Medina High School - Medinian Yearbook (Medina, OH)

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T wenty-Fivc MEDINI AN was exactly what I did. Glen Stoup, who had recently taken over the management of the Cleveland Indians, was there with his ambidexterous twirler, Neil Dickinson. To be sure Medina had a broadcasting station located on the high school buiding. Maynard Abbott, official announcer of W. Z. Y., Omaha, was there and proved that he lived up to his reputation as the nation’s best announcer. Presently four familiar faces appeared in the doorway and the great music promoters of Cincinnati had arrived; Donald Ausman, who had won fame in many cities, Elizabeth Fretz, who had no rival as a cellist, and Beatrice Huntley and Rolland Hoff, about whom all amateur musicians study. I was immediately approached by a short heavy set man and soon was shak- ing hands with L. V. Bair, president of the Eastern Connecticut Milk Association. All leading farm papers contained many of his articles. He asked me if I knew how the building had attained such splendid lighting effect. As I did not, I was not a little surprised to find that Ralph Wise, president of the Cleveland Theatrical Lighting Co. had sent his best employees to do the work. It didn’t take me long to see that a man of vast quantities of money was present. A crowd was hanging around him, and by his monocle, platinum wrist watch, and large diamond, I knew he was well supplied with the necessities of life. Edging my way through the crowd, I beheld Leroy Perkins, owner of half of Wall Street. I learned from his secretary, Elizabeth Kirk, that he had made his fortune by manufacturing a brand of ice cream that never melted. I was attracted by a face that I had recently seen in the papers and almost instantly knew it to be Alline Nettleton, now occupying a seat in the U. S. Senate. Seeing her recalled the fact that during the last session of congress, she had taken up over half the time “filibustei’ing.” I was by this time getting tired so I seated myself by a dark complexioned fellow. It was not very long until he punched me and said, “Hello, Sklect.” I was nearly overcome with surprise when I found that he was an American and Tom Rowe at that. He had lately returned from a hunting trip in the wilds of Africa and surely was tanned. I learned from Tom that Mary Kuntz and Barbara Jakab were in China performing ;he duties of missionaries, and that Phillips Holmes had ended up in Hollywood. About this time it was announced that refreshments were being served and as I sat down, my pet corn was highly insulted by a pair of number elevens. I didn’t need to look up to know who was the owner, for Dick Cotner, after begging my pardon, in- formed me that he was half-owner of the great Cleveland suburb, Chippewa Park. This summer resort was one of the finest in Ohio and was attended annually by thous- ands of people. Directly across from me sat Lilly and Pearl Hoddinott, founders of a large Chicago millinery store. I had often heard women remark that there were such “cute” hats at the Hoddinott store. The refresments were wonderful and I soon discovered the reason. The recipes had been formulated by Josephine Palker and Frances Miller, owners of the finest cafe in Boston. Among the various toasts that followed, one was given by Nellie Short, principal of the St. Louis Commercial School; and another by the U. S. ambassador to France, the Hon. George Myers. Lately Mr. Myers had introduced into the world conference a measure that each nation should take turns establishing police boats to regulate the traffic on the Atlantic. After lunch dancing seemed to be in order and, as a group of ladies passed me, I distinctly heard Violet Betz’s little giggle, and knew that Emma Curtis must be near her. Surely that had been their pictures I had lately seen in the papers referring to the most efficient stenographer in New York. They were now employed by the “Buf- falo Potato Chip Manufacturing Co.” One gentleman’s dancing in particular at- tracted my attention, and, as I saw his face, I recognized him to be Arnold Overholt, who was now an instructor of a large dancing school in Jacksonville. Finding Dean who had come in late, I learned that Prof. Carleton, of the “Kansas City Scientific Re- search Commission,” was unable to be present. I knew it must be Forest because the annual report of that institution stated that ‘Mr. Forest Carleton had just discovered a chemical that would remove whiskers without the aid of any implement.” Roy Thomas, who for the last ten years had been holding down first base on the Washington team, was also detained. About this time I heard a gentleman’s name spoken with the title Dr. attached to it. Upon investigation I discovered Dr. Smith who, with his little moustache and “Van Dyke” beard, greatly resembled the French doctors. Dean pointed out G. Schafer and R. Kinch of the great Shafer-Kinch wholesale clothiers; and also Jacy

