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

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“Oh, yes!” he exclaimed, ‘‘1 nearly forgot; you remember Helen Murphy? Well, she’s the matron of the “home.” And Ruby Crafton is a nun over at the hospital.” 1 was so surprised that I nearly forgot what the steering-wheel of the Ford was for. “She was disappointed in love,” Nuek went on, “so she just entered the hospital as a nun. Turn in here and we’ll stop a little while.” 1 did so and together we walked toward the orphans’ home. Soon I found myself looking into a face that seemed to have changed very little from the time when we had all been Seniors. She had grown very portly and with all seemed to be an ideal person for her place. How Irish she looked! I could not keep from telling her so, at which she laughed in such a way that the twenty years of my absence seemed only a few days. As we left for the hospital, Nuck told me of how well she got along with the children under her charge. It was like a delightfully large and happy family in which she was tin1 central factor. At the hospital we found Ruby in her own office, for she had charge of all the other sisters. Frail and graceful she was, as in the days of twenty-two, but her gay smile had changed to one of tenderness and thoughtfulness for others. Before we left, she told us that she would not give up her work for the world. The next day I took my leave of the delightful city, over the old hard road. The machine ran fine and for several hours I sped between prosperous farms. Then suddenly I came to a stop and, upon investigation, found that I was out of gas. Seeing a large house a short distance away and back from the road, I walked toward it, hoping to obtain the gas there. There was a large lawn covered by a perfect carpet of grass, abundantly scattered with shade trees. Everything was well kept from the spacious house to the dog kennel. This must be the home of a real, up-to-date farmer, I thot as I came nearer. 1 found the farmer in his garden working industriously with a hoe. As I came to the fence the straw hat tilted back, and to my surprise I looked into the perspiring face of Walter Brittin. He was as surprised as T and before 1 could explain why I had come, he had turned toward the house and called, “Virginia!” “Oh, Virginia!” at which I heard a voice answer, ‘Yes, Walter.” In a moment Iho screen door opened and a neat little figure tripped down the walk toward us. “Virginia Clark!” I exclaimed, scarcely able to believe my eyes. She laughed gaily and snapped airly— “Brittin, if you please!” And then I recollected how the two had always got along so well together during their years at high school, how they had shared similiar views on all mat- ters that had come up in their classes, but I had never suspected that this would terminate in marriage. The next day we all went together to a little country church, that was near the farm. Virginia told me of the wonderful minister they had, a very lovable man, kind and gentle, and loved by all his devoted parishioners. On arriving I found the ecclesiastical dignitary to be none other than Orville Fry. He smiled when I thoughtlessly addressed him as “Chick” and said that he still liked the nickname. From his sermon I learned more than from three average ones. I could easily see why his little flock was so devoted to him. The next morning I decided to return to Auburn and within an hour’s time I had my “flivver” fixed for flying. Soon after T had risen and started toward 21

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will and testament, unto which we subscribe our names and affix our seals this 24th day of May, 1922. Blanche Snell Adella Bigler Mervin Foster Ray Nuckols George Mehr Virginia Clark Cecil Crouse Ralph Easley Violet Stevens Ruby Crafton Harold Williams Minnie Parrish John Masterson Kathryn Clarke Orville Fry Catherine Regan Elizabeth Brunk Floyd Harris Goldie Suydan Ruth Knox Teddy Skaggs Helen Murphy Hubert Hatcher Walter Britt in Lottie Engert Prophecy True to the old adage that “A bad penny always returns,” I found myself in 1942 coming back to my old home. The twenty years had brought about such a change in the city of Auburn that it is no wonder 1 got lost in the outskirts of the city. After realizing my predicament I decided to inquire the direction of the business district. The first person 1 met was a small boy to whom I put the question, ‘‘Which way is the square from here, sonny?” lie glanced up at me and then stared. “Square?” he repeated, “What do you mean?” “I mean the down town district.” I explained. “Oh, its down that way,” he indicated with his thumb. “Only that’s the first time 1 ever heard that name for it.” I thanked him and took a street car in the direction he had guided me. Soon the car was passing between long rows of large buildings. The streets were noisy and crowded with people and traffic. Here I alighted and going to a newstand on a corner, purchased a paper. A glance over the first page gave me quite a surprise. It was The Auburn Citizen, but how it had grown ! Beneath the name was printed “Central Illinois Greatest Semi-daily.” And then came the real surprise. The next thing I read was— “Editor—John I. Masterson.” Glancing up at the buildings near by, I found that I was standing nearly in front of the Citizen office. I could scarcely wait until I got into the building. I was shown into the office where a short, dark man of large girth and thick little moustache worked over a pile of papers. He knew me at once and our talk lasted over a considerable length of time. 1 rom him I learned that Ray Nuckols still lived in Auburn and was directed to his place of business. It turned out to be a large shop where he sold Ford cars. He seemed to have changed very little in his comical ways and carefree disposition. However he proved his salesmanship to me, and before I left I had bought a Ford car with flying attachments, so that it could easily be converted into an airship. As I did not know much about it, he went out with me to teach me the work- ings of the machine. As we were driving through town we came in view of a group of large buildings only recently erected. When I asked what they were, he told me that they belonged to a hospital and orphans’ home. 20

