Belt Valley High School - Husky Herald Yearbook (Belt, MT)

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I - i BELT BUCKLE -Y -. ---- SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY The blood red sun sank slowly. Its lingering rays suffused the flat, dusty prairie with a warm glow-misty and shadowing with dust. The hollow thud, thud, of the oxen, ceased. Then came the night. A slight dark figure leaps from the foremost wagon, dusty and tired, but with a look of courage undaunted in her fine brown eyes. Who is she? She looks so familiar-why-Miss Mares. Her clear voice com- mands a halt and the thirty Seniors, pioneers in heart and endeavor, hastily build camp for the night. The scene is one of busy activity. How fast and thoroughly these Seniors work. The supper is over and cleared away. The crackling woodfire is sending sparks up the dusky blackness of the night. A solemn hush descends over the group as Chief Eagleheart takes his place among them in their circle around the fire. Eager, expectant glances settle on the countenance of the prophet. The low wail of a coyote sounds from across the prairie. The wind sighs low-anxious too- to hear the prophecy of the illustrious class of nineteen twenty-eight. The Chief begins-his tone is low and mellow and flows on in dreamy monotony. Friends-it is my happy lot to be able to impart to you your destinies. The spirits of my fathers aid me in bestowing upon you the knowledge of your future. His gaze into the fire deepens. Proper it is, Palefaces, that I begin with Myron Johnson, better known as Beets , the president of this illus- trious Class. This young man, so interested in athletics, architecture, and printing, I see planning out a football field for Yale. Between times he is working on sign-printing. Blonde hair and blye eyes, oh-Miss Helen Hammer, a living advertise- ment of Blondex Shampoo, of which company she is a rising saleswoman. It is rumored that she is soon to wed the son of the president of the company. A little Ford bug leaps into my view-the dust is intense. I can hardly see the occupant-yes-yes, it is Forrest Bough, making a coast to coast race! At the rate he is going he is sure to win. A flat tire-and his dreams are vanished-but wait--he flies on his way on the rim! Plucky lad! I see men gathered in anxious expectancy about Miss Elizabeth Mal- colm, who is typing her way to fame-a breath of admiration-she has usurped the place of Hossfield, World's Champion Typist. Who is this I see with a pair of twins on his knee-such a homelike scene-why Kelly Johnson-the fond papa of a promising pair of off- spring. I recognize in his wife a little blonde girl who ensnared Kelly with her charms during his Junior and Senior years. . -W I ....YY.fiY.-.-..-........ii 1 928 ..,. ,-.. .. .,.. ..i. - IH, DA, ,W 'I' ty Th

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ll BELT BUCKLE Y Gladys Wellington bequeaths to Dorothy Nelson her calm and ladylike ways and her admiration for boys. Harold E. Johnson wills to Louis Anderson his desire to cop a girl and also to become a man of high stature. In witness, whereof, we the Class of 1928, set our hands? and seal and publish this our last will and testament this twenty-ninth day of May, one thousand nine hundred twenty-eight. A Signed: Class of 1928, L Executor: Helen Brutosky. Witnesses: Myron Johnson George Ford ,L ,A .,-,,...-Y Y Ei ,, 7 L SONNET The pioneers should surely be the ones To share in honor of the brave and true, Large families from the East, and small ones, too, Came to the West with daughters and with sons Came out to build a home for loving ones. In trouble and in strife they plodded thru. Much trouble was expected, this, they knew But they were Pioneers and would not run. There were many who had started on their way Have made their homes out where the West begins, While others travelled onward toward the coast Have struggled for prosperity day by day. So if you are a pioneer, my friend, You hold an honor and can proudly boast. -Hazel Landry. 1928 I t I

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Another matrimonial adventure. Our friend, Edith Burley, setting out to the Alps for her honeymoon with a tall man, foreign in appearance and using with much dexterity his monocleg ever and anon twisting his dainty moustache and gazing adoringly at his blushing bride of a few days. The scene, oh Pioneers, changes to one of great hilarity-balloons, ele- phants, tigers-a circus! The billboards flaunt their greatest attraction. Attired in crimson, Elizabeth Mital, greatest contortionist of the times. Oh-a great political rally-Ronald Randall, great political boss and speaker of the hour is issuing orders to his followers. I hear a voice, rich with power and melody, pouring over the audience sitting spellbound with its beauty. Charles Klimas-second Caruso, is making his first appearance in grand opera. He will next tour Europe and his coming audience will be graced by the presence of the Prince of Wales, himself. I see a packed house, bright lights, and mirth-the rich folds of the stage curtain swing back to reveal two dancing figures against a back- ground formed by the chorus of Ziegfield's Follies. Why-Lillian Bakko and Ethel Ranta-now having leading parts in Ziegfield's Chorus. High, high among the clouds I see a lone figure in an aeroplane, who, but Harold E. Johnson, himself. He is testing his latest model and is seriously contemplating a flight to Mars, providing it doesn't rain. What flash of pearls now graces our vision? Ah, 'tis but the pearly teeth of Miss Helen Brutosky gleaming at us from a Pepsodent toothpaste Had. Miss Brutosky is busy, when she is not posing for the ads, writing a book, the title of which is How to Make a Hit With the Opposite Sex. Let's hope it's soon published. Gee-up-whoa-and the slim figure of a young farmer leaps into my vision. Joseph Pillar himself-managing his farm near Raynesford, which he gained through his marriage with a belle from that district. A flutter of handkerchiefs, a whistle, all-aboard, and Miss Ada Simon- is, a teacher in remote Africa is on her way to spend her vacation with her school day chum, Mildred Tuura, who is teaching in Alaska, and it is rum- ored that she is soon to wed a wealthy prospector. A somber black clothed figure-Myron Robinson-missionary in the South Sea Islands-now comes into view. I fear sadly that his worthy resolutions will dwindle away when his vision rests on the charms of the South Sea Island maidens. Such appetizing odors that assail my nostrils-why, look who's here, our friend, Franklin Samuelson-better known as Pinhead, flipping flap- jacks for the threshers on a ranch near Armington. Ethel Berg is now in the movies ably proving that blonde can be a blonde and still be a vamp. She is acting in one of Gladys Wellington's latest dramas. Steven Bodner is demonstrating his ability as a barber and has leased