Racine High School - Kipikawi Yearbook (Racine, WI)

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1 2Q L ' ' SOME FRIENDS WE KNOW, AND KNOW NOT There are nine giant musicians which not only every person in our school, but also the alumni, have seen, and yet some have not been aware of the presence of these dear old friends. Yes, musicians! for they furnish incessant music every day, and all day, and in all seasons. In the fall, when we return to our little school-world, they send down myriads of messages, all murmuring sweet, soft tunes to greet us and renew our acquaintance, in winter they whistle their prolonged notes, and sway to and fro with the rhythm of their music, while in the spring they don their gowns of green, and introduce hosts of feathery, thrilling song- sters. Now, lest you should grow impatient of my riddle, these friendly giants that gracefully stoop down in their high maj- esty to bestow their loving tokens upon us are the nine grand old American elms that adorn our campus and look in at our windows. -Mary Albino, 'l2. EELIUM Come, Muses all, and gather 'round me here, I take my pen with trembling and with fear, I need thee all, for list to what I sing, 'Tis of a battle, a most terrific thing. 'Tis of a Senior bitterly oppressed, Come, Muses all, at my behest. It happened in a cold and wintry day, I saw him as he gaily went his way, His head was high, he thought his goal was near, He longed to leave his path so bleak and drear. But suddenly a Newcomer he saw He looked surprised, and then he shook with awe To see the Newcomer now Shak-es-pears. The Senior all alarmed then took his stand, His trusty Steele he held within his hand. Now fast and Swift the blows resound aloud, The sky o'erhead puts on a Gray-ish shroud. The night comes on, about the darkness thickens, Still on they fought, they fought just like the Dickens. While dully now the sky with watchtires Burns, Miss Charmock waits to record the re- turns. The Senior first began to faint and Hunk, But now the Newcomer gets it kerplunk! So thus they fight, 'til when Aurora 's ray Proclaims the advent of another day, With day the Senior's strength becomes tenfold, His trusty Steele he grasps with stronger hold. More swiftly does the noise of blows re- sound, The Newcomer is killed, he bites the ground. The Senior puts his foot upon his breast, His hand upon his heart is pressed. The light is o'er, as victor he has won, The day breaks forth and brightly shines the sun. His noble brow alights with manly pride, He ls won the prize, the prize for which he tried, The prize for which we all now dig and delve, The right to graduate with Nineteen- Twelve! -Helen Van Arsdale, '12. A TRAGEDY They approached from opposite direc- tions, one blushing red, the other deathly pale. The room was filled with onlookers, and there was a hush when the two came together and kissed. Just then a man with a club came up. The pale one was hit a hard blow and sent reeling away to one side. The blushing one neither screamed nor fainted, because such is the life of billiard balls. -Eugene Prostrednik, 1914.

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sf.,-1.1 fr- ., .,,.v . . , . .. 4-55-55 i I V ' ,T . ..,.K, ,M -if W- .. , . . s f A' ' . Eta Bita Pie House, Dear Jillllllyi Dec. 30, 1911. Say, you poor piece of molded clay, have you a friendly smoke which you would like to trade for a perfectly good college with a twenty-three room frat- house with twenty-two great, big, empty rooms in it? Because if you have, I'll trade you this school. Ilve been sitting up alone with it since last Friday night, and I don 't want it any longer. I'm tired of it. It 's about as cheerful a companion as an Egyptian mummy in a state of bad repair. Little did I realize, sweet infant, when I refused to go home with you for Christ- mas, because I wanted to study and be quiet, that I was going to be so blamed quiet. I didn 't expect the universe to go into mourning for my sake. Here's the school, big as life, gymnasium just as splendid, but the whole thing might just as well be a canning factory. Of course, I don 't want you conceited fiunkers to be laboring under the impression that you are the whole works. but I will admit that when you packed up and said good-bye to the dear old college for Christmas holidays, you took the college with you. Say, you brainless beauty, I'm as lone- some as a mosquito on a Seligman's Es- says on Taxation in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Robinson Crusoe isn't in it with me. It's enough to make a preacher swear. Quiet? Why, man, mere words Would- n't do justice to the maddening, coma- tose conditions of this revered school of learning. I began to hunt yesterday morning for a college student. Hunted until evening, when I ran across that dried-up, that imitation of a man, Jack- son, who wanted to abolish football. I had always sympathized with him for having to associate with himself, but last night I greeted him like a long-lost broth- er and dragged him off to dinner. A Sophomore from Montana named Tubbs is here, too. Say, if Dr. Cook and he got together and started to swapping stories it would be about the toughest duel on record. Conceit? Well, rather. Never mind, it's better than being alone with the unfeeling atmosphere. Also there 's a lone girl over in Down- ing Hall. Called on her Saturday night. Introduced myself and had a mighty cozy time. Maybe you've noticed her-little Freshman who wears a blue serge suit and her own hair. And say-she can have me. Golly, fuzzers aren't in it with her. Quiet, jolly, easy to talk to, under- standing sort-oh, you know. But. hang it all, some one came and took her home with them for over Sunday. Say, wasn't I the World Champion Fool Hustler when I made my Prom date last fall! And Christmas Day! Well, the less said the better! Blue! Lonesome! Cold! It was the most nerve-racking experience I ever went through. Dinner-Merchants' Hotel-no comment necessary-with two traveling men and a vaudeville actor! About as cheerful and jolly an affair as you 'd find in any of the vaults of the Na- tional Treasury building! I escaped final- ly and walked out in the cold, cold world, puffing furiously at my pipe. Every un- sympathetic, blissful house was stuffed with Christmas trees and holly and tur- key and relatives and fun. I never felt so magnificently isolated in all my life. I sleep in a different bed every night, amuse myself by mixing the contents of the dresser-drawers and swapping every- oneys neckties and things. I can wear a diderent one every fifteen minutes, keep the ten alarm clocks wound up so that they go off at regular intervals. Oh, I suppose I'll manage to stick it out some way until you people get back. Yours, in great desolation, Fat. -Ruth Nelson, '13. Dr. Watson Mitchell was asked what subject he expected to enroll in at the beginning of the second semester. Epidemics CEconomicsJ, he an- swered. From Wreck's present condition we imagine that he has already had more than his share of epidemics.

