Crown Point High School - Excalibur Yearbook (Crown Point, IN)

Page 23 text:

CROWN POINT INKLINGS 21 DIARY OF DUSTIE RHODES Page 00009 In my journeying across the United States I came upon the state of Indiana. I had ridden from St. Louis in a box car with several hoboes or as they were pleased to call themselves, “Gentlemen of For¬ tune”. I did not care to acquaint myself with such unknown charac¬ ters as I believe boys can rise to the top of the ladder of success only by desirable friends. There was one in particular that was in¬ clined to be “pally” with me. He probably was celever enough to know that I was no ordinary gen¬ tleman of fortune but that I was traveling in order to enlarge my knowledge on the wonders of the country. I noticed that he loked at a paper frequently and the would either double up with laughter or else turn over and bury his head : «i the straw. I asked him for this pa¬ per and lo and behold if it wasn’t a copy of the Crown Point Inklings. I decided then and there to point my dogs in the direction of Crown Point, Indiana. I jumped off the car at a likely spot and after picking up a few vittles that I found in stores, I inquired of a flat-foot just where I was. He looked me up and down and turned his back. I helps myself to a pair of gloves he had in his pocket and ' proceeded to another corner. Here I was told I was in Gary, fifteen miles from Crown Point. I began my walk to Crown Point. For the first few miles I tried to thumb a ride. The cars mere¬ ly honked or the kids would yell at me. I saw then that I would have to make my way to Crown Point by another and more crafty method. I removed my arm from my coat sleeve and limped and soon a car stopped and asked me if I would like a ride. I refused as it was only a Ford and I was afraid some of my pals would see me in a Ford. The next vehicle I refused as it was only a Chevrolet but the next one I finally agreed to ride in. After arriving in Crown Point I “slicked” myself up a bit. I put on a false moustache I had with me. As a dude I made a nice looking man. Then I put on my spats. I strolled down Court street till at last my lamps were able to see, rising above the tree tops like a majestic sentry, a flag pole. The high school was a red brick building trimmed in white, surround¬ ed by well-kept lawns. Outside of a few cracked window panes it was in good shape. I knew in one glance that some of my pals from Cicero could get in so fast you’d think there were elevators. I excited many curious and not a few admiring glances as I walked along. I judged that school would begin soon as a number of “flaming youths” hurried past me. The boys were garbed in bright colors, the girls mincing along on high heels. As I neared the front exit I nearly stopped in my tracks from amazement. Coming up the front walk was a young man. Now there is nothing odd about this but he had on his head an odd sky-piece. A brown beaver hat. I hadn’t seen one of these since I began traveling. I followed him up the steps. He was greeted at the top by a bevy of girls chorusing “Good morning, Mr. Atkins.” If you ask me, times certainly have changed. I think that the school would stand a good chance as a second tower of babble. Perched on the railing like birds on a fence were boys. Boys, all shapes, sizes and kinds. I don’t know who they all were but one who looked like an All-American toumed out to be Bill Horst, star of several sports. Along beside him was a blonde chap. This one sure was a wow, just as I read about in “Knights of the Ahlong Footstool”. He was Mr. Bertrom Ellis. I had no trouble finding this out as I just asked one girl and about three dozen women answered me. Another kid that attracted my attention was a little white-headed boy. He had his hair cut short, just like the boys who get a free room and bath from the county. He was “Rossie”. Now I come to a big part of the school. I asked a big boy what his name was. He grinned kind of funny, put his hand in his pocket, pulled it out agai, ruffled his hair, and finally answered me sheepishly, ‘Well, my mother named me Wilbur, but the brutes around here call me,” his voice faltered and his blue eyes filled with tears as he continued, “they call me Bull”. Well, I couldn’t say anything to the poor kid, know¬ ing how he felt; I patted his head and shambled on. I stopped in front of a Bulletin bared. Here was a list of names. I glanced down them find¬ ing names like Holley, Parry, Wise, Hanniford, Letz, Rettig and a “hull” bunch more. I reckoned I had better look up some of these. I told one boy I’d like to see the Holley girl. “Which one” sez he. “Well”, I says, “Your guess is as good as mine.” “Do you want ‘is’ or ‘et’?” I sez, “Never mind, son, just rest your head. I’ll get me another woman.” I watched the stairs until I saw a ravishing blonde. I straightens my tie and my moustache and walks over to her. “Pardon me, my lady”, (I use my best manners) “what is your moniker?” She backed away in terror, let out one wail and yelled, “Oh Clarence”, and rushed across the floor to a young gentleman who was coming to meet her. I hastily darted into a room. All I could hear was giggles. I looked around and found my¬ self in a sewing room. The only thing I could do was make the best of it. I straightened my tie and walked toward the entrancing blonde at the desk. She rose to meet me and came forward extending a slim hand. I quickly wiped off my own mitt on my coat tail and grasped her hand. I shook it fervidly and was so dum- founded when she called me Mr. Johnson and said that they were not expecting me until later but it was just fine because they would like to sew. I could just lay my hat and coat on the table there and could commence work on the machine. Well, I looked over the machine and loosened whatever I could and tried to talk knowingly about the car- burator and gas line. Nearly every time I spoke the kids just shrieked. Well, I wiped off everything, oiled it again and turned it around but couldn ' t find a crank on it so I tured the big wheel. There was a sharp snap and I couldn’t turn it either way. I picked up my satchel and turned to the teacher. I informed her that I would have to get more tools from my car. So saying “adios” I hastily left her. I looked

