South Side High School - Totem Yearbook (Fort Wayne, IN)

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THE TOTEM second-rate theatres about twenty years ago. They must be pretty old by now. Shouldn't wonder if they're finishing up in the county poorfarmf' Says here in 'Who's Who' that Earl Shea has be- come a great ice-wagon manufacturer in Honoluluf' Harold put in. I-Ie drags down 550,000 a year and is known to his close friends as 'One Horse Shea'. It . QM sure beats time how some of these people can stretch out their arms and rake in the cash. Look at old Walt Jurgensen. Jest think of him bein' a Swedish match king. Why, heis made a powerful lot of money runnin' a matrimonial bureau. At this point, Mr. Bevington remembered his pret- fflt Might The personnel of the '33 class Includes many a bright lad and lassg So we'll strive to relate Some tales of the great As swiftly in memory they pass. There was a young fellow named Mielke, Who had a gay manner quite silky, A11 the ladies so fair Gladly take to the air With this gallant young fellow, Paul Mielke. Ethel Johnson's a maiden so sweet That the mere sight of her gives us a treaty But I'11 tell you a secret If you're sure you can keep it- With her writing we can not compete. Miss Klingler can sing like a larkg She has eyes and long hair which are dark. All the chaps around school Became her willing tool, But Irene to their pleas would not hark. A Totem chief there once was called Meigsg For more and more copy he begs. But at last it was done, Was this Totem A-1, So no more at his work Harold pegs. There was a young fellow named Bobby, Who gazed at the stars for a hobby. zels and, having been supplied, hurried back to the pool parlors, clutching his burden under his arm. The summer afternoon was waning fast. The sun was dropping lower and lower in its westerly course, shadows were lengthening to grotesque proportions, and presumably the old grocery was shrouded in soft gloom. Still the old men sat motionless upon the comfortable bench, long forgotten memories crowding their minds. ' At length Mr. Meigs yawned and stretched until his old joints cracked. Yessir, he sighed, our gold- en weddin' day is jest around the corner. I reckon weire sure a gettin' oldf, Be Verse Each night until dawn He gazed up from his lawn, Did this young Feustel lad with the hobby. Herb Merrill was honored one day When his class made him leader, they say. The flaming youthv he is called, For, you see, he's not bald, Nor is his cranium gray. Dick Storr is quite a good fellow, He makes grades which are quite mild and mellow. The valedictory he gotg But it startles us not, For no doubt he could quote from Othello. Now Winifred, too, is quite skilled, Though a maiden of slight, graceful build. Salutatorian wise, 'Twould not be a surprise If some day shejs in the Whols Who Guild. There was a young fellow named Perkins, Who was exceedingly fond of green gherkens, One aft, at a tea He ate ninety-three, Which pickled his internal workins'. There was a young lady named Vesey, Who had a manner quite breezy, But all in a clay- Thanks to a play She was found to be tamed quite easy. -Roberta Garton 114

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THE TCTEM his specs. There's no way for him to get any more down there either, and he thinks that everything yellow is gold. The heat got him a little, too, and every week he 'rolls into Rio' with a wheelbarrow of dandelion blossoms and tries to pass 'em off for legal tender. They rell me Herb Banet went to Tibet, rejoined the other, You know women are awful scarce there, and he got a job in a dressmaker's shop modelling womenis clothes. Pd sure like to see Herb walking around in his negligeef' Look, here is somethin, about Bob Christen,', said Meigs, He went down to Turkey and started a drug store. The natives all went heavy for his jig saw puzzles, and he became wealthy enough to support a really magnificent harem. Jane Vesey has become a great journalist, accord- ing to 'Who's Who',,7 Bob exclaimed. She special- izes in writing testimonials for patent medicines. Her fame is nation wide, west of the Mississippi, they call her 'Konjola Kate', east of the Mississippi, they call her 'Hannah of the Magic Herbs'. In Canada, she is known as 'Polly Pinkham', and at home-well, they just call her 'Daisyfil Libby Yaple is quite a writer too. She and M. Stults write confession stories for the pulp paper periodicals. About a month ago, they were going