College High School - Col Hi Yearbook (Bartlesville, OH)

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Satin 611155 Will This will and testament was found scrawled in blood on the ancient moss-covered. crumbling walls of Miss Paxton's room. It reads as follows: We, the graduating class of 1952-53, having served a sen- tence of twelve long, grueling years at hard labor, being of unsound minds, weak hearts and pore-spattered husks of bodies and on the verge of departing for realms unknown, do make, publish and declare this last will and testament, to our underclassmen at the rock-bound Bastille. Firrt and foremost, to our under cell-mates, the juniors and sophs, we leave the leg-irons which have bound us to our desks for so long, our engraved balls and chains, and the cracking echo of Warden Haley's whip down the long, grey corridors. Article I: Having spent all of our money for senior class rings, pictures, pins, commencement invitations and rental on graduation gowns, we are in a state of bankruptcy. We earnestly pray that some of our dear under-classmen will take care of all our debts. Article II: We had intended to leave our brains and intense fund of knowledge to the sophomores but realizing they would only use them next year, we have decided to place them in safe-keeping and so request that they be left to the juniors. Article III. We do hereby bestow the following to our lower classmen: I, Nancy Holt, the human fly, leave my ability to go over the wall, successfully, to Sandy Gast. I, Lewis Berry Ketchum, famous get-away man, leave my black sedan to Billy Guy Bockius. I, Richard McCarter, leave signed copies of my movie-star poses to john Kidd. I, Private Eye Jerry jackson, leave the three-year-old unsolved safe-robbery at College-High to jimmy McGregor. I, Charlene Fowler, leave to join Bill Van Meter. We, the Young Republicans of the prison, leave our Ike pins to Don Adlai Lundsford. I, Eddie Beasley, leave that car to Mr. Ransbarger. I, Donna Kaufman, leave the whole glorious state of Texas to Helen Smith. I, Dick Bony-Bones Adams, leave my Charles Atlas hand- books to Bobo Simpson. . I, joe Christopher, leave my Pogoisms to Bill Haynes. jane Hesse leaves for Pawhuska. We, Lew Daddy Warbucks Ambler and Sharon Orphan Annie Smythe, along with Punjab jim Freiburger, leave our expressionless eyes to Sue Janet Brownlow, Carole Sue Wolfe, and G. O. Nolley. I, Larry Barnett, leave my passion for buying Kansas news- papers to Carl Holm. I, Dwight Bishop, leave my way with the women to jimmy Michaud. I, joe Dean, leave my pension for good grades to Bill Blade. Do I, Vernon Day, have to leave Carole Stucky? I, William Crew-face jobe, leave my battered banjo which has helped to darken many a grey hour, to -the junior girls. I, jon johnson, leave my Toni home permanent to jay Garrison. I, Odessa Cox, leave, happily married! I, Rigby Slight, leave joyfully for Westminster where I can go to class in my pajamas. I, Dick Watson, do hereby take everything with me. We, the senior boys, leave the Orphanage and Buttons to any future pool sharks who think they can manage it while we are gone. I, Don Wherry, do leave, one fast step ahead of the draft. I, David Bash, leave to go over the hill with Benny Webster and pick Four Roses. I, Danny Gallery, leave 'detailed maps of all the best back roads to Jim Boles and Bob Howard. I, Norman Duston, leave my ability to easily get in trouble to my cousin, Larry Peck, who I am sure won't need it. I, Chad Icy Fingers Bixler, leave my unmilked cows to john Thorton. I, jimmy Adams, don't have a thing to leave but I want my name in here anyway. I, Jack Rahm, leave my elevator shoes to Don Neptune. We, Bill Rowe, pronounced Row, and Ronald, polecat Mar- tin, leave with a vat of kick-a-poo joy juice. We, the Cassinos, leave our elite country estate in care of our cohorts and fellow members, David Crutchfield, Dick Ebrey, and Carl Holm. . Kay Weaver, 105 N. Seneca, Ph. 2212-This is a paid plug. I, Frankee, leave to find johnny. I, Rahma Lee Callan, leave my ability to get put in trash bins to Jon Gimlin. We, of the second hour staff, tearfully leave our candles. songs, and memories of disturbing other classes to dear Mr. Gregg. We, the senior class, leave to Marcia Grover fKeyhole Katiej a sealed box of carefully collected items for her column, to be printed only after we are far, far away. So, in witness whereof and therefore, we the senior class of this, College-High Reformatory, have to this, our last will and testament, subscribed our names this twenty-second day of May, 1953. THE SENIOR CLASS of '53