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A PRELUDE Should you ask us, Whence these stories? Whence these legends and traditions, With their spirit of the classroom, And their praise of high school pleas- tires? We would answer, we would tell you: Where the rolling, grassy prairies Stretch away to meet the sunset, Where Lake Mich'gan's shining waters Lap and toss in silvery billows, Racine High School stands in grandeur, And these myths and tales were woven By the youths and maids assembled At that noble seat of learning. Many there do seek for wisdom. But in different ways they seek it. Seniors, with their thoughts prophetic, Turn to days when High School 's glory Shall be in her Annual centered. But within the Racine High School Dwelleth none like to the Juniors. None like them in wond'rous wisdom, None like them so freely gifted, None like them for mighty schemings How to make each fleeting moment Carry mingled fun and study. Then the Soph'mores. Oh, the 'Soph'- mores! Cling fast to the fond delusion That in all the wide creation There existeth no one equal To the Soph'mores. Oh, the Soph'mores! But the Freshmen! Oh, those Freshmen! Unfamiliar with their classrooms, Puzzled by the constant ringing, Ringing, ringing of the signals. But in spite of all misfortunes They smile on with brave endeavor, Hoping, slowly climbing upward To the flowery path of knowledgef, -Vlasta Jandl, '13. -Emily Donaldson, '13. They say it is important To study history, But I find unto my sorrow It wasn't made for me. -Hulda Jacobson, '12, 'A ., ' K . 2 .5 ,aff gf f 2 gi . .,.-. W. l y , , . . ALMOST HUMAN One afternoon in August as my cousin and I walked along the marsh, we saw a muskrat busily digging in a bank at the marsh's edge. We lay down and watched it for about fifteen minutes. Then she went in the hole. When she came out she had a real young baby muskrat in her mouth. She set it down and went in again, brought out a second, and then a third. There was a large tree trunk that stretched across the pond which was in the marsh. She picked up one of the baby rats in her teeth and walked across. This she did to all of them. We wondered why the muskrat had had to dig an entrance hole, so we Went to see. We saw that someone had stepped on the hole and crushed in the doorway. An- other thing that puzzled us was that she didn it swim across instead of walking on the tree. We discussed this and came to the conclusion that the young ones were too young to swim and too heavy to carry in the water. -Byron Gere, '15, FORGIVE He was in a bitter mood that Easter morning as he stepped into the big, quiet church. His head was bent. His face showed a bitter struggle and a rankling hatred. He shook his head defiantly. How he hated the world! Hated, hated it! His hands clenched convulsively till the nails entered the skin. Forgive? 'iNever! Services had begun. A deep, brooding silence filled the house of worship. The beautiful sermon was entirely lost on him as he sat with moodily downcast head. He was weary of the world, sick, tired, and unbelieving. He started quickly from his seat. A voice rang through the church and seemed to echo, Forgive ! A burst of touching melody pealed forth rapturously and then gradually died away. Such music! The soul seemed to soar in exultation and then die away in floating sound. The last notes lingered in