South High School - Tiger Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

Page 13 text:

THE CLASS A X X U A L OF ’06 11 GHass Itahuutr As Things Might Be Dramatic {Irranuar Ed. Clark.........................Me phis to Perry Leonard .... Central High Dude Belle Wolpy . . . Imp Attendant on Mephisto Florence Foster..................Fortune Tel (Club fflrmbrra Harry Kebbbll Frank Lawler Lars Rand Nellie Erb Harry Nordlby Esther Carlson Benj. Pecabb, Rainy Foot Tillie Will Sol Fligelman, a Doctor Idah Grey Jay Elliot Virginia Slover Jake Lampert, Chauffeur Bertha Sanford Suriirttif (Stria Martha Brinsmaid Charbbttb Kimmerbe Marie Lidma May.me Bailey Scene—Hades, Club Room of Shades, Haunts, Shadows Time—1936.

Page 12 text:

10 THE CLASS ANNUAL OF ’0 0 But their fearful first-year folly Left them soon and studious mien, Soon possessed their childish faces As they strolled across the green. Now they call themselves grave sophomores, Take all knowledge for their stores, Now, they know all South High’s secrets, Even know of Miss Kerr’s doors. Science’s path of arcs and angles, Troubles erstwhile peaceful breasts, While brave Caesar’s fighting legions. Puzzling, throng thru Latin tests. Now the Prof, begins to know them. They’ve abandoned specs and frowns And instead they’re jolly juniors And appreciate their clowns. German, French and grave orations Never trouble e’en their dreams For the fighting years are over And they’re floating down the streams Cooked and roasted, ever jollied, Jollying they glide along, Still pretending, still just bluffing, Ice cream bricks is now their song. But Blue and Gold waves o’er the tower Of that little red school house Into A room seniors wander All as quiet as a mouse; The busy whisper now is silent, Vergil’s charms the tongue doth bind, Spheres and Frustrums with peroxide Settle deep into each mind. For the class of blue and golden For the class of 19-6 Is the class of grave great seniors And to them all knowledge sticks; Hearts are fast together woven .ana by memory’s mystic loom. The golden cloth will soon be finished And hung in auld acquaintance room. But should you ask me whom we envy As we journey toward the styx I should answer I should tell you Just the class of 19-6. Sing ye legions of the South High, Sing your alma mater’s praise. But remember, oh remember We are they of olden days. T. W.

Page 14 text:

12 THE CLASS ANNUAL OF 06 SCENE Shades’ Haunts and Shadows’ Club Rooms. Harry Kittell m sits reading. Enter Perry Leonard as Central boy. Perry—By jinks! what a bang-up joint this is! First decent dump I’ve bumped into since I got chucked off the earth yelling. “South High’s on the bum !’ ’ Play me a game of dominoes? Kittell—(jumping up and grabbing his throat) No! I’ll not! This is the Shades, Haunts and Shadows’ Club of 00. I’ll have you know! See? Skidoo! Go down to the boilers where you can light your cigarette. Greer’s waiting for all you chappies down west of the great coal beds. Clear out, now, you Central dude! Leonard—(bowing mockingly) Ah ! pardon me. Are you his majesty? Kittell—No; but I am his special photograph agent. Vamoose! I say. Leonard—Why, certainly; sorry to have troubled you. See you later likely, your highness. (Exit.) Kittell—(grinning) Don’t worry; Central’s quarters are a trifle too near the Stygian equator for us. (Enter Nellie Erb.) Nellie—For de land’s sakes, honey, what’s that? Kittell—(burying his face in paper) Those Central dudes needn’t think they can run this place as long as I’m boss of this ward. I sent him down where he can see a practical illustration of how his majesty applies the laws of ebulition. Beastly dull here; almost as bad as civics classes. Nellie—Oh say! I saw Westerson the other day when 1 went down the Orcus to sell some of that new soap—don’t chap, roughen or redden the hands; makes the skin soft, smooth, white and as free from pimples and freckles as a baby’s. Perry Leonard’s manufacturing it. I’ll bring you some some day. Well, as I was saying. I met Westerson when I was canvassing. He caused Baron Munchausen and a few other joke writers contemporaneous with Methuselah to bring a suit of plagiarism against him. He vowed he’d never stolen anything but green apples and jam from his mother’s pantry, but a jury, composed of whispering zero getters from his civics classes found him guilty, and he was sentenced to staring an owl out of countenance six months a year for sixty years. He’s grown so portly and Hadesified I wouldn’t have known him if he hadn’t raised his eyebrows at me. (Enter Lars Rand; the group exchange greetings.) Nellie—Oh boys, listen to this clipping from the “Black and Orange Gazette”!— There was a young fellow named Rand, And he had considerable sand. When he went out to walk, He did nothing but talk— And Hazel thought she’d like him canned.