St Johns High School - Blue Devil Yearbook (Darlington, SC)

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To Rosalie Hyman, the noted mathematician who so much fame has been gaining, Marion Siskron leaves his geometry book and his knowledge thereto appertaining. When the school bell rings on Monday morning early, in walks Miss Pettis with her hair nice and curly. We like her so much with her tresses this way, we leave her some tongs to use every day. V ou may think of all you’ve ever heard, this bequest the strangest and most absurd, but to Miss Lucy Wilson whose dimples are so sweet, we leave our slender Libba’s the collection to complete. We’d never deny Miss Brooks’ ability to express her sentiments with greatest facility. But slang, oh my gosh, does she use it? I betcha. She says “Here there kid are you wise, yes, I getcha.” So we leave her a Webster with this good advice: “Learn from its pages language that’s nice.” To M iss Marshall who’s taught us the wonderful skill of writing poems at leisure and essays at will, we leave our beloved note-books so neat and so clear. She may use them as models for her Seniors next year. lo Miss Rikard who we hear has other plans in mind, and is being lured from us by the little god so blind, we leave our joint petition that she will not move away, but in a shady cottage near the campus ever stay. I o Mrs. Dargan who in the culinary world doth excel, we leave meringue that won’t stiffen, and jello that won’t jell, oil that won’t ally with Humpty Dumpty’s yellow heart, pots and pans that will not shine though the Gold Dust Twins take part. I o the newest teacher at St. John’s we leave our surplus knowledge, because we’ve finished with high school and shan’t need it at college. And, Mr. Thomas, you must know, we’re giving this with pleasure and hope you will bestow it upon the freshmen at your leisure. With eyes of grey and curls of red there is no better hue, or nothing more becoming than a lovely shade of blue. In Mr. Cobb’s complexion these gorgeous tints are blended; so a necktie blue we give him, and hope he’s not offended. Mr. Gainey, will you as usual take note, as a clause that interests you 1 am now about to quote? We leave to you a big bass drum, a violin, and horn, to trumpet forth your praises forever and anon. To Mr. J. C. Daniel who rarely on us calls, we present our photos to hang upon his walls—and remind him in the future as he passes by to drop in on the Seniors who dwell in St. John’s High. With us Miss Brunson has had trials galore, her joy must be keen since she’ll have us no more. For all of her troubles this is recompense small; but we leave the love of her Seniors—one and all. To all of our schoolmates from whom we must part, we leave old St. John’s, beloved of each heart. And may you guard her honor as a jew el rare and by your lives keep her fame ever fair. —Elizabeth Hyman, ’26.

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Gifts for All Although this isn’t legal, we hope it will hold and to the Juniors, our heirs, prove dearer than gold. We ask the Soph- omores, those creatures so wise, to act as executors upon our demise. To Rena Buchanan, as hig as a min- ute, Dot Hilh leaves a dress and enough to go in it. Oh Wallace, Wallace, we hear that you aspire to the love of Miss Fulton— your heart’s one desire. We are your friends, and this wish we’ll not spurn— her heart you may keep, but her affection return. Mary James, of whose primping you often have heard, leaves her paints and her powders to that dude, Murray Byrd. Marion Yates, so shy and demure, has recently attempted the maidens to lure; and so to help make this laddie a beau, we demand that for advice to Marion he go. That Titian haired beauty, fair Senie Mozingo, says: “I’m tired of red hair, I am by Jingo.” So to Mel Lever, a girl whom we all admire, we give these flaming tresses to adorn her attire. To shine at the parties and give him a chance, Johnson leaves Adrian Spears his beloved long pants. Now David tells us ’tis his great desire to bestow his young heart on Andrea Hoffmeyer; and since this arrangement will make Everett a grouch, we direct that Lurline shall comfort Mr. Couch. Ruby Arnold’s wit as a very great bargain, she’ll exchange for a smile from one Ervin Dargan. Oh Thomas, Thomas, to make you look wise we leave you some glasses to cover your eyes. But even these your ignorance won’t hide, unless by your teachers you obediently abide. Edmund Grant is faithful and true, and we know he’ll do what we tell him to, so we leave him a gift we feel he’ll like well,—the much desired honor of ringing the period bell. Lucille has the knack—though we wouldn’t call her shy—of being ready for Miss Brunson with a perfect alibi; this unsuspected talent which she’s brought to perfection, she now gives to Quitman as a shield and protection.

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Chronicles All the school’s a stage, and all the pupils merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one child in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Pulling and jerking at his mother’s hand As she leads him on to the stage. Frightened little players were we, huddled in Miss Carrie s room that bright September day. Before long, however, we began to observe rules and learned to play our simple roles—but not for keeps! Well do we remember the day when, for the first time, some of our number were kept in; how we hated to go home, leaving Mary Hill and Rachel behind! By September, 1916, all the newness had worn off and we were proud to take part in the next scene! Charles joined us now, a curly-haired little actor who proved very popular with the cast to the end of the play. Third grade was the year of the Great Plague. None of us escaped. 1 was hard on Elizabeth Hyman to be kept in after two weeks quarantine for spelling the disease Rosa Iola.” Thus with broader experiences and thinner legs we shuffled off the stage, as the curtain fell on the third scene of the act. Then the whining boy with satchel And shining morning face creeping Unwillingly to school. And the laughing girl, With lunch-basket in hand, Skipping happily to school. The theatre of school life was now a reality—a hideous reality to the boy who preferred marbles and tops; a pleasant one to the girl who liked to play to an audience. Ruby joined us this year; J. L., too, who played the part of clown to perfection—a role which has ever won for him loud applause from the gallery. Fifth year, the last scene of Act II, was rather a melodrama. Do you remember the tragic scene—when we elected to go to a fire across the creek without permission? We went only to the trestle, but Mr. Daniel met us there. The penalty was conning lines in chapel thirty minutes daily fer a week. This year a pretty little boy (Harry Gilbert, by name) joined the cast a d did his part toward making our act successful. Then the sixth and seventh graders Freckled faced lad with rag on toe; And lanky lass with here and there A missing tooth. Proudly wc entered the stage for the first scene of Act III a new theatre - St. John’s High School. However, most of us made frequent return-trips to the old theatre, bearing little yellow slips bespeaking failures. Here, Senie first shed the light of her presence—anti her hair—upon us. Another addition was Marion Siskron. Thus, with dear Miss Dargan, as prompter, this scene came to a successful end.