Washington High School - Washingtonian Yearbook (Fremont, CA)

Page 20 text:

Hlasltinittonian HARRY KONDA Harry is a hurdler Whom everybody knows, For he strikes fear into the hearts Of all our high school foes. ISABEL FERRY Though Isabel may seem quite meek, She’s a very defiant girl; Though everyone else may bob her hair. Still she’ll blossom forth in curls. Class Officers James Takesaka Floyd Dickerson Jeannette Porter, Ernest Pimentel

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ERNEST PIMENTEL Ernie’ll be a music master; On the shores of Fame he’ll land, And everyone will fight to hear The Pimentel Brass Band. PEARL HORN Pearl is quite the jolliest girl That ever came our way; She speaks for herself and needs no help, For always is she gay. JAMES TAKESAKA Jimmy always gets a one; It seems to be a gift, We know he’ll go right on through life And never need a lift. LUCY SHINN Lucy is a shining light— She of the fiery dome: Fame and success must follow her Wherever she may roam. JOSEPHINE BOGGINI Josephine is popular In the commercial room; She types and takes dictation too. And has no time for gloom. ALICE FERRY Alice is quite a gifted girl. And not conceited at all; She knows all about stenography. And stars, too , in basketball. [ 13 ]

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Senior Class History Class Officers President . Ernest Pimentel Floyd Dickerson Jeannette Porter James Takesaka Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Motto Forward Lies Our Goal Class Colors Red and White Class Flower Roses Ye who d hear this classes story, Hear the fame that e er ptLrsties ns, Hear the doings of our leaders. Listen to this tale we tell here, Hegend of the FwentySevensy OFr the fields and oYr the houses. Through the tranquil air of morning. Heard we all that signal calling. Ed jew Caishun, he the mighty. Stood erect and called us to him. How these four years we have spent here. Found and conquered all this learning. Going now we stop and ponder. Wonder where our boat is sailing. Thinking, too, of what we e done here; Of the good times we have had here; How our warriors eYr have conquered; And our parties were successf id; And our war chiefs — they—the teachers. How theyHl weep and sigh, lamenting That SO grand a tribe is leaving. But our goal we now are reaching And the prize—a slip of paper — Four years labor representing. Looms before us as a symbol. As we part for unknown regions. We hear hallways, dark and lonely. Sigh, Farewell, Oh Twenty-Sevens. ’ —Mila Norris, ’ 27 .