Bexley High School - Bexleo Yearbook (Bexley, OH)

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THE BEXLONIAN ence stretched them out, cracked their bones and pulled their muscles in a fearful way, but they came from his office cured, smiling and happy, pro- claiming to the world what a help to humanity the kind-hearted Dr. Russell was. The picture now showed Hollywood, and in her studio I saw Gladys Schaaf, the screen star, registering tears, laughter and roguishness before the cameras, while fans crowded around the door, waving autograph books for her to sign. Next I was shown the shoppe of Madamoiselle Antoinette La Tarbertte (Grace Tarbert, in other words), who had made much money and gained much fame as a modiste in the famous fash- ion center of the world, Fifth Avenue, New York. Now I saw a huge hospital, at which were gathered all of the best doctors, nurses and cooks of the world. In the steward’s office was Mildred Wells, the well-known dietitian. And when this picture had faded I saw a library surrounded by a rare col- lection of books, many of which were his own, the poet and cynic, Lindley Williams, who was gazing into a fire, smoking his pipe, while doubtless many beautiful thoughts for his next poem filled his head. The glow faded and the tolling of the Cathedral bells brought me from my revery. But my thoughts were no longer sad, for I realized that the span of my life had stretched long enough, and I was content with the knowledge that the rosy dreams of the future that I had held at graduation had been ful- filled, and that all of my classmates had made successes of their lives. WILLEEN LUDWIG. ------B------- FISHING AS RECITED BY ROBBY EDWARDS Last summer while taking his annual outing he stopped for a few days ’mongst the Fijis in their native lair. His friend, Chief Ginsburg, was going fishing the day of our schoolmate’s ar- rival, and Robby invited himself as the accompanist. The royal Ziggaboo snatched himself a pole and a frog for bait, cast him into the water and waited one second, one minute, one hour and one day; but alas, ’twas all in vain. The Chief jabbed his pole in the bank and they went out to spear some lions or tigers for lunch. But on their return, lo and behold, the frog was sitting on the pole over the water, singing the siren’s song to the fish, while they vainly leaped for the royal froggy. His Royal Nobs unslung his trusty javelin and with it fish after fish was captured and flung to our Robby’s waiting hands till they had more than they could carry back. Just another proof that “Truth is stranger than fiction.” ------B------- INFORMATION BUREAU Who makes everybody laugh?— “Lloyd.” Where do you get water?—“Wells.” What belongs to a wagon ?— “Schaaf.” What makes a minstrel show?— “Kuhn.” What is the most dreaded room in school ?—“Office.” What is your favorite flower?— (Sweet) “Williams.” What did most people do to their cellars before prohibition?—“Stock” ’er (up). What are the heavy weights?—“Bar- ton.” What is above the foot?—“Legg.” Where is your hangout in the sum- mer?— (Swimmin’) “Poole.” What do the trees do when the wind blows ?—“Russell.” How much gold do you want?— “Pyles.” What are altars for ?—Marry-on (Marion G.) What do you say at the table?— “Grace.”

