Munhall High School - Munhisko Yearbook (Munhall, PA)

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Hi THE M U N H I S K O Jforetoorb The Class of Nineteen Hundred and Seventeen presents this volume as its addition to the archives of the student life of Munhall High School. 'Phe Munhisko Hoard have devoted at least a portion of their time to the preparation of the book,—whether for better or for worse they leave to their readers. If only to the Alumni it serves to recall something of Munhall High spirit; or if it arouses a feeling of regret in the hearts of the Seniors and of loyalty in all under classmen, or if it is worthy of the modern Munhall High, they shall feel that their labor has not been in vain. With gratitude to those who have helped and thanks to our patrons, the editors submit “Munhisko” for the enjoyment of you all. May it be judged by its merits!

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IS THE MUNHISKO ISADOR ALLAN LASDUSKY The President of the Class of 1 i 1 7, long will he he remembered for his services to the members of that honored class and to the school for which he labored. “Las” was not only a journalist of no little ability, but oft times was found on the gridiron and on the floor endeavoring to help maintain the standard of Munhall's athletics. He entered the halls of fame in the Junior year, and his pleasing personality soon placed him firmly in the midst of our student body. It was through his ingenious idea that the High School Notes have been weekly informing our friends of our school life. His business ability easily qualified him for Business Manager of our “Munhiskohis musical talent secured him the honor of ‘‘tickling the ivories” in the orchestra; but his courteous manner, his high ideals, his true character placed him in the highest esteem with his classmates. For Las we can only prophesy success again and again, for he will make his mark in whatever field he undertakes. Ibistorp of tfje Class of 1917 One bright September day. four years ago, our band of “Freshies” assaulted the door of room six. We were a happy carefree crowd, with rosy anticipations of a jolly time and a wondrous high opinion of our own importance. When entrance was finally gained and the noise and din subsided. we thought to find ourselves the victors; but soon we realized that Loki himself was not more securely bound than were we by the bonds of work; and no faithful Sygun stood by to ward off the venomous drops of hard study, so poisonous to a free and easy existence. Our faces were forcibly turned toward the Mountain of Endeavor upon whose summit stood the Temple of Knowledge; and we were compelled to climb, burdened by study and goaded by hard work. The instructors appointed as our guides shook their heads dubiously over the Herculean task, as we fell flat amid countless zeros. One of the most difficult rocks to ascend was Literary Day. Do you still remember, fellow classmates, the first time you had to appear before a heartless audience? How, with quivering feet and lumps in your throat, you approached the platform, stumbled up the steps and addressed the President in an unsteady voice? Can you ever forget those streaks of cold lightning that zigzaged up and down your back as you tried to speak, while the words froze on your lips? A sharp report of laughter brought you back to your senses and you finally blurted out something. Then with a