Hobart Senior High School - Memories Yearbook (Hobart, IN)

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being of sound minds, do hereby will and bequeath Jennie Laskowski Louie — To Ernest Ele: All Mary ' s love. Sophie Laskowski — To Helen Sol: My love for boys. Lucille Lewin Lucy — To anyone who wants it: My seat in child care class. Mary Loggie — To my brother: My ability to get to school before 9:30. Barbara Low Bobby — To Chuck Brown: My government workbook. Mary Lossa — To Marilyn Erickson: All my typing errors. Lvonne Luellman Louie — To Shirley Nelson: My love for a good book. George Luke Milkdudt — To Bob Govert: My job as captain of the basketball team. Carl Marcoff Nicklow — To Mr. Aylesworth: My ability to hit a golf ball down the middle of the fairway. Ray Marler Igloo — To Carol: All the good times we ' ve had in high school. Shirley Mathis Sam — To anyone who wants it: My long hair. Joan Mattix Mac — To next year ' s seniors: My no-nod pills for economics class. Mary Belle McLead Belle — To my sister: My job at Walgreens. Bill Meehan Glenn — To Casey Bray: My ability to ruin projects in machine shop. Harold Meeks — To Vickie Lazar: My height. Doretta Mehalic — To Mr. Yunker: A joke book. Arthur Miller Art — To Ted Chenoweth: My ability to climb Pikes Peak. Bud Mock — To Moe Mulligan: My grades in machine shop. Don Mundell Flower Pot — To Mr. Ebbs: A bottle of hair tonic. Joanne Murphy — To Eleanor Ledyard: My government notebook. Ardita Neunfeldt DEDE — To Miss Hackman: My sense of humor. Bob Nuzum Bucko — To Leo Swanson: My brain. Bill Ondo Papa — To Jerry Ahlgrim: My way with women. Judee Otto Archie — To Shirley Carstensen: Locker No. 40. Delores Owens Dee — To H. H. S.: My brother Wayne. Ralph Papke Pap — To my sister: My brains. John Prusiecki Boris — To Jim McLuckie: My ability to get along with my mother at work. Maxine Richmond — To Nancy Pyatt: My long wavy black hair. Donna Rosenbaum Rosie — To Gramp Johnson: My gum factory. Bill Seymour — To Bill and Carl Shields: My wolf call! Isabel Schmelter Is — To Angie Martino: All my shorthand copy work. Lorraine Sheets Pug — To Dolores Sikora: My interest in Men! Victor Silich Vic — To Danny Krulik: My scholastic ability. Edith Shearer — To Willetta Klug: A pair of spiked track shoes for running down town at noon during the rush. Dorian Sobat Spike — To Jack Erickson: My drawing ability. Lila Spoor Squirt — To Jean King: All my money making projects — Dyches, Walgreens, and the pool rooms. Frank Springman Frank — To Art Hamilton: All my senior expenses. John Springman — To Casey Bray: The portable machine shop milk route. Leon Stadtler Lee — To Netta Kanost: The joy of being a Senior. Sue Stonebraker Suzie — To Allen Richmond and Jerry Tiffany: My blonde curls. Kenneth Swynenberg Fuzz — To my brother Everett: My ability to ditch and get caught. Joe Szendrey Curley — To Eugene Lundy: My bow tie. Mildred Tatalovich Millie — To all good typists: All the gremlins in my typewriter. Bernice Taranda Berkey — To Marietta and Nowma: All the fun in the last year of high school. Jack Treadway — To Dale Schultz: My ability to save money. Kathleen Tignor Tig — To Allen Richmond: My height. Jean Turner Stinky — To Betty Harner: the socks I put my hair up on! Joan Turner Jo — To Emily Schellenburg: My red loafers to pass around in class. La Verne Veres Beb — To Bill Schellenburg: My ability to stay in ranks in marching band. Mary Watson Wats — To brother Max: My ability to ditch without getting caught. Richard Wells Rich — To Mr. Rouch: The four or five days of Latin I don ' t take it! Gloria Wichman — To Ruth Henschel: My bracelet collection. Ray Wilkerson — To Leo Swanson: My Valpo telephone numbers. Leroy Wineinger Lulu — To my brother: All my senior expenses. Marie Woods — To a sailor: All my love. Page Seventeen

