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

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he told me, a graduate of the State Agricultural school and of tl1e Waukegan High School. He had farming reduced to a science, and had just succeeded in getting corn that grew al- ready shelled. Beyond this I could not learn. I had proceeded but a short distance when I saw a beautiful young woman with a butteriiy net and a bag of specimens approaching me. She asked me if I had seen any phyloxera in my walk. I was spared the embarassment of expressing my ignorance by her suddenly but stealthily stealing toward a little black spot in the top of the bush behind which reclined my scientific farmer. Instantly I recognized the specimen', she was after as the latter's escaped lock of hair. I tried to cry out but it was too late, the butterfly net fell with a crash and the next instant-Anna Detweiler was making profuse apologies to Lloyd Jones. The scene again changes to a city. I saw an elderly lady with beautiful golden curls, carrying what appeared to be a manuscript of some kind, accompanied by a somewhat smaller but equally beautiful lady entering the editor's sanctum of a large periodical. The former, I was informed, was a noted poet who had risen to fame in a few short weeks. As a prophet I am able to state that we have this coming poctess with us tonight and you will have the pleasure of hearing one of the poems upon which her fame will be based. Her companion, instructor of Latin in Yale college, is chiefly noted as th'e author of a book defending the study of tl1e ancients and tl1e Latin and Greek lan- guage in the public schools. From these descriptions I think you will all recognize, as readily as I did, Edythe Gunn and Car- rie Burnett, respectively. I had now become used to these sudden changes of scene and eagerly awaited what the next would bring forth. I was in the hall of that venerable body, the United States Senate. A tall and stately senator was reading Comas to the house, seemingly with the idea that there was plenty of time, while most of the remaining senators fumed with rage, because of the fact that it was near the end of the session and an important bill was waiting to be put through. How th'e worthy senator expected to prove his points by passages from Comas, I cannot imagine, but George Campbell could get a deep meaning out of almost any- thing in his High School days, so I suppose he knew what he was about. In the next change of scene I stood before a spacious coun- 17 I 4

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A Peep Behind the Scenes N a warm, clear and typical day in early June, when one's mind turns from examinations, cramming and even ainusements and diversions and longs 'to stroll through some shaded wood, drop all care for the time and simply enjoy nature, as I was wandering in a neighboring wood in hopes of getting an inspira- tion, I came upon a lovely spot which I never remembered to have seen before. Sit-ting at the base of a large maple, I gave myself up to contemplating the scene before me. IVhether it was the absolute quiet, the warm day or that some one came to the relief of a perplexed propl1'et, I can not say, but gradually the forest faded, my eyes closed, and I fell asleep. My eyes had scarcely closed when I awoke with a start, but amid very different surroundings. I was in the lobby of one of the largest and grandest theatres in the United States. Large electric signs announced Shakespearels great tragedy, Macbeth. The greatest actress of Shakespearian roles was playing the part of Lady Macbeth and drawing immense crowds and as I entered was just making her appearance on the stage. Somelrow I re- membered to have seen her before but could not recall the cir- cumstances. Not until she came to f'But screw your courage to the sticking place, And welll not fail. Did I remember that the time I had heard that voice and those words before was in English III. and the name was Helen Garnett. 1 I had no time to think before the surroundings changed as suddenly as before. In striking contrast to the above, I found myself on a level stretch of country land on a warm summer's day. I beheld, reclining in the shade of a stubby bush, a typical looking farmer. He was clad in the regulation suit, even to the large straw hat through which a small tuft of jet black hair ap- peared at the crown. As I entered into conversation with' him, I found him to be no ordinary farmer . His speech and manner would have done credit to ai Wfaukegan society leader. He was, 16

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try dwelling, surrounded by numerous flower beds and so scrup- ulously neat as to proclaim without a doubt that it was the home of a spinster. I was admitted by an elderly lady and two little white kittens with blue ribbons around their necks. Various other members of the feline family welcomed me with soft purr- ing. The lady in charge informed me it was a Home for De- linquent Cats and claimed she was as much of a philanthropist as those engaged in more ostentatious enterprises. She said she was always disposed to be kind to animals and in the Wlaukegan High School-suddenly her identity flashed upon me. She was Lenore Bland, whose oration has aroused the sympathy of the whole High School toward the Indian and his wrongs. The kind hearted lady a.nd her feline friends disappear. Be- fore me sits a young lady at a canvas, sketching a landscape. Her dark eyes are riveted on th'e work before her and she takes no notice of my presence. As she pauses a minute I recognize Jennie Jackson, and I recall the time when she took an active part in painting the decoration which adorned the oiiice of the old High School and has been transferred to the new Township High School. Now I see an old man with a long white beard, sitting be- fore a small house in a country village. He is known as the oldest inhabitantf' a.nd is somewhat of a philosopher in his way. He is the village authority on every matter of speculation from a base ball game to a presidential election, and can find material for an argument on almost any topic brought up. I entered into conversation with him and he immediately went off to tell how we beat Hinsdale and almost got the state champion- ship, if we were not beaten th'e second game and if?- No one who attended High School with the class of 1906 could fail to recognize Oscar Ohlson, the only philosopher worthy of the name that the High School could ever boast of. Another change and I am in thle Parisian theatre, Paris. A famous American singer is touring Europe. She has sung be- fore all the crowned heads, delighted thousands of people and is now on a two months' engagement in Paris before leaving for home. As I listen to tl1e voice that has captivated all Europe I try to recall a faint suspicion lingering in my mind. Now I receive a program. Mme. Lydia Dahringer is what stares up at me from tl1e printed sheet as the surroundings fade into another scene. 18 '