Ashtabula High School - Dart Yearbook (Ashtabula, OH)

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THE DART 27 grounds for awhile. To my delight I found that the pink lemonade stand was run by my old friends Mary Cur- tis, Marion Wescott and Helen Burch. I was deep in conversation with them, when a very stylish person, who seem- ed strangely familiar, passed us. She was carrying a Pekingese dog, ar.d as she passed us she elevated her nose, and daintily went her way. She did not speak to me and I prob- ably would never have found out who she was had not my friend Lempi Ran- tanen, the great suffragette leader, en- lightened me. She said it was Dale. Shuart, who had married a count, and lived in a castle in France. Reason enough to be stuck up! As I was walking along, wondering what I should do if I were a countess, someone bumped into me, and for an apology said she was in a hurry to se3 the side show. It was Mildred Smith and when she learned that I had not seen the show yet, she asked me to come along with her. To my inquiry as to where she had been the last few years, she replied that she, Agnes Mann and Ruth Metcalf, had sailed three years before, as missionarias to Australia. “But,” said Mildred, “It was a horrible life. We were lost in a jungle and nearly devoured by lions; we were set afloat on the ocean and nearly drowned, and we were tied to stakes and nearly burned. It was too strenuous a life, and at last Agnes and I returned.” “But what of Ruth?” I queried, anx- ious to know to which of these horrible misfortunes she had succumbed. “Oh, she’s all right! The last I knew, she was teaching the young heathen to appreciate the morals de- rived from Horatio Alger’s stories.” By this time we had reached a large building. Mildred informed me that the side show was in here and so we started in. At the entrance two men passed us. They both raised their liats and called me by name. I was surprised to discover that they were two of my classmates, Jay Reed and Cecil Goddard. Both had a prosper- ous look about them. They informed me that they were the business mana- gers of the play, which I had witness- ed earlier in the afternoon. I ex- pressed my approval of their manage- ment and inquired who had construct- ed the marvelous building before which we were standing. The plans, I was told, had been submitted by the great architects Anthony Clement, Clare Burlingham and Charles Swift. The building had been erected by Roy Pearson, whose work along these lines had already won him much fame. The inside of the building was beautifully decorated. Mabel Marro and Ger- trude Maynard had had charge of the work. Great amusement seemed to be pro- voked by the side shows and I hurried along. The first was a Mutt and Jeff comedy staged by Bill MacKenzie and Sidney Russack of the class of ’20. I had no trouble recognizing them, even though they were in disguise. In the next booth or compartment, I was terrified to see three girls hand- ling snakes as unconcerned as if they

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26 THE DART ing of a well-known melody, “In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree,” beauti- fully rendered by Jennie Alkula. As she was about to leave the stage, Miss Bentley slipped on the shade of a ban- ana peel, seriously wrenching her ankle. Dr. Ward Cross came to the rescue and Miss Bentley seemed bet- ter immediately. The Dance of the Nymphs was next executed by Olive Smith and her group of graceful dancers. Their names were not announced, but one by one, I recognized Agnes Wittich, Nadine Seibert, Gladys Gillen. Helen Momeyer, Winifred Parker, Pauline Kiester and Angela Kane. A short piece, very humorous, was greatly applauded by the shades. I easily recognized the speaker as Ed- mund Fitzgerald. A tragedy was next staged, entitled “Will Willie Break the Will?” The part of the dying uncle was taken by Endicott Landmesser. His was only a passing part, though. Willie, the hero, beautifully played by A1 Lewis, was indeed a charming character. He was a poor boy, made fabulously rich by the will of his uncle. Yet, by ac- cepting the money, he made paupers of his three cousins, (parts played by Helen Davis, Elizabeth Brock and Swea Sodergren.) It was an unusually sad play, but the comedians, Amos Hall, Harvey Sheppard, and Ralph Sharer, so amused the people that not a shade of a tear was seen in the au- dience. The next hour was given over to the Musical Musicians, Berryl Brash, Lu- cinda Rice, Herbert Harmon, and George Raser. This was extremely in- teresting and the musicians later played at the cabaret scene. The lat- ter act was the hit of the day. “The Montefarte of New York,” had been copied and beautifully reproduced. Howard Mullin was head waiter, Charles Thatcher and Esther Gill were wonderful in their cabaret dance. Although the names of the other patrons were not mentioned, I recognized among them Norman Luke, Lowes HiPyer, Mildred Goodie!, Lyle Fortney, and Mary Farrow. The afternoon’s entertainment wou!d not have been complete without its acrobats. They were far superior to the common run and among their number were Doris Wilcox, Lillian Burton, Genevieve Fortune, Wilford Cox, Francis Farrell, and Burdette Chapman. For those more seriously inclined, a debate was being held during this time on the sbject: “Shou'd Shades be allowed to cast Shadows?’ The af- firmative speakers were Paul Hillier, J. L. Ogden, and Joseph Friedell; neg- ative, Wilmer Brown, Grace Sharpe, and Florence Smith. I did not see this but heard later that the negative won and the shades were so incensed that a fight followed the decision. The last performance was that of the Lightning Artists: Treva Marie Harris, Mabel Davis, Dorothy Hub- bard, Fritz Anderson and Martha Castle. At the close of their marvel- ous demonstration, the company broke up and we wandered around the

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28 THE DART had been kittens. They came appar- ently to no harm and I was relieved at this and admired their bravery. I looked to see their names—Mildred Scovil, Lempi Rantanen and Lois Prin- dle. A voice in my ear whispered, “Come and see me.” The voice was familiar yet no person was near me. It was several minutes before I discovered that my friend Hilda Gronquist had been trying her ventriloquist powers on me. Hearing cries of, “Right this way; see the strong man !” and “Come and see the Bearded Lady!” I hurried away. The strong man was wonderful. I distinctly saw him lift thirty-four pounds right up from the ground. My amazement at this feat was still great- er when I learned that Frank Powell was the performer. I was standing a few minutes later watching the beard- ed lady, when a shrill voice cried out in my ear, “It’s Daniel Madden, my husband !” The mob was for hanging him on false pretenses, but he related such a pitiful tale of the cruelties of his wife that he was forgiven. Indeed when I left the crowd had already do- nated a huge sum of money to start a Home for Hen-pecked Husbands. A mild-mannered man in a clergyman’s attire was heading the list. Percy Rigden I was told, though I should r.ot have known him. Here Charon appeared on the scene again and told me that a lunch was to be served, and we must be on our way as it was getting late. A bountiful re- past was prepared by the shades of the best cooks in America, Mildred Bottorf, Ethel Coup and Louise Lyons. There were two after-dinner speak- ers of great renown. The first was Vera Corcoran who had an illustrated lecture on, “How to look sleepy, yet be wide awake.” The other speaker was Margaret Cross, whose humor- ous speech was entitled, “A Grave Story.” As the band started to play, Char- on hurried me away. We traveled back over the river Styx by the light of the shade of the moon. Little stacks of dollars Piled all in a row, Are about enough to take A girl to a picture show.