Auburn High School - Trojan / Oracle Yearbook (Auburn, IL)

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On my way through the business part of that c’tv I found a sign reading: “Williams Auto Sales Co. Conducted by 11 is Wife.” “Well,” I thought, “that certainly is a brazen statement, I wonder who had the nerve to exhibit such a sign?” when out of the door tripped a dippy little lady, with bobbed hair and wearing shell-rimmed glasses. I immediately recognized my old friend Clara Canhain. She laughed as she said, “How do you like my new sign?” I reached for my smelling salts and grabbed a telephone post for support. Star- ing at her with dim. unseeing eyes, I thought, “How Clara had changed.” What possessed her to be conducting such a business. She told me that, after several years of repeated attempts to become reconciled to love’s decree, she and Harold decided to enter the holy bonds of wedlock. “Harold is over on the other side of the street manufacturing Fords, wh’le I have my garage on this side of the street and sell them. He guarantees the wind: hiclds unbreakable too.” It was just exactly three weeks later that I went to a movie in the city of Lexington, Mississippi. I gave the ticket agent the money for my ticket and he said. “Keep your money, I like to do favors for old classmates of mine.” I stood gaz:ng at him for a long time wondering, “Who could it be?” when I at last recognized Henry Parrish. lie laughed as he said, “I think you will find the show very, very interesting.” I waited eagerly for the picture to begin because I could not learn any- thing more from the obstinate Henry. First came the director’s name—the cameraman’s and all the flourishes. Then came the cast of characters. Play- ing the lead were Fifi Ponseti and Jack Spratt. Still I was in the dark. In a few minutes came some wonderful closeups that made me gasp and stare alternately. But in spite of disguise, in names and make-ups, I recognized Erma Moore and Bill Murnhy. Then I remembered that they were playing in, “The Pursuer and The Pursued”. “Ain’t it the truth,” I heard somebody beside me say; and taking mv eyes away from the screen 1 looked right into the surprised face of Arthur Stout. “What is it, dear?” asked a slivery voice on the other side and there sat Bernice Allen, only it wasn’t “Allen” any more. We couldn’t talk very much for our attention was riveted on the scene before us. It was natural—almost tearful. It made me feel ten years vounger and dream that we were still hi High School. Mrs. Stout remarked that Jack Spratt had a wonderful constitution, being able to survive on the same diet for so many years. Arthur shock his head forebodingly. “Time will tell, time will tell,” he repeated sagely. Before leaving Mississippi, I took a motor trip through that state. I found Russel Snyder keeping a green house. As I stood talking to Russel for some time, a Ford truck came crashing through an a'lev and stopped suddenly side of us. A woman wildly disheveled leaped out, threw a package at Russell, and said, as she rushed madly into the house, “There’s your old plants, take them, and don’t ever ask me to go after them any more, I have only bad three blowouts!” Recognizing Marie Comerford, I fell faint against the green house—and stood staring until she reappeared on the door step and came running to me crying.” Well of all things. I didn’t know it was you.” On my way through Oklahoma. I stopned at a small town 'n the Wichila Mountains. It was a romantic looking little town with beautiful little cot- tages built in it. As I strolled leisurely through the different streets T passed a little cottage that caught my eye at a glance. A m°n and woman were strol- ling along the side of the house picking Mowers. Thev turned and walked towards the street. They looked at me—stopped, stepped back and said aston-. ished, “Well, just look who is here, where did you come from?” I recognized' 24

