Central High School - Centralian Yearbook (Kansas City, MO)

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O}o (Central titorary (Club. Yell. Nika. Nika, Rip, Rah, Ree, Nota, Rene, C. L. C. Colors Old Rose and Rluc. jM OFFtCERS: President, Will Lawrence Vice-President, Norman Watson Secretary, Miss Thelma Orbison Treasurer, Edgar Lovejoy Critic, Lath hop Smith Sergeant-at-Arms, - Leon Searl Reporter, Thomas Scruggs MEMBERS: Celia Abernathy, Raymond Barnett, Arthur Byrne, Ray Brinkman, Floy Bridgeford, Jessie Butts, Frank Clay, Mason Dean, Comingo Griffith, Elsie Gilliam, Edith Gilliam, Zoe Ford, Barton Hall, Katherine Harroun, Kate L. Holloway, M. H. Hudson, Jr., Edna King, Will Lawrence, Edgar Lovejoy, Ray Merrill, Lloyd Morrow, Ethel Murray, George Mulford, Nellie Murray, Virgil Platt, Thelma Orbison, Will P. M. Stevens, Ruby Ridgway, Tom Scruggs, Buford Scruggs, 1 Ielen Stout, Leon Searl, Alberta Smith, Roy Standish, Norman Watson, Lathrop Smith, Allen Withers, Diller Wood, -3o- %

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Photo by John-on. The Central Literary Club.

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THE C. L. C S. TO condense to one page a history with a sufficient number of facts to fill this book is indeed a difficult task. Our career dates from the year eighteen eighty-two. With bright girls inspiring intelligent boys, the “Debating Society,” so-called, decided such questions as “Whether condensed m i 1 k should be fed the Freshies” and “The best kind of a pony to use.” Opinions varied. Some boys could not stand it and formed a society called the Platonian, where one idea only was necessary. Many times have our girls spoken tender words of comfort to these wandering minstrels (?) after the contests, but in vain. It was in the contest of eighteen eighty-eight that the once proud Platos were compelled to drop their heads and even forget their yell defeated four numbers out of four. The heat of our enthusiasm by the society thermometer was 99 degrees. This old tune kept ringing in our heads: Hush, little Plato, don’t you cry, You’ll win a number bye and bye, After you get a member or so, That has some sense as well as dough. Several years ago the Philos wished to join the contest. In an attitude of supplication, with hands thrown heavenward, they poured forth such a stream of verbosity and incoherent logic that we were almost persuaded, but our deep sympathy for them was too great, and both societies refused the challenge. Sobs burst forth like soap bubbles, but all was in vain. This year a Thanksgiving dinner was given by the girls to the boys. How the hungry and meek Platos longed once more to be in that “Debating Society. A large dining room was found, which happened to be the basement. During the dinner, with wooden knives and the floor for chairs, the chicken could not be found until our president informed us that the Freshmen were having an election and roosters were needed to crow. The diversity of toasts was simply immense— “Hail to the chief who in 17 roasts us, And brings up the joke he’s told oft before; Hail to the dear little teacher of thirteen, Who greets us with French ere we enter the door.” Such is the history of the Central Literary Club; it hav ing furnished the S. L. H.’s with boxes of starch and scenery for the Open Session, the Philos with new and unheard of jokes, and the Platos with words of consolation and hints how to win in contests. -3