Iowa Wesleyan College - Croaker Yearbook (Mount Pleasant, IA)

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r N ' v pxE) 1 A- V Class nf ’14 • This is not to be a history of the Class of ’14. History is a collection of more or less agreeable or disagreeable facts, and implies that the events narrated have long ago ceased to live. The class of 1914 is not reaching its close but its beginning ; we are more in need of prophecy than history. Therefore, if this brief prelude to the achievements of our class may recall in future days thoughts not here recorded and smiles not caught by the camera, if it beckons us occasionally away from the monotony of the present and invites a truant imagination to return once more to former scenes to live four years of college life in an hour, it has fulfilled its mission. It will not matter then that our class furnished some three or four captains for various branches of athletics, some nine or ten members to Iota Phi, leaders and managers of glee clubs, Y. M. and Y. W. presidents, debaters, orators, and all the other machinery of college. Of course, each class contributes its share, and the records show their achievements. That is history. We will more often turn to the lighter side of college days when we think of our class and our college. We will recall with pleasure our class fights and glory in the fact that we were the last class to employ the old-fashioned and barbaric methods which held sway before the advent of the push-ball. The cold nights spent in the cupola of the main building, the mad battle with chairs and furniture, the escape of the girls from the dormitory, and sundry subsequent restrictions, these were our inalienable rights as Freshmen and Sophomores. Then there was the picnic we had when we were Juniors! I remember that Mat Cox made the coffee—it was good coffee, too. It was all gone before we discovered that the spring from which we got the water was the overflow from the Irish-town frog pond. It was this occasion that inspired that thoroughly original class yell: Pork and Beans! Pork and Beans! Marshmallows, wienies and buns! Drink Cox’s sanitary coffee. “The flavor lingers.” This may not be the exact text, as no copy is extant, but only those of the good old class who practiced it that evening by the camp fire in preparation for a demonstration in chapel the next morning will ever know, for the yell was never given. Robert Burns once wrote that, “The best laid plans of mice and men, gang aft aglev.” He might also have added frogs. Yes, indeed! We were not lacking in the social side of college life. To be sure, Stone and Stromberg and George Koch considerably lowered the otherwise r -■ ( mmiww» 11

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i' M v' a... ..1.,nY T c A §muu’t MY FRIEND Oh, hour from which my every hope has flown, When all ambition and all strife seem vain, When gods, once smiling, turn and do not deign To listen to my cry or heed my moans, And men, once fawning, will not condone My faults, at heart. nor aid me to regain The things I sought for and secured through pain, Grant me at least one fHend to call my oivn. And while, although I wander far, I find That naught remains of glories I have won, I shall not halt, for at my journey’s end I know someone is waiting who, outlined Like one tall cliff against the fading sun, Knows all my faults—yet loves me more—My Friend. E. R. Powers. iv iv

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high standard set by the class, but their indifference in this regard was more than counterbalanced by the zeal of Mayhew, Pogemiller and Jeffrey, who became benedicts early in the year, before the spring flowers had bloomed and the Seniors appeared with little fuzzy mustaches. Jeffrey’s success is said to have been due largely to an accidental circumstance. In his Sophomore year he dared John Davis to have their heads shaved. The dare was accepted and they appeared at chapel the next morning with glistening domes, bald as the full moon on a winter night—the envy of Prof. Pimmen and the Dean. It is said that Miss Crips noted the bumps on his head which insured a brilliant career, and immediately became enamoured. In class athletics we held undisputed championship. In our Junior year we humbled the class of 1915 so completely that their self-confidence did not return until well into the next year, when it became necessary to repeat the operation. Previous to this second drubbing the Croakers had cast about for material with which to furnish their book and not finding what they wanted ready to hand, hit upon the idea of starting something really clever themselves. Accordingly they decided to abduct the Seniors’ caps and gowns on the evening before Founders’ Day, when, according to long-established custom, the Seniors were to make their first appearance invested in the dignities of their rank. The plan was only partially successful. The Seniors made a midnight raid on the Croaker office in retaliation, and then scoured the town for enough caps and gowns to supply the deficiency. It was a breathless audience that awaited the appearance of the Seniors. Gowns of various degrees of “color and previous condition of servitude” were visible and our worthy president had evidently shared his toga with some less fortunate brother, for he appeared with only a cap, which was perched upon his head like the Roman eagle on the battle standard. We marched down the aisle and took our seats in triumph, for the college tradition had been preserved. At that time we had not begun breaking precedents and were frequently cited by the Dean as examples to the under-classmen. Oh, happy innocence! Later methought a bright angel had passed by and shrieked out aloud, “IIow are the mighty fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen from their high estate!” We must not linger longer over the past. These are only a few scattering hints imperfectly told, but the author of this short sketch hopes that it will lead you often to wander in quiet nooks of your memory, there to meet with classmates of 1914. L. H.