New Castle Chrysler High School - Rosennial Yearbook (New Castle, IN)

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niiimuiiioi iiiiuiiiiiniiiio cum in rosennial uiiiii ci iiiiiHiiiiiiimiiHiiiiiiiiimn iiiniin Our class colors are Silver and Pink, and the flower of the corresponding hue, Columbia Rose. Our motto is full of force and meaning, Conquering and Still to Conquer. In our four years in the halls of N. H. S. we have loved and lost many teachers. While we regret their departure, we have been fortunate in having their places filled with those of equal ability and interest in our work. We are looking forward to the Commencement, Junior Prom and Baccalaureate, which are prophecied in the fourth volume as being the best in the history of New Castle High. Dorothy Elliott, ' 23. CLASS SONG Ding, dong, ring our High School bell, But for us you ' ll cease your ringing; Life just begun — tasks must be done If we must win our goal. How we ' ll miss you, dear old Hi; We can hardly say goodbye — Our class of ' 23. Chorus : Freshman days, Sophomore days, Then we were Juniors, oh, so gay ! Old and young remember the fun Drifting back to High School days. Senior days — best of days — life was only a dream. Now, friends, we will part, but we ' ll keep a brave heart— Our class of 1-9-2-3. Goodbye, teachers, classmates dear, How we do hate to leave you. We say goodbye, New Castle High. Our tasks they must be won ! Onward, upward we will pass, Always try to do our best. Let this our motto be. Chorus: — Mable Jeffries, 23. uiiiimiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiimiii mum nuiiiiiiiiuuiiii iia 1 9 2 3 ui mommmiiu iiiiiioii iciiiiiii tii nines Page Forty-two

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□UHiiiiiiioimiiiiiHQiiiiiiiiiiioiiiiiiimoiiiimiiiic] ROSENNIAL afimiiimoiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiimiuiiiiiiiiiiioiimiiiiii:] CLASS HISTORY ' In the library of the Assembly Hall I found, buried away in the dust, four large volumes compiled by some sage of long ago. These volumes contain chapters and chapters filled with prophecies and fore- castings. Each volume contained the happenings of each year from Freshman to Senior in the life of a certain class some time to enter N. H. S. I haven t time to relate all these prophecies, but now it can easily be seen what class fulfills them. This wise man foretold that in the dim future called 1919. there would enter through the portals of X. H. S. a class wonderful and surpassing. This class would be noted far and wide. This class, with 217 strong, spent its first year learning location of rooms, names of teachers, what courses were snaps, how many drinks at the fountain could be taken in three minutes, the difference between Latin and English, what X means, what R on a home report means, the way to the office, how many coats can hang on one hook, how to make a permanent wave, and to spell government. Higher and higher we soared into that ethereal range of Sophomores. Here, having become accustomed to the strange atmosphere of the surroundings, we astounded the faculty and lower classmen with our extraordinary talent and bril- liance. There was indeed a just cause for jollification when we defeated the Senior girls in a heart-thrilling and soul-stirring basketball tournament. Then came that long to be remembered year, the beginning of our real class or- ganization — the Junior year. The opening of school brought to us Mr. Valentine, that helpful, congenial man. with a heart almost as large as himself. In our first semester the teachers always looked at us with a wise smile that seemed to say. They will be doing great things some day, and so we did. First came that memorable basketball season and the tournament. During the season we broke even with Muncie. our rival up toward the Arctic Zone, by winning our game at home to counteract the defeat we received on their floor. It is sometimes said that a person is never satisfied after he has gained his long sought for goal, but this proved untrue when in the finals we defeated our old-time rival, Spiceland. The next event of our Junior year, which will go down in our records of memory as one great event, was our Junior Prom. We waited patiently for that eventful night, and at last it came. A little play was given, the cast of which was composed of our best dramatic talent. This proved a complete success (especially to us). The many expressions of appreciation from our guests indicated that all had enjoyed the whole evening. Xbt enough can be said of our Senior year. Having arrived there we were pointed to as models in scholastic as well as athletic and other lines. Our fame had begun in our third year, and so it continued and increased while we were Seniors. For the first time in eight years we had a Virgil class, under the able supervision of Miss Guthrie. Then came the second semester bringing Senior meetings and that happv, vet sad, Beginning of the End. In our election of officers we chose as our leader and spokesman one with great dignity. Morrison Vivian for President. As his able assistant we selected that famous back guard of ' 23. William Spannuth. and for our class Treasurer. Fred Sanders. For our Secretary we chose Louise Collins. Di vmam niini cnuniiuHDiiiinnjiuatiiimiinia 1923 □iiiniiimin iiHiiaiiiiniiiiiiQ imiiiniiiiii loniniiiima Page Forty-one

