Windsor High School - Pow Wow Yearbook (Windsor, IL)

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lpo v= Uo v) girl over at Gays. Nellie Simmons is teaching history in Gays. Olin Phipps is midshipman. Let’s see, what did he say about Jane Bell? Oh yes, I believe it is Michigan where she is living.” “There is Grace Shelton’s picture. Where did she and her husband go?” “They are still living over by Bethany.” “Well, if there isn’t Gilbert Clem. What became of him?” “He is chorister in Brookland. He and Hay Tull are working together in a church there. Kay is a minister and doing great work.” “There is Elizabeth Jackson’s picture. I had almost forgotten her.” “She is with her brother in California.” “Say, Neva, did you know that Florence Juhnke and John Wall were married last month?” “No. Have you read the September issue of the American? Did you see the long article about Beulah Gordon’s wonderful writings? She is a great success.” “Inez Storm! Where is she anyway?” “Ralph, didn’t you say you heard she and Clifford Harder were to be married soon?” “Yes, and I told you that Daisy Swinford’s diamond from Corn was good, didn't I ?” “Where is Deana?” “Deana :s nursing in an Old Folks’ Home. She and Letha Rawlings went through training to gether.” “There is old Margarette. I saw her not long ago. She is chief cook in a cozy little flat in Day-ton, for some fellow from Shelbyville. I don’t know his name ” “There Is Herbert Clawson. Did you know, Mary, that he is manufacturing frolicking cars that don’t have to be steered?” “That is about as shocking as Maurine Spencer being a radio announcer.” “Yes, or Paul Moberley being a successful yell leader the last four years at the U. of I.” “Suppose you read ‘Polly’s’Troubles in thefim- nies now that Vivian Edwards has made so popular?” “Did you know that Roy Renshaw was coach in the Sexson Corner high now?” “No. But, Ralph, did you know that Aubrey Walden is Ford dealer in Middlesworth ?” “Yes, he and Ruth Rankin have lived there ever since they were married.” “Well, if there isn’t Mary Hart’s picture. Three guesses, Mary, where she is.” “Oh. I already know. She is tucked away in a nice little bungalow in Shelbyville.” “This is about all of them, isn’t it?” “No, we have another page yet.” “Everyone knows what a great success Ralph Neal has made on the stage.” “On the stage?” “Yes. He is a world famous impersonator. Got his stait mocking R. L. Don’t you remember?” “There is old Evelyn’s picture. Wonder if she is making a success with her blush proof powder she is making?” “Goodness, just look at the time. We must be going to bed if 1 have to leave so early in the morning.” “No, Mary, not until we finish with these last two pictures. I don’t knew where they are.” “Let’s see. Oh, Elizabeth Storm and Ruth Sexson. I happen to know where they are. Ruth is telephone operator in Neoga, and Elizabeth is selling insurance around Sullivan.” —Jane Bell CLASS WILL We, the class of 1926 of W. C. H. S., being of sound mind and memory do hereby make and de-dare this to be our last will and testament, on the twenty-third day of February in the year of our Lord one thousand, nine hundred and twenty-six. To the Freshmen we bequeath the right of always having a good time in English. To the Sophomores we bequeath a little more wisdom. To the Juniors we leave our Senior rights and knowledge. To the faculty as a whole we leave our sympathy for losing such a brilliant and good looking class. Individually we bequeath to the faculty as follows: To Mr. Alexander, a Physics class that will always remember that one cubic centimeter of pure water is numerically equivalent to one gram of water. To Mr. Dunscomb, a basket ball team that will be able to defeat Lovington three times. To Miss Gustafson, a sleek, black haired sheik. To Miss Hartman, a Cooking class where at least two members car. make biscuits without looking at a cook book. To Mr. Ready, a class of Senior girls who will always be lady like and never run after the boys To Miss Jordan, a seavch warrant so she may be able to find the old hen the Senior boys tell her is in the ventilator in the back of the room. To Miss Stevenson, a man by the name of George from Arthur. To Mrs. Dunn, as much happiness in her married life as we have had in the last four years. To Miss Taylor, r. paddle, so that she may keep Kenneth quiet in the Assembly. To Miss Garvin, the art of making the Assembly pupils sing on Wednesday morning. Now in order to show our love for the Juniors we bequeath the following to them individually: To Margurette Barnhart, the right to be m the Senior class play next year. To Wayne Shelton, Gerald Rose leaves his height. To Della Chaney Vivian Edwards leaves her mischievous eyes. 102(3 Eighteen

