Warrenton High School - Warrior Yearbook (Warrenton, OR)

Page 32 text:

had fixed the tire we again started off with Johns apologies for the tire. We stopped in Corvallis where Vernon Hart was coaching at Oregon State, At his home we were greeted by Mrs V. R. Hart, the former Delores Wallace. We discovered that they now had an elevem man football team of their own with three charming daughters aa cheer leadors. All of this was made up of little Harts(Delores really had a lot of little Hart troubles). There wasn't room in their hotel for all of us so Dale and I drove one There were only two members of our Sonior Class that we hadn't seen on our journey so we decided to visit our old home towns of Warrenton and Hammond to see if we could find any. trace of them. Arriving in Warrenton we found that everything was about the same except for quite a fow now people. However as we passed the Service Garage we saw a very farmiliar Model A sitting dejectedly in front. It must be very valuable as an antique by this time. Upon investigating we fourid Sam Moore in the garage getting prepared to continue working on his beloved Model A, He told us he was really « rich man as his car was the only one of it's kind still in existance and worth millions of dollars, He couldn't stand to part with his car so he just dreomed of what he could have and didn't bother to cash in on his valuable possession. Sam told us of the excitement that was going on in

Page 31 text:

Upon inquiring about the blond we learned that it was none other than Betty Goodrich, our very dear friend, that had broken John's hart. The jealous husband was Bob Black, who had been Betty's old heart throb back in our school days. With John's help we then looked up Betty and Bob and found that they wore the proud pirents of five lovely children. By this time John had alrcoady fourid a new interest in a gorgeous auburn haired dancer. As everything turned out fine we went on our way feeling much better. As we were motoring through the desert lands of south eastern Oregon, on our way to Corvallis we were brought to a sudden stop whon a bullet punctured one of our back tires. Dale and I both jumped out to see what was going on. I was examining the tire when up rode a real live western bandit (and I had thought those creatures were extinct). I was just about to let out a horrible scream when the ferocious bandit let out an cxclamation of recognition. I didn't recognize him under his long beard but when he spoke I knew instantly that this was John Byrd of our class of 'l9, TI had no idea that he had taken all of those western storics seriously. John was now Inown as The Robin Hood of the West. + turned around to speak to Dale but he had mys- teriously disappeared. Aftor searching for a half an hour, I found him hidding under the car, trembling with fear. Finally I persuaded him that he wouldn't be hurt and he reluctantly crawled out and meekly greeted John. After I

Page 33 text:

Hammond because of a great project that was being worked on. Naturally we decided to see what it was all about. Arriving at the scene of the excitement we found that Howard Jensen was digging a canal, which was to extend from the Pacific Occan to Lake Superior. So far he had only reached Coffenberry Lake but after 11 he had only boen digging for ten years. We spent tho ag at Howards home witi Bernice, him and the three iittic Jensens, As it grew late we decided we must start on our journey back to our long neglected positions. Our parting words were, Keep digging Howotd, you'll get there someday. ; We had an enjoyable but uneventful trip back. When we reached Richmond, Virginia, Dalo Directed me to his beautiful plantation home. It was just what you would imigine, a large white southern mansion, on a hill overlooking the mountains in the west. I ask Dale if he had found sufficient material for his book and he calmly infommed me that he had given up that idea long ago but that he would spend most of his time here as it was isolated and he seemed to enjoy solitude( he certainly had it, as he lived all alone in that large house). When He told me that he enjoyed solitude I took that as my cue for exit. As I drove down the drive I looked back to see Dale standing on the lonely veranda watching me go. Arriving in New York, I, Martha Wiley found my column