Ionia High School - Ionian Yearbook (Ionia, MI)

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THE IONIAN 1932 History The making of all histox-y involves a certain period of time. Thus, the revelation of our high school history began when we started as Freshmen four years ago. At that time, this day seemed an interminable age away. Now, in our reminiscence, it seems but a short time since our high school days began. However, in each of the four years of our high school experience, there have been certain “highlights.” In our Freshman year all classes were divided into three groups, and the year passed rather uneventfully. However, much enjoyment was derived (by those who participated) from the Junior High Dramatic Club, which is very prominent among the extra-curricular activities of the Junior High School. The class as a whole brought the school year to a close with a picnic at Woodard Lake. Our entrance, the following September, into the Senior High School was accompanied by the same confusion that greets all Sophomores—no one knowing what to do nor when to do it. Finally, out of this chaos, a class was organized and we elected Maxine Callow as our President; Luther Lawrence, Vice-President; Doris Kendig, Secretary; Raymond Cuttle, Treasurer. Our Sophomore year finished with the usual picnic, this time at Baldwin Lake. After a seemingly short summer, we resumed our work as Juniors. Then the much-coveted title of “dignified Seniox s” was really within our scope. During the first few weeks we selected our officers: Pitt Galloway, President; Kathex-ine Bensinger, Vice-Px-esident; Roberta Zibbell, Secretary, succeeded the second semester by Katherine Benedict; Eax'l Dunnett, Treasux-er. From this time on, every effort was concentx-ated on raising money for the ex-owning achievement of the yeax-—the Junior-Hop. Before we knew it the pax-ty was over and we were receiving many compliments fx-om those Seniors wlxose positions we so much desix-ed to hold. Last September we returned to the Ionia High School as Seniors. Immediately we elected our class officers, for there were many things to be accomplished. We chose as President, James Barkdull; Vice-President, Kathex-ine Benedict; Secretary, Earl Dunnett; Treasurer, Kathex-ine Bensinger. Early in the second semester, work was conscientiously begun on the 1932 Annual. Through the unceasing effox-ts of the students and teaclxers, our Annual proved to be a success. Also, about this time, the class honors wex-e awarded. Katherine Benedict was Valedictorian and Doris Kendig was Salutatorian. The next big undei’taking was the presentation of the Senior Play, “The Nut Fax-m,” under the direction of Mr. Smith, Miss Bui’ke, and Mr. Harx-is. Like all preceding Senior Plays of the Ionia High School, it was very successful. The outstanding event of every Junior class, the J-Hop, proved itself this year to be a most delightful pax-ty for the Seniors, and it was thoroughly appreciated and enjoyed. Now as these activities are becoming only memories and our high school life draws to a close, we are thinking of our fax-ewell Senior party and our last class picnic. Our class has been well represented in many activities of the High School—athletics, debating, oratory, and music. Our ox-ator, Luther Lawrence, won first place in the local and sub-district contests. Thus reads our past. For the futux-e we must turn for enlightenment to our Class Prophecy. [24] Maxine Hutchins

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1932 Salutatory THE IONIAN FRIENDS: It is my privilege today to greet you on behalf of the Class of 1932 of the Ionia High School. I hope that I shall succeed in making you sense our deep appreciation of your presence here. Today is a day that we Seniors, as well as many of you in the audience, shall never forget. We shall remember it primarily because it is summarizing the first act of the play of our lives. It is bringing this act to a conclusion and preparing for a change in setting. Furthermore, it is pulling the curtain not only on the scene, but also on the characters with whom we have become so familiar. This is sufficient cause for remembrance, but there is a second reason. The day, and what it symbolizes, is unique. Other experiences may occur time and again, but there is only one graduation from high school and only one Class Day. Thus, its memory will necessarily linger as one of the sweeter moments in what we hope and trust will be a happy life for all of us. Fancy has its way with us as we drink in every moment of almost the last meeting with fellow Seniors. One train of thought centers about our parents, or whoever may have directed and prompted us in this first act of the play of life. In many cases, great sacrifices have been made that we, who are to be our own directors in the next act, should be better fitted for it. In all cases love, anxiety, and sympathy have been lavishly expended by these directors. Many of you in the audience fill that place, and we tender to you a special welcome. It is natural that the next line of thought should concern the other very important factor in this scene which is closing—the faculty. In classrooms, day by day, we may sometimes have lost sight of the purpose of these teachers. We may even have thought of them as unfair, unfeeling, and unthinking. Now, however, there remains only understanding of them and of their fundamental motive—that of preparing us for life. We see how patient they have been. We see what great benefits we have derived from contact with them: how they have enabled us to develop a philosophy of life; how they have made difficult lessons easy; how they have given us valuable interpretations in various studies, and also of timely problems, and been eager for ours. All this enters our minds, and we wish you who have been our teachers to know how sincerely we welcome you. At last, thought turns inevitably to friends. Included under this term are lower-classmen, relatives, and other friends aside from classmates. Gazing back over this first act—the scenes of which have been composed of school-days, school functions, and the like—it is evident that we have depended on them to probably a greater degree than we have realized. These years may prove to have constituted the happiest, and undoubtedly the most carefree, period of our lives. As these friends have helped to make it so, it is with sincere pleasure that we greet every one of you. These thoughts course through our minds, and one huge “Welcome” radiates from the faces of the graduating class before you. Perhaps words are unnecessary, nevertheless, may I extend this welcome to every parent, guardian, teacher, and friend present today. Doris Kendig [23]

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1932 THE IONIAN Class Prophecy I had been thinking of my old classmates for some time, and wondering where they had all drifted to since Graduation Day, away back in 1932. A solution to my problem came from a most unexpected source—a long-forgotten, dusty volume of my treasured “Sherlock Holmes” stories, which, in a reminiscent mood, I had taken from the book-shelves of my spacious library. Settling comfortably in a huge armchair before a warm and sparkling fireplace, in the soft glow of the early evening, I started to read. Choosing a chapter at random, I had read only a few pages when the idea occurred to me—my perplexing puzzle was answered; now I should know where all my old classmates were! In a moment I was at the telephone, calling to my assistance a certain young man whose name 1 found in the telephone book. He arrived ten minutes later, so silently that I did not know that anyone was in the room until a voice directly behind me inquired softly, “What can I do for you?” When I revealed my plot to him, the young man nodded wisely and said, “Woman’s curiosity.” Perhaps I should confess that it was a bit of that, but I shall always say that I would never have thought of it if it had not been for the reading of that chapter from the adventures of that unforgettable character, Sherlock Holmes. If it was “woman’s curiosity,” then it was entirely satisfied, several weeks later, when the young man, with a triumphant smile on his face, returned one rainy night, this time announcing himself by the loud slamming of the library door. Hanging his dripping raincoat in the corner, and sitting down before the fire, he began his tale. Here is what this mysterious person, of whom you shall hear more, told me, in his own words: “I am really proud of my work this time. It was hard work, but I found them all, scattered all over the country. Some of them are in New York, some in Chicago, and some remained to seek their fortunes in Michigan. Raymond Cuttle was my first “victim.” In high school, Raymond’s ambition was to become a cheer leader in a deaf and dumb institution, but when I peeked in on him, in New York a few days ago, he was picking at a typewriter with one finger, and there were a lot of wrinkles in his forehead. He was a good imitation of the “Thinker.” I soon learned that he was writing up his next week’s radio program. Raymond would tell you that a radio comedian’s life isn’t so funny, after all. Evidently he gained neither ideas nor inspiration from the numerous office girls hovering about. The young lady who had been powdering her nose ever since I had come in, turned around, shifted her gum from one side of her mouth to the other, and said, “Yes, sir.” It was Winona Wandall! In the next room I found Ruby and Coral Gleason and Neva Haddock in a whispered discussion of Winona’s new boy friend. Ruby and Coral maintained that he was good looking, but Neva didn’t think so. The subject was suddenly changed to a certain young lady whom they called “Dewey,” and from the ensuing conversation I gathered that Leola LaDue and Ardis Rumbaugh were highly successful business women, as private secretaries to George Estep and Pitt Galloway, whose famous “The Friendly Corner Drug Stores” you see advertised every day in the newspapers and magazines. Thus I had a clue which led me to the imposing offices of Estep Galloway. I found Leola and Ardis counting their change and wondering if they could afford to buy Floyd Gunning’s new book entitled “Philosophy and Poetry.” At this point Chrystol Miles, dressed in a bright blue suit, dashed into the office, breathless and a half hour late. She declared that she enjoyed the poetry, but that she couldn’t understand the philosophy. Chrystol yawned, and explained the yawn by saying that she danced to the “Templeton-Snell Orchestra,” the night before, down at the Stanton Stevens Ballroom. She saw Rosamond Patterson and Jessie Moore in the orchestra, and the drummer looked a lot like Irven Burgess. Chrystol was trying to figure out how it happened that Bill and Dick would allow so [25)