Downers Grove North High School - Cauldron Yearbook (Downers Grove, IL)

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Prophecy of Class 1924 'piME—1940. Place—Downers Grove. Scene—Postoffice. (On the walls are posters, one stating the advisability of buying Miss Margaret Stough’s new course Latin books; another advertising Jesse Old- field’s new cut style chewing tobacco. In one corner is a stenographer and as she looks up we see that it is none other than Ruth Thomas. Donald Van Valen, chief postmaster, enters, fol- lowed by several small, trim boys carrying mail sacks. Van is still young, thirty-odd is no longer old. He deposits his hat and cane on a rack, stuffs his gloves in his coat pocket and hangs it up. He takes his place at his desk as Ruth nods.) Ruth: Good morning. Van; aren’t you rather late? There’s a pile of letters waiting for you. They came in on the early train. Van (opening and scanning his mail as he talks) : Hello, yes, I am late. My man was late getting the car started and 1 had to stop at Hawkins Junk Shop to tell Herbie of some newspapers and an old stove in my cellar; and to order some fruit. You know he has taken on fruit as a side line. Well—I say, look here, speak of the angels! (Herbie enters, a basket of fruit on one arm, old newspapers in the other. He dumps these on the floor and delving into the depths of his hat unearths a yellow envelope.) Herbie: Telegram for you. Van; not bad news, I hope. (Van opens it and glances at the contents) : Gh. no. President Bryap wants me to come to Washington immediately to attend a conference with the King of England and the President of France. My plane’s being fixed so I'll have to take the passenger. It leaves at two, there’s plenty of time to go home and pack. Thanks, good-bye. (He starts for the door, Herbie following.) I’ll send a substitute im- mediately. You take charge till he comes, will you, Ruth? Good-bye. (Ruth types for a few minutes. Then stops to sort out a few loose letters and packages. As she finishes the substitute comes in. He is an old man and seems quite interested in the place.) Man: Hello, thar, Ruth. I’m Mr. Johnson, remember? I happened to be visiting here and Donald asked me to take his place. Ruth: Of course I remember you, Mr. Johnson. I'm so glad to see you and I know you know just what to do. The mail is in and we can begin to sort it. (He lifts up a paper and scans it interestedly.) Mr. Johnson: Wal, wal, will you look at this now. H. Barnhart and D. Towsley—Brokers. Got a swell ad in here. Now what do you know about that? Say, I remember way back in ’24. Horace—no—Barney— that’s it—Barney was a basketball star, and Tubby used to take such a long walk every night before he went home from school. Ha, ha! Page ln cnty-six

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Class Song (Tune, “Old Gang of Mine ) Dear Class of ’24 all of the years Of working together, our triumphs, our fears In our old High now have come to an end Our hands, our hearts to the world we must lend. Chorus: But, dear old High, we ll ne’er forget those dear days of yore Days when we were your love and pride, the class of '24 We leave you now with a sadness untold Our hearts full of love, our memories of gold We promise you more pride in the years to come, in Class '24. Tho we must part, the tomorrow we ll be Out in the world, perhaps far, far from thee Oh! Downers Grove, we can never forget Those dear old halls where Class ’24 met. Chorus: Oh, but we ll give the world to see that old class of ours Finest of classes, dearest friends of happy childhood hours Four happy years have we spent in these halls Now we re forever going forth from these walls Still in years to come will give the world to see that old class of ours.

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(Ruth continues to sort mail and he continues to read. Suddenly he roars and slaps his thigh.) “Oh my! Ruth, look here! I’m so relieved. It s settled at last. We’ve bin waitin sixteen years tor it. (He hums the Wedding March and takes mincing little steps down the room. Ruth snatches the paper and gasps.) 1 he announcement of Eleanor Hanchett s marriage! ’ Alter long years or courtship, Miss Hanchett hnally uses leap year to the best advantage . “Wal now—1 wanta know. (A woman dressed in the best of taste enters with large placards. As she sees Mr. Johnson she smiles and shakes hands.) Lady: “Why, how do you do, Mr. Johnson. Have you usurped Don- ald s position? It s been a long while since I last saw you.’ Johnson: “Well, Lucile Heintz! No, Van’s away. You get better looking every day. Lucile. What can I do for you? I forgot—I should say Mrs. President—1 just heard you lead the 'Woman’s Clubs.’ Congratula- tions. ” Lucile: “Thank you. I wondered if I could put these up here. We re giving a benefit show in a couple of weeks and we want it well advertised.’’ Mr. Johnson (takes card and glances over it) : “Well, well, Dorothy Drew, famous star, coming in a movie production of Edith Perron’s drama. Moonless Nights,’ most popular play in New York last season. Afterwards there will be a special Ballet by Mile. Freida Rawcliffiske and Mme. Pavlowa, famous dancers in court circles. Well, well, of course (he puts it in a con- spicuous place) glad to, ma’am. Them two girls always was fooling with writing and dancin’ here. Lucile: “ I hank you so much. Now, I must hurry. Good-bye. (Johnson again takes up paper, looks at head lines and whistles.) “Harold Phelps, famous evangelist, conducting revival at M. E. Church. His sermon tonight is: 'The Curse of the Ice Cream Soda.’ Miss Irene Tank, pianist, will play appropriate tunes. All come and be saved.” (Shaking his head.) How these children do grow up. I can remember them in H. S. They are as fine a bunch as now as then.” (Turns leaves pensively for few moments.) “Hey there, Ruth, look here, this ad. ‘Wanted, position by experienced butler, references from best families; box 431.’ Say, now, that's —let me see—that’s Paul Fraher’s box number, isn’t it? Say, I wonder if he still says ‘That’s just what I was going to do.’ Ha, ha! A determined looking woman enters, also bearing posters. “I’d like these put up please. Why, hello, Mr. Johnson. I'm Lillian Elarton. Those are my campaign notices. I’m running for Senatoress; my platform, bobbed hair for women’s rights and wrongs; and let the men wash the dishes. Johnson: “Wal, I’ll put 'em up. I hope you get it, Lillian—guess you will, the wimmin ’ll all vote for that platform sure. I’ll stick ’em up for you. Bye.” Red: “Good-bye, Mr. Johnson. Glad to have seen you again. Page Ivcnty-icvcn