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We, the Senior Class of Hobart High School Ruth Albers, Luckie — To Louise Riggens: My wealth of three cents at the end of the year. William Ashton, Bill — To Coach Angus Wilson: My hair and my brilliance in health and safety. Robert Ball, Bob — To Jerry Tiffany: My height. , John Ballantyne, John Bone” — To Dale Schultz: My job on the J under Dick. Doris Beerbower, Dee — To Gerry Kasrich: My plaid Babushka. Mary Billeaux, Chris — To Marietta Shelby and Norma Steen: My red pajamas to divide as ‘hey see fit. Marian Bodine, Blondie — To Donna Schavey: All the fun during my Junior and Senior years. Jim Brush, Herr Brush — To Jerry Chapman: A little used second hand government book. Charles Cain, Chuck — To Don Clasen: All my extra shot gun shells. Mary Ann Cicillian, Mac — To Gilbert Ittel: My senior English book. Bonnie Cleaver— To any one who wants it: My seat in Mr. Yunker ' s class. Betty Cope, Blackie — To Francis Kozub: My job in Mr. Pound ' s office. Bill Crites, Long John — To Red Dinsmore: My captaincy of the cross country team. Thelma Cuson, Qui — To the Junior Class: My happy times as a senior. Marilyn Danielson — To Vickie Lazar: My position in Mr. Pound ' s office. Jacqueline Davis, Jackie — To Charlene Van Blaircom: My duties as third hour typist for Mrs. Baily. Eugene Edwards, Gene — To my sister: All two of my A ' s and B ' s. George Edwards, Hartley — To Mr. Yunker: Ten chorus girls to brighten his classes. Jean Edwards, Mud — To Joan Madden: The back seat of my brother ' s car. Dolores Enslen — Glen Carlson: More people like me, to laugh at his jokes. Dale Ewigleben, Abe — To Mr. Smetzer: My good humor. Dorothy Ewigleben, Dottie - — To Pete Bulza: My seat in assembly. Tom Farlow, Mix — To the junior class: My unpaid senior debts. Bernard Fas, Sam - — To Sam Van Scoy: All my basketball ability. Carl Fasel, Cocky — To the junior class: My sentiments. Rosemary Florios, Rosie — To the beginners in the band: The fun and experience I ' ve had while in the band. Dallas Foreman — To Jerry Ahlgrim: My pet fly and all my troubles caused by it. Rita Frett, Stinky — To Mardell Pierce: All the A ' s and B ' s I should have made in typing class. Naomi Gra bill , P-J — To Donna Schavey: The notorious piano in the gym in hopes that you ' ll break it up and use it for tooth picks. Bob Green, Bobo — To my brother Pug: My ability to get through my senior year without working. Jay Greene, Piano legs — To my brother Bill: My way with the women. Norma Greenspan, Schnich — To Red Mack: A good cook book. Howard Harris — To Keith Johnson: My ability to be late and get away with it. Alice Hellstrom, Al — To Mac Brown: My strictly G. I. Army shirt. Charles Henderson, C. B. — To Jim McLuckie: My ability to play snooker. Barbara Howorth, Barbie — To the Girls Vocal Ensemble: My ability to peck out Schuberts Serenade on the piano. Bert Huff — To Marvin Foreman: The ability to keep my mouth shut at the right time. Charles Jackson, Jack — To my brother John: Better luck than I had in U. S. Government class. Billie Ann Johnson, Speed — To all junior high: My happy high school days. Chuck Johnson, Charlie — To Pete Harrigan: My senior home room seat (I made it, you should!) Marie Johnson, Johnnie — To Shirley Carstensen: My fun in G.A.A. Bette Johnston, Johns — To my brother Bruce: My reserved seat in detention. Mariellen Jolliff, Jug” — To Kenny Brey: All my love. Janet Jones, Peanuts — To Alice Pyatt: All my troubles with Mr. Ebbs. Dick Julian, Penoke — To Shirley Moon: My ability to get out of class. Geraldine Kasrich, Gerry — To Mr. Posey: My figure! (I said it and I ' m glad.) Pat Katis — To Carol Kostbade: A new ice bag and strength enough to face next year ' s yearbook. Kenneth Keller, Abie — To Max Watson: The road to Crown Point. Shirley King — To Red Dinsmore: My vast quantity of freckles. Kathryne Kleine, Kay — To Country Carstensen: My seat in Yunker ' s Government Class. Rosemary Koselke, Rosie — To My sister Genny: My eyes. Alfreda Kubiak, Potchie — To any one who wants it: My typewriter with all the gremlins. Corrine Kinder, Corny — To Vivian Proach: My undesired grey pen. Laura Kipper, Kip — To Jake Ittel: The editor ' s desk, a bottle of aspirins, a mouse trap, and best wishes for ' 47.

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IT WAS WAY BACK IN . . . September, 1942, and from St. Bridgets, Trinity, Franklin, and the city junior high school came more than one hundred little greenhorns to start their high school careers at Hobart High School as freshmen. We made it through the grades and this was what we had waited for, but now that the time was here — well, we weren’t sure. Each of us must have felt lost and somewhat afraid. I know I was. But it wasn ' t long at all until we began to function as a group, the class of ' 46. Our first social function was a theater party in the assembly, remember? If not, you will surely remember our second party that year, a barn dance given in the gym. What with the games, the decorations, the entertainment . . . how could you ever forget that night? That was by far one of the best parties our school had seen for a long, long time. After our numerous installations and initiations, that ran any where from wearing masks to class to scrubbing the gym floor with tooth brushes, we freshies became a real part of the school. We joined clubs, we studied hard (we were only freshmen then) and did have fun. Near the end of the year we decided to have a day of orientation for the next year ' s freshmen, and that we did. We wondered if we, as eighth graders, could have been so troubled as they were to see the big school they would soon attend. It was so ordinary for us. It was really spring now and it seemed an eternity till vacation time when we could dash off to the cool lakes and forget the tasks of study. Leaving the picnics, the hikes, the beach parties and all that summer meant to us, we returned to school the next fall. Though it was hard to think of classes and books again, it was good to see everybody. Some of us hadn ' t seen each other for ages. At our first meeting Shirley King, president of our freshman class, introduced Jay Greene, whom we had just elected, as our new president. We were now ready to start off on our Sophomore year. We gave a kids ' party that year and everyone really dressed like kids — believe me we looked like kids and, darn it all, we felt like kids! But it was fun. About then we ordered class rings too. Let me tell you, that was a thrill. By the way, mine needs to be shined up a bit. Goodness, school years aren ' t very long, for here we were leaving for another summer vacation. The year 1944 we returned as juniors. We really were in seventh heaven then. This year we would give the Junior-Senior prom. But first we had to make some money. How? Sell oranges? Sell Christ- mas wreathes? We decided to give a play, Through the Keyhole, and it went over great. May 4th came at last. All the girls came to school with their hair up — Wonder why? Because this was the day of the prom and every girl was determined to look her best. We dashed home from school that afternoon and took baths. From then on we just counted the minutes till it was time to leave. We held the prom in Gary at the Marquette Pavilion, which we decorated to harmonize with the theme Colonial South. After the grand march led by the junior class president, Janet Jones, and the senior class president, came the crowning of the king and queen of the prom. A crown of daisies was given to the queen who turned out to be Dolores Bodamer. The evening came to an end much too soon, but when we left we found ourselves then looking for a place to eat. We had fried chicken. What did you have? Our last week at school brought convocations, parties and the junior-senior picnic. We walked all the way out to East Gary Park. There we ate and played games. There was a baseball game between the two classes too. We let them win. It was so much fun, but did I ever tell you about our walk home? We weren ' t the same for days. The Honor Day program was what did it. We watched the seniors in their caps and gowns and said to ourselves, Next year we’ll be wearing those ... if our luck holds out. During summer vacation many of the kids worked. The war was still on and we tried to help by doing our bit. But it was that summer when, after three and a half years, peace was declared. Peace! Yes we returned to school for our first peacetime high school year. Room 313 now was ours. We had waited a long time to call it our own home room and now it was ours. The year started off with a bang when more than thirty committees were named. Who ever thought that seniors would have to do so much? A party was given in the Masonic hall that fall. We all dressed up and went, where here, we danced by candle light to gay music. As soon as our play Daphne was started we found we were in for even more work. Many other committees were named and soon we were buzzing again. With the play we would finance all our other activities. This year meant our last football and basketball games while we were still in school, so we’d make them good — and they were. We did a lot of things during the year — went to the Little 5 Hop, gave a junior-senior picnic, sponsored several convocations, the play, the senior breakfast, went on a sneak-day trip and lots more. Finally commencement night came. Slowly, solemnly, we walked. Our days at Hobart High School were through, and now we thought back over all that was past, then lifted our heads again as we thought of the future. To our sponsors, our advisors, all you who helped us through these years we are grateful. No Hobart, we ' ll not forget you. Don ' t forget us, please.