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

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served, provided she and her dandy use them only when Hube and I are busy elsewhere. I, HAROLD BELNAP, transfer with joy to Richard Bunnell all of my beautiful blue “dan-Dees” and red “Fines” in chemistry. I, HELEX-ON-THE-LAKE FOGG, bequeath my rights during school hours on Richie Wheeler to Robby Puffer with the agreement that he keep all the girls away from said Richie. To Phillip Puffer, I, JOHNNY HOLDSON, will my throne—a dirt mound—and as king of the Hillbillies, I command him to keep the future seniors from feudin’ too much during meetings at noon. To Bernice Hershey, I, LOIS WILLIAMS, bequeath my ultra-modern hair styles, which have led me to fame—did I say something? Here is the formula, wash it once a month, curl on one and one-half inch strips of bright red and green cloth, allow to dry, comb into curls—come to school and let the boys pull it out—result: hair-do of the future. I, RICHARD TAYLOR, hand that unde-finable “something” which makes me the Robert Taylor of Rowe to Gene Spieldenner. To Bernadene Yusko, I, RUTH SCULLY, leave all my excursions to Yankee Lake with the agreement that it is to be Phil who takes her there, as Richard of Jefferson did me. So that the tradition of having at least one sailor in the Senior class, I, CHARLES RILEY, award this trying assignment to Fred Hirsimaki. If he maintains this tradition faithfully I shall give him another prize possession that he should appreciate— that of postponing appointments, but “Re member Pearl Harbor.” I, MABLE SMITH, lavish on Delores Davis exactly forty-one pounds and ten and one-fourth ounces as I have heard she needs a little excess ballast and I really don’t need it—or do I ? I, ALBERT HUBBARD, impart with my many dates with “overtown” girls to Archie Buie. May he have as many classy times as I—you see I must settle down to just one •blond, two brunettes, and one redhead now. To Betty Jack Wright, I, AUDREY CLINE, donate my original tittering as I must be a lady from no on out in the cold, cold world. May it get her into as much trouble as it did me. I, DORIS BUNNELL, turn over to Harriet Smith my bespoken honor of having all the mirrors I need. But in investigation she is conceded the wee sum of 15; one in each book, one in every coat pocket, two in her locker, and three in her purse. To Grace Hall, I, HAZEL KIRKWOOD, offer my chemistry book in hopes that she will open it more than I did. If she carrys out this trivial mission faithfully, I am sure Mr. Ward will appreciate it. To Christine Jones, I, ELOISE EVANS, grant my high rank in the United States Navy, provided she leaves the sailor with a label “hands off” alone. Beach is reserved for me. I, WALTER CHAMPLIN, bequeath my technique of being the blushing senior of Rowe to John Mononen. If he loses this trait, he must turn it over to someone else more adept at the business of blushing. To Esther Montgomery, I, “Big” DOROTHY BROWNE, will my graceful art of ballet dancing. On an after thought she had better practice every day, but be sure to do this on the ground floor. I, MONA WARD, bequeath exactly 4 and 1-2 inches of my waistline and 3 inches of my height to Betty Hall, I am positive she doesn’t need it. To Ida Mae Jones, I, FAYE STACK, surrender my willowy figure with the stipulation that she has to drink one pint of milk every noon plus one orange, and at least one candy bar, and stand on her head in the northeast corner of the gym. I, MARIAN COLE, will my talent as the Bette Davis of Rowe to Jean Conway—May she participate in as many activities as I have. To David Jacobs, I, JUNIOR ASHBY bequeath the position of the Nelson Eddy of the Senior class, I hope they don’t laugh at you as much as they did at me when I sang. I, VIRGINIA SPENCER, bequeath the enjoyable (ha, ha) job of writing the Senior class will to everyone who thinks he is unfit for the undertaking. In Witness Whereof, we have hereunto subscribed our names this 28th day of May in the year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Forty-two. SIGNED: Class of ’42 Attorney—Virginia Spencer WITNESSES SEAL 17