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THE BEXLONIAN ■ SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY The New Year’s chimes had just an- nounced the advent of 1923 and along the streets echoed the cheery voices of light-hearted revelers returning to their homes. I was of an age which was past the frivolities of my youth and the arrival of this year brought to me serious thoughts, for it would be probably the last of my life. I was musing, thinking back to the days of my youth, when we were all so jolly and gay at Bexley High. I had survived the rest of my class on this dear old earth, where they all had been scattered so broadly after graduation. I was pondering, comparing their vari- ous successes, when I noticed that the lights grew dim and a soft, roseate hue filled the room. I seemed in a stupor. The door opened, and through it I could see into a chamber in which sat one of the persons in my thoughts, dear, plump, jolly Josephine Atkinson. She was in a handsome office, busily reading correspondence, and on the door was a sign reading, Mill’s Restau- rants, Manager’s Office. This picture faded and another took its place. Here was a modern, ivory-painted beauty shop, with people coming and going continually. From the office, marked Private, came laughing Bee Barton, who had made her fortune as a beauty expert. The next picture showed a packed theatre, with the Shakespearean dram- atist, Robert Edwards, receiving cur- tain call after curtain call from his many admirers. Then, as the scene faded, a similar one took its place; but instead of the theatre the building was a concert hall, and the principal was fun-loving Ma- rion Gilbert, the well-known prima donna, who was smiling and bowing to her cheering audience, while ushers brought her armfuls of flowers. An entirely new picture presented itself this time. At a high desk of honor in a court room was seated Harry Kuhn; he was passing judgment upon a noted criminal and his fair decision was greeted with much favor by the reporters who thronged the doors. This faded and I saw a beautiful suburb laid out with winding drives and landscaped esplanades. On a huge signboard the fact that B. E. Legg, the surveyor and real estate magnate, had laid out the addition was announced. Then I saw a typical American home, cheery and prosperous looking, and on the lawn, dressed in a dainty frock, was Louise Lloyd (now Mrs. Stiver- son), reading to her two children. A New York broker’s office now ap- peared, and at the desk reading the ticker I saw William McConnell, who had made millions manipulating stocks and bonds. And now the Bohemian scenes of Greenwich Village revealed themselves, and in the most originally designed and luxurious-looking studio was Marion Office, busily painting one of the pic- tures that had made her famous. The next vision was of Mrs. Sophia English, and I saw her in her office, reading a newspaper which told of the wonderful success that she had made by combining business and marriage. Then the ball room of the Ritz ap- peared, where people were gliding around the floor to the rhythmic music of Ruth Poole’s famous orchestra. As this faded I saw Edna Pyle sit- ting writing, writing, writing, compil- ing her book of psychology, which was declared the wonder of the age. When this disappeared, I saw an aeroplane glide gracefully to a stop on a landing field crowded with cheering people. Out of it climbed Vernon Ridgeway, who had become noted as a dare-devil aviator. Next the office of a well-known and reliable construction company pre- sented itself, and through the door marked President came Arthur Stocker, who had worked up from the position given him when he graduated from en- gineering school to this one of honor at the head of the firm. The scene which followed this was one full of pathos. People crippled up with aches and pains were entering an office in front of which was a sign, Dr. C. E. Russell, Chiropractor. Clar-

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THE BEXLONIAN 30 SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY The Class of Twenty-three were we. And such another there will never be; We were loyal, brave and true, We always fought for the White and Blue. We were proud of our high school, We were loyal to the New B. H. S., We were always working and never shirking To make our school a success. Beyond doubt we were the very first seniors, Real “pep” was not lacking in any, But we were the class that none could surpass— The Class of Three-and-twenty. As the Class of Three-and-twenty, What we have done has been a plenty; It’s what we are doing and what we will do That will be of interest to all of you. We all drifted and went our way into the great unknown, And if you listen I’ll tell to you those who have reached renown: Marion Gilberg, who is noted for talk, Is easily known by the way of her walk; A humorous lecturer she is bound to be, And tell funny jokes to the world and me. Josephine Atkinson realized her am- bition And now she is becoming a great musician. Mildred Wells, the ne’er do well, Is all wrapped up in being a belle; But now she is tiring of the toilsome life, And wants to get married and be out of strife. The remarkable Robert, we must view from afar, He has made a big hit as a movie star; When we are weary and in need of rest, We go to the theatre and see “Bob” do his best. Gladys Schaaf, a public speaker from force, Has won her fame on the Lyceum course. Arthur Stocker, of course, is the same as ever, From his “raspberries” he will never sever; An agriculturist of State, his fame is told, And a little wife in his arms to enfold. Grace Tarbert, tiring of common life, Longed to be some one’s happy wife; Of her greatest dreams marriage was not least, And at last she was caught by that fel- low Nice. Lindley Williams, the woman’s man, Rides around in a big sedan; He poses and talks, he laughs and flirts, But it is said that he never does any work. Marion Office, the curly-headed lass, Her love is the kind that always lasts; She is short and sweet and delights in a tease, But for finding a husband she is hard to please. Clarence Russell sought a bride, To be a sailor was his heart’s pride; He sailed on the sea from Africa to the U. S. To find him a wife—it was a great success. Ruth Poole, the butterfly girl, From dancing, her head is all in a whirl; She has chosen her mate from among her friends, And to her wishes he is bound to bend. Sophia Petzinger has remarkable skill, When you eat at her house you will get your fill; She has taken her stand in an “English” school, And brings them up with the Golden Rule. Vernon Ridgeway, as you know, has gained quite a fame; Among the world’s artists he has quite a name. Harry Kuhn, as you all see, A great inventor he is bound to be; He is doing his best to invent a way To turn the long nights into day.