YUBA COUNTY  Nuggets

Yuba Delta

June, 1914

SENIOR NOTES

CLASS NOTES

            “Yes, the editor of the Yuba Delta is speaking, - Indeed, very busy!  However, I’ll give you three minutes of my time.  What is it?  Oh, you wish to hear all about the class of 1914.  Well, we have already chosen our second set of officers, selected the class pin, and - -

            “Begin at the first?  All right.  We organized the second week with one of the largest Senior classes in the history of this school; chose our officers and honorary member.  Perhaps you know some of them, since you attended M. H. S. before you moved way out to nowhere.  James Poole was made president - -

            “Popular, and modest?  I should say so!  We simply had to force him into the presidential chair.  Well, he was aided by the following competent officers who were unanimously elected:  Rita Morse, vice president; Floyd Jopson, Treasurer.

            “The Honorary member?  Oh, didn’t I tell you?  Why Miss Rueter.

            “No, we don’t mind her copious advice, as she is very enthusiastic and certainly has our interests at heart.

            “The next meeting was a most sad one, indeed; for one of our beloved and most ideal members had suddenly been taken from our midst through an accident.  With heavy hearts and subdued voices we made arrangements for the last earthly tribute we could pay our departed classmate, Floyd Jopson, to whose loving memory this book is dedicated.

            “On January 28, 1914, we met for the purpose of again electing officers.

            “Why?  Well, you see, we are very democratic and believe in bestowing honors upon as many as possible.  This time with one accord we chose the following, who have thus far proved to be worthy followers of their illustrious predecessors: Donald Wilkie, president; Eugene Morrison, vice president; Marie Kennedy, secretary; Herman Hansen, treasurer; Perry E. Jones, sergeant-at-arms.  Our class pin was also decided upon at this meeting.

            “Artistic?  You never saw anything more dainty.  Besides being proud of the privilege of wearing it, we prize it highly because it was designed by our artist, Richard Hodges.

            “A Play, did you say?  Certainly, two of them – they have been the motif of our last few enthusiastic meetings.  Yes, nearly every member takes part.

            “Oh, dear, my three minutes are almost up, and I have not told half.  Did I tell you that our class flower is the Shasta Daisy?  With their sunny, upturned faces, will they not make our commencement decorations perfectly beautiful?  Of course, the class colors must harmonize, so we picked out yellow and gray.

            “One thing of great importance I had nearly forgotten.  Our class motto is, ‘Be satisfied with nothing short of perfection.’  What do you think of that - - do we not aim high?

            “Time is up now, and if you wish to learn anything more about us and our dear Alma Mater, you should subscribe for the Yuba Delta.  Goodbye.”

THE CLASS PROPHECY

            As I am somewhat subject to headaches, it proved just my luck to have one on this night of nights when I was particularly anxious to attend the graduation of the High School class of 1924 in a little town in Canada.  So I locked the door after my friends had gone and curled up in a Morris chair before the fireplace, intending to stay there just a few minutes and then retire and sleep my headache away.

            I had settled myself cosily in the great chair and was watching the fire shoot up in great blazes, and thinking of my own graduation and classmates of ten years before.  The sound of the crackling logs was that of a phonograph inviting me to listen.  The dreamy blazes, which contain innumerable pictures, fluttered and flickered irregularly before my eyes asking me to look to see if I could not find something interesting in their depths.  As the fire was the most attractive spot in the room to my weary eyes, I gazed gloomily into the inviting flames.  By degrees my mind began to form pictures of the blazes and the crackling seemed to be a phonograph explaining the visions, which came and went like reels of a moving picture show.  As the time went on my interest grew until I became really excited.

            First, the scene was a busy street in Yuba City (which, by the way, had grown to be a large town, since large steamers ran continuously up and down the Feather river).  Just entering a large public building was a tall woman of about twenty-eight.  It seems she was a great favorite, for every man she met smilingly doffed his hat and the women brightened and took on a more cheerful look.  On a large signboard outside the building were the words, “Tonight a lecture by Mrs. Dorothy ------------- on ‘Further Centralization of the Government.’”  It seems Miss Schillig was bound to win that old point, and also that she was very near success in winning it, and many other political questions of interest besides, so the phonograph explained.

            The next picture showed me something entirely different.  On a hillside in the mountains of Sonoma County sat a tall, light-haired man at his pallet.  The picture he was sketching was most beautiful.  On the side of a distant hill was a running brooklet.  Near the brook the cows were lazily browsing and farther on and in the background were tall redwoods, around the bases of which grew manzanita and numerous wild flowers.  Richard had become a famous artist – his old calling as I remembered.

