Butler High School - Tropaeum Yearbook (Butler, IN)

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We organized ourselves into a little company and adanced slowly down the corridor. A large crowd had gathered around a spot in the dining room. Laura Cline, a F, B. I. agent was investigating the mysterious murder of a business man enroute to San Diego. Among the crowd was Professor Richard Coll with his twelve Boy Scouts. Soon everything settled down and we all went back to bed. The next day was a grand day and as I sat in the Pullman car looking out the window, I saw a strange vehicle coming toward the train. It was a tank! Who was inside? Who else but Loyal Miller! I arrived at my destination around noon. When I jumped off the train I was confronted by Eileen Carpenter who had come to meet me. We stopped uptown to shop around a bit before dining. Eileen led me to an exclusive dress shop which was owned by Donna Olds. Donna re- vealed to me that Lucille Miller is modeling for MGM while her husband, Richard Hollinger, is designing clothes for the models. Also Donna Cosper is Fred Astaire's new dancing partner. We departed, much to my dislike and went to dine at The Club Ameri- can, the proprietor being Kathryn Kandel. The cute cigarette girl was Eloise Gearhart. I met Ellen Steckley there, a missionary who had just returned from the war theater in China. She said that Doris Dailey and Charlotte Wilson are out to get themselves a man as this is leap year. It was getting late so Eileen and I went to our hotel to hit what is commonly known as the hay. Eileen then contributed her bit of gossip by telling me of General Ruth May head of the WAAC's coming visit to Long Beach. Carolyn Fanning is now supervisor of an insane asylum near Pasadena. Keith Culler, one time million dollar play boy has settled down to become the president of the U. S. with Jerry Campbell as his secretary. Last but not least that Thelma Myers is the head of a big orphanage for stray dogs. Before I say goodbye, I want to leave this little poem with you: Here I am just about dead- I came to this hotel and went to bed Relieved but glad to hear and see The famous ol' class of '43! RUBY HOULTON Page Tiventgl-Ono

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My train is about to leave-I'll get on. I guess I'll sit by these ladies and their children-my two old buddies, Joan and Vera! After exchanging hearty greetings I was introduced to their children and also learned the lucky gentlemen's name to be Dick Dove and Don Voss. Joan pointed out the window to a hospital which we were passing and said that Bob Ginder was the president of it. The beautiful big bridge leading to it she said was constructed by the Bryant Engineering Company. As we neared Chicago, a plane zoomed crazily over the train. Vera said it was Wendell Bell, a test pilot who after 500 crack-ups applied for a license. My two buddies left me at Chicago. I settled down in my .seat thinking I was left alone to continue my jour- ney to Long Beach, California, when the conductor, who had been eyeing me since I got on the train, stopped at my seat and said, Haven't I met you somewhere before? Then I recognized Myron Love. Myron sat down be- side me and boasted what a good engineer the train hadelater I learned that it was Earl Keller. Suddenly the train gave an awful lurch and every passenger, including myself, was thrown out in the aisle with the luggage on top of them. I struggled to get up while Betty Turner, eager to apply her first aid lessons on a victim, was tying my legs and arms in bandages. Betty said the acci- dent was caused by Garcile Smith, now a famous movie star, who had stalled her car on the tracks. As no one was seriously hurt, we proceeded on to Kansas City. I had two hours to pass there so I caught a taxi and went to the stage show up- town. Much to my surprise, the cast consisted of some of my old school- mates, such as Deloris Dailey with her magic violin-accompanied by Ber- dena Souder on the piano. The Ault twins Ruth and Ruby, were greatly appreciated when they sang The Best Tunes Of All Move To Carnegie Hall. The all-girl orchestra included Irene Ginder, lst bass player and Grace Hose, golden-voiced soprano. The show lasted longer than I thought and I raced back just in time to catch my train. I slumped exhaustedly into a seat when who should I see staring oddly at me but Norma Spake and Woodena Fifer. After we became acquainted with each other again, Woodena told me she and Norma were keeping Old Maid's Hall where they held a big party for all the old bachelors in the city, every week. As I grew tired of their constant chatter I excused myself and went to seek silence in the lounge room. There I met Theda Baldwin who told me she was enroute to the coast to sketch a picture of the President. As you remember, Theda was quite a gossip, so I gathered the news she knew. She told me Jean Naitzka and Josephine Schuller were working in Bob Ginder's hospital, Jean as chief dietitian and Jo as Superintendent of Nurses. We parted and I went to seek my room for the night. All went well until about 3 o'clock in the morning when a blood curdling scream came down the hall to my room. As I rushed out into the hall I ran into Mar- jorie Lott who also was trying to find out what was going on. Page Twenty

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CLQSS POEIVI TO A LOST DAY This is my song, my song, My song to a ceasing day That curling itself, Unfurling itself, Has tumbled itself away On silver-tipped laughter Of Youth's roundelay. And Life's intangible stream but flees On to Death's nocturnal seas, And mystic Time, for an eon or more Counts the short years of men One by one, Score by score. Now some will roam, And others stay home With Poverty's sobs-in the dark, And cruel Greed will feed Upon Truth's chastityg Some make static Wisdom And bright Wealth to be Gluttonous monarchs of men's destiny. The1'e'll be Optimists, dreamers, Pessimists, schemers, Strong men, weak men, And those with a Will Seeing Faith on the top Of a distant hill Men who will seek for their bread in the soil Laborers stretching their roots in the sodg Men who preach, Men who die, And the valiant ones The ones that find GOD. Will your coins be silver Silver or gold, Or black with rust and gray dust, And blighted with long years of mold? Silver, gold? Rust or dust? Dust or Gold? And this is my song, my song, My song to a ceasing day, And the answers lies Hushed-slumbering, lies In the laughter and sighs Of the rich caravan of Tomorrow's skies In the promised gold cloud-mist, Sky-thrown, and sun-kissed Into Tomorrow's Blue skies. By Carolyn Lucee Fanning Page Twenty-Two