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aui [Jin iincaiiit uiini ium mi rosennial a iiiicaiiiiiiiimm iiiiiicaiiiiiiiniiica a PROPHECY I stand before you as the class prophet. This is a difficult job, as has been found out by Isaiah, Amos, Hoag and the weatherman. But, unlike some of the above, I have been able to handle this difficult feat successfully by means of a weird and re- markable contrivance, discovered while pondering how I might make good at fore- casting the fates, good, bad and indifferent, but mostly good, of my dear classmates. Of this contrivance I shall tell you after I have narrated the revelations which it brought to me, if, per chance, any of you shall still be here at that remote time. The class president is the first man put up. The prophecy machine stuttered a little when it first contemplated Morrison; however, this young man became a very well known pugilist and went for a while with a black spot on his jaw and a cauliflower ear. All of a sudden the machine got sweet on him and showed him up as a famous engineer building dams and other kinds of profanity. When first the prophecy machine looked on Fred Sanders he was observed to have Thelma Cluggish on one side and Mildred on the other, smiling contentedly, but as the group drew nearer, the girls were seen to disappear for points unknown, with two unknown but strangely familiar looking young men, leaving poor Fred alone, but looking relieved. The next victim of the machine was Anastasia Gullion. Stasia seemed to be very successful as field manager of a chain of stores owned by Harry Swazy, with headquarters in London, New York and Paris. When campaigning seasons are on she gets out and makes political speeches for her favorite candidate for the presi- dency, senate, town mayor, or justice of the peace. Henry Jennings was another problem, but the machine felt kindly toward him. With great business foresight he had secured from France and Belgium the soft drink concession for the Sahara Desert and the Congo region, and was supplying cream sodas and pop to both men and beast throughout this vast thirsty area. At last accounts he had built up a business which, compared to the Standard Oil Company, made the latter look like a peanut stand located in a village alley. Leonard McCormack, Richard Netz, Kenneth Pope and Elmer Ransom became famous opera singers. They were so skillful in the art of singing that at times the stones and bricks of the streets leaped out of their beds to follow them, to hear their transcendent harmony, and not infrequently a peck of potatoes or a covey of cabbages could be seen rushing after them. At this juncture the machine stopped entirely and I was beginning to feel wor- ried, however when I investigated the matter the machine gave a sudden jump and my worries ceased. Before me could be distinguished Elnora Jenkins and Robert Cook doing their new and famous Polish dance. These two had decided to earn their bread by the sweat of their toes. True to form, the machine showed Sam Bufkin, Noble Fieldon and Theodore Hayes, who were performing their life ' s work as traffic cops. The city in which they were located seemed to be a strange one of possibly 125,000 inhabitants, and a very cosmopolitan city at that, for Sam was heard to swear in four languages when a half dozen Fords piled up in one corner of his square. I was completely at a loss whither these classmates of mine had strayed in their life ' s pathway until I saw a little old building off in a plot by itself at the edge of town which I recognized as the court house of the Newcastle of other days. The machine gave an appreciative squeak and I beheld a picture gallery. The central feature of this gallery seemed to be a beautiful picture around which eager spectators were gathered. In the background, scarcely detached from the walls and furniture of the building, I perceived an indistinct figure with face averted, but of a familiar outline, which I finally recognized as Olive Brown, the creator of the master- piece. □llllllllllll[]||||||IMIII[]IIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIII|[lllllllllllllt]llllllllllllt] 1 9 2 3 E]lllinilllll{]IIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIK]llllllllllll(]IIIIIIIIIIIIE]Hllllllllllt] Page Forty-three