Bement High School - BIM Yearbook (Bement, IL)

Page 26 text:

 PROPHECY Foreword: 1945! Good old Father Time has certainly wrought great changes in the last two decades. Where is the old One-Horse Shay? And where is the Locomotive with its network of rail? And, still again where is the Automobile? Gaze up into the sky and you will no longer ask these questions. Above all the large cities fly twenty-four-hour coast-to-coast dirigibles, equipped with the latest of modern traveling conveniences. Here comes a buzzing squadron of army planes with several observation balloons in hot pursuit and there goes a loaded moving van aeroplane, preceded by a de luxe special air liner for the wealthy directors of some aeroplane route. And here and there and everywhere, flitting in all directions, in and out amongst the larger craft like humming bees, are innumerable private planes of every conceivable description. The conquest has been made by air and the ends of the world lie at our feet. Where are the telephones and cablegraphs with their millions of wires and cables? They have been abolished by the astounding utilization of radio, which, like the aeroplane, has also conquered the ends of the globe. We, as a nation, day by day, and year by year, are growing weaker and wiser. We are living in an age of wisdom and revolution. We are getting fickle; life is becoming too easy for us. Industry has been revolutionized and simplified and we are lazy. Luckily, some of us premeditate the destruction of our nation by the great outburst of civilization, and try our hardest to overcome existing evils, foreshadowing the downfall of that civilization. But, how like some of us to live only for the present, never glimpsing into or worrying about the future. We are seized into the whirlwind of life and we choose the smoothest paths and think more of the gilded than the worth-while byways of contentment and happiness. Remember these few foregoing lines of philosophy as we follow our classmates through the twentieth milestone of their self-dependence. The sun had set and dusk was just setting in, when we rounded a bend in a lonely country road. We were afoot—tired, footsore and weary. That morning we had been dispatched by a social aspiring woman of the East on a secret mission, which was to take us across the continent, so we were required to walk to a nearby city to procure an aeroplane for the trip. Just as we had rounded the bend, there sprang out of the bushes by the roadside, with lightning-like rapidity, the hurling figure of a burly, raw-boned man. He stood before us attired in green corduroys, a flaming red jersey, and an ill fitting felt hat, that concealed most of his features. A grimy handkerchief covered his black-grizzled beard. A low gutteral command issued from his throat, “Hands up, you bums!” Again, the familiar voice spoke a harsh command and all at once it dawned upon us that our old classmate, Lew Wilkinson, was standing before us. At the same moment, he recognized us and before we could speak he darted back into the bushes and vanished. We never saw him again and to this day, the intent of his ambush has to us remained a mystery. We camped that night in hobo style under a large spreading oak tree by the wayside. The following morning at daybreak, we entered the large middle western metropolis from which we were to proceed by aeroplane. We were not only dirty and tired but ravenously hungry, so the first place we struck out for was a restaurant. Behind a counter, was a sleek black Twenty-two

Page 25 text:

JbetohiiLx)X k3 3 SENIOR HISTORY Our High School days are fast drawing to a close and as is customary, we, the class of ’25, will leave our brief history on the pages of this Annual. We entered High School in the fall of ’21 with an enrollment of twenty-eight. Out of this number six had passed the first eight years of their training side by side in the Bement schools. Before achieving anything we found it necessary to organize and Selby Clark was elected as our head with Carleton Smith acting as Secretary-Treasurer and Miss Tinkham as our Class Advisor. Almost before we realized it our first year was at an end but our experiences during this period had given us confidence so that we looked forward to the coming year with a great deal of enthusiasm. As Sophomores we were raised to a high plane of intellectual supremacy, for during this year our class had the highest average, the most A s, and the fewest “flunks.” This year Lew Wilkinson was elected President, with the following officers: Armand Richard, Vice-President; Dallas Hill, Secretary-Treasurer; Class Advisor, Miss Barker. We were joined by Ruth Stoerger and Ellen Nolan, but several of our members left us. We had ceased to be timid Freshmen and began to take part in the social activities of the school, enjoying the usual parties and the annual picnic. Thus our Sophomore year was spent. At last we were real honest-to-goodness upper classmen! As Juniors, we again chose Lew Wilkinson as our Presiding Officer with Florence Dunn serving as Vice-President and Dallas Hill as Secretary-'freasurer. We were guided in our undertakings by Miss Bancroft. Three new members were added to the class, namely Aimee Brandenburg, Frances O’Brien, and Blanche Longbons. We were sorry and yet proud to see one of our members, Carleton Smith, leave us and graduate with the class of ’24. His credits were such that he was permitted to graduate in three years. There were two outstanding events during this year: first, the Junior-Senior banquet, which was a genuine success, and second, the publishing of the first Class Annual since 1914. Of course, there were parties held in the homes of different members, and a picnic in the spring, which delightful event ended our Junior year. Seniors! and only one more short year of High School life. Our officers this year were: Dallas Hill, President; Blanche Longbons, Vice-President; and Clarence Marlow, Secretary-Treasurer. Mr. Harrison and Mr. McClellan were appointed to advise us. During this last year of our High School life we were forsaken by Ellen Nolan, Marguerite Cannon and Armand Richard, but as if to make up for them we welcomed Ruth Stirrett, Dorothy Noe, Mildred Catlin, Raymond Quinlan and Donald Ryan. During this year several of our members distinguished themselves in athletics. The main social event of this year was a Hallowe’en party at which we entertained the Juniors. And now we shall soon separate, each to play his part in the outside world but I am sure that not one of us will ever forget the happy times and beautiful friendships enjoyed in dear old B. T. H. S. B. M. L. Twenty-one

