University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

 - Class of 1918

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University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA) online yearbook collection, 1918 Edition, Cover

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Text from Pages 1 - 286 of the 1918 volume:

111 Hip Hi HI ■■: ' mm IP i il illlil mm Hlii Ml 1 B8IIP liiPi Bill lllil illil 1 mmm ■1 PliSHl m TffiF V 1 111 ■ I. ' - ifl Hin ' IillII ,l| i 111 111! CONTENTS TO A REDWOOD (Verse) - B. J. Baratono 1 THE AWAKENING - - Henry Veit 2 IN MEMORIAM, JOHN REGAN (Verse) W. Kevin Casey 12 Catholic education and the world War John J. Barrett 13 Voices (Verse) - James Enright 21 THE MULETEER - W. Kevin Casey 22 LOVE (Verse) - Harry A. Wadsworth 35 COMMUNICATIONS - - - 35 IN BELGIUM (Verse) - W. Kevin Casey 42 EDITORIAL - - - - 4.? UNIVERSITY NOTES - 46 ALUMNI - - - - - - - 51 EXCHANGES - 56 ATHLETICS - - - -60 REV. TIMOTHY L. MURPHY. S. J. THE NEW PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SANTA CLARA Entered Dec. 18. 1902, at Santa Clara, Cal., as second-class matter, under Act of Congress of March 3, 1879 VOL. XVIII SANTA CLARA, CAL., NOVEMBER, 1918 NO. 1 3to a l tbmtmb DREAM, O towering spire by Nature wrought, Here, wkile I mark thee pierce the azure sheen ! Dim, silent centuries deigned thee not a thought- This velvet rote unnoted, clustering green, These glistening, jet-black caverns lightning-struck ! Majestic Guardian of a rich domain ! The fangs of furies scar thee still, they pluck Thy nursling brood, thy mossy bed profane — Ages agone, the mighty arms were maimed ! Strangers from lands far-off now christen thee ; They bring their Art and glittering names far-famed ; Thou smilest at the tribute : thou art free ! Free as thine ancient playmates, Air and Sea ! B. J. BARATONO The Awakening By Henry Veit. HE spacious room was softly dark and warm, dark save for the flickering light of the waning embers, the large hearth emitted. It was resonant, even to the muffled tread of Jack Selby and his sister Elaine, who had just returned from an evening at the Cort. " Jack wasn ' t the show wonderful? " Elaine whispered. His reply was cut short by a " sh-h " from Elaine. " Dad is asleep, " she said, " I ' m go- ing to surprise him. " The room had about it an atmosphere of real home, soothing and impressive. Jack began to remove his wraps. He watched with an air of appreciation, the graceful form of Elaine glide noiselessly, with out-stretched arms to- ward the reposing figure. What filial affection and devotion she displayed. So like her ; so like a real grateful child of a hard working parent. Jack admired this devotion in his wonderful sister and he smiled a smile of satisfac- tion and joy as he witnessed her girl- ish prank. " Hello, you dear old Daddy, " she called, kissing him and encircling him with an affectionate hug. But there was no opening of the closed lips, no response to this warm salutation, no tender paternal kiss, which she had eagerly awaited and which it was his wont to give. She withdrew non-plussed. Then after a few wild moments the awful reality dawned upon her. " Jack! He ' s dead, h-he ' s dead, Jack, " she moaned pitifully. A con- vulsive sob shook her delicate frame and she dropped to her knees, tugging entreatingly at the insensate form, as if in appeal to the cold icy hand of Death to yield back unto earth, the harvest it had just reaped. But the rift between Life and Death was an interval that human entreaties could not bridge. The venerable old man had wandered across a bourne that knew of no return. " Come away, Sis, " entreated Jack, lifting the weeping form from the dead body. There were huge tears trickling down both his cheeks and a choking grief possessed him. " He is better off in that far-away land, " con- tinued Jack consolingly. " You ' re all wrought up, girlie. Come now, you THE REDWOOD had better retire to your room; you ' ll need the rest. " They were soothing, earnest words ; but her grief was too profound to ad- rait of any muting. She leaned heavily on Jack ' s supporting arm and stag- gered away to her room, in a daze, casting backward glances as she de- parted. Presently Jack sauntered wearily back into the death chamber. It was the first time in his young life that be- reavement had touched his kin. Death always adds years to an existence; even in a period of a few days or hours, when intimacy with this stern leveler of all men is first experienced; years of character development, those mould- ings and outgrowths that differentiate a mere youth from a grown-up man. Such sudden changes, now passed through Jack ' s being. He was enter- ing the eve of his twenty-first birth- day. How differently he had thought and felt just a few minutes previous. Life had meant so much to him then. But now the future opened to his mind like a book and he saw, ever so clearly the responsibility, the pressing require- ments brought on by this sad experi- ence, — his first intimate acquaintance with death With heavy heart he switched on the lights. The body looked so natural, so very much alive, albeit the king of terrors unmistakably inhabited that shattered house of clay. It was enshrouded in such peaceful composure, Jack could not but feel the end had come with no suffering, nor confronting apprehen- sion of death. An ominous silence filled the room, enhanced to awesoraeness by the presence of a dead body. On the verge of derangement, he sank into a chair, to think. Thinking was well nigh impossible for, ever was his gaze and with it his mind drawn to that inert form. But what was that, which the limp right hand clutched in its encircling fingers? It brought Jack back to composure. The grasp released a paper, yellowed with age. On the floor beneath lay the envelope. The one, written in a feeble feminine hand, stared at him with the words: " For Jack Miller. To be read on his twenty-first birthday. " Eagerly he sought out the contents of the other. It read: July 1897. My Darling Boy : To-day you are twenty-one, a man, and I know you are all that I had ever hoped you to be. I will die content, knowing full well, that every care, attention and blessing will be given you by your guardian, Mr. Selby, as if you were his own son. He befriended me when all had turned me down, gave me shelter that I might bring you into existence. But in doing so I must die. Gladly do I sacrifice my life. My dear boy love that venerable old man as you have never loved him be- fore. Make his declining years bright and happy as best you can. Your Father was a villain. He de- serted me in the hour of our greatest THE REDWOOD need and wrested from my possession, your brother Philip. " Whither they went, I know not. He was a diplomatic agent in the service of the German Government. And, Jack, he loved his Kaiser more than me. I pray to God that Philip will retain the brave, free spirit that has characterized your an- cestors for generations ; but it cannot possibly be, in the midst of such en- vironment. Now my boy, I feel the end is near. Good-bye. And may you always re- main the proud possession of your, Sorrowful Mother. Jack was dumbfounded. He turned his face toward the hearth as a flower seeks the sun, but his deep eyes looked beyond it, into the fires of life itself. A haunting sense of unfulfillment stirred him to strong resentment and he sighed as he moved carelessly about the room. Like a deranged unfortu- nate, faltering over hot sands in a fruitless search for water to quench his burning thirst, Jack wandered aim- lessly to and fro for something to alle- viate his oppressed brain. Then by the side of the deceased, his foot touched a piece of cardboard. It was a picture — a picture of a woman with kindly eyes, and beneath the portrait was written: " To Jack from Mother. " He kissed it tenderly; it afforded him so much sol- ace and contentment. " Dear Mother, " he whispered in tones of deepest grief, " help me — help me to bear it all. " The kindly eyes seemed to glow as if in answer to this earnest supplication. II " Millions of men march to their death, knowing little or nothing of the reasons why — knowing that they fol- low their country ' s flag; it is enough. An appeal to honor, — and armies rush to the guns : a catchword of patriotism, — and stately legislative bodies toss away formulae and arrive, white-hot at certainty. One must indeed look to it that the rudder is made of the oak of the brain; yet the breeze that fills the sails and drives the ship is forever the rushing mighty wind of the spirit. " Beneath a sky heavily canopied, the night was stark black and loud with clashing waters. A fitful wind played in gusts, now grim, now groping like a lost thing blundering blindly about in that deep blackness. The liner was gaining speed. Ashore a few wan lights, widely-spaced, winked uncer- tainly in the distance; those near at hand, of the anchored shipping, skipped and swayed and flickered in mad mazes of a goblin dance. Jack paced those dimly lighted decks in the midst of other peripatetic individuals ; some carefree, others determinedly strug- ling under luggage and weighty grips. At pause beneath the bridge, Jack rested elbows upon the teak-wood rail and with importunate eyes searched the masked face of his destiny. It was a cloud too thick to pierce. He gave it up and resigned himself to peaceful reminiscence. The night of his guardian ' s death came back to him, mirrored darkly up- THE REDWOOD on those swirling inky waters beneath. He felt guilty of a huge wrong, a crime for not having shared his secret with Elaine. His doubt swayed him in a hopeless whirl, yet out of it there seemed but one way, the noble and righteous way. Elaine needed protec- tion, not from an open enemy but from an unseen lurking foe, a tyrannical despotism, bent on destroying just her kind. His aid in overthrowing this brute was needed. That was why he determined to join the Allies, determ- ined to fulfill his mother ' s dying wish. It was his only means of compensation. True, Elaine was not his sister, but from their long, fond years together, he could not but consider her as such. " Oh! I beg your pardon, " quickly apologized a young woman, overladen with baggage, who in the uncertain light had bumped into Jack and awak- ened him from his thoughts. Jack turned in surprise. " Perfectly alright, " he said, polite- ly tipping his hat. " Permit me to help you with your baggage ! ' ' " My state room, number twenty- nine, is only a short distance up deck, but if you will — " " Only too glad, " interrupted Jack. In the flood of light emitted from twenty-nine, which revealed the two on arriving there, Jack looked into a pale intellectual-looking face, with deep set brown eyes and clustering brown hair. The nose was a little long, but the mouth, chin and jaw were all very fa- vorable. The following day was bright and clear and warm. A perfect anthithesis to the previous night. Cool sea breezes and invigorating sunshine suffused Jack with a tingling elation he found hard to suppress. Stateroom twenty- nine seemed to have a peculiar call for him, a sort of magnetism attracting him to closer acquaintanceship with its occupant. He tripped lightly around to port side, sat in one of the many deck chairs to permit his truant fancies to wander at random. It was wonderful; the limitless expanse of water, the pure salt atmosphere and the thrill of be- ing on a veritable floating palace, pur- ringly cutting through the foaming swells and speeding him on to, " Over There " that he might pay his debt to Elaine — and humanity! Most of the passengers were prom- enading the decks with a possible view to forming acquaintances. The first day out is usually monotonous and lonely, but when democracy begins to assert itself in the passengers by the intimacy and congeniality of compani- onship, the whole is transformed into one large family, so to speak. Jack rather favored the port side, not how- ever through its superiority in views or the like — for from all points it is the same boundless deep — but somehow the environment there was more intimate and touching. State-room twenty-nine presently sent forth its occupant in all her dazz- ling feminity. A propitious wind was at play, for from the hands of the girl it blew a tiny handkerchief and rolled THE REDWOOD it gently past Jack. The girl attempt- ed its recovery, but always out of reach it was wafted gently on. Only fleeter feet could overtake it, ere it plunged over the ship ' s side. Jack volunteered chivalrously. " Good morning, " said Jack, ap- proaching the girl, " here is your hand- kerchief, Miss — Miss. " He hesitated oddly. " Tevis, " added the girl, thanking him. " Delighted to know you Miss Tev- is, " returned Jack. " My name is Sel — er, I mean Miller, Jack Miller. " " It was so kind of you, Mr. Miller, " she said with easy naturalness that made Jack feel perfectly at home. Her voice was of uncommon quality, deep and bell-sweet. " Isn ' t it a perfectly wonderful day? " ventured Jack. " Grand, isn ' t it, just the kind that is especially adapted to steamship flir- tations. " Jack smiled. The charming manner of his new friend tempted him to be- come inquisitive. " Do you intend travelling abroad in these troublesome times? " He put the question as a ground breaker and then was startled by his own temerity. " Well, not exactly, " she answered, " I am going to live in England with my Uncle, who has charge of a con- valescent hospital there. You know there is a demand for nurses now that so many are needed at the front. " " How loyal you are to your profes- sion, to go so far from home to do your bit. " " No sacrifice is too great, " she con- tinued, " when the precious right of freedom is at stake. " " Quite true. " " And now, Mr. Miller, may I ask your destination? " Her interrogation was natural and an inquisitive sparkle shone in her eye. " Over there, ' Jack answered. " You know I have a dear sister of whom you remind me so much and it is just the likes of you both, that we able- bodied men must defend. " Several days passed. Jack ' s ac- quaintance with Miss Tevis became more intimate and he concluded at length that the sweet little nurse was one he could really learn to like with an affection above ordinary friendship. Their meetings were numerous and frequent. In the twilight, as the baby stars, remote impersonal things, would creep out to their watches in the sky, and as the moon checkered the sea with a restless pattern of black and silver, they would sit and converse upon the deck. So the voyage grew from one of cas- ual friendship into one of love, pure love. It is often said that steamship romances are never sincere, but to see Jack and his sweetheart at parting time, would have changed the skeptical into the most credulous. Ill Six months had flitted by and their passing, found Jack on the firing line. THE REDWOOD It was cold, unimaginably cold and dark and the driving storm was at its height. Thickening into an avalanche it gained impetus every second and drove on as of some malign spirit having at its disposal only a brief space in which to wreck and destroy. Jack drew his coat tightly about him and bent his head to the fury. Progress was low, even painful through the con- coction beneath his sodden foot-gear. A pocket flashlight beaconed him on, deflecting sullen gleams from the inky mass of slushy melting snow. At reg- ular intervals were stationed coated figures with faces steadfast to loop holes in the parapet, seeking out, if possible, through that shifting white wall, any foe who might be wandering aimlessly about in the two hundred yard ribbon of earth that separated the combatants. Now and again he passed narrow rifts in the walls of the trenches, en- trances to dug-outs, betrayed by glim- mers of candle light through the cracks of makeshift doors or the coarse mesh of gunny-sack curtins. Many too, with their bare hands, had patiently dug little alcoves and shelves; these niches contained their most precious belongings, a picture of mother or sweetheart. In these men who lived but to kill there was still left a touch or two of tenderness. The fire along the line swelled to an uproar, augmented by the hellish gib- bering of machine guns. Somewhere back of him a huge gun came into play, barking viciously. Shells whined and shrieked overhead, as a pack of hungry wolves eager for prey. To Jack this was nothing, merely a weird music to which his ear had grown ac- customed, and he moved on as if noth- ing were happening. Coming to a halt in front of his own little alcove, he patiently dug with his hands, — the only tools to be afforded. It had but one possession, a picture of his mother. He flashed his little light in upon it. To look upon those well- loved features, strengthened him and the thought of the millions of other mothers, like his own would have been, mothers whose future happiness de- pended on the outcome of this war, kept his spirits high. It reminded him also of his duty and of his unpaid debt to Elaine. He handled the little card- board square affectionately, kissed it and then tenderly, as if he might in- jure it, put the portrait into the pock- et of his blouse nearest his heart. " Well, Jim, old man, " said Jack, slapping the shoulder of the man he had come up to relieve, " have you found Fritz very inquisitive to-night? " " No, he ' s been too durned quiet; it sort o ' makes me feel creepy. " And with that the doughboy stalked off, melting into the blackness, for he was tired, almost spent, as were all those brave warriors who stood post that day. Propping his rifle against the wall of the trench, its butt on the firing step just out of water, Jack proceeded painstakingly to fix its bayonet. Then THE REDWOOD he assumed his position at the loophole in the sand-bag parapet. The night filled with so much driving snow had become less penetrable than the dark- ness itself. Only that shifting while wall met his gaze. Even the perennial roar of shrieking shells had ceased. The feeling of something sinister and uncanny, something vast and mighty came over him. Man had made war for ages but never before on such a huge scale. Then suddenly a blinding white glare cut through the gloom. The blaze played for a few minutes over the trenches, sweeping to right and left and back again, dying away at a far distant point. After it came the same white gloom and deep silence. To the watchers along the line this betokened but one necessity and that to prepare for a massed attack. But the storm was now letting up and with its abatement came an order for volunteers to go " over the top, " on listening duty. To Jack this afforded a novelty too good to let by and he was lured by the thought of its romantic danger. That their persons might blend the more perfectly with the surrounding snows, fifty grimly determined men, shroudded in white, clambered out of the trenches into " No Man ' s Land. " All was still and they advanced rap- idly fifty yards or more. Almost at the same instant, warned by a trail of sparks rising in a long arc from the German trenches, the little party dropped flat and lay moveless. The star-rocket paled and winked out in mid-air. Jack noticed in the flare that the weary land was flecked with what he concluded to be poor, dead, broken bodies of men who had fallen days or months, hours or weeks before in the grim contests that were waged for a few yards of that debatable char- nel ground. Two lay so close to him that he could have touched eit her by slightly moving his hand. But he was at pains to do nothing of the sort; he desired to clench his teeth against their chattering, even to hold his breath and regretted that he might not mute the thumping of his heart. In a semi-crouching posture the troupe slipped forward again, ready to flatten themselves to earth when an- other trail of sky-spearing sparks warned them. Then a strange coinci- dence occurred. With the brave little band from the British side, there also ventured out into that waste of littered and inde- scribable abominations a listening par- ty of Germans. Thus had Fate de- cided. In the middle of that desolation they met. They needed no urging; they al- most flew to their task. Foe met foe, amid the din of clashing bayonet. Shrieks of the dying pierced the start- led night ; a mortally wounded comrade here, a dying foe there and all muffled to insignificance by the rasps of strik- ing steel. Neither side dared fire, lest in doing so they mow down their own men. Only the mere handful must THE REDWOOD strike at each Hitting shadow, knowing not whether it were friend or foe. Jack was blinded to all else, save the Boche he had encountered. He grew aware of the fact that the fierce on- slaught of his companions was carry- ing the Germans back. To Jack it was all thrilling, incomparable, and he eag- erly pushed on flushed with his first taste of victory. But suddenly a thund- erous crash halted him. A weird ring- ing sounded in his ears, his knees grew weak, his eyes were dimmed even to the white mantle of snow about, he falter- ed, stumbled forward and then plunged headlong into a shell hole, unconscious. Day dawned crisp and clear. All was quiet amid the hovering phantoms of death and the unspeakable. In the shell crater a young German, indescrib- ably jumbled moved ever so slightly. He groaned as he straightened and sat up, gazing about bewildered. Beside him lay a body straight and supple ; the features clear-cut and clean, a mere youth like himself. A boy ' s face with frank and fearless brow looked at him. There was no malice there, only shocked surprise. The German was deeply im- pressed. " This is not one of the brutes we ' re fighting against ! ' ' His thoughts were uttered in perfect English. " Where are the heartless, cruel terrors, " he continued, " we had to kill for our self- preservation. " He gazed around in search of them. That unmalicious, kind- ly face disproved all his superiors had drummed into him. " Has it come to this? " he groaned, " has all my education in Europe ' s best schools, but taught me how to kill, to maim and to wound? " There were tears in his eyes and he shook with resentment. From an inner pocket of his blouse he drew a picture, the only thing that could console him. It was a woman with kindly eyes. Scrawled beneath the portrait was the word, " Mother " . He kissed it and fondled it like a mother would a babe, and he wept in his anguish. For who in time of trou- ble or doubt or grief will not seek his mother for advice or soothing words ? " Ah, father, why in your love of militarism have you deprived me of a mother ' s companionship; her tender rearing and her loving care? It ' s made me a merciless murderer. " For the moment he hesitated; a burning rage filled him. " I never believed your side aright, but you forced me into it. " There was wailing in his tone. But the body beside him appeared to move. Instinctively he felt for life. There was a faint thumping of the heart, hardly perceptible, but there was life. His fingers met a piece of cardboard. He pulled it from the coat pocket. It Avas a picture — a picture of a woman. " To Jack from Mother " , was inscribed beneath. " Well, that ' s strange! " he exclaimed in surprise, comparing it with his own. The similarity was unmistakable. " Why — why, they ' re the same! " In a daze he began to ponder. From 10 THE REDWOOD the dim past he recalled the inquisi- tiveness with which he had pestered his father to learn more about his mother, why was she not with them, where did she live, why could he not write to the brother he yearned to see. But ever that arrogant parent dispelled these questions from his mind. " Jack, " he returned, " brother of mine, you ' ve awakened me to my sense of duty. " And he raised the supine form in his arms, kissed those parched lips and stroked gently the unconscious brow, with a feeling and tenderness that were heartfelt. IV The base hospital was filled. Every- where scurried those little immaculate- ly habited heroines, the red cross nurses caring for, resuscitating their heroes who had returned from the glor- ious fight, bleeding and torn and wounded. " Madamoiselle, " said one of the attending doctors gravely, " prepare this man for operation. His condition is serious. " And he pointed to a wounded man whose face was wrapped in a maze of bandages. The wounded groaned and muttered as if in a delirium. Tenderly the lit- tle nurse stroked the fevered brow, staring intently upon the partly un- covered face. She started, then drew closer for a confirmation. " Yes, it is he, " she whispererd. " Jack, Jack, speak to me. " And she shook him gently. The unconscious form moved. Slow- ly he opened his eyes, and passed a bruised hand across his forehead, for there was pain there, excruciating pain. " Jack, " she pleaded, " don ' t you know me? Don ' t you remember? " He stared into the little face. A smile of recognition flitted over his emaciated features. " Miss Tevis, " he whispered. And he relapsed again into insensibility. Several days passed and with their passing Jack came out of a successful operation. " Miss Tevis, " he said one bright sun- ny morning, " tell me how I came into this paradise, and — with such a bright little angel to hasten along my recov- ery. " She smiled. " It might excite you too much, " she answered, " and, be- sides the Doctor says you are to remain perfectly quiet at least another day. " There was a slight trace of feminine in- tuition in this reply. " Ah, please, Miss Tevis, " he pleaded, " I ' ll promise not — " " No, Jack, " she interrupted, " call me Alice, it sounds more friendly, more like our trip across. ' ' " 0. K. with me, Alice. I am your humble servant. " She drew a chair close to his side. Jack was impressed by her charm and grace. " How did I get away alive from No Man ' s Land? Did the attack prove successful? " THE REDWOOD 11 " No, Jack, " she answered, " you and ten others were given up as lost. But late the next day in the early twi- light, a German, saying he knew you, carried you to your friends, under a se- vere and dangerous shell fire. " " A German! " reiterated Jack. " And he knew me? " " Yes, an old friend, he said whom he hadn ' t seen for years. And Jack he is now fighting with the Allies, fighting for your freedom and my freedom. Wasn ' t that heroic? " " Did he give his name? " " Yes, " Alice continued, " his name is Philip Miller. " Jn ifemnriam OF LIEUT. JONN M. REGAN. KILLED IN ACTION AUGUST 4. 1918, IN THE BATTLE OF FISMES HT teem the breezes with plaints and signs And the bells weep tears of sound ? Should dawn have grieving, reddened the eyes ? Should a dirge in our hearts be found ? Ah no ! away with the cypress and yew, Let pain in our hearts become pride ; Let earth shed sackcloth and exult anew For the glory in which he died. W, KEVIN CASEY 12 Catholic Education and the World War (Address delivered by John J. Bar- rett ' 91, at Public Meeting of Catholic Educational Association, Civic Audi- torium, San Francisco, July 25, 1918.) Ladies and Gentlemen: The convention which receives us in its public session tonight happened to assemble at the most novel hour in Am- erican history ; and the coincidence is suggestive. For the first time since this Republic began, every institution and every person in the land stands challenged for the credentials of his loyalty and service. It was high time, after a century and a half of unquestioning welcome to all classes, creeds and opinions, and unsus- pecting hospitality to all who came our way, that the roll of the faithful should be called. It was high time that a na- tion that was founded upon the most benign theories that were ever made the basis of a State ; that was sum- moned by its fundamental principles, its supreme ideals, its splendid past and its high future, into a mortal combat in which all these were challenged ; that was surprised in such a combat by un- expected disaffection among her own people and stunned by stark treason among her guests ; it was high time that such a nation should line up every per- son and institution in the land, search their hearts and scrutinize their activi- ties, and at the door of every home, at the threshold of every house of wor- ship, and in the inmost council-chamber of every institution, to demand the countersign — " loyalty and service. " The Question of the Hour. What response does the Catholic Ed- ucational Association make to that question of the hour? Church Behind the Flag. The answer of the convention of that association to the question as to where the Catholic Church in America stands, in this as well as every other depart- ment of her activities, at this supreme hour in our country ' s history, rings out clear and unequivocal — the loudest in the land — in the forthright pledge that she stands behind the Government and under the flag. That attitude has not waited for its proclamation upon any summons. It has been preached from our pulpits and shouted from our church-towers since the first moment of this evil hour ; and any one of us can answer for her. We pledge our country our single- hearted allegiance. We entertain no scruples about the justice of her parti- cipation in the conflict. We approve the course she has taken in the crisis, and we would h ave had her take no 13 14 THE REDWOOD other. We commend the sagacious and high-minded statesmanship with which heaven has blessed her counsels, and we see a mark of heaven ' s favor for our cause in the inspired leader, Woodrow " Wilson, it gave us for the struggle. We stand ready to promote our country ' s fortunes at the sacrifice of all our re- sources of human life and earthly pos- sessions. With all our strength and mind and heart we pray for victory to the arms of our country and her gal- lant allies. We hold no allegiance that conflicts with our love of the flag, and wherever it leads we are prepared to follow. Definition of Loyalty. Chesterton says : " Loyalty is probably best to be de- fined somewhat thus : It is the senti- ment due to those things to which our obligation is in a sense infinite — that is, cannot be calculated as for barter, and can only be expressed by a general and final dedication of the affections. Thus a man owes loyalty to his mother, because nothing short of seeing her through any of her troubles could be commensurate with a gift which is mystical and absolute ; the gift of life itself and of life at the risk of death. In the same way a man owes loyalty to his country, because he cannot, even in imagination, set any limits to what he owes to the corporate culture and or- der that has protected his cradle and informed his mind. I cannot tell how much I owe of all things to my country, and, through it, to having certain well- guarded traditions in my soul, certain deep-sunken habits in my body. There- fore, the ultimate act of deserting what I conceive to be her interests and pro- moting the interests of any other peo- ple, would still be the act of Modred and Ganelon and Judas Iscariot. This, then, is loyalty; loving something as one loves one ' s mother, with an infinite gratitude for an infinite gift. " That is the quality of the loyalty we pledge to this anxious hour. And we entertain it as we were taught it — not as a mere sentiment but as a solemn duty — the sovereign duty of the citi- zen — an obligation binding in the forum of his conscience. And we hold him a blasphemer who is irreverent to the flag. Present War Against Our Flag Is a War Against Cross of Christ. Close beside the cross, the emblem of our faith, we have raised the flag, the emblem of our country. Belonging side by side in every crisis, there never was an hour since our State began when the flag belonged so near the cross and the cross so near the flag as now. For this war against that flag is a war against the cross, as well, in its highest and holiest signification. It is a war against fundamentals that the cross stands for. It is a war against elementary things that the cross sym- bolizes. It is a war against the very throne of God ; and the events that dragged us in — unwilling and resisting — were only incidents of the impious and sacrilegious enterprise. Emblaz- THE REDWOOD 15 oned on the banner of the aggressor are such pagan shibboleths as these : " Might is right, " " There is no higher law, " " There is no right or wrong, " " The State is the only reality and sub- stance, " " Man is made to serve the State and has no higher destiny, " " There is no international law, " " Neither in the heavens above, nor in the earth beneath, nor in the waters under the earth, is there aught that you shall serve but me. " War Forced On Us as a Challenge of Our Civilization. And even for all that we did not go to war — it came to us. Our participa- tion in it has the soundest justification. Though it challenged our civilization, assailed our honor and threatened our existence, we shrank from it till our forbearance looked like cowardice and our patience like fear ; and we found ourselves at last on the battlefield, not because we had gone to it, but because they had projected the battlefield onto American territory by attacking ship after ship that flew the American flag. They belong together, therefore, in this solemn hour and this genuine cru- sade — the cross, the emblem of the Kingdom of God, and the flag, the em- blem of a Republic that stands for the fundamentals of Christian civilization. That is the pledge with which you and we respond to the eager inquiries of our country; and those are the tok- ens we tender of its sincerity. The message with which this conven- tion replies to the anxieties of the hour is even more re-assuring than its pledge. It is a message that springs from the very heart of your mission and goes direct to the heart of the mis- sion of our country in the war. Man Was Not Made for the State, But the State Was Made for Man. For what is the central principle of the system of education which this con- vention represents but this : Knowledge is power, but power of any kind, with- out restraint, is an evil worse than ig- norance or weakness ; knowledge is force, but force of every variety, undis- ciplined, runs straight to tyranny; and unrestrained power and undisciplined force, in the material order as well as in the mental, have their last root in those very principles of that false and pagan philosophy which has loosened this plague upon the world, " Might is right, " " There is no higher law, " " There is no right or wrong, " " The State is the only reality and substance, " " Man is made to serve the State and has no higher destiny. " The central principle of your theory of education declares further that there is no royal road of escape from power unrestrained and force undisciplined, whether they have taken possession of a man or a State ; that there is no short cut to im- munity from the evils of the reign and rule and ruin of those dire principles ; that as those evils have their root in those false principles, those false prin- ciples must be rooted up in individual life and thereby in national life, and in their place must be planted the eternal 16 THE REDWOOD principles of a higher law, inherent right and wrong, and essential good and evil. It is a fundamental theory of your educational system that men must he forever taught that just as there is a law of gravitation that holds the earth to its orbit, as really is there a higher law that holds mankind to its orbit also ; that there are principles of eternal truth from which spring prin- ciples of eternal justice ; that out of that higher law and from those eternal principles issue human rights and du- ties superior to the State and which no government may violate whatever its necessities; that among the most pre- cious of the principles that spring im- perious and inviolable from that higher law are these: Man was not made for the state, the state was made for man; there are principles of civilization that carry a divine sanction ; there are man- dates of international law that say, " Thou shalt not, " to a government even when they leave it no other alter- native; the end does not justify the means, with a state any more than with an individual. " Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar ' s, and unto God the things that are God ' s. " Teachings of Christian Education the Very Axioms of Civilization. These are not novel doctrines that you teach and that are the heart of your teaching. These are not principles alien or antagonistic to the spirit or institutions of your country. These are not theorems out of touch with modern civilization. These are the very axioms of civilization for the tri- umph of which this nation has cast its far-flung battle-line in this momentous struggle. These are the very " cells of the soul " of the civilization for which this country is rushing her flag and her sons to the forefront of this mighty conflict. These are the very truths — sublime and stirring — with which Desire Cardinal Mercier, writing with the pen of an arch-angel, has roused and rallied the civilized world. Nor are these principles ethereal, too abstract or too intangible to take firm hold of the minds and hearts of men. " Why, these very principles are that same spiritual force, mightier than the mightiest that material agencies can create, that takes its stand today in the great highway of time, of destiny, of civilization, of the world, and says with serenity, with confidence, with as- surance, to the most stupendous array of physical power that was ever mar- shaled in the history of men: " You shall not pass ! ' ' And it shall not. Democracy Without Spirit of Individ- ual Restraint Merges Into Despotism. It is also a cardinal principle of your central teaching theory that these sov- ereign truths, inborn though they are in human nature and responsive to ap- peal, should find a place in education; and that out of them will come, with many other fruits, the all-saving vir- tue of restraint; indeed, that there is no firm foundation for that virtue but that higher law and those principles that issue from it. You hold fast, too, THE REDWOOD 17 to the theory — all too plain from fa- miliar experience — that it is the natur- al tendency of power, in every phase in which it is developed and in every de- partment in which it is employed, to run to the limit of excesses; that it fails to provide spontaneously its cor- responding virtue of restraint ; and that it is imperative therefore to satur- ate the process of education throughout with those great moral principles that give vitality to that essential quality. All these considerations have pecu- liar application to a democracy, where every man is a sovereign and the col- lective individuals rule. For, as Tocqueville says: " The weakness of a democracy is that, unless guarded, it merges in despotism. " And Wendell Phillips: " Despotism looks down into the poor man ' s cradle, and knows it can crush resistance and curb ill-will. Democracy sees the ballot in that baby- hand; and selfishness bids her put in- tegrity on one side of those baby foot- steps and intelligence on the other, lest her own hearth be in peril. " That is the message with which this convention answers this questioning hour. That is the patriotic service with which it shows cause to its fellow-citi- zens on this dark and anxious day. Is it genuine service? Or could it easily be dispensed with? James Bryce on the American Commonwealth. The best study that has been made of our institutions, their origin, their op- erations, and the influences that have affected them for good or evil, is " The American Commonwealth " by James Bryce. Let me read, without com- ment, a few observations from that standard authority along this line : " No one is so thoughtless as not to sometimes ask himself what would be- fall mankind if the solid fabric of be- lief on which their morality has hith- erto rested, or at least been deemed by them to rest, were suddenly to break up. . . Morality with religion for its sanction has hitherto been the basis of social polity, except under military despotism; would morality be so far weakened as to make social polity un- stable? and if so, would a reign of vio- lence return? In Europe this question does not seem urgent, because in Eu- rope the physical force of armed men which maintains order is usually con- spicuous, and because obedience to au- thority is everywhere in Europe matter of ancient habit. . . . But in Am- erica the whole system of government seems to rest not on armed force, but on the will of the numerical majority, a majority most of whom might well think that its overthrow would be for them a gain . . . Suppose that all these men ceased to believe that there was any power above them, any future before them, anything in heaven or earth but what their senses told them of . . . would the moral code stand unshaken, and with it the rever- ence for law, the sense of duty towards the community, and even towards the generations yet to come, . . . His- 18 THE REDWOOD tory, if she cannot give a complete an- swer to this question, tells us that hith- erto civilized society has rested on reli- gion, and that free government has prospered best among religious peoples. . . . Yet America seems as unlike- ly to drift from her ancient moorings as any country of the Old " World. . . Religion and conscience have been a constantly active force in the American commonwealth. . . . not indeed strong enough to avert many moral and political evils, yet at the worst times inspiring a minority with a courage and ardor by which moral and politi- cal evils have been held at bay, and in the long run generally overcome. Republics Live by Virtue. " It is an old saying that monarchies live by honor and republics by virtue. The more democratic republics become, the more the masses grow conscious of their own power not only by patriot- ism, but by reverence and self-control, and the more essential to their well- being are those sources whence rever- ence and self-control flow. " Just one concluding thought. Are those high things we have been talking of realities, or are they shadows? Are those conceptions of a higher law, sov- ereign right, eternal justice, and human destiny beyond the state — are all these hollow superstition or are they solid truth? Are those great principles which are the soul of your educational system and, by such a fine coincidence, at the same time the very gospel for which this nation and its allies are en- during their bitter passion today, — are all these but hallucinations of a world distraught with grief and looking for comfort from some external source be- cause there is no comfort here? Are all these but ethereal echoes, from the cold and silent stars, of humanity ' s un- ceasing wail against the pain and sor- row, the disappointment and despair of this abandoned sphere? World ' s Faith in Law a Spiritual Force In its slow but sure course this war is moving on to a decision of this tre- mendous three-fold proposition, which will thenceforth and forever stand as a settled and accepted truth of the hu- man race and of human affairs, and stamped with a finality that nothing less than such a conflict could fasten on it : first, that the race at large has an inborn faith in a law that is higher than man can make or the state repeal ; second, that this faith in that higher law has such native vitality and inher- ent vigor that a preponderance of the race will rise and rally against any gross and fundamental violation of its principles, and will make the sacrifice of every earthly treasure and of life itself to vindicate its sanctity; and third, and chiefly, that this faith, in- born and vigorous, is a spiritual force mightier than all the material forces that can be combined against it; that the powers of light are stronger than the powers of darkness. That is the compensating end to which our firm and steadfast defense against this war of conquest is leading THE REDWOOD 19 the world, to prove decisively, with all the finality of a demonstrated, scienti- fic fact of human life, the existence, the vigor, the invincibility of that faith and force ; to fix that primacy, estab- lish that supremacy, and settle that or- der of precedence forever as an axiom of the race. That is the adequate good that we have injected into this evil thing and that rescues the human fam- ily from the grave impeachment of be- ing engaged in a suicidal conflict. That is the all-sufficient outcome which forbids the thought that the higher law and its boasted principles are undermined by such conditions. There is not despair for the race in this agonizing conflict that was forced upon it ; there is faith ; there is glory ; there is vindication. That is the conception of this war that makes us prouder than ever of old human nature. That is the conception of this war that makes the khaki uni- form the livery of God and our sons and brothers soldiers of the Lord. That is the conception of this war that makes it inconceivable that Providence should be indifferent to the outcome. That is the conception of this war that makes us sure that, if the hour needs it, over the battlements of heaven will tumble the thunderbolts of God to put down this rebellion against His supre- macy. The Monument at the Marne. In another day — not distant we hope — some second Michael Angelo will journey over the hushed and abandoned battlefield of Belgium , Italy and France, to catch an inspiration for a monument to express the highest mean- ing of the conflict, and to find a spot at which to place it in commemoration of the victory. Footsore and weary he will make his way over that long and winding region that yesterday was studded with the classic creations of the genius of the race and today is a hideous and unbroken waste. He will brood over the ruins of temples of wor- ship that inspired art had fashioned and love of God had reared. He will sit and muse among the broken walls and battered roofs and empty shelves and deserted corridors of temples of learning that were as priceless in their splendid beauty as in the treasured lore that came in rare and wonderful books and went forth in rare and wonderful men. He will walk with a heavy hoart over fields that once were rich aud glad with all the fruits of bounteous nature and industrious man, but that now are barren of a living leaf. He will gaze with grief unutterable upon the crumbled heaps of villages where all was peace, contentment, love and home. He will pick his way through the obliterated streets of mangled ci- ties which centuries had reai ' ed as rich and gorgeous monuments to proud and thrifty peoples. His heart will sink amid the wilderness of graves that converted a continent into a city of the dead. His soul will be stirred to a tern- 20 THE REDWOOD pest of emotions by the wreck and ruin that fill his eyes and his fancy will sicken at the awful spectacle and shrink from its harrowing task. But seated some night on a hilltop on the Marne, and lifting his gaze from the desolation about him to the myriad lights that still signal a living God on an unconquered throne; plunged into a reverie on the spiritual things that survive the ravages of time and the plunder of men; and catching the true conception of this conflict and of the victory that crowned it, he will carve a cross and plant it there, to symbolize the idea that civilization was cruci- fied but her soul redeemed. 