Westerville High School - Searchlight Yearbook (Westerville, OH)

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glasses. finery, and cigarettes are hurridly concealed behind bushes, as three very straight figures attired in black with frilly, white caps stand at attention as the gorgeous and glamorous movie queen, Gladys Grabrill, haughtily descends from her limousine. She and Olive McCombs who superseded Grace Moore in films, throw daggers at each other by the conventional method of catty remarks. Gladys has just been spat upon and her fur is bristling. Shaw, Fritsche, and Johnston are in for a royal calling down. The Knight's mood is ugly now, h-is little fat cheeks fairly wobble with anger. Consequently, his next vision is dripping with the element of sinister- ness. Seated amid splendid Chinese draperies, we find Charles Kincaid who has reverted to type and is the ring leader of a gang of Chinese dope iends. Opposite him trying to be very composed in Mary Jane Schick. Dope-eating Schickie is Charlie's moll, but her mania for taking pictures and printing them is a rather dangerous hobby in gangland. Chink Charlie is illustrating very convincingly the manner in which he intends to have her throat slit. Alas! How bitter are the fruits of evil. The scene switches. The Knight's befrazzled mind sees Margaret Little, John Needels, William Orr, Bernard Reiselt, Alfreda Shaw, Jane Ann Smith, and Ethel Wightman arraigned before stern Judge Ricketts on the charge of participation in a Bolshevik revolution. Judge Ricketts after unrelentingly denouncing them as un-American, sentences the brains of the crowd, namely, Comrades Little, Smith, Needels, and Reiselt to occupy the chair of applied electricity at Sing Sing. in other words, the hot spot: and the bat brains, Orr, Saling, Shaw and Wightman, to twenty years hard labor on the rock pile. The fat Knight has had enough of sorrow. He itches for a romance. He stops long enough to sympathize with Mike Patton and Harriet Lust found in perfect domestic felicity, blissfully washing roomfuls of smelly milk cans, in between smacking some screaming, squally babies. He holds his nose and hastens on. CBabies will be babiesj Still in a pleasant frame of mind, our portly cavalier envisages Lon Hill. Earnie Harris, Aldon Bennett, Robert Clymer, and Eddie Andrews as the main entrees in an Apollo contest to discover the perfect specimen of male pulchritude. Clarkie is thinking of entering the contest for he knows he would Win by a barrelful: however, Eddie Andrews wins by a nose's length. He is immediately monopolized by Marian Brennan, the wealthy heiress, who staged the contest and who promised the winner a Park Avenue mansion. ten limousines, maids, dogs, monthly allowances, and-now comes the catch-her buxom self. John White, after haranguing for years and years upon his famous South Sea Island Utopia, at last inveigled a scant following composed of Donald Cheek, Bernice La France Qagainst her husband's willj, Helen Conklin, Flor- ence Goodwin, Belva Clapham, Mae Hunnell, and Helen Adams to participate 31

