Franklin High School - Log Yearbook (Franklin, VA)

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Class Song EI ' mV-H ' K ' j f] 1 U , A i r r Cl » A v J 9- n 1 - J , 1 3 4 r gi • • • m J It J 1 1 7 -J 1. In T Vc Ou« school we Lovf JO DeAA, huE ou t— EpieWO S J« TAoe . 0 uS MEM ' O-rfiES L.vf ,r AH ffor WOAAAVO ftAv And Fame we hope r 0 6 Ain. we HoPe t7«t yoj — Ir =R — p— )- » ft-— 1- — t — — p — ti d. J = — 9 — 0 7 j -e—ji—j — « L--J t ' Efi. BE HeAe, No m T - te wwt we Do. Ova love - 15 - IfcuE to you Jt- acach this Day, t»at y»u caH say the .same. m in gig 8 — HATE To tfAVf TO - DAY w E ' u. T( ( K OF Y»o THE wttcEC Dtr WovbK AS u E 6,0 0,7 Life ' s mn WAY cfc We {journey On Our dreams of tomorrow are calling low, Come, dear Seniors; come with me, To a brighter land you must go, Happiness there, I hope you’ll see.” We have trod the paths of sorrow; Much happiness we have known. When we reach the land of tomorrow, From there we must travel alone. The way before us is sunny and bright, From this, never must we stray. You have taught us wrong from right; We will always follow your way. Behind us are the years of toil Upon which we have paved our way. Through sinking sand to brighter soil That has brought us to this happy day. — Elizabeth King, Class poet. i 23 b

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Senior Snaps I. Crazy! — Just Like Them” . .. 2. Man’s Best Friend” ... 3. Twins” ... 4. Ain’t Love Grand” ... 5. Huba! Huba!” ... 6. Perfect Picture — Don’t you think so?” ... 7. Cute! Ain’t She?”... 8. The Gang’s All Here” ... 9. What a BEAUTIFUL Car” .. . 10. Sister-in-love”... I I. Wonder what is behind the rocks?” ... 12. Toe Bait” ... 13. What happened to the other half? The girl ” i 22

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Class Prophecy My little crystal sphere holds all of the past and all of the future. It can reveal the hidden and make known the secret. It can tell you whatever your soul desires to know. I have been asked to search in its magic depths until I discover the future that awaits the members of our class, so soon to take their separate ways and, perhaps, never to be reunited. The mist is clearing. A village scene appears. I see a church. The bells are ringing, for it is time for the people to come to the Church Service. I see the minister, a fine looking man. His face is turned, but I can see it is someone we know. The congregation meets him cordially, he is much loved by the people. Now he turns; I see his face. It is George Smart. He looks very happy and appears to be an ideal minister. The scene changes. It is a city. We are now in a business district and I am looking at a large building. It has a huge electric sign reading, Brigg’s Chevrolet Service.” Men are leaving, for the six o’clock whistle has just blown. Last of all, the owner comes from his office. He has grown portly and gray around the temples, but he is as immacu- late as a Chevrolet dealer should be. His motto, carved above his office door, is, Chevrolet is Always the Best Buy.” The clouds lift again. It is nine o’clock on a May morning. The school bells are ringing. Tiny children are hurrying up the walk to greet their teacher. She stands in the door, daintily dressed. As she leans to take the flowers a little girl has brought her, I see her smiling. It is Mancha Holland. And now the scene grows strange. An orchestra is seated awaiting the signal to play, but there is not a sound. Upon a blackboard are figures and mysterious letters. Ah, I see a microphone. It is the broadcasting room of a radio station. A voice says, Quiet! We’re on the air.” A switch is turned, an announcement is made, and the orchestra begins to play a merry, fantastic dance tune. The leader introduces a delightful piano solo into the midst of the selection. I see him clearly; it is Bill Pace, the radio favorite of the next decade. The scene shifts to the display room of a large gown establishment. A fashion show is in progress. I watch the manikins strut about the platform. One of them is exceptionally graceful and wears her evening gown well. It is Mary Louise Stephens, the chief manikin or model of the establishment. Again the mists close down. When they rise again, it is three o’clock in the morning. A huge truck comes down the city street and pauses at the janitor’s entrance of each apartment house. A man delivers a rack of milk bottles and drives on down the street. It is Burton Bradshaw, proprietor and owner of a large dairy farm, making the delivery himself, just for fun. The scene becomes noisy. Buzzings and singings fill the ear. I see a long room around the sides of which are seated many girls. It is a telephone office and the head operator is Elsie Marshall. I knew her as soon as she said, Line’s busy.” She always did spend most of her time telephoning so I guess she decided to make some money at it. f 24 ]-