            The scene changed and I gazed on a picture certainly worth seeing.  On the only street in a small place in Sutter County, situated on the S. P. route, a brass band was playing an old ragtime melody.  I naturally glanced at the leader and in my joy I recognized another of the 1914 graduates, Arthur Cheim.  He was making all the motions common to the leader of a brass band.  On his cap was the one word, “Tudor.”

            The flames next presented Ringling Bros.’ Circus.  On the outside of the tent Perry Jones was calling out industriously, “Here’s where you get ‘em.  Ladies and gentlemen, right this way, tickets for the big show, just about to commence.  Do you all want to see the circus?  Why, of course, you do!”  The phonograph kept up with the pictures splendidly.

            My eyes followed the throngs of people into the circus, and were finally brought to rest on an exceedingly clever clown.  Somehow his antics seemed familiar to me, and when he turned to face me, in spite of the paint, I recognized Herman Hansen.  He smiled at me, and that reel was finished.

            My attention was next drawn to an attractive looking woman sitting in a spacious library reading a book and taking notes on what she read.  Near her was a pile of book reviews written by herself.  She had become a very able critic since her school-girl days, it seems.  This did not surprise me, though, as Florence was always reading.

            From this my eyes were attracted by a large field which seemed to be a race track in Oakland.  Advancing to the foreground and taking his place in his famous aeroplane was Julius Mueller.  He took his position and went soaring above the heads of thousands of interested onlookers who were shouting and cheering with all their might, “Long live Julius Mueller, the most famous aviator of the day.”

            The next picture presented a quiet street in Marysville.  In front of a barber shop was a line of men, each waiting for his turn at the chair, and to my surprise I noticed that almost all of them were bald-headed.  I wondered what this could mean, when presently one of the men stepped aside, revealing a sign on which these words were printed:  “Lawrence Gray, Barber.  Partially Bald Heads a Specialty.”  Through the glass window I could see Lawrence laboriously clipping the fringe around the head of an especially familiar looking bald-headed man, and I do not know what made me feel so, but I had a sort of “hunch” they were talking about school days.

            I was sorry to leave Lawrence, but good things can’t last forever, so I centered my attention on the next picture.

            I was somewhat puzzled as to what it was intended to represent.  The people were all Chinese and wore Chinese costumes.  Suddenly from among the crowd came the tiny familiar figure of Ruth Williams.  She came to the front and turned to the audience and from the book in her hand began to read a sermon.  Then all knelt down and I knew that our little classmate had become a missionary, and was doing God’s work in far-away China.

            Next I saw Helen sitting in a corner of a gift-shop, busy as usual on a beautiful piece of embroidery.  A customer came in and she rose as if reluctant to leave her dainty bit of fancy-work.

            Oh! but the next sight was grand.  On a brilliantly lighted stage in New York a graceful woman was dancing the latest dances.  Many times was the dancer called back on the stage, and each time she danced more fascinatingly than the time before, and the audience went “simply frantic” with applause.  In fact Irma was a second Gertrude Hoffman.

            Things were getting exceedingly interesting and I sat in breathless attention with my eyes glued to the pictures.

            Next I beheld a large ring and to my horror two men were at desperate odds with each other. The one I recognized as Charles Boyd.  The other was a stranger, but the fight was brutal.  Several times I caught my breath at sight of the severe blows dealt; once I thought the stranger had killed Charles, but he survived, shortly afterward “knocked his man out” and the fight was ended.  For was anyone to get the better of the “World’s Heavyweight Champion,” Charles Boyd?

            On a large farm in Sutter County, a tall athletic man was walking about directing his hired men as to the proper way to prune his vineyard.  He was accompanied by his wife, who for the time was released from her dearly loved politics.  This man bore a remarkable resemblance to the Donald Wilkie of old, and was easily recognized.

            The next person I saw was an industrious looking woman who was hurrying along a busy street in a town which was apparently new to her; for she stopped every policeman she saw to inquire the way to her destination. She soon arrived at a large hall, which she entered, and passing along an aisle she finally seated herself near the front of the room.  Presently, Mrs. Rita -------- got up and went to the front and sang a thrilling song, which was heartily applauded.  After the song Rita said that she had come to organize a new Ladies’ Aid Society in the town.  She went on to state her plans and the people were wild with enthusiasm.  By the gems she had on one would infer that she was the happy wife of a well-known jeweler in Marysville.

