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

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Will I, Joan Kelson, leave my constant worrying and gray hairs to Miss Clau- son, although she will probably have her own by the time the Crier is published. I, June I.eetch, leave my desire to go to out-of-town dances, although I don’t make it, to Jeannette Strode. 1, Robert Perkins, leave my impish grin to Wayne Ziller with the hope that it works as well for him as it did for me. 1, Elizabeth Weeks, leave my once-a-month laugh to Barb Ambrose on the condition that she doesn’t overwork it. I, Kenny Broquard, leave my ability to concentrate on any subject until the wee hours of the morning to my brother Ralph. I’m speaking of school subjects, naturally. 1, Donald Dunlap, leave my slow drawl to fast-talking Jacqui Weeks in hopes she will slow down enough so we know what she is saying. We, Shirley Wagenseller and Peggy Hoffman, leave our typing ability to Bruce Marshall. Maybe our combined talents can pull him through another year. 1, Shirley Winterland, leave my ability to “snag” a man before gradu- ation to Gloria Kurth, although she seems to be doing OK. 1, Bill Snider, leave my cat-like tread to Erna Lou Hofmann, whose walk rocks the whole school. I, Chester Travis, leave my position as “hot shot” of fifth hour PE class to Oscar Jeff Williams. 1, Helen Honegger, leave my natural blond hair to Doris Ann Bach. Also my supply of peroxide. I, Dean Gerdes, leave my love for Mrs. Hubly to Dean Johnson. 1, Jeanne Hair, leave my habit of blowing my top to Joyce Hodges so she’ll have a temper to match her hair. I, Ruth Miller, leave my toothpaste grin and pleasing personality to grumpy Bob Hurt. 1, Tom Thacker, leave my ability to come to school when I please to Jeannine Weeks. 1, Dorothy Rice, leave my dimples to Duane Steidinger to liven up his expression. I, Albert Tavener, leave my presidencies in various organizations to bud Aupperle. I, Alice Schmidtgall, leave my Pontiac boyfriends to Dubbie French, not that she needs any more. I, Bonnie Woodward, leave my fancy tumbling and basketball ability to Mildred Brewer. I, Arlene Zehr, leave the distinction of being the shortest member of the class to Jeannette Smith. 1, Ray Zimmer, leave my unshorn curly locks to Dick Carlson. We, Diane DeMoss and Ronald Woodall, leave, poohed out from work- ing on the will. We also leave our sympathy to the juniors who get this task next year. 19 J»

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Will I, Elmer Aupperle, leave my small-sized football shoes to Billy Harris, with hopes that he will be able to get into them as he has such huge feet. I, Donald Johansen, leave my dependable ( ?) Scrvi-cycle to the ever late Richard Gauger so he may arrive places on time. I, Carl Bradley, will my nickname, “Buckshot,” to Ralph Weisbecker for various reasons. I, Willie Schwarzwalder, leave my unsmoked (?) box of big, black cigars to Coach Juhl. I, Jim Steidinger, leave my freshman girl friends to Ronnie Fcndrick. 1, Richard Steidinger, leave my Crosley to Dorothy Traub, as she is attracted to it. 1, Marilyn Peter, leave my beloved Terraplane to Norene Shearer. I hope she has as little trouble with it as I did. I, Dolores Hofmann, leave my loud and overbearing ways to the shy Dolores Moser. I, Charles Parley, leave my ability to flirt with all the girls and yet re- main a free man, to Donald Nance. I, Clinton Harris, leave my treasured Indian skeleton to Miss Workman and her biology class. I, Jerry Headley, have nothing to leave to anyone. In fact, I would ap- preciate the loan of a, few bucks to assure me of reaching Colorado. I, Marie Giancarli, leave my trustworthy Pontiac to Dale Albee so he can continue the taxi business which I have built up. I, Lucille Monroe, leave my ability to keep a certain boy running back and forth from Bloomington to Fairbury to Lois Kafer. Just the ability. I’ll keep the boy. I, Robert Glenn Zimmerman, leave my soft speech and shyness around girls to my flirtatious brother Ronnie. Sorry, Ronnie, but I’m tak- ing my baby face with me. I, Shirley Nance, leave my cloakroom jokes and my famous giggle to Donna Schroeder. I, P'red Wing, leave my extreme modesty and my ability to talk on any subject but myself to John Mapel. I, Phyllis Thompson, leave my love for redheads to Janet Householder. I, Charles Brewer, pride and joy of Mr. Juhl’s industrial arts class, leave my superior knowledge of woodworking to C. V. Wing. I, Evelyn Bess, leave my much used short cuts which enabled me to get to school on time to Alvin and Glenn Friedman. 1, Barb Somers, leave my love for red convertibles to any girl who can snag a boy who owns one. Hands off Bob! I, Sylvester Fosdick, leave my ba.ck seat in the assembly to Donald Rabe so he can get some rest without being disturbed by the noisy people in the front. I, Harold Schroeder, leave my title, “Glamour Boy of the Senior Class,” to Jack Milne for use next year. I also leave him my supply of bright clothes which earned me this distinction. I, Carolyn Shult, leave my artistic ability to my brother Ernie who can’t draw a straight line. 18