0tr?0 WHISPERING stir is in tke trees, Of songs unsung ; Bidding me rise from dreams of ease, Tke vagrant, incense-laden breeze My quickened spirit seems to seize — For Life is young ! Passion but smolders in my breast ; Tke pipes of Pan Call faintly from tke glimmering West ; My work I see; — Aye God ' s bekest Hatk brougkt new ligkt, an aim, a quest — Lo ! I ' m a man ! Swiftly, but ok kow softly ! came Tke setting sun ; For wealtk I kave not craved, nor fame — A ricker, fuller life my aim — " Jesu ! " I lisp tke Holy Name, And Life is done ! JAMES ENRIGHT 21 The Muleteer W. Kevin Casey. ECAUSE Captain Jack Wetherby was hand- some, and brown, and tall ; because he had done brave things over there, social San Francisco adored him. All the shining young debutantes were mad to dance with him, all their mamas set crafty snares for him. Because he was brave and handsome sufficed the girls; the mamas were allured by the fact that his people were the Wetherbys of New York. But though he danced and dined with all the beauty of the old harbor town, he was still heart-whole and fan- cy free. At least so he assured him- self — if only it weren ' t for that name, Margery Morgan forever chiming in his ears — Margery Morgan. Although Wetherby ' s parents were able to spend the winter in New York and the summer on the Riviera ; al- though they kept a palatial home and a corps of keep and bought a new lim- ousine every other year, they had never made the mistake of spoiling him as a child. Sometimes he accompanied them on their travels ; other times he staj r ed with his grandparents up-state. There he fought and played with the lads of the town. And whenever the games were those of triumphantly pro- tecting, in the role of mail-clad knights, innocence and beauty, he fought — as in later life — with redoubled strength and vigor. His schooling was done in Exeter and Yale. During these golden days every one who met him characterized him as a ' good fellow ' . While at Yale he distinguished himself by painting with huge Y ' s the Harvard campus the night before the ' Big Game ' . Just as he had finished this feat, he was de- tected by a mob of students. After be- ing pursued by them some small dist- ance, he eluded them by slipping into an unoccupied machine and drawing the robe over him. He always did things on the spur of the moment, always was up to some sort of fun-making deviltry. He never made the mistake of trying to be pre- ternaturally old — he was well content just to be young. It was while he was at Yale that he met Lee Morgan, a young Californian. He had known him casually for a time — as a Junior knows a Freshman. Then came that affair when Morgan ' s skate came loose upon the ice and he was slightly stunned by a tumble. Jack helped him up, handed him a picture 21 THE REDWOOD 23 he had dropped, and drew in his breath with a gulp when he noticed the feat- ures upon it. " Why, pardon my asking, but who ' s that? " Wetherby blurted out. Young Morgan smiled — " That ' s my little sister, Margery. She ' s going to school down at Chevy Chase. " And then came the call for volun- teers for the American Ambulance Unit. Both wired home for permission to go. Lee was almost heartbroken at having to see Jack leave — himself hav- ing to remain. When Jack returned at the advent of the United States into the war, he didn ' t speak much of what he had seen or done overseas. But he had a war-cross which they said he had received for saving a vital key-trench for France. When it ' s crew had been shot down he had held the charging Huns with a Lewis gun until reinforce- ments came. Also he had been slightly ' gassed ' once. He took the civilian ' s examination, obtained high recommendations both military and political, and was award- ed Captain ' s bars. Then he was dis- patched to the San Francisco Presidio where the First Officers Training Camp was slated to soon begin. His services as instructor were highly valued. Lee Morgan was at the Ferry to meet him. Although the thought that San Francisco was Margery ' s home had been ever with him during his trip across the continent, he forebore asking if she had yet returned home. Instead he submitted to Lee ' s handshakings and congratulations and thousand ques- tions about the trouble over there. He discovered later that Margery would not be home until early June. It was now latter May. In the two weeks that elapsed before the beginning of the Training Camp — in which incidently Lee had been ac- cepted as a candidate — Wetherby never had in his life a more tremendous time. San Fransico showed him all her re- nowned hospitality ; he was feted as if he were a Roman conquerer home for a triumph. And through it all he showed he was as fun-loving and un- pretentious as ever; he had not yet grown up. He and young Morgan were always together; Morgan ' s Speedster wit- nessed many rambles. They both drove it in turns; sometimes Wetherby drove it about alone. They thought nothing of that, of course, for Lee had done the same with Jack ' s racer one vacation down in New York. And wherever he and Morgan went he found people asking when Margery would be home. At the dance and tea and country-club he saw people looking forward to her homecoming. He had an impulse to bowl over some youths whom he saw unconsciously fix their ties at mention of her name. II It was June in poppy-broidered Cal- ifornia, early blue-skied romantic June. And everyone that morning in 24 THE REDWOOD the old San Francisco Presidio, from orderly to Colonel, was aware it was June. Captain Jack Wetherby, with his morning shower, shave and break- fast over, and with his pipe drawing perfectly was utterly aware it was June. He had every reason to be con- tent, and yet he was not. Life some- times seemed a bit flat after over there. He sat there in the lush green grass ; grass all pied with flowers of yellow and blue. He was just gazing at the jewel-blue sky, just gazing and think- ing— " She will be home this week — Mar- gery Morgan — I wonder if she looks much like her picture — " , and so on. Before him lay the comfortable offi- cers ' quarters — and beyond stretched the parade grounds. On the other side of the fence against which his back rested ran a branch of the road from town. The morning bustle had not yet begun.. That was his favorite spot when he wanted to go and dream alone. Perhaps it attracted him because at that time of the morning no sound dis- turbed him except the note of some wild bird; perhaps because he could glimpse in the tail of his eye, the blue bay dancing far to the left. His thought changed from Margery to Lee; from Lee to the Training Camp; from the Training Camp to fighting. Therewith came recollec- tions of France — of a gallant Picardy regiment he had seen go to its death lilting a brave chanson. His clear eyes filled with tears ; then he began to hum the tune softly. Soon he broke into the strain and sang there to himself, beating time with his old pipe, on which he had carved a Y during his col- lege days. When he had been ' gassed ' a few of the finer tissues in his throat had been destroyed. His ordinary voice, a pleas- ant bass, was not affected. But when- ever he began to sing he struck a queer, high, ludicrous key. Being quite sen- sitive about this, he disliked to be over- heard. Suddenly, while he was singing he heard a machine slow down on the road behind the fence — heard a peal of girl- ish laughter. Then Lee ' s voice — " Sis, I ' ll swear that ' s Wetherby. " " That person! " and the car roared and shot away. Wetherby arose with his ears slight- ly pink. He swore softly. " That person, " he repeated to him- self. " Lee, of all persons to play me false. " He was just a bit sick at heart over the supposed treachery of his friend. " They say she ' s the most beautiful girl in California. I know she ' s the most popular here in the city. So she hates me. Well — " and so ran his thoughts. Then as he walked away — " to meet her should at least prove in- teresting — " but with all his thinking he never for a moment dreamed that the coming day was to prove the most interesting in his whole life. Ill The day was at it ' s warmest. The THE REDWOOD 25 barracks glared in the sun. Little heat waves spiralled up on every side, dancing a strange, steady dance to the occasional drone of insects. Now and then a huge Quartermaster ' s truck rumbled along ; and at intervals a squad of prisoners in blue followed by a guard. Then " Assembly " was blown. A minute or two later " Fall in. " Out tumbled the young R. 0. T. C. men for afternoon Battalion Parade. Wetherby turned his company over to his junior officer — an immensely brilliant fellow. However he was con- sidered the most homely man in the regiment. Wetherby had turned his foot leaping into an improvised trench in practice that morning. Nothing se- rious, but a little awkward. He had not had a chance for private conversa- tion with Morgan. He was not in the best of humor and the men under him had been made to step sharply that morning. A few of the more awkward, Morgan included, had been reminded rather sharply of the fact. The battalion swung out, marching in a column of companies. They marched well; hands swinging, feet lifting as if parts of a machine. The commands rang out crisp and clear, the men had their hearts in the work. " Wetherby was absorbed watching them. Suddenly he felt a light touch on his arm. He turned; it was Marion Davis. He knew her as the girl Lee Morgan was very partial to. He remembered her as the girl always irrepressible, always bent on some small mischief. She was now fairly bubbling over with laughter. " Oh, Captain Wetherby. Do come with me. I am with Margery Morgan across there. " And she pointed over to the Speedster. Wetherby was nonplussed. " You should at least tell me why all the fun, " he protested, as she took him by the arm and directed him towards the car. " Now don ' t be foolish, " she ex- claimed. He thought the remark would better apply to herself. " You were standing here and we no- ticed you, " she explained between bursts of laughter. " Considerate, " interposed Wether- by. " Interrupt me again and you ' ll not hear a word more, " she threatened. As no answer was called for she went on : " Well,— where was it I left off?— Oh, yes — we noticed you and Margery confided to me that you were one of the muleteers; I didn ' t ask who told her. I just said I knew you and in- tended to introduce you. She was real shocked. " Those were the first days of the war — before the nation had taken on her coat of drab. An officer then was some- what of a rarity. Though not surprised at her mistake, he however asked : " Didn ' t she notice my insignia? " " Insignia ! She ' s just from boarding school, " she said this as if she had for- gotten she was not out of school more than six months herself. 26 THE REDWOOD She went on " the ' re awff ' ly strict at Chevy Chase. She hasn ' t had time to learn to distinguish an officer from a muleteer. " This last with a sly smile. Wetherby felt she was poking fun at him. " Now do come along, " she insisted, as he balked. He could not quite refuse. Margery Morgan took his breath away. She was far more beautiful than her picture represented her. She sat there in the car, just as haughty and reserved as Nineteen could be. She was dressed all in some shimmering white. He perceived that she had the blackest of eyes ; but they looked on him unkindly. She had the firmest of chins; and it was set unrelentingly. And her cheeks brought to him visions of peach-blossoms and the velvet sheen of pansies. " Margery, may I present Mr. Mule- teer? " Marion had assumed a mock- formal manner. This took the wind out of " Wetherby ' s sails. He had thought that Marion had brought him over to correct Margery ' s mistake. He was just about to reveal his real identity when he remembered the event of the morning, of her ex- claiming " That person! " " Well, " he thought to himself, " she can ' t hate me worse as Mr. Mule- teer than as Captain Wetherby. This masquerade ought to punish her just a little for condemning me without any cause. " The conversation was mostly on Ma- rion ' s side. Wetherby was quite over- whelmed with Margery ' s beauty. Mar- gery was ice-cold to Wetherby and somewhat indignant at Marion. She only broke the silence once of her own accord. " Which man out there is Captain Wetherby? " Wetherby pointed to the officer com- manding his company. " True to his voice, " she remarked, half to herself. Wetherby was not quite sure as to whether she saw him flush. At any rate he was sure he made some sort of an impression on her. He stood there by the car very straight and very tall. He knew she could not fathom his case for upon suddenly turning towards her, he detected her eyeing him curiously, her brows contracted in the form of an up- turned V. Again he caught her off her guard with a witty remark. She could not repress a smile. It was then that he noticed how bright her face was, then that he noticed how flashing white her teeth. After a few more minutes of conver- sation in which Marion tried to get him to tell some experience of his as a mule- teer, he made his excuses and departed. Out of sight of the Speedster he drew a deep breath, took out his pipe, lit it and puffed furiously. IV Wetherby found it was impossible to make out his report. His thoughts were spinning wildly. His pencil-point broke. He began to sharpen it. His THE REDWOOD 27 eyes were turned on the distant blue. Suddenly he recovered himself, saw that he had half whittled the pencil away, laughed and then swore, threw down his report, and rushed out doors. Battalion Parade was over. Most of the men were away studying semaphore and drill regulations. Wetherby was aware that Lee Morgan was detailed on special duty. His Speedster stood at the edge of the road. Wetherby stopped by it to fill and light his pipe. Just as he was about to touch the match to the packed tobacco he glanced up the street. His heart fluttered a lit- tle and a heavy sensation came into his throat. He flipped out the match and crammed the pipe into his pocket. Margery and the Colonel were crossing the street — not more than a hundred yards away. As yet they had not seen him as the machine protected him. The Colonel was a West Pointer and high on formality ; he had killed his ma n in the Mindanao campaign and feared no one. Wetherby was intangled in an un- pleasant situation. For he was sure the Colonel would stop and address him by proper name; which would be bad enough. Probably Margery would re- mark about his being a muleteer; which would be infinitely worse. He did not have time to walk away. He could not run; that would inevitably attract their attention. He had never a doubt that they were on their way down to headquarters. There seemed no way of escape. His situation was desperate and re- quired a desperate remedy. His inspi- ration came, and almost fearing to think, he acted upon it. Still his ac- tion was entirely natural, although very boyish. He looked around. There was not a soul down the street. Then he threw dignity to the winds. Very quietly he repeated that action which had saved him one night down upon the Harvard campus. He slipped into the back of the Speedster, softly crouched on the floor and pulled the robe that was lying there, over him- self. " It ' s a bit awkward, " he thought, " but it will only be for a half a sec- ond. " In a moment he heard the rough tones of the Colonel all intermingled with the sweet voice of Margery. He felt the perspiration break out all over him when they stopped at the ma- chine and she asked the Colonel if he cared for a ride down the Sloat Boule- vard. Here was a new phase of the situa- tion, of which — although it should have been expected — Jack had never dreamed. He had been accustomed to regard the car almost as his own ; that Margery, when home, was accustomed to drive it, never entered his skull. Of course he had seen her in it that morn ing, but he had forgotten that in his excitement. He heard the Colonel ' s voice rumble: " I thank you, but I may only go as far as headquarters. " 28 THE REDWOOD " I ' m sorry. I must go alone then. I just love to drive when I first get home. " The Colonel got into the front seat beside Margery. Wetherby ' s nerve was almost gone as the machine moved away. He could not leap out from the back for the top was up. So he just lay there and placed his fate on the knees of the gods. He was safe so far. He would have a chance of escape perhaps, when the Colonel got out. But were he caught there it would take a deal of explanations to excuse him. " There is a robe in the back seat in case you feel cold. " This from Mar- gery. " A robe in June? Such an idea, hah! " Wetherby blessed the Colonel ' s pride. The car drew up before headquarters and the Colonel and Margery alighted ; the Colonel a bit ponderously, Margery as light as down. Then Wetherby heard more voices added to the two just by the car. One he recognized as Marion ' s; the other he guessed to be her mother ' s. " I ' m going for a way down the boulevard. Won ' t you come? " Weth- erby caught Margery ' s words. " Three, " thought he, " I ' m done. Marion will sit in the front. Her moth- er will step on me in the back. " Being discovered by her did not ap- peal to him. They, however, had some calls to make on some of the officers ' families. Perhaps, after all, thought Wetherby, he was born beneath a lucky star. Then the two girls moved apart for a moment together. He could not catch what they said but he heard great laughing between them. Margery again entered the car and it bowled swiftly away. Jack felt that he could not at present escape. He couldn ' t, of course, leap out. And if he were to rise and introduce himself as Captain Wetherby, she would turn him over to the nearest sentry. More- over, now that he had through sheer foolishness and luck, passed the most dangerous phase of the adventure, he had no desire to escape. The spirit of novelty, of excitement seized him. The awkwardness of his position galled him; all his plans and prayers were centered upon obtaining a seat in front. Now they were out on the Sloat Boulevard ; now he could hear upon his right the steady pounding of the Paci- fic. He had the impulse to peep at her over the back of the s eat — but she might hear him, might see his reflec- tion in the windshield. Once he was convulsed with desire to sneeze. Passed about a half hour ; the engine began to miss and soon stopped. " Gas is gone, " he could have told her. Evi- dently she soon discovered as much, for she stepped to the back of the car to look at the tank. While she was there Wetherby ventured a glance out and located his whereabouts. There was a lone gasoline station about two hundred yards inland. He knew it to THE REDWOOD 29 be kept by an old salt who was slightly deaf. Margery clanked the horn but no response. Then she started toward the shed. Wetherby determined to escape from his uncomfortable position. He was about to arise when he heard another car come laboring up and stop beside the Speedster. " There ' s no one around but that lady. Let ' s get that auto-robe, " he heard a rough voice suggest. Then he heard someone get out of the adjacent machine, felt the Speed- ster give as someone stepped on the running board. Then he felt a hand grasping the robe. He gave the arm a solid wrench. The owner emitted an oath of fright and pain. Wetherby leaped up. Two white- faced fellows in a cheap, dirty machine were staring at him with bulging eyes. A third was struggling to be free of Wetherby ' s grasp. Keeping his hold on the fellow, he leaped out, took him by the scruff of the neck and threw him into the machine. One of the two in front started out, but Jack sent him back with a straight quick blow. At this the other threw the car into gear and sped away. The fellow in the rear seat shook his left fist at Wetherby; the right hung limp. V " I saw it all, Mr. Muleteer, " Mar- gery was murmuring; " that was ever so splendid of you. " He imagined her eyes shone more kindly upon him. " It was nothing, " was all he could say. " It was a great deal, " and she was silent for a moment. Then she ceased smiling and asked: " Your presence in my car? " " Please forgive me. It was a mis- take; " He felt his excuse was inane. He enlarged upon it. " You see, I thought that this affair might possibly occur, so I determined to act knight-errant and chivalrously guard you. " He laughed and she laughed; she said something which he didn ' t catch, but thought was " chivalrous position. " " It seems as if I must take your ex- planations. " He said nothing, but endeavored to look contrite. Then she commanded : " Please keep guarding the robe chivalrously for another moment " — he could have reminded her that she was deliberately misquoting him — " and I shall run over for some ' gas ' . " " Let me, please, " and without wait- ing for her response, he hurried to the shed. When he returned she asked him how he intended to get back to his mules. He smiled. " Walk, unless— " " I happen to be going back? " she finished for him. " Please. " The machine was clipping it back to the Presidio. He noticed she glanced several times at him and smiled more graciously and asked several demure little questions. What a lucky thing 30 THE REDWOOD that robe-stealing incident occurred, he thought. " How did you know I was a mule- teer this morning, " he at last enquired. " My brother told me, " she respond- ed. So that was it. He drew in his breath, amazed. He did not learn the whole truth of the affair till later. Her brother had come in tired from drill and angered at Wetherby for sing- ling him out. He pointed " Wetherby out to her — " See that fellow by the green post? ' he had enquired. " Yes, " she had answered. " Why, he ' s a regular mule-driver. He ' s — " he was going to explain that he was the famous Captain " Wetherby when an orderly interrupted him say- ing he was wanted immediately at headquarters. Margery took the state- ment literally and was left with the impression that he was a muleteer. The car was now singing along in a wonderful manner. The tang of the salt-laden breeze intoxicated him. For awhile they rode in silence. Then Margery noticed Wetherby ' s war- cross. " Whatever ' s that for? " she en- quired. His brows creased into a frown and he bit his lip. Then he said off-hand : " Just a medal I was awarded. " " A medal? Do the muleteers receive medals ? The papers say they are a de- spised branch of the service. " " They are, " he assented; and he was glad he had no reason to feel ashamed. " How did you win it? " she persisted. " Well — you see I killed off, with a machine gun, a score of mules that were stampeding toward us. " " However could you be so cruel! The poor defenseless things! " " But these mules were very, very vicious. They would have done a lot of harm if they reached us. " Wetherby was congratulating him- self. He had twisted out of that rath er prettily. And then she was so love- ly to him, so completely wonderful. He had never before seen anyone as beau- tiful. Now that she was taking an in- terest in him he was half prepared to disclose his identity. But he thought the proper time was not yet come. And how she would act when she discovered he was masquerading — he hated to sur- mise. " And what are those two silver af- fairs for? " she asked, referring to his shoulder bars. " Years in the service, " he answered after a moment ' s pause. After a moment or two several pri- vates passed, walking along the road. They came to salute. Wetherby hur- riedly returned it. " Those soldiers saluted? " she asked. " Yes, " he replied, " they saluted in courtesy to you. They were muleteer friends of mine. In the army one does not lift his hat; he salutes. " The situation was becoming warm. THE REDWOOD 31 " Whatever caused you to be a mule- teer? " " A girl, " he rejoined, referring to Marion Davis. " Oh, " was all she said, as if his an- swer were quite sufficient. " If you were to try just a little you could be above a muleteer. " This she said earnestly. He was glad then that he actually was. " Don ' t you ever have ambitions to be great, don ' t you ever dream of the future? " He too looked far ahead. " Yes, I ' ve had dreams and hopes — I ' ve lived up to some — but I ' ve not done all I was capa- ble of — but from now on — " His jaw was set. Hardly thinking, he covered her hand, which was resting lightly on the steering-wheel, with his. He recollected himself, felt the color mount to his brow, and took it quickly away. In the corner of his eye he no- ticed she too was blushing a bit. Silence, and then he said — " I don ' t know how to express my- self, but I never dreamed anyone like you could exist. " It was too sincere to be an idle com- pliment. He saw her breath come a lit tie faster. " Now, please — - " was all she said. He glanced at his watch. " In five minutes we will be back at the Presidio. I will go to my mules and you to your great friends. I sup- pose we will never meet again — " " Oh, no, " she broke in. Then she glanced at him critically. Her brows formed again into an alluring upturned V. He was glad then that his teeth were white and his eyes clear. " Do you know, " she continued, as- suming a very grown-up air, " I am in- terested in you. I think you could amount to something. I ' m going to adopt y ou. " " Adopt me? That would be won- derful. " " I have always wanted to help someone to do something, " she went on, ' ' but everything instead has always been done for me. " He waited for her to continue. " I know you can be great, with some- one interested in you. So I want you to promise me you ' ll try. And I want you to report all your advancements to me. " " With your help, Miss Margery, " and he bowed, " I can win the world. " VI There are some grand old homes in San Francisco. And none are grander than those, which, in all their consci- ousness of marble and granite, stand on the Pacific Heights. Far below dreams the bay, dreams the Golden Gate. They stand there clinging with a desperation that belies their dignity to the side of the most beautiful of San Francisco ' s hundred hills. And of these homes none surpassed that of Mrs. Philips Lewis, whose people had made their millions long years ago in the Comstock Lode. 32 THE REDWOOD Wetherby, in the hope that Margery would be there, had accepted Mrs. Phil- ips Lewis ' invitation to the ball she was giving — the ball that was considered the gala event of the season. And Margery was there. It was in the hall adjoining the ballroom that he saw her. She was alone for the moment. She bowed and smiled to him. In her evening gown of light blue satiny stuff she seemed as a fairy strayed in from some land of dreams. Her hair was done up except for an er- rant curl that persisted in straying down and contrasting its shiny ebony against the soft ivory of her neck. He noticed then for the first time her height — she just came up to his wide shoulders. After smiling acknowledgement of his greeting her eyebrows formed into the enchanting upturned V shape — " Whatever are you doing here, Mr. Muleteer? Come to make your first report? " " Yes and no, " he evaded. " I was sent here with Captain Wetherby. I have lost him for the moment. " " Indeed? " " Also I am of a new rank. " " Splendid, " and she clapped her hands. " Have you really earned promotion within four hours? " " I can ' t tell you now — later, " he promised. They were, except for a group of la- dies and men at the further end of the hall, by themselves. The guests were gathered in the ballroom. Little waves of talk rippled out to them. Then the orchestra struck up a plaintive, sobbing dream-waltz. Couple after couple swung gracefully out. Wetherby delighted in dancing. He cast an appealing look at Margery — " Miss Margery, I would like to dance ever so much. Just this one ; no one will ever know you waltzed with a muleteer. ' ' She was light as a blossom and lis- som as a willow. They waltzed and waltzed. He never enjoyed a dance so much. He knew she liked his dancing too. The crowd whirling around, seemed creatures of another planet. Nothing mattered except — She broke his thoughts with — " There ' s that horrid Wetherby. " His junior officer had passed him dancing clumsily. " How did you come to dislike Cap- tain Wetherby? " he asked. " Oh, my brother ' s letters were just full of Wetherby, Wetherby. He was always wanting me to meet him. I got to hate the name of Wetherby. " " Good old Lee, " said Wetherby to himself. Then to her: " You said something about his voice to me this morning. " " I heard him singing as I came in and couldn ' t help laughing. " " But I think that hurt him very, very much. " " I didn ' t know. I was sorry after I found out. " How the rest of the dance passed, he THE REDWOOD 33 did not seem to care. He just swung around and around. The dream waltz was stretching into infinity. A touch of some rare perfume clung about them; he thought it was ' coeur de rose ' — he knew it was bewitching. — The night was as the day had been, just June in California. The awning of the sky was shot through with stars ; they seemed to " Wetherby to be holes giving glimpses of some great, bright world that lay beyond. Somewhere near was a huge bank of roses. The perfume was ravishing. A woman ' s voice floated down to them from above. A violin ' s notes plashed among her harmonics. She was singing a heart song, ineffably sweet and tender. " Wetherby ' s brain was topsy turvy. As he walked there in the garden with Margery, he longed to offer her his love in words by which he would compare it to the vastnesses — to the moon and the stars. Instead, he only nodded to- ward the music, and said: " Pretty, isn ' t it? " She was very silent. For a short while both watched a cluster of lights pinned on the breast of the bay below. Some liner was making port. He softly took her hand in his. ' ' Margery — Margery — ' ' " Yes— Mr. Muleteer— " " You told me you wanted me to re- port to you — " " Yes. " Her voice was low and had the note of a dove. " Couldn ' t— " " What? " she prompted very softly. " Couldn ' t I report to you forever. Oh Margery, can ' t you see I love you? " " You promised to tell me your new rank, " she evaded. " Tell me, please — " " I am a captain now — Captain — " " Wetherby, " she put in. " You knew? " he gasped incredu- lously. " Yes, Mr. Muleteer. Marion told me all when I met her and her mother be- fore headquarters. " It was Wetherby ' s turn to be non- plussed. He recalled the thousand things he had said. And she knew. He saw now the reason of her change in attitude. And she was making play of him all the time. " If Marion had not told me, I be- lieve I could have guessed as much. You were dreadfully clumsy. " Wetherby hung his head and made out to be tremendously sorry. " I was forced into it, " h e attempted to defend himself. " No explanations. Let this be a les- son Mr. Masquerader. Your finger nails must be covered with white marks for all the stories you have told me. " She smiled relentingly as she saw him glance half covertly at his hands. Down the path he saw his junior of- ficer approaching. She also saw him. " Oh, Mr. Muleteer, " she said, " let ' s get away from that dreadful Captain Wetherby. " 34 THE REDWOOD Hand in hand they strolled away. The roses could have told that he made her promise that he could still report all advancement as Mr. Muleteer. And a lily could have sworn that he nodded toward the singing and said: " Pretty, isn ' t it? " And the lilac would have told you the name of the song was ' ' The End of a Perfect Day. " ffinu? OVE is a gust of wind That blows, that blows; It comes like a breatk form heaven And grows, and grows. The wind comes from — Ah! we know not where, So with love, so with love. Till a storm arise like love ' s passionate sighs, From above, from above. Love is a gust of wind For today, for today. But, like the wind, shall love ' ass away, pass away HARRY A. WADSWORTH 35 (Slmnmuntrattflna mm SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE, Sept. 17th, 1918. Dear Father: I wonder whether this letter will ever reach you. I am sorry I cannot tell you just where I am writing it, but I can tell you that the K. C. tent to which I am assigned is in one of the loveliest spots in all France. There are stretches of open fields and coun- try all around us and wonderful wooded hills in the distance, and it is hard to believe that we are so close to the shadows of the war-cloud. There has been so much rain that everything is fresh and green and just now it is much more like Spring in California than Fall in this war-ridden country. I am mad about the scenery of France, and I could easily spend " beaucoup time " as the boys put it, in any of the quaint little villages " over here " . I was billeted, a short time ago, in one of the little villages not far from here, and there was an old church in which the bells chimed the quarter hours, striking a different tone on the hours, just like the clock in the old Administration Building at Santa Clara in my time. Do you remember it? I am assigned to a splend id outfit — the 1st Pursuit Group, U. S. Army Air Service, and, as it is mobile, we are never very long in any one place. The outfit consists in the main, of Pilots (Officers), and Mechanics (Enlisted Men); and there are many Califor- nians among them. One of the Officers, Lieut. Wilson, is from San Jose, and we have discovered that we have a number of mutual friends. This is the group in which Major Lufbery and Lieut. Quentin Roosevelt were flying when they were killed. There is so much that I would like to write about, but one must be mindful of the Censor, who is a very important person " over here " . Suffice it to say that my charges are corking lads and that I consider myself fortunate to be assigned to them. There are a great many Catholics among them — in fact, a very large percentage of the men are of the Faith — and last Sunday I managed to scare up a Priest for them. He was a Chap- lain, a Frenchman, stationed in a French camp in a nearby village, and he spoke excel- lent English. He was quite young and was only a Corporal. I have never heard of a non-commissioned Officer among the American Army Chaplains, have you? Practically all of the Catholic men in the outfit took advantage of the Chaplain ' s presence, and it was an inspiration to see them approach the rustic Communion rail we had rigged up. Speaking of Chaplains, I met Fr. King, of St. Francis Xavier ' s, New York, the other day. He is with the 18th Infantry, and through him I had news of Fr. Tom O ' Con- nell, whom I have not run across yet. Has Fr. Harry Walsh come over? or is he still in the States? I am always on the lookout for any of the old Santa Clara boys, but so far have met only two and heard from one. I met " Spud " Feeney and " Cheese " Broderick, the Second; and I had a letter the other day from Sergt. Ed. Amaral. I am looking for- ward to the day when I will meet Johnnie Regan " over here " . To me, the vital point with all the American boys I have met is their splendid morale. They are certainly making and writing history, everyone of them, and translat- 36 THE REDWOOD 37 ing the great principles that actuated America ' s entry into the war storm. They know they are all Uncle Sam ' s boys now, and they are very proud of their daddy. What changes have been brought about at dear old Santa Clara this year, and are you still stationed there? How is the military training progressing? and Oh, a lot of other questions I want answers to. Please give my affectionate good wishes to all my friends at Alma Mater and be assured always of my sincere affection for your own dear self. Write to me when your time will permit. One gets terribly hungry for letters over here. Pray for me and for the success of the work I have undertaken, and if you can get the Redwood to me I will be eternally indebted to you. Respectfully and affectionately yours, MARTIN V. MERLE, K. of C. Secretary, 1st Pursuit Group, U. S. Army Air Service, A. E. F. CHALUS, HTE VIENNE, FRANCE, Oct. 14, 1918. Dear Father: This time the end of my customary silence finds me in quite new and different circumstances and surroundings than have usually been the case when I finally awake to the duties to my friends. However there has been much in between, and lots of travel, until now I find myself occupying half a pup tent in the shadow of the castle where Richard, the Lionhearted, received the wound that finished him. It was quite a trip across with many amusing incidents that will bear retelling " apres la guerre " . We were quartered in this town for our preliminary training. It is a quaint little town, crooked and dirty after the approved French specifications, and is quietly and tranquilly dead. Our only places of resort after the day is done are the little restaurant- wine rooms that one finds on any street. There we can talk it all over, write letters and occasionally absorb some " red paint " . At present I am in the company barber shop — 10 A. M., being yet too early for " vin rouge " , same being enforced rather rigidly. After 9 P. M. we sleep, and after 6 A. M. we work. Quite a simple life. But I am none the worse for the journey, and have come to the conclusion that it is great to cross the Atlantic once more. Received word from M. in which she said she had heard from you, and that your letter had been very cheerful and comforting to her. Give my regards to my friends at Santa Clara. In the meantime I will say good- bye, hoping to hear from you soon and frequently. Your old friend, WILL IRWIN. P. S. I heard from Frank Shilling. He is on his way " over here " . WASHINGTON STATE COLLEGE, PULLMAN, WASH., Oc. 19, 1918. Dear Father: This is the big town in which I am stationed. Santa Clara, I think, is only twice as big; I mean the town, not the school, for the school here is quite large. There are 38 THE REDWOOD about 400 students enrolled in our S. A. T. C, and in addition there are 600 men in the training detachment — carpenters, mechanics, blacksmiths, etc. In about two weeks 200 more will arrive and a week later 200 bandsmen; so that in a month we shall have 1400 men — some crowd to handle. The situation of the school is very fine — for farmers. As yet, we have not been able to go to Spokane; we cannot manage to get the time. The distance is not very great, but the speed of the train leaves something to be desired. We are twenty officers in all. Eight of us occupy one of the Frat houses and it is very pleasant — particularly for me, with Leo Fox for a room-mate. Well, how is everything — from Siskiyou to San Diego as well as from the Sierras to the Sea? It is nearly a month since I left there. When you next see Col. Donovan ask him if he remembers a Colonel May. I was talking to the latter and he said that while in the Philippines, he, a Lieut. Colonel, made a military call on Colonel Donovan. Say, this place is normally one of the " deadest " ever, but now it is awful, with all the churches, movies, dance-halls, pool-rooms closed on account of the Influenza. One officer and one hundred of the students are down with it. Well, Father I must close. With best regards to the fellows and Padres, I remain, Your Sincere Friend, JOHN F. BROOKE, JR. CLEVELAND, OHIO, October 26th, 1918. My Dear Father: I have been intending to write you for some time, but it is the same old story and I shan ' t make excuses. Besides, if I remember correctly, you owe me a letter. Since I wrote you last, I have had a two months cruise on the Great Lakes, and it was very in- teresting. It was designed as a training period, but personally I did not consider it very successful, although I had some valuable experiences, and learned quite a little about navigation, steering and seamanship. We were assigned to a big 600 foot ore boat, en- gaged in transporting iron ore from Duluth and other ports in Minnesota to the various ports in Lake Erie and Lake Michigan, there to be melted, and through various pro- cesses, converted into iron and steel. It was extremely interesting, and one cannot realize the wonderful organization of the steel industry until one has seen it in opera- tion. These mammoth boats of from 400 to 600 feet in length and with a 40 or 50 foot beam, are constantly engaged in carrying either iron or copper ore to the great steel mills in the south. The docking facilities are stupendous and most efficient. My first view of the process of loading coal caused me to look upon the machinery in open-mouthed amaze- ment, but I had other thrills later. In loading coal, a car of some 50 tons of coal is shunted down a siding, which ends in an incline. The car runs up the incline which stops its rush and also gives it momentum to run down another track to the incline that carries it to the huge loading machine. Each car is manned by a brakeman, and as it reaches the bottom of this second incline, it is stopped. A huge arm on a carriage and wheels runs down the incline, attaches itself to the after coupling of the car and shoves it up the incline to the flat portion. Here huge iron arms secure it from above, and by THE REDWOOD 39 powerful machinery car, track and all is lifted to the top, turned completely over, and the contents are dumped down a chute and into the hold of the waiting vessel. The car and track is then dropped to its usual position, run down the track and immediately made into train and carried to the mines for other loads of coal. The boat I was on carried 15,000 tons of coal to Duluth each trip, where it is used in manufacturing, and on the return trip carried from 13,000 to 14,000 tons of iron ore. The load of coal repre- sents about 285 cars, or 11 trains of coal cars. In Duluth and other northern ports they have wonderful docking facilities, and it takes just about five hours to load the largest ore vessel on the lakes. My greatest amazement came when I saw the unloading machinery. Possibly the most efficient unloading is done in Gary, Indiana, where they have the great steel mills and employ 30,000 men at this particular time. Immense clam shovels operated by electricity are dropped into the hold of the vessel and literally " grab " a " handful " of ore consisting of five tons, carry it many feet high and deposit it in a little car that in turn dumps it in the main pile on shore. This machinery unloads a vessel in a very few hours, and I have seen as many as eight " rigs " operating at the same time on one boat. The Great Lakes are truly great, and it takes actual " sailing " on them to realize their importance to this country. To look at them and think of them, one merely imagines a body of water, or several bodies of water, and thinks of them as " lakes " . I don ' t now. They are huge, and I have traveled for 24 hours on Lake Superior without catching a glimpse of land. The scenery is wonderful along the rivers connecting the various lakes, and equals any I have seen in all my travels, and this includes Califor- nia. The island of Mackinac I saw several times, and stories of its history, the Indians, the Jesuit missionaries, and other interesting tales were told me, but time prevents my rerpeating them. This is the famous country that Good Father Marquette worked in, and one of the prettiest settlements in all the beautiful country is named after him. During my travels I visited many different cities and had the good fortune to go en- tirely through the great steel mills at Gary, Ind. I saw the iron ore first go into the furnaces, and by many and various interesting processes come out perfect steel, which in turn was made into guns, rails, and a thousand and one other necessary and im- portant articles. I met John Muldoon here the other day. He is following the same course of in- struction as I did, and needless to say we devoted a good deal of our time to discussing the happy days at Santa Clara. It has been a long time since I have heard from the old University and its activities and I sincerely hope you will manage to find time to drop me a line and a few clippings, and if possible, send me a Redwood. I should subscribe for a year, but since I am changing about so much, and the mail comes so irregularly, especially magazines and papers, I do not think this advisable. Give my very best regards to Fathers Buckley, Boland, Dunn, and the others, and accept a large share for yourself. With very best wishes for your good health and the prosperity of the University under the military regime, and kind remembrances to my many friends within Santa Clara ' s sacred walls, I am, Sincerely, EARL D. DESMOND, U. S. N. A. R. F., Receiving Ship, Carnegie Avenue, Cleveland, Ohio. 40 THE REDWOOD GOAT ISLAND, S. F. BAY, October 31, 1918. Dear Father: You have doubtless thought that I had forgotten you, but that is not the case, though I have no reason to offer for not having written sooner. Just a matter of negli- gence on my part. I have always had loads of time and material, but little or no am- bition. I can now see why the Navy is so well liked in peace times. The hardest task a man does is to swab up a little deck space, drill a short period and his work is over. Of course he must also wash his clothes; but unless one lets them accumulate this job takes only a few minutes. I read where the " old school " has been quarantined. Well, you have nothing on us up here. It is forty days today since we went under the ban, and from the looks of things it will take a few more before we can once again pace our old familiar haunts in " Frisco " . Being a grandson of the well-known Patrick Henry, I am strongly in favor of getting my liberty very soon. This business of sticking to the ship begins to grow a trifle monotonous after 40 days. Wonder how old Noah stood it so well. Still, the quarantine has certainly proven its worth, even if a bit inconvenient to many of the boys. There is not a single case of " Flu " on the Island. Quite extraordinary, with so much of it in the city. After the second week of our quaurantine a vaccine was made and we received three shots in the arm. During the epidemic we shipped out over 300 men to do ambulance and nursing work in the city and bay region. We have on the Island a very energetic priest in the person of Fr. Bradley. He says two Masses each Sunday morning, and during the day he is around the boys urging them to join the K. C. My application is in, and I expect to join, with about 300 other boys, just as soon as the quarantine is lifted. Well, Father, I am now on watch and will have to close. Will write in my next leisure. My best to all at S. C, and remember me, please, in your prayers. Sincerely, LOUIS A. BERGNA, Hospital School, U. S. Naval Tr. Station, Goat Island. CAMP MILLS, N. Y., November 5, 1918. Dear Father: During this whirlpool of world events, in which we are being tossed about like little chips, I have not forgotten you, and once in a while my thoughts persist in flying back to dear old Santa Clara. Since I wrote you from the troop train we have been so busy that I hardly had time to write home. Now we have a few days of unwelcome delay, and the possibility that we may never cross the oceans stares us in the face. However, everyone in this division is hoping that the Kaiser will give a few business- like kicks before he retires, in order to have us sent across. This is a rather selfish way to look at things; but in my opinion Germany is not defeated yet, and if the war is destined to go on for a time, — well, we will be ready to go. If, on the other hand, Germany surrenders unconditionally, that will probably be the best thing that could happen for the whole country; and personal desires and ambitions should be forgotten in the common interest. After this bit of philosophy I must descend to earth and tell THE REDWOOD 41 you a few of the happenings of our young lives. " Fat " Howell was made a first lieu- tenant yesterday. I always knew " Fat " had the makings, and I sometimes recall how last year at college I was figuring on making him a corporal in my company. The rest of the old gang I see but seldom. Nicholson is attached to the casual camp and may still be in Fremont. Scholz and I went to N. Y. the other evening. Dan Ryan was on a transport half across the ocean, but his regiment has been recalled, and Dan is now probably in N. Y. harbor. I saw Lieut. Ed. Heafey in Berkeley just before we left. Niclas is in the same boat with Dan, literally and figuratively. Brennan is at Kearney. It seems to be natural to be writing thus about the old fellows, and I can half close my eyes and picture myself in the old Redwood Office writing Alumni Notes. I have done very little writing lately, but I manage to keep a diary in which I enter my daily experiences. Well, at present we are busily engaged in reconstructing Camp Mills. Today I had charge of 100 men who were piling lumber to be hauled away in motor trucks. When I bade farewell to the books at Santa Clara six months ago, 1 little suspected I would ever be found among the lumber-jacks; but there is still hope that we may wander Berlinwards. Well, I must go now, but will write a longer letter when I get a chance. In the interim, my address is LIEUT. J. CHARLES MURPHY, Co. L, 62nd Inf., A. E. F., via N. Y. POMONA COLLEGE, CLAREMONT, CALIF., November 7, 1918. Dear Father: This letter has been a long time coming but I couldn ' t put it off any longer. To- day is Inspection day and every one is all dolled up like a shined door knob for fear of being called by us harsh Lieutenants. I called about twenty for dirty hands and finger nails, not to mention the number singled out for unshorn cheeks and dirty shoes. Gee! but I ' m a mean guy to these poor boys. Already the aristocracy attributes the sickness and Flu to the strenuous drill we slave-drivers administer; but if they had any idea of what we are going to give them when they get over it the Adjutant General would be receiving requests for our discharge. All the S. A. T. C. men sleep out doors and the hot sun kills all germs and other bugs carrying disease. We are having a new barracks built, and it will look like the Palace of Fine Arts when com- pleted and it ' s all for Company B, my company. The Flu is on the decline here, so in a week or ten days, we expect the semi- quarantine to be lifted. Give my regards to the gang. Tell Tom Whelan to write a letter to one in isolation. If he doesn ' t remember me, tell him I ' m the guy that was shipwrecked with him on Sloat Boulevard one Saturday. Tell the Ferrario, Rethers, Arab, Argenti Combination I cry for them. Your prayers are helping me, so please remember me in them often. As Ever FRED J. MORAN. 