Newport News High School - Anchor Yearbook (Newport News, VA)

 - Class of 1922

Page 28 of 72

 

Newport News High School - Anchor Yearbook (Newport News, VA) online collection, 1922 Edition, Page 28 of 72
Page 28 of 72



Newport News High School - Anchor Yearbook (Newport News, VA) online collection, 1922 Edition, Page 27
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Newport News High School - Anchor Yearbook (Newport News, VA) online collection, 1922 Edition, Page 29
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Page 28 text:

24 THE BEACON books are piled high on either side. The teacher is Ruth Belle. She gives her pupils better marks, if they read books for extra credit. Now before me looms the White House at Washington. The President is holding a Cabinet meeting. Gracious me! Who is the distinguished looking woman whom they call Secretary of the Treasurer? Of course, it’s Mar- guerite Long. She was very capable as a class treasurer and her fame has been spread far and wide. The picture shifts, there is a huge ranch in the west. Riding a wild bronco a splendid looking man appears. Of all people — it’s Clarence Nors- worthy. A woman comes to the gate to greet him, what a kindly face she has! Can that be Susie Ashburn ? Clarence and Susie seem quite happy on their ranch. They have been married for five years. I must concentrate. The pictures come in quick succession. At Keith’s Palace Theatre a famous juggler heads the bill. Can I believe what I see before me ? John Ankers is on the stage catching six balls at one time. It’s funny how Fate changes our destiny. John always desired to be a Methodist preacher. Before me the figure of a man glides. Yes, he is dancing quite gracefully. He seems to have a dancing school. Why, of course, I should have known that Ellis Block would become a dancing master. He always loved to fox trot when he was a High School boy. I am excited, my perspective widens! The Colgate factory comes to my sight. A young lady is posing for an advertisement for tooth paste. She has her mouth open, showing her pearly teeth. Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s Helen Brulle. The position is quite suitable for Helen as I have never seen her with her mouth closed. I’m glad she didn’t miss her vocation in life. What an aristocratic looking town! Why, it’s Hampton, Virginia. On the porch of an attractive looking house sits a glorious looking young lady. She has golden hair and twinkling eyes. Beatrice Vanderslice could never be mistaken. It is said that she has broken the hearts of every youth on the Boulevard and in Hampton. Tomorrow is her wedding day. She has decided to marry her first love, a Hampton man. I see a huge auditorium. At the desk a tall, black haired man raps his ring for order. Somewhere I have heard him rap his hand on the desk for order and his ring jingles continually. To be sure, it’s Franklin Blech- man. He is the speaker of the House of Representatives and he still must rap for order as he used to do when he was holding class meetings in the class of February ’22. Ah! What are the headlines of that newspaper? It says that Charles Millhiser is the most famous Shakespearian actor of the age. He plays Romeo more wonderfully than Shakespeare himself could have imagined. His Juliet is quite marvelous herself. She is Kathleen Smith.

Page 27 text:

CLASS Prophlcy For many years I had been taking courses from the renowned French telepathist, M. La Classe. It believed it was possible to communicate with my friends, at any distance whatsoever. One day the happy thought came to me that I should get in communication with my old High School chums of the class of February and see what had become of them. For long weary hours I concentrated upon the old days spent in that renowned institution, the Walter Reed High School in Newport News, Virginia. At last there comes before my eyes a vision. It’s hazy, but wait, there appears a stately figure, clad in a long trailing costume of jade green. Yes, she is in a Fifth Avenue shop, the mist is clearing — it is Ethel Johnson, the model there. See how stylish she looks. I am not surprised though, because Ethel always dressed attractively even in her High School days. I remember now, we made her the most stylish girl in the class of February “ 22 ”. I see a different part of the city. It is in the Italian district, a man is standing on a soap box violently expostulating. He is waving a red flag, his light, curly hair can not be mistaken. It is none other than Robert Silk, teaching the Italians the principles of Bolshevism. Ah! What a magnificent masion! In the gorgeous drawing room sits a distinguished looking lady, with hair piled high on her head. Why, its Bessie Smith. Bessie used to fix her hair that way once in a while when she was a mere child. It’s very becoming now. A closer look reveals a small Pekinese dog, on the great chair to her right is a little curly poodle ' and at her feet lies a huge wolf hound. Bessie looks perfectly happy and contented. She was always very fond of dogs in her youth. The next picture before me is on the beach in California. Two attractive maidens are diving from a springing board. Why, they are Ruth Meanly and Lola Hynson! They are doing exhibition stunts for the movies now. The haze deepens, it grows dar k, I can see no more. But wait, in the distance is a tiny school house, a complacent looking woman sits at the desk,



Page 29 text:

THE BEACON 25 Before a desk sits a good looking woman. She has black hair and fair complexion. Her jolly smile is surely attractive. I do believe its Dorothy Ryce. She writes fairy stories now for fifteen magazines. Last year she won a prize for fifteen thousand dollars, having written the best story for a childrens’ magazine. Dorothy’s English teacher used to marvel at her interesting stories of Fairyland. In front of a shoe shine parlor stands a handsome man. He bears a remarkable resemblance to the most handsome boy of our class, Walter Bohlken. Walter is in the shoe shine business. One of Walter’s greatest faults in his youth was being late for school. He always used to stop to have his shoes shined. Ah! What a marvelous looking court and what a crowd of people. Cary Hudson is going to play for the woman’s tennis championship of the world. Cary loved to play tennis when she was a young girl. Sometimes she could be seen on the casino tennis court at 7:30 in the morning during our summer vacation. Over the door of a famous beauty parlor I see this sign: “M. Inez Johnson, Beauty Doctor.” At last Inez Johnson is in her element. She sure- ly used to know how to put the most wonderful wave in her hair. Her curly coiffure was the envy of every girl in the February class of ’22. Our class produces one great virtuouso: I see Harry Green. After study- ing years in France he has decided to tour the United States. He plays the violin so exquisitely, it is said that when he touches his bow to his instrument that there isn’t a dry eye in the whole theatre. His music has so enthralled his soul that Harry scarcely speaks any more. He must be a changed man. I remember Harry as a talking machine of perpetual motion, when he was a student in Walter Reed High School. I am amazed. The scene before me is dazzling. Near a calm, blue lake ten beautiful girls in fairy like costumes are dancing. To the right stands the graceful woman, Annie Hutchens. She looks just the same, but she has taken up aesthetic dancing. She has abandoned all her college steps and dances altogether on her toes now. How weary I grow! My senses reel — my head aches, but I must see one more vision, but no, I cannot, I am tired so tired, but I must see just one more. Ah! I see a light, all is plain to me. A dignified looking woman steps into a limousine. She still retains her shy, modest look. Ah! I recognize her, it is Esther Kessler, the most dignified member of the class of Feb- ruary ’22. She and Frank Pape are married. Frank is the great Wall Street Magnate. He has made more money than Rockfellow ever heard of. I have seen all my friends of the class of February ’22. Fate does play her funny jokes! Ah! A sharp, piercing ache goes thru my brain. Tile exertion has been too great — the visions fade away and a dark, black, impenetrable curtain falls and I can see no more — it is black — Oh ! so dark and black. LOUISE BECK MARX.

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