Page 22 text:

20 CROWN POINT INKLINGS STUPID SCRIBBLER SCRATCHES STORY ABOUT SENIORS Clifford West Walks Away From Field of Two Contestants To Take Honors Winning easily over a field of two contestants, Clifford West stands (or sits) as the “champeen” essay writer of the Freshman class. It is with pleasure that we present here¬ with his prize winning essey; to-wit: “Seniors are funny things. They walk around skool like they owned it. when in reality us freshmen does. When they speek to one of them they look the other way and pre¬ tend they didn’t see you. A certain sophmore said she thot they were awful stuck up because every time they see a sophmo e they will not talk to them but act like they were inferior to them, but they know that they are not so good as they think they are. They agree with us that they are not so good as they think they are. Sum peoples are said to have said that the seniors are freshmen with four years of experience but don’t let them fool you, we wouldn’t be disgraced by them. If they don’t stop purty soon, us freshmen wil rebel and drive them out of the cumpany, that’s what we will do. If we do that and then beat up on the juniors and sophmores then we can act like the seniors do now. Wouldn’t that be swell. Really i do not think they should be allowed to carry on in this man¬ ner. I think sumthing should be done about it, don’t you? Maybe we can apeel our case to the president of the cumpany and have him give us a square deele.” Walter! You a senior and allow you own little brother to write such stuff as this? Clean him up! The Seniors won’t mind even if we are good-natured. THE PERFECT GIRL-FRIEND Hair . Helen Burroughs Eyes . Kathryn Meyer Nose . Hildred Farquhar Teeth . Florence Helrich Lips . . Mae Haeck Complexion . Florence Suhs Hands . Alma Batterman Legs . Blanche Gault Figure . Irene Jurs Gift of Gab . Frances Steiner Style . Virginia Baker Personality . Lorraine Mounce Pep . Margaret Bixenman “It” . Eileen Nethery Dancing Ability .. Jennie Egelski Intellect . Adah Letz Disposition . Elinor Hopp THE IDEAL BOY-FRIEND Hair ....... Eyes . Lips . Teeth . Chin . Smile . Hands . Physique . Intellect . Best Dresser . Pep . Athletic Ability Dancing Ability Harold Meeker. . Boyd Howard. . Earl Buckley. Forrest Everett . Bob Ross . Arthur Gibbs . Tom Wise - Wilbur Blocker ... Russell Pratt ... Ammon Aken . Clarance Klass .. John Bareman . Bill Horst ... Gene Ingersol CAN YOU IMAGINE? Gertrude Eberspacker with long hair? Frances Steinner without her smile ? Esther Hall wininng a talking marathon ? Edna Roffman leading yells? Florence Herlitz ill-natured? Mildred Prochno without male ad¬ mirers ? Margaret Arnold staying at home in the evenings? Earl Buckley getting “F’s”? Forrest Everett bald-headed? Bob Ross being shunned by the girls? Gene Ingersol not bumping into someone on the dance floor? Ammon Aken unable to say what he means? Hai-old Hodges with curly hair? Mickey Hodges having his English lesson? Red Rosenthal at a party without his banjo? George Wemple flunking a typing test? Earl Dillie not chewing gum? Bob Steiner stuck-up ? Florence Suhs a bad bold brunette? Gordon Schultz being bored? Wilbur Blocker not sleeping in Economics class? Adah Letz a poor debater? Kathryn Meyer not writing notes to someone ? Hildred Farqubar not making eyes ? Alma Batterman needing help in a shorthand reading test? Margaret Bixenman unable to find a comeback?

