Paxton High School - Reflector Yearbook (Paxton, IL)

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Id E 6 A 6 f We, the Senior Class of 1945, of the City of Paxton, in the County of Ford, and the State of Illinois, being of sound mind and memory, and considering the uncertainty of this frail and transitory life, do therefore make, ordain, publish, and declare this to be our last Will and Testament. Hence, we do by this, our will, dispose of our various traits to you who are compelled to remain behind us. We affectionately bequeath these to you, and hope they will be received in the same spirit. I, Eugene Allen, will my interest in girls and Rantoul to next year’s football team. I, Donald Anderson, will my constant need for gas stamps to Bud Merrimac. I, Violet Bricker, will my love for earrings and curly hair to Joan Samuelson. I, Eva Brown, will my dignified behavior in study hall to Harold Nuss. I, Barbara Burton, will my passion for jeans to Miss Gracen. I, Lee Carlson, will my taxi service to Bob Lateer. I, Glenn Cook, will my interest in the movies to Libby Stanford. I, John Doty, will my height to the “Prof”—not that he needs it. I, Richard Erickson, will my freckles to Evelyn Anderson. I, Doris Foster, will my speed to Bob Cottrell. I, Betty Frank, will my brains and poise to Cary] Erickson. I, Barbara Given, will my powerful vocal cords to Kay Carson. I, Marjorie Gunning, will my calmness at the mention of Van Johnson to Dorothy Mae Rust. I, Ronald Gustafson, will my tender regard for pigs to Joan Stagen. I, Warren Gustafson, will my lack of interest in the fairer sex to Don Froyd. I, Mary Jean Hammerstrand, will my typing ability to Rex Niccum. I, Lois Hanson, will my nocturnal habits to “Red” Burklund. I, Opal Hanson, will my speed in basketball to Oscar Watson. I, Ronald Hayes, will my reserved attitude and silence in the halls to Beverly Lundberg. I, Dorothy Hollister, will my beauty to Dick Smith. I, Harold Ingold, will my attentiveness to the freshmen to Don Wheeler.

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Betty Frank had settled down in Paxton and was holding down the position of office girl at P. C. H. S. Mention of Bettv reminded me that Richard Erickson was assistant manager of a local hardware store. There was a new beauty parlor on Market Street operated by Dorothy Hollister. She did all the face-lifting and Lois Hanson ran the hair styling department. 1 almost forgot about Paul Mason—he was in the White House at Washington, D. C. He served as butler and “Man Friday” to the President. Paul’s time was usually taken up trimming the chief executive’s beard so the ashes from his cigarette holder couldn’t start a fire. One of the graduates turned to the field of adventure and experiment. Betty Robertson had organized a female submarine crew that was in search of some other submarine. By the way, Catherine Warner had settled down and was leading the life of housewife. I was now at my wits end for I could recall no more of my classmates. Just then, however, I saw Doris Foster and Eva Brown pushing a couple of supper trays into a room opposite mine. I inquired of them whether they had seen or heard of any of the rest of our old friends. They said that Clarice Sanders was at the information desk in Happydale’s lobby. I came in the back way so that’s probably why 1 didn’t notice her. Just then the last call for dinner was sounded and one of the attendants came to escort me to the table. The man was of great height and the picture of masculinity. He was strangely familiar; and as he herded me down the hall, 1 recalled his name—Lee Carlson! Upon entering the dining room 1 saw Violet Bricker and Ruth McClain serving the first course. I was seated next to Joan Van Syckel, whose visit at Hap-pydale was merely to rest and get away from her worldly troubles. I learned now that Harold Ingold was dealing in old Fordson tractors. These he improved by converting the hard, steel seat into a cushioned armchair. As I was served by Ruth McClain, she mentioned that Betty Lawhead was a secretary at Kiest’s Dairy and that Mary Jean Hammerstrand worked in a typewriter factory where she put the ribbons on the machines. Our conversation was interrupted at this moment as Ronald Hayes gave the benediction at the end of the meal. While eating I had continued inquiring of the whereabouts of the rest of the class. I learned that Carley Nelson was clerking in a dime store and Norma Terrell was ushering at Grauman’s New Chinese Theater in New York. On the way back to my room I was allowed to go through the lobby. Peeking through an open door I saw Elizabeth Woodworth hard at work in the library. I was allowed to visit the garden so I stopped in to borrow a butterfly net from an old friend, Barbara Burton. She said she was sorry but her butterfly net was being used by Dan Keefe. As I said before, Happydale is a beautiful, old brick structure, surrounded by large, green, billowy shrubs that conceal the iron fence from the inmates.

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I, Raymond Johnson, will my secret crush on Jessie Archer to Jack Swinney. I, Warren Johnson, will my love for the South Seas to Don Smith. I, Dan Keefe, will my wit and way with slide rule to Arnold Burklund. I, Jack Kenney, will my crew cut and short finger nails to June Ford. I, Catherine Kofoid, will my motto, “Silence is golden,” to Joan Stevens. I, Betty Lawhead, will my interest in alumni to Darlene Larson. I, Merle Lundeen, will my ability to play more than one piece to Gloria Small. I, Paul Mason, will my love for the New Deal to Pat Hamm. I, Ruth McClain, will my angelic smile to Joan Hapenny. I, Mary McGauley, will my interest in far-away places to Carl Martin. I, Carley Nelson, will my Buckley affiliations to Jean Kingren. 1, William Overstreet, will my “parlor jokes” to Bob Beckman. I, John Peterson, will my “corny” jokes to Miss Bear—to feed her chickens. I, Jean Reid, will my ability to dance to Charles Merritt. I, Betty Robertson, will my steady heart to Irene Streeter. I, Clarice Sanders, will my petiteness to Bill Harrington. I, Wilma Shore, will my bottle of peroxide to Kay Novak. I, Norma Terrell, will my “well-groomed look” to “Ears” Graham. I, Jack Thorstenson, will my interest in mortuaries to Betty Naugle. I, Joan Van Syckcl, will my long flowing locks to Margaret Young. I, Catherine Warner, will my secure future to “Babe” Eichelberger. I, Raymond Williams, will my sober expression to Maurice Adams. I, Elizabeth Woodworth, will my temper to Wayne Natterstad.