Maroa Forsyth High School - Trojanaire / Maronois Yearbook (Maroa, IL)

Page 26 text:

ames ot Anthony Stoutenborough ‘¢Why thus?’’ |] ea c lect, ww a St P ( . et came the 1 ounded by parentheses. rarried and went as missionaries to Utopia, but a f ? a ( iged their minds and now Anthony writes And his devoted wife warns eo JuTAases him Then Wikoff sult “Oh, they later they chal ten-cent magazies. ood work. Slowly and sadly s+ Peter closed the ‘ Golden Reeord,’’ he did so, ‘‘ Too had for such a splendid class ve Aa SaVing ag failures, and of them lAVe SO man thanked my stars that dom of Heaven. ey My Years Mes foy In his all you are the worst.’’ Then, oh! then it Many é an | Ww: ch as | at least I had managed to creep into t] QO 1e Kj Ing Senior Class Yell PINK! WHITE! STRONG! We are, we : . eae ae are SIENIORS; Alp: Zah! Zeen! Nineteen-Fourteen! i Zip! Zah! Zeen! Nj - Nineteen-Fourteen!

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a - ——— ee eee es CU | : . . ' LOWE weak minds of the twentieth century. But his worst sin was in marry- : . ‘ ‘ ° ing Helen Stoutenborough, who makes Otto an ideal wife. And Helen said she hated to give up John, but after he had married another, she only had one course—hence Mrs. Otto B. Gray. Now Otto is janitor of Maroa High School. . Ruth Malone taught school until she lost most of her teeth and couldn’t talk very plainly, and now has become a public lecturer and gives such lectures as, ‘‘Who Shall Be Kine—Husband or Wife?’’ Of course, she’s an old maid, but she ‘‘does have’’ some rather good ideas of the subject Eva Martinie, president of her class in 1914, committed the fol- lowing sins: Stuck the Senior in front of her with pins; also wrote notes; tore them up and put them in the roast box. After her term as president expired she played the piano in Powers’ Grand Opera, and now she is a wholesale milliner in Emery. The record ran on that William Miller, with another Senior, stole the teacher’s German sentences, also spilled ink on the floor of the eighth grade room. Later he stole a heart belonging to Ruth C and now William is manager of the Cupid association in Maroa. ister Shields, our ‘‘Sunbeam,’’ came next. She tried school teaching and dissatisfaction with that profession caused her to do the unusual with old maid school marms—she married! She didn’t real- ize that she was ‘‘jumping from the frying pan into the fire.’? Alas! for Kster. Her married life was a ‘‘disaster’’ and now she is mistress of a poultry farm down in Alabam’. When St. Peter’s finger came across the name of Lucile Shipley, his brow darkened. ‘‘Suech a disappointment,’’? he muttered to him- self. ‘‘As valedictorian of her class, we expected most wonderful things of her, but it seems that after she left the benign influence of M. H. S. her number of sins increased and the final blow came when she was caught stealing apples on a dark and stormy night in J. H. Parker’s orchard. Now she has been relegated to the lower world to shovel coal for the fiery furnace.’’ ‘‘Hasten on quickly, St. Peter, for | am so anxious to hear what has become of our long lost editor-in-chief, Earl Sigler, to whom we were always accustomed to give first place in all things. I suppose he has become a veritable Jupiter by this time—King of the Gods.’’ ‘‘Hold on, you are muchly mistaken there. For a time it seemed as if he would be an BE. H. Sothern, but while playing the part of ‘Shylock’ in ‘The Merchant of Venice’ he became involved in a ‘pound of flesh’ affair and as a result he was condemned to death for threat to kill, the prosecuting attorney being Verl Stallings, who won much fame in this case. Earl was shot to death at sunrise. And now his spirit wanders in Purgatory looking for material for a vear book to be designated ‘The Plutonian.’’

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Senior Class Song (Tune: ‘‘The Good Old U.S. A.’’). 1-9-1-4 Seniors, Just seventeen in our crowd; We’re a class that stands for learning, Which makes each one justly proud. Listen, now we’ll tell you In the tune we love so well, It’s the song of dear old M. H.S., And be sure we’ll always tell. 1-9-1-4 Seniors, Now our dear school days are o’er, But their visions linger with us, And they will forevermore. The years may come and go, Bright will seem through memory’s haze. All the glad and happy times we ‘ve known Oia = the ERED beens dees: