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

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CL Mx m TCcy May 21, 1943. Dear Diary: Here we are, the class of “46,” at the end of our first year at F.T.H.S. Remember, Diary, on that thirty-first day of August when fifty-five wide-eyed and very green freshmen entered the portals of F.T.H.S.? We were very anxious to try to please and under the guidance of our two well chosen class advisers we soon fell into the routine of the everyday life here at Fairbury High. Upon entering these mighty corridors we had high hopes and ambitious minds to contribute our part to the running of various organizations. Our class was repre- sented this year in football and basketball. Mardell Nance was chosen to represent our class during our four years in school as cheerleader. At the end of this, our freshman year, I'll close your pages until time to open them at this time next year. May 12, 1944. Last August only fifty members of our former class returned to good old Alma Mater to continue their search for knowledge. We organized with Bob Vail being chosen our class president; Pob Beckley took the position of vice-president, and Mardell Nance served as secretary-treasurer. As usual, we were well represented in all leading activities of the school. In addition to the one all ready in the F Club from last year. Bob Beckley, George Strode, Charles Green, Wilbur Booker and Kenneth Range were added. May 18, 1945. Dear Diary: Another year of our experiences here at F. T. H. S. has now been laid aside. When we came back to school last August our roll numbered thirty-four. Within a few days Stanley Weeks was elected as our class president; Earl Broquard as vice-president; Frances Hildreth as secretary, and Mardell Nance as treasurer. It was during this year we waved our magic wand and converted our gym into a gaily decorated Mexican Ballroom. Remember, Diary, our great disappointment when it became impossible for us to have our Junior Play. The music department under the direction of Mr. Cummins presented the operetta, “The Forest Prince ' in which Mardell Nance. Stanley Weeks and George Strode had leading roles. As I finish writing to you at the end of this year, Diary, I have to think of re- turning to your pages for the last time next year. May 28, 1946 Dear Diary: We, the class of “46,” have now reached the top of our long climb to our now achieved goal. At the beginning of the year thirtv-four members entered upon the halls of F.T.H.S. to take over the distinguished duties of Seniors. Rivalry reigned throughout the class as three boys took office. They were Earl Broquard. Bob Beckley, and Wilbur Booker. Yes, Diary, this year as in the years before, our class was represented in all of the school activities. Earl Broquard, Kenneth Metz, John Thompson and Ollie Mvers held offices in the F.F.A. Ollie served as president of all F.F.A. Chapters in Ford, Livingston, and Iroquois counties. Mattie Grove served as G.A.A. president and Stanley Weeks was chosen by popular vote as president of the Student Council in which Mardell Nance, Willadene McKinley, and Richard Schwarzwalder represented the Senior class. Bob Beckiey was chosen captain of our football and basketball teams and served as the F Club president and George Strode was chosen as vice-president. As usual we Seniors took upon ourselves the publishing of our pride and joy, the Crier, of which Mardell Nance was appointed Editor in Chief. And now, Diary, we have come to the nd of our years here in school, and it is now time for us to move on to let the coming classes take our place as Seniors. We as a class have worked diligently and feel that we have accomplished many worth- while things. 21

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Elk a nor Walter “Stinky” “She never lets ideas interrupt the easy flow of her conversation” Stanley Weeks “Stan “Let’s go picnecking” Mildred Wenger “XI illy” “She a!ways manages the mo- ment as If it were her personal property” Lucetta Wessels “Pin” “A tall girl carrying herso’.f liko a banner” Warren Wessels “Long John “As futile as slamming a swinging door” 20

