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

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SENIOR WILL We, the Senior class of 1946, being composed of 48 individual parts, of sound mind (?) and good physical endurance, do hereby will and bequeath to Mr. Davis our sincere respect as a whole, and to a patient and untiring faculty, our sincere admiration and a few gray hairs. The following Seniors do hereby generously and spontaneously bequeath the following personality attributes to fellow students of C. B. H. S. I, Ann Farris, leave my freckles to Mary Flaget. I, Laura Lewis, will my mechanical ability to Ina Ree Boe. I. Jeanne Meyers, leave—taking to the high seas in search of Seymour. 1, Betty Faye Massey, will my way with the men to Gloria Fugle. 1, Arleathe Zuelke, will my idea of keeping my locker open to the Freshmen; you can get in it faster, kids. I, Coleen Higgins, leave my daily trip to the office to anyone who thinks they can get up soon enough. I, Eileen Lawrence, leave my poetic ability to the whole school (fortunately there’s not enough to go around). I. Vivian Lozing, leave my broken glasses to anyone who wants to look dignified, yet half-cracked. I, Coleen Crummy, leave my gift of gab to Dorothy Butts. It gets you out of tight places, Dorothy, and then again it gets you into some. I, Joann House, leave my brother to the mercy of the Cut Bank Wolfesses. I, Francie Keller, leave my beautiful voice to Martha Jane. I, Mae Clark, leave with no regrets. I, Jo Ann Peterson, leave my office job to Helen McCabe. 1, Mary McDermott, leave my place in high school to Dorothy McDermott. L Wilma Davis, leave my unbreakable glasses to Bobby Artz. I Molly Dean, will my ability to skip 7th period to Ralph Koontz; now he should be able to get out darn easy. L Alice Kemmer, leave my quiet manners to Dorla Eby. Il Shirley Johnson, leave my apple polishing ability to Andy Patten. I, Betty Devlin, will my bookkeeping ability to the bookkeeping class of ’47. I, Delores Watson, leave my bright red hair to Joan Werner. I, Jim Ness, leave my knowledge of farming to Don Fugle. 1, Ray Davis, will my limousine to Danny to see that everybody gets to school on time. I, Rex Neil, leave, taking Laura with me. Ij Jack Burns, will nothing to nobody, cuz nobody will’d me anything. I, Glenn Lindberg, leave my job at Buttrey’s to Bill O’Neil. 1, Jimmy Poynter, leave, yelling Annual Staff Meeting Tonight,” out of force of habit. 1, Phil Spencer, will my electrical ability to the Senior class of '47. I, Don Goldrick, leave with my credit and a half. I, Rosser Fisher, leave Katie regretfully; now’s your chance, boys. I, Bill Croymans, leave my Texaco job to Richard Crouch. I, Dick Freed, leave my Atlas build to Gene Palmer. 1, Natalie Edkins, will my figure to the Cheer Leaders of next year. I, Betty Ann Hartmann, leave the dictionary I sat on at the dinner table to Lorraine Sandell. I, Jack Kittleson, will my marcel to Glenn Hungate. I, Tommy Getter, leave Bobby Smith all the answers so Smith can graduate. I, Chief Higgins, will my ability to get along with the teachers to Bill Jones. It comes in handy sometimes, Bill. I, Lucille Butts, will my vocabulary to Webster to add to the dictionary, b Vivian O’Neil, will my ability to dress to Pat Lewis. I, Lois McLean, leave my smile to Jo Ann Mueller. I. Virginia Salansky, will my ability to sew to Hermoine Hegg. I. Juanita Smith, will my acting ability to the Senior Play of ’47; they will need it. I, June Moore, will my attendance at Rainbow to all the Newcomers. 1, Dorothy Novak, leave my neat and polished appearance to Betty Jagen. I, Violet Stewart, leave my ability to fix hair to Betty Bakke. I, Leora Reisch, leave my height to Grace Mingneau. I, Alice Wagner, leave my love for Mr. Murray to Gary Snyder. In witness whereof, we, the class of 1946, set our hands and seals and publish this, our last will and testament, this 22nd day of May, in the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and forty-six. ( 16 i

