Jackson High School - Osky Wow Yearbook (Jackson, OH)

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enough as we have been very busy. Is there one Senior who will forget the day we spent in one of the unused rooms of the old building, sitting on chairs, “just as in our own parlor” as Mr. Henson said? Also we will always keep it in mind that we have the pleasure of being the Seniors in this our first annual. a a: And now, Seniors, pausing, let us think of the many happy moments we have spent here in dear old Jackson High. Then, 0 Classmates, be it ever our aim that the glorious class of nineteen twelve be always “Not Who, but What.” C. R. D., ’12. X (Elasa flrnitlimj Boston, Massachusetts-June the Second, 1932. My Dear Ella Noel:— I certainly was glad to hear from you after such a long time. I thot you had forgotten me. I do hope the baby is better and the other children are well. How is Frank’s rheumatism? My dear, I have the most news to tell you. You can’t imagine where I’ve been! To—Well I guess I’d better begin at the beginning. The other day I was going on a little shopping trip to San Francisco on the Chicago Eastern Aerial Line, when something got wrong on our ship and we had to stop at a dock in a little town over which we were passing. The captain said we probably would be there five or six hours and I was very much provoked for I knew if we wasted that much time I would not get home that afternoon as I had expected But I had to make tne best of it and I concluded to look around the town. I asked the pilot, who was standing near the door of my compartment, if he knew the name of the place and he told me it was —Jackson, Ohio! Well, for a minute I simply couldn’t recall where I had heard that name before and then of course I remembered and involuntarily I cried “Jackson, Ohio! Why I used to live here”—and the pilot seemed so surprised as he answered, “You did? Why so did I.” Of course I asked his name and he said, “I am Fred Droudner.” You know he was in our High School Class. You can imagine how surprised I was. I told him my name and we talked for quite a while. He said that Grace Hippel (do you remember our German class?) was married and living in Texas and that Mr. Henson of course you have not forgotten him—was traveling in Europe. While we were talking, 1 noticed a large sign over at one side of the dock-station, reading “The Gibson House.” This sounded so familiar that I asked Mr. Droudner about it. “That is the name of the hotel over which this dock is built” he explained. “The proprietor is—surely you remember Bartlett Gibson, he was with us in the Senior class. There he is now.” He called to a tall gentleman, who was just getting out of the elevator and soon 1 was shaking hands with my old classmaie. He told me he would be delighted to escort me around the town, so we took the eleva tor down to the foyer of the t.otel. After I registered I looked over a few of the names and was surpi ised to see among them E. L. Jacobs, salesman for a Columbus wholesale jewelry firm. As we went out into the street a large automobile truck stopped in front of the hotel, and glancing at the sign on it 1 saw “Benton and Evans’ Rocky Hill Farm.” Mr. Gibson informed me that Fletcher Benton and Leon Evans were now engaged in scientific larming on a large scale and that they supplied the hotel and nearly all the large grocery stores with vegetables. My dear, can you imagine Fletcher Benton’s being a farmer? It was almost too much for me. As we walked along I asked Bartlett about others of our classmates and was told that Stephen Rad-cliffe was principal of the Central High Nineteen

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(ClaHB ff'H REE cheers and a tiger for the class of nineteen twelve! It was on a warm day in the fall of 1908 when we climbed the front stairs of the Central School Building and entered the Freshman Rooms, where we were introduced to, and received instructions from, the several teachers. How different it all seemed. How strange at first to depart from the grammar school custom. What grave countenances we had, how courageous we meant to be when we had to endure the humility of being called “Freshies” by people who were only Sophomores themselves. The year was practically uneventful, as all our interest was self centered, except, perhaps, the building of the fire escapes which were a needed improvement. How mmy times in our first year we vowed to be gentle with unfortunate Freshmen, but the next year we had forgotten and were entirely wrapped up in our own affairs. Day after day our only thoughts were of Algebra and Geometry while our dreams at night were of the battles of Caesar. This year a new High School building was begun. This year was also a sad one for we lost one of our number for whom we all mourned, so much the more because his death was so tragic and untimely. Most of our time was passed in quietly and earnestly searching for knowledge and dutifully reciting to our teachers what we had learned. But we were well paid for our perseverance for the following year we were Juniors and one mile nearer our destination. The principal event in the way of studies was Physics—that is, the Laboratory experiments, in which we were very much interested. It was in this year that the new building was finished sufficiently to admit one class--the Seniors. It was also as Juniors that we each wrote our first debate, for we organized a Literary Society and every other Friday afternoon a certain number of the class took part in the program. What good times we had at the fijiatorg several spreads we prepared in our room. Is there one of us who will ever forget it? Near Christmas time we were invited to an informal reception by Mr. Parrot. On the evening of the 23rd of December (1910) we assembled in the pallor of Prof. Parrot’s home on Chestnut Street Although outside the wind was blowing a gale, bringing with it a blinding snowstorm, everything inside was light and gay. How well we remember with what difficulty Eben Jones discovered that imaginary hole in the heel of his sock, when we were playing that delightful game of “Lawyer.” In the midst of our gaiety refreshments were served, which consisted of cake, ice cream, candy, and coffee. All departed at a late hour complimenting their host and hostess for their pleasant entertainment. Our president this year was Eben Jones; secretary, Louise Dt Lay; treasurer, Mamie Caldwell. It was on the night of May 11, 1911 that we gave the annual J unior-Senior reception in honor of the Seniors. Nothing else of note happened from then on until the last day of our Junior year when we had a never-to-be-forgotten spread. This same night the Junior girls served at the Alumni Banquet an 1 thought within themselves that next year they would have the pleasure of being waited upon. When we came back to begin our last year, we, as Seniors, had the exclusive privilege of occupying the new High School building, which is not yet completed. We soon held our class meeting and chose Leon Evans president; William Michael, vice president; Hazel Marshman, secretary; and Eben Jones, treasurer. It was not long until we held a class meeting and selected our little gold and black enameled class pin At a later meeting the colors, old gold and royal purple, were chosen as class colors, violets, as our flowers, and “Non quis sed quid”-“Not Who, but What.” our motto. Our Senior year has been uneventful Eighteen

