Kingsville High School - K Lite Yearbook (Kingsville, OH)

Page 16 text:

Russell Louden married a little Italian girl and he runs through their Spa- ghetteria saying, “Mama Mia,” under his breath. She cooks and he serves. I thought he liked blondes. He has twins, Armaghetti, and Armaghoul. I think Armaghoul is the little boy. He’s a year younger than the girl. Russ wants triplets this time so he can turn” over his restaurant to his children and sit back and enjoy life with Carmen, his wife. Russ still has that wave in his hair, which is Carmen’s pride and joy. She’s afraid he’ll love it as the years go by. You can’t have a wave without hair. You should see their little cottage. It has a southern colonial front with the inscription, Viva il Italia, inscribed in Louden fashion across its portico. As a hobby, Russ plays a mean game of checkers. Carmen tells him when to move just like any woman would. Richard Bruckman has a beat along Broadway and walks it each night. He and the boys pulled quite a raid on some Million Bubble All-Nite Club. Dick got his name in the New York headlines. Richard, noted for his long speeches, told the press modestly, “Aw, shucks, it wasn’t anything.” Last week he caught the Diamond Thief and was presented with a diamond ring for his nose by the force. He was bull- headed way back in high school. He married a pretty red headed Irish colleen and her father got him into the Police Force. He and his wife have fought ever since. Now why wouldn’t anyone be happy with Dick? He’s a perfect husband. He buys her a shamrock every Mother’s Day. Some wives don’t know when they’re well off. Did you know that the Bruckmans adopted a son and that by some coincidence he turned out to be a basketball star for Mississippi? Maybe Dick should have been a coach instead of a flatfoot. Terry Bowdler became famous overnight, didn’t he? He went to Hollywood soon after graduation. I can’t figure out why he didn’t replace Van Johnson or Clark Gable. He was the ardent lover type with missable lips but for some reason they put him on the sound effects for Walt Disney productions. Bernice, next time you go to see Sno-Black and the seven pixies and you see Mopy, the little pixie who is always silent, remember that Terry is making the sound effects and he could make the most noise being silent of any man I ever saw. Terry had a huge Hollywood marriage, didn’t he. Not every guy could get Margaret O’Brien. He even wrote a book called, “How I Got Margaret O’Brien.” Maggie retaliated with a book, “How I Got Terry Bowdler,” and so Ad Infinitum. Pity poor Alexander when he said, “Alas, there are no more worlds to con- quer,” as Richard Davis just conquered the Saturnites and now is ruler thereof. He and his spouse, being two of a kind, are living up there without air. Richard was the leading man in discovering the way to penetrate the stratosphere. When they sold real estate on Saturn, he bought some and was not daunted by those who scoffed as he replied, “They laughed at Edison.” Well, Saturn stock skyrocketed, taking Richard from his career of begging in New York to his castle on Saturn. His kids love it and space programs on TV thrill them to pieces. Just think of the fun we’re missing, Bernice. James Simmons. M. D., is now head of a hospital for turtles without shells. Isn’t that touching? Jim loves animals. James was always so quiet back in ’53 that I’ve come to the conclusion that silence is golden. Look how much dough he’s made by keeping his mouth shut. Jim performs some pretty delicate operations which require precision and timing and he hasn’t lost a turtle yet! James met his wife at the Freshman initiation in college. She was crying be- cause she had to eat worms for her stunt and so our noble Jim put ketchup on them for her. Now he can’t get her to fix him anything else! She raises them in the basement. They’ll work something out as Jim was very cheerful and easy to get along with in our high school days. What’s Bill Fandrich doing now? I’m sure it was he who I saw lying shall we say majestically upon a featherdown mattress in Hoiman’s Department Store window. He was getting paid $5 per hour and had a ring on his finger signifying that he belonged to the Upper 900 Club. You know, that’s the one the plumbers belong to. Well, Bill didn’t use his brains nor his brawn but oh, Brudder, imagine his bank account! I heard he married. He’s the last person on earth besides Jerry Goode that I ever thought would marry. He got shipwrecked on an island where there lived a sweet young thing and a boat found them. Up until then he had told her she was the only girl in the world for him. At least she was the only girl on the island. Now shes’ back in her little grass shack and he ran off and married Hoiman’s daughter. He’s got that bed leased for life. You must visit me soon as I do get lonesome. I miss the old class a lot but then we must face facts. All of our classmates are enjoying various stages of matri- monial bliss and I doubt if they seldom think of us. Your husband is cruel to make you work in the fields all day and then mind those young ruffians while he raises Ned at the pool room. Why don’t you put your foot down? I can’t attend the Alumni Banquet as the regulations here are too strict. Only my mail is allowed through and that is usually censored so that I only can read the date and the person’s signature. When the Cheshirians took over here in Samoleon, I was one of those taken hostage. I am hoping to be freed before the war strikes as otherwise escape may not be possible ever. My husband is anxious for my release. He‘s so eager that he’s suing me for a divorce. If my book, “My Number’s Up!”, is published, it may save my marriage. Then my husband can quit living off relief. Well that’s all the reminiscing I have time for as I’ve got a whole rock pile to disintegrate before dawn so write soon. Your chum, Rita Nojonen Birquick

