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Page 58 text:
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Parisian 1923 sure the class all felt the same degree of gratitude to Supt. Welsheimer, for his short speech that night. Coming as it did after an interesting though somewhat lengthy address, I feel sure it was enjoyed as much if not more than the main address. As Seniors, we oftened wondered how S. P. H. S- was going to function without us, but she seems to bo doing very well never-the-less. Although according to my knowledge there is only one of our class outside the State now, we have never succeeded in getting together for a reunion. Some of the luckier ones of our crew are work- ing or teaching while others are still going to school. In conclusion I want to say (and I am sure the rest of Class ’21 feels the same) that we wish Class '23 a most successful number of the “Parisian,” “always bigger and better.” I The Trip of the Freshman Class to Piqua “You may go now, but be careful and act just as if you were in school.” This came from Mr. Turner as he dismissed us. We ran down stairs four steps at a time but of course very quietly. Five boys piled into “Mack’s” Ford and one boy cranked it. Since it was one of the survivors of the war, it had no self starter. He cranked and cranked, but she wouldn’t even act as if she might go. Finally somebody suggested pushing it. So we all piled out and pushed her out the driveway. Finally she started and we all piled in. She ran all right, except when we would reach the summit of a hill. Then the wind would fairly make her stop but we got there. We found the studio easily and soon the rest ar- rived. We had our pictures taken and I think somebody had a spite at us for they moved and the photographer had to take two more before we get a good one. We went down stairs after it was over and took our turn at cranking the Ford, but it was very particular and had to be pushed. We got out of Piqua a few miles when somebody suggested putting some water in the radiator. We stopped along a creek and somebody borrowed a bucket from a farm house and we gave Lizzy a drink of creek water. We started on and got within about a mile of St. Paris when the fan belt broke. We put more water in the radiator and came to town. We bought Mack a new fan belt because we thought we might want to use the jolly old Ford again sometime.
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Page 57 text:
“
Parisian But all these little things were only initiations into the bigger things awaiting us, especially in our Senior year. It yet seems but a short time since we made our appearance on the Opera House stage in the play entitled “The Varsity Coach.’’ It may not have been so grand a success, but at least we felt that it was another step to graduation. Today, on going into the auditorium of the new building, the first thing to greet the gaze is the beautiful, green stage curtain which we helped to buy with the proceeds of our play. What seemed to us the final triumph was on the night of May 31st, 1918, when six of the original numbers and three new ones received their di- plomas. Out of the nine who received their diplomas that night four are now enjoying the happiness of wedded life. They are Marguerite Lee (Pence), Ada Vickrey (Clawson), Minnie An- derson and John Barger. Nat Brown and Carl- ton Owens are in the world of business, Nat being in Cincinnati and Carlton in St. Paris. Walter Barger, instead of being a farmer as our proph- ecies always read, is taking a course at Moore’s Eusiness College in Urbana. Wilbur Taylor is striving to train youthful minds in the ways of an education in the Jackson township schools. The writer is endeavoring to do likewise in the St. Paris schools. And now since our high school days are o’er and can be recalled in memory only, I believe I can express the sentiment of each and every one by writing the words of our class song. We’ll ne’er forget our High School days, Those deal-, sincere old High School days. We’ll ne’er forget S. P. H. S. ’Twas there long friendships did progress, ‘Tis there true hearts are never lack, All loyal to the yellow and black. There e’er will be a golden haze, Around those dear old H. S. days. —Helen McBeth. CLASS OF 1921 Once upon a time, as all good stories should begin, a brand new teacher, lead a brand new bunch of Freshmen from the Green Room into the Pink Room of the old school house on the hill. The teacher we found out to be Miss Mary K. Newton, while the bunch of Freshmen was none other than the illustrious class of ’21. The upper classmen seemed to appreciate the fact that they were viewing an extraordinary class as we filed in, for they all smiled at us and clapped. Some of them even laughed out loud. We had a lot of fun that year, even if most of us did get through Latin One. Mr. Miller made a wonderful Biology teacher, but he had to go to war and Mr. Laughridge came. Under his tu- toring, the Freshmen girls became very adept at throwing fishworms in Biology. The first class meeting held at Lucile Jenkins’, was the “most eventful event” of the year. It was a sweeping victory for the Freshmen as the Sophomores were forced to retire before a murderous fire of green apples. The one big disappointment of the whole year to the Freshmen boys at least, was the fact that we didn’t get to carry out our plans of tieing Lop Lee up in the cemetery. Our Sophomore year was spent almost as care- free as was our Freshmen. Of course by the time we were becoming a little more dignified, as naturally we should, we were a year older. We also had the honor of formulating the Freshman rules of conduct. By the time we became Juniors, we began to realize that we had been having a lot of fun so far and that we had better begin settling down to work. This was our first year in the new building and also our first meeting with Miss Gor- don and Miss Kramer, which brings back memo- ries of the study hall. Of course we were model boys and girls but those awful Seniors and Fresh- men were always doing something for which we got the “credit.” The class parties did not happen quite so fre- quently this year, but when they did occur we made up for lost time in breaking up furniture. To cap the climax of our Junior year, the Junior girls “copped” the Senior flag. When it looked as though the poor Seniors would have to put on their play without their flag, the girls took com- passion on them and returned it. As Seniors, we entered upon our “Storm and Stress Period.” It seems, as we look back on it now, as if we had something to argue about almost all year. However, we lived through it. We even got up courage enough to publish the first number of the “Parisian.” After the usual fights over pins, programs, etc., we finally came to the “Sheep Skin” stage. I am
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