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Page 20 text:
It was a hard task to write the future of the great Class of 1927, the
fate of such beautiful and fair damsels, and such noble aud sturdy youths
that I went to Alexander, the Great Medium, and as I sat there and gazed
into the globe the future of the class I saw.
A big, sturdy man, such dignity and fine bearing—why who else could it
be but our beloved president Bob Lamson. He has then reached his goal.
It was always his wish to be famous and he is the Governor of our State of
California. Ah!—quite a dazzling sight meets my sight now—why—it
is yes, Pauline, taking away the honors at the Beauty Contest in Atlantic
City. Why—what’s this? A mob! Thundering applause! New York!
A theatre! What is the attraction—Luboff Helmich as one of the greatest
actresses of the day—now I hear music, Ah! such sweet strains, they hold
one entranced by the perfection of their harmonies, and as the mists clear, I
see Marjorie Williford, now a famous violinist. Again I find myself gazing
into a large theatre and as I become accustomed to the darkness I see that
all eyes are focused on one figure on the stage—Kenneth Lofstedt has also
reached his goal for he is directing that great orchestra—my isn't it nice to
have so many of our class famous. Another beautiful scene, a mansion, gar-
dens, fountains, who is that in that marvelous looking car? Good grief!
If it isn’t Brownie and Einar, and I'll miss my guess if Rolland Wakeman
isn’t their chauffeur, guess he is still building radios and monkeying around
cars. Now who in the world is that talking so convincingly to those men?
Seems to me I recognize that commanding voice. Well! if it isn't Thomas
Weitzel, and a fine lawyer he does make. The scene now discloses the in-
terior of San Quentin. I beheld my old schoolmate Delbert Chipman look-
ing out from the iron bars, and just as I was saying to myself, “another good
man gone wrong, ” in tripped a pretty girl in nurse’s uniform whom I recog-
nized as Tillie Shaw, and said to him, “Doctor, the patient is now conscious.”
What are those stately buildings I see surrounded by beautiful shrubbery and
trees? On peering closer I see above the entrance to the main building. “Misses
Opal and Annie Lou Alexander’s Select School for Young Ladies.” I see
by the crystal that Mabel Gilbert has also acquired the name of Mrs., and her
Home Economics course is being put into good use. The crystal now dis-
closes that Neva Walker has attained both of her girlish ambitions. She
is secretary to the High School principal and writes Mrs. before her name.
When I next turned to the crystal a strange sight met my eyes and yet a
familiar one for there sat Lewis June—asleep—as usual. Where is that big
crowd going to? Surely something of great importance is going to happen. Ah! a
tennis court and that girl on the court with that big winning smile is little
Mary Tisserand, and the way that crowd is cheering she must be a second
Helen Wills. This man bossing all those men must be someone I know—
yes, it is Donald Sangster, foreman of the Veneer Plant at Westwood. As
Page 19 text:
S the president of this Senior Class, realizing that after many long
and difficult lessons and varied experiences we have arrived at our
goal, I do hereby name this, the second of June, Nineteen Hundred
and Twenty-seven, as the most important day of our lives.
I do likewise decree that our teachers, our parents and our
be not forgotten in our expression of gratitude for the privi-
lege we have enjoyed. In recognition thereof, I proclaim this day as a day to
be set aside from all the rest for celebration and jollification that the air may
abound with the echoes of our rejoicing. Let us pledge ourselves to remember
all the lofty ideals that have been born in us in our work together here and
so carry on that our instructors may be proud that theirs was the task of
teaching us how to really begin to live.
As we look back over the past and think of good times we have had
it is with much regret that we leave the shelter of Westwood Hi. Until now
we have paddled our course together, but now we must row forth alone into
the deeper channels. But we have our chart and our compass and those who
follow us will ever see our blue and white as signals of the confidence and de-
termination of the class that has always been proved to show its colors.
—Kenenth Lofstedt, President.
LaVerne Shaw, Secretary.
I’ve often wondered at the end of day,
If by any chance I’d lost an opportunity
To do a little good
To someone in this brotherhood.
In this strange land of joy and woe
Where both so easily sprout and grow.
If you get the chance to make a smile,
Don’t miss it, it makes life worth while.
—Bob Lamson, ’27.
Page 21 text:
that picture fades I see a ship, and on the deck I see a girl whom I recognize
as Helen Morrison, but I fail to recognize that tall, sturdy man by her side.
Rice! Why that can only mean a honeymoon trip to Europe. Who is
that I see with a Ben Turpin look and Charlie Chaplin feet? Why it's the
modern Houdini, Dick Brown, taking rabbits out of a hat. The crystal has
revealed the fate of all my classmates. Oh! woe is me! The last scene and
the saddest scene. I see myself, still Marion Huggins, manipulating a type-
writer in the office of the Red River Lumber Company, and on glancing above
my desk at the calendar I see the date 1950 and faint dead away.
—M. H„ '27.
We, the class of 1927, of the Westwood High School, have called you
together upon this solemn and serious occasion to listen to our last will and
testament. To receive from our dying hands, gifts we have to bestow on
you, talents which have served us so faithfully these last four years.
We, the Class of 1927, about to pass out from this sphere of education
in full possession of a crammed mind, do make public our will and testament.
We give and bequeath to our dear faculty, who have been our guardians
so long, a sweet and unbroken succession of restful nights and peaceful dreams.
It has been a hard strain on them, but they have done their duty well and
verily, they shall have their reward.
We give and bequeath to our class teacher. Miss Neill, our respect and
appreciation; may the Gods bless her with another such class.
And to our fellow students; may these things be a gentle reminder of
our noble hearts and generosity:
I, Annie Lou Alexander, do will and bequeath my studious ways to Ray-
mond Chipman. May they serve him as they have me.
I, Thomas Weitzel, do will and bequeath my surplus avoirdupois to John
Wood. I feel he needs it badly.
I, Kenneth Lofstedt. do will and bequeath my privilege to ride in Pauline's
Ford to anyone who can get it.
I, Mary Tisserand, do will and bequeath my devilish ways to Dede Felion.
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