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Page 24 text:
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Last Wil aud “Jestament To All Whom This May Concern We, the seniors of 1947, of Wadesboro High School, being of unsound mind and body, and having succeeded in deceiving the faculty with our apparent intelligence, declare ourselves leg- ally able to make this last and only will and testament, and do hereby bequeath, give, donate, present, grant, offer, and bestow the following: To Mr. Terrell, our ever wise-cracking super- intendent, we leave our deepest appreciation for being the only person able to make us feel su- perior, and also our hopes that we have not run him completely crazy. To Mr. Wildermuth, our principal, we leave our most sincere appreciation and thanks for all of his help. To Miss Sturgis, our understanding teacher, we leave all our love for her faithful guidance over the last year of our high school life. To the faculty, our heartfelt thanks for all the help that they tried to give us—and our humble apologies for being co far from a model class. To the Junior Class, we leave the honor of dusting the front rows in chapel and the privil- ege of using the front steps at recess. I, Lois Talent, do leave my reputation of being the first engaged Senior to the Junior girl who can do as well. I, Jimmy Clark, do leave my quiet manner to Coot Huntley. I, Lu Overton, do leave my knack for asking dumb questions to Mary Scarboro. I, Agnes Crawford, do leave my size to Dor- othy Griggs. I, Billie Jean Greene, do leave the fun and headaches of getting out an annual to the next editor. I, Eleanor Burr, do leave my interest in men to Bettie Baker. We, Betty Jerman and Ann Lou Shaver, do leave our good looks to Polly Kiser and Lib Hyatt. I, Albert Polston, do leave my place on the football team to Hank Wall. We, Truette Burris and Jimmy Ferguson, do leave our loud laughs to anyone who thinks he can equal them. I, G. E. Knowles, do leave my way with wo- men to R. J. Scott. I, Niley Hill, do leave my studious mind to Lib Hyatt. ANN LINDSEY Testator I, Myrtle McLendon, do leave my sweet dis- position to Betty Treadaway. We. Edna Moore and Frances Burns, do leave our jobs at Roses to anyone who will have them. I, Barbara Odom, do leave my ability to get money for ads to the next business manager of the annual. I, Tom Hart, do leave my love for girls to Harry Huntley. We, Neale Kelly and H. M. Maples, do leave our bang-up skill of driving to Vander Warner and Bill Taft. I, Betty Ruth Gaddy, do leave my ability to play basketball to Nell Lowe. We, Bill Hough, Herbert Jerman, and Don- ald Stiles, do leave our height to Dick Liles and Lewis Flack. I, Janet Long, do leave my ability to preside over the senior class to the president of the class of 1948. We, Louise Covington and Carol Dean Jen- rette, do leave our good friendship to Mary and Betty Smith. We, Lois Jean Ashcraft and Louise Anderson, do leave our ability to talk incessantly and most- ly about nothing to Nell Lowe and Doris Scott. I, Shannon Davidson, do leave my book of excuses for unprepared lessons to Coot Huntley. I, Carol Milks, do leave my hair styles to Doris Rogers. I, Bet Wall, do leave my ability to say “twen- ty and twelve” to anybody that can’t talk plain. I, Ann Lindsey, having no special talent, do leave my love and best wishes to all the gals and guys in Wadesboro High. In witness thereof, we hereunto affix our hand, fingerprints, and seal, jump up and down and stamp upon this, our last will and testament and hope to high heavens no one will bear us any erudges. Signed the first day of June in the year of our Lord, One Thousand, Nine Hundred and Forty-seven. THE CLAss OF 1947 Page Twenty
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Page 25 text:
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NEALE KELLY Prophet On the night of January 6, 1947, the problem of writing a prophecy confronted me. I sat quietly at my desk pondering my problem. Thinking maybe music would help my slow pro- cess of thinking, I tuned the radio to some soft classical music. Lulled by the soft tones of the music and by the heat of the open fire, I laid my head upon the desk. Then it seemed as if I were no longer at a desk writing . . . Before me fleecy white clouds of time drifted by, blown here and there by a gentle wind. The scene changed . . . I was surrounded by a city entirely different from any I had ever seen before; huge buildings, and impressive shops flanked the wide tree-lined streets. I had a pause to collect my thoughts and examine my first impressions of this “wonderland of archi- tecture’ —Words cannot express the awe and beauty of this progressive city, which even in modernistic setting seemed to contain an air of compactness and friendliness. What strange sort of a dreamland was this? Then suddenly it came to me, I was standing on the corner of Wade and Greene Streets in Wadesboro, N. C. Beside me a huge building was under construc- tion. Glancing at the newly-laid corner-stone, I read the inscription, “Hart Building, Built 1962.” So this is what Wadesboro would look like, THIS WAS THE FUTURE!! Hanging from the buildi ng was a sign, “THIS BUILDING WILL SOON BE OCCUPIED BY HART CLOTHING COMPANY—McLaurin Shaver Construction Co. Electrical Contractor— Paul Adcock.” Seeing these names recalled to me the class of 1947, and hoping to find some of my former classmates, I walked over to the tall, slim policeman who was standing on the corner. As he turned around I recognized him at a glance, “Rod” Hough!!! Bill pointed out to me several shops which were owned and operated by some of our class- mates. On the corner opposite us was the drug store which was run by Herbert Jarmen. Beside the drug store was a hat an d dress shop owned by Alberta Parker and Rosa Birmingham. Gwen Smith and Cherrie Pratt operated the beauty Class Prophecy shop across the street, and the modern ten cent store was owned and managed by Carol Dean Jenrette. The fancy sporting goods store had just been opened by “Hook” Coggin and Fred Waddell. As we stood there talking, a disting- uished looking Buick went through a “stop light.” Bill blew his whistle and flagged the car to the curb. He reminded the woman that this was the fifth time that he had stopped her for this offense. As I glanced at the driver I recognized her as our Senior Class President of long ago. I later learned from Bill that Janet had married a rich man and lived in a luxurious home in the mountains! I invited “Rod” to enjoy a milk shake with me and give me the latest news about the rest of our classmates. Bill thanked me but replied that he would have to stay on duty. He suggest- ed that I talk to “Bet” Wall, the editor of the M I, who could give me the latest news about our friends. I decided to visit “Bet,” but first I would visit the “drug” and see if any of the gang were there. I was disappointed because I did not see any I recognized except Myrtle McLendon, who was behind the soda fountain. As I walked by the magazine stand, I noticed the headlines on the paper—FERGUSON DISCOVERS BIGGEST SWINDLE OF ALL TIMES. Reading further, I saw that James H. Ferguson, Public Account- ant, in close cooperation with Robert Curlee of the F.B.I. had at last broken the case which had baffled police for many weeks. Looking further through the paper, a Buick ad caught my eye. It advertised Huntley Buick Co., which was operated by Charles Huntley. I left the drug s tore and started down the street towards the newspaper office. As I passed a large self-service grocery I saw a familiar face behind a huge bundle of groceries. It was Bar- bara Odom who had been the Business Manager of the 1947 Hi-Ways. She was now married and lived in a modern home near the edge of town. As we stood there talking, Lois Talent also came out of the store. She had married a very suc- cessful business man soon after she graduated from school. The store, by the way, was owned and operated by Niley Hill’s husband. Barbara and Lois started gossiping about some of the local happenings so I decided to continue on my way. I could not help but no- tice the posters at the entrance of the theater. “Brief Encounter” starring dashing James Weims Clark and the lovely Ann Lou Shaver. I found out later that the theater was managed by Don- ald Stiles. (Continued on Page 42) Page Twenty-One
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