Falls City High School - Orange and Black Yearbook (Falls City, NE)

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ORANGE AND BLACK I to do? Why should the fate of this brilliant class rest upon me?” But lo, she drew back the curtain and said in a faltering voice, “Look! Listen! I prophecy unto the young men and women of Falls City High School.” For as I looked into the future I could discern familiar objects that gradually took the form of beings, once my dear classmates, now charged as they had often hoped to be. The veil grew less misty before my eyes, and I beheld my classmates as though the intervening years were naught. I could see our beloved president, and his manly bearing was the same as when he conducted the executive affairs of our class of ’22. Russell Pollard is beloved by our nation. I saw a megnificer.t home in London where Ethel James is making life happy for her barker husband. I saw Alice Harkendorf presented at the Court of Immanuel as a soloist of great ability. I saw a great cathedral. Charles Uhlig toad clad in the stately robes of a priest and from his mouth came great and good t uths. Gazirg into the South Sea Isles, I saw Florence Lutterfield. Surrounding her were a group of cannibals, and I saw her in earnest conversation with Chief Soinip Eupx. Next I gazed into professional circles, and among men of great minds, I saw Ruth Lewis maintaining a successful law office. I saw Robert Gerhardt, a rich banker, in an airplane, counting his money ai d flashing his diamonds in the sun. In an office downtown I saw Margaret Margrave submitting a manuscript which promises to make her famous. I saw a lonely widow, weeping over the death of her husband. Oh no! it was Louise Harris weeping over the death of her pet poodle. I saw an orphan asylum where Lilian and Edna Rieger preside. They make excellent mothers for the homeless children. Hilda Ketter was holding audiences spellbound by her delightful music. I beheld her one night in all her triumph. Francis Yoder was jigging to the music and it was a delight to see his body swaying in perfect rhythm. I saw a newsboy crying, “Extra, Extra. All about the big battle. American forces led to victory by brave Captain Harry Richardson!” I saw Hazel Green playing in a negro minstrel at a theatre in Falls City. Ah! A dainty lady of society, the queen of every gathering—the belle of every ball! I looked again and recognized Nellie Reynolds. My gaze wandered to a lecture hall. I saw a woman of strong temper. She lectures on a strong subject as she demonstrates her independence of man. Her name escapes me! But wait! It is Hester Porr. I saw a schoolroom. A professor astonished the class by the vast learning he has accumulated at Falls City High School. The students call him Professor Winfred Daggett. I saw a fair lady, disappointed in a love affair, who has become a nun and who is devoting her life to the happiness of others. She is called Sister Eva Crawford. I saw the plains of the West. Eleanor Greene was riding over the broad prairie. Also in this western land I saw a huge bill board in the great city. It read “Lois Ross! A second Melba, greatest opera singer of the day.” I saw Gladys Walthall exchanging confidences over the fence with her neighbor, over the important question of making good pancakes. I saw a glove factory where our beloved High School used to stand. Charles Sharritt was the successful manager. I saw a hospital where hundreds of patients lay. And most beloved of all the nurses was Agnes Redwood. She has won high esteem by her patience and kind ways. I saw Jennie Parsons, an actress fair and the idol of the public. Shifting my gaze again I saw Ruth Goldner a successful school teacher in Illinois. I saw Edwin Bippes, manager of a large silk worm farm near Rulo, Neb. I saw Lula Travers playing the pipe organ in a movie house in Boston. Hillard Inks was also in Boston where he has a newstand in the Union Depot. Near the outskirts of this city I saw a magnificent building. Several children were playing but they were communicating with each other by other signs. The mist cleared and I saw Clara Steinbrink and Adaline Gursche matrons in the deaf and dumb school. I saw Lorena Vaughn in the music room teaching the poor children music. Later I beheld Mabel Sperry studying economic conditions in Augusta, Maine. I saw Bernice Shier holding a responsible position as private secretary to J. P. Morgan, and I seem to see her transferred to a London office. My gaze shifted and I saw a star basket ball player amidst cheering crowds. I looked closer and recognized Bessie Parsons. I saw Marie Phelps, companion for Mrs. Vanderpool of New York City. I saw Lois McManus, a leader of society in Oklahoma City. Her husband is an oil king. I saw Marjorie McDonald as head saleswoman in an Omaha establishment. Ida Kreuger sells music in the same department store. Again the curtain descended and the land of things to be was shut forever from my sight. The mist grew deeper and deeper, and I turned away, glad for this little glimpse into the present life of my former classmates. Page Seventeen

