Grant Union High School - Prospector Yearbook (John Day, OR)

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V V V 7 7 V7 V V 7 V V 7 V X X X X w We, June Kcorins and Virginia Crcsap leave our technique for coming to school regularly to Genevieve Weis, I, Alice Kirkpatrick, leave the office to whomever is capable of handling it. I, Zoe Harrymcn, leave to La Raync Caublc, my studious mind and ability to keep my legs covered. I, Bob Reams, leave Theda Rhea to Robert Munnick. I, Chester Parmer, leave my way with the women to Orace Endicott. I, Marian Rinehart, leave my gift of gab to Dorothy Mullcnncx. I, Harriett Twomblcy, leave my girlish plumpness to Iris Hopper. I, Kenneth Blank, leave to Wado Don-» aldson, Charles Smith, and Bob Lcmckc, my dancing feet, together with all the skill contained therein. V V V V7 V7 V7 V7 V 7 X xy X X V y xy xy xy

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CLASS PROPHECY I was sitting in my easy chair. It was a sunny afternoon, and a fly was buzzing lazily around my nose. My head sank lower and lower and my eyelids dropped. Suddenly I found myself In an airplane, speeding through the air at the breath-taking rate of five hundred miles an hour. To my intense surprise I noticed that Chet Parmer, an old school-mate of mine was at the con- trols Before I could say anything the plane swooped straight down to the ground. Dizzy and shaken I climbed out and found myself face to face with Bob Reams, who, armed with a huge monkey-wrench, was proceeding to dissect the plane from which I had lust a- lighted. Then, I saw a little man beside me who I recognized as George Breedlove. He invited me to his night club for dinner I accepted, and we stepped into his Model T Ford and sped away. When we arrived, my astonished gaze alighted upon two girls who were doing an animated fan and baloon dance. The girls were June Keerins and Alice Kirkpatrick. A man in the audience was asking them for their autographs. I saw that Ralph Schimke was up to his old tricks. Thon, the scene changed and I found my- self in a strange place amid a noise that could only come from a mad house. And that was what it was. The girl at the telephone switchboard, whom I recognized as Virginia Cresap, was very busy trying to convince a man that he was not Napoleon. To my surprise I saw that this man was another classmate of mine. Max Moery, for whom I had always felt the highest esteem.