Etna Union High School - Nugget Yearbook (Etna, CA)

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ETNA FOUNTAIN AND LUNCH Phone 451 Etna California VEALE'S FOUNTAIN and Franklin Vet Supplies Phone 39 Fort Jones Compliments of . . . DR. K. P. ATWOOD J. B. MITCHELL, Realtor Livestock, Dairy and Grain Ranches Homes Industrial Properties 'Wk' c i i' 1248 so. Main sc. - Phone 462 - Yreka, California l-- A- T- Sol-DANE STOCKWELL MOTORS Sales - F O R D - Service 327 West Miner St. Yreka, California 400 South Main Yreka, California YREKA SEED 3' GRAW CO- DEPENDABLE CLEANERS Poultry 8. Dairy Feeds Feed - Garden Seed - Pet Supplies Phone 267 Phone 108 Yf9lWf Califomia 317 West Miner St. Yreka, California, ELSlE'S INFANTS' and CHlLDREN'S WEAR Elsie Trivelpiece, Prop. Sub-Teens and Teens 223 W. Miner St. ' - Phone 94 - Yreka, California ETNA HOME LAUNDRY Washing, Drying, and Finishing Mrs. Charles S. Deppen Phone 66-R Etna, California WESTERN AUTO SUPPLY J. E. TURNER AND SONS West Miner Street Yreka, Cilifvrhii Yreka California ' STEPHEN, STORE HAYDEN BEAUTY SALON J. C. Stephens, Proprietor Phone 190 Emi Califomia Yreka California C O R R l G A N ' S SCHELL STOVES AND ,BLINDS Main sun' Ema' Califomia Phone 1036-W Yreka, California LAY'S OFFICE SUPPLY DUCHESS BAKERY Business Machines - Sales, Repair, Service Home gf gh, Famous Raisin Damn, 112 So. Broadway - Phone 318 - Yreka, California Phgng 279 Yreka, california YREKA morons KUWANDSON Since 1880 y, DeSoto - Plymouth Dodge Trucks . Fumhwe 521 South Main Yreka, California FW' 19095 California R U S S E Y , S HOMER E. ATCHLEY i D . 5-10-25-S1.00 VARIETY STORE SLTLZIIEQN-::EhTgY 113 So, Brogdway Yreka, California 112 Miner St. Yreka, Califomia 46

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no Muze sssnt OUT OF THE FOG I am sitting on a rock high on the sunny slope of a mountain. Below me is a sea-not a sea of water-but of fog. As I watch it, the fog billows and swirls around the misty islands which proiect above the protecting blanket. In the solitude I can hear the crow- ing of cocks, the lowing of cows, and the delighted yells of children as they run from the warmth and love of their homes into the biting air outside. All this and more filters through the dense fog: for below it, is a small valley-my valley. This sea of fog which enshrouds it, also covers and protects the lives of the people within. Life, death, work, happiness and sorrow make up the compon- ent parts of this valley, for they are the component parts of life itself. The social standards are at times almost idealistic. Rules that determine right from wrong, and good from bad are instilled into us from birth. True, a few go astray but there are those few everywhere. ' Yet a feeling of bitterness toward this mountainous valley, and all it stands for, has often almost overpowered me. Many times I have felt suffocated by its closeness. How can I, who intend to achieve a supreme goal, ever hope to succeed-living cooped up in this narrow, secluded valley? What can I learn from these people? Still, the few times I have left the valley has made me appreciate the warmth and security of my home and friends. How quickly one realizes the lack of personal interest when one is visiting in un- familiar places! lt's sundown, and I was supposed to have been home an hour ago, but while sitting here, I can't help wondering if the valley is really there, or is it like the little doe in the gulch-there until the fog enveloped her-then gone like a phantom when a slight breeze moved the wisp of fog from where she had stood. Look! The fog is being lifted by the last rays of the sun as it disappears over the hills. Yes, I can see my valley now-and I have finally realized the vast store of wealth it has given me. As the fog is lifted higher and higher my doubts are being lifted from me to vanish with the last golden rays of the sunset. You see, I shall be leaving soon to make my way in a much larger valley-a cold unfriendly valley, at least so I have thought at times. I did not realize that the cold, left-out feeling I have had when I visited other places and my bitterness toward this valley were actually evidences of my own immaturity. Now I can face the future with anticipation instead of fear, for my protected valley has given me a background of which I can be proud and upon which I can rely in times of stress. Others before me have succeeded, just as I shall succeed, and so will those who come after me. Whether we return to the valley to live, or bring our families and friends here for a visit, we can be proud of our valley's hos- pitality and of our heritage. MYRNA L. HOLMES Senior 45 2nd PRIZE ESSAY: HELICOPTER CAPERS There was one day last summer, while I was working for the Forest Service, that I shall never forget. It started off as usual. I got up and rode to Fort Jones with my dad. We