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

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FRESHMAN CLASS From left to right, row one: Betty Gjertson. Margaret Michaels. Sally Lewis. Esther Kliensmith, Rcatha Walburger. Florence McDonald. Betty Reagan. Hettie Bedord. Elsie Flaget. Lena Miller. Effie Newman. Florine Stewart. Row two: My lie Teterud. Jean James. Kenneth Johnson, Garth Wheeler. Joe Kapp. John Lewis. Malcolm Warberg. Conrad Zuelkc. Jack Warner. Lois Sim. Mildred Tenney. Mr. Micken, sponsor. Row three: Warren Kapp. Wallace Bedord. Robert Peterson. Peter Anderson. Murray Williamson. James Worthington. Donald Frisbee, Frank Denney. Jasper Davis. Irvin Teterud. Ben Kapp. Mervin Dahlen. We, the class of nineteen hundred and thirty-seven find Cut Bank High School no snap as regards to studies. At the beginning we elected the following officers: President, Irvin Teterud: Vice-President, Florene Stewart; Secretary, Margaret Michaels; Treasurer, Murray Williamson. Our enrollment was first 41 in number but the group has decreased to 38. No sooner had we been initiated than we made plans for a return party to be given the upper classmen. We desired to show them not only that we held no hard feelings for the bruises we received, but also we wished the school to get a better appreciation of our various talents. The party was not only a huge success, but also marked a new type of party; entertainment along with the dancing. Mr. Micken, our advisor, supposedly feeling there was a great deal of good basket ball material among us, made the suggestion that we organize a boys’ basket-ball team. We then agreed to have a certain night set aside in each week so that we might practice, having the hope of some day being a player of the first group. Murray Williamson is the only member of our class thus far to make the first team. We scrimmaged several times with other classes of the High School, but our first preliminary game was with the Junior High School, “The Wolf Pups.” In this game, the following played on our side: Jasper Davis, center; Jack Warner and Irvin Teterud, forwards, and Benn and Warren Kapp, guards. Among others were Donald Frisbee, Mervin Dahlen, James Worthington, Kenneth Johnson, Malcolm Warbaugh, Peter Anderson, LeRov Rush, and Frank Denney who were constantly substituted and given a period of time to play. We lost our first game by a short margin and as a result felt downhearted, but feeling we could do better next time, appeared two weeks later in a preliminary against them again. This time after a hard fight, we won by a wide margin. The Wolf Pups, wanting to break the tie, tackled us again, but again we won. We then played them a fourth game three weeks later and we came out on top once more. Some of the members of our class tried for debate squad. These were Donald Frisbee, Mervin Dahlen, Peter Anderson, and Irvin Teterud. After the try-out speeches, Donald Frisbee and Irvin Teterud made the second squad. All in all we have tried to be a real help to C.B.H.S. —16—

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SOPHOMORE CLASS Left to right—first row: Helen Anderson, Doris Olson, Louise Baumann, Frances Kremkau, Mrytice Humes, Phyllis Poore, Dorothy Mattson, Margaret Pugerude, June Baker, Irene Swenky; second row: Mr. Howe, advisor, Pat Murphy, Roland Bonds, Lyda Thompson, Carmen Cobb, Dorothy Davenport, Margaret Miller, Ruth Van Demark, Carmen DelRe, Dorothy Danens, Gordon Humes; third row: Jack Welch, Miller Berger, Raymond Britton, Ray Johnson. Victor Luedke, Charles Aubrey, Charles Merril, Norris Van Demark, William Stufft, Phil Haglund, Grant Brown. We entered high school as Freshmen in 32, very green and unaware of what our future was going to be. There were 48 of us ready and willing to start our career as high school students. There was much confusion among us the first couple weeks until we finally got accustomed to the school routine. We were initiated October 7th and we were just as frightened and green as any group of Freshmen, but we survived as well as could be expected. Miss Ogline was our Freshmen class sponsor and under her careful and willing supervision we sped safely through the first year of high school. We gave a Freshmen return party, initiation program, and an assembly program during that year. In the fall of ’33 we started as Sophomores. Many of our fellow classmates of the preceeding year were absent from the group. Those missing were: Nile Wagner, Raymond Smith, Arne Evenson, Americus Lucke, William Pierce, Albert Laverato, Arthur Perrine, Harold Dial. Barbara Eder, Lynn Brant, and Donald Clapper. During the year, six new students joined us, those being Carmen Cobb, Dorothy Davenport, June Baker, Kenneth Pardue, Charles Merrill and Margaret Pugerude. Wilson Brown and Eugene Johnson dropped school before the close of the Sophomore year, so in all we were a group of 36. Mr. Howe is our Sophomore class sponsor. His ever ready and willing advice helped us through many difficulties. Under his helpful supervision we gave a Sophomore party, and assembly program. Class officers are: President, Dale Oliver; Vice-President, Frances Kremkau; Treasure, Dorothy Danens; Secretary, Pat Murphy; Class Reporter, Margaret Miller. We are ready for the time to come when we shall be Juniors. —15—

