High School of Commerce - Commerce Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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' I 1926-THE CoMMERcE-1926 MEI' UC-SN Nlaurice Blumstein was a prosperous lVIcAllister Street pawnbroker. Florence Vince was a dancing instructor in Charleston, S. C., specializing in the polka and square dances. Katherine Siri was an old maid, but kept house for her nephew, who is a wealthy coal dealer in San Francisco. Yvonne O'Neil was cashier in a Hhelp yourself-but he careful beanery in Colma. Verniss Peterson had sailed to Sweden, where she was teaching herrings how to smoke. Vera Briggs was a country school teacher in Oshkosh, W7isconsin. Helen Eden was selling tickets for Lucy Erhart's Freak Nluseum. Donald Fleming, the Flaming Youth Kid of school days, was working for a collar firm, posing for their ads. Michi Oka was conducting a tea shop in the local Japanese colony. Adele Lorenz was tickling the ivories in a movie house in Oskaloosa, lVIichigan. Irving Menist was using his name and photo as an advertisement for the Slickit Back Hair Products Corporation. At this point l decided to die. To celehrate this event I treated myself to one of the svvel1est funerals ever funeralized in this city, content to rest in my cute, front row plot in YVoodlawn, the sister city of Oakland. l was also happy that I had met many of my former classmates before leaving this sphere and expected to meet many more afterwards. . AND SO T0 HEAVEN C ?D -Louis S. LrXY f TZUElIfjF-35178711

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1926-THE COMMERCE-1926 MEI' IJGN Laurie, the fox-trot which I asked for, and I went to my table well satisfied with the day's happenings as a whole. In the morning I got up and took a walk down Third Street, the home of Greek restaurants and anti-workers and stopped to listen to some man who was speaking in behalf of Bolshevism. He had a box of bombs beside him and all in all looked rather dangerous, so I asked someone who he was. 'fThat's William Mon- eharsh Qskilf' said my informer, the late ruler of Russia. At this point Bill's soap- box collapsed, and I went over and introduced myself to the President of our High Senior Class, way back in '26. He told me that he still possessed the desire to hold a meeting every day and, thus, had entered the ranks of ze Bolsheviks. The next day I took a trip down the peninsula. Just out of San IVIateo I stopped in an ice cream parlor, and at the counter I met the two soda-jerkers, who proved to be Adelbert Tritscheller and his partner, Arthur Goldstein, both Beau Brummels in their school days. just then a farmer and his wife came in, and I found them to be Arthur Best and Mae Burtis, who we1'e pals in the little old red-schoolhouse days. Vllhile I was eating, they talked of a Commerce High School, which their son was attending in San Francisco. Arriving in the city I bought tickets for a musical revue, which promised to be good. Wlien I had seated myself, I glanced at my program and was astonished to see the names of six former girl classmates and one young man thereon. I doubted myself, but when they came out the program was confirmed, for there were VVinifred Batkin as the leading lady, and Eleanor Campbell, Marcella Cazat, Helen Fleming, and Florence IVIeyers, as chorus girls, while IVIadeline Filhol, still as petite and cute ever, was doing specialty dances. The young man in question was Fred Good, who had been a regular Charleston fanatic when that dance was the vogue, I was rather surprised to see Florence IVIeyers and Helen Fleming on the stage but they both were good, so I forgot it. After the performance was ended I took a cab to the new and magnificent Chutes at the Beach, and strolled around through the amusement tents. It was here that I discovered two former classmates of mine in George Mesher, as the barker, and Clyde T. Barr, as the original VVild-lVIan from McAllister Street. Even then I could re- member Clydels frantic cry of- Got your Senior dues? I guess that's what made him wild. A little farther down I came across another schoolmate in Leo Honig, who was a big Hot Dog and IVIustard man on the Beach. I-Ie was still as tall as ever. Just at this point of the proceedings, a Salvation Army Band came along with its long- winded speaker, who warned the sinners who were drinking the intoxicating root-beer and eating the treacherous spaghetti and noodles. The leader stepped forward and said, Brother lVIike Bronder will now tell you how he was saved, as will B1'other Charter, our ragtime drummer. I was convulsed with laughter, but I controlled myself 'til it was all over, and then I renewed friendships with these two saved men, and got them to sin to the extent of riding the NIerry-go-'round, where I left them to pray their way out of paying. The next day I went to see a track-meet at Stanford University. Here I found an old friend in the winner of the 100-yard dash- Goog5 VVallgren, one of the fastest men who ever ran for Commerce. WVe visited several buildings and I found Ardine Gooss, now a professor of Journalism, who had realized her ambition to be the editor of The Quazl, when she was a co-ed. That night I had a dream that I went to heaven and saw Robert llfluri there-but it was only a dream. To conclude my tale, I shall tell in brief where and how I met other students in my travels, and what they were doing. l:Tzc'e11i1.'-.vixl

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1926-THE COMMERCE-1926 ein . UQ9 fTwenty-eightil