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her any good) to be used only to keep Bob Herb in hand. We, HAROLD WILEY and RICHARD SPRINGER, hand over to Ike Kent and Bill Neal all of our dates with Conneaut girls— except two—(everyone knows who they are) provided they don’t go out with the same one twice in one week. To Pauline Petaro, I, DOROTHY KOPP, donate my efficiency on the basketball floor with the agreement that she will fumble the ball five times to my ten. 1, FLOYD BATCHELOR, present to Joe Schor my position as Rowe High’s “Singing Cowboy.” (Of course, there are several strings attached.) He must come up to the Senior room every noon and serenade the fairer (?) sex. To Mid Maki, I, ROSE PROLONG, bequeath my fantastic notions on fashions. May she use them to the best advantage in snaring her one and only. I, PAUL WHIPPLE, alias “Parson Paul,” impart with my impulsiveness and aptitude for always arguing myself into a predicament to Bryce Bryant—for the benefit of the teachers (so they won’t forget me) in good old Rowe High. To Donna Mae Clark, I, KATHERINE “0. K.” BRISTOL, bequeath my unlimited imagination and yarn spinning. She must answer to me if she doesn’t keep the ball rolling. I, CHARLES DEVEREAUX, leave to Ben Roberts my “Super Snazzy Snooze Society” of which I am president. The members consist of me, myself, and I. It goes into session every day in English class—no violations permitted. To Elsa Kesatie, I, FLORA HUCKEL-BERRY, will the task (?) of being certain “not” to have her French paper so Mrs. Kitchen can have someone to scold. But I caution her not to try it too often—Pm speaking from experience—ask Katherine. I, WILLARD PUFFER, gladly hand to Charlie Sippola my questionably warm spot in Mr. Ward’s heart because he’ll need it ir chemistry. To Kate Nelson, I, AUDREY HAZEL-TINE, present my simple duty of supporting the future senior class by purchasing two or three candy bars every noon — may her shadow never grow less. To Clifford Osborne (the lucky guy), I LEONARD BLOOD, leave my passion for women and if he keeps this fire burning brightly, I shall also dub him the “Romeo of Rowe.” To Waynie Wheeler, I, RUSSELL KNAUFF, render my facility for dashing into the room lust two seconds before the tardy bell rings, agreeing that he will make it one second if Mrs. Kitchen will kindly allow him to do so. I, JUNE RING, surrender the job of being the “Delilah” of Rowe to Geraldine Kennedy, with the stipulation that she must find another Sampson somewhere other than in Jefferson. But Heaven help her if she gets the razzin’ I got. To Kay Graff, I, EDWARD STEPHENSON, will my brain (?) and my brawn(?) and my super-farm ability with the understanding that he must get himself evicted from the library once a week and have an argument with at least one teacher a day. I, NAOMI BRADY, present my weakness for sailor boys to Dot Rapose. I’ll sympathize with her when she’s left to sit at home while the boats are out. I, ROBERT FRAME, grant to Emerson Page all of my prevailing chemistry memories involving my quips and cranks plus the broken test tubes and the everlasting smells which issue forth from the lab. I, VERA BLAKESLEE, allot my proficiency (and I DO mean technique) of speechlessness to Muriel Ericksen. May she have more success than I. To William Greenfield, I, ROBERT GAUS, assign my position as Mrs. Kitchen’s joy and consolation with the understanding that he should keep her reminded of the previous senior class (and me). I, LAVERNA HELMBRECHT, bequeath to Louise Carey all my different coughs and giggles—very effective too—as I won’t have need of them now that I am grown. I, JAMES WALTERS, will my petite niche by the fountain near 307 to Bob Herb only on the condition that he and Ruth are to occupy it every noon and all other convenient times (without getting caught.) To Helen Fisch, I, MILDRED TURNER, hand over my flarey temper—as you might need it—but I have found that it gets a person no place fast. To Altha Bates, I, MURIEL QUINN, present all Sunday nights—personally re- 16

