Memories of the Past

by Oleta Munson

Class Historian, Class of 1901, Denison High School

"The principal office of history is to prevent virtuous actions from being forgotten and that evil words and deeds should fear an infamous reputation with posterity," says Tacitus.

Carlyle says, "The stories are as perfect as the historian is wise and is gifted with an eye and a soul."

To me has been assigned the writing of the history of the Class of 1901. If I fail to record many virtuous actions, the omission must be put to the account of the historian, to her want of wisdom, and not to the virtuous actions of the class.

In the school year of 1896 and 1897, the nine girls and the three boys who constitute this graduating class were in the seventh grade at three different schools, little thinking who were to be their classmates during the last year and this, their last day in the public schools of Denison. One, our salutatorian, was still attending school held in a small store room one block east the Washington building which had been rented as there was not sufficient room in the main building. Three of us—Lucille [Burgett], Harry [Lewis], and myself—were at the Peabody, enjoying our last days of country freedom, for the next year we were to attend the Main Street school and consider ourselves no longer "south side tackies," but young ladies and gentlemen. The other seven of the class were from the "Tony Hill" region of the city and were attending the Washington building.

During the summer of 1897, the trustees of the school decided to organize a department High School. Our class therefore had the honor of being the first Freshman class of this improved school.

On the opening day of our Freshman year, there was such a large attendance that two rooms were found necessary to accommodate the pupils of the eighth grade. Those coming from the Peabody, thirty or more in number, were assigned to the room known as the North Eighth grade and by those in the south room were called the girls "Peabody tackies" and the boys "Peabody toughs." "It is much easier to be critical than to be correct."

To meet and get acquainted with four new teachers was a fearful ordeal, as before we had been all sufficient.

Miss [Minnie] Marsh, the principal, taught mathematics. Miss [Ireline] Walker the sciences, Miss [Inez] Cartwright was the teacher of history and Mr. Hennessey of English.

Many a time during this year were there three or four pupils sent to the superintendent's office to spend a pleasant half-day, simply because they had too many teachers to study to allow them time to prepare their lessons.

It was during this year that the two eighth grades had their great contest in grammar, to determine which of the grades should stand higher in their general average at the end of the year. The winning grade was to be treated to candy. The south room won, and each pupil in that room was impatiently waiting for his share of the candy. One girl went so far as to cautiously mention that the teacher could get "fairly good" candy at one dollar and fifty cents per pound. But he calmly said, "Pupils, I am awfully sorry to disappoint you, but since I made the bargain I have found out it is against the rules of school for the teacher to give the pupils a treat." We of the North Room were envious no longer.

The next year we were better prepared for work, as we had gained some idea of the ways of a high school. Mr. Hennessey had resigned, and Miss [Carrie] Johnson filled his place.

Our sophomore class was the largest for years. Forty-five in attendance.

It was in this class that our love for mischief was increased. Our motto then was "Enjoy the present hour." We became noted for our originality in wrongdoing, and I fear were rather proud of the reputation. Of course there were pupils in the class who took no part in our mischief, but their reputations suffered on account of the wrong doers.

How many times this year were little red-topped boots hung out of the windows, just for fun and to attract passersby.

How many good things were carefully conveyed under cape or jacket into the room to eat in school hours.

It was this year that we had our pets. Several mice had made their home under the floor. Every day they would creep up through a knot-hole, scamper about the room and scare the girls. Every night the traps were set by the janitor to catch them, but in vain. No mice were ever caught. Why? The girls every day after school put the scraps left from lunch in the hole so as to have fun on the morrow dodgering mice with their feet.

Upon entering the school the next year, we found two of the former teachers missing. Miss Marsh had entered the lecture field. Miss Walker had concluded that one good pupil was preferable to so many mischievous ones and entered the blissful state of matrimony, to take care of him.

A new trial but an interesting one confronted us. Two gentlemen teachers, Mr. Flemming and Mr. [F.B.] Hughes, were to be studied. In a few weeks we had become satisfied that they were not so terrible as we had at first imagined, and the Juniors turned their thoughts to other things.

This year we lost one of the brightest members of our class, Edith Purdom. She went with her parents to California to live. The class was very sorry to lose her and went in a body to the train to say good-bye [and] see her off. Our number was now reduced to twenty-one.

We were studying physics. Mr. Hughes took us one night to the "Power House" of the Electric Light & Power Company to study the ways of electricity. We came away a great deal more enlightened.

We were more given to pranks this year. "We were determined not to cross the bridge until we came to it." On days when the Seniors experimenting with chemicals would make any compound with the slightest odor, the "noted tenth grade" would rise in a body and leave the room for the stairs or the grounds to study their lessons, having the excuse that the chemicals were offensive.

On other days we would slip one by one out of the room to the library and there have a jolly time to ourselves until caught and sent to our seats. Sometimes we preferred the laboratory to the library and there would make a small beaker of sulphuretted hydrogen and set it in a corner to drive the seniors out.

This year the public seemed to take a great interest in the class and there was much gossip about it. Was it, as some said, because we were all mamma's darlings? No. It was because most of us thought we were old enough to make our debut in society and to give our thoughts to dancing and other parties and let lessons go to the winds. Well, we had our fun and we found that "One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warnings." The climax of mischief had been reached.

On meeting a new superintendent, Mr. [J.E.] Blair, and our new principal, Mr. [David] Furman, this year, we found our reputation had preceded us, and therefore we determined to lay everything else aside and do our best to repair what had been lost. To do this we had to work, work, work. "Although in doing what we ought, we deserve no praise." Yet I think our teachers will tell you that no better, more conscientious, hard-working pupils have ever passed through the senior year.

To the members of the last year's graduating class who told us we would not pass through the senior year by efforts of our brain, I wish to say that "You can never plan the future from the past."

One of the most interesting as well as instructive trips during this year was to the gas house where we learned the manufacture of gas. Another trip was to the schoolhouse one evening to study the stars.

There were but eleven of us entering the Senior class from the Junior, the twelfth member, Mary [Mack], entered from the sophomore, making two grades in one year.

The distinguishing feature of our class is that one of our boys is still wearing short trousers.

It has been said that the girls are pretty and the boys are handsome and we all are musical.

"Thus times do shift each thing

His turn doth hold,

New things come forth as

Former things grow old."

[Paper torn, a line is missing]

So wholly wasted, as wholly vain,

If, resting on the wrecks at last

To something nobler we attain." 

Editor's Note: Oleta Munson was the daughter of T.V. Munson.  The original of this class history is in the possession of Dr. Mavis Anne Bryant.