La Grande High School - Mimir Yearbook (La Grande, OR)

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JJagr 24 Hjr liiimir Suntnr Class CLASS OFFICERS President Thomas Hill Vice-President Bessie Walker Secretary-Treasurer B1 an ford Shores Class Colors Purple and White Class Flower Lilac Class Motto We Fly With Our Own Wings Omer Barnwell Marcella Berry Eddie Blokland Walter Blokland Steven Blore Ethel Conrad Gladys Currey Grant Geddes Theodore Heidenreich Thomas Hill Julia Hopkins Reba Hopper Essie Johnson Eva Ledbetter Dorothy Lewis Florence Lynch Edith Miller Eugene Newlin Thelma Osterling DeLoris Pearson Frances Pierson Harry Proctor Marcus Roesch Blau ford Shores Daffodil Snider Jeanette Stoddard Grant Swalberg Lloyd Thompson Bessie Walker Ruth Williams Cecil Young CLASS REPORT Early in the fall the Juniors left town in cars one evening after school, for a picnic up the river. As the Seniors had a picnic also, not very far from us, there was a great deal of excitement going on. During the fray several boys ran into a barbed-wire fence—much to their future regret. •« Since the Junior enrollment in the fall, our class roll has been in- creased by the.return of two old members—Florence Lynch and Bud” New- lin. These two went out into the different parts of the cold, hard world, to increase their store of knowledge. You ought to hear “Bud” rave about the girls down in Chile. The Juniors pride themselves upon being rather musical. Four of the leading parts of the Operetta “Windmills of Holland” have been chosen from this class. Preparations are being made for the Junior-Senior Banquet to be given the latter part of April. Marcella Berry

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iTUntir Jngr 23 ] heard the words—“One by one the women have taken the men’s rights away from them, first it- - - - - and as distinctly did I remember the Mike Carroll of my school days and his famous anti-woman suffrage speech. In the hope of finding lodging for the night, for I was broke, I took to the alleys. The back doors of the Star Theatre) were open and glancing in upon the stage I recognized, among the bustle and frenzied workers, Helen Sims, scenery shifter and stage hand. I had always thought her ambition was to be on the stage. Walking into the Merchant’s Restaurant, where it was at least warm. I picked up the La Grande Evening Observer—An Independent Newspaper— Edited by Florence Thompson. The first thing that caught my eye was— “Portland, Sept. 13, ‘Jack the Dip’ Celebrated Society Crook, Taken at Last. Captured by Police Officer Owsley. Had Baffled Police for Years. Real Name Was Orville Wright.” And underneath it, this: “The trial of Mose Lyman, the Morgan Lake Hermit, was begun today. He is arranged on two charges—bootlegging and counterfeiting. Mr. Lyman is a very peculiar and eccentric man, living alone for many years he 1ms had nothing to do with the society of women.” Opening the paper to the column of “Hints for the Love-Sick Ques- tions answered by Vada Briggs,” greeted my eyes. On the opposite page was an ad. for the Sunny View Poultry Farm—Johnson, Van Housen and Schafer, Proprietors. At this moment I was interrupted by an enameled faced hasher who was vainly struggling with a man-sized cud of gum. “Whatcher havin’ pard?” came a voice, a la masculine. I looked up - - - - ! - - - ! Ardis Palmer! I fled into the night. I was now thoroughly convinced that this was all a dream and I determined to ask the first passerby concerning the day and year. The streets, however, were dark and deserted. Towards morning a milk wagon clattered by and through the mists 1 was barely able to distinguish the words—THE LONE PINE DAIRY, Carolyn Palmer, Prop.—on its side. When the driver jumped nimbly out I hailed her. It was Lee Ellis. She did not recognize me. When I inquired of her the day and year and other questions she not only confirmed what I had heard and seen, but also told me that Dr. Casey was practicing in an Eastern Oregon town and that Lorna Coolidge and Edith Bragg were living peacefully at Tuttle’s Home for Brokenhearted Spinsters. Mt. Emily, she informed me, was now a famous summer resort and Anna Arnoldus and Jennie Kimmel were employed there as guides. Also that Zilpha Allen was comfortably married to a Canadian farmer. Finally I asked her what had become of myself. “Aw, he went crazy from overstudying in his senior year way back in 1920. Guess lie’s over at Pendleton now or he may be dead for all I know.” I knew it was no dream. Theodore George

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