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...SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY One bright day, May 28, 1950 to be exact, I was sitting in my cubby hole of an office marked, “Miss Bristol, Superintendent, Rowe Memorial Hospital ' dreaming of days long since past when there came a knock on the door. Bulling my legs off the desk and parking my gum under the chair for future use, 1 bellowed, “Come in! In walked a student nurse, Mildred Turner, who having gone through three colleges, Princeton, Harvard and Yale disguised as a man had finally found her true profession, holding her patients’ hands. “ upey, she cried, “there’s been an accident out front. As we dashed out with stretchers across our backs, I supposed that that lazy janitor and ambulance driver, Floyd Batchelor, was sleeping again as he used to do in study hall at Rowe High. Once outside we found Keith Anderson, buried beneath the debris of his ancient 1928 car, “Hayrack,” with his girl friend the glamour girl of the screen, Hedy L. Brown or if you prefer, Dorothy Jane Brown, beside him. After lugging these two into private rooms, I stopped in to see Mrs. Howie Mast who was visiting her three children who had pedicurus, a new disease of the feet. Mrs. Mast had been our farmer Faye Stack until a wintry day in 1942 when she had said, “Yeah, man. The day’s work had tired me so I decided to go to a movie. As 1 passed out the door 1 gazed again at the plaque,“This hospital donated by Edward Stevenson to his native city, Conneaut. Ed had become a multimillionaire you know. At the show “The Fleacatcher,” I saw Richard Taylor-ed pants playing the leading role of the hero and his heroine, Patrio Nelson. Patrio or Patricia had continued her stage life after her tremendous success as Elaine in our senior play at Rowe. The film story of “The Fleacatcher had been scribbled off by Willard Puffer. Mr. Puffer had written two best sellers, “What Happens to Bed-Bugs When You Step on Them and “The Case of the Crook With B. O. After leaving the theater I stopped at the “Ye Olde Browne-Brady Cookie Shoppe where Dorothy K. Browne and Naomi Brady had gone in cahoots and were chiseling people by using sawdust instead of graham Hour in their cookies. I asked Dot what had become of Audrey Cline and Hazel Kirkwood and she told me to take a gander out in the kitchen. There to my amazement I saw Hazel parked on a chair kneading dough with her feet and with great tears rolling down her cheeks. She kindly informed me that Nick and Dote were too broke to buy salt for the bread so she had to supply it with her salty tears. Audrey Cline was standing on her head drilling holes in bread and drawing out the insides to use as biscuit dough. Leaving the four chiselers I sauntered along Main Street when I saw a sign above Peltons marked “Come in and see Vera Blakeslee from Broadway ballet dance and receive a lollipop free. By the Sugar Bowl I met the former Muriel Quinn now Mrs. H. Todd dragging three tots by the arms. All were screaming for ice cream, including Muriel so 1 invited them all inside where we found Harold “Dutch Wiley and his wife Shirley running the joint. Muriel whispered, “He must have learned the business hanging around here so much in his senior year at school. Departing hence, I traversed toward the City Hall where our old pal, Russell Knauff was sitting on the mayor’s chair. Russ was puffing on a vile smelling se-gar and had a prop under his stomach to keep it in place. Remembering how Russell would dash in the room fifteen seconds before the tardy bell would ring, I wondered how in the world he ever got to his meetings on time. I went in to speak to him and his two secretaries Mona Ward and Laverna iHelmbrecht. Mona and Laverna were still old pals and they went to their work each morning in their plane, which was now parked on the top of the city hall. Leaving the sitting hall I strolled into the park where Robert Frame, home on furlough from the Navy was sitting in the fish pond teaching the goldfish to use a periscope as they swam. As we stood talking, along came Leonard Blood and Charles Devereaux swinging their billy clubs. Yes, in these two mighty graduates of Rowe lay the hope of 18