Waukegan High School - Annual W Yearbook (Waukegan, IL)

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I now saw a large hall in which was being held a great con- vention of women's clubs, and there on the platform among the speakers were two whom I took to be men, as they were dressed in masculine attire, but on looking closer I saw they were Mabel Chittenden and Allie Goodrich. They were the leaders of the new crusade for dress reform. Next appeared a court room. A divorce case was being tried. Judge Gesekus was giving his decision: 4' Insomuch as I regard this case as merely an advertising scheme on the part of the plaintiff, I refuse to give the ballet dancer, May Carman, a divorce from her husband, the actor, Martin Neal. Even the country was changed now. I saw a strange tropical place. Great trees grew in clusters, and here in their midst was a queer little hut, in front of which sat Missionary McKay. On Sundays, the Reverend Ray teaches the savages his favorite hymns, such as Jesus, Lover of My Soul, and Nearer, My God, to Thee. On week days he trades with them and cheats them in a truly wonderful manner. Indeed, he has been so suc- cessful in his schemes that in a year or two he will be able to re- turn a millionaire. As our reverend friend Q25 passed from view there appeared a large city, and here before me was the orator of our class, Frank Bowen. He had reached a point where his eloquence was of great avail to him. All our expectations were realized. He was not in the Senate. Oh, no. .His wondrous talent was not confined to such narrow quarters. But here in front of a large building he stood, and in a loud voice called the attention of the passersfby to him, and what he cried was: This way to the grandest dime mu- seum on earth. Step in and see the show. Only ten cents. Yes, Frank had reached sublime heights-a dime museum barker. Near him, selling tickets and encouraging him, was his devoted wife, Olive Beecher. As the scene began to fade I still heard him and he was crying: Step in and see the world's fattest woman, Mademoiselle Price, and Madame Harriet Hallowell, the human ostrich, who will eat anything, lead pencils preferred. A pleasant green valley now came before me. Here was a great gathering of hoboes from all over the country. Their king was addressing them, and in spite of dirt and rags there was something familiar about him. A ringing cheer followed some ..3..

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succession of scenes formed before me and I saw what each and every one of my classmates was doing. First, I looked into a ward in a large hospital. A sweet faced nurse was moving softly about. Looking at her closely, I saw it was Bernice West. She bent over a man lying on one of the cots, and I heard some one say, That is the world's champion diver. He dived from too high a bridge last time and as a result is here. As Bernice moved aside I saw the man's face, and it was Emil Streed. A large church now appeared, the minister was pleading with his congregation to lead better lives. From his own wild youth he understood the fascination of sin, but he had learned that ' 'The wages of sin is death. As he pleaded I noticed something famil- iar about him. Yes, it was Rev. Arthur Wright. Our Arthur, a doctor of divinity-well, strange things will happen. In the minister's pew, looking admiringly at her husband and hanging on his every word, was Jennie Hanna. The church faded from my sight and I saw a beautiful lake, on the banks of which was an humble fisherman's cottage, but an air of contentment rested on the place. As I looked, a boat came sailing into the harbor and up to the landing. A woman ran from the house to meet the returning fisherman, and when they turned and walked slowly toward the house, behold! the happy fisherman and his wife were Paul Barnes and Ellen Streed. Again the scene changed. Before me was a large room, brilliantly lighted. Here many men were gathered, excitement ran high. In the center of the room, seated at a table eagerly engaged in a game, were the champion gamblers of the West! And there among them, oh, how it grieves me to tell it, were Christie Hollstein and Walter Brean. Who would have thought that our innocent schoolmates would come to this? A far different place next came to view. It was a church- yard. Here among the graves was one on which sweet tiowers grew. At its head was a large white stone and on it was engraved: Charles Kingsburv. The Good Die Young. I have always heard that tombstones lie, and now I believe it. The graveyard changed to a busy streetg down it came a richly-attired lady, and I heard someone say, There comes the richest woman in the United States. There is no knowing how much Rebecca Rosenblum is worth. -7-

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remark he made and there were cries of 'fLong live King Will, King William Wetzelf' Again I saw a busy city street, here in front of a book store hunga huge sign: All the latest novels for sale. Read the works of the great sensational novelists, Rose Clingman and Gertrude Miller. There now appeared a convent surrounded by. beautiful gar- dens. Here slowly pacing up and down, the paths was a nun. She seemed engaged in holy meditation. As she lifted her head I looked closely and it was Anne Jones. Leaning over the outer wall and gazing wistfully at her was a man. As I looked I heard him mournfully sigh and murmur, She's not for mef' It was Perry Harris. Poor Perry, even music has lost its charms for him. The wild trackless prairie formed the next scene. Here, riding after the cattle and seeing that none strayed, were three girls. As they galloped swiftly along with a practiced air, I saw the cattle queens were Verle Morrow, Kate Tidy and Gyneth Rich. I saw next the white tents of a large circus. On the gaudy posters, pasted on the surrounding fences, I read: Ruehe and Forvor, Successors to Ringling Bros. Greatest Show on Earth. The tents were crowded with a wild, enthusiastic audience. They were anxiously watching the acts of two wondrous trapeze per- formers. Something made me look closely at them and the Countess Flora and Minna Du Lasky were my old friends, Flor- ence Pienkowsky and Minna Porter. In another ring a skillful bareback rider was performing. As the crowd cheered and she bowed and smiled in return, I saw it was the much talked of Madame Josephine Burnett. The circus grew fainter, a wild, howling crowd appeared. A race was in progress. Ten to one on Princess, cried some one. Near at hand, his eye glued on Princess, sat her owner, George Carroll. As the scene passed the noise became deafening. She's won! She's won! Hurrah for Princess! A cold, wintry landscape was the next. Here in a rough shack, crouching over a tire, were two forms. Wrinkled, drawn and tired they looked. One moved wearily and said, Pm going home. If there's any gold in the Klondike others can find it. Pvc had enough. But the other replied, Never, I'll stay here ..9-