Lowell High School - Lowellian Yearbook (Lowell, IN)

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THE LOWELLIAN L. i i. S As we glance back we see that a wonderful and glorious victory lias been won, for out of the forty-one members who enrolled in the ranks of our army, thirty-five are graduating, the largest class ever to graduate from L. H. S. The places of those who grew weary and fell by the way were eagerly filled by our recruits. As we look forward we all hope with earnest hearts that the same success shall stand by us when we are waging Life’s sterner wars in the battle fields of the world. FABIAN HENRY, ’23. OOOOOO SENIOR CLASS POEM Now eve, with western shadows long. Lingers on Lowell Hi bright and strong. Our class, like a chosen crew. Has brought the schooner nearly through. Our flag o’er the harbor is unfurled, And into the many trials of the world The ambitious workers speed before, To reach the fortunes of the shore; For before us lies spread the way To succeed in professions of the day. Yet we wince to leave Lowell Hi’ behind, Which, though dear, is nearer divine. Our days with thee have been so fair; To leave you now is hard to bear, And o’er our pathway always bright Lowell High School spreads her light. Your memories fair, and very dear, Will be our treasures many a year. SYLVIA RUDOLPH. Pape twenty-two

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! THE LOWELLIAN L. H. S. CLASS HISTORY OF ’2 3 Just four years ago in the fall of 1919 a struggling, straggling, lot of greenies came into the arena of the Lowell High School. Since that time they have staged a battle with its professors and other classmen, notable for the honors won and the minority of the struggles lost. For the first two years we had a most capable and efficient commander-in- chief in the person of Mrs. Leo Kimmet, nee Miss Beers. Battles putting Waterloo to shame were fought and, lo! the inexperienced were winning, and so a great triumphal thanksgiving was held at the homes of Marguerite Bowman and Anita Damn where we proved ourselves not inefficient in the ways of society. Then came a brief respite until in the fall of 1920 the professors and learned guardians of L. H. S. decided that we had not proven ourselves. With our ire and anger aroused we returned again to the fray. And lo! in the famous “Battle of the Spelling Books,” in which we opposed all other class- men we were decidedly the victors and were given the first spoils of war-fame in learned ways. But then, in the equally famous “Battle of the Pencils and Pads,” we came off second best in the four fundamental processes in Arithmetic. Still we were not to be downed and Neil Bahr, Manford Pattee, Raymond Kimmet, Sherad Henry, Perk Love, Sylvia Rudolph and Ruth Taylor brought us fame in basketball. And again we took first place, convincing all other classes that dared have the audacity to oppose us in athletics of their hopeless in¬ superiority. Being confident of our continued success we left the arena late in May, 1921, carrying all ribbons with us. But, no! The professors still being unconvinced, we were again summoned to do battle in the fall of ’21. Again we displayed our indomitable courage and led in athletics, school proceedings, and social activities, our class being represented in school plays, operettas, in every form of athletics and in the social life of the school. In this last attempt we have indeed proven ourselves and won more and greater battles and vanquished sterner foes by far, some of which lurked in the being of the Annual and in sustaining our school’s reputation, in the plays, and through it all our honor has remained spotless and unsullied, for at last we are looked upon as the sponsor for and the protector of the honor of L. H. S. Pasre twenty-one

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1 9 2 3 T H E L O W ELLIAN SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY It was circus day. And as circus day is a rare day in the wheat belt of South Dakota, I decided to go, even though I was a bachelor, and rather old at that. 1 arrived early, and having to wait some time before the performance was to begin, 1 wandered about among the side-shows and refreshment stands, look¬ ing at the crowds and talking with acquaintances. At last I found myself in front of the Wild Man’s tent. At short intervals deep groans and sullen roars could be heard issuing from the tent, and at last, drawn by curiosity, I entered. There, squatting in the center of a steel cage, was the wild man. He was clothed in fur, his face was covered with his hair, which was long and coarse, and hung down over his eyes in a ferocious manner, and his feet and hands were large and rough. As I walked up to him he wiggled his ears and glared at me. I thought he looked familiar, especially the ears, but far be it from me to make friends with a wild man on such short notice, so I only glanced at him and passed on. But I could not forget him. Where had I seen those ears? Oh! At last, Claire Futhey, or my name was mud. By this time the circus had started, and the crowds had gone from the side shows, so I hastened back to the wild man. I walked up to him, looked him over carefully, and at last spoke, “Claire 1 ” He jumped like he had been shot, reeled backward, clutched at his hair, and slipped. I was looking at a red-faced, bald-headed man, dressed in fur, lying sprawled on a huge wig. “Why, you old son-of-a-gun,” I exclaimed, “what are you doing here?” “Holy cats! Is it Lawrence? How does it happen you ' re here?” “Oh,” I replied, “that’s simple; I live here.” “Well,” he remarked, “my answer’s equally simple. I work here, just at present.” By this time he had crawled out of his cage and we were soon seated in the shade of a wagon outside of the tent, discussing old times. “But tell me about the bunch we graduated with,” I said at last. “I haven’t heard from any of them.” “Oh, Harry Stewart is in California. He married Anita, you know, and is now running a big fruit farm. Prunes, I believe, is his chief crop.” “Good for Harry and Anita,” I exclaimed; “but how about Sarah and Perk?” “Well,” he exclaimed, after a long silence. “Lawrence, women are funny things. Stay away from ’em; they’ll never do what you expect them to. Look Pajre twenty-three