La Porte High School - El Pe Yearbook (La Porte, IN)

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8. Edgar G. Schumm’s ability as a jour- nalist to Richard Savage. 9. Joe Held’s “saxophone wails” to young Fritz Sonnefcorn. 10. Mac Dring’s power of asking vexatious questions to Dwight Hupp. May he not set some teacher insane by them. 11. Norma Lindgren’s rotundity to Maxine Brownsey. 12. Edna Krause’s good manners to the biggest dumbbell in L. P. H. S., the heir to be chosen by a 99 44 100% majority vote of the faculty. 13. Our Senior cases to the Juniors who think they could do justice to the part. 14. Lorraine Schafer’s mean wielding of the tennis racket to Jo Bowman. 15. Cable Manning’s domineering disposi- tion, his debonair air, and his exclu- sive rights as sheik of the Senior class to Ross Ort. 16. Charles Caddy’s untroubled bachelor days to George Kingsley. 17. To Bernice Gring and Warren Stein- inger we leave a road map showing the way to St. Joe. 18. To Miss Sutton we leave our kindest remembrance for making our Junior and Senior plays successful. 19. Charles Taylor leaves this to be an- swered, “Why do I like cider?” An- swer, “Because I’m hard!” 20. Earl Larson leaves Jane Miller to the care of William Pusch. 21. The Seniors bequeath their roller skates to the on-coming Freshman class. 22. The Senior Class extends its thanks to Miss Brown for her help to its mem- bers as a class sponsor. 23. Mac Dring bequeaths his ability to evade work to “Abe” Smith. 24. Sophie Hult and Grace Stites leave their brilliant scholastic careers to those most in need of said requisites. (One at a time, please.) 25. The Class of ’23 leaves the joy it miss- ed by not graduating from the new high school to the remaining classes. 26. Lawrence Blyker leaves his bird-like agility, and position as class jester to Howie Abrams. 27. To Helen Davis and Russell Schenck we leave a boat to sail the sea of mat- rimony. With the greatest of solemnity and feel- ing of security do we herewith affix our signature to this document. THE SENIOR CLASS. —Lucile Bueltzingsloewen, 23. —Esther Janes, ’23. ----el-pb------ Senior Class Prophecy tT IS hard to realize that I’m dead—but ’tis the truth. In the short time that I have been here, I have explored Heaven from end to end. So the other day, wish- ing for something to do, I dropped over to the Pearly Gates to pay good old St. Peter a social call. During the course of our conversation, he informed me of the fact that we angels could go anywhere and see anything on earth by the simple expedient of wishing ourselves there. Remembering that over twenty years had elapsed since my graduation from L. P. H. S., I became possessed of the idea of seeing what sort of a life my old class- mates were leading. So I jumped on a passing sunbeam, and in less than no time I was in LaPorte again. The first thing that struck my eye was a beautiful new twenty story school build- ing. Upon visiting it I found several of my old schoolmates. Elsie Magnuson was physical director of the girls. The high school was very fortunate in getting Miss Magnuson’s services as she is well-known as one of the winners in the Olympic games recently held in England. Pago Twenty-four

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Forrest Price M. C. H. S. 1, 2, 3; Baseball 1, 2, 3; Basketball 1, 2, 3; Track 2, 3, 4; Wrestling 2; Oratory 1, 2, 3; Presi- dent 3; “Green Stockings” 1. He hears many tales and smiles not. Russell Hunter L. P. H. S. 1, 2, 3, 4. A gentleman makes no noise. Will of the Senior Class IN THE name of all that is just and hon- orable, we, the Class of 1923, being of sound mind, and considering the uncer- tainty of this frail, transitory life, do therefore make, ordain, publish and de- clare this to be our last Will and Testa- ment : FIRST: We request those later men- tioned to personally attend our funeral which we insist shall be held at the Milo Opera House. That our name and ac- counts of our fame be carefully inscribed in most conspicuous places of the building so that the classes to follow may ever be reminded of the Class which so nobly marched through the LaPorte High School. SECOND: We order and direct that our executors give the name and dignity of the Seniors to the unworthy class of 1924 as soon after our demise as conveniently as may be. THIRD: From the various members of the celebrated Class, we do hereby will and bequeath: 1. To the Junior class the power to un- questionably retain its right of being the only class that can change its colors whenever it so pleases. 2. A “Maxim Silencer” to Helen Phillips. May she use it frequently. 3. Kit Anderson’s “lonesomeness” to Al- berta Homann. 4. Roy Johnson’s adorable naturable mar- cell to Helen Cook. 5. Chet Leliter’s athletic ability to Har- old Bennethum. 6. To those we leave behind, the book “What Might Have Been.” 7. Gertrude Bruhnke’s well developed conversational powers during assem- bly periods to Edith Adams. Page Twenty-three