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CL4f WILL We, the unpretentious, esteemed Seniors of 1946, which by the way, is the only year that such important and dignified adults have held the po- sition as head of our spacious halls of learning, do, with many tears, sobs, and misgivings, be- queath our high and lofty position as Seniors to those dumb, but willing to learn, Juniors, in hopes that they can do half as well as we tried to do. Individually we bequeath: I, Phyllis Bean, will my bedroom eyes and my willowy figure to that giggle girl of the Sopho- more class, Margaret Marshall. I, Bob Beckley, leave my private little stories, my numerous nicknames and my naughty ex- pressions to Duan Juan, Elmer Aupperle. Sorry, girls, but I’m taking my darling, deep, swirling dimples with me. I need ’em. I, Carroll Besgrove, have only one thing to offer, my worn-out, rusty, curling irons, to Lyle Wessels, who needs them. I, Wilbur Booker, leave........all poohed out (Sigh.) I, Earl Broquard, will my puppy-dog eyes and my innocent (?) grin to Harley Wagenseller, that all-time Casanova. I, Gladys Bushman, bequeath my majorette suit and my out-of-town boy friends to Shirley Waters. I, Bert Cooper, leave my Frank Sinatra voice and Van Johnon figure to Robert Perkins. I, Charles Green, leave my business ability, my roller-skating technique and my sunny attitude to Carl Bradley. I, Mattie Grove, leave my plow jockey walk, my case of peroxide and my over-barreling laugh to Marilyn Steidinger. I. Walter Harris, leave my permanent wave, and my “poily” teeth to Bryce Rathbun. I, Willis Harris, will my swivel hips and tooth- pick legs to Dan Fugate. I, Frances Hildreth, leave my milk-house grip, my extreme generosity and my stupendous appe- tite to Virginia Palmer. I, Bruce Lee. do hereby bequeath my love, my affection, my devotion to—all the girls of Chenoa. I, Willadene McKinley, leave my favorite theme song, “My Buddy,” to Joanne Moser. P. S. I’m taking Bud with me for in the near future. I, Kenneth Metz, will my baby-face expres- sions and my Charles Atlas Physique to Robert Huber. I, Ollie Myers, bequeath my worn vocal cords, my love for Freshman girls to Bill Leonard. He can use them. I, Mardell Nance, leave my speed on the stairs and my eternal figits to Jean Hair. I, Annabel Nash, will all my absences, along with the ready-made excuses to Nellie Flanagan, not that she hasn’t got enough of her own. I, Jacqueline Schade, leave all my racing boy friends to Shirley Moser, in hopes that she can catch ’em. I, Dean Schrock, will my cracked glasses, my false tee»h and my reserved comics at Wade’s to Don Merrill. I. Richard Schwarzwalder. do hereby bequeath my master mind, my cheerful grin, and my love for that certain girl in the Freshman class, to my brother, in hopes that he’ll take good care of them. I, Ruth Smith, bequeath my last-minute rush to school, my love for bookkeeping and my abil- ity to look at someone without letting them know what I’m thinking, to Anna Aupperle. I, Richard Steidinger. leave my excessive lovx? for airplanes, all sizes, shapes and colors, to that speed demon of the Junior class, Don Broquard. I. George Strode, bequeath my Tarzan eyes and my bristly beard, also my five o’clock shad- ow. to that he-man, Charles Schahrer. I, John Thompson, leave my impish grin, my apparent shyness, and my Sophomore admirers, to Stan Vail. I, Mary Rose Travis, leave my boisterous atti- tude and my reckless driving to that fiery Mar- garet Miskell. I. Lois Wallenstein, bequeath my basketball ability and my high and mighty laugh, to Mary Ann Rathun. I, Eleanor Walter, leave my nickname “Stin- ky,” and my ladylike manners to that refined Jane Burt. I, Stanley Weeks--------am undecided whether to leave or not as I am fondly attached to those dear cherubs, the Juniors. I, Mildred Wenger, leave my extreme bril- liance, my drag with the teachers to Vera Han- kins. (It takes a lot of work, Vera.) I, Lucetta Wessels, leave my excess poundage and my Chmese fingernails to that pin-up girl, Ethel Mae Kaisner. I, Warren Wessels, leave all my corny jokes (which I think are just too cute) and my over- worked brain to Joe Yeagle.