Lincoln High School - Lincolnia Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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THE LINCOLN LOG Page 15 the inevitable happened and we felt well repaid for our efforts, even thinking, “how much better I could do it if I were to do it over again.” On our way we came in the path of Cicero and his tricky conspirators. Over him we passed several sleepless nights. Speaking of things which are hard to understand reminds us of Clyne Crawford’s mysterious nick-name “Corns.” But this we can easily explain as he was always at the foot of his slass. About this time we were busy with our social activities. Our class was always well represented at the school dances, almost every boy being able to dance. Several of our classmates were members of the orchestra which sometimes furnished music for our dances and entertainments. We are even winning fame in the athletic line. Several girls of our class including Sylvia Thorpe, are surpassing those in their line. The football team of 1920 was composed of six of our number. Three of our boys, Harry Staten, Clinton Crevoisie and Kenneth Adams have played on this year’s basket-ball team. We only regret that they are unable to finish the season with their splendid work in the basket-ball line. It was in our times that the boys brought home two trophies from the Berea Tournament. These were the only cups won by our school in the athletic line but we sincerely hope that they are not the last two. In February of 1920 we were organized as a class. We chose our officers and could now act as a unit. “Bob” Wicland was elected president and filled this position very well. The girls of our class will never forget Bob’s fascinating smile. He took the ship in hand and steered us to some very amusing entertainments. At one of the class parties, Bessie Miller’s most highly prized photograph vanished. Of course we have only one person to suspect. But good for him, for he has returned it. On this same evening Marian Ash found out what effect hypnotism had on curious little girls. Stephanie Sentena learned how to thread the needle with one eye, and Clara Wise found out that she was too extravagant. So we finished the evening and all came early next morning except Clyne Crawford. Miss Van Fleet asked him why he was tardy and he said it was because he couldn’t get there on time. When it comes to tardiness, we’ll agree that Clyne stands at the head of the class. Each day we are drawing closer to our goal and wonder who will be the first to taste of the “Fountain of Perfect Understanding.” We’ll admit that we have prospects of great business men in Sam Silberman. One afternoon he said that he was once mistaken for President Wilson, but Arthur interrupted and said he was mistaken for Mr. Roosevelt. Then Sam said, “One evening I was standing on the corner; a policeman looked at me and said, ‘Christopher Columbus, you here again ?’ ” Once more we use the proverb. “As a man soweth, so shall he reap.” Those who have proven themselves worthy of the highest honors were chosen as Commencement speakers. The captain and his mates have settled on Grace Tompkins, Thelma Hobson, Clinton Crevoisie, Clara Wise. Helen Kyle, Robert Wieland and Arthur Malucky. Again we turn to our ship and find that at the termination of four years it has left us far away from our goal, toward which we must travel by the same hard work that we have heretofore undergone. Why is it that every senior feels sad and blue on his last day of school? Isn’t it l ecause he feels that he has spent four of the happiest years at school? Yes, and it is at that time that he wishes it were his first day. We have now one ambition, that is to receive our sheepskins, our reward for four hard and pleasant years after which we must go on in the same spirit in search of the “Fountain of Perfect Understanding.” Henry Monkowski, Jan., ’21.