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mia 611155 Msfary The Senior Class of 1952-1955,-balancing its rapier-like wit on top of its pointed little head, lurches staggering down a twelve-year long strand of barbwire far above the heads of the spectators to a goal known to some as graduation and to others as escape, but known to all as the end of the beginning. Ah, indeed shall this class go down, land when we say down, we mean like unto the fiery depthsj into the treasured annals of history with Napoleon, Cleopatra, Rembrandt, Hitler, Gol- iath, Mr. Ricketts, and Lady Godiva. Far back along the traveled track of barbwire there was the time we almost tumbled earthward. It was in the sixth grade when Garfield had to open its entrenched battle-lines and admit McKinley's overflowing graduating class. There are no memoirs by anyone in Highland Park, Horace Mann, jefferson, Lincoln, or Washington as to what momentous occurrences were shaking their grade school buildings, but perhaps the fact we all got out of the sixth grade is mom- entous enough. Then we stepped on the barb known as the seventh grade. It wasn't until the next year that we realized how low seventh graders really were. For the seventh grade officers we elected Billie Sue Alexander as president fwhat a president, the U. S. should do so wellj, Bob Corzine as veep, and Margaret McIntosh as secretary. We had such teachers as Robb, Combs, and Tayrien to help us along the way. fThis is a funny state- ment.j Horror of horrors, Pat Walls only made the Regular Honor Roll this year. And, oh yes,'Kathy Hays was president of the seventh grade Girl Scouts. Next we trod on the barb known as the eighth grade. This year we elected Bill Crawford president, and Dwight Bishop veep. fWe didn't know it, but we were going to hear more of this ladlj We went out for such diverse Morte de Art's as Gretchen Wienecke's ballroom dancing class and Miss jackson's Belles Lettres Club with such stirring poems as, no doubt, Bootsl Boots! Boots! There are Martians in Georgia! Showing us the way to safety and getting in front of us in the lunch line was our Safety Patrol with some of its members named Chester Vanatta, John Fusselman, and Jimmie Quickle. Boys with paid dues in the annual Women Hater's Club were jack Bourquin, Eddie Beasley, and Ronald Vaughn. We were left with mixed feeling when Central's Auditorium burned. fWhy just the auditorium?j. Donna Cichon was our champion speller and it was rumored that Jerome Germ Mullen was a close runner up, but lost when he spelled dog K-a-t. He claimed it was a moral victory. The next barb was the freshman year. Officers were Teddy Cramer, president, Harry Botkins, veep, and Vernon Birdy Day, secretary. Distinguished this year was our undefeated, for the first time in Central history, Cub basketball team and a choral club assembly, starring Pat Allen, with the motto Our singers never die, they just faint away. There was the time that twenty-two of the freshmen skipped school fand a wee voice: Yes, this is my mother on the phonejg there was that real George, all the way epic, Ivanhoeg but, most of all, there was Tacky Day. Amid the hog-calling and apple- dunking contest, the journalism students mixed tons of pimen- tos and cheese for sandwiches. The next part of the wire was crowded with barbs as we became sophomores. Instead of living in the limelight nt Central with our own class play and all, we took the under- dog setting at College-High. It has been said that College- High didn't want us, but Central didn't want us more. But, above and beyond all that, it is hereby set down in history that we were the first sophomore class in these sacred halls and we were the first class to have Mr. Newman. 