Paxton High School - Reflector Yearbook (Paxton, IL)

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The Prophecy of Rip Van Winkle—that’s what they call me. I still can’t believe that it’s the year 1961, and that twenty years have passed since that beautiful day in April, 1941. On that memorable day, in study hall, I was stricken with the dread Spring Fever, so badly stricken that it put me to sleep for twenty years. But at last I have recovered. Does everything seem strange here in Paxton? It certainly does! Paxton, the mecca of the Midwest—no longer merely a town, but a great metropolis. Naturally, when I came back, I created quite a little commotion because of my queer dress and long beard, so 1 asked the nearest policeman, whom I recognized as Robert Booth of the class of ’41, to direct me to a lodging place. Although astonished at my strange appearance, Paul Sivill, the efficient and stoical hotel clerk, directed me to a room where I attempted to modernize my appearance. Phyllis Anderson, hostess of the hotel dining room, guided me to a quiet table where, observing the menu, I noticed that all poultry was from the Richard Parker chicken farm, and all vegetables from the modern truck farm operated by Kermit Hustedt and William Johnson. While eating some corn from the latter farm, I became conscious of the music which was being played by a woodwind ensemble including Mary Beth Larson, Carolyn Holton, and Jeanne Parker on clarinets, and Dorothy Johnson and Shirley Vevig as flutists. Conducting was the former Betty Anderson, and nearby was her husband-manager, Allan Karr. Everyone advised me to see the mayor if I desired to learn more about the city. Therefore 1 made my way to the city hall and entered his office. Two bodyguards, Ben Walker and Francis Scarbrough, were closely guarding the mayor, “Boss” Danielson, who was then serving a “3rd term,” with the aid of his powerful machine. Nearby were his two efficient campaign managers, Clyde and Marjory Morrison. The “Boss” seemed to recognize me, and immediately began to show me around—describing in a grandiose style the new city hall with its walls beautifully finished by Robert Moline, interior decorator, and murals by the noted artist Glenn Arnold and his brilliant assistant Pauline Metz. Continuing with his discourse, the mayor described in great detail the new city college where Professor Abrahamson was teaching agriculture, and Charles Ingleman was head of the engineering department — the Municipal Opera where Norma Foster and Weaver Dunnan were starring in a production of “Tristan and Isolde” — the new theatre which the famous dramatic actresses

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Class of 1941 I, Allan Karr, will my “careful” driving and the Ford that goes with it to John Adkins. I, Mary Beth Larson, will my interest in an automobile salesman to Jane Nuss. I, Benita Leonard, will my lady-like manner to Ruth Stearns. I, Marjorie Lewis, will my brown eyes to my sister, Dorothy. 1, Carl Lind, will my old “jalopy” to Mr. Judd. I, Vera Mabry, will my long black wavy hair to Joan Archer. I, Claranell Martin, will my ability to win them to Barbara Adkins. I, Pauline Metz, will my paint brush to Lewis Dayton. I, Kenneth Mineer, will my quietness to Wilma Robertson. I, Robert Moline, will my “Wirth”while dates to James Nuss. I, Clyde Morrison, will my football to Jack Miller. 1, Marjorie Morrison, will my speed in typing to Mary Margaret Graham. I, Rita Novak, will my smiling Irish eyes to Catherine Warner. I, Delmar Nuss, will my physique to Stanley Peterson. I, Jeanne Parker, will my seniority as cheerleader to loan Wirth. I, Richard Parker, will my Clark Gable technique to another romantic fellow, Junior Fancher. I, Patricia Patton, will my committee meetings to Frances Salvage. 1, Dorothy Mae Rendahl, will my dancing feet to Doris Ryberg. I, Edna Ryberg, will my interest in Chanute Field to Esther Spung. I, Francis Scarbrough, will my Senior Play Book to Frederick Causey. I, Anna Seim, will my timid nature to Betty Wilson. I, Maxine Shreves, will my collection of pins to Evelyn Weidner. I, Edward Sickler, will my history recitations to Richard Dickens. I, Paul Sivill, will my job as handy man about the building to those other janitors, Jim and Ernie. I, Robert Stone, will my ushering ability to Bob McDannell. I, Mary Terrell, will my sweet unaffected ways to Lelah Palmberg. I, Richard Thilmony, will my leisure stroll to George Hendershott. I, Ralph Tribbey, will my appreciation of my good jokes to Buddy Turner. I, Ellen Trigger, will my clarinet to Mary Elizabeth Eagan. I, Betty Turner, will my fun-loving and carefree manner to Lillian Tappan. I, Shirley Vevig, will my friendly “Hi!” to Barbara Thilmony. I, Ben Walker, will my interest in Time to Bob Kenney. I, Ormal Wycoff, will my advice as one good farmer to another to Norman Gustafson.

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the Class of 1941 Edna Ryberg and Dorothy Rendahl were opening that week. At that moment, however, a committee from the Woman’s Reform League entered the office, demanding to examine the city accounts; among the group I recognized several members of the class of ’41, including Eleanor Doty, Mary Custer, Mary Terrell, Benita Leonard, and Vivian Jones. Leaving the melee which ensued, I began to walk down the principal thoroughfare of the city; here are some of the signs which were particularly interesting: “Dress Shop—Claranell Martin and Marjory Lewis, proprietors”— “Patricia Patton, Dietician”—“Gwendolyn Hyde Candy Shoppe”—“Fiscus and Fox Beauty Salon”—“Central Theatre, R. Stone, manager”—“Holverson and Lind Garage”—“Ormal Wycoff—Athletic Club.” The first familiar person whom I met was Robert Froyd, dressed in the uniform of a naval officer. He was gazing intently at the latest issue of Harper’s Magazine which would contain much to interest any member of the class of ’41. Rita Novak, recently appointed editor, published reviews of three recent bestsellers: How to Express Yourself, by Betty Bayles, The Future of Farming, by Lyle Buchanan, and “How To Win Friends (Especially Men), by Betty Turner. This issue also included an article on the latest case being tried by the famous criminal lawyers, Delmar Nuss and Edward Sickler, and an article on “Highways of the Future” by the eminent highway contractor, Kenneth Mineer. The next person who recognized me was Jack Bridwell, star reporter for a local paper. Just as we met, “Boss” Danielson hurried by at a rapid pace. Jack explained that the mayor was hurrying to a meeting of the Women’s League, whose aid he wished to enlist in the forthcoming election. This society included such outstanding members of the community as Wilma Elliott, Leota Jones, Betty Hand, Anna Seim, Dorothy Gustafson, and Vera Mabry—all of whom you will remember as members of the class of ’41. Since the new city hospital was nearby, I decided to enter and have my strange case of long sleep investigated. On a bulletin board in the waiting room was a roster of doctors and nurses, which proved rather interesting. Dr. Ralph Tribbey was head physician, and the list of nurses included Maxine Shreves and Ellen Trigger. Also included on the roster was Dr. Richard Thilmony, who had recently written the widely-read book The Cure of Insomnia, or How to Sleep. Well, I’m beginning to feel sleepy again, so goodbye, and good luck.