Weatherwax High School - Quinault Yearbook (Aberdeen, WA)

Page 26 text:

Q U I N I A U L T days of my life. Never thought that anybody in that play would ever get a start in life and if here isn’t another one. G. B.—(Waves wand)—A busy office rises to view. A man of slight build with great horn spectacles on his nose is stooping over a desk, evidently dee]) in thought. M. C.—Slightly built and horny spectacles. That can’t be anyone but Roger Blackburn. G. B.—Yes, it is he. I see a sign “Matrimonial Bureau.” lie appears to have an inspiration; he calls his champion typist, Miss Tonneson, and as I listen I do believe he is dictating love letters. M. C.—Love letters! No wonder, he ought to be in good practice for that, considering the number he wrote during his High School career. G. S.—I hear him dictating a letter for Mr. Homer Hanson to a French heiress whom he met during his war experiences in France. M. C.—Homer Hanson marrying an heiress. He always did dodge work and get everything coming to him at a discount. G. B.—(Waves wand)—Aberdeen seems to be holding a patriotic celebration in honor of Majoress Beulah Beedon, who has just returned from Olympia, Washington, where she has demonstrated to the Governor of the State, Lilith Graham, that women make as efficient soldiers as men. M. C.—The girls of the Class seem to be outdoing the1 boys in winning the honors of the world. G. B.—A young woman runs out from a blacksmith shop where she has been wielding hammer and tongs, to watch the parade. I hear her say that Majoress Beedon was one of her class mates and I see the name above the shop dor. “Mildred Zent, Blacksmith and Ironworker.” M. C.—But what has become of Dave Morley with all his oratory and convincing arguments and inspiring poetry? Surely he ought to some to some great end. G. S.— (Waves wand)—David Morley, I see a happy-go-lucky fellow sauntering down a railroad track, his belongings done up in a bandana and tied on the end of a stick. Suddenly he stops, throws down his bundle. What is that I hear him say? “I’ll outdo Abe Martin and Walt Mason yet.” He throws up his hands in wild gesticulation. I can hear him say these words: “The day is done, and darkness From the wing of night is tossed As a feather is wafted downward From a chicken going to roost.” M. C.—Well, you haven’t missed a one. From the members of the fair sex down to the last member of the Ed Bopps. I would be glad to pay you anything for you surely helped me out of a tight place. Here I was to give the Class Prophecy and I always was hard up for an inspiration, but here I have it all in a nutshell. (By this time the witches have disappeared.) Name your fee. What, gone? Well that was another good business deal where the Class and I are ahead.

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QUINIAUL T M. C.—Those two must he Clara Warwick and Florence Lund. G. S.—(Waves wand and chants weird tune)—Beneath the tropic palms of Hawaii a little group of native children, Hula Hula girls, are being instructed by a tall, angular woman. One of the children is addressing her as Miss Hite. The rumor is that she has fallen so in love with her work as a missionary that she intends to become the life-long helpmate of one who intends to spend his days in the fields. M. C.—A missionary! Well who would have thought that Fay Ilite would take up that work. G. B.—I seem to see the names of Dennis Green and Martha Pearson. Dennis has invented the “Get ’em up” alarm clock and Martha seems to be chief agent and demonstrator. M. C.—Ha, ha! If Martha Pearson is a demonstrator for alarm clocks she must be either a poor demonstrator or she has changed since her Senior days. G. B.—I see a great crowd of people. It seems to be the Railroad depot at Aberdeen. A woman’s voice sounds above the crowd, “trains for Junction City, Tacoma and Seattle and all points North, South and East.” A lady and gentleman look up suddenly—it seems that they have recognized the voice. Now I see them-hurrying towards her. “Why Gertrude Michaels, what are you doing here?” “Bonnie Ludwick and Kov Peterson, what are you doing here, I’d like to know?” The gentleman seems to respond: “Why, I have invented ‘Beauty’s Waves’ to keep the hair permanently curly and Bonnie here is my model!” There seems to be two more who are joining the crowd. “Dorothy Loomis!” the crowd again exclaims. “What are you doing in town? I thought that you were abroad toe dancing in the courts of Europe.” Behind her comes the demure little woman who they recognize as Alice Lund-gren, who is travelling with Dorothy as maid and companion. M. C.—My, that takes my breath away—so the Class of ’18 claims a Madame Pavlowa; and Roy Peterson demonstrating hair wavers. Don’t know what this old world is coming to next. G. S.—(Waves wand)—I seem to see two people in the audience at a moving picture show. They are talking about the Class of ’18. They are Hannah Schwarz and Frances Erickson. “No wonder, Hannah,” the other is saying, “that you have established a home for the children. Your experience in your Senior year surely put you in good stead for that work.” “And you are contributing to the Cosmopolis Times. I have been reading the articles on ‘How to Be Popular With the Men.’ I never thought they were written by you. But then Frances you can write from experience.” The pictures have begun. “Why,” Hannah is saying, “if it isn’t your old friend, Hazel Halverson, on the screen tonight. Did you know she was starring in love scenes? And she doesn’t look a bit older than when she starred in her first scene in the Senior play.” M. C.—Senior play days. Say that reminds me of about the busiest —21—

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Q U I N I A U L T Class Will Driven to an untimely death by the fatalities of graduation expenses and the great desire of the Juniors to become dignified Seniors, tin; Senior class of 1918 is about to succumb to the inevitable and go to take up its abode in another altho perhaps, less kindly world. We being still of sound and disposing mind and memory and in absolute control of our senses, and being desirous of settling our school affairs while we have the opportunity to do so. do herewith bequeath all our taxable property to those of our friends and enemies, who would profit most by such a transaction. To the coming Seniors: We bequeath first, the example of supreme dignity and knowledge possessed by the Senior class of 1918, with the sincere wish that they may profit by it. Second. We bequeath Room 14 with its pleasing (?) memories of the many exams that Miss Fink has bestowed upon us. Third: We bequeath to them our seats in the auditorium and may they continue to set an example to the entering Freshmen of the dignity and knowledge of their late occupants. Fourth: The Ed Bopps fraternity bequeaths to the Junior Boys its strength of organization, to be used in upholding the traditions of the A. H. S. To the coming Juniors: We bequeath the valuable old note books left in the waste basket of Room 14, in which may be found some very useful information for their coming year in high school. To the coming Sophomores: Fearing that the present Sophs may for- get them upon suddenly becoming upperclassmen, we bequeath to them the seats of the said present Sophomores in the auditorium that they may gaze in awe at tin backs of the Juniors’ heads. To the entering Freshmen: We leave first, some good shoe oil, as 3 in 1. to take the squeak out of their shoes. Second. We also leave a guide book that they may not become lost in the labyrinths of the A. IT. S. Third : We leave them a barrel of good strong salt for proper season- ing. To Fred Tebb. Roger Blackburn bequeaths bis brains preserved in alcohol so that he may always have them ready for use in English II Exams, i Toots Pearson bequeaths her good attendance to Wanda Wolkowicz. To certain Freshmen an extra large helping from the Freshman salt barrel. To “Bing” Morgan, Dennis Green wills his ability as an orator. Beulah Beedon leaves her tall stateliness to Sammy Barbour that he may become a shining light in his Senior year. —23