Ionia High School - Ionian Yearbook (Ionia, MI)

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IONIAN 1931 Class Prophecy The day had faded in the west and dusk was swiftly gathering into darkness as I approached the tent of El Herrik. He sat cross-legged and motionless, outlined faintly white against the grey of canvas. We were twenty miles from Kufra. The day had been hot, the sun pitiless, and sand still warm as I sank to the desert floor across a small fire that burned in front of him. I was lonely. Wandering had taken me far and to many lands. All experience seemed to gather and swell in a peculiar oppressiveness within me. El Herrik merely nodded. I am lonely,” I said slowly, I wish for old friends and old faces. If only 1 could know where they are tonight, what they are doing----.” I stopped at loss for words, unable to define the emotion that grew within me. I bowed in silence. El Herrik moved; from the white folds of his robe he drew a translucent crystal. Placing it between his knees, he bent and smoothed the sand in front of him. The wind eddied the sand into ripples and forms. El Herrik gazed from eyes deep set and piercing, intently at its movements. Allah is kind. The night is favorable. The sands are right,” he muttered at last. You may see those friends of yesterday. O Master, come closer.” He held the crystal out. I edged forward and peered into the depths of the sphere. A light gleamed there, grew and suffused the darkness. Figures and forms took shape and I was lost in a nuance of dreams. The mistiness cleared and I beheld a blazing neon sign. Schramm Drugs” it told the world. Inside, the proprietor was busily engaged in a heated argument with Arthur Rivett as to whether or not a malted milk is a necessity or a luxury. Clark Welker stood behind a marble counter nonchalantly juggling a milk shake for Lee Yates who was intently interested in this pointless argument. The quietude of the place was disturbed by white-aproned Mary Stewart, who desired to know if Detroit or Philadelphia cheese was ordered from the Wag- ner, Hall Beck Cheese Works. The vision grew dim, but this short glimpse revived many memories of the past. My sight was blurred but slowly cleared again. I saw a comfortable room. A fire burning at the hearth, soft easy chairs, an atmosphere of contentment prevailed. Deep in one chair was a figure of considerable proportions; close by, one of much less pretentiousness. Devotion flashed to my mind simultaneously with Richard Hodgkins, and Esther Post, now Mr. and Mrs. Hodgkins both buried in a newspaper, (an Osborn, Moon publication, by the way). And by some strange intuition I felt that he was reading a Social Column by Ruth Butler who was extoling the philan- thropies of Helena Coe, who, after a most disappointing romance, had lost all in- terest in pharmaceutical endeavors and had turned her attention to more enlighten- ing enterprises. Esther sat in front of the radio complacently listening to George Vance’s sonorous voice announcing the guest artist of the evening, Florence Leach, accompanied by Ami” Quaglio and his Flute Flaggers. I again could see no more. The trance continued. Light glowed from the shimmering sphere. I saw a smooth glazed surface littered with papers and sur- rounded by faces in the center of a handsomely furnished room. It was the board of directors’ meeting of the Kowatch Arnold Publishing Co. They were discus- sing the best way of marketing the latest book of Clarence Kress; namely, An Ap- preciation of Literature.” Stockholder Baker upheld a plan to turn the entire matter over to the Heim and Carbaugh Sales Service. Stockholder Boettcher insisted that the company’s own super-sales force of Clara Bixby, Pauline Ellison, Laura Gates, Lucille Goodwin, Edith Ransom, and Grace Wyman, canvass the United States from door-to-door. Stockholder Hacker wondered when they were going to declare divi- dends again, and stockholder Catt was too busy filing her finger nails to give the [22}

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PR I ENDS: Salutatory The privilege of extending the greetings of my classmates, our faculty, and the administration to you has been accorded to me. We wish you to understand that you are welcome to attend and participate in all scholastic functions, but we want you to feel especially welcome today. This day is numbered among the few that remain to be spent with all our classmates and our school. From thence onward, we as individuals, will be determining the final success or failure of our lives. To make a truly worthwhile beginning in this business of life, we must consider ad- visable initial steps. One cannot travel very far on life’s road without entering upon partnerships of business, politics, or friendships. In business or political partner- ships. our choice does not always determine our partners, but the choice of friends rests with us alone. As a result, our characters are inevitably revealed by the friends we make. In the audience today there are a few strangers perhaps, casual acquaintances, friends, and parents who are intensely hopeful and expectant of our success. As friends, we will try not to disappoint you and to be worthy of your friendship. When we consider the responsibilities we carry in fulfilling our duties to you as well as to ourselves, we are allowing ourselves to be heavily taxed. Perhaps we may try to shirk our duties to you, and in doing so, subject you to disappointment and re- gret. But in a partnership of friendship, each member voluntarily assumes certain obligations which must be duly recognized when one friend doubts the stability and fidelity of another. After all, a friend is only human, and frailties are common to everyone, and although the disappointment in a friend is one of life’s greatest tragedies, it is only a shallow partnership that can be dissolved by such a cause. This occasion is of importance to us because it means that we welcome you to be our friends, in our future careers as you have been in our scholastic careers; it means that we need friends to realize ideals, hopes, and the most distant aspirations. The acceptance of this friendship will not be without cost to you, for the making of a friend is the result of a great day’s work. Our most anxious desire is that the pleasure and joy derived from such contact will overbalance the cost. We believe that your presence here this morning is the expression of your in- terest and good will, and for this expression we are grateful to you and extend to you a most sincere welcome. Pauline Scheid

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1931 IONIAN matter much thought. Chic Miss Helen Kirshman, secretary of the company, was absent as she was taking a short course in something or other at Michigan State College that particular evening. The meeting dissolved in a fusion of colors and haze. I saw the crystal ball again, the sand beneath, then the vision seemed to rise. The background was pe- culiarly different. Colored awnings and brilliantly-striped tents were huddled to- gether. They stretched far, edging a narrow lane which was thronged with people. They were flowingly garbed with vivid turbans piled high over their dark, swarthy countenances. Heterogeneous as the glamor was, I discerned the broad shoulders of Lionel Normington as he emerged from one of the tents. My eyes followed him. The scene was incoherent but he was joined by a small white-clothed figure. Through all this vagueness, the scene had an air of Orientalness distinguished by the occult sounds, music, and babble. A pith helmet bobbed up and down at his side. The walk was feminine. Intuitively I realized that it was Pauline Scheid ever seeking to quench her insatiable thirst for adventure. They approached a public well where a caravan had drawn up. They mingled with others dressed similarly to themselves. An air of familarity prevailed. My pulse quickened as I recognized them as my old classmates. It was an archeological expedition headed by Doctor Hile and associate directors, Comer and Covert. They were traveling to the Gobi Desert to collect specimens for the Munn and Mann Museum at Ionia. Others too, I recognized, Don Miller, Emma Christensen, Frances Higgins and the punctilious caravan dietician, Eldora Storey. I saw Margaret Worden upbraiding cowering camel boys, Emma Jane Welch typing a newspaper account and Georgia Ronan was peacefully preparing an ode to the well-to-do sponsor of the expedition, Florence Patten. The apparition blurred. A film covered my sight. Figures and colors blended together. I sought vainly to collect the scene of the past but I could see in its place only a number of heads huddled together. I heard a confusion of inconsequential chatter which cleared into a meeting of the Ladies’ Tea Talk and Needleworkers’ Guild and from all indications it was mostly talk. Mary Piper presided at the meeting. Rivaling her in oral activity, Ursula Janes and Ida Mae Kennedy were speculating as to whether or not the desperate and determined spinster, Nadeen Zeigler, would get her man. At this particular moment it was annoying to Dorothy Larson to think that Herbert Tafel was the man. Gathering from what Opal North said to Velma Robertson, one assumed that Victor Shipper was coming to give a short address on Laces and Loose Morals.” Quite apart from this chaos, Henrietta Stowe and Arlene Townsend sat distastefully watching the proceedings. It was evident that they had married well for La Vina Wood was jealously eyeing their numerous rings and Hilda Wakefield was eagerly copying Arlene’s dress. Suddenly as if by a grateful gift of Allah, the confusion relaxed into peaceful oblivion. Visions became rapid and shapes intermingled. Confused by this kaleidoscopic picture of colors and forms, I could distinguish nothing, but there seemed to be faintly etched against this background, Sarah Jane Bloomer; still living solely for art and ever engaged in its aesthetic delights. I saw Philip Faude, Ah, how I had missed him! We had led with Philip. I saw him in his attainment. He had always desired to be, and at last was a floor walker in a telephone booth. I wanted to see no more. Memories were too deep to efface. I was sick at heart, unwilling to carry on. I saw no more. The glow softly diffused. Darkness surrounded me, El Herrik still sat motionless, brooding. The crystal sphere lay in his hands. The sand was piled in a mound in front of him. He bent, pushed it for- ward. It slid slowly, creeping and covering the glowing embers. The fire burned blue, sputtered and went out. £23) Francis Rowley