through a circus lor in search of local color. Hearing a commotion, they hurried around the corner of the Fat Lady's Tent and saw Louie Adler ballyhooing for a side show. He was dressed in a flaming checked suit. He was shouting himself hoarse, and his stentorian tones could be heard for half a mile. Entering the side show, they found Mary Jane Kelsey, posing as the fat lady. Maininyl How that child had grown. Farther along in the tent, they encountered Dick Lankenau, whose advertising read, 'Roscoe, the man who eats rodents alive., His raw diet seemed to have rendered him surly, for the only reply he offered to their polite questioning was, 'Aw ratsl' U What's become of Ron Staley and George Perk- ins? asked Mr. Meigs. Why, they've been running a fine large feed shop over on east Main Street for the past twenty years. Here's one of their ads in this evening's News. Perkins and Staley Feed Company Hogs feed a specialty You'll never regret trying our A grade Hog feed Drop in and give our hog feed a test Bring in your hogs Are your hogs thin and weak? Do other farmers sneer at them? Buy our special hog feed and put 100 pounds on your hogs in a month. You'll like our Hog Feed. 113 Remember those brothers, Robert and Richard Parnin? asked Mr, Feustel with a chuckle. Ron Staley told me yesterday that they went to China try- ing to find out how to become Siamese Twins. They have their eye on a vaudeville contract I guess. Suddenly the old men's train of happy memories was rudely shattered by a nearby pounding. Looking up they perceived a weather-beaten old man shouting for attention. Thin red hair floated about his temples and a gnarled and knotty cane was impatiently beat- ing the Hoor. My namels Bevingtonf' he shrilled, and I want to buy a crate of pretzels. 'cYe ainlt no kin t' Forrest Bevington, are ye, asked Mr. Meigs. uKin to ,im,,' indignantly cried the wizened pa- triarch, 'Q1 am Forrest Bevington, and I want tl buy them pretzels. Speedy introductions were soon made, and the newcomer, happy with his old friends, settled down cn the bench alongside. Me and Byron lVlann's a'running a fust class pool room over on Pearl Street, he ventured. We call it iBevington's Billiard Bazaarf and it's a sure enuf fust rate establishment. Byronis getting a little shaky on his pins, thoughg an' I have to do most of the work. He married Mary Osborne a while back, and he ainit been good fer much sincef, Do ye boys recall old Jesse Barrett? he con- tinued. He,s runnin' a colored church in New York now. Folks come from all over the city, an, he con- verts nigh onto 500 darkies a dayf' MT ran into Wendell Lanning the other day,7' put in Harold. He never could figure out what sort of profession to follow, and five years ago he got des- perately in need of ready cash. For lack of a better v.ay to earn it, he shaved off all his hair except a sprout in the middle, trained this to grow up straight, painted a circle on his head. and hired himself out for a sun dial. For some reason the idea seemed to click. Soon he had a waiting list of 113 people, so he trained his wife, she used to be Ruth Rohrbaugh, the same way. They made lots 0' moneyg their only trouble is that their heads gets terrible sunburnt and peel off about once a month. Sure looks funny when they walk down the street, like a body had been whit- tling on their heads an, fergot to dust off th' shav- 1ngs.', Kenneth Sinish sure got a tough break, said For- rest, soberly shaking his head. He trained fifteen years to be a pathological bacteriologistg and when he started to practice his profession, he found that no one knew what it meant. He spent all his money, pawned his instruments, and now is selling artichokes in Cen- tral Park. There shore were a mess of Holfmans back there in South Side, remarked Mr. Feustel. UI heard tell as how Louie Hoffman, John 1-loffman, and Louise Hoffman were doing a song and dance act in all the

