Coquille High School - Laurel Yearbook (Coquille, OR)

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Senior Cl ass Prophecy The very optimistic class of ’46 decided on the day of graduating that thirty years from that date they would all like to meet to hnd out what life had given them or versa visa. It seemed this class had such a remarkable—you name it—that they chose the moon for the big pabber-wacky”. Our little adventure begins at the Municipal Rocket Airport just outside Oregon’s widest wide spot in the road. “Coke Hill”. It is May, 1976. “Who's that elderly young lady with the society slink? My what a flirt! Of course it’s Sally Gable still vamping men. With her is Shirley Slater whe tells us that since her search on earth proved futile, she's traveling to the moon in pursuit of that certain Sophomore. The crowd is breaking t oadmit the star of Universal Television, Mickey (Emaciated— he walked tcx many miles for a camel) Mitchell. He’s stopping for a shoe shine and who should lx the lad obliging him hut Dave Kline, believed to be the one most likely to succeed—who says he also sells balloons as a side line. There arc a few more celebrities coming in yon gate, some of whom arc Merncice Haga and Netabelle Hendrix, both cur rcntlv starred in “Let It Fall—Let It Fall—Let It Fall”. That’s their co-star, Melvin McKinney, vvith them. No class is complete without a social worker, and Phyllis Brady, who always believed in taking a job she was most suited for, is now teaching the mentally deficient. Speaking of social workers, Charlotte Finch owns a large clinic founded for the extermination of bed bugs and fleas. With this lx ing such a brilliant (?) class, many members have entered difficult (but lucrative) professions. One example is Eulia McCracken who is the country’s leading magazine illustrator and in private life the wife of George Johnson, the famous lawyer, noted for winning the case of Van Fleet versus Wolga-mott. In this same line our most articulate student, Rex Pierce, the noted orationist, is running for governor of Oregon; he’s kept pretty busy kissing ali the babies (little and big). Land o’ gushin’, what’s this cornin’ yonder? It’s practically th eentire staff of the Chowning-Dal-rvmple Circus featuring Betty Cook and her trained seal and Marianne Racklcff, the oldest and only trapeze artist in the world that can swing by her toe nails and balance a silver dollar edgewise on her nose at the same time. (“Tain’t easy,” says she.) That shy creature bringing up the rear is Pat Yarbrough. She tcx)k seven years of stiff college courses in order to attain the high position of “barker” for this circus. It’s really surprising or somethin’ (mostly “’er somethin’ ”) that so many business heads should be found in one class. For instance, there’s Shirley Ford who owns her own company—pnxluccrs of an automatic babv buggy with front wheel and fluid drive—a great help to Anna Arnett with all her little cherubs. Patience, Anna, they’re children only so long. (It says here). Our second for instance is George Albertson, the indispensable manager of Hamilton. Pribble, and Russell, Inc., universally known for the thing-a-ma-bob that holds together the dofloppies that make the watcha-macallits work on the left-handed monkey wrenches. The field of art and designing has attracted the artistic bug in at least three of our up and already here gang. First we have Bette Gibbs, the famous earring stylist of I lollywood whose latest design is Night of Insomnia” or “My old days in C.H.S.” It seems there is a hat designer in every class and Dorothy Poulignot takes the cake in ours, and it so happens that “Taking the Cake” is her latest creation. (Don’t let it scare you.) The onlv boy this Held could entice is Bob Jenkins, still called “Tinker”, who’s a tailor and, we’ve heard, quite a card shark (shuffles when he walks). As far as music is concerned we’re mighty proud of Walt McKinney who plays twenty-fifth bassoon in the P.U.O. Philhar monic Universal