Jefferson High School - Spectrum Yearbook (Portland, OR)

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CLASS WILL WE, the class of January, ‘34, realizing that we are soon to enter the cold, cold world, do hereby make and publish with shaking hand this, our last will and testament. Collectively: To Mr. Jenkins, we give and bequeath our pleasantest smiles, so that he may have an abundant supply to bestow upon those we leave behind. To the faculty, we bequeath the F‘s and Us that they have bestowed upon us. These are to be given to the classes to follow, in the same spirit they were doled out to us. To the June '34 class, we hereby reluctantly leave our fifth period promenades and annoyances and vexations which we have so cleverly contrived. Individually: I, Marjorie Bennett, will my love for economics to Jean Woodhead. I, Gordon Anderson, do hereby leave my decollete white sweater to the big bad wolf. I, Muriel Battersby, leave my faithful powder puff to the circus bare-back rider. I, Mildred Bell, leave my ability to make my own clothes to anyone who has the time and patience to try. I, Vernal Anderson, leave my long stay at Jeff to any Freshman who has time to waste. I, Ellora Borgan, am still looking over my possessions. I, Francis Aufranc, leave my French name to Miss Desmond. I, Fern Clark, will my love of satire to Mr. Hay. I, Valentine Winer, leave my position as substitute teacher for Miss Kentner to anyone who wants it. I, Keith Barker, leave my flaming red hair to Claudia Alexander. I, Helen Dunton, have decided to leave one of my golden-brown freckles to who- ever would regard it as lovingly as do I. I, Walter Bleckinger. leave all I know to some smart Freshman. I, Marjorie Pratt, will my auburn locks to Zane Grey to use in describing his heroines. I, James McLean, leave my wit to anyone who intends to take Physics. I, Eleanor Todd, leave my daily hamburger to the cafeteria. I, Howard Brice, leave my ability to handle money to the treasurer of the June '34 class. I, Kathleen Predmore, leave the fraternity pledges, registration blanks and report cards to all underclassmen, hoping they will remember to take them home. I, Laura Wook. will my much studied books to any zealous seventh termer. I, Myrtle Hatcn, will my artistic abilities to Bill Conselman and Charlie Plumb. I, Woodie” Bruckner, do hereby leave my cartooning ability to anyone who is willing to take the responsibility. I, Grace McNaughton, will my great height to Johnny Clemmitt. I, Willard Cox, leave my wavy black hair to Agnes Heikkila. I, Bernice Robinson, leave my love for parties to the Tri-Y Club. I, Elsie Stone, leave my blond locks to the gentlemen who prefer blondes. I, Bill Crooks, leave all my dates to Holis Bridwell. I, Alma Gullixson, leave my report card to anyone who can equal it. I, Frances Feuerstein, leave my ability to keep Mrs. Levan annoyed, to her next regis- tration class. I, Roy Doty, leave my loyal Jefferson spirit and pep to all good Democrats. I, Helen Nelson, will my schoolgirl complexion to any wicked wielder of rasp- berry rouge. I, Kenneth Wolf, eave my scholarly spectacles to Cecil McCormick. I, Rieka Selberg, bequeath one large loving heart, which, although badly battered, is still in the ring, to the Zetas. I, Norman Fletcher, leave my graceful manner to Dayton Jones. I, Margery Bridgeford, will my collection of library slips to the oncoming senior class. • Page twenty-five

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When the time came, we went to the Little Theatre off Times Square to see Joan Rochat and Gordon Anderson in When Autumn Leaves, by Francis Feuerstein. Dolores Le Blond and Ellenjean McAllister were usherettes. Richard Johanson was conducting the orchestra in the pit. The next day we decided to go on a sight-seeing tour. We boarded a bus and found that the driver was Daniel Barron. When we had taken our seats, we were sitting next to Eleanor Chellin, who had come to New York with Miriam bturman to study music under Wilfrid Dixon. We began talking about our days at Jefferson, and before we knew it, we were in the heart of the shopping district. We hurried to Eleanor Mc- Quiggan’s fashion salon. An ermine evening wrap and a beautiful evening gown were being modelled by Alice Clevenger. Marie Pattison was showing what the well- dressed business woman should wear. After this we visited the famous broadcasting station, BLAH, owned and operated by Louis Stover. While we were waiting for the elevator, we looked at the directory of the building and saw many familiar names, among which were Lois Stockdale, the famous woman lawyer,- Maxine Roberts, a photographer; Arnold Meyer, a jeweler,- Helen Walsh, a doctor,- and Woodrow Bruckner, cartoonist for The New York Moon. By this time the elevator had arrived and we discovered that Lucille Binkley was running it. On arriving at the broadcasting station, we were delighted to see and hear Ruth Edwards singing Hark, Hark, the Lark, accompanied by Lucille Beall. Kenneth Wolf was the announcer. In reply to our inquiry we were informed that the next program was to be the Kiddies Corner Hour, conducted by Auntie Rayburn. As Eleanor wanted to go to the Nyholm ten-cent store before lunch, we left the station. At the store we found Helene Trulsen in charge of the music department, Minnie Sherman at the toy counter, and Lucy Tonkyn was selling jewelry. Dorothy Opperman was the detective of the store. We were so tired from wandering around that we decided to go to Hope Chatfield’s tea garden. We recognized the hostess as Jeanette Olson, who told us that due to his discovery of a new chemical, Wilhelm Sittner had become a famous scientist. We sat in a quaint little booth, where Bertha Lieb served us a delightful lunch. We paid our checks to Lura Glass, the cashier, and departed for Central Park. It was a beautiful afternoon and many people were taking advantage of it to be out-of-doors. Coming towards us we saw Lena Budro, employed as governess to Raymond Larson’s child. Raymond was a wealthy Alaskan explorer. Howard Brice, noted politician, and Clarice Foster, his secretary, came cantering up on horseback just as we were about to attract the attention of Anne Schlosser. Anne, although a noted aviatrix, was feeding the squirrels while conversing with Esther Nagley, her friend and devoted companion. Esther, not as daring as her friend, was a librarian. Returning to our hotel at last, we found a telegram awaiting Virginia. She had left the affairs of her company in such a mix-up that her presence was required immediately to straighten them out. We all planned to go back with her. We departed homeward with the happy feeling that at last we knew that our former classmates were well and happy. Doris Heimbucher, Chairman Eleanor Harvey Virginia Zimmerman DIVISION Take what joy may come your way, Envy not your brothers; Take your share of fun each day, Leave the rest for others. • Page twenty-four •

