Washington High School - Brainonian Yearbook (Brainerd, MN)

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( a i The Brainonian CThe Senior Basserinos oa HOLSTROM, McCAFFREY, HURLEY AND CLOSTERMAN A close-up of the famous Senior Quartette whose illustrious performances | before large assembly audiences have rocked the old school house. Page Twenty-six

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The Brainonian 4a Class Song — — —— .. By old Mississippi’s waters, Brainerd High, Brainerd High, Gather Brainerd’s sons and daughters, Brainerd High, Brainerd High, There’s a whisper through the trees, And an echo on each breeze, That thy fairest flowers are these, Brainerd High, Brainerd High, That thy fairest flowers are these, Brainerd High! Years we’ve gathered at thy calling, Brainerd High, Brainerd High, Now sad tears are almost falling, Brainerd High, Brainerd High, Happy school days here are o’er, But the school of life before Beckons as we leave thy door, Brainerd High, Brainerd High, Beckons as we leave thy door, Brainerd High! Many lessons thou hast taught us, Brainerd High, Brainerd High, And much knowledge thou hast brought us, Brainerd High, Brainerd High. Throughout all the coming years, Where so e’er thy name appears, We shall greet it with our cheers, Brainerd High, Brainerd High! We shall greet it with our cheers, - Brainerd High! In a world of great endeavor, Brainerd High, Brainerd High, We would loyal be forever, Brainerd High, Brainerd High! And in playing life’s great game, We would magnify thy name, And add something to thy fame, Brainerd High, Brainerd High, And add something to thy fame, Brainerd High! —MISS LOU BARRETT. Sn t Page Twen ty-five

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Some of our most interesting class members began ir happy and eventful careers in the Mixed ude. They say they remember the first question ed them by their teacher was “How many of this s are Irish?” There weren’t many volunteers , this personal touch was the means of a happy n between Miss Quinn and the Mixed Graders they all lived happily ever after. here was a taffy pull that was the cause of some the now “stuck up” seniors. I guess the people en’t the only stuck up things. A few of us, | am y to say a very few of us, have vivid recollections scrubbing everything from the uditorium down to Domestic Science seats. len there was a sleigh ride at which one boy tht such a cold that he was sick fro a week, and girl lying in bed with the “Flu” nearly died of oken heart when she heard the crowd drive off ring “Cheer, cheer, the gang’s all here.” ien too there were wienie roasts and marshmal- oasts at which every one te buns and pickles. entually we all became Freshmen. We entered vest door, thinking to start this part of our life | by coming in the front door. “With solemn ; and slow,” and a look on our face like Otto kkennine’s the day of the Freshman-Sophomore ram in that re-union play, we were herded up to second floor where in due time they “got our ber,” and we got a few impressions of—vwell, ything’. Freshman we distinguished ourselves by our ty to give banquets at our one and only party. ie Guin also distinguished herself as the greatest an cake eater, her capacity at that time being m pieces. The only thing that prevented her | accomplishing more, was lack of material to ¢ with. sater things have since partly wiped out the of the St. Patrick’s Day party, except that ecorations were carried out in our class colors. were green and white. And a few of us gained special privilege of washing dishes until eleven sn, as now, we had a large honor roll, which s that we have always been noted for our bril- 7. We were a good deal quieter and very many meeker than we now are and surely we can be das A- for Mr. Scherick never resorted to zy us “Bolsheviks” more than a dozen or so r Sophomore year opened with a great many ies in our ranks. A few could not bear to fond farewell to the Freshman class so soon, ngered still another year. The great scramble History of C[he Class of 1922. and diligence with which we all worked, had tired not a few, but we were still a large class. We be- came somewhat familiar with our surroundings and grew bold and bad enough to chew gum, eat candy and flop pennies as recreation from spurts of en- thusiasm, directly caused by a teacher standing over ts while watching the assembly. We had real parties this year. There was a picnic down on the river flats. For “particulars and de- tails” I’ll refer you to Earle Fitzsimmons, who was then our class president and who still, no doubt, re- tains vivid recollections of the same, as he and a member of the now Junior class led the parade home. Then too, there was the Sophomore Hallowe’en party. It was a masquerade for which we were teased, coxed, goaded and threatened for one long month to “Pay your dues so we can have a Hallow- e’en party in the K. of C. hall.” But one never really realized what great, wonder- ful sport school is, until he becomes a Junior. It begins to compensate for all the timidity, foolish mistakes and hard work of the other two years. I’m not saying we didn’t work. We did. And we all be- came better acquainted and became real comrades, with more in common. There was a Junior-Senior Hallowe’en party at which were executed modern versions of Grand Opera and charming dances. And then there was our “Kid Valentine party.” Miss Tornstrom, and recently Miss Oldenberg have told us time and time again that we act just like little kids. Undoubtedly we became so fascinated with the idea that we found it inconvenient to change so often. Besides, the role of a child is a pleasing one. Short skirts, bobbed har, and a tendency “to be heard and not seen.” We got Valentines that night, we did and it was just as much fun as Santa Claus on Christmas because we never knew where they came from. The Junior candy sale was about the biggest star in the crown of our class. We made so much money that the hotel keepers at Rocky Point were able to start a large bank account with the money we gave them for the banquet they prepared for the graduat- ing class of ’21 and ourselves. Oh yes!“ We Juniors hailed customers a mile or so away.” . The picnic at Rocky Point was the entertainment we gave the Seniors last year. It was an ideal day and me measured our plans accordingly. Some of us got there a little late for the first part but stayed to take a last long lingering gaze at the scene of our devastation, and then departed, gleefully singing tunes all of which we were manfully murdering, by singing in a b natural key or, I should say, frame of mind. Page Twenty-seven