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

Page 19 text:

SENIOR BOOSTER 17 Gordon Leonard had killed Lynn Dismore in a duel over Clara Mahr, and while he was serving his term at Sing Sing, Carl Howard had beaten Gordon ' s time. Lawrence said that Lillie Hunt and Lucille Clay had made a million with a cabaret which specialized in ice water, and they had passed on their source of wealth to Mabel Chavis and Gertrude Burwell. The last bit of information that I received from Lawrence was most pleasant. Frederick Fish had made a small fortune from an invention of a most efficient hairpin sterilizer. I searched the congregation for familiar faces. I saw my two friends, Eugenia Nichols and Charles Parker, engrossed in conversation. Alas ! Cupid had struck home again. In another pew I saw Irene Bowers talking, as usual, to Edith Bullard. They were both renowned Latin teachers, and Edith had lately written a successful book entitled Why I Am So Brilliant. Then I saw a pitiable sight. It was my former friend, Lillian Jenkins. She was dressed in black in memory of her late husband, Harold Wallman. I longed to say a few consoling words to her, but was relieved to see that Louella Bailey and her husband, Frederick Eckstein, were doing this. The organist, who was none other than Sylvia Graham, struck a mighty chord. Silence followed and all eyes watched the pulpit. From a small vestibule at the side which led onto the pulpit came the great minister, Reverend Charles Courim. I had heard that this wedding, which had been unavoidably delayed for years, was going to be a most unusual affair, so I was not in the least surprised when I saw, following the minister, Afred Ellis and William Mussmann. dressed in short filmy gowns with dainty white wings attached. They were representing dear little cupids, and they made a big impression on the audience. The doors in the back of the church opened, an d bride and groom entered. They were Hildegarde Kluger and Lawrence Schmitt ; both were looking su- premely happy. The flower girls, whom I recognized as Esther Burge, Bessie Rundberg, Kathleen Cassidy, Dorothy Feldman, June Harman, and Mary Molloy, tripped along before the couple scattering rose petals. The best man was Boyd Courim. He was a football coach at the college where Lawrence Schmitt taught and they had become bosom friends. Boyd ' s wife, who was the former Bessie Meng, was, of course, matron of honor. Behind them all walked eight solemn looking women dressed in black. They were Mary Murphy, Helene Otte, Eva Hochman, Anna Ott, Kathryn Canisius, Artie Lethco, Mary Louise Aichele, and Helen Barry. Evidently they were chief mourners. Paul Duddy was the reliable ring-bearer. When the procession reached the pulpit everyone sat down — even the bride and groom. Custom had changed with time, and it was now the custom to have a short musical program before the marriage, with a recitation after. Some people entered from the small vestibule and seated themselves in the choir. The minister announced that the Strutter ' s Syncopated Orchestra, which was of great renown, would play the introductory number. The orchestra was composed of Valeria Edwards, Jennie Douglas, Charles Davis, Richard Lindsey, Floyd Starks, Carl Wallace, William Smith, Geneva Morrow, and Charleszine Wood. Next the great S. O. S. Radio Singer, Bernice Tyner, rendered a touching solo. The Red Hot Quartette then arose to sing. The four members were Don- ald Henley, Jacob Naperstick, Edith Belle Ruffin, and Victor Saunders. They started out nobly on Just Before the Battle Mother, but romantic little Edith spied two famous movie stars, George Stephenson and Herschel Seamon, in the audience and failed to sing. The other three gave up, and the quartette retired in disgrace. Wilbur Anderson and Harry Healey sang a duet. They Know Not What They Do, and finally the marriage ceremony started witth due pomp and dignity. The minister muttered for a while in a low, monotonous voice; then clearly and loudly he pronounced the fatal sentence, and Hildegarde and Lawrence were married. The great elocutionist, Virginia Thompson, then recited triumphantly the poem, It Is Done, and the wedding was over. The bride and groom made a hasty exit, and as I was anxious to get at the news I followed close behind them. As I hurried out, I saw Margaret Mertz,

Page 18 text:

1G SENIOR BOOSTER sSs ii i5 Class Prophecy By Mary Hill In the year 1939 unbelievable miracles happened. The most astounding of these was that I obtained a position as a society reporter for a promising news- paper called the Indianapolis Booster. When I reported to the editor ' s office I was pleasantly surprised to see that he was no other than my old classmate, Claude King. For old time ' s sake he gave me the job of writing a most interest- ing account of a wedding for the society page. The wedding was to take place that morning, so I hurried off to the church. I left the editor ' s office and entered the elevator, and as I was whizzed down to the main floor I glanced at the elevator man. I recognized John Moore, but I did not speak to him. As I left the elevator I recalled that John had always had high ideals. I stepped into a waiting taxicab, and as I did so I saw that the driver was Alec Williams. Away we whizzed toward the church. At Illinois and Wash- ington streets we were held up by the traffic. I gave the traffic cop an impatient glance; then I looked at him again. I recognized that he was none other than my old classmate Orrel Hoyt. Then my attention was alsoi attracted to a group of people on the corner. People were gaping at two men, who (I could see by their demonstrations) were selling a patent hair tonic. These crafty men were none other than Harry Rabb and Edward Reifeis. My attention was suddenly drawn to a terrible commotion on Washington street. When I asked my driver what had happened, he said that Oscar Herbst, a motorman, had been watching two nice looking women and had almost wrecked the street car. When Alec pointed them out I recognized Isabelle Robinson and Emily Svendson. The traffic signal changed, and I started on my way again. I noticed nothing of interest except a large white mule sign which said that Charles Gorman and Joseph Mitchell were proprietors. I knew that they had many patrons. At last I arrived at the church. I saw a man and woman en tering the church. It was Verne Baldauf and his wife, the former Grace Grimm. They were so absorbed in their conversation that they did not notice me, so I hurried past them into the church. I took my seat in the reporter ' s pew. I had a good view of the whole church. Several other reporters sat near me. One I recognized as Herbert Stewart, the society editor for the Times. His wife (I knew her as Roberta Lamb) was with him. As we were representing rival papers, I turned my back and did not speak to him. I remembered that I had been requested to make a note of all important per- sonages present, so immediately I wrote down that the state ' s governor was present with his wife. Our president of 1924, John Wit; the wife, Margaret Strieblen. Across the aisle from me sat a gray-haired man whom I recognized as Law- rence Ritter. I remembered that Lawrence had always had news about my friends, so I went over to talk with him. He said that he and Walter Dolk had gone into partnership and bought the Flexible Toothpick Factory. He said that several of our famous class members were employed there. Richard Smith was sales manager— he could sell anything. Lawrence ' s private secretary was Elsie Stoiber. Leona McWhirter and Ida Davis were bookeepers ; Milton David- son, Vernon Cristee, and Frederick Oliver had charge of the advertising, while Lester Noerr was head janitor with Russell Johnston, James Burgan, Edwin Harold, Paul Case, and Thomas Neale under him. Lawrence then suddenly remembered to tell me that he was happily married to my friend, Erna Hartman. He continued with his news. He had heard that

Page 20 text:

18 SENIOR BOOSTER JUNE ' 24 CLASS PROPHECY now a great poet, and she told me that Blanche Blakley, her chum, had recently married Lewis Clark. I could not wait to hear of any of my other old friends, but I hurried to catch up with the bride and groom. As they climbed into the machine, Hildegarde called to me and asked me to get in. She thought that my presence might dis- guise the machine and that then they might avoid the rice — which belief was right. We rode away in safety. Lawrence implored the driver to hurry as it was only a short time before their train left (they were going on a honeymoon) and the driver, who was Edgar Roehm, certainly speeded. As we neared the heavier traffic we went slower, however, and I began to take notice of the pedestrians. I saw a handsomely dressed woman whom I recog- nized as Mildred Bostic. Her husband, Donald O ' Kelley, walked a little ahead of her leading her pet, a rat terrier. I recollected as we passed them that Donald always had had a leading part. A little farther down the street I saw Harold Blair and Ruth Sexson coming out of a lawyer ' s office. I drew my conclusion from their rapt expression, they had just obtained a marriage license. I thought sadly that it was too bad that these marriages could not have taken place at an earlier date, but — better late than never. Edgar stopped the car at a peanut stand and broke himself buying peanuts. The man at the stand was James Reynolds, and Leona Highstreet was roasting the peanuts. We rode on, but at Meridian and Washington streets we came to a dead stop. I saw that there was a parade, so I stepped onto the running board to watch it. I discovered that it was one of those miscellaneous parades which had lately come into great vogue. If someone started them, anyone could follow. On a gorgeous ikmik was seated Minnie Kaplan. In front of her walked Rebecca Goussak and Kathryn Fisher bearing a sign which said, Minnie for President. Behind this group cam a beautiful ostrich on whose back was seated Alma Kaster. In front of her walked Irma Lentz and Yetta Greenspan bearing a sign which said, Alma for Vice. Next came eight beautiful women who were fashion plates for a big department store. They were Dorothy McKay, Blanche Hough, Myrtle Johnson, Evelyn Kroot, Elsie Ittner, Alma Bauman, and Lillian Holman. Then came an adver- tisement for a popular vaudeville show ; La Verne Chastain and Myrtle Frye represented the midgets who were at the show all that week. Hazel Fuller and Marguerite McDaniel, their body guards, walked sedately behind them. Then came a most impressive group of men. They had uniform gray suits with the conspicuous letters S C D written across the front. The group was composed of a great many men. Proudly I noticed that many of them had been my classmates. They were Russell Stonehous e, Herman Vollmer, Elwyn Tyler, Chester Newman, Firth Smith, and Philip Cohen. Later I discovered, to my dismay, that the letters 8 C D meant Street Cleaning Department. Last came a shrieking bunch of rebels. With a sad heart I recognized Meyer Kline, Wilbur Holle, George Cecil, and Herman Klasing. They were rebelling against woman tyranny. George Cecil seemed to be their leader, and I sighed to think what a terrible life his poor wife, Ruth Emigholz, must be leading. Lawrence had been impatient at the delay and Edgar speeded on quickly. We bumped a banana cart, and when I looked around, I saw Edward Miller and his wife (I recognized Martha Thielman) frantically trying to recover the goods. Then, to Lawrence ' s disgust, traffic was blocked again. We were in front of a motion picture house, and I saw to my amazement Helen Adolay energetically chewing gum and selling tickets at t he ticket booth. The poster in front of the show announced that the film star .Helen Harmeson, would be there next week in a play called School Days, Louis Weiland would play opposite her, and Estella Austermiller would take the villainous part. Well, finally we arrived at the depot. Lawrence bought the tickets, and we hurried up to the train. It was not ready to leave, so Hildegarde stood and talked awhile. While we were talking, I happened to spy the engineer. Hilde- garde agreed with me that it was Ernest Owens. The train then whistled, and