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M E D INI AN T iventy-Four Class Prophecy By Ralph Schlechty As chief draftsman, I had just finished putting my 0. K. on a drawing and glanced up to make sure of the date. What, surely not June 9, 1940? How time flies. Why, it seems only a short time since, with a diploma in my hand, I left old Medina High. And now June 9. How well do I remember — My dreams were suddenly in- terrupted by the piping voice of a messenger boy, and relieving him of a telegram, I I hastily tore it open. It was an invitation to a reunion of the Class of ’25 given back in Medina. It would not do to be absent, so after explaining matter to the manager, Rex Van, he gladly gave me permission to go. Rex had made wonderful progress since leaving high school and I considered myself indeed fortunate in having him for my employer. The following afternoon I boarded an air liner manned by Harry Eckert, and bidding Chicago good-bye, started east. Since Harry had great influence with the company, it was no trouble for him to get off to attend the reunion. As I stopped off at Cleveland, I saw a city car with “Medina” in large bold letters on it, and boarding it in a confusion of thoughts, found my old home town was now a suburb of the city. How strange things seemed. I was fairly lost in what was once the village of Medina. Walking down Broadway, my eyes fell upon a sign reading, “Snyder- Winters- Aylard, Attorneys at Law.” Oh, yes, I remember having recently read about these famous lawyers winning an important case against the state. Turning west at third street, I beheld a magnificant candy kitchen with proprietor Oatman standing in the doorway. It was getting late and I started for a large building that had all the outward appearances of a hotel. As I registered, a lady inquired as to whether or not I had ever lived in this town. After satisfying her that I had, she extended her hand and I found myself shaking hands with the half owner of the hotel, Faye Lance. She said that she and her sister, Hilda, had estab- lished a good business. After spending a night of much needed rest, I partook of a light breakfast and started out to find a barber shop. Seeing the well-known sign of one a little ways down the street, I thought I would be the first one in, but upon stepping through the doorway, I certainly was surprised to find Glen Beck already in the chair. The fact that he was very busy as a radio salesman, accounted for his being there so early. Although street cars ran in every direction, I preferred to Walk, and passing over a huge viaduct, I saw the sign. “Snyder and Benedict, Manufacturers.” Of course I remembered those men and decided to go down to the factory. I was cordially welcomed at the office and learned that they had the exclusive right to manufacture nonblotable fountain pens. They gladly showed me through the plant, which re- quired considerable time as it covered nearly ten acres. Buying a newspaper outside, I saw in one corner, “Fulton and Kindig publishers.” Oh yes, that must be Edna and Nora who were always the first ones to get the latest happenings. Getting a fine lunch consisting of “College Inn Bean Sprouts,” “Chicken a la King,” and “Idaho Baked Potatoes,” at Kavanaugh’s restaurant, I started back toward the hotel. On my way there a car stopped near me, and I instantly recognized those who were in ’25, Frances Bowman, Dorothy Bagley, and Alverta Munson. As their “hubbies” were out of town on business, they were spending their time on the golf links. On crossing a busy street, I was waved back by a traffic cop who would easily have measured six feet three. He seemed in some way familiar, and after study- ing his figure for a few minutes, I came to the conclusion that it must be Charles Romig. I rested a while and donning my full dress suit, I caught a taxi for the high school building. Many improvements had been made and in reality it seemed like a changed building. The auditorium was nearly filled with the Class of ’40 as our hosts, and many of the veterans of ’25. “Pug” Abbott met me just inside the door and said that his partner, Ernest Vance, would be there as soon as he had placed a man in charge of the milkingmachines on their dairy farm. I was then hailed by the world’s most noted pharmacist, Prof. Young, who with his secretary, Vivian Hatch, had journeyed from New York. Yes, I remembered him from his picture always accom- panying the advertisements of the “Young and Co. Drug Stores.” Of course the party was for the purpose of renewing old acquaintances and that

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MEDINI AN Twenty-Six Kernan and Harriet Kulp, who believed the proper sphere for women was in the home. They aspired to nothing higher than a cozy home and contentment with what they had. They had each met a man who was looking for just such a girl, and nothing more need be said. During an intermission in the dancing, the usual chatter and noise was suddenly broken by a shrill feminine voice, and although voices are somewhat changed by radio, I knew it was Margaret Watkins because I had listened to her many times. Velda Eastwood and Ruth Hood passed by us and they told me they were running adding machines in the Federal Reserve Bank at Cleveland. As time waits for no man, the party began -to disperse, and I was congratulating myself on having met all my old classmates, when Rosa Rieder and Geraldine Beedle came into view, and I extracted from Dean that they were following in the footsteps of many others in making good homes for their families; and they really seemed the happiest in the class. As duty called me, it was with regret that I left for Chicago the following morn- ing. The conductor on the Pullman, after eyeing me for a while, inquired if I was Ralph Schlechty. Upon assuring him that I was, he made himself known and I was certainly glad to shake with “Wes” Barfoot. But then I should have expected it since the railroad company employs only highly respected and courteous men. I had a long story to tell Rex when I returned, and we lived over together for the fifteenth time the scenes that had taken place back in ’25. Class Will By Charles Romig I am an attorney by profession, having graduated from the XYZ Correspondence School where I specialized in drawing up difficult wills. I understand that, in the past years, so many of the last wills have been broken or have caused much wrangling and dissension, for this reason the Class decided to obtain the services of an expert who could draw up such a document in a way that it would remain intact through the years to come. Through the kindness of my heart I accepted this burdening duty and obligation. The Senior Class realized that it would soon cease to exist and, since it possessed many treasures that might cause conflict among those who desire to secure them, it took careful inventory and distributes them as follows : We, the Seniors of the never-to-be-forgotten Class of 1925 of Medina High School, knowing our infirmities (due to age) and scon being about to cease our existence, but in full possession of our rights minds, in fact having well-crammed minds and superhuman understanding, with a memory that was never known to fail (except during some of the terrible tests which we have been exposed to) do hereby make and publish this, our last will and testament, revoking all heretofore made. We relinquish all rights to that delightful and inspiring body of individuals called the Faculty and bequeath it to the school as a small token of our appreciation for its well-being. To that same highly respected faculty Who have imparted to us all the wisdom of these ages we grant a series of sweet and peaceful nights full of dreamless sleep. No longer now will they have reason to spend the long hours of darkness wondering whether their faithful wards are pondering over their geometry propositions, and poring over the fascinating pages of English literatui ' e, or whether they are swinging gayly to the frightful strains of jazzy music. We leave our chief advisor, Mr. Conkle, who has braved with great courage the trials and tribulations of our class, to the Class of ’26. And, to him, our beloved superintendent, we extend our sincere affections, heartiest gratitude, and our deepest reverence. As a partial payment of the debt we owe him the class gives him a first mortgage on the glittering reputations and great achieve- ments which the future has stored up for us; for during the years which we have spent in school he has taken the keenest interest in our welfare. To the Junior Class we bequeath all of our Senior dignity and uprightness in hope that it will quell their lightmindedness and irresponsibility. Also our front seats in the middle section of the auditorium and we hope that they will appreciate the kind and sympathetic glances which Mr. Conkle bestows upon us while we are assembled