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SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY Oh. what a day for an exploration. We two editors climb aboard the rocket—it is in perfect order. A slight swaying, then all of the necessary buttons, levers, wheels and dash controls are in place. A dizzy feeling and we are off—off to the moon. 1030 miles an hour. Then speed is slower we near the unknown territory. It becomes difficult to breathe, even though we wear masks suitable for such an adventure. Minutes, hours, days and soon months pass— nothing has been seen except grey and w'hite objects in the distance. We become hungry, our supplies running short some time before morning, but we find the Milky Way and eat delicious chocolate bars until our sides ache. But now we are thirsty: we’ll find a dipper. We can’t stop here, we must go on. It becomes unbearable and finally we relax into a sound peaceful slumber. Bang! What now? Oh—what a sensation: we are falling, faster, faster. We must have struck a comet, why weren’t we awake to avoid this terrible disaster. Will we ever stop falling—this feel-i ig is beyond description. Things are beginning to become visible—then again a queer feeling—we are falling apart—our legs—our toes—our fingers, until we are scattering into about twenty-nine pieces. Now. what are we going to do? We must find the rest of our body—each piece must do its share of searching or we will never be able to tell the tale of this adventure. Perhaps someone can help us—here are trees, it's a city—but where? What’s that? You have found someone?” said the leg as it met with the big toe sometime later. Tell me what you have found. The toe proceeded: Well, of course I have been looking for you. but in the meantime I have met with nearly every part of my former organization. while they, like I. were searching for help to find the rest of our body. Here is what they have told me. And he began. These are all old class-mates of ours and I know you want to know all about them. The first one I believe mentioned was Evelyn Bell. She was in good old Chi. You’d never guess what she was doing. Quiet, reserved Evelyn— the ambitious student was taking up fan dancing from Sally Rand and was she good! She was surely showing Sally up. Next. I believe. I met someone by the name of Bob Reagan. He was in a terrible hurry and a nervous perspiration covered his wrinkled brow’. He showed signs of being worried. He was carrying a book, but it didn’t look like a book—more like a volume of books under one cover, or one of Webster’s large library dictionaries. I began to get inquisitive and asked him what he was doing and why he was burdening himself with the oversized book—then he explained. He had written a book—w'hat a brain he must have—oh. yes—the title was (can you imagine) Wine. Women and Song. He. incidentally, was trying to get it published and probably still is. Then things went from bad to worse. I met Max Tenney—remember him? He conceived the idea (must have been his public speaking career that gave him such ideas) that an Evangelist with his fiery hair and magnetic personality would be a real sensation. Unfortunate for those who have to listen to him—he has an opportunity to go to China with his teachings. My next acquaintance was with a circus manager. It wasn’t a very big outfit but was pretty well known. He began telling another person standing near him about a certain very charming young lady he had in his show. He raved about her until the fellow finally went in to see for himself. They entered a large tent and I crept in behind them to satisfy my curiosity. Low and behold! A girl came out with snakes wrapped around her neck and arms, and to your surprise and mine —none other than Eunice Alison stood before me. What a charm she must have over those snakes! My next experience was in a small town in Nevada. Wendell Poore—our class president (I really suppose I should give him quite a prophecy, a president of a bank or something but anyway)— how I remember him in class meetings. He always reminded me more of a professor than a president. He seemed to have had his fling at good luck when he was in high school because he was operating a little filling station in the desert. He said he hadn’t seen anyone of our class since he w'ent out there so you can imagine how glad he was to see what was left of me. Had you ever noticed how Wendell used to treat a little girl by the name of Esther Pugerude? Well. I had. so I began to wonder what had happened to her. Speak of the devil and they will appear. The next morning I came upon a news boy. As I had no money I began glancing around, thinking something might be in the paper that would be of interest. Sure enough, in large headlines. Esther Pugerude weds prize fighter. His name. I believe, was Rex Lahr. one of our old class mates who seems to have gained quite a name for himself. Well. Wendell—you should have developed your muscle cause she likes ’em big and powerful. Maybe, she was the kind who needs protection—or what do you think? Ha. Ha! — this is good, here we have real news —FLASH—our old pal and classmate Florence Gurney, gee this is sure good. I almost split when I saw her. She was bending down, on all fours, searching for something—the way she was looking for it. it appeared to be very valuable. Pretty soon she raised up and was holding a magnifying glass in one hand and something wiggly in the other. Can you imagine—it was a little potato bug. I then asked her what she was doing. She seemed very interested and began telling me in words that only a person of her profession could understand. Well to sum it all up. she was hunting different species of bugs—I’d call her a bugoligist— what would you call her. just plain bugs? Lee Ray. the young man with the big ideas— poor fellow—he never will amount to much now. He says he is starting at the bottom as all good businessmen do and is going to work his way to the top. He’s sweeping streets at present, poor lad— how my heart goes out to him. He did tell me however that he expects to be promoted to the position of garbage man and then he can have time after his work to think of what his next promotion will be. He should never have gone to Shelby for employment though—because they will keep him there in the streets. Then I chanced upon an old acquaintance of mine, none other than Rutherford Jones. He has become a famous crooner. All day long he answers his fan mail and in the evening he croons the