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

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194(5 THE CRIER achieved by laboring on the railroad in Fairbury and working in Forrest—also on the railroad—to Dean Moser. I. Pat Haner, leave my flaming red hair and matching temper to that timid and refined Eleanor Walter. I. Dorothy “Ding Dong” Hanes, the Weston belle, leave the bright lights and night life of that traffic-congested city in order to venture out into the world. I, Irene Hurt, will my nickname, “Bookworm,” to George Strode, who certainly IS one. I, Olive James, leave my unintelligent questions and blank look to that self-cen- tered Sophomore, Barbara Steidinger. I. Ralph Knopp, will my fake “shots” on the basketball floor and my real ones at the Forrest bar to that intoxicating Anna Aupperle. I, Andy Lehmann, will my acrobatic flips and flops on the gym floor to that flex- ible floogie, John Tollensdorff. I, Rose Lorch, leave one carload of boys to Delores Bradley. I, Lloyd Metz, will the governor on my shining Ford to Wilbur Booker, who also has a Ford, but one with a fuselage and wings instead of a body and fenders. I, Robert Moser, leave my Daniel Boone cap which I have had in cold storage this winter to Snoop Eilers. I. John Mowery, now that I am leaving, can disclose the secret that my jokes were not entirely original but were just leased from Joan Davis. I, Bob Nussbaum, leave nothing as I most certainly do not want to part with my beautiful wavy hair and I am in dire need of everything else I possess in order to become the world’s greatest plumber as I have boasted. I, Vivian Schmidt, will my hour-glass figurd and agreeable attitude to Ruth Smith. I. Maxine Sears, will my knack for acquiring beautiful jewelry to one who pos- sesses none at all, Phyllis Bean. I, Helen Tagg, leave my ability to snag dates while on duty at Grip’s to anyone who feels that they can more successfully induce boys to keep them. I, Betty Travis, bequeath upon my timid little sister, Mary Rose, my overbearing ways. I, Warren Ulfers, leave my manly stride and ability to grow' a long beard to that Weismuller of the Freshman class, Stan Tagg. I. Bob Vail, will my superior intelligence and master mind which has enabled me to graduate in three and one-half years, to my beloved brother, Stan. I. Howard VonBergen. leave with the hope that Miss Staker will find someone as sociable and attentive as I have been in American History. I, William Wilken, leave my position as the only boy in F.T.H.S. that can look down on Mr. Cummins to any person in school who owns a stepladder. I, Gracelee Williamson, bequeath my uphill giggle and mouselike glances to Willa- dene McKinley. I, Arnola Winterland, leave my incessant laughter to Donald Henning. I. Reva Wiser, will my snappy comebacks which have no ill meaning to Don Merrill. I, Robert Ziegenhorn. leave my athletic ability, my broad shoulders and my attrac- tion to the fairer sex to that Van Johnson of the Freshman class, Brucie Carrithers. 23

