Valier High School - Northern Lights Yearbook (Valier, MT)

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£fSa zm It is 3ur.ir.er, 1967, as we circle the planet Earth In a flag ship of the Solar System Space Lines, owned and one rated by the Jbbulous millionaire, Jim Crawford. Our pilot, Sherwood Martin, and flight engineer, Don Orr, are up front, sweating it out, over a conked out jet which was damaged by a man-made meteor set off in the year 1947, shortly after one of the smaller Earth Wars during the Golden Age of the United States. In a matter of minutes we have circled the Earth several times and prepared to make a landing on Lake Francis which is the center of the greatest city of the Universe, 7alier, located in America, County of the United Nations of the World. We have been floating about in space for ten years (a feeling not unfamiliar since the dear old daze in Valier High classes) and have a Dot to catch up on. We park our plane on the lake, adjust our personal wings to our shoulders and fly on in to the Customs House. The Collector of Customs is none other than dear old Fitz wearing a snappy back-to-nature uniform of artificial leopard- skin, draped gracefully about his loins and showing his manly chest and rippling muscles. (Six hairs now I) Fitz tells us that just now he is working hard on the election for President of the United Planets. We are surprised to learn that women have completely taken over gbvernmental affairs and that Donneatta Windle has Just completed her 7th tern as President. We are old fashioned enough to question an allfeminine government but Fitz assures us they are doing a swell job. Just look at the figures................ . We pass the magazine racks and note that Viviai.ne Earron has written i feature article entitled Open the Loot, HigrJ in honor of a former classmate of ours who has locked himself in a cell in India and is living on a diet of goat's milk and vitamins, refusing to come out until the British government turns its now-abandoned island over to Montana for experimental fox-farming. We remember the Commencement speaker who solemnly warned us that one out of every clas3 will turn to vice. Who might tfois be among our worthy comrades? But who is this odd character Just alighting from yon space rocket? Kilroy? Smoe? Why, it's Jim Powers 1 How's vice? we croak. Ah ha says Jim That's a good question. I'm glad you a3ked that I I've just accepted the Job of Vice-President of Venus, at an annual salary that would make A1 Capone look like a penny waiting for change. Look at the figures(not nine), living costs have upped 500 6 in the la3t ten years and my income was only up 300 . The Venus offer looked perfectly le al to me. Besides, it meant more nfcney. And with that he swooped one-hundred (100) gorgeous, voluptious, ravishing Venetian damsels into the rocket and darted off into space. i We hail a taxi and, as it Dulls d. we see printed exquisitely on the hood a name more prominent in cars than that of Ford twenty years ago. This all-plastic, luxury, atom-powered Job is one of a large fleet owned by the famous society play-boy, Carl Orr. We are about to enter when we are brushed to one side by an armed guard and we are startled to;ob3erve that the important figure who takes precedence over us is a very fat gentleman in a glittering uniform unlike anything we have seen ir. sky or Earth. Who. ? we gasp. The President of Mars, Earl Matthaes, says the guard. Stand back. He has a deathly fear of secret agents and suspects everyone of foul play. V.'e discreetly take the next taxi and drive to the luxurious Hotel Valier which was formerly the home of Mrs. Elsie Yeager Van Slatherwaite prominent socialite. it is now efficiently managed by Marie iiller, who greets us at the door and presents us with a social calander which includes an entertainment by Georgia Reitz and her famous ballet troup. (continued on next page)

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We hear a terrific um above us and ssk nervously if a bomb has ex ploded Oh no, says Marie, that s just Buddie Gae1s twelve children. They live in the pent-house. They all have measles. Buddie Gae had her horoscope read by the well-known spiritualist, Jean Brophy, and has refused to have them inoculated. The helicopter is before us