Upper Arlington High School - Norwester Yearbook (Upper Arlington, OH)

Page 19 text:

U I I E K A R L I N G T O N A log dropped on the hearth. The glowing embers took shape and a glass encased room appeared. It was the private office of a great steel magnate of one of the largest cities, and behind the mahogany desk sat Bob! The flames sprang up. The little man vanished, and I, with a start sat up, suddenly realizing that it was very late. I went to the window. The rain had stopped and the moon had Hooded the world with silver. It was satisfying, I thought, to know that every thing had turned out so nicely for the whole class. Then 1 turned and went up to bed. not forgetting to look in on the way to see if dear, old Miss Darragh was comfortable, since the responsibility of her welfare in her old age rested upon me. —IRMA THOMPSON FAREWELL POEM Twelve long years our class has laboured In these halls of lesser fame. Gathering in the sheaves of knowledge, So our lives will not be vain. We are yet but in the starting Of that race that we must run; We alone must fight the battle, Fight it hard, till it is won. Many side paths will look easy. As we journey on and on. But these trials will seem to vanish. If the straight way we have gone. As we push on in the darkness. May there burn a stronger light. That will guide us on our journey, And crown us victors in the fight. MARY VIVIAN BEALE SF.I KXTEE.V

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U I P E R A R L I N G T O N PROPHECY OF CLASS OF ’26 It was one of those nights on which every one who has a comfortable home, instinctively shivers and turns back to the blazing fire to settle down for the evening. Mayhap with a companionable book or two. or with only one’s reveries. I stood by the window watching the rain pour down, then with a sigh of—was it contentment? went back to my former position on the davenport. The fire blazed brightly, now the flames jumping high and then little tongues of flame curling all around the log. 1 grew drowsy. The flames began to shape themselves—the form of a jolly, little, old man with a long, flowing beard appeared. He held up his hand as if for silence. “Queer,” thought I, “for I am not saying a word. Then with a smile and a flourish of his hand he turned and suddenly I saw a crowded street— many shoos lined it. but the most fascinating of them all was one labeled “Modiste.” On the lower nart of the window, in tiny gold letters was printed “Mile. Shaw and Mile. Denman.” The flames leaped again—and again the little man flourished his hand, and this time it was a garret he showed me with a girl sitting before an easel. She turned, and to my surprise it was Mary Vivian. Again the flames danced over the picture, and when they subsided an English manor was before me. A French door opened onto the terrace and who should step through the door, accompanied by her titled husband, but Betty Bonnet! “How grand.” I exclaimed. I knew Betty would do something big! The little man frowned at me for breaking the silence and waved his hand. This time it was a crowded concert hall and as the crowd thundered their applause. Dorothy came out and took her seat at the piano. Her selections were some from the latest sensational modern composer. Josephine Munkel. The flames again concealed the picture only to clear in a moment to show a court room. Lawrence Wiley was seated in the judge’s chair— over on the side of the room stood a motor-cycle cop—none other than Dustin Mirick ; while on the other side among the reporters, sat Neil Estey. Dan Thomas was up again for speeding. Small tongues of fire gradually obscured the scene and then cleared. This time it was a corrider. Many doors lined the sides. Near the end was one bearing the brass plate—Professor Nye—Dean of Foreign Languages. The door beside it bore the plate — Miss Ward — Director of Women’s Athletics. The picture following was one of the exclusive office of an eminent physician. Ben Houghton. The next—an inauguration of the first lady Mayor of Columbus— Harriet Louise Strang. What was this? Why it was back in Arlington High. Here Irma was, teaching French and English. “Poor children,” thought I. SI XT HEX

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I' I 1 E R A R I. I N G T O N CLASS WILL We. the members of the class of 192G, of the Upper Arlington High School, being in a sound state of mind and memory, knowing the uncertainty of life and certainty of death, having hearts as big as (barrels) do declare this our last will and testament to dispose of all personal effects, burdens, and responsibilities which have been acquired during our years of struggle inside the Arlington High School, and to that end, do gladly bequeath and devise, as follows: Item I. To each member of the faculty we bequeath the small yet mighty flower, the For-get-me-not. Item II. To Warren Armstrong we leave the ability of his cousin, “Ben” Houghton, to lead his class successfully through its Senior year. Item III. To “Kelley,” “Bill.” “Army.” “Stu.” “Fritz.” and the rest of the basketball squad, we bestow our gratitude for their ability to play a clean game. Item IV. To those members of the faculty, namely: Mr. Jackson, we bequeath such bits of Physics apparatus as may be found about the “lab.” To Miss Vance we leave all our marginal notes. To Miss Darragh we bequeath those treasured Literary Digest topics and seals. And to Miss Richmond, a quiet study hall, if possible. On Mr. Jones we bestow the name “Jonsey.” as a sign of respect and good fellowship. To Coach Snider, understanding his trials and tribulations, his hardships, his failures and successes, we extend our hand in deep appreciation of what he has done for us. Upon the faculty, one and all, we bestow our gratitude for their patience and forebearance that they have shown us in the time, between the beginning and ending of our high school career, known as “Life’s Darkest Moment.” Item V. To those of a romantic turn of mind we leave the sunshine, the meadows with beautiful trees, babbling brooks, and soft moonlight, that they may seek these rather than the dark, hard chairs and dazzling lights in Mykrantz's drug store. Item VI. To the swamped in Physics “lab,” we leave the scientific miners of Dusty” Mirick and Neil Estey. PMiUTRHS