Paxton High School - Reflector Yearbook (Paxton, IL)

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P is for Principal A high school education should be a very important part of the lives of the young people of our community. Those who take it lightly or those who fail to finish it are handicapping themselves tremendously. Our standards of work are high, and the going is sometimes tough, but, after the course is completed, there is great satisfaction in having mastered it. 1 hereby commend those who have done well during the past year, and I sincerely recommend that all people of high school age take the high school work most seriously. John J. Swinney. BOARD OF EDUCATION Walter E. Kiest, President Harry P. Larson, Secretary Dr. Wayne L. Hamm John A. Watson William R. Watts

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CAN YOU IMAGINE . . . Fred Causey with a comb? . . . Evie Robertson not knowing his bands? . . . Boy Kenney without a car? . . . The U. S. not winning this war? . . . Avis without a sweater? . . . Semesters without an aspirin? . . . Peppy people on Monday mornings? . . . Swanfelt a brunette? . . . Paxton minus the Swedes? . . . Having tires to conserve? . . . Next year’s Easter bonnets? . . . What hitch-hikers will do when there are no more cars on the road? . . . P. C. H. S. without the “Swingsters”? . . . Winning Job Day? . . . P. C. H. S. having escalators installed? . . . Vince Purn without a joke? . . . John Lateer without “Muscles”? . . . . Art Jarrett plaving at the Junior-Senior Banquet? . . . . People not buying the Reflector? . . . . Not being able to imagine? TIDBITS (from here and there) (mostly here but not all there) Lois Hall really picks ’em—during the year she’s had the attention of the Navy, Army, and the Department of Justice! The Navy seems to be lasting, though. Louise Bost and Stanley Peterson seem to be “hitting it off” O. K., to date. One never can tell, though. True love never runs smoothly!?? Our congratulations to Phyllis Holroyd, who became Mrs. Robert Dean Short on New Year’s Day. We of P. C. H. S. sincerely hope that she is as happy all of her life as she is now. Our nifty blonde cheerleader held her own with “Wendy“ most of this year. Is “compatible” the right word for it? She must have beaten Opal’s time!! Those nightly sessions at the “5D” Poker Parlor are really becoming the “talk of the town.” And the audience is getting larger by degrees—some fun! Why, in spring, does a young man’s fancy lightly turn to thoughts of love? You’ve got me—but I sure like the idea! The war affected all of us this year. No cars—conserving on the rubber supply; no sugar—rationing; but, all in all, it wasn’t so bad. At least, we reduced—some—and the enforced exercise didn’t do us any harm! What could be the attraction at the corner drug store? It wouldn’t be the student help, would it? They say “beauty is skin deep,” but, with modern cosmetics, who can see the skin? You can do a lot for defense. For one thing—get used to using your foot-mobile. As my closing tidbit, I have a “plug” for my Uncle Sam. Let’s all buy defense stamps and bonds (if possible, the latter!!) and “Keep’Em Flying.” WHAT’S DOING The Student Council really did a good job-of things this year. Examples of their efforts’ are the super school parties we had, and the excellent outside talent programs. Also, they sponsored a sale of Defense Stamps in P. C. H. S. We should be proud of the excellent showing we made in doing our part for Uncle Sam. At the Homecoming party, we had the King and Queen of P. C. H. S. crowned. I think we all “hoorayed” at the student-body’s choice of Ruth Harrington, and Jack Miller. Did you notice the number of Alumni visiting school before vacation? The P. C. H. S. Carnival, held December 5, was a big success. Irene Streeter was voted the most popular girl in P. C. H. S.; quite an honor for a freshman! The music departments’ musical went over with a “bang.” the star attraction being the P. C. H. S. Swing Band. Mrs. Gutheil and Mr. Frederick are to be congratulated. Our congrats to both of you!! The Style Show of April 24 was a novel idea. The theme was “Daisy Mae Goes To Town,” with newcomer Betty Deck in the star role. Even Lil’ Abner was there—in the person of Andy Henricks. Semester exams are over for another year and those seniors who escaped with “B” averages breathed a sigh of relief. You can’t imagine how gratifying it is to watch the others suffer! Congratulations to Barbara Jean Given for her excellent showing in the instrumental contests this year. We’re proud of you, Bobbie Jean!

