Brimfield High School - Spectator Yearbook (Brimfield, IL)

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:------ Cljc Spectator, 1924 ---- musical career is ended, or yet to come, for at present she is pounding a piano in a 5 and 10 cent store in London. Ain’t love funny? June 20. Arrived in Los Angeles without further delay and have spent several days recovering from my trip. One of the first places I wanted to visit was the Big I and Little You College, where I found Lucille as President of the Institution. She had taught a year in rural schools near Roberts, Illinois, and had proved so successful as a teacher that after her marriage and location in the West, had been offered this high position. June 27. As today is Sunday, Lucille took me around to the Little Church on the Corner. We went in and took our seats quietly. Owing to the sudden change from California sun to the darkness of the church, I couldn’t see at first, not even the face of the minister in the pulpit. But, when a kindly voice boomed out, “Alas! We wilt sing Number 777,” I knew it was Willis Corney. I always knew Willis would make us proud of him some day. June 28. Today I went out to Hollywood where Esther Maher is making a film. She is taking a child’s part, and is the heroine of the film. During the summer season she goes on the Chautauqua platform as a Junior Worker. She is a great favorite with the children because of her lack of seriousness. This, coupled with her speaking ability, makes her an excellent one for the position. June 30. Esther and I motored to Sacramento today to see Florence, who is engaged as private secretary to the Governor of California. Florence came West several years ago with her husband, who is a draftsman by profession. She, too, is happy and successful. July 5. Today I start back to New York. My visits with my old classmates have done me so much good that I feel like a new man, and don’t think it necessary to spend anv more time vacationing. —J. H„ ’24. SEVENTEEN

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■ --------------- ®jjc Spectator, 1924 .---- to come back after working hours. He came up to my room that night, but he didn’t have much to say. Of course as we remember “Dutch” in ’24, he never did. I did learn, however, that he was one of the many struggling artists, and his “taxi-ing” was merely a means to gather the funds to enable him to take up further study in Italy. June 17. As I was walking down the corridor toward the elevator this morning, whom should I meet but Lavina, with several towels over her arm. Who would ever have thought that Lavina would leave the easy going ways of the farm to take up the gay whirling life of the city? She assured me that she was happy, and expected to be happier still,—a fact emphasized by the large solitaire on her left hand. June 18. Will wonders ever cease? Today the train was delayed by a wreck on the main line, so I had to spend a whole day in Solon, Iowa. Leaving the train, I started to walk down a quiet country road. Way over in a field I saw a man plowing corn. Being lonesome, I decided to wait until he reached the end of the field nearest the road. Imagine to my surprise when a few minutes later “Bill” Catton came dashing down the corn row with a new-fangled plow. We talked over old times, and “Bill” took me to the house where his wife had prepared a real old-fashioned dinner. Boy! I’ll never forget those noodles! It seems “Bill” had taken a course in Scientific Farming, and at the request of his bride’s parents, had bought a farm near them. Owing partly to his native thrift, but mostly to capacity for work, “Bill” is making ahowl-ing success. June 19. We arrived at Denver without further delay. I am stopping at the Hotel Alamo, owned by my old friend Max Hayes. In connection with the hotel, Max is running the largest cabaret in Denver, and personallv directs his own orchestra. He has just signed a contract to play for Columbia records, and is considered the greatest saxophone artist in the United States. Hurrah for Max! June 20. As I walked down the street this afternoon, I happened to notice a rather attractive sign on a window, which read: “Hairdressing and Beauty Parlor—appointments any time—Ruth Slayton, Proprietor.” I hurried in, for I wouldn’t miss seeing Ruth for the world. I found myself in a luxurious up-to-date establishment, and Ruth herself harmonized perfectly with the apartment. She told me that much of her hairdressing and beautifying experience had been acquired at high school. No, she hasn’t married yet; but I understand that she requires three secretaries to care for her correspondence. Still keeping ’em guessing! Upon inquiring about the other girls, I learned to my disappointment that I would not get to see Elise, she had gone abroad to study music. It is rumored that she has acquired an English Duke, who, like a great many of the nobility, formed a singular distaste for labor. Consequently, Elise’s Sixteen

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Clje Spectator, 1924 Cfje Hast H)tll and Testament of tfje Class of ’24 We, the undersigned members of the Senior Class of 1924, being sound in both minds and bodies, do hereby make, publish and declare this our last will and testament. That we do declare all former codicils, covenants, and instruments made, declared and published by us to be null and void. The present covenant being, to-wit: I, Elise Roberts, do give and bequeath my musical ability to Theodore Plack, and my red hair to Lois Bateman. I, Ruth Slayton, do give and bequeath my heart smashing ability to Ardle Maher, and my lip-stick and eye-brow pencil to Dorothy Plack. I, Esther Maher, do give and bequeath my mischevious ways to Rivard Day, and my ability as a speaker to Otto Plack. I, Lavina Plack, do give and bequeath my ability as a student to William Plumer, and my tatting ability to Clifford Cady. I, Florence Clark, do give and bequeath my winning ways to Mary Miars, and my fascinating brown eyes to Mildred Butts. I, Lucille LaFollette, do give and bequeath my curls to Conrad Rose, and my giggles to Walter Meyer. I, Willis Corney, do give and bequeath my big feet to Lester Kingdon, and my innocent expression to Della Bragg. I, Jesse Hurder, do give and bequeath my politeness to Joseph Hayes, and my Valentino hair to Charles German. I, Max Hayes, do give and bequeath all my high school sweethearts to Justus Roberts, and my “cut up” ways in class to Lorena Tucker. I, Lloyd Wilson, do give and bequeath my position on the All-Star Basketball Team to Archie Smith, and my pole vaulting ability to John Minor. I, Ivan Curran, do give and bequeath my ability as a cartoonist to Harold Shane. I, William Catton, do give and bequeath my ability as a sprinter to Harold Cecil, and my sweetheart to my dear friend, Clarence Shane. We, the graduating class of 1924, do give and bequeath to the long suffering Faculty forevermore, peace of mind. We hereby appoint Mr. Sheumate as sole executor of this, our Last Will and Testament. (Signed) SENIOR CLASS, 1924. EIGHTEEN