Mason City High School - Masonian Yearbook (Mason City, IA)

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WHERE'S THE RABBIT? - The Great Strom- boii Brothers, Jamie McCoy and Mark Heiser, enchant the audience with their display of magic. NO biz like Show biz ,.-3-1' . S f 5' ' errr The 29th annual Mohawk Follies were again a sell-out. The MCHS Vo- cal Music Department presented a variety of comedy, dancing, instru- mental and vocal ability that thrilled the crowd and made the Follies a success. This year the Follies were present- ed on Feb. 26, 27, and 28 under the direction of Ron Phillips and Mary Lou Larsen. The Follies ran smoothly with the Swing Choir and Mohawk Chorale opening the show. The Jazz Band under the direction of Gil Let- tow added some superb mus'cal en- tertainment to the show. Nostalgia and comedy wer dis- played in the Follies by Chris Biebe- sheimer, Molly O'Leary, and Patti Pickard in their rendition of the Charleston Rocking around the clock was Patti Pickard in a dance solo, and Tom Cahalan, Neil Gar- lock, Gary Foutch, Paul Giesman, Ken Plagge, Doug Rodemeyer and Doug Wolff presented their version of Nutcracker Suite. Mark Heiser and Jamie McCoy amazed the audience with their magical ability in the Stromboli Brothers. Music was certainly a big part of the Follies this year with solos by Sheila Maifield, Susan Kingrey and Joe Sampson. A double quartet sang Pick-A-Little, Talk-A-Little, with the girls' chorus. To wind up the Fol- lies, Mark Dean and Denise Hays had some Friendly Persuasion and Klay DeVries and Mike Boender sang Dream On. The people involved in this year's Follies had just as much fun as did the people watching it! TWINKLE TOES - Tom Cahalan, Neil Gar- Iock. Doug Rodemeyer and Ken Plagge dis- play their dancing abilities in their act.

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f-We-'if'fft ' 'Q wif - Vince Murray Anticipation Reflections of the carnival lights streaked across the rippled surface of the lake. ln bright reds and golds, they danced with the movement of the rides and music. The circle of gleaming yellow bulbs that was the ferris wheel turned methodically: its rhythm broken only when it slowed to a stop to let off passengers who were too far away to see. The pace of the carnival had been slowing down in anticipation of what l knew was coming. Across the lake from points all around the edge, green and red lights skirted like water bugs. They converged in a small area on the water a few hundred yards out from the carnival. They, too, were waiting. A breeze, heavy with the smell of lakewater, fanned my forehead as l sat at the end of the narrow dock. lt was warm on this early July evening, but l had worn a sweat- shirt and jeans to protect me from hungry mosquitoes. There was a sudden whoosh from the neighboring dock, and l turned quickly to see a fountain of holiday sparks pouring from a large roman candle. The banging of fire- crackers came from every direction. Above me, a wom- an's voice questioned if that wasn't illegal, and my grand- mother called to anyone who was listening, Be careful on the dock. Then l saw what we had all been waiting for. It was faint, almost unperceptible an upward trail of dull orange against the blue-gray twilight. As if on a signal, it exploded into a huge chrysanthemum of greens, blues, reds, and golds. shimmering down on the red and green lights of the boats below it. There was a chorus of oohs and ahs from behind me. There was a moment's pause, then a low dull boom followed by the blaring horns of the many pleased boaters who had gone out to watch the spectacle of the fireworks on the Fourth of July. The glittering explosions continued for about half an hour, none as spectacular as the very first, the one that will remain in my mind until the first one of next year. - Kay Hanes