Wausa High School - Viking Yearbook (Wausa, NE)

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Class Prophecy I awoke on the morning of June 13, 1975, with a terrific head-ache. My job as head executive of the Standard Oil Company had kept me extremely busy for the previous weeks, and my doctor had warned me against overworking. When I again con- sulted him, he advised me to get completely away from my job for a while. This presented a fine opportunity to take a vacation, and I finally decided to ask Terry Mainquist, a friend and former class- mate of mine, to accompany me. I sent a telegram to Terry in Boston, where he was employed as a Professor of Mathematics, and he promptly wired back his approval of the suggestion. We decided to meet in our old home town, Wausa, Nebraska. My trip was quite uneventful until I reached Omaha where I boarded a bus for Norfolk. I met the most interesting bus driver, and he seemed to be very interested when I told him that I was going to Wausa. His mischievous eyes fairly sparkled, and I finally recognized him as LaVon Johnson, another former classmate back in Wausa High School. His driving ability had certainly paid off well, and we had so many things to talk about that the trip to Noifolk was very short. The next bus for Wausa wasn’t scheduled to leave for two hours, so I decided to walk around and see the sights of the city. I had only taken a few steps, when a large billboard attracted my attention. Huge letters upon it formed these words: The World's Finest Baritone Player, The Greatest Musician Since Liberace. There was also a picture of this hand- some baritone artist, and I immediately recognized him as Merle Larson, another W.H.S. graduate of '55. I rushed to Hotel Madison, and got Larson’s room number. I found him and his lovely accom- panist, whom he introduced as his wife, rehearsing for their concert that evening. I was very sorry I couldn't attend the concert, but we reviewed some of the good times that we had back in Wausa High, and it was soon time for my bus to leave. When I arrived in Wausa, I noticed the big sign of the Ford Garage. It read Fuelberth Motor Com- pany. I couldn’t help wondering if the owner was any relation to the Fuelberth with whom I graduated, so I walked into the office and found none other than Gary himself. Gary hadn't changed much in appearance except for one thing - all the kinks were gone from his hair. Gary wouldn’t explain the reason for this, but I wondered if his blonde secretary had anything to do with it. Terry wasn't scheduled to arrive until the next day, so to kill time I decided to see what changes had been made in Wausa. It seemed as though most of the names on the store signs still had a son on the end of them. I drove past dear old Wausa High, and what a surprise - there stood a new school building, as well as a new superintendent’s house. As I drove by, a gentleman carrying a bass horn and an armful of music walked out of the building and stopped me. It was Denny Hull, another former classmate, who was now head of the music depart- ment. He told me that his band and chorus had both gotten superiors at district contest for the last ten years, so I gathered that Denny was very success- ful as a music instructor. Denny told me that Jerry FERRIS PRODUCE Phone 15 Wausa, Nebraska Swanson was pitching for the White Sox, and that he was very successful in this professional field. In fact, his record for the previous year showed thirty-nine victories and only two defeats. I was happy to hear this, and proud to have been Jerry's classmate. Denny also informed me that Delwyn Norman was still farming out east of Wausa. He had married that Junior girl he had such a crush on when we were Seniors. I continued my drive, and I couldn’t help noticing a large sign on the outskirts of town which said Come to the White Horse Ranch. Below this was written Owners, Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Nelson. The arrow pointed toward the old Carlson farm. I remembered that Sonja was quite a talker back in our high school days, and evidently she had talked Stu into getting married. The next day, Terry arrived in Wausa, and we left immediately for the West Coast. Terry told me about his trip to Wausa, and he, too, was very fortun- ate in meeting several of our former classmates. He met Rowan Nelson in New York where he was being honored in a ticker tape parade. The reason for this recognition was that Rowan was the first rocket pilot to make a successful journey to the moon. Rowan told him that Arvida Mattson, who was a member of the Metropolitan Opera Company, was on a concert tour of Europe. Terry also met laNelle Fink and Nellie Smith, who were operating a restaurant for old maids in Pittsburgh while their husbands were on a secret mission to Moscow. Terry wouldn't reveal the secret of his admission to this restaurant to me, and I am still wondering just how he qualified. We fueled up at Fuelberth’s Garage, and then headed for the West. We were driving through the Sandhills, and all of a sudden we saw a huge sign bearing these words R.A. Bar Ranch; Roger Anderson, Proprietor. It looked as though Roger had become a cattle rancher, a very successful one too, because we saw two Cadillacs parked in front of a huge ranch style house. We were very anxious to continue on our trip, so we decided not to stop but to write to Roger and give him our greetings. Our next stop was at Mount Rushmore Memorial in the Black Hills. I gazed up at the faces, and then' looked again, because I thought there was one face that looked familiar. Much to my surprise, it was the face of Marlene Windell, who had become the first woman president. I was really proud to know that one of my high school classmates had made such a great accomplishment. When we arrived in Los Angeles, we were thrilled by the sights. We went to a hotel, the Norman Hotel. The name sounded familiar, and sitting behind a big executive's desk in an inner office was Lois Norman. She recognized us immediately, and gave us free accomodations for the time we were going to be in Los Angeles. Lois told us that Deanna Ayers was running the Ayers Airline Company, and doing a good job of it too. After a week of sight seeing in Los Angeles, we left for San Francisco. We were most anxious to see the Golden Gate Bridge. We were told that we must pay to go across it, and Terry asked the person in charge why this was so. We were told that the Bridge DR. B.F. JOHNSON Wausa, Nebraska