Lake Stevens High School - Pilchuck Yearbook (Lake Stevens, WA)

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CLASS PROPHECY - Continued atop a huge fir tree—aerial acrobats! Gracefully gliding through the air, it was then that I noticed who it was. Radiant, faces aglow—like gold dust they fell from the trees to stand before me—yes. you've probably guessed who it is—Helen and Gwen! ! Turning I again fled. What was this jungle, a little world all its own? Pondering over this question in a dizzy-like stupor I stumbled vainly on. I say stumbled because the next minute I stumbled into a huge pit—a trap!! I wondered if this was just another trick or if this time it was the real thing. I could feel myself being slowly devoured. Hideous laughter came from out of a clear sky—very faint, now booming forth. Slowly tipping my head upward, I gazed into a pair of starry blue eyes. Staring at me he winked, reviving my courage. He then threw down a thin thread- like vine which I eagerly caught and proceeded to climb. Reaching the top he again turned into a hideous figure, it was now my turn to stare! Picking me up like a feather he boosted me upon his shoulders while he climbed an enormous tree. About half-way up I noticed some object—a tree house. From the door of this quaint little house, two shy little women came forth. After urging them into the conversation I found out quite enough—the two wives, Helen Neely and Madalyn Peterson, of Leonard The Historian Cooper, who was doing research work for a famous library. They invited me to sup with them, which I did, admitting I was nearly famished. As I politely made my departure a troupe of elaborately dressed little cannibals appeared. Bringing forth a tiny pitch pipe, the leader proceeded to get the tune, then they warbled a song. As they were gently singing they slowly took off their masks and one by one they appeared once more their natural selves—Herbert Hunt, Floyd Peterson, Bob Hebert, Lawrence Erickson, Art Makus and their director, Walter Smith. A jolly group but I must be leaving. Wearily I crep into the jungle depth—it must be about midnight. As I peered around the next tree, two statues loomed up in front of me, guarding an entrance. I reached out to touch'one: I'll have to admit, they looked real! Before I could question them further they had vanished, leaving two little slips of paper. Why! they are calling cards. I can hardly make this one out. Let's see—L-e-l—why Leland Johnson! Chief observer for the Dunduppie Fly Works. This next card is more legible—Ray !ten, Cannibal No. I. Goodness, now I am absolutely exhausted. My eyelids were like little balls of lead, but I had to keep moving: I could not rest. I kept saying it over and over again. Monotonously it pounded upon my brain like a record. Shadows were creeping over the jungles and now it was twilight— twilight in the jungles, something I had always wanted to see. Strange noises came from the animals, the birds were twittering, as the sun finally peeked its golden head over the top of a huge tree. My exhausted body collapsed upon the ground, and in those moments I recalled a memorable day—December 7, 1942, when I was but a senior in high school, but now that has been forgotten and I have once more seen my old friends.

