Published by The Dalles High School, June edition, page 31 VOCATIONAL DEPARTMENT PEDAGOGY The Pedagogy class of The Dalles has had the unusual experiences of taking full charge of a fourth grade room in the city school system for the entire year. The Senior girls have spent at least two hours a day, and usually three, and sometimes more on this subject. There are seven Senior girls and during the course of the year there have been four Juniors, only one of whom is still in the class. The first semester, besides practice teaching, the girls completed Strayer and Norsworthy's "How to Teach". This semester the class assisted Dr. Gregory from the University in giving the standard tests in the city and in correcting papers. They have observed and taught in the rural schools, have helped Dr. DeBusk examine backward children, and have done regular practice teaching and study of school law and methods. Under the splendid supervision of Miss Newton, the class has been well prepared for work in the schoolroom. Many applications have been sent out, but owing to the fact that none of the boards meet until June, none of the girls, as yet have schools. However, they are all hopeful for the future. - R. M. B., '19 Submitted by Earline Wasser

Published by The Dalles High School, June edition, page 29 VOCATIONAL DEPARTMENT PRINTING The printing class consists of five girls and three boys, who are taking up printing as a vocation in life and not for credits. It is not so easy as some of the outside students seem to think. We may get three credits but we work three hours every day for them. We have just completed the April number of the Steelhead, which was not out until May as it was to be the last one before the Senior issue. Hand composition has been a common thing during the last month and a half. We have set up a large number of poems for the English classes besides printing, for the school plays, all the tickets. These tickets must be set by hand. The hand composition of poetry teaches us the proper indention according to the rhythm of the poem, which we are setting. We also printed the ballots for the special school election and the report cards for the Grades and High school. We have folded and gathered The Steelhead for the last time this semester so we bid you all a fond farewell until we meet again in "The Old High School". - F. Woodford, '21 Submitted by Earline Wasser

Published by The Dalles High School, June edition, page 29 VOCATIONAL DEPARTMENT DOMESTIC SCIENCE SEWING Even though Easter is past and we have worn our dresses, which were completed some time ago, we are not satisfied to stop with one new dress and so the first term Freshmen are working on their last problem, an underskirt. The second term Freshmen are making middy blouses, and the Sophomores, sport blouses. So you see by the time we are through we will be completely outfitted, and will feel repaid for our time spent. Another class is studying the art of house planning, furnishing, and decorating. This is a very interesting and the girls seem to think their time is well spent. Even though we are not taking Mechanical Drawing our houses are well-planned and possess every convenience. - Eunice Bolton

Published by The Dalles High School, June edition, pages 14-15 ONLY A TADPOLE "Oh, yes, you can fish! I would like to see you fish once! You would scream if you touched a worm and then you would never get your hook baited. "All right, Mr. Smarty, I'll show you that I can fish." "Well, if you want to convince me you can, just get your fishing line and come on." It was a very sultry afternoon in July and I did not care very much about going. It was a mile to the fishing hole and I would much rather have sat in the shade at the house. But a girl certainly dislikes to have a boy call her a coward, especially if he is her brother's chum and is exceedingly nice. So I just made up my mind that I could fish even though I had never tried it in my life. But I was determined so I said, "Come on then, I will show you." His eyes greeted mine with something of amazement. He did not think that I would do it, but girls are queer creatures, you can't tell what they are going to do next. I dragged out all my brother's old fishing tackle from the attic while Charlie went home to get his. Charlie was a nice boy, the kind of whom any mother or father might well be proud. He was just home from college, where he was learning to be an engineer. I had been boasting of our fishing hole, for we lived in the country in the summer, and so now I had to live up to my word. I packed a small lunch and was ready by the time Charlie arrived upon the scene, looking like a real fisherman. When he saw me he turned up his nose in an absurd way and said, "You'll be sorry that you ever mentioned fish when we get back". But I gave him a disdainful sniff and replied, "Come on". We walked along in the dusty road and talked of his life at college. But after a while the sun became less lenient and piled more heat upon our shoulders. This wasn't welcome for soon my head began to ache, but you can bet I never let Charlie know it. Robinson Crusoe wasn't more thankful when he found the hidden keg of bread, than I was when we reached the shade by the swimming hole. Charlie streached out full length and grinned at me, letting me know that I was to show him that I could fish. We ate our lunch and then he fixed my fishing line for me. I more than glad that he offered to bait it for me for I had never fixed on in all my life. After he had finished I dropped my line into the water with an elaborate air, and waited until the fish would take pity on me and bite. After I had been sitting there awhile I was glad that I had come after all for it was so shady and cool with an occasional gleam of sun flitting through the trees. The bees and insects made a low humming sound that was very pleasant to hear and the birds were twittering in their softest tones. All the surrounding beauty had cast a spell over me, but I awoke with a start. My line was moving about very mysteriously in the water and my heart leaped for I thought sure I had caught a fish. I called to Charlie to come right away. He had been fishing farther down stream and I noticed that he had caught five large fish, while I had yet to catch my first one. But he came over and pulled my line out for me and let my eyes behold the fruits of an hour's work: A TINY TADPOLE. The poor little thing must have been awfully hungry or it would never have eaten bait. Charlie pulled it off the hook and started to put it into the fish basket but I told him not to so he threw it away and then he sat down and laughed at me. When he had finished I was very angry so he said we had better start for home or we wouldn't stand much chance of getting any dinner. We started and of course he had to laugh most all the way because the joke was on me. So now when Charlie is around I never mention fish and when ever I happen to boast of what I can do, Charlie grins and says, "Only a tadpole". - Ben Hallyburton, '21 Submitted by Earline Wasser