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ORANGE AND BLACK I, Ruth Goldner, bequeath my quietness during assembly periods to Helen Ruth Reneker. I, Edwin Deuchler, bequeath my ability to make and keep friends to Orville Morris. I, Lula Travers, bequeath my bobbed hair to Helen Allen. I, Jennie Parsons, bequeath my curls to Fern Maddox. My high heeled pumps I give to Lydia Wulf. I, Charles Uhlig, bequeath my musical talent to John Lichty. My marcel wave I give to Floyd Shields. I, Ben Morgan, bequeath my undying love for teasing the girls to Grant Whitford. I, Gladys Walthall, bequeath my ability to eat candy in school and get away with it, to Olive McManus. My Physics book is already properly disposed of. 1, Ida Kruger, bequeath my place in Ziegfield Follies to Mabel Thomas. 1, Margaret Margrave, bequeath my literary tendencies to Helen James. My early morning rides can be obtained by applying for the same. I, Winfred Daggett, bequeath my good times in Physics laboratory to the greenest Freshmen. I, Hillard Inks, bequeath my noisy ways to Faye Reed. I, Bessie Parsons, bequeath my powder puff and pocket mirror to Mabel Ross. I, Clara Steinbrink, leave my zealous industriousness to John Whitaker. I, Nelle Reynolds, bequeath my art of dancing to Grace Mettz. My history note book I will give to the person most needing it. I, Hester Porr, bequeath my habit of running up and down stairs like a Ford to Babe Knickerbocker. My quiet ways I give to Emily Butterfield. I, Charles Sharritt, leave all the book reports I have prepared to the class of ’23. I, Agnes Redwood, bequeath my ability to translate “deep” poetry to Beatrice Sharp. I, Bernice Shier, bequeath my record as a speed demon on the typewriter to Berlyn Shields. My habit of writing notes I give to anyone my executor deems fit. I, Harold Kottman, bequeath my future as a “snappie” artist to George Reed. My dimples I give to Harvey Whitaker. I, Alice Harkendorf, bequeath my “charming drawl” to Fern Percival. The admiring glances of the opposite sex I give to the first applicant. I, Adaline Gursche, bequeath my beloved Elson History to anyone Mrs. Lessel shall appoint. I, Irma Myers, bequeath my collection of love letters to Mildred Aldefer. I, Baxter Hoffman, bequeath my ability to play the saxaphone to Cecil Crook. I, Charles Heiser, bequeath my surplus height to Anna Margaret Brecht. I, Lois Ross, bequeath my ability to see everything going on in assembly to Celia Jane Lawrence. My surplus negro make up I give to Wilma Coatney. I, Harry Richardson, bequeath my popularity with the girls to Elmer Massey. My smile I give to Melvin Johnson. I, Claude Matthews, bequeath my place on the football team to Pete Kaloides. I, Leah Schmidt, bequeath my dignity as a Senior to Lucile Matthews. I, Marie Phelps, bequeath niy interest in agriculture to Edna Coon. I, Lillian Rieger, bestow my beloved seat in assembly to an aspiring Senior I, Mary Sutter, bequeath my fondness for studying to Robert Horrocks. I, Edna Rieger, bequeath my future as a country school teacher to Clarence Nutter, whom I think is fully capable. I, Edwin Bippes, bequeath my ability to make a joke of life to John Marmet. I, Eva Crawford, bequeath my pleasant ways to Evelyn Will. My “style” I give to Gertrude Fritz. I, Hilda Ketter, bequeath my study lamp, for which I have no further use, to Marvin Drake. My futui-e in the movies I bequeath to Elma Wittwer. We, as a class, hereby appoint Miss Cleveland as executress of this, our last will and testament. Signed, sealed, published, and declared by the SENIOR CLASS OF 1922. (By Lois Mildred Ross) SENIOR PROPHECY Listen, 0 ye men and women, youths, maidens, and little children! Listen all ye people of Falls City, at the words of wisdom from the lips of your prophet. Now it happened that when it was decreed that the future of the class of 1922 be put in the hands of this, your prophet. I cried in a loud voice saying, “What am Page Sixteen

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