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

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Bunnell, regretfully impart to Ray Fogg, my capacity for careful driving. Better do as I did, Ray, get a job at a funeral home just in case. I, Marjorie Tinney, contribute to Ruth Ashby my 76-inch waistline. Following faithfully my energetic routine of a pound of chocolates a day and no unnecessary exercise I am sure that you will have no trouble keeping your winsome midriff below 90 inches. To brighten the noon period for future seniors I, Clifford Osborne, surrender my title of “The Idol of Intra-Mural Basketball’’ to Bill Colby, who I hope will look upon his position as fervently and reverently as I have during my reign. Because there is an over abundance of “Dorothys” in the class of ’45 I, Dorothy Norton gladly give my first name to any under classman who wants a change. Before answering in class, be sure you’re the Dorothy that is being called on. I, Lois Wallace, resolving to show my gentler side do willingly leave behind me to Bessie Ring my gentleness on the basketball floor. But one word of warning— three fouls and you’re out. So that the seniors of ’46 will not find their English too dry I, John Ericksen, endow to Lyle Norton the right to entertain by stories, jokes, and personal philosophy the said English Class. Also, he should necessarily have my ability to write apologetic letters to Mrs. Kitchen. I, Jane Hibler, present to Kathryn Bosick my position as “Official Senior Piano Drummer”—always willing to play for devotionals at any teacher’s two minute notice. And Follow Well This Plan of Mine Having no more use for my little black book of telephone numbers and overseas addresses I, Dorothy Holbrook, will to Thelma Stephenson the said book. My parting with this badly-worn and trusty little book results from my decision to become a “Batchelor.” There must be a private secretary in the future senior class so I. Catherine Cole, turn over to Margaret Dewey the accuracy and speed with which I take shorthand dictation and type a letter. A temperamental typewriter, a leaky pen and Mr. Deevers’ gentle temper are requirements for success in the business course. To the junior who has a will of iron and a good fist to pound Mrs. Kitchen’s desk I, Howard Irish, decree my worthy position as President of the Senior Class. Still hoping myself to be in the good graces of the aforesaid parties I, Dorothy Cook, bequeath to a mentally deficient junior the pleasant ( ?) experience of writing the Senior Class Will. As we, the aforementioned seniors do leave the portals of our dear Rowe High forever as students, we hope that the seniors of ’46 will uphold and strengthen the vital spirit and growing accomplishments of our beloved Alma Mater. In witness whereof, we have hereunto subscribed our names this 31st day of May in the year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Forty-Five. Signed: Class of '45 Attorney: Dorothy Cook Witnesses: Seal:

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Since I can get into more things and bother more people that I, Delores Davis, grant to Lizzie Waddle, this talent for getting around (mostly in peoples’ way.) As Lizzie quite often airs her vocal chords she may have my coveted position as cheer leader. To Robert Moisio I, Dorothy Snow, reveal my recipe for sleeping in class. It’s simple. Only requirements are work ’til eleven and then study until two, the rest will come natural. In case Richie Wheeler may sometime have to stoop going through a doorway I. Tommy Kantola, allot to him a bit of my height. It may come in handy Rich, especially when your girl’s a little on the wee side (easy to reach, you know). To Harriet Montgomery I. Joanne Wright pass along my ability for dieting faithfully. My special slogan is—“always start tomorrow.” Not wishing the Vikings to break their seven-year championship record I, Richard Olson, will to sports-minded juniors my achievements on the hardwoods. May Rowe thus be enabled to continue its great record. It did embarrass me that I was a weakling and caught scarlet fever. To Robert Schlaich I, Pauline Cole, submit my half-pint mandolin and my repertoire of cowboy ditties. May your lusty (did I say rusty) voice be raised in many a salute to the land “under the starry skies above.” Sail Forth Into the Sea of Life I, Gordon “Radar’ Turner, a proud Boy’s Stater, leave to a public spirited junior boy this privilege. Here’s hoping he returns bearing the honor of having been elected Governor. So that Mr. Holdson will have someone to cross examine regarding farms and farmers I, Alex Elonen, offer said glamorous occupation to Merlin McCreary. Just one tip—be sure to get the seeds right side up. Knowing that Mrs. Kitchen would be unable to carry out her duties without the hearty “Good morning, good morning, good morning” I, Kay Graff, relinquish to Arnold Mackey my cheerful masculine voice, on the condition that he greet the said Mrs. Kitchen in the above prescribed manner, without fail, every day of his senior year. So that Lois Jean Gillespie will never be lacking in masculine escorts I, Mary Lu Torrence, reveal to her my secrets for attracting the opposite sex. These methods tested and approved, ara guaranteed to work on all males who are subjected to them. Having finally mastered the great art of manfully acquiring splinters from the bench during basketball games I, Robert Parker, award my patience to Allan Pun-kar, I hope he may beautifully adorn those glamorous side-line “easy chairs.” To Catherine Kako I, Altha Bates, assign my dangerous mission as the official Pilot Light gossip. Keep your nose for news well pointed and let your best friends and enemies beware. Believing that I have endangered enough lives and telephone poles I, Clair

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Class History When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth the separate and equal attention to which the laws of nature and nature’s God entitled them, a decent respect to the opinion of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impelled them to that separation. Therefore I shall endeavor to relate in as few words as possible the events which led up to this separation and resulted in this declaration of independence. Twelve years ago, we the class of ’45, leaving our carefree kindergarten days behind, formed these bands by starting our school life at Farnham, Amboy and East Conneaut. Our trials started on that very first day. As an example I will cite the case of Altha Bates who had to stand in the corner because she talked to the little boy sitting across from her. A very unjust punishment she thought for how else can you make friends but by talking to them? The first few months seemed full of these unjust punishments until we learned there are some rules you must abide by for the good of other people. In the meantime we learned our numbers and A. B. C.’s and by the time the year was over we felt pretty smart because we could read and add just like grown-ups—almost. It seemed that the next few years until the eighth grade passed very rapidly with minor incidents here and there to remember. Cookie never will forget Would remind them forevermore when someone batted a baseball right into her face; it hit her on the nose and hurt “something awful!” The eighth year is the one we all can remember the clearest. In Farnham Mrs. Wellman started the first Junior A Cappella Choir with great success. We had robes and were very proud of ourselves until we heard a recording of our voices. Then we thought we sounded too much like babies and not enough like the Rowe High A Cappella Choir. This also was the year we met as one group to take our I. Q. test at Rowe. We all looked at each other and thought, “Will I ever know the names of all those kids?” Soon after this ordeal was over we obtained our diplomas and said good-bye to elementary school. Many of us from Amboy and Farnham wondered if we ever would learn what to do and where to go when the bells rang and a few had horrible nightmares of getting lost in that big high school. Finally, however, September of that memorable year, 1941, arrived and fifty-five of us were ushered into our big freshman room feeling very small and insignificant among all the strange faces. To top this off the upper classmen were leering at us from the open doorway as if we were a cage of monkeys in a zoo. I believe the first thing the teachers noticed was that we seemed to be addicted to pushing our books out of our desks. They said each class had some peculiarity and this was ours. After a few days we discovered high school was not as scary as we had thought it was going to be. In fact we might admit we were having a great deal of fun. Even the initiation wasn’t as bad as the seniors pretended they were going to make it;