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mm m ni i ipow=mow q - •• mmb CLASS HISTORY It was in the early fall of the year 1922 that we, the Senici class of ’26, entered upon the threshold of our dear old high. How confusing everything was then! The looms seemed so large and everything was so strange to us, poor little innocents! But after a few weeks of search we found our class rooms and got settled in the daily joutine of school life. A few of us were at our grades, but c-ustide of that everything was as we expected. The Sophomores, the class of ’25, did not initiate us. I guess it was because they were afraid to. We had a few parties that year. The games were: Run for Your Supper, Cat and Mouse, and a few other interesting games. (Post Office was prohibited). There was a chicken fry that year and the light hardship of washing and drying the dishes fell to the lot of the Freshmen. But we went through it with grace. All during the year, a few members of our class dropped out occasionally, but still there was a large number of us left. Then came the closing of our first year of high school, which caused much sorrow'. Our vacation was soon over and we started into school again in September. Outside of a few parties, our Sophomore year proved unevent ful. During our Junior year, we initiated the Seniors of ’25. They were very much afraid of us, but I guess they lived over it. Then comes our Senior year. My! how dignified wc all look. The W. C. H. S. looks up to the Seniors as privileged characters. We never get “F” on our grade cards, and our reputation for intelligence is always being held up before the underclasses. But there is one thing that makes cur class rank highly—many famous basket ball players are in it. They are “Cackle”, “Bus’, “Irish”, “Bo”, and “Jitney”. These members of the Senior class in the W. C. H. S. team are known all over Centra! Illinois. I wonder if the underclassmen will be as good players? We wish them the best of luck, and we will leave this school for the Juniors to run next year. Wc sincerely hope they will be as successful in doing it as we, the class of ’26, have been. —Ruth Rankin. CLASS PROPHECY “Mary Liz, we sure are glad to have you with us for dinner this evening. It has been a long time since we used to run around hunting for ways to go to the basket ball games.” “I’ll say! But gee, Neva, you and Ralph sure have a keen little home here in Nashville. I ’spect I’ll drop in on you quite often since my Home Welfare work keeps me in this part of the country.” “Let’s see! Why! Why! Now—it’s been eight years since I was captain of that good old basket ball team. Say, Neva where’s my old annual? Let’s get it out while Mary is here and look over some of the good times we had at school.” “It’s in the bottom of your trunk in the attic. I ll get it.” Neva brings the book and they turn to the pictures of the Seniors. “Say, Ralph, I have not heard of Raymond. His picture reminds me to ask if he was ever president of anything but the Senior Class?” “He is in Washington, D. C., with the government, working in the treasury department.” “Oh say! Mary, did you know that Harold Nichols was designing evening gowns for a clothing firm in New York?” “No? I can tell a better one than that. Vivian Harrmann and ‘Shorty’ Finley were on their way to be married when they had a flat tire. It made Vivian mad and she was married to Clifford Stilabower the next week.” “Neva got a letter the other day from Letha Linder, telling us where some of the gang are. She is in North Dakota teaching a country school. She said that Bertha Smith was teaching school in Iowa.” “Did she mention Rose Goddard?” “Yes, Rose is still at home.” “Ralph, what became of all the lucky five on the team? I know that ‘Bus’ is president of a Bachelor’s Club in Chicago. I had lunch with him at the Drake last winter.” “Let’s sec—that’s most of them except ‘Rosie’ and Kearney. ‘Rosie’ is running a