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PROPHECY Enter: A Knight . . . a fat Knight . . . Lloyd Clark . . . ha! ha! Enter also a charger . . . a skinny charger with fallen arches and a sway back. Why? . . . ??? the Knight. The fat Knight sits astride his skinny charger and strokes where his beard ought to be but ain't. There ain't even peach fuzz. And while he strokes where his beard ought to be but ain't, he invokes his Muse. What Muse? Oh, just any Muse. Oh, Muse, I refuse This charger to use. Oh, give We a steed That's lousy with speed, And one that will do For a Knight in sore need. Amen. No sooner said than done. Enter: a salesman . . . a swarthy young salesman . . . John Rowland . . . ha! ha! ha! Enter also, a Ford V-8 with that skin you love to touch and changeable seat covers. Why . . . ??? for baby, you know. The salesman warily eyeing his prospect draws a deep breath and says, lf you want a real bargain in a car . . Sold. I'll trade in my chivalry for Ford V-8. Oh Musey, old cutey, You've done your duty, And thee I heartily thank. As the Hrst whirr of the motor began, a sinister cloud of magic settled like a cloak. Can extra large cloak, size 62, in factj and he was wafted into the mystic realm of . . . the FUTURE! He sees Irl Mitchelson miserably lying on his death bed. His pretty nurse, Laura Frank, is holding his hand while murmuring words of comfort. Doc. Zimmer, an eminent specialist of psychiatric disorders, appears. He takes lrl's pulse and sadly shakes his head. Irl thinking himself in the throes of Virgil, hysterically shouts, Anna Virumque cano. The doctor significantly taps his forehead and bemoans, In the last throes of dementia praecoxf' fBats in the belfry to you.D The following scene is equally sad. It reveals Dwight Ballenger, a mere scarecrow of his former self, clutching the iron bars of his prison. His lady- love gave him the run-around and then flew the coop and so Smoky is slowly pining away. Do you Wanda about that? The prison bars slowly desolve into the iron gates of a magnificent show place in Beverly Hills. The three servants, Mademoiselles Shaw, Johnston. and Fritsche are sipping rum cocktails and gossiping on the patio. The sound of an approaching car is heard: strange things happen. Gray chiffon, gold sequins and sea-green musseline de soie are hastily torn off. Rum cocktails, 1 l w l 3 O

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with him in this great project. They are in the midst of a bloody fight because Bernice La France and Helen Conklin are both ardently in love with Cheek. No discipline is maintained because their perndous leader ran away with a nut- brown maiden. John White said-Oh Well, what does John White usually say about nut-brown maidens? Romantic, urban France is the background in which Ruth Bilman is found flaunting her devastating charm as a French stenographer to Warner Karg and Bernard Kaiser of the firm Karg and Kaiser. Ruth is receiving a client in the ante-room. Miss Nancy Jones minces toward the modernistic desk. A confab follows, after which Miss Jones is admitted to the inner sanctum sanctorium. Two hours later, she emerges giggling off pitch. Her neck has lost its Wiggles, she toes out instead of in, and displays her dimpled knees. She is now sighing for a man. The next vision is an exotic one. Huge trees and strange giant plants in flamboyant blossom are profuse in their abundance. In this paradise a thriving nudist colony flourishes. Blissfully repining under the trees are Alice Ballard, Mildred Beck, Doris Buck, Forest Black, Jack Jarnagin, and James Bevelhy- mer. Baring all, it's a pretty decent sort of a life. Poor old George Closson in spangled white satin tights is contentedly lying on a red plush couch snoring to his heart's content. George is breaking the NRA Code by working twenty-four hours a day. When I say working, I mean snoring. A bumblebee tarries long enough on our Knight's-well-you know- to leave a monumental mark as did James Carter, now Professor of French at Harvard. He constantly mystifies his students by talking about June fillys. CJeune iilles, n'est-ce pas?j Serving on the same faculty is Bill Cook, who coaches Debate and is Professor of Economics. This morning he is seen delivering a lecture on The Meritorous and Defective Diiferentialisms of International Bimetallismf' one of his favorite subjects. The clicking and clattering of typewriters gives animation and life to the ensuing scene. Since Harry Crawford and Helen Venn both have that insatiable curiosity and happy faculty of ferreting out any Dirt they decided to make a go of it. Mr. and Mrs. is the name. Little bright-eyes four Knightj chuckles and snortles as he sees Joseph Markley Wilson prissing down the street in spats, derby, cane, kid gloves, and a petit white gardenia in his boutonniere to match the little white fence he has built around himself. For you must remember, gentle readers, that Joseph is first and foremost a XVilson, one of the Wilsons and he has ancestors. His eminence sees one of his former classmates approaching him, and he imme- diately busies himself on the other side of the street. Lloyd's blood busts into a bubble and he breaks out into a rash, for there before him is his one and only Ctake a deep breath and grab your hats, folksj 32