Butler High School - Tropaeum Yearbook (Butler, IN)

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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

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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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CLQSS WILL WE, THE SENIOR CLASS OF '43, after 12 years preparation for this final day, after struggling in vain with Proposition No. 5, and the voice and tense of adoremus, do take up our books, bid our relieved teachers goodbyeg and as a last remembrance, leave these tokens to the fortunate and unfortunate members they may fall upon. We do give and bequeath to: The Freshman Class-Our dignity UD and all of our Moron Jokes. The Sophomore Class-Our Algebra report cards fthe colored onesjg our pocket knives and gum. The Junior Class-Our good times as Seniors and our privileges as such. And to the Individual Teachers: Mr. Price-Our sincere appreciation for his guidance and unfailing en- couragement throughout our years at Butler High. Mr. Berg-Our rubber Chemistry aprons and all the rubber corks, tubes, and other scientific material we can confiscate. Also the hope for a future class with scientific minds. Mrs. Stage-Our devotion for her support and inspiration in our world of music. Mrs. Oberlin-All our surplus of stationery and pens plus a sincere wish that Verl will return soon. Mr. McCrory-Our Civics and Economic notes UD and all the jokes we can find. Miss Fuller-Our true wishes for a future behaving library class. Mr. Unger-Our Mathematics workbooks, overflowing with correct UI answers, plus our attempts at sleeping in class. Mr, Jenkins-We will our sincere appreciation for his patience in writ- ing all our admittance slips. Miss Lehman-We leave our strained but improved Cas much as pos- siblej vocal chords. Miss Meacham-Our sincere appreciation for helping us in the composi- tion of this book and for being the friend she is to all of us. As individual members: I, Ruby Ault, cardinal of the class, will my flaming top-knot to Duane Whitman. I, Ruth Ault, will my liveliness and springy walk to Rosemary Rainey. I, Theda Baldwin, will my undignified giggle to Mary Mutzfeld. I, Wendell Bell, leave my mechanical aptitude to anyone hoping for sil- ver wings, too. Page Twenty-T11 rec