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CLASS PROPHECY — Continued talking about. As I heard the hot jive streaming forth I could not miss this chance to see the rest of my old friends. Upon entering, I bumped into Miss Ruthford, dressed as a charming southern belle. She gaily tripped over to me and greeted me but as everyone was anxiously trying to get a dance with her, now a very famous art instructor, I was soon left alone. The band increased their volume while page boy Jesse Adams called out the entry of Miss Doney Balmer, who floated onto the dance floor like a sky-blue cloud. I gazed at her exquisite loveliness while she danced by with a handsome lad, King of the Jungles, ' Jim Mitchell. They threw over a cheery salute and they too were soon on their way. Before I could begin to marvel at the gorgeous halls surrounding me, it was intermission and the floor show was just beginning. Through the curtains and out on the stage like a jack in the box was the master of ceremonies, Virgil Pruehs, announcing the numbers. He disap- peared as quickly as he appeared. The curtain is now going up—zoom!! bringing forth to you the modern Zorina, otherwise known as Margaret Grubb. Her intricate routine carefully mastered from years of skillful training brought many envious spar- kles into the eyes of the hushed audience. Soft music floating over the stage now commanded my attention while a quartette composed of Lois Elsbree, Gladys Akers, June Taylor, and Doris Wolf sang a few incomparable numbers. In the spotlight now is the greatest, most elegant opera star of the season, Clarence Dionne, singing his version of Jungle Love. After singing several en- cores he withdrew from the stage. Bang! Crash! Boom! A horrible racket is audible! What is about to happen next? A meek How do you do? floats through the air. Later, introducing himself, we find it is Fred Taro with his teammate, Hazel Samson, doing the latest Jungle dances, or, just plain jitterbugging. As all good perform- ances must come to an end, so did theirs. Reopening the curtains again we come upon a gorgeous outline of a beautiful enchanting lake. Dreamily a lazy sailboat floats atop the ripples while the music from a magic accordion, played by Elsie Nygren, passes into the distance—as Shirley Armstrong and her life partner, Wallace Erickson, sing one of their most famous duets. Like a creaking joint the curtain slowly descended upon the stage, once more bringing one of the most successful floor shows to a close. Blinking my eyes and stretching, I peered outside. I knew I could not remain and struggle with any more dances. Strains of Carry Me Back to Old Lake Stevens echoed through the dance hall as the orchestra leader, Arthur Jitterjive Ulrich, laboriously swings his mighty baton. With a feather-like touch of my finger tip I found myself once more on the outside glancing in. A soft rustling of the leaves momentarily halted me, but as my courage was quickly returning I again ventured forth. This time some object softly brushed across my face. In frantic fear I re- treated and as I glanced around I found myself in a huge, gigantic circle. I amaz- ingly scanned about me. A brilliant light beamed on me. Like a shadow I followed this mysterious spotlight as it steadily and slowly halted on two illuminated objects

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CLASS HISTORY As every class before us. we started our ninth year with fear and pride, for we were in our last year of junior high school and starting our first year in senior high school activities. Our class officers were: Kenneth Espeseth, president; Bonnie Ruthford, vice- president; Helen Williams, secretary-treasurer; and Jean Pellerin, class representa- tive, with Miss Myrtle Johnson acting as our class adviser. The junior high student body officers were: Jim Mitchell, president; Walter Smith, vice-president; and Doney Balmer, secretary. We had a class party and sponsored many skating parties. In our sophomore year we were truly in the high school swing by joining glee club, band, and orchestra. Also, the drill team and sports were favored. Altogether, eight boys made the basketball and football teams. This year, our class officers were; Leland Johnson, president; Wayne Kinnie, vice-president; and Doney Balmer, secretary; with Shirley Armstrong as class repre- sentative. Miss Jane Sylliaasen and Mr. Alfred Martina were our advisers. Gladys Akers was welcomed to our school from Everett at the beginning of the year. Almost half the Torch Honor Society was from our class. We had, this Sophomore year, a number of parties and originated the annual Sophomore-Freshman party, welcoming the freshmen into high school. The Juniors' first task was to elect officers. The results were: Bonnie Ruthford, president; Wayne Bettinger, vice-president; and Shirley Armstrong, secretary-treas- urer, with Miss Laura Frederick and Mr. Clyde Bancroft acting as our advisers. The traditional junior prom was a fine success with a Dutch scene and Harry Dunbar s orchestra. Also, the juniors sponsored many after-game dances. Helen Williams, Edwin Florer, and Gwen Balmer were the school yell leaders. Doney Balmer led the majorettes. Four boys became lettermen and Lillian Nelson became a lettergirl. Again the class was well represented in the Torch Honor Society. Our hard-working senior class officers were: Jim Mitchell, president and class representative; Arthur Ulrich, vice-president; and Elsie Nygren, secretary; with Miss Marguerite Johnston and Mr. Howard Mollestad as our class advisers. Shirley Armstrong was the editor of the Pilchuck and Girls’ Club president. Walter Smith was business manager of the Pilchuck and Boys' Club president. Wal- lace Erickson was the editor of the Flashlight. Helen Williams was the Torch Honor Society president. Doney Balmer again led the majorettes, and Lillian Nelson was president of the Lettergirls' Club. Herbert Hunt entered our class from Cottonwood, South Dakota, toward the beginning of the year. Varied recreational activities were enjoyed and our Senior Play was a hiqhliqht of the year.