Walnut High School - Walnut Tree Yearbook (Walnut, IL)

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THE WALNUT TREE 25 1 u nil......I..Hill..II III Ij ...III!..Hill..Ill.II I. II ........Illlllllllllllllllllllllll. u HI II CLASS WILL We, the Senior class of Walnut Community High School, Township of Walnut, County of Bureau, and State of Illinois of these United States, being of uncertain mind, failing health, and disagreeable temper, do hereby declare this our last Will and Testament: Section One BEQUESTS TO THE FACULTY 1. To our dearly beloved faculty we do bequeath a modest and sedate student body. 2. To Miss Hunter we do bequeath an assembly wherein whispering, chewing gum, and throwing books are unknown vices. 3. To Mr. LaFuse we do bequeath a laughless physics class. 4. To Miss Mason we do bequeath a civil civics class. 5. To Miss Willson we do bequeath a cafeteria class devoid of appetite. Section Two BEQUESTS TO CLASSES 1. To the Junior class we do bequeath our amity, love of discussion, dignity, physics grades, and ability as publishers of the Walnut Tree. 2. To the Sophomore class we do bequeath our knowledge of the amorous sports. 3. To the Freshman class we do bequeath our unlimited good will. Section Three INDIVIDUAL BEQUESTS 1. I, Walter Baumgartner, do bequeath my bulk to Edwin Wilson. 2. I, Gertrude Britt, do bequeath my wave to Darlene Miller. 3. I, Lourilee Carlson, do bequeath my love affairs to Eleanor Ioder. 4. I, Kenneth Dahl, do bequeath my reticence to Wilford Bradley. 5. I, Homer Dremann, do bequeath my Latin grades to Homer Hopkins. 6. I, Arthur Fox, do bequeath my sense of humor to Mary Edson. 7. I, Lovilla Frederick, do bequeath my mathematical ability to Ralph Kofoed. 8. I, Mariam Gramer, do bequeath my studious habits to George Stickle. 9. I, Bernice Hopkins, do bequeath my cosmetics to Mary Carter. 10. I, Lester Keelen, do bequeath my laugh to Dorothy Craigin. 11. I, Agnes Kruse, do bequeath my secrets to Marian Kiser. 12. I, Carl Nelson, do bequeath my dignity to Carl Golden. IIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllUIUIIIIIIHItlllllllllljlllllllllllllllllllllllflllliijiiiiiliiiijijiiiliiiiiiiiiiiii

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24 THE WALNUT TREE iiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiw SENIOR CLASS HISTORY While in the grades, the class of ’25 did not prove to be any different than any other class. We played hookey, wrote notes, annoyed our studious classmates, were punished for our wrong doings, and, in short, did what other classes did before and after us. Then we entered high school. We received considerable attention during our Freshman year, not because we were more green than previous Freshmen, but because our number was rather large. The first thing we did was to break one of the rules of the school and enjoy a party on Thursday evening. Miss Blackburn, our English teacher, was determined that she had never witnessed such ignorance as we flaunted openly before her eyes. But in spite of our transgressions we arrived at the close of the year, very, very happy, and considerably wiser than we were at the beginning. As Sophomores, we did nothing unusual, except convince Miss Strong that we were the noisiest, meanest, and dumbest class in existence. While we were in our second year, we were neither beasts nor brutes nor simps nor saints, but just good-natured Sophs. Then came our Junior year. We were quite important, or thought we were. Although we did not always conduct ourselves as good Juniors should, we were, I think, not so bad as some who passed before us. We willingly helped our lower classmates and sneered at the lofty Seniors. As Seniors we occupied the center of the stage, not because we were better than our associates, but because we were Seniors. We are the last class who can say that we attended a whole year in the old school building. We are quite proud of that fact. We have tried to do good work while in high school, to respect our teachers, and our school, and to play fair. Soon we shall leave Walnut high for the world. As we go, we will take with us happy memories of the golden days spent within the doors of our high school, of lessons learned, and friendships formed that can never be broken. In the near future, we shall have passed on, and the class of ’25 will be a mere memory. But even then, though we are forgotten, we shall not have labored in vain. tuiiimiwiHnuiniiiiiiiiMuiuiuiiuiiiiiiiHiiiniunimiiiHiHwnHiiiuiiiiiiiiHiiiuHiHiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiuiiiuiii'iniuiii'iiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiHiiiiiiiiuiiniiiiHiiiNiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiinHimHiiueiiinninnnm

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THE WALNUT TREE 26 13. I, Iona Odell, do bequeath my shuffle to Ruth Schuyf. 14. I, Harold Paepke, do bequeath my knowledge of biology to Adrian Bullington. 15. I, Elizabeth Pfund, do bequeath my vamping eyes to Irene Wiggum. 16. I, Dorothy Plapp, do bequeath my ability on the sax to Miss Hunter. 17. I, Margaret Quilter, do bequeath my brother’s neckties to Irvin Hasenyager. 18. I, Louise Ross, do bequeath my general good humor to Cecil Britt. 19. I, Laura Russell, do bequeath my curls to Gladys Nodine. 20. I, Lester Sprinkle, do bequeath my procrastination to Audrey Kiser. 21. I, Wilbur Sweetnam, do bequeath my sheik-looks to Elvin Ford- ham. 22. I, Glenn Wahl, do bequeath my athletic ability to Charles Brewster. 23. I, Donald Whitver, do bequeath my vocal ability to Harold Rudiger. SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY Wallawoosa, Michigan, September 23, 1950. My dear Mr. Melton, Well, I took a long vacation this summer and went back home to Walnut. It was the first time that I had been back since I took that job of selling patent medicine way back in 1925. The old town looked just the same in 1950 as it had in 1925. The stores and houses had grown perhaps a little older and shabbier and the fences a wee bit dingier. The people, however, were just the same as they were when I knew them before. The ones I had known young had grown gray to take the places of their fathers and mothers and their own children now furnish the excitement that we used to supply. The three o’clock train pulled out and left me alone on the station platform, just a little weary and somewhat lost. As I waited for my niece I sawr a familiar figure, at least I thought it was familiar. On approaching closer I saw that it was Glenn Wahl, station master, telegraph operator, baggage smasher, janitor, and what not of the depot. He has aged most awfully in the last few years and he can scarcely get around now. He is very proud of his eldest son w’ho has just completed a four year course as full-back on one of the large college teams and is now a promising young stock broker. Arthur Fox is a perfect scream. He is proprietor of the Hotel Glenn. He is still quite small and has finally grown a set of chin whiskers. He wears glasses which continually slide to the end of his nose. I would say that he is the picture of the perfect bachelor.