University High School - Bisbila Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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(The ODlb :)§rep. School I low dear to my heart are the scenes of my school clays. When fond recollection presents them to view! The old I Yep School, with its steep-angled stairways. And every little crevice in its walls of green hue! The three-shelf bookcase, and the victrola right by it. The platform, the desk where the Pedagogue sat; The glass-paneled door, the water tank outside it. The broom by the door and the dust-covered mat. Ibiahintha C t » One of the most effective performances the t Diversity High School ever staged was the beautiful pageant of ‘'Hiawatha.” The plav opened with (iitchi Manitou's admonishment to the Indian tribes: “I have given you fields to hunt in. I have given you streams to fish in. W herefore do you kill one another? Arthur Dorn made a stately diety, and the various Indian tribes were imper sonated by the small boys of the seventh and eighth grades. Next followed a very pretty scene; the marriage of Minnehaha to Hiawatha, with Naomi 1 legstrom in the role of I Iiawatha. Margie Zeno made a very graceful Minnehaha, and Phoebe Rosche had all the dignity of a true priestess. The audience was startled from the tender feelings the scene inspired by blood-curdling war whoops, and the small boys had a chance to show what young savages they really were when they got on feathers and paint. They acquitted themselves so well that I really believe there would have been real blood shed if Father Hennepin had not landed at an opportune moment and brought peace. Miss Mott played this role in a way that did justice to the saintly friar. The performance was strewn with poetical chants that told the story of the plav. and the audience went home with a deeper appreciation of Longfellow’s great epic than they bad bad before.

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A general movement throughout Christendom for a purified diet would bring about the millenium. Leighton: But Wiley tried and failed. Clancy: Wiley did not fail and if he did, he must try again arid again and never mind failure, if he is doing his duty. Mr. Cobb: They will arrive. W hat time, what road they know not. But some time, in God's good time they shall arrive. In Mis good time. Dorrv: Gentlemen, you are too conservative. The only solution for this problem is socialism. Mr. Proctor: What is socialism? Dorrv: Gentlemen, socialism is a political doctrine, taking for its axiom the assertion that the people should own and control the great utilities. We think nothing of attending a public school or sending a letter by the government postal service. Then why should we scoff at the idea of the people owning the mud puddle the child slips in on his way to school or the railroad by which our mail is carried? Civilization is continually being retarded by the captains of industry who have obtained possession of the public tools of utility, production and communication. Darwin says, “Man is a tool-using animal: take away the tools on which he is dependent for his existence and he is powerless.” Socialism revolves as on a pivot about the idea of public ownership. Socialists differ among themselves on all other subjects, but if you believe in this one thing you are a socialist. In regard to the machinery of government: I believe in the initiative and referendum, in the recall of public officials, in the abolition of the American house of lords—that senate that is continually standing in the way of public progress, and I believe—well. I believe in every other radical thing that has ever been proposed for the promotion of democracy and the amelioration of the lot of the common people. Leighton: At present we can only vote for parties, but it is principles we care for. sincerely hope shall have an opportunity to cast my vote for international peace before I die. Guttrv: Longer game season. .s Conhaim: Shorter game season. KUertson : Direct presidential election. Watson : Wiping out tuberculosis. Sill: Prohibition. Bren: Tariff revision downward. Dorrv: Tariff revision upward. Cobb: Vocational education. Mr. Guttrv talked hard and fast on the subject of “Forestry.” Mr. Dorrv expounded on “Socialism, and although he was somewhat radical, one could not help but admire his sincerity, his forcefulness and his juggling of the English language. Mr. Conhaim shared the goal of an invention with Senator Cummings of Iowa. Mr. Sill pointed out the effects (good and bad) of King Alcohol. Mr. Cobb was lost in prehistoric ruins. Mr. Clancy argued for pure food laws. He was probably suffering from indigestion. Mr. Proctor elucidated on the Mormon church, whether “pro” or “con” no one could tell. Mr. Leighton was imbued with the idea of international peace—probably because his mother “didn't raise her hoy to be a soldier.” Mr. Bren spoke on the immigration laws, thinking all the time how lucky he was to have gotten in. Mr. F.llertson insinuated that lie was in favor of prohibition. (His parents were in the audience.) Mr. Watson spoke of the high cost of twing. or was it loving? Probably that had something to do with his late arrival.

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i Day in the ODlb cluwl Monday morning we get up about 7:15 and immediately begin to wonder bow we are going to get to school by 8 o’clock. W e have been out the night before (to church, of course) and we don't even know whether we had lessons assigned us or not. Well, we finally get ready to leave home. We forget our books in our rush to the car and finally, after having had an awful time to find our “jitney” for the conductor, and having forgotten to get a transfer, we land at Washington and L’nion. We dash up the street toward the old mansion and, as we round the corner, we come in full view of the school. The first thing that attracts our attention is some youth diligently putting on the screens. We enter and hang our wraps on a hook in the hall. On entering the assembly room, we find a rather chilly looking group of both boys and girls warming themselves over the gas plate. The old clock in the corner says 8:15. In a few minutes in comes Miss Mott. The alarm clock had accidentally dumped over in the night, incidentally it stopped, and consequently Miss Mott overslept. At any rate she feels rather happy for some reason or other and decides not to start school for a few minutes, because several of the students have not yet shown up. About 8:30 we have almost a full house, and after ringing the big bell several times, Miss Mott calls for order while she takes the roll. It is rather cold and a volunteer is called to fix the furnace. Some ambitious chap offers to do the job and the rest of us proceed to our classes. The geometry class meets in the office, the algebra class in the attic (might mention here Ronald Macintvre misjudged his step on the attic stairs and gently falls down), the English class meets in Miss Mott’s living room, and the history class, which is supposed to meet in the girl’s cloak room, will not meet because the student teacher is not yet present. The algebra class is the largest of these, having a grand total of four members. Well, the first period is rather short, owing to the late start, and is soon over. Miss Mott rings the little bell, which is the signal for class dismissal, and we again go to the assembly room. There is a period of fifteen minutes between classes, which is long enough to get your lesson for the next class and also listen to the victrola and hear Miss Mott tell of Faribault. By the time the second period starts nearly everybody is present. The three English classes meet in the assembly room and the Roman history class in the grade room. Everybody that doesn’t have a class can busy himself bv picking up the tin cans out in the yard. After the second period comes the recess period. This is the time of all times. Some bring their lunches and some go over to the bakery on Washington avenue and buy bismarcks or “don’ts.” Others busy themselves telephoning to mother (?), while some play the piano, some sing and some play the victrola. Everybody else studies. After recess we again assemble and as we are about to go to our next class, Sophie, the janitress, comes in and politely whispers in Miss Mott’s ear. The smile on Miss Mott’s face quickly changes to a frown and we immediately know what is up. Somebody forgot to clean up their lunch and Sophie simply won’t. A polite young lady in the back of the room volunteers to clean up and we proceed to class. The assembly room is not in use this period and as Miss Mott teaches the class in the attic, a high time ensues in which the clock is set ahead one hour: somebody else breaks an ink bottle on Miss Mott’s desk, and to be sure, somebody climbs out of the window and dashes around the corner. After this period is over a restless time is spent waiting for the little old dinger to ring, signifying 1 o’clock. —W. S. Garry.