hash house in Mattoon and Kearney is street and alley cleaner in Strasburg. He married Elizabeth Freeland about four years ago.” “Bo Rose, where is he?” “He is somewhere in New Mexico. Can‘t say what he is doing.” “Oh, Neva, did you know that Maude Jones had gone to Europe to make a collection of famous paintings?” “Say, she’s no millionaire. Where is she going to get her dough?” “Didn’t you know that she and Kenneth York are married and they struck oil in Oklahoma?” “No. Guess you knewr Doris Hartsell was strutting her stuff with Zeigfield’s now?” “No.” “Fred Edmonds is a traveling salesman for the Standard Oil Co. now. He was up to the garage the other day.” “Oh, Ralph, you didn’t tell me that. Did he know anything about the rest of the kids from Gays” “Not much. He said he had married that 192(3 Seventeen

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 ' ..(O' — 0iPOW-UHoVV0 —•—(QMgjggp, To Gansel Bennett, Bus leaves his right to go frolicking six nights out of a week. To Mildred Lovins, a boy friend to visit her during the three minute period. To Merle Kirk, Neva Bence leaves her curly hair. To Duane Ripley, the right to talk to Della ( haney if he so desires. To Katherme Tull, a Stewardson sheik about the size of Bob Neal. To Ruby Bartley, we leave a promise from Harold that he’ll wait one more year. To Margie Rose, Nellie Simmons leaves one half her weight. To Earl Davidson, we bequeath Elizabeth to cook his meals. To Bryan Smith, a I«emon that is always sweet and never sour. To Wilda Grider, Mag Tull leaves her ability to capture a basket ball man. To George Goddard, we bestow Lura. To Clyde Robb, Harold Nichols leaves his ability to play basket ball and look at the girls at the same time. To Eva Holsapple, Mary Elizabeth leaves her right to scuffle in the hall. To Cecil Harrmann, we leave Fred Edmonds’s art of telling bright tales in English class. To Paul Davidson, Howard Kearney leaves his position on the basket ball team. To Paul Herron, we grant the privilege to be important. To Maudene Janes, some one to take Aubrey’s place. To John Robert Bruce, iron bones, so he will have no arms broken the coming season. To Willis Rawlings, plenty of candy to eat during school hours. Wc hereby seal, on this twenty-third day of February in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and twenty-six, our last will and testament. (signed) SENIORS. Witnesses—Willis Walker, J. A. Alexander. OUR SWAN SONG Windsor High we soon shall leave you, For we’re Seniors nearly through; Soon we’ll pass from out your portals, Different scenes and tasks to view. Four years of our journey’s ended, Soon we’ll pass to higher things; Now we gaily face the future, Ready for what e’er it brings. And yet we leave behind us, Joys we never more shall know; Joys beneath which Seniors only. Have a right to bask and glow. We leave behind our dignity, Our special row of seats; Our rights as privileged characters, But most of all our feats— Of bluffing through in History class, Of throwing paper wads; And escaping Ready’s notice, By the mercy of the Gods. Of studying our Physics, Till without a doubt we know; One cubic centimeter equals, One gram of H 2O Of playing such a major part, In study, sport and play; That I don’t know what this school will do, When we have gone away. Of making A’s in English, Though we create much commotion; (I never thought we laughed too much, But that’s Miss Jordan’s notion). Maybe sometimes we are boist’rous, But we all must have our fun; And the time for play and laughter, Is the time when you are young. Oh we’re Seniors! Happy Seniors, And we’ve got the best there is; Got the nerve and got the brain power, And we’ve got the pep and whiz. Now we’re leaving you, old High School, Never, never, to return; Others soon shall take our places, Learn the things that we have learned. So now we sing our swan song, And our clear young voices rise; In an anthem of rejoicing, Though the tears stand in our eyes. So with gladness, yet with sorrow, We shall bid our last good-bye; With the hope we’ll all do credit, To our dear old Windsor High. —Beulah. THE TIME, THE PLACE—THE BLOW-OUT It was just such a night as this when everybody was wishing everybody else good luck. The girls were blushing, the boys nervous, the older men in one corner spinning yarns of their former 192(5 )= Nineteen