A gathering of family and friends to celebrate Harold Good's life will be held at Maryhill (Washington) State Park group campground from 2 to 7 p.m. on Saturday, March 30. Good, 64, a resident of The Dalles, died at his home on Tuesday, February 19, 2002. He had owned and operated several businesses including Bunting's Alignment in The Dalles and Hood River. The Dalles Chronicle March 27, 2002 Written permission to reprint announcement given by The Dalles Chronicle, The Dalles, Oregon. Copied and submitted by Earline Wasser.

Surnames: Jurgenson, Henry, Clark, Battersby, Wandling, Russell, Pyle, West Norman "Norm" Pete Jurgenson, Jr., 74, a resident of Sportsman Park near Wamic (Oregon), died at a care center in The Dalles on Monday, March 25, 2002. He was born May 8, 1927, in Bandon (Oregon), the only child to Norman Pete and Florence (Henry) Jurgenson. He lived in Bandon and Portland as a small child then moved to The Dalles in 1933. He graduated from The Dalles High School with the Class of 1945. He married Shirley June Clark on August 28, 1945, in San Diego, California. He served two years active duty in the U.S. Navy, aboard a destroyer, and then was in the reserves until 1954. He moved to The Dalles, working for several years as an auto mechanic. He then worked for Consolidated Freight as a driver between The Dalles and Portland. In 1968, he moved to Hood River and worked for Champion International Plywood plant in Dee (Oregon), until it closed. He semiretired and moved to Waldport (Oregon) in the late 1980s and after his wife's death in 1993 he moved to Sportsman Park near Wamic. He was a member of VFW (Veteran's of Foreign War), American Legion and the Elks Lodge. He enjoyed the outdoors, fishing, leather crafts, woodworking and carpentry. He is survived by his daughters, Marilyn Battersby and her husband, Jerry, Hood River and Julie Wandling and her husband, Larry, Cascade Locks (Oregon); his son, James Jurgenson, Wilsonville (Oregon); grandchildren, Paul Battersby, Portland; Colin Battersby, Seattle (Washington); Jennifer and Cameron Russell, Washougal (Washington); Bryan Wandling, Cascade Locks and Dustin Jurgenson, Vermont; half-sisters, Sandra Pyle, Nampa (Idaho) and Florence West, Gig Harbor, Washington. Memorial services will be held at 1 p.m. on Saturday, March 30, at the clubhouse at Sportsman Park near Wamic. Private cremation will be held at The Dalles Win-quatt Crematory with entombment of cremains in The Dalles IOOF Memorial Mausoleum. Spencer, Libby & Powell Funeral Home is in care of arrangements. Memorials may be made to Hospice of the Gorge, 751 Myrtle Street, The Dalles, Oregon 97058. The Dalles Chronicle March 27, 2002 Written permission to reprint obituary given by The Dalles Chronicle, The Dalles, Oregon. Copied and submitted by Earline Wasser.

