Roosevelt High School - Lariat Yearbook (Oakland, CA)

Page 92 text:

GUIDE TO ROOSEVELT ' PRESS-ROOM — Rendezvous of the anxious reporter. Scenes of great frivolity have taken place here. LIBRARY — Haunt of those who are studiously inclined. Very little in use now, as the door is locked, making it impossihle to cut. HALLS — Famous in their day as a race-track. Very handy means of meandering from room to room. ELEVATOR — Used to confound newcomers and bewildered freshmen. OFFICE — Room of reckoning. Snuff said. STUDY HALL — A place of learning if you are the only one there. A very enjoy- able period can be spent here, if one is not touchy and doesn ' t mind stopping sundry articles fh ' ing thru space. ART ROOM — Lair of the ardent artist. Much paint is spilt here, whether or not to a good purpose we will not venture to say. ARMORY — Column right about — werp! Hey, youse birds, you ' re not on the farm! Snap outta it ! ENGLISH VIII — Haven of the earnest-browed student who has hopes of entering college. RADIO ROOM — After one year of endeavor, one may earn a license and a call. The license is proudly framed, and ultimately finds a harbor in the attic. Requiem Pax. ASSEMBLY HALL — The dear old hall with its helpful hints concerning such matters as hitting the line hard. It will hold a sacred place in our memory for fully a year. THE FRONT DOOR — And also all the other doors. Perhaps the most revered object in the school, because thru this portal one leaves for happier places. Good ol ' gate! Eighty-eight

Page 94 text:

MUSINGS OF THE MIGHTY As yrju read it — At last the end has come — the end of four happy and carefree years. Hence we shall go, leaving the familiar and loved faces of classmates and teachers — forth into the great work-a-daj- world to face the future as becomes graduates of our famed institution of learning. Our hand reaches out slowly for the much-coveted diploma; somewhat shame- facedly we feel a tightening in the throat and a mist passes before our eyes — then with that precious piece of sheepskin clutched in a velvet glove filled with iron, we look back on that all too short four years with the aid of golden memory. As it is — • At last! — phew! But that battle-axe of a prof sure gave me one scare. Tho ' t the old buck never would kick thru ' with a 3. Well, here is the pigskin. Cheap stuff it ' s made of, too ; looks like wrapping paper. My Godfrey — why don ' t they cut out all that hooey at the graduation — a whole hour sitting on a plank covered with blue paper is not so hot. And me with a date with that redhead from Milpitas. Gee! I feel just like a prisoner who has graduated from Folsom. By golly I think I ' ll go back to the old Alma and sing Och der lieber Jacobsen. Gotta be dragging now — trot down to the old school and visit awhile — ' s funny how they kick you when you ' re in, and pat you on the back when you ' re an alumni. Here goes for a treat to the Freshmen ! HYMN TO HER By George Dean We gravely fear Our loss is felt. It ' s our last year At Roosevelt. We ' re leaving here ; Our loss is felt. Come! Shed a tear For Roosevelt. We did oppose And, fighting, dealt With ancient foes Of Roosevelt. All ' s o ' er and done The heart has felt. Our work, our fun. At Roosevelt. We know you ' ll sigh. For partings melt ; But, please don ' t cry, ( ur Roosevelt! Ninety