Lancaster High School - Mirage Yearbook (Lancaster, OH)

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dent; Marie Renshaw, vice president; Helen Wolfe, secretary; “Kenny” My- ers, treasurer, and “Bugger” Gray, bus- iness manager, and we launched the good ship “Thirteen” upon the last leg of her voyage. There were several new ones among the passengers, some of whom were: the Hon. Clayton Burnett, who thought it would be much Sharpe-r to wait for Ruth; Helen Sharpe and Winifred Abelc from last year’s class, who thought it would be much better to grad- uate with us, Nina Weiland, Margaret l'ink and James Reid from St. Mary’s High school; John Kmde and Lewis Buell from dear old Sugar Town. We lost a good shipmate in “Fat” Trout, who has aspirations of becoming a great railroad magnet. There was one great responsibility which now rested upon our shoulders— the school annual, The Mirage, and it devolved upon us to make it the biggest show yet produced under the skylights of I.. H. S. Ten big shows and a laboratory com- bined under one roof, including a mam- moth menagerie of all wild animals from a “Lamb” to a “Hawk.” The managership was put upon the broad shoulders of Mary Emily Feet, and the position of chief ticket seller was presented to “Wally” Barr. This year exams at the mid-years de- termined who were to continue as mem- bers of the crew of old “Thirteen.” But, sad to relate, several who had stuck by the colors were engulfed by the tidal wave which swept our decks. Our third appearance in the public eye occurred February 7 in presenting the college drama, “Thompson of the Varsityin the development of which, as also in the former play we owe a great deal to the efficient assistance of M iss Prudentia St rete. And now the log of old “Thirteen” must close as the good shop is nearing port. I hear a voice from the lookout call- ing “Land ahead,”—and out of the mists slowly unfolds the harbor of “Graduation,” and beyond the fertile fields of “Opportunity” and the busy city of “Industry,” in the beautiful land of “Life.” And after each one of this faithful crew was received his passports at Com- inencent and set out on his path in this wonderful country of “Life,” I’m sure everyone will cherish fond remembrances of experiences and associations while a student in old L. H. S., and a member of the crew of the good old ship: 1913 21

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Our faculty was the same—except for the new ones—just like it was before, only it had some new ones. Two charming young ladies came to fill Miss Musser’s and Miss Thomas’ places. Well, gentle reader, they are young— you see the author inquired of Ilawk and he’s an authority on women’s ages. I asked him if he knew how old Miss Perfect and Miss Curtiss were, and he said he’d hate to guess as he might miss it, but he would figure it out for me. I haven’t heard from him yet! Well, as I was about to say before I was sidetracked bv the yard engine, these two charming and accomplished young ladies were Miss Hunt, and Miss Strete («S-t-r-e-t-e) so don’t get her mixed with a road and run over her. At the close of the previous year our efficient superintendent, Mr. Cassidy, resigned his position after a very suc- cessful administration and is now prin- cipal of a large building in Seattle, Washington. Our new head is Mr. S. II. Layton of Columbus, Ohio, a very competent man who has jumped right into things. It was on the 20th day of September that the notice, “All Juniors meet at 3 o’clock in Miss D.’s room,” appeared on the blackboards. Ah, what an eventful day in the history of the universe this was! And so it came to pass that on the 20th day of September in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and eleven, the great and illustrious class of 1913, Lancaster High school, was or- ganized with “Seedy” LaRoss, presi- dent ; “Fat” Trout, vice president; “Silly” Whilcy, secretary; Mary Emily Pect, treasurer, and “Dutch” Beck, bus- iness manager, and what a crew it was, but it started things anyhow upon a successful future. We selected dark blue and white as colors and the white rose as the flower, and soon had a fine banner to proclaim our nationality. The one great problem of our year as Juniors was how to obtain pecuniary as- sistance in entertaining the high and mighty Seniors in June. Ah, what trials and tribulations we endured and finally surmounted success- fully. On May 17 we made our second pub- lic appearance in the great dramatic farce, “The Sweet Girl Graduates,” with Ruth Sprankle as “The Girl,” and the time that dear little girl had graduat- ing will be remembered long among us. But as a final reward to all efforts and trials, was the Junior-Senior, when we entertained our departing school- mates of 1912 and brought to a fitting close Commencement week and our Jun- ior year. Foi rth axi Last Spasm, or, The Last Struggle. With stately tread and haughty mien, we ascended Mulberry street to the lit- tle red school-house on the hill—so dif- ferent we looked and felt from that eventful day three years before when we trod these pavements on the same jour- ney. But, hadn’t we a right to these feel- ings of sublime grandeur? Had we not attained the heights for which we had toiled through the wee small hours and while others slept in the study periods? For at last we had attained our ambi- tion—to be Seniors, those august per- sonages upon whom the Freshman looks with fear, the Sophomore with admira- tion and the Junior with respect. On the fifth of September, A. D., 1912, the Class of 1913 met for reorgan- ization for the coming year. “Seedy” LaRoss was elected presi- 20

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(Class Prnpljfry By Earl C. Gray. The fatigue of a day's burdens which included a grammar lesson in Fourth English, a German quiz, a recitation in United States History and a celebrated lecture on electricity by Mr. Hawk, as well as chorus and gym practice, caused me to seek rest in a large arm-chair. There I sat exploring the pages of a Greek mythology, thinking how credu- lous those ancient Greeks must have been to have believed those marvelous, inconceivable tales of dragons, mer- maids, gods and goddesses. Suddenly 1 realized that I was fast becoming the victim of the Goddess of Sleep, who, together with her able assist- ant the Sand-man, is irresistible. My muscles slowly relaxed and my eyes wandered away from the pages of the book and slowly closed. Then I was suddenly transported to the scenes of the mythology. The pictures had be- come real. I was standing in front of the Delphian oracle of ancient fame and superstitiously gazing at its splendor. Tt occurred to me that I ought to visit mv old idol, the God of the Future, whose acquaintance and good will I had sought in many dreams and whose resi- dence was within the oracle. Ascending the stone steps, I pushed a button at one side of the door. Imme- diately a huge mechanical arm reached out, grabbed me and pulled me inside, removed coat and hat, and stood my cane in the rack. I was somewhat sur- prised to find this ancient building equipped with such mechanical apparatus 22 and I was also embarrassed at seeing no human being. But, assuming a very dignified air, I passed inside the first open door. Here was a magnificently furnished room, American style, with por- traits on the wall including those of such notables as Jimmy Hawk surround- ed by a few Ilawklets, all with the high forehead and intelligent look of the pro- fessor, Herr Thomas, with bearded face, now the President of Ohio State univer- sity; and last but not least, our belov- ed “Billie.” Seated at a magnificent polished ta- ble was the god, reading a copy of the 1913 Mirage. He rose to greet me as I entered and ushered me to a comforta- ble chair by the table. I found him to be as good-natured as Prugh, as bash- ful as Hickson and as willing to do as Jimmy Bloom. Our conversation grad- ually drifted to school topics in which he showed a great interest. Question after question flung at him was answered and at last I asked him the whereabouts of my school-mates, the members of the Class of 1913. He said that he could show me in as little time as it would take to tell it. Pressing a button under the table, he produced an aeroplane ready for flight. Another button was pressed and the roof above opened as if on hinges. We climbed into the machine and were off. Everything was done on the lightning scale and we soon bade farewell to the plains of Greece to sail over Austria- IIungarv and then to the Alps. On one