Warrensburg Latham High School - Cardinal Yearbook (Warrensburg, IL)

Page 26 text:

THE CARDINAL THE FUTURE OF ELEVEN Listen, my friends, and you shall hear Of our Class of ’30 and its career. James, a policeman, with flat feet and all. Strolls down the streets of Montreal; While Kathryn’s voice, so soft and sweet, Announces, “We’ll now hear ‘Piccolo Pete’.” And Howard, poor boy, how we pity him! Has fourteen children and looks very grim. Cleona is the first lady of the land, She holds the country in the palm of her hand. Far off in that cold country, Labrador, Marion Cheffer is our ambassador. Everett, a trapeze performer is he, Who draws a crowd while making whoopee! Madge, on the same bill with Everett each day, Dances on her toes and to the music does sway. LolaBelle is the wife of a lawyer grand, And keeps him arguing “to beat the band”. Joseph is a doctor and saves many lives, And even once cured a case of hives. Elvalena Albert is a Latin teacher, And the pupils think she’s some preacher. William is running a hot dog stand. And doesn’t make money as he had planned. Take heed, my friends, and never fear, For in the future this will appear! Madge Littrei.l LolaBei.ee Spitzer Cleona Stephens. MY LIZZIE A pal of mine it is indeed, Not much for looks, but oh the speed! Around the corner, up the hill, It’s one that can provide the thrill. To school we go from day to day To join our friends in work and play; We often are a little late, But that’s my own, not Lizzie’s fate. In rain it is a duck, almost, But say, it’s better not to boast; In snow it is an awful woe, And absolutely will not go. For this old can I’ll do my bit. And try to keep it full and fit, If it will always do its share And split the wind to get me there. Marion CiiEFEER 22

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THE CARDINAL SENIOR WILL We, the distinguished and noted members of the Class of 1930, know that we must pass into that unknown world beyond the high school rooms, and do have some valuable possessions which we cannot take with us. We have decided, therefore, to will these things to our lower classmates so that they may still be in use in the Warrensburg High School. We, the Class of 1930, leave unto the classes as a whole some wonderful things. To the Freshmen, the wit and mischievousness of the Seniors. To the Sophomores, a caution to watch deportment grades. To the Juniors, the responsibilities of running the school the following year. Each member of the class thinks it his duty to leave something for which he is noted. I, Marion Cheffer, do will some of my lofty stature to Gene Willard. I, Howard Williams, do bequeath my studiousness to Harold Chumbley. I, James Wharton, do will some of my surplus weight to Goldie Binkley. I, Everett Brown, do will my ability for playing basketball to Herschel Shene- man. I. illiam Gillen, do give my ability for writing stories to Willard Buckley. I, Joe Major, do will my good looks and ability for love-making to Eucien Willard. I. Cleona Stephens, do bequeath my winsome ways to Leota Steele, hoping that she uses them as effectively as I have. I, ElvaLena Albert, give my position as a typist to Obie Young. I, Kathryn Robbins, do give my love for eating candy to Mildred Crossman. I, LolaBelle Spitzer, give to Nelson Vaughan, my beloved pastime of debating. I, Madge Eittrell, do give, with greatest sincerity, my love affairs to William Botts. (Signed) The Senior Ci.ass By: Madge Eittrell Marion Cheffer. Witnesses: Ei.vai.ena Albert Cleona Stephens. - 21 .

Page 27 text:

 —-THE CARDINAL— THE VOICE OF NOWAJNDA Where the mighty river rushes the narrows. Two tribes, hostile and warring. One on either side, shooting hostile arrows, Getting revenge, death for death. But through this hatred There were lovers. One The son of the mighty chieftain. Rushing Water. And the other, a lowly maiden, and of opposite tribe. Still flared the hatred; Still kindled the love. At last the lovers whispered, Whispered of swimming the narrows, Leaving far behind the fighting tribesmen, Leaving far behind the hostile arrows. They started. Faced the harsh and growling waters, Faced the danger of the waters. When they reached the narrows. Narrows of the growling waters, The chieftain, who seethed with anger, Commanded his son to leave her, There to perish ameng the foaming waters, Foaming waters of the narrows. No heed Owawha paid, but straightway Started for the shore of his fathers. Ire raised in the mighty chieftain. Chieftain who straightway shot an arrow, An arrow aimed for the Indian maiden. Owawha, seeing of his father’s aim, Swam into the path of the arrow, Into the path of the whizzing arrow, An arrow that went true to aim. Angry grew' the growling waters. Waters that beat about the maiden. The maiden child perished in the narrows, Perished with the word, “Owawha”. “Owawdia” on her lips, w'hile the narrows, Narrows harsh and rushing. Never heedful of the sorrow. Black against the sky the clouds hovered. The Great One stormed; As loud and gripping came a cry, The dying cry of the Indian maiden. Back fled the tribes in terror. Terror of the voice of the half-white maiden. Back they fled, fearful of the dead Nowanda. Many years have passed away; Long ago the tribes have perished. And now when the storm rages, Rages about the storming narrows. Still is heard the voice of the maiden. Crying, crying, for her lever— “Owawha”. (Note—This is a legend of the Illini Indians. The narrows are those near Peoria, Illinois.) James Wharton. 23 -