Broken Bow High School - Savage Yearbook (Broken Bow, OK)

Page 22 text:

1fl'f.--fT'.w-.--.- T., .. . - -l If g .w il y - ' ' ls 3 -5 ..., H' 2 ' ' ' , . 'm u CLASS PROPHECY It was the year of 1922, May 22nd, to be exact. On this particular day I happened to be back in the delightful little town of' Broken Bow, where I had spent so many happy school days. A friend of those by- gone days and I were strolling one evening, and eventually came upon the old school building. We stopped and began talking about our school days. The place seemed so familiar to me, in fancy I saw the com- panions of those days when wewere won't to assemble here. I pictured myself once more the midst of my classmates, scanning Vergil's Aeneid, or discussing Ancient History. My memory traversed all those school days. I thot nothing of the present, but was lost in the irretrievable past. I do not know how long I stood there thinking of the past, but P presently my thots were interrupted by my companion, and I awoke to the fact that none of those people were there, that this was only a dream of the past. I realized, for the first time, perhaps, the full import of the little line: All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. ' Turning from the school house, we continued our walk. We had made a tour of the town, and were now passing by the picture show. The friend suggested that we stop and see the pictures. - I did not care anything about them, and so I said, but she insisted so much that I finally gave my consent. We chose seats in the middle tier and sat down to watch the pic- tures. They showed so many advertisments that I began to think the whole show was comprised of advertisments only- But in this I was mistaken. The first two reels were, of course, filled with love and danger- the heroine falling over a steep bluff into the river, and the hero just arriving in time to save her. As a matter of fact, all this was quite exciting, also quite inter- esting, as these so-called love scenes usually are. But I soon grew tired of following the exploits of the love-stricken ones and so signi- fied my willingness to get out of' the thdater as soon as possible. My companion would not hear to this-no, she positively would not go-the best was yet to come, and she intended to see it. I decided it was either stay and see an other reel of pictures, prob- ably like the first two, or go home alone. Without any more ado, I sat down again. I was prepared to be bored, but was brot out of this state upon reading the headline on the screen: Happenings of the Week, People You Have Known and Their Doingsf' Well, this would be a diversion, at least. I settled back in my seat with a sigh of' comparative contentment. The first picture was one of the interior of a magnificient church. It was plain that money had not been spared when this church was built. The windows were beautifully stained, the pews were luxuri- ously upholstered, the few Biblical pictures scattered here and there were elegantly framed and mounted. All this I took in at a glance. The church was crowded to its doors and, strange to say, there seemed to be no restlessness. Every one seemed to be intensely in- terested as they kept their eyes on the young minister. Presently I began to study him more closely. Then with a quick gasp, I cluthed my companion, crying:i Why, it's Ray, it's Ray Green l Sure enough it was, for the next instant we were reading: Reverend Ray Green, Pastor of the First Methodist Church, Chicago, Illinois. Quick as thot this picture changed, and gave place to another which was of an immense crowd assembled in a building, which though IiiIIIIIIIllllIIiIIIIlllllllIIIIIlllllllllllllllllllllllllIIIllIIIIIIIllIIIIlIllllIIlIIIllllIllIlllIIIIIIlIIllIIIIIIllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllIIIlllllllllllllllllllllllllI!IIlE!!IIIIIIIIHill!!IIIIilIlllllIillllllllIl!IllllllilIiliillliIllilllllilllllllillllllll sN a-.WmNNs,MNW -13- WE if fd rwu

Page 21 text:

71 - NM'....lf'7MW ,... mul, ...uw s V 5 11.1, .,,fg.S ' silelg : 91 ,. . ' -' ' 1 In K ' Wu vfll t l mlm wyrwvf- - ' 'Nmlllllllllllll7slW-1': '4--xx -W . C Class History Continued.J We became the most distinguished of the High School in our Junior year, because of our business ability in raising our annual assessment and Sald sum for Junior-Senior banquet. .1 This year, '17-'18, two new pupils enrolled in the Senior Class, Ryan Crenshaw and Ray Green, Ryan, whom we thought at first to be a very backward young man, soon proved to be as full of life as any girl in the class. l - Q Ray is a very dignified C?J Senior and a favorite of the Junior girls. For him we predict great things. ' This year has been well spent Cby some! for in the bright lexicon of youth there is no such word as fail. Only a few more days until our school life will be over. The hour will be one of joy and sorrow, for all the class excepting Ray and Ryan. have fought life's school battle together since entering the seventh grade- But I would not turn time back and live the past again, for the way of the youth lies in the future g yet it is but natural to regret the passage of time which brings the hour of parting and farewell. eN wggy?14:f' jo ev: W N I 45-4.35 M9 1 vvvvvvvxmAm V C-V Vx llllllllllllllllllllllllllWlllllllllllllllllIlllllllllllllllllllllllllllillllllIIllIIlIllIlllIIIlllIIllIllllIIIIllIlllII!!!IIIIlllllIIIlllIIIIIlllllllllllllllllllllIIllllllllllllllllllllllllllIIlllllllllllIlllIlllIIIllllllllllllllllllllllllllIllll!IlllllllllllllllllIlllillllllll xfxfxfxf-,,x,-X,x.- iJvvxA

