Cut Bank High School - Wolf Yearbook (Cut Bank, MT)

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THE OWLST 7 Class Prophlcy Supposedly in 1961 Not long ago I passed through Chicago on my way to New York. I stopped off to do some business. I stayed in one of the good hotels and while I was in the lobby who should come in but Professor Harry Morgan. I hardly recognized him as one of the class of ’31 of C. B. H. S., he had changed so much. He had gray hair and would you believe it, he had a beard that came to a point at his chin and gave him a very dignified, knowing look. We started a conversation and he told me he had just perfected a machine that enabled you to see any one at any time; all you had to do was say the name and look through a lens. The fact that I had seen him brought back memories of ’31. I asked about the rest of the gang. He invited me to his exclusive bachelor residence to see for myself. We left immediately for his home. There we had a delightful dinner. I had about three hours to spend before train time so I asked to see the machine right after dinner. He took me to his laboratory and set up the machine. I called for George Johnston first, and right before me he appeared. He was seated on the grandstand of a great race track. It seems that he had acquired an extraordinary taste for fillies when he was a senior; and so ever since he had been following the races. I next called for Helen Winkler. There she was in her little apartment at Great Falls. She was employed in the Building and Loan Association and getting along fine. But still unmarried. But then what would the world do without old maids ? Thomas Jones was the next one called. Believe it or not, he was the king of the Underworld right there in “Chi”. He had run “Scar Face Al” out three years after he left C. B. H. S. and Cut Bank. I was beginning to get a tremendous kick out of that machine. Ruth Strong was asked for. She appeared in a funny looking city. American cities didn’t look like that. She was seated at a piano and singing scales. Gradually it dawned on me that she was studying music in Paris. Ruth had been in a train wreck and besides wrecking a new hat, her voice was also wrecked. She was in Paris trying to get it back. By the way, she didn’t have any neighbors left. They all left the first week after her arrival. “Arne Johnston,” I called. As if by magic he appeared. I’d like to go on forever telling about Arne and his surroundings but all I have time to say now is that he was a storekeeper on Mars.

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Cl ass History T H E OWLE T On one bright September morning in 1927 the following green little Freshmen enrolled in C. B. H. S.: Dorothy Benish, Emile Bonnet, Minnie Brose, Bernard Klein, William Dewing, Louise Haglund, Loyd Hall, George Johnston, Arne Johnston, Thomas Jones, Earlene Lahr, Irene McLean, Harry Morgan, Mabel Morgan, Virginia Phillips, Geraldine Rush, Mary Rocke, Ruth Strong, Esther Stufft, Norman Vasboe, Opal Welch, Helen Winkler, Hazel Sullivan and Molly Flagget. They were initiated and became one of the four groups struggling toward graduation. They found joys and sorrows in High School, but ended the year saying that High School was grand. In the fall of ’28 we came back but Dorothy Benish, Opal Welch, Bernard Klein, William Dewing, Loyd Hall, Gei'aldine Rush, Hazel Sullivan and Molly Flagget were missing. We had attached Michael Burke and Daisy Taylor. The Sophomore year wasn’t exciting, but then it never is. In 1929 we came back full fledged Juniors. During that year we had many activities, a Play, Prom, Banquet and many other activities. We had two new members, Helen Henry and Archie Corrigeux. Mary Rocke and Earlene Lahr were missing. That year ended with high expectations for the next. Seniors at last! Oh how good it felt to come back in ’30, optimistic and dignified Seniors. The membership was: Louise Haglund, Esther Stufft, Irene McLean, Harry Morgan, Emile Bonnet, Ruth Strong, George Johnston, Arne Johnston, Mabel Morgan, Michael Burke, Thomas Jones, Helen Henry, Helen Winkler, Virginia Phillips, Minne Brose and Archie Corrigeux. Archie and Minnie dropped out before the end of the first quarter. Preparation for graduation and all other Senior activities were carried out nicely. Now we have reached the heighth of our ambition since we started school. Will we go on like true Seniors from C. B. H. S. should, or will we fall into some rut and stay there? Time alone can tell.

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8 THE OWLET “Helen Henry,” I yelled in glee at the machine. Helen appeared before the footlights of the most exclusive theater on Broadway. She did a very fascinating oriental dance called the “Chinese Dragon.” She was quite a little charmer. Four men had died for her love but Helen believed in women’s rights so marriage was taboo with her. I decided then to look her up when I got to New York. She would be able to give me some pointers for the book I was writing called “Why Men Are Bossy,” and I don’t mean cows either. Virginia Phillips was the next victim. There is little I can say about her except that she was very successful in music, being the most sought after accompanist in the world. Mabel Morgan was next to be seen. She was in a large building taking dictation from the President of the United States. It turned out that she had become one of the country’s best stenographers. Emile Bonnet was then called for. He was in Hollywood and a very successful actor. But then, Emile always had a special way of making love. Irene McLean was the only girl I hadn’t looked up so I expected a climax. I got it. She was touring the country playing her sax in a two-bit vaudeville. Poor Rene, she had such high ambitions. But don’t cry, there is a millionaire back in Cut Bank, who is very much interested in her. So you see it isn’t as bad as it sounds. Rene just fell for one of those “See America First” posters, so she’s doing it with her sax. Michael Burke, the great hero of our school play in ’31, has come to a very great catastrophe. He was a rich banker. I say was, because he was. He’s in the insane asylum now. It was this way. One night he had a nightmare and thought he was back giving the assembly play “You’re A Coo-Coo.” He started yelling “Coo-coo, Coo-coo,” and flopping his arms, and well—now he’s serving time. Poor kid, he was such a bright boy, too. I had just fifteen minutes in which to catch the train, so after bidding Harry goodbye I made my way to the station. In the rush of leaving I forgot to look up Esther Stufft. I caught my train and was sitting and bemoaning my fate when a beautiful lady came up and spoke to me. She was Esther! VVe visited all the rest of the way to New York. She told me she had a pet dog that had been run over. She felt very bad about it, so in memory to him she was devoting her life to the promotion of humane treatment of cats and dogs. She was left a large fortune to carry on her work. There is no need to say that that was the most enjoyable trip I ever took. —L. H.