Published by The Dalles High School, June edition, page 9-12 LITTLE BIRCH CANOE The party was composed of about twenty youthful enthusiasts canoeing on Rush River. In the canoe "Vixen", sat Fatty Smith and Jane Chestier. Fatty was blonde, with considerable avoirdupois, and a perpetual laugh. Jane was slim with raving red hair, and a choice array of freckles. They were in a very romantic mood, and perhaps that is why the "Vixen" had gradually drifted away from her companions. Suddenly the impulsive Jane, upon seeing a bright streak in the languid water gave a shriek of surprise and reached out for it. Fat Yelled a tardy warning, and presently, the two, dismayed and alarmed by the cold plunge, were making swiftly for far off land. It is to be said to poor Fat's discredit that he was a miserable swimmer, and soon tired; while his fiery haired darling made swift, steady progress to the nearest jut of land. Bedraggled and tired, she dropped down on the warm sand, and slowly recovered her senses. Her red hair hung around her face, "like sea-weed on a clam:. Upon rousing she thought of her chum. She surveyed the water, and the land in every direction, but Fat was gone! She called, whistled, but to no avail. Overcome by his sudden disappearance, she sat on the sand, surveying the nearest turn in the stream for inspiration. Should she try another swim, keep calling, or rest and await developments? She thought the latter was horrible - - for what if --oh, unthinkable woe! --what if he were drowned! Suddenly her own plight dawned upon her. As far as eye could see, there were dunes and bushes. In frantic consternation, she gave one last look over the water and dashed up the beach. After an hour's trudge through brush and sand, Jane found herself near the beach whence the canoes had started in the afternoon. It was getting dark, and after a long anxious wait, the boats came drifting in one by one, and greeted the girl with cries of thankfulness and surprise. They had been in search of "Vixen" ever since the disappearance. No Fat? No. No one had seen a sign of him. Poor Jane, footsore and sad, began to cry. Bob Litton, Fatty's old time rival came gallantly to the rescue by starting the company over to the cars. It was late, he said, and dark, and nothing could be done till the party reached home. This was sound reasoning, so within ten minutes, the despondent crowd was speeding towards Centerton. In the back of Bob Linton's car, was Jane, her head buried on Alice's shoulder, and three more of the girls trying to reassure her concerning Fat. A searching party soon returned to the lake, while several of the girls spent the night with grief-stricken Jane. About three o'clock in the morning the girls were silently sipping tea made on Jane's chafing dish, trying to wait patiently for news of Fat. "It was all my fault--" cried Jane. "All--all--oh why did I lean over the edge--why-oh,why--, and Fat such a poor swimmer too." And then her eye fell on his ring, and she helplessly choked on the cookie she was nibbling. Then the phone rang, and Alice ran to answer it. "No news?" the girls cried. Alice shook her head. Helen yawned and the girls decided to get some sleep. The next day was a harrowing one. None from either the "Dittoe" or the "Nightingale" Clubs was present in classes; an air of melancholy pervaded the corridors, for the news had spread like wildfire. On the evening of the following day, all hopes were given up. The Smith household was in mourning. Two or three canoes disappeared from the pond, and were converted into kindling wood. It seemed as if never again could youths glide down the Rush Stream as before. Fatty, the life of the "Dittoes", was no more! Bob Linton sent flowers and comforting epistles to Jane, all of which helped matters very little. On the fourth day after the