Milwaukee School of Engineering - EMF Yearbook (Milwaukee, WI)

Page 161 text:

 i — TJHE 1920 EMF «X— Page One Hundred Fifty-five

Page 160 text:

Page One Hundred Fifty-four

Page 162 text:

 1192(0) EMF v«qzzzz j§Wfe . '■ Qfcrrn 11-A iEnginem M After looking at the portraits of the young men as shown on the fore- going pages you must admit that you never saw such a good-looking bunch of fellows before in all your life. You needn’t take my word for it, but Stephen C. Andreae, the president of our class, said so himself. That is, he said his girl said so after he had given her that five pound box of candy. He was “broke’’ for two weeks following, but he says it was worth while to hear such a remark about his class, even if it did set him back five bones worth of good healthy meals. When asked how he enjoyed going without meals, he said he wasn’t a bit hungry, as the statement made by his girl seemed to him equal to ten meals at the “Frat Gif.” So you see there is really some truth and value in the verdict about his class—unless he cats in the mess hall. Our president Andreae comes from Esthervillc, Iowa, got 99% in Math. Exam .and has white hair. About our vice-president—there is a story which also touches upon the sacred and lost art of eating. The name of our vice-president is Leo F. Berg, and he goes to Lime Center. Wisconsin every Friday night where, he says, his folks live. I think somebody else lives there too, but he wouldn’t say what her name was. But coming back to the aforementioned story: First of all. picture a quiet and dccj) swamp with a pool of muddy water. We’ll say about 75% of the pool was dirt and the rest water. Now close your ears and imagine a large heavy boulder falling into this pool, causing a sucking, slushy, slushy, hollow sound, which can be heard within a radius of several miles. Now with this sound in mind, imagine a quiet period in the drawing room, with class 2A busily at work, when sud- denly this sound is emitted by Leo Berg. How he produced this it seemed an insoluble mystery to everyone, until I noticed him one day as he placed one end of his pencil in his mouth and suddenly jerked it (the pencil) out again, causing the familiar noise. I pondered over the matter for some time, and finally came to the conclusion that he had found a new method of sharpen- ing his pencil, and although he never ejected the shavings from his mouth, I can readily understand that, and agree with Caesar, who cried, after he had been shot through both ribs and lay dying at the foot of the statue of Bar- num. with his pants all full of blood, think of it (I guess I’ve got this all bawled up), but anyway, he said: “Tastes differ!” Next we meet our secretary and treasurer. Raymond W. Seibold, a young man full of ideals and ambitions, who is also an artist on the violin and a great poet. Besides trying to invent perpetual motion and write a number of books on several unknown theories, he is interested in the art of dancing and goes to church every Thursday night (out on Grand Avenue) to cultivate and become more efficient in said art. Page One Hundred Fifty-six