Central Collegiate Institute - Analecta Yearbook (Calgary, Alberta Canada)

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The Analecta 15 Harry Gibson—If hot air was music he could crash the walls of Jericho. Jack Gillis—The founder of the school. Jack Higgins—We find it hard to believe in his innocence. Mary Hughes—Wisdom is better than rubies. Keith Huckvale—A big fish in a little puddle. Madge Irvine—A faint whisper, did someone speak. Joan Inglis—Calm and unruffled as the summer sea. Don Kepler—“Brilliant’’-ine at all times. Freddie King—Oh! Blissful youth. Pat Lang—He wears no man’s collar—not even his own. Margaret McNeil—Such a demure little miss. Keith Mitchell—Duty spurs him on. Hazel Roberts—Mild, modest and reserved. Muriel Sherring—Deeds not words. Helen Sorensen—A goodly record her’s, and yet more good in store. Walter Stilwell—A second Paavo Nurmi. Rosaleen Sykes—Who chooseth me shall yet get as much as he deserves. Margaret Sutherland—And such a tongue as I am glad I have not. Beatrice Staples—When it comes to style, that’s me. Helen Timms—And she was fair to look upon. CENTRAL COLLEGIATE HI-Y CLUB January 14, 1926, saw the organization of the Central Collegiate Hi-Y Club with Stan Cooper as Chairman, Bev Harris, Vice Chairman, and Ralph Rogers, Secretary-Treasurer. The object of the Club is to promote school spirit and interest through the co-operation with the various clubs and organizations in the school. Meetings have been held every second Thursday, with a monthly meeting at the Y.M.C.A. in connection with the Gamma Phi Club. As yet there has been no single line of activity the work being greatly varied. Pins and rings were obtained, jazz caps procured, social activities booked, boys’ basketball organized, theatre parties arranged, scouting clubs picked and the Analecta helped in more ways than one. Although the work has to date been of such a variety the club itself has a wonderful opportunity for service in years to come when through the ranks of the students newcomers can be welcomed and instilled with the proper interest in the traditions and life of the school. It would be great if the mosquitos would eat up all the weeds, and the weeds poisoned all the mosquitos. She: “We’ve just bought a Van Dyke.” Her: “That’s nothing, we’re going to buy a Chrysler.

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14 The Analecta field till they reached a spot where the crop and woods met. For the next ten minutes, they tramped on without discovering a single racoon although their sharp whistle could be heard in the distance. Then of a sudden, Phil shouted that he had one. Now, these little animals on finding themselves discovered always climb a tree. So, Watt gave his father a club and after ordering him io hit the coon when he shook it off the limb, climbed the tree. However, Old Sam’s brain was still active, and realizing that, if he by any chance, should miss his prey, the boys would tease him ever¬ lastingly, he quietly exchanged the club for an axe. “Here he comes, dad! Watch! There he goes!” A dark object crashed through the tree limbs and the old man, with all possible pre¬ cision raised the axe into the air and bringing it down pinned the dark mass to the ground with a vicious stroke. In order to be sure that the coon was dead, he repeated the above operation with great deliberation. Watt climbed down and the two boys very seriously came to examine dad’s dead coon, when to their dismay they discovered that dad had used the axe instead of the club and a mangled piece of leather was all that remained of a pair of five dollar boots. Dad had won. Z. J. OLIVER, XIC. WHOOZE WHOO IN XIA Daisy Benbow—Care will kill a cat—therefore let’s be merry. Wilfred Bell—“The Alaskan”—the most famous hunter in C.C.I. Wilfred Beresford—Lions make leopards tame. Helen Brown—Is yon red glare the western star? Lucy Cooper—Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. Irene Chiswell—Don’t put too fine a point to your wit, for fear of its getting blunt. Betty Clark—Of manner mild, of affection gentle. Fred Cooper—He is rarely heard to speak. Arthur Cragg—Behold! Learned Cragg whose vast knowledge pre¬ serves XIA’s greatness yet. Dorothy Dingman—What I learned I have forgotten—what I know I have guessed at. Alva Drysdale—Whatever happens I shall be satisfied. Cecil Dawdy—I wonder exceedingly if I have done anything at all good? Frank Dickson—Taking everything into account he did very well. Enone Evans—If thou wouldst bluff bluff well, and thy teacher will not know. Lillian Tupper—Her talents are of the more silent class. Richard Wallace—Did nothing in particular and did it very well. George Waterman—There’s at least one in every school. (Apologies to Briggs.) Fred Webster—They say best men are moulded out of faults. Robert Winters—Think of your namesake Robert Clive. There’s still some hope for you.

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16 The Analecta school CAPS During the past year the students have introduced a novelty, sehool jazz eaps. This Central High School fad is truly a blaze of color—royal colors for a royal school. Purple has always been a color of royalty and among the Oriental monarchs gold is the royal shade. This is indeed another long step towards the materialization of the ultimate end “School Spirit,” and although it was introduced rather late in the term we hope to have the idea in full swing once more next Sep¬ tember. They show who we are, where we come from and onr pride for C.C.I. It is a great relief to see the purple and gold colors on every hand and at the rugby and basketball games a greater spirit is created. We have noticed that within the last few months a greater interest has been taken in the games by the teachers, so perhaps some time in the future even they will come down from their high pinnacles and mingle with the common mob. I have a little jazz cap It sits upon my head Its colors are most brilliant And there isn’t green or red. There’s a patch of purple color And one of golden hue So when you see me coming Why just say howdy doo. At night when into bed I climb I take my jazz cap with me Cause it will keep my pompadour From getting awful mussy. I wore my cap to school one day A teacher didn’t like it And so he turned to me and said. Take off that cap or hike it. But lo! alas that was not all For he also gave away One thousand lines of literature I was to hand to him next day. I know he was green with envy ’Cause he hadn’t a cap like mine To hide that shiny bald spot Above the timber line. But still I have my jazz cap And its praise I’ll always sing Until perhaps I’ll get myself One of the Central rings.