Washington High School - Lens Yearbook (Portland, OR)

Page 9 text:

. APPRECIATION In publishing the January '37 Lens, we must at this time acknowledge our gratitude and ap- preciation to those persons who work behind the scenes and who do not receive credit for their tireless efforts. To Mr. Green, we owe all of our ultimate success. His financial knowledge is un- excelled. We owe Mrs. Hansen very much for her work after hours in correcting and advising Lens copy. To Miss Nye, art advisor, goes the credit for our lovely inserts and cover. We are indebted to Mr. Stevens, Lens photographer, for going out of his way time and time again in help- ing the editorial staff. Mr. Bernard A. and Mr. C. R. Bridges, Berncliff Printers, deserve thanks for counsel to the staff in producing an outstand- ing Lens on time. Last but not least, we join in thanking Mr. Peterson and Mr. Noonan, Peter- son-Schon Engraving for timely advice in mak- ing Lens layouts.

Page 8 text:

DEDI CATI ON To an advancing world, we dedicate our class book, the record of our pro- gress and achievements while at Wash- ington. We are about to become a part of this modern civilization and pledge ourselves to put forth more than merely our required energy in further developing a truly cultured and success- ful society.

Page 10 text:

IN MEMORY OF FRANCIS BLOCK Our Deceased Classmate We reserve this page in our Annual to the memory of Francis Block Francis was loved by those who knew him, and his sudden death stunned them Francis was to be Associate Business Manager of this publication. May we, when we depart leave as clean and noble a record as Francis. To his memory, we humbly dedicate these poems. TO MY PAL The little lab by the basement door, ls sealed and shut for evermore, And our dear pal of yesterday Has not died but is just away, Our loss is but Heaven's gain, With tears and sorrow, we remain. -JEFF YOH N. A TRIBUTE lTo the memory of our late, school-pal, Francis Blockl Nearly a year has passed, On the swift-winged feet of time, Since the Call sounded clear to our school-mate, A friend of both yours and mine. He was ready to help a comrade, Our troubles and joys he would share, We liked to have him among us, For he played the game fair and square. Who knows what lay before him, What thoughts transformed to deeds? But they lie locked in his slumber, And chained, not now to be freed. We miss his face and his sincere smile, His eye that was fearless and clear, Although from our midst he has vanished, His memory lingers near. One seat in our class-room is vacant, No more his kind face we behold, God grant that we meet o'er the Great Divide, In the Land that is fairer than gold. -JIM TOMPKINS.