Ashland High School - Rogue Yearbook (Ashland, OR)

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The Class of '23 Timidly and half afraid, Cautiously, with many books, Afraid to ask advice or aid, Gazing around with frightened looks, Wandering aimlessly through the hall, Shrinking at each teacher's call, Entered the Class of '23. We felt not near so brilliant then As we had the year before, When, feeling like grown women and men We marched out the eighth grade door, And with diplomas in our hands, Backed by our parents' stern commands Became the Class of '23. Most passed through the year with ease, A few fell by the wayg Murdered by the heartless Sophs, Or to exams a prey. But like a star our brilliance shown, And far and wide our prowess known, The Class of '23. Next Fall, behold the mighty Sophs, Like Roman Caesars in their power, Explaining lessons to the Profs And studying science by the hour. And to the Freshies We were known, Respected, feared, and let alone. The Class of '23. As Juniors we left a name, Which shall live in future time. In sports and studies we gained fame, And glommed up many a skinny dime To give the Senior Class a feed, Their annual carnival of greed, On the Class of '23. This year we are the Senior Class, The salt of all the school Serene and calm, above the mass, Hard work our steadfast rule. In work and play We Win renown, To us they hand the Laurel crown, The Class of '23. L'Envoi And now we have to say goodbye To the school we all love so, We've spent four years at Ashland High It's time for us to go. No more, as oft, will there be seen Playing on the campus green The Class of '23.

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Senior Prophecy OME Ye all and listen to the passing of events, for such is this reve- lation. The future events of a sturdy race, as recorded in the Book of Time, and disclosed to me in a manner strange as was the purpose, for I was bid therein to disclose all before Ye, that Ye may judge and hearken. It all befell as follows: While I lay upon my couch, mindfully recording all the glory years of utmost labor had bestowed upon me, I fell to sleeping, and I dreamed a dream, one guided through the Hall of History by the Muses of Time. And thus I dreamed:- I rested easily upon my bed of skins, high upon the sides of Mount Blanc. It was a quiet and a peaceful home, and one well suited to my peace of mind. It was a lit place for me and my beloved-, but who can this be coming here, and what does any person want in this long forgotten valley. White-haired he was and bent. His brow was wrinkled as with many troublesome cares, and slow his step and weary, as tho heavily over- burden where I waited. He greeted me as one whom he knew, tho I remembered not such broken countenances, and he told me of his mission. Hearas he said, of one who lived along with those he loved most dear, away upon Mt. Blanc, and float- ing a strange banner of blood red and purest white, he came, in hopes of meeting one on whom he could unload the burden of his mind. I asked what had caused him such worries, to which he replied, that years ago, while young and careless, he had become advisor for a class of Seniors. Then it seemed but steady worry but yet the cause of his present wrecked condition, and great was my surprise to learn it was Mr. Hughes the Coach, as he was called in days gone by. He told me of many troubles which cannot be recorded here, and then he rose to go, but turning he gave to me a wondrous crystal, a Magic Crystal as he called it, the invention of which had caused him much labor. Tl1is crystal showed what was happening to whomever one wished to know about. I thanked him greatly ere he left, and led him to an easy descent of the Mountain. Then I returned quickly to the Magic Crystal, with mind intent upon that class which had driven a good man mad. I naturally started with the President, and then the Magic Crystal took me on thru all the class. Thus was I occupied for many hours, and many and strange were the tales told by that Magic Crystal. These same will I disclose to you. The opening view within this wondrous Crystal showed a mighty Base- ball game, and truly a great game it was. The VVest was fighting hard for its victory over the East, and right manfully was Charles Rush pitching famous ball for the noble West. Renowned he was in his city, and greatly respected by all. Already he had reached a noble pinnacle, for he was mayor, and greater still, he was the favorite of the majority for the presi- dency of the Aesopian Home for the mentally overworked, a prized ofiice, and one for which all strove. Another player on this Western team was Lisle VVentner. He was also the renowned editor of the City Housewife, the favorite paper of the mis- tress of the Aesopian Home. This paper to the Aesopian Home he insisted on delivering himself, and some even said he spent most of his time there, out Why?