Robert E Lee High School - Leeway / Record Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

Page 27 text:

Class Prophecy LASS MATES :—We have a great treat in store for you, the un¬ canny but true experiences of the world-famous baritone solo¬ ist, Mr. Charles Benjamin Moseley. After his speech he will favor us with several selections. Station B-R-A-Y, Baltimore, Mel., broadcasts these personal speeches of famous musicians every night at seven-forty—Mr. Moseley. Dear Old Schoolmates:—As I stand here in the broadcasting station tonight 1 seem to see you as we were at graduation, ten years ago at Lee High School. Because 1 know you are all listening in on my talk tonight, I am going to tell you of a strange experience of mine. Two months ago, my naturally weak ear became seriously infected and 1 found it necessary to go to the St. Lenias Hospital, in this city, where 1 could be under the excellent care of my old friend, Dr. Bernard Payne, the ear specialist. I was greatly surprised to learn that my appetizing meals were planned by Miss Mary McAleer, dietician. It became necessary for me to undergo an operation, and the nurse who administered the ether was none other than Miss Bessie Gochenour. Another old pal, Percy Loth Roby, was in the hospital for his ninth opera¬ tion, which we all hope will be his last. After the suffocating effect of the ether had abated and 1 lapsed into uncon¬ sciousness, 1 found myself walking down the streets of a lazy Florida city, past the beautiful Spanish hacienda of Miss Audrey Bowman, the celebrated poetess, who still wears her burnished crown of glory. In the same city, on the beach, 1 found Miss Griscelda Arnold, in her bathing suit, teaching a healthy group of campfire girls some very amusing stunts. Miss Margaret Parker was at the head of a spacious and elaborate beauty salon, where her skill and knowledge are combined in recreating lovely faces in true “fountain of youth” manner. Sharp, shooting pains obliterated everything for a time, then I found myself by the side of the majestic Wilson Irrigation Dam. In a handsome sport roadster nearby, Mr. Jack Doswell, civil engineer and builder of the dam, was recalling by-gone days with Miss Catherine Olivier and her husband, Dean Darnell, well known movie actor. I, then, had a sensation as though I were flying through space, and I almost bumped into an indignant airplane propelled by Miss Charlotte Harper. I soon came to earth again and found myself in the land of Egypt. There on the burning sands 1 discovered Professor William Hamilton and Professor Sarah George Harris, doing dangerous and valuable research work among the sand caves. In Southern Africa, on a dazzling white horse, surrounded by eager black faces, Miss Louise Shifiett, now the Rev. Mrs. Dr. Sangleton, was telling Bible stories. A sudden short lapse into darkness and 1 found myself among the ruins of the Colosseum, where Mr. Winston Suter was eagerly studying Roman sculpture,

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Item—T o Wayt Whitesell we leave George Long’s seriousness. Item—W e leave Sara George Harris’s determination “to do or die” to Ph i Werner. Item—B en Mosely bequeaths a much used hook on “Parlamentary Law” to Maurice Parker. Item—T o Ethel Bender we leave Gladys Hoy’s ability to dance. Item—A fter much thought and deliberation we leave Hans Swindler’s, other¬ wise Bernard Payne’s bashfulness to the Tannehill Twins. Item—M argie King woefully leaves her love for the Irish, and her undying devotion to the coach to Catherine Baylor. Item—T o Forest Harper we leave Percy Roby’s perfect attendance at school. Item—T helma Koiner bequeaths to Hattie Blackburn her petite stature. Item—T o Bernard White we leave Elwood Stover’s place in Lee High Athletics. Item—T o Agnes Kivlighan we leave Katherine Markley’s “refusal to talk.” Item—W inston Suter after much thought leaves his grouchy disposition to Woodrow Mackey. Item—T o John Barbee we leave Mary McAleer’s courtesy. Item—W e leave with great pleasure Sam Wilson’s “Ford,” which is adapted to “country roads” to William Waide. Item—M ary McCue leaves her love and adoration for men, in general, to Katherine Packette. Item—W e bequeath to the Greenstone Twins, Sarah McCue’s lipstick. Item—W e leave Katherine Olivier’s license for taxi service to Lee High, to Guy Sutton. Item—T o Kitty Sydenstricker we leave Margaret Parker’s “unused” chewing gum. ! Item—T o Margaret McCue we leave Pauline Parrish’s “extra” pounds. Item—L ouise Randol leaves her perfect attendance to class meetings to Eleanor Naille. Item—F rances Ratcliffe leaves, upon the advice of friends, her stately dignity to Clara Richcreek. Item—W e leave Louise Shifflette’s giggle to Margie Russell. Item—W e leave Emma Jane Shultz’s ability to play tennis to Audrey Potter. Item—W e leave Charlotte Taylor’s becoming blush to D ' orothy Fretwell. Item—T o “Little Okie,” known in private life as Burnley Brockenbrough, we bequeath Elizabeth Wilson’s love for peanuts. Item—T o Naomi Van Lear we leave Marie Wilson’s demure ways. Witness our hand and seal this sixth day of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand, nine hundred and twenty-nine. Sara W. Bell, “Dodo” X His mark.

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On one of the seven hills Pauline Parrish sat, sketching the ruins of a mag¬ nificent old building. Speeding once again on my cloud, I wondered if every member of our class had achieved fame and honor, and, as if in answer to my thought, my cloud paused and softly dropped to the rail of a steamer, on the deck of which Miss Palston, once Mary McCue, and her charming sister, Sarah, were “just traveling.” A little farther east, and T saw the green turf of Hollywood, where Frances Brown’s assurate swings were winning her honors in tennis. In the same city, tucked away in a lovely bungalow was Miss Margie King, tucking into bed seven famous little screen people, whose minds and bodies were kept healthy and natural by her spontaneous good spirits. Outside the city in a cool, high-walled convent, Miss Marie Wilson sat, quietly teaching the children sewing. In Salt Lake City, Utah, my cloud dropped down beneath the friendly shade of a tall brick building to revive me, for I was burning with the heat. There T found Wallace Hook in a business office giving dictation to Miss Louise Randol, his private secretary, about his oil wells. Gladys Hoy was giving platform speeches on the building of a landing for airplanes. My fever fled as the cloud again whisked me onward, over mountains, where I found Sam Wilson in a stout log cabin on a wooded peak, protecting the forests from fire. Over the green grazing lands we floated and paused before a huge meat-packing establishment, from which Kenneth Grim was retiring to enter his favorite business, that of florist. In a Kentucky town I found Miss Kath¬ erine Markley on a race track celebrating her engagement to the Major’s son by racing her favorite horse. My cloud was evidently wearied, and it hastened over the cotton belt so quickly that I almost missed seeing Mr. John Boyle receive his M. D. degree, as well as hearing Miss Thelma Koiner give a powerful political speech at the convention in Georgia. In New Orleans we slackened our pace and discovered Miss Elizabeth Wil¬ son teaching Latin and dancing in a huge, white columned high school. Miss Frances Ratclifife was watching her kindergarten pupils give a lovely little pageant on the cool lawn. Whirling on our way northward we stopped long enough to see Miss Emma Jane Shultz referee the final basketball game between two girls’ colleges. I wished to stay and watch but the cloud hurried on, stopping over the white dome of the Capitol long enough for me to see Miss Charlotte Taylor in the Virginia senator’s seat, with her eyes fixed admiringly on a portrait of Alfred Smith. Now, I understood why the cloud was hurring so—it wanted to get back to Staunton before dark—and what a change we found! Wide streets, beautiful buildings, and George Long’s spacious haberdashery, showing just what a wel l dressed man should wear. El wood Stover had built himself an up-to-date drug store on the very spot where his old loafing place had been—but these two were the only two left in the old hometown—so I sorrowfully drifted northward.