Coopersville High School - Zenith Yearbook (Coopersville, MI)

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Class Will E, the class of nineteen hundred and twenty, being about to depart for- ever from these halls of intellectual endeavor, having incomparable ability and untold wealth, and believing ourselves to be in full pos- session of a crammed mind and exhausted memory, do hereby make, publish and declare this our last will and testament, hereby revoking all former wills, bequests, and devises of whatever nature bv us made. We bequeath: To the faculty: The privilege of picking the paper off the Session Room floor, of cleaning erasers, and suspending library privileges for a term of two weeks, one day, three hours, fourteen minutes, and one and one-half seconds. To the Juniors: The Senior foolishness, hoping it will serve them as well in the future as it has us in the past, also the use of the new Physics Lab., which a few of our members have been acquainted with. To the Sophomores: All of our unseen dignity, also the privilege of using all the potato “smashers” and base ball bats which they are unable to find. To the Freshmen: Six hundred and seventy-one milk tickets at the rate of only twenty-three and one-half cents a quart, also the unrestricted use of the piano and victrola the second hour of the thirty-first day of every odd year. I, Myron Albrecht, better known as Mike, bequeath my wavy pompadour and beautiful eyes to one. Dock Sawyer. I, Charles Allen, well known as Chuck, bequeath all my girls of Coopersville, Grand Haven, Grand Rapids. Ravenna, Grandville, and all other outlying cities, towns, villages and hamlets, to one, Lloyd Lewis, to experiment on. I, Evelyn Brown, bequeath my gift of gab to one, Helen Daggett. I, Howard Brecken, bequeath my lost, late-lamented one, Beatrice Preston, to any enterprising young Sophomore or Junior. I. Esther Cook, bequeath my new powder puff, which I bought four years ago last February thirty-first, to one, Lettie Albrecht, and also mv Solitary “Lillie” to the Coopersville High School Library as a memorial to any future librarian. I, Norma Campbell, bequeath my lacking knowledge of Physics to one, Glenn Taylor. We, Jennie Hinken and John DeMaagd, bequeath our back seat in French and English Literature classes to the services of John Wolbrink and Beatrice Preston. I, Gladys DeNeff, bequeath my stubborness to one, Lillie Frost, hoping that after this she will not be so rash and lose such a fine “Art.” I. Helen Hanchett, bequeath my poetic aspirations to one. Warren Comstock. I, Katherine Hoban, bequeath my red hair to the United States mint because of the lack of gold coin. I, Edithe Ilousler, bequeath my ear puffs, better known as cootie garages, to one, Naomi Busman. I, Hessell Kooistra, known as Dr. Hess, bequeath my love for women to Harvey Teusink. I, Ruth Laug, bequeath my giggles and dimples to one, Emma Lake. I, Hazel Lubben, bequeath my super-abundant Latin knowledge to the citizens of the city of Coopersville to do with as is their pleasure. I. Wayne Murray, bequeath one unused marriage license to Stewart Lillie in the hope that it soon will be of service to the said Stewart. I, Glenn Messenger, bequeath my superior knowledge of a violin to Celia Gingsburg, earnestly desiring that this will greatly help her when she plays in the presence of ex-President A. J. Birdsell, 27 years and 8 days from the present date. Page Kighteen

