Ardmore High School - Spectrum Yearbook (Ardmore, OK)

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19121 THE CRITERION, 25 Class Prophecy Oh, girls! did you ever see a lovelier day? Why, the sun is shiningso bright, tl1e buds on the trees are peeping their heads out of their tiny green coats and the birds are trilling their songs here and there, until it seems as if spring, in all its glory and splen- dor, has come at a single bound. And look at this lilac bush, with its fragrant blossoms all covered with glittering drops of dew. Isn't it a shame we can't have spring the whole year round? But look, girlsg here comes the postman, and hels coming right in here, too. I wonder --I wonder who it's for. I took the letter. VVhen, where have I seen that handwrit- ing? Its delicate lines and shading. Still musing thus, I read: Miss Lois Goff, art supervisor, University Ontario, Toronto, Canada. Opening the letter, a delicate fragrance arose from within. But what was on the tiny card which had fallen out? Miss Connie Mansfield, primary teacher, Manila, Philippine Islands. t'Well, I should say it's time she is an- swering 1ny letter, but then I suppose she is so very interested in the development of those young Philippinoes' minds, that her time is well taken up. I opened the letter and read: Dear Lois: Am so glad that your vaca- tion is drawing near. My school will be out in two Weeks, and oh how glad I will be! l7on't forget to let me know as soon as possible on what day you intend to leave Toronto. Am making preparations for your visit, and know we will have the best time ever. Will see you soon. Love from C0NNIE.H il had Written Connie some time ago that I would spend the greater part of my visit with her in the Philippines, but would make, how- ever, several stops on my way. According to my plans, I would go to Chicago and visit my old friend, Mrs. Morris, and from tl1e1'e make a short visit to San Francisco, after wl1icl1 I would take the trans-oceanic aeroplane for the Philippines. But perhaps you do not k1lOW whom I 1116311 when I say Mrs. Morris. .Do you remember a little timid madcheu, named Essie VVinston, but whom every one called lleacon ? Her Deacon has even gone higher, and is pastor of the largest Presbyterian church in Chicago. A week later found me seated on her cool shady veranda. VVe were discussing the sen- ior class in general, when she suddenly ex- claimed: Oh, do you remember .lack Bleakmore, who used to go by the name of l'om 'l'humb'l? NVell, last week I picked up tl1e paper and, to my surprise, I saw on the first page a large photograph, over wl1icl1 was written in glar- ing red letters, 'Bl83kIl10l'9, the World's Champion Prize Fighter, at the Bynum Thea- ter, .Iune 12, 19201 If you will but recall tl1e looks of .lack Iileakmore when he was a senior, you may imagine how surprised I was at this sudden statement. And could the Bynum 'l'heater belong to our 'tfunny man, lVillis'? Yes, that was exactly who it was, but he is not alone in this cruel world, and has taken as his able helpmeet and adviser, our old friend and classmate, Jennie Smith. A' lVe were indeed so deeply interested in our conversation that we had not noticed a lad of 10 years, who was by this time at the steps, and who handed us a bill and departed. Look- ing' over it, our eyes suddenly rested on the cast of My Irish Pal, to be played on the following night by the McNees-Krueger Stock 7 Company: Pat O'Flanigan, leading man. Royce Krueger: Judy 'l'illhast, leading lady, Lillian llustong Sir .Ioseph Tillhast, Harold Ditzlerg Aunt Phoebe Castaway, Golda Bowman, Sally, the maid, Helen

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26 THE CRI Terry. Still scanning the page, I read: Twenty-five 1253 chorus girls, among whom will appear the well-known ballet dancers, Gladys Holt and Fay Williams. It is needless to say that, after seeing this entire cast was made up of members of the class of '12, the following night found us seat- ed in our boxes when the curtain rose. The play was a success from beginning to end, and I found that my friend, Royce Krueger, had even a larger scope of wit than he had when a senior. After a delightful four days' visit with Es- sie, I made ready to continue my journey to San Francisco, where I would remain a few days. On entering the aeroplane, a lady carrie up to me and introduced herself as Mrs. Hen- don. She had recognized me, but, try ,ll ever so hard, I could not place her. As I stood looking at her, I saw a peculiar smile Hit over her face. That odd smile could belong to none other than Claire Dyer, our old geometry lover. I learned that she also was going to San Fran- cisco, and I was assured of her company all the way. She spoke of her husband several times throughout the journey. Ernest had be- come a civil engineer of great distinction. As we were quietly talking, we were sud- denly aroused by the ery of the newsboys: Chicago T'l ttI'll,'Hi6id0Il,t fail to read the new serial story by Genevieve Nivoche, entitled, 'Consoling Wo1'ds to Old Maids! But who was that gray-haired gentleman directly across from us? How familiar his face looked. Ile was peacefully sleeping, with an open book in his hand. After a few hours of undisturbed slumber he opened his eyes, looked around him as if wondering where on this earth he was, and we saw that it was Speedy Williams. Later he came over and talked with us and told us the whereabouts of many of our classmates. NValter Pittman was posing for the car- toonist of the New York Herald. It is said that he is quite a leader of the socialist party. TERION flllay, Gertrude Alexander and Margaret Vernor had gone abroad to cultivate their voices and would no doubt return with world-wide fame. Philip Neilson was making good and lead- ing in athletics at the University of Oklahoma. James Bivens was traveling with a carni- val and had the distinction of being the fattest man in the world. Bessie Gwi11n had become president of the IVomen's Federated Clubs of America. Our conversation was cut short only too soo11 by our arrival in San Francisco. Never- theless, we had enjoyed our discussion of old times. How strange it seemed to be coming in contact with so many of our classmates. The next day found me in San Francisco. My friend and I were walking down tl1e street, when we met a woman who wanted to know if we would not like to buy a box of face paint. Yes, it was Mamie White, selling to other peo- ple the very same kind she used in the eleventh grade. The next morning we went to a little sub- urb just out of the city. As we were nearing this small village, sweet strains of music Hoat- ed upon our ears. As we neared, we discov- ered it to be a hallelujah bunch. There stood Mary Rossington, Maude VVilborn, Robert Crittenden, Carl IVeith and Addie Lou Mor- gan, singing their songs till they echoed over hills and valleys. But who was the man stand- ing before them and leading them in their songs? Well, well, if it wasn't Alpheus Ringer. WVe passed on. On the next corner was a man who seemed evidently to be the center of attraction, for there was such a crowd around him that we could hardly get a peep. Then I heard a somewhat musical voice: Now look pleasant-see this little bird, and then he would yell: Right this way, la- dies and gentlemen, right this way to have your pictures taken. Have your picture made while you wait. ' VVe made our way through the crowd, only