            The scene changed again and I beheld our old friend Elva.  She was quite thin by this time, her diet having proved very effective.  She seemed the happiest being alive as she walked about among those thirty tiny people teaching them the things every child should know before entering upon a Grammar School career.

            “Mercy!” I thought, “what’s this?  Why it’s Archie Bray, true as fate.”  On a large open-air platform stood Archie, expounding the rights of women.  He was so enthusiastic that large beads of perspiration stood out on his brow and his face was very red.  Soon he got down from the platform and seizing a large banner on which were printed the words, “Votes for Women, Give Them Their Rights,” marched down the street waving it on high.  The thousands of people (mostly women) followed him, shouting in loud, deafening tones.

            In a store in Marysville sat James, busy as could be on his invention of a watch that would run forever without winding.  It was also noiseless – wonderful invention.  Around him were his brothers, busy with the many tasks which fall to the lot of prosperous jewelers.  The show cases glistened and glittered with gold, but glass, and jewels.

            Tom Mulvany was the next to make his appearance.  He was on a stage singing his best.  He had become a comic opera singer and had long since learned the meaning of the word “Cho.” at the end of a verse of music.  One could tell that, for he sang the chorus after every verse.

            In Marysville in a large building many people were dancing, and making merry in general.  But I could easily pick out one figure which seemed to be the center of attraction.  I looked closer and perceived it to be my old classmate, Aleda Wiseman.  On every side of her were admirers.  Her clothes were magnificent, and she was dressed in the height of fashion.  She was happy in trying to carry on a dozen flirtations at once.

            Do you know who came next?  It was a “quack doctor.”  He was situated on the corner of Third and D streets, selling a preparation supposed to cure warts, corns, and toothache (and anything else a person happened to have, but it was more efficient in the curing of these).  George was slowly and deliberately expounding the virtues of this wonderful remedy.  All the old farmers from miles around were jostling against each other in their mad attempt to get a bottle before it was all gone.  Many questions were asked of George, all of which he answered in the affirmative.  He got so used to saying “yes,” and “to be sure,” in answer to questions that it had become a habit.  Once he made a sad mistake, for when one old farmer stepped up and asked him if it didn’t “burn like sixty” when rubbed on his “rheumatiz,” George unthinkingly answered, “To be sure.”  The old man hobbled off and said he “guessed he could get all the hurty kind of medicine he wanted, so he wouldn’t take any today.”

            In a large building in San Francisco sat a lady in a blue dress, white cap, and white apron.  This motherly looking soul was taking the temperature of a pallid youth who lay on one of the many narrow beds in the large hospital ward.  Presently she turned her head and I recognized my old classmate, Ruby Watson.  Time had made little change in her, for she still seemed the quiet, unobtrusive Ruby of yore.

            Oh, how I wish we could all be happy.  The person who is happy is certainly blessed with a gift which many, many men desire.  To be able to smile, and be cheerful no matter how things go is a virtue to be coveted.  To one in our class this virtue was given.  In a large store a stenographer was sitting at her typewriter gayly joking with her next neighbor, who happened to be a real nice looking young man, engaged in the same work as she, and sitting at a similar apparatus.  Before Grace the work was piled up as high as her own head, but she was happy withal.

            Whom indeed could we expect to appear next?  Why the best known real estate agent in Northern California, Eugene Morrison. Eugene was persuasively talking to some businesslike looking men on the virtues of a piece of land in Sutter County.  He spoke so well that a bargain was soon concluded.  ‘Gene then gave each man a circular written by himself on, “How to Farm With the Best Results and the Least Expense,” after which he jumped into his “Oakland” and drove back to his office in Marysville.

            Tom Carlin came next.  One would readily expect to see him exactly where he was – Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.  He was noted all over the world for his wise decisions, and justice.  Since the days of John Marshall, the constitution had not been so cleverly interpreted as when Tom took his position in the high office.  The phonograph suggested this much.

            Next I saw Lucile. But where?  Where one would most naturally expect to find her – in a large cloak and suit company acting as a model.  Many were the beautiful robes donned by that fair lady every day.

            Orlin Harter, I saw in Lick Observatory looking through a long telescope at the moon and stars.  His features wore a rather haggard look, as if he had been studying too hard, and keeping too late hours.  He was a famous astrologer.

            Next I saw a short little boy-man, who was busy in a law court interpreting the evidence given by a Japanese witness against a man accused of murder.  George Koshi was a very clever Japanese interpreter.

            Goldye Ostrom next appeared.  She was energetically explaining some plans which she had drawn for a house, while several enthusiastic ladies were looking on and exclaiming excitedly.  I could see by the maps and instruments that she was an architect of some standing.

