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

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HEALY, broadcasting her weekly program, “Men Are a Menace,” or “How to Catch a Man in 10 Easy Lessons.” It didn’t take me long to agree with that title, so I snapped off the radio and reached over to awaken the driver. With a drowsy, “Where to lady?” he slid into high gear and in a flash I was breezing around a clover-leaf turn. After I collected my wits I stammered, “TUTTLE Toe Shovel Works.” Those feet, that hair—don't I know this guy? It’s RICH WHEELER, how could I forget him! At the same time RICH said—“Aren’t you— sure you are.” I asked him if he ever ran into any of the old gang. RICHIE replied, “Half of the class is on Main Street and the rest are somewhere in this neck-of-the-woods.” Giving me the low-down on some of them, he related that LISLE NORTON had been wandering from one job to another, trying to find himself, while his poor everlovin’ wife and six children are cold and hungry. We drove past Lakeville Memorial Hospital where CATHERINE “Butcher” KAKO performs all the major operations. The head nurse, HARRIET MONTGOMERY, was taking a south-sea cruise to cure her heart condition. Here we are at “TUTTLE Toe Shovel Works.” This is always another enjoyable stop, because my school chum, BETTY THAYER works here. I sauntered into the outer office and was ushered right into the manager’s inner sanctum. JACK’S report revealed that shovels are on the way out, even his type that you manipulate with your toe as you sit in a chair. On my way out, BETTY stopped me and invited me to bunk with her and take in a dance. Having nothing better to do, I promised to pick her up at four o’clock. Boarding the Whiz Dizzer, I landed on HIRSHEY Boulevard, with cwo jerks and several bumps. As I walked down the street, I noticed a sign that read “STEVIE'S Male Clinic.” It seems that THELMA STEPHENSON tries to trip male passers-by to interest them in her beauty salon. Continuing my walk, I was stopped by THELMA ATKINS PROPER, who breathlessly told me she must hurry home to put the roast in the oven, because she was entertaining LOIS GILLESPIE EVANS and family in just one hour. LOIS has her hands full with ten little tots to keep out of trouble. Is that a new city hall over there? Sure enough. Trying to cross the wide boulevard, I almost had an accident. Open manholes are dangerous. But what do you think was in that manhole—BOB MOISIO, now City Engineer. His blush gives him away every time. There on the windows of the streamlined City Hall appeared two names, J. ALLAN PUNKAR, Mayor, and STANLEY B. GRAHAM, City Solicitor. ALLAN apparently has done wonders for Lakeville, in his five years as mayor. Lakeville finally has succeeded in annexing the entire area which formerly extended out into the lake, reclaimed several square miles, and turned them into a wonderful boulevard and exclusive residential section. A loud crash in the street turned out to be a collision of two milk trucks. Upon examining them more closely, I found that they bore the name of “ARMSTRONG Moo-Juice, Inc. and “ASHBY Vita Pure Dairy. Looking again at the pieces of the ASHBY truck, I recalled reading in the PIER-PONT TIMES that RUTH injects a serum into her cows so they’ll produce vitamin enriched milk, buttermilk, chocolate milk, and thick milk shakes. On the ARMSTRONG truck appeared the slogan, “For strong arms and weak minds drink ARMSTRONG’S Vitamin IQ Double Zero Milk.” DICK would indulge in “corn”—as always. I heard he is still a bachelor and almost given up hope of ever winning BESSIE MAE. In the window of a hat shop, sat MARCELLA BEST, creating new hats, if that’s what you call them. On the corner, stood PAULINE KOS-TURA on a soapbox, trying to sell a cold cream that would make you beautiful overnight. All I could see was about fifty men—good prospects?? (continued on page 55) Page 20 if ★ ★ ★ it ★ -¥■ If we break faith with them we too shall fall