Page 23 text:

-fren-f-1' --. I . . .-.vfAfvNv-mw I '. , -, , 5 ' , ' - H -w, H g,, ' - -, - ,. ,. . . ..- I ' A: A ' Sf Tia' iff I 1' Qp ' '-. ' ffm , fr i , . 'W if . ll X . - . ' 'rl V'-11 f 'lunmlull . il is Ali' as? W II large, would hardly hold them all. The prominent figure was a woman, who was the only person on the platform. Judging by the gestures she seemed to be giving an oration, which would have made Cicero ashamed of the Manilian Law. I almost engaged in a prolonged shout, but contented myself with a short intake of the breath, as I recognized Flora Wright, another Senior of 1918. Then I read: Miss Flora Wright, President of the Woman's Suffrage League of America, delivering one of her famous speeches on Woman Suffrage. The next picture was of' the newest type of airplaneg everything was apparently in readiness for a journeyg yes, the engine was then purring away. All that was lacking was the aviator. Then she came. She did not look very big to handle a machine like that, but she got into her place, and was almost gone before I awoke to the fact that it was my own sister doing all this. To be sure I knew Dick had a ma- chine of her own and sometimes took rather flighty trips, but was not prepared to see her in motion pictures. It made me feel very impor- tant when these words flashed on the screen: Miss Dixie Elledge, preparing to make another trip from New York to San Francisco in the Grey Bird, her favorite machine. My eyes next rested on a picture of the interior of an opera house. Every seat was filledg excitement reigned supreme. People turned this way and that, evidently waiting expectantly for some one or some- thing. Then it was that I knew for what they had been waiting. A woman had emerged from behind the curtains and was now in the center of the stage. She opened her lips as tho she were singingg the people sat entranced. When she had finished, people almost went wild with applause. Now the singer turned her face toward me, and I could not keep back the little exclamation: Well, of all things! When I rec- ognized Nannie Holcombe. One more crank of that magic machine and I read: Miss Nannie Holcombe, the famous Soprano Singer, sing- ing to one of the largest audiences ever gathered in New York. I did not have time to think aboutNan, till another picture was placed on the screen. This time it was of a gentleman sitting at his desk. He was a very competent looking man and seemed familiar to me- Above the door was the word Private, There seemed to be a knock at the door, and as the man turned to receive the important looking document, I knew that it was Ryan Crenshaw, the other boy of the class of '18, With a thrill of pleasure, I read: Ryan P. Cren- shaw, Secretary of War. The next picture was one depicting ranch life. Afar off in the distance I saw a woman riding a spirited black horse. Nearer and nearer she came, 'til the features became quite distinct. And I came very near yelling with delight as I recognized Ester Stevens. I read: Miss Ester Stevens, the most important ranch-woman of this time. The next picture was of a woman so sweet of face and so tiny of form, that I knew instantly it could be no other than our own Laura. In a flash we read: Miss Laura Roberts, the woman who has done more than any other to better the conditions of the poor and to estab- lish schools in the poorer sections of New York. This was the last picture, and the end of the show, but I was so dazed, I did not offer to leave my seat until my. friend grabbed my arm and almost dragged me from the place. ' ' At first I thot I had fallen asleep and dreamed all this, or else my mind was wandering, but my companion finally persuaded me that it was all true. Thus I learned the fate of my former class mates. He who walks wfth the wise skein be wfsef, f lW 'l'l' ' iiii 'I '::'i'i f l'! l'l'll'il 'Hi 'llllllllIIllll'l'l'!llllllllllllllllllIlIIIlIl'l'llIlllllIIlIlllI 'Il ' 'WIIH'Il'lll'llIINlI 1 l E I in nn-.I .i.m.-il.. ll! ,. -I .- W, ,A , ,M .1, H: jk X , - --., X,-.fx sa- ..--JvvxAJvvxfvvx-xfx,-cf-,- ,- ---x.-fvsf .V .fxf-gf-X.-fxf-,-.f , ..,