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Page 26 text:
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now running for president of the United States and it is a pretty safe bet that she will make the election. Then I saw Mme. Georgianna Marion picking out a suit for her husband, who had been blinded in a duel with the famous French bald-headed doctor, Mr. James R. Van- derhotf. James has surely changed, but we are glad that he has discovered a way to relieve bald-headed men. Little Emily Wood and Steve Gyurick next ap- peared in a stunning musical comedy in the Hippodrome, and were reported en- gaged. As to the truth of this statement we can’t say, as the Paris Daily News, edited by M. Abie Mendelewitz contained a lot of unheard of news that, in all prob- ability was made up by the editor him- self. The next picture was the most col- ored one that I had seen. There was Hazel Rea as an artist, hard at work on a picture of the great vaudeville come- dian, Mr. C. F. McCormick, known the world over as “Sap” the “Laugh-Maker”. Next was Helen Vreeland, the best known woman in Bloomingdale. Between her and Helen Woods, the World Wide Women’s Fire Company, was doing re- markable work in all large cities. They had passed an ordinance to try out the Bloomingdale fire engines ten days be- fore each fire. The next picture revealed another of my old pals, George Smith. He was dusting mummies in Westmin- ster Abbey. To my intense horror and surprise he was a total wreck,—his shoul- ders hung limp and he appeared to be falling to pieces. I never thought he would be a dope fiend—did you ? The next picture was beautiful indeed. There was a quaint old fashioned church hidden away in the hills of Wanaque, sought by many, young and old as a place to go to drive away troubles, because the pastor, who was so well-loved was none other than our old classmate The Right Rever- end Elizabeth Van Dyck. Her deacon and closest friend was—well some shock! Eleanor Padgett. Humph! She must have mixed up in some love affair to choose a vocation like that. The next picture was a terrible mixup, and it was several minutes before I could see what w»as the matter. Mildred Card and Stella Slikcr were fighting in the middle of the road. It seems that they were both mar- ried to the same Morman; Mildred said that it was her turn to go for him in the car that night and Stella said it was hers. The picture faded so I couldn’t see hrw they made out. The next pic- ture was of the Reno Divorce Court and 1 nearly dropped dead when Alice Druk- ker calmly walked up the aisle and took the Witness Stand. She tried to vamp every man in the Court room and was later dismissed by the great Reno Di- vorce Expert, Feed Dealer, and Judge of the great Reno Courts, Miss Isabel Smith, of Butler. With wonderful clear- ness the next picture glided in, bringing with it the most sublime of all music composers, Elsie Slingerland. On the other end of the picture was Gertrude Ricker milking a cow. She was a well known farmerette of Kinnelon and was supplying the entire world with her fam- ous “Sylvia-Rebeeca” butter. The next picture was charming indeed. There was Dorotha Coursen as a model for the great Polish artist who was decorating the dome of the capital at Washington. She looked beautiful as she mounted the steps leading to the highest chambers of the building. My mind could scarcely conceive what I next saw. There was Mae Bresett, rolling in wealth. She had made millions in the taxi business in Paterson and had settled down to a life of gaiety and pleasure. Next was Hat- tie Ricker and “Ed” selling Snake-Oil down at the Butler Mill gate every Fri- day night. I don’t know who invented the snake oil, but I bet Hattie charmed the snakes as she always charmed all of the boys of our class. Isabel Marion next appeared as the president of the largest chewing gum manufacturing plant in the world. It is said that sW personally uses one half of all the gum that is made. Then one of the nicest girls of the Senior Class, Gladys Ryer- son, as a baseball coach, was giving les- sons to “Butch”. On the tippy end of all the pictures in walked Roy Meade. He was all bruises, and had just re- turned from the “Office.” He surely had a “Crush” on that place anyway. 24
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Page 25 text:
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Senior Class Prophecy Although I had been strictly forbid- den and told, time and time again of the questionable reputation of the place, I cast aside all human precautions for a visit to the Chinese Underworld of New York. As a guide I secured an aged China- man, a withered, horrible looking thing with a face that betrayed his use of opium, and, from the way he acted, I was afraid that he had guessed that I was in trouble,—bad of course,—and was seeking rest and solitude in the blissful dreams of the opium pipe. My companion led me through dimly lighted streets, black alleys, —down— into the lowest depths of Little China. Never a word did he speak, nor a sound did his footsteps make, though occasion- ally he would stop and peer at ms strangely for a minute, then without a word, would continue in his journey. Af- ter about an hour’s walking, we entered a small Chinese temple. Leading me up to a large bronze statue of Buddah, he wheeled suddenly and fixed a gaze upon me that I have never forgotten. I tried to speak, to ask him why he stared at me,—but I couldn’t. I tried to move— I couldn’t. I felt myself sinking, sinking into oblivion. I was cold,—the light faded,—and still gazing at the death- like face of my companion, I knew no more. Awakening later, I found myself in a strange, well lighted room, hung with beautiful tapestries. The air seemed sweet and fragrant. A refreshing breeze cooled my spirits, and lying on a pile of silken pillows, 1 yielded to the greatest healer of all—sleep. While I slept, thoughts of my school days, long ago, filled my mind. I could see every one plainly, laughing and talking in exact- ly the way they did before we graduated and parted. This wonderful picture faded, only to give way to one of still more meaning. There they were, all the officers of the Senior Class, now mem- bers of the Borough legislature, with our old president, “Maxie”, as Mayor. Around him were his assistants: Margaret Tin- tie, Jennie Smith, Bessie Meade, and Gladys Ringle. I next saw “Bike” Close, who had sure gone wrong. He was ped- dling dope and drugs to the lower classes of New York. Poor “Bike”! The next picture was of Irma Flynn and the Wal- dron sisters. They were in the lunch- wagon business in several of the largest cities, including Oakland. Next came Martin Fleck, the world’s greatest tenor, together with Art Landmesser doing a “classy” vaudeville act at the Orpheum. Who was next? Why Doris Roy! There she was, high on the steeple of a church, painting a golden eagle. Ye gods—she was a steeple-jack. The next picture gave me quite a shock. Annie Mat- thews and Ruth Kimble were fashionable hair-dressers in Woolworth’s 5 and 10. Next came John Ricker and Reuben Toub, playing a very sad duet in the large auditorium at Kinnelon. This pic- ture faded, and revealed Mary Dugan and Florence Marion taking art and bal- let dancing from a well known profes- sor, Mr. William Meier. I saw Jim Lyons as one of the lecturers on the sight-see- ing busses at Washington and well ac- quainted with all of the gravestones throughout the city. Now he had some- thing to BRAG about. There was then revealed George Lawrence, in a nifty blue coat and leather leggings, speeding along on a motorcycle. Another State Trooper! Just ahead of him was Mar- garet Boone in a big blue automobile. Louis Kayhart and Nora McCormick were with her, and believe me, poor Mar- garet was scared to death and was doing her duty as quickly as she knew how. She was now a full-fledged minister, do- ing her bit in helping the Orphan asy- lums. The most famous of these was the big Fritz Asylum, run by two distin- guished society ladies, the Misses Lillian and Barbara Fritz. Miss Barbara is
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