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

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SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY (CONTINUED FROM PAGE 17) latest song hits for his public. What a man—what a voice. You can't imagine my surprise when I saw Charlotte Teeple bending over a tub with the sweat running off her wrinkled brow. Numerous small children flocked around her and upon inquiry I found them all to be hers. She informed me that she was supporting her family by washing. It seems too good to be true that I was so fortunate in seeing all my old friends but even yet there were more happy surprises in store for me. for I saw a plane going through breathe taking stunts and at times I feared for the pilot's safety, but he made a perfect three-point landing and who should alight but Verla Erickson, but she wasn’t the pilot—she always did like guys with high ambitions. Scandal, scandal. I wouldn't have believed it but I saw it myself. Vernon Haglund has gone Hollywood and is now writing articles for the love-lorn columns in various movie magazines. Write in and find out all about the art of love, he knows all the questions and the answers too! Jessie Kliensmith is now a great business woman. We always knew Jessie was level headed and now she is carving a career for herself. She is at the head of the most prosperous business firm and is swiftly working to a higher place in a hand laundry in Harlem. New York. Well. James Miller, always was ambitious, but I doubt if anyone of us ever dreamed he would become a professor. He is now working as professor in a school with the enrollment of 20. but says he expects the enrollment to be 22 next year. I have even been at the scene of our school-hood days, where we spent many happy hours in the old brick school house. There I found that our faithful janitor had been replaced by Ray Peterson. Ray goes about his tasks singing and told me that he could not bear to leave the old school so he took the job as janitor. I also came upon Marian Kremkau in the town of Cut Bank. You could never guess what our Marian is doing, so I will tell you. Marian has taken over her father's dairy and has quite a large business. Some people might find it interesting to talk to her if they are interested in the dairy business. Coming upon a large group of people standing before a platform I decided to see what the attraction was. Soon a young lady appeared. I was not close enough to see her face but the gestures she used were familiar. I pushed my way through the crowd to recognize my old classmate. LeNaire Peters. Of course. I didn't expect such a famous orator to recognize me but she did and gave me one of her charming smiles. Strange as it may seem, the topic for her oration was The Value of Gossip. Are you prepared for a real surprise? Marvin Vasboe. of all people, has become a water boy for elephants. He is very fond of his elephants (he really thinks they are his) and calls them each by name. As I was standing there watching him. he told me he wanted to do big things for his new girl friend. Carrie Gaines, so he took the job. Kendis Wold. I believe, was the next person I came into contact with. She told me that she had joined the secret service” and because of her ability to keep things to herself (she must have changed since 1934) she has become a very important part of the force. Her only difficulty is that she is still looking for the Lindbergh baby. I was leisurely strolling down Fifth Avenue in Chicago when much to my bewilderment a bunch of wild shouts were heard. I looked in the direction of a tall building and of course my first idea was someone will have a good headache in the morning —but no—for once I was wrong. It was not long until I found that an old classmate. Eleanor Strong, was being married—and to whom do you think? None other than Scar Face Al. But how did he get out of prison? That’s easy. After Eleanor graduated she went to work doing odd jobs and finally raised enough money to pay for his release. Way back in 1934 Wilma Humble, much to her sorrow, stuck her gum on her desk. Mr. Taylor saw’ her sly movements and for punishment told her she must remove all the gum on every desk. Wilma has conscientiously kept at her w’ork ever since, although Mr. Taylor is gone and no longer supervises her work. It may seem unbelieveable but Wilma enjoys chewing gum while she works. I found Helen Peterson conducting lessons in voice training. Everyone knows what a melodious voice Helen had and she must have known it too for she is turning out many girls every year with voices as sweet and musical as her very own. During our high school career Marjorie Peterson confided in me several times that her chief ambition was to elope. I nearly swooned when I found that Marjorie was still single. But my surprise knew no bounds when I found that she was still looking for a man to elope with. You’d better hurry Marjorie or you will be too feeble to climb down the ladder from your boudoir. (Reference: Home for retired gentlemen.) Doris Fee wanted to be an old maid and run a cat hospital but fate took a turn for the worse and Doris married. Her marriage was short and she soon became a grass w’idow. At the present time Doris is looking for a suitable location for the long delayed cat hospital. Ha—my fair one. thou hath gained pounds upon pounds since last I gazed upon thee—my dear Georgia, yes—my eyes are not deceiving me it is Georgia Narducci. but my. my. how’ fat you have gotten. Georgia is chief taster of government light wines and beers. Because of her excellent taste she has held this position for several years. She was given an article to some newspaper reporters when I happened on the scene. Her statement was something like this: I wish my public to know’ that when I reach the age of eighty I plan to retire from this business and see the world. (Does she mean she intends to travel on the water wagon?) Now. my dear readers, we must emerge from this spell which has been cast upon us by our class (writing this prophecy.) As for we editors—a prophecy for ourselves might be inclined to show a little partiality so we leave you here to laugh, weep or groan—just as you choose, just so it doesn’t disturb any classes, etc. May we hope (as Mr. Micken would have said it) this bit of Burn’s wise-cracking will penetrate the old skulls. Oh. what a gift, it would be to give us. to see ourselves as others have seen us. —18—

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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

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WHO'S AFRAID OF THE BIG BAD ATHLETICS