Washington Park High School - Kipikawi Yearbook (Racine, WI)

Page 28 text:

Page Twenty Six PARK BEACON The Ghost Walks It was the night of graduation from the new Washington Park High School. I had sat all even- ing attempting to look intelligent, in order to merit the remarks addressed to our class by the speaker of the evening. He couldn't possibly know that I was going to be the one member of the class to be-- come great. I tried hard to appear nonchalant-- it would be better not to prophesy but simply to wait until I could prove my worth by deeds. The diplomas having been distributed, the or-- chestra played their last number, which might have been anything from My Old Kentucky Home to the Swan Song. Yes, I felt as though I had sung my swan song as I pushed my way through friends and relatives to the fresh, starlight night. While there didn't seem to be anything to live for. there wasn't any reason to die either-unless it could be that I didn't have a date, As I walked up Seventh Street towards College Avenue, the old High School loomed in sight. It now shone with unusual splendor, being illumi- nated by the street lamp on the corner. It was not so clearly visible that I could make it out distinctly, but it was there, and my memory supplied the rest. Even the gravel had a certain warmth of welcome about it as I trudged up to the main entrance. The door opened with no resistance whatsoever, and I found myself within the entrance questioning my- self for my actions. It was entirely too dark to be hospitable, but as I tumed to retrace my steps, a flash of black and gold caught my eye. I, in turn, caught my breath, and all of my bones were seized with a sudden desire to rattle, for before me in the semi-darkness loomed a gigantic figure, not very clearly defined. A phosphorescent brilliance dimly illuminated a ghostly face, while the apparition was clothed in a robe of deep sable with gold at the hem. With a sudden movement, the ghost of Racine High School, Qfor as such I recognized him,,i reached forth a tremulous hand and laid it on my shoulder. turned me towards the stairs to the first floor, and pointed at the stairway with a greyish. shaking, bony linger. I obeyed the unspoken com- m,and, and in a moment found myself on the steps, all about me groups of rapidly-conversing examples of flaming youth. Parked on the steps were. as usual, Alice Wil- liams, leaning against her cello. Howard Calkins gazing soulfully into the eyes of Alice Jenkins, and Jeanette Homan, Audry Hogan, Russell Lewis, Ed Carpenter, Carter Whorley, and Red Anderson car- rying on an animated discussion about nothing. Farther ahead I caught a glimpse of Dorothea Genz- ler and Charlotte Bernhardt chewing gum and reading f'College Humor, while hanging, over the banisters were Marjorie Barlow, Mardell Vetter. Alice Barlow, Roy Schimming, and Ernst Stein. seriously imperiling their lives by hanging over the banisters far enough to see what the boys at the stairs were doing. Casting longing foot of the eyes at these reckless youths and maidens, but still staying near enough to the drinking fountain to partake of the best that was offered, were Chuck Bingham, Nick Mandernack, and Red Christensen. As I gazed dreamily at this familiar scene, a vio- lent slap on my back brought me back to life, and with a sigh I realized that Fred Kambach hadn't changed since I had seen him last. Fred's effort had sent me half way up the stairs. so I decided to con- tinue in that direction. This was Tuesday, so Stanley Fitch was in the office getting an absence excuse, and in the inner office was Lawrence Nelson, typing tests for Miss DuFour. Out in the hall again, I noticed the familiar figures of Grace Ho- man and Ray Christensen leaning against the lock- ers. As I passed Miss Holt's room, I saw that thc Student Council was holding a meeting, for the presiding officer was John Bergan, and in the as-- sembly were such prominent council members as Esther Thomsen, Betty Eisenhut, Lois Millar, Bob Miller, and Allen Dunham. I did not break in on them, for I realized that serious matters were being weighed. Outside Miss DuFour's door was another famil- iar sight-Howard Johnson and Isabelle Dederich conversing together in low, sweet tones. Inside the room, the Audubon Club was holding an informal discussion on the question of whether or not spar- rows could be caught by sprinkling salt on their tails. Ed Westberg, Margaret Edmund, Geraldine Enos, Helen Rees, and Albert Anderson were among those busily engaged in debate. The library was another scene of activity: here Anne Placko, Eleanor Hetzel, and Alma Apple were dexterously slipping and shelving books, while Miss Jones was informing Edith Christensen. Janet Hall, Griselda Gissel. Mildred Anderson. Christine Andersen, Margaret Horvath, and Violet Hansen that the library must be kept quiet. I looked reproachfully at these hardened offenders and withdrew, followed by Hyman Goldberg, who had been expostulating seriously that he hadn't known that he was talking. Just then a horrible sound grated upon my sen- sitive Qcauliflowerj ears. It sounded like a Ere drill, so I hurried down the stairs fearing the worst.

Page 27 text:

SENIOR EDITION g Qjqge Twenty-gFg'Qe Q x , , I u .x ,N ., A. , ' S - lli ix c -.....c CHORAL CLUB The Park High School Orchestra and Choral Club are two of the important organizations of thc school. For the past two years, representatives of these groups have been members of the Wisconsin High School Orchestra and Choral Club. Each year some members have won honors in this enterprise. Some members of the orchestra won honors as members of the National High School Orchestra which played in Chicago last year. -----.-1 V M O im - ?J'!Wll-enum...-...,..,,' , l it X k K, K THE ORCHESTRA A year ago a policy was adopted which called for at least one public concert by the combined Orchestra and Choral Club. Last year two such concerts were given. one each semester. This year a May Festival of Music was presented, a benefit concert, the proceeds of which are forthe school improve- ment fund. These concerts are to give members of the two organizations a chance to gain poise when on the stage.

