West High School - Hesperian Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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THE VERDICT OF THE KU KLUX KLAN THE inmates of Tanglelodge were having a hilarious time. Shrieks of feminine laughter floated through the open windows. The bright lights streaming out into the dense foliage of the woods cast many a spookish shadow. The tall poplars softly whispered among themselves, while the grave oaks shook their heads in dire disapproval of the evening’s proceedings. Summery clad figures swayed to and fro in rhythm to the popular music that was being ground out by the Jazzerettes. Now when twelve of Tangleville’s most promising young women students of the largest high school, take it upon themselves to decide that man has become an old-fashioned ornament, something is bound to happen among the male population. At the height of the evening’s amusements, while dancing was still in its sway and refreshments were ready to be served, the door of Tanglelodge was suddenly thrust open and twelve white figures solemnly marched before the horror stricken gaze of girls and chaperon; the chief spoke. ’’We, the members of the High and Mighty Order of the Ku Klux Klan. do hereby order and ordain that these young women participating in annoying and unnecessary noise, and other actions known to ourselves, on this evening of June, nineteen hundred and twenty-two, have made it necessary for the male inhabitants of Tangleville to protest in the name of the law set down by the High Chief Potentate. A regular court session will take place. The organization will then remove to another apartment, returning within three minutes with verdict for said prisoners.” (Signed) HOKUS POKUM, High Chief of the Ku Klux Klan. Three minutes of anguish and terror had elapsed when the doors opened and the jurors filed in. The head juror, in a very dignified and solemn manner, handed over their written verdict. No need for requesting silence; the room was like death itself. Unrolling the document, the judge of the evening gravely glanced over the contents and shook his head. “It is decreed by my fellow Klansmen that this verdict be put in force because of the following transgressions of the listed delinquents. Mary Clemens, on Tuesday the ninth, came to her Virgil class unprepared; Gladys King, on Monday, reported with a failure in mathematics; Betty Mums on the seventh of said month snubbed our high and glorious basketball captain, Jim Dow; Dorothy Konn refused an invitation from our most lovable of football heroes, Dan Kenzie; Sally Mac, on same date was seen throwing paper wads at our illustrious instructor. Mr. Percival McProof; Dot, Betty, and Mitzel dared to call members of this Klan by undignified names that have never been used in the family Bible. Because of these violations, along with the unnecessary noises, disorderly conduct of the participants and the omission of the protecting male, it has been found necessary for me to read the following verdict: ‘That the condemned participants shall be made to dance for at least two hours with the members of this Klan.’ The watchful oaks and sleepy poplars heard many happy and relieved cries when the bogus Klansmen removed their masks and familiar faces were brought to light. Page II A arcella Rossiter.

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CREEDS By Wanda Orton For tke Freshman 3f fflclteOf in clean, conspicuous books, in Seniors, and in minimum requirements. I promise to study all my lessons, to subscribe to the Weekly, and to greet my adviser every day with a smile, no matter how unfeeling that person may be in regard to my personal idiosyncrasies. 1 will at all times remember that it is the duty of the adviser to polish uncut stones, so that the gems may some day dazzle the sensibilities of the University of Minnesota. 1 shall have for my motto, Cheer up, little Koh-i-noor, you’ll be a crown jewel by and by. For the Sophomore 31 Jflflicbe in long auditorium sessions, in class excursions, and in minimum requirements. I promise to see all my fellow men with democratic vision—even Freshmen. Every day I will eat a well-balanced lunch, not combining pickles with milk, nor ice cream with hot soup. Under all circumstances will I endeavor to become enthusiastic about the square of the hypothenuse, book reports, and June lessons. My motto shall be, 1 may bolt, I may run, 1 may skip school if I will—but the minimum requirements follow me still. For the Junior 31 Jflfliebe in bidding farewell to the front hall crowd at 8:20, in cultivating an intellectual ten minutes in anticipation of the first hour class, and in passing all minimum requirements. For the hall locker I have at last received, the assiduous polishing from my adviser, and the important feeling 1 now possess, may I be properly thankful. Throughout the year my motto shall be. L’univers, I’univers, tout entier c’est a moi. 1 couldn’t have said that two years ago. For the Senior 3! Belittle in the general efficaciousness of English II, English V, English VII, and English X, in Batch, and our future athletic field. I no longer believe in minimum requirements; I don’t have to! They are my alter ego! 1 can confront with proper poise a parallel construction, a test by Miss Penney, or Mr. McWhorter. 1 promise to make my graduation pictures as interesting as possible, to buy a copy of the Hesperian, and to pay all my just debts. My motto shall be, All the world’s a stage. If I can’t play leads (as I am beginning to discover) let me make the characters worth while. For the Teacher 31 iBeliebe in the cheerful heart and the strong right arm, but not in too big a stick. I promise, after flaying myself daily with the scourge of self-criticism. to sleep peacefully and to arise next morning with incorrigible optimism. My class room shall be at all times a democracy; my motto, Which am I—grit in the wheels or oil in the cogs?” Page 10

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SHADOWS The sky is dark o'erhung in leafy arch. By lowering trees, with shadows thick and gray. That troop in vague, confused, and endless march. Along the silent, hidden, moonlit way. Where you can see the moon there also may You see her dark twin sisters’ shadows shifting; The one so fair, more beautiful than day. The others always shifting, never lifting From the path their soft black feet, but always drifting. Winifred Lynskey. AFTER THE STORM A sweep of snowy plain To the western sun A mist of threat’ning sky Although the storm is done. A group of eerie ghosts That yesterday were trees. Weird wailing of the winds Across the frozen seas. Now the storm King’s power Has wrought its mighty will. Wrapt in its shroud of white The world is passive, still. Save from yonder thicket A flitting opal flame— Against the dreary background A blue-jay calls for rain. Page 12 Loleta Stout.