Greenville High School - Hi Life Yearbook (Greenville, MI)

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Greenville, Michigan, June 20. 1934. My dear Sister Fitz— It has just happened that within the last two weeks, I have either seen, talked to, or heard about, every member of our old high school senior class and I thought perhaps you would like to know what they are all doing. Probably you know the fates of some of the folks, but I am going to tell you about a'l of them just the same. First, to start things off with a bang! Robert Arbogast, the well known movie actor, came bo the Alumni banquet last week. I actually talked with him. He is really quite handsome and just a trifle flirty. Not so with his cld friend Leon Greene. He is the most dignified person possible. Congressman Greene I’d have you to know. Edith Smith was the dearest thing you ever saw. She owns a designing and costuming shop in New York and, honestly, her clothes are a dream. We surely hit the nail on the head when we chose her our classiest girl. Oh, say! you remember about Ole and Konnie getting married. It just happened that the banquet came on the same date as their first wedding anniversaiy. So you see we had two important events to celebrate. I saw Ruth Bower not long ago. She is traveling with a sort of carnival as a gipsy fortune teller. You know she used to be always telling us what we were going to do. I hope all the things she says aren’t going to happen, but she makes a good 'ooking fortune teller anyway. Lcis is somewhere in the East posing for some great artist. She was such a model girl even when she went to school. I suppose I might as well get all the Bowers off my mind and tell you about Bill. Of course he is still a farmer but he came to the banquet in a brand new Hudson car. I simp’y had to ask him where his Ford was, and he said he had sold it for junk. I told him I would have kept it as a relic of past happy hours. Dempster Yinger is ushering at Powers’ theater now, so Clement told me not long ago. Maurice Madsen is there, too. He is a street car conductor. That is almost as good a job as Donald Darnell has. He is chief of police in Detroit. I could have imagined all sorts cf futures for Donald but never that. He must have improved since his high school days. Georgia Reynolds is quite happily married and living somewhere in California. I saw her husband once. He is a real short, fat fellow with very blond hair; rather a contrast to her dark hair and eyes. Helen Walker came to the banquet. I hardly knew what to say to her. Goodness, she is a regular lady politician. I thanked my lucky stars I had read her latest book, “Woman Superior to Man in Politics;” that furnished some material for conversation. Carrie Wood, another of our ambitious girls, is new a ful'-fledged attorney-at-law. She appears as well informed and learned as Helen. I saw Agatha Mount the other day. I was talking with her quite a while. She has bought out Capt Billey and is now editor of Whiz Bang. Quite a future is in store for her; but she says she is going to try and improve the book if possible. Luella has a somewhat different occupation. She is nursing wounded chickens. You know she always wanted to be a nurse. But, say, sister dear, I had quite the surprise of my life Saturday night. We were driving around, with nothing in particular to do, and I suggested driving to Lincoln Lake. I knew they were having dances there; but I didn’t know that Lawrence Weeks was manager there this year. We were all perfectly dumbfounded. Lawrence was such a quiet stay-at-home boy. Wallace Steffensen was dancing circles around everyone. He is a dancing teacher now and all the gir's are crazy about him. Ellen Lyndrup came to the banquet, but strange to say she didn’t look at any of our tongues or examine our eyes; in fact I think she forgot for once that she was county Red Cross nurse. P.ure Twenty-three

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As I sit here building castles in the air for the future, my mind wanders back to a morning in September in one thousand nine hundred and twenty, when a group of awkward children with a where-do-ws-go expression on their faces, wandered around dear old G. H. S. Yes. you're right: we were Freshmen. We soon grew accustomed to our places, however, and started on our career by having a regular class meeting and electing June Ranney as best suited to guide our wobbling footsteps for that year. Our first venture into the social world was the Freshman-Sophomore party in November, which left nothing to be desired1. The “kiddies. as our superior beings called us, impersonated the faculty, revealing many unknown things to them. Our baby year was completed by a picnic at Baldwin Lake when we all felt rather dignified to think we would soon be Sophomores. We started our second year by trying to prove to our insignificant friends ( ?) the Freshmen, that we were real Sophomores in spirit as well as in activities. That tear we chose Basil Byrne as our class president. The annual Freshman-Sophomore party in December certainly was a success from the beginning to the end. The Sophomores showed their generosity by allowing the Freshmen to exhibit their skill in the way of entertainment. The vaudeville that evening was greeted by shouts of laughter from everybody, as something new and original. Before school closed we proved to the Freshmen that they had at last won our staunch friendship and we buried the hatchet by having the usual Freshman-Sophomore picnic on June 10 at Osmun's pavilion. When we came back in September we were a little more serious and willing to work harder; for wasn't that goal just around the next bend for which we had been working since our kindergarten days? Perhaps we realized that the happiest four years of our lives were half gone and that we still had a lot to accomplish. For our president we elected Ole Olsen, along with other capable class officers. In order to start the social ball rolling, the Juniors and Seniors decided to have a masquerade in November. Did we have a good time? Ask anyone who was there and hear the enthusiastic answer. We continued on our way as Juniors, happy in doing the best work possible. We closed the school year by a Junior-Senior picnic at Baldwin Lake. We were all elated by the thought that we would soon be SENIORS. With a jerk my mind comes back to the present and I realize that we have at last entered that year of all years. That goal is at last in sight for which we have been striving so long and faithfully. We elected Lyle Price for our class president along with our old stand-by. Kathryn McIntyre, as secretary-treasurer, who has held the same office during the four years. In order to start this glorious vear successfully the Juniors and Seniors held their annual party in December. Perhaps the number was not as large as it should have been but what was lacking in quantity was made up in quality. Everyone is working hard on the Annual to make it a bigger and better success than ever before. Now. as we pass out of the doors of dear old G. II. S. for the last time, as nearly one thousand have passed before us. kt us take the advice of Philip Brooks, who said. The old year is fast slipping back behind us. We cannot stav it if we would. We must go on and leave our past. Let us go forth nobly-. Let us go as those whom greater thoughts and greater deeds await beyond. —Margaret King. '24. PiiKf Twenty-two

