Glasgow High School - Hootman Yearbook (Glasgow, MT)

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K t P : THE PERFECT JUNIOR AND SENIOR GIRL Height Lillian Button Weight Eleanor Hagen Carriage Margaret Murray Hair Harriet Christophersen Eyes Callie Peterson Lips Dorothy Hovey Teeth Mildred Johnson Complexion Evalyn Michel Dimples Fern Moore Voice Maybelle Cotton Manners Ida Disrud Hands and Arms Thelma Helgerson Feet Velma Spangler Smile Irene Hilden Laugh Helen Harebo Grin Erna Hansen Giggle Frances Walker Deliberation Mary Pointer Good Nature Marjorie Hurly Wit and Humor Loucile Finney Mind Peggy Morton Friendliness Shirley Bohan Quietness Tena Nielsen Romantic Evelyn Bohan THE PERFECT JUNIOR AND SENIOR BOY Height Orville Stomsvick Weight Joe Martinkoski Carriage Robert Spears Hair Warren Gamas Eyes Paul Etchepare Lips Roy Johnson Teeth Rubin Lewow Complexion Russell Scott Dimples Travers Harman Voice Cyral Walsh Manners Ronald Baker Hands Dick Hoppin Feet Eugene Forsman Smile Shorty Parke Laugh Norris Kjos Grin Leslie Bjorstad Giggle Charles Hoffman Deli beration Bob Cornwell Good Nature James Christinson Wit and Humor Roy De Haven Mind Eldon Schuster Friendliness •: Smithy Quietness Byron Armstrong Romantic Clayton Button THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK The grandfather clock stood in the corner near the portrait of great grandmother and great grandfather. It had been standing there ever since grandmother was married. Tick-tock, tick-tock was all the clock had ever said, but today I seemed to hear it telling me some of the interesting affairs that had been carried on under its face ... of loves and disappointments ... of great balls, and belles of other days dressed in rustling satins and brocades dancing stately minuets. . . . Hark, I heard some voices, quavery at first, and gradually getting louder. Tibbie, shall I wear my light chintz and benton kerchief, or my purple and white Persian? Either are smart enough for a country lass, was the answer. — 42-

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' m back to the barn, started to trot. The poor man was so frightened that he let go of the reins and grabbed the pommel of the saddle. Then it was the horse that w as scared, and he ran for home at a full gallop. A few days later the same tenderfoot hid behind the corral gate when the cattle were turned out. Other people who have lived in the country for years and have never learned the art, should they ride a few miles, would be heard to say the next day that they are so stiff and sore from the exercise that they are unable to sit, move, or lie dov n comfortably. Thus it is that as the West becomes settled and eastern civilization comes in, the art of horseback riding goes out and with it the glamour and pictur- esqueness of the old Western frontier days. — E. H. ' 29. THE RUMBLE SEAT If you want to be old, if you want to be young, if you want to be brave, or if you are in pain ride in a rumble seat, and your troubles will be all over. They say nature is grand. Moonlight, your best girl, rough roads and a rumble seat, what could be gr-ander ? In the year of 1 880 as the covered wagon continued to roll on Montana plains, your grandmother sat on the lowered end gate holding hands with a freckled faced urchin, destined to be your grandfather. Strange isn ' t it? It ' s funny, but it ' s true. Even the pioneer had a rumble seat. In the year of 1 900 when your mother and father discovered the beauty of romance, luxury entered into the affair and the double buggy became the family hack. Mother and father spooned in the back seat on the way to church. The change was not satisfactory, so they had to hold hands under the hymn book to keep up the right spirit. Later they rode in one of Henry Ford ' s creations and found the thrill that they missed when their romance first began. As time passed on and the modern limousine was produced they looked into the future and saw that their children were going to miss the thrill of grand- mother ' s romance. So then it is in this year of 1929 we have the modern rumble seat. A seat that is symbolic of our modern flapper, a little dirty, a little rough, but awfully nice. It isn ' t the soft, easy things that develop the good people. It ' s the things that are rough and hard, the things that leave no trace of snobbishness or con- ceit. The person who can ride ten miles in a rumble seat and then get out and high hat the bunch in front just simply doesn ' t exist. Thank God for the rumble seat, for it is truly a seat of youth. — R. J. -29. ■41-

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Tibbie Drinker, don ' t you dare call me country bred, just because you ' re from the city. Why not the blue shallon? ' Tis vastly unbecoming. Janice Faunce! Can ' t thee let the men alone? 1 will when thee will, airily laughed the girl. Do unto others quoted Tabitha. And suddenly the voices died out as suddenly as they had come. Tick-tock, tick-tock ... 1 again heard, or seemed to hear it telling me some of the interesting affairs that had been carried on under its face ... of grandmother ' s wedding, and feasts and stately company ... of children ' s patter . . . Johnnie, Johnnie, come quick, and see this sword! It ' s all mouldy and dirty and it ' s half in the ground! 1 can ' t get it out. . . . Little girls playing dolls, and little boys playing soldier with shining swords ... of spinning and weaving ... of carding wool ... of sewing and quilting bees ... of births and deaths, and soon another generation of youth passed beneath its time-worn face, with new joys and sorrows, loves and disappoint- ments, while the grandfather clock calmly and unhurriedly ticked on until yet another generation, loud of speech and careless of manners, ultra-modern and amazing, arrived. Well, little one, what ' s the secret sorrow you have on your chest? Won ' t father buy you that dress you want for the sorority dance? N-No, it ' s nothing like that, 1-1 just like the way you dress and act, that ' s all. That ' s simply noble and notorious of you and appreciation of your re- mark is something, I haven ' t anything else but — what ' s under the aureate curls? H-How to be popular? What makes you think 1 know? Do you picture me as having to use tear gas to keep the men away? I ' ll just bet you do. Well, supposing you win your bet, what makes you think you aren ' t? When a girl hardly ever gets any bids to parties and sits out most of the dances when she does, and when nobody honks outside her door, she knows. There, there, honey lamb, maybe there ' s something to be done about it. I ' ll tell you something, wee Jane, that your best friend wouldn ' t tell you. Your breath is as sweet as a cow ' s — and w hile that may not sound like a compli- ment, it is one. For one thing, you don ' t travel the boy ' s speed. Another, be yourself. Come on, let ' s go get some ice cream and talk it over. To spin, to weave, to knit and sew Was once a girl ' s employment. But now to dress and catch a beau Is all of her enjoyment. Again the words died out and 1 was just getting more than interested, too. And whether outworn, or in scorn, the clock looked down as if to say, I ' m out of date. This pace is too fast for me — and stopped. — M. H. ' 29. — 43 —