Sheridan High School - Syllabus Yearbook (Sheridan, IN)

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(Class fJniplu'ni announced, and, lo and behold, it was Edith MeMur-try, who, with her graceful interpr tation of the latest dances, forms an added attraction to the company’s program. Th' globe revolves still farther, and I am led to a tiny country inn. Down the road comes a man who looks tired and hot, for the summer sun is shining brightly. As he approaches a murmur of delight escapes his bps, for there under the tre?s( are several tab! s and a neat, white-clad figure is moving briskly about. As the gentleman sinks into a chair, a sc ne of mutual recognition takes place. “Karl Stout,” cries the lady and “Edith Bogan,” was the reply. Karl is manager of an orange g ove, in California. For a long time, he was th? ncg«ro character in a traveling show, but found it too hard work, so he chose his present occupation, becaus oranges require but little att ention. Edith is still unmarried, and is running this inn for the benefit of weary travelers. Again a graceful figure seems to stand by my side. It leads me to a large studio, and there, I see this same figuie demonstrating to a host of pupils, the wondr ful Hulu Hu!u danc?, which he has created. You had a member in your class, interested in thos danc s, did you not? Ah, Yes! It is LaMa r Hackleman, who is achieving a wonderful success in his chosen occupation. The spirit drawns me onward, until I come to a tiny town, and th -re on the porch of a largo farm house 1 see the slender form of a woman, and I hear her call softly “Short!” “Lela Grace Kercho-val,” burst involuntarily from my lips, “and that town is Tf rhune!” But the medium motioned impatiently for silence. Over her face pass.d a peculiar expression, and she continued rapidly. “I hear the shrill whistle of a train, and befoi me, I see a figure clad in khaki overalls, with grimy face, and hands.—Webster Smith! Hi is busily engaged examining the shining engine. O.i sti 1 fa thor tarns th? crystal globe, until I behold a brightly limited hall, packed with a vast mob of laboring men and women, who are listening eag rly, to the words as the flow from the lips of the speaker ar.d who is sh ? Why Edith Stahl, to be su e ;.nd she i poui ing forth, tears and sighs of lamentation, to say nothing of glorious praises, in memory of our honored stat sman “Teddy” Roosevelt who died so long ago. Standing? at the door of an old-fashined farm hous? is a tall, fashionably attired gentleman, who is demonstrating to a willing hous.wife the advantages of an electric cooker. It is Arnold Harris, who is making his fortune as a traveling salesman. He is receiving a handsome salary for his pleasing

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(Class Prophecy It was on.' of those warm, sweet-scented spring evenings, when the light of day lingers in a soft, purple haze over the earth, as though loth to depart from a world so fair. Even in the great city of Chicago, th noise of th crowd in streets, was hushed and still under the magic influence of the season. In my aimless stroll I noticed many p ople entering a brightly limited building, and so, having nothing else to do, I drifted with the crowd, into, I knew not what. But I was soon to be enlightened. It was a spiritualist meeting. Tables and chairs were arranged, and even tiny rooms were pa titioned, and equipped for individual revelations. Little did I realize what the night was to bring forth! List ming in a rather inattentive manner, to the preliminary speeches, 1 was surprised when at a low voiced command, th' room was suddenly flooded with a soft, rose-tinted light, and the m dium stepped forward. My interest increased. But what was that? She seemed almost to float down the aisle, and she stopped directly before me. My wonder kn w no bounds, and I was even more astonished when she bade me come with her to another room. To m1 she could reveal many things, and in words, strange and mystic she unfolded a story to which I listen'd in awe and wonder: From the realms of the infinite comes a white robed spirit of the long ago. Hark! It sp aks! Ah yes, ’tis the spirit of the class of '19, which graduated from Sheridan High School, and it bids me bring to you a message. The members of the class of ’19 are scattered as though blown by the four winds of Heaven, and in your travels you have met and recognized but few of them. In far-off Africa do you not rememb r that cheerful, busy, little woman whom the natives worship as the messenger from the Gr'at Beyond? That, my friend, was Alicr Mullen, nee’ Alice Young. She, with her husband, is doing a wond rful work among the Africans. Slowly, the earth turns, and as through a crystal globe, I behold another corner of the world. In a great theatre a hug - crowd breathlessly awaits the appearance of the new actor who is playing. Slowly th curtain rises, and there, on the stage is Ralph Parr, the wonder of the age. As a despairing, des-perat hero, he wins myriads of tears and sighs from every high school girl in Indianapolis. But when he plays the villain! Then he wins the h.'art of every lady, for who does not lov. a reckless, scoffing, yet handsome villain! From his magnificent salary of $‘15 per month, Ralph is saving 25 ernts each week for a future home. It is feared he has matrimonial int ntions. Alas for the girl’s matinee idol! At the end of the first act, a famous dancer was

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(Class personality and gallant ways with the ladies cause his sales to be enormous. The scone chang s. Under the tent of a great Chautauqua, the people are applauding loudly for an encore from the talented pianist, Miss Cecil Payne, who after playing for churches for many years, finally joined this company with the fond hop.) that perhaps she might some day captivate a Caruso. A scene of anxiety is next portrayed. In a large hospital bending over the operating table is a middle-aged, white clad man. His face shows that he is under a tremendous nervous strain. That man is Bemie Johnson, the wonderful brain specialist and on the table is Obart Purdy. Since- his Senior days back in 1919, Obart has exhibited a fatal tendency to torment everyone he knew, so now they are trying to make a useful citizen of him by an operation, which will endeavor to remove the source of his mischievous tendencies. Into the room, gliding swiftly and softly came a nurse, and as I look, the spirit tells me it is Helen Lanham, who is assisting her, now famous class-mate Bemie, in this critical case. Helen is neither smiling or giggling—a serious state of affairs, truly. The spirit is speaking of a lady, whom you knew as Belle Osborn, back in the days of '19. Belle, being interested in horses, decided to go west, and become a colt-breaker, but as the auto and aero- Pruphmj plan? has usurped the place which the ho'.'sa has held, she reconsidered the matter and is now a professional Ford driver. In a busy modiste's shop, a p.etty little lady is displayingi to an admiring audience some of the loveliest party frocks, direct from Paris. As she turns slowly, and with many dainty gestures, I see that it is I eno Willwerth, who is attracting much attention from the e’clat ol the city. Leaving this shop, and floating lightly down the street the ghost of ’10 leads me into the “Circle— the shrine of the silent art,” where I see a poster announcing that the famous comedian, J. War.-, n Stephenson, and his wife, who was formerly Miss Bemiice Inman, are positively appearing for the last time at this theatre. Be-niece has become a famous actr ss, and is now contemplating leaving th • movies, to go on the stage. And Frank Griffin—Do you not remember him? He is now a perman nt fixture at the main office of the No -dyke-Mormon Company where true to his nature, he keeps the pretty stenographers in a constant flutter of anxiety, having dates with first one and then the other of them. In the Union depot at Indianapolis a voice rings oba through the station. It is Wilmer Ogle, who is earning splendid wages as a train caller. Wilmer has tried many positions before he finally found one