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

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The insane asylum faded and I found my- self in Washington, where I was having lunch with Bill Southworth, a prominent member of the House of Representatives, who was sche- duled to run for President in I960, His secretaries, Florence Kirkwood and La Velle Burnett, were always beside him, taking notes of his colossal ideas Then, to my chagrin. Bill, his secre- taries, and the lunch all faded away and in a moment I found myself in a quiet street of a little village. Two old maids were gossip- ing over a fense, I drew near and listened to what they were saying. They were talking excitedly about Frances Everett and a pro- minent business man of the community, who were to be married soon I learned from their talk that Frances was a noted movie queen, who was famous for her breech of promise suits Then their conversation shifted to Zoe Harryman, who was married and had six fine sons. She was apparently a fine housewife and successful mother When the discussions of the old m lds became uninteresting, I strolled on down the street and found myself in front of a news- paper office, I started to walk in and at the door I bumped squarely into a huge fat man who threatened to bash me in the kisser unless I got out of his way. I recognized Louis Round at once. I pacified him as best I could and drew him into conversation about himself. He told me with no small degree of pride that he was a professional gambler who had never lost a card game, I noticed, how- ever, that his very fat and very florid face bore the marks of many battles, presumably with his clients. Bidding him good-bye, I re-entered the newspaper office and found that its managers

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were June Breedlove and Marian Rinehart. Their paper was filled with artistic drawings. Mar- ian was the writer of a little column on Ad- vice to the Lovelorn j while June excelled in writing scorching editorials. Then the newspaper office slowly dissolved and I found myself in a china-noodle joint, where a large, comfortable-looking woman was cooking chop suey. I saw at once that it was Harriett Twombley, I ordered lunch and then, looking across the street, I saw a sign which read: Choice Pleas for Museums and Commercial Purposes , Lorraine Kerrins Phyllis Paine, Props. Just then two men came into the restaurant and sat down at a table. One, I recognized immediately as Kenneth Blank. The other seemed familiar but I could not recall his name. They started talking about cornering the wheat mar- ket and then I recognized Jack Rafferty, who was always trying to corner something. Suddenly the restaurant grew dim and I found myself in a crowded court-room where a tall, dignified-looking man was speaking. He finished and sat down before I saw that it was Laurence Moore. When the court-room was quiet the first witness was called to the stand. It was Peggy Newvine, and she seemed as calm as if she were still in the class-room. Marie Rine- hart was the court reporter who was excitedly writing. At times she would drop her pencil and tear her stringy blond hair. Then she would seize her chewed-up writing tool and begin again. When the defendant, Clinton Kel- ler, who was accused of putting water in the gas tank of Peggy’s plane, took the stand he became angry at the lawyer, Laurence Moore, and they got into a fist fight. Just as everyone else in the court-room fell to fighting too, someone came up to me from behind and, turning