Walnut High School - Walnut Tree Yearbook (Walnut, IL)

Page 26 text:

CLASS PROPHECY four old classmates chatted for a while and then Betty introduced me to the orchestra leader of the hotel, Harry James Odell. He’s really hep, and has been here since 1955 after his graduation from Ward-Belmont College in Nashville. His rendition of “Beat Me Daddy With a Candy Bar” has made him world famous. From there we went to the Pink and Gold Room, the dining room of the hotel. A short, pompous, solemn little waiter showed us to an ideal table in the center of the room, and then introduced himself to us. Lowell Stone had finally given up farming, first going into the Federated Stores as manager, and then working up to headwaiter in the Alcazar. Glennie and Stonie are really life-long friends. The orchestra finally began tuning up and Harry walked to his podium and struck up the band. His golden-toned songstress of the airways, Ruth Baumgartner, glided out in a slinky black dress, singing “Im a Big Girl Now.” Their special floor show for the evening was the great dance team, Wandy and Brandy, being Wanda Druien and Garrett Brandenburg. Upon leaving the hotel we practically stumbled over an old scrubwoman. She was down on her hands and knees scrubbing the lobby floor. Dolores Swanson, a char-woman, no less! She had been unlucky in love and was hiding herself away from the world. Upon walking out of the hotel, we were attracted by a large neon sign, reading, LOWELL GUSTAFSON, INC., so we went in and asked to see him. He was too busy to stop his work so his office secretary led us to him. There we found him busily engraving the Lord’s Prayer on pin heads. Lowell has made a small fortune this way. We asked him where we might find some more of our classmates and he gave us directions, directions, and more directions, on where we might find the rest of our graduating class. First, we drove out to the Walnut Girls’ Seminary, where Leslie Baumgartner is engaged as a professor of mathematics. While talking to him, we asked him why he chose math—he declared that he was interested in figures, and this was the only way he could think of to be surrounded by large figures, medium-sized figures, and small figures, and any other kind of figures. When we came out of the building, I glanced up at a figure that was washing windows. The person recognized us and climbed down from her perch. Joanne Sergeant told us that she enjoyed this unusual occupation of washing windows because it kept her in touch with the higher things in life. She took us to the back of the school and showed us her new 1962 Oldsmobile. The car had a kitchenette, bar, and bed in the back of the car. These modern inventions! Quite convenient! We drove back to town and prepared ourselves for an evening of hilarity. I went into the hotel beauty salon and requested a hair shampoo and manicure. I was ushered into a booth, and was immediately shampooed by—guess who— Marion Conley. Then in walked Elmer Wise—to manicure my nails. They argued that as long as men had to look at women in all these funny get-ups they might as well do their share in making them ridiculous. Marion always had a peculiar sense of humor, and Elmer never missed a chance to get back at a woman. We again walked out of the hotel and turned in the opposite direction this time. On this side of us was the Peek-A-Boo Burlesque. Owner and sold manager of this establishmen was the old This Page Sponsored by Frank Grampp and Sons 14

Page 25 text:

CLASS PROPHECY During a warm summer day in July, while looking over some dress designs in my New York pent-house apartment, my mind began to wander and to think back over the good old days. Never in my fifteen years of city-dwelling had I ever become home-sick, but I had a good case of it now! So, I closed up my Fifth Avenue Dress shop, packed my luggage, locked my apartment, gathered my Pekinese under my arm, called a taxi, and caught a plane to good old Walnut, which in the year 1962, had finally procured an airport. Arriving at the airport which was on the site of the old campus of Walnut High, I called a taxi and was very surprised to see George Frederick sitting under the wheel. I conversed with him as he took me down Broadstreet which had greatly lengthened—now being extended from where Sergeant’s cow-pasture had been, straight through to where the Gonigam homestead used to be located. George informed me that he had given up his scholarly ambitions and was roughing it, living in the small home of Cleo Hanson and raising sheep, canaries, and gold fish on the side. George drove me to the Alcazar Hotel, a huge white marble building set with precious stones; and as I was ushered over the coin-inlaid halls of the lobby, there met my eyes a very handsome man. Those curly locks couldn’t deceive me for long and I somehow disengaged my hand from that old friend, Bob Durham. Just when I was getting over one terrific shock, another one practically knocked me off my feet. A tall, polished, well-dessed, intelligent-looking gentleman rushed up to me and greeted me. Glenn Gonigam had certainly changed since our school-days and not only owned the Alcazar but six other branch hotels in New York, Chicago, Miami. Los Angeles, Palm Beach and Manlius. When I inquired how he happened to get away from the Gonigam. Bass, Hill Company, he told me that he took his life into his hands and sold his share of the lumber, nails, and window glass and built his string of Alcazars. Acting as hostess in Glenn’s swanky hotel was Betty Fenn. She told me in secret, while showing me to my room, that she had never married because she was in love with Glenn and she hoped some day he would realize this and ask her to join lots with him. She pointed out to me that it would not only be good for both of them but it would also make one more room to rent out and thus make more money for Glenn. After Betty left, the telephone rang. The operator asked me if I would accept a “Collect” call from the lobby. Naturally I was curious to know who was calling me, since I was sure no one knew of my being in town. A familiar voice greeted me, but it was fully a halfminute before I realized who the person was. He told me that he had adopted the name “Count Keith Rennyar,” and I soon gathered that he was my old beau, Keith Renner. He had just returned from France, where his interest in the French language had brought him great renown. After much stuttering around, which was always typical of Keith, he asked me for a dinner engagement that evening and he called for me promptly at 8 p. m. We decided to go into the drug store for a coke before dinner. Mixing drinks behind the bar was a tall stately figure —I looked once, I looked twice, I looked three times! You’d have been surprised too, if you had seen, of all persons, Doris Paepke, shaking the mixer in the door-die manner. Doris had just started her new job the week before, and the manager of the store, my pal, Betty Abraham, who now weighs 315 pounds, was sampling all Doris’ concoctions. We This Page Sponsored by Rexall Drug Store 13

Page 27 text:

CLASS PROPHECY woman-killer, Marvin Carpenter, himself. He gave us some seats in his amusement house and then went back to help the girls into their costumes. The first number on the program was a duo by Gwenona and Dorona the “Bubble Beauties” of the stage. Towever, only a dark-haired dancer appeared on the stage and went through her famous act. Carp took us back stage with him later, and Doris Glaze and Gwendolyn Fritz, the famous team, renewed old acquaintances with us. Gwen, known as Gwenona could not appear that evening because Marvin, upon bringing her bubble into her dressing room, had caught his hang-nail on it. We walked down the street and went into Joyce Rudiger’s “Stylish Steppers Shop” . . . Her shop is quite snazzy and she told us she was just raking in the dough. We walked out the door and found Billy Peterson beside a window grating deftly fishing around with a stick, a wad of gum on one end, for coins that had been dropped. Bill has turned into a first-class tramp and declares that he has never made as much money before in his life, nor has he ever been so completely happy. On the next street corner we saw the old familiar uniforms of the Salvation Army. We would have walked by if someone had not grabbed my arm. Then I noted familiar blonde curls under the drab black bonnet and immediately recognized Alberta Barth. She had gone into service as soon as she had graduated and claimed that she, herself, had collected 20,000 pounds of paper, 15 fur coats, 10 pair of shoes, 20 bushels of carrots, beets, and turnips and 50 cents through her crusading. We left her singing her mournful song on the street corner and went into an Italian restaurant, “Vinetti’s Spaghetti and Rouletti” and sat down at one of the quaint tables. An old, fat Italian woman came over for our orders and issued a familiar giggle. It seems that Elaine Behrens not only dyed her hair black but also gained a few pounds to secure this wonderful job. She also is the chief bouncer. As we passed through the swinging doors, we heard beautiful music coming from the rooms above Vinetti’s. We backed into the streets so we could see who was playing. You can imagine our surprise when we beheld Lee Gans-chow scraping away at his fiddle. He has become an accomplished professor of the violin but hasn’t come into his own yet. He is now giving violin lessons to the urchins along the street for 50 cents and a coke per lesson. We then drove to the outskirts of town to the huge mansion of Carol Wade. Carol has developed a new way to cure monkey fur so that it resembles mink. She has thousands and thousands of monkeys in cages behind her home. Not only did she find a way to cure the hair but she found a way to split their tongues so it is possible for them to talk. As a monkey-trainer, she engaged Lyle Schrader. Lyle is taking his monkey training very seriously, and eats, sleeps and drinks with his monkeys. Carol says that any more the only way she can tell which one is Lyle is by looking for the one without a tail. Upon leaving Carol’s home, we started once again back to town. We noticed someone ahead of us painting the black line down the middle of the pavement. The person hailed us down and we discovered that it was Donald Brandenburg. Don is terribly in love with this job and says he does quite a bit of traveling and sees a great deal of country. Well—as long as he’s happy that’s all that matters. This Page Sponsored by Yonk's Royal Blue Store 15