3n Srlgtmn ILVERM tKe skies were yesteryear, Silvern brigkt and gay ; Birds in tKe hedgerows were singing clear, Singing their lives away. Somber the skies and gone their sheen, Hearts are numb with pain ; Helpless piping from hedgerows green Of fledgelings whose mothers lie slain. W. KEVIN CASEY 42 PUBLISHED BY THE STUDENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SANTA CLARA The object of The Redwood is to gather together what is best in the literary work of the students, to record University doings and to knit closely the hearts of the boys of the present and the past EDITORIAL STAFF EDITOR-IN-CHIEF BUSINESS MANAGER CIRCULATION MANAGER EXCHANGES ALUMNI UNIVERSITY NOTES ATHLETICS EDITOR ASSOCIATE EDITORS W. KEVIN CASEY - HARRY J. GASSET FRANCIS M. CONNEALLY HENRY C. VEIT DARRELL DALY NORBERT KORTE DEMETRIO DIAZ EXECUTIVE BOARD BUSINESS MANAGER EDITOR OF REVIEWS Address all communications to THE REDWOOD, University of Santa Clara, Santa Clara, California. Terms of subscription, $1.50 a year; single copies 25 cents EDITORIAL Everyone " Hello " We hope this greeting of ours does not sound inane or matter of fact. You know, when one greets a friend, he shakes his hand, smiles all over, and registers pleasur e by his general man- ner. One of the limitations of writing is that it does not communicate expres- sion; black and white are no more dif- ferent than are the spoken and the written word. And so we feel robbed; the monster cold print having stolen from our word of greeting all the brightness we wished it to convey. Consider, however, that it is some five months since last we of the Redwood said ' Hello " to you; con- sider that a greeting attains gladness in direct proportion to the preceding period of separation; and then try to imagine the joy that fills us ; try to listen for the echoes trailing after our " Hello " — echoes of delight and happi- ness. 43 44 THE REDWOOD That this war has prov- The U. W. W. en itself a melting pot, a crucible, no right thinking person will deny. Both races and individuals have been melted down in it; some for the better, others for the worse. The acid of hate has dis- figured some peoples, has set them in their Bolsheviki movements, brother against brother. Other nations have been transfigured by the great alchemy of love. " We can never realize how fortunate we of America are in finding ourselves in the latter class. The fact alone that this war of ours has raised sweet Charity from the dungeon in which she has long languished, surely recom- penses us for all the blood and tears we have shed. It may be only Christmas boxes or sweaters for men overseas, it may be a Liberty Loan or a Red Cross dona- tion; — whatever it is we find it given by the people of America, gladly and freely; given, too, without the elabor- ate bazaars, dances and card-parties that marked all pre-war charity. If we were permitted to digress, we could say that this latter fact, of giv- ing without any thought of receiving returns either in the money or the pleasure line, typifies the great change that has crept over our national spirit. We find ourselves giving with joyous hearts to anything which will help our cause or our men backing that cause ; and Ave give, moreover, till it hurts. We find ourselves giving to societies and associations about which a year or so ago we knew little and cared less. In the course of the war there came up the Red Cross and Liberty Loan drives — all of which were in record time oversubscribed. Now at the close of the war arises a crying need. There are millions of our men in Europe with the purpose that brought them there gone. They came to vanquish Autoc- racy, and they did so ; they came to fight, and fight they surely did; now they are in a more or less inactive state — lacking the excitement on which they were fed. The need that has arisen is the need of entertainment, of warmth, comfort and cheerfulness ; of that home atmos- phere for which they are sick with longing. The United War Work drive, now nearly over, undertook to satisfy that need; we are happy to say that already the country ' s quota is over- subscribed; we are proud to say that undergraduate America has lent its shoulder to the golden wheel, that each of us has helped with our various mites to bring smiles to the countenances of our brothers overseas. Our Change in President On behalf of the Stu- dent Body, we wish here to extend a most hearty welcome to our new President, the Rev. T. L. Murphy, S. J. In mind of the memorable Retreat he gave us; in mind, too, of his wonderful record else- where, we feel certain that we are in- THE REDWOOD 45 deed favored in having such a man take up the work just relinquished by his esteemed predecessor, Rev. Fr. Thorn ton. We are somewhat given to dreaming, and this is the dream that has long bound us — a new and greater Santa Clara, with stately buildings, imposing halls and picturesque grounds ; a Uni- versity full-fledged, rising like a but- terfly from its present chrysalis, if hon- orable, state. We have dreams of lines of white facades, great arches, artistic porti- coes ; of a modern athletic field ; of thousands in place of hundreds of eager students flocking to the " oldest and youngest " of California ' s universities, there to learn the sciences and the arts. It costs nothing to dream ; but some- how we feel, and always we hope, that perhaps in the not distant future, this bright dream of ours shall at last come true. TO THE ALUMNI: If your eye has reached this page in a copy of the Redwood not your own, kindly observe the following directions: close the book at once and try to recall where you left that subscription blank mailed you recently by the Staff. Then have your second or third assistant secretary fill in all the spaces, and enclose the subscription price, or, if you prefer, the subscription price minus price of number missed. This will satisfy us that you still are what you doubtless like us to keep on calling you: a hearty and loyal " old fellow " of Santa Clara. If you are reading this in your own copy, we ' ll tell you what to do. Think up a scheme for having it come into the hands of as many Old Boys as you can reach, and kinda dog-ear this page so they won ' t fail to see it. By helping us round up conscious or unintentional slackers you will prove yourself twice as good as we always knew you to be. Friends like yourself are indispensable for the Redwood, which is a Student Publication, unendowed. — ED. Mniupraity Notes On schedule time to Return the minute, the stu- dents of Santa Clara left the realms of vacation, " those peaceful days of dreams and gambols " , to come back to their place of study, so distasteful at times, yet so enchanting. But they did not find things in their usual condition. The campus, the stu- dies, the recreations had been greatly changed. " No more Latin and no more Greek " was the pleasant remark that greeted one on all sides. This hour was to be taken up with drill, that with military lecture, a third with War Aims, and so on through the day until you were to be left very little time to yourself. But why spend time describing the S. A. T. C, when we really intended just to say " hello, " and to wish all a hearty welcome. The University notes will not be quite the same as usual this year owing to the fact that the old cam- pus activities, the Senate, the House, and the many other student body af- fairs are extinct, at least for the pres- ent. Old John Mars has certainly turned things upside down here at Santa Clara and the old place seems quite a stranger. Nine o ' clock Tuesday S. A. T. C. morning, October 1, 1918, marked the begin- ning of a great epoch in the history of American Education. It was precisely at that moment that every University and College in the United States was changed from the old easy-going insti- tution of scholarly pursuits to one of military snap and vigor. It was then that the young men of this country, in accordance with the summons of their President, discarded the loose fitting garb of civilian life to don that of the soldier. Some of them had to make great sacrifices, giving up all hopes and desires for a degree or of engaging in professional life. But they were glad of the opportunity offered, seiz- ing it with willing and eager hearts. It was such men as these that the United States depended upon to win the War, and it was in such men that the moth- ers and aged fathers and the children of this great country were placing their confidence. And so here at Santa Clara, it was an eventful and memorable day. Drawn up in Battalion formation before the reviewing stand, the students beamed with joy as they raised their right 46 THE REDWOOD 47 hands to take the impressive oath of al- legiance to the Stars and Stripes and their chests swelled with great pride in the thought that they were Americans. After the ceremonies were finished, the Cadets marched away with the en- couragement, the good wishes, and the trust of such men as Colonel J. L. Don- ovan, their commanding officer, Rev. Walter F. Thornton, their president, and the Hon. James P. Sex, their ar- dent friend and admirer. Military Faculty Commanded again this year by Captain J. L. Donovan, Santa Clara ' s S. A. T. C. gives good promise of out- doing the great record made by last year ' s R. 0. T. C. In addition to our commander, the personel of the Mil- itary Faculty is as follows : Lieutenant Howard L. Smith, Drill- master and Corps Quartermaster. Lieutenant Edward A. Adams, com- manding Companies A and B and Corps Ordnance Officer. Lieutenant Martin S. Mitau, com- manding Companies C and D. Lieutenant Frederick L. Menden- hall, personnel Adjutant. Lieutenant B. Joseph Fiegenbaum, Musketry Instructor and Corps Adju- tant. Santa Clara is indeed fortunate to have such men as these guiding the des- tinies of her military career. We heart- ily welcome them to our big family and hope that they will find their stay a most pleasant one. " The Good Ship, Cun- Barracks ningham " — as it was wont to be called has discarded its ancient cognomen and taken on a new handle, namely, " mili- tary barracks " . What a world of dif- ference this signifies. Never again shall the stooped and humble form of Galli bend over our beds or push the broom up and down the narrow aisles. Never again shall the good Padres stalk up and down after lights are out, or summon you so sweetly in the cold grey dawn of November or December. It is the ever alert " N. C. 0. " and the proud and haughty " O. D. " with his " Mexican toad-stabber " who will tell you to " key down on the comedy " or to " roll over, you ' re on your back. " Sometimes, however, these custodians of the peace slip up as of old and then the fun commences. Far be it from us to attempt to give you even a passing knowledge of life in the barracks, but with a few timely examples which we will attempt to portray and the free use of your wildest imagination, you may, dear reader, form a meager con- ception of a soldier ' s " boudoir. " For example, we have with us quite a number of song birds, and one in par- ticular, Raymond Casey, who has ap- parently been relieved of a " Gee String. " Anyway, Ray insists from dawn to dark upon an impossible inter- pretation of " Over There " . George M. would pull his hair out if he could only hear. Yes, Mr. Casey, along with a few others, takes great delight in " singing 48 THE REDWOOD his life away " , as the poet said, and be- lieve me, he is quite near the end of his song, or life, or something. But it is the " curbstone comedy " artist and the roving owl who insists upon prowling around late at night (perhaps he is used to it), who are the real " goat-grabbers. " The best part of it is these individuals never " peep " until the lights are out, the time for all sane soldiers to be asleep. Take a tip from the wise, ye foolish ones, and re- form your ways. Then comes the thoughtless wonder who refuses to re- move his shoes when entering the bar- racks late Saturday night, after he has spent a most pleasant time out larking or sparking. Then again on Sunday morning, which is to be spent either in prayer or sleep and not in the dis- turbance of others, this same individ- ual will invariably beat the chickens up. With all, our life is one of passing trials and many joys. Even if the bug- ler does resemble Von Hindenburg, especially at Reveille, and even though the fellow next to us gets a bit too frisky at times, still we " carry on " smiling and joking as if nothing had happened. If it were not for these trials of the past and dreams of the future our life might grow too flat, too uneventful. And so, in our idle mo- ments while lounging around the cam- pus we often recall the pleasant inci- dents of the weeks gone by, and after our memories have been exhausted, lis- ten as some one settles back, and draw- ing a deep breath, exclaims: " Gee, if those walls could only speak of the happy days of old, what a host of en- chanting tales they would unfold! " But it is not for them to speak, so we must find ourselves content to sit about the round table when this dreary war is won and recall in our meager way, with Harry, Dick, or Frank, what memory will retain, of the good old times gone by. During the past month, Condolence that awful month of the Spanish Influenza, which has stripped this country of its youth as no other plague has ever done, we too lost some of our near and dear ones. It was only a short time ago that we were accustomed to hear the laugh- ing voices and to see the smiling faces of Clement Schuh and Lyle Butts. But Almighty God, our Common Father, Who in His Infinite Wisdom and Jus- tice disposes of all things for the best, though in ways inconceivable to our human intellects, saw fit to call these two from our midst and lead them into life everlasting. And so the students of Santa Clara have been thrown into grief over the loss of these admired companions, but will carry always with them the fondest memories, and hope- ful prayers as well, that they may en- joy the everlasting bliss of Heaven, promised by Our Lord. May they rest in peace. THE REDWOOD 49 Just as the mysterious Influenza ' ' Patagonian Gadumph ' ' of a few years ago, com- pletely baffled the medical knowledge of our genial Dr. Antonio, so, another black malady has crept into our midst and is waging a cruel warfare against which our general knows no defence. This time, however, Spain, and not Patagonia (although, with apologies to D. D., we fail to recognize any distinc- tion between the two, is the nigger in the wood-pile. Some time ago one of our dark-eyed friends from across the sea, wished up- on the human race one of those useless but harmful delicacies for which they are so noted. Since then this delicacy, or better, demon, has been gradually exacting its awful toll, and, like the Kaiser, is forever plotting against the welfare of mankind. However, we are sorry to say, it is acting its part with far more success than does the Imperi- alistic Joke. The Spanish Fluey (so-called because it carries with it that identical feeling) is not so bold as " His Excellency " and not so crazy either, being content to choose its victims one by one, first hit- ting them a dazing blow between the eyes or on the " Adam ' s apple " ; then knocking the pins out from under them, and laying its victims flat on their backs. The Fluey never misses, as the man said. Even here at Santa Clara, our friend from Spain could not be stopped. And so Good Dr. Anthony, ably assisted by his domestic, Joe, has been quite busy of late, in fact so busy that the canaries have not eaten for two weeks. However, after much fretting and sweating, the like of which he has never known, he now comes forth with the royal boast that he has finally con- quered the Black Latin Demon. ' ' Want some cheelay, Co-Op Store keedo? " And immedi- ately the nickles began to roll into the Co-Op store ' s coffers. And why? For no other reason than that Dumpy Diaz de Castro is the au- thor of that magnetic saying. When Father Edward Whelan, S. J., was informed that he would be Moder- ator of the Store this year he at once looked around for a manager, and his search did not get past the short stub- by figure of Don Carlos. The latter is small, but — Oh — My. Ably assisted by Bill Desmond and John Chase, with " Brother " Lipman and Little Sully on the pool tables, Father Whelan and Mr. Diaz give good promise of sending the Co-Op over the top with a bang. Then too, in the Book Store, we have " Phat One " Ferrario bellowing, coax- ing, commanding and enticing the meek ones of the campus in such a manner that they never fail to buy the highest priced material, even things they do not need. " Very good, " say the financial experts, and so may it be. 50 THE REDWOOD Business or Pleasure ? On Saturday afternoon, October 19, Rev. Wm. M. Boland, S. J., accom- panied by Messrs. Gerald Desmond, Brian Gagan, Demetrio Diaz, Kevin Casey and Norbert Korte, attended the meeting of the United War Work Cam- paign Committee at the Greek Theatre, Berkeley. The purpose of the meeting, which consisted of delegations from all the Pacific Coast Universities, was to discuss the ways and means of raising the students ' quota of $175,000,000 for the United War Work Charities. How- ever, other universities seemed to agree unanimously that they should be repre- sented by their fair young Co-eds (with some not so young sprinkled in) and hence little was accomplished towards the main purpose, most of the time be- ing spent in recalling old tales of what happened " over there " or recounting how many socks had been knitted for the poor soldiers. We will say nothing of the embarrassment of the mere men folk present, leaving that to the read- er ' s own fertile imagination. Norbert Korte. • ; Li.iE . orgs r ... . , ' ; 3 9t ■ It is most pleasing to see the ' 86 " old boys " pay a visit to Santa Clara to view again the scenes of their college days, and have a chat with their quondam pro- fessors. It proves conclusively to the Student Body the truth of the old say- ing, " Once a Santa Claran, always a Santa Claran. " Only a few weeks ago, George Woolrich of the class of ' 86, dropped in to show that he has not for- gotten his Alma Mater. Keep up the good work, Mr. Woolrich, and come again. Caius T. Ryland, B. S. ' 87, ' 87 died on October 12, at the Franklin Hospital in San Francisco. Mr. Ryland was ever a staunch supporter of Santa Clara and few were the Alumni Ban- quets that found him absent from the festive board. The deceased was en- gaged as an architect in San Francisco until a few years ago when failing health compelled him to retire. His death, although not a surprise, is nev- ertheless a great shock to a host of true friends. ' 91 On the evening of July 25, John J. Barrett delivered an address to an assemblage of San Francisco Catholics that filled the Civic Auditorium. The meeting was held under the auspices of the Catho- lic Educational Association, which was at that time holding its annual conven- tion in San Francisco. Mr. Barrett ' s speech was a wonderful specimen of the art of oratory, and reflected no small glory on his Alma Mater. On Saturday morning, Sep- ' 04 tember 29, a solemn requiem mass was celebrated in the student ' s chapel for the repose of the soul of the late Lieut. John M. Regan, who fell in action on the battlefield of France. But a few days before the sad news reached the University that Lieu- tenant Regan had been killed in the battle of Fismes. The Rev. William Boland, S. J., celebrated the mass, 51 52 THE REDWOOD which was attended by the Student Body, members of the Alumni Associa- tion, and a number of friends of the deceased. While at Santa Clara Lieut. Regan was a lead er in every branch of student activity, winning the Nob.ili medal, and graduating with the highest honors, " maxima cum laude! " During his days at college he won the friendship and esteem of his class- mates, who were greatly impressed by his extraordinary character. Among them was James A. Bacigalupi, of San Francisco, who delivered a most touch- ing eulogy of the dead hero following the solemn requiem mass. On the same day on which word ar- rived of John ' s death, his mother re- ceived a letter from him in which he said: " Pray for me that neither by cow- ardice, nor lack of attention, nor bad judgment, nor false courage may any of my men be lost! " These words dis- close the true character of the man — he was ever watchful for the safety and welfare of his men. May the Good God reward him for his noble sacrifice, and may his life and especially his death be cherished as a model by the Santa Clara men who are serving in the cause of democracy. ' 05 Martin Merle, famous in his college days as a leader in amateur dramatics, and well known later as a literary man of no small ability, has been helping the Sammies along to Berlin in the service of the Knights of Columbus. Recent- ly the daily papers gave a detailed ac- count of one of his exploits. " While the Allied troops were advancing in a very active sector Merle conceived the idea of supplying them with smokes via an aeroplane. He immediately ex- plained his plan to the Commanding Of- ficer, and secured the latter ' s permis- sion to have an aviator fly over the ad- vancing columns with a cargo of cigar- ettes. Soon the tired soldiers were sur- prised to find a shower of cigarettes falling upon them. As they hurried to light up they gave a mighty cheer in order to show their appreciation. Good work Martin, you can ' t be blamed for not being original " We hope your next stunt will be painting red S. C. ' s on the lamp-posts of Berlin. Rev. George Golden Fox, S. J., has received his commission as a First Lieutenant in the Army, and has al- ready taken up his duties as chaplain at Port Townsend. Fr. Fox was for several years a member of the faculty, and was a general favorite among the boys. The Redwood congratulates him on his appointment, and wishes him all success in his new field ' 13 Dimetrio Harkins, star of the Varsity football team of 1912 is in charge of a hospital in Bordeaux, France. Ervin Best, who was selected by Capt. Donovan, Commanding Officer at Santa Clara, to attend the Fourth Officers Training Camp, was successful THE REDWOOD S3 in securing a commission, and is now a full fledged lieutenant in the Artil- lery. A baby girl has recently ar- ' 15 rived to brighten the home of Mr. and Mrs. Orvis Speciale. Only last year Orvis secured the cov- eted degree of Juris Doctor. The Red- wood congratulates Mr. and Mrs. Spe- ciale on the advent of the little one. The papers have informed us of the great work of the Allies in the sector around Metz, and now we have the rea- son. Jim Fitzpatrick was on the firing line there. Captain Adolph B. Canelo, Jr., for- mer Editor of the Redwood, paid us an unexpected visit about six weeks ago. Captain Canelo is fresh from Prance, where he took part in many of this year ' s largest battles, and had many interesting incidents to relate to the Student Body. He is an excellent type of American officer, and well deserves the honors he has won on the fields of France. A few months ago the papers ' 16 of the bay cities gave a full account of the nuptial cere- mony of Lieut. Gene Trabucco and Miss Douglass. The couple were married in the chapel of the Dominican Convent in San Rafael, the home of the bride. Miss Douglass is the daughter of Mr. Leon Douglass, well known inventor, of San Rafael. Trabucco is remembered by many of the boys on the campus, who extend to him their hearty con- gratulations and felicitations. The many friends of Roy Emerson will be pleased to learn that Roy has been promoted to the rank of Captain in the Engineering Corps. Too bad you didn ' t have a chance to build a bridge across the Rhine, Roy. Joseph Herlihy is wintering back at Camp Zachary Taylor, Kentucky. Joe returned to Santa Clara for about a month in order to get his eye on the ball, and then left for an Officers ' Training Camp. He may not get over there but at least he had the right idea. Joseph Aurrecoechea (we didn ' t dare to pronounce it in public during the epidemic of influenza), has answered the call to arms, but in his case the bugler was little Dan Cupid. He slip- ped into Santa Clara very quietly on the morning of October 16, sought out Fr. Boland, and the deed was done. The bride was Miss Catherine Fenner of Livermore. Congratulations to the couple. But why didn ' t you give us a tip so that we coiild have been present at the big event? Pinkie Leonard, while on leave in Paris, has written to Fr. Whela n that all is well with him. ' 17 William Dirvin Lotz has re- turned to Santa Clara in the role of Professor in the Col- lege of Engineering. It is imperative that the Engineering students have competent instructors at the present 54 THE REDWOOD time, and the selection of Lotz to teach the Juniors how to measure a back yard seems to be a most happy one. Ivor Wallis claims equal honors with Orvis Speciale, for a daughter has made her appearance in his household also. Tom Hickey, one of Santa Clara ' s star athletes of former days, won a commission in the Fourth Officers ' Training Camp. A few weeks ago Ted Ryan, not to be left in the dust by the other young alumni, appeared at the Mission Church with Miss Margaret Kell of San Jose and summoned the marrying padre, Pr. Boland. The happy couple spent a quiet honey-moon in recovering from the influenza, which they contracted soon after the eventful day. However, they have entirely recovered now, and are receiving the congratulations of their friends. The class of 18 is certainly ' 18 well represented in the ranks of Uncle Sam ' s fighting forces. Edward Nicholson, Dan Ryan, Rudy Scholz, and Charlie Murphy won commissions as second lieutenants in the Fourth Officers Training Camp at Camp Fremont, and are now attached to Infantry regiments. Ryan, Scholz and Murphy were on the way to France when last heard from. Lemuel Bolter is in an Officers Camp, and Brooke Mohun is working hard for a commis- sion in the Machine Gun Corps at Camp Hancock, Georgia. Not so bad consid- ering that the ranks of the class were sadly depleted during the year. Albert Quill, unable to get into the army on account of physical disability, is studying law at Hasting ' s College of Law in San Francisco. Quill was vale- dictorian of the class of ' 18 and should make a name for himself in the ranks of the barristers. ' 18 W. Bensberg and Clarence Canelo, who were recom- mended by Capt. Donovan to attend the Fourth Officers Training Camp, were commissioned as second lieutenants at the close of the camp. Chester Palmtag, star basket- Ex ' 19 ball and track man while at college has entered into the spirit of the day and has sacrificed all the joys of bachelorhood for the solid comfort of married life. The young lady in the case was, previous to the above mentioned event, Miss Ellen White, sister of two Santa Clara grad- uates. Should anyone desire to dis- turb their connubial bliss they may be found happily domiciled in Santa Ma- ria. Roy Fowler and Alec Gardiner have recently won commissions as ensigns in the Naval Reserve. Howell, Niclas, Don, Selaya, Ex ' 20 Volkers, and Ford, all of whom entered the Fourth Officers Training Camp at Camp Fre- THE REDWOOD 55 mont, won commissions, and are now adorned with the coveted little gold bar. Harold Flannery claims the same dis- tinction. He secured a commission while attending the S. A. T. C. Ditto for Jean Jaeger. Jaeger has been stationed at the College of the Pa- cific, so we expect to see him frequent- ly. He has paid us several visits al- ready and his military bearing has at- tracted the attention of every man on the campus. Word comes from France that John O ' Neil, front ranker on the Varsity football team of 1916, is helping Jim Fitzpatrick chase the Germans bac k to Berlin. Go get ' em John, and hit ' em low. And what of last year ' s Ex ' 21 Freshman class? Has it fur- nished any followers of the flag? Well to begin with we have Brennan, Moran, Heafey, Fox, Brooke, and Leavey sporting gold bars on their shoulders. John Grace hasn ' t received a commission as yet, but he did his bit chasing the Huns out of France. Louis Bergna is in the Hospital Corps of the Navy. Walter Brown, Joe Fitzpatrick, and Al Burford are in the Naval Re- serve down at San Pedro, and " Frenchy " Farmer is in the same branch back at Pelham Bay. These are but a few of the ' 21 men in the service. Many others participat- ed in the final drive, but their present location is unknown. Darrell Daly. " And one man in his time plays many parts. " The ' Change Department has experi- enced a change. Its illustrious, former Editor, playing his part as few others could play it, has bidden adieu to these columns, that he might take the wheel itself, as helmsman and guide our lit- erary skiff through the sea of literary endeavor. But far be it from us to write a eulogy however worthy the cause; it is for us rather to read the works of others and having read, ren- der praise where praise is due, or cen- sure when our judgment so demands. Yet should we prove too severe, be not too quick to frown but rather, " pardon Monsieurs, " remembering that we too are of that great human institution, fal- lible man. While there may be faults in others, perhaps there is a flaw or two in us even though we are going to do our level best. Here we are starting out into a new year, a year that is teeming with a mil- itary regime country wide, and whose heaving breast is throbbing with a spir- it of war. And yet upon our return we found the ' Changemans desk heaped high with the magazines the summer months had brought. Many were un- ique with their prodigious display of the national colors, which from cover to. cover appeared in a variegated, ar- tistic arrangement. Invariably they were war numbers, either wholly or in part, and none we have found, had failed to sing sonorously of the valour of their sons, now in the service. It is a spirit and devotion that we like to see, this true and high regard for such self-sacrifice. We closed our eyes, much as would a youngster eagerly reaching down into a grab-bag beam- ing with the anticipation of drawing forth something good. We too thrust a hand at random into the pile of ex- changes. What we drew forth proved a gem, a literary gem. Perhaps in its preponderance of content it over- reached its smaller brethren and thus encountered our grasp, nevertheless it was the first to hand. From San Rafael, " A Sweep of hill and a stretch of sky, With space for a soul to grow, " comes The Dominican College Year Book. What Dominican Col Year Book 56 THE REDWOOD 57 we liked about this book was its plain integrity which from cover to cover gave evidence of much care, much prep- aration and forethought to every arti- cle it contained. There were stories and essays in numbers, each permeated by a clearness and forcefulness that can come to one only when he thoroughly knows the subject of his discussion. Evidences of much research work was clearly shown especially in these lat- ter. The verse was very meritorious, particularly " A World Prayer. " It was a fine war poem and a very fin- ished effoirt, with a striving after the Infinite and the struggle of Democracy as its theme. Pervading this was an abiding faith and trust in that cause which has now become our cause. An- other attractive part of the publica- tion seemed to lie in the pictures ; made the more pleasing by the pithy little lines of verse inscribed under each. As a whole there was a variety and freshness about the book that was most gratifying, and we wish to take this opportunity of congratulating the collaborators, for theirs is truly the fruit of much work which has merged itself into a really finished product. Georgetown Col. Journal I think it was the Edi- tor himself who wrote, that the purpose of the Journal was to chronicle the news of the University. And it is just in that where the fault lies. For to us, a com- pliance with the above causes literary efforts to be held slightly in the back- ground. Yes, Georgetown yours was purely a personal issue, that kind of issue that is never popular with an Ex- change man. You take each Student, so to speak, by the arm and lead him off to a quiet corner and there whis- per into his ear kind admonishings and things and events that interest him alone. To the Exchange man such a colloquy has no import ; it affords noth- ing to arouse his interest or praise. In a word it becomes immune from his pen. There are however some person- als essentials to every College Maga- zine, the Alumni Notes and University Notes for instance. But aside from these our vigorous condemnation lies m the fact that a University Publication as large as the Journal is, whose " pur- pose is to aid the students ' literary im- provement " should devote such a small space to its students ' literary efforts. But it was not all thus, for the ode, " The Flag of the Stars " was a grand poetic offering, a glowing tribute to the men in the service : ' ' Star of the Evening ! — what ten- der And lovely emotions awake At the thought of the service they render, Our soldiers, for Liberty ' s sake! " and again: " For they speak in their splendorous burning Of the chivalry caught from the skies, 58 THE REDWOOD Where Michael and Gahriel yearn- ing Look down in their rapturous eyes. " The Fordham Monthly Next to hand was The Fordham Monthly, which travels across the continent from somewhere in the Empire State, " Until Reveille " really deserved to be reprinted, with its stu- pendous compelling power, its infinite spaces that the author ever encounters in his superb effort. Listen to this : " In the realms of the Infinite Silence, in the kingdom of Utter Space, There stands the host of the wraith and ghost, each in his rank and place, Who wait till Doom shall call them to hell or the Heavenly Face. " The swing of the verse is easy and pleasing as is that in all the other lit- tle offerings. In this issue the prose is exceptionally good. " Having Eyes, They See Not, " and " What Journalism Has Done for New York, " are very log- ical and forcefully developed in a style that is both lucid and close-knit. " Water-Cress " had lots of action, the prime requisite for a good short story. Especially in the beginning was this ev- iident; however the author lapsed, to- ward the conclusion, into that mood of philosophizing where one begins to look for a moral, and none is given. But the redeeming feature was the diction and style. Both were far above medi- ocre. " The Mediaeval Guilds " , a very erudite work, evidences much research and a complete mastery of the subject, on the part of the author. Fordham your editorials struck an appreciative note within us. They were sprightly and entertaining. Holy Cross The Holy Cros 1 s Pu , rple tj i was a war number, first PUr P Ie A ± X and last. A war num- ber in make-up — for from cover to cover it was replete with pictures, pic- tures of officers and war scenes, and each one surrounded by a red, white and blue chord in becoming design — and a war number in its content. Of verse there was a gratifying amount, all graceful and plaintive and very melodious : " Ring down the dusk and let its fold o ' erspread The hills of France. Oh set the sombre night With funeral tapers, gleaming silver white Above unbroken ranks of sleeping dead. " Just one small example of its worth, that our space will permit. " Still in the Game, " was a prose offering, a story appealingly human, as was also ' ' A Pipe ' ' . And both were well worked up. However we cannot exactly see how Jean in " Jean of the Escadrille " could have recognized a former Musi- cian whom he admired in peace times, especially, since the recognition came THE REDWOOD 59 when he was engaging in combat with him in the ethereal blue. Otherwise the story was of much worth. The au- thor of " The Coward " in using the first person in his narration assures his story of an immediate success. Holy Cross you have indeed a splendid number. We gratefully acknowledge the re- ceipt of the following Exchanges: " The Boston College Stylus " ; " Loyola College Annual ' ;; " Gonzaga " ; " Mar- quette University Journal ' ;; " The Ig- natian " ; " The Mountaineer; " " The Springhillian " ; " The Viatorian " ; " The Borromean " ; " The Martian " ; " The Tattler " and " Reveille " . Henry C. Veit. RUGBY. Notwithstanding the great set- back experienced by all forms of athletics throughout the whole country, the Student Body of Santa Clara began this school-year with high hopes of avenging the unexpected reverse our Rugby team suffered last year in the " Big Game " with Stanford. From the very start, a good-sized bunch of likely material turned out each evening for practice ; and though Uncle Sam had lured away most of the veterans of the last two seasons, it seemed an assured prospect that we were in for a fairly big year. Then came the new order of things inaugu- rated with the S. A. T. C. :— the boys all in from toting around their big Russian blunderbusses, sassy officers telling them when they might come and go, and all kinds of study-periods using up good grey matter needed on the turf, and a million other little reminders of war-time conspiring to put the old ki- bosh on our ardor for strenuous train- ing. Just to show what a really punk athletic season looks like, the " Flu " blew in from my home town, Barcelona and way-stations, the " Preps " beat a hasty retreat homewards, the Campus was placed under Quarantine, more than half the fellows caught the epi- demic, and meantime the grass grew so tall on the football field that Bob Coward ' s sheep wondered at all the holler about the high cost of eating. But as we write, things are begin- ning to look up. Manager Brian Ga- gan announces that the great question which has been worrying every football follower at Santa Clara is to be an- swered in the affirmative. Yes, we are going to play Stanford in a " Big Game " . Of course war conditions will not allow a game that will be " big " for us from a financial standpoint. The gate receipts of the third and all- 60 =3 3_ ( ) oo i. O TJ n n ?o = ta — Li 3 O n o (6 «. THE REDWOOD 61 important game to lie played Some- where in San Francisco on December 7th, will go to swell the bundle of the United War Workers. There are to be two preliminary contests before the date just mentioned ; one on the Car- dinal campus and the other on our lo- cal turf. If it should come to pass that each college walks off with one of these early games, Oh, Boy ! be sure to keep posted on the date and place of the third. But keep posted in any event, for the Stanford-Santa Clara sessions during the past few seasons, while lack- ing some of the minor frills of other " Big Games " have more than satisfied those who hold the regular sportsman ' s view that " the game ' s the thing. " In addition to the Stanford series, the team will meet St. Ignatius Varsity in a number of games already sched- uled. It is not unlikely that the Col- lege of the Pacific as well as the Olym- pic Club will come through with a bit more in the way of welcome competi- tion, so that, all things considered, our football season, like the past year for the Allies, is going to end a whole lot better than it began. Now for the per- sonel of this year ' s Varsity. Captain Korte, Ferrario and Kerchkoff are the veterans in the scrum. Around them a good forward division can be welded together from the promising material found among the former ' ' Scrubs ' ' and the new men: Buty, Schutz, " Long Tom " Whelan, Noll, Teague, Lennon, L. O ' Connell, Kaney, Donlon. In the backfield Diaz is the only veteran ; but such speed-burners as Bedolla, Chase, Judge, Pipes, Becker, Larrey, Volk- mer, Conneally, Coman, McCoy, and Hughes should develop a combination that will easily come up to last year ' s standard and perhaps surpass it. The coaching is being done by Captain " Moose " Korte, whose admitted knowledge of the game, with a few timely hints here and there from last year ' s veterans will, without doubt, produce a bunch of nifty Ruggers, in every way worthy of the Student Body ' s support. The Campus is happy to hear that Caesar Manelli may soon be given a transfer from the Navy to the S. A. T. C. Manelli ' s return to school at this time would mean a great deal to our football squad, as Caesar was consid- ered by critics last season to be one of the strongest forwards on the Coast. Apart from the practice scrimmages, the nearest thing to a game so far this year was the tussle with Polytechnic High of San Francisco, in which S. C. used a medley of Freshmen and Preps and emerged on the long end of a score in the neighborhood of 30 to 5. THE PREPS. Up to date, the Preps have played a tie game (3 to 3) with Livermore High, and have shut out Centerville High in two games — 30 to and 35-0. The ambitious Midgets have one vic- tory to their credit, having defeated the Second Team of Lowell High by a 52 THE REDWOOD score of 11 to 0. Lowell might have given the youngsters a closer argument had a couple of their stars crabbed a little less at their team-mates and re- fused to believe that somebody was try- ing to rob them. BOXING. At the suggestion of the Moderator of Athletics, a boxing tourney took place in the Gym on October 12, ac- companied by the season ' s first display of College Pep. All the matches were very interesting, to say the least, and won the approval of a large assembly of enthusiasts. Among those present was Lieut. Adams, who had consented to act as one of the judges for the awarding of prizes. The feature scrap of the evening was the Titanic struggle between " Long Tom " Whelan and " Fat " Ferrario. As Tom had nearly all the reach and " Fat " nearly every- thing within reach, it looked about 100 to for the former ; but so keen was the boxing knowledge displayed by both and so evenly were they matched that it was impossible for the judges to " reach " a decision. Other partici- pants in the tournament were Lennon, Becker, Gloster, Wagner. Indecum, Abrahamson, Hyland, Conneally, Far- rell, Guthrie, Greco, Kranzthor and Grace. As a fitting close to the evening ' s entertainment, an eloquent discourse on Limburger Cheese was delivered by Ray Casey, " the Campus Songster " . Dimetrio Diaz. CONTENTS AN ANSWER (Verse) REMEMBERED TO CHANGE OR NOT TO CHANGE BY ACCIDENT FOCH THE COMFORTER (Verse) EDITORIAL UNIVERSITY NOTES ALUMNI EXCHANGES ATHLETICS Henry C. Veit 63 Frank Maloney 64 John Hilles 68 Henry C. Veit 70 G. William deKoch 80 Frank Maloney 84 85 89 94 99 102 MIDGET BASKETBALL TEAM PREP " BASKETBALL TEAM Entered Dec. 18, 1902, at Santa Clara, Cal., as second-class matter, under Act of Congress of March 3, 1 79 VOL. XVIII SANTA CLARA, CAL., FEBRUARY, 1919 NO. 2 Att AttHuter November n, 10,18 LEEP on, ye brave, who lie In Flander ' s fields, unknown ! The Torch ye bore now lights the sky ! The Seed ye set has grown ! Dream not of broken word ! Our faith is plighted still : Hushed are the guns, and clearly heard The larks ' ecstatic trill ! Sleep on in peace, ye brave, Mid poppies waving free ! Wake not till o ' er your honored grave Sounds the last Reveille ! HENRY C. VEIT Remembered Frank Maloney. BILE living up to the slogan " See America First " I came across some very interesting news, which the world at large seldom hears of, or if it hears, it is in a very gen- eral manner without any interest what- soever. My excursion took me into the very heart of the Adirondacks where silence reigns supreme, to be broken only by the moans and groans of the giant trees, those pillars of the sky, when the wind dances among them. I had been wandering in this won- derland of nature for several days with a guide, George Le Blanc, who made everything doubly interesting by relat- ing little anecdotes about the different places we came across in our travels. In some manner, which I am unable to explain, we happened to come upon the tracks of the Great " Western Railroad at Madison Curve, the scene of many accidents. It seemed to me, as I gazed enrap- tured upon the landscape, that Mother Nature had beezi very generous in be- stowing her gifts upon this place. Walls of rock rose abruptly from a lit- tle ravine, down which a small creek plunged and tumbled in a carefree manner. Here and there upon these giant fortresses, which for ages have defied tempests and floods, tiny bushes grew in the crevices, endeavoring to outclimb their brothers and sisters, in a vain attempt to cover up the naked- ness which nature had neglected. Va- rious little songsters twittered among them, making everything reflect their happiness. As we sauntered down the track, our eyes and thoughts centered upon the everchanging vision, we happened to come across a little tombstone, above which the trees sighed and the birds sang a wistful song. I stopped rather suddenly, surprised by such an unusual sight in such a place, and asked my guide what it was. " That, " he replied, " is the grave of my dearest friend who lost his life here about four years ago. Won ' t you come and read the inscription, then I ' ll tell you about it. " I came closer and was able to read on the marble slab : Sacred to the memory of James Campbell, Who was killed here Sept. 10th, 1914. Aged twenty-one years. " There lie the ruins of one of the noblest men that ever trod the face of the earth. He was the sole support of 64 THE REDWOOD 65 his sister and — " George was so filled with emotion that he could not con- tinue. " I hope you ' ll excuse me, but I couldn ' t help it. He was a dear friend and I felt his loss keenly. " We were on the same train crew together. It was in this way that I came to know him and I prized his friendship highly. " He was a peculiar fellow, in fact, one who didn ' t know him would think he was very cold. But once you knew him, he opened his heart and confided his innermost feelings to you. He told me, as friend to friend, he and his sister were driven from home by his tyranni- cal uncle. " Well, this isn ' t telling you how he came to lie here in this lonely spot. He was fireman and I was brakeman, so you see the story I will tell you will be what I witnessed with my own eyes. " On the fateful morning we were or- dered to take a train of fifty cars, all of them loaded to full capacity, over the grade to Silvertown. See that tun- nel up there, ' ' he said, pointing to Wal- singham Tunnel, " well that ' s just at the top, at least the middle of it is. " In order to get up there, two other engines were pressed into service, one at the middle and the other at the end of the train. It was the former that was indirectly the cause of the accident. After much puffing, pushing, and pull- ing, we reached our goal, that is, the destination of the auxiliar ies. " They were uncoupled and the train remade. The signal was given and we started; but on account of the pitchy darkness of that hole in the earth, we failed to notice our speed, which, as we afterwards learned, was very great. " When we finally came into the sunlight, we realized to our horror we were travelling at a rate of forty miles an hour and going faster every min- ute. " " ' Wonder what ' s the matter, ' mut- tered the conductor through clenched teeth. ' Something ' s happened for sure. Hope Bill ' , who was the engineer, ' can get her under control. If he can ' t it ' s good night for him and the cars. Should the worst come, we can uncouple the caboose and save ourselves. ' " All this time we were being pitched and tossed about, so that it was well nigh impossible to stand up. Finally, I got into the little tower above the caboose and looked toward the engine, which could be easily seen, as the track was straight ; now that I was above the cab, I could see right into it. " Both Jim and Bill were vainly us- ing all the brakes in an endeavor to halt this wild, deadly force. As a last resort, they threw over the reverse and opened the throttle. But there was no use ; the momentum already gained was too great. Nothing but a miracle would stop us. The speed by this time was terrific — cars swayed to and fro, rock- ing and careening madly. Trees flash- ed by in one green blur. We shot through the town of W with the roar of an avalanche. I caught a 66 THE REDWOOD glimpse of a few white faces on the sta- tion platform. " Clambering down again from my precarious position, I asked my part- ner whether he had connected the air hoses at the middle of the train where the engine had been. " " ' Why no! ' he answered. ' Didn ' t you do it? I thought you did it when you were there, so I didn ' t even look. ' " His face blanched — and I guess mine did too — as he realized the disas- ter he had caused by leaving what he should have done to someone else. " With difficulty I climbed to my for- mer position, and a scene which I never want to witness again, met my eyes. Jim, his jumper flying in the wind, was crawling along the top of a swaying boxcar. A mile and a half away was the curve we are now standing on. " Realizing we were doomed to the same fate as Jim and Bill, we scram- bled through the caboose and proceed- ed to uncouple it from the death train. It was a precarious position to be in, down between two cars which were lia- ble to jump the track, but it was a case of life or death. " After we had accomplished the im- possible, by suceeding with the hand brakes, we breathed a sigh of relief. I scrambled back to my perch, and what I saw from there was enough to make anyone ' s hair turn gray. The curve was nearly reached and the figure on the car had almost got to the end of it. " I watched him breathlessly, hoping he would be saved; but it was a vain wish. Then I lost sight of him as we rounded a slight curve. The engine and first three cars leaped into space, seemed to hang there a moment and then crashed into the gorge a hundred feet below. The third one was filled with flour and it fell on top of the loco- motive. The flames from the firebox reached and exploded it. By the time this conflagration was put out nothing remained but a few charred bones, which we identified as Jim ' s by the peculiar buttons we found among them. " There ' s one thing that accident did for me, though; it made me realize there is a God above us, to Whom we are responsible for every word, deed, and action. When I saw Jim on that car at the last minute, on his knees praying to Him, an indelible memory was imprinted on my mind, and my only regret is I didn ' t reform while he was alive, because I know it would have made him happy. " Now, don ' t you think I have good cause to be gray-headed, after witness- ing such a scene? " He took his hat off and nearly every hair in his head was snowy white. " But to add to this it was my duty to bring the sad news to his sister. I broke it to her as easily as I could. A look of horror came over her face as I told her, and tears welled up in her blue eyes. A stifled sob shook her frail body, as she said simply : " I ' m glad he died like a hero. I al- ways knew it was in him ; may God have mercy on his soul. " THE REDWOOD 67 At the same time big round tears were flowing down Le Blanc ' s swarthy cheeks and he turned round to wipe them away. The green pine trees seemed to feel his sorrow, for they be- gan to moan and groan, and weep into each other ' s arms. Old Sol, also, knew the solemnity of the occasion, for his last beams were now cast upon the lit- tle marble slab, throwing into bold re- lief the epitaph which was in gold let- ters, as a proof of the esteem in which his friends had held him. Pondering on the sad, sweet story, I recalled some lines of P. Ryan, the poet-priest of the south : " A grave in the woods with the grass o ' er-grown, A grave in the heart of his sister; His clay in the one lies lifeless and lone, There is not a name, there is not a stone, And only the voice of the wind mak- eth moan O ' er the grave where never a flower is strewn; But his memory lives in the other. " To Change or Not to Change John Hiller. ITH all the Win the War slo- gans gracing the waste bas- ket, we can return to status quo ante conditions and re- vive some of our old argu- ments for argument ' s sake. One of the most persistent of these is the contention between American In- tercollegiate and Rugby Football. We do not hope to settle the controversy, but we are spoiling to have our little say. The pros and cons of this question we have heard from sporting writers, managers of athletics, college presi- dents, professors, distinguished alumni, undergrads and in fact from nearly ev- eryone who has ever seen a game of football, and from some — to judge by their statements — who have never. We have seen the merits of this game and of that placed side by side in the sun. We have watched great universities drop one form and adopt the other. We have argued, threatened and plead- ed. And at the end of it all, we find a lurking suspicion that the strongest ar- gument is the pecuniary one. What though Rugby is the better de- veloper of individual initiative and re- sourcefulness? What though it is the better game from the spectators ' view- point? In a word, what though it pos- sesses all the fine sporting qualities of the American game and a few of its own besides? " Tut, tut, — idle whiffs of smoke, " replies the sporting-goods magnate ; and in a moment of meanness we are inclined to interpret his contribution as follows : " It ' s a fair enough sort of game and all that, but the equipment for the American game is more expens- ive. Therefore let us be 100 per cent patriotic Americans. " And so we find our largest univer- sity torn between the prospects of lar- ger gate receipts, coupled with strong competition on the one hand, and pos- sibly smaller receipts, equally strong competition and a better, sportier ga me on the other. It is true, the problem is complicated by other factors. There is the uncompromising attitude born of bitter controversies in the past. There is the fact that the university which switched from Rugby has prospered financially and as a contender for ath- letic honors, though the latter point seems to be disputed by those who hint that one reason for dropping the Eng- lish game was that victory had ceased to come. Facts are stubborn things and the change was made at a time when facts did not disprove the assertions of embittered rivals. 68 THE REDWOOD 69 To change or not to change, — that is the question. We, who have seen the All Blacks in action on our turf, and who have achieved some little name ourselves in Rugby, cannot but feel a pang of grief that so great a game should be done to death by the purse. That old King Rugby lies a-dying, there can be no manner of doubt. Should he fail to rally, we shall deem it an honor to be chosen chief mourn- ers. By Accident Henry C. Veit. ARREN MORELAND found himself deeply absorbed in thought, ruminating on the past few months , crowded with such a whirlwind of events. At any rate it might have so appeared. The serene posture of his lithe and slender unif ormed body, the way his light curly haired head rested on the velvet back of his pull- man chair, the fixed concentration of his light blue eyes, that far away stare one ' s eyes seem to possess when re- minded of incidents past, these to any observer would convey just that im- pression. The Limited swayed and rumbled as it bowled over the country. Moreland found a deep pleasure in its rhythm that was not unlike some soothing mel- ody, a lullaby made just for his thoughts, which latter he gave expres- sion to in the ecstatic way the blue cir- cles of smoke came from his pipe. The rhythm of the wheels and the gather- ing purplish twilight in the distant hills were an incentive to reminiscence. All at once lines came tumbling through his brain — a splendid expres- sion of the spirit that bubbled within him, the jogging of the train beating out the metre : For I ' m due there to-morrow " With thirty days of leave Nor naught of care or sorrow To make me worry or grieve. Hastily he searched his pockets, im- patient for pencil and paper and wrote it down. Toward the end he could easily see himself become galled as the thought of his easy susceptibility to em- barassment confronted him. Especial- ly since a girl was at the root of it all. And girls — well he had always avoid- ed them, in fact he had never known a sweetheart. Alone in the world, he had taken up the side of the Allies, for his mother had a branch of French in her family tree. It was not however that fact so much as the pure principle involved that spurred him on and landed him in France, one among the first of a mighty force of defenders. On his own and in the presence of his sex, Moreland was a picture of confidence, sure, determ- ined and cool-headed, yet the moment a gentler being of the other sex hap- pened to cross his path the old inher- ent embarassment would possess him and for the moment he would be lost. Perhaps this weakness was not inher- ent, yet he could not remember a time when it did not grip him tensely. 