Tuscola High School - Tuscolian Yearbook (Tuscola, IL)

Page 25 text:

THE TUSCOLIAN 19 To Eunice Roles we leave Irene Dickinson’s chocolate colored “bob.” To Bill Morris we leave Helen Hollingsworth’s knowledge of Chemistry. To Ruth Skinner we bequeath a trifle of Maud Hallowell’s extra avoirdupois. Clarice Voelkel’s singing and dancing ability we leave to Paul Williamson. To Mable Calimese we will Cozetta and Virgiealena Grigsby’s meekness. To Blanche Leonard we will Estella Roy’s clicking heels. Alliece Warren’s vari-colored shoes we will to Oma Cedusky. To the whole High School we leave Wilma Cedusky’s surplus rouge. To Eleanor Landers we leave Doris Drinkwater’s extremely modern ideas. To Rachel Morris we bequeath Frances Fullerton’s ability to make good grades in Typewriting. To Paul Rice we leave Max Vest’s ability as a basket-ball player. To Helen Larimore we wish to leave Lyra Bird’s ability as a basketball player. To Nellie Schroeder we leave Anna Smith’s smiling lips. To William Schiedeman we bequeath VVilna Tresenwriter’s dimple. To Edward Bailey we leave Donald J. Rose’s good complexion. Fred Williams’ bell bottomed trousers we bequeath to John Davis. To Laurence Alverson we leave Ruth Pogue’s facial expression while singing. Helen Schiedeman’s amiable disposition we bequeath to Christine Hutson. We will Clarabelle Henson’s ability to make masculine friends to Evangeline Cain. Duly signed and witnessed this 27th day of April, 1923. Signed: Wilna Trksenwriter, Secretary, Class of ’23. Witnesseth: Glen S. Hiers, Helen Pringle. (SEAL) —C. H„ ’23.

Page 24 text:

18 THE TUSCOLIAN Last Will and Testament of the Class of ’23 The last will and testament of the class of 1923, of the city of Tuscola, County of Douglas, State of Illinois, made this 27th day of April in the year of our Lord, one thousand, nine hundred and twenty three. We, the Senior class of 1923, of the said city of Tuscola, being of sound mind, do hereby make, publish and declare this our last will and testament. First: We leave in trust to the class of 1924, our vivacity, vim, and vigor, and we charge them to use said characteristics zealously. Second: We bequeath to the class of ’24 our access to the reference books in Civics and American History. Third: It is our wish that the class of ’24 receive our ability always to seem happy and carefree, yet always to be there with the goods. To our fellow students of the class of ’24, we will and bequeath Russel Smith’s Ford for class use. To Charline Lester we bequeath Ruth Gates’ attraction for Bill Clapper. To Amelia Schroeder we will Irene Fry’s stature. To Gladys Lewis we bequeath Harriet Michener’s “Daily Dozen” reducing exercises. Emma Phillips’ ability to characterize a French maid we give to Pauline Featheroff. To Lenore Lewis we will and bequeath Ferris Morgan’s “numerous” suitors. To Curtis Marsh we will Mary Moorehead’s ability to translate Cicero at sight. To Tat Hackett we leave Cully Monroe’s art in making speeches before the assembly. To Freeman Fortner we leave with pleasure Harriet Jane Bell’s ability to lose her voice. We will Lottie Brannan’s lip stick and tweezers to Cecil Green. To Philip Read we bequeath Dorothy Shreve’s artistic tendencies. To Ava White we will Glen Thompson’s loquacity.

Page 26 text:

20 THE TUSCOLIAN SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY A distinguished looking person was aimlessly sauntering down Sixth avenue in Paris gazing at the many advertisements in some of the overcrowded shop windows. This person was commonly known as Fred L. Williams, president of the National Baseball Players League. While waiting for an interview with Mr. Glen A. Thompson, the city’s great cartoonist, Fred was attracted by a certain sign swinging to and fro in an unusual manner. He hesitated, felt in his pockets, nodded with satisfaction, and proceeded to walk in. The interior was gloomy, but having accustomed himself to the twilight, Fred saw many oriental articles, including a rug, some vases, and a dark-eyed maid with slanting optics, who on his entrance disappeared immediately. Fred with the indifference to outside elements which characterized him in his youth, for he had been young once, sat down and waited. Presently, from behind mysterious oriental curtains, a short dark lady glided silently into the room. Seating herself comfortably at a small table, and having adjusted her silken robes, she fixed her piercing black eyes on Fred’s blue ones making him so uncomfortable that to break the silence he said, “Oh Goddess of the Orient, judging from the sign on your door, you have been chosen to enlighten the inhabitants of your city. I have come to you seeking to know what paths of life my old school mates have taken.” She nodded her red turban and set many rings to bobbing in her ears, but not a word came from her cherry tinted mouth. Slowly she drew from somewhere a crystal ball and placed it on the table beside an ouija board. “Well,” she said, and waited. Evidently Fred did not know what she meant, for he sat as still as a mouse. She tried once more. “Signals,” she said. Immediately Fred was aroused and responded: “Oh, you must know that I graduated in the class of ’23 of T. C. II. S., and in the race for fame and dollar I lost sight of my pals. Tell me, before I burst with curiosity, what has become of them.” Staring into the magic ball, the woman began: “It is gratifying to note the distinction enjoyed by one who, in the dawn of his career, at school, gave promise of the remarkable abilities which have since been of such inestimable value in the various spheres in which they have been exerted. Recognizing that the exhibition of capacity for successfully handling small affairs would prepare him for the administration of more important duties, he strove to do all things well. In every