            I was so surprised at the course the pictures were taking that at first I didn’t notice the next picture that was presented.  When I did I felt a shock as if I were cold, for driving across the sheets of ice in far-away Alaska behind ten sturdy dogs, and all wrapped in furs was Miss Rueter.  She looked merry and rosy, and spoke cheerily to the Eskimo youth at her side who was managing the restless team.  Presently the sleigh drew up in front of a neat looking snow covered building, in the doorway of which stood many children, and Miss Reuter stepped onto the frozen ground.  Another shiver ran over me and I awakened and realized that the pictures were at an end, that the fire had burned low, and I was alone and chilled in my study.                     - - M. K., ’14.

SENIOR ODDITIES

Wouldn’t it be funny; --

If Florence were not tall

If Ruth were not small;

If Dorothy were not a dear

If Goldye were not queer;

If Rita were not with Jim

If Archie B. were not thin;

If Ruby were not a peach

If Arthur would cease to preach;

If Helen were not fretting

If Eugene were not betting;

If Elva were not chilly

If Dick were not silly;

If George K. were not so sedate

If Irma didn’t have a date;

If Charles were not chunky

If Aleda were not spunky;

If Archie M. lived in town

If Lucile didn’t frown;

If Marie were not a public speaker

If Lawrence should become a preacher;

If Perry didn’t say “Of course not”

If Orlin were not lost in thot;

If Herman were not chewing gum

If Donald were not full of fun;

If Julius were not plucky

If George M. were not lucky;

If the boys didn’t call Tom C. “cheater”

If Grace could find somebody sweeter;

If Jim were not liked

If Tom M. should sit still and not take part in a fight?

Now classmates do not be with anger all aglow

For strange to say “it is the truth that hurts you know.”

Now I must bid you all goodbye,

With hopes that I may see you bye and bye.

-         - G. W., ’14.

CLASS WILL

Four short years have we toiled together,

And now at the close e’er our paths shall sever,

From the wealth we have gained of earthly treasure,

To the Seniors of ’14 we give without measure,

And we add to all, love from a heart sincere;

May the tie that binds us, grow stronger each year.

To “Gracie” Weiss good fortune we’ll give,

That her pink cheeks and dimples may live.

Large books of law, to our learned member Tom;

May his eloquence sway audiences, but he remain calm.

To Aleda Wiseman, a fair, slender maid,

Some courage to use when she’s afraid.

To our jewel, Ruby, to keep her from fretting,

We bequeath a truly happy home setting.

To Orlin Harter’s esteemed name,

Congratulations, and a lasting fame.

To George Milburn, a new kind of toy,

That will amuse our dear little boy.

For tardiness, a good excuse

Will be to Goldye of great use.

Gene shall have an extra large pin,

So he may be seen when he comes in.

To Florence, we give plenty of “gray,”

For the kind she likes is not sober, but gay.

To Tom Carlin, a bit of “grace,”

Which with him holds a prominent place.

To Elva Greene, a new string of beads,

Which, to be plainly seen, she needs.

To Irma a goodly supply of lads,

To be captivated by her fancies and fads.

To gentlemanly Charles, who always dares,

“A Special Right” to run all affairs.

For Archie Bray the latest dances we’ll add,

Since everyone knows he’s quite “Tango mad.”

To Arthur Cheim we’ll give a hammer,

So his knocks will be heard above the clamor.

To our “hungry” boys, James and Don,

Assorted canned soups to feed upon.

To Lawrence Gray, some dynamite,

That the end of school may be in sight.

To Julius Mueller, a new model Aeroplane,

With trimmings of “nickel” and a “lass” of the same.

To Perry Jones, a brand new stride,

We think it’s time the old one died.

To the other Morrison, who joined us late,

A new “classy machine” with a pretty fast rate.

To quiet Lucile, a megaphone,

That we may hear her loudest tone.

A teacher’s diploma, to little Marie,

That from bothersome “Ex’s” she may be free.

To Rita, always loyal to her school,

We give her reflection, a quiet “pool.”

To Helen and Ruth, who are always together,

Enough strength and “pep” to last forever.

All machines need a “stoker,” you know,

That’s why a tandem on Dick we bestow.

To smiling George Koshi, admiration we give,

Well may he prosper and long may he live.

Our appreciation and heartfelt thanks we leave Miss Rueter,

For, we all know, we could have found no one sweeter.

All wishes for growth and great success,

This we shall leave to dear old M. H. S.

Dorothy shall possess the “key” to this “will” (Wilkie),

So you had better keep your objections still.

