Winter Haven High School - Wha Hwa Hta See Yearbook (Winter Haven, FL)

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For a long time I had heard of the fame of Madame Fiordispina, the noted seeress; therefore, when 1 was traveling in Bagdad, 1 decided to visit her and find out the fate of my classmates. When I arrived at her establishment, I was led into an oriental and mystic room. ’I he predominant feature here was a large crystal ball, which gave a bright, yet mysterious, note to the room. Madame Fiordispina merely motioned me to a chair in front of the ball. Quite dazed, I sat down, all the while gazing excitedly in the crystal. Suddenly there appeared in the ball a lovely little modern bungalow. An attractive woman was in the rose garden gathering flowers. Looking closer, I recognized my old classmate, Margaret Senn. From the blissful expression on her face, I knew her dream had come true, and that the fortunate man was Sam Jackson. Gradually the scene faded, and an electric sign appeared: “Beauty Parlor—Eflie Deese, Hazel Jackson.” I thought, as 1 looked at this sign, that if Kffie and Hazel could help beautify the world, they had not lived in vain. The ball slowly revolved, and 1 saw an airplane with three people in it. I recognized the pilot as Kenneth Reckcr, and the passengers as Betty and Wyatt. From their conversation, I learned that Kenneth was taking the happy pair on their honeymoon to Mars, where Ernest Trueman had developed an Oldsmar subdivision. The next scene was at Columbia University. In the throng, all in the mad pursuit for knowledge, I saw Lillian Gill, Jeannetta Harrison, Raymond Converse, and Car-son Sinclair. They were fitting themselves to educate “Young America.” In contrast to this prosaic scene a beautiful roof garden appeared. Charming women and handsome men, all on pleasure bent, were there. I was fortunate in seeing the main feature of the evening, an aesthetic dance by the Cox sisters, who were no others than Sally and A. K. They had danced into the hearts of the people of America and Europe. This picture of frivolity was replaced by one of a quieter nature—that of a large hospital. In one of the wards an attractive girl was reading poetry to a handsome man. From the adoring glance which she bestowed on him, I knew that he was a newly acquired husband. The girl I recognized as Lila Thornhill, and her husband as one of the “around the world fliers.” He had been slightly injured on one of his daring flights to Paris. Anxious to see the book that Lila was reading, I looked closer and saw that it was “Love Lyrics,” by Viola Tison. The door opened, and the nurse, whose smile would make any patient want to live longer, entered. 1 felt sure that Page tuenly-t iree

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Well, the final lesson has ended, exams are over at last, The marks have all been given, and we’ve cither Hunked or passed. Now we’ll rest, and how we need it—stop work for a month or two, ’ 1 ill next September and college bring new work for us to do. The years have been short and happy—we hope they’ve been well spent, We worked and labored together, each on diploma bent. Along the pathway some joys, and along the pathway some tears, But there’s many a pleasant mem’ry to carry us through the years. At last we’ve come to Commencement—the dreaded and longed-for day, When each shall receive a diploma, then go a separate way. The way which lies before us will have some joys, some strife— ’Tis one that’s old, yet ever new—the name of that way is “Life.” May we carry on this journey the lessons we have learned— Truth, courage, honesty, and knowledge, too, well earned— With these may we go forth, confident and full of cheer, To accomplish every duty which comes with each passing year. Virginia Futcraft. ’25. Page Iwenty-liuo

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Lila would not want to trust this handsome husband to any nurse except her friend, (Jrace Cunningham. My surmise was correct. Again the ball revolved, and a typical artist’s studio, rather Bohemian in its atmosphere, appeared. In this room were two more of my classmates, Jean Davis and Helen Liesgang. Jean had just finished her chef d’oeuvre, and as a reward had been admitted to the Academy of Arts. Helen was using her wonderful musical talent and was now playing at one of the largest broadcasting stations in the world. This interesting picture vanished and a street in a hurrying, bustling city came into view. A great crowd of people was going in the Eldo Auditorium to hear the famous Robert Holmes lecture on the subject, “Men Have More Brains Than Women.” 1 smiled knowingly and turned my attention to a book store. In the window there was an attractive display of the season’s best books. Imagine my astonishment when I saw here a book written by Elsa Strack entitled, “How to Reduce Without Weary Exercise, L'nnecessary Diet, or Patent Medicine.” As this street disappeared, I remembered that all these wonderful buildings had been planned by Alfred Hills, now a famous architect. Alfred’s plans had been executed by (Jerald Jester, the noted contractor. The next picture made me homesick, as it was the governor’s mansion in Florida. In the beautiful morning room were Virginia Flitcraft, now governor of Florida, and Ruth Richards, her private secretary. Neither looked as if the affairs of state weighed heavily upon them. Following this was a scene in a bachelor's apartments. Of course 1 knew that the bachelor was Edwin Beasley. He now lived in ease and contentment, having won fame and fortune from his scientific discovery that “one may prolong life and happiness for many, many years, by avoiding all love affairs.” After this glimpse of single blessedness, was a picture of a directors’ meeting. Looking at the men seated around the table, I recognized several of the powerful magnates of Wall Street. To my surprise and pleasure, 1 saw that the most prominent one was Joe Keefe, our class president. Joe was directing these great financiers with as much case as he had directed the members of the Class of ’25. The picture faded. The spell was broken. I had glimpsed the future of all my classmates. I breathed a sigh of satisfaction as I realized what a truly wonderful class it was—out of all the members, not one failure. Mary Pearl Moores, ’25. Page twenty-four