Emmerich Manual High School - Ivian Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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THE BOOSTER CLASS PROPHECY By Walton Cask Before taking the class twenty-five years into the future, I would like to say a word by way of introduction. In the first place, I make no claim what- soever to the possession of supernatural powers. I will not guarantee that the following prophecy comes true and would like to say that I have received no bribes whatever. I can, however, vouch that in some mysterious way it was given to me to see the following events as in real life. With this brief preface, I dedicate this prophecy to Mr. Money, my only relative in the school. Now for the prophecy: One score and five years ago there graduated from E. M. T. H. S. the greatest class in the history of the school. This class was known as the Jan- uary ' 20 class. It was my privilege to be a member of said class, and for twenty-five years I kept in my mind the motto, Be American, and tried to live up to its standard and ideals. For twenty-five years I had been in Alaska superintending shipments of cocoanuts to the United States. After having spent that length of time away from home, I decided to go back. Arriving at San Francisco I decided before leaving for the East to take in the Movie Studios of southern California. Upon my arrival at Los Angeles, I immediately went to the Mack Sennett Studios. They were rehearsing a comedy and who do you think was in it? Our old friend Past Participle Harry S. Tobin. He was being chased by a dog and was supposed to climb a tele- phone pole to escape being bitten but could find no pole. Finally the manager, who turned out to be Dan Macnamara, yelled to the dog, Roy Geider in dis- guise, to quit monkeying and to act like a dog. This moment the Mack Sennett bathing girls appeared on the scene and I was greatly surprised to find among them some of my old classmates, Elizabeth Morlan, Frances Childers, Gladys Morrison, Isabella Weiss, Inez Gregg, Lydia Barker, Bessie Robbins, Emma Leerkamp and Edith Almeroth. About this time the Past Participle recognized me and came over to where I was. We talked about good old Manual days, and numerous other things. Just then Roy, who had taken off his dog outfit, joined us, as did the bathing girls. We all decided right then and there to have a reunion that evening. After all were ready to go, we jumped into the San Francisco Airline Lim- ited. Soon the conductor came to relieve us of our fares. Imagine my surprise when I recognized my old friend and enemy, Owen Dupree. He was so tickled that he forgot to take our fares. He said that this airline business was the fastest work he could find, and that it paid him the best. He received fifty dol- lars on hour, working one hour a week. After our party, which now included Speedy, we bid each other goodbye, and I left for Indianapolis, arriving at 9 a. m. next morning. Take you to any hotel in Indianapolis for a nickel, were the first words I heard when I alighted from the train. Well, well, if it isn ' t William Gane, I exclaimed as I saw that worthy and recognized his voice. He took me to the Metropolitan Hotel, a ninety-nine story building with a fine landing on top where I decided to stay during my visit to my home town. As I went up to register some one called me by name, and who should I see but Ralph Bockstahler in the queerest looking uniform I had ever seen. He invited me to his room and told me a strange story. After graduating from college, he, J. Edgar Driftmeyer, the Count, and George Cleaver built an airplane capable of traveling a hundred thousand miles an hour. With this machine they went to the moon, arriving in slightly over two hours. The Count, upon finding that poisonous gases were prevalent upon the moon invented a chemi- cal substance which drove them away. Then he founded a kingdom and called it Caroline. He was made Count of the new kingdom and Bockstahler became Vis-Count. George Cleaver was given the honored position of Court Clown. Ralph invited me to go with him, but I declined, saying that if I ever committed suicide I should prefer another method. I promised him, however, that I would

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8 THE BOOSTER call at his house very soon to renew my acquaintance with his wife, formerly Helen Brandenburger. I stepped up to a cigar store to buy a cigar, and I was astonished to see the Indian statue in front of that store come to life and take the appearance of Clinton Zenith Glascock. After shaking hands with him and asking where I could find some other of my schoolmates, I bought a cigar and departed. I then went to Riverside Park for some recreation before resuming my duties. Three shots for a nickel. Step right up, came the voice of Herschell Moats. Needless to say, we were both delighted to see each other. I took three shots and hit the colored fellow right in the nose. He came from behind the scenes then and wanted to break my neck until he saw who I was. He was William Buck, the fellow who caused Manual to go bankrupt furnishing him with tardy slips. He did not look very natural with all his paint, but I knew him for all that. He also informed me where I could find some more friends. The next morning I started on my weary way. Stepping into a nearby subway, I heard a familiar voice call, All aboard for Haughville, Brightwood, Broad Ripple and other northern points! Coming closer, I spied Robert Knip- tash. Before he saw me I escaped for I happened to remember that for twenty- five years I had owed him six cents, and I was in no condition to pay it now. As I entered my hotel that evening, a messenger boy, Raymond Mitchell, pre- sented me a telegram which read like this: Go to Hawaii immediately, and try to stop the strike of croquet players. I boarded the Panama Limited for New Orleans and was soon on my way. That night I had some lively experiences. In the compartment next to me I could not help but hear the following conversation : ■ You beast, you, you ' ve only given me five cents since we ' ve been married! Then you made me give it to the porter as a tip. I ' ll pull your hair! Now, Edith, dear, cooed the sweet voice of August Schrader, You know very well that I gave you six cents instead of five and that you bought a stick of gum with the penny. Deciding to have a little fun I called the porter. I looked at him steadily for a couple of minutes, and with one stroke of my hand made white the black- ened face of William Gaddis. He told me a long tale of woe about having to take this job to get to New Orleans where he expected to raise snow balls for the southern children and become rich. Just then an important looking man, in the person of Henry Weghorst, laid a hand on William ' s shoulder and said, You ' ve played enough today, William, you must come to your compartment with me. On the side Henry told me that William had lost his mind over a checker game and was being taken to an asylum in New Orleans. He only imagined he was a porter on the train. After hearing of this sad case, I could not think of the joke I had started to play, so went to sleep. After being asleep for about five minutes I was suddenly awakened by a voice commanding, Hands up! Your money or your life. As I had no money this did not worry me very much. After relieving the occupants of the Pullman of their valuables, the robber started to leave, when a little mar. Owen Mogg, whipped out his revolver and shot the robber in the gizzard. Horrors, I ' m stabbed, sobbed the voice of Lawrence McLaughlin. Mogg and I then got together and took our former classmate out of the train and threw him in a nearby creek, wishing him the best of luck among the other fishes. That ended my adventures until I arrived in Squedunk, Hawaii. Arriving in said burg, I immediately went to see the Duke, or King, or whatever they call the boss in that country, and you may imagine my surprise upon seeing Alex Levinson sitting on the throne, a second class soap box. When he recognized me he ordered a feast. Before long an appetizing menu of spaghetti and onions was floating before us. After lunch he introduced me to the staff of cooks. Edwin Berryhill was first assistant boss, holding the title of Discount. Alfred Mueller was the Baron, while Miss Dorcas Morris was chief cook and bottle washer. I told the King of my business and he soon straightened things up for me, and I went back to the United States, feeling like a young wasp just hatched. (Continued on Page 11)