Brigham Young University - Banyan Yearbook (Provo, UT)

Page 19 text:

Who ' s that rosy cheeked boy? Well, that doesn ' t look like Clarence Woods to me. He was a mate for Bri Stringham when he entered school. Clarence didn ' t need shortening and he had a pair of socks his mother knit striped with red and green. He always liked the girls and thought he would make a good domestic science teacher. He used to carry the dishes for them, fix tables, wash dishes, until Miss Ward thought he was about the handiest boy in school. If we ever had any punch at the parties he had to dip. From the bunch of girls he ' s sitting among, I should judge he was still dippy. I guess you remember Hazel Macdonald? Well, I guess yes; she will never be whiter when she is dead than she was the day she entered this school. You know she was just a little seedy country kid — never had been away from her mother before. After registering for one and a half units, told President Brimhall she did not care to take devotional be- cause she had such a heavy course already. After paying her tuition she went up to Janitor Higgs, showed him her admit card and asked where in the building she would find the number of her room — 560. Who ' s that fellow on the end of the first row? I should think you would remember that Chancy Baird. I thought I would, too, but wonders will happen. Chancy and I entered school the same day. I run on to him in the hall with his hat held fast in both hands. We were both frightened to death, and decided to hunt the President ' s office together. I grabbed hold of his hand and we went in. President Brim- hall looked us over from under his spectacles and said, ' Well, young men, what do you want to take? ' ' Theology, please, ' said Chance. President Brimhall has con- sidered him a good boy ever since.

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5 5 arms used to swing a foot out of his coat sleeves, and his trou- sers were high water style. Oh, say, and he used to wear a big red tie and a blue shirt. He certainly has straightened out to graduate President of his class. Who did you say the Vice-President was? Lottie Gibson. Um, her — Well — a form more fair, a face more sweet, never hath it been my lot to meet. Since I saw her before. The first day she came to school, I won ' t forget soon. She had a big flat bow of pink ribbon that covered the back of her head, and a bright red dress, just below her knees, and you know that innocent look in her baby blue eyes and her loving smile. She had a catalogue in her hand and an entrance card in the other, hunting for the Dean of the College. Is that a Prep among the Fourth Years? Fred Taylor? Well, he hasn ' t improved the race much in size. He used to be the mascot for the First Years. Suppose he is as enthusiastic about yellow headed girls as ever. Had to have a contrast, he said. Say, that ' s a swell girl at the piano. She must have entered since I left. Merline Roylance ! Well, that ' s not so hard to believe as the rest. We all said she would make a musician when she used to dance the barn dance on the pavement on the way to school and be late for English. That ' s Erma Fletcher over there, and Elfie Bean. They had to get some one to write jokes about them and get them printed in the White and Blue, so they would become popular with the basket ball boys. You know all the girls are foolish over the basket ball boys. I guess it ' s their uniforms. I was at a picture show the other night and heard a ' 12 girl say: ' Oh, those dear soldiers; I don ' t blame a girl for falling in love with them ; they have such cute uniforms.

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Klgbt fi etrosipeaion in 1916 The Twelve !■ a man who worked for years to get hours, and then «elt weak (or days and was In a daze for weeks. He represented a new species in natural history. In as much as he was a goat w lth a sheep ' s skin. And unhappily, In Jast such proportion as he failed to qualify for the sheepskin, the more certain he was to qualify for the Koat. The Twelve worked for what he grot, but he didn ' t always get what he worked for. It depended on what the Faculty thought, and heaven knows what they depended on for their thinking:. The 12 w ent out Into the cruel world, and he left behind him his grlrl and his creditors. The former promised to write often, and the latter kept the promise. Somebody else usually kept the grlrl. He found that the unappreclative world turned its back on him, and he was left to shift for himself. His treasured acacomplishments of student days, ranging; from the basket ball squad to the dancing club or the debating team, seemed scarcely to supply him with those credentials which are sought by grrouchy employers of labor. Before the 12 graduated, he was worried as to whether to accept the position of a bank cashier or a district attorney, but no such problems ever disturb him after he departed from his Alma Mater. His chief worry then was that he couldr ' t get a good job shoveling snow in July or August. And yet, after all, it was a grreat four years. The 12 can afford to be retrospec- tive. A crusade against slang has been Instituted In the University. This Is a plons Idea, as studes too easily slip into the habit of handing out a punk line of gruff, and If the profs would put the roughnecks wise they would cut it out in no time. Take any bunch of college yaps — they are sent to college to get a little horse sense in their beans. But when they bunch up, the langruage they use is enough to make whiskers grow on the bald head of intellectual progress.