Rowe High School - Viking Saga Yearbook (Lakeville, OH)

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 SENIOR CLASS HISTORY Our mothers have kept records of our first steps, our first words, our first smiles. But soon we separately-recorded creatures were banded together for the beginning of our contacts with the great, wide world outside our own homes. The first grade! Our present class thrived as triplets—Amboy, Farnham and East Conneaut. But the story is as one. Rhythm bands, sandbox farms, learning to read, jumping rope, marbles, jacks, the multiplication tables, ante-i-over, fox-and-geese, a scolding or two, pom-pom pullaway, code messages—and a thousand more blocks which go to make up the crazy-quilt of grade school. The faces of several first-graders at East Main Road School were red once upon a time. The obliging whirly-gig granted forbidden rides to the dear little creatures. After a short business meeting with the teacher acting as chairman, their—did I say faces?—were red. Paul was singled out from the other first grader boys to have the honor (?) of sitting on teacher’s lap. The wee lad, so exhausted from being—angelic, fell asleep. An innocent garter snake was once ushered into Patty’s crumpled coat by a band of fourth grade desperadoes. She expelled him with a screech like an owl’s. The Amboy sixth grade teacher took an unexpected skid on the freshly oiled floor. Oh! Our hearts vaulted up into our throats. Perhaps she had broken a leg (we hoped.) She might be unconscious. Yet she had clawed at a desk on the downward flight. Then—she moved. Ah, heck, she was O. K. She arose. Our little hearts collapsed. Our little round eyes followed her outstretched arm to her hand where her thumb hung— dripping with a coal-black liquid called ink. Then the deadly silence was shattered by cackles, giggles and guffaws. The years murmured on until the day, diplomas, tied with narrow red ribbon, were presented “grads” of Amboy, Farnham, and Rowe. If we weren’t already green freshmen we turned that color from fright on the evening of freshmen initiation. However, we led the “cruel” seniors a merry chase and did all the wacky things they demanded—“or else.” This was the night that Hub’s dress slipped its moorings. What I mean is—Hub masqueraded as a “gurl” and his “gown” was tucked up to show his legs to advantage. But what goes up must come down—and his hem did just that. Why faces turn crimson! When Paul becomes a minister may he remember the time he swished and swayed as a “hula-hula girl” (admission—one cent) at our sophomore Thanksgiving party. Johnny couldn’t foretell it, but this year was his first step as a third-termer president. Then our class was dissected when we turned juniors. We were back where we started from as freshmen—Room 316 and 314. One room and one room should make two rooms. But in our case, one room and one room made one group. If a play goes over with a bang, do you call it a banging success? If you do, “Aunt Susie Shoots the Works” was that. Lights went on and off—love pills were munched —and “if you don’t mind my sayin’ so” got on peoples’ nerves. The cast will never forget their unique and breath-taking rides after practice in a certain milk truck. Them was the “good ole days.” So say the cast: Whipple, Devereaux, Bunnell, Evans, Ashby, Turner, Puffer, Scully, Fogg and Cole. Sailor scenes were the “thing” at our junior-senior prom. A super decorating committee had erected the lighthouse of lighthouses in the gym center and the music room was a melody of blue and white. Do you remember clanging the ship’s bell? Then quick as lightning, we blossomed (or am I being optimistic) into master minds. At least, I’m safe in saying we became seniors. Re-elected junior officers Holdson, Whipple, Turner and Scully took up the reins as we romped through our Mutt and Jeff year—the longest, yet the shortest. We were seniors! We were back together again! Everything was a little bit of all right. 14

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▲ DOROTHY J. BROWN— Port”—Shy little country maid with great big dimples. Clubs: Home Ec. 1-2-4: Art 3-4; 4-H 1-2-3-4; Operetta 1; Girls’ Chorus 1-2; Glee Club 4. VERA BLAKESLEE—“Blondie”—She’s tops on taps. Clubs: Dramatics 1-2-3-4; Home Ec. 1-2; 4-H 1-2-3-4; Girls’ Chorus 1-2; Glee Club 3; Operetta 1; Messiah 3; Paper Sales 3; Candy Sales 4. ROBERT FRAME— Abner —Rubbled over with slappiness. yet he had his serious side. Radio Play 4; operetta 1; A Cappella 2-3-4; Messiah 3 ; Jefferson Tests 2; Viking Saga staff 4. AUDREY HAZEL TINE—“Auddie”—She did her shorthand successfully during Chemistry class. Clubs: 4-H 1-2-3-4; Operetta 1; Girls’ Chorus 1-2; Pilot Eight staff 3-4; Viking Saga staff 3-4; Jefferson Tests 2. KATHERINE RRISTOL — Kay -Her uncanny wit astounded us. Conneaut High School 1. Clubs: French 3-4; Arts 3; Dramatics 2-3-4; Viking Saga staff 4; Jefferson Tests 2; Home Nursing 3; Jefferson Tests I-2-3-4. RORERT GAUS—“LOUIS”—No woman will ever get the last word while he’s around. Clubs: t-H Club 1-2-3-4; orchestra 1-2-3-4: Rand 1 -2-3-4: Operetta 1; Roys’ Chorus 1-2; Viking Saga staff 4; A Cappella 4. FLORA HUCKELBERRY—“Flo”—And dear little Flora with her big black braids, through Mrs. Kitchen’s French class wades. Clubs: Art 3; French 3-4; 4-H 1-2-4; Paper Sales 3. LA VERNA H ELM RRECHT — ’Heddy — We hope to see her in a South Sea island picture someday. West Springfield High School 1-2. Clubs: Home Ec. 4; Shorthand 4; Paper Sales 3; Candy Sales 4. JAMES WALTERS—“Jimmy”—Five feet seven inches of big-heartedness. Clubs: Riology 1-2; Airplane 1-2. Ind. Arts 3; Roys’ Chorus 1-2; Operetta 1; Basketball 2-3-4; Baseball 3-1. V1 RGINIA SPENC ’ E R—”G i n n ie —W d 1 - k now n giggle-bug. Clubs: Dramatics 1-2-3-4; French 3-1; Art 3; Viking Saga staff 4; Jefferson Tests 3: Kent Tests 3; Paper Sales 3; Home Nursing Class 3. Dorothy IIrown era Blahcslcc Robert Frame Audrey lla .eltine Katherine Bristol Robert Gails Flora Huckleberry liHvema llclmbrecht James Walters Virginia Spencer 13