arrived at the office at about 7:30 a.m. and went inside where we found the members of the Forest Ranger staff ready for the day's tasks. We talked until the five minutes to eight whistle at the mill blew. Then I was told to feed the birds ltwo hundred and fifty young pheasantsl and then finish painting the picket fence which I had started the day before. If you have ever painted a picket fence, you know what a slow tiresome iob it can be. I had spent one full day on that blasted fence and it looked as though it would take another to finish it. Around 8:30 a.m. I saw the helicopter pilot lwhom I shall refer to as Bobl and his mechanic go out to the copter which had iust arrived the day before. A few minutes later the pilot had the engine running. When the engine was warmed up, the pilot took a few short flights. Every time he took off and landed I would stop painting and watch. The third time he landed, the Fire Control Adviser came over to me and asked if I had ever been up in a helicopter. When I replied that I hadn't, he told me that if I wanted to ride in one I had better get out to the landing area at once. I dropped that old paint brush and ran to the landing field as fast as I could. Bob and the mechanic were making some adiustments on the rotor blades when I arrived. When they had finished, I climbed into the right hand seat and fastened the safety belt. Bob got in the other side, strapped himself in, flipped the master and gen- erator switches on, and stepped on the starter peddle. The two hundred horsepower Franklin coughed, sputtered, and came to life. To my surprise, there wasn't as much noise in the cockpit as there was when I had been watching from the ground. All the time Bob had been watching the instruments. When the engine was ready for full power, Bob unlocked the controls and tested them. With a sudden lump, the copter rose one hundred and fifty feet straight up, the tail rose, and we dipped toward the hay-field to gain speed. Then, with a long climbing turn, 'we flew over the middle of Fort Jones and out by the Star Ranch. By this time we were up to one thousand five hundred feet. We turned toward the highway the started losing altitude. When we crossed the high- wav we were down to four hundred feet and going eighty miles per hour. Bob flew across the field at one hundred feet, frightening a doe and two fawns. He flew up the river for a mile or more, did a quick one hundred and eighty degree turn, dropped down between the river banks, and skimmed the water. I could see suckers lying on the bottom and also a few trout. Ahead of us two hawks rose in fright. One started for some trees, but the other tried to fly straight and high and Bob went after him. As we closed in on him, he did everything he could to get out of the way: he turned, he dived, he climbedp but the 'copter stayed right on his tail. Finally, when it looked as though a rotor blade would hit him, the hawk dived directly underneath us and escaped. Then we went into a steep right turn which left me hanging by the safety belt over the open door. Bob then started a dive, pulling out three feet above the hay field. We flew in this way across the field, iumping fences, and once a fifty foot willow bush. By that time we were over the landing area and Bob set the copter down. As I walked away from the helicopter and back to the picket fence, I had a great feeling inside. The flight had only lasted five minutes, but I shall never forget a second of that ride! TOM SMITH Senior

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r PRIZE SHORT STORY: 0 DATE WITH DAD The sun filtering through the Venetian blinds and shining on e face of the still figure of the girl on the bed finally caused her stir and stretch her arms. What a perfect day this is, was Ellen's first thought, and then she became fully awake the sense of disaster which had been .inting her for days returned and she once again felt trapped by i web of her own making. What a dope l am, she said aloud, though no one was around argue the point. If anyone had been there to hear, her state- nt would surely have been questioned, as Ellen was, without ubt, the most popular girl in school, with her long, dark hair, iwn eyes, and vivacious ways. Her original ideas were quickly :Jed by many and she became a style-setter for the school. Tonight is the biggest dance of the year and l haven't a date . Oh, it isn't that I haven't been asked, but I pretended that I aady had a date, hoping Dan would ask me-but he didn't. No e else will call at the last minute, so l guess this little gal will staying home tonight. Ellen went down to breakfast looking like she hadn't a friend the world. Her mother, sensing the source of her only daugh- s despair, wisely said nothing and by glance in the direction of Morrill warned him to do the same. But Ellen was not one to keep her