'Tis also said that some of our girls were quite happy to get out here with the older boys. Teddy Cramer was class veep with Dwight Bishop coming to grips with the class presidency, and pinning it to the mat, he has held it ever since. fWe tried dynamite, but nothing can remove that boylj When the All School Play rolled around the Terrible Turk was so impressed by the sophs that we got six parts in Meet Me in St. Louis. And Sharon Smythe had a big time as Tootie even though Bob Given still has her teethmarks in his leg. Working on the play were Jim Freiburger, Norma Ingram, Karen Carson, among others. And then, of course, during Fall Festival there was the Rex Theater. The fastly-fading sophisticated seniors demonstrated how to treat teachers in the Sadie Hawkins Day assembly when they tried Mr. Newman. There was a Pie in the Sky. Eh, Mr. Gregg? Next we trotted over the barb known to the world as the junior year. Larry Lankard was the junior veep. The Hi-Y took a trip to Kansas City. fThe least said about this, the best.J Lewis Ambler became somewhat famous this year for his Three Bears story and his Morman discussion in American History. fRemember all the homework in that classlj Cuc- koos on the Hearth was our class play and among the cuc- koos were Bill Lindsay, Eleanor Briggs, and Margie jones. We remember Miss Carlton and a trail of little Lord Byrons. Then there was the F.H.A. pancake breakfast and Marilyn Brown being elected Band Queen. Also there was Oklahoma City when the basketball team went there for state. fAll com- ment on this is censored., There was the style show presented by Mrs. Sue Smith and the Home Ec girls. Then came the Sadie Hawkins Day assembly with the junior girls doing a calendar girl skit. The last thing to be mentioned in the junior year is probably the most important: the Junior-Senior Prom. The decorating fthe trees from Circle Mountain, the roses from Bartlesville's gardensj, the rain fit rained like hailj, the music land the dancingj, and the parties afterwards . . . Well, the last barbs are the sharpest, and we were seniors. The high and mighty of the school for the first time since the sixth grade. We followed the usual procedure for our presi- dent and elected Bill Lund veep. However he abdicated for possibly was forced to fleej towards Tulsa and Rigby Slight inherited the post. In this year of the slogan It's Time For a Change! the Bartlesville Wildcat Football team beat the Muskogee Roughers 15-0 changing the tide of the last five years. There was the Homecoming Parade with the Senior Float, and some of the organizations has floats, too. There might have been others, but on one noticed. jo Ann Hankins was the Football Queen and was nicely crowned by co-captains Teddy Cramer and Bob Krigbaum with the senior attendant being Pat Bohannon. Among the other firsts of our class we elected the first yearbook king fwhich was accepted with great joyj and we were the first class to change the name of the yearbook fwhich was acceptedj. Yearbook King and Queen were Dick Hays and Billie Sue Alexander. The rest of the senior year quickly passed-the Senior Class Play, Sadie Hawkins Day, the junior- Senior Prom fwith the junior workingj, and the final week. The senior week with no exams, Baccalaureate, Commencement, and the Farewell Assembly. The trip over the barbwire is done and we stand firmly on the playform at the end of the wire. But as we stand there worrying, like Alice, about drown- ing in our own tears-tears of joy at leaving College-High- we hear echoing from somewhere the immortal words of Matil- da Zilch asshe bade the seniors of the little school in the Wildwood goodby, Farewell, Graduates. You've Senior Days. We, the undersigned members of the Senior History Commit- tee of the Col-Hi, do hereby declare this the true, unbiased, and unprejudiced account of the senior class of 1952-1953.

