Manual Arts High School - Artisan Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

Page 23 text:

ORGANIZATIONS 19 W. BRUCE KIRKPATRICK Y. Bruce Kirkpatrick was born in Wessington, South Dakota, and came to California as a boy when his parents moved in 1908. He attended South Pasadena and Hollywood High Schools, and after graduating from the latter, entered Occidental College. His collegiate career was interrupted when an opportunity came to go to China to teach, and after having spent approximately a year in the Orient, he returned to enlist in the army, as the World War was then in progress. However, the Armistice was signed before he saw active service and he returned to resume his collegiate studies. Graduating from Occidental in 1920, he began sen ice with the Los Angeles School System as a member of the staff of the Los Angeles High School. After four years and a half in that institution, he was assigned as registrar in Fairfax High School where he served for two and a half years. In 1927, he was promoted to the vice principalship of the new Eagle Rock High School, and in 1931, was transferred to Franklin where he served in the same capacity. After four and one half years there, he accepted an in- vitation to become vice principal of Manual Arts. He is married and is the father of two children, a boy eleven cars of age and a girl of six.

Page 22 text:

THE ARTISAN W ' 39 BOYS - VICE PRINCIPAL The graduation of the Highlanders will result in a distinct loss to Manual Arts as there are many in the class who have contributed to the success of the school during the past three years. However the regret occasioned by their departure will be assuaged by the knowledge that they have established examples for others to em- ulate and the thought that their successes here portend greater accomp- lishments in later years. May I extend congratulations as we review their attainments and bid them farewell? W. Bruce Kirkpatrick

Page 24 text:

20 T HE ARTISAN W - 39 HIGH IN THE PERUVIAN ANDES By Jesse Rav Hanna Flying in a big Pan American Douglas DC 3 from Lima over deep canyons and rugged jutting foothills, between the mountains and the sea, watching the barren desert turn to green fields of cotton sugar cane, and grapes under the genius of American engineers and water works, we landed at Arcquipa. This oasis at 7000 feet lies in a bow-like depression surrounded by white topped mountains. Water from the glaciers flows in a deep river bed, through the town, making the lawns fresh and the eucalyptus and pepper trees green. It is a paradise to the homesick mining men and engineers when they come down from the barren heights and great valleys farther back in the Cordillera chain. From Arequipa we took a little train over the hill enroutc to Cuzco, the capital of the ancient Inca Empire. We travelled two days on this meter gauge R.R. through the wide, cold high valleys to the divide at Juliaca, 14000 feet. Along the way we watched the Indian woman tend- ing great flocks of sheep, llamas, and alpacas, with a few cattle mixed in. Sometimes the woman carried a baby in the shawl on her back, and sometimes at her signal a small barefoot boy or girl, sitting on a grass hummock would run swiftly to chase the llamas, feeding too near the rushing train. Always the women were spinning the raw wool into balls of yarn. They held the wool in loose strips around the left arm and drew it into thread by twisting between the third finger and thumb. The grow- ing ball of dirtv yarn dangled from a crude spindle at the right side. Now and again we saw the low, grass-thatched huts, some bunched to- gether and some alone on the wide plain, usually with a mudwalled corral for the animals at night. Across the valley at the foot of the mountain wall the ancient Inca road followed the contours up, clown, and around. Some- times we could see a llama pack-train loaded with ore, trotting along, sometimes a man on horseback, huddled into his black blanket, galloping swiftly, and sometimes, much to our amazement, a Ford truck. At Juliaca across the dusty square from the station we spent the night in a rather primitive inn. The stairway to the second floor sitting room and the floor of the room were covered with thick furry rugs made of the skins of llamas and alpacas. Some were black or white and others a soft tan color. The proprietor did his best to make us comfortable, though his English was as limited as our Spanish. The agua ealicnte for washing up came at once in tall enamel pitchers. There was no heat in the building so after a supper of boiled chicken, stewed fruit and coffee in the cold dining room on the inner court, we went upstairs again and crawled into our beds to keep warm and avoid altitude sickness, soroche. The next morning after a hot cup of hard boiled coffee we took our seats on the cold black leather of our rambling little train and were off clown another wide valley of a river running toward the Amazon. This val- lcv was the granary of the Incas. There were similar flocks and herds, but