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

Page 30 text:

CLASS PROPHECY Time: 1967. Place: The large midwestern me- tropolis of Weston. Event: Broquard’s Barnstorming Big op Ltd. has come to town. Here w se two happily married women from Fairbury, better known to us as Joanne Moser and Delores Pater- noster, walking along the midway. Joanne says to Delores: “Did you know that the owner of this circus is the same Donald Broquard who graduated with us back in ’47?” Delores: “Yes, I knew it. He’s a big man. He’s known all over this 'part of the country. From Forrest to Weston and as far south as Col- fax, people talk about his circus.” Joanne: “I ook! over there by the side show. That ticket seller looks like Connie DeMoss.” Delores: “It is. When she quit her job at the Central Theatre she told me she was looking for a change. Say, don’t those people on the stage look familiar?” Joanne: “Of course, there’s Alfred Haase, the midget, and the giant is Charles Schahrer. The human skeleton looks like Merle Met ..” Delores: “Who’s that wild man in the cage? He’s making such a noise with his growling I can hardly hear.” Joanne: “Why, who else but Don Shult? You know, he always was the wild type.” Delores: “You remember Margie Craig, who was quite a wolf tamer in her day. Well, she’s still at it, except now she tames lions. Joanne: “Who was that tall, handsome band leader we saw in the parade this morning?” Delores: “Oh, you mean that brilliant musician whom all the girls go cra y for? That’s Kennv Winterland.” Joanne: “Really. Say, this looks like the fortune teller’s tent. Let’s go in and have our fortunes told.” Delores: “Madame, we would—why, of all people, Virginia Palmer! Since when have you been a crystal gazer?” Virginia: “For over a year now. I’ve been quite successful, too. Did you want something?” Joanne: “Say, I’ll bet you could tell us what’s happened to some of our classmates.” Virginia: “Yes, I can. Whom would you like to know about first?” Delores: “What about Jane Burt?” Virginia: “Jane became a career girl. She’s been a success, too. Her boss claims she’s the best cab driver he’s ever had. You remember Guy Bandy, the aggressive magazine salesman. Well. Guy’s still ar it. He’s selling magazines at his corner stand here in Weston. Jim Hurt, who was quite a singer during his high school days, landed a job with the Met- ropolitan Opera Co., as a stage hand.” 26

Page 29 text:

SENIOR CLASS WILL We, the Seniors of 1947, having the most unusual and understanding talents that have ever passed through the halls of F. T. H. S., do hereby leave our position as leaders to the illustrious Juniors who wifi be pleased to receive our special abilities. I, Willis Aupperle, leave my thorough understanding of physics to that “A” student of the Junior class, Mary Ellen Mehrings. t I, Guy Bandy, bequeath my quiet nature (as if anyone would want it) to Bruce Carrithers. I always say, one has to have something dominating to be noticed. I, Donald Broquard, leave my corn cob pipe and my ability to be a safe driver to Harley Wagen- seller. I, Arnold Eilers, leave my love for school and teachers in general to that shy little boy, Willard Walter. I, Dan Fugate, bequeath my girlish figure and love for Sharpy to Jim Wharton. I, Alfred Haase, leave my love for horses to S.iirley Moser. Horses that is. I, Donald Henning, leave my ability to whisper so that no one can hear me to that noisy little character of the Sophomore class, June Leetch. I, Jonathan Hetherington, leave my red hair to Barbara Saathoff, so she won’t have to use sub- stitutes any longer, and my temper to Feme Somerville. I, John Hoffman, leave my manly physique, muscles, chest, etc., to that little lily of the Junior class, Harold Hish. I, Robert Huber, bequeath my head of curly hair to Lyle Wessels in hopes that he will be relieved of the strain of trying to keep his hat in place. I, Jim Hurt, leavy my Andy Russell voice to that crooner of the Junior class, Joe Yeagle, and hope that he will have better luck with Shirley than I did. I, Duane Kafer, bequeath my basketball talents and my personality which snares all innocent fe- males to Charles Whately. I, Richard Kilgus, leave my ability to direct the high school parking lot to that traffic cop of the Sophomore class, Rennon Elliott. I, John Nance, leave my athletic abilities and my love for Forrest women to that innocent Junior, Jim Harris. I, Bill Leonard, leave my constant watch over Lucille to Dean Moser. Carry on, Dean, but not her. I, Don Merriiu do hereby bequeath my never-fading attempts to be late for school to that child prodigy, Bob Hurt. I, Harold Metz, leave my ability as a future farmer to that city slicker, Donald Leman. I, Merle Metz, bequeath my worn-out date book to the wolf-man, Keith Stiver. I, Bryce Rathbun, bequeath my masculine features and—Spectacles to that bashful boy of the Sophomore class, Donald Dunlap. r, Charles Schahrer, leave my excess weight and height to that shrimp of the Junior class, Lyman Feldman. I, Dale Shult, leave my naval medals and my giraffe figure to Wilbur Hoffman. I, Donald Shult, leave my low base voice and my favorite teacher, Miss Kemple, to Alvin Shulman. Good luck, Al. I. Stanley Vail, leave my sworn oath to never touch liquor to Francis Ricketts. I, Kenneth Winterland, leave my overpowering strength to Florence Zimmerman, so that she can defend herself in tight squeezes. I, Jack Schmidt, leave my hate for women and infernal interruptions to that unpopular boy of the Sophomore class, Harold Schroeder. I, Anna Aupperle, do nereby leave my sweet and innocent ways, in proof that not all country girls are dumb, to Mary Ann Rathbun. I, Jane Burt, leave my gallup and my ability to rate A’s to Margaret Marshall. I, Reva Carder, leave my last minute jitters and all my drug store Romeos to that cute little trick of the Junior class, Barbara Weeks. I, Connie DeMoss, leave my devilish ways and “corny” gags, and also my ability to get on the good side of a teacher, to Thelma Moser. I, Dolores Doran, would leave a boy friend or two if I had them, but as it is, I feel that I can’t spare them. I, Margie Craig, will my giggle and my out-of-town boy friends (because I won’t be needing them) to that up and coming Sophomore, Diane DeMoss. I, Vera Hankins, will my worn-out books on Reckless Driving” and “How to Handle a Man Once You Get Him,” to Nelle Flanagan. I. Shirley Leetch, bequeath my excess love for farmers and my ability to please everyone, to Lois Bess. I, JoAnne Moser, leave my dimples and my life insurance policy (because I’ll not be riding with Don B.) to that man killer of the Freshies, Janet Householder. I, Virginia Palmer, leave my flirty eyes and my men admirers to Shirley Waters. I, Delores Paternoster, leave my griping and my love for school to Nila Knott. I, Florence Schmidtgall, leave my forever interrupting, high giggle, and love of chattering to Shirley Nance. I, Marilyn Steidinger, leave my hearty voice and advice to all Freshman girls that “any man is worth running after.” 25

