Broken Bow High School - Warrior Yearbook (Broken Bow, NE)

Page 33 text:

1. Camera tricks. 2. Happy days of long ago. 3. Shirley posing for the hirdie. 4. Quenching our dehydrated throats. 5. That Carothers look. 6. Everyone smile! 7. Betty in the foreground—Jack in the background. 8. What a pretty dress! 9. What a frown, Doyle! 10. More females. 11. Dick and Howard -where’s Pearl and (undecided)? 12. What a basketball player! 13. Don’t take my picture! 14. You don’t say. 15. Packer and Wattles. 16. Where's Marg? 17. A cute Sioux member. 18. The New Helena Excursion. 19. Pat and Deane sooo in love. 20. Hurry, kids, get to school! 21. What’s the matter. Ben? 22. Leg art. 23. Who’s winking at whom? 24. How site can type! 25. Oh Pearl, please smile. 26. What refinement! 27. 12:45 at Haebcrle’s. The Warrior '47 29

Page 32 text:

1. Who said you could read? 2. Ah, love-----. 3. Bla! Bla! Bla! 4. Go on, take a bite. 5. Was 1 embarrassed! 6. Just a little higher. Jack-boy. 7. Smile. Smile, Smile. 8. Shirl and Norm. 9. How’d you freshmen get in there? 10. Talkin’ over the hack fence. 11. What cha got. Coach? 12. Pert Bert. 13. Ha! Ha! Ha! 14. Blond Bombshell. 15. Shirley, Shirley, what a pretty girlie. 16. Who’s behind you, Elda? 17. Friends forevermore. 18. Jest Pete. 19. Books and an alumna. 20. O. You see how it is?? 21. Harlo. 22. Aw Shud up!! 23. Two trumpeteers. 28 The Warrior '47

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Class Will We, the valiant and victorious maidens and warriors of the class of 1947, being of sound mind and faculties, do hereby will and bequeath these properties of which we are possessed to the below mentioned heirs and assignees: I, Roland Cooksley, leave what’s left of my Model “A” to Bennie Heskett. in the faith that he will have the patience to stop and pick up the pieces every time he hits the railroad tracks. I, Harlan Tabor, will my old, rusty, bobby pins to Jack Simonson. I, Shirley Evans, leave my little book entitled “Hints on Handling Headstrong He-Men to any girl in need of such. (And take it from me, it works.) I Mary Carothers, much against my better judgment leave Bill Pester here, to trudge alone in a cold, cold world. I, Arlene Peterson, leave my 120 words in typing to any critter with fifteen fingers and five hands. 1, Lula Jean Books, leave the crumbs in the bottom of my locker to any hungry mice in the locker room, knowing the combinations. I, Leola Tyson, will my long dark eye lashes to Sally Moore. I, Ruth Condon, will my long, scarlet fingernails to Emerson Purcell. I, Gwenie Chase, leave my threadbare Spanish book to Conley Murray, that he may translate his 1 .atin-American correspondence. I. Pat Moliatt, will my shy, demure personality to Lyla Von Books. I, Bob McCarty, leave my seven subjects to any poor character who wants to struggle with them. I, Darlene Niedt, will my Geography of Nebraska text to Dona Wood, another of those striving educators. I, Jack Nelson, leave my 6 ft. 3 to Bob Smith in hopes that he might some day be star of B. B. basketball. I, Roger Genius of the test tubes” Relph, will any of my unbroken chemistry paraphernalia to Ed Ken-oyer. We, Lavonna Prescott and Shirley Pruner, leave our steadfast friendship to “Flink” Wooters and Dona Lee Murray. I, Frank Mayo, will my accomplished skill in the art of political speaking to Billie Williams. I, Ray McMurtry, leave my doorless, motorless, hopeless “Chevie” to the junk dealer who has been shadowing me all year. 1, Dick Wattles, leave my manual “Pointers for Persevering Pool Players” to Dean Wood. I, Betty Swift, leave my privilege of being royally escorted to the late train every Friday night to Donna Sorter. I, Mary Jean Streitwieser, leave my tactics on keeping an alumnus interested to Bernardine Roos. I, Normie Myers, will my unwavering faith in Uncle Sam’s mail service to any party interested in Navy Blues. We, Paul Simonton and Glen White, leave school and this time it’s for good. I. Jerry Borchers, will my aloofness and apparent dislike for the fair sex to Bill Pester. I, Howard Dye, leave my underclasswomen admirers to Paul Carothers. (You’ll love ’em, boy.) 1, Jack Crouch, will the fun I have before the 8:30 hell to any fellow lucky enough to have two pretty brunettes in the neighboring lockers. We, George Govier and Vernon Shepherd, leave our ability to be the first ones out of the parking lot at noon to Coach Russell, provided he he responsible for all dented fenders and bashed-in grilles. 1, Duane Martin, will my love for Shakespearian drama to Bill Sweeney. We, Alfred Geeslin and John Gishpert, will our musical instruments to any poor mortal who can’t whistle. I, Merle McCaslin, leave my tall, dark handsomeness to Kenny Joe Eacker. I, Delbert Prescott, will my unequaled ability to identify any plane, ship, or artillery to the Chief of the U. S. War Dept. I, Ray Zeller, leave my last juicy “Red Dot” to any underclassman with a constitution strong enough to see it through to the last puff. I, Pearl Myers, leave my vim, vigor, and endless vitality to Lorene Cole. We, Beverly Brainard and Mildred Adams, bequeath our gift of teaching eager young scholars, to Doyle Davis and Chuck Talbot. 30 The Warrior ’4