Orchestra). Another of our boys called away by Uncle Sammy was Wayne Chezem who became so in love with his Army career that he stayed on and is now the big cheese” of the Army. Better get our your city manner,. folks; here comes the first lady of the land, Adeline Neff; she awards a medal each year to the one able to type 200 words a minute without error. Not too far behind comes the holder of one of the most difficult occupations known to man, Wilma Drake, professional stamp-licker, now employed by Leota Neeley, the great physicist who invented a fountain pen with which one can write not only for two years but for two years, three months, one week, five days, nine hours, thirteen minutes, and forty-five seconds with out refilling. (Incidentally, a calendar and watch arc furnished with the purchase of one of these pens.) It’s nearly time for the take-off so we all board the rocket ship and choose our seats. After the organized confusion subsides we see Patty McKelvy getting on. She has a busy job raising little “porters” for the rocket ship line. That stewardess looks familiar and what good service she gives. Natch! It's Jackie Chappell and she’s talking to that “you can’t f x l me, I’m tcx ignorant” soul, Jack Blum. Whether we reach our rendezvous or not depends mostly on him since he happens to be the head mechanical engineer for the Earth-M x n Rocket Line. My soul! Us brave people! Were off. T x late to change our minds (?) now. After traveling for quite a spell we stop for refueling at some little “jemt” called Cloud Point. Lucky for Bill Kistner that we did because he runs the beeg service station there and now he can join us. Time passes by as we passout. At last, the moon! Look at the grand welcome we’re getting. There’s the President of the moon to greet us. Gosh darn, if it ain’t Walter Isler and he’s brought his wife. Of all human beings, it’s Dottie Howe. That busv bee is his secretary, Genevieve Berrv. We’re all pretty hungry so we shackle into the cute little catin’ dump at the airfield, amply named Moron’s Retreat”. The hospitality in this restaurant compares only to that of Brandon’s. Coitenlv, Lindv Lou Halverstott and Beatrice Taylor are the co-owners and they sav everything is on the house. Somebody get a step ladder, we can’t let that food go to waste, (waist-hch! heh!). While we arc so daintily devouring our ham and butter, we are joined (Continued on Page Fifty-six) 21

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Senior We, the” Senior Class of 1946 being of sound mind, body, and estate—(estate of collapse), leave unbegrudgingly the following: SECTION I Article I—To the Juniors we will our beloved first three rows of seats in assembly. You’ve been eyeing (not to speak of taking) them for quite a while now. Article II—To the Sophomores we will our pull” with the office. Here’s hoping you have more luck with it than we did. Article III—To the Freshmen we will the knack we always had for Biology. Oh!! How you'll need it. Article IV—To the faculty we just leave. Well, ya don’t have to push...... Article V—To our school, CHS, We leave with memories unsurpassed. SECTION II After many long years of strain, stress, struggle, and strife, we slowly straggle out individually bequeathing the following: 1, Wayne Chezem, will my success with the opposite sex to Bud Hickam. They done me wrong. I. Julia Burgess, leave my red locks to Arkie. Maybe he can use it as a duster. I, Lois Both well, will my studious characteristics to Fred Vogt. I, Tom Boots, leave my little brother here at CHS. Maybe he can fill my hoots. 1, Don Aasen, will my thirst for knowledge to George Litzcnherger. I, George Albertson, will my executive abilities and tall tales of the sea to Bill Sage. I, Patty McKelvy, leave Mr. Mcx maw. His Joss (it says here). I. Roberta Mason, will my talent, my Irish brogue, my brother, and the dirt under my left toenail to Lois Hansen. I, Walt McKinney, leave for parts unknown. You know this Army life. I, Rex Pierce, leave my physique and deep voice to Keith Johnson. We, Shirlie Van Fleet and Ralph Wolgamott, will our ability not to fight to Staccv and Marion. I, Pat Yarbrough, will my ability to conquer Geometry and Mrs. Beyers to Maurice Williams. I, Shirley Slater, leave Dale for someone else to fight over. I’m TIRED........ I, Sallv Gable, will my vampish green eyes to some other cat who might find them of use. They've served me well. I, Dorothy Howe, will my intense dislike for the opposite sex to Dorothy Nicholson. I, Melbourne Mitchell, leave—mainly to get a wav from all of these men chasers. I, Wilma Drake, leave to rescue Harry from those wicked G x se Bay wenches. I, Noble Chowning, leave Laura Swanson—but not for go xl. I, Shirley Ford, will my quiet voice, my dignity, and unassuming manner to Anne Harbison. Think u can handle all of that, Anne????? I, Eulia McCracken, leave with our house plans under my arm. I, Bobbie Jenkins, leave Waunda in the care of the Junior hoys whom I trust bevond a doubt. I, Leslie George, leave my dashing way with the girls to Harry Slack. I, Netabellc Hendrix, leave to find Dick. How far did you say it is to Conn.??? I, Walt Isler, leave in search of better things. Uncle Sam is calling. I, Gordon Hamilton, leave for Rosehurg. Oh these Job’s Daughters. I, Bettie Gibbs, will my boistrous actions to Judy Slack. I, Phyllis Brady, will my sweet disposition to all future office girls. I, Jack Blum, leave my car to John Rankin. 1 don’t know of anyone who can wreck it any better than he. I, Genevieve Berry, will my post of office gal to anvone who is sap enough to want it. I. Charlotte Finch, leave World History for good. Oh I lappv Day. I, Glenn Prihhle, will my vocabulary to anyone who is ambitions enough to l x k up the meanings. I, George Johnson, leave hut not far behind Eulia. I. Dave Kline, will my ability to skip classes to anv daring soul who d( sn’t mind 6th periods. I, Marianne Rackleff, leave, still looking lor a man. I think I deserve one after putting up with Buckles for so long. I, George Gant, leave my ability to get g x d grades in Latin to Thomas McCaulv. I. Bettie Gx)k, leave my deep, bass voice to Cliff Billings. I. Boh Dairymple, will my cute pug-nose to Carol Gray. I. Jerrv Oerding, will my crown (Complete with Wixihvorth rhinestones) to the lucky gal from the d.iss | I, Anna Arnett, leave. Whew, it was a tough fight hut I won. I. Dorothy Poulignot, will my quiet dignity to Flossie Stoermer. We, Beatrice Taylor and Adeline Neff, leave our little sisters, hoping, hut doubtful, that they can take our places. I, Jackie Chappel, will my ability to stay out of •fights to next year’s pep club. I. Bill Kistner. will my underclassmen girlfriends to anvone who thinks he can stand up under the strain. I, Lindy Lou Holverstott, leave CHS to anyone who has a taste for nicknacks. I, Melvin McKinney, will my cute lil giggle to Marvanne Walker. I, Leota Neeley, will all of my books (answers in ’em) to my brother Ken. Oh how he needs ’em. I, Jim Russell, will my understanding of the English language to Patty Geanev. I, Berneice Haga, will my short curly locks to Charlotte Smith. Anv similarity to characteristics of people Jiving is purely intentional. We herebv affix our signatures to this d x;umcnt on this 18th day of April. Signed and sealed Netabellc Hendrix Leota Neelev Glen Prihhle 22

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Senior Hall of Fame Shirley Slater MOST POPULAR Melbourne Mitchell Netabelle I lendrix FRIENDLIEST Walter McKinney Roberta Mason BRAINIEST George Gant Charlotte Finch MOST ATHLETIC Dave Kline Roberta Mason MOST TALENTED Wayne Chezem Pat Yarbrough WITTIEST Glenn Pribble Adeline Neff MOST BASHFUL Walter Isler Marianne Rackleff BEST DRESSED Melbourne Mitchell Patty McKelvy PEPPIEST Walter McKinney VAMP Sally Gable SHIEK Bill Kistner BEAUTIFUL Sally Gable HANDSOME Melbourne Mitchell Wilma Drake MOST DEPENDABLE Melbourne Mitchell MOST LIKELY TO SUCCEED 24 Roberta Mason George Gant