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that city, I saw another plane similar to mine, swoop down and hover over my machine. A rope ladder was let down and a lithe, leather-clad figure swung down to my own plane. Using the speaking tube from the front cockpit the figure challenged me to a race. Of course I accepted just for the fun of it, for I knew that I had little chance against an aviator who could do such Locklear stunts. The figure then elm-l ed hack up the ladder and 1 gave my machine more gas. But the race was one sided in favor of my opponent. I got a good start, hut that was all, for soon the other plane passed me up as a freight train passes a bum. Soon it was only a speck in the distance. I had been going as fast as I had dared and was now about ready to give up. Suddenly I found that I was running into a storm. The plane ahead had landed and upon nearing the place I circled down also. I stopped near the other machine and the other aviator came toward me, pulling off his helmet—or rather her helmet. For who should it be but Violet Stevens! When Ruth Law had retired in 1922 Violet had decided to become her suc- cessor. By her cool daring she had won even greater renown and now held several records for flying.' She also told me that Minnie Parrish was becoming famous as the words greatest spiritualist. She had started out by hypnotizing her school pupils so that they worked zealously on their lessons, and had ended by puzzling the most learned heads in scientific circles, by her supernatural powers. I was also informed by Violet, that Catherine Regan was a fashion model for an exclusive, fifth avenue, New York shop. This particular line of work did not interest me much, but I was glad to hear that another one of my old class- mates had risen in the world. I returned to Auburn on the hard road, but just after I reached the city limits I was pinched for speeding. 1 was brought before a judge who was none other than Goldie Suydan! 8he smiled when she saw me her victim, and fined me fifteen dollars. I saw at once that she believed in strict impartiality. We afterwards had a friendly talk together. “What has become of Kathryn Clarke and Adella Bigler?” I asked when something of our old class was mentioned. “Oh, they have become wealthy!” she replied, “Quite wealthy! And its just like a story or a fairy tale too. You see, after they graduated, they bought a little shop in a stylish part of town and began raising angle worms for canary food. They started it just for fun, but the high class people were willing to pay fancy prices for this delicate bird food. Now they have a large building and many employees devoted to worm culture, while all they have to do is spend their money.” Of all the professions I had found among my former school mates this was the most delightful, the most original and the most romantic. I spent a part of the next day at their home and found them the least changed of all my old school mates. Happy and carefree, optomistic and genial, interested in their work they were. The next day as I was reading the sport page of an Illinois State Register, a large headline and picture caught my eye. “World’s Champion Woman Skier,” and beneath the picture was the name “Miss Ruth Knox.” The article went on to tell of her prowess in skiing and other winter sports, and that she was one of the best all round athletes this side the Atlantic. When I had finished the sport page I turned to the editorials. A column that attracted my attention was headed “Health Talks” by Drs. Coeplin and Engert. At the end of each article was signed, “Dr. J. C. Coeplin, Dr. Lottie 22