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THE TOTEM The Ccmtoricm Age By DICK STORR The following is ayverbatim report of a lecture de- livered by Professor Bobbie Stonie, teacher of the lit- erary classics, concerning the early classic writers whose works are represented in Perkins and Sinishls Anthology of Early Classic Writings. Professor Stonie delivered this lecture on April 5, 5933: At- tention, please. Today, we are assembled to discuss the writers and their works of the first age of literature concerning which we haven't any definite informationg but, before we discuss these known writers, it might be well to go back a little farther into prehistoric lit- erary ages to examine certain mythical writers who are supposed to be the fore-runners of the writers whom we are to discuss today. Macbeth is generally conceded to be the foremost of these mythical writers, but some upstart students are attempting to prove without any basis for opinion that Macbeth was a poem and not a writer. However, wc may ignore these shallow fellows and go on to another writer of a later period named Vergilius Mil- tonius Homer, a poet who wrote an epic of the Med- iterrean races. He must have had quite a bit of skill and a great insight into human nature for his only existant verse is Dux femina factin, which is thought to mean a woman was the leader of the enterprise. Now we come to the most interesting of these myth- ical writers, Canticle, after whom a certain type of lyric poetry was named. Canticle is not interesting because of his works but because he bore the early form of the family name of the greatest writer of the first recorded age of literary history. His descendant was the famous Eddie Cantor. 'QBefore we go sublime writer, it thoroughly crush heard. It is the write his sublime farther in our Rdiscoarsen of this is best that we bring to light and a theory about which you have all theory that Eddie Cantor did not works but that a man by the name of Will Durant, sometimes confused with an obscure scholar, Jimmy Durante, wrote them. The disciples of this theory say that a man of Cantor's education could not have had such insight into human feelings, but they forget that book-learning is not the only key to wisdom. Then these reprobates aver that they who follow this heinous teaching have found a cer- tain diagram in Cantor's signature which spells Dur- ant, but they can not prove this thing. They also assert that the supposed portraits of Cantor are in reality those of Durant. However, as the proof of these base hallucinations is so very weak, let us con- cur with the generally conceded and well supported truth that Cantor was the real author of the Cantor- 115 ian works. These works of Cantor are masterpieces of what is termed the stage or radio skit. In the skit, one person fat least, so the scholars thinkj asked questions or did things that made it possible for the comedian, as these writers were called, to make a witty remark. As is easily seen, the originals of these skits were meant to be heard and not read, but soon after their presentation, they were printed in book form and sold. As a note for bibliophiles, may I say that there are only ten complete Hrst folio Cantors in existence, one copy of which is in the Library of Congress. Now let us examine an example of Cantor's works and try to see wherein he is a master. The following passage from one of Cantorys skits was presented in 1933 when Cantor was under the protection of Chase and Sanborn, who have become famous as patrons of the arts due to their connection with Cantor: Eddie, you look sad.'7 Cantor: I am sad, Jimmief, Uimmie was his companion.j Why are you sad, Eddie. Cantor: My uncle, Isadore Kepwitz, is dead. Dead? Cantor: Yes, he committed suicide. QfWhy?Y7 -pw Cantor: Well, fsobsl he bought himself a 1000- piece jigsaw puzzle and when he got it together in two weeks found that it was a picture of Hitler. In order that you may comprehend this choice passage, I will give you a few notes. A jigsaw puzzle was a primitive game in which the player had to put together a broken picture. Hitler was the special god of jigsaw puzzles, especially broken maps of Europe, and whenever a player got his picture, he had to put it together twice instead of once. Therefore, Eddie Cantor's uncle committed suicide to avoid putting the picture together a second time. Some students, es- pecially Eggers, insist that Hitler was the God of Suicide, but that makes little difference. Now that we comprehend what the skit meant by this passage, we can see wherein his genius lies. Note the forceful simplicity and the way in which he leads up to the final stage before the curtain is drawn and the world sees the glowing splendor of this beautiful example of skiticism. Jimmie, his companion, does not say enough to break the concentration of the listener or the reader. Lastly, let us attempt to catch a glimpse of the sublime power of this skit. It is an exalting blow at great numbers. In Cantor's time, there was too much