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Senior Class Prophecy Stepping briskly from my newly purchased prefabricated bungalow, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred sixty-six, I am about to embark upon a trip to my old home town, Lakeville. As secretary to the editor of “Button Your Lip and Open Your Ears,” a strictly industrial gossip collector, I sometimes manage to play hooky and get out on my own. The only sad feature is that my boss has sidestepped all my attempts to publish my column “Snobs at Jobs.” Now to get started—I’ll have to gas up my helicopter first. “High-Powered Stuff Depot” is just around the corner so I’ll hop over there. BILL COLBY is back in business again after spending a year in the hospital and he’s convinced now that high-octane gas and DDT will blow up bridges, but will not make automobiles fly. Now that his gas is back to normal I’ll be in that great metropolis of Lakeville in a flash. Pierpont to Lakeville is just a high dive—Here I am already at my first stop, the RANTA ROLLER. DON has been bankrupt six times due to the fact that he thinks there is a market for electrically - operated roller skates. Upon entering the building, I spied a vaguely familiar figure indolently pushing a broom. I know this fella sure enough—it’s HAP HARMON. I stopped to shoot the breeze and found out that JAMES has given up the ministry, as too exhausting, and turned to the more leisurely life of broom pusher. I pried myself away and stumbled into the front office. There I found the former KAY BOS ICK, now Mrs. JERRY “FLASH” PUFFER. She told me bitterly that JERRY hadn’t done so well with his professional ball playing. His fans tired of him because he never failed to make a basket, hit a home run, or break a track record. To avoid starvation, KAY now brings home the bacon for the nine little PUFFERS. While she tapped out a letter, I flopped down to fill out the blank for BOSS RANTA'S report. Glancing at the calendar, my eyes fairly popped at the slick-chick they saw thereupon sure enough it is JEANNIE WHEELER! Has she at last reached her coveted goal—to be a Varga Model? The scribbling in the corner also caught my eye. I finally deciphered the scrawl—MARILYN J ARVI. KAY was now loafing with her feet on her desk, so I questioned her as to the whereabouts of MARILYN. She said that the JARVI’S are in Farnham trying to keep their chickens on a twenty-four hour schedule. While in the vicinity of Farnham, KAY reminded me of two more of our schoolmates; MERLIN McCRARY and ROY HUSTON. who finding it impossible to live without cows, pigs, and open fields, operate farms on Center Rd. It seems that ROY has invented a solution that kills potato bugs, delouses farm animals, and bleaches hair; but to date dares not apply for a patent since he read through his old P. O. D. scrapbook and remembered there is still a Bureau of Standards. Startled by the shuffling of feet, and the slamming of a door, I wheeled around to find myself face to face with a tall, dark man. Gazing slowly upward, I finally recognized CLIFFORD “Gabby” OSBORNE. He was carrying a iittle black suitcase, bulging (so he said) with nylons which no one will buy since the market is so flooded with them. “Yes, he continued, “the world stands against me. I have to talk for my rights. How familiar that sounded! The buzzer summoned me into the manager’s office, and OZZIE had disappeared when I had finished my interview. Spying a taxi, I decided to ride on the ground for a change. When I reached the cab I noticed the driver indulging in a bit of “shut-eye.” His television set attracted me. The voice sounded familiar- and that figure. Of course, it is DORIS “Shamrock The call from mounds where tender grasses creep. ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ Page 19

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Class UJill We, the senior class of 1946, being surfeited with knowledge and believing ourselves to be of sound mind and body have hereby recorded our last will and testament to dispose of, as stated in the above-mentioned bequests, our most valued possessions as follows: To ED THAYER, I CLARENCE KENNEDY, do bequeath my ability to get up at 8:50, eat my wheaties, crank my jalogy at least three times, and dash into 307 before MRS. KITCHEN can erase my name from the absent slip. To NEAL WRIGHT, that dashing Romeo, I. JAMES HARMON, will my ability to stroll through the hall and to each good looking girl say, “Hi’ya baby, what’s cookin'?” They’ll love you for it, too. I, LYLE NORTON, do bequeath to BOB SHUMAKE, that dead eye with the rifle, my ability to be absent from school two to three days a week in hunting season. In handing in your excuse you’ll need plenty of luck; so always carry a rabbit’s foot in your hip pocket. To JOYCE ANN CHILDS and DOTTIE HEWS, we HARRIET MONTGOMERY and LOIS GILLESPIE will our giggle and noon excursions through the hall. I, CATHERINE KAKO, and I do not like to be called farmer, do bequeath my quiet air to PAT DAG-GITT hoping that she will benefit from it as I did. I, BETTY THAYER, do bequeath my all alluring personality to IMO-GENE CRAWFORD. This feat enables me to play “brat roles” without difficulty. I. DORIS HEALY. will to KATHERINE OSBORNE exactly 49 7-8 pounds so that you won’t be blown away in a strong gale. So that we shall always have apples in Lakeville, to CLEO RHOADES. I RICHARD ARM STRONG, alias DICKIE, will my share of the Ring estate. To TED HIRSIMAKI, I, DON RANTA, do bequeath my secret shaving lotion, Fade Away! After you use this, there’s no cluster in your duster. So that you'll always be a successful farmer. I, STANLEY GRAHAM, will to VIRGIL ANDES my love and affection for chickens, trusting you will donate two to the senior chicken supper as I did. So that the senior class may always have that bright glow, I, ROBERT MOISIO, will to JIM KANTOLA my blush. I wish I could really be rid of it that easily. I, MARCELLA BEST, do bequeath to MARTHA YOU HARR my recipe for delicious spaghetti. One warning —garlic is offensive to others. To keep MRS. KITCHEN amused I, ROBERT CHURCHILL, do bequeath to RAY FOGG my famous giggle. So that the Rowe cheering section will be noted throughout the country I, PAUL EVANS, will my atomic voice to MARION STEBLY. To my charming sister JANE, I BESSIE RING will this single statement: If ARMSTRONG and RHOADES think they’ll get the old man’s apples, they’re nuts. To BETTY CIDILA, I. JEANNE WHEELER, and you’d better start running if you call me “Beef,” do bequeath my ability to collect money from the seniors for worthy causes. To .anyone who is interested, I ROBERT JARVI, will my knowledge of and ability to fix flat tires. So that the teachers will not miss me, I, CLIFFORD OSBORNE, do bequeath to MILTON RUDLER the And we in unremembered graves may sleep. -¥■★★★ ★ ★ ★ Page 21