Page 15 text:

Senior Class Prophecy DEAR BERNICE: I just got a postcard from the graduating cass of ’75 at old K. H. S.. requesting my presence at the Alumni Banquet. You must have received one too. You know. Fish, that postcard really sent me back, over a trail of reminiscing, to our old class of '53. You wrote that Bob Hays lived near you in a little town called Boidville. You said that you had been to see him. They tell me he’s getting white at the temples. Such a shame. His hair was the nicest in the class of ’53. You must have had quite (he shock when you were met by little Fauntleroy Hays, his only son, who is a bundle of manners. Recentlv Bob turned to me and said, “My kid’ll never be ’da brat I was.” Now Bob wasn’t so naughty, as I remember. I got quite a jolt when I saw Jerry Goode, for holding his arm was one of (hose mink coated dolls. She had platinum hair and was leading the Frenchiest French poodle I ever saw. To add to my surprise, in the society column, I read that he had married. It took him a long time but he did it. Remember how he hated women, or was that some front he put on in English IV. At any rate, he struck oil beneath his gas station and made a cool million or more. That's what comes off letting the world go by. Your six little boys must keep you busy. Don’t despair about their freckles and red hair as they may outgrow them. I can’t imagine your buying a dog for each boy. You must have the currency. Wouldn’t one dog have done for all of them? You said your oldest son named his dog Sharp and that he races through the ‘house yelling, “Shuddup, Sharp,” all day long. How can you listen to that and remember which mouth you fed last? I went to Louisville, Ky., and I’m sure I saw Ronnie Branch. He was talking with some bookies. Hmm, I wonder. He was quite ecstatic when Man O’ Peace won (he Derby. In fact it’s the first time I ever heard of a man snatching a horseshoe of roses from the winning horse to place it around his own neck while he jumped up and down shouting, “Himmel, Ve Von.”' Didn’t you write me once that he had married an heiress of some big company? I wonder if that was her money he was playing? Remember how Lee Robishaw shied away from going steady? Well, he’s still in the Navy but some girl got stuck by his charms and has followed him around ever since. Last time they found her she was on the anchor. He just never dared tie himself down to one. I guess he’ll have to soon. She’s chased him 20 years now. He keeps shouting from the topdeck, “I like it, I like it,” and she goes another 10 knots. That smile of his would make any gal go for him even if he is bald. You know, I was never so insulted as when I went to call on Mr. and Mrs. Paul Westcott. Paul was always so sweet in school that I was somewhat appalled when Wicked Westcott, his little 8-year old son met me at the door. He kicked me in the shins, and casually drawled. “Pop, dere’s some creep to see ya!” Hisi mother rushed to me apologetically and asked Wicked if he thought he acted like a nice boy. “Eh. me old man tol’ me to,” he sang as I was felled by a feathered jirrow. Since Paul has taken over John L. Lewis’s job, the miners are really going places. I knew his contemplation would get him far but it would take more than a union to curb that son of his. Marian Lilja tromboned her way to fame. She played Finlandia in a talent show and romped to a winning. She wrote two books last year, “John Sobellous and I,” and “Cooties Kan’t Ketch Me.” The latter was about a little immigrant who fell in love with an entomologist. Marian has a farm in “Upper Maine” where she also has a sugar bush. Be- sides giving out with New England’s Yankee humor, she teaches teakettles to whistle, “Bell Bottom Trousers.” Marian is still very attractive, and her hair and complexion have weathered New England’s stormy gales very nicely. Her husband has always loved the sea and is known as the “Fisherman of Gloucester.” Bernice, who was the first to foul our plans for having a triple wedding? You know, the one that would have made headlines. Marian, you. and I were all going ?o be married together. I guess what halted that was we couldn’t get the men. ’Nuff said. You also wrote that you saw Mr. and Mrs. Simon in the park, teaching their daughter, Simple, the fundamentals of sailing with a toy sailboat launched upon the placid waters of the park pond. Yes, Richard would make an understanding if not doting parent. I read that he was the first to do away with the Dishonorable Dis- charge in the Navy. The article said that he reversed the charges and the whole Navy was Dishonorably Dismissed. And all that from our own lovely to be )ovcd. just plain Dick! Oh, yes, vou said his wife is a good cook and makes delicious Shiskebob. If anyone could make that delicious, think kof the wonders she could do to Yoghurt. You asked about Jim Theiss. Well, our dear smiling Jimmy, smiled his wav through a seminary and is now the Rev. James Theiss. He got his way paid by the ex-sailor’s plan and now he has his work divided between two churches. I just saw him at Grand U. where his son graduated from the same seminary as Jim. Jim was the guest speaker at his son’s commencement. Mrs. Theiss is a lovely brunette, slightly hefty, the way Jim always liked ’em. I wasn’t surprised at Jim’s chosen career because he always looked as innocent as a choir boy. He shook his greying head in puzzlement when I asked him what he thought of our uncertain times with a possible World War 10 ahead. Then he blandly said goodbye as he had two baptisms before sunset. I’m so proud of Jim. I always knew he’d become successful.

Page 17 text:

Senior (lass Will — 1953 I, Marian Lilja, will my poetic ability to Linda Wilkinson. Make good use of it, Linda. I, Rita Nojonen, will my ability to talk all day and not say anything to Loretta Sowry. I. Bernice Fisher, will my fiery red hair to Charlotte Rushton. I hope it gets you as many boy friends as it got me. I, Jerry Goode, will my cute smile to the girls to Ed Hunt. Make good use of it. Ed. look where it got me I. Bill Fandrich, will my tardy excuses to anyone who wants to .work all night, the same as I did. I, Ronnie Branch, will my sharp wits and quiet ways to Frank dayman. I, Richard Simon, will my wise cracks and novelties from Pat and Mike's to anyone who thinks they can make them work. I, Lee Robishaw, will my way with the women to Ronnie Hanson. You sure can use it, huh? I, Terry Bowdler, will my weight lifting ability to Coach Batanian. I, Richard Davis, will my Charles Atlas build to Eddie Weaver. I. Robert Hays, will my long, blond curly hair to Helen Wolfgang. I, Richard Bruckman, will my athletic ability to Fred Roerdanz. May it bring you as many honors as it did me. I, James Simmons, will my mechancial ability to Bud Sowry. You’ll have to learn to repair those cars that you tear up. Bud. I, Russell Louden, will my good looks, wavy hair, and all my high school girl friends to Jon Man- waring. I, Jim Theiss, will my junk cars that I’ve owned in my school days to anyone who is dumb enough to want them. I, Paul Westcott, will my run- ning ability in track to any junior who thinks his feet can fit my track shoes.