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I, Fitzhugh Ashe, will my gambling spirit to Johnny Frazier. I, Hope Chatfield, bequeath to Janet Calavan, the privilege of making announcements in assembly. I, Rose Hirsch, bequeath to whoever is in need of them, two or three of my forty credits. I, Gordon Gemmell, leave my education to Earle Hatch. I, Mary Bradburn, will one last, long, loving look to Mr. Marlowe. I, Amy Traver. leave my good disposition to the teachers. I, Rudy’ Haxala, will my basketball supremacy to the Soller twins. I, Virginia Chrisinger, will my way with Mr. Bowles to any little” girl who has the necessary qualities. I, Katherine Smallwood, leave my elocutionary ability to the E-11 class. I, Roy Hoffman, leave my high grades to the Freshie who desires a lamp pin. I, Nelda Butt, bequeath my long eye-lashes to Jean Harlow. I, Margaret Nordlund, will my quiet nature to Bonnie Reeder. I, Richard Johanson, leave my romantic inclinations to Bob Vaughn. I, Bessie Elliot, will my choice front seat to anyone who wants it. I, Helen Spani, will my H-8 ability to Mr. Purcell. I, Louis Johnson, leave my hair to Cotton Ell. I, Lillian Pesola, will my literary tongue to the Romanticists. I, Gilbert Lahtinen, leave my manly strength to Mickey Mouse. I, Esther Vestby, leave my ability to mind my own business to Don Brown. I, June Mabee, bequeath my alarm clock to all freshies who hate to rise on cold, frosty mornings. I, Norman Maqedanz, leave my cute mannerisms to Clara Bow. I, Mary Jane Jones, will my mild temperament to Miss Skinner. I, Edith Patterson, will my pearly teeth to the next buyer of Listerine Tooth Paste. (Don't ask me what I buy with the $3.00 saved.) I, Willard Mannan, leave my gavel and my presidential ability to my brother Delbert. I, Marie Pattison, bequeath my gorgeous eyebrows to all lovers of natural beauty. I, Craig Reese, leave my good looks to Clarke Affleck. I, Virginia Zimmerman, leave my much hated nickname to the poor animal from whence it came. I, Archie Morris, leave my flirtatious ways to Virginia Leslie. WE, Jean Palmer and Edla Turner, after looking over our possessions, have decided to leave our curly locks to Evelyn Bonebrake. I, Wilfrid Dixon, will my Physics book to anyone who can uphold my standards. I, Barbara Roberts, leave my loving heart to a certain young man. I, Lila Rogers, leave my perfect conduct in 203 seventh period to Mrs. Levan to use as an example for future classes. I, Arvi Palo, leave my liking for Freshman girls to Don Edwards. I, Sylvia Olden, leave my long walk home to Marion Egbert. I, Helen Conklin, will my heart to Park Rose. I, Eleanor Midthun, bequeath my love for chocolate candy to another book worm. I, Roy Nyholm, leave my ever-smiling face to Tom Rommel. I, Bernice Kuch, will my sadly mispronounced name to whoever is willing to furnish a better one. I, Harold Searing, leave that dimple in my chin to Irene Hegeberg. I, Margaret White, will my warm smile to a certain young man anxious to receive it. I, Barbara Harvey, will my drooping eyelids to vyhoever has the strength to hold them up. I, George Shoji, leave my chest expansion to Jack Johnson. I, Inez Lindberg, will those violet-inked letters written fifth period to Sydney Moore. I, William Sittner, will my romantic darkness to Ramon Novarro. I, Jeannette Fraser, will my wide grin to the first worthy to file his application. « Pd9« twenty-six •