Racine High School - Kipikawi Yearbook (Racine, WI)

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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

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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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Y ,,LL: . , f , LLL1,w LVLL - 18.12. i', lA i KATV1? N fg l gl , z 5 . . N 5 , , I .,.. .... Lf ....,. f A --- . -- y the air, faint and elusive, just as the mur- muring wind sweeps through a harp and leaves a wondrous melody. Forgive, it whispered softly, and slowly melted away into nothingness. Ile shook with a vague, unknown fear, sweet in its revela- tions. The church was slowly emptied and he was left alone. Ilis head was bowed low, but his face was illuminated with some strange, mysterious charm. A flood of roseate light from the stained glass win- dows touched him tenderly, as if in bene- diction. Through the open doors he heard the birds sing merrily. VVhat a wonder- ful world it was! Was not this life in- deed? Ile hastily dashed a few bright tears from his eyes, and laughed softly to him- self. A happy, quivering little sigh shook his frame as he murmured, I forgive. Ht the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, And as silently steal away. -Dagmar Peterson, 13. ALL HALLOW'S EVE The evening of the twenty-seventh of October I sat in my study reading. CIt might be well to mention that I was the only one at home.D About half-past eight the door-bell rang. I switched on the lights all through the house and went to the door. Then I screamed, and why do you think I did? When I opened the door a tall, thin figure swathed in a white, flow- ing gown, glided in and closed the door. and a thin, grayish hand took an envelope from the folds of its robe and held it out to me. I tremblingly took it and read: Mr. Jack o'Ltantern CJ. C. EJ Requests the pleasure of Miss Blank's company at a weird merrymaking On All Hallow's Eve, Tuesday, the thirty-first of October, At half-past seven o'clock, At the Old Haunted Barn in Hobgoblin Hollow Q2025 Main Std VVhen I read this I invited the silent ap- parition into the study while I wrote my acceptance. I gave him the envelope, he bowed and retired. Then I sat down to think it over. When I arrived at the Old Ilaunted Barn in Hobgoblin Hollow on Hallow- e'en, the same ghost who had appeared at my door several nights previous bade me, in sepulchral voice, to enter, and showed me to the dressing-room, and when the company had arrived led us down to the basement of the house. ml Q T is-,, - We certainly had entered the witches' den. One candle served to light the room, and by its light we saw the walls and ceil- ing had been covered with sheets, and great black lines drawn to represent cracks, while huge cobwebs were made of black thread. Before the kettle, suspend-