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State Library of Iowa

1915 Yearbook

1915 Yearbook


1915 Yearbook


The years were filled with good, wholesome experience that would require
volumes to record. We disproved in debate the contention that Washington deserved more credit for saving the country than Lincoln, and incidentally it developed that Lincoln smoked neither 10c cigars nor any other kind. We went
"down there" to the Cathedral, and the Bishop was "down there," and Father
Davis was "down there," and John was "down there." We defeated Augus-
tana in baseball and were in turn defeated by Augustana, even though we did
conform to their request to "keep your eye on the pitcher," and even though
we had the vociferous support of many, included our gray-bearded old neighbor
on the north, not to mention old man Kennedy, who was always willing to tell the
history of the Wapsi to any who would listen. And when these games went
amiss invariably "Dad burned" it.
And hand-ball games! Many a tight game we had, and the fame of our
players extended afar, even to the far-off home of the "Gael." " 'y Gar, boy,"
the memories that cling to the play-hall and the closely contested hand-ball
games deserve to live forever. Who could forget "Big Joe," or the "Giraffe,"
or "High Pockets," none of whom could always stay out of the path of the ball,
or Pete Gallagher who was too short to "get 'em?" Or Pat Callahan, who had
no worries about finances so long as the original three d'ars remained unspent?
Or little Hubert, who said, "I don't know what size hat, Dad, but get me a seven
and o-o-one 8? Or who would want to forget the fiddler for our play-room
dances who "didn't need no notes?"
These reminiscences would fall far short without unbounded praise for the
kindness and solicitude of the Sisters of the Humility of Mary. In March, 1901,
sadness came to all of us in the death of Sister Zita. The quietness of the house
and the prayers of the community gave evidence of the high esteem and the
sympathy we all had for the Sisters.
Musically the '98ers accomplished much. There was music among the oaks
and along the many paths, which paths, by the way, started nowhere in particular and ended a few feet further on. Even in '98 one of us composed a march,
and in later years became one of Chicago's best young lawyers. The College
neighborhood produced Florizel Reuter, a world-famed boy violinist.
And Band Musicians! Somewhere it is written, "We're the boys that fear
no noise, for bold and brave are we." This spirit built up quite a good organization, and just this spirit was required of the community at large in the matter.
"Spiel" was our watchword, and "P-r-r-r-actice like the Dickens" was the rule
set down by our good German instructor, and it was thoroughly demonstrated
that labor conquers all things. Some of the names of the compositions presented
some difficulties at the time, for instance, "Ivanhoe," and most of us remember




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