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1945 THE CRIER CLASS WILL We, the Senior Class of one thousand nineteen hundred and forty-five, being the brains of thia organization, because of our exceptional and outstanding intelligence, do hereby sacrifice our position as stalwarts in the scholastic structure of the school with the following provisions: First: We, the entire class, leave our pleasing personalities which we have attained through our compulsory associations with those hopeless, helpless, tiresome, torments —the under classmen, to all future seniors. Second: Next, we being the overseers of the local Township shed by night desire that this haven will not be neglected after our departure. Third: We, under no circumstances, intend to leave our best contacts, namely bars, booths, bowling alleys and babes, because those of us who remain behind desire to retain them. Fourth: We the Senior girls, leave Mr. Maurer, darn it! Lastly, we make our individual bequests: I, Elias “Appletree” Aupperle, bequeath my superb ability to bring merriment to the physics class through my practical joking and innocent smirks to the pride of the appletree orchard, Willis. I, Muriel Bedell, will my brother, Jean, to any commercial teacher interested. I, Howard Bess, in my own self-conscious way, leave my strong desire to be at the head of everything, namely, the Senior class, to that self-centered, supercilious, sensitive soul of the Sophomore class, Jim Hurt. I. Lois Birch, leave my little rendezvous with Sam Runyon in the typing room under the watchful eye of Miss Dugger to Reva Carder. I, Thomas Carter, leave my wolf-liko actions and my lamb-like inner self to one whose thoughts and actions are both wolfish, Bob Loy. I, Evelyn Clark, leave my lipstick-besmudged photograph of “Punchie” to Betty Bittner. I, Evelyn Craig, leave my love for El Paso and my devotion to M. F.’s kids to Jane Burt, who is in need of same. I. Dale Dameron, leave my drag with certain members of the faculty, and my general conceit to Hap DeFries. I. Phyllis Drennen, leave my secluded seat in the rear of the assembly from which I keep an eye on the upper classmen, to Mattie Grove. I, Paul Eilers, leave my excess knowledge to Guy Bandy. I attribute this knowledge to the fact that I have often had an additional eighth period, otherwise known as detention. I. Alice Ferguson, will my love for blowing (the trombone, I mean) to one who also blows, but not a musical instrument. Bill Thomas. I, Ray Fitzgerald, whose greatest admirer is myself, leave my promises to win four basketball letters in a row to Wilmer Stork. I, Rose Flanagan bequeath my anemic half-starved appearance and my inability to trip or trap servicemen to that charming curvacious co-ed of the campus, Margaret Marshall. I. Bob Gouge, leave my cave man whiskers and one unused tube of Burma Shave, to Bill Leonard. I, Helen Jean Green, leave my mooning for spooning and lov? for daytime park- ing and sparking, to my beloved brother, “Grip.” I, Francis Haase, leave my hardened muscles and brawny back which I have 22

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1945 THE CRIER REMINISCENCE Years and years have passed in review; Another has come and passed on too. Though I rushed not myself from day to day, It’s strange how these moments have flown away. The days filled with laughter, dance, and song, Freedom from evil and anything wrong, I shrink from thinking that someday they’ll be Only a pleasant memory. I’d like to continue for years and years Living a life that is free from tears. The youthful joys that I have known Will, in a few years, from me have flown. Am I justified in wanting to stay Always young and free and gay, Free to roam the wide world o’er. Letting my spirits lightly soar? Justified X must not be, ’Cause nature disagrees with me. I’ll grow’ old as years go by Until the time that I must die. Put let none say I had no fun. After all is said and done. ’Cause in my youth—just yesterday. I was happy, free, and gay. Muriel Bedell. ONE MINUTE I have just one minute— Only sixty seconds in it. Has opportunity passed me by, Of will I make it if I try? Many minutes of the day. Are spent in idle, worthless play. Take my advice, you students now, Make your minutes wasted fun. Opportunity knocks but once; Take no heed of the devil’s taunt; Work every minute that you may, And your goal you’ll reach some day. LEAVING After four years of hard work and sweat. To leave is a thing I regret. If left to the teachers (those heavenly creatures) I still would have four more years yet. I made it; I made it! My cry lingers long through the halls. I passed with sufficient perfection. In spite of the many pitfalls. Though lacking in brains for mathematics, And skill for the things yet to come, It’s not all the fault of the high school, For I am just too darn dumb. I’m leaving this place forever. But long will its mem’ries remain. Of the fun we kids had together. Never to see again. Bob Nussbaum. BROTHERS One is in the Philippines, And one is in New Guinea; Two soldiers fighting in the wrar. Yes, just tw’o out of many. A home is lonesome since they've gone; Their loved ones hope and pray; They pray that soon the war will end So they’ll come back to stay. No matter w'here the battle is— On sea, or in the air; They know their loved ones miss them, That our hearts are with them there. You wonder why I pick these two. When there are many others? There is a special reason, For these two are my brothers. 24 Rose Flanagan. Lois Birch.