Wapakoneta High School - Retrospect Yearbook (Wapakoneta, OH)

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 Class of 1914 23 s r CLASS HISTORY OF CLASS OF 1914 We, the Seniors of 1914, have been called upon for the last time to review for you those memories which have been dear to us for the last four j'ears. Upon a bright and sunny morning in September of the year, 1902, there entered into the first grades of various schools a modest class of children destined to become the most brilliant students who were ever graduated from Blume High School. Our work was soon begun and we delved deeply into the difficult arts of reading, writing and arithmetic, though not without sorely trying the teachers’ patience and perseverance. Before we were fully aware the course of this vast dream was changed and we entered Blume Hi, a large class of would-be Freshmen. This class was, or ought to have been, greatly marveled at by the higher classmen. The Faculty immediately discerned our remarkable abilities, condoned our faults, and gave us the recognition due to a class of such brilliancy. We were soon initiated into the mysteries of Algebra, Latin and German, and our efforts were rewarded by being promoted to the Sophomore year. We now were obliged to copy General History outlines until our fingers were numb, and to stretch our imaginations to the utmost in order to prove those invaluable propositions in Geometry. Before we could realize it we were Juniors. Needless to say, our reception to the Seniors was a decided success, not only in our own estimation, but in that of others. This proved to the satisfaction of all that the social side of the class had not been impaired by its great educational capacities. Before leaving this, we can say that the committee deserves much credit for their work in this affair. At last we were Seniors. Seniors! How much that small word thrilled our hearts and inspired us to greater achievements. As to the members of the Faculty, whom we are leaving behind us,—let it not be forgotten that all through our continued search for knowledge, that they encouraged us, strengthening us in our hopes and allaying our fears. That it is to them we are indebted for their constancy of purpose, their willingness to help, and their readiness to sympathize. We have always been a fun-loving class. A very large percentage mingle fun with a good deal of study, and know what to do, how to do it, and at what time. We have spoken of our talents and abilities, so we will dwell on those no longer. That the majority of us will become renowned there is little doubt, but as to that—we will let the future reveal itself to you. Therefore—watch and wait. MAYME PFENNING IDA TELLJOHAN EDWARDA ROSE

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 22 The Retrospect, 1914 s CLASS POEM In the little town of Wapak, At the side of Dear Old Blackhoof, On a pleasant summer morning, Blume Hi School stood open waiting. Bright above it shone the heavens, O’er the street came shouting, laughing, Something in the hazy distance, Something in the mists of morning. It came leaping, jumping, running, Coming nearer, nearer, nearer, It is not the car of Bolton, Nor the street car of the morning, But the great, great class of ’14. From its doors came all the teachers, With their hands aloft extended, Held aloft in sign of welcome. Then they cry and spake in this wise: “Beautiful is our work, Oh, Strangers, When you come so far to learn it, All our school in peace awaits you, You shall enter ail our class rooms, You shall learn to know and care for Tiny zeroes on your grade cards.” So they enter as bright Freshmen, Learned new truths before unheard of. Thus we see our class of T4. Now as Sophomores ever blithely Through their lessons fairly tripping, Now as Juniors we behold them. Ever brilliant, shining, flashing, Quickly goes the year before them, Seniors now again we see them, Deeds of valor now accomplished Show the greatness of our class. Now as bright and care-free people, They depart with happy laughter. Slowly o'er the simmering landscape Fell the evening’s dusk and coolness. They have waved their hand in parting. Thus departed ’mid great honors Class of ’14, ever famous, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, Ever shining, ever gleaming, On the pathway of success. —GLADYS STUEVE

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s 24 The Retrospect, 1914 r CLASS PROPHECY Last evening, we decided to go to a picture show, and, to our astonishment, the following are the three shows which we saw. The title of the first reel is “THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE” The first scene is an immense base Hall diamond. We see the champion of the game receiving congratulations from his friends, and later descends the gymnasium steps and enters a waiting automobile. IUs arrival Home — (The automobile soon stops and he goes into a large house.) He is received in a beautifully furnished room by his wife. By her welcoming smile, we recognize Anna Herbst. He tells her of his success and to celebrate the victory, they decide to go to the theatre. “Preparations for the Theatre —Their little son appears. The maid is called and given strict orders to take the child to the nursery. They leave for the opera. The maid interests herself in reading, unmindful of the child who stands in a thoughtful attitude. The little fellow also decides to celebrate the event and sneaks out of the room, “At the Theatre. —We see the interior of an immense opera house and large stage, picturing a scene from “The Merchant of Venice.” The actress taking the part of Portia, plays it to perfection, bringing out the clever points of her character. We are fascinated by her movements detecting in them the gracefulness of our classmate, Corinne Kahn. Launcelot appears, taking his part so well that he completely wins the admiration of his audience, we could scarcely believe that this comedian was Raymond Headapohl. “The Accident. —We see the little lad running across the street, paying no heed to an approaching automobile, which comes at a high speed and hurls him to the curb. A crowd immediately gathers and they take him into a nearby drug store, and await the arrival of an ambulance. The druggist, a kind-hearted looking man, does all in his power to restore the child, but to no avail. In a troubled attitude, he runs his fingers through his hair, and at this movement, we recognize Bernard Brown. The trim figure of the reporter attracts our attep-