North High School - Polar Bear Yearbook (Des Moines, IA)

Page 27 text:

But what feared he of injury, He rose up from the pile, Just rubbed his nose, brushed off his clothes And cracked his hearty smile. Another time in his regime While going ' cross the street, An auto truck poor Rufus struck And threw him off lii fof+. A lady nearby was heard to cry, ' ' Oh, pity him, dear Lord! But Radd just hissed and shook his fist Because it was a Ford. So time flew by, Ah me! Ah my! His fate was still the same. Steam rollers he wrecked without effect — Bpon his rugged frame. But now beware the fates declare His end shall come at last. On a bright spring day in the month of May By a bakery shop he passed. When right below a large window A doughnut did descend. And for Rufus Radd the toughest lad This was his tragic end. HIS EPITAPH. Here lies Radd, the toughest lad. That I have ever seen. His breathing stopped when a doughnut dropped And landed on his bean. —R. H. 93

Page 26 text:

RUFUS RADD. Now Rufus Radd was the toughest lad That I have ever seen, And of mishaps he had, perhaps, One thousand, seventeen. So just a few as I review In brief I will relate, For Rufus Radd was a reckless lad. Unlucky was his fate. First of all, when he was small. He ate a can of lye. But strange to tell, he soon got well. And there ' s a reason why — For little Radd was the toughest lad That I have ever seeiK Whene ' er he fell he ' d never yell As though he broke his ' bean. Instead of that his hands he ' d pat And cry in gleeful mirth. And so you see why I decree Him the toughest lad on earth. And it appears, in later years. His fate was just the same. And even though his luck was so He ne ' er was hurt nor lame. On one spring day while on his way To see a picture show, A tottering wall the wind made fall, Poor Rufus was below. 92

Page 28 text:

BOYHOOD AMBITIONS. Agnes Flach. EAD EYE ' ' Jones stood in front of the long mirror carefully scrutinizing his small person. He ran a skinny, uncompromising hand over his curly red hair. Why did a fellow have to be burdened with curly hair, especially if it were red ? It stood up in bunches, giving him a frightened look. ' ' Dead Eye had always been proud of the way it stood up, but now — well — now was a different time altogether. He disappeared for a short time but soon returned with a brush dripping wet. Giving his hair a few hasty strokes, he suddenly paused. His nose wrinkled up in disgust. Oh, Gee! I ain ' t got a chance. Freckles! He sat down on the edge of the bed and buried his chin in his hands. His eye lit up as it fell on the cold cream jar. Dipping his finger into the creamy white stuff he spread it over his face lavish- ly, meanwhile marching around the room in order to make it dry quicker. He took a towel and rubbed until his face was a bright shining red. Seizing a small mirror, he hur- ried to the window. Not a freckle had moved ! ' ' Didn ' t it say it would remove freckles? he demanded of the jar itself. Well, it can ' t be helped, I guess, he said wistfully. Perhaps she ' ll like me anyway. At last it was out. There was a she in the case. Dead Eye Jones the Terror was in love. The day before a new family had moved in next door, and Dead Eye had come face to face with a most wonder- ful creature and best of all she had smiled at him. Of course, she was grown up. Dead Eye the Fighter, wouldn ' t have anything to do with one of those sissy girls that bawled every time you touched her hair. No, in- deed ! She of the Golden Hair had sense. Dead Eye ' called her this because all the ladies in the stories of knights had a name something like this. Dead Eye gave a big sigh and his face brightened 94