70 THE REDWOOD 71 But he had lately felt a change, for the war had made him adventurous. " Over there " when his regiment lay- inactive for months, save for daily drills, awaiting the word to take his place in the front line trenches, he had had just this sort of uneasiness which now permeated him. It was much like that enthralling expectancy a little fel- low experiences on Christmas Eve, dreaming and wondering what the mor- row is to show him. For there is no tension like waiting for expected good happenings. No matter how certain the thing is there is sure to be lurking in the background a sense of uneasiness, a feeling that the good luck is unreal and that something will hapen to spoil it. Not that his old failing was the cause but rather that his newly ac- quired adventurous spirits might fail him. Moreland always thought himself apathetic and stoic by nature, yet a mere advertisement in a paper that he chanced upon while " over there " awakened within him a latent spirit he thought never could be linked with Warren Moreland. Now as he thought over the two he held them up for con- trast before his mind ' s eye, and found such to be a possibility. " It was I who was at fault, " he softly mused, shifting into a more com- fortable position, as a trickle of a smile flitted over his face. " I was just shy, " he finished. A vicious lunge as the train swung around a turn was synchronous with the entrance of the dark porter through the further door of the Pullman. " Oh, Sam! " said Warren as his eye caught sight of the approaching negro with lighted taper in his hand almost floundering upon a rather corpulent and irritable old man directly in front of him. " Sam, when are we due in Lakeside? " " Ah, expects boss, " answered the porter, " if dat fool engineer don ' reck us, we ' ll land dar long bout ' morrow noon. " Had not advancing twilight made a rather uncertain dimness of everything, a glow might have been seen passing over Moreland ' s face. A moment ' s silence as he watched Sam at the lights and then again to his thoughts. " Barbara Billington, " he intoned, " quite a mouthful, still the personality you can impart in your letters more than makes up for such a full name. Barbara — Barbara, it seems as if I knew you already. " He recalled the first fruit of the ad he had put in that American paper one night at the K. of C. hall subsequent to his reading a similar one in a French paper by some longing, lonesome Bel gian soldier. Moreland chuckled softly. The flood of letters that swamped him thereafter was amusing. One doting maiden had said: " I have great, big, baby blue, eyes, and I ' m sure you ' d like me if you knew me. I ' m very popular and all the boys are crazy over me — " . This 12 THE REDWOOD had gone into the scrap pile with some others and was never finished. An- other wrote with the cramped hand of fifty and signed herself, " Miss Victoria Budd. " Moreland could not help hut add: " Victoria, you ' ll never bloom for me. " A buxom Irish lass who had just learned English and felt in her own mind she had mastered it, thought this an unusual experience. " Shure an ' Biddy me dear, I wouldn ' t mind writing you, but you might take it seriously. " This from Moreland. There was one badly spelled missive from one who claimed to be just eight- een, yet Warren felt sure she was near- er thirteen. He was averse to taking children to raise. Others came from disappointed girls who wrote for spite, shop girls and girls from almost every sphere in life, yet, strange to say, none but Barbara ' s found favor in his eyes. " Rather a mean trick to play on the girls, " he found himself saying, " but 1 couldn ' t have written to them all any- way. My salary wouldn ' t warrant the necessary stamps. " And with that Moreland dismissed them from his mind. Through her letters Warren had grown to like Barbara. Her plain in- tegrity, unassuming manner and pure wholesomeness, that outcropped from every line had begun to appeal to him. She seemed so like that type of simple heroine great authors found delight in depicting. Letter had followed letter. Then came the night before the battle. With a cigar box for a table and a can- dle stuck in a bottle for a light, he wrote. Perhaps it was the silver sickle the moon made in a remote part of the heavens above him that had prompted his thoughts. ' Tis said that people are often affected by it. Notwithstanding he wrote ; wrote a heart melody for her alone, would she but wait. In effect it was nothing short of a proposal. Perhaps unconsciously Moreland be- gan to visualize. He could not help but picture her in a pretty white flow- ery dress, and a large hat crowned with golden ringlets that sat becomingly on her head. Nothing but light wavy hair would suffice and dark blue eyes to harmonize. As to stature, undoubtedly he would be able to look down on that golden head with ease, for his own height was above the ordinary. II The greatest thing of interest in the little rural town of Lakeside, as is the case in all small places, was the arrival of a stranger. The Limited so seldom yielded a passenger, that when More- land stepped somewhat stiffly from the train in his overseas uniform, the few jayhawkers about stood agape with surprise o ' erspreading their faces. A cheery eyed youngster approached him. Evidently he could read in More- land ' s face the pull his grips had on that wound in his shoulder. " Let me help you wid your luggage, Mister! " THE REDWOOD 73 " I ' m just going across to the hotel there sonny, " responded Moreland, " but since you ' re such a nice little fel- low, I ' m going to let you help me. " White ' s hotel was rather an old fash- ioned place, yet it would suit his pur- pose. It seemed just the sort of place in which one would find rest enjoyable. The afternoon sun shed a pleasing warmth. After a light lunch and feeling sure he was now quite settled, Warren stood at another threshold in his adventure. " Where is there a book store? " he casually asked of the proprietor. " I ' d like to get something to read. " " Just around the corner, " answered his affable landlord, pointing to a place not far distant. " You ' ll see the sign, ' Post Office ' . That ' s the place. It ' s a sort of grocery, notion and every- thing imaginable store. One of the Bill- ington girls works there. " Billington ! " ejaculated Warren, for he hardly had expected such an early result. " Which one? " he heard himself sur- prisedly ask. Then at the puzzled look on Mr. White ' s face he tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice. " I mean what is her name? " " Barbara! And a mighty nice girl she it. A bit quiet though. " Mr. White hesitated a moment then with a curious sparkle in his eye fin- ished. " Do you know her, " But Warren was gone leaving the dumbfounded proprietor to his own thoughts. Nearing the Post Office he felt a bit nervous. It was what he had feared on the train. " I wonder what she will say when she meets me! " he thought. Then, realizing she was not to know of his coming, since he had not writ- ten after the night he was wounded in action, his courage returned and with renewed hope and vigor he opened the door and entered. From the corner set aside for maga- zines, there was not the sign of a girl. A seemingly unending length of time elapsed before someone moved and came from behind the Post Office boxes. Moreland felt his heart miss a beat. He was afraid to look. At last he lifted his head and was aware of a neat black skirt, then a plain starched waist, a fair face with light blue eyes, then a wreath of dark hair plainly twisted in a roll in back. She was not a bad looking girl, yet she seemed so distant, so reserved in her approach. " So this is Barbara " he thought, " Barbara, whom I know so well yet don ' t know at all. " Barbara smiled a wistful sort of smile. " What can I do for you, sir? " Warren was reminded it was books he wanted, and his voice quivered de- spite his efforts. " Oh! Just something to read. Something interesting. Will you re- commend what you think good? It need not be new, " he went on, " for we 74 THE REDWOOD seldom have time to read in the trenches ' Perhaps he held his wound stripe rather awkwardly to view. ' ' She didn ' t notice it, ' ' he thought. Here was a chance to open a conver- sation if she wished. He felt he had given her ample opportunity. ' ' This Saturday Evening Post is very interesting, " she answered somewhat mechanically and not another word. Warren fumbled over a few maga- zines as though he were very particular, then ended by taking one of the Posts. " You may sit here and read, if you care to. People often do. ' ' This, after he had paid her the necessary amount of his purchase. Not knowing what else to do, he quietly acquiesced. Co-incidental with his thoughts, he opened the periodical to a story by George Pattullo; " The Quitter " , stared at him. " Strange, " he muttered, " it was just what 1 was accusing myself of. " Over the top of his magazine he watched Barbara ' s back, for that was all he could see of her. She seemed oblivious of his presence and went about her duties as though no one were there. He read on, into " The Quitter " and scrutinized Barbara intermittent- ly. She was busy arranging some boxes of writing paper. Moreland started as her hand held to view some plain white envelopes with a peculiar shaped flap to them. Those were the identical letters she had used to write him. He had the mates to them in his pocket. Warren coughed a nervous sort of cough trying to calm himself as he made toward her, for he realized he had been there quite long enough. " Your choice of reading was very in- teresting. " This little insincerity made him chuckle inwardly. " I enjoyed sitting in this nice com- fortable little corner to read, " he con- tinued. " Perhaps I may take advant- age of your hospitality and come here often, that is, with your kind permis- sion. " He had begun to play on words as a last resort. " Perfectly alright, " she rejoined. " Mr. Lowell, the proprietor, made that little reading corner especially for strangers. You are welcome any time. " Barbara evidently took this to be sufficient for she immediately turned to her duties. That night in the advent to sleep, he thought over the afternoon ' s incident. He could not find a flaw in this girl. She was very polite, yet apparently too distant. However, on better acquaint- ance, he might penetrate that aloof- ness. With sleep came dreams. It was not the first time that Moreland ' s last thoughts before dropping off to the subconscious world became heralded in a dream. A picture of the golden haired girl he had visualized on the train just the day before, again confronted him and mayhap to taunt. For he had THE REDWOOD 75 grown to connect just such a girl with the letters he had received. To him the two seemed inseparable, yet, when he found such was not the case, he was a little disappointed. Throughout the remainder of the week, Warren spent a deal of the time in the magazine corner trying to read. As yet he had not grown to know Bar- bara. Scarcely more than a " good afternoon " , or " good evening " passed between them. She answered all ques- tions readily and smiled when he came in, but beyond this she refused to go. Moreland experienced a disquieting sense of unfulfilment in regard to her. In small communities, acquaintance- ship is rapid, yet natural. Lakeside was aglow over its fortune in feting a re- turned hero. Warren too appreciated this real homelike atmosphere, for, not having ever enjoyed the sacred pre- cincts of a home with all that it means, this sweet simplicity made him tingle clean through. It was a Wednesday afternoon, not quite a week after his arrival. War- ren, rather from force of habit, than from any hope of ever knowing Bar- bara more intimately, found an in- creased pleasure in the reading corner. For he recalled Mr. White had said, " one of the Billington girls. " Therein rested a renewed hope. Yet the possi- bility of his idea seemed too unlikely. Hardly had he concluded his thought, than a girl tripped lightly in through the back way. " Babs, here I am. " she said slightly out of breath. " You go home now for you must be tired. I ' ll stay and fin- ish up. " " No. No. Lois. I ' m alright, though my head does ache a little. You hate confinement so! " Barbara finished, making for her hat. This bit of vivacity was contagious. It brightened up everything like a sun- beam piercing through into a gloomy day. Warren observed this girl. She was much the same in appearance as Barba- ra, excepting that she had light hair. " An exact opposite of her, " he thought. This was suggested by her friendly manner and pleasing way. Moreland had about every variety of magazine the stand offered, yet, sud- denly he decided he needed another. Lois smiled as he approached. There seemed a darker sparkle in her eye, than in Barbara ' s. He noticed too, a pretty dimple in her cheek. " Which one are you going to have this time? " she broke in. " You ' re the gentleman Mr. Lowell told me about, I presume. Would you like something about the war? " " Well, I don ' t think so, " Warren replied. There seemed a meaning in the bewitching smile that accompanied her question. He could almost feel himself reddening. This contrast seem- ed so overpowering. " I ' ve had too much warfare, " he continued. " I want something that will make me forget there ever was a war. Yet if it hadn ' t been for the war, 76 THE REDWOOD I wouldn ' t — " he hesitated, then filled in with: " Let me see that one, " point- ing to a gayly colored periodical, " that looks good. " At his mention of war, Lois ' face sob- ered up. " I feel so sorry for all those brave lads. Some come back and others don ' t. This war simply had to be, it seems, yet I hate it. " " You evidently have been in the thick of it, " she went on. " Perhaps you wouldn ' t mind telling me of your experiences. " It was a good hour later that " War- ren took his leave. His spirits were high, yet he was non-plussed. " Miss Lois, " he found himself ask- ing, " it couldn ' t have been you who wrote to me? " For the letters and her personality seemed identical. Ill Saturday was clean-up day in the Lowell store. Warren noticed every- thing topsy-turvy and in the midst of the chaos, Lois and Barbara cleaning for all they were worth. " Good afternoon, " merrily came from the sisters, as Barbara went on to explain. " This is cleaning day and I hope we won ' t disturb you? " " Certainly not, but perhaps I ' ll be in the way. " " Then you can make yourself useful and help us move this case. We al- ways have trouble with it. ' ' This com- mand was from Lois. The opportunity was perhaps a wished one for Moreland was aware by now, of the sisters thinking him an in- veterate book-worm rather than one with the habit, acquired merely as a means to an end. The beauty of a house is order. It did not take long to bring this about when the three got started. To Warren it seemed like the preparation for a weekly inspection and he assumed the role of inspecting officer after all had been finished. The verdict could not have been otherwise than commenda- ble. There is always some reward for an effort. Moreland experienced both a surprise and a reward. ' ' Mother and I made some candy this morning, " said Lois, " so I brought it along for Babs and me to munch. I just thought perhaps you might enjoy a few pieces. " This last with the dim- ple showing in her cheek. " Candy! Home made candy! " Warren exclaimed, " why I thought that was just book talk. Certainly, Miss Lois, lead me to it. " Then after sampling a delicious bon-bon: " You can ' t imagine how that tastes to me. All my life I ' ve been fed on purchased goods and I ' ve never known what good home made things were like. " Both girls surprisedly turned with an inquiring look toward each other. " Well sir, " said Lois, " I don ' t know your name — oh! Mr. Langdon, you say? You must come home with us THE REDWOOD 77 and enjoy a good home cooked meal this very evening. " " We shan ' t take ' no ' for an an- swer, " put in Barbara. Moreland could not recall a more pleasant evening than he had just spent at the Billington home, and he whist- led softly as he directed his steps to- ward the hotel. The night, although in early November, was softly dark and warm. The sky was a luminous blue — a splendid aspiring, naked, blue, in which the stars hung golden. He mused as he paced along. " Warren Moreland, " he said to him- self quietly, " or rather Mr. Langdon — in keeping with your masque — six months ago you would have called this bit of realism, Utopian, wouldn ' t you " ? And were you to include a picnic plan- ned especially for you, in that bit of realism, you immediately would have deduced the thing to be utterly impos- sible. " He stopped. He had often heard of people walking in their sleep and he was loathe to move lest he awaken from a dream to find himself on the firing step of some front line trench. But fortunately such was not the case with him. He recalled Mrs. Billing- ton ' s words, still ringing joyfully in his ears. " I ' ll fix some chicken sandwiches. Then I could make some salad and you, " speaking to Lois, " could pack it nicely in that agate pan. " IV Pine Canyon was one of those invit- ing places where city and country folk alike, picniced, and lolled about in the numerously shaded retreats it afford- ed. The precipitous hills were mantled in the late autumn coloring and in the resplendent glory of the mid-day sun, coquetted in a galaxy of hues. The air had that warmth and yet that freshness which at once sends a glow to the heart and thrills the senses. Above an eagle hung, a dark speck against the deep blue of the sky ' s vault. " There is one of the prettiest little spots, up yonder, " said Lois, indicating a shady nook some distance from the road. She nimbly jumped from the halted machine. From behind her thin veil which she began eagerly to re- move, Warren observed a glow in her face that he had not noticed heretofore. He saw depicted there a pure love for this wildness everywhere about, this romantic breath of the hills that touch- ed the golden waves of her hair into a flutter. She tripped lightly up the hill ahead of the other three. Moreland with the lunch, Barbara and Mrs. Bill- ington were of a slower gait. Some distance ahead Lois awaited them perched on a rock. Warren felt chagrined, perplexed in his dilemma. Why should Barbara have proven false to the type he had visualized from her letters? Why had he written that last letter to her, so full of his innermost thoughts? As yet 78 THE REDWOOD his idea, as to Lois was but a vague sur- mise. Nothing substantial offered his encouragement or seemed to confirm his suspicion, yet everything pointed directly to her. " Lois, you ' re too fleet of foot for us, " said her mother approaching, slightly out of breath by the ascent. " I can ' t help but thrill over it all, mother, " she responded in a jubilant tone, indicating the opposite side with a sweep of her arm. Across the canyon the background of evergreens was mottled with unequaled patches of brown, of purplish red, of rose picked out here and there with golden gleams of single trees or single drops of scarlet blood. The remainder of the climb was made in silence. Moreland felt inwardly a restrained spirit yearning for freedom. The lure of the primeval made him tin- gle too. On the rustic top of a table built around a giant sycamore, whose tinted branches canopied the little spot, Mrs. Billington and the girls unpacked the luncheon. Warren gathered bits of wood and brush for the fire. He could almost perceive a subtle aroma of boil- ing coffee coming from the ashes of many another fire built in the same place for just that purpose. " Lois, " said Mrs. Billington, observ- ing Moreland with bucket in hand and a quizzical expression on his face, " you had better show Mr. Langdon the way to the spring. " Far down the mountain side bubbled a sparkling pool of clear spring water. Lois skipped along gracefully, like a deer coming to the drinking hole. " Warren found it almost an effort to keep up. The lay of the land grew rocky and less foot-sure as they neared the bot- tom. Lois ' foot struck a rock and she would have gone headlong had not Moreland caught and sustained her fall- ing figure. Only for a moment it was, yet he felt an inward yearning to make it for longer. " How awkward of me to fall, " she said with somewhat of a self-conscious laugh, freeing herself. Warren ob- served how nicely that dimple came in- to her cheek. Dipping the bucket into the spring he was possessed with a half notion of revealing his identity, yet, on second thought he concluded it to be too early. A better scheme afforded itself. " Miss Lois, " he found himself ques- tioning as they retraced their steps, " were you ever in a dilemma? " " Yes — or rather no! " she corrected. And she threw him a furtive glance that might have been the slight insinuation of what he had hoped for. " Why do you ask? " she finished. There seemed a teasing air to her question. Moreland stopped dumbfounded. Could it be possible she knew his motive for the asking? Or that she had seen through his masque and recognized him? He recalled he had unconscious- ly given her many clues the first day he met her in the Post Office, when he THE REDWOOD 79 told her of his experiences. One im- pulse seemed to tell him his first sur- mise of Lois had been correct, yet an other was working hard to find an an- swer to her question. " Well I — I, " he stammered, contin- uing up the hill, " I was just curious. " Then feeling that that alone was not quite adequate, he appended : " I never thought possible such times as I ' ve had here at Lakeside. " And having said that and fearing it sounded just a little thoughtless he amended still further, saying: " But I ' ve found out different since. Perhaps it was inexperience. " Although he felt a peculiar satisfac- tion in his answer, the look she gave him and the suppressed smile it prompt- ed in her, troubled him. Somehow, he didn ' t quite know why, there seemed to be an implication of a deep significance in her way of understanding. An hour later Warren declared he had never before tasted of such a pure joy. There was an aroma of coffee still lingering about as they finished their luncheon and started through the can- yon. While the horizon was still flooded with red and orange streamers, the yel- low moon slowly forced its way up above the pines until the ravine was turned into undulating gold, closing an- other day of Moreland ' s furlough. V In the rear of the Billington home grew a majestic pepper tree. The pleas- ing warmth of the afternoon sun had drawn Lois into the hammock stretched under its drooping boughs. Moreland, confident in his conviction of the day previous, happened around casually as those happenings usually do. The lure of reading had long since lost its power. Approaching stealthily he was aware of a golden head gazing down at something in thoughtful study. More- land coughed slightly as a preliminary to his greeting. Lois started and hast- ily folded what she had been reading and laid it in her lap. " Won ' t you sit down, Mr. Lang- don? " She beckoned to a seat beside her in the hammock. Moreland assented. He realized a teasing emphasis on his assumed name. " Do you happen to know, " she ask- ed, toying with the letter in her lap, " a Mr. Warren Moreland? He was in your company overseas. " " Yes ' Barbara ' , " he answered. " I have come to know him very intimate- ly of late. " The two laughed. " Poor Babs! " continued Lois. " It was she who discovered your ad quite by accident. And we planned to an- swer. I was to write, using her name. " Perhaps an hour or two passed be- fore Moreland rose to go. It matters not. For it was the little bird in the tree above that chirped of the love and happiness reigning in Moreland ' s heart. And it was likewise that same little bird who sang of the happy future the two Avere planning beneath, for just that morning the armistice had been signed. Foch G. William de Koch. EGENDS tell us that at one end of a rainbow there lies a golden treasure, hidden by the blue narcissus and gold- en buttercups. Indeed it is a singular coincidence that just as the shadows were lengthening in the scattered rays of a drooping sun, a stray grey cloud travelled speedily over a little town in the Pyrenees, moistening gently the fertile valley of that ancient Basque Village. And just as the last stray drops of this grey heavenly intruder fell, a rainbow arch- ed the horizon. The farther end dip- ping, no doubt, into a foreign sea, the other end enveloped the little town of Tarbes, shining on the golden treasure that was to decide the fate of Democ- racy. So it was that in the picturesque southern slopes of the Pyrenees Ferdi- nand Foch was born. His parents were descendants of one of the oldest and most influential fami- lies in the Province of Valentinnee, where they lived for many years, later moving to Tarbes where Mon. Foch was elected chairman of the City Trus- tees. In this old home at Tarbes the future Marshal passed part of his in- fancy. In his boyhood years, he and his two younger brothers passed the vacation days at his Grandmother ' s Chauteau, and it was here that young Ferdinand first began to learn the game called War. For hours the future Generalissimo would play with the lit- tle wooden soldiers that his Grand- mother ' s gardener had made him, and while his two brothers would be out admiring the birds and flowers, Ferdi- nand, with his little head bent in deep childish thought and his keen eyes sparkling with a light of innocent en- thusiasm such as only the young pos- sess lay in boyish posture on the floor of his Grandmother ' s library, figuring out new positions and miniature prob- lems for his little army. Minutes fled into hours; his sturdy little hands nev- er seemed to tire of rolling wooden marbles to down one more of the en- emy. And at last, when eyes and stout limbs tired he would roll them all down, — the characteristic finish of childish diversion. Often the second brother would an- noy the soldier, begging him to come out and play or help him add to their collection of butterflies ; but Ferdinand was .stern in his likes and dislikes, often causing the argument to become in- tense, and it was only through the me- diation of the younger brother that but- 80 THE REDWOOD 81 terflies and wooden soldiers were not wounded severely. As dawn into day, youth blends into manhood, so quickly that one fails to realize it. " When those blissful vaca- tion days were over three brothers re- turned home to Tarbes to take up their studies for the new term. They fin- ished their early course at Tarbes, later matriculating at the Jesuit College, St. Michael de St. Etienne, one of the fin- est military schools in all France. Here Ferdinand was in his glory and though in his first years he was always subor- dinate to one of his older classmates his turn for commanding soon came. His sharp, distinct and at the same time pleasant voice, made it easy for his classmates to drill under him. His quick, energetic step and his boundless enthusiasm in all things military in- spired even the least interested and won their co-operation. As a student he was the same energetic youth, brusque indeed, but kind and thought- ful. His blond hair and square chin, his keen eyes always ready to look one squarely in the face, his head bowed, — a habit which nearly cost him his life, — were striking characteristics of the fu- ture hero of the Marne. One day while walking in the garden of the College he accidentally struck against one of his companions and the impact was so hard that both fell and were somewhat hurt. While in the Infirm- ary they became close friends. Some years later this brave lad fell in the war of 1871 and it was then that Foch, reading an account of his death, said : " A wonderful death. Some day it shall be avenged. " Little did young Foch realize that he was one day to be the judge who was to decide that inevitable case. For after the dark and gloomy days of 1871, France was never satisfied; the spirit of unrest and regret for losing the war to the Hun was never quieted and the day when France was to avenge herself was ever in the minds of the French people. In the year 1872 Foch was commis- sioned Lieutenant in Artillery. At twenty-six he was Captain, and from Captain he rapidly advanced to Colonel during which time he was made Profes- sor of Tactics at the Academy of War. This Po st he held with high distinction for five years. In 1908 Foch received the eagles of Brigadier General, re- turning to the Academy of War, this time to fill the important Post of Di- rector. And it was when he was named Director that an interesting argument took place between Foch and Premier Clemenceau. At dinner one evening at which the President, the Premier and Foch were present, Clemenceau, with- out a previous hint, said to Foch: " You have been named Director of the Aca- demy of War. " Foch, stunned for a moment hesitated to speak, and then he said: " Monsieur I am not a candi- date. " " That may be possible, " said the 82 THE REDWOOD Premier, " nevertheless you have been chosen Director. " Foch, still a bit scrupulous, replied: " I have a brother a Jesuit, you know. " " I don ' t care whether all the Jesu- its in the world were your brothers, it could not change my opinion of you. " And it is to him that the success of a great number of France ' s ablest Gen- erals and Officers, graduates of the Academy, is due. For Foch ' s methods of Military Science and Tactics were of his own type. Simplicity was the key- note of his success, and simplicity he instilled into his pupils. He worked out all his tactics with such clearness and precision that it was impossible to mis- understand him, and his arguments were so forcibly put that they likewise were impossible to deny. He seemed to endear himself to others while he mastered their will. He never changed his mind. His admirable grit, a pre- dominating trait in his character, was what won him the battle of the Marne. For on the battlefield in the early part of 1914, when Paris was awaiting a re- petition of ' 71, Premier Clemenceau was standing on a rampart, his nervous hand holding the field glasses. What he saw, he did not tell, but a moment later he was seen to drop his hand by his side and move his head unconsci- ously from side to side as if saying: " Impossible " . Foch, then Commander of the 9th Army, stood by his side. Not a motion of the Premier ' s slipped his keen eye and simultaneously, with the expression of Clemenceau, Foch ' s fin- gers were seen to clench. His thoughts were represented by but one word: " Never. " From Director of the Academy of " War Foch was made Commander of the 20th Corps in August, 1914. Three weeks later he commanded the 9th Army, on the Marne. Passed two months when he was made Chief Assist- ant to General Joffre in coordinating the Allied operations in the north. In 1915 he took command of the northern Army, and was finally chosen Com- mander-in-Chief of the Allied forces in 1918. The above may seem nothing but a continual shower of glory and good- fortune for the General. Still there was a time when Foch ' s prestige was disparaged by someone who doubted his ability, and he was removed from active duty. This happened on his re- turn from Italy where he had steadied the crumbling allied front on the Piave. But it was impossible for such a man, such a soldier, such a great Christian to remain long unnoticed, when Provi- dence was seeking a worthy champion of a cause that stood for truth and right, justice, charity and liberty. When the day of peace dawned and while the whole world of Democracy rang out in cheers of triumph, the great man who had turned seeming defeat into undreamed of victory, was found in a quiet church, humbly giving God the glory, and absolutely declining to attribute it to himself. The secret THE REDWOOD 83 source where the grey man of Christ obtained his strength and almost magical power was at last dis- closed. When the great battles oi ' the Marne, and Ypres, and Verdun, and Piave, and finally the tremendous tri- umph in the second battle of the Marne in 1918, were being fought, the great Marshal never allowed the stress of battle to disturb him. When at times the outlook was grim, the Generalissi- mo with confidence unshaken in Him who had given the power to do the right, would find his way to some ob- scure chapel to implore God that the scales of battle, wavering between the freedom of the world and the power of the Hun would soon lean to the side of justice, of humanity, and of His own divine honor. ©Ij? (Eomfnrtfr HE mists into tke valley creep From snowy Kills enwrapped in sleep, While broods a strange, deceptive calm Along tke gently -flowing Somme. Upon its wooded banks of green, A weary Soldier-Priest is seen, Treading Kis way through sodden grass That half conceals the shell-torn pass. The battle field before him lies ; Above the guns he hears the cries Of mangled victims strewn afar By the avenging hand of War. From heaps of the unnumbered slain There comes a soft, faint sigh of pain ; Then while a stricken heart beats slow, Christ ' s saving words are whispered low. Beside the fallen form he prays, And gently as a mother, lays The cold hands on the lifeless breast Forever there in peace to rest. Oh ! God of Mercy, by Thy Son Have mercy on this faithful one ! I see the crimson life-blood start In torrents from his own pierced heart ! FRANK MALONEY 84 Tfa- RtdlCKX L PUBLISHED BY THE STUDENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SANTA CLARA The object of The Redwood is to gather together what is best in the literary work of the students, to record University doings and to knit closely the hearts of the boys of the present and the past EDITORIAL STAFF EDITOR-IN-CHIEF BUSINESS MANAGER CIRCULATION MANAGER EXCHANGES ALUMNI UNIVERSITY NOTES ATHLETICS EDITOR ASSOCIATE EDITORS HENRY C VEIT - HARRY J. GASSETT FRANCIS M. CONNEALLY BEN. SHUTZ - JAMES B O ' CONNOR NORBERT KORTE DEMETRIO DIAZ EXECUTIVE BOARD BUSINESS MANAGER EDITOR OF REVIEWS Address all communicat ions to THE REDWOOD, University of Santa Clara, Santa Clara, California. Terms of subscription, tl.SO a year; single copies 25 cents EDITORIAL Concerning Ourselves We are all agreed that the six months prior to the dawning of the New Year, were abnormal. They were times pulsating with but one idea : that namely, of bringing speedy, sub- stantial and permanent victory to the Allied cause. Anything apart from that object seemed non-essential and was dealt with accordingly. Out of such a desire on the part of the Government, grew the S. A. T. C. movement. Literary endeavors had ne- cessarily to be held in the background. For wars are fought and won by strik- ing power at the front and not by mas- terful flights of fancy or smoothly run- ning pieces of prose. Here is one in- stance where the sword is mightier than the pen. Last semester, unfortunately, but one issue of the Redwood appeared. Per- 85 86 THE REDWOOD haps " fortunately " is the better word, in view of the times and conditions. But, fellows, that was last year. And here we are beginning another lap in life ' s journey. Undoubtedly, everyone of you made good resolutions on New Year ' s Day. We might at this junc- ture urge all to include in their long list of resolutions one of helping the Redwood and incidentally themselves. It is the purpose of the Redwood to aid the students ' literary improvement and to chronicle the news of the Uni- versity. Now what should be the stu- dent ' s purpose in writing? To im- prove himself along literary lines, or to chronicle more news might suffice for an answer, yet the personal glory and fame to be thereby gained is an ad- ditional motive not entirely to be dis- regarded. If you desire praise for yourself as well as a College publica- tion that will satisfy the intentions for which the Redwood was established, get in and work. Everything you do, do well. Anything less would be an insult both to yourself and to the Red- wood. Take an inventory of your abilities. Remember your own limitations. Be sure you have all the materials neces- sary unto your work. And then make that poem or story or essay the counter- part of what you yourself feel in your heart. For by knowing well what is within you, you can best reach the hearts of others. Fellow students, the gospel we preach is WORK. It strikes us queer, now " Pep " that blessed peace is once more with us, that the old traditional " pep ' which has featured Santa Clara ' s past, seems to be waning. Perhaps we are mistaken or again have not given ample time for all to catch their breath after the rigid discipline of the late regime. The thing that shall remain indelible in our memory in after life will be the bubbling recollection of absorbing inci- dents of boarding school and college days. The mountain league, for in- stance. Although the games frequent- ly ended in near riots, due to a mo- ment ' s rashness on the part of the " umps " , still the thing characteristic of them was " pep " . Then those stu- dent-body meetings, where opinions as to the running of things were as num- erous and variegated as there were stu- dents represented. Perhaps arguments would take a personal turn where one well-meaning fellow challenged the veracity of his opponent, yet, withal it was " pep " that made those gatherings something to look forward to with keen anticipation. In due measure, work up class spirit and class pride. Strive to make your organization, legitimately, the peer of all others. Talk it, boost it, for " pep " is contagious. It is for you individually to bring back a goodly share of the old enthu- siasm, and to make this semester one we can all look back upon with un- mixed joy for having gone through it. THE REDWOOD 87 Who Won the War? To the victor should go the spoils, the old say- ing has it. But in this instance who is the victor? To whom are we to cede the laurels, as being the indisputable force to down Militarism? Great Britain patrolled the seas with her mighty navy. She downed the submarine menace when the undersea boats seemed about to sweep allied com- merce incontinently from every water. She gave five millions of the flower of her manhood to the cause. Her ships covered every sea ; her men fought on every front. In Egypt, in the Holy Land, at the Dardanelles, on the West- ern front, the British Tommy did giant deeds. English women toiled in shop and field that more men might be free to go. Is hers to be the credit ? France stemmed the tide of grey-clad Huns at the Marne. Her patriots came from the four corners of the globe to the support of their bleeding Father- land. Her priests shouldered the gun to defend alike the spiritual and the material interests at stake. Her woman folk kept the wheels of industry hum- ming day and night, that her armies might have ammunition, that their sons or brothers or husbands or fathers might be clothed and fed. Her doctors and her nurses and sisters were always near at hand to care for the fallen, the maimed and the wounded. Could hers be the honors of Victory? Then there is poor little mutilated Belgium, who checked the invading hordes to permit her allies more time for preparing to meet the onslaught. And Russia, before anarchy disembow- eled her, with her millions of men, her unlimited resources. Could these two have been pre-eminent causes in the later effect ? Italy, consistently beating down the Austrians from their mountain de- fense, surely and determinedly crumb- ling the spirit as well as the lines of her foes. And last, but not least important, our own United States. Our men, our ships, our money, our everything un- doubtedly turned the balance in favor of Democracy. On land, on sea and in air, the undaunted American spirit rose to the hour, to enhance the morale of our friends, and to subscribe " finis " to the greatest of military achieve- ments. Is the credit due to us? There is but one answer. It was not Great Britain, not France, nor Italy, nor Belgium, nor the United States. It was the entire group of nations united against the common menace, each con- tributing an indispensable part. To discuss the question as to where most credit is due, is like trying to solve the old problem proposed by Thomas Car- lyle — if I mistake not — " which is the most important leg on a three-legged stool? " Prohibition Silence is golden, yet frequently portends as- sent. Let us however, at the outset proclaim our strict neu- trality, for personally we are open to 88 THE REDWOOD conviction one way or the other. Sure- ly pure water has its advantages as the alcoholic beverages have theirs. We have seen water in the sparkling tears of infants, we have seen it flood- ing the eyes of adolescence, and trick- ling down the furrowed cheeks of age. We have seen it, in the dew of early morning on the tinted petals of beauti- ful roses, sparkling and glistening in the sun as it rose in glory over the east- ern hills. Water has moistened the parched throats of the wounded, given hope to wayfarers stumbling over hot burning desert sands. It trickles through the mountain passes, purls about points of jutting rocks, rushes headlong over precipices, flows majest- ically through peopled vales down to " the surging billows of the main " . Water is truly one of the grandest gifts the Good God has given mortal man, but, worthy readers, as a drink — We believe it was Prohibition we started upon. Drink, even strong drink, is not wrong in itself, but be- comes wrong only when abused. Count- less articles used as food, though harm- less to the temperate are injurious if gluttony be practised by the partakers. So too with drink. Moderate indulgence can work no harm. We read in the Good Book, " take a little wine for thy stomach ' s sake. " Unfortunately the term " little " has too often been given a free and broad interpretation. Some months ago the question of state-wide prohibition was submitted to a popular vote in California. That it was defeated showed clearly the will of the people to retain the present status of the question. Yet at the same time there were elected to the State Legislature, candidates with bone-dry platforms, and their election gave the " drys " a majority, with the result that the Federal bone-dry amendment was passed by a large vote. There seems a strange inconsistency somewhere. llniupraitg Notts During the past semester, that period marked with trials and sufferings hitherto unknown to the world, bring- ing however the consolation that these sacrifices were not in vain, — Student Body affairs have been terribly neglect- ed. The mind of every student was oc- cupied with things of far greater im- portance, things that meant the very salvation of his country and of the world. His physical energies were giv- en up to the grim preparation for war. He had not the time, or better yet, he had not the ambition, once his daily work was done, to devote himself to the " frivolous things " of the campus. How- ever we do not want to complain, as it was his duty to himself and to hu- manity. But now " the dogs of war " have once again been securely leashed and the world is living in the blissful but tedious period of reconstruction, tend- ing slowly but surely towards unend- ing peace and happiness. And so here at Santa Clara, having grasped this spirit with the fullness of its meaning, we too, are reviving the old life. " With the Student Body again holding its re- nowned meetings, the political prob- lems of which are equal to those of any national convention (at least in the minds of the students) and with the " Senate " , that August body of the in- stitution again bidding for public favor in its stately dignified manner, things are beginning to look a little more nat- ural. Even the " House " and J. D. S. have come forth from a period of inac- tion and avow with a vim and a veng- eance that they are going to accom- plish great things within their secret chambers. With the return of the old " cords " and Block Sweaters, with the sound of the bugle a thing of the past, and the ring of the ancient bell to sum- mon us early in the morning and late at night, and the return of a thousand and one little details of daily life that have always been Santa Clara ' s, we are gradually brought to the realization that the things of the far past were quite bearable after all. Yes ! We did enjoy the reign of the S. A. T. C, but even with all its pleas- ures, especially the Saturday night " liberties " , we were more than pleased at the return of the old regime. Not that the making of our beds bothered us, still we would rather let the 89 90 THE REDWOOD " friendly Wop " do it. And not that the morning Reveille was a hardship, still it is much more pleasant to ' ' crawl out ' ' and dress at one ' s leisure. As for cleaning rifles for a Saturday ' s inspec- tion, we would rather tape a bat or roll the diamond for an afternoon ' s enjoy- ment. And now that the big squabble is over " Over There " , and the S. A. T. C. has fulfilled its purpose and ' ' ev- erything " — but you have heard these tiresome matters so often that we are going to tell you something else, some- thing more detailed, of our meager ac- tivities, and although it will not be very exhaustive still we hope it will be sat- isfying. Senate On Tuesday evening, January 21, 1919, Pr. Nicholas Bell, S. J., the newly appointed President of the Phi- lalethic Senate, called to order the first regular meeting of that dignified body. Although the roll call found the per- sonnel quite depleted, still those pres- ent proceeded with much courage to the business set before them. The first business of course, was the election of officers, the following being honored: Norbert Korte, vice president; Frank Camarillo, recording secretary; Deme- trio Diaz, treasurer; and Brian Gagan, corresponding secretary. The " Senators " then proceeded to fill vacancies by conferring the great privilege of membership upon James O ' Connor, Francis Conneally, Eugene Jaeger, Thomas Moroney, Henry Veit, Thomas Whelan, and Benjamin McCoy. This being quickly accomplished and the question for the next debate being chosen, the Senators adjourned after a lengthy discussion as to the manner and means of initiating the new mem- bers. Believe me, it is going to be some initiation too ! House Not to be outdone by the " Senate " , the House of Philhistorians got together on the very same night. We do not maintain that they were acting in a spirit of rivalry, but — Oh; It does not matter. Anyway in the usual confusion and wild waving oi arms and babbling of tongues that ac- companied their political efforts they too elected new members into their midst. The following were honored : Thomas Crowe, Lawrence Chargin, Raymond Rudolph, William Gaspar de Koch, Alfredo Hippo Ferrario, Bert Donlon, Frank Lemos, Mervyn Kaney, Louis Buty, Tallentyne Sturdivant and Fran- cis O ' Shea. With a nucleus of such men to work upon we hope that Father Flynn and his House will indeed have a most successful semester. The J. D. S., with Fr. J. D. S. Regan, S. J., in the chair, held its semi-an nual election January 21, at which the following were elected to office: Vice THE REDWOOD 91 president, George Ryan; secretary, James ' Sullivan ; treasurer, John O ' Brien; sergeant-at-arms, AValter Volkmar. The following were admitted into the society: Burke Curley, James Toner, James Krober, Joseph Farrell. After the regular business the debate of the evening was held. The question read, " Resolved, that the R. O. T. C. should be continued at the University. " Messrs. George Ryan and John Hiller spoke for the affirmative ; Messrs. John Lipman and Paul Donlon argued for the negative. The decision was in favor of the affirmative. The next debate reads: " Resolved, that the railroads of the country should be under the control of the Federal Government. " Messrs. Burnett and O ' Brien, negative; Messrs. ' Sullivan and Smith, affirmative. Student Body n p orde ; J hat th f Meeting . Peace Table ' Wlth forensic orations by the Frenchman and wild declarations by the Italian might not have anything on us, a meeting of the Associated Students was called Thursday, January six- teenth. The purpose of the meeting be- ing merely to clear up many of the " old business " questions which had been " on the table " during the reign of the S. A. T. C., and get the affairs of the Student Body well under way, one can readily understand why it re- sembled (in a miniature way) the con- fusion of the Peace Conference. However the business was finally ac- complished and as for instilling some of the old time " Pep " into the Student Body, the meeting was one of the most successful we have ever had. At this meeting the following were awarded the varsity sweater with the " Block " S. C. for having participated in the ' ' Big Game ' ' with Stanford. Ka- ney, Whelan, Pipes, Judge, Bedolla, Volkmar, Larrey, Ferrario, Kerckhoff. " Dumpie " Diaz and " Moose " Korte were awarded their Four Star sweat- ers, for having participated in the " big game " against Stanford in four consecutive years. Retreat Retreat ! In Military affairs it means nothing to the American boy, but in Santa Clara ' s school life it has a world of meaning. The pious look upon it as a God-send, a time so precious that it can not be appreciated, a time when we learn the deep lessons of our Eter- nal Salvation. The more frivolous look upon it somewhat as a term of impris- onment, when they are spirited away from the " little things " of this world. The lazy look upon it with greed, a time when their desires for rest are fully satisfied. But all of us know it as a time when we are taken away from the things of the world, when our stu- dies, our pastimes are forgotten, and when we ought to, if we don ' t, devote ourselves to prayer and meditation. And so on Sunday evening, January the twenty-sixth, when we went into 92 THE REDWOOD the Chapel to listen to the opening ad- dress of the Annual Retreat given by Fr. Patrick J. O ' Reilly, S. J., our col- lective mind was confused by such a myriad of conceptions. But we came out transformed, with one thought up- permost and that was to make a good retreat. That we kept our resolutions, I cannot say, but from all appearances everyone tried hard, at least, they tell us so. The Mont- gomery Case Class Elections , The Class of 1919 se- lected the following : president, Brian Gagan ; treasurer, D. Diaz ; sergeant-at-arms, N. Korte. 1920 chose J. B. O ' Connor, president; H. C. Veit, treasurer; B. McCoy, secre- tary ; and F. M. Conneally, sergeant-at- arms. 1921: president, Martin Walsh; vice president, John Murphy; secretary, Stewart Manson; treasurer, Armand White ; sergeant-at-arms, Kenneth Berg; reporter, E. Z. Coman. The Sophs held a spirited meeting on January 25th, at which time they de- cided to have their class-day in the form of a picnic to Monterey, some time after Retreat. Though the class is small in number this semester, lack- ing the familiar faces of " Kerk " , Bill Desmond, and many others, still the same old spirit is present and a suc- cessful year is predicted by all. Did the late Prof. J. J. Montgomery father the aeroplane? A question of interest here at Santa Clara and one which is of startling significance in re- gard to the United States Government. If one were to step into the historic vineyard of the University, he would be confronted with an unusual picture. Over in one corner of the " back yard " alongside of an old wind-shaken build- ing, the building which has housed for the past decade, Montgomery ' s unde- veloped secrets of the air, he would see a few tables, a few chairs, a few law- yers, and the two " gliders " upon which the big problem hinges. This constitutes the improvised courtroom for the purpose of taking depositions, to prove the work of the late Prof. Montgomery in connection with the aeroplane and his flights conducted from old Santa Clara College. The plaintiffs, the heirs of Montgom- ery, are suing the Wright-Martin Air- craft Corporation, and because of its connection with this company, the Fed- eral Government, for certain alleged infringements upon Montgomery ' s pat- ent and royalties in regard to the aero- plane. Many notable witnesses have already testified, including Messrs. Wilkie, Vierra and Lougheed, all of whom are recognized experts on aero- nautics and all of whom were closely connected with Prof. Montgomery when he was constructing his two planes, the " Santa Clara " and the " California " from 1905 to 1911. The THE REDWOOD 93 value of such testimony cannot be over- estimated. The attorney representing the Mont- gomery heirs, is H. S. Knight of Chi- cago, for the Wright Brothers is M. Bomb, for the War Department is Lieut. J. A. Stone, and for the Federal Government, W. D. Eakin. — Norbert J. Korte. One of the most welcome vis- ' 87 itors to the old College was Otto D. Stoesser of Watson- ville. Mr. Stoesser has been appointed by Governor Stephens to fill a vacancy on the Redwood Park Commission. Captain Fred C. Gerlach, M. ' 89 C, has returned to private practice, having received his discharge from the Army a short time ago. Dr. Gerlach saved the day here when practically the whole school was down and out with the Flu. Thanks to his skill and devotedness, the boys pulled through much better than was expected. We take this occasion to ex- tend him our sincere thanks and good wishes for a prosperous year. A welcome little ripple of ' 95 news has lately found its way to the Redwood Sanctum. It concerns the grand success Eugene Day, a Santa Clara student of the mid- dle nineties is enjoying in the mining industry. Gene and his two brothers are joint owners of the famous lead mine, Hercules, in the Coeur dAlene district of Northern Idaho. A large smelter at Northport, Wash., is includ- ed in their holdings. Tom Jenkins, another S. C. man is guiding the destinies of the Tamarack mine, one of the numerous Day proper- ties. The Redwood wishes Messrs. Day and Jenkins continued success in their field of business. ' 96 It was Fr. P. F. Galtes, S. J., who sent this good word about his old college pals. Fr. Galtes, for many years on the staff of his Alma Mater, is now teaching Chemistry to the young Jesuits at Mt. St. Michael ' s, Hillyard, Wash. " Charlie " Graham is bring- ' 98 ing his San Francisco Ball Club to Santa Clara to train for the coming baseball season, and we expect to see him often around the 94 THE REDWOOD 95 campus. Mr. Graham has been very- successful in business, but has always kept up his interest in baseball. As a student here, he did the Varsity catch- ing for four seasons, and after gradua- tion acted as coach, leading the great nines of those days to many a victory. ' 01 Carl Fitzgerald was on the grounds recently, testifying in the Montgomery suit against the Wright Brothers. Carl, who was a student at the University during the important years of Montgomery ' s experimenting with the mastery of the air, showed an intimate knowledge of the facts involved in the suit. The name of James F. Two- ' 07 hy was signed to a scholarly paper appearing in the Xmas edition of a Northwest journal. " Jim ' s " contributions, poetry and prose, to the Redwood while he was at college, were the distinctive feature of our magazine during those years, and we are pleased to note that his pen has not lost its cun- ning. ' 08 The Redwood takes great pleasure in announcing that " Bob " Twohy is on the way to complete recovery from his illness of the past few months. His recovery was doubtless made more certain by the re- cent arrival of a bouncing baby girl, to bless his home. Our congratulations and best wishes to the little household, in- cluding the young lady whose name has not yet reached us. ' 12 Chauncey Tramutola, Assist- ant U. S. District Attorney, in partnership with his old college mate, Roy Bronson, has opened a law office in the Foxcroft Building, San Francisco. We are confident in predicting a thriving business for the firm of Tramutola and Bronson, for in addition to proved ability, its leading members have plenty of the old fight- ing spirit developed on debating and athletic teams at Santa Clara. Nelson Mullen has gone the ' 16 way of all flesh and taken unto himself a helpmate in the person of Miss Edith Stapleton. Nelson, being an adept in Law, should experience no difficulty in the matri- monial field. Congratulations ! Lieutenant Edward McLaughlin, not to be left out of the running, likewise hearkened to the call of Dan Cupid. The happy bride is the former Miss Edith Young. The marriage ceremony was performed by His Grace Arch- bishop Hanna in St. Edward ' s Church, San Francisco, on the 22nd of last month. We join their host of friends in wishing Mr. and Mrs. McLaughlin many years of wedded happiness. " Gentleman Jim " Fitzpatrick is still across the Pond, with the Army of Oc- cupation. Trust Jim to make the 96 THE REDWOOD Heinies shinny on the far side of the Rhine ! " Nick " Martin recently visited us while on his way home to San Diego. Nick secured his discharge from the Army at a Central Officers ' Training School in the East. Floyd Bothwell has likewise been mustered out of th e service and has returned from Camp Pike, Arkansas, to his home in Los Angeles. ' 17 Tom Hickey has returned to college to complete his Law course. Tom was called in the first draft, later winning his gold bars at Camp Fremont. The fans are hoping that fifteen months of Army ra- tions have not spoiled that trusty left wing of his. A letter from Lieut. Dan ' 18 Ryan informs us of a little re- union of Santa Clarans which took place in France ; Dan, Lieut. Nie- las, Ex.- ' 20; Sgt. W. Muldoon, ' 18; Sgt. Eddie Amaral, ' 16, and Frank Boone, ' 14, being members of the party. One can well imagine how they must have enthused while punching the bag about the good old days. Lieut. Charles Murphy is at Camp Lee, Virginia, awaiting his discharge from the service. Ex ' 19 Frank O ' Neil has returned to civilian life. " Nux " paid us a visit a short while back, and had much that was of interest to tell about his experiences as a Naval Aviator down among the everglades of Florida. Jimmy Winston, also affiliated with the Naval Aviation Section, was anoth- er welcome visitor to the campus. Ensign " Clabby " Howard Ex ' 19 dropped in for a visit during the Holidays. Craig is at present in Seattle, awaiting orders. Ensign Roy Fowler also managed to make time to visit the old scenes be- fore departing for home. First Lieut. Albion Howell, Ex ' 20 after doing his bit, has taken up the study of Medicine at Stanford. " Fat " received his commis- sion in the Fourth Training Camp at Fremont, and in no time was promoted to a First Lieutenancy. He sure must have had the " makins " , but we ' re pulling for him not to " make " any Stanford teams that play us. Alvin McCarthy was numbered among the many whose services Uncle Sam can dispense with for the time be- ing. Al has decided to lower the H. C. of L. by turning rancher. He is taking a course at Davis Farm. Ex ' 21 Lieut. Leo Fox, returning from Pullman College, Wash., where he was an instructor in THE REDWOOD 97 the days of the S. A. T. C. dropped off for a short stay on his way to Santa Barbara. Louie Bergna is still a " gob " , thriv- ing on the salt breezes over on Goat Island. Tom Conneally is out of the service and at his home in Los Angeles. He was a member of the Aero Corps of the Navy, making sixteen trips through the war zone as convoy. Just before his discharge, Tom was active in scout duty off New York Harbor. Persistent ru- mor has it that Tom is engaged — for the present in the automobile business, and for the future, in a more delicate and binding undertaking. The Red- wood sends greetings and best wishes. " We certainly were glad to welcome one " Dope " Moran, Lieutenant of In- fantry and important cog in this man ' s Army. Frank has had all kinds of suc- cess in the service and likes it so well that he contemplates taking the Exes for West Point. Go to it, " Dope " , we are all for you ! Tames B. O ' Connor. IN MEMORIAM. It is our sad duty to record the deaths of several of our Alumni. Rev. Vincent Testa, S. J., passed away on December 27th, at the age of seventy- eight. He had served for many years as Treasurer of the University and is well remembered by gen erations of former students. Of late years he had resided in San Francisco, where he numbered his friends by the thousand. The names of Lieutenant Bradley Sargent Jr., Sergt, M. E. Reams and Leo McAuley appeared in the official lists among those slain during the closing days of the war. Lieut. Sargent, who received the D. S. C. for gallantry in action, was graduated with the class of 1913. He was the son of another hon- ored alumnus of Santa Clara, Judge B. V. Sargent of San Francisco. " Babe " Reams was one of the most prominent students here some ten years ago, and Leo McAuley ' s passing will be regret- ted particularly by his college mates of that same period. Robert Flood, a graduate of the 1913 class, was called out of this life shortly after the dawn of the New Year, his death following a lingering illness of many months. Bob will always be re- membered for his kindly, genial ways and for the spirit of loyalty that char- acterized him. While at Santa Clara he was an actor of no mean ability, and athletic annals record his prowess in various lines of sport. Beneath a care- free exterior, beat a heart with the no- blest of impulses and the sincere faith of a child. Bob ' s untimely passing, al- though not unforeseen, proved a shock to a large circle of friends. Numbered among the latest victims of the Flu was Paul Dolen. He was a member of last year ' s class and died at his home in San Jose a few days ago. 98 THE REDWOOD An earnest worker and pleasing com- panion, Paul had endeared himself to classmates and teachers alike by his gentle yet manly character. Word has just come of the death of Hon. Joseph H. Beretta ' 96, a promi- nent member of the San Francisco Bar, and Law Professor at St. Ignatius Uni- versity. The Redwood, on behalf of the stu- dents, begs to extend condolences to the grieving relatives and friends of these dear departed. May they rest in peace. — H. C. V. It is back once more into the civili- ans, from khaki to mufti, and we enjoy the change. From the scanty number of Exchanges that strayed here and there over our desk — in contrast to the way our table was heretofore littered — we were inclined to believe the " War had effaced this type of literature. With sleeves uprolled and an eager grasp on our quill, we had no need of plunging boldly " in medias res " , as would the ' Change man of a year or more ago. Circumstances had made impossible the pyramid of magazines that might have confronted us and thus frustrated that conventional method the Exchange editor has of extracting from the pyramid ' s sub-center some glittering pearl or other rare jewel. Yet withal it pleased us to see that a few of our friends had not abandoned their ships even in these troublesome times. It was the cover of the Young Eagle that first attracted our eye. Its simplicity and neatness of design gave promise of much interesting content The Young Eagle within. Our surmise was not unwar- ranted. " At Twenty One " is a story whose words are " little silvery pebbles teasing thoughtful pools into laughing circles " . Rather improbable in plot, it is nevertheless convincingly told. The style is easy and natural. " In the Light of History " and " The Ghost of Hamlet " are interesting and cleverly written. The sweet jangling of little verses here and there, with an easy swing and lightsome touch, makes us regret to lay the book aside. Creighton Chronicle A drab-colored little book, the Chronicle seems too aloof. It maintains a sort of dignified indiffer- ence while the ink on the point of our quill is drying for want of opportunity to censure or to praise. The " Sheaf of War Letters " , though of an extremely personal nature, makes interesting reading. But couldn ' t you give us a little poetry now and then? It would increase the genuine pleasure we al- ways find in perusing you. 99 100 THE REDWOOD The Villa Marion The December issue, a slender little volume, crept into our office from ' way back East, somewhere in the Keystone State. Like other periodicals put out by students under the supervi- sion of the good Sisters, it is replete with interesting and suggestive little bits of verse, intermingled with essays and stories. It has tone, variety and wealth of literary subject. Who would not enjoy: When the shadows sprinkle the sunlight And evening succeedeth the day, Child-hearts will sail into slum- ber — Slumberland far — far — away. And to quote once more : Queen of the Angels, Star of the Morn, Cause of our Joy, Immaculate born, Wherever, however my hero may be, Bless him, caress him, Thou Star of the Sea. Our slight difference of opinion comes in " Woman versus Lady " . In the definition of just what the word Lady stands for, we find: " It does not bespeak nobility, virtue and modesty, but simply the pleasurable pursuits of the idle and useless female. " We pre- fer to think it bespeaks the first group of qualities, bu t we will not insist. The connotation of words is not always ab- solute, as we learn from the case of the lad who, when called a little gentle- man, thought the circumstance de- manded a battle. If we wished to be provokingly ju- venile, we might add: Thou art but young and thou hast much to learn And many things to hear and under- stand. A few pages further on, we found a discussion on our old friend the Flu, " the dread disease that has brought so many all over the civilized world to an early grave " . Light little sketches like " The Goddess of Dreams " , " The Town Doctor " , " From a Senior ' s Di- ary " , add much to the attractiveness of this little volume. Purple and Gold The Christmas number of this welcome visitor gave us a momentary disappointment in the fact that it con- tained nothing about Christmas — not so much as a bit of verse breathing the Yuletide spirit. " The Whirlwind of the Leaves " ap- pealed to us very much. We liked the lilt of the lines : " Now the branches, dead and sighing Whisper softly in the nightime When among them blow the breezes Once so warm, now cold and blight- ing; And the beauty and the color Of the leaves are gone forever. In the snowdrifts soft embraces Lie the hosts of nature sleeping. " THE REDWOOD 101 We are in accord with your editorial on " Universal Military Training, " es pecially in the idea of the system be- ing " sufficiently elastic to provide for personal inclinations and vocations. " One does not care to be tied down to that for which he has no liking. Your Athletic Department is well developed and good. The Spring hillian Comes now for recogni- tion one by no means a stranger, The Spring- hillian. It throbs with the Yuletide spirit from the very beginning, from its pretty and suggestive frontispiece to the end. From its first number, " A Christmas Vigil " to its last, " Ex- changes " we were loathe to pause, ex- cept, for the mere lighting of a cigar- ette, which we left smouldering throughout its perusal. " The Christmas Vigil " is not quite so good as its length and position as- sume it to be. We liked far more, the verses of : " Thou Art Beyond " . " Her- ald of Peace " is also worthy of men- tion, though a little vague. It might be, however, that the fault lies in the reader and not in the lines. Your short stories are quite above the average of most undergraduate lit- erature. However, " Yuletide Stars " borders on the extreme. Listen to this : " ' Bam! Ping! Bang! ' went the report of a revolver. " Your other contributions are quite up to your usual high standard. " Told at Mess " , a story of East India, is char- acteristically Springhillian — well writ- ten, in an easy, pleasing style, and of choice diction. Seldom have we come across a more splendid piece of work, especially in college magazines, than is to be found in " The Poet of the Ukraine " . A com- plete knowledge of the subject, coupled with a fine understanding of the art of presenting materials, put this article far above the ordinary. We shall look forward to the next time you visit us with the same interest and pleasure that accompanied your last. We acknowledge with thanks the re- ceipt of the following: De Paul Miner- val, Holy Cross Purple, The Stylus, Canisius Monthly, Marquette Journal, Creighton Chronicle, Villa Marian, The Young Eagle, The Columbiad. — Ben Shutz. RUGBY. Taken all in all, our 1918 Football Season was a most successful one. " With only four veterans registered, Captain Korte developed a team worthy of its name. Aggressiveness and fighting-spirit were the prominent reasons for its victories, though, per- haps even more important still were the harmony and friendliness that marked the campaign. On account of the very few teams playing the English game, three contests were arranged with Stanford, the first two serving as try-outs for the Big Game which was played at Ewing Field. Both prelimin- aries were won by Santa Clara — 8 to 3, and 14 to 3. S. C. 8. Stanford 5. The Championship Game was played in San Francisco on the 7th of Decem- ber, and was for the benefit of the United War " Work Community Service. Both teams were on the field at 3 :15, eagerly and anxiously waiting for the referee ' s whistle to start hostilities. In a few seconds, a real battle for the Rugby title of the Pacific Coast was in full swing. The rainfall of that morn- ing had been heavy enough to make the field soft and soggy. A " forward game " was the result. But as things progressed, Santa Clara ' s fast back- field would not be denied, and they went through some beautiful passing rushes, which created great excitement among the rooters. The first fifteen minutes of play saw Santa Clara ' s fighting forwards press- ing hard on Stanford ' s goal-line. A number of scrums and line-outs took place before our pack could break through the enemy ' s defense. Finally, Kerckhoff passed to Korte who man- aged to swerve and wiggle through for a touch-down. Larrey converted, and Santa Clara was ahead, 5 to 0. The re- 102 THE REDWOOD 103 mainder of the half brought out a dis- play of great Rugby by both teams, the ball traveling with impartiality from one end of the field to the other. A few minutes before Referee Flanagan ' s whistle signaled the end of the first half, our backs were given an oppor- tunity, and the prettiest passing rush of the day followed. From a line-out on our own thirty-five yard line, Noll passed to Korte, who, after sprinting fifteen yards, passed to Diaz, who in turn advanced ten yards and then sent the ball out to Marty Judge at wing. Each pass was perfectly timed and lightning fast. Marty then tore off forty yards to a touch-down, with three Stanford men close at his heels. From a difficult angle, Larrey failed to con- vert and the first half ended with S. C. leading, 8 to 0. The second half began with Stanford making a desperate effort to score ; but they were helpless before the dead- ly tackling of the Missionites. The game progressed, with no great advant- age for either side until a scrum was formed on our five-yard line and Stan- ford took a brace and scored when Sheldon, their first-five, picked up the ball from a loose ruck and plunged over the line. The try was converted and the score read 8 to 5 in our favor. For the rest of the game, Stanford was on the defensive, and it was only the slippery condition of the field that pre- vented Santa Clara from further scor- ing. Among the forwards, the stars were Capt. Korte, Noll and Ferrario; while in the backfield, Larrey and Judge were always conspicuous. The line-up : front rank, Ferrario, O ' Con nell, Worden; breakaway, Noll, Kerckhoff; lock, Korte , Hovely, Kaney ; wing forward, Whelan, Baratono ; half, Pipes ; first-five, Diaz ; second-five, Larrey ; center-three, Grace ; wings, Judge, Bedolla, Hogan ; full, Volkmar. From reports in the newspapers, we are glad to learn that the public was given reason to see that Rugby is the best form of football, for player and spectator alike. Let us all pull together that the good old game may be with us once again when the season returns. BASKET-BALL. Prospects are bright for a big year in basket-ball. Through the efforts of Fr. McElmeel, Moderator of Athletics, and the energy of Student-Manager Jim O ' Connor, the California-Nevada In- tercollegiate Basket-Bali League has been re-organized and keen competition is expected in this line of sport. At a recent meeting held in Oakland, repre- sentatives of the colleges forming the league, succeeded in drawing up a very satisfactory schedule of games. For the first time in seven years Santa Clara and St. Mary ' s College will meet in an intercollegiate contest. This game will undoubtedly create no little interest among students and partisans of the two institutions. Our diplomatic Manager, when interviewed by the Re- 104 THE REDWOOD porter of Athletics, announced the fol- lowing schedule of games: Jan. 25th — College of Pacific, at Pa- cific. Feb. 4th — Stanford, at Stanford. Feb. 11th — California, at Santa Clara. Feb. 15th — U. of Nevada, at Reno. Feb. 22nd— St. Mary ' s, at Santa Clara. March 11th — Davis Aggies, at Santa Clara. Up to date, the Varsity has played three practice games, two with the San Jose Y. M. C. A., and the other with the 44th Machine Gun team from the S. F. Presidio. We lost the first game to the " Y " by two points; but a week later had little trouble in defeating the same aggregation by a comfortable score, on their home court. The game with the soldiers was an easy victory for Santa Clara, the score being 64 to 24. The team is working under the direc- tion of N. Korte, and with such men as Whelan, Ferrario, Paul O ' Neil, Peras- sa, Guichon and Captain Diaz, to say nothing of Manelli who will soon be re- leased from the Navy, a quintet of championship calibre is assured. BASEBALL. Our 1919 Baseball Season should be a success for several reasons. First of all, is the fact that Joseph Ramon Aur- recoechea, better and more convenient- ly known as " Joe Sneeze " , is to be our coach. Old-timers need no introduction to Joe, as he will always be remembered as one of the very best Athletic Man- agers Santa Clara has ever had. Since his graduation, Joe has always kept in touch with the doings of his Alma Mater, being particularly interested in the athletic career of the University. The new coach is well versed in the ins and outs of the National Game, and will not have much difficulty in developing a winning team. Thanks to his tactful management, the San Francisco Seals have contracted to do their training this spring in our neighborhood ; they are to put up in San Jose, but will use the Varsity field and training quarters for their daily work-out. This will not only provide our men with some high- class competition, but will enable Sneeze to brush up on the baseball lore he may have allowed to slip since grad- uating. The following men are working for positions on the Varsity: Pitchers: " Big " Tom Hickey, Ken. Berg, Guichon and Jack O ' Neil. Catchers: Larrey and Fat Ferrario. For the other jobs: Clark, Paul O ' Neil, Chase, Brown, Neary, Perassa, O ' Connell, Judge, Becker, Korte, Con- neally, McSweeny, Bedolla and Ma- nelli. — D. Diaz. PREPS. The Preps have entered the basket- ball season with unlimited interest and enthusiasm. Every day finds some players homiding the ball on the court THE REDWOOD 105 in preparation for oncoming events. So far but a few games have been played with outsiders. From now on however, the schedule is well crowded with promising contests. Polytechnic High at San Francisco, offers its services on Saturday, January 25th. The individual players for the Preps are as follows : Chase and Falvey, for- wards ; A. " Walsh, center ; Neary and Mollen, guards. Pashburg is worrying around on crutches endeavoring to keep a badly twisted ankle off the ground. This gen- tleman leaves the forward position va- cant, a place difficult to fill at the present time. Chase has developed to great advantage at the front position, while Falvey, his running mate, is not far behind in the race. Neary and Mol- len are invaluable as guards, the lat- ter ' s " bullet pass " being something worth watching. Walsh is generally at home on the court, and finds something to do every second. On January 18th, the Prep team suc- cumbed before the football charges of " Mountain View Unlimited " . With Falvey and Pashburg out, our home boys contended in a fast, interesting struggle. Though the odds were against them, the Preps still managed to distinguish between out and out football and the so-called game of bas- ketball. The score at the end of the second half was 37 to 20, in favor of the visitors. Mountain View possesses a team superior in weight and altitude. Cameron attracted universal attention from the fact that he always played the ball and not his man. MIDGETS. The Midgets have turned out good and strong for the above-mentioned sport. Regan, ' Sullivan, Corbett, Volkmar and Pipes form an aggrega- tion sufficiently strong for all hostile purposes. Regan ' s and ' Sullivan ' s basket-shooting is one of the principal supports of the team, while the excel- lent guarding devices employed by Volkmar, O ' Brien and Pipes are cal- culated to mystify the most efficient opponent. Our youngest team is known as the Pygmies. These redoutable contestants invaded the precincts of Santa Clara High School in a mighty attempt to overthrow a team much superior in weight and longevity. The struggle was terrific. Like the brave Belgians, the Pygmies stood one solid, impene- trable force, and like the Belgians they were overwhelmed by superior organi- zation and sheer bulk. The official scorer demanded an adding machine, and the referee a new whistle, while the bleachers got up and waddled home- ward. The final score we do not at- tempt to calculate, but we are certain that deep down in the hearts of our Pygmies, the lurid fires of revenge are burning fiercely, awaiting only the mo- ment for the return game. Neary. 106 THE REDWOOD NEW BLEACHERS. Through the foresight of Father President, the foot-ball turf is to be finally surrounded by bleachers. It will mark the coming true of a dream that long since has been in the minds of ardent followers of Santa Clara in all her athletics. For years, ever since the Cardinal and the Red and White met in their annual big game of Rugby, we have visualized a modern football field, with tier upon tier of spectators tense in the interest, excited below on the carefully marked green. And now our dream is to merge into a reality. Recently, when the bids for the build- ings at Camp Fremont were opened, the University proved the highest of the nine bidders for the bleachers around the athletic field, offering $800 for the whole. As they now stand on the field, the seats will accomodate 8,000 people, but it is the purpose of Father Murphy to erect at the present time seating capacity for 4,000. At the conclusion of the 1917 season the old seating accomodations were torn down. It was the plan of Father Sullivan to have new ones built in their stead before the next season came around. But then the stress of war be- gan to tell and the project had to be abandoned, like numerous others, for more essential and bigger things. Father Murphy lost no time in the mat- ter, once the opportunity came. Palo Alto seemed, of the nine bidders, to be the most formidable contender, yet their bid fell far below that of the Uni- versity. No more the standing popu- lace at the football games. From the substantial bleachers of the baseball field, around the southern extremities of the football turf to Bob Coward ' s sheep corral, will rise the new bleach- ers. It will mark the beginning of a pros- perity in Santa Clara ' s athletic annals heretofore unrealized. It will fill a long felt want, for a suitable field in these parts to stage High School contests for championships, and Santa Clara invites all such. To Fr. Murphy the Redwood extends the thanks of the Student Body for the needed improvement he has brought to Santa Clara. — H. C. Veit. CONTENTS the Harbinger (Verse) THE LAST OF THE FIRST THE BRACELET A TRIBUTE - PRO PATRIA (Verse) INDEPENDENCE OF IRELAND THE NEOPHYTE The Haven (Verse) EDITORIAL UNIVERSITY NOTES ALUMNI EXCHANGES ATHLETICS IMAGINARY CORRESPONDENCE - Henry C. Veit Francis M. Conneally James R. Enright T. Mervyn Kaney - Henry C. Veit - Martin M. Murphy Henry C. Veit Harry J. Gassett Thomas E. Whelan 106 108 115 117 119 120 12.? 126 127 130 134 139 142 147 VARSITY BASKETBALL TEAM Entered Dec. 18, 1902. at Santa Clara, Cal., as second-class matter, under Act of Congress of March 3, 1879 VOL. XVIII SANTA CLARA, CAL., MARCH 1919 . NO. 3 QIlj? ifarbtttger LILTING song from tke trees above Beguiles this Keart of mine, As morning climbs tke dewy Kills Wkere clustering jewels sKine ; Tke day is young, tke year is young, And tke bird ' s gay message, clear : " Tke fair days, tke rare days, Tke mellow days are near ! " He sings of enckantment soon to be, My karbinger of Spring ; Wken tke dreaming eartk skall know rebirtk, And fledglings take to wing. " Tke rare days, tke fair days, Tke mellow days are near, And sunlit kours in golden bowers ! " Tkis is tke song I kear. HENRY C. VEIT The Last of the First Francis M. Conneally. HE welcoming portals of Santa Clara University swung wide to receive him, the son of her ear- — jjy_, liest years — truly the Y fi Last of the First. I met d J him in the garden during 18 a rambling stroll. He sat beneath the shade of a vine-covered ar- bor gazing reminiscently upon the Old Mission. No doubt the days of long ago were being conjured up in memory when I so rudely interrupted him. As I stood stupidly by, trying to phrase a suitable introduction by which to pave the way to lengthy con- versation, he turned from his reverie ; and then I felt such formality was un- necessary. For I saw in that congenial face a certain something which marks the loyal son of Alma Mater, and 1 knew full well that here was just " one of the boys " . " Hello there, young man — are you too viewing the beauties of the old gar- den? Or are you seeking refuge from some tedious class? " Now I was doubly certain that he was " one of them " , so I seated myself unceremoniously. " Sir, " I addressed him, " is it a fact that you are the oldest surviving stu- dent of the first class that was ever formed in Santa Clara? " " It is — but let us go out there, " — he pointed to a shady tree, — " and I ' ll tell you a story or two, for I know from your very look that you would not be bored — will you come? " I needed no coaxing, for my interest had been aroused ; I was eager for some " dope " on the boys of the beginning. So there in the college garden we chat- ted for several hours : Colonel W. H. Menton, of the Class of ' 51, and the lowly scribe, an aspirant of the year of grace 1920. " I came to California, " began the Colonel, as he flicked the ashes of his pipe, " when I was but two years old, having gotten interested in the affairs of this life in Chili. It was in 1845 that I took my first look at Santa Clara Val- ley and you may be sure it was then a very quiet place — wide areas of uncul- tivated land, roaming cattle, and a few Spaniards with their Indians. Oh, my boy, those were the days — days of tranquility — He stopped short — had he seen that half-concealed yawn! " But you do not want to hear me ramble along about the Valley — Ah, I know what you are thinking — what did 108 COLONEL W. H. MENTON " THE LAST OF THE FIRST " THE REDWOOD 109 the fellows do here in College in the young fifties? Was their base-ball team any good? or was the town as large then as it is at present? — But have pa- tience, comrade, I ' ll hurry to that. " I muttered a lame excuse, but he knew — " Well, why shouldn ' t he? — he " wenLhere, " didn ' t he? " I ' ll never forget the first time I saw the founder of this, California ' s Pioneer University, good Father Nobili. He was a fine man, the Lord have mer- cy on his soul. It was soon after our house had been completed, (which was, by the way, the first wooden structure between the Mission and Alviso), that I met Santa Clara ' s greatest man. " One afternoon I was playing with my brother, Hugh, and a neighbor ' s boy, in the grass which grew close by the house. While tumbling about I no- ticed a lone horseman coming through the meadow. As he drew closer I saw that his broad-brimmed black hat was much unlike the sombrero of the Span- ish cabelleros I had seen at the Mis- sion. My curiosity became aroused, and, like the small boy of all times, I moved closer to the house — determined to miss nothing. The rider drew up at the front door, for gates and fences were as yet to appear on the scene. My father was in and came to the door. With an expression of surprise he greeted the visitor: " ' Father Nobili — and how are you to-day — do come in ' — They entered the house and I moved just a bit closer to listen — the way a small boy always does. During the course of the con- versation which followed, Father No- bili mentioned that he was about to be- gin a school at the Mission and that he wanted to have both of the boys as his pupils. Of course, when I heard this I bounded away to spread the good news to my brother. We were going to school. Visions of happiness never be- fore experienced came before our youthful minds. So it was not long after that two pairs of varsity pants were made for us and off to school we went. " There in the little room attached to the Old Mission seven youths came by day to master the intricacies of the Alphabet. There were only seven, Car- los Forbes, Alexander Forbes, Jose Pie- nedo, Francisco Alviso, Albert Bas- comb, my brother and myself. Here we struggled to acquire the correct pro- nunciation of those simple sentences in our Primer. How that Castilian accent persisted in thwarting our mighty ef- forts! It was hard — and my earlier visions of happiness began to fade as the lessons increased in difficulty. " In the following year, 1851, when the first Legislature convened in Mon- terey, then the Capital of the state of California, the little school was incor- porated as a College. " To think that I should live to see these magnificent structures rise out of the dust of the old adobe walls — to see such advancement in science and learn- ing taught where I first struggled with my A, B, C ' s. 110 THE REDWOOD " My boy, " he placed his hand upon my shoulder in a " big-brotherly " fash- ion, " I envy you — education in my early years was a difficult thing to get. " We had to endure hardships and make sacrifices to attend our classes. But to-day, with the progress of years you have your future in your very hands — I hope that you realize your golden op- portunity. " True enough, — I did — or perhaps I thought I did — but, strange to say, I was not as attentive as I should have been, for I had begun to wonder just what kind of place this must have been in that far-off day. But I did not have to wait long be- fore all my unspoken questions were answered. " With most vivid description he de- picted the scenes of former days, and especially the " metropolis " of the Mission. " The entire town could be put in your foot-ball field and you would still have good farm land left. The pueblo, consisting of adobe build- ings — piles of mud — was situated in front of the present Administration Building. " The sky line was never astounding, nor were the structures extremely im- pressive — but, son, everything must have a beginning. Now, the principal families who held the reins of the local government in their hands were the Castros, Alvisos, Valindas, Arguellos and Berryessas. " I concurred for " peace sake " — but added : 1 ' Surely there must have been a fam- ily of Celtic origin; " for, naturally I thought that element all important for " starting things " . And, to my com- plete satisfaction he mentioned the name of a Murphy and an O ' Brien or two. " Now, the market place was an im- portant section of the town, being situ- ated in the Plaza. It was likewise the scene of many a bull-fight, and many a cock-fight, besides other Spanish games. But aside from the worldly contests held there, the good padres waged a war, — a spiritual battle, — and sought to save the soul of the ignorant Indian and the haughty Spaniard. On such feast days as Corpus Christi and the like, the little Mission was as im- pressive in its way as the most elabor- ate and massive cathedral in America. " Of course there was a scarcity of soda fountains, but such things as bev- erage parlors existed ; there was also a dancing pavillion and a building where games of Spanish origin reigned su- preme. The blacksmith and saddle- maker occupied a corner, while the General Merchandise store was wedged in between the flour mill and a family dwelling. Then, oh yes, there was the Mexican tannery, whose presence we noted when a change of wind took place. Its odors came wafted upon the breezes into our study rooms and dor- mitory, which were in the upper portion of the old California Hotel. How ve hemently we used to denounce the fra- grance ! ' ' THE REDWOOD 111 And with my thoughts diverted to the present day, I muttered: " How his- tory doth repeat itself ! " " Down further, where the Second Mission was thrown down by the earth- quake in 1812, a few of the old settlers had erected their humble homes, not wishing to move, but choosing to re- main near the spot they held so sa- cred. " Now, looking to the north a bit, one would see the Indian quarters. I do not recall the exact number, but I think I should be safe in saying that there were about sixteen hundred. But these poor neophytes did not long sur- vive the encroachment of the white man. Even while I was young it was not an extraordinary thing to see the parish priest bury from six to ten a day. " — A strange coincidence came to my mind — the poor Indians, — the present inhabitants — and the Flu. I did not tarry, however, for my ear had caught a familiar note in the Colonel ' s speech. " Did you ever play Shinny-on-your- own-side here in the yard? or have they abolished that good old game? " I picked the first member of the dis- junctive question and answered in the negative. " Imagine how a number of boys, as we were, not having the various sports that prevail at present, would go to it in a game of ' Base ' or indulge in foot races. Since ours was a secluded life, with little of the outside world to be enjoyed, the spirit of rivalry was par- amount in all sports — and I believe we had as much fun then, cooped up, as you have today, — don ' t you think? " Before I could frame a diplomatic re- ply, the Colonel proceeded: " Do you know, my son, when I saw the various entrances and the scarcity of high fences, I was not exactly cer- tain of my bearings. We were actually walled in, and there was only one en- trance, serving at the same time as an exit — but, inevitably a watchful padre stood sentinel. We got out by special permission from the ' folks at home ' , or when a picnic took us to Murphy ' s ranch near Sunnyvale. And upon our return we had to stand search for con- traband goods in the form of cigarettes or love letters. In fact all of our mail was subjected to the strict eye of the censor, and if fault were to be found with the ardent expressions of youth ' s throbbing heart, the precious epistles were consigned to the flames. But where there is a will there is a way — and we had a way. Despite all the vig- ilance we had many a quiet smoke and often enjoyed the affectionate outbursts of our imaginary sweethearts. " How did we do it? " — Here the Colonel shook with convulsive laugh- ter, his eyes sparkling with good-natur- ed boyish glee. " Over there in the northwest corner of the inner campus, where your state- ly Auditorium building now stands, we had our private post-office and general merchandise store. There was one par- ticular board in that old high fence 112 THE REDWOOD which was not totally embedded in the ground. A clump of weeds hid it from inquisitive eyes on the outside, while on the inside we had placed a very large timber, serving a double purpose — as a seat and as camouflage. On this rough timber the ardent students would sit, working most diligently — that is, to judge by outward appearances. But behind those books were pairs of fur- tive eyes. Now a glance over the top of the book, then a side-long expectant one for the in-coming mail or parcel post tobacco. It was strange indeed that just those who we re not famous for their application inevitably chose this spot to delve into the realms of Mathematics or Rhetoric. In those days, the day scholar and the boarder work- ed well together. Strange to say, the good prefect Father Caredda, for all his eagle eye never detected it. " " Did very many of the boys climb over the fence, Colonel? " " Many! " he expostulated, " not any — for expulsion was a subject for sec- ond thought! " " And — er — er — the quality of the — " " Food— I know what strikes home to every student. Yes, they fed us well — good, substantial, nourishing food; not fancy trimmings and side-dishes that appeal to the eye, but the coarse fare that builds up the growing boy. Like all other boys, though, we thought that the cooks had quite a number of unne- cessary fast days. However, they al- ways made up by a feast day for what was wanting on the fast days. Those long tables in our refectory used to groan under the weight of real home- made products. Now and again, when the weather would permit, we used to go to Murphy ' s ranch on picnics, or during fruit season to Shuete ' s or- chards, where we loaded up on every available species of fruit that this val- ley had to offer. True, no one ever hailed the infirmarian for a tonic or pill for loss of appetite ; the usual cases were the result of over-stocking. No, we did not have to Hooverize in those days as we have had to recently. " And now that you speak of that all important article which is of so much interest to the student, it brings to my memory an incident which occurred not so very long ago. " In our day, testimonials for good conduct were given out each month, and when the time came for the pick- ing of the olives in the College or- chard, those whose good behaviour had merited the cards, were allowed to as- sist in picking olives. It was consid- ered a favor. I happened to be here some years ago, during Father Kenna ' s time, and after lunch we came out here where the padres have their recreation. An unusual thing for me, — I told this little story about the olive picking and one of the Fathers, a late arrival from the Emerald Isle said: ' Colonel, I sup- pose that while you were picking those olives you accidentally put a goodly number into your mouth. ' " ' Oh, no, Father, ' I replied, ' we were too honorable to do anything like THE REDWOOD 113 that ' . — Evidently he had never eaten a green olive. " And so we chatted, drifting from in- cident to incident. He told of the the- atricals that were staged, such as Ham- let, the Merchant of Venice, and vari- ous comedies, and in the course of the names, mentioned one which I had nev- er heard of before — it was " Three-Eyed Dick. " I asked if it was written by one of the students. " No — by a master — a famous man. You don ' t mean to say you have never read it? " I admitted my negligence, stating that I had never even heard of it. " Have you ever read Richard III? " he asked, with a smile stealing over his face. " Yes, but— well— oh— " Plainly, it was " one on me. " Then it was a story — of student ' s deviltry. " In the center of the old yard, over near the gymnasium there was a bell— which by the way was to be rung only as a fire alarm. A slender rope dangled just out of the average boy ' s reach; so it was never in danger of being pulled. Well, one evening, just before the watchman allowed his two Great Danes to patrol the yard, Augustus Sprivilo and a boy whom I knew very, very well, procured some fresh meat from the kit- chen. Passing by the study-hall with cautious step they reached the gym in safety. Here was to be the scene of some villainy. By mounting " Gus " Sprivilo ' s shoulders the other hand in the crime was able to tie the meat se- curely to the end of the rope, and by means of a stout cord an appetizing piece was allowed to hang some four or five feet above the ground. Having completed the first step in their crime the two villains stealthily betook them- selves to the dormitory. When all were resting sonorously in their respective nocturnal abodes, something happened — yes, just naturally happened. " The danes in their prowlings had scented the aroma of fresh meat and it appealed strongly to their canine sense of taste. So each time their white fangs endeavored to annex the meat, the bell pealed forth. Pandemonium broke loose — shouts of fire broke the reverential silence of the Mission. The boys and padres rushed wildly about and the fire gang from the town came clattering down the street to save the historic buildings of the college— but the fire could not be located. So we went back to bed again. Of course the detective force of the College were put on the scent of the culprits ; but they failed utterly. No one would ever have known, outside of the pair of miscreants, if " Gus " Sprivilo had not told it at an Alumni Banquet. The only reference to his partner in crime was that he was pres- ent at the table and had very, very white hair. " Here the Colonel ran his fingers through a snowy mass of soft white hair, — and smiled. Our brotherly chat was rudely inter- 114 THE REDWOOD rupted at this juncture by the peals of the dinner bell. — It was unfortunate, and I said, " Oh, that ' s alright, Colonel, I ' d much rather listen " . — But he knew better — " What — Ha, my son, you feel just the same as I do — always did feel hun- gry along about dinner time, even when I was a youngster. " We parted, but I saw him again as he was leaving. " Do you know, " he said as I greeted him before he started for the station, " I was very much disturbed a few min- utes ago. I bade good-bye to one of the good padres and he said, ' Well if the dear old Colonel isn ' t breaking camp. ' It sounded pleasing, but not entirely so. The ' dear ' part of it I will tolerate, and I admit the ' colonel ' is a reminder of ' 61, but sometimes I am not exactly pleased with the adjective, ' old. ' And why should I be? — sure, I ' m only a young man as yet. Why, it was only a year ago that the Alumni Club of San Francisco gave a banquet in honor of my seventy-fifth birthday. I content myself, however, with the idea that Father B. was only jesting when he called me old. " Nevertheless, my boy, I am thank- ful to the good Lord that He has given me my measure of life, and especially this opportunity of coming back to Santa Clara, where I see, after a short spell of sixty-nine years the same kind- ly spirit that guided me on in my early youth. " When I first came here, my bag- gage and self were carried by a ' chari- ot and four ' — a clumsy wooden caretta and four abominably slow oxen ; — and now I am leaving in a luxuriously-fitted modern coach. But even though the in- ventions of man have made this age a more practical one, and though in our day we lacked advantages that you now possess, yet there is something which we have in common. It is our love for the kindly interest of those devoted teachers whose lives have been given to the education of the young. That spirit, the ' family ' spirit, which pre- vailed in the early days is now just as evident and it will survive as long as Santa Clara is a Jesuit University — but here, I must be getting on — well, good bye and good luck to you, com- rade! " And so the two " chums " parted. The Bracelet James R. Enright. T was a pretty thing, with its dull glitter of beaten gold. The antiquarian said that it had been the property of As-Tarah, the Egyptian princess in the time of Rameses II. It was covered with square knobs of about a quarter of an inch across, and presented a striking contrast to the smooth trinkets with which it lay. Harry McGrover, of the Secret Ser- vice, thought it a fine present for his wife ' s birthday, and accordingly pur- chased it. He gave it to her at supper that evening and went out early to start on a fresh trail of the woman thief who was working in the subways. Thus far, she had always escaped de- tection, though more than once Mc- Grover had been on the same car with her. Two days elapsed. On this particu- lar afternoon, McGrover had forsaken home food for the handier, if less sat- isfactory, Hanover ' s Quick Lunch. Wiping a few pie crumbs from his vis- age, he stepped out on the street and headed for the sub-way to go to Brook- lyn. He was in the jam, good natured- ly allowing the crowd to jostle him to and fro, when he felt a hand slip into his pocket. Quickly reaching down he grasped an arm and as his hand slid down to- wards the wrist, — by its slimness he knew it to be a woman ' s arm, — his fin- gers encountered a bracelet. Instantly he straightened and shut his eyes in pain. He knew the bracelet ! It had square blocks around it. It was his wife who was the pick-pocket ! Many thoughts rushed through his brain. Should he arrest her here? But that would not do. He loved his wife too well and now that he knew — . She could not get away, as she lived with him and he could get her any time. He could not bear even to look at her face. In his intense agony of thought he gripped the arm hard and felt his thumb nail sink into the tender flesh, but not a sound did she make. Then, as if all the strength had left him he loosed his grip and the arm slipped away, leaving the bracelet in his hand. He put it into his pocket and wiped the blood off his thumb. At the office, he could not collect his thoughts, but went around in a des- pairing stupor, dreading the inevitable first meeting with his wife. The court 115 116 THE REDWOOD stenographer had just telephoned that she had met with an accident and could not come to work for a day or so. Mc- Grover, glad of some diversion, took her place and wrote — wrote — Avrote, the rest of the day. He could never tell how he got home without breaking down entirely, and when he opened the door and saw his wife seated on the couch and crying, it wrung his heart. " Harry! " she sobbed, as she rose to meet him, " I know you will never for- give me, but I must tell you some- thing! " McGrover ' s pallid lips managed to articulate, " What? " " I went shopping to-day and some- one stole my bag and the bracelet you gave me was in it! " Quickly he picked up her arm. There was no mark of fingers or cuts to mar its perfect whiteness. " With a cry of joy he folded her in his arms and tak- ing out the bracelet told her the story. She smiled and cried as he told it, then regarded the bracelet with a puz- zled frown. " That is not the one you gave me, " she cried. " You had my initials en- graved on the inner side. There are none on this. ' ' It was true. McGovern hastily ex- cused himself and taking his hat, hailed the nearest taxi. • • " Why, yes, " the antiquarian was telling him. " A copy was made of it for a girl who wanted to send it as a present to her cousin in England. Let ' s see — Oh ! Yes ! It was ordered by Miss Van Buren, the court secretary! " A TRIBUTE On Monday morning, Febru- ary the seventeenth, the stu- dents of the University of Santa Clara were greatly shocked to learn of the rather sudden and wholly unexpected death of one of their number, Frank de Lemos of Hayward, California. On the Saturday evening pre- vious he had met with a rather serious accident, having been hurled from the step of a street ear by a passing automobile. While his injuries were quite serious, no one had any idea they would terminate so fatally. As he had passed a good day Sunday, those at- tending him entertained little doubt of his speedy recovery. During the day he had been visited by his lather, who returned to his home satisfied with his son ' s condition. Despite all these assurances, how- ever, toward nightfall he grew rapidly worse, and the University chaplain was hurriedly sent for. Arriving at his bedside, the chaplain saw that life was ebbing fast away, and after a few consoling and cheering words suggested that he receive the Last Sacraments. Knowing little of his true condition, Frank was astonished hut readily and cheerfully consented. After receiving the Viaticum and Extreme Unction he began to realize that his hour of death was at hand, and set himself fervently to prepare. He remained conscious, even cheerful, to the end; and forti- fied with all the consolations of Holy Mother Church, he went with light heart to meet his Maker. During his three years at Santa Clara. Frank Clemente de Lemos proved himself a loyal and worthy son of his Alma Mater, and by his many virtues had endeared himself to both student body and faculty alike. His manly ways, studious habits and gentlemanly conduct were admired by all. He was a musician of rare ability and was ever will- ing to give his time to entertain others. His spirit of self-sacrifice and generosity in all things wa s the keynote of his character. Little won- der, then, that his untimely passing should bring a pall of sorrow over his classmates and fellow students. The true family spirit of Santa Clara manifested itself in this sad bereavement by the personal grief of every member of the Student Body and the expressions of their sympathy for his parents in the beau- tiful floral tributes. Mass offerings and Holy Communions offered for the repose of his soul. No doubt those of us who felt this shock most severely were the members of the Freshman class, — his class mates, — to whom he was bound by even closer ties than to the other students. The entire class attended the funeral in a body, and members of the class acted as pall bearers. Thus has passed from our midst one whom we loved and admired, and we