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Page 14 THE LINCOLN LOG (ElaHB ijistnnj t T was the sixteenth of February, nineteen seventeen, a stormy, bitter, cold morning, that the good ship Lincoln High School, stood at anchor at the wharf of a new school year. It was the same ship that had previously carried many passengers to the harbor of great wisdom. For us it was a great day for we were setting sail over new and untried waters in quest of The Fountain of Perfect Understanding.” On this eventful morning we came, one by one, and were prepared for any kind of adventure. Entering into the hold of the ship, we were pushed around from place to place until finally we were gathered and placed under the kindly supervision of Miss JIassler. At first we were strangers, but after a few days the usual intimacy that springs up between fellow beings in suffering came about and things became a little more pleasant. So our group, hopeful and enthusiastic, sailed for a few weeks with Mr. Smiley as captain and various other persons, now well known to us, as mates and midshipmen. In the meantime the tide of our averages began to ebb and flow, the waves of examination questions sometimes tried their best to overwhelm us, but few succeeded. We could easily sympathize with those who were overcome for probably we had hair-breadth escapes. We had hard work with our first year Algebra, probably because it seemed perplexing. Hut through the course of four years we had one boy who surpassed his classmates in this line. This person is none other than George Lucak. Those who came from Tremont school recall one peaceful morning when the following conversation ensued between the fourth grade teacher and George. “George,” she said, “if I cut this slice of steak in two, what will I have?” “Why. halves,” said George. “Yes, and if I cut those in half? “Quarters,” he said. “And if I cut those in half “Eighths,” said George. “And if I cut those in half, what then?” “Sixteenths, he answered. “And George, if I cut those in half?” Then finally George answered, “Aw! you’ll have hamburger. Time passed on and we got over the first attack of seasickness. Then one day we were called into the hold of the ship for we were to take part in the annual “Candy Bazaar.” What new interest we took in our work for we were to mingle with juniors and seniors! We built our own booths, and even picked our several persons to represent our class. It was on this same evening that Wilbur Dicus had to take a rowboat back home because he ate too much fudge. Once more wc pulled anchor and started on our journey to the “Fountain of Perfect Understanding.” which seemed farther and farther away. We even began to wonder if the good ship “Lincoln High School” would ever take us that far. However we sailed on and tried to get as close as possible to our goal. Even during our second year of cruising we began to worry over our orations. We saw ourselves before the school, with our knees vibrating like violin strings and hair standing on end and we wondered, “Will it be a success?” But

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Page 16 THE LINCOLN LOG (klass THE CRYSTAL GAZER A ISTEN, O, ye fellow students! Listen all ye here assembled to the words of love and wisdom from the lips of one who knows you—one who sees into the future, knows what lies before each dear one, feels the joy and feels the sorrow you must meet upon the way. I have spent the day in silence and in thinking hard and deeply and so prepared to read the crystal I shall now its secrets reveal, for the mist of the future is passing and the spirit of prophesy descends on me and envelops me with her mystic chains. I say unto you, it hath been given to me and to dream strange things, and to see strange visions of the days that are yet to be. As I gaze into the clear bright crystal the colors blend and melt into each other. Mists are shifting about and I discern moving about in the dim shadows the familiar faces of my classmates now changed and transformed into the citizens of a dim new world. I can see our beloved president in all his majestic bearing as the president of our nation -for his ambition ever led him upward and onward till he attained that high goal for which he sought. As I gaze—the door of a home swings open before my vision—and 1 behold a household happy and blessed by a woman who has found her greatest ambition as the maker and keeper of a home. Truly my soul rejoices as 1 recognize her to be Helen Kyle. Even as I watch, the home lights die away, and the nerve-wracking notes of a jazz orchestra come upon my ears, and here whom do 1 sec but Hortense Fer guson, waving her arms about wildly, vainly attempting to direct the orchestra. Green fields, bright ribbons of river, meadows and pastures now roll along. Here is an enormous prosperous looking farm, buildings of the most modern kind are set on it—there are machines of every type in the barn and I behold the midst of all this, Kenneth Adams. He is running the farm along strictly scientific lines. In the busy office of one of our large dailies I can sec Viola Calta sitting before a desk piled high with correspondence from love-sick individuals, silly boys and girls and from sensible business men and women. For she is conducting the Martha Lee column of the News. The picture fades and the glass reveals a sun-baked tennis court. A match is being waged for the world championship in tennis. It is not hard to recognize the long, lithe figure of our friend Clync Crawford. On an electric sign over one of the Keith’s Theatres the name of Grace Bauer appears. She has joined the Ziegfield Follies and is now one of their chief attractions. Stella Bogtisz appears amidst wealth and luxury. She is a millionaress. having started as a private secretary and won the heart of her employer. The picture passes. I sec the grand old walls of a historic cathedral in England where a stately minister in his robes of dignity pours forth words of inspiration into the ears of sinners about him—truly it is Wilbur Dicus himself! His white robes fade in the distance and there emerges from the background a number of little tables occupied by chattering youths and maidens. They have come for a sip and a bite to the tiny shop of Ruth Hugo.