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Page 32 text:
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Our first bum was out at Berry’s woods. There we played games, roasted weiners and got acquainted. Early in November the class began to make arrangements for the annual debate with the Freshmen of Iowa Wesleyan University, which was held May 12, 1904. Frank L. Mott, J. Ldson Preston and Shirley W. Allen repre- sented Simpson ’07, and their efforts were crowned with victory, receiving a unanimous decision. Naught Seven was enthused that night. Then that winter, too, ’07 won the girls championship in basketball, and for a full year the green and white shone out from the northwest corner of the library reading room. Late in the spring, when the inter-class track meet was held, ’07 again was victorious and captured another trophy cup. In the winter term sometime, there was a boD-ride, when the whole class, in order to form a more perfect union, piled into one bob; and on towards commencement there was a banquet, whose incidents Wayne Stahl has thus immortalized in verse: “The Soph is come. That cruel Kleptoman, the Sophomore, Who stole our sled the night of Saturn’s day. Oh, he is here, that scatter-pepper Soph, Who strews the carpet on this festive eve. Sneeze on him, brothers, take him to his doom. What curses for electrical divorce. Producing darkness at the banquet time. Can Nemesis afford this Sophomore?” The poet proceeds to recount that the Sophomore was so frightened at Prexy’s threats of investigation, “That on his head the capillary growth Portion vertical assumed, his tongue did freeze. And each of his two knees attraction for The other found. About commencement time we all went home. We had learned to give old Brek-ke-ke-kex like a house afire, and had most of us managed by hook or crook to get past Freshman Algebra, that Cerberus which guards—ah, too vigilantly—the gates to Sophmoric bliss. At any rate, our verdant days were gone. In the fall most of us came back, elected Frank Mott president, Beth Dunhegan secretary, Rowena Smith vice-president, and Harold Flint, treas- urer, and then began to plan for the spring term reception. That was to be the most glorious reception ever held in the old chapel, because it was ’07’s first. The class’s chief occupation for the year ’04-5 was getting ready for that recept on. First there was to be a play to take most of the evening, and The Professor’s Love Story” was bought. Then the reception evoluted through various stages, eras and epochs, the “Pike” stage, the “Houseboat-on-
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Page 33 text:
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the-Styx” stage, etc. Finally, on the night of April 5, 1905, the“Big Doin’s” were pulled off. We served frappe that people simply wouldn't drink (fearing intoxication perhaps) but which a few of us drank without serious effect the next night. One night in the Fall 1 erm the class indulged in a hay-rack ride.—’08 indulged in a little evening stroll. Quite by chance we all met on the race track at the Fair Grounds and indulged in a little exercise mixed with mud. Then we drove back to town, ourselves perched on top of the hay rack and victory that perch to which she had become so accustomed. Lots of bums that year. The girls entertained the boys at a masquerade. Mystevicus strangers took an ignominious hike when we unmasked, and left theii supper half eaten. Other burrs there were, and a jamboree at Rowena Smith’s. Then a summer passed, and we were Juniors. Vera Ingram was made class president, Carl Pryor, secretary, Nell Rea, vice-president, and Paul White, treasurer. Class meetings were marked by joviality and double weddings. On December 5, the class presented their long expected play to an admir- ing audience in Spray’s Opera House The marvelous history and exciting adventures of this play are recorded otherwhere in this book. After we gave our winter term reception we had a time. Herewith we present some pictures, that they who have never had the fortune to be present at ’07’s jubilations may look and envy. We started on our career with many who have since dropped by the way. We all know seven for a magic number. There are seven days in the week, seven wonders of the world, seven sisters. We are to forgive our enemies seventy times seven times, man’s allotted age is seventy, and so on ad infinitum. With us it is certainly a magic number, for it will recall, without fail, recollec- tion of “jamborees” and “times,” of scraps and love feasts, of friends—and enemies,—of undying loyalty to class and school.
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