Chester High School - Ravelings Yearbook (North Manchester, IN)

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R,enUiuAce.Hce Aug. 29 — Enrolling again for the last time. Sep. 3 — Don, Hugo, Helen, and Wanda elected. Sep. 10 — Don, Pete, and Bob chosen to guide Ravelings of ' 48. Sep. 18 — Y-Tccn Initiation! Hideous! Sep. 23 — Seniors bowl! Can ' t keep ball out of gut- ter! Sep. 25 — Hi-Y Initiation! Worse and more of it. Oct. 17 — Wanda elected as D. A. R. Good Citizen. Oct. 22 — Gran-dad Steps Out and how! Oct. 23-24 — Heck! No teachers! No school! Oct. 30 — The Ghost walks. Everyone turned out for Hallowe ' en Carnival by Band Patrons. Nov. 1 — Lafontainc defeated to start basketball season. Nov. 12 — Band gives first Concert. Nov. 14 — Big Day! Central bites dust. Nov. 21 — Senior pictures arrive! Do I look like that? Nov. 21 — Gladys and Don take Pepsi-Cola test. Nov. 27-2 8 — Time out for turkey. Dec 3 — ( ' inter Wanderland! Soft lights and sweet music! Dec. 5 — Seniors select class colors, flower, and motto. Dec. 16 — Seniors receive name cards. Here, have my calling card. Dec. 19 — Student Council members receive pins. Dec. 22 — Hi-Y Y-Tcens caroling party. Dec. 23 — A never to be forgotten night! Seniors eat turkey at the expense of Mr. Rutledge. Dec. 24-January 5 — Christmas vacation. Any more diamonds! Jan. 1 — Grand New Years! Tourney at Manches- ter College won by Panthers. Jan. 8-9 — Exams! Nuf sed! Jan. 15, 16, 17 — Panthers win County Tourney. Jan. 29 — Seniors present stand-out performance to student body at convocation. Miss Rav- elings of 1948 unveiled. Feb. 4 — Panthers claw Monroeville Cubs into submission at Wabash High School Gym. Feb. 1 1 — Pa, Ma, and Me Banquet held at Method- ist Church. Feb. 18 — Band gives Concert. Feb. 21 — Band members win honors at Solo and Ensemble Contests. Feb. 25-28 — Panthers win second Sectional in his- tory of school. Mar. 7 — Chester crowned Regional Champs by de- feating Kokomo 48-46 and Marion 76-54 Mar. 14 — County Band Concert! Fine spirit! Mar. 27 — Hi-Y Best Girl Banquet. Mar. 31 — Hi-Y— Y-Teen Skate. Apr. 3 — District Band Contest. Apr. 7 — Junior Play The Inner Willy. Apr. 8 — All School Skate. Apr. 10 — State Band Contest. Apr. 18 — County Vocal Concert. Apr. 24 — Y-Teen Formal. Apr. 26 — Junior-Senior Reception. May 2 — Baccalaureate. May 7 — Last day of school. May 8 — Commencement! Finis!

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Jlait WUl and 7ed «0 We, the Seniors of 1948, will to the junior class our scats in the assembly, our worn and ragged books and our ability to get away with things during our senior year. We, the Seniors of 1948, will to the sophomore class our sturdy figures and good looks because wc feel that they could use them. We, the Seniors of 1948, will to the freshmen class our polite and courteous ways in hopes they ' ll put them to use before they ' re seniors. We, the Seniors of 1948, will all of the juniors over to the facidty in hopes that they will get along as well as we did in our senior year. I, Gladys Airgood, will my curly black hair to JoAnn Leckrone. I, Liela Bechtold, will my ability to laugh with- out cackling to four or five sophomore girls. I, Don Brindel, will my ability to play the gui- tar to anyone who wishes to at least try it. I, Robert Burch, will my Future Farming abil- ity to that little squirt. Max Schilling. I, Jean Clark, will my yell leader position for the next two years to my sister, Mary Louise. I, Ethel Coble, will my sociology book to any junior boy or girl who desires to study about people. Very interesting sometimes, boys. I, Mary A. Colbert, will my musical ability to Norma Martin. I, G. T. Coon, will my ability to play the sousa- phone to Benjamin Wright. I, Dick Frantz, will my good grades to Dick Brown. I, Dolores Grist, will my quiet, ways and my height to Ted Spann. I, Pete Grossnickle, will my gray hair to Lois Hapner. I don ' t think she will ever have any of her own. I, June Hanley, will my butch haircut to Lee Dick Reiken. ill my black wavy hair L Richard Hapner, to George Poer. L Don Hyde, will my ability to get in on time every night during basketball season to anyone who thinks he can do it. I, Bob Johnson, will my hatred for girls to some underclassman who doesn ' t like them either. I, Bob Little, will my tall, lanky and good look- ing figure to Gary Bonam. I, Jean Meek, will my seat in the assembly to anyone who can keep Gene Metzger company and take his mischievousness. I, John Morford, will my ability to get the car whenever I want it to Theron Rupley. L Robert Metzger, will my seat in the assembly to any junior girl who will keep Ronald Metzger company. I, Louise Orr, will my baritone horn case to Mary Lois Fleck so that she can learn to put her music away. L Wanda Penrod, will my responsible position as art editor on the Chester Chatter Staff to any junior who has at least five hours a week to spend on it. L Dick Piper, will my basketball playing ability to that up and coming star, Bing Bechtold. , Eugene Ritenour, will my government work- book to any junior who thinks it will help him next year. L Herman Schannep, will my ability to blush instantaneously for no apparent reason to Ronald Metzger who needs it desperately. I, Rex Schilling, will my tremendous height and weight to Chuckles Gibbs. I, Mary Lou Schncpp, will my seat in the as- sembly to anyone who will try to keep my brother, Stanley, company. L Pat SchroU, will my good looks, my seat in the assembly and my ability to be quiet to my sister, Anita. L Marjorie Smith, will my ability to date the college fellows to Barbara Barker. L Martha Smith, will my position as yell leader to one of the younger set, Mary Jane Merkle. L Lois Swihart, will my sweet disposition and my ability to control my temper to my brother, Charles. L Robert Walgamuth, will my ability to get A ' s in citizenship to Ben Wright. I, Rosie Williams, will my blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes to Lois Hapner. L Bonnie Winebrenner, will my seat in the as- sembly to anyone who can keep Dick Workman company.