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Our mouths drooled as we lustily reaped our revenge. Unsuspecting freshmen cringed before our iron touch. It wasn’t too bad, though the committee had to turn Sherlock and track down one reluctant little lass. Our only complaint on our chicken supper was that we gave ’em too much to eat— truly constructive criticism. I won’t mention the incident of someone’s putting NaCl in a sugar bowl instead of what belongs there. Never say “no versatility” in our senior class—recollect our assembly ? Helen and Ruth wrote it, but that didn’t do the wowing. Barefoots “Cherry Blossom” Ring and a L’il Abner Holdson set a new style note —a bag dress and dirty feet and on them the feet in such condition looked good. Sloppier end-men there never were than Frame, Puffer, Holdson and Whipple. Whenever I hear “Chatanooga Choo-Choo” I think of their “Special.” Old grads trooped back to the Yuletide shindig and swung themselves to the music of Morrell Starks’ orchestra. Activity was our middle name. Representing us in behalf of basketball—the sport of Rowe—were Springer, Walters, Taylor, Wiley, Holdson, Hubbard and Knauff. Piloting of the “Pilot Light” was in Marian’s hands and scads of reporters scurried for fresh news, gossip, or inside dope on the kids. Snoopers and production whizs were Turner, Williams, Puffer, Scully, Ha-zeltine, Quinn, Nelson, Bunnell, Evans, Fogg and D. C. Browne. A sextette of singers, Frame, Holdson, Bunnell, Whipple, Gaus and Ring will make their “cheerios” to the a cappella choir. A projector, new in idea to almost every- SENIOR We the Seniors of Rowe High School, being of sound mind and memory, do make, publish, and declare this, our last Will and Testament, in manner following—that is to say: I, “Little” DOROTHY BROWN, bestow my incessantly shining sex appeal on Arlene Schlaich with the stipulation that she must receive at least ninety-nine and forty-four one, was the class gift to the school. This baloptican may be used to project on a screen any type of ordinary picture from a newspaer or book. It surely got plenty of work-outs during P. O. D. news report sessions. We admit our class doesn’t lack too many nit-witty people, but “Mr. Hyde,” Priscella,” “John Alden,” and “Lady Mac-Beth”—a “nut house”—and a dummy who is “murdered” rather exceed the limit for any one class. “Lunatics at Large,” had all these and more—excitement with a capital “E”, but definitely. Whipple, Fogg, Bristol, Frame, Puffer, Bunnell, Turner, Haz-eltine, Nelson, Holdson, Springer, Williams, Ashby and Wiley trod the boards for this laugh-and-scare killer-diller of a thriller. Then suddenly like toadstools, little signposts started bobbing up—they were all pointing toward “Graduation.” We were measured for gowns; then rings took the center of attention. We had our pictures taken; in rapid succession came cards, announcements, trip discussions, the “Saga” and class night. Like raindrops, matters new tc us began falling into our hands. I guess it’s all a part of becoming a senior—a complex individual, to say the least. Wanting school to end—yet, regretful because for some of us it may be our last taste of school life—outside that huge school of which we’ve heard so much and which now shall see for ourselves—the “school of hard knocks.” Our class motto was “Not for school, but for life, we learn.” Will this prove true? Time has the answer to this question within her covers. Ruth Scully, Class Historian CLASS WILL one hundredths per cent of the letters from handsome soldiers as I have. To Bill McCrone, I, KEITH ANDERSON transfer my unique facility for being absent from school at least three-fourths of the time—more if possible. If he can improve on this record, it is his privilege to do so. I, PATTY NELSON, will gladly my “sweet disposition” to Ruth Akerley (if it will do 15