Page 24 text:

22 CROWN POINT INKLINGS at the big ticker what I picked up once and seeing as how it was too early to put on the feed-bag I hung my hat and coat on the rail and walked down. I went downstairs and into a room. Evidently this was “Bugalogy”. And another blonde teacher. He was making a poor job of trying to keep order and no wonder, every time he turns one way someone talked. He turns the other way some other guy blabs. I was goin’ to offer to help him but after that last fightl had I didn’t want to, so I walks out and across the floor. When I opened the door I heard the click click of type¬ writer. Now I always wanted to run one of them things, but I was afraid I might have to fix one. That would be hard on the key-clicker. I leaves the lower stairs and goes up again. While I was trying to decide where to go there was a short ringing of the bell. Then another. I made myself as little as I could against the wall and watched the horde of faces as they went by, all seemin’ to go to one room. I caught snatches of sweet girlish voices about “assembly, Pepinella, pep meeting”. “Save me a seat; sit with me”, and others. It just natcherally don’t take much to arouse my cur- osity so I steps up to the door and gives myself a look. A young lady standing beside me looked at me distastefully and moved away. I thought quickly “B. 0.”. Surely not as I always use Lifebuoy. I was almost going when I heard a mighty burst of yelling. On the stage was a large group of young girls yelling loudly. They were led by a peppy red-haired leader. Them gals sure could yell, boy-o-boy! After hollering they all sang and could they sing! Then began a long winding around the seats. They all had red hankies around their necks with “Pep” on them. Then a short stout man wearing glasses got on the stage. After clearing his throat in a very business-like manner, he said that they could all go to their fourth hour class. I again hugged the wall as the kids surged past. Such a riot of colors, even in hair. After the doors were closed, I again started walking. I was sorely tempted to try my hand at a couple, of the pad¬ locks on the steel cabinets but re¬ frained by hurriedly walking past. I saw by my watch that it was getting late, so I left the building. -As I wended my way to town I wondered if I would ever have such an interesting time again. THINGS WE WOULD LIKE TO SEE Ammon Aken with long blode curls. Arthur Gibbs with knickers. Wilbur Blocker under weight. Alma Batterman getting into mis¬ chief. Virgie Baker without Clarence Klaas. Ick Horst enjoying a rousing game of Tiddle-de-winks. Flossie Helrich strolling along. Irma Rettig sent to the office for misconduct. Joyce Frame studying Economics in Economics class. Red Rosenthal playing a Jew’s harp. Edna Rauffman a blonde “cut-u p”. Kathryn Meyer not writing notes. Margaret Arnold wondering what Shorthand is. Helen Burroughs being asked for her first date. Tom Wise looking for a definition of women Adah Letz not on a committee. Blanche Gault asking the way to Gary. Blondie Suhs writing letters to only one boy. Dorothy Diddie as a lady doctor. Irene Jurs teaching kindergarten. Russell Pratt with a small black mustache. Hary Steinman as the crbel black¬ haired villian. Gordon Schultz as floor-walker in a lingerie department. Florence Herlitz as Director in Vas- sar. My first is in bear but not in hare. My second is in ding but not in dong. My third is in building but not in house. My fourth is in apple but not in pear. My fifth is in horse but not in cow. My sixth is in cow but not in pig. My, seventh is in sweater but not in coat. My eighth is in mist but not in fog. My ninth is in cat but not in dog. My whole is an athlete in the Senior Class. Who am I Sports (Continued from Page 19) R. Collins, forward. B. Ellis, forward. M. Stonex, center R. Madsen, guard T. Wise, guard B. Miller, guard. J. Bareman, mgr. — Senior. Little Seven All Conference W. Horst. Coach Hardy Songer is leaving this year and every one who knows him is sorry to hear of his leaving. BASEBALL April 12 Dyer (6); C. P. (10) there. April 16 Dyer (16); C. P. (3) here. April 19 Lowell (3) C. P. (4) here. April 29 Hammond Tech, here. May 3 Bloom (10) C. P. (7). May 6 Lew Wallace, here. May 10 Chicago Heights there. May 17 Hammond Tech there. May 20 Hebron there. Players B. Miller, c. C. Van Woerdon, p. K. Linton, lb. K. Haniiford, 2b W. Horst, If. R. Steiner, rf. R. Rosenthal, cf. B. Fateh, ss. J. Bareman, 3b. WHAT I KNOW ABOUT WOMEN By Tom Wise —And for those who can’t read—