Joseph Le Conte Middle School - Le Contean Yearbook (Hollywood, CA)

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The Stars Foretell The long-anticipated day had arrived. The baseball teams of Glory Herzog and Mary Dean Tatum were to clash for the championship of the A-Nine class. I was on third base, about to make a home run for Gloryls team, when instead of seeing the home plate, I saw a multitude of colored stars. A lapse of a few seconds and I am in a strange country. Everything is ultra- modern. I happen to glance through the window of a building and notice a calendar. It is June 15, 1947. No wonder everything is strange, it is twenty years hence! I turn a corner and see a beautiful motion picture studio. Across the entrance, spelled out in brilliant lights, is Condon Studio. Where have I heard that name before? Why, yes-the A-Nine class president was Bill Condon. I very boldly walk into the studio, and right at the door stands my chum, her arms full of mail. Dropping everything, Leona Sims runs over to me, and throwing her arms around my neck, cries, Phyll, dear, I'm John Gilberfs private secretaryf' She takes me through the studio and I meet many of my old friends, who are now on the silver screen. I pass through a dressing room, and on a shelf, occupying a very conspicuous place, stands a huge bottle of Danniger's Staslick, the manufacture of which had netted him a fortune. Carol Wagner next appears on the scene. She still retains her 'fLady Diana Manners figure. After meeting all the executives of the studio, I start out to see the sights. A few feet from the studio, I encounter an exceedingly familiar looking woman. I take a chance and greet her. I look at her again, and since she blushes, I know that it is Abigail Lambrecht. I am very much surprised to find her with long hair, in this day, and I ask her the reason. She tells me that she married a hairpin manufacturer, so why let all those good hairpins go to waste? She is just about to attend a meeting of the Society for the Prevention of Backtalk to Teachers, of which our erstwhile friend, Anna Martin, is president. I leave her, and go on my way. As I turn the corner, I approach a busy boulevard. A very exclusive haber- dashery attracts my eye. It is Mart, Haffner 85 Sharx, of which my old friend Leland Topham is proprietor. So that unravels the mystery of the gorgeous clothes Lee wore in his youth! VVhile I am talking to him, out of one of the newest model aeroplanes descends Craig Brown, whose wealth has been gleaned from the proceeds of his dictionary, now used in all schools in place of the well-known Webster of our youth. I next pass the City Hall, and here I meet Billy Franklin, the head janitor. Billy still sells fireworks in his spare time. I am just about to cross the street, when traffic is held up by a very good- looking officer, Bryson Rogers. He stops traffic to allow Eleanor Berwald, who is now a kindergarten teacher, and her pupils to cross the street. I happen to glance at a folder announcing a concert, which will consist of a musical program, of both piano and vocal numbers, and a dance recital. All I60l

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of this will be given in a combination program on june 21, 1947. VVave Andrews, a second Paderewski, will give some piano selections, Isla Detter. Galli-Curci's successor, and Frank Carta, Enrico Caruso's successor, will sing, and Lillian Light, the rival of Pavlowa, will dance. A very industrious-looking man, with a frown on his brow, sits in a car parked by the curb, writing furiously. XVell, if it isn't Sherlock Holmes the second. alias VVallace Andrews. An immense car, with a very important-looking personage in it, stops beside me. By his flaxen hair I immediately identify the passenger as Frank Root. During our conversation, he tells me that he is president of a railroad. I never would have thought it of Frank of the Biany Cars. Buying a newspaper from a boy on the corner, in headlines of three-inch type I read that Jean Tuggle, the captain of the Philadelphia Amateur Ice Hockey League, has brought the international ice hockey title back with her from the llontreal puck-chasers. Another article which receives my attention tells of a twenty-three story building, owned by Bob Light, and is being designed by Jack Bracher. This building will cost three million dollars, and will have the unique addition of a combination stock-farm, roof-garden and laboratory. In charge d'affaires', will be the story-teller extraordinary of Le Conte, George H. Gamble. As I further scan the pages, I become deeply engrossed in a copy of a speech given by Charles Hunter, the most loved politician in these forty-eight United States. Things become hazy. I open my eyes to look into the sympathetic face of Illrs. Daly, who turns to a group of my friends and says, IVell, girls, shelll be O, K. in a minute, but this big bump on her head will be no gentle reminder of the glorious victory her team achievedfl l61I