Now, dear classmates, don’t be offended,

If this will doesn’t suit it can be amended.

                                 TWO SENIORS.

CLASS HOROSCOPE

SENIOR ALPHABET

A is for Archie, blithe and gay,

From Nicholas hails he, not far away;

Also Aleda, a girl we admire,

Who never seems from studies to tire.

B is for Boyd, who delights in debate,

His knowledge of logic is sad to relate.

C is for Cheim, a genuine clown,

Who often causes the teachers to frown.

D is for Donald, a fair-haired blonde,

Of whom it is said some one is fond.

E is for Elva, our Editor, you know,

Who keeps all busy and makes things “go.”

F is for Florence, who tho often late,

For some fine fellow will make a good mate.

G is for Grace, whom we all know to be wise,

And George M., every ready to rise.

Also for Gray, of whom we have a span,

Lawrence is in love, while West is a fan.

H is for Herman, whom the boys call “Hans,”

To earn an automobile he has a fair chance.

I is for Irma, our newest fashion plate,

Good in her studies, very seldom late.

J is for Julius, with sadness at heart,

From his loved school he soon must depart.

K is for Kennedy, she sure will be missed;

Also for Koshi, our future Physicist.

L’s for Lucile, a quiet, studious lass,

Who can hardly be heard throughout the class.

M is for Mulvany and P is for Poole,

Incorporated Locknuts of the school;

Also for Morrison, of whom we have twain,

Brothers, alike, not only in name.

N is for Nicholas, with her bright ways,

Cheerful always on bright or stormy days.

O is for Orlin, a three years’ child;

And for Ostrom with voice so mild.

P is for Perry, whose motto “I should worry”

Will someday cause him to be very sorry.

Q is for questions, which we seldom know,

And R is for Rita, whose marks are not low;

Also for Richard, who all the cuts made;

While S is for Schillig, to whom compliments are paid.

T is for Tom, whose broad, genial smile,

Makes every one happy within a mile.

U is for Units, we all must acquire,

Before the year of 1914 doth expire.

V is for verdict, we receive at the end,

Saying whether another year here we must spend.

W is for Willah, with hair of gold,

Who is usually late, but never bold;

Also for Williams and Watson as well,

And X for x’s which make our heads swell.

Y is for years it takes, they number four,

Many students wish there were several more.

Z for zealous, which we all are,

And may temptations our success ne’er mar.

                              - - H. N., ’14, and J. M., ’14.

AS OTHERS HEAR US

From the Senior Room there comes a sound

Like a church bell ringing,

And drawing near I can but say –

“’Tis West and Irma singing.”

At length I hear a soft, soft voice,

And glancing in I see

A fair-haired maiden, and she cries,

“Oh! where can Pesky be?”

I hear a voice of solemn tone;

I bow my head in prayer,

As looking in the door I see

Our Don with skin so fair.

I hear a sound; I know ‘tis Dick,

Whose height we need not state,

With Perry, Dot and Archie Bray

He suffrage doth debate.

Oh, hark! a fog horn you may hear!

It’s Tom, who can’t stop talking.

From Lawrence G. there comes no sound;

He’s fonder far of walking.

Now hear the ruling voice of Charles

Delivering his commands;

George M. has time for but one drawl

For something he demands.

Then Elva’s merry laugh rings out;

Hear Herman chewing gum;

While Ish, who talks in undertones,

Keeps English in a hum.

“How can a star her lines e’er learn,”

Marie cried, “in this din?”

“And how can we,” the Ostroms cry,

“Our diamond necklace win?”

A giggle and a deafening shriek

From Rita comes, and Grace.

They’re looking hard at Georgie K.;

Oh! see his beaming face!

Hark! that rumbling thunder sound!

And all the room seems gray,

While Julius cries in muffled tones,

“Oh! hear our Archie Bray.”

Sh ------- who is making that uproar?

Aleda and Lucile –

“Oh Ruby, do give us a ride

In your brand new ‘mobile.”

The answer comes, “I can’t tonight;

I’m busy as can be

Why not ask Archie and Eugene,

For they have two or three?”

“I’ll bet your fifty cents I can” -----

Loud argues Jimmie Poole;

Ruth sighs and Helen cries, “Dear me!

Why don’t you boys keep cool?”

Bang! goes the gavel; up jumps Tom C.;

“Oh, chairman, a request”-----

While Orlin adds in solemn tone,

“Sit down; let’s have the rest.”

Good heavens, how that noise does sound!

As down the hall I flee,

My hands go quickly to my ears;

It is too much for me.

           - - R. M., ‘14

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