A L Brown High School - Albrokan Yearbook (Kannapolis, NC)

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trrOTT The Senior s Ship When Pilgrims left for Plymouth In the Mayflower, the story is told, They sought for worship’s freedom Not silver, nor brass, nor gold. In like manner, we, the Seniors Of the class of ’26, Have struggled hard for four years To learn with the world to mix. As Freshmen, we began our journey, Knowledge was our home; And we rowed our boats safely ' Till one-fourth of the way was gone. Sophomores, we renewed our journey, The waves seemed harder to ride; But still we kept on going, Determined to win our fight. But now we were wise old Juniors With only a little ways to row. Almost certain of our success, Having glimpsed a brilliant shore. Seniors: Dignified Seniors! We’ve reached our goal at last, We’re ready to start all over In the new world of success. And so the ship sails on forever, Beckoning us on ’till the last; ’Till over the horizon it disappears In the solitude of the vast. Twenty-five

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Senior Class Song Tune of “There’s a Long, Long Trail.” We’re the dear old class called “Seniors.” Oh, how we all love the name, The dearest class in K. H. S., High school fame. There’s a long, long day awaiting Until our dreams all come true, ’Tis the day of graduatirn, Then our high school days are thro’. Shelby Dost, ’26. Senior Class History It is rather hard to believe that at last we are really Seniors, the dignified pupils that we, as Freshmen, looked upon these who had at last come to the end of their High School career. Four years ago, we started in High School as “little green freshies,” as be- ginners are referred to, “chug full cf ambition.” Although there were many obstacles, we managed to overcome them and even to have a good time on several delightful outings. When the end of the year came, we felt that we had made a good start on our journey. Feeling a little less “green,” we began our Sophomore year with more deter- minatirn. Although we had lost some of our old classmates, we still struggled on to win our fight. After passing through our Freshmen and Sophomore years most successfully, we came at last to our Junior year. “Wise Old Juniors” we were, for hadn’t we passed through hard and trying years ? But we were not discouraged by our struggles, but proud of our successes and eager to continue our journey. So we have at. last finished our journey. It makes us sad to know we have to leave the old school where memories, laughter and good times abound. But we’ll try not to care, although we know others will take our places and this the “Spirit” that K. H. S. inspires will live on. Dorothy Antley, Historian.

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Senior Class Prophecy Though my journey has been a long one, everybody has proved to be friendly strangers. I wanted to return to America and once again to North Carolina. I would be content. Yet there were many interesting things in Europe and the people were unusually friendly. Still I longed to be back among my cheerful classmates of ’26. At last I was in Breast, France, ready to tell everyone goodbye. The day I left, the sun wasn’t shining, but the patter, patter of the rain on the deck made one more homesick than ever. On the third day the clouds had vanished and the sun shone brightly. And as I stood on the deck gazing out over the waters, the breeze seemed to bring a sweet message to me. Turning around I was confronted with a very familiar looking person. At a second glance I knew it was Roy Rollins. He was captain of the ship instead of chauffering his Ford as he had done in High School days. A cheerful smile covered his face when I asked him if he had seen any of our classmates lately. Then he informed me that Eugene Funderburk had come over on the same ship 1 was going back on, and if I had only looked probably I would have seen him. Only a glimpse of his hair would tell me he was a stranger anti not a Frenchman. “Gene,” he said was on his way to Greece to study the origin of geometry. Then Roy told me just before he left New York, he was off for a few minutes and decided to get in his Ford and ride over to one of the nearby parks. While there he discovered that Clement Smith was a physical director of the park. Although I got to see Roy several times before we reached New York I did not get to talk to him long at a time. While walking down one of the streets of New York not knowing whether it had a name or not, a sign on a window gave me an appetite and as I caught sight of the name of the proprietress, “Harris Lunch and Tea Room,” I opened the door and walked in. Who could it be? Nobody but Sadie. After a short greeting, I exclaimed, “I thought you and ‘Gene’ were married.” Not to my surprise she said, “we are,” and that she w as running the tea room alone, while “Gene” was in Greece, but when he returned, there would be a tea room for sale. While I was eating my lunch, I observed a very attractive studio. I soon dis- covered by the display in the window that it was an artists’ studio. Being a lover of pictures. I ventured across the street to take a peep at the pictures. On the lower corner of one cf the beautiful pictures was this signature, D.L.A. I knew it must be my old chum Dorothy Antley. I thought I would make an exploit of the inside and see if I was right. Sure enough there was “Dot,” painting a picture from life. On the table sat a little dog with his back towards her. She was having trouble about just where to paint his tail because he wouldn’t held it still.