Title: The Arrowette
Author: Warrensburg High School newspaper staff
Date: November 14, 1928
Discovered: at Waldo Antiques
At the Freshman class meeting, we elected a new sergeant-at-arms, as Henry Shaw, our old one, had dropped school. William Settles was elected. If he can keep the Freshmen quiet he surely deserves an award. (page 2).
It has been remarked that a secret love affair has gone on all year right under our very noses and no one knew a thing about it. Well that is all that will be said except that the little blond has moved to Sedalia and the dark, mysterious gentleman is still president of the Sophomore class. (page 4).
Your Crap Archivist prides himself on his vigilance against wistfulness and nostalgia, but I must confess that the hour I spent with The Arrowette did me in. Nothing will ever disabuse me of the belief that the most pleasant time and place in all of human history was Warrensburg High School in 1928.
Well, for white people, anyway.
Everything in The Arrowette is pleasant. A front-page headline about the yearbook club proclaims: "From The Senior Class A Splendid Staff Has Been Chosen To Serve On The Arrow." The story "Dramatics Class to Present Play" boasts the cheerful subhead "'The Amazons' Will be Given Dec. 14 — An Unusually Good Cast Has Been Chosen."
Inside, an item announcing auditions for Pickles, the glee club's upcoming operetta, asks, "What boy wouldn't want to be 'Pickles,' with his irresistible sense of humor and clever repartees?" Then, it collapses into an optimistic fit: "Verily, Verily, 'Pickles' will be the 'hit of the season,' and Miss Harrison will be forced to land on Broadway!"
In fact, The Arrowette is prone to such spasms. An article titled "Yea, Arrow" begins, "Are We Down Hearted? No!! Will We Have the Best Arrow Ever Published? Yes!! Yea Arrow! Yea Warrensburg High School! Come on fellows let's go."
Verily, this was The Arrowette, a gossipy school paper that cost 75 cents a year and had only 10 subscribers among the pepless sophomore class. Its reporters had little regard for journalism, as the piece titled "Teacher's Meeting" makes clear:
"'Don't ask me anything about the Teacher's Meeting.' 'Go away!' Such are the answers to a staff reporter. Maybe the rain was hard on the teachers. Maybe that's why it's so hard to find out what happened at the Teacher's Meeting — why bother!"
Instead, it specializes in brawls. From the "Junior Class Notes":
"We didn't know that we had such a 'Pugilist' in our class. We hope that Dumond has fully recovered and that his opponent hasn't had much trouble with his jaw that Dumond tapped so willingly for him. We also have hopes that the window fully recovers soon — and how!"
Also, whoever contributed this praise for the yearbook staff was either inordinately excitable and easily awed or the inventor of sarcasm:
"Being chosen for the Arrow staff is perhaps one of the highest honors a student can receive from the high school. It is the mark of esteem given to the students who have for four years been uppermost in the school activities, whose loyalties, courtesies, obediences, and trustworthiness have been so developed that they are the true citizens of the school. They are the students of the high, for the high, and loved by the high."
At the "County Basket Ball Tournament," Chillowee beat Holden 18 to 13, and the Farmers prevailed over Knob Noster 24 to 23. With scores like this, it's hard to fathom why white schools resisted integration.
Pleasant as it is, there are mysteries in The Arrowette. Consider this baffling announcement: "See Eggie Houx as the vivacious Frenchman 'with plenty of moustache.' "
That is a perfect sentence. As God is my witness, before I die I will see Eggie Houx as the vivacious Frenchman with plenty of mustache.
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