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GlcUl Pnj0fUtec4 - M4444C cMcUU GUa ufui It ' s disgusting how stratoliners have a habit of propelling you down the landing chute at just the wrong moment, I remarked to my neighbor as we hit the chute for a landing in Tripoli. Why, what ' s wrong? asked the beautiful brunette who just happened to be my landing companion on this memorable day. Wrong! I lashed back. Weren ' t you listening to that ball game — the score tied — a man on third — two men down and three balls and two strikes on the batter and Morford just ready to pitch again. You would ' t understand. But you see that Morford was a high school classmate of mine a way back in ' 48, ten years ago. Is that so? That was almost ancient times, wasn ' t it? retorted my companion. Just imagine, she continued, I ' ll bet you would have taken half a day in those times to come from little old New York to Tripoli. Now it ' s just a snap of the finger. Yeh, but I wish I could have seen the end of that ball game. Maybe you can if it ' s not too late. I know a mystic here who can whip up a rhythm and show you anything you want to see in two shakes. Do you suppose I could see all my old schoolmates? I qucrried. Why not? Come on. replied my companion grasping my hand and leading me towards a most eerie section of the city. Sparkling, glistening musical notes appeared before us as we approached a strange, weird building. Mysterious music seemed to rise from a distance. We entered a dome-shaped room draped in oriental splendor. Before us sat the object of our visit — Madame Treble Clef — gazing into a large, glittering measure of music. I was not surprised that she appeared to know the reason for our visit. Extensive travel in the Orient had taught me not to question the intensity of the Oriental mind which when coupled with television might produce fantastic results. Slowly, the Oriental music changed to Love Letters and I saw Gladys Airgood performing a deli- cate operation on the throat of an eminent musician. It seems that she was trying to find The Lost Chord. Quickly the music changed to Open the Door, Richard and Liela Bechtold was standing at the back door of a farm house, her arms full of laundered clothes. She was pleading with someone in the house to open the door for her. The music quickly changed to a different tempo and Donald Brindel flashed before my eyes. He was playing When I Play My Spanish Guitar as beautiful dark-eyed girls lurched and swayed to his music. Just as suddenly the music changed to Old McDonald Had a Farm and Bob Burch appeared on the scene. He was in a farm yard surrounded by a group of eager faced boys who wore C ' s on their sweaters. It seems that he was explaining to them the advantages of growing three legged turkeys be- cause the American home typically had three people and there should be a drum stick for everybody. After all, he did play the drums. The strains I ' ll Get Him Someday now flooded the air and Jean Clark flashed before my eyes in pursuit of a handsome man. She ' ll get him. I unconsciously shouted remembering Jean ' s flashing eyes and boundless energy in her high school days. Singing with the Band now flooded the air and I saw Ethel Coble in a beautiful evening gown singing to the accompaniment of Hammy Sayls orchestra before a packed house in Radio City. The strains of Queen of the Radio now broke the air and Mary Alice Colbert was standing before an N. B. C. mike putting her heart and soul into the most popular number of the day. I remembered her high school ambitions and was glad for her. But, we could not tarry. To the melody of Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief, down the corridor of a large city hospital came a slender, firmmouthed doctor whom I immediately recognized by his red hair as George T. Coon. He turned into a room marked private, but I could not help peeping. What I saw convinced me that he had not changed. For there with a beautiful nurse on each knee, he was letting go with his fine bass voice. Next a medley of Home in Indiana, Leave the Dishes in the Sink and Home on the Range (What a mixture) fairly burst upon the scene and before my eyes stood Dorothy (Cripe) Purdy, Helen (Frantz) Fingerle, and Louise (Myers) Boone each engrossed in the housewifey task of waiting beside the kitchen door, a rolling pin in hand. It appeared to be almost daybreak. On the Banks of the Wabash — that refrain so dearly beloved by certain boys in days of yore now wafted the sign Frantz and Son, Builders Supplies, before my eyes. I peered through the window