Page 27 text:

iBETOHiiLor7 K3 -- c) headed man, whom we immediately recognized as Raymond Quinlan. He did not know who we were. Evidently his memory was failing. When we told him our names, he was very much surprised. He greeted us cordially and conducted us into the kitchen where he introduced us to his grayhaired wife, who stood toiling and sweating over a red hot cooking range. She turned to greet us. “Blanche!” we both echoed at once, “Is it really you?” Quinlan and his wife invited us to dinner and we had quite a talk, in spite of the noise made by the younger Quinlans. In the course of the conversation, they told us that Guynell Creel was now quite a successful imitator of birds and beasts. It seemed as though some theatrical manager had heard her tinkling, weird cackle and recognized her unlimited possibilities. Then followed a vaudeville tour, featuring her in bird song and animal imitations. After dinner, we strolled down one of the main thorofares of the city. A wild looking demaniacal man gesticulating wildly from his perch on a soap box attracted our attention. A curious crowd surrounded him and his patient, sad-faced wife. We were about to pass on by, when the man beckoned to us. In a thundering voice that nearly shook us off our feet, he told us that the hour of redemption and resurrection was near at hand, that our souls needed saving, and that unless we heeded his advice we were doomed to the torments of Everlasting Fire! We were dumbfounded, absolutely dumbfounded. The fanatical soap-box preacher was none other than Selby Clark and the woman who accompanied him was Frances O’Brien. We passed on leaving our identity undisclosed to the poor man. As we rounded the corner, we heard his mighty voice rise in a religious anthem and that was the last we saw of him. The next thing of special interest that we noted along the street was a dime museum. We entered and began to take in the attractions. In one room on exhibition was “Leano,” the tallest man in the world. Gazing up at this elongated figure, we recognized the jolly face of Claude Walker. His long, lanky body reminded us of Harold Murphy and when we asked him where Spike was, he laughed loud and long. Finally, when he was able, he jokingly told us that poor Spike had been caught in a Kansas twister, sucked up into a straw, and blown away and that he was never seen nor heard of since. Claude confessed that he was afraid to go out into a storm now, for fear the same fate would overtake him. In large letters above another door, we read the following: “Pay a Dime, Secure the Chance of Your Lifetime, and See ‘Tiny’ the Baby Midget.” We went in and saw seated on an elevated platform a wee little lady. “Irene Trent!” we ejaculated—“What under the name of sun has happened!” Poor Irene—she had shrunk into almost nothing. There she stood, three feet high and as lean as a rail. We continued on and entered the gymnastic section of the building. Two dare-devil acrobats were performing hair-raising stunts at a dizzy height. To our extreme amazement we were informed that they were the “Fisher Sisters” Helen and Katherine. Before leaving the museum, we decided to have our fortunes told by “Venus, the Gypsy Woman.” We entered the booth and subjected ourselves to her mystic powers. She told us where we were from, what our names were, and where we were going. The future, she said, held a hard fall in store for us. At the point of our departure, she lifted up her veil and laughed. She was Mary Henebry. As it was mid-afternoon and as we were anxious to be on our way again we bid her adieu, and left the museum. Fifteen minutes later, we were sailing westward in our newly purchased aeroplane. We traveled until dusk, then descended and alighted Twenty-three.