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E.—Oh say! What became of Jennie Hinken? Did she take a business course, too ? J —No. She studied music after leaving High School. Now she’s teaching in the Grand Rapids Conservatory of Music. E.—I saw Glenn Messenger in Grand Rapids when I was there a while ago. He is a detective in Kresge’s New 5 and 10 cent store. He married his old love and seems to be quite happy. B.—1 was in Grand Rapids, too, a while ago and went to Coopersville for a few days. Who do you think is the superintendent of the old school? Russell Van Koevering! He sure makes those kids step around some. Mr. Birdsell, the old “sup., is selling Life Insurance in Muskegon. And Katie is his private secre- tary. They still scrap about every third day and so Katie works only about two days a week. R.—And Marion is running that little brick millinery shop on “shadyside.” All the swell dames from Grand Rapids come to her to get her original styles in hats. And did you know that Ruth and Hazel went to Japan as Missionaries when they finished college? They seem to like it there very much. They’ll be coming home in a couple of years. Perhaps we’ll see them then. J —Maybe. And who do you suppose I saw in Boston last year? Gladys DeNeff. That is, Mrs. Knowthedate. He’s an Historian. She seems to like the history he teaches better than that she received at High—or else he teaches it differently. She helps him with his research work and she never stops looking for a thing until she has exhausted every possible source. B.—1 11 bet not. Speaking of Boston reminds me. Did you know that Mrs. Glidden is living there now? She’s Secretary of the Y. W. C. A. in that town. Her hubby uses his electrical knowledge to perfect his home, and now all you have to do when you want dinner is to press a row of buttons and the table rises in front of you with the desired fopd upon it. She has all the time she wants to read her English poetry. E.—I always thought that would be the fate of Miss Ray-Jones. I’ll bet she’s enjoying herself. And Miss Way is writing a Latin translation of Hiawatha to take the place of Cicero in High Schools. I’ll bet it will be harder than Cicero. R.—Miss Sima is painting cover designs for magazines. She has a studio in New York. She has more work than she can do just now. All the papers are asking her for her striking pictures. B.—Does anyone know what happened to Mr. Gibbs? J.—He’s experimenting in Physics in his private laboratory in New York. He has made several important discoveries on sound. A little while ago he in- vented a sound intensifier by which you can hear a fly light on a telephone pole a mile away. It’s pretty handy for teachers in the school room, but it’s hard on the students. B.—It must be. Say, Evelyn, What became of the rest of the Allendale bunch? E.—Oh, Clarence Schestag is band master of one of the best bands in Michi- gan ! I attended a concert they gave last year for the governor and senate. It surely was good. And Russell Wolbrink is doing a thriving business as an un- dertaker in Grand Rapids. He’s in the same building that Hessell Kooistra has his office. Hessell’s a doctor. Specializes on diseases of the heart. Don’t look so funny, Ruth; I’m not joking. They say lie’s good at it. R.—Well, who ever would have thought that he’d be a doctor. I thought he would be a Scientific Farmer. I guess that accounts for the whole class, doesn’t it? B.—You’re right, it does. Hasn’t this been fine? Let’s have a real class reunion some time soon. J.—Sure! Let’s have it next June at this time. What do you say, girls? E.—Let’s meet and plan it tomorrow. R.—Alright. We’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget. B.—'We’ll be there. Curtain. Pape Seventeen

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I, Clarence Schestag, bequeath the basket ball suit I never wore and the base hall suit which I am very proud of to John Johnson, “The World's Champion Ath- lete. I, Gerald Squires, bequeath my freckles to one, Howard Rankins. I, Marion Spencer, bequeath my glasses, spectacles, and goggles to one, Harold Bargwell. I, Ruth Wallis, bequeath all the red ink which was left from my genteel pursuit of bookkeeping in the first half of the term of 1917 and 1918 to one, Gladys Face, to heighten her eolor. I, W arren Wallis, bequeath to the seventh and eighth grade room a life-sized portrait of myself in the greatest desire that this remarkable picture may inspire coming Freshmen to live lives of great help to all humanity. I, Russell Wolbrink, bequeath my highly honored name to one, Marjorie Parks. I, Russell Van Koevering, bequeath my last knickerbocker trousers to one, Jake Hinken. Signed and certified by us, this eleventh day of June, in the year of our Lord, one thousand nine hundred and twenty. Ruth Laugf '20♦ Night Brings Out the Stars In this life each and every one of us must and will come in contact with some misfortune. It may he in our school life or it may he in our home life. It may he financially or it may he morally. Financial misfortune may be hard, hut mis- fortune received morally darkens life with greater shadows and leaves deeper wounds. But should we yield our hearts to those misfortunes entirely? Should we completely loose our self-control? Why not strive to work for ourselves and others each day and forget its darkness, looking only on the bright side? There was a family of two hoys and the father and mother. They had very small means with which to make a way in life. The parents deprived them- selves of some of their own necessities in order that the sons might have an edu- cation. hen the older one was sixteen he became discouraged, left school and began working for himself. The younger kept at his school work and waited anxiously for the day to arrive when he could help himself and his parents. At last the day came and he was ready for life’s duties. Meanwhile his country was calling volunteers for the cause of liberty. His brother, who had already enlisted, was suffering from the tortures of a German prison camp. He was away from home and friends, alone in a dungeon. Did the folks at home worry about him? Of course they did, but they kept the home fires burning. The younger son responded honorably to his country’s call. With great sorrow his parents took leave of him and wished good luck. They worked on, waiting anxiously for their sons’ return. One day they received the glad news that one son had been freed from his prison. The news was received joyfully. Meanwhile a “flu epidemic had been raging in the country. They received a telegram that the younger son was seriously ill with pneumonia. They hurried to his bedside, thinking they would probably see him breath his last. They were too late! They came back with hearts full of sadness, feeling they had lost a treasure that could never he replaced. Their friends offered them sympathy and help, hut they preferred to hear their own burden, although their hearts ached for him who had died for their sake. Sorrow brings out our virtues just as night brings out the stars. They soon learned that it was easier to forget their sadness in helping others and so exempli- fied their virtues. Page Nineteen Katherine Hoban, '20.