take this opportunity to extend such condolence and expres- sions of sympathy as may be possible by mere words to his bereaved parents, relatives and friends. May he rest in peace. On the morning after Frank ' s death, the Freshmen held a special meeting at which the following resolutions were passed: WHEREAS, Almighty God, according to the inscrutable decrees of His Infinite Wisdom, has seen fit to call to Himself, our beloved friend and classmate, Frank Clemente de Lemos, and WHEREAS, Our deceased comrade by his studious habits, kindly ways and gentlemanly conduct had greatly endeared himself to the student body of this University and especially to us, the mem- bers of the Freshman Class of the University of Santa Clara, be it therefore RESOLVED, That we take this occasion to extend to the sorrowing parents and relatives of our departed friend our deepest sympa- thy and heartfelt condolence for the sad bereavement that has come to them and we pray that Almighty God in His tender mercy will whisper to them the words of comfort that at such a time can come from no human lips, and be it further RESOLVED, That we send some suitable floral tribute in token of re- gard and affection and heartfelt sorrow for the loss of our friend ; that we go to Holy Communion in a body for the repose of his soul ; and that we offer a number of Masses that Almighty God may grant him eternal rest and let perpetual light shine upon Him, and be it finally RESOLVED, That we send a copy of these resolutions to the parents of our beloved classmate and submit another copy of same to the Editor of the Redwood for publication in the next issue. Respectfully submitted and signed by the FRESHMAN COMMITTEE: T. MERVYN KANEY, LOUIS JAMES TRABUCOO, CLETUS S. SULLIVAN. — T. Mervvn Kanev. ro latrta RAVELY Ke treads trie darkness, For a mist enshrouds his eyes, While floods of light pour round him From golden springtime skies. Blind though his eyes forever — Sad wage for a hero ' s part — Yet the warmth of a grateful country ' s love Makes sunshine in his heart. HENRY C. VEIT 119 Independence for Ireland Martin M. Murphy. OR several weeks now, Ireland has called herself a republic. How long she will remain so, is a hard question to answer. But this much is certaiii : the Irish people have as much right to a republic as America or any other nation has to its particular form of government. In- deed, it would not require any special pleading to prove that Irish rights in this matter are superior to those of sev- eral nationalities for whom famous statesmen are now claiming complete autonomy. In the first place, Ireland has never been treated with even a decent semb- lance of justice by her political mas- ters. For me to expatiate on the tradi- tional Irish policy of the English gov- ernment would be like throwing an ex- tra drop of water on a drowned rat; for the persecution and systematic rob- bery of her island neighbor forms the blackest page in England ' s history. Ever since Cromwell ravaged the land, murdering men, women, yes, and even little children, because forsooth " nits make lice " , up to a recent day when the bait of Home Rule was held before Erin ' s young manhood to lure them in- to a fight for freedom which they were denied at home, — English politicians have betrayed, despoiled and depopu- lized the Irish home-land. All this is pla in history, known to all but the hopelessly ignorant. It is not denied by the English themselves. Nor can it be said that such tyranny existed only in the old days when the spirit of intol- erance and persecution was general all over Europe. True it is that in recent years Ireland has not been sacked nor have her women and children been wantonly murdered, as of old; yet crimes equally atrocious in principle have been committed in times near our own. It is not so very long since offi- cial persecution of Ireland ' s national religion was ended. Only in compara- tively modern times did her people win the privilege of buying back their own lands from those who had seized them. And so too in the matter of education, Irish youths may now enjoy rights which were denied them seventy or eighty years ago. Priests may now perform their holy office without fear of interruption from professional priest-hunters. Yet nearly all of these reforms were effected within the last century ; and it is only natural that the 120 THE REDWOOD 121 memory of former wrongs should be still fresh in the Celtic heart. To come down to our own day, have we not seen much during the past four years? Irish patriots have been cast into prison without even a charge placed against them, and left to rot there as was the custom so often ad- vantageously practised before the Mag- na Charta. We have seen some mur- dered according to law, and others bru- tally butchered in the streets. England still practises the time-hallowed cus- tom of taxing her dependent to the limit of the latter ' s resources and of dump- ing on her a virtual army of occupation under the pretense of keeping order. And by way of adding insult to injury, she accuses her victim of treason and of failure to do her share in the World War. Can reason expect that the hatred which such wrongs could not but en- gender in a naturally proud and self- reliant race is going to be completely effaced, no matter what tardy retribu- tion may be made? And with such feelings existing, there can never be real union and harmony between the two countries. This consideration alone should go a long way toward gaining independence for Ireland. Canada, New Zealand and Australia are all but independent of the Mother Country, and these colonies are to a great extent inhabited by people of Celtic origin. If they are so capable of self government abroad, why should they not be more so in their own coun- try? But, what is even more important in view of principles held in high honor at the present time, old Ireland has never lost her national spirit. Hun- dreds of years of systematic effort to crush her have served only to strength- en the nation ' s will never to relinquish her precious heritage. As a result, the Irish are to-day a people as distinct from the English as are the Germans from the French ; and no matter what England may concede in the way of partial independence, this distinctive spirit can rest satisfied with nothing short of autonomous nationhood. Great Britain entered the war osten- sibly for the purpose of defending a weak nation, and later declared one of her aims to be to grant every people the right of self-determination. By her silence she approved the Wilson princi- ple that all just government requires the consent of the governed and that therefore no nation should be forced under a sovereignty it detests. If this principle be not applied to Ireland, England will have to drop the mask. Sordid self-interest, jealousy and worse passions will have to be acknowledged as her real motive for entering the war. Her oft-proclaimed horror of Germa- ny ' s conduct toward Belgium will prove to have been a piece of shameless hypocrisy. In short, if Ireland is forced back to the old status, the " Peo- ple ' s War " shall have been fought in vain ; for if the principle is disregarded 122 THE REDWOOD in her case it will not hold with Russia and Poland, or with Italy and the Jugo-Slavs. But this cannot and must not be. In such an event Germany could claim in all truth that commercial rivalry rather than Britain ' s concern for small nations allied her against the Teuton war-lords. To me at least, the case is clear-cut. England must recognize the Republic of Ireland or else brand herself as the most brazen of hypocrites. If she chooses the right course, the oldest na- tion in Europe will take her place in the sun ; her sons and lovers every- where will thank God for the justice that enables her to stand in conscious pride among the free peoples of earth — " a nation once again " ; while Eng- land ' s true interests will at the very least suffer no more than they have in the bitter hatred of past conditions. And she will secure this great advant- age among others : — she will no longer provoke the mirth of nations when it suits her to pose as the champion of the weak and oppressed. The Neophyte Henry C. Veit. HE Cedric, a white yacht of the Vanderbilt type, lay at anchor on the pla- cid surface of the bay. The late summer winds played softly about. Pac- ing a short stretch of the deck, impatiently strode a man in white ducks. He was of me- dium stature and ordinary mien, but with something of the seriousness of a keen business man written in his face. As he passed a youth who was leaning meditatively, with elbows on the teak- wood rail, viewing, in the blue depths beneath, some far-off world his mind was roaming, the man hesitated a mo- ment, then continued his pacing. The man was an embodiment of all things practical, while the youth could ouly dream of remote idealistic conditions which we frail mortals can never hope to attain. ' ' Son, " spoke the elder, taking a po- sition beside the thoughtful figure at the rail, " has it occurred to you that next week you are to return to school ? ' ' " I must admit, Dad, it had slipped my mind. " " I had thought as much, " continued the father, ' ' that Maeterlinck craze you have lately acquired is apt to make you forget almost everything. " Unconsciously the son bent his gaze upon the volume in his hand, when the parent arrested his attention. " Let me see that volume. " " Our Eternity " was neatly emboss- ed in gilt letters on the cover. Here and there he read a line or two. " Tell me now what good do you get from this. " " I like his philosophy, Dad, and then— " " But son, " interrupted the father, " can ' t you see you are going wrong by it? This stuff is making you an idle dreamer, leading you through a maze of intangibles. Now I am going to ad- vise you for the last time to throw all this out of your life entirely. Go back to school and continue with your law. Every help will be yours for the ask- ing, but I cannot tolerate your present choice. This twaddle belongs at the bottom of the bay, not in any sane man ' s head. " The youth remained silent. Perhaps he profited by the admonition, per- haps he didn ' t. He gave no outward token of either. " Spend a week at the ranch and 123 124 THE REDWOOD clear your mind for good practical ap- plication. " A sea gull gawked as it fluttered to a crumb floating below. For a moment both watched it. " Don ' t be like that bird, " the father contined, " led on by blind impulse; g ,t at Mie real bottom of things. Study human nature. " Perhaps it was the change, following his father ' s advice that had made L. Frederick McNab so queer. Everyone that became intimately acquainted with him in daily life was strangely im- pressed; not so much by his rather singular appearance, — although this was in keeping with his eccentric con- victions, — but more by his habits, his speech and gestures. A slightly taciturn nature only in part accounted for the fact that he was frequently discovered walking rapidly down the shaded avenues, arms swing- ing, body rigid and head erect in a rather majestic poise, as if he were gaz- ing far away into the distance and had but a few registered moments in which to arrive there. His laugh, which he indulged frequently and at the most unexpected and uncalled for times, was hearty and inimitable, lasting not un- often over a long period. Withal he was serious enough, at times even to a ludicrous extent, seri- ous both in facial expression and in conduct. There was determination in his every effort. II St. James Park might not have add- ed materially to the beauty of the lit- tle University city, albeit with its fountains and shaded paths it made an heroic effort; and though it might not have proven a very acceptable place for a spirited and life-loving people to indulge their whims, yet it was a spot where the lolling element gladly park- ed for their daily gossip. L. Frederick had decided this was quite a nice seclusion for his law study. He picked a shaded area and lay his full length upon the cool green, his book " On Contracts " open before him. The afternoon sun made a checkered pattern on the lawns as it peeked through the thick clusters of pines and maples. Freddy grew aware of an un- natural rustling in the fir above him. Curiously his eye followed the path of the sound as his ear directed. On the lowermost branches, perched on its haunches was a tiny squirrel nibbling away at something. Watching the lit- tle animal in deep abstraction, Freddy forgot that the last of the bench-warm- ers had straggled away and in their stead had come a lone girl. She was only that ; perhaps but twenty, yet very pretty. Care had begun to mark her face with tiny, disfiguring lines. Her step was laggard and apparently cost her an effort ; for she sank to the bench with her back to the pre-occupied stu- dent — a picture of dejectedness. She cast a furtive glance about her, then THE REDWOOD 125 slowly dropped her hand into the pock- et of her plain but neat coat. A sudden flash as of a reflection from a mirror exposed to the sun turn- ed Freddy ' s gaze from the squirrel above. It rested upon the girlish fig- ure in front of him. The glittering something that her hand gripped, once more deflected the flash. At first he was uncertain of what it might be, then gradually it assumed the form of a little revolver. The reality of what now confronted him and what her evident intention was, for the moment startled him. Quickly he approached. The weapon was pointed inward against her side. Freddy wondered at her hesitation and hoped he might be in time to thwart her act. A sixth sense must have come into play to warn the despondent girl of an- other presence near at hand. Whether feminine intuition or something else, it matters not; at any rate it was arrest- ing in its nature. Slowly, Freddy ' s hand reached out and took the gun. With a sigh of relief he confronted the girl. Her face was now devoid of all expression ; and in its stead had come a ghastly whiteness. Blankly she star- ed at him. " Why— why— what ' s the matter? " Freddy succeeded in blurting out. Only a moan came in response. Her surprise was plainly equal to his own. " What seems to be the trouble? " he continued. " Maybe I can help you? " Still she was reticent. Then the col- or began to mount in her cheeks. " Why — why — well, I was sick of life, " she said finally. " The publish- ers refused a story that I ' ve been work- ing on for months. " " But why did you choose this course? " put in Freddy, taking a seat beside her. " I was without a home or friends. What else could I have done? " The tears began to course down her cheeks. She pulled out a tiny kerchief to dry them. " You were choosing the cowardly way, " he returned. " But I ' ve been owing Mrs. O ' Reilly for weeks. I found this gun on her ta- ble so I decided to end all my miseries at once. " She glanced forlornly at the weapon. " Here, " and he jumped up, " I ' ll take this gun over to a pawn shop. It will bring enough to keep you alive until you find employment. " He hesitated oddly as he turned the little affair over in his hand. " I guess I ' ll keep one of the bullets, " he finished, prying into the cylinder. A puzzled look came over his face. " Why, it ' s empty, " he said. " How thoughtless women are ! ' ' " I ' m glad that it was — now, " came the reply. " Mrs. O ' Reilly must have taken the shells out before I picked it up. " Scarcely two days after this incident L. Frederick McNab called at the rooming house of Mrs. O ' Reilly. He was going to follow his father ' s advice and study human nature. ©If? ijanen AR beyond tKe reach of Fancy, On the shores of realms unknown, Whither, in its wildest roaming Never mortal bird has flown, Lies a kingdom, bright, eternal, Where the Just alone may be Who, with stalwart heart unfailing Stem across life ' s trackless sea. On their voyage they have breasted Every storm of lust and hate ; They have spurned the isles of Evil That would lure them to their fate ; Now the good ship finds a haven Far beyond the seething foam, And at last the sea-worn sailor Rests with loved ones, safe at Home ! HARRY J. GASSF.TT 126 Tta- Tfe ttowt, PUBLISHED BY THE STUDENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SANTA CLARA The object of The Redwood is to gather together what is best in the literary work of the students, to record University doings and to knit closely the hearts of the boys of the present and the past EDITORIAL STAFF EDITOR-IN-CHIEF BUSINESS MANAGER ASSISTANT BUSINESS MANAGERS CIRCULATION MANAGER EXCHANGES ALUMNI UNIVERSITY NOTES ATHLETICS ASSOCIATE EDITORS HENRY C. VEIT - HARRY J. GASSETT f T. A. ARGENTI I PAUL DONLON FRANCIS M. CONNEALLY f BEN. SHUTZ I P. F. MORETTINI JAMES B O ' CONNOR NORBERT KORTE DEMETRIO DIAZ EDITOR EXECUTIVE BOARD BUSINESS MANAGER EDITOR OF REVIEWS Address all communications to THE REDWOOD, University of Santa Clara, Santa Clara, California. Terms of subscription, SI. 50 a year; single copies 25 cents EDITORIAL Practical Idealism Would it not be very much unlike human na- ture were nobody to find fault with the judgments of oth- ers? Now that peace negotiations are un- der way, and people are free to discuss matters in a manner which during the war would have branded them as un- patriotic, we find vehement opposition to the ideals of our President. Mr. Wil- son has recently been severely criti- cized. He has been called a silly dreamer, an idealist who is asking al- together too much of poor human na- ture. We are not concerned here to ques- tion the various motives for this criti- cism ; but we ask : Is he an idealist in the sense that he is out of touch with 127 128 THE REDWOOD present needs and conditions? That and nothing else is the real test of practical statesmanship. For our part, though the President is asking a great deal we should call him eminently practical. He does not stand for ideals for which the world is not ready; and though he advocates con- siderable sacrifice, it is in the interest of what the people throughout the world now desire above all things, — lasting peace. For they know — even if politicians disregard it — the next " world war " will mean the end of civ- lization. Given therefore that the children of men are moved primarily not by altru- istic motives but by love of them- selves, " enlightened self-interest " alone should make the world forget minor objects for an all-important good. In view of our experiences dur- ing the past four years, Wilson ' s lofty policy represents not unpractical ideal- ism, but practical common sense. All the world loves a Apropos of „ good loger „ Should Nothing fate hand Qut a bump t0 a fellow, we cannot but admire him if he sticks to the game, keeps plugging right along and says when he fails: " Another little jolt from Fate, but I expected that. " Such a person has within him the pith and substance of a real man. He will grin, not groan, as he makes a stepping-stone of his dead self to rise to higher things. Kipling must have had a good loser in mind when he wrote of the man who " . . . can laugh at triumph or dis- aster, And treat these two impostors just the same " . There is no primrose path to things worth while; life ' s broad highway still bears much of its ancient roughness. But only the narrow in spirit will grumble and whine at occasional de- feat. Why, even if reverses happen on a basketball court, is it not unseemly to " alibi " the cause or to disparage your victorious rival? We pause for a reply. A Word for the Classics The Colleges of to-day are almost invariably heading toward voca- tional and technical endeavor, leaviug the ancient Classics by the wayside. Their one aim seems to be to teach the young idea how to shoot along the line of its natural tendency, the path of least resistance. True, we are in a highly professional age, when only those who know how to do one thing well may hope to attain to great financial success in after life. But is great financial success the sole, — is it even a direct — object of higher education? We look to the Colleges for leaders of men, for characters that tower above the common crowd. Yet, in the last analysis, the foundation of a structure THE REDWOOD 129 is the thing upon which its permanence and impressiveness must depend. Some one has well said: " The foun- dations of human character are self- control, judgment, moderation. These things are not innate ; they must he learned afresh by every new genera- tion. " And they have been successfully taught hitherto mainly in the school of the Humanities, the old Classics with their calm sanity. This school has trained nearly all the best writers, the wisest statesmen and the greatest leaders of opinion in the present as in the past. Four years of harrowing war experi- ence should have convinced us of the need of further cultural training and moral education. In pursuit of the first of these objects, the Colleges might do worse than turn back to the Classics for the fundamentals. Mnitwsity Nntes Capt. Pollain and French Band A visit by Captain Fer- nand Pollain of the French Army was paid to the University on Wednesday, Feb- ruary the twenty-sixth. At present the Captain is touring the United States at the head of a French Military Band sent here under the auspices of the French Government. The band, which formerly numbered sixty pieces, is made up of war veterans, all of whom have seen action. Captain Pollain and eight others wear the coveted " Croix de Guerre ' . " Do not misunderstand, " smiled the Captain, " we were not musicians in the army, we were fighting men. " But besides being great warriors these men are also great musicians. They have all been affiliated with the great orchestras and bands of Toulouse and the Opera of Paris. Many of their number have been awarded the Grand Prix of the French Academy of Music. The band is touring this country for the purpose of binding closer the friendship of the two Republics and to raise funds for the French wounded. It has played before President Wilson and by its efforts and wonderful spirit was instrumental in the sale of seven millions of dollars in Liberty Bonds. J. D. S. The Junior Dramatic Society held a business meeting on last Wed- nesday, February the twenty-sixth. Upon Messrs. Falvey and Duff was be- stowed the honor of membership. Fol- lowing is the schedule of debates then arranged : March 5, Resolved: " That the immi- gration laws of the United States should be so amended as to provide for further restriction of immigration. " To Mr. Curley and Mr. Kroeber will fall the defense of the affirmative, while opposing will be Mr. McCauley and Mr. Eccleston. The Speaker of the evening will be Mr. Burnett ; the Critic, Mr. Hiller ; and the Essayist, Mr. Good- body. March 12, Resolved: " That the United States should retain permanent possession of the Philippine Islands. " The affirmative contenders are Messrs. Guthrie and Florimont; the negative will be upheld by the able orators Messrs. Duff and Fitzgerald. Mr. Lip- 130 THE REDWOOD 131 man will honor the assembly as Speak- er of the evening ; Mr. De Cazzote, as Critic ; and Mr. Donlon as Essayist. March 19, Resolved: " That for Am- erican Cities, municipal ownership of water, light and transportation is pre- ferable to private ownership. " Affirm- ative, Mr. De Cazzote and Mr. Smith ; negative, Mr. Toner and Mr. O ' Brien. The Speaker of the evening will be Mr. Krause, and the Essayist, Mr. Martin. Rev. Father Eline, Vice President of the University, was present at one of the debates and was agreeably sur- prised at the creditable speeches and rebuttal work of the youthful members. He gave them some timely advice re- garding the art of public speaking. The members rendered him a standing vote of appreciation and take this op- portunity of inviting him to repeat his visit. The J. D. S. has held some excellent debates this year. The members are enthusiastic in their efforts to become fluent public speakers, and if their past efforts are any guarantee of the future, they are bound to achieve their goal. In the first days of a Mountain wonderfully refreshing League Springtime, the fertile minds and active bodies of youth be- come intensified with vigor and ro- mance. And especially here in Santa Clara Valley, where the prune and olive mingle, the young become impatient, yes, very impatient, at the inactivity of the doleful winter just passed. They crave to roam, to engage in something a little more exciting than the usual, although at times interesting, American Indoor Sport of the green cloth. It was with this spirit of " hunting for new pleasure " that the compre- hensive minds and ardent energies of our illustrious citizens, " Dumpy " Diaz, " Pinky " Donlon and " Beau Bruni- mel " Neary revived the long lost " Mountain League " . This celebrated organization was founded in the Spring (note how all good things are born in Spring) of Nineteen Fourteen, by " Pope " Gaffey and " Studich " Marin- ovich. We do not quite recall the min- ute circumstances surrounding the event, but the hoary headed of the cam- pus have it that the league was the re- sult of a twenty-seven inning ball game. (Perhaps we should have told you ere now that the " Mountain League " is a base-ball organization). The utensils of the league, namely, the base-balls, were procured with the money advanc- ed to Mr. Gaffey by the proverbial Jew upon the deposit of his perfectly good watch. At any rate, they started the " Mountain League " , and since then every year someone has taken it upon his shoulders to resurrect it. The bi- laws, etc., of this institution have been handed down to us by word of mouth from the founders. Although we do not entertain a doubt as to their veracity, still it would appear that in enunciat- ing the laws the mouth has at times be- 132 THE REDWOOD come very much twisted to the agents ' liking. Since its foundation, the league has not enjoyed such a " coming out " as it has this year. At times the games were pitiful to watch and the decisions of the officials, excruciating; still the old enthusiasm remains and that " up-and- at- ' em " spirit prevails. It was custom- ary to have a President, assisted by an official umpire, so this year the posi- tions have been wished upon good Father Whelan and " Fat " O ' Connor. May their reign be a successful and cheerful one. Our best wishes include the health element also ; for recent cas- ualties point to the departure of the last three years ' officials to the great Beyond. They died as a result of wounds received in controversies with the players. down its schedule in order to allow " little brother " to use the diamond. The Valley League This year the Mountain League is the proud pos- sessor of a little brother (or sister, — or whatever you may call it). The name of the new addition to the family is " The Valley League " and it sure is a chip off the old block. Or- ganized by the four magnates, Captain Curley of Milpitas, Captain Rianda of Alviso, Captain Regan of Warm Springs, and Captain Florimont of Campbell, it has enjoyed a very promi- nent place in the activities of the cam- pus. In fact so great is its spirit and whole-hearted enthusiasm that the Mountain League was forced to cut The Seals The advent of Monday, March the third, saw Charlie Graham and his San Francisco Seals flitting about on the Varsity diamond. It was with much interest and gratification that the stu- dents watched their first workout; in- terest, because this year they are led by an old Santa Clara Alumnus; and gratification, because we are essentially lovers of good base-ball. Of course, as yet they are not " cutting loose " . The ball player, as you may know, is very temperamental and superstitious, not wishing to go at top speed the first time he walks out upon a strange dia- mond and not believing in premature exertion lest something might break. But they are down here to loosen up and work out the kinks, so that when the opening game of the Pacific Coast League takes place they will be " fit as a fiddle " . And what more ideal spot could they pick than the heart of the prune valley, the place where the great Hal Chase and Tilly Shafer got their start ? For Santa Clara, as well as the Seals this means a great advantage. It will help to revive base-ball, which has been nearly dead in this neck of the woods for the past two seasons. So it is with enthusiasm that we welcome the Seals and hope that " Jup Pluvius " will be good and not gum up their training season. THE REDWOOD 133 Sophomore Holiday On the evening of the first of February the campus was aroused by the shouts of the Class of ' 21. Hasten- ing to the scene of such hilarity, we were informed that the Sophomores had just returned from their annual picnic. It required a deal of coaxing on the part of the more inquisitive to learn the whyness of all this seemingly uncalled- for glee. Much to the envy of the Freshmen present, mingled with the haughty disdain of the upper classmen (which disdain was a result of their knowledge of the futility of holidays and the consequent foolishness of such romping) one of their number conde- scended to tell us all about it. It seems they had left the campus early that morning unknown and un- sung, and sped merrily on their way to Monterey in their roaring Marmons After a very exciting race along the highway, whisking past Gilroy, San Juan, Morgan Hill, Coyote and the sub- urbs of each, admiring with wide eyes and gaping mouths all the beauties of nature, they arrived at the erstwhile important village of Monterey. En route, their gleeful kidding of a few of the hicks and of one " constabule " had caused a near riot. It was here at Monterey that the most enjoyable part of the outing took place. What the details of this enjoyment were, we dare not tell, but we can say that the gambols of the sportive Sopho- more about the unpaved streets and carpet-like lawns made up a great part of their entertainment. In fact, to hear them tell it, these pastimes were so in- tense that they became quite exhausted and could not enjoy their homeward ride. To Discharg ed Soldiers Now comes the welcome edict from the Govern- ment that all those men who were honorably discharged from the United States Military forces will get in addition to their regular salaries a sum of sixty dollars as a gift. And this same edict does not exclude the S. A. T. C. It was with much joy that Ben McCoy and the rest of Santa Cla- ra ' s former soldiers received this news. Even the more coy Peter Morettini smiles and says: " Well, sixty dollars is not to be sneezed at. " And — who knows? — he may be right at that. — Norbert Korte. k i i .1 r. g - ' .3, Ml ' ■ TV. j«.siTriiT« e.ia. ' Nwa r " .r,ii!»M ' . ' August H. Den has been ' 78 called to his eternal reward following a lingering illness. The early successes he enjoyed while at school here, when his Alma Mater was in its infancy, followed him throughout his life. Mr. Den was the son of Santa Barbara ' s first educated English-speaking resident, and was held in the highest esteem in his native city. To Thomas Nihill we extend ' 98 a hearty welcome upon his return to California. Mr. Ni- hill, shortly after receiving his degree, went to the Philippine Islands, where he accepted an important position with the government, which he has held since. He returns now to California to make his future home and has taken a house on Pacific Avenue in San Fran- cisco. Tom was a fine student and ath- lete in his days at Santa Clara. The Redwood wishes him success and hap- piness in his new location. Judge Charles A. Thompson ' 00 has been unanimously named a member of the Grand Trus- tees of the Native Sons. Judge Thomp- son has been practising law in the vi- cinity of Santa Clara for twelve years anl has held the office of Justice of the Peace for the same period. We share the new honors bestowed upon him. From Camp Lewis, Washing- ' 03 ton, comes word of Captain Lawrence Degnan. After graduation from Santa Clara he fol- lowed his profession as a Civil Engi- neer, living in Berkeley. We were indeed pleased a Ex ' 05 few days ago when William Magee of San Diego paid us a visit. Will was the most popular stu- dent in his time and one of the best foot-ball players on the coast. He was a member of that crack American Var- sity of ' 02. It was in this year that 134 THE REDWOOD 135 one of Stanford ' s greatest teams was held down to the close score of 5-0. Charlie Budde, McBlroy of Nevada, and Jack Collins were also members of this wonderful aggregation. ' 06 Louis Magee, a brother of the incomparable Will was the varsity quarter-back for three years. He was a commercial grad- uate and at present is in San Diego. Back to the old College to ' 08 surprise us most happily came Rev. Robert J. O ' Con- nor. He is stationed at St. Peter ' s in San Francisco. We summon up a recol- lection of him as an ardent follower of foot-ball and other athletics. Father O ' Connor was a popular member of a class famous for College Spirit — Bob Twohy, Harry McKenzie, Floyd Allen, Jimmy Lappin, Ivo Bogan and others — and seemingly he still is pos- sessed of an abundance of the old " pep " . Few there are who are more loyal to their Alma Mater, always striv- ing for her greater glory and good. We particularly remember him as one al- ways on hand with a check for the Red- wood. ' 10 Lieut. John Degnan, a broth- er of Captain Lawrence Deg- nan, is also at Camp Lewis and lamenting the early decision of Fritz to quit. Father Ricard is the recipient ' 11 of an interesting letter from Albert Newlin. His missive was written from Camp Merrit, New Jersey, whither he went immediately upon his return from " Over There " . He was actively engaged in the meteor- ological service for air work, weather forecasting, as well as ascertaining fa- vorable or unfavorable conditions for enemy gas attacks and the placing of gas shells. We quote an excerpt: " The work was interesting, but Jerry had a bad habit of visiting us nearly every night and tossing around bombs. One night the bomb came too close for my health and I took a trip to the Base Hospital where the doctors did a little sewing up job on me. " ' 13 A little winged messenger gained •access to us the other day from Serg. C. Castruccio. " Cas " is with the Army of Occupation, and keeping a bull dog watch over the atrocious Hun. He received his law degree at Santa Clara, taking a post- graduate course at Columbia. When drafted, " Cas " had a fine growing practise in Los Angeles. There is no one more loyal among the alumni than Castruccio. We wish him a speedy re- turn to the life of his true calling. Walter de Martini happened down Santa Clara way recently. Walter is a commercial graduate and well estab- lished in San Francisco. 136 THE REDWOOD ' 16 To Marshal T. Garlinger, the Redwood extends its congrat- ulations upon the arrival of a bouncing baby girl, Delorma Thomas Garlinger, to brighten his happy house- hold. Garlinger received his B. S. in Mechanical Engineering with the Class of ' 16. ' 18 Far up north, in the recess ' 17 of a Red Cross Base Hospital at Camp Meade, Wash., lies Lieut. E. H. Charles, convalescing. He was injured in France, and while we do not know the nature of his disablement, we can only hope that very soon Lieut. Charles will again be amongst us, the same bubbling, manly fellow we knew him to be. He was graduated in ' 17, receiving his B. S. in Electrical Engin- eering. Ever cheerful, ever happy and beam- ing is his personality. When Ensign Elmer D. Jensen honored us with a visit we were overjoyed. Nor did he leave without telling us of his many experiences in the Navy. With his ar- rival flitted into oblivion all the little glooms that might have been lingering about. Elmer is in line for promotion and judging from his brilliant career here at Santa Clara, the goal he seeks is not far off. He spoke enthusiastical- ly of little meetings with old Santa Clarans, among them being Gerald Shepherd and Serpa. At present Ensign Jensen is in New York hard at work. We wish him all success and happi- ness in his every venture. Another visitor at the Old College last week was Lieut. Jimmy Selaya. He has been stationed at Camp Jackson, Florida, since receiving his commission in the artillery school at Camp Taylor and was mustered out of the service about three weeks ago. Jimmy has accepted a responsible office position with Bab- cock and Wilcox, in Bayonne, New Jersey, a large boiler making concern. Brooke Mohun, after severing rela- tions with Uncle Sam ' s Army, retired to the intellectual retreat of George- town University, where he is taking up post graduate work in Law. Pers istent rumor has it that William Scully Muldoon has attained the goal of his ambition, his gold bars, which he won " over there " . Bill was surely de- serving of them. Occasionally he has the good fortune of seeing Lieut. Dan Ryan, who at present is at Brest wait- ing to embark for " God ' s Country " . We sure were pleased to have Ex ' 18 Gerald M. Desmond amongst us once more for a few hours. Jerry was Student Manager last year and filled the position ably. During the reign of the S. A. T. C, he was Ca- det Major of the Battalion. At pres- ent, Jerry is assistant to his father, who is the City Clerk of the City of Sacramento. His magnetic personality and fine manly qualities won for him innumerable friends and we predict for him in his new office, the same success he enjoyed while here at school. He THE REDWOOD 137 was a debater of no mean ability, be- ing a member of the Senate team in the Ryland Debate of ' 18. Once more the dead has come Ex ' 20 back to life in the person of one Thomas V. McNeil. The " Duke " enlisted in the Marine Corps early last year and some time in Sep- tember it was reported he had been killed, going " over the top " in an en- gagement in which the Marines figured prominently. Comes now, to make joyful the hearts of his many friends, word of his being very much alive somewhere in the heart of the Philip- pine Islands. The " Duke " shone in the dramatic line here at school and dabbled occasionally yet successfully in the art of singing. He was active in all entertainments and glee club offer- ings. That he is alive we are thankful and that he will favor us with a visit when once more he dons the mufti, is a wish we all share in common. Away back in the state renowned for its moonshiners, blue grass and thor- oughbred horses we found Robert Don. " Bobbie " enlisted in the Fourth Offi- cers ' Training Camp at Camp Fremont last May and later was transferred to the artillery school at Camp Zachary Taylor, from which he won a second lieutenancy. Since the signing of the armistice he has decided to remain in the Army. Accordingly he was trans- ferred to the Regular Army and at the present writing we find him at Camp Knox, Kentucky. Bob was both an athlete and a student. While still in High School he played on the champion Olympic Club Basket Ball team that toured the east. Here at Santa Clara, he was ever foremost in foot-ball, bas- ket-ball and track. Though the first two gained him unequaled honors, in the latter too he displayed his prowess and versatility. In class and out of class, he proved himself a leader, a man in the truest sense of the word. To Lieu- tenant Don, the Redwood extends its congratulations upon his choice. Suc- cesses met him at every turn here, ow- ing to his assiduity and devotedness to duty. We feel certain that great things will be forthcoming. Benjamin C. Mickle, Jr., is following the plow around his father ' s ranch at Centerville. Benny, after his discharge from the Naval Unit at Berkeley, thought it advisable to await the com- ing of the fall term before returning to resume his Law Studies. Harry A. Wadsworth has chosen Stanford for the resumption of his work. " Wads " was a constant con- tributor to these pages in the past. William M. Desmond, not to Ex ' 21 be outdone by his larger brother, has accepted a posi- tion with the Board of Health in the same great City of Sacramento. We trust Bill ' s Sherlock Holmes tenden- cies may throw some light on the " flu " mystery. 138 THE REDWOOD A special wire from our Palo Alto rival has it that Oliver M. Kisich is stu- dying the value of a vermiform appen- dix. He intends majoring in medicine. From San Francisco comes an echo of one illustrious Fred Farmer. lie was recently released from the Navy, where he was actively engaged in chas- ing U boats from the sea. Fred will be remembered for his good work on the cinder path. — James B. O ' Connor. We expressed regret last month that so many of our old friends in college journalism had seemingly forgotten us. This month, it is the same old story; and we try to achieve resignation by repeating: " C ' est la guerre! " But, after the storm comes a calm. Now that lasting peace is in sight, we are preparing our spacious table for the pile of college literature it was built to hold. array of facts more palatable. Other noteworthy contributions to this num- ber are " The Race " , and the many items of news from former students. The editorial department is well con- ducted, though we should like to see the articles titled and a little condensa- tion effected here and there. On part- ing, we may say we are sorry not to be able to welcome our northern friend every month. From far in the North- The Martian west comes the quarter- ly issue of The Marti- an, with a very creditable array of prose and verse. In the latter class, " The Star " and " Sick-a-Bed " met our approval, though they represent entire- ly different moods. Among the prose pieces of merit is " The Voyage " , dealing with the ex- ploration of the unknown sea up to the discovery of America. Though the sub- ject chosen is suggestive of adventure and romance, our criticism of the essay as a whole would be that it is some- what deficient in the imaginative qual- ity that would make the rather heavy In reviewing the Laurel The Laurel we find ourselves con- fined almost exclusive- ly to the essay, for the editor must have put a ban on the short story and the poem. Or should we blame the war again? To be honest, however, as ev- ery cynical Ex-Man has to try to be, we must admit that the story, " The Whirl- ing-Cross Ranch " serves to balance the book quite effectively. In the language of the movie posters, it is " a Western tale that is different " . " Chivalry in Medieval Literature " , a rather large order, displays evidences of painstak- ing research, and its style on the whole fits the subject. But we thought the 139 140 THE REDWOOD quotations too numerous, as in our case at least they caused interest to lag. " The American Creed " we found a trifle too ponderous for complete en- joyment. Perhaps had this number contained more stories and some bits of verse, the critic would have been less inclined to find fault. But we like the Laurel very much and we know only too well that mere fault-finding is no proof of superior virtue. _, _, . . The Canisius contains a M . . charming short story Monthly entitled " Mater Mea " , and although perhaps it may be con- sidered somewhat too religious by the worldly among us, nevertheless its soothing sentiments expressed in choice language, with its characters well de- veloped and the thread of the story cleverly woven, leave nothing to be de- sired. In fact we felt rather partial to it. Unfortunately for the prose com- positions, this number contains only one other, and this an historical essay about Indian troubles on the reserva- tions in the latter part of the last cen- tury. Finally our attention was turned to the collection of poems which are so tastefully distributed throughout the book. The first one to meet us was " The Year Is Dying " . It recalls pleas- ant memories of that solemn hour when another year is about to take its place with the company of the past ages in the star-strewn meadows of eternity. With some reason we mention the " Right Arm of Might " , and " Come Back Again, Lad " , because they are written by the same author, and more- over we have presumed to criticize them in a friendly manner. The for- mer is so nearly commonplace in senti- ment and language, — we were going to say, maudlin verse, — as to be quite un- worthy of a College Magazine such as the Canisius. However, the author does something to retrieve himself in the latter by turning our attention to a little cottage where an anxious father and a tender mother are awaiting the return of their modern crusader. Still, there is a halting movement detected in the lines, and the absence of a flowing rhythm which we would like to see. To be plain, we consider the verses too prosy. But, without impartiality, we must give the palm to the " Withered Lin- den " as a dainty little poem expressing in its rhythmed verses a sweet sadness , which like mellow crooning, floats over the evening landscape in a golden mist- iness. Perhaps the following lines may give some idea of its sentiments : " No redbreast here shall build her home, No gladsome linnet sing. Nor winds that near the sunset roam, Their dreamland secrets bring. " Even the personal matter of war time letters interests us here ' way out in California ; and with the excellent editorial on " State Paternalism " the THE REDWOOD 141 present number makes pleasant and profitable reading. Duquense Monthly Among the contribu- tions to the February number, those that strike our fancy and elicit our critical attention in particular are " Catherine the Great " and " Henryk Sienkiewicz " . In the former the author presents his subject in a clear and convincing way, without any artifices of rhetoric. It is commendable that a " just historian " should take up the defense of Truth and refute very ably the petty tyran- nies imposed on literature under the pretense of present day learning. The author adds much force to his argu- ments by the clear and dispassionate style he employs. The other essay, " Henry Sienkie- wicz " , contains a good resume of the history of Poland from the middle of the last century up to the present time. But in the main, it is a review of the life and works of this great Polish writ- er. " He would have his countrymen actuated by love, which builds up, and not by hatred which destroys, ' ' sums up the philosophy which lives and breathes in the works of the author of " Quo Vadis " . But we cannot overlook the refining influence, powerful as it is subtle, which is attributed to the gen- tle and lovable ladies who so often play their part as heroines in the great sto- ries of this master. In this, indeed, he is not unlike our Tennyson, who has immortalized such womanly characters as Elaine and Guinevere in the tales of King Arthur. In fact both writers seem to have travelled along the same road, in as much as their heroes and heroines are actuated by the same mo- tives and strive towards the self-same goal. " A Flying Surprise " is a short story, but lacks that finesse which character- izes the better specimens of this liter- ary type. To tell the truth, with all due deference, the dialogue is some- what unnatural and constrained, and does not indicate those characteristic moods which the writer has witnessed and experienced in the training camp. Another little fault which we no- ticed, was the excessive terseness of the sentences. But these slight flaws we know will be remedied and we ex- pect to see in the near future something worthy of an 0. Henry or a Kipling. In " The Man in the Moon " this neat little magazine contains a delightful list of reading, which is always appre- ciated. In addition to the above we grate- fully acknowledge the receipt of the following journals : The Exponent, Marquette University Journal, The Gonzaga, The Prospector, The Rainbow. — Ben Shutz. — P. F. Morettini. BASKETBALL. Up to date our basketball season has been most successful. We have played ten games and have been defeated only once. The honor for the latter feat belongs to Stanford. If there is such a thing as a team ' s having an " off night, Santa Clara certainly had one when they met Stanford. We say this with no intention to minimize the per- formance of the " Farm " boys, for they scored a clean-cut victory on the night ' s play. At present we are tied with California for first place, and we still look forward to no less than first honors in the California-Nevada Inter- collegiate League. The team has been immensely strengthened by the return of Hoyt Vicini, last year ' s star center, and unless the men go stale, all future games are going to be victories for the Varsity. S. C. 65 Pacific 18 Our first league game was with the College of the Pacific on the latter ' s court. Though hardly in proper con- dition for a fast game, we had no great trouble in defeating them by a lop- sided score. S. C. 22 Stanford 53 This game was played at Palo Alto. It began at 8 :15, February 4th, before a large crowd of Stanford rooters wild with excitement and enthusiasm. The first ten minutes saw both teams on a par, and the spectators looked forward to a close contest. As the game went on, however, our forwards seemed to lose their eye for the baskets, missing all kinds of chances to score. At half time, Stanford had the fat end of the score, 18 to 8. We went into the second half with all determination to get the lead, but our best efforts were useless. It was the varsity ' s night " off and Stan- ford ' s night " on " , as a glance at the final score will show. Righter, of Stan- 142 THE REDWOOD 143 ford, was the star performer for his team, while Manelli did the best work for us, being responsible for 18 of our 22 points. S. C. 23 Sacramento Y. M. C. A. 18 Defeat at the hands of Stanford caus- ed the squad under Diaz to practise harder and to improve its team-work— a feature noticeably lacking in that particular game. Consequently our trip to Nevada was a big success. On February 14th, en route to Reno, the team dropped off at Sacramento long enough to beat he " Y " of that city in an interesting game. Diaz, Manelli and Perassa were the forwards ; Korte, Gui- chon and Ferrario, guards ; and Paul O ' Neil and Hoyt Vicini alternated at center. S. C. 40 Nevada 15 On the evening of the 15th, the quin- tet scored a decisive victory over the University of Nevada. Tradition has it that Nevada cannot be beaten on its home court; but the Varsity was in no mood to consider traditions, and they showed enough speed, condition and team-work to accomplish the impossi ble. Ferrario, Vicini and Manelli did the stellar work for Santa Clara. S. C. 28 California 16 Rounding into their proper stride at last, the Varsity took the league leaders down the line in a clean, hard-fought game on our own court. The spacious " cage " in the gym was taxed to its extreme capacity and the overflow filled the temporary bleachers erected on both ends of the floor, behind the baskets. The game itself brought out a brand of basketball never excelled in these parts, scrappy but clean and full of whirlwind action throughout the whole forty minutes. The first half ended with the honors about equally divided, the score being 12 to 10 in fa- vor of Santa Clara. After that, the wonderful condition of our men, to- gether with their team-work and fast thinking, seemed to dazzle the opposing guards who were powerless to stop our forwards from ringing baskets. In the last five minutes of play, the Berkeley- ites appeared to have lost heart, and the Varsity made it a cinch by rolling up their total to 28. Anderson, of California, played a good steady game, while for us there were no bright particular stars; the whole bunch shone like a constellation. SANTA CLARA Goals Diaz., f 4 Manelli, f 6 Vicini, c _ 4 Korte, g — Ferrario, g — 14 CALIFORNIA Goals T. Symes, f 4 H. Symes, f 1 Anderson, c — 2 Green, g — Majors, g — 1 8 144 THE REDWOOD BASEBALL. From the account of the games which the Varsity nine has played up to date, this year ' s team should come up to the expectations of the students and of the loyal supporters of the Uni- versity. Despite much rainy weather, " Joe Sneeze " has organized a team which opposing clubs will have to go some to defeat. The return of Aeronaut Jack O ' Neil has more than aroused the hopes of all of us for the coveted champion- ship. Jack ' s ability as a versatile play- er is undisputed, and it will undoubt- edly be a great factor in our victories. S. C. 1 Mare Island 9 The first game of the season was played on January 26th, with the Sail- ors from Mare Island, a team of pro- fessional players. The pitching of " Lefty " O ' Doul, a big league recruit, was too classy for our boys at that stage of their train- ing, and the Varsity lost by a heavy score. Ken Berg had been selected for mound duty, and his wildness allowed the slugging navigators to pile up a winning package of runs in the first three innings. Tom Hickey was then called upon to show his wares, and he succeeded in preventing further dam- age. Our lone tally came when Peras- sa, safe on a fielder ' s choice, was ad- vanced to second by Ferrario and then sent across the plate by Chase ' s single to center. R. B.H. Santa Clara 1 3 Mare Island 9 7 S. C. 4 Mare Island 2 A week later the Varsity took a trip to Vallejo and wreaked vengeance on the Navy boys in a well-played game. Hickey held their heavy hitters to six scattered hits, being supported by tight fielding and nifty swatting on the part of his mates, who found O ' Doul much less of a mystery and connected for ten fat bingles. SANTA CLARA R. B.H. Varney, c 2 2 Griffith, 1. f 1 J. O ' Neil, s. s 1 O ' Connell, c. f 2 1 Perassa, 2b 1 Larrey, 3b P. O ' Neil, lb 2 Manelli, r. f _ 1 Hickey, p 1 4 10 MARE ISLAND R. B.H. Cunningham, c. f Flick, r. f _ 1 Sands, lb 1 1 McNurd, 3b Rader, s. s Irwin, 2b 1 2 Le Bourveau, 1. f 1 Coleman, c _ 1 O ' Doul, p 2 6 THE REDWOOD 145 S. C. 6 Bank of Italy While some of the baseball stars were at Reno helping the basketballers wal- lop Nevada, the Varsity nine at home shut out the fast team from the Bank of Italy. Berg was in rare form, and the city players were helpless during the entire game. Other features were the fielding of the Varsity, especially the spectacular work of Jack O ' Neil around short, and the long hit made in the third inning by Jim O ' Connell when he sent the apple sailing over the right field fence. The latter stunt has been pulled only once before. Harry Krause did it two years ago while playing with an all-star aggregation against the Varsity. S. C. 9 Stanford As we scamper to press, the official scorer hands us the following, which will have to speak for itself. We have time only to call attention to the great twirling of Berg and Hickey, the stick- work of Santa Clara and the fact that the Varsity has gone through the last eighteen innings without an error. SANTA CLARA. AB R H PO A E Varni, c 5 1 1 11 4 Manelli, rf 3 10 O ' Connell, cf 4 2 2 O ' Neil, J., ss 5 12 15 Griffith, If 4 113 Perasso, 2b 3 2 2 3 2 O ' Neil, P., lb 3 14 Larrey, ss 4 1112 Hickey, p 10 10 AB R H PO A E Berg, p 10 Chase, lb 10 14 Fitzpatrick 10 Totals 35 9 12 27 13 STANFORD. AB R H PO A E Stevens, 3b 4 1110 Crowe, If _ 4 2 Galloway, ss 3 2 6 1 Kline, rf 3 3 Tuebner, lb 4 1 10 1 Doe, 2b 3 4 2 Bundy, cf 2 110 Phily, c 2 3 6 1 Giles, p _ 10 10 Newlans, p 2 12 Totals 27 3 27 19 2 SUMMARY. Bases on balls — Off Berg 5, off Giles 1, off Newlans 2. Struck out — By Hickey 5, by Berg 4, by Newlans 3. Umpires — Diaz and Pratt. PREPS. BASKETBALL. On Saturday evening, February 1st, the Prep team journeyed to San Mateo. It was with pleasure we welcomed that game, for several years have passed since the athletes of San Mateo and the Preps of Santa Clara have mingled. The first half of the game we give to our opponents. The clever shooting of their eagle-eyed forwards, Burford and Wrenn, piled their points far above ours. The second half was different. 