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Scnin 611155 Z7 nplzecy Dear Old Faithful Ugly, While running over to Greenwich Village to see Pious Terry Allen and his revival show with the sawdust trail which Terry comes down singing I Love My Billy Sunday, But Oh You Saturday Night, I happened to chance upon The Ring- worm, Barnyard, and Bayrum Circus which is run by jerry Whitson and Robert Lippert. I stuck my head in and then pulled my body in after. Glanc- ing around I noticed the three monkeys statues- See no Evil, Here no Evil and Speak no Evil -encased in transparent balls in the usual pawnshop's three ball mobile outside a small off-colored tent. I meandered in and found Alice Lujan peering at a bowling ball and telling Ron Robinson that he soon would be bothered by falling hair. He seemed quite ex- cited and asked, To how much ? Alice dragged him out of the tent and tossed him into the lion's cage next door. When she came back, I gave her twenty dollars and, after she checked it to make sure it was real Confederate money, she peered into the magic sphere and told and showed me some scenes out of the lives and hard times of many of our old in- oops, excuse me, school-mates. jim Brooks is now president of Alcoholics Anonymous with his slogan Be Sicker With Liquor! Richard McCarter and Norman Duston are fighting him tooth and nail to protect their industry with the slogan It's Quicker With Liquor! While on the subject, it might be mentioned that Danny Gallery is planning to write a sequel to his best-seller, Forever Sober. On the business side, there's Rosetta Munoz who's managing an ultra-modern French bathing suit salon on Fifth Avenue. One of its patrons I recognized in the bowling ball as Marilyn Waite who swept in wearing a rare fur coat made from the pelt of the tree-climbing elephant. Glancing on the foreign field we found that jon johnson is the American Ambassador to France and is enjoying himself since he can't speak French. But the inventive genius hasn't escaped our old class. There is the complicated plastic candle invented by jimmy McCloskey which seems to be replacing the old-fashioned electric light. A bit on the simpler side is the' trioxilate-pilitheum bomb made by Fred Murray which recently blew up the sun. Jane Roberts recently became famous for her night club act where she twists herself into a Moebius Strip, recites and vani- shes. She says that she next is going to make herself into a Klein bottle, however several top topologists, including Ronald Vaughn, Bill Kendrick, and jim Riddlebarger, say she can't do it. In the bowling ball we saw Eddie Turner meet his end after being washed overboard from Janne Green's private yacht. He died swimming in circles around a light house trying to keep in the spot-light. We also saw Bert Simmons with his newest wife, Mary jo Burris. They were returning from Mexico where they were married and Bert got rid of his eighth Mistake On the fashion front here are the veils for men we saw started by the two business tycoons of the century, Joe Dean and Chester Vanatta.,joe Dean made his fortune by selling books explaining College Algebra to students and Chester made his in the fried potato business. They say he still has the original shoe-string potato he started on. Another fashion is the scentless perfume and colorless lip- stick invented by Ida Mae Sigler. This goes well with the New, New Look where women put the waist of their skirts around their ankles and then walk on their hands. We saw Larry Hamby receive the poet laureatship of Lesser New Zealand for his unrhymed, unprintable quatrains. Still in the literary field, we saw joe Christopher teaching his Col- lege class how to sublime. joe is also known for his books Once Upon a Chandelier and There's No Today, just Yesterday Tomorrow. In the sports field we saw Thomas Morgan who recently won the World Heavy Weight Boxing Championship from Mike Carr. Bob Stamps just became the winning jockey at time, It's just too bad he didn't have a horse. Last week Ed. Bailey Churchill Downs, as somebody remarked at the became the Three World Tiddlywink Champion. jim Frei- burger, Paul Cunningham, Mike Beard. and Charles McDougan have all been elected to the All American Football Team for this past year. Donald Hinkle disappeared last week when he took off from Mars in his spaceship and headed for Ultima Thule, an obscure star in the Milky Way, David Combs, the head of the Space Patrol, announced that they would do nothing to help. Well, my twenty dollars ran out and I left Alice to her bowling ball. I was quite happy to find out about these for- mer classmates of ours, as the only one I had heard of was Nancy Forsback getting elected the first woman president of the United States. I suppose I just don't keep up with the news. I walked down the midway and was soon attracted by the poster outside of the freak show. Looking closer I made out janet Dietzal as the fat woman, Bob Sandord as the sword swallower, Hal Thomas as the strong man, Evelyn Richter as the charmer, and Larry Comstock as the great magician. Though the posters were undoubtedly compelling, I managed to drag myself away and wandered on down towards the girlie show. I wondered what has happened to those many old friends I hadn't heard of since graduation. There were Danny Dawson, Richard Thomas, Bob Wilson, Beverlee Yan- dell, Margaret Hall, Glena Cullison and others who had disappeared like into a vortex. I went into the show and immediately noticed Alice Sears, Shirley Lewis, Beverley Hill, Delores Padgett, and jane Ely in the chorus line. I sighed a happy sigh and sat down to wait for the main feature-the exotic Pat Walls. Well, my letter's long enough as it is, so- Your 'til the seas gangrene, THE WANDERING JEW