Weatherwax High School - Quinault Yearbook (Aberdeen, WA)

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© u i ii a ii I t By way of self-preservation and creating a self-confidence, we worked up a peppy yell, that stood us in good stead many times during the year when junior and senior yells filled the auditorium with lusty screeching. The vibrant war cry of the sophs was: VIM! VIGOR! PEP! FUN! i - 9 - 3 - 1 YEA ! SOPHOMORES! To uphold traditions and bring honor to our school we found ourselves confronted by the responsibility of putting over the annual Sophomore I lop. Like poor sailors on a storm-tossed sea, we flew to the arms of our staunch advisor. Acting on his suggestion we put the hop over big via a colorful cabaret dance. George Scott acted as Master of Ceremonies supported by a host of pretty waitresses and a cigarette girl, and backed by resourceful committees. e thus inaugurated into the Weatherwax High a stunt entirely different from that of previous years. Feeling our way cautiously, (oh! we did not want to intrude on the haughty juniors or mighty seniors) we began to branch out. to join clubs already in action or organize new ones to fit the occasion. Twenty-two of our talented many, were selected to make up the Sophomore Playmakers, a [ Thirteen ]

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 Q u i n a u I t opfjomore $tstorp By Alice Scott W'lievv! It had to he done! With hearts a-flutter and breath coming-in short painful gasps, we buckled on our armor of courage and started. Three hundred and fifty grinning sophs, trying to look wise and acting likewise, literally “piled” into the grist, the wonderful, the long hoped for structure of Weatherwax high school. Mere we were: a ship without a rudder, a group without a leader. Some among us over-powered their self-conscious consternation and aroused us to the realization, that first and foremost, if we were to become a part of this splendid educational institution, we must hold a mass meeting and by hook or crook acquire a pilot. From the available material at hand, we cajoled Vincent Mill to steer our course through a stormy sophomore year. As we look back now on this stern, capable helmsman, a feeling of genuine sympathy and gratitude rises in our hearts. The second important step in our advancement was to have class officers. These we acquired by popular vote at our first class meeting. The doomed were as follows: Carl Temple, chief magistrate: Steve 'l urk, deputy magistrate; Edgar Johnson, recorder; Karl Malysz. treasurer. John (iauntlett represented us ioo per cent in the council. [ Twelve ]

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(Q ti i n a tt 1 t Temple Turk Johnson Malysz dramatic organization. From this multitude of three hundred and fifty grinning, green sophomores we produced a goodly number of honor students. Our class of ’31 fairly radiated with the brilliance of its members. Our last and most important obligation, (and the ship in which we were to sail out from public life) was the sophomore assembly. Grim determination to make good held every member of our class in its grip— no one was spared. From our ranks we gleaned the best talent to be had. making a varied and interesting program. It consisted of a chorus girls dancing act, a clever double skit entitled Contrast. written especially for us by Miss Beatrice M. Rolfe of the Junior high school, also several snappy curtain acts and the starring performance of Charles 1 locker assisted by (irace Davidson at the piano. This proved to be our greatest triumph. Success crowned our efforts so we leave our sophomore year happy in the knowledge of a duty well performed. £Ucn $S 0 “ And departing leave behind us, Footprints on the sands of time. Yea! A muddled mess of footprints we have left during the past nine months of torture, trying to escape the abuse of hard-hearted juniors and the scorn of the superior and condescending seniors. On a day in September we came, hopeful and gay, to add our number to the more brilliant and advanced students of the eatherwax high school. But what a reception! Ridicule, abuse, torment, were heaped upon us by those whose years filled their souls with egoism. Given the worst place to be had for assemblies, packed away like sheep in the left hand corner of the auditorium, we were subjected to their never-ending taunts and jeers. Nothing but staunch and strong resolves could have weathered the torrent of their ceaseless squawking. Justice? Why. Justice hid her face behind the door. Nay. not a glance of her did we see. Unmindful of all this, we forged ahead, strong in the belief of our own powers, to a shining goal ahead. Ah !—if we were good, if we worked hard, if we struggled ever on.—some day in the far, distant future, we too, would become mighty Juniors. We have arrived! What a feeling of pride fills our souls. No longer do we have to cringe and crawl—or jump to the beck and call of a taunting mob. We are Juniors! Next year there will be more Sophomores, and then—And then ? Well, that’s another story ! [ Fourteen ]