accident, memorial services were held in the church. The "Dittoes" and "Nightingales" were there "en masse". Not a smile issued forth save from Bob Linton who couldn't resist it when Jane appeared wearing some of his rosebuds. Alice, Helen and Laurie were all with Jane ascending the steps of St. Luke's when a familiar "toot" was heard around the corner. Alice spoke to Helen in an angry tone. "The horrid thing! Who on earth would take Fat's bug out, and jazz around in it on a morning like this! There's something wrong." Jane's quick ear heard it too, and turning about the girl let out a scream partly fear, partly surprise, and partly joy. There at the curbing was the little red striped "bug". And there--no--yes--it was he--there sat Fatty--not an angel but the same old laughing Fatty of the "Dittoes". A chorus of screams exuded. The "Nightingales" made a mad rush down the steps, and the poor boy was fairly mobbed. Meanwhile the boys in the church who had heard the racket were angry as wolves. "Who the deuce came tooting by here in Fat's "bug"! ejaculated one of them. They rushed out. Then Fatty had his second on-rush. All but Bob Linton, who after a few short words, leaped into his car--and away. (Alice declares he was contemplating suicide. But that is nothing to us.) Then Fatty, with Jane beside him in the "bug", told his tale to the rest of the group around them. "I am a bum swimmer, and there was the main trouble. I can float though--as long as a log, so after I saw Jane headed for shore--and as I knew I couldn't help her, I swam until I reached the overturned canoe, and then I decided to get to shore. Well--I can't explain it -- I got in a swift current and the canoe left me, and the only thing was to float. So I floated, getting farther away from land all the time, because I couldn't swim in that current. I must have sped on for about an hour, and then I put in a good fight, and got out of the current and onto land. I supposed I was at Forde Junction. I soon reached the railroad track, and since I didn't have a cent, I boarded a freight car on the first train headed for home." And about that time in the story Fatty yawned. "Go on!" cried the bunch. "Well, here's the joke," and Fatty laughed. No one else saw any joke. They'd been through too much to see any joke at all! You see I fell asleep." "Asleep!", cried Jane. "Yes," Fatty smiled, "The sun made me sleepy, and --" "You poor fish," exclaimed Ellis Brooks in disgust. He was a tall and wiry "Dittoe" who couldn't stand Fat's sleepy tendencies. "Well,--they must have switched off that five o'clock freight because when I woke up at about ten that night I found myself in Bridgewater, and the train was being loaded. "Bridgewater!" screamed Helen. "Mon Dieu," from Jack. "Well, I was in a mess all around. I looked fierce, and I hadn't a cent, and well--I thought of Joe March. I phoned from the freight depot, and he came down in a hurry. He got me a car, and I started straight for home the next morning." "Why didn't you telegraph?" said Jane. Oh just wanted to surprise you all, and any way, although the train was quicker, I wanted to make the trip over the Bridgewater highway--never had been over it." Jane moaned. Suddenly her eyes blazed at Fat. She jumped out of the "bug", stamped her foot, and rushed over to the Chester car. She was soon out of sight. Whether Fat finished the story of his absurd and thoughtless escapade, I do not know--but I do know that neither the "Vixen" nor any other canoe ever sailed down the old Rush River with Fat and Jane Chester again. In fact--just a short me after, Bob Linton was seen crossing five dances on Jane's program at the Junior Prom, and her red curls flounced haughtily away whenever Fatty's smiling face dared show itself in the vicinity. - Marion Lay Submitted by Earline Wasser

