West High School - Senior Occident Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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THE OCCIDENT 137 menced to wonder who that might be, than someone said, “O, that’s only Gil- bert Taylor out for a little exercise.” Well, I never, what next? Chancing to look across the street I received a shock, for there was a mon- strous dry-goods store with the names ‘‘Wilkins, Smy and Smith Co.” painted across the whole front. “Good for the girls,” I thought and entering the store, I looked about with due curiosity. Rather bewildered, I approached a floor- walker—tall and gaunt—but oh my!— where had I seen him before? Some- where, something seemed to say— Don Williamson.” Well, I never’d have be- lieved it—it’s a suitable job all right. Again all of a sudden the scene changed, and I was alone. Afar off in the distance I heard an awful rattle and soon something that looked like a Ford drove into sight. On the side was painted in huge letters—Dr. H. Ross McNamee—gold-fish specialist. A head stuck out of the back—and who should I recognize but Floyd Owen—chief as- sistant M. D. and ex-comedian? In a second it was gone and I turned only to behold a group of Greek maidens danc- ing on the green. Again that mysteri- ous voice echoed. “Mildred Mason, Es- telle Schoonover, Doris Fuller and Kath- erine Sullivan—professionals at it.” I received another shock right then and there. Afar off in the distance I beheld the gate which I had entered, and started eagerly toward it, for I thought I’d had almost enough. Suddenly that long string of figures appeared again, and in the passing instant I caught these words: Ruth E. Strong—Actress—ex-poet- ess. Madeline M. Walsh—Mrs. Somebody —ex-princess. Vincent T. Crowley—Detective—ex- pick-pocket. Gertrude M. Hall—Pianist at the “Grand”—don’t miss it. Winifred C. Anderson—Spinster—ex- book agent. Vincent C. Wiser—Missionary—ex- calamity howler. George F. Winegard—Storekeeper— ex-president. Arthur H. Thompson—Lectures, in any language other than English! William Taft—Chief Electrician in the S. P. skating pavilion—ex-lawyer. Herbert E. Spencer—Bachelor—ex- Morinon. Helen R. Day—Housekeeper—ex- waitress. Adelaide Dark—Society speaker—ex- washerwoman. Maida M. Judd—Chief Cook and Bot- tle Washer W. H. S. Elmer Sachs—Mayor—ex-missionary. Gladys Hanse—Heiress—ex-waitress. Charles W. Perrine—Policeman—ex- shoplifter. Rhea E. Kelley—Social Secretary— ex-waitress. As suddenly as before they all van- ished but still in the distance appeared three trudging figures bearing a single worn out label—“Hopeless Old Maids” Mildred Ford, Margaret Nichols—and, oh horrors,—alas, too true, myself. Terrified and indignant I rushed to- ward the gate where a lone figure stood. “Tell me,” I shouted, “what does it all mean?” Slowly the figure pointed to the numbers above my head—1917 and murmured—“Will you go back and leave the fleeting shadows of the . future?” Turning I saw his label—“Forrest W. Dewey, Farmer, Ex-Society Bug.” With one final gasp I pushed through the gate. It closed with an awful clang and I awoke—but listen— Dreams on Wedding Cake are bound to come to reality. She—What do you like about me? He—The other arm, till I rest this one.