146 THE REDWOOD We were by this time able to balance ourselves on that glass-like floor. Time and again in this half our team-work brought the ball under our basket and our forwards were kept busy throwing goals. But we got our balance too late, for when the shrill whistle sounded from the sidelines, San Mateo had won, 38 to 28. This turned out to be the last game of the season for the Preps. To sche- dule a game is about as feasible as pulling off a snowball fight on the campus. Nevertheless this fact failed to dampen our spirit. The Varsity must have practice, and from that time to the present the Preps have been scrimmaging their older brothers al- most daily. BASEBALL. This sport is ushered into Prepdom in a burst of glory. The material on hand is indeed most promising, and to date games have been arranged with the Stanford Freshmen as well as with the high school teams of Mountain View, Centerville and Palo Alto. To-day the Prep line-up would look something like this: Pitcher, Pashburg. Catcher, Falvey. 1st Base, Chase. 2nd Base, Becker. 3rd Base, Judge. Short, Pipes. Outfielders, Bedolla, Scheid and Neary. But on the score card of our first game we may yet read the names of Lambrosa, Kennison and Mollen. Who knows ? MIDGETS. BASKETBALL. In past years, Santa Clara ' s smallest basketball team became famous as the Midgets. To-day their reputation mounts higher and we now know them as the 130-pounders. In McLaughlin, Pipes and Volkmor we have guards who can more than hold their own against any forwards in their division. Mackemson at center is a hard man to out-jump and equally difficult to guard. The Irish in Corbett and Regan at forward, helps to win many a game for their team. On February 8th, the 130-pound team of the San Jose Y. M. C. A. played a fast game with our lightest representa- tives. The score — 34 to 12 in our fa- vor, tells the careful guarding done by Joe McLaughlin and Pipes. The next team in line for defeat were our good old rivals, the Santa Clara High School 130-pound bunch. They were allowed 6 points, while the Midgets gathered 26. The clever 130-pounders have a world of ambition, and games schedul- ed for the future include the Oakland Baby Golds and the Olympic Club 130- pound team. BASEBALL. So numerous and so promising is the Midget material in this line that a big THE REDWOOD 147 task lies before the man who is to se- lect the squad. After the try-outs, the line-up may possibly look like this : Mollen, pitcher. Rianda, catcher. Kennison, 1st. Frank Regan, 2nd. Lambrosa, short. Parrell or Shellou, 3rd. Outfield: Koch, Florimont, E. Shel- lou, Greub, Lipman, Calkins, Leo Smith. E. Neary. IMAGINARY CORRESPONDENCE. Sporting Editor, Danlkao Ribtune, Danlkao, U. S. A. Dear Sir: A friend of mine, with whom I saw and greatly enjoyed the Calistoga- Clanta Sara game last night, showed me an account of the game appearing in your rag this evening. After reading it, I inquired whether perhaps the cat had dragged the copy in from the ash pile, but my friend only smiled and said: " You know me, Bill " . I do know him for the most rabid sort of basketball lover as well as an adept in the nice points of the game. Hence I can almost believe he wasted a good Lincoln penny just to get a ride on his hobby. Funny, — ain ' t it? — what a hob- by will do to an otherwise sensible fel- low. Well, anyhow, I read your report of said game and I want to hand it to you for showing something new in the way of hick-town journalism. We see a lot of it in travelling about the U. S. A., but you certainly take the cake. The game was a hard fought contest won by Clanta Sara on its merits. The kind of " roughness " incidental to all college games worth while was not absent ; but, say, no real sport in a regular city ever thinks of squealing when the score reads 28 to 16 against his team. That ' s a margin speaking volumes to any wise fan. Of course, Hiram, you have to be careful of the tender feelings of the hum boys, by heck, and all that sort of thing; but really, your reporter ' s write- up is too funny to let pass. For a fact I sat next to him during the game and he looked fully capable of writing such an article. As far as bona fide ideas go, he was " tabula eraser " — How ' s that? Where did Goldberg get his in- spiration? — well, I ' m not saying. And the coach. Yes I was in poor environment ; the poor fellow said : " The game is awfully rough " , and I remarked, " That ' s the beauty of it; it ' s fast and just tit for tat. " He nearly had a hemorrhage and exclaim- ed! " But my boys are acting in self- defense. " He told me he " had heard this was a rough place and he could not believe it — but now he knew ; and that he wouldn ' t bring a pair of cats down here to fight. " " Alibi Ike " — that ' s him all over. Tuff Luck his team lost the game — the other boys should let them down easier next time. 148 THE REDWOOD It seems a shame that the State gives fellows a University and an education and rank outsiders have to go and spoil it all by not giving them the game. But never let it be said that these Clanta Sara lads look as though they would salaam before the Great Mogul. The Calistoga coach, Mr. Tlamander, with rain in his face, told me he had never seen anything " so rough " any- where in the country. I told him : " That ' s all right, — don ' t spill all over — you ' re in fast company now ; old Hicktown U. never was first class in basketball, though good in baseball and among the good third class teams in football. " I say, if Calistoga is paying that coach $2000 for the basketball season, the rah-rah boys are squandering $1999.70. I come from back there fur- ther than Hicktown and I know. Yours Truly, BILL. — Tom Whelan. CONTENTS EASTER LILY (Verse) NEMESIS AT EASTERTIDE (Verse) VICTORY THE ONLOOKERS (Verse) LET NO MAN PUT ASUNDER HE IS RISEN (Verse) AS YOU LIKE IT EDITORIAL UNIVERSITY NOTES ALUMNI EXCHANGES ATHLETICS Edward L. Nicholson Henry C, Veit Charles D. South James A. Emery J. Charles Murphy Frank Maloney Martin M. Murphy Thomas E. Whelan 149 150 154 155 160 161 168 169 172 175 180 ' 185 189 REDWOOD STAFF, 1919 Entered Dec. 18, 1902, at Santa Clara, Cal., as second-class matter, under Act of Congress of March 3, 1879 VOL. XVIII SANTA CLARA, CAL., APRIL, 1919 NO. 4 Easter Lily OSES in stately splendor Droop from trie sunlit bower; Ivy with clinging tendril Softens the rock-rough tower Violets deep in the wildwood Grow by the fairies ' hand ; Poppies in golden glory Mirror the sun-kissed sand. Stay ! Yonder Easter Lily Peeps from the humblest sod, Modeled in purest beauty From Mary, Mother of God. Symbol of stainless radiance, Sign of a virgin ' s grace, Chastity ' s rarest emblem, Nearest to God thy place ! EDWARD L. NICHOLSON Nemesis Henry C. Veit. ARGERY FORRES- TER was happy, bask- ing in the radiant con- tent that filled her heart. Someone had called her an " ex- the varied field of species. " And true to was imbibing deep- which books and in treme type the female that type, she ly of the thrills the gay world afforded. Perhaps the hero in the story she had just read, or, mayhap, the sepia-toned photograph of a handsome youth set upon the man- tle-piece occasioned her present high spirits — she was at no pains determin- ing which. The happiness was here and now exuberantly present within her and as such she enjoyed it. She tossed the novel in a carefree way to the massive oaken table filling the room ' s center, nimbly sprang from the divan near the bay window and proceeded to cavort around the room in sprightly fashion. Above the spar- kle and glow of the fireplace hung the stoic features of Margery ' s stern old grandfather, silently disapproving the capers of his young progeny. " Ooh grand-daddy, " she whispered, ' I ' m just too full of joy. " A trickle of a smile flitted over her face as she stopped to look up at the picture. Margery could not suppress the mirth prompted by the thought of how vehemently opposed the grand-par- ent had ever been to her acting thus. And then as though to tantalize him, she clasped her hands and frolicked about once more, giving voice to her glee by repeated and softly emphasized oo-oo-ooh ' s. But the soft hued picture on the man- tle shelf now attracted her interest. Andy O ' Neil was the latest of the long string of suitors to succumb to Mar- gery ' s wiles. But with Andy things had fared so mewhat better. He had crept into the circle of Margery ' s " special favorities " , and, longer than all the others, seemed destined there to re- main. It was as if he had imprinted on her heart an inscription not to be ef- face : " I ' ll remain and you cannot blot me out. " But, then, you must remem- ber Margery had been called an ex- treme of her type. Recalling their recent quarrel, Mar- gery now stood at the feet of her mas- ter and pouted. Her happiness for the moment was gone. And then to empha- size her displeasure she turned the pic- ture with its face to the wall and stamped her foot repeatedly. " I won ' t — I won ' t, " she reiterated. " You ' re only jealous. " The telephone jangled nervously. 150 THE REDWOOD 151 " Hello! " Margery called sweetly in- to the mouth-piece. " Yes, this is she! — Why no — Let me think — Oh ! Yes, how are you Lieutenant! " A flush of pleasure overspread her face, as she listened to the jolly tones that came rippling through the re- ceiver. " The Mardi Gras? " she queried soft- ly. " Why certainly. And I ' m sure Mother would be delighted — You will call then about eight? " Margery hung up the receiver, with glowing satisfaction that perhaps was tinged with a bit of spite. She rested perfectly content in the idea that this was indeed a lucky day. She had long since learned to take for granted the good luck every Tuesday seemed to bring her ; and this was Tuesday. Was not the Lieutenant, although but a new acquaintance of hers, held in high esteem by a majority of the elite, and had not she and Andy just quarreled over him? II Margery prinked up before the dress- er in her boudoir and sat back satisfied with her finishing touches. " Marie, " she asked of her maid, " do I look all right? " " Oui Madamoiselle, " confirmed Ma- rie, " very pretty — beautiful. " Margery smiled into the mirror. The reflection recalled a spring day; she had a loose way of doing up her hair that made it seem a crown tossed upon her head by some gentle wind. Her eyes, the blue of the sky on an April day ; and the golden strands in her hair were like shafts of sunlight piercing April clouds. Altogether, to the admiring maid, Margery was not unlike some Fairy Princess in her wonderful, white, silky, shimmery costume, the pretty little beaded band about her hair, and her dainty white slippers. The grand march was already under way when the pair arrived. Margery could not recall having seen a more striking and varied and vivid presen- tation since her debut into the smart set. Then it had been the first experi- ence of it that bewildered her; now it was the gorgeousness of the whole spec- tacle ; it seemed overpowering. The grand march ended and a sob- bing waltz now floated to their nook. The Lieutenant, lithe and graceful, swung out amid the encircling couples with Margery on his arm. She was im- pressed by his manliness, his reputed wealth, the strength of character im- printed on his every feature. Then, in keeping with her type, she grew aware of another sensation that tricked about her heart. She tried, but in vain, to blot out that little inscription of An- dy ' s. Persistent, though, it was ; but her will power seemed greater, and as the evening wore on, the latter asserted itself more and more. " Pretty, isn ' t it! " said the Lieuten- ant as they stepped past a latest Pari- sian fad adorning a beauty in one of the lodges. 152 THE REDWOOD Margery nodded, for it sparkled even brighter and rarer to her feminine eye. " Miss Forrester, " he continued, glancing about the ball-room, " I am reminded of a dream set in some fairy- land. Lustre and sparkle and glitter of costumes, the harmonies of the music and this unfeigned happiness every- where, — they seem like a dream. " Margery sensed a touch of the poetic in his words, and she felt herself in- wardly noting the rhythmic blending of his mellow voice with the distant mu- sic. Like some rare and beautiful flower at eventide, the Mardi Gras drooped to its closing. " You must come to see us some time, " invited Mrs. Forrester as the limousine halted at the stoop of the Forrester home. " Yes, — do, Lieutenant, " encouraged Margery. And then as the tail-light of the de- parted car was swallowed up in the darkness beyond, she tripped gayly in- to the house and up to her room. " Ooh, ooh, Marie, " ejaculated Mar- gery, ' ' I am so happy ! ' ' " Madamoiselle is always happy, " answered the maid, as she brushed the golden hair. " And he is the grandest man! " con- tinued Margery. " But what of Monsieur O ' Neil? " in- terposed Marie. " Oh!— Well " , she faltered, " he cannot be compared to the Lieuten- ant. " Then came a week of clear sunshiny days, vibrant with the blitheness of early spring, when the heart of youth beats responsive to nature ' s cheery op- timism. Margery sauntered leisurely down the avenue, tingling with the pure joy of living. Around the corner but a short dist- ance ahead, a handsome couple, appar- ently in a similar tingling mood, step- ped into her vision. Margery felt a sharp reversal of spirits caused, no doubt, by the twinge of jealousy that the sight gave her. " Good afternoon, Miss Forrester, " began the Lieutenant in his rich mellow tones. Margery grew noticeably uneasy and she felt herself reddening to her shoul- der blades, as she returned the greet- ing. " I want you to meet my wife, " he continued. " I hate him — I hate him, " Margery was ej?culating to her maid. " But Mamselle said he was a grand man, " replied the stoic Marie. " Yes — well — he — he tricked me. " Then, as though to assuage her ruf- fled spirits, that little inscription of Andy ' s once more flared in her imagin- ation. " I ' ll remain and you cannot blot me out. " Margery rose to go below. She would call up Andy and make amends. Halt- ing at the doorway she called back to her maid. THE REDWOOD 153 " Marie, " she said, " what day of the week is this? " " Tuesday, " came the response. Margery, half herself again, was about to phone when the post-man ' s whistle sounded shrilly from without. Marie hastened to the call. " A letter for Madamoiselle, " she said, returning with the missive. Margery read the note, uttered a lit- tle «hriek and — fainted. Marie revived her after a moment. " Madamoiselle is over-wrought, " soothed the maid. " Yes — yes — Marie, " sobbingly put in Margery. " Andy has written his good-bye. He left for South America this morning. " At Easter-tide A Tribute to tke Memory of the Late CHARLES L. BARRINGTON OULD we have seen, we had not wept when fled Thy gentle spirit to its haloed rest I Immortal in the mansion of the Blest ; For where thy Savior ' s precious footprints led, The sacred journey it was thine to tread, The saving Faith thy joy to manifest ! Life ' s measure, with thy holy deeds abrim, Fit offering made thy knighthood to attest ! Through outswung gates, while radiant Seraphim Acclaimed thee hero stainless from the fight, What vision thine as fleeting earth grew dim : Thy Lord home-welcoming thy spirit ' s flight, Thine Easter-Day to celebrate with Him Whose glory robes thee in eternal light ! CHAS. D. SOUTH, A. M., ' 01 154 Victory An Address by James A. Emery, ' 96, delivered at the Bohemian Club, San Francisco, on the occasion of " Victory Night, " Tuesday, December 3rd, 1918. Mr. President, Officers of the Allied Armies, and Fellow Members: Let me at this first opportunity ac- knowledge the privilege of the last phrase. Your courtesy, more generous than its fame, gives to the face of every stranger the features of a friend. But, sir, I feel that tonight however sparkling the surface of this fellow- ship, even here within this place of light and laughter, its depths are stirred as never before, by the fresh significance of yonder colors newly con- secrated with sacrifice, by the inspiring presence of these participants in the great drama, by the realization of the yet startling and incredible fact that victory is ours, and anxious ears al- ready catch the distant tread of our re- turning host. This, sir, is neither the time nor place to enumerate the causes nor conjecture the consequences of this awful conflict. This is the hour of rejoicing and grati- tude, of glorious and appalling recol- lection. The swirl of the struggle is still about us, the sound of its guns still echoes through the world, its stupen- dous panorama rises before the imagin- ation like a vision of Dore. In the magnitude and splendor of its scene and action, the mingling horror and sublimity of its human circum- stance, the soul-shaking memory of ca- tastrophic disaster averted, of defeat transformed into victory by courage unparalleled, sacrifice unequaled, lead- ership unmatchable ; in the physical, moral and political changes wrought in shapes of states and in the minds and relations of men and nations, this war is the most tremendous far-reaching so- cial tragedy in the records of the race. The world has been its stage, man- kind its cast, all history its setting. From " the isles of Greece where burn- ing Sappho loved and sung " to the re- mote steppes of Siberia where the Czech-Slovak Anabasis marked the ren- aissance of a race, it unfolded its thrill- ing action. Warriors of the Prophet and soldiers of the Antipodes fought among the relics of the Trojan well; Samuri and Prussian locked in death- grip for the soil of Confucius ; the Wolf- whelped breed held the gates of the Doges against the blows of the Magyar ; children of the Bowery and " South of the Slot, " brigaded with Mayfair and Petticoat Lane, pounded the Bavarian 155 156 THE REDWOOD where eleven centuries before Charles Martel hammered the Saracenic in- vader. Tonight a new Godfrey de Bouillon throws his Christian guard around the Holy Sepulchre. In Gethsemane ' s gar- den a British soldier holds watch where the faithful failed. From beneath the shadow of the Pyramids the First Con- sul called thirty centuries to the inspi- ration of his legions. Allenby from be- side the tomb of Eve might have sum- moned the Mother of the race and in- voked recorded time to witness this " twilight of the Kings " ! No community was too remote, no of- fice too exalted, no calling too humble to be affected by this struggle or to participate in it. Empires and repub- lics, ruler and subject, president and citizen, both sexes, childhood, youth and age, soldier and civilian, gave life, wealth and service to that far-flung battle-line, drawing its support and in- spiration from the mines, the fields, the forests, the factories, the anxious homes of three continents and a score of na- tions. It seems but yesterday for all the in- tervening century of event, that Aug- ust morning, little more in time than Bull Run to Appomattox, when the gray-clad Father of Famine led his lo- cust legions over the Belgian boundary. From that hour he made the business of life the manufacture of death. All the mind and hand of man had originated, applied and developed to sustain and expand civilized progress were divert- ed over-night into agencies of defense or destruction. From the heights of the sky, even into places remote from the Front, death rained upon soldier and civilian; from the depths of the sea it struck unseen its mortal blow. Over tortuous far-reaching ditches of death, high up the Alpine ice played awful never-ceasing lightning that blasted into blindness, mutilation and gasping horror. Beside these four years of hideous, never-ending, unspar- ing frightfulness, distinguishing neith- er sex nor age, Waterloo shrinks to an affair of outposts and Gettysburg as- sumes the proportions of a skirmish. But, sir, the very efficiency of Ger- many ' s machinery of destruction be-, came but a measure of the sublime and invincible courage of her intended vic- tims. While memory lives, who shall forget that King who sacrificed the body of his state to save her soul, whose victorious defeat preserved the allied cause and made vassal every heart that loves a knightly deed? AVhat Virgil praising arms shall picture the best blood of Britain and her do- minions, grimly enduring through those first terrible months that deadly hail with slight protection and but feeble power of response, yet answering as al- ways with eager bodies the battle-cry of Shakespeare ' s Henry: " Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; Or close the wall up with our Eng- lish dead! " What Homer shall ever greatly tell THE REDWOOD 157 the tale of French in such a trial as comes to nations and may he endured but once? Within the first thirty days of invasion her greatest sources of fuel and iron, her leading industrial centers were seized or devastated and an eighth of her population held in cap- tivity and servitude. Her cities crum- bled, her proud capital often assailed and always threatened, her manhood drained in conflict with superior num- bers, while Britain prepared and Am- erica hesitated, her spirit never failed, her courage never faltered. In the darkness, she doubted not the dawn. Out of immeasurable suffering and loss, her soul mounted to new heights of resolution and sacrifice, rising above ruin and death like the shattered shaft of Rheims lifting above the mortal des- olation of the plain the mutilated but unconquerable emblem of her faith. In a land where every hillside had become a battle-field and " every sod beneath the feet a soldier ' s sepulchre, " the very dead had burst their sepulchre to stop the tongue of despair or surrender. To such Allies we became united, in such scenes destined participants. Un- prepared, undisciplined, unarmed, we went down to Armageddon. Even in that moment Russia dissolved into an impotent debating society. Shortly Servia was crushed, Rumania in ruins, Italy pressed to the walls of Venice. The Allied fortunes moved from bad to worse while America organized: But even in that hour of crisis our people found themselves. Out of the gloom came light. Doubt and uncertainty hardened into resolution. Yielding ov- ernight to unaccustomed discipline and restraint, the Nation poured its eager youth into camp, its boundless wealth into the Treasury, its labor into every essential process of war production, its practical leadership into every place of public service. Out of the chaos and confusion of giant effort slowly emerged the shapes of system and order. The heterogene- ous elements of our citizenship, r efuting the cynical faith of our adversary, fused in the living fire of the national cause. In the face of the impossible, two million American soldiers ready to meet the debt of Lafayette and York- town stood upon the soil of France. Even as they poured overseas fell the last great staggering blows of desperate Germany. Reeling backward under their impact, war-worn, Poilu and Tom- my, retreating, demoralized, met the American Marine at Chateau Thierry, standing at bay in the very focal point of destiny, saw, astounded, the veteran hordes of the onrushing enemy halt, yield and fall before the fresh brawn of the West like ripe grain before the reaper. Inspired by that spectacle of critical valor, Briton and Frenchman revived, rallied, reorganized, and over the very pathway of defeat returned to unbroken victory. Within a hundred days of that memorable morning " Deutschland iiber Alles " echoed no more through the air of France and the 158 THE REDWOOD Marseillaise was rising from German throats in the streets of Berlin. Thank God, despite our hours of weakness, doubt and vacillation, Amer- ica was not too late. Thank God, de- spite the poison of the pacifist, we learned in time that the murderous campaign of the German submersible could never be ended by the venal rhe- toric of a Chautauqua submissible. Thank God, we can not only enunciate great truths, but still have the will and the faith to vindicate them in the blood of our bodies. Thank God for all self- effacing men who nobly did the work at home, for that American womanhood that sent and served its men and in every place of famine, wounds and dis- ease descended like white hosts of min- istering angels. Thank God for our he- roes on land and sea whose service and immortal sacrifice vindicate the out- raged rights of the nation and preserve the imperiled cause of civilization. Thank God that out of this bloody tra- gedy emerges the triumph of represen- tative institutions, with new and great- er opportunity for the nation and man- kind. For a century our political ideals and institutions have captivated the minds as our material progress stirred the im- agination of men. Stimulated by our practical exemplification of humanita- rian precept successfully operating, Re- publicanism drove Monarchy from our Continent and transformed the Third Empire. But now civilization conquers autocracy to find anarchy lurking in its ruins and shouting democracy. We stirred an ancient order with precept; may we guide the new with the practi- cal example of ordered liberty, devel- oped through a thousand years of hard racial experience but struggling suc- cessfully onward and upward to recon- cile individual freedom with expanding social progress, under self-imposed re- straint. Shall we hold this torch for darkened minds or dim it in the winds of the hour? Have we blazed the trail for others but to follow the lost? Have we fought the despotism of a single autocrat to surrender to the tyranny of many? Demonstrating in a life-and- death struggle the practical as well as the moral superiority of the individual- ly developed state over the state-devel- oped individual, are we now to compro- mise or parley with Bolshevism or State Socialism, by whatever name, however plausible its guise, however reputable its sponsors or respectable its com- pany? Or shall we yield to like forces in other forms and weakly color the very administration of law in the face of intolerable social threat? The very existence of popular government de- mands that it shall not merely resist the consequences — but possess the pow- er and the will to control and suppress the causes — of social disorder. But, sir, whatever the perplexities of the future, this hour holds the splen- did vision of glorious achievement. For tonight the battle is ended. Heroic France folds to her breast the children of her lost provinces. Italy, redeemed, THE REDWOOD 159 greets again her Roman mother. Al- bert, restored, sits once more upon the Belgian throne. Down the sea-aisle of surrender has passed the broken Ar- mada. The Crescent descends in the Levant, our triumphant fleet rides in the Golden Horn. The Crown of the Hapsburgs hangs upon the cradle of the Slavic Republic. In the very citadel of military autocracy Socialism and Anarchy struggle for the mastery of Prussia. Somewhere tonight along that conquered border, an American soldier, perhaps a Californian, possibly one of this fellowship, keeps the Watch on the Rhine. The Onlookers E ' RE just a part of a million Yanks who were rarin ' and tearin ' to go, Some of the men who fanned the Flame that set the Nations aglow ; And we ' ve only a rag of a service flag, and a silver stripe to show. Doughboys back from the fighting front : Cheer them men with a will ! Cheer with the Crowd (for we ' re part of it now), but we had our place to fill ; And the band is playing the Marsellaise and my wild heart won ' t be still. For wev ' e got to say that we missed it all, glory and blood and tears ; Sweated and drilled for months and months, seemed like a thousand years, But never a chance to get to France. Look ! The parade appears. Silent they pass like ships at night, — ships returning from sea, Mine was an outfit of Regulars, too. Oh, it all comes back to me : We fought to go but the fates said no, and the fates the masters be. We ' re only a bunch of fightin ' Yanks who were rarin ' and tearin ' to go, But we backed the men in the trenches then, with the fires of war aglow ; And we ' ve only a rag of a service flag and a silver stripe to show ! LIEUT. J. CHARLES MURPHY ' 18 160 Let No Man Put Asunder Frank Maloney. HETHER fate was try- ing to play tricks on me or not — it takes a far wiser person than I to answer the ques- tion — my health broke down and I was forced to take a trip abroad. After deep consideration I de- cided to tour France, going there by way of England. I booked passage on the Aquitania, bound for Liverpool. As I was travelling alone, my room-mate was a stranger, who, as I afterwards learned, had had many thrilling experi- ences. Our relations at first were very formal, but they soon changed into close comradeship. The first morning at sea found me confined to bed, tortured by that ter- rible malady, — seasickness. " Tell me, ah — am I going to die? " I implored of Jim — that was my room-mate ' s name, Jim O ' Malley. " Oh no, you ' ll probably feel better this evening; if not, it can ' t last longer than the voyage anyway. " However, as the day progressed, I grew worse, until I had all I could do to keep up my head. And then I learned what a fine friend I had in my companion. He stayed with me all afternoon. There was something about him, though, that was peculiar. Every once in a while a strange look crossed his face. His eyes were as hard as two flints struck by steel ; his lips were so tightly compressed that they appeared one colorless bit of flesh; his jaw was set angrily ; his chest heaved up and down as though he were in some gigan- tic struggle ; his hands spasmodically opened and closed, leaving the flesh about the knuckles all white and blood- less. " What ' s the matter? " I asked. " N-nothing, " he replied, trying to pass it off lightly. He lapsed into an- other fit of anger, and I put my hand upon his shoidder. He started as though enemies were upon him. I repeated the question and he tried to look uncon- cerned ; but the more he tried, the worse he became, until he gave up and con- fided his thoughts to me. He began his pathetic story in this way: " I suppose I might as well tell you, because it must be told to some one ; the more secret I keep it, the worse it seems to haunt me. " I lived in one of the mining towns of Colorado, most of whose citizens were pretty tough characters. There were some respectable families, of course, but they made up the minority. For these few a church had been erect- ed and good Father Casey used to come 161 162 THE REDWOOD several miles to say Mass there every Sunday. " Probably the toughest family in that section were the Duggans, who were the rulers of the community. They were the kind who would dance all night and work all day, hardly taking time to eat. Their one other occupation was fighting; and on account of their skill in the latter they did about what they willed in Crampton. This lovable household consisted of eight members: father and mother, five boys — who be- lieved that in unity there is strength — and one daughter, a rather pretty girl, who did not believe in tying herself down to one husband for a lifetime. The reason for my mentioning the last particular is because I happened to be her first husband. " When I came to Crampton, I was timekeeper at the mines and happened to be on the same shift as the Duggans. Naturally I became acquainted with them, but that was all. I hadn ' t been there more than a few weeks when old Joe died. Joe used to go to the railroad every Sunday to meet Father Casey. After his death I volunteered to take his place, and the church people re- ceived my services gratefully. " Returning home one afternoon, hav- ing escorted the priest to the train, I was startled to hear screams coming from the brush a little to. the left of the trail. Drawing my revolver, I leapt from my mount and went through the brush. Coming to a clearing, I saw Kate Duggan, white-faced and fright- ened holding a mad dog at bay with a heavy stick. I fired three shots into the brute ; he stood still a moment, then fell over dead. " The poor girl sought a log nearby and sat down exhausted. At last she looked up at me with a shining smile, for which she was noted, and thanked me for what I had done. " ' That ' s nothing at all, ' I gallantly returned; ' won ' t you ride home? I have an extra horse along ; this is no place for a girl, out here alone. ' " ' Thank you, I will. If it hadn ' t been for you, I really don ' t know what I would have done. ' ' ' That little episode started my infat- uation for her, and when I had brought her home in safety and had been intro- duced to the ' old ' uns ' , as she called her parents, I think I was hearing wedding bells all around me. " After that, Kate always managed to meet me on Sundays on my return from the train. Soon I began to call on her and in six months from the time of our first meeting I was so desperately in love that I asked her to be my wife. She accepted, but didn ' t want to be married by the priest. To this, how- ever, I finally won her consent, and good Father Casey married us and we set out for the city amid showers of rice. On our return from the honey- moon, a new house awaited us, the gift of some of the boys. " All went well for a few weeks and then she began to tire of me. At last our fatal quarrel came. She was pettish THE REDWOOD 163 about my trips with the priest and de- manded that I stay with her on Sun- days. " ' But who will go to the station for Father Casey? ' I remonstrated. " ' Some one else will, or he ' ll stop coming when he sees you ' ve quit toady- ing to him. ' " ' I ' ll do nothing of the kind for the likes of you ! ' I retorted in real anger. " ' Then, I ' ll go home to mother! ' she replied. " A few weeks later I found myself a defendant in a suit for divorce. Squire Goodham, our portly and celebrated vil- lage magistrate, after listening to the lawyers for both sides of the case, said : ' There are no real grounds for divorce, so I ' ll grant none. ' " Upon hearing this, the Duggans were very angry and made so much noise that our portly judge thought of a wise way out of his difficulty. " ' Tell you what I ' ll do, ' he said. ' We ' ll take the case before Father Casey and let him pronounce sentence. Is that satisfactory to all? ' ' ' A new question now confronted the magistrate and some of the other men. To begin with, should Father Casey learn of the real reason why he was wanted, he would certainly refuse to come, for he always made it a part of his conduct never to mix himself up in matters concerning law suits. " ' I know how to get around that little difficulty, ' said one of the wiser spirits. ' I ' ll invite him over to pay me a visit, then I ' 11 get him down here on some pretext or other. Is that all right? ' " Apparently it was, and the next Wednesday the priest paid the visit. That afternoon the two put in their appearance at the courtroom. " ' What ' s the meaning of this? ' ask- ed the bewildered clergyman. " ' Well, Father, ' replied the magis- trate, ' we ' ve had a divorce suit here between Miss Catherine Duggan and her husband, and as I couldn ' t find any reason why she should secure a separa- tion, I and the rest of the court, decid- ed to leave the case to you. ' " ' But I don ' t want to be drawn into this case, ' said the priest. ' ' You ' d better say something or — ' , angrily broke in Pat Duggan. ' ' ' Silence in the court, ' bellowed the justice. ' Well, ' said the unwilling priest, ' since there is no alternative, I might as well tell you what I have to say about the matter. In the first place you know the Church holds that any- one validly married cannot be separat- ed: ' What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. ' " ' Is that final? ' shouted oue of the Duggan boys. " ' Yes, it is, ' returned the priest. " ' In other words, you won ' t sanc- tion the separation of my sister from THAT? ' pointing to yours truly. " ' Yes. ' " ' Well, we ' ll get you yet for this. ' The words were fairly hissed, and the speaker ' s face was lighted up with dev- 164 THE REDWOOD ilish hatred, so much so that his teeth — or as I should have said, fangs, could be seen below his thin, bloodless lips. " ' By all the powers of heaven and earth, ' responded the other with digni- ty, ' you ' ll never lay a hand on me, un- til He Who is above us allows you to. However, I ' ll always say Mass here on Sundays, so you ' ll know where I am in case you want me. ' " The fiery speech of Pat Duggan and the quiet words of ' his Riverence ' as some of the good old Irish people were wont to call him, rankled in the breasts of many for several days. They never ceased ringing in my ears and I always carried two guns with me, in- stead of one, with a cartridge belt full and a few reserves in my pocket. " Father didn ' t think much of the threat ; but in order to keep me from ' putting up a howl ' , ' as he would smil- ingly put it, he armed himself with two guns and kept plenty of ammunition handy. " For several months nothing happen- ed, but I always felt the blow would fall sooner or later. Sunday after Sunday we traversed the lone trail un- molested. There was one spot on it, however, that I hated to pass. It was the place where I had met Kate and had wooed and won, but not kept her. As we drew near it, a feeling of depres- sion would steal over me, which was hard to overcome. " One Sunday we were late, for some reason or other, and were hurrying to make up time. All that morning I had a feeling that something was going to happen. The more I tried to put it aside, the stronger it came back to me. At last, unable to restrain myself any longer, I burst out: " ' Father, I have a feeling we are be- ing followed. ' " ' I think so too, ' replied the priest. ' I thought I heard a couple of twigs snap. Maybe tho ugh, it was only some animal. ' " We rode on in silence. I examined my weapons — a precaution I had learn- ed since coming to Crampton — and put them back into their holsters with shaking hands. " Bang! the report sounded startling- ly near ; a bullet whined close to my ear, clipping a leaf from a branch in its flight. We started to spur onwards, but two more bullets stopped our ani- mals, and we hastily got off and dodged behind a big tree close at hand. " We could see no one, but I started pumping lead in the general direction of the enemy. My only wish was to keep them from getting any closer to us. I wasn ' t so engaged very long, when the first thing I knew — ping ! came a bullet from the rear and lodged in the tree above my head. " It was no time for deliberation, and about as quick as thought I yelled to Father Casey: ' Lie down, Father! It ' s our only chance. I ' ll try to keep this front bunch off anyhow. I hope this fellow behind will get his medicine from them. Serve him right if he does. ' " Just then, I glanced out from be- THE REDWOOD 165 hind the tree and thought I saw a bush move. I raised my pistols to fire. Scarcely had I pulled the trigger, when I felt a numbness in my arm ; my gun dropped from my nerveless hand, my brain whirled, and I felt, for a minute as though I had a thousand enemies ca- pering about, all shooting at once. I soon recovered my wits and to my sur- prise found that my opponents were very quiet in front of me. I turned for a moment to the priest, thinking I had done a little damage to the enemy in front. " ' Well, Jim, ' says he, ' they got me in the foot, so there ' s no running away. ' " Spurred on by this, I opened again, but it was of little avail. I could not see what I was shooting at. And the next thing I knew I hadn ' t a single car- tridge left. It didn ' t take the enemy long to guess this from our persistent silence and they closed in on us, guns in hand, ready to dispatch us at the least move. My intuitions had served me faithfully; it was the Duggans. There were four of them and Pug Reilly, one of their cronies, who had done time in the pen. " " ' We ' ve got you at last, ' ' snarled Pat to Father Casey, ' and you ' re going to pay with interest. You, ' turning to me, ' will pay too. You ' ve killed Tim. We were going to let you go, but now you ' ll suffer. And the best part of it is, ' he laughed, ' there ' ll never be any traces of you. Hey Pug, bring that rope here. ' " It was brought and we were both tied hand and foot. They then brought a horse and wagon around and threw us into it. As an added precaution, we were both gagged and handkerchiefs tied over our eyes ; then a couple of old blankets were thrown over us to hide us from sight. " We rode in utter darkness for half an hour or more, although it seemed ages to me, over rough roads. At last we came to a halt and our blankets were thrown off. They lifted us rough- ly from the old buck-board, and let us fall heavily upon the ground. On ac- count of the loss of blood I fainted, but was soon brought around again. " They carried me to a tree and tied me to it securely before the handker- chief was taken from my eyes. At that instant a sight I would rather die than witness again pictured itself before me. What had once been a lake lay before me, but instead of sparkling waters, nothing remained but a dank, sodden, lurid bit of earth. Snakes raised their arrow-like heads to peer about and to hiss at us. Scrawny bushes grew there, the abode of lizards and other small reptiles. " Father Casey ' s arms were untied, but the fetters remained about his legs. Picking him up bodily, Pat and Pug, the strongest of the murderers, carried him to the brink of the marsh. Then I knew the meaning of what Pat had said about leaving no trace ; they were go- ing to throw him into it ! " ' One, two three, ' said Pat. At the 166 THE REDWOOD last count they threw him into the most treacherous swamp in that part of the country. The surface was hard enough to hold up an animal, such as a rabbit or a dog, but no human had ever been known to escape its treacherous clutches. " The murderers, devils, or whatever you wish to call them, stood watching, grinning, and hurling words at their victim I wouldn ' t use on a dog. To make their torture more agonizing, they placed a plank near him, but just out of his reach. As for me, I suppose they thought I would be torn by wolves ; But ' man proposes and God disposes. ' " If I could get loose it would be an easy matter to crawl out on the board and rescue Father Casey. But it was of no avail — my bonds were so securely tied that I couldn ' t even begin to loos- en them ; and the more I tried, the deep- er they bit into my flesh. " ' There ' s a plank for you to get out on, ' guffawed Pat. ' If you can escape, you ' re welcome to your freedom ; but if you can ' t — ' he left before he finished the sentence, but we knew its implied meaning. " ' Well, my son, I guess we ' ve taken our last Sunday morning ride together, ' smiled Father as he tried to speak lightly. " ' Oh, Father! ' I sobbed. ' I— I may be able to release myself yet. Oh ! God, help me ! ' " ' Don ' t give up the ship, we haven ' t gone down yet, ' came the consoling re- ply. " I recommenced my struggles; I sawed backwards and forwards in a vain effort to loosen my cruel bonds. During these exertions, I couldn ' t keep my eyes from the doomed man. There was no movement at all — I could see a button on his coat one minute, the next it was not there. I wondered in my half-crazed brain how this could be — there was no struggle — no sound — nothing at all, he only sank very slowly. " ' Oh, God! ' I cried, ' how can this be? Is it possible to save him? ' " ' It can only be done by a miracle my son. My last minutes are at hand. Pray for me, that I may die as a priest should! ' " All this time no struggle was visi- ble. One minute he would sink very fast; then again, he scarcely moved at all. Oh, but the suspense was awful: there was death staring him in the face. " Don ' t give in Father! I ' m com- ing ! " Wait for me ! ' I cried. " I struggled, I pulled and tugged at my cruel bonds; I kicked and shouted, but to no avail. " ' Oh God! ' I thought, ' can this be true ? ' ' ' ' Pray for me, my son, ' said Father Casey. ' Pray that I may die in His Grace. ' " The slime was now up to his chin and creeping higher all the time, its unsatiable appetite craving for more. ' ' ' Father ! ' I cried. ' I ' m nearly free. Wait a few moments and I ' ll save you. ' " ' All is nearly over my boy. May THE REDWOOD 167 God ha — ' his last words were cut off by the black slime that had entered his mouth. " I never, in all my life, expect to see a man face death so fearlessly. His eyes lighted up sublimely, as though he already saw the Gates of Heaven open- ing for him. " I redoubled my struggles and was rewarded by feeling my cruel bonds loosen. I tried harder — they became slack — I cried out in delight : " ' I ' ll help you, Father! I ' m com- ing! ' As I finished, I fainted again. " The sun broke through my crazed eyes. Far, far away, a hand was lifted in the air. It swayed up and down, backwards and forwards, from the right to the left — then disappeared. Nothing remained but the unruffled, ghastly morass, the home of reptiles. Slowly my befogged brain became act- ive again. I knew it was the Sign of the Cross, made by the earthly repre- sentative of Him Who suffered and died for us upon Calvary. " When I awoke, I lay in the Squire ' s house, all bandaged up. When I told him of my experiences, the only words he uttered were : " ' THE HUNS! ' " We took the case before the sheriff, but he was afraid of the Duggans. Then we brought it to the Attorney-General. He quickly had the murderers cap- tured. " When they were tried, the jury ren- dered the verdict of guilty in the first degree. The judge sentenced Pat, his father, and Pug to be hanged. The other two boys were given life impris- onment. " ' Now, is it any wonder, ' he said, turning to me, ' that I was nearly crazy. Furthermore, it was a year ago today the tragedy took place. " " He Is Risen " HIS is the month, and now the happy day On which the Son of Him who rules above, Broke the strong bands that held Him where He lay, A consecrated victim of His love. Those who had known Him best could scarce believe ; His foes with jeering laughter heard the tale ; And Thomas boasted he must first perceive The gaping handiwork of lance and nail ! But when, abashed, his trembling fingers felt The Master ' s hands, the side which late had bled From that last brutal spear-thrust— sternly dealt To seal His death— the thorn-prints on His head, Oh, with what raptured faith, firmer than sight, He felt the bursting heart within him thrill ! He knew his Master for the Lord of Might, And Death a weakling, servile to His will. Then hail the God-Man, of Blest Mary born, Who stooped to death our soul ' s true life to save ; Acclaim, O joyous bells, this Easter morn, The Victim- Victor risen from the grave ! MARTIN M. MURPHY 168 As You Like It Thomas E. Whelan. ESIDE one of the many flower stands that bor- der the Chronicle Building on Kearney and Market Streets, stood Betty Riley. She was Irish and a real blonde, graceful and vivacious; and in her natty yeo- manette uniform she looked like an in- carnation of one of the pen-products of Howard Chandler Christy. She cast an eager glance ' along the sidewalk, beating an impatient rat-tat with her trim foot ; for she had a lunch- eon engagement and there was no sign of ' ' him ' ' on the horizon ; though it was now many minutes past the appointed time. Out of the crowd that surges past this corner at the noon hour, when the stores and office buildings pour forth their employees, stepped a junior lieu- tenant of the U. S. Army. " Without the conventional salutation one gives a young lady, he came up to Betty and merely said: " Hockenstibby. " Poor Betty, taken out of her reverie so suddenly, nearly lifted both feet at the same time. However, she soon com- posed herself and assumed the role of a Vamp — for he was exceedingly good- looking. But, was it bashfulness that made the color rise even to his temples and his fingers twitch in that way? Betty managed to gurgle, in exclam- atory interrogation, " Hockenstibby? " Nothing further seemed necessary and he said: " Have you the foreign papers? " Betty answered: " No; I haven ' t got them. Let ' s walk down the street and get out of this crowd. We can sit in the lobby of the Palace Hotel. " Arrived there, the Lieutenant began : " Well, here we are; what ' s wrong? Why haven ' t you the papers? " ' " There were too many around to- day; but when I go back I relieve the rest and I can get them then. You take a room here, and I ' ll return about two o ' clock and we can go over them in detail. What name will you register under? " " Lieutenant Putnam, U. S. N. " Betty left him to his thoughts while she hurried to her office in the Sheldon Building, where she confided to Capt. Munsey, Commanding Officer, that she had had quite a luncheon hour. She had hardly finished her amusing story when a messenger came in with a telegram. Opening it, the Captain made out the code for the following: 169 170 THE REDWOOD Headqtrs., Naval Dstrct. B. Warning. Spy Suspects. Careful. N. D. 12. per R. " Miss Riley, there may be something in what you say. So I ' 11 put the matter into your hands and place my force un- der your command. Want it? " " Do I want it? Say, I ' m hungry and I ' 11 eat it up! " Betty began immediately. She sent Yeoman Sloat out to shadow Putnam, and Ensign Jackson up town. Then she prepared some papers and taking along several young officers and yeo- men from the office, made her way to the Palace. As she entered Putnam ' s room, she saw him lazily lighting a cigarette. Turning at her approach, he asked: " The papers? " " All right this time, " she replied, " here they are; read them aloud so I can explain as you go along. " Hardly believing his eyes, the Lieu- tenant seized the sheet, and this is what he read : Transports, Sherman and Logan; troops and supplies for Siberia, 8 15 18. Three torpedo boats in pursuit of raider, South Pacific waters. Hospital ship due Panama Canal, 17. New pass-word: Forward March. The last word proved a magic com- mand; for the door flew open and in bolted two big ensigns, followed closely by three bigger yeomen. Lieut. Put- nam had the sense not to resist; but there were quite a commotion and a lot of hasty conjectures as a large section of Uncle Sam ' s Navy passed through the lobby on the way out. Shortly after, " Extra " papers were on the streets, and big red letters across the front page announced: YEOMANETTE CAPTURES SPY. • • Up in the lounging room of the Olym- pic Club, Bob Hutchins, a young Army Lieutenant from over there, was seated, as sober as Rodin ' s Thinker, and to all appearances bearing a greater weight than did old Atlas. A newsboy approached and displayed his wares. " Paper, Mister? " " No, not to-day, sonny. . . . — Say, hold on a minute ! What . . Her pic- ture? " He pulled out a dollar. " Gim- me a dozen. Here; keep the change. " He read a few lines and then kicked over two chairs as he made a wild rush out the front door and down to the corner. " Ha! now I see why she was with that Navy piker on Market Street ! Hi ! you ! Taxi — Sheldon Building — quick ! ' ' Betty beamed her welcome, and Bob talked a sort of disconnected jargon which Betty knew meant his congratu- lations. ' ' Oh, boy ! ain ' t it a grand and glori- ous feelin ' to have a girl that ' s fam- ous! Say, Betty, if you ' ll only say the little word we can take breakfast, din- ner and supper together, and I ' ll never, never be late again. " THE REDWOOD 171 " Or else, " Betty amended, " bring the same kind of luck. Suppose you hadn ' t been late for lunch TO-DAY, Bob. " Then to an assistant, standing near the chair occupied by one whom Bob recognized as his supposed rival: " En- sign Jackson, please bring in your prisoner. " A half-startled half-quizzi- cal look came over the face of the non- chalant Mr. Putnam, as another Chris- ty girl in yeomanette attire was ush- ered into the office. Putnam jumped to his feet. " Great Gobs! that ' s the blonde! that ' s the blonde! " Hutchins pushed him back into the chair and volunteered: " Better take this boy out ; he ' s goofy ! ' ' " Wait a second — give him a hear- ing, " broke in Captain Munsey. With eyes fairly bulging from their sockets, Putnam whispered to Miss Dunlap, his accomplice, daughter of J. B. Dunlap of the International Import- ing Co.: " Have you THE papers? " The girl nodded a reply. " Whoopie! " shouted the fake lieu- tenant; " now I can roll my own. I ' m sick and tired of these tailor-mades. " 7fa- Re4« wt, PUBLISHED BY THE STUDENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SANTA CLARA The object of The Redwood is to gather together what is best in the literary work of the students, to record University doings and to knit closely the hearts of the boys of the present and the past EDITORIAL STAFF EDITOR-IN-CHIEF BUSINESS MANAGER ASSISTANT BUSINESS MANAGERS CIRCULATION MANAGER EXCHANGES ALUMNI UNIVERSITY NOTES ATHLETICS ASSOCIATE EDITORS HENRY C VEIT - HARRY J. GASSETT f T. A. ARGENTI I PAUL DONLON FRANCIS M. CONNEALLY BEN. SHUTZ 1 P.F. MORETTINI - JAMES B O ' CONNOR NORBERT KORTE DEMETRIO DIAZ EDITOR EXECUTIVE BOARD BUSINESS MANAGER EDITOR OF REVIEWS Address all communications to THE REDWOOD, University of Santa Clara, Santa Clara, California. Terms of subscription, Si .50 a year; single copies 25 cents EDITORIAL .