Ashtabula High School - Dart Yearbook (Ashtabula, OH)

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THE DART 29 Senior Play RUTH DAY May twenty-first signifies paint, furniture, costumes—in short, a little bit of everything, for on this moment- ous night certain seniors will be changed into farmers, others into “so- ciety swells,” and some will even change from Madmoiselle to Madame. But please do not be shocked, it is only for the annual senior play. “Son John,” written by W. A. Stig- ler, will be given this year. This is a comedy in four acts. It is very funny for everyone except the ones who are in the cast. To them it will be a most serious affair. There are sixteen characters in the play. The personnel of the cast is as follows: Hiram Rogers a Southern farmer who has struck oil, Edmund Fitzgerald Lovey Rogers, his wife.......................................Ruth Day John Rogers, their son, an expert violinist.............Robert Jenkins Richard Rogers, their younger son, still green...............Amos Hall Jake Lindsley, their neighbor..........................Joseph Friedell Sofira Lindsley, Jake’s wife and boss.................Winifred Parker Tiny Lindsley, their daughter.............................Agnes Mann Wordna Howard, a friend of the family...........................Berryl Brash Robert Divinney, John’s New York friend...........................Ward Cross Bonnie Burton, Robert’s fiancee..........................Doris Wilcox Geraldine Van Alstyne, John’s promised wife...........Kathleen Bentley Mrs. Van Alstyne, her mother.............................Martha Castle Lena Moore, John’s secretary...........................Pauline Kiester Madamoiselle Meruski, John’s violin teacher...............Olive Smith Waitress in cafe.................................................Helen Momeyer Newsboy.............................................. Harvey Sheppard Director, Miss Orphal In the play, Hiram Rogers, with his wife and son, Dick, leaves the country for “Gay New York,” to visit John Rogers a prominent violinist there. While they are in the city, Mrs. Van Alstyne tries to rob them of their oil money. Geraldine, her daughter, who is engaged to John helps her mother in her little scheme, and various com- plications arise. Of course at the end, the string is all unravelled and every- one lives happily ever after. Hiram and Lovey return to their farm, Dick gets his city girl, John finds that the girl he really loves is Wordna How- ard, and Mrs. Van Alstyne and her daughter are found out before they succeed in their plot to steal the oil money. “Pore Tiny” however does not marry “her Dickinstead she is doomed to find a green, green farmer. And then—the curtain falls.

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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.

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30 THE DART “Oh Wad Some Power—” RUTH METCALF William was bashful—extremely bashful. Indeed, a close observer of his return from school this afternoon might even say that he was incurably so. He had been striding along, head down and hands in his pockets, whist- ling a jolly little tune to himself, which gradually increased to a clear, loud whistle as his thoughts carried him far away from Chestnut street. Suddenly, warned by that subtle in- tuition which all shy people seem to possess, he glanced up at the house he was just passing. He stopped whist- ling abruptly, and a slow red surged over his not unhandsome face. A girl, brown-eyed and brown-hair- ed, with a saucy little tilt to her nose, was laughing at him from the porch. “You seem happy today, William!” she observed gaily. “Er—no!—I mean—Yes! How d’y do!” stammered William, as he des- perately strode on. He longed, oh, how he longed, to stop and chat with Julia, as all the other high school fel- lows did ! But what was the use ? He knew how he would everlastingly shift from one foot to the other; he knew how his hands would increase in size till they were too big for his pockets; even now he felt the hot-cold shivers which would shake him from head to foot if she should, by chance, glance at his brown curly hair that just wouldn’t lie smooth. “Oh, hang it all!” he growled fierce- ly to himself. “Why can’t you act like any other normal fellow? You’ve got just as many brains as Tom Nelson— and he jokes and laughs with her all the time. You aren’t a bit uglier than John Atherton, and he took her to the dance last week!” William was not boasting—he was stating an acknowledged fact. Thor- oughly dispirited, he turned in at his own house. “And by Jove! you’ve got just as decent a looking house as any other fellow that goes with her, too!” he stated vehemently. “Then why, you weak-kneed gatepost, should you be afraid to even stop and talk to her?” In his anger and self-disgust, he shook his fist at the dignified old house. It really was a nice house. Friendly, substantial, many-windowed it stood quietly waiting to welcome all