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136 THE OCCIDENT cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey. Though still treading the path of knowledge we crowned our junior year with a hop and the Shakespearean play, “As You Like It. This play, a big piece of work, was, like all else, a grand success. We must not overlook the two cham- pionships for all-round athletics, won these last two years. You will please note the scope of our abilities! And not two weeks ago was our senior dance and it is scarcely a week since our play, “Her Husband’s Wife. They spoke for themselves. Need we say more ? Thus have we gone,—ever successful, ever triumphant, ever generous, a class that need not be ashamed. Pardon our pride. We are proud of our record. Have we not a right to be? To convince you and end our course in a blaze of glory we hereby invite you all to a dance in the corridor at the close of this assembly—the music to be fur- nished by a real orchestra. Marian Huddleston Miller. “ Sir Oracle Hath Spoken! At last! Aeneas had returned from his vacation trip to Hades, where, amidst other good times, lie had his fortune told,—and now I might at last retire, with that piece of wedding cake under my pillow which, for wisest reasons, I had as yet refrained from eating—the cake (I mean). No sooner said, than done! A massive iron gate before me, swung slowly open and, in sheer astonishment, I gazed open-mouthed at the numbers above it—1-9-3-4. Something pushed me on. I entered. All of a sudden, I came to my senses and realized that Aeneas wasn’t the only one who should have the future revealed to him—tho surely I was in a far different locality. Everything was different—the first thing that hit my eye, instead of the river Styx, was a monstrous sign on top of a little shack, not far from the en- trance, which read, “C. C. C. and K. C. Co. What under the sun? My brain grew puzzled—of a sudden, the letters all unfolded, and I read, “Carl Chamber- lain, Curl and Kink Cure. Co.” Well! has it come to this, I sighed. I might have known. “O yes! replied a voice behind me— “you certainly might have!” I turned. What did I behold, but one of those long- haired, wandering, musing poets, with a huge label across the front of him, read- ing, “Sir Francis Scyfried—ex-noblc- inan! Behind him trailed a long string of the queerest figures, who were all likewise labelled. I stood there simply dumfounded. In absolute silence, they passed me by, and this is what I read: Marian H. Miller—Teacher of Alge- bra, Geometry, Trigonometry, Calculus and Kindergarten—ex-lunch car propri- etress. Anabelle Mullen—Anarchist—Watch out! Julia B. Snyder—Guaranteed Gover- ness. Milton B. Steinman—Principal of North High School. Helen M. Stein—Now Showing at the “Vic. Wilbur Cooper—D. D. (interpret them as you wish). Harvey K. Hunt—Second Sawdust- Trail. Ruth C. Kumcrow—Housekeeper— ex-suffragette. Here the procession suddenly van- ished and I was as puzzled as before. I started forth again, and the scenery changed completely. I found myself in the middle of a crowded street. Everybody was staring upward and so I did, too. Oh, it was merely an aeroplane floating around above the traffic. No sooner had I com-

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138 THE OCCIDENT LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT We the noble Senior Class of West High School of the City of Rochester, in the County of Monroe and State of New York, being of sound mind and memory, do make, publish and declare this, out last Will and Testament, in the following manner: First—According to precedent, estab- lished by Seniors, we direct that our just debts and graduation expenses be paid. Second—To Mr. Bennett we respect- fully leave one box of cubebs, and sin- cerely trust that he will smoke one after every assembly for the next ten weeks, for we realize what a “quiet smoke” will do for shattered nerves. Third—To Miss Marian Miller we leave a Ford truck for her personal bag- gage, including one large black hand- bag. Fourth—To Mr. Homer Fickett we leave a reserved seat in the library for the next four years, and likewise to Mr. Ralph Wilbur. Fifth—We direct that a monthly pension be paid the aforesaid Mr. Wilbur for services rendered at the piano on Fri- day afternoon, provided he does not marry before the age of fifty or smoke before he is twenty-one. However, if he fails to qualify, we are sure that there are boys in West High who neither smoke or have any chances of getting married before they pass the half-century mark. Sixth—We hereby appoint a body guard over Mr. Junior Petty to prevent him from stepping in front of street cars or automobiles, as he has done on pre- vious occasions, as serious damage might be done to—the street cars or automobiles. Seventh—To Miss Mildred Mason we leave a good speedometer, as she has already broken three in trying to get to school in eight and two-thirds min- utes. This will also save her from turning around frequently to see if there is an officer of the law on the trail. Eighth—We direct that Miss Doris Gil- lette be appointed “Chief Examiner” of all fountain pens found in West High during the past four years, as we are sure that most of them must be hers. Ninth—To Mr. Robert Lohges, one of the most promising young men in the United States, we leave a book en- titled, “How to Become Famousv” by Harry K. Thaw. Tenth—To Miss Weaver we leave a large periscope, which will enable her to keep an eye on the library while walking about the building. This, we hope, will make library work more enjoyable as there is no buzzer at- tached to the periscope. Eleventh—Lastly, to the whole school we leave the new system of “super- vised study.” We hereby appoint B. Guile and E. Z. Money executors of this, our last Will and Testament. In witness whereof, we have herewith subscribed our names on the nineteenth day of January, in the year of our Lord, one thousand nine hundred and seven- teen. Gay And Giddy, Is adore Wood, Witnesses. A street Arab stood on a weighing ma- chine In the light of the lingering day; Then a counterfeit penny he dropped in the slot, And silently stole a-weigh. May—Well, Bill, how many orders did you get yesterday? Bill—I got two in one place. May—That’s the stuff. What were they ? Bill—One to get out and one to stay out.