Avon High School - Boomerang Yearbook (Avon, IL)

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 tlhr Umimrratuj »134 A l tfitnrg nf thr (Daas of $2 By H. FORREST TOWNSEND FIRST CHAPTER Twenty-two little Freshmen, standing in a row. “Where’s the profs office?” “I don’t know.” When each Fresh had registered they all went out to play. That’s the way the first year passed, play, play, play. SECOND CHAPTER Eleven most important Sophs, very egotistic, With the first exams they were not so frisky. Then came the flu and smallpox, School had hit the rocks; W hen its doors were opened Teachers’ ranks were broken, Then Jerry and “Stevie” came into the corps, And for the time remaining calmly held the floor. THIRD CHAPTER Twelve bold Juniors lined up for inspection. When they went to class they never knew a lesson. Ti.ose were happy days, with the school house down And school being held in every hole in town. We attended “High” above Rea’s grocery store Overlooking Main street, and had fun galore. After Christmas vacation we used the new school building. And by entertaining the Seniors had a good house warming. Next in the social whirl the faculty came. And the fun we had that night was far from tame. As the days were passing swiftly many things were done, Operetta most successi ul, and the picnic heaps of fun; And almost before we knew it, We were Seniors—“swelled” a bit. FOURTH AND FINAL CHAPTER Eight lordly Seniors, with a high and haughty mien, Hurried to the school house while the trees were yet green. There were Esther, Pauline, Clifford, There were Ruby, Forrest, Floyd, There were Charles and later Frances, Who on passing took no chances. How those Seniors labored on their lessons, one and all, But they never were too tired to play some basket ball. And at the Junior-Senior party they were spry as they could be. Although at school the day before they were busy as a bee. The second semester brought just work, we’ll tell the world. But this anunal finished and our skeepskins all unfurled. Each one of us is ready to mount the hill of fame, And we’ll do it, there’s no doubting, if we only play the game.

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a a hr Unamrrang =$ -r'=££=j) i Subi| Jlrrnr 3lrnninija “Jenny” “ ’Tis a friendly heart that has plenty of friends.” Ross School ’17; Emersonian Literary Society ’17-’20; Secretary and Treasurer of Class T8-’21; Glee Club ’20-’21. (CharlrB tmrry iHubhlr “Charlie” “The world knows little of its greatest men.” Avon Public School ’16; Platonian Liter- ary Society ’16-’20: Foot Ball ’19-’20. 12 Ja o

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(ihr finnmrrmui --—1------------------------------------- { m J=====4- C Ninrtmt ffimtirrii iFmiij-mtr HATS the use?” I exclaimed impatiently, thrusting my manuscript into a pigeon-hole of my desk, on the morning of May 30, 1941. For fifteen years I had been in Paris, writing that horrible trash society calls liter- ature. On this particular morning the atmosphere was moist and sultry, not in the least conductive to inspiration. 1 had been trying for an hour to find the exact word for my hero to speak. With a long sigh I glanced upward. What should meet my gaze but the picture of the class of ’21, of dear Avon High. This set me to thinking. Why had I given up my youth, my happiness, and above all, good old America, for this hollow success? 1 had been early inspired to come to Europe to seek literary fame. My trashy novels, so inferior to my ideals, were raved over by the foolish public. I was worth almost a million dollars. Why should I stay longer away from home and friends? “I won’t!” I informed myself, impulsively. Three weeks later found me in America. I landed in New York, in the early af- ternoon. That evening I met my first surprise, of that week of surprises, when 1 went to American Grand Opera. The program was wholly made up of music com- posed by Mr. Harry F. Townsend, with words by Mr. Floyd Bivens. The program was also rendered by these two successful! artists. When the opera came to a close, 1 went to congratulate them on their work. I learned that they had been collabor- ating for five years, and made engagements only in New York and Chicago. The next evening I decided to visit the Jennice institute. A glaring electric sign “Art and Dramatics conducted by Jennings and Niece” greeted me. Almost at once I thought of Ruby Jennings and Pauline Niece, my former classmates. Before I inspected the work of this school I renewed acquaintance with these very worthy women. I found before I left that Ruby was still that amiable girl, grown famous In dramatics and that Pauline had not left her sense of humor in her paint brush. While returning to my hotel I witnessed a dreadful accident, which involved the killing of a child, the son of very wealthy Catholic parents, who wished to have the careless taxi-driver tried for murder. Of course I was called upon to be a witness. 1 found one of the judges to be Mr. Charles Hubble, another member of that fam- ous class which graduated from Avon Community High in ’21. Because I was impressed by the death of the child, I decided to attend the fu- neral. When the priest began to speak his voice seemed hauntingly familiar. Finally upon inquiry I learned that it was Clifford Wall. After the services were over I renewed acquaintance with the former champion gumchewer of the class of ’21. He was very proud to inform me that he had had charge of that church for the past ten years. This was the last day I should spend in New York before returning to my home in Illinois. While changing cars in Galesburg, I met Frances Wise, who informed me that she was the dean in a girls’ school in San Francisco. I congratulated her up- on her success in life, and she said, “now tell me of yourself.” I related to her the facts that have been previously stated, and as the train whistled for Avon, I add- ed, “I guess I’m the Rip Van Winkle of the class, but I slept for only fifteen' years.” By ESTHER YOUNG 3 $ 14 fcsi samg)