Fairbury Cropsey High School - Crier Yearbook (Fairbury, IL)

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YOUR UNCLE DUDLEY The Senior play, “Your Uncle Dudley,” was given at the Central theatre Friday night, April 30. The action is fast and furious, and centers around Dudley Dixon’s attempts to get his dominating sister, Mabel, out of the house so that he will be free to marry Christine, his Danish girl-friend. His hopes hinge on Ethelyn, Mabel’s daughter, for unless she wins the $5,000 prize in a voice contest, Mabel cannot go to Europe. Charles Hanes plays the part of Dudley, the harassed bachelor, and Ella James is his sister. Ethelyn is portrayed by Helen Steidinger, and Robert, her boy-friend, by Willard Craig. Cyril, Dudley’s teen-age nephew, is played by Jay Morris. Katharine Roach is Christine, and Herbert Wiser plays Charlie Post, Dudley’s friend. And then there is Grandma—lovable and scheming—played by Edith Yeagle. The production angle was handled by Carl Filers, stage manager; Carllene Steidinger, stage properties; I ois Fitzgerald and Dorothy Hen- ning, prompters and properties. The painting of the scenery was under the direction of Carl Filers, Charles Hanes. John Torch, and Jay Morris. Miss Kemple directed the play. —24—

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I, Katharenc Roach, leave my demon driving with the brake on and the radiator dry to Charles Miskell. I, Margie Schnetzler, leave my ability to be engaged and still keep all the other boys on the string to anyone who thinks it might come in handy some day. I, Elizabeth Somerville, will my ability to fight in the clinches with Joe Louis to that belle of the bars, Mary Harris. I, Marionne Somerville, leave my passion for movie stars, Sabu in particular, to beauless Betty Wills. 1, Margot Spence (Lady Godiva), leave my Amazonian tactics and tears to Alice Ferguson. I, Helen Steidinger, will my sweater girl figure and favorite song, “Jersey Bounce,” to Phyllis Haab. I, Carllene Steidinger, leave my l ooks and my ability to concentrate on them into the wee hours of the morning to Phyllis Moyer, who con- centrates into the wee hours of the morning—but not on books! I, Florence Sutter, leave my diamond to Lula Mae Bess (whose only chance it will be) with the understanding that I get it back when I quit going steady. I, Maurice Sutter, do hereby leave my sowing machine to Charles eatch in the hopes that he may sow his wild oats as unfruitfully as I have. I, Charles Thomas, leave my ability to run from the scene of a good fight, especially my own fights, to Francis Haase. I, Frances Tollensdorf, leave my radiant countenance and dynamic personality to Rosemary Gahwiler, hoping that she will put them to ad- vantage like 1 did. I, Virgil Travis, leave my title of “King of the Speedway” to that bashful snailpacer, Bob Ziegenhorn. I, Ruby Vance, leave my congeniality and 18-inch waist to that sylph- like Ruth Smith. I, Harry John Wagenseller, am really leaving this time. I deem this sufficient. 1, Wayne Winterland, leave my ability to slip my girl friends a couple of gallons of gas on the Q. T. to Bill Tagg in the hopes that he will get my position when I leave for the WAACs May 21st. I, Herbert Wiser, bequeath my retractable ears, concave chest and convex stomach to Dula Mae Dawson. I, Edith Yeagle, leave my ability to take things as they come, always with a smile, with now and then a colorful word interjected, to wild, wooly Carlos Bandy. And lastly, we nominate and appoint Happy DeFries to be the sole executor of this Will and desire that he will carry ou‘ our wishes as they were hereinbefore stated. Signed, sealed, slung upon our former said cellmates by the Senior Class of ’43, as its I ast Will and Testament in the presence of the wit- nesses undersigned. MINNIE SNEYD (Seal) DR ACULA (Seal) —23—

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I’m Not So Pretty Smart Teachers I didn’t read my chapter, Wouldn’t know it if I had. This physics class has got me stumped. My grades are pretty bad. I’m scared to death of current flow, My circuits all go flooey. Electric wires don’t appeal to me After what happened to Uncle Looey. Acids, I hear, burn holes in things, And to spill some would just be ducky. Now what would happen if it got on me? If I live through this class, I’ll be lucky. They tried to explain about motors to me And I tried hard to understand. I just wasn’t built to take motors apart. Oh, for the brain of a man. (I’m kidding) My motto has always been, “Never say die,’’ But I’m so discouraged with D’s, They do give me credit for trying, I guess, And those D’s could well have been E's. Take warning, all you sweet young ferns Who have delicate brains (?) such as mine. Never take physics, bluffing won’t work— Mr. Schneider won’t fall for a line. By Ella (ain’t mechanical) James Breathes there a girl with soul so dead Who never to herself has said, “I think I’ll polish my saddles tonight—” And then forgotten. —Edith Yeagle. Mr. Ricketts: “Sit up straight and put BOTH of your feet on the floor.’’ Miss Kouzmanoff: “And here’s another item about Colonel McCormick.’’ Mr. Staggs: “Now, you, MARGIE, can just take that front seat.” Miss Sharp: “If you don’t stop talking I’ll send you to the office.” Mr. Leatch: “There’ll be a little quiz tomorrow over the last CHAPTERS.” Miss Isebrands: “Take out your Gregg writers.” Mr. Schneider: “You can sell all of the tickets. The people in Fairbury are making money.” Miss Kemple: “Notebooks due at the end of the six weeks.” Miss Whitford: “Tomorrow we’ll have breakfast.” Mr. Bayless: “And these are the stu- dents who haven’t returned their re- port cards.” Miss Kaiser: “That equation is very simple.” —Elizabeth Somerville. December 7, 1941 December Seven! Oh, yellow race. Your sons, their sons, nor all your kind, From memory can now erase The shame this date will call to mind. Long after peace is won and made An' safety comes to land and sea, And present hatreds cool and fade, Remembered still this day will be. —Katharene Roach. Sabotage—(in Spanish, sabataje) Three figures are seen approaching the Spanish room door. There they stand whispering and looking about in a manner as if they know that if they’re caught this may be their finish! Now they’ve quit talking just as Miss Sharp ushers them into her room. Class has started and as these three students sit down together they give each other an assuring smile, and then a slight laugh as if to say, “This may be our last day in here.” When the hands of the clock point to 11:55, the three boys get ready to spring for the door. 11:56, 11:57, 11:58—and sweat begins to pour out on their foreheads. 11:59! At last the time has come! At last these three have gotten their chance for revenge on Miss Sharp for the D and two C’s last six weeks. All the Spanish class has left now, except for these three boys who linger awhile at the door. Then with a look of vengeance on their faces they leap outside of the room and slam the door. Silence. But this is broken by a scream of horror from within the Spanish room. The boys hear the scream from upstairs, and burst into a long laugh. In their pocket is the door-knob of the Spanish room door! JAY MORRIS. MAURICE SUTTER. JOHNNY LORCH. P. S. To Miss Sharp: We are very sorry you were kept in there until 12:30. We just wanted to keep you in there until 1:00. —25—