Iowa Heritage Digital Collections
State Library of Iowa

1917 Yearbook

1917 Yearbook


1917 Yearbook


LOST—Two weeks' pie on that darned ball
game.—T. L. Wolfe.
WANTED—Position as piano player. Willing to travel.—J. J. Morrin.
$50 REWARD for the capture of Louie
Mack's ukelele, dead or alive.—3d. floor
FOR SALE—Several good Irish selections,
home made.—Mike McDonald.
WANTED—Somebody to lick Jim Morrin,
by Pete DeRycke. Once is enough.
WANTED TO KNOW—If Pat McGinnis is
in any immediate danger of being torpedoed.
LOST—Wooden handled tooth brush. Heirloom. Reward.—L. Leonard.
NOTICE—Tony Wallace is still looking for
the key of the pitcher's box. If seen wandering around please notify the boy.
Thirty-one cents' reward for the arrest
and conviction of the person or persons who
put this in the Editor's junk box when he
wasn't looking:
Our floor gave a big weinie roast
Of talent we had quite a host.
For "Germany" Volz, he sang a song,
And was the center of a throng.
And Donahue sure made a hit.
He made a speech that reeked with wit.
But poor old Tony hugged the wall.
He gave the weinies; that was all.
(In Prose)
'Twas a dark and stormy night. Not a
light in the hall. Two human forms moved
stealthily down the corridor into Dave's
room. The leader, hardened by crime,
stepped into the darkened room and reached
under Dave's pillow. His hand came into
contact with the object of his treachery.
Yes, it was there. "Coises, deep coises," he
hissed. "I have found you." Jerking forth
his hand he held Dave's night-shirt in his
powerful grasp. Within ten seconds the
harmless shirt was bound in knots. Twenty
minutes later when Dave reached the scene
of the crime all was apparently calm. Preparing for bed he discovered the tragedy.
His soul was crushed in anguish, the villains
had done their work well. What was to be
done ? "Send the shirt to the laundry," suggested Sherlock Jaeger. 'Twas done. Days
and nights passed, a week passed, and the
bundle containing the shirt returned. Eagerly Dave tore it open. He fainted. The
laundry had ironed the knots in harder that
This photo-play may be staged in the auditorium of any school, college or academy in
the THREE-I League.
Scenario by J. L. Garrity.
Director—W. 0. Quinn.
The villains—G. E. Miller, G. A. Volz.
When the clouds of smoke are rolling,
Rolling from the smoker door.
And battered-up tobacco cans
Are lying on the floor,
Then the little group of smokers
Perch upon the window sills,
Burning Camels, Tux, and Stogies
Smoking Red Belt, weeds and pills.
Some discussing their adventures
Or relating ancient "news";
Others rent the air with war-talk,
Each expressing different views,
Then another fellow, singing,
Fills the air with spring time song
But Kelly with his corn-cob
Keeps a puffin' right along.
Our Ziggy likes to tell us
Of the time he went away.
How he traveled all through Illinois
And back to Iowa.
O'Malley tells of Dixon
Till he almost makes us stare.
He tells about the railroads
And factories over there.
Jack Gardner says Algona
Is the best town on the map.
He surely is long winded, too,
For such a little chap.
But a youngster in the corner
He smiles at the busy throng
It's Kelly with his corn cob
And he's puffin' right along.
Now Molyneaux is talking.
I can hear him 'bove the boys
He's discussing "Votes for Women"
And he makes an awful noise.
But for Butterfield, the draft-bill
Is the subject of the day,
While Gallagher's discussing
The best time for cutting hay.
Ed. Smith says purple garters
Are coming back in style
(He can't afford to buy them now;
He's going to wait awhile.)
But Griffith is opposed to them
And says so, mighty strong.
While Kelly, with his corn cob,
Keeps a puffin' right along.
Such idle talk is useless
It's an awful waste of time
0, I know of something better
Costing only half a dime.
Get a corn cob, just like Kelly's
And form a goodly throng
In the corner close beside him
And start puffin' right along.
O'Connor calling Jaeger in the morning.
Bissen eating Irish Stew.
Pete De Rycke singing II Trovatore.
Griffith getting up before the last bell.
Tobin and Mahoney on the stage.
Beecher chewing tobacco.
Clem Hogan with dirty hands.
Jim Morrin wheeling ashes.
Tony Wallace in green tights.
Molyneaux without an opinion.