Washington High School - Brainonian Yearbook (Brainerd, MN)

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8 The last height of real happiness was reached when the Senior class of ’21 invited us to go on a picnic to Gilbert Lake. I couldn’t go and after read- ing over the menu I’ve been desperately sorry. That class knew the value of real food in plenty, and en- tertained us royally. But the exams didn’t enter- tain us so royally. In many cases they were an un- limited source of amusement to the teachers. That Junior year was just wonderful. It was just “Thrills, thrills, thrills.” We began our Senior year just as we ended our Junior year. As they say in Shakespeare, “enter with a flourish.” We left a few behind but they worked like troopers and caught up with us at Christmas time, when they were duly sworn in and initiated. They enjoyed the process immensely, they tell us. We know they were particularly glad to see us because they each went down the aisle and shook hands with each and every one of us. Heartily at first, later methodically,and then the act distinguish- ed itself by its pump handle effect. Page Twenty-eight The Brainonian =, Taking the class as a whole, we are a peaceful, docile class even though Georgia and Bobby still fight as they did in “Clarence,” and Lester Clark knows now that Leo’s specialty is bugs and not wo- men or piano tuning. Mere mention of the class play does not do that production justice. It was the greatest and best ac- complishment of our whole career. Leo proved him- self very adaptable. We don’t know whether his heart was in it or not, he had so many occupations, and Lester claims, to this day, he can’t bear to hear anyone tune a piano. Georgia and Bobby’s part simply couldn’t have been done so well by any one | else in the class. And Maurice and Hazel are on speaking terms again so Maurice doesn’t have to carry a bird around to tell his troubles to. Donald still has worries, but they aren’t governesses and of- fice work. Helen still loves saxophone music the same as she did the night of the play, and Alice says she loves the duties of a governess but the position necessitates shouldering a lot of responsibility when her subjects are such as Georgia and Bobby.

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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

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Class Prophec — SUE By Alice Regina Jchnson Curiosity took breath, bit her lips, and with an attempt at a courageous appearance, knocked at the door of Fate. Upon admittance she was ush- ered to the throne of Fate herself—the fascinating all-knowing one. Directly she knelt before her ob- ject and said: “To me has been given the pleasure of attending the alumni banquet of Brainerd High students in only a few days. The class of ’22 will especially want to know about each other. Does it please Your Highness to reveal to me your records?” Fate was pleased. She drew back her head haughtily; allowed a patronizing smile to play upon her lips. Then clasping her robes more closely about her, she answered: “T shall see to it, myself. carefully these twenty years. To such as you, my records are closed. Let rather their occupations and places in life be revealed in their eyes and words that evening. It is my command.” Sudly Curiosity retreated, not to be satisfied un- til the twentieth reunion of the class of ’22. There did Fate keep her promise for among the first ones to appear at the banqvet was Erna Mack- aben, her Lilliputian self easily recognizable. Words flowed from her lips like honey. Her great experi- ence with words in her life of poetry and dreams made her interesting, especially when she proceeded to give the details of her engagement by the Litr- ary Digst to replace their former blank verse. Com- plaints of Mary Tornstrom on this score had reached the office. Lawrence Johnson sauntered in, according to his youthful fashion, and complained of how distressing the chair was in which he had flung himself. His most recent design in porch furniture and the one which afforded him the most pleasure, he said, was a combination-chair which as soon as one shifted his weight upon it, would magically change into a bed, with even little balls dangling on each side for the occupation of nervous, idle hands. A high-pitched laugh sounded from the doorway. A young woman with a springy walk entered, hum- ming a tune, as if she were totally oblivious to her surroundings. The same carefree Georgia as for- merly—at least, up to her study of chemistry. Business was good, she said. Business? Oh yes, ‘she was sole owner of a sauer-kraut and wiener jeint half-way between Crosby and Brainerd— The Half-Way Inn.” Didn’t you know? While Georgia was still exchanging greetings, the door opened quietly and in came Erna Marohn and Mabel Stanley. They happened to be on the I have watched them same train from New York, so came together. Erna was quite as fastidious as ever and decidedly at- tractive. She carried a radio-phone in her bag tc which she constantly resorted. It seemed New York depended on her to set the fads. If she had each finger painter a different color, so did New York. Her every whim became a fad. By radiophone she kept them posted on her various fancies, even tho’ she was far away. Her latest one was to wear a circular piece of court plaster on the tip of her nose. Her originality was that far drained! Mabel Stanley was very reticent, but by gradual bits of information it was learned that she was of the Milady Shop in London, a large dress designers’ establishment. So far, Mabel only hooked and un- hooked for the models, but she said she expected very soon to be doing designing herself. Later came Walter Larson. He paints smoke- stacks on U. S. battleships and says his work is very fascinating. It must be! Who would ever have guessed that Walter would rise to such an ele- vated position? Behold, Robert Gemmell, Ph. D.; L.L.D.; B.A., ete. of the University of Missouri! He teaches French Lit. He acquired prominence by his latest book— “Hints on the Mastery of French.” Too bad the book wasn’t written by someone years ago so Robert could have had the use of it! Myrtle Johnson had to- take a long trip to be at the reunion for she’s in San Francisco, connected with the “Meetchathere” Club. Curious position too! It is her, task to escort home the boys in their teens who are afraid (to go home.) Ruth Gustafson was as calm and placid as was her want. The story of her career was very inter- esting! She accidentally concocted some kind of a new pickle. Lovers fell for it. It is in every cook- book put out by the Risem Baking Powder Co., and Ruth has gone into retirement to spend her royal- ties. George Wendt—can you imagine him a guide at Nia gara Falls? Even there George made good in a unique way. He has the honor of possessing the longest list of girl’s names without knowing them of any man in the United States. George said when asked if he was married, said he knew he COULD have been several times if he cared to, but yet he hadn’t met the girl after his heart. Poor George! Andrene Gendron entertained the bunch with a number of monologs. Said she loved to do it. Of course we had all heard her before on Brunswick records at home. Page Twenty-nine