Chatsworth High School - Tale Feathers Yearbook (Chatsworth, IL)

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Hello, let me introduce myself. I am Doris Snow Friedman, ace reporter for theCHATS-WORTH PLAINDEALER, which is now one of the leading daily newspapers in the Midwest. I have been assigned to do a special for the Sunday morning edition of May 15, 1975, on the famous co-ed prison here in Chatsworth. I thought you might like to come along with me while I visit this institution. First of all, I want to give you a little background history of this prison, the Bluebird's Nest. A couple of years after his graduation in 1955 Don Hummel saw the need for an institution to hold the black sheep of the Chatsworth High School class of '55 in line. So with no delay he went to see Ivan Diller, the teenage millionaire, to get the money to finance his dream. But not until Don had told him that building such a prison might get him into a lower income bracket did Ivan consent. Well, here we are at the Bluebird’s Nest. This is the warden, Verniel Ike Dehm. Ike was given the job of warden because of the brains he acquired back in C. H. S. by paying such good attention in history and English classes. That woman over there is Miss Mary Jane McGreal, Mr. Dehm's secretary. It seems she never could catch a man, so she finally decided to put her secretarial abilities to work in this prison. 1 guess maybe she figured it wouldn't do her any good to be anywhere else if she couldn’t have a man. Let's visit the men's division first. The convict in the third cell is Dave McKinley. He was sent here five years ago on a variety of charges--manslaughter, forgery, larceny, burglary, bank robbery, and few more petty things. All he thinks or talks about is getting out so he can get even with John Franey, the D. A. who got him sent here. It seems as if John out talked every other lawyer and witness at the trial. Over here we have Arthur Slap-Happy Cording. He looks like he hasn't a care in the world, but don't let him fool you. This is killing him. None of his inventions prove successful in his attempts to leave this nice, pleasant place. I'm surprised he doesn't use one of his old school-day tricks. He could just hit Warden Dehm over the head with his DO IT YOURSELF book if he couldn't find an encyclopedia at the moment. See that guy over there. It appears as though he’s working hard, doesn’t it? That is just Albert Stow. He was sent here on a murder charge a few years ago. Since then the other have strongly suspected him of being a little off. Because he has such a mania for shiney things, he just sits and polished his bars from morning until night. Beyond that door over there is the West Wing where the mental institution is located. After fifteen years the prison found need for many things including a mental institution for the criminally insane like Jack Miller. Jack went whacky a few days after his girl friend went to a

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Gfass Wiff We, the class of 1955, in order to form a more imperfect future, establish injustice, insure wild chaos, provide for the incomprehensible juniors, promote the general downfall and secure the phrases of humor to them and their posterity, do ordain and establish the following will: I, John Bennett, do will and bequeath unto Harvard Bargmann, my gentle touch and my ability to get more than 15 errors on a five minute time test. I, Fem Branz, do will and bequeath unto Janice Gillett, my pedestrian hunting licence and my trusty weapon, a Chevy pick-up truck. I, Arthur Cording, do will and bequeath unto Jerry Edwards, my ability to understand Latin better than English and to spell my English so it looks like Latin. I, Vemdel Dehm, do will and bequeath unto Roger Sargeant, my well-worn path to a certain farmhouse north of town and my private plot behind the com crib. I, Ivan Diller, do will and bequeath unto Boyd Hummel, my Charles Atlas musclebuilding book and my muscular physique. I, John Franey, do will and bequeath unto Ronald Lee, my perfect attendance record and my size 13 shoes. I, Marilyn Gillett, do will and bequeath unto my cousin, Janice Gillett, my ability to herd my father's truck at daredevil speed without casualty. I, Delmar Hoelscher, do will and bequeath unto Lester Herkert, my unfinished canon of Pall Malls. I, Joan Hubly, do will and bequeath unto Barbara Kerber, my scholastic ability and my record of never having lost an argument in English class. I, Donald Hummel, do will and bequeath unto Lester Herkert, for the purpose of keeping down the car expenses, a system similar to my charge it Vernon policy. I, Pat Kerber, do will and bequeath unto Nancy Dickman, my ability to do shorthand in girls' chorus and not get caught. I, David McKinley, do will and bequeath unto Jim Perkins, my quiet reserved manner and my ability to keep the girls happy. I, Mary Jane McGreal, do will and bequeath unto Betty Ross, my press card and my ability to keep everyone informed on the latest gossip. I, Jack Miller, do will and bequeath unto George Farley, my true love of dull colors and my gifted power with the girls. I, Barbara Bunyon, do will and bequeath unto Beulah Houser, my timid way of answering the teachers' questions. I, Richard Saltzman, do will and bequeath unto Peter Freehill, my ability to do all the latest mombo steps. I, Kay Sargeant, do will and bequeath unto Joan Ellen Kane, my ability to jump a foot out of my desk at the slightest noise. I, Doris Snow, do will and bequeath unto Joe Mauritzen, my ability to keep a steady chatter going in the study hall thus keeping all the teachers from dying of boredom. I, Albert Stow, do will and bequeath unto Joanne Bayston, my ability to murder the king's English and my revised translation of Webster's dictionary. I, Donald Wilson, do will and bequeath unto John Monahan, my bottle of Wild-Root cream oil and my superior ability of charming a certain freshman girl. In witness hereof, having willed the preceding superior qualities of a superior class in hopes of improving an inferior class, we, the class of 1955, lay our capital X’s to this will.

