Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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THE SENIOR {MAGNET 21 I An Insight Into a Senior’s t I Memory High School I Harold F. Sandbach As the curtain is drawn aside, we see this class four years ago at the baccalaureate service, 1919. They sit on the left, seated from the very front, and extending back a good ways. In the first row there are four seats, three occupied, one vacant. In the first seat, sat the President, Harold Parker. The second seat held a little girl. Matilda Janner, Secretary. Number three is filled by another boy, Harold Sandbach, Vice President. In a solid mass, behind these three, we see the fair members of the class, little freckle-faced, bow-legged girls dressed in white. Next is the future rulers of this country, namely, the manhood of this class. We leave them now and go on to Fred Bernlohr’s room, No. 30, old High School. We can no longer follow all this illustrious class as they are now in different rooms, but, we can trail some of them. Like all freshmen, we lead a high life in school, making the teachers lose their patience every day. Remember the little drawer in Fred’s desk? All the freshmen’s toys were kept in there, and it sure was full. As I view the water guns he collected, memory reminds me of the many times we had water battles when the teacher was out. Remember the thunder that used to arise from the freshmen’s bee-bees gently dropping through the ventilators, from floor to floor. Those were the good old days. Vic Campbell, Norm Ross, Don Keil and all those guys were with us then. Again we advance a little nearer the present and recall the first term of our life in the new High School building. Some of us were in Miss Rose’s home room then; that was on the third floor. We were beginning to quiet down a little bit by that time, but still led the teachers a merry chase. Life is short and time is fleeting, so we next recall those good old days in room 307, with Miss Rose as home room teacher. Along here somewhere, Frank Sarver joined our ranks. Others we picked up also, and still others we lost in the turmoil. But still we advance, and a detachment finds its way to Mr. Hogg’s room, when we were A Sophomores. The Johns, Winer and Rimer were with us now, and 1 remember more than one good story they related for my benefit during music period. Oh, boy, say it didn't make Mr. Hogg mad when we laughed at the end of each tale! The next time you are in 214, see if the old seat (No. 1) still screeches when you move sidewise in it. We staged our first social event in our A Soph year, in the form of a masquerade party at Shearer’s hall We had the time of our life that night; lots to eat, and, remember Lois Moone? She came dressed in a clown suit and the fellows thought she was a boy. They soon learned their mistake when they took off her mask. As the pictures pass through my mind, I next see part of this class in 217 with Mrs. McDermott holding the dictatorship. Boy-o-boy, she sure could lay down the law. Not as it bothered us much, for we soon became used to her. In our A Junior year, we cast our anchor in the peaceful waters of 201 and our ship has floated there ever since.

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20 THE SENIOR AG N E T MAYBE MIGHT IS RIGHT John Byers While watching a frog in a terrible plight, It struck me:—maybe might is right! I. The frog emerged from the muddy pool, And sat on the bank in the mosses cool; He growled at the tadpoles swimming below, Whose tiny feet were beginning to show. II. The snake in the grass, with his beady eyes, Espied the fat frog and with sundry sighs, Remarked that since he was getting thinner, A frog wouldn’t make a half bad dinner. III. So the snake crept up upon his prey, His mouth all set for a meal that day. Mister Frog, take care, you’d best be alert, You’ll make a fine dinner with polly-wog dessert. IV. The frog showed no sign of care or fear, And all the while the snake crept near; Then did he for an instant pause. Then struck, the frog was in his jaws. V. Just then I thought I’d take a hand, And at the snake I threw some sand; His hold he loosed upon his prey. And safely made his get-away. VI. The slimy old frog just gave a croak. As though it all had been a joke; He looked at me and blinked his eye, And straightway he devoured a fly! WHAT SAY YE TO IT? Ted Kottraba It is not qfuite a riddle, To play on a fiddle, And to bring out it’s sweet harmonies: To push on the middle, And bend the bow brittle, Might bring out it’s sweet charm on these. For cut from a log, Is a part called a frog, Which holds fill the keys at bay : And when a frog croaks, Don’t please some folks, And that’s why a fiddle’s so darned hard to play. For using an ax, They cut out their backs, For fiddles have backs they preach: Backs oft' get the rheumati e, I don’t know just why it is, And that’s why some fiddles screech. There’s a bridge on a fiddle, And that’s why it’s a riddle. To play on the blame thing at all: For to play on the bridge high, And look at the high sky, One’s liable to get di y and fall. There’s a thing in the fiddle, Sounding post, near the middle, Which are placed in real fiddles not toys: And how can one play, “A Sweet Summers Day,” When the sounding post’s making a noise. —By one who invented horse HAIR FOR FIDDLE BOWS.

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22 THE SENIOR £M A G N E T Miss O’Brien was our skipper then, and although she made us sit up and take notice, we still had our fun. Paul Nut” Beighley was our chief entertainer in A Jr. and he knew his job. Several changes were made along about this time. Matilda Janner had left our ranks and the I Ion. Janies G. Lawless was elected to fill the office of secretary and treasurer. In our B Senior year Clare Koch joined our ranks and has been our class reporter for The Magnet ever since. Early in the semester Harold Parker, our President, decided to stay over a half year longer than the rest of us, and so resigned as president. 1 larold Sand-bach was elected to fill his place, and Paul Duncan was elected as Vice President. As it would be setting a bad example to the freshmen to tell of all the things we did. I will refrain from doing so. During this term a great number of our classmates went from our midst. If I remember correctly, there were about eight who graduated with the class before us, while six or seven dropped behind. Paul Beighley, Ray Nicholas and John Rimer quit school, while Ralph Saylor was prevented from being with us on account of sickness The beginning of our A Senior year found us with just 53 members remaining out of the noble band that entered together in B Fresh. We were, as a rule, too busy to have much fun, but at the A Senior weiner roast, we made up for all we had missed before. The joy of graduating is dimmed by one thing, regret that all the past pleasures of our high school life will end as we go to our different positions in the world’s work. •B.H.S.- WAKE UP! Wake up, dear friend, before it is too late, To climb the bill and enter at the gate; Before old age grasps you in his power, And leaves no tune to make a bower. Wake up, dear friend, in the dewy morn, Before you have yet been touched by the thorn; Plan out your whole life’s work, Then dig in and dare not shirk. Wake up, dear friend, to your own faults, Struggle, persevere, chain them in vaults; Bring to the surface all your best, For then only can you be God’s blest. Wake up, dear friend, for life’s too short, To loiter along the way in sport. For he who loafs and wastes his time, Will never be at the head of the line. Wake up, dear friend, while there is yet time, And you will have lived a life, sublime; When you have reached your goal set high, And your success rings through to the sky.