Published by The Dalles High School, June edition, page 24 ODE TO D. H. S. Dalles High, we fare thee well Of thy merits, we'll surely tell, Of thy remaining lads and lasses, And thy many interesting classes: All these we'll praise for ever; Dalles High School, you are clever. Thy teachers are all pretty Thy Principal, ever witty; And thy building, well constructed Has a view quite unobstructed; And since you're unaffected by the weather Taking all, could we wish for better? Students, who are remaining Enjoy it now, the time is waning; High School days are o'er too soon They you'll wish for another moon. Again, we fare thee well, High School Keep thy motto, the Golden Rule. - Dorothea Wolfken, '19 Submitted by Earline Wasser

Published by The Dalles High School, June edition, page 16-17 ORIGINAL LEGEND OF THE OREGON GRAPE One afternoon many, many years ago when the sun beat down unmercifully on Mount Olympus, Jupiter called for his bowl of nectar, so that he might drink to Venue' beauty. When the little elves were hurrying with the great bowl a terrible mishap occurred; they tripped over Mar's helmet, left so carelessly by his chair, and spilled all the wine. Jupiter was very angry and the frightened little elves went scurrying to Ceres to beg her to help them. Hoping to please Jupiter, she planned a new wine that would contain such wonderful grapes that he would never regret the loss of his other wine. She sent the elves far and wide over the earth in search of material for it. They brought her the brown rocks for the wine, from the shady dells they brought the green of mosses for the leaves and from the far north they brought the luster of the glaciers to polish them. The Spirits, eager to help, gathered the sunbeams for the clusters of flowers, and because Jupiter's favorite color was purple, Ceres decreed purple fruit for the vines, she then planted the vines on the rocky knolls and in the deep canyons so that the mortals wouldn't find them. When fall came the elves scattered over hill and dale to gather the fruit. Back they came with loads of the luscious grapes with which Ceres made a wine that was far more delicious than the first. Jupiter was delighted and Ceres gained great praise. For many years, Jupiter was happy with his new nectar until one fall the elves came hurrying back with the news that the mortals had found and taken all the grapes. Jupiter was furious; it was unbearable to be twice deprived of his nectar. The mortals must be punished, so he decided to put long thorns in the vine so the audacious mortals would not be able to pick them. They scratched and pricked their fingers until the leaves were stained with blood. Jupiter seeing exclaimed, "Oh, I cannot destroy what has given me such happiness. From this year on the vines shall not grow far from the earth; the grapes shall not taste so sweet to the mortals, and when the fall comes and the grapes are ripe, the leaves shall turn red to warn the mortals not to steal the fruit of the Gods. - Margaret Bonney, '20 Submitted by Earline Wasser

Published by The Dalles High School, June edition, page 20 WHO'S WHO AND WHY I seem to be considered no more or less than a phonograph for answering questions. The other day some one came up and hurled the following questions at me, one after another in rapid succession: "Say, there's some boy in the Senior class that spends most of his time and money travelling for the Pig Club. Who's that boy?" "Why, that boy," I said, "is Exie Morgan. He's some kid, too. Plays the mandolin and violin and jiggs." Then there's another boy," he said, "that I've heard called Shorty. What's his name?" "Well," I answered, "there are several in the Senior class that might well answer to that name, but the particular person who owns that name is Thorman Smith. A very popular boy with the fairer sex, is this Thoman, and he might be dangerously handsome were it not for his shortness." Then last night I was standing on the street corner when one of the Freshman stepped up to me and said, "Say, Mr. Senior, who's that nifty lookin' girl that just went by?" I'll have to admit, I hadn't seen her, but when I turned around I just saw her back, but I could tell her a mile away. "To tell the truth, sonny," I answered, "I don't care to talk about that girl for various reasons. I guess mainly because she's a Junior. That's Helen Jane Flinn." "Good little kid. He never guessed I was lying when I said she was a Junior, and less why I didn't care to talk about her," I mused to myself, after the Freshie had gone on. While walking up the street a little later I was stopped by a breathless Sophomore, who wanted to know what that little short curly wigged fellow was. "Why he," I answered, is Toke Koehler. He's the little fellow that always goes to the parties and picnics just long enough to see who's there and then beats it." - Righto, '19 Submitted by Earline Wasser

Published by The Dalles High School students, June edition, page 12 WHEN HE CAME HOME He disappeared about a year ago. It just about broke our mother's heart. You see the nurse and Bob, (that was his name), and I went to the park that afternoon because it was so nice and cool there and we could play in the pond and have just lots of fun. But Bob didn't seem to want to play that day no matter how hard I coaxed him. He just hung around the nurse and that man she always met when we came to the park. I guess that's why she was so willing to go there. So I went off alone to watch the monkeys. I stayed away for about an hour. And as I was returning down the path I could see all three of them sitting on the bench. Our nurse was in the center and the man and Bob on each side of her. Just as I was watching them the man jumped up and hurriedly grabbed his hat and started on a fast walk down the path toward the opposite end of the park. Bob sat there looking at him rather queerly, then he started on a run down the path after him. The nurse called to him to come back but he didn't pay any attention, he just kept going until they both disappeared outside the park gates. That was the last we saw of him until a week ago. Mother almost worshiped him. He's only eleven, and very intelligent. We always thought that the man kidnapped him. We were all sitting in the living room reading with all of the doors open, --it was so hot. We heard the screen at the front door slam and then a noise in the hall. Then we all looked and there in the doorway stood Bob. After we had got through mauling him we tried to get him to tell his story, but he only shook his head sadly, and stood there looking at us for he was only a little, black, curly dog. - Loyal Kirk, '20 Submitted by Earline Wasser

