Coquille High School - Laurel Yearbook (Coquille, OR)

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SENIOR WILL We, the Senior class of ’23, realizing that this life is of a very uncertain duration, and that it is highly desirable that we make some provision for the distribution of our many wordly possessions accumulated during our High School days, make this, our last will and testament. To the Juniors we leave the honor of always starling everything that happens in school—especially talks in Student Body meetings. To the Sophomores we will our supreme intelligence. To the Freshmen we can only leave our “long used prophecy” that “Green things grow.” To Janitor Johnson we leave the hope that the Senior room may always be kept as tidy as in ’23. I, Charlotte Bell, leave my beloved “Spit Curl” in the lender care of Leona Fish, to be properly curled every day. I, Ann Hooton, to Ronald Harville, endow my passion for red hair. I, Pauline Lorenz, give to Don Pierce my ability to blush on all occasions. I, Maude Pierson, do bequeath to Rachel Brown my extreme dignity. I, Nellie Morgan, will to Jackson Knife my conscientiousness in my school work. I, Cyril McCurdy, leave my “Freshman interest” in the care of George Belloni. I, Myrtle Mast, do hereby bequeath to Pearl Young my neatness in coiffure. I, Ruth Matthews, will my shy and retiring manner to Marguerite Hersey. I, Albert Oerding, devise to Frank George my efficient ability to string the teachers along. I, Irma Wilson, leave my musical talent to Sanford Wagg. I, Esther McGee, do leave to Errol Sloan my skill in tripping the light fantastic. I, Ralph Harry, confer my guardianship over the Student Body to Walter Paulson. I, Ingie Reynolds, give my exuberant frivolousness to Gertrude Mintonye.

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Grace,” and starring the new French Actress, Madame Marlborough. As far as costumes went, the play was a horrible success, and afterwards I went to interview the Madame. She was quite vampish looking and possessed that snakish appearance the French always have. When I first met her, I noticed that she appeared quite startled and surprised. I paid no attention to her, thinking probably it was only her temperament . During the interview she scrutinized me very carefully and just as I was leaving asked me my name. Then, as I told her, I saw a great change come over her face. She seemed to lose the snakish look and gain a more girlish one. Then I seemed to see a resemblance to some one I had known and soon—well, just imagine, it was that one missing classmate, Myrtle Mast. We had a long visit and I left after promising her not to tell anyone of her history. Finis Margaret White j j j SENIOR’S ALPHABET A—Ann Hooton’s name doth call. B—Charlotte Bell, who plays basket ball. C—Cyril McCurdy, who field baskets can toss. D—Delia Sherwood, she always is boss. E—Esther McGee and F. G., Friend Grace come on the boat. H—Ralph Harry, he never wrote a note. I—Ingie Reynolds, a good actress is she. J—Julia Dondono a shorthand shark to be. K—We have no one by that name. L—Pauline Lorenz, she always is game. M—Margaret and Myrt, they are real smart. N—Nellie Morgan, she has a big heart. 0—Albert Oerding shoots baskets afar. P—Maude Pierson, another basket ball star. Q—No one for Q. But two R’s have we, Ruth a bookkeeper, Robert the Treasury (er) . S—hasn’t a mate but T takes Teresa Clinton. U and V haven’t owners but W takes Irma Wilson. Here is a rhyme by which to remember us all. X, Y, and Z, you’ll need in geometry next fall.

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I, Grace Watson, will my arch glances to Hazel Newton. I, Teresa Clinton, leave to anybody who cares to take the responsibility, my ability to tame cave-men. I, Robert Trigg, entrust my left rosy cheek to the care of Dena Ellingsen and my right cheek to the care of Aileen Wilson—with their promise never to use powder or rouge on them. I, Delia Sherwood, will my lack of argumentative ability to Avis Hartson. I, Margaret White, grant my boisterous ways to Wilda Clark. I, Julia Donodono, give my ability as a dancer to Eleanor Foley. In witness whereof, we have hereunto set our hands and affixed the seal of the Senior Class, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and twenty-three. Father Wise (Seal) Mother Good Teresa Clinton j jt 23rd PSALM “Miss Whitfield” is my teacher I shall not pass. She maketh me to write “themes.” She leadeth me into the mysteries of this English, She recordeth my grade. She leadeth me through the tortures of English for her sake. Yes, though I fail the exams of this course I shall fear no “F’s” for she is with me. Her words and her looks they comfort me. She shoots her questions at me in the presence of my friends. She fills my head with English, My brains runneth over. Surely her image shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the fear of English forever. A STUDENT.