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SENIOR CLASS HISTORY We, the Senior class of 1946, entered high school full of high hopes and high ambitions. We were not disappointed except on initiation night when we began to wonder whether we were too idealistic. However, we soon realized that it measured up to all our expectations. Under the sponsorship of Miss Millspaugh and Mr. Faris we chose the following officers: President, Bobby Peterson; Vice President, Ray Davis; Secretary, Sally Rand; Treasurer, Laura Lewis; and Reporter, Shirley Johnson. In ’43 we were Sophomores and it was our turn to do the initiating. Loren Thelan, with the assistance of Maurice Harrison, led us through an uneventful year. As our class assembly we sponsored a Matinee Dance. As upper classmen in ’44, we came into our own and assumed the responsibilities of our position. We produced a very successful Junior Play, “Peg O’ My Heart,” with Jeannie Meyers and Rosser Fisher heading the cast. We had six lettermen: Bob Peterson, Vin Sheridon, Don Higgins, Tommy Getter and Maurice Harrison. Our Junior Prom, done in a Hawaiian motif, was very successful. Thank heaven, we finally are mighty Seniors. Our class now numbers 48. This includes two returned veterans, Jack Kittleson and Don Goldrick. Our Senior Play was “Lady Be Good,” with Juanita Smith and Jim Ness heading the cast. For the first time since the winter of 1940, the Senior class presented a Senior Ball. It was decorated as a winter scene. THE END—No just the beginning.

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SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY Dear Joe: The darndest thing happened the other night. We were all sitting around in the Rexall drinking cokes and griping because our annual work wasn’t near done, when Phil Spencer came up with a bright idea. He suggested that we try out his recently completed time machine. Since anything can happen and usually does when the Seniors get together, we decided to get some first hand information for the Prophecy. Well, we finally got to Spencer’s lab and with Devlin assisting (with a crowbar) we all got in the machine. She set the dial for 1956 and off we went whirling through space. Felt just like we were riding with Fisher again. Everything was black for a minute (and I think Bear stepped on my foot). We heard a high, shrill, piping music and stepped out of the machine to find ourselves somewhere in China. An immediate debate arose as to the town. We decided to find the American Consul. Walking down the street, we met Rosser Fisher. He informed us we were in Chunking. He is an aeronautical engineer there but is going to leave for Lisbon this weekend to meet Jimmy Poynter who was head of the International Secret Service. It seems Alyce Wagner was caught trying to steal Rex Neil’s plans for a new photographic lens. Her trial will be held in the International Courts at the Hague. Laura Lewis was a material witness. Well, Joe, the next place that stupid machine took us was India. Remember when you were stationed there? Picking up “The Delhi News,” I read that Dick Freed was in trouble. It seems that he had too many women in his harem. He couldn’t decide which to get rid of—Colleen Higgins or Violet Stewart. Leaving Prince Freed and his harem, we went on to Russia. Joe, you’ll never guess who we found there. Jimmy Ness! And working as Stalin’s right hand man, too. He’s still trying to find out just how Communism works. In Stalingrad we ran into Wilma Davis. She was visiting Leora Reisch who has an interior decorating shop there. Well, after that, Joe, I wouldn’t have been surprised at anything. But you should have seen my face when we found Bob Peterson in Switzerland, herding goats. We did a quick fade-out there and went to Stockholm to check up on Glenn Lindberg who has just won the Nobel prize for converting a model T Ford into a Piper Cub. Don’t laugh, Joe. for Glenn, nothing is impossible. We went on down to Europe; in Vienna, we found Alice Kemmer who has just converted into swing one of Strauss’ famous waltzes. Some of the other friends we found in Alice’s orchestra were Mary McDermott, Delores Watson and May Clark. With June Moore as their vocalist, they are the only woman Viennese orchestra. Walking down the Rue de la Paix in Paris we saw Betty Faye Massey sitting in a little sidewalk cafe. She told us she was running a very exclusive lady’s dress shop. Molly Dean is her assistant. And, Joe, if you could see those hats she dreams up you wouldn’t think mine was crazy. l17l