Paxton High School - Reflector Yearbook (Paxton, IL)

Page 13 text:

I, Orvin Roisland, will my Buick to Irene McGauley. I, Eleanor Smelser, will my seat on the bus to Carroll Elliott. I, Art Smith, will my bashful manner to Warren Gustafson. I, Bill Smith, will my one woman complex to Donald Froyd. I, Eloise Stirewalt, will my unobtrusive manner to Jane Merrimac. I, Charles Swanson, will my carefree manner to Barbara Burton. 1, Virgil Teter, will my school spirit to Ruth Wooldridge. I, Barbara Thilmony, will my heritage, “brief romances,” to Barbara Given. I, Bob Trager, will my fickleness to Elizabeth Ann Stanford. I, Bud Turner, will my many ambitions to Maurice Adams. I, Evelyn Vest, will my giggle to Patti Hamm. I, Marilyn Vinson, will my interest in Chanute Field to Catherine Warner. I, Ruby Watson, will my blonde hair to another blonde, Caryl Erickson. I, Fred Whitcomb, will my ability to catch things, including women, to James Rotramel. I, Betty Worley, will my home-making ability to Kay Carson. We hereby nominate and appoint Mr. John J. Swinney executor without bond of this, our Last Will and Testament. In Witness thereof, we set our hand and affix our seal at Paxton, Illinois, this seventeenth day of May in the year of our Lord, One Thousand Nine Hundred and Forty-Four. Signed: Class of 1944 In the presence of 1. Miss Irene Bear Witnesses 2. Mrs. Evelyn Burton

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We, the graduating class of 1944, do hereby declare this document to be our final words to you who are compelled to remain behind us. We wish it to be implicitly understood that we are of sound mind, and that every bequest has been made in a spirit of good will. I, Dorothy Anderson, will my interest in far away places to Miss Crosby. I, Joanne Anderson, will my interest in a certain march to Darlene Larson. I, Joan Archer, will my abilities and interests to Shirley Weburg. I, Sidney Booth, will my rugged charm to Paul Mason. I, Louise Bost, will my dependability to Bob Jameson. I, Lester Carlson, will my singing ability and volume to Raymond Johnson. I, Mary Elizabeth Eagan, will my secure future to Mary McGauley. I, Betty Engdahl, will my work at home to Dick Smith. I, Leland Fancher, will my ability to concentrate to Paul Horridge. 1, Charlotte Fields, will my ability to get around to Grace Shorb. I, Marilyn Frette, will my powerful voice to Beverly Lundberg. I, Mary Frump, will my quiet industriousness to Opal Hanson. I, Mildred Gee, will my interest in Farmers to Neil Piper. I, Agnes Graham, will my shy manner to Vincent Graham. I, Marjorie Gregerson, will my ability in shorthand to Violet Bricker. I, Ruth Harrington, will my popularity to Gloria Small. I, Virginia Hartman, will my driving ability to Kenneth Johnson. I, George Hendershott, will my height to John Doty. I, Donald Hiner, will my flirtatious manner to Lee Carlson. I, Dorothy Houston, will my laugh to Warren Johnson. I, Evelyn Hustedt, will my jolly manner to Jean Reid. I, Bob Johnson, will my temper to Julietta Jayne. I, Fred Kellar, will my easy-going manner to Bill Pearson. I, Bob Kenner, will my love for the Navy to Irene Streeter. I, Florence Lantz, will my willing ways to Bob Cottrell. I, John Lateer, will my oft-repeated plea “oh, for a woman” to John Peterson. I, Audrey Lind, will my interest in the Services to Betty Frank. I, Ellen Mabry, will my history text to Miss Bear. I, Wilbur Ogle, will my athletic ability to Don Anderson. I, Dwain Parker, will my bicycle to Mr. Henderson. I, Phyllis Peterson, will my interest in Jewelry to Bill Overstreet. I, Lois Piper, will my interest in te-feg-raphy to Everett Given. I, Cecil Plackett, will my ability to farm to Marilyn Robinson. I, Vincent Purn, will my analytical mind to Bud Merrimac.

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Prophecy ss After fifteen years, my research on Mars was completed, so 1 hopped into my rocket ship, set the dial for the Earth, and arrived in a half hour. Imagine my surprise to find I had landed in an open field and not in the New York Rocket Port. Fortunately, I was near a large farmhouse, so I went toward it. A Welcome sign over the gateway relieved me of any guilty conscience I might have in asking for help. I saw two men approaching—one pushing the other in a wheel-chair. Who should it he but Cecil Plackett and Art Smith of my class of 1944. To my surprise, Art got out of the wheel-chair, shook my hand, and then retired to the chair again. He was not an invalid, as 1 had supposed, but was “just resting.” Upon inquiry, I learned that he and Cecil were proprietors of this farm, a rest home. Together they had bombed the vanished city of Tokyo and had been resting ever since. They invited me over to the swimming pool where Ruth Harrington was the swimming instructress. Attending a very unruly patient was Virginia Hartman, a capable nurse. I had just sat down in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, when a young lady stopped to visit. It was Louise Bost, whom I remembered well. But soon her husband came, and the two went away together. Virgil Teter, who was manager of the resort, supervised the refueling and checking of my ship. He said I need not worry, because Sidney Booth was the chief mechanic, and rocket ships were his specialty. I learned that Fred Cellar and Bob Johnson had just landed from a transcontinental trip in their new heliocopter. The chief purpose of this trip was to contact Bob’s real “paper doll.” I was hungry, so I entered the large dining room for a good meal. I opened the fancy menu, which was printed and engraved by the Orvin Roisland Engrav-ing Company, the largest in the United States. At the top of the menu were the names of the dietitians, Betty Worley Hunter and Marilyn Vinson, wife of a prominent linguist. Art sat with me as I ate, and gave me news of my former classmates. Lester Carlson owned his own airline in New York, and Dwain Parker and Fred Whitcomb were associated with it as the only pilots to have flown around the world five times in one month, using the Carlson crafts. Down the road from the resort were the Hendershott Farming Research Laboratories, owned by George. Charles Swanson was the director of the searching and researching. Across the road were the “Trot and Gallop Riding Stables,” owned by Ellen Mabry and Eleanor Smelser. My craft was ready to go again. Art had informed me of more of my friends whom I inteneded to locate in New York City. They included Harold Robert Turner (Bud to most of us), who was a prominent stockholder in the United Gas Company, and living a happy life with his Chinese wife; also Florence Lantz and