Alameda High School - Acorn Yearbook (Alameda, CA)

Page 9 text:

ACORN ‘SKIDOO.”’ r day, about, oung Willie Jones ] all ; { broad, appeared from view, mgh in spac reappear d in fiendish glee, The: and eruel; ‘oung Willie “TH get you is skule.’’ at gifts of gab iny freshmen own; think that they’re too young and small talk to men full grown. they tossed him up again, higher than before; Doctor Thompson always said inst his law. vhen he did not reappear, gravity demands; thought that they had only brought A seandal on their hands. They looked up at the flagpole tall, Where their class emblem flew; They saw young Willie sitting there, Which put them in a stew. There sat this freshman all alone. Where every one eould see; He crossed out their class numerals And painted ‘‘Twenty-three.’’ —H. A. K.

Page 8 text:

THE ACORN These sounds continued for probably half an hour, denly, with a piercing yell, an Indian rushed in near lowed by two others who were blowing red whistles, which gave forth the most unearthly shrill sounds we had ever heard. dancers were typical braves with their bands of feathers around their heads, sandals on their feet, and fur mantles hanging from their shoulders down their backs. Their bodies were marked with black crosses in distinet lines. The dancers marched around the fire uttering strange noises, and the women continued to sway their bodies and to say their ‘‘Hic! Hace! Hoe!’’ adding a few more unintelligible sounds. +} Then, suddenly, they disappeared into the tent whence they had come. Faster the war dancers went around the fire until they flew like madmen, still keeping perfect time to the hrill music of the reed instruments. Then one, whom we soon recognized as George, gave a wild leap over the fire, landing just in front of us, and at the sam etime blowing notes from his reed whistle. Quickly he to the fire, snatched a red coal, threw it into his mouth, and his cireuit again. A look of dis the other dancers. A grunt escaped the captain, who was standing near us. Jim jumped to the side of his opponent, threw three coals in ] quick suecession into his mouth, leaped into the midst of the red embers, made a wild dash around the fire, and rushed into the tent The others followed. Soon they reappeared on the r They i] i dashed this way and that, still blowing their whistles. Then came y the skillful dancing—the really graceful movements, twists, turns, leaps, bounds and dashes to and fro. All these movements were in perfect time to the music. Jim, we saw, was losing ground. suddenly, he dashed past the other two dancers, leaped into midst of the coals, and then ran gracefully around the fire scre ing and yelling and giving an occasional whistling sound from his instrument. He shouted unintelligible words. The other two fol- lowed, but n the mad whirl around the fire, they became exhausted and disappeared in the tent. Jim continued his movements for about a minute longer, then snatched one final coal, threw it into his mouth, and rushed into the tent. Everybody began to move away, we with the rest. Soon a song came fro mthe tent occupied by the squaws., We stood and listened. It ended with a word we knew, ‘‘ Wadoo,’’ which means come. Soon we saw Sarah and Jim come, hand in hand, softly sing- ing. We knew then that all was well. A crowd followed them and gave one song, then left the two to walk together up the winding path to the captain’s home.

Page 10 text:

THE ACORN ‘Last eall for the mile r !’? The hoarse voice of the clerk the course broke into an interval of semi-quietness longed rooting duel between the two rival sections. Harold Conly, lying wrapped in a blanket in the Central High Sehool tent, heard the eall. A erowd of varying senations flooded his brain as he got up, left t tent and walked down the track to ward the start The mile was the Day, and the race would decide meet the two erack tea f Amherst an ih ral igh Sehool had battled for supremacy; the tood thirty-four points Central, three. No other school was near the two rivals except Union High, which had piled us t y-fi ind the mile was the most uncertain race of the day. aptain Warr f Amherst had, on numerous oceasions, sh¢ having won the event for severa yns ba jonly of Central was a dogged, persevering runner, who had ‘ned r the first time the year before, and had sueceed I ki hird place in the State meet, which Amherst had wo his season, however, he had developed remarkably, and it w: lear that the race lay be- tween him and Warren. Now » time had come, the result of the event would decide the fi As the runners gathered around the starter to pick their places there was a perfect babel of noise around the oval. On one side of the track the blue and white pennants of Central swayed hysteri eally to and fro, whi he blue megaphones roared cheers and en- couragement for Conly Directly across the oval the orange and black draped bleachers of A. H. S. roared back their captain’s name and their school yell, while individual voices from all around shouted and yelled approval and advice. It was known that no other atl lete in the race had a chance to win, and the rooting sections of the smaller schools were silent. except for Union, who cheered vo- ciferously for Amherst out of animosity against Central, as the lat- ter school had decisively defeated Union in a dual meet a short time before. The men lined up for the start, and a hush fell on the gay. be- ribboned crowds upon the bleachers. Conly had drawn the inside position; he was pale and nervous. ‘ knowledge that if he won the race his school would win the hard-worked for championship, the awful fear of losing and having to face his team-mates. directly