Page 31 text:

CLASS PROPHECY Joanne: “What about Reva Carder? What’s she doing now?” Virginia: “Reva was a baton twirler for the circus. I say ‘was’ be- cause in the parade this morning she was strutting down the street with her head held high and she fell into a manhole. Don Henning, a brilliant scholar, is now a teacher of nuclear physics at a large eastern university. He’s advanced some brilliant theories on the fission of the atom. Kafer and Nance, those two old pals, are still fighting. This time they’re bat- tling over Anna Aupperle, sensational new movie star.” Delores: “What about some of the other boys?” Virginia: “Don Merrill and Arnold Eilers are trying to revive vaude- ville with their song, dance, and comedy act. Stan Vail has become a successful Hollywood attorney. He’s a legal representative for Lassie. And Dan Fugate is now driving his midget racer ‘Dan’s Inn’ at the F'air- bury Speedway. Of course, you recall Dale Shult. It seems that Dale was running for Congress, but he wasn’t doing so well until he thought of a brilliant publicity stunt. He changed his name to Kilroy. Richard Kilgus, the noted inventor-Hyer, recently tested his new jet plane. There was a loud hiss, a series of explosions, a dazzling light, and Mr. Kilgus hasn’t been heard from since.” Joanne: “That’s too bad. Tell us about some of the girls.” Virginia: “Florence Schmidtgall and Shirley Leetch, big game hunters, have returned from darkest Africa. In an interview with the New York press they said that they thought they’d give up chasing lions for a while in favor of chasing wolves. Marilyn Steidinger was recently elected president of the ‘I Hate Men’ Club, succeeding Dolores Doran.” Delores: “I saw in last week’s paper where Bill Leonard was voted the outstanding comedian of the year. He gives all the credit to his writer, Vera I lankins, who says she gets all her material from notes she kept during American History Class.” Virginia: “You’ve heard of that famous 5th Avenue store Mme. Jeanne's. But did you know that Mademoiselle was really Willis Aupperle?” Joanne: “Have any more of our former classmates become famous?” Virginia: “Why, yes. Senator Robert Huber, well known statesman, was played up in the papers this week when he refused the nomination for President. When questioned in an interview he gave his reason as no chance for advancement. Harold Metz, sensational swoon crooner, at his fourth and most recent wedding, made this statement, ‘Only one more and then I’ll be even with Jack Schmidt.” Delores: “Have any of them become great athletes?” Virginia: “Well, John Hoffman was declared champion of the U. S. open vo-yo tournament; and, oh, yes, I remember reading in the paper that Bryce Rathbun was voted the outstanding lineman of the National Professional Football League for the third consecutive year. One of our classmates has also entered the newspaper field. Jonathan Hctherington, after graduating from high school, went to college and studied journal- ism. He’s now editor of the Ho-bo News.” Joanne: “They’ve certainly led interesting lives. My! What’s all that confusion outside?” Delores: “I’ll go out and see.—Guess what? Richard Kilgus has just become the first man to land on the moon.” 27