had to travel over in his school days. I could just see the road, its mud, its ruts, its impossibilities for travel. There is only one road like it, and I knew that Olen Jones, State Senator, was telling the wide world in rounded, expressive, elegant English about the perils of a journey from Altavista to Leesville. As we were leaving, Emily said, ‘‘Wait a bit.’ She turned us on to K. D. K. A. Pittsburgh and we listened in on a concert in Carnegie Hall. The announcer was just introducing Miss Mary Mattox, our Mary Mattox, and she never knew that a thousand miles to the west some of her class of ’26 were listening to her playing. Turning to go to my room, I was paged for a long distance call from Dallas, Texas. Wondering who it could be, I rushed up to the phone. I heard a voice say, ‘Hello Monk, this is Catherine Payne, your old classmate. I do wish you could come to see me; I am living here and my husband is running a whole- sale mercantile house here. I was elected editor of the social column of the Dallas News. Read it the next chance you get. Good-bye, wish I could see you.” | We left Salt Lake that night and I had a lower berth, the upper being unoccupied. Sometime after midnight, the porter brought a passenger who crawled in the vacant uppe r. I got up a bit early and noticed the bag of the late arrival. The name painted on it was “‘Kenneth Walker,’ but instead of ‘‘Altavista,”’ the place was “‘Denver.’’ Still, it was a coincidence, and the coincidence became a fact when, later, who should enter the dnier and be shown to my table but Kenneth himself, now, as he told me, an electrical en- gineer who had invented a new method of taking the current from water power which did away with much of the former waste. He was on his way to the Columbia river to install a large electric plant. We had much to say about old days, and I told him about Alta Belle Carr and the wonderful success she had in teaching music in the A. H. S. Music was recently added to the general course of study and Alta Belle has been so successful that she has turned down offers in Lynchburg, but she may teach in Richmond College if her husband will give his consent. Walker told me about Reese Smith and his new cooker for which he had obtained a patent. I didn’t get on to the technical part of this new stove, but it delivers twice the heating with the same amount of fuel, and any kind of fuel can be used. Reese has organized a company to manufacture his invention, and is thinking of accepting the offer of the Altavista Chamber of Commerce and locating there. “Where’s Dorothy, Monk?” said Kenneth. ‘“‘Haven’t you heard? She also went as a missionary. By the way, that makes three missionaries for our class; we ought to have developed a preacher out of the crowd. Yes, Dorothy started in Cuba, and now has charge of a mission school in Guatemala and is simply carried away with her work.” As the train passed over the Divide, the others having left) at different points, I found myself alone with my thoughts. During the trip I had come in contact with all but two. I sent two telegrams, and on arriving at my hotel I found answers. Here they are: STUDIED ART STOP TAUGHT THREE YEARS ALTAVISTA HIGH STOP TWO YEARS RADFORD NORMAL STOP MARRIED AND LIVING IN ALTAVISTA. ELLA DOSS. The next ene reads: GRADUATED FARMVILLE AND TAUGHT ENGLISH LITERATURE AND TRIED TO MAKE IT EASY BUT FOUND IT IMPOSSIBLE STOP TEACH IN SUMMER SCHOOL AT THE UNI- VERSITY THIS YEAR STOP BEST WISHES FOR YOUR FUTURE. RUTH CALLOWAY. And so the prophecy ends. All have done well; may they continue. What about the prophet? Haven't you heard? No. The prophet isn’t making the trip across the country merely for pleasure. The prophet happens to be an architect, a rather famous one, if I do say it, and has made this trip to San Francisco because my design for the three million dollar city hall has been accepted and I shall be there for the next three years supervising one of the most magnificent municipal buildings ever erected, and in the meantime, if any of you wish anything in the architectural line, kindly call on the Prophet. CUYLER SMITH, The Prophet. Oe) a) OO OO OO A OA A A A A A LL | ) SD The Class of ““Twenty-Six”’ 5 ae ee) le A AS LY A LS EE SS LE SE EE GS EG EE AE) EL) A AL) A) A Our Class, ‘“‘Twenty-Six,’’ resembles tonight, Work done in school we compare to a seed é A flower whose petals are blown, Sown in a generous soil; For life is a “meeting and parting of ways,” It can only furnish the richest of fruit Tomorrow, we each stand alone. As we give it our thought and our toil. Together, for years, we have worked with a will, And, just as the seed that was planted alone, Preparing for ‘“‘venture of life.” To surrender its life to mankind, To further our steps to a still distant goal, We shall learn in true service the highest of joy, Will mean, as we've learned, ‘“‘constant strife!’ As the needs of the helpless we mind. To our teachers, so loyal. who’ve given their time, So classmates, let’s follow this God-given rule, Making simpler each difficult way, “Who renounces himself truly gains!” Our tribute is this, ‘“May the classes to come And learn, as we live, that he who thus serves ” Be more willing to learn and obey. O’er heaven and earth ever reigns. RutH Carioway, Poet. PAGE TWENTY-FOUR 2? EE EL | | | | | THe