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Senior Class Prophecy 1921. If ever anything was bewitched it musl be this ink—three blots and 1 have only written a half page, and I thought I was a success as an authoress. Thus I sat with my head in my hands, wondering why it was so much harder to write that book than the one before. My first novel, “Mary Hay”, had met with instantaneous success. Maybe I needed a rest. It didn’t take long for me to decide. I would leave the little Hotel Barton in the city of Bern, Switzerland which had been my home for the past seven years, and go back to the scene which I had not visited since 1922. Accordingly I set out three days later. On my way across France 1 stopped at Paris. Getting board and room at the Hotel de Chateau. I decided to stay over night. As I walked along a long hall on the way to my room I was attracted by a tall, graceful lady who was dressed in the height of fashion. In her arm she carried a little Pomeranian dog. -Just then the dog jumped from her arms and by the little cry she gave, to my amazement. 1 recognized my old classmate Chloe Bunker. In the little conversation we had, she told me of her life as a fashion designer, and then went back to our old school days. She also told me how she and Allan Sechleu were married and in two years parted after a disagreement over the political independence of women. Broken down with grief, she told me that she had come to France to try to forget the past. Early the next morning I left Paris via aeroplane for London. There seemed to be something wrong with the machine and when we were about thirty miles from Paris it glided unsteadily to the ground. The pilot reas- sured us that there was no danger but that the aeroplane sure acted like an old Ford he owned some ten years ago. The tone of his voice sounded familiar. I went towards him and soon found out that I was standing face to face with Andy Foster. On the rest of our journey he told me how he had become disgusted with Auburn girls and had gone to an aviator’s training school, from which he was transported to France. He said that he wanted to find something different, lie sure succeeded, for later I found out that Mrs. Andy Foster was a beautiful French peasant girl. Three hours later I landed in London. On a tour of England, before leav- ing, I found Ruth Duff keeping a poultry farm. She had the best looking fowls of anyone in the country and was prospering greatly in her new in- dustry. I asked her if she were married and she replied, “Why, most cer- tainly I am.” Just them a man stepped to the door and grinned—and lo! and behold! It was John Engelman. After leaving the poultry farm 1 packed my trunk and set sail for home. It was only a few months later that I was riding on a train on my way to Florida. I picked up a newspaper and looking through it I saw a rather familiar face on the society page. I looked at it a while. These were the exact words that were below the picture: “Miss Mary Beard, Society Girl of St. Louis, (formerly of Auburn, 111.) announces her engagement to Mr. Cyrus Pediskoski, Wealthy Tobacco Merchant, of St. Louis.” I thought to myself, “How could little Mary, who was so pretty, marry a man with such a name?'' I tore her picture out of the paper and put it in my purse. Then I laid the paper down, as the train pulled into Richmond, Virginia.

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John Murphy and Esther Morrison at last, tho' Esther had grown very, very thin, and on the contrary John was very, very fat. Next I found myself trying to work my way through a large crowd on ilu corner of a street in Pomona, California, when a man came rushing through the crowd, turned the corner, and as he did so he tripped me and T sat down in a basket of ripe peaches that were sitting under a canopy. Coming to me he said, “I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to do it.” I was staring into tho face cf Terry Lindner. It was quite a joke, but it was rather hard to take it that way, with peach stains all over my dress. “What makes you so excited?” I asked, “You didn’t act that way when you were in High School.” “I am elected as governor of Nebraska,” he answered with a dignified air. As if from habit he reached into his pocket and said, “Have a cigar!” Finally he came down to earth again when we began discuss’ng the fate of our different classmates. He told me that, on his way to California, he found Tom Irwin teaching harmony and composition in one of the largest and best con- servatories in Denver. Then a political meeting calling Mr. Lindner, and my train to Arizona calling me, we rushed off as madly as we had met. I was exactly half way to Arizona, when the train stopped to wait for some men to repair a bridge which was considered unsafe. I decided to visit one of the ranches close by. Here was a reminder of the real west. Cattle and cowboys galore! Then several of the dusty riders came toward us. I felt a strange apprehension and became weak kneed and then truly frightened. What was it? Closer, they came and closer—I closed my eyes. Then hearing some one speaking, I opened my eyes and stared into one of the most impos:ng and stern of faces. Then the expression changed and thru’ the bristly, black mustache, under the large cowboy hat, came the voice of Sinclair Orr, just the same as In was in High School except for appearance. Laughing heartily, “Babe”’ told me that Arthur Ingels was just nexl door, that is, on the next ranch, enjoying the same wild free life of a cow- boy too. It was about the middle of July when I reached the state of Kansa ■. I stopped at a small town and attended a chautauqua that was going on there. The first part of the programme was musical, consisting of piano and violin soles and also a few vocal selections. Next the director announced that there would be a lecture on “Spiritualism”, by one of the most noted men of the state, Prof. K. K. Knox. I was startled at his speech, when that same, “red- headed” Kirby Knox stepped on the stage. I was so thoroughly surprised at Kirby’s vocation I could hardly listen to the lecture. After it was over I found him trying to work his way through the crowd to catch the next train. He recognized me immediately and asked, “What has become of the rest of the class?” The only one 1 have seen is, Howard Williams, and he advertises himself as the “Champion Heavy Weight Boxer, of Kansas City, Kansas.” We had no more time for conversation and thus parted for our fixed destina- tions. Before leaving Kansas City, I visited an aunt that lived in the country about four miles south of the city. She, being an old maid, told me that there was a very bewitching school teacher that taught the school in the neighbor- hood ?n which she lived. The next day she took me with her to visit the school. It was a quaint looking little school house with vines growing over it. Before entering the building I kept wondering what that school teacher looked like. We went to the door and knocked. The door opened, and who should be that bewitching teacher, but Raymond Ilatcher, himself. Il was too funny to see Raymond going over and over the alphabet with the little folks very, very patiently. 25 —4