Bement High School - BIM Yearbook (Bement, IL)

Page 29 text:

JBETQHikO iy S) That night under a glowing yellow moon, we stole across a lawn, toward a great imposing brick mansion. There came a faint rustling and murmuring from a nearby arbor and we stopped dead still in our tracks. We listened, and then shifted ourselves to a position directly behind the arbor. Ah Fortunate, Luck, Opportunity, or what ever you want to call it was surely awaiting us. Peering through the foliage, we discerned a couple, sitting on a rustic bench, the moonlight streaming down upon them from a wide gap in the arbor. They were cooing in low tones like turtle doves but we could easily hear their conversation. “And do you love me dearest?” “Yes,” whispered the scoundrel in a hoarse voice. “And when will you marry me?” “When I come back from the East, loved one,” lied the husky voiced villian. That was sufficient. There remained yet one more thing to do and our task would be ended. We hastened with all possible speed to the Western Union Radio Office and dispatched a night letter— and the letter read thus: Podunk, California, June 10, 1945. Miss Frances Rose, 1112 Astoria Avenue, Suburban Heights, Illinois, Dear Miss Rose: Your suspicions are justly founded. Your fiancee, Mr. Ryan is untrue to you. He has another woman on the string out here. Perhaps you remember her. She is Aimee Brandenburg, one of our classmates of the Class of ’25. Would suggest that you break engagement with your betrothed at once, as he intends to come East, and marry your wealth, and leave the girl out here in the lurch. Your faithful servants, Hawkshaw and Hawkeye. By Clarence Marlow and Dallas Hill, Class of 1925. f Twenty-five.

Page 28 text:

(P T rVjBETOHIlkOt Qi Q in a field near a farm house, located on the outskirts of a town. Arriving at the house, after leaving our aeroplane in the field, we halted in front of a large bay window. Seated in a large Morris chair was John Glynn and perched beside him, her arms entwined lovingly around his neck was Josephine McGrath, his new bride. So, this couple had at last found peace and happiness together after twenty years of aimless wandering. Smack! We felt like mean intruders, so we left for town, to spend the night. After supper that evening we attended a theatre. At the rise of the curtain, five lovely Hawaiian girls, attired in tropical costumes, tripped out upon the stage. From our box, we distinguished them as Ruth Taylor, Ruth Stoerger, Ruth Seitz, Ruth Stirrett and Florence Dunn. The latter, Florence Dunn, was manager and leader of the company of Four Ruths. She had developed them into fine aesthetic dancers and they displayed rare talent. Later, a frivolous, unreserved young woman danced out upon the stage and yodeled the latest song hits of the day. Time and again, she was applauded and called back. To our extreme amazement we discovered her to be the former refined and sedate Thelma Priestly, class of ’25. We arose early the next moring and walked back to our plane. John and Josephine were on deck to give us goodbye. They shook hands, bid us Godspeed, and we were off! Having been traveling about three hours, our eyes were attracted by two smaller planes on the far horizon with a round object between them. As we advanced closer we saw that it was Mildred Catlin and Dorothy Noe, playing air polo, the latest fad of the day. The object was a gas inflated balloon, which they were buffeting back and forth with polo clubs. As we approached nearer, the ball floated in front of our plane. Neither one of them saw us and both darted toward the ball at the same moment—Crash! All three of our planes looped and nose dived down through space. Luckily for us we were above a huge straw stack and three of us escaped death and injury but when we began searching for poor Dorothy after coming to our senses we couldn’t find her. She had been whirled into eternity by one of the propeller blades. We couldn’t tell her shreds from those of the straw; so we erected a shaft at the base of the stack in memory of her gruesome destruction and sadly left the awful scene of the tragedy. We consoled her friend, Mildred, the best we could and left that afternoon for Podunk, California, our final destination, which was ten miles distant. In mid-afternoon we became very thirsty; so we stopped at a little green shuttered cottage by the wayside. In response to our knocking, a grey-haired spinister appeared at the door. Jumping Jehosaphat! Lucille McPherson! What in the world was she doing all by herself out here in the wide wastelands. She invited us in, gave us a cool refreshing drink, and literally talked her head off, asking us where our classmates were and what they were doing. She told us that Ellen Nolan had retired from school teaching to take up the duties and responsibilities of a home at San Diego. Lucille’s was a woeful tale of sad disappointed love, resulting in her isolation from society. “He left me waiting at the altar ten years ago and I have been waiting ever since,” and she wept bitterly at the memory. Several minutes later, as we trailed off down the road we looked back and saw her still standing in the doorway gazing broken-heartedly after our fast receding figures. A mantle of darkness was creeping over Podunk, when we entered the city limits that evening. We were at our journey’s end. In less than an hour, our purpose would be fulfilled, our mission completed, and we would be ready to back track for home. Twenty-four

Page 30 text:

( TX? r JBETOHI|LO y 9 SENIOR WILL We the class of 1925 of the Bement Township High School, State of Illinois, realizing that we are soon to pass out of this place of education, do hereby make, declare, and publish this, our last will and testament, hereby revoking and making void all formed wills and promises by us at any time heretofore made. To the faculty we give our sincere thanks for the thoughtfulness and attention which they have shown us at all times. To the Juniors we leave our ability to give “spiffy” parties. To the Sophomores, our perfectly good common sense, which we have displayed on all occasions. To the Freshmen we leave our best wishes for their future success. The various members of the class make the following individual bequests : I, Aimee Brandenburg, do will and bequeath to Arthur Ball, my ability to tickle the ivories. I, Mildred Catlin, do will and bequeath my interest in Atwood, to Helena O’Loughlin. I, Selby Clark, do will and bequeath to Florence Leuschke, my languid way of moving. I, Guynell Creel do will and bequeath my frequent visits to the post-office, to Helen Cole. I, Florence Dunn, do will and bequeath my interest in Rexall Goods, to my sister Marguerite. I, Helen Fisher, do will and bequeath to Ella Jones, my booklet on, “How to Win Tall Romeos.” I, Kathryn Fisher, do will and bequeath my rose-bud lips to Raymond Sanders. I, John Glynn, do will and bequeath my curly hair to mv brother Willie. I, Dallas Hill, do will and bequeath my job as “flunkie” to the coach to Homer Mikeworth. I, Mary Henebry, do will and bequeath my gum, deposited at odd times under my chair in the English room, to Howard Hill, in hopes that he will get the same chair next year. I, Blanche Longbons, do will and bequeath my brother Virgil to Jeanette Piggott. I, Clarence Marlow, do will and bequeath my clever methods of captivating women to Glenn Fairbanks. I, Lucile McPherson, do will and bequeath my ability to pull A’s to Melvin Miller. I, Harold Murphy, do will and bequeath my name “Spike,” to Nate Smith. (If he will only diet!) I, Josephine McGrath, do will and bequeath my ability to skip classes to Doris Wiggins. Twenty-six