Frankfort Community High School - Red Bird Yearbook (West Frankfort, IL)

Page 27 text:

Senior Will WE, the members of the Senior Class of Nineteen-twenty, of the city of West Frankfort, state of Illinois, being of sound mind, on this, the eighth day of January, Nineteen-twenty, do make our last will and testament. To the Faculty—Ever a Senior Class with the ability of ours. To the Class of ’21—We leave our dignity. To the Sophs—We leave the good will of the faculty. To the Freshies—We leave the hope of becoming Seniors some time in the dim future. PERSONAL BEQUESTS I, Thelma Jones, do give and bequeath my place on the front seat to Helen Burpo. I, Louise Smith, do give and bequeath my powder puff to Ethel Coleman. I, Julia Mikalauckas do give and bequeath my straight hair to Edith Jones. . I, Harriett Jacobs, do give and bequeath my special favor from Mr. Gregg to Opal White. 1, Ruby Ice, do give and bequeath my short stature to Nina McClintock. I, Marian Kelly, do give and bequeath my giggle to Jennie Roe. I, Frank McAuley, do give and bequeath my knack for keeping out of work to Yale Downes. I, Conrad Ellis, do give and bequeath the good will of Thelma Straud to Lloyd Shipp. I, Bessie Howells, do give and bequeath my art in hair-dressing to Luciel Gray. I, Raymond Pittman, do give and bequeath niy wit, in addition to his own, to Eagle Gray, a’so to Gwen Fox. I. Maye Parker, do give and bequeath my ability to write letters to Paul Cox. I, Marian Ke’ly, do give and bequeath my fiddle to Bill Howells. 1, Louise Smith, do give and bequeath my ability to get by and have a good time to Ze ga Pulley. I, Bessie Howe’ls, do give and bequeath Bess Pitct ord to Irene Porritt. We, the Annual Staff, do give and bequeath a very pleasant task to the c’ass of ’21. This will is hereby sworn to and a seal set thereon, this, the eighth day of January, Anno Domini, one thousand nine hundred and twenty.

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Marian’s melting smile and unfeigned joy at seeing me told me plainly that personality was among the talents which had won them recognition as musical artists. Louise insisted that we had time for a little gossip, and that she must tell me about the attainments of Raymond Pittman and of Thelma Jones. Raymond was a noted architect, and Thelma was a COMPELLING, professional reader. That both of them, after enjoying a breadth of experience, fame and friends had decided that “old things ARE best.” They had l een quietly married and after having toured the world, they, from choice, went happily home to Frankfort. Harriett Jacobs, bless her honest heart, had frankly asserted that she was shocked by Raymond’s marriage, but in face of the facts, she was glad that Thelma was his choice. Harriett had given herself with absolute abandon to scientific investigation, hoping to work out a remedy for all social maladjustments. Then wonder of wonders, I was in Modeste’s Shop in New York, and Ressie Howells came forward to meet me. She was leading Sylvia Rains, who was dressed in a marvelous “creation” of ermine, which they said was an opera cape. Bess told me that she owned the establishment; that she did dress design work; and that Sylvia was her ’most perfect mode1. 1 felt the kind of surprise one experiences when one reaches an unexpected denouement in the last line of a novel, and I had to admit that it was a natural and an appropriate expression of their native abilities and studied practices. Mave Parker, contrary to all prophecy and plan, had been literally carried away by her partner. And their interest in America’s biggest business —the making of a real home and the training of efficient citizens was inspiring. Maye is happy in her choice of “values” (?) and the world has profited. Next I found myself speeding up Fifth Avenue in a limousine with Ruth Dillon while she poured into my attentive ear her proofs of the fact that dreams do come true. For now, she was being solicited from all parts of the country to lead an educational campaign, designed to inspire an appreciation of the value of Aesthetic influence in enhancing popular life, and advancing civilization. Julia Mikalauckas was presented to my mind as president of Wellesly Col'ege—my congratulations were abundantly extended to the l oard of trustees upon their choice. Frank McAuley had already attained success and a fortune, cartooning. He lived as a gentleman of leisure in millionaire row in Pasadena, Cal-ilornia. and just drew pictures when he pleased to entertain himself by gratifying his native love for the satirical by showing us “what fools we mortals be.” 1 awoke to find that it was not all a dream, and I resolved to call a class meeting that in open day wakefu'ness we might compare our advancements and possibly accelerate our progress toward our Castles in Spain.

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 • dan $mi Jmaijinr 1. Mr. Pyatt not blushing? 2. Mr. Gregg away from Walkers? 3 Miss Flora sophisticated? 4. Miss Kreyfogle angry? f 5. Miss Davis flirting? 6. Miss Phoebe with blue eyes? 7. Miss Holbrook not primping? 8. Mr. Wilson smoking a cigarette? 9. Mr. Waller sitting on top of a desk? 10. Mr. Atwood riding a bicycle? 11. Julia dancing? 12. Louise Smith without Vivian? 13. Sylvia Rains without her Buick Six? 14. Thelma Jones not laughing or talking? 15. Ruby Ice six feet tall? 16. Genevieve Horrell a chorus girl ? 17. Conrad Ellis out late at night. 18. Raymond Pittman playing a violin? 19. Bessie Howells washing dishes? 20. Marian without her freckles? 21. Frank being good the fourth hour? 22. Ruth Dillon teaching school? 23. Harriett’s hands dirty? 24. Mae Parker slender? 1