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cheerleading school. Not seeing her for three whole days drove Jack so crazy he tried to steal a train and go see her. In his poor, mixed-up state of mind he took one that was aimed the wrong way. After 50 miles he discovered his mistake and tried to pick the train up and turn it around. Just as he was turning around the third car, the little men in the white coats caught him. Jack isn't our only lunatic from the class of ’55, however. We have another one, Donald Wilson. Let me warn you. Please don't try to tell Don that he is a human being because he thinks he is a Ford convertible. Being a car wouldn't be so bad, but Don has four carburetors and a twelve-volt ignition. To top all that, Don's convertible top is made of steel, and none of the prison mechanics know how to fix an all-steel convertible top. You would be surprised at all the mechanical failures Don has. Maybe he barrels himself too hard. Now let's go visit the women's division which is in the East Wing. Wait, though, before we do that I would like you to see some of the prison staff. That guard over there on top of the wall is Delmar Hoelscher. Don't let his hefty, hardboiled appearance fool you. He is scared to death of heights. I never could figure out how he stands it up there. In case you're curious as to why everyone looks so gaunt and unhealthy, it is because Barbara Runyon has taken the job of head cook. They could seldom force themselves to eat more than one meal every two days. I don't know which is worse—eating the food or slowly starving to death. Here we have nurse Patricia Kerber. She is a favorite among the men. She only came to this prison so she could be close to Verniel Dehm. She claims, though, that the hospital sent her here, but don't you believe that. Well, we have some visitors coming down the hall! I wonder who they are. Why it is Joan Hubly Bennett and her husband John. They have probably come to see their 19 year old sons— Alphonsus and Gustavus Bennett, who are in for 15 years apiece. Incidentally, Joan and John have 10 other children--all boys, and 7 out of the 10 are juvenile delinquents. Next, I want you to meet Richard Saltzman, M.D., P.D., Q.D., R.S.V.P., our psychistrist. Dr. Salzy just joined the staff a few weeks ago. In case you are wondering why he struts around so much, he is quite proud of himself these days. After twenty years of trying, he finally graduated from medical school last month. Here we are now in the women's division. There was a mishap here last week. Kay Sargeant, the bad girl, who is in for life because she holds the world's record for poisoning the most husbands, escaped. In her fight for freedom Kay wounded the warden, who died the next day. Marilyn Gillett, one of the guards, tracked Kay night and day and finally captured her in the Gay Goose. Marilyn has now been promoted to warden of the women's division in reward for her outstanding service. Fern Race Track Branz, the most notorious of the drivers of the class of '55, has made good use of this trait. Soon after her departure from C. H. S., Race Track took up an interesting career-driving the get-away car for David McKinley and Arthur Cording, her school-day pals. Fern ended the fun for all of them, though. One night when they were speeding along with the cops hot in pursuit. Fern turned down a muddy road and got stuck. So all three of them landed right here in the Bluebird’s Nest.