„ . We wandered from our Sanc- . ;um just the other day to reathe and enjoy the Spring air; everywhere we saw placards an- nouncing the coming of a great event, and what attracted our eye most and kept turning in our mind was a simple declarative sentence, the slogan of the new Loan: " Sure, we ' ll finish the Job. " To the Americans left on this side of the Atlantic, the real test has come. We must show the nations who were asso- ciated with us in the Great War that we know how to make good. Our Ar- mies were the last stumbling block to the forces of militarism. Out of victory now comes the obligation of sustaining financially the work entailed in recon- struction. The support of our dollars 172 THE REDWOOD 173 is needed that the culmination of Dem- ocracy ' s house-cleaning process may he naught but a complete success. And upon all true Americans devolves a still greater task. We must prove that our patriotism is not the kind that is born of extremities and stirred to action only by the blast of martial music, but that it is the outgrowth of a devotion deep-rooted in the steady determina- tion of a consecrated service. With this conception uppermost in our thoughts, with this responsibility sounding its clarion call to generous giving, we should respond to the Vic- tory Loan. Only thus can we do our destined part in " establishing peace upon the permanent foundation of right and justice. " The Race Has it ever occurred to you in your moments of leisure and calm reflec- tion that the end is fast approaching? The racers are nearing the goal ; al- ready we have rounded the last turn and are entering the long home stretch. In the brooding quiet of our Sanctum, we wonder whether you, too, have occa- sion to grieve over many ill-spent hours and work that you skimped or perhaps omitted entirely, to indulge some un- profitable whim. If you have not, then yours will sure- ly be the victory and ours the pleasant duty of praising your well concerted ef- forts. But suppose now, as you recapitulate, you find a sense of unfulfilment haunt- ing you, and a vague tendency to dis- couragement. Then you are the very audience we crave. However unfor- tunate your race so far, don ' t let the past be the measure of the future. Be- gin right now ! Buckle down to harder and more sincere work from this out, that the severe test awaiting you in the Finals may not find you wanting. Nev- er let it be said that the mere danger of failure has disheartened you. What? Too much work? There may be some plausibility there ; yet the greater part of that attitude is but a figment of youthful imagination in the Spring- time. We might be more disposed to take your word for proof, had you kept that promise of yours about writing a poem or story or essay for The Red- wood. Do you remember? Of course, we still appreciate your good inten- tions. However, what we wished to say is, now that " second wind " is stirring within us a firmer determination, let ' s all keep going during the few weeks still at our disposal. Assiduity, which we all can acquire, plus gray matter, which we all possess in sufficient meas- ure (though not recklessly exhibited hitherto), will form a wonderful and triumphant combination. At any rate, remember that defeat or victory is finally decided only when the race is done. A bill was recently pro- posed, in the Assembly of one of our Western States, advocating the abolition of the The Wrong Tree 174 THE REDWOOD German language from the curriculum of its schools. Many will acclaim such a measure as a punishment proportion- ed to the magnitude of the crimes per- petrated by the agents of the former Kaiser. Yet, to other minds, our own included, it seems to involve at least a partial missing of the real point at is- sue. In the light of this country ' s war- time experiences, no sane-minded per- son can deny the far-reaching and dis- astrous results of German propaganda. The monster has indeed been chained at last; nevertheless, as we emerge from the struggle, it would be well not to forget the lessons we have been taught. No doubt the German language has been a serviceable channel of propa- ganda ; but whatever its contributing influence to the sum of effects, it was the very least significant. The lan- guage was but a tool in the hands of a distorted intellect; and furthermore, it was but a means to an end that was en- tirely good and worthy, according to the principles of the user. But the sub- tle instigating force behind this con- temptible gnawing into the very vitals of our nation must be sought elsewhere than in the mere language or the music or the literature and art of Germany. So, while we are about it, why not rec- ognize its real source — the principles found in the philosophy of Kant, of Haeckel and other prominent German Materialists? Banishing such pernici- ous doctrines from their present com- manding position in our leading Uni- versities would be a more sensible means of checking the hated aftermath of Kultur. To legislate only against the Ger- man language is at best inadequate ; and for all the world it looks like the ancient fatuity of " barking up the wrong tree. " Mttiuersitij Notes The Senate The Philalethic Senate, Santa Clara ' s honor so- ciety, held one of the liveliest and most hotly contested de- bates it has held in years, when, on March 25th, it met to discuss Prohibi- tion. Resolved, " That the Federal Prohibi- tion Amendment is unwise and unjust in principle, and can never be en- forced " , was a question that was sure to prove interesting, especially in view of the last clause. The " Wets " , led by Senators Frank Conneally and Henry Veit, must be congratulated on the excellent manner in which they upheld their side. They brought out with unusual force the un- ethical modern tendency to meddle with legitimate personal liberty and in- alienable private rights — matters which the very instrument amended by over zealous Prohibitionists was designed to safeguard. They argued that the new amendment means the wasting of mil- lions of acres of land and throwing thousands of men out of employment in a time of growing discontent among the industrial and laboring population of the country. Summing up, they brand- ed Federal Prohibition as a religious, scientific and constitutional heresy, which on that account cannot and will not be enforced. Then came the " Drys " ' with an ar- ray of forensic oratory almost border- ing on the pathetic, endeavoring to up- set the more reserved and purely argu- mentative stand of the " Wets " . Sen- ators " Jazz " O ' Connor and Jean Jae- ger managed to make a great deal out of a poor case, which was all the more creditable from the fact that their ar- dor and enthusiasm had only a sort of impersonal, academic basis; for neither gentleman could possibly have meant a word he said. The debate was called a tie. This, in itself is a tribute to the Negative, as it would be no slander to say that personal sentiment and convic- tion in the August Body run strongly toward the Affirmative of that even- ing ' s question. The next meeting, Tuesday, April 1st, brought up the question of the an- nual banquet of the Society. After a lengthy discussion, involving a choice between a banquet of mere trimmings and fat speeches, or one with genuine 175 176 THE REDWOOD food and sparser oratory, the Senate de- cided in favor of the latter. But where should the great function take place — San Jose or San Francisco ? The mere mention of the Metropolis in this connection caused prolonged ap- plause, only to be silenced by the sug- gestion that lack of time and a deplet- ed roll-call, due to wartime conditions, counselled a postponement of such a sudden break into the " Big Brush. " The regular debate on that evening was characterized by the usual fire and mirth that mark all senatorial func- tions. The question read: Resolved, " That Allied intervention in Russia has been a colossal failure and our Am- erican forces should be withdrawn. " Senators Moroney and McCoy, support- ing the Affirmative in their maiden ap- pearance before the Upper House, did exceedingly well. It was only by a small margin that they lost to the Neg- ative team, consisting of Senators Korte and Whelan. Perhaps it was ex- perience that told in the long run; though it were time all parties should realize the impossibility of wresting anything save abuse from the " Skeet- er " , once he starts conspiring. The formal contest was followed by a keen encounter on the floor of the Senate be- tween the Diaz and O ' Connor factions. It was marked by a steady flow of lan- guage including some pert and sassy retorts by each speaker. At this meeting we learned the per- sonnel of the Senate team that will op- pose the House of Philhistorians in the annual debate for the Ryland prizes. The honor falls this year upon Senators Frank Conneally, Jean Jaeger and Hen- ry Veit. Frank ' s ability is well known from past performances ; the same holds for Jean, whose recent experience as Lieutenant, telling what ' s what to the buck privates in Uncle Sam ' s Army ought to make him more effective than ever ; and as for the third member — well, just let any young sprout from the House attempt to " argufy " with Marse Henry, just let him! House of At the session of Tues- Philhis- day, March 25th, the torians House elected its Ry- land Debate Team. The selection was made after a number of speakers had shown their mettle in a try-out debate on the question: Resolved, " That a League of Nations should be established at the Peace Conference. " The successful contestants were Rep- resentatives Randall O ' Neill, Martin Walsh and Edwin Heafey, upon whom devolves the obligation of meeting the Senate Team on the evening of April 29th. That these men give promise of being a stumbling block to the ambitious Senators we do not doubt; but for the sake of courtesy we hereby remind them they have undertaken a heavy task. The question selected for the Ryland Debate is: Resolved, " That a League of Nations, in the form presented at the THE REDWOOD 177 Peace Conference on Feb. 14th, 1919, is preferable to any system based upon the Balance of Power. " The House will argue for the nega- tive. Student Body On March 25th, a meet- ing of this organization was called to order by Prexy Korte for the purpose of adjust- ing certain affairs which had been sad- ly neglected during the period of the S. A. T. C. The question relative to the awarding of block sweaters to the members of the 1918 Football team caused great agita- tion. After much argument pro and con, it was decided that the team which defeated Stanford ' s S. A. T. C. last No- vember was not a representative Var- sity squad, and consequently the play- ers are not entitled to wear the coveted S. C. letters. By unanimous consent the Student Body voted a nominal assessment to provide funds for presenting gold bas- ketballs to the champion Varsity quin- tet. On Monday afternoon, Visitors March 3rd, the students were accorded the pleas- ure of listening to Major C. Cabanel, Chaplain General of the 66th Division, Chasseurs Alpines, better known as the " Blue Devils " . The address took the form of an illustrated lecture, dealing largely with the religious side of the war, and the speaker ' s interesting per- sonal experiences during his more than three years ' service in the front line trenches. A few days later we were honored by the presence of another world-famous Frenchman, M. Joseph Bonnet, the cel- ebrated organist. The facts of his bril- liant career are well known to all music lovers. At the present time he is tour- ing the United States, giving a series of recitals in our large cities. Little had most of us suspected that the asthmatic old instrument in our Memorial Chapel could pour forth such raptures as it did under the fingers of this great mu- sician, after Benediction on the First Friday of March. Mountain League Affairs in this import- ant branch of campus activities took a slump a while back, but are now bursting into the spotlight again with the Wops hounding the Micks for the champion- ship. The latest game between these two factions resulted in an 8 to 1 victory for the former; and at that, according to Hoyle, the latter really deserved a goose-egg. When " Mary " Trabucco smashed his clean single to left field, " Cicero, Jr. " , our canine mascot, beat the outfielder to the pellet, romped off with it and allowed the runner to score. Such a contingency had never entered the calculations of the Moun- 178 THE REDWOOD tain League law-makers, so the run had to go down in the score book. man ' s marvelous works a more interest- ing and attractive one. Industrial Chemistry As the end of the schol- astic year approaches the chemistry students have during the last month been af- forded an opportunity to learn how the principles and facts which they have heard explained in the lecture room are put into practice in the industrial life of the nation. On Sunday and Wednes- day evenings both films and stereopti- can slides of the production and manu- facture of rubber, coal, fixed nitrogen, matches, concrete, asbestos, etc., have been shown in the Chemistry Hall and explained by the Professor of inorganic chemistry, Fr. F. McGarrigle. As many of the students of the high school attend these industrial lectures, the technical subjects have at times been varied by the illustration of others not strictly chemical. Such were the geological aspects of the Hawaiian vol- cano Kilauea and of Yellowstone and Yosemite National Parks and topics of general interest, such as the contrac- tion and prevention of bacterial dis- ease, the printing, illustrating, binding of the Saturday Evening Post, etc. Thus by a comparatively easy and interesting method the student may ac- quire considerable general knowledge which rounds out class work and in no mean measure supplements his fund of conversational topics while at the same time it makes his outlook on God ' s and Oratorical Contest Tuesday evening, April 8th, saw the Auditorium filled to capacity when the annual contest for the Owl and Junior prizes was held. The winner of the High Scho ol Elocution prize will be announced next month at Commence- ment. The Owl prize for Oratory was won by Frank Conneally, who delivered a masterly speech on the menace of Bolshevism. The program was as fol- lows : Patriotic Airs Hayes University Band Introductory Remarks James B. O ' Connor, ' 20 FOR THE JUNIOR PRIZES Rienzi to the Romans Mitford W. Carey Collaghan, 1st Year High Speech at Knapp ' s Trial Webster John M. Burnett, 2nd Year High Fagin in Prison Dickens Lloyd B. Nolan, 2nd Year High Oriental Roses Waltz Ivanochi University Band The Irish Disturbance Bill O ' Connell John P. Dempsey, 3rd Year High Waterloo Byron Henry M. Robidoux, 3rd Year High The Blacksmith ' s ' Story Olive John M. Jackson, 4th Year High Serenade — A Night in June King University Band THE REDWOOD 179 FOR THE OWL PRIZE A League of Nations or Not? Louis J. Trabucco, ' 22 Bring the Boys Home from Russia ... Edwin A. Heafey, ' 22 The Soldier ' s Home-coming Eugene R. Jaeger, ' 20 Bass Solo — The Deep Sea -King Alfredo A. Ferrario An Incident of No Man ' s Land Randall 0. O ' Neill, ' 20 The New Revolution Francis M. Conneally, ' 20 March — Thrill of Victory Kuefer University Band The following gentlemen acted as Judges : Bro. Adam, S. M., Capt. A. B. Canelo, Prof. C. W. Townsend, Mr. L. Louis Gairaud, Mr. Ronald G. Stewart. Fred J. Moran. Norbert Korte. frQfo -fVJ-fXM. CLAEft: Back to the city by the Golden ' 88 Gate, the home he loves best, comes Father " Joe " Mc- Quaide. Home must be more pleasing and brighter than ever after a stren- uous sojourn in France. Captain Mc- Quaide was chaplain of the 62nd Regi- ment of Coast Artillery. After three weeks of duty with his boys he was sent to the front, where he saw plenty of ac- tion. He has recently been honored with the prized medal of France for dis- tinguished service in aiding a little French village sorely stricken by the fatal influenza. In the absence of both physician and priest, he hastened to the plague-stricken community and gave what aid he could in relieving suffering and administering the last Sacraments to the dying. Father McQuaide had al- most forgotten the incident; but after his return to the States, the peasants in the little town, in gratitude for his de- votion sent a delegation to Paris to secure official recognition of his gener- osity and valor. Father McQuaide was no novice in the duties of Chaplain, having served in that cap acity with the California troops in the Philippines during the Spanish war. The Redwood congratulates him and here expresses the wish that he will soon favor us with a visit. ' 92 Dr. James C. Zan, now a prominent physician of Port- land, Oregon, surprised us re- cently on his first return to Santa Clara since his college days in the early nine- ties. Dr. Zan, in company with his family, is making an automobile tour of California, A former ball player on the Varsity, he had a very happy reunion over " ye good old days " , with Char- ley Graham, who was here at the time training his pet Seals. Welcome word has just come of Rev. T. O ' Connell, who has been many months " over there " as chaplain, for- tifying the spiritual calibre of the A. E. F. in the same kind fatherly way that was his wont here at home. Chap- lain O ' Connell is the proud owner of a decoration awarded him for exception- al valor. 180 THE REDWOOD 181 We have the honor and pleas- ' 96 ure of printing in this issue an impressive address deliv- ered a few months ago by one of our most successful Alumni, Mr. James A. Emery, of Washington, D. C. While an undergraduate, Mr. Emery was rec- ognized as a gifted literary man and debater, and oldtimers tell us we have still to find his superior in the efficient management of Santa Clara ' s athletics. Mr. Emery is an attorney of nation- wide reputation, having devoted his talents and energies to the mainten- ance of harmony and wise co-operation among the forces behind the industrial and commercial life of this country. On his visits to the Coast he is in great de- mand as an entertaining and instructive speaker at intellectual gatherings in the Metropolis. We hope to hear him some day in the Auditorium where he made his debut as a public speaker. For the text of the scholarly speech we are here republishing, the Redwood wishes to express its acknowledgement and gratitude to the courtesy of Mr. Charles K. Field, Editor of Sunset Mag- azine. ' 07 ' 05 Ralph C. Harrison has been promoted to the rank of Ma- jor, in the Regular Army. Few were the highways or byways in the Argonne country he failed to tra- verse. Major Harrison is now Chief of the Provost Guard in that section. James F. Twohy, one of the earliest and ablest editors of The Redwood, spent a pleas- ant afternoon last month revisiting familiar scenes about the campus. The files of this magazine bear ample testi- mony to " Jim ' s " ability as poet, es- sayist, story-writer and athlete. In addition to his uncommon literary tal- ent, Mr. Twohy has shown rare busi- ness ability as well in the important position he has held since his gradua- tion. The untimely death of Rob- ' 08 ert E. Twohy was lamented by none more than by his many friends here at Santa Clara. We had hoped to publish in this issue a special article in well deserved tribute to him, but have been obliged to reserve it until next month. Meanwhile we ex- tend the condolences of The Redwood and the Student Body to " Bob ' s " be- reaved relatives and many friends. Among the veterans from Ex ' 08 overseas happy in their re- turn home, is Sergeant Ben- jamin H. Baird. Early in the war, Ben- ny enlisted in the French Foreign Le- gion and was later transferred to the American Aviation Co rps. He confirms the tales told in fiction about the for- mer organization, which, he says, was composed for the most part of hunted men, accustomed to taking desperate 182 THE REDWOOD chances. No, gentle reader, it implies nothing; for an honorable discharge, you know, wipes out any charge there may have been against a man in civil life ; and then, too, there are exceptions to every, rule. At present, Benny is a consulting engineer with headquarters in San Francisco. ' 10 Another warrior to return to the peaceful pursuits of civil- ian life is Captain Byington Ford. He comes home with the dis- tinction of having participated in near- ly every important action in which the Yankee forces were engaged. From his " blues " back to ' 11 civilian garb, and Dan Tad- ich is just the same. " While at Santa Clara, Dan did many things to make him remembered ; he was a husky forward on the first team to represent the Varsity in Rugby, and he also gain- ed undying fame for proficiency in wielding a hammer in the wings of the Auditorium stage. He was not a knock- er in any oblique sense of that word; just a master stage-hand for the many theatricals of his day. Upon his dis- charge from the Navy, Dan accepted a good business position and at present resides in San Francisco. The Red- wood extends him its good wishes for every success. Home from France as one of Uncle Sam ' s clever birdmen, flew Lieut. Dom- inic Di Fiori after spending more than a year in service at the front. A short while back, he came down from Mather Field in his bi-plane and showed mar- velous skill in handling his machine, to the admiration of thousands gathered on the campus for the Seals ' farewell game. ' 12 Though years have fled since his departure, there is still resonant hereabouts a faint echo of his hale and hearty laugh. George Mayerle, Jr., was the college comedian par excellence ; and though a finished Thespian as well, it was as an original mirth-provoker he is best remembered. George is in business in San Francisco ; and from all reports has lost none of his irresistible ' ' stuff ' ' , as would appear from the fact that he actually " kidded " a foot-pad into re- storing him some carfare after being held up and robbed. Raymond Durney, at present Ex ' 14 with the army of occupation, relaxed his watch on the Rhine to send a short greeting to his friends at the University. According to latest reports, he is enjoying life in the neighborhood of Strasburg. ' 17 Ronald Stewart has opened a law office in San Jose in con- junction with his old Santa Clara friend John J. Jones, " 11. THE REDWOOD 183 ' 18 The " Laureate of Milpitas " returned last week to his Alma Mater for a brief stay. Who will say that Lieut. J. Charles Murphy has not the soul of the Muses with him? " Jazzy " was editor of this department while a student here. He was also a steady contributor in other ways; his graceful, melodious verses being particularly in demand. Lieut. Murphy is still in the service — Camp Lewis is his present place of inspira- tion — but he expects to rejoin his civil- ian brothers in the Law School here at the Mission. Lieut. Rudolph J. Scholz drops a line now and then from Camp Lee, " ' way down in Virginny ' ' . Rudie was always a fine student and was also very prom- inent in athletics, starring in all the Big Games with Stanford. Ensign Craig Howard is flut- Ex ' 18 tering between love and duty — Santa Clara and Vallejo — awaiting Uncle Sam ' s permission to re- sume the discarded jeans of civilian life. ' 21 A voice out of the wilderness somewhere near Loomis, reached us from the person of Ex-Lieut. Arthur K. Brennan. When " Bill " received his papers, he found the lure of nature too strong to permit him to return to poring over forgotten book-lore, so he repaired at once to his father ' s ranch where he is helping to solve the ancient problem — what is a plow, and, if so, when? Persistent ru- mor avers that Dan Cupid has lately visited the house of " Bill ' s " heart and decided to arrange for permanent ac- commodations. Oh, you little Dan ! IN MEMORIAM. Once again it becomes our painful duty to record the passing of several prominent members of the Alumni As- sociation. Late in March, Robert Edmund Two- hy went to his reward after a long and heroic struggle with an insidious dis- ease that baffled the most expert med- ical attention. Still under thirty, bril- liant, successful, ideally happy in the devotion of his fond relatives and the love of his young wife, Bob had every- thing to live for; but God ' s unsearch- able Providence willed the great sacri- fice, and Bob ' s remarkably unquestion- ing and ardent Catholic faith respond- ed with heroic submission. Charles L. Barrington, known as the most prominent and zealous Catholic layman in San Jose, was summoned by death on the 27th of last month. In another section of this number we have a graceful tribute to his memory from the pen of his devoted friend and broth- er-in-law, Mr. Charles D. South, ' 01. On April 2nd, we were called upon to mourn the departure from this life of Hon. William G. Lorigan, who died 184 THE REDWOOD in San Francisco after a protracted ill- ness. Judge Lorigan worthily occupied a place on the California Supreme Bench for many years, being universal- ly considered one of the most eminent jurists in the West. And now we receive word of the ear- ly demise of another well-remembered graduate, Mr. James S. Flynn, ' 01. He succumbed to an attack of pneumonia a few weeks ago at his old home in Vir- ginia City, Nevada. To his afflicted relatives and those of the other departed Alumni here mentioned, The Redwood takes this oc- casion to extend its most heartfelt con- dolences. Requiescant in pace ! James B. O ' Connor. In going over the reviews we have written during the course of the month, it occurred to us that some of our criti- cisms might give the impression that the Lenten season had made us a trifle hypercritical, if not impertinent in our bluntness. We disclaim any intention to be dogmatic not to say uncharitable in our official capacity ; our main fault, so far as our conscience testifies, being a somewhat youthful penchant for " talking right out in meeting " . This is not reputed to be the most diplo- matic sort of tiling to do ; but now that we sincerely disavow any intention to offend, we think our friends will not hold it against us if we publish our judgments upon their work just as they came off the bat with their journals still in our hands. This monthly comes to us with an improved fla- vor of college life and as we have already re- marked in these pages, was not much in evidence before. But, though an improvement is noted Creighton Chronicle spirit, which, and appreciated, the Chronicle does not yet come near our ideal of a truly pro- gressive college magazine. Indeed, if we are correct in our judg- ment of the University, which, with its large student body, is an important fac- tor in the educational system of the Middle West, we think that its literary production does not faithfully portray the spirit and traditions of the place. It seems to us lacking in the personal character it can derive only from the literary efforts of Creighton under- graduates. Instead of finding, as we do this month, an almost exclusive contribu- tion by writers with alphabetical ap- pendages to their names, we should be delighted to review the efforts, how- ever inferior, of men whose names are at present followed only by class num- erals. In other words, a college journal should be the production as it is the mouthpiece, of the students themselves, not of fthe Alumni or the Faculty. Lest we invite imprecations on our young, though precocious heads, we revert to the main subject of these remarks. From among its contents, we pick " A 185 186 THE REDWOOD Last Tribute " as the one which we judge the best. It is an oration deliv- ered at the funeral of the noble foun- er of Creighton University ; and even though it is some years since the sen- tences were uttered, still, like the an- cient masterpieces we love to study, it contains many beautiful passages, an excellent panegy ric on the life and deeds of this great philanthropist. To put it mildly, we thoroughly enjoyed it. Next we mention " Founder ' s Day " , not that we are going to say much about it nor even that it ranks next in merit ; but simply because it is the only student contribution, and this we ap- preciate. " Back to the Arms of the Nation " , is the one poem in the present issue. Though not rising to great heights of imagination or emotion, it beautifully expresses the country ' s gratitude for the triumphant return of its heroes. As much as anything else in this number, we enjoyed the athletic notes, not merely because we rejoiced at Creighton ' s record in basketball, but likewise because in this section we felt the right kind of personal contact. Sim- ply in a spirit of friendly criticism we suggest that as much personal expres- sion be manifested in the other depart- ments as in the athletic notes. The Chronicle at present is a publi- cation well worthy of any institution of learning; but from the Ex-Man s viewpoint it will be far better when it contains a pleasing array of articles, essays, short stories, poems — efforts of the students themselves. Georgetown Journal From across the conti- nent comes our welcome visitor the Georgetown College Journal. Judging from its lit- erary efforts this time, we are forced to conclude that the war has left in its wake of ruin and hardship a drought of real College poetry. We confess to some disappointment at not being able to enjoy some of the old-time interest- ing bits of verse in our friend from the Nation ' s Capitol, as we thought we de- tected a general lack of seriousness in the few poems to be found in the cur- rent number. " At the Window " is the best; but it can hardly lay claim to special praise, as both in theme and in expression it falls somewhat below the mark. There is a poverty of rhythm in the lines, making it strongly suggestive of prose ; while the rhyme does not atone for this deficiency, but rather makes it more apparent. " Beaumarchais " , an essay of some length, aided greatly in restoring our good humor, displaying as it does a novelty of theme and choice- ness of diction. We are aware of con- fessing ignorance when we praise it for having enlightened us on the interest- ing subject treated. " The Mills of God " is a short story containing a weird plot, unnatural as it is strange ; but with many proved in- THE REDWOOD 187 congruities of war in mind, we dare not call it improbable. The dialogue throughout is natural, and, like the character of the story, typically Eng- lish. At times the clock-work of the plot seems to need winding up ; but for all that we followed it eagerly to the end. The editorials deal with an interest- ing group of topics. We found our- selves mentally debating with the ed- itor on his views about " Ethics and the Army " . He claims that though the re- sults of Army discipline are great and undisputed " in this lies its greatest weakness " towards the upbuilding of character. Surely he must refer only to the sto- lid Prussian article. " We prefer to hold with Marshal Foch, who claims that military discipline, understood in its true sense and properly applied, cannot but produce the best results in upbuild- ing character. Of course, we are deal- ing with the purely objective side of the question ; as a matter of personal expe- rience, we are willing to get our char- acter moulded in civil life, thank you. De Paul Minerval " Recepto dulee mihi furere est amico " are the words that returned to us from Sophomore days as we sat down to enjoy the contents of this ex- cellent magazine. Vague fears, ever and anon recurring, had nearly made us believe the mighty sword of war had sundered us forever. But at last, with the return of peace, old friends meet again ; and we here extend the hand of welcome and clasp it in friendship with that of our Chicago brother, who has been restored to his place of honor in our Sanctum. Through all the influ- ences hostile to the Arts of Peace, the Minerval maintains its high standard of excellence ; not only have the gentle Muses not taken flight, but they seem unaffected by the blighting touch of Mars. " A Fancy " won our apprecia- tion at once with the lines : " The heart of life is like a full-blown rose, Its velvet petals spread, Showing the dusty gold that warmly glows Deep in the blushing red; Vibrant with pulsing splendor, floats above The scented largess of o ' erflowing love. " " An Old Friend ' s Name " embodies a beautiful sentiment, but was perhaps a little too hastily written; for, as we suspect, it does not fully express the thought in the author ' s mind. Of the short stories, " The Phantom Flag " we considered the best, not only because of its apt portrayal of charac- ter and judicious use of incident, but also for the touch of originality in its plot, and a graceful turn of circum- stances which gave an added interest to the story and left us wholly satisfied at the end. " Just Jack " is a typical 0. Henry story, keeping our interest at fever heat and our minds in suspense until the 188 THE REDWOOD very last, and then with an unexpected turn bringing all to a graceful conclu- sion. Another feature is its excellent characterization. The essays on " The Beautiful " and on the " Art of Criti- cism " we found little comfort in, being mere novices in Philosophy. The editorials are in keeping with the general tenor of the book and we particularly like the red-blooded Am- ericanism of the one entitled " America First " . leaves us with an increased esteem of our " Wisconsin friend and namesake. The Young Eagle It is not often that we meet a question of the day so well written and so ably discussed as in the February number of this magazine from St. Clara, where we find " The Monroe Doctrine and the Policy of Isolation " set forth in an article dealing with ruch phases of the subject as its his- tory, its relation to other nations, our former isolation and our future parti- cipation in the arena of world affairs. We enjoyed its perusal, even thougli bias, or perhaps prejudice, made us loth to change some of our pet ideas. " The House Next Door " and " The Debut of Richard Austin " deserve praise ; the former being a war story with a moral, and the latter a charming little tale of boyhood days. The num- ber is fairly bubbling over with verses, many of them with no high poetic qual- ity, but all entertaining, especially those found in the secluded section of the " Feathers " . The pleasant task of reviewing its literary work always rp. Our perusal of this num- Gonzaga ber brin S s to li S ht some nice bits of verse by one whom we presume to be a returned hero. Passing to a more serious mood, we come upon an ably written essay on present-day conditions prevailing in this country; and finally we emerge with bubbles of laughter from the waves of humor stirred by a lighter pen. " Her Prayer " and " To My Com- rade " , poems by the same author, are of unequal merit, but both deserving of commendation, particularly the for- mer. In " Reconstruction After the War " , a subject that is growing a bit bromidic, the writer treats of various phases of our national problems at the present time, condensing a wealth of thought into a few pages, without being too sketchy or obscure. In the humorous fiction of this num- ber, " Toreadoring in Torridor " and " Easy Money " , we found entertain- ment, but less in the way of technique than we like to find in college short stories. The plots are of what we should call the " scenario " variety, and no attempt is made at depicting or suggesting character. In conclusion, our Northern visitor retains its place among the most honored as well as the most welcome of our Exchanges. P. F. Morettini. - III z IT III 9) I U J . -J • m in z a 5 s -J o ui V) o (0 K ui u a. u ' x o . - -I J i E« . o 5 J L. UI IL Z 5 b °o: i i u o u t- ° 2 " UI x u ui u ui a. K I t- I J X o BASKETBALL. Basketball is over; but we must, in all humility declare that it is by no means forgotten ; for it has been a long time since we have had so thoroughly successful a season. In the beginning, it is true, things did not look so ex- ceedingly bright. But, after the first game or two, Manelli and Vicini were discharged from the Navy and were welcomed back to fill the positions they held last year, of forward and center, respectively. Then things began to brighten up, and after that time we were not credited with a defeat, though we played the veiy best of ' em. Since our last issue, in which we chronicled the games played with Col- lege of Pacific, Stanford, Nevada and California, we met and won from the following teams: Camp Lewis Quarter- masters, Olympic Club (practice game), St. Mary ' s, Davis Aggies and St. Igna- tius. S. C. 29 St. Mary ' s 20 Sporting writers seem to be of the opinion that by far the best piece of athletic news that has come out this year is that Santa Clara and St. Mary ' s have met after a lapse of seven years. The only sport in which we tangled was Basketball, and the result was all that we could desire. It was a fast game, from start to finish, and during the first half it looked as if the gods of Basketball had it all doped out for St. Mary ' s to carry off the slab of pork. For, try as we could, and shoot as we would, the ball just refused to drop in- to the little net. It would dance around the ring, poise for a moment, as if un- decided what to do, then slowly roll out of the basket. And this happened not once, but several times. At the Q nd of the first half St. Mary ' s led by the score of 13 to 12. But in the second half our five promptly took the lead and held it to the end of the game. 189 190 THE REDWOOD The passing in the second half was all that the most rabid critic could desire, St. Mary ' s scarcely having the ball at all. For St. Mary ' s, Ritchie, the little forward, showed that he is all he is touted to be, while his side-kick, Dear- born, was by far the best dribbler we have seen this year. He and Ritchie had a pretty play that made several baskets for them in the first half; but in the second spasm Fat Ferrario had it all doped out, and broke up the show every time. We did not change a man, but kept the following combination all the way through : Diaz and Manelli, forwards; Vicini, center; Ferrario, Korte, guards. S. C. 61 Davis 19 If you were anxious to see beautiful, even spectacular passing, " impossible " shooting and all-around excellent work, though not a real game, you should have witnessed the Davis Farm- Santa Clara tangle. It was too one- sided to be a game, but it showed the on-lookers the secret of the success of a team that defeated California, Neva- da, St. Mary ' s and St. Ignatius. That secret was team work. Here we had a quintet without a regular coach, but which won its games on account of uni- ty and team work ; and for this achieve- ment great praise is due to every player on the team. Team work featured all our games after the season got well under way, but in this particular, the Davis affair was a sight for sore eyes. S. C. 18 St. Ignatius 17 In the last and perhaps the most spectacular, though far from the best game of the season, the Varsity nosed out St. Ignatius on the evening of March 15th. The game was played on the Ignatian court in San Francisco, before a densely-packed assembly of fans and rooters. In the desperate but rather mediocre playing during the first half, the individual work of Lau- terwasser for St. Ignatius, and our boys ' hard luck in ringing baskets de- spite several good chances, were the only thing like a feature. At half time, we were on the small end of a 10 to 5 score, our puny quintet of points re- sulting exclusively from fouls. Now, given the ordinary breaks, no guards in these parts have a license to treat our forwards that way in a twenty-minute session. The second half was just as hard- fought as the first, but a better exhibi- tion of basketball. Our opponents con- tinued their individual starring and kept well out in front ; while the Var- sity failed to take proper advantage of its superior team work during most of the half, when it would work the ball down the court repeatedly only to miss the net by an eyelash. The last few minutes of play gave the game its right to be called spectacular. Only about three minutes remained, and the score board read S. I. 17, S. C. 12. Could the Varsity pull some of that " lightning stuff " we were familiar with in less THE REDWOOD 191 critical situations? Listen. Manelli happened to see the score board just as he caught the ball near the middle of the court. He shot a clean basket with- out waiting to dribble. Then Hoit Vi- cini woke up and followed suit. The ball was quickly restored to play, and Manelli got it again, this time in front of the basket, and tossed it in just as the whistle sounded the end of the game. It sure was a story-book finish, no fooling ; and it left both rooting sec- tions almost too dazed to tell what had happened. We are very sorry, though nowise to blame, that the work of the referee in this game left a good deal to be desired. Had his difficult work been perfect, the relative score would have been exactly the seme, if not more than the actual score was in our favor. But it gave occasion for a lot of public and private protesting on the part of the losers ; which sort of thing, when not warranted in view of all that hap- pened in the game as a whole, does no good to the defeated team and leaves the winners with their well-earned vic- tory notwithstanding. California, tied with Santa Clara for first place in the Intercollegiate League, had completed her schedule and disbanded for the sea- son, which made a play-off impossible. Technically, therefore, the champion- ship title is the joint possession of Berkeley and Santa Clara. In review- ing the dope, however, we find satisfac- tion in remembering that California ' s lone defeat was at the hands of our Varsity. BASEBALL. The Varsity spent most of the month serving as " trial horse " for the Coast League teams hereabouts, being wallop- ed four times by the Seals and twice by the Sacramento Senators. Outside of some good pitching there was never very much for our followers to grow chesty over, if we except the second game at Sacramento, in which Santa Clara forced the Leaguers to go four- teen innings before they could get the run needed to beat us by a score of 6 to 5. Another forlorn consolation is that in some games we made a better showing than did some of the other amateur teams that had the nerve to tackle the big fellows. S. C. 9 Stanford The second game of the Stanford se- ries ended with the same score as the first. The pitching of Berg and Hickey was too good for the Palo Alto collegi- ans who gathered only two hits, while our batters were straightening out the curves of the opposition for 13 safe- ties. Griffith and Perasso fattened their averages by securing three hits apiece. S. C. 3 Stanford 3 In the third affray with Stanford, Bobby Pashburg, a youngster with lit- tle experience but lots of " stuff " and more promise, made his first appear- ance for the Varsity. He delivered in fine style during the seven innings be- fore sunset, striking out seven and al- lowing only two hits. Consistently rag- 192 THE REDWOOD ged work by the Varsity infield gave Stanford her opportunity to figure in the run column. Sacramento (Coast League) 6 Santa Clara 5 As hinted above, this was a baseball game in every sense of the word, re- plete with excitement for fourteen snappy innings. Poor playing behind Ken Berg spotted Sacramento a three run lead in the very first frame, but after a discouraging start, the Varsity settled down to business and held the Senators to that count until the ninth. Meanwhile the Mission Boys were thoughtfully amassing a total of five ; one in the fourth when O ' Connell rode a slow one over the right field fence ; one more in the fifth, when ' Neil ' s " hump-back liner " scored Billy Grif- fith ; and three in the eighth on a flock of hits by Berg, Rooney, O ' Connell and Varni. Then the fast pace began to tell, and the Senators evened up the score at five all. Hickey went in to relieve Berg and neither side could cross the rubber until the eventful fourteenth. Amid great excitement, Middleton, of Sacramento, hit a two- bagger, which was soon followed by a neat single from the bat of Eldred, sending the winning run across the plate. We beg leave to subjoin the fol- lowing: SANTA CLARA. R H Fitzpatrick 1 Rooney 1 2 R O ' Connell 2 Varni o Griffith _ 1 Perasso __ O ' Neil, P o Larrey o Berg i Hickey o 5 SACRAMENTO. R Middleton 3 Rodgers 1 Eldred 1 Wolter Griggs Pinelli O ' Neil, J Fisher 1 Piercey Prough Vance Murray 6 H 2 1 2 1 2 1 12 H 1 3 1 1 (I 1 1 Santa Clara 4 Stanford 3 Two days after the trip to Sacramen- to we cinched our series with Stanford by beating them on their home lot in a seven-inning session marked by some rather unusual features. First of all, Big Tom Hickey pitched invincible ball, not allowing a solitary hit; then, the Varsity secured no less than twelve safe ones, Jim O ' Connell getting four in as many trips to the plate ; finally THE REDWOOD 193 " dumb " defensive work on our part nearly neutralized all this by handing Stanford three runs, only one less than 12 hits could bring us. Which leads us to marvel what would have hap- pened had the pitching not been above par. For a few particulars, see below. SANTA CLARA. ABRH Fitzpatrick, 2nd 3 1 Chase, rf 4 12 O ' Connell, cf 4 2 2 Varni, c 4 1 Griffith, If 4 2 Perasso, ss 3 O ' Neil, 1st 3 1 Larrey, 3rd 3 1 Hickey, p 3 1 31 4 12 STANFORD. AB R H Lilly, cf - 2 1 Stevens, 3rd 2 10 Galloway, ss 2 10 Pike, 1st _ 3 Kallam, 2nd 3 Needham, If 3 Parker, rf 10 Newlands, p 10 Bundy, c - 10 21 3 Santa Clara 1 California 2 In their first baseball argument in years, Santa Clara lost to California in a fast game played last Saturday on the Berkeley campus. It was largely a pitchers ' battle between our Tom Hick- ey and Russ Ellison, mainstay of the Bruins. Jim O ' Connell, who generally shows the way, had been a bit under the weather and his consequent batting slump was imitated pretty closely by most of his team-mates, though we are not denying that Mr. Russ is quite some twirler at that. " We remember that the U. C. lads did not think much of our " Gym " when they met us here in basketball. Were we in a mood to return the compliment, we might in- vite them to compare our Varsity Field with the makeshift affair where we had to play them last Saturday. Also, we beg leave to inquire if it would not be more satisfactory all around to find a place on their schedule for more than a single game with our ball teams, plainly their closest rivals, instead of reserving so much room for nines that any college team is almost predes- tined to beat by a safe margin. One lone game on your rival ' s home dia- mond may leave some doubt as to the respective ability of teams so evenly matched. Hope we are not " horning in " on the Manager ' s preserves; but in our youthful ingenuousness, we just can ' t help sort of inquiring like. Behold what the official scorer slipped us : SANTA CLARA. Fitzpatrick, 2d Chase, rf AB R H O A 5 114 4 194 THE REDWOOD AB R H A O ' Connel, cf 3 Varni, c 4 1 11 2 Griffith, If 110 2 Perasso, ss 4 10 1 O ' Neil, lb 4 9 Larrey, 3b 4 10 Hickey, p 2 3 Totals 31 1 3 24 10 CALIFORNIA. AB R H O A White, ss 3 12 2 Morrisey, lb 4 8 Rohwer, 2b - 4 14 1 Myers, cf 2 10 2 Butler, rf 3 110 Dexter, c 2 9 4 Champion, If 3 12 Lais, 3b 3 3 Ellison, p 3 2 1 Totals 27 2 6 27 11 Struck out — By Hickey 9, by Ellison 7. Bases on balls — Off Hickey 1, off Ellison 6. Hit by pitcher— By Ellison, Hickey