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Prophecy Another plane has just arrived before the Pearly Gates of Heaven and the head checker, Harold Schroeder, is having quite a job getting all the passengers off the plane and making sure they’re in the right place. The first one off the plane is Chester Travis, a member of the Class of ’49 FTHS. Harold: Name and date of death, please. . . . Wait a minute! I know you. Good old Chester Travis. Why are you up here? Chester. My wife, Arlene Zehr, threw an iion at me. and as I docged. I f ll out of the window of our 20th floor apartment. I couldn’t pay our rent. The land- lady, Dorothy Rice, had raised it so she could bail an old friend out of jail, Donald Johansen. He stole the famous Kelson Emerald. Harold: Speaking of the Kelson Emerald, I was looking over the edge of my cloud bank the other day and happened to get a glimpse of Joan Kelson. She has really made a fortune from her string of babyfolds. I was wondering what ever happened to Carolyn Shult and June Leetch. Chester: Carolyn is a successor to Gypsy Rose Lee. She has combined bubble and fan dancing and uses a bubble in the shape of a fan to add variety. June Leetch is her manager. She keeps a good supply of fan-bubbles in case of accident. Harold: I hear that Ruth Miller and Shirley Winterland have founded a Museum of Precious Gems. They always were interested in diamonds and such things. See you later. Next please. Name? Lady: What... uh ... ah ... my name? Oh, yes . . . Helen Honegger. Oh, you’ie Harold Schroeder. Harold: Where have ycu been lately? Helen: I’ve been the head of the asylum at Bartonville for five years. Some people think it has affected me, but really it hasn’t. I just committed suicide and was trying, to remember my reason. Harold: Well, could you tell me what became of Elmer Aupperle? Helen: He was racing Artie Shaw to see who could get more divorces. His last victim was Phyllis Thompson. I hope she has more luck with him than her predecessors did! Harold: Well, you’d better go along. Next passenger. Donald Dunlap! What did you do to pass the time away down on earth? Don: Why I was middle-weight champion of the world. Of course, I probably would never have got anywhere if it hadn’t been for Shirley Nance. We never got married but she’s been my fight manager all my life. Harold: What became of Carl Bradley, or was his name “Buckshot”? Don: He struck oil in Arizona and really cleaned up on it. The only trouble was that he couldn't find a good way to transport his oil. But Bill Snider solved that by another of his great inventions. He invented a thing called a wagon in which they carry the oil from the oil well to where it has to be taken. I guess it really wasn’t an original invention. They tell me that primitive people used such things “way backwhen.” Harold: Sounds pretty good, though. Say, by the way, Don, have you got any idea of what happened to Bonnie? About a month after we graduated, she fell and hit her head. Never did remember anything after that. She had am- nesia, I guess. She ran away one day, and I never saw her again. Don: Well, you. know I saw an advertisement of “Bonnie the Great” on a billboard onc . It seems she did a high-wire act or something. Harold: Oh? Well! Where did Bob Perkins ever wind up? Don: Oh, he’s a “Private-Eye.” Seems he has been investigating the manufac- turing company called the Double S Inc. That’s the one run by Dick and Jim Steidinger. They were trying to smuggle something our of the country. Harold: Did he catch them? Don: Oh, yes! Jim and Dick are both in Sing-Sing on double-life sentences. In the scuffle their gun moll, Jeanne Hair, was injured badly. See you later. Harold: Bye, Don. Next, please. What's this??? Kenny Broquard and Sylvester Fosdick? Why, you’re practically holding each other up. What happened? Kenny: We were fighting over Barb Somers, and we each hit at the same time and killed each other. Sylvester: No woman is worth it. Harold: Oh, well, some of them weren’t too bad. One in our class that used to 20