Frenchtown High School - Decouverte / Bronc Yearbook (Frenchtown, MT)

Page 9 text:

Finally we were in the big leagues—we managed to become Juniorsl Our class officers were: President, Bonnie Lucier; Vice-President, Rick Felstet; Secretary, Betti Jonas; and Treasurer, Carole Charlo. Our sponsor was Mr. Jess Wilcomb. The main event of our Junior year was the Junior Prom. Our theme was Blue Champagne, with two shades o f blue and silver and white. After two weeks of decorating, the big evening finally arrived, and passed. Our prom queen and king were Pat Cyr and Don Felstet. On May 15 the Freshmen and Sophomores painted the FHS, and the Seniors were gone on their Senior Trip. We, the Juniors, felt that we Just couldn't stay in that big school all by ourselves, so we went on a little horseback ride up Mill Creek; that is, we rode up, but three-fourths of the girls walked backl For a week afterwards eighteen students had a hard time walk- ing and sitting. The memory of that daring and exciting day will always remain vivid to each one of us. At last we were Seniors and had the run of the school, or so we thought. Bob Crookshank Joined our, now not so little, class in November. Our class officers were: President, Bonnie Lucier; Vice-President, Rick Felstet; Sec- retary, Betti Jonas; and Treasurer, Ruthie Harrington. Mr. Jess Wilcomb was again chosen a s our sponsor. Our goal, naturally, WAS TO MAKE SNDUGH ncney for a Senior Trip. We gave dances, parties, sold pop and even cut Christmas trees in order to make enough money so we could go farther up the road then a couple of miles. Besides all this, there was a little matter of working two hundred hours around the school as a punishment for our memorable and unregrettable skip day the preceding spring. Even though this work was hard, we enjoyed every moment of it. As graduation came closer we hustled and bustled to make our individual plans for the future. Now as we leave Frenchtown, the memories of our friends and of our school will always be with us, for Frenchtown gave us far more than Just an education. By George Bissonette Bonnie Lucier Neil Christianson

Page 11 text:

Senior The time is June 1, 1970; the place is the Metropolis Hotel in French- town. The graduating class of I960 is having a reunion after ten long years of separation. As I walk in the door of the fifteen-story hotel, I see the doorman in his bright yellow uniform, directing the flow of people coming in the revolving doors. Looking again I see that the doorman is a fellow Senior of I960, Jack Lenoir. Looks like all that physics didn't do too much good. Just about swallowing my partial plate because of the harsh words blaring from behind me, I whirl around and see ny old buddy and owner- manager of the Metropolis Hotel, Jack Billington, screaming, between puffs- on his fifty-cent Havana cigar, orders at the decrepit old scrub woman— oh, gosh, it's poor old Donna Richardson Lenoir, trying t o help earn a living for her five little redheads and her doorman husband. As I enter the Uni- verse Room, I'm approached by the maitre'd, a stubby, balding little char- acter dressed in a green Martian suit, John Robbins. Following him to the table, I see seated, and naturally, already eating Colleen Groom, doctor and part-time housewife who we all know as the finder of a cure for cancer. As lam about to sit by her, we are hailed by a hearty Howdy Pardners from the door. Looking up, I see Maurice Felton accompanied b y George Bissonette. If you read the western magazines, you'll know that Maurice has worked from an $80.00 a month cowhand to owner of the biggest ranch in Arizona. George, who is as yet not so fortunate, is Maurice's foreman at the ranch. By the way, they have a mink ranch. From across the crowded dance floor, w e are heralded'by the ringing of trumpets, signalling the entrance of the governor of the state. She comes slithering down the ivory and gilt stairway fol- lowed by her servant. Bob Crookshank, vtfio is holding up the ten-foot train of her black shiek evening gown, Paris original. As she approaches the dance floor, the music stops, the crowd moves back from the glare of the diamonds shinuierlng from around her neck; she hides her face until she is almost upon us; we all gasp with admiration when we see who it is, our old class president, Bonnie Lucier.