East Technical High School - June Bug Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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JANUARY CLASS HISTORY One cold day in February, in the year 1924, the usual number of newcomers gathered in the auditorium. Outside the door, “Sophs,” Juniors, and Seniors gazed curiously and looked as though they had half expected to find these flats” in cages. Half the girls had their hair bobbed. The other half of them did not, for bobbed hair had not become universal. They wore their skirts quite long for that was the prevailing fashion in 1924. The girls were plump for although they could count their calories on one hand and considered their “daily dozen something sacred, they hadn't begun to notice results as yet. The boys wore double-breasted suits and red neckties for that was what the well-dressed man wore in that year. They were a serious-minded group in a new world. Under their arms they carried clean slates. In a few days they became an active part of the student body. They learned the abe’s of English and the xyz’s of Algebra. The freshman boy was a model youth. He said yes ma'am” and no ma'am . He blushed like a rose and would rather take seven algebra tests than speak to a girl. In his childish mind he placed the senior at a shrine and knelt in silent worship. The sophomore year came. He still looked up to the senior, but down at the flat”. His unruly hair took on a patent leather finish. He became quite sophisticated and although his mother tried in vain to stop him. he still persisted in saying, So’s your old man”. He found that girls do not bite but are quite attractive. His textbooks did not command so much of his time as in the past. He formed the habit of going to bed later and getting up so late as to make it necessary for him to fasten his cuffs and tie his tie while running after the street car. He went to football games this year. Last year he had thought a halfback was something he had seen in a circus. He carried a “mum and prayed for rain so he could wear his new slicker. Came the third year. Came the call of the wild and Junior went out for practice. Now the girls wore tomboy skirts and carried bright-colored kerchiefs in their hip pockets. Boyish bobs were quite the thing and went well with the boyish figures the same plump girls of 1924 had finally obtained in 1926. Club membership invitations were sent to Juniors and paddles and sneezing powder were features of every initiation. Soon the Juniors could display a long line of club and home room pins. These they were always willing to show to curious and envious underclassmen. Juniors started memory' books and spent hours in pasting their souvenirs on the pages. These happy hours were theatened by a finger pointing to the end. And came the beginning of their numbered days. The Juniors passed on and in their place, there stood the graduating Senior Class of January, 1928. Then most of the girls in the halls were allowing their hair to grow. Hair pins, that for years had been passe were scattered here and there. During the 12B term, at just about the time Lindbergh took his New York to Paris hop, the Honor Theatre Party was introduced to take the place of the former Honor Banquet. There was a first senior meeting. The President and his assistants were chosen. At the meeting it was suggested that a memory book be substituted for the annual June Bug. Violent protest was raised and much discussion was followed by a deadlock. Finally, in the fall of 1927 the Senior Class voted unanimously in favor of the publishing of the June Bug. Eighteen

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These are the gifts of Life to thee, my son, Of life, that mystery of you and me. Great Ra hath given life to every man; Great Ra will take it1 when he wills to take. And now', as Priest of our great Father, Ra, Unto his Neophyte and priest to be, 1 give this gift, His gift, the gift of Ra, The emblem of our endless, wondrous Life. See where 1 wear it o'er my heart, my son, In casket of sweet-scented, holy wood? So shalt thou wear it o’er thy heart, my son. Behold the Scarab! (He prays) Great Father, Lord of Life and Death, Our Lord! 1 lift up hands of truth in prayer to thee, 0 Ra, the royal, and ask thy gift, the gift of Life. This gift I hang about thy neck, my son, And place it o'er thy heart. See to it well That in thy heart thou wear it. Be thou true To its great benefits; for be thou false, No child of Ra art thou, no child of Life. Anaxores: Great Father, Lord of Life and Death, our Lord! 1 lift up hands of truth in prayer to thee, O Ra. the royal, and ask thy gift, the gift of life. Master, this gift I take from thy true hand With hope to wear it truly. Here I pledge To cherish it in all things as my life, To live the life, my life, as Ra would wish; To put from me all little things and low; To ever upward gaze and upward climb; To build my life of wisdom all compact; To found it sure upon the rock of Faith; To garnish it and scent it with His flowers; So shall my life be one with thine and His. Harmachis: Farewell, my son, dear son; my heart is sore To leave thee and these old familiar walls; But 1 must do His will. Thou, too, shalt leave When thy time cometh, and shalt give this gift To thy successor; so shall he to his. From priest to priest, from age to age, till time Shall be forever swallowed up in Ra. Farewell, farewell! Ra’s light dies in the west. But still He lives in Darkness as in Death. Harmachis and Anaxores: Great Father, Lord of Life and Death, our Lord! We lift up hands of truth in prayer to thee, O Ra, the royal, and ask thy gift, the gift Of Life. Harmachis: Farewell, my son. Now are thou Priest of Ra. Seventeen

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Sometimes after club meetings, seniors wandered over to Ma's for a “hot dog and a bottle of “pop”. There, grouped around tables, they gossiped and sang and talked over old times or future ambitions. Sometimes they met in front of the ''aud” or on the steps. At last came a much anticipated day—a happy day. And yet, why should this happy day make one feel so sad? It was Senior Day. The school was at work as usual, but adorning the halls were serious-faced seniors with hats of brown and gold set at a jaunty angle to hide an aching heart. In the auditorium that day, before the glare of the spot light, the entire senior class sang in chorus “Among My Souvenirs”. Among my souvenirs, I'll treasure East Tech days.” That night To the Ladies was presented. The next week was a busy one. Graduates met every morning at nine o'clock to rehearse “Oh, Happy Youth.” Commencement night came. To a senior it is something to be whispered especially when it is here. When the graduates gathered, they scarcely knew each other in their new dresses. The boys wore dark suits and the girls were in white. The boys pinned a rose on their lapels while the girls carried trembling bouquets. The knell was sounded and solemn music poured through the doors of the auditorium filled with parents and friends. Slowly, one by one, the graduates filed down the aisles. Youth could write a book on what he thinks as he marches so stately to the stage. Does his entire life flash before him in a passing moment? Does he look into the future and see an unconquered world to which he holds a golden key? Or does he wonder if his tie is on straight and if that contrary strand of hair is sticking up in the air instead of lying down flat? They are on the stage, at last. Looking into the faces of those who have faith in him, of those who hope for him, he staggers under the weight of their confidence He hears the voice of his President address the audience. He listens to the class speaker and the valedictorian. He hears himself sing “Oh, Happy Youth”. Yes, he was happy, but now, of course, there is only the future. He feels himself rise and go forward to receive his diploma. At last, at last, he has arrived. He looks at the scroll. Aw, woe? It is not his. Somebody also has his. They're all mixed up. He feels himself rise to follow his leaders out, down the aisle and through the gateway—out into the world. ALYCE HUGHES. Nineteen