Published by The Dalles High School Students, June edition, page 17 NOW DID YOU? Oh, did you ever notice Binx toe in, Or Dreka Lay's double chin; Helen Mayer's haughty stare, Or Martha Grizzell's hair so fair. Kneut Wernmark's cute remarks, Or Lottie Phillips' wild, gay larks; "Spud" Watson's numerous beaux Or Alice Carroll's many clothes. Billie Boettcher's characteristic writing, Or Kenneth Cooper's love for fighting; Clarence Ellis' great, long legs, Or Ethel Johnson's short little pegs; George Oats' gift for lying, Or Charlotte Thrall's love for sighing; Miss Lilly's Ingersoll clock, Or Winifred Amy's admiring flock; Or Darrell Dalrymple's gaudy socks, Alan Woolley's big brown eyes. Jim Hill's scarcely noticable blush, Or Felix Wright's bristling sage brush. Alice Skelly's diamond ring, Or Thorman Smith's ability to sing; Carl Hansen's class and "go" Or Helen Cooper's way so slow. Last but not least our Dalles High School, Where we all abide by the rod and rule? Now did you?--- D. Wolfken

Published by The Dalles High School Students, June edition, page 15-16 THE BEST GIFT A gorgeous Tiger Lily tall and stately in a beautiful green glade in the forest. Every day she flashed her colors in the sun, proud to know that she was the brightest spot in the dell. The other flowers looked up to her as they would to a queen, but they never thought of trying to be on a level with her and treating her with the friendliness of a sister. There were many kinds of flowers there in the dell and on looking closely one could see lovely wood violets, content with their simple life, almost hidden by the green foliage. But the Tiger Lily wanted to see the world so she waved her head and almost trumpeted her beauty when anyone chanced to come through the woods. One day a youth wandered that way searching for suitable flowers to put in his first bouquet to his sweetheart. These flowers must be selected for her with care but he did not know exactly what kind would do. The beautiful Tiger Lily caught his eye and he rushed to it and was about to pick it when he stopped, for, on second thought, this flower was not what he wanted. The Lily triumphant a moment before, was angry to think that he would not take her. The youth looked around for something else but some of the flowers were too pale, others too ugly and still others had too much perfume. He sat down almost in despair, when he detected an exquisite perfume. Why, to be sure, they were violets. They were just the things he wanted. He searched beneath the grass and leaves until he found those tender, humble flowers with such a fresh, woodsy fragrance, and then he picked a generous bouquet. The violets were cherished by the girl sweetheart as a token of love, while the Tiger Lily lived in proud humiliation. Moral: The one who attracts the most attention is not always the one most admired and respected. - M. Carlson, '21 Submitted by Earline Wasser

Published by The Dalles High School Students, June edition, page 13-14 CHARACTERISTICALS Billie B. is the fattest little lass That we have in all the Senior class; Jim Hill is, you know, the tallest boy With whom all the girls just love to toy; Urban Pashek is the most bashful man That ever you saw or ever you can; Helen Jane is our most original girl Whose hair is without a "wee sma'" curl; Helen Mayer, by far the sweetest maid, At whose feet, we've heard, a heart has been laid; Myrle and Pearl Baker are our cute little twins Who advocated rings, but decided on pins; Thorman Smith, whose life and growth are the shortest, Is above all the rest, the one who is sportiest; Don Wilkinson, we think, will make a professor And a suitable match for Myrle, his possessor; Alice Skelly, the only one in the bunch With a diamond ring, it's Jake, we've got a good hunch; Ruth McCorkle is one fair pedagogue Who rules with a sceptor hewed from a log, Eva Fosnot, a true friend, is yet another And Bertha Forrest is still the other, These three will, we are sure, successes be, "Little children," we'll say, "we pity thee." Exie Morgan is our talented Jigger, One thing more - we wish he were bigger: Earnest Koehler is our curly haired laddie Who would grown an inch so very gladly; Martha Grizzell has the fairest hair An enchantress she is, all go to her lair; Lela Pashek was once her chum But now that's all on the bum. Wilford Saunders who's inclined to be lazy, Has a knowledge of books that's not hazy; Charlotte Thrall with the "light fantastic toe" Is sure to be around wherever boys go; Ivan Roberts does play the cornet And he plays it well, you can bet; Beatrice Powell's our youngest lady About the boys is not at all crazy; But Florence Howell likes them all well Go to it Florence, and be a young belle; Frank Becker is a queer old duck, Sometimes, we think, ruled by Puck. Helen Cooper who lives in the suburbs We know, didn't grow up on herbs; Hazel Eslinger left us too soon Only to come back to graduate in June. Bessie Potts is our historian But we write her name History Anne. Last but not least is the honorable writer If you don't like her remarks, come fight her. -----Odare, '19. Submitted by Earline Wasser

