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

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THE WALNUT TREE 6. I, Darlene Miller, do bequeath my fair complexion to Helen Baumgartner. 7. I, Carl Golden, do bequeath my adoration of ministers’ daughters to Lois Plapp. 8. I, Loren Hoge, do bequeath my uninterupted slumbers to Bobby Gerbitz. 9. I. W ilda Tornow, do bequeath my dainty silhouette to Ivvilla Otto. 10. I, Berneil Hasenyager, do bequeath my pianistic ability to Verner Birkey. 11. 1. Homer Hopkins, do bequeath my Ford to Mr. Fagan. 12. I, Dorothy Cragin, do bequeath my angelic disposition to George Taylor. 13. I, Marion Borop, do bequeath my fair countenance to Charles Odell. 14. I. Edna Johnson, do bequeath my Titian locks to Elton Conley. 13. 1, Lee Buzzard, do bequeath my Cleopatrian complexion to Gyneth Glafka. 16. I, Margaret Scliuyf, do bequeath mv Latin “.Vs” to Dick Ross. 17. I. irden Kerchner, do bequeath my daily visits to the office to Margaret Baumgartner. 18. I, Evelyn Gallentine, do bequeath my syncoptic powers to Vance Plapp. 19. I, Orin Scoughton, do bequeath my polished manners to Cullen Mc-Gonigle. 20. I, Charles Stone, do bequeath my Sunday school record to Et na Kirk. 21. I. Viola Dimmig, do bequeath my mythological knowledge to Bernice Rlack. 22. 1, Clyde Conley, do bequeath my popularity to Kenneth Hoffman. 25. I, Pearle Tornow, do bequeath my innocence to Richard Brewer. 24. T, Edwin Wilson, do bequeath my collegiate wardrobe to Harry Stewart. 25. I, Pearle Tornow, do bequeath my innocence to Fichard Brewer. 26. I, LaVonne Johnson, do bequeath my happy future to Virginia Stone-braker. Know ye all people, by these our presents, that we. the Banner Class of our Alma Mater, having spent our youthful lives in studying and having fulfilled our contract, do now publish this, our last Will and Testament. In the presence of whomsoever is present, we do sign, seal and deliver this our final document. —THE SENIORS. W1 19 2 8 ■r.-sr Paye twenty-five

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THE WALNUT TREE SENIOR CLASS WILL Whereas, the fruits of the Walnut Tree are once again ripening, and will soon be falling, we, the Seniors of ’28, with all our talents and possessions, feel we are indebted to the unripened fruits and do here bequeath everything we can spare. Section One Bequests to the Faculty: 1. To our dearly beloved Faculty, we do bequeath a police force to watch the student body. 2. To Mr. Fagan, we do bequeath another model Senior class. 3. To Mrs. Glassburn, we do bequeath an ample “by-word” manufacturer. 4. To Miss McDermand we do bequeath students gifted in long theme writing. 5. To Miss Strouss, we do bequeath a girls’ choral club with voices of nightingales. Section Two Bequests to Classes: 1. To the Juniors we do bequeath our athletic powers, our ability as actors and our success as publishers of “The Walnut Tree.” 2. To the Sophomores we do bequeath our former hopes and ambitions. 3. To the Freshmen we do bequeath our studious habits, our dignity, our high scholastic records and our sheiks. Section Three Individual Bequests: 1. I. Geraldine Bowen, do bequeath my Spanish garments to Inez Wilson. 2. I. Pearl Plum, do bequeath my surplus weight to Mildred Parker. 3. I, Cecil Britt, do bequeath my basketball captaincy to Melvin Huse-man. 4. I. Fern Ackerson, do bequeath my sweet baby face to Mr. Wells. 5. I, William Epperson, do bequeath my brilliancy to Inez Langford.

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ffisEF... THE WALNUT TREE ..... YESTERDAYS By DOROTHY CRAGIN It was at the close of one of my busiest days in that great metropolitan hospital that I stole away from the increasing cries of suffering humanity, into one of the more secluded restrooms. There I flung my weary body down among the pillows of a large davenport which sat facing an open window. Mad the day been one of California’s bright and sunshiny days, one that so characterizes the state, I could have looked down into the very bosom of the Pacific. But rather, it was one of a somber gray ness, the type that Longfellow loves to describe in his poems. All the outer world, as it were, was filled with a rain and a mist. As 1 lay there, I could hear the little raindrops trickle off the roof above and come rushing and leaping madly down the massive marble columns, hurrying away to the stone pavement below. As I lay there, watching the little sea on the sidewalk swell and grow, I was enveloped in a mythological entrancement and I soon found myself standing on the shores of a great and unknown body of water. While I was wondering what had happened and what might happen my eyes were directed toward the western horizon and there in the distance 1 saw a fleet of ships. As they drew near, I perceived that each was a large white ship with flowing sails and masts of royal blue, and as they drew still nearer. I discerned that the prow of each was marked with a “28.” Then I knew what it all meant! It was an on-coming reunion, a reunion that every Senior class must some day have! Tongue can never tell or pen can never pen the unspeakable joy which seized me. My doubts, fears and anticipations were all soon answered, for within a few moments thq entire fleet of twenty-five ships had dropped anchor at harbor, and there, in the cabins, on the gangways and platforms. I discerned the familiar faces of my dear old Senior pals. To any reader or listener, my story would be very uninteresting, if I did not. at this point tell concerning the little band of pilgrims, who they were and from whence they had come. After the general tumult of greeting was over, our ex-president. Clyde Conley, lined us up just like he used to back at Walnut High, and each one made ready to tell the story of his life. Clyde, himself, is terribly old and bent; this, no doubt, due to his strenuous life’s work. For the past fifty years, he has been playing his oldtime role in