Page 29 text:

SENIOR EDITION Page Twenty-Seven As I took the last five steps at a bound, I landed in the middle of a group consisting of Ellen Jen- sen, Raymond Jondahl, and Walter Mears. They very kindly gathered up my wig, false teeth, ear trumpet, glass eye, and wooden leg, and informed me that the grating sound had been Don Nelson announcing a pep meeting. After my recent fright I felt the need of replacements, so I wended my way into the girls' cloak hall, where Lucille Murray, Marvel Zehrt. Florence Ronsholdt, Mildred Carl- son, and Odessa Hendricks were putting on an extra coat of armour. I felt strangely out of place among these long-haired damsels, the more so when they began to condemn Dagny Nelson for giving way to the barber, so I went into the study hall. Here were Frank Palermo, Edward Moebius, and Warren Abrahamson hunting for magazines with which to pass away the time: also John Kowalsky. busily engaged in studious activity. Shocked and surprised by such industry, I hurried out by the other door, before which were standing Paul Bon- do, Ray Geraldson, and William Larsen. In Miss Wiechers' room were Claire Hahn, Ruth Lambke, Susan Tomek, and Jeanette Kamm re- hearsing a German play, while farther down the hall was Laddie Steinhoff, mourning the hopeless- ness of wringing any more sandwiches from the heartless sandwich container. This sad sight so touched my soft heart that I almost drowned with my tears Helen Vilman, Bernice Nelsen, and Helen Eldred who were standing near, and also Roy Christensen and Dwight Goodrich, This catas- trophe did not take place, because of the timely aid of Genevieve Potman and Helen Konrad, who each took charge of one of my eyes and dried the tears as they fell, while Marguerite Simmons and Margaret Foxwell stood ready with reinforcements consisting of half a dozen men's handkerchiefs and a wash basin. I assured them that I would never forget their thoughtfulness, and with this parting I went down to the public speaking room. Here were a hilarious group of pleasure-seeking studentsC?j-Mildred Finnegan, Mary Redler, and Frances Smieding by name, procuring properties from the adjacent room, in which was a conglom- eration of junk and otherwise. I lifted my feet carefully over hat and gown, and entered Miss Harvey's room. I saw no one there except Edward Johnson and Henry Cymer: for a while I was puz- zled to find an excuse for their being here debating to the empty walls, but finally the truth dawned upon me-the other Dail members had become tired of the continuous flow of oratory and had left with-- out the speakers' being aware of their absence. After listening a few moments I did the same. I was struck by a paper wad as I came out of the door, for Paul Lyle and Joe Capicik had placed a waste basket near the door and were trying to count their shots, and as I went outside I saw Louis Hansen and Peter Arizikovic kicking a foot- ball around the yard. Near by was Dean McLaugh- lin, showing Coach Jones, Frank Adelman, and Joe how to beat Charlie Paddock. Over in a Burza corner was James Hall practicing pole-vaulting. On the steps of the Portable I passed Lydia Ciz- madia, Rachel Christensen, Rose Bordash, Aileen Bonds, Ruth Herrman, and Eleanor Richardson dis- cussing a chemistry experiment. This jargon meant nothing to me, so I went into the Enicar room. Here were Olive Case and Erma Sorenson writing headlines at a fast and furious rate, while nearby sat'Margaret Steinmetz, typing skillfully. Inga Schultz was writing an eleventh-hour news story. This tense atmosphere did not harmonize with my mood, and as I retraced my steps, I thought of going to the Christie Building. Here Mildred Mason, generous soul, had just baked a pumpkin pie which she kindly shared with me. In the sewing room, were Emily Phillips, Vir- ginia Conroe, and Ruby Coryell stitching and bas- ting as if their lives depended upon it. I admired their work respectfully, but did not stay long, for Mildred's pie had just made me realize how hungry I really was, so I hied me off to the Fountain. At the foot of the stairs of the Christie Building, Char- lotte Nichols was telling Mildred Wright and Janet Nelson about the old home town, Hayworth. Over in the Fountain I enjoyed a sociable sand- wich with Maynard Monaghan, Cas usual eating an ice cream conej, Cort Palmer, Marvin Engstrom, Harold Braun, Bill Reinhardt, Herbert Engstrom, Louis Dumont, and George LaDuc, We were dis- cussing late events when someone growled into my ear, Hey, know any news? Sure, I said, realizing that it was only Dick Mann. There was graduation tonight. Honest? said Dick, and as we walked toward the McMynn I gave him all the details. We passed Elsie Munk, Edna Baht, Evelyn Sieverkropp, and Marjorie Hansen on the way, and I left Dick with them to End the result of the girls' basketball tour- nament. Olaf Gilbertson and Norman Jensen came along then and tried to coax me down to the Mil- ler Building to see their last jobs, but I couldn't go. As I entered the McMynn, the terms propel- ler, stick, aircraft, and others met my ears Cnearly knocking them off my headj so I was not surprised to see George Frederickson and Edgar Grimm discussing the latest discoveries in aviation. In the Commercial room were Thora Erickson, Agnes Elskamp, and Muriel Nelsen making stencils, and Ruth Schaffer, Agnes Hansen, Charlotte Wais- man, and Marion Simonsen typing as fast as their