problems to herself for g and after nibbling deiectedly at a piece of toast and taking :ste of orange iuice, she poured out her troubles to her somewhat vildered parents. This daughter of theirs continued to amaze m by the predicaments she and her friends got themselves into, this latest crisis seemed to be truly a matter of life and death Ellen. Mr. Morrill hopefully suggested that perhaps he might hint to partner at the store that Ellen would be glad to have his son, ace, escort her to the dance. Oh, Dad, you know what a drip Horace is and I wouldn't be ght dead with him, Ellen cried, almost in tears by now. Well we might have your cousin from the city come but there r time now for him to get here, her mother added. lt looks the only available male is your father, Ellen. Now, Dear, Mr. Morrill started to protest. Why, that's a wonderful idea, why didn't we think of it sooner. ir all Dad is my favorite man and everyone will think he was date all the time. Will you, Dad? And Ellen ran around the e to use all of her persuasive charms on her father. Think how :Isome you will be in your tuxedo and all the girls will be :ly crazy to dance with the best looking man there. it was with many misgivings that Mr. Morrill finally consented to wrt Ellen to the dance. But he didn't forget to bring his date eautiful orchid corsage and Ellen's enthusiasm was so con- :us that when the time came to go, he was actually looking lard to it. He wasn't disappointed because from the minute arrived, Ellen knew her idea had clicked again, and at the ' dance more than one loving dad would escort his daughter. lut it looked as if Mr. Morrill would be bringing his wife if he e again, for he overheard Dan say to Ellen during the supper ', I wanted to ask you to come tonight, but I heard you had her date. How about a movie tomorrow night? A girl who with her dad to the big dance of the year is worth knowing. CAROLYN HUGHES Junior mzs snonr sronv: D R I F T' W 0 O D Vhen we lived in Modoc County, travelers used to come to the e and ask for a bed or a meal. There was a variety of char- S that confronted us with their needs, but one mild little man ls out in mind. He came one night and asked for a meal and a place to put his horse. We granted him this and when he came back from the barn he told this story. It was during the depression years and he lHe never gave his name.J was starved off his ranch in Arizona. He had decided to come up through California on his way and it was here that his trouble started. The traveler was coming along the Ridgeroute somewhere near Bakersfield. The weather was scorching and this route was nothing more than a trail bordered by barbed wire 'Fences and forested on both sides with no trespassing signs. There was no place to get off the road, no water and no shade. His horses were tired and thirsty and he started looking for a place to camp for the fright. He came upon a service station along the way. lt had a small park with a lawn and trees and looked in general like an oasis. The Traveler rode in and proceeded to make camp. He was surprised by the service station attendant who came running at him, cursing and ordering him off the ground. l tried to argue with the attendant, but all of a sudden he had a gun, he said, There wasn't much the Traveler could do. He said he would get out and went back to his pack mare and made like he was tightening the cinch. With his back to the attendant he opened the pack and drew out his revolver. The attendant told me l'd better not stay there that night. l didn't, he said in a calm voice. But the attendant did. He's still there I guess .... By the way, how far is it to Oregon? Some of the characters who came to the ranch were pretty windy. Perhaps this fellow was too-l'll never know. DAVID BLACK Senior Ist PRIZE POEM: SILENT MAJ ESTY The silent brook trickled from beneath the rocks Through the green, wet moss on the hill. It was such a cool and inviting place- Yet it seemed so mysteriously still. Tiger lilies stood like carved statues As a breeze tried to make them sway. Ferns remained in the shadows of trees. Never seeing the light of day. There were no birds for miles around And the foilage stood with grace. But I will always have the desire to return To this solemn, maiestic place. DIANNE FARRINGTON Senior 2nd PRIZE POEM: SISKIYOU'S WONDERLAND These mountains tall, surveying all The wealth that lies below, Have snowy peaks and silvered creeks On ranges patched with snow. These lakes are blue of sparkling hue, Amid the granite crags, And from them gush in mighty rush The stream that never lags. 'Tis here that we poor mortals see This beauty here so nigh, The timbered hills and tiny rills That form in mountains high. And now the sun, when day is done, Is sinking in the west And with it plays the last few rays As seen o'er mountain crest. BETTY YOUNG Junior 47