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

Page 28 text:

It was about the first of September when I reached Illinois. As I crossed the state the only city I stopped at was Jacksonville. During my short stay there I visited the High School and the Woman’s College. I knew some of the girls that attended the school and while talking to them, one of them said, “You simply must come to meet our Professor, he is simply wonderful!” They took me in—and—that wonderful Professor was, Hayward Bigler. After finally discovering who I was he said laughing, “Are you surprised at my new occupation ?” As I came through Auburn 1 thought 1 would stop and see what the city looked like once more. Things had not changed much except for a few addi- tions to the school building. I went over to the school for a while and who should be the principal but Clifford Ping. I had been thoroughly surprised all the way through but not as 1 was when I found Clifford sitting in the office superintending A. T. II. S. That night 1 sat at the window in my room at home for the first time since June, 1922. I dreamed my trip all over again—witnessing many new scenes and finding so many of my old classmates. I looked out the window, it was dark. How long I had sat there I did not know. The stars had come out and in the distance the moon was just peeping above the horizon. And sitting there in the still, cool atmosphere I felt as Jray in his “Elegy”: “The curfew tolls the knell cf part’ng day, The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness, and to me.” NOME MULCAHY.

Page 27 text:

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

Page 29 text:

SALUTATORY Parents, Teachers, and Friends: Our little boat stands tonight at the bending of the stream and we are pausing awhile that we may contemplate our past efforts and draw in a breath for the larger work ahead. We wonder if it is really necessary for any one to try to tell you in words how glad we are to have you with us as we linger here and consider the pleasant calmness of the waters through which we have passed. We have learned how useless words are when we try to express the deepest feelings of our hearts. We have also learned that there is no sweeter word in the English language than the word “Welcome’’. We really wish to say it to you and to say it in the right way. Especially do we bid our parents welcome to this little pause. We cannot leave this pleasant nook without thanking you from the bottom of our hearts. We hut have to remember that it was your countless sacrifices and your untir- ing efforts that poured oil on waters that might have been troubled. Our teachers, whose unending labor among us has prepared us for the greater work that lies beyond and made this vision of a broader life possible, we will remember with joy as the years go by. We feel sure, that without your words of steadiness and kindness in times of despair, the class of Nineteen Twenty-One would not be the largest that ever left the halls of the A. T. 11. S. To the Members of the Board of Education, whose silent unseen work among us. and whose influence behind us, have promoted the possibility of this night, we feel indebted forever. So in behalf of my class I bid vou all welcome. TERRY LINDNER. VALEDICTORY Friends, Teachers and Classmates: Four years ago, we the Class of 1921 stood at the foot of a wonderful mountain. We thought it the most beautiful sight that we had ever beheld as it towered majestically above us. Ilow eagerly we scanned the rugged sides and longed to begin the ascent. But, oh! how dreadfully large it was, how much hard climbing it would take to reach the top. Could we ever do it: We looked so dreadfully small and insignificant beside that monstrous pile. Behind us were the plains of infancy, the gradually sloping benches represent- ing our early school life, and the foot-hills, rough and rocky, which we thought we would never climb. Then the summit of the highest foot-hill stood there representing to us our greatest attainment yet, the eighth grade graduation. All this seemed easy to us now in comparison with climbing this rugged, precipitous mountain whose top was hidden from view by clouds. Weariness sometimes made these clouds appear black and gloomy, other times hope or joy made them look pink and rosy. We were given provisions from which to feed upon and a climbing staff to aid us over the difficult places. Our provisions were plain and coarse but substantial and necessary to sustain life until we reached the top. The first few thousand feet were terrible. Everything was so new and hard. Sometimes our path was overgrown with weeds and brambles, and we had to stop and cut them before we could go on. Sometimes it led around monstrous rocks which seemed ready to fall and crush us. Other times il wound