If it's not too much trouble I'd love to see the continuations also on this list as there was so much interaction between Hood River and The Dalles. Beth Johnston ORHOODRI List Admin Beth, I have no qualms sending it to this mail list but some lists are "selective" what they want submitted to their list. I will send the continuations to this list as you requested. The next chapter contains stories, poetry, and plays written by the students. This book chapter is approximately 12 pages in length. I will send each composition individually. Earline

At 03:13 PM 3/25/02, Pete Wasser wrote: >Published by The Dalles High School Students, Eight Months of School >Year [snip] >To be continued: Literary presentations > >Continuations will be posted to ORWASCO-L@rootsweb.com for those who are >interested. Earline, If it's not too much trouble I'd love to see the continuations also on this list as there was so much interaction between Hood River and The Dalles. Beth Johnston ORHOODRI List Admin

Published by The Dalles High School Students, Eight Months of School Year Entered as Third Class Mail Matter at the Post Office, The Dalles, Oregon. Managing Staff Editor-in-Chief, Marion Boettcher Assistant Editor, Margaret Bonney Business Manager, Donald Wilkinson Assistant Business Manager, Martha Grizzel Faculty Advisor, Miss Lilly Faculty Advisor, Miss Ross Principal, F. E. Moore Subscription Rates -- $1.00 Per Year Single Copy 25 Cents Advertising Rates Quoted Upon Application to the Business Manager Marion Boettcher, General Course - Favorite Expression: Oh Ye Gods! Donald Wilkinson, Classical Course - Favorite Expression: Ain't that right Frank Becker, Commercial Course - Favorite Expression: Well, lister here Helen Cooper, General Course - Favorite Expression: Well, I'll try Dorothea Wolfken, General Course - Favorite Expression: Curiousity killed a cat Pearl Baker, General Course - Favorite Expression: Where's Myrtle? Bertha Forrest, General Course - Favorite Expression: Oh Gee! Urban Pashek, Industrial Arts Course - Favorite Expression: Its no fun unless we break some rules. Bessie Potts, General Course - Favorite Expression: Let's do something Myrle Baker, General Course - Favorite Expression: In just a minute Ivan Roberts, Classical Course - Favorite Expression: Oh Kitty Alice Skelley, Domestic Science Course - Favorite Expression: Oh sometime in June Wilford Saunders, General Course - Favorite Expression: I don't know Martha Grizzell, General Course - Favorite Expression: Oh it isn't either Ernest Kohler, Scientific Course - Favorite Expression: I'm here to tell the world Helen Mayer, General Course - Favorite Expression: Say Kid Hazel Eslinger, Domestic Science Course - Favorite Expression: Oh say! Fay Hill, General Course - Favorite Expression: Stop right there Florence Howell, Commercial Course - Favorite Expression: Isn't that nice Eva Fosnot, General Course - Favorite Expression: I'll take one of those Exie Morgan, General Course - Favorite Expression: Oh, my conscience Ruth McCorkle, General Course - Favorite Expression: Well I don't know what the book says But I think: Beatrice Powell, General Course - Favorite Expression: Well Miss Newton says: Helen Jane Flinn, Classical Course - Favorite Expression: Oh, what's the use? Alex Shipe, General Course - Favorite Expression: Oh Boy Lela Pashek, General Course - Favorite Expression: Have you seen Kenneth? To be continued: Literary presentations Continuations will be posted to ORWASCO-L@rootsweb.com for those who are interested. Submitted by Earline Wasser