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P is for Prophecy I’m a bit confused. . . . Two days ago I was speeding along in my 1941 (latest model) Pontiac at the advised rate of 40 miles per, listening to my favorite radio commentator, Frederick Causey. He’s an old acquaintance of mine, class of ’42 of P. C. H. S. Now what happened after that is a bit hazy, but the last thing I. can remember is a huge red truck with “Everett Fields, Inc.—Farm Products” in big white letters on the side. The next thing I knew I was standing (or maybe floating is more descriptive) on some fleecy white clouds, arguing with a fellow named Mr. Jordan, who apparently was the chief magistrate in Heaven, as to whether I was dead or alive. A checkup of his casualty lists proved that they’d been a little hasty—I wasn’t due to arrive ’til the year 2012! So there I was, very much alive, but minus a body, to say nothing of being quite some distance from my earthly habitation. This Mr. Jordan readily admitted the gravity of the error committed, and realized that, in all fairness, he had to find me a new body. And it couldn’t be just anybody! No sir—’cause mine had been a perfect physical specimen!! Well, anybody knows that the only place left to find such perfection is in the U. S. Army camps, so, right away Mr. Jordan decided to go to Kanute Field, the largest and best known of them all. Ten seconds later, we were slipping past the fellows on guard at the entrance. I looked them over, and suddenly realized that I knew them! They were none other than Gordon Johnson, Paul McCabe, and Max Niccum, and, standing with them, was Jeannette Lundeen, in one of those nifty army nurses’ uniforms. I thought it was rather strange that they didn’t recognize me, until I realized that they couldn't even see me. That’s the strangest feeling, to be a ghost, and yet not be a ghost, if you see what I mean. Now this Mr. Jordan knew much of human nature, as was to be expected of a man in his position, so he suggested that we visit the nearest U. S. O. center. All in all, it was a darn good idea, because the first thing I laid eyes on was a neat little number in one of those blue uniforms. Very becoming!! The only thing that disappointed me was the presence of two rings on her left hand, and, as she turned around, I recognized loan Wirth, or more than likely, Mrs. Robert Moline. She was giving instructions to two of her hostesses, Jeanne Whitcomb and Jane Nuss. However, such delightful diversions weren’t exactly helping me find a suitable physique, so we meandered over toward the mess hall. By this time, I was on the lookout for old school pals, and I wasn’t disappointed. I almost knocked down a major, no less, who proved to be our old football captain, Stanley Peterson. Seeing the look on his fact was worth being minus a body; but then, can you imagine bumping into thin air? You’d probably be slightly amazed at yourself, too!! We left him mumbling to himself and entered the mess hall, which was jammed to capacity, naturally. We didn’t waste much time in the main room, but made a bee line for the kitchen. Even ghosts get hungry, I guess. I had no more than swung open the door than I recognized the head dietitian on duty—Bonnie Brison. She always did want to major in home economics, I remember. I’ll bet she wondered where some of that food went, but we didn’t wait to find out. While strolling rather aimlessly along, munching Bonnie’s stolen buttercakes, we heard some shooting, so we headed in that general direction to investigate. We went quite some distance before we came upon some squadrons at target practice. The instructor was really letting them have it when we came into earshot, and I recognized the voice of Devore Killip even before I got a good look at him. He hadn’t changed a whole lot. I can-remember the days when I saw him walking down Market Street with one of those shot guns of his cradled in his arms. I wonder if he’s married. We watched for only a short time, and then made our way to the engineering division. I wasn’t a bit surprised when I saw Captain Bill Eagan bossing a crew of electrical engineers, including two old friends of his, Bob Kenney and Glenn Burklund. I was pretty sure by now that, before my visit was over, I should have seen all the members