South High School - Tiger Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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THE CLASS A N N U A L OF ’06 25 YE EDITORS’ EXPLANATION N RESPONSE to a demand, a loud and thundering demand for the “Class of ’06“ to appear in print, we, the editors, launch this, our attempt, upon the troubled seas of literary merit and contemporary criticism. Certain set principles, fixed by the Fates, in the early ages of the whining school-boy, we suspect, and subsequently sanctioned, since the days of Demosthenes, by every class, senior or otherwise, that has dared to submit to cold type and glaring publicity, its inmost thots and most solemn secrets; certain set principles, we sav, demand that such a chronicle as we now intrust to the gentle treatment of our coldly sympathetic victims must contain a class poem, a class will, a class history, a class prophecy and perchance a few class jokes. Altho we have a will, yet we cannot, nay, considering the lands thru which we have gone in the course of preparation for this volume, we dare not ignore such worthy precedent and here you find recorded to the best of our prose and poetical ability all these necessary requisites of a truly classical and eminently successful class annual. We beg you to remember when an impulse and a few stray words that have slipped in between these covers leads you to clench your metaphorical fists at us, that “he who laughs last laughs best” and that it was all well spoken and must be well taken, according to some ancient doctor’s prescription. And now, lest we forget, we thank all of our friends who have so kindly and trustfully aided us in the enterprise ; we remember with special gratitude our advertisers. (May they never regret their patronage.) We ask forgiveness from all whom it may concern; and with shaking knees, quivering pen and a queer, undiagnosible palpitation of the heart, we submit this tome to thee. Be thou gentle with it, we pray. The Editors.

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24 THE CLASS A X X U A L ’0 6 O F SCOTT MODERNIZED Breathes there a man with soul so dead. Who never to himself has said, “I guess I’ll just skip school today,” Who while in classes ne’er hath yearned To foreget all he’d ever learned And stay out doors in sunny May? If such there breathe, go mark him well. For him no pleasant raptures swell. He takes his seat in English Lit. Recites his lesson, every bit. From Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Scott, Until the atmosphere gets hot, In Virgil he is on the verge Of knowing every Latin word. Its origin, its use, its case, He spiels it off with shameless face. In history the class all hist While he goes flying down the list From Norman Bill to San Juan Hill Until you wish he’d take a pill. He knows his German and his French; He needs no book beneath the bench. In chemistry, with unaffected grace, His looks adorn the venerable place. Rules from his lips prevail with double sway. And those who know it not begin to pray That he’ll recite all they don’t know, And on the easy parts give them a show. Now, you ask, who’s this great phenom? Is his name Charlie, Dick, or Tom? I do not know, I cannot say, I’m sure of this much anyway, It is not I, nor does he mix With the dear old class of Nineteen-Six. —Harry Kittell.

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26 THE CLASS A N X U A L 0 6 O F ABC FOR FRESHMEN A is for Ardence, a quality found In freshmen and others quite as unsound. B is for Brains, brimming over with knowledge; You think you know more than a man just from college. C is for Carefulness, loaded with which You fear being found asleep at the switch. D is for Digging in books you’d best wave; Or, the first thing you know, they’ll be digging your grave. E is for Easy. You do all they say, You’ll die of brain-soft’ning some not distant day. F is for Freshmen; remember you’re it; The nerve of you all almost gives me a fit. G is for Goodness and Greenness and Gawk. To see you are these takes no eye of a hawk. Let us stop here and say, with hearty good will. We wish you success in your climb up the hill; For, though, like Macaulay, we patronize those Whom we see trying hard to improve on our prose. We, also, in truth to the justice we own, Must admit that we’re not like the Pope on his throne; But just human beings, no more and no less. And, as such, we all wish you the height of success.