Surnames: Coleman, Dragoo, Swedell, Hall, Jackson, Cantrell, Miller Marjorie Coleman, 80, a resident of The Dalles, died on March 12, 2002 after a four month battle with cancer. She was born December 27, 1921 in Holdridge, Nebraska to Amos and Gladys Dragoo Swedell and grew up and was educated in San Diego, California. She married Earl Coleman in 1945. He died in 1968. In 1960 she moved to Hood River and then to The Dalles in 1972. She worked for Montgomery Ward Company in The Dalles for three years, the Portage Inn for two years, Wahtonka High School for 1977 to 1987 and then managed the Floral Court Foster Home for 15 years. Survivors include a sister and brother-in-law, Geraldine and Cliff Hall, Roseburg (Oregon); daughters, Mary Jackson and her husband, Pete, Battle Ground, Washington; Nancy Cantrell and her husband, Thurman, The Dalles; Linda Miller and her husband, Glenn, Parkdale (Oregon); and a son, Charles Coleman and his wife, Julie, Pasco, Washington; 13 grandchildren, 11 great-grandchildren, and many other extended family members. Visitation will be held on Friday, March 22, from 4 to 7 p.m. at Anderson Tribute Center. Private family services will be held on Saturday, March 23, at the same location, followed by memorial services at 2 p.m. at Covenant Christian Community, 2630 E. 18th Street, in The Dalles. Private interment will be at Idlewild Cemetery in Hood River. Memorials may be made to Hospice of the Gorge, sent in care of Anderson's Tribute Center, 1401 Belmont, Hood River, Oregon 97031. The Dalles Chronicle March 19, 2002 Written permission to reprint obituary given by The Dalles Chronicle, The Dalles, Oregon. Copied and submitted by Earline Wasser

This is a Message Board Post that is gatewayed to this mailing list. Surnames: Acree Classification: Query Message Board URL: http://boards.ancestry.com/mbexec/msg/rw/nZB.2ACE/160 Message Board Post: Looking for info. on Jacob Acree who died on July 21, 1948 in Hood River Co., OR. We have a Jacob Acree in our line that gets lost after the 1870 census, we believe he went west (not sure when), and the Jacob Acree in Hood River is the only Jacob I can locate any info. on. Our Jacob Acree was born in Adair Co., KY.

Surnames: Hoffman, Feuker, Klein Dolores Mae Hoffman, 68, a resident of The Dalles, died at her home on March 2, 2002. She was born November 15, 1933 to Earl and Margaret (Feuker) Klein in Grand Forks, Minnesota. She graduated from Grand Forks High School in 1951 and then entered Grand Forks Deaconess School of Nursing. She was a student nurse at the school when she met Leonard L. Hoffman, a medical student. They were married on January 31, 1953 and she began her career as a housemaker. They moved to Hood River (Oregon) in 1956 and he started his medical practice. In addition to caring for her children, she enjoyed painting, gardening, reading, animals and observing nature. She also enjoyed traveling and took several trips to Israel as well as visiting Puerto Rico, Egypt, Europe and Hawaii. She was a member of the First Baptist Church of Hood River for many years. She moved to The Dalles in 1999. Survivors include her mother, Margaret Klein, La Grande (Oregon); her sons, Don and his wife, Lorinda, Hood River; and Erlynn, and his wife, Melissa, Enterprise (Oregon); daughter Dea Hoffman, La Grande; grandsons, Andy Hoffman, Trevor Hoffman and Jakob Hoffman; and granddaughter Joanna Hoffman. She was preceded in death by her husband, Leonard L., in 1985, and her father, Earl, in 1991. A memorial service will be held on Friday, March 8, at 11 a.m. in the First Baptist Church in Hood River. A private family graveside service will be at Idlewild Cemetery in Hood River. Memorials may be made to the Hospice of the Gorge or Friends of the Library, sent in care of Anderson's Tribute Center, 1401 Belmont, Hood River, Oregon 97031. The Dalles Chronicle March 7, 2002 Written permission to reprint obituary given by The Dalles Chronicle, The Dalles, Oregon. Copied and submitted by Earline Wasser