Clarkston High School - Hilltopper Yearbook (Clarkston, MI)

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CLASS PROPHECY 1935 IN 1935, I began my career as saleswoman for Elkavs Pest Exterminator. While demonstrating this useful article at Monroe, Michigan, one of my first patrons was Carrie Nell Merritt. I learned she had married a barber of that city and had acquired a family of eight. The children needed barber's attention. Evidently their pa had had a busy season. The family had been saving their money for some time to purchase a battle-scarred Ford roadster, formerly belonging to Carrie Nell's brother. I, evidently thinking myself needed, went with them to buy the car. At a second hand dealers, at 802 Tinpan Alley, we found Paul Tindall selling cars that might have at some previous time possibly run. Carrie Nell soon learned to manipulate the ferocious Ford and one lovely summer day, we motored over to see our old friend Beatrice. She was now living in Detroit, and noted for her speeding, spreading mustard on red hots at the Coney Island Lunch Room. 1 left Carrie Nell and Beatrice to talk of old times and started toward Clarkston. On the top of Waterford Hill, living in a palatial two-room bungalow, I found our former Class President, Josephine Stewart. Josephine, whose last name was now Walter, had secured the valuable services of Glenn Goodrich as butler, janitor, gardener, and valet to Ronald. While staying at Josephine's 1 had a letter from Carrie Nell, saying Leslie Alward had become a Civil Engineer and was now attempting to bridge the Atlantic. And Jeanne Lowrie had been teaching a course of Monotony at Highland, but now her nerves were completely shattered and she had gone over to Carrie Nell's for a month's rest. The Clarkston Tell Tale was edited by George Furse. George could use up the most space and say the least of any editor this side of the Mississippi. The Tell Tale was composed of advertisements of a chain system of bakeries run by Earl Terry, located at Andersonville, Drayton Plains, Oakhill and Waterford. As the weather grew steadily colder, 1 ventured toward the sunny South. At Palm Beach 1 was nearly wrecked by a short, thin man pushing a large lady in a wheel chair. Both looked familiar. They were—the lady was Madeline Gulick. and the man was Kenneth Riddle. They were about to get married, and realizing this 1 left them to their own destruction. The next day they called me and insisted that I go with them to look at a house. The land agent was standing upon an old table, telling why everyone should live in Florida, although at the time we thought she was speaking of Moore's Utopia. After buying a suitable dwelling place for the two. The land agent was none other but Clarabelle Amidon. Clarabelle returned home with me. As she had grown to be such a convincing talker, 1 decided to take her into partnership with me. So we both decided to take a good rest before re-embarking upon our journey. --------------- (Continued from page 24) the responsibility of editing the Oracle.'’ Josephine Stewart, our Class President, was elected Editor-in-Chief of the staff. We are looking forward to our graduation with joy and yet with sorrow, for we realize that we are entering upon a new era and we must look up to our motto, Nunquam Da (Never give up). 27

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SOME CLASS! Who are these Sheiks with checkered shirts, And hair so smooth and glossy? These flappers fair, with shingled hair And manners somewhat bossy? R. Miller’s son, he holds the “mon,” His handbook neat and nifty. Our cash we’ll lend, but never spend, We Sophomores are thrifty. Our heads we bow, we make a vow, The past we leave behind us. Our feet we set, the best to get— The goal is yet before us. Our leader tall, and not so small, A King she is quite rightly, E. Stephens next is seldom vexed, A. Lawson writes so brightly. The Teachers smart, have done their part, Wise Hood, our thoughts, inspired. The years ahead, we viewed with dread. By ambition’s flame are fired. Begone our fears!—and with the years. Our heads we must hold higher. Our souls will yearn, our hearts may burn In Life’s arresting fire. 2000 A. D. Where are those sheiks? Those flapper sweets? Of Clarkston '21. Their labors done, their laurels won. They’re waiting now for heaven. You’ll find, sometime, They were sublime. That Class of '21. The steps they climbed aren’t hard to find, “Pep was the mighty leaven. —Helen Cheeseman. THE FACULTY OF '24-’25 Listen, Clarkstonians, and you shall hear Of the Clarkston faculty of this year — On the fourth of September in twenty-four, A teacher stood at every door. The chief of the staff, Mr. Hood by name, Gave a talk and pointed out the lessons plain. Next in order came Mrs. Butler, And for a Principal, she is a hustler. Then comes Miss Herr iff, tried and true. Who always knows just what to do. Mrs. Beiitz left us not because of rows, But sickness. To us then came Miss Howes. In History and Mathematics, too. Miss Larranee tells us just what to do. In the fifth and sixth grades, where each for knowledge craves, Is a teacher from Croswell, named Miss Graves. The third and fourth grades their lessons they tell, Who is their teacher? Mrs. Rockwell. Miss Freeman has a task, tho’ they are small, For the beginners number fifty in all. ■ . Now listen, Seniors, while ive tell, Though we know Clarkston full well, We are happy when we can say. We congratulate you on Commencement Day. 26

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