Cleveland High School - Legend Yearbook (Portland, OR)

Page 27 text:

Sturrv From de Hize Schule From Commerce (Weeth apoligeez to Milt Gross) DIZE BEBB ' ' , take aiuuler bite Sorosis bar und moma ' ll gonna tell you a sturr}-. Wunst hupon weet a time der wass a hize schule vot it wass called de Hize Schule from Commerce vot it tot boize und girls books vot kiip, short of hand, type vot write, famous heestury und oder honnecezzary und zouperflous hobjects. Nize bebby, take anude r bite, und moma ' ll gonna kontinue mit de sturry. Hat dees schule der vas a gurl vot she vas nize und pritty und werry, werry clever. Und she had ita hobbi vot she all de time peeket oup pices from paper. Und vun nize spreeng day she mad ha hannounzment. Vot it vas like dees. ' Hir ye, hir ye, vun und hall. Hi ' m collecteeng trenzfurs. I got it halready for hundret mit feefty-seex. Heny won who he got it heny trenzfur keendly geeve to me. Tenks for kind hattention. ' De gurl ' s nem is ' Stritcar Zuzee ' . Now, hain ' t dot a nize nem? Nize bebby, take anuder bite Sorosis bar and when you ' ll gonna grow oup you gonna be a player from bazeball hat de Hize Schule from Commerce. You gonna go sliip, und moma ' ll gonna tell you anuder sturry from deez hize schule tomorrow. o A Blind Boy Harding Wong My day or night myself I make. Whenever I sleep or play ; And if I were to keep awake With me there is always day. You talk of wondr(jus things you see; You say the sun shines bright ; I feel him warm, and how can he Make it day and night? i x Tivrrity-t irre ) VA

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The Mystery Hi:l ' 1,aii Hacki.i:v XT WAS Tliursday afternoon, art (la ' . Hurriedly I drew out my water colors. All week 1 had heen planiiint; the scenery I would paint, and all week 1 had gone througii magazines, books, and papers in quest of ideas to suit my fancy. Taking a little from each and every picture, 1 finally had it all arranged in my mind. After a struggle I succeeded in making what 1 called a lake fit for a perfect, romantic picture. I then started in on a tree, but lo and behold, my young and stately poplar turned out to be a somber hemlock. Thoroughly disgusted, I erased it. I then en- gaged in deep thought. Couldn ' t 1 draw a tree that didn ' t look so dry that it might start a forest fire? I hit upon a plan. I didn ' t know the name of the tree, but I knew 1 had seen it somewhere. It had a slender trutik with long, lanky branches hanging to the ground. Fairly well pleased with my tree, 1 began on some stumps which I placed wherever it looked bare. While giving it some extra touches, 1 saw the teacher coming down the aisle. Looking at it from in front of me, she said, Don ' t you think the ground is rather bare? I looked it over, and, to please her, I put in a few white lily pads. The girl beside me grabbed it, looked it over, and tossed it back upon my desk. It lit upside down. I glanced at it, and in doing so, I beheld a slightly clouded sky and a fountain with a small uneven path around it. And yes, the ground was rather bare. Disgusted, I held it limply between m fingers. It tipped a little to one side. I gasped, for now I had a picture of a wind storm, with my tree and stumps fairly knocked over, and white foam on my quiet, romantic lake. I was shortly aroused by the teacher ' s Time to hand in your work. I scribbled down the title and handed my work in. But the teacher didn ' t seem to understand why I named it The Mystery . Poet ' s Song Berniece Hill Love flits by me like a song; I hear a far-off cry Of heartaches, dreams, and sorrows; I sob a poet ' s sigh. And mingle tears with bitter fears, Of sunshine days and song. Life drifts by me, just a song; I seek a fallen note Of life-time, lost in love and shadows, With darkness, still remote ; And gather joys with phantom toys. Of sunshine days and song. Ticenty-tivo

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Those Who Lend a Hand Sugar and sf i(C . ■Ind ei ' erything nice — That ' s what the faculty Is made of, says a truthful little jingle. Inspiration — of such is made stuff o ' dreams. Our teachers have stimulated action and have urged us onward over the many hills that obstruct the path before the day of graduation dawns and Life awaits us. Our principal and our dean have taken the parental responsibility, during school hours, of guiding our footsteps along the way of efficiency. Regardless of work, the office secretaries have always stopped to fill out the necessary slips for anything out of routine that we have had to do. Our librarian has been ever gracious in assisting us with our outside, reference, or recreational reading. The janitor has always been forbearing with us when we have transgressed. Our themes may have been amateurish ; our shorthand characters, wobbly ; our typ- ing, a big mistake, and our bookkeeping, minus a trial balance ; but the faculty have ever spurred us to scale the heights. We are trying. Twenty-four