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Upon going into the principal’s magnifi- cent office whom should I find in there but Charles Caddy. I was very much surprised and was about to address him as principal, when, picking up his brushes and the wastebaskets, he walked out without rec- ognizing me. Very soon Charles Sonne- born came in and turned out to be the real principal. While passing through several corridors, I saw these names on some of the doors: Ruth Travis, Public Speaking; Anna Miller, Latin and Greek; Grace Stites, Instructor in Singing. Never again shall Esther Oakes’ (nee Janes) impassioned cry of “Where’s John?” ring out upon a heartless world. Marriage has made the cry unnecessary. Imagine my surprise to learn that they hadn’t danced in years, due, no doubt, to the fact, that, no matter how great the desire, it is impossible for two persons weighing over one hundred and seventy pounds each, to be light upon one another’s pedal extremities. Lloyd Harding turned his attentions to Gertrude Fenton after graduation and per- suaded her to give up a successful drama- tic career to become his better half. He is now better known as the perfector of those extremely small airplanes which make traveling such a nuisance for us an- gels. Chester Leliter is now a world famous coach at Centre college. He has turned out winning teams for three consecutive years. He is much sought by other col- leges, but Chet says he will always stick to his Alma Mater. Joseph Held, the saxophone wizard, for- sook the famous Arbee Artists when he organized an orchestra known as “Held’s Harmony Hounds.” This justly famous orchestra, now on the pinnacle of its suc- cess, holds the same position in musical circles that Paul Whiteman held years ago. Cable Manning, through some trick of fate, had his features so marred in an ac- cident, that he was enabled to take Ben Turpin’s place in the movies. That indi- vidual became so elated with his hand- some features when he was Cable, that he died of a swelled head. A huge sign in the Central theatre pro- claims a coming attraction. There in full view of the public eye was a brilliant pic- ture of Charles Kaska, clad in tiger skin, holding aloft on his stalwart shoulders Harriet Bunton. They were guaranteed to be unexcelled in superhuman gymnas- tics. I noticed that Donald Collins was on the bill as a magician. “Now you see it; now you don’t.” No more does Mathis Dring step out with the younger ladies. That famous toreador is now safely married to Grace Hildebrand. He now cooks the meals, and performs other domestic duties faithfully while Grace wears the slippers, smokes the pipe and reads the LaPorte evening paper, now owned and edited by Lawrence Blyk- er, who in connection with Harry Decker, completed a seven year course in six at L. P. H. S., by dint of much hard studying. It is said that these boys never left their homes after dinner in the evening, devot- ing the time other boys spent in calling upon their friends or hanging around the “Y” in studying, so that they might com- plete their course a year sooner than any- one thought they would. I saw Lucile Bueltzingsloewen coming down the street with a flock of children around her. I was wondering whether they all belonged to her but found out that she was a kindergarten teacher. Edgar G. Schumm, managing editor of the “Twenty-Three EL-PE”, discarded the idea of becoming editor of The Chicago Tribune in favor of becoming a saver of human lives. He is now president of the Lighthouse Keepers’ Union. Every night he holds solitary vigil in the lighthouse on Pine Lake island, keeping row boats off the rocks. And Sophie Hult, poor dear! On the refusal of Roger Hubner to give up his dangerous athletic career for one of con- nubial bliss and comparative safety, I learned that Sophie solemnly vowed never to marry. Shortly after, she accepted a position in the public library and now ex- ists there in the role of librarian. I was pleased to note that the two great minds of Roy Johnson, our class president, Page Twunty-flv©