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

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 Elje (ifltmir Page 31 (Elaaa flrapljm} When you read this story, dear reader, do not, we pray you, judge us too harshly, for none of you realize more fully than we what a sad mistake we made when we lift our home to wander over this cruel and heartless world. For years we have roved over the world, begging, steal- ing, getting a living in any possible way. Each day we are sinking lower and lower, but though we are quit:; conscious of the fact, it is now too late to reform, so we have decided to go on as we have for the past ten years. After wandering over many parts of the earth we, one v;ry cold day in late November in the year 1931, found ourselves in a very lonely place in Chicago. We had been sleeping, until sent on our way from the park by a very husky cop, and we sauntered on up the street. It was just be- ginning to get light, and we noted two window signs. One read, “Meals 50c,” the other “Your Fortune Told for Only Half a Dollar.” We had the day previous acquired a dollar from some unknown source. Picking pock- ets is not exactly ladylike, but “any port in a storm,” is the motto of all hoboes. We had not had breakfast, but that had happened many times, and we decided to flip the coin to determine which it should be. Heads came up, so we accordingly went into the fortune-telling establishment. The lady was very kind and insisted that we should eat breakfast before we explored the depths of the crystal. While we were eating, Madame For- tuna’s eyes happened to glance at our class rings, throwing up her hands in a dramatic way she asked: “What are your names?” When we told her, she said that her name was Eunice Fowler, now the acknowledged champion fortune teller of the world. After breakfast we retired to Eunice’s room, where she told us to ask any question, and her crystal would answer. Strange to say, our minds ran in the same channel, and as one, w; replied: “Show us the class of ’21.” We gazed into the crystal, and as we looked a drowsy feeling came over us, and we were carried into another realm. If the reader will follow us, we shall endeavor to relate what we saw. In Chicago we meet another of our former schoolmates. Out in the slum district we are walking along the street when suddenly we hear a scream. We look and see that a child has been run over by an automobil;. The ambulance is called and a very pretty nurse appears on the scene, and before we realize what has happened, she begins to administer first aid. We ask the name of the angel of mercy and learn that she is Myrtle Houx. We board a train in Chicago and start east. On the car we become

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Page 30 (El|e (iftStmir reward, upon Tige Larson and Velma Switzer, our desperate case. I, Lloyd Barnwell, do give to George Garrick my length. I, Merle George, herewith give to Margaret Palmer my good disposi- tion, and to Veil Gillbanks my sylph-like form. I, Julia Hulse, relinquish all right to and pleasure in my school work to Grace Simmons. I, Waldo Stoddard, confer my eloquence upon future Student Body Presidents. We, Melba Hanks and Myrtle Houx, bestow upon Wiletta McClure our ability to get along with others. I, Ray Blokland, will my equanimity and peace of mind to Robert Garity. I, Lawton Steams, will to stupid boys the right to take any girl to the show. It doesn’t pay. I, Ralph Clark, leave to som».1 bashful boy my wild habits. I, Ruby Shirly, do bequeath my melodious giggle to Marion Catlin to have and to protect forever. I, Ruth Mays, transmit to Mildred Lovett my love for the light fan- tastic. I, Milo Blokland, leave to George Garrick my cunning ways. I’ve grown up now. I, Mabel Chapman, bequeath to the future treasurer of the student body my black purse. I, Ingvar Ansnes, leave to Bunyan Anderson my ability to go without sleep. i I, Mildred Hoyt, give to Thelma Kitchen my pep. I, Murray Kingwell, leave to Herman Berger my endurance. I, Harry Snodgrass, do herewith sever all claims to my position as Library Monitor. May my successor enjoy the office as much as I have in the past. I, Showalter Lynch, will my dictionary to Leo Shannon, with hopes for its continued use. ‘ I, Grace Yeck, leave my sterling character to Ruby Day. I, Robert Williamson, will not will, bequeath or transmit anything to thy school. It is my desire to confer a favor upon the entire institution and fulfill my one ambition, which is to leave entirely. In witness hereof we subscribe our names. Showalter Lynch Genova Smith A freshman stood on the burning deck, And as far as we could learn, He stayed in perfect safety, ’Caus he was too green to burn.

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Page 32 (The jHiimir {acquainted with a very sociabla lady. She gives us her card, and we read: GRETA McSHAIN, Representing Chandler Hosiery Manufacturing Company. Soon a youijg man with auburn locks comes through our coach mur- muring, “Where is itjwhere could I have put it? I was certain I had it right here in my pocket.” Unconsciously he reaches over and plucks a ticket from the hatband of a passenger he is passing. At the movement a man behind him steps up and gives the ticket back to the other passenger, saying, as he did so: “Yours is in your hatband.” The one of the auburn hair takes off his hat and looks at it innocently. “Yes, yes,” he murmured. “Why will I be so forgetful!” We recognize our old friend, Prac Byrkit, and the plain clothes man as Lloyd Barnwell. We arrive in Cincinnati and we hear a very familiar voice calling: “Right this way. Hot I)og! Free Lunch..” We look in the direction from whence the voice is coming, and recognizee our old friend Ingvar Ansnes. He is now the prosperous proprietor of “Blish’s Quick Lunch Establishment,” on Fountain Square in Cincinnati. Vera Ladd is his assist- ant, and proves her ability to cook. We leave Cincinnati and decide that we will next go to New York. We arrive in that great city and go to the best known hotel in the world. The bellhop is indeed a very polite little girl, though anxious for tips, and we both gaze in wonder at her charming dimples. Where have we met her bfcfore? It dawns upon us both at the same time. She is none other than Bessie Andrew, and when she learns who we are she is doubly oblig- ing to us. In the evening we saunter forth for a walk on Fifth avenue. We find ourselves in front of a beautiful mansion, and the wonderful music entices us to go nearer. The doors are open, and we enter unannounced. It being Sunday, wj are somewhat surprised to find the occupants of the mansion engaged in a dancing party. We feel out of place, and quickly make our exit, but not before we learn that the hostess is Mrs. Van Stratem, former- ly Miss Geneva Smith of La Grande. We go to a well known cabaret on Broadway arid here we are beauti- fully entertained by the proprietor, who is none other than Robert William- son. He informs us that his dancing instructor is Mr. J. S. Lynch (the “J” stands for “Jazz” and the “S” for “Shimmie”). His assistant in fancy dancing, we learn, is Ethyl Burbridge. We leave New York for Europe on the steamer “La Grande.” Wander- ing aimlessly on deck, we happen into the office of the ship. “Who is that telegrapher?” Determining to find out, we ask the direction of some island, and the voice that answers us is so like that sweet, low voice of Sibyl Mulholland. It is, and she tells us that she enjoys her work im- mensely.