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It seems so funny to think of you in Germany, Ruth. Of course I knew you wanted to be a reporter but I never thought of you as newspaper correspondent in Europe. I wouldn’t mind being your traveling companion if only I could'. Wouldn’t we have heaps of fun though ? Guess I might as well continue with my story and tell you that Lloyd Cooper is playing with the “New York Giants.” They say his red hair is a regular inspiration. I am sure I wrote you once before that Irma Terry owns a dairy farm now. She runs it all herself, too. That is a job I wouldn’t like—I’m too scared of cows. Of course she just runs the farm and doesn’t necessarily have to get very near the stock unless she wants to. Several of the old fellows have gone into business right here in our own little city. Harry Nelson has a complete monopoly of the delivery business. Like father, like son, you know. Carrol Ingles has bought the Palace of Sweets and Cecil Scott now owns a grocery store all by himse f. Lyle Price has certainly started a money making proposition. He is manufacturing a freckle cream. You remen ber how he wras always trying new remedies for freckles? Well, it seems that at last he has discovered the right treatment. The cream really does do wonders after anyone uses it for those horrid little brown sipecks, for after a while they find out what nice stuff it is for every single little freckle will have gone somewhere to play hide-and-go-seek with the larger ones. Lyle is quite secretive about his1 formula; he won’t tell a single person how he found out about it or how he makes it or anything. John Siefen, another of our clever boys, is slowly but surely making a name for himself. He has already made one invention that the world is beginning to talk of. It seems that he was experimenting one evening and chanced upon a device which puts to use the sparks made in the back seats of cars. Sounds impossible, doesn’t it? He is talking of bui’ding a laboratory here, but the authorities don’t want him to build inside of the city limits for fear that something will blow up and set other buildings on fire or knock them down or destroy them in someway. John declares it would be perfectly safe and that he doesn’t want to live in the country. So they are having quite an argument. I’m sort of in favor of John and I hope he wins out. Oh, say, Miss Fitzsimons, you needn’t feel quite so smart about being in Europe; we have a friend in Asia. Doris Stockford is in China doing missionary work. She says she is in love with her work. Quite an exception to most of us, isn’t she? Just the samey, I’ll bet it would be fun teaching 'ittle Chinese kids their A, B. C’s. Herbert Brown has a new job. He has accepted the position of salesman for Rolls-Royce cars at Cook’s Corners. It is said the cars are in great demand. And before I forget it, Ethel Clark, our most dignified Senior, is now a Secret Service Woman. I was talking to her the other day. It just happened that I met her on the street and she quite confidentially told me that she was trailing a very famous criminal. Mustn’t it be just great to go round appearing so innocent and unconcerned when all the time you are trying to find out things about other people? Not long ago, in one of your letters, you asked me about Doris Wright, and I have never told you. She is in Detroit giving music lessons and entertaining. Doris always did have so many admirers. I was jollying her about it the other night at the banquet but she took me seriously, and said in the most pathetic voice imaginable, that she hadn’t decided which one she would accept yet, and that perhaps it would be best to be an old maid. Dorothy Wittkopp’s engagement was announced about a week ago. They had to wait until Kent was through college. Here’s hoping they don’t have as many squabbles when they are married as they did when they were in High Schoo’. By the way, if you care for a shampoo, fashionable “do-uip,'’ or a marcelle or round curl, call at Marjorie Wolfer’s hair dressing parlors. She is becoming a regular authority on the care of the hair. She has written several pamphlets about it. Mary Barnard is in the East going to school. She is learning to be a first-class lady doctor; and, oh yes, Luel'a Moran is in the very far east looking for pre-historic ruins. She went on an exploring expedition. I’ve often thought that it would be fun to do something like that. There is just one more enterprise here in Greenville that one of the class of 1924 has decided to improve, and that is the Daily Call. Glenn Fagerlin is now Editor, but there are just as many ads and not a bit more news than ever. And so you see they are all doing their ipart in making the world go ’round. And right now the only thing I wish is that I were where you are tonight so that I might talk to you instead of writing until my arm is cramped. Mercy, Mercy! I almost forgot; Marian Chandler left about a week ago on her honeymoon. Now that is going to be all, because my supply of knowledge has sadly dwindled. With heaps of love and friendship to you and every member of my graduating class. —Kathryn E. McIntyre, '24. Pago Twenty-tour