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School; and 'thatTFlorence' 'Brown had founded fne Jackson School for Girls” in which Eda Nickell was head of the domestic science department, and Hazel Marshman and Merle Eubanks were teachers of Latin and mathematics respectively. While we were talking 1 noticed in the window of a bookstore this sign: ‘Read the Reason Why,’ the latest work of Corrine Davis, the great novelist.” In the same window was the announcement of a lecture to be given that night by Professor V. E. McVicker of Dartmouth College. I certainly should like to hear it. Going further down the street we came to the Grand Opera House, a very beautiful structure. On the announcement card I read: Tonight, Miss Lucile Hall, starring in The Follies of 1932. Special music by I. T. Branson.” Well, we walked on down past the Opera House until we were opposite the postoffice, a very fine looking building. I wished to go through it so we crossed the street and entered. At the door we met a lady, who, Bartlett said, was Edith Turner. She is married now and lives in Coalton, a suburb of Jackson. At the stamp window was a very fine looking woman, whom Bartlett introduced to me as Marie Walker. What fun I used to have with her1 We left the postoffice and walked back up Main street. On the directory of one of the large office buildings I saw Dr. J. E. Christman, Osteopath,” and on a sign over a large millinery store the name of Mary Kinnison. Soon a newsboy came by crying: Extra! Extra! All about the exploration of the planet Mars! Extra!” We bought a paper and read the account of this exploration, which we found had been made by the great Professor W. E. Peters! What do you suppose he’ll do next! It was almost luncheon time now, so we went back to the hotel. As I had a few minutes to spare, I looked over the newspaper. In the society column was a detailed account of a large dinner given the night before by Mrs.------, well her name used to be Margaret Mitchell. Do you remember the good times we had at her home? After a delicious luncheon, I again started out, this time going down Broadway Street. One of the first things I saw was this sign over a large department store: W. O. Michael and Co.” Shall you ever forget the fun we used to have with Billy? Meeting a policeman, I asked him to direct me to the Public Library, and his voice and manner as he told me the way seemed so familiar that I asked his name and was surprised to find that it was Dave Davis. I certainly was glad to see him. According to his directions I went on down Broadway Street until I came to a beautiful building, which I at first thought was the library, but upon coming closer to jt 1 saw over the door The Blanche Peters Home for Aged Suffragettes,” so I looked farther for the library. It proved to be next door and I entered and made my way to the reading room, which I found in charge of Gladys Parry. She is just as pretty as ever. Imogene Brown is her assistant, but she wasn’t there that day so I didn’t get to see her. While I was there a beautiful woman came in, whom I recognized as Mayme Caldwell, at least her name used to be Caldwell. She asked for a book (I don’t remember the title) by Senator E. Jones, who, she explained, was a member of the class of 1912, Eben Jones. I stayed here and gossiped so long that I had to hurry back to the hotel without looking around any more. The ship was almost ready to start, so I just had time to thank Mr. Gibson for helping me spend the time so pleasantly and get myself and baggage in my compartment. Of course 1 did not reach home until the next day, but it was really worth the time lost to see and hear about so many old friends. My dear, when are you coming to make me a visit? I want to see you so much. Do come soon. Give my love to all the children and write to me. Yours as ever, Louise. Twenty