Ashtabula High School - Dart Yearbook (Ashtabula, OH)

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SENIOR N U M B E R 19 Senior Play The College Wido w NDER the supervision of Mrs. M. J. Warren Ihc class of 1915 gave one of the most successful plays ever given under Ihe auspices of the Ashtabula 11 igh School. Everything made for itn success. In Ihe flrst place, “The College Widow is a play which, allhough primarily a professional production, yet lends itself to school dramatists. Then, Mrs. Warren is such a splendid instructor; and. last hut not least, there was a great deal of talent in the class. The cast is as follows: Matty McGowan, a trainer ...............Mac Cook Allie Mitchell ..................Harold Blakeslee Jack Larabce ................................Perry Cook Stub Tallmage .............................Cordell Carleton Silent Murphy ..................W. William Willing Bessie Tanner ...................Treva Robishaw Tom Pearson ................................George Rice Dick McAllister j . Duane Kennedy Jimsey Hopper Students . . George Stimpson Harold McDonald Harold Lance Daniel Tilbets ...................I)eForest Holden Flora Wiggins ............................Adelaide Zeile Mrs. Primley Dalzelle ......................Norine Large Luella Chubbs ..................Marion Robinson Bertha Tyson Rachel Stone Sally Cameron J I l.aura Rockwell Ruth Aiken f jovvn 1 Zelma Glenn Laura Wilson (.jr,s Nancy Hubbard Josephine Barclay 1 ' i Ruth Dewey Castle Vernon 1 Eleanor Seymour Maria Jcnks J Beth Wilkerson Jane Witherspoon ...................Shirley Peck Hiram Bolton, D.D., L.L.D.......Bernard McGarry Peter Witherspoon, A.M., Ph.D.....Carl Robishaw Copernicus Talbot ..................Edward Rose The Hon. Elam Hicks of Squanlanville........ .............................. Ernest Aunger Rub Hicks ..........................Murray Cook Billy Bolton .......................Fred Thorpe Song— Good-Bye, Girls, Pm Through”.......... .........Castle Vernon, Bub Hicks and Chorus The Majestic Theater was filled and the audience seemed to enjoy Ihe play greatly, while as for the Senior class, they were delighted when the receipts came to 125. The Seniors are contemplating using this money to install a tower and program clock in Ihe new high school where, when all the classes to come hear the buzzer ringing and look up at its face, they will not be able to forget the class of 1915. Honor Roll Shirley Peck Daisy Wood ( years) Clara Bartholomew (21 years) Marjorie Mitchell Ruth Dewey Treva Robishaw -Harold Blakeslee Duane Kennedy -Harold Williams Anna Anderson 1 lenry Smith 1 loward Wright 94.7 93.8 92.4 92.0 91.5 91.4 91.3 91.0 90.8 90.6 90.0 89.9

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Senior P 1 ay—T he Col

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T h e 20 SENIOR N U M B E R Color of t h e First Prize Story Vest MARJORIE MITCHELL. NNIv HAVELOCK pushed back Hie ledger in which she had been straightening up I he month’s accounts of The Cabot Daily Times.” After I’ve paid Al and the printers, there will be scarcely a decent salary left for me. What’s the use of all my work here? I came down because I thought the town needed a daily newspaper and now I And that they will hardly support it, much less lake any interest in it. How can you publish a paper in a town where every body knows all the news before if happens and no one is interested in anythin more distant than the next railway station? If I made a million a year it wouldn’t repay me for my exile in this town, which never has a dozen people on its main street unless there is a circus or a Are. 1 never saw such a crowd of ill.dresscd, uncultured people in my life. There isn't a woman in the place except me, who has a dress less than three years old. Picking up the ledger, she pushed it into a drawer, pushed the drawer shut and pushed down the top of her desk; then looked angrily about because there was nothing more to push. She sat for a long lime gazing moodily out upon the barren gray landscape where the gray hill mounted up, dotted with little gray houses until its top was fringed with a string of dreary gray fir trees. The houses were, to aP intents, exactly alike except that some still showed, on closer examination, the traces of what was once a coat of paint. Everything was of dull color, from The “Times” office to the fir trees and, Anne thought to herself, the people were of the same drab color. Yet this was the town, the place, she was trying to help with her paper, trying to instill with a little of the twentieth century endenw . Surely it was a hopeless attempt! After a while she rose and, slipping on her loose coat and pulling her soft hat down over her hair, locked the office door behind her and started along the narrow walk which accompanied the muddy road up the hill. She climbed up and up, leaving the houses far behind until she reached the group of firs. Here she seated herself upon a convenient rock and gazed down upon the valley. Soon the dismal view melted before her eyes, and she dreamed of New York, the New York which she had left so courgeously but a few months before. She saw its well dressed, hurrying throng. She saw its brightly lighted theaters and cafes, and everywhere women in light beautiful clothes, for Anne loved beauty in anything, but especially in fine raiment. I’ll go back!” she cried. I can surely line! a position. Why should I bury myself here with these uncultured people when I can have all that which I love so well? I’ll go up tomorrow and see what I can do. With this cheerful thought she sprang quickly up and started briskly down the bill, already mentally bidding farewell to her dismal surroundings. She had nearly reached the level when two small children came running up behind her, and as they passed her, the smaller, a little child of perhaps four years, stumbled and fell. She sat there upon the walk with her lips quivering and large tears rolling out of her blue eyes, but she did not utter a cry. Anne looked at her quickly to see if she were very dirty, and then rebuking herself severely for her hesitation, stooped and picked her up. She was not dirty at all, Anne found, greatly to her surprise, but very neatly, if plainly dressed, and she cuddled up so quickly, placing her chubby arms around Anne’s neck Hint Anne was cpiite won over. The little boy had been trying to comfort the little girl, and now he smiled and slipped his hand into Anne’s. Don’t cry, dear, Anne said to the baby. It will be all right in a moment.” Then she turned to the boy, “what is your name, sonny?” “Billy Foster, an’ she’s my sister Alice, an’ we live right up here a ways. We was just goin’ home so as not to be late for the party. It’s Molly’s birthday party. Wouldnt’ you like to come?” He looked up eagerly into his new friend's face. Visions of a birthday party which one of her friends had given her little daughter rose up before Anne’s eyes. She saw a large table surrounded by beautifully dressed and combed children and decorated in the middle by a huge basket of roses and lilies. She saw the exquisite favors filled with the most expensive candy and the staid butler serving the guests, who talked quietly, very much as their mothers and fathers did. It had been a lovely party, but this one—! Anne smiled at the boy. I’m afraid I couldn't come today, but I will walk along with you to your house.” The boy stopped before one of the dullest looking houses, and Anne was about to put the baby down and say good-bye when the door opened and a woman, large of form, cheery of face, but gingham of dress came forward to greet her. Why, Miss Havelock, where did you meet my wandering children? Oh, of course you don’t know me, but I have read your paper so often and enjoyed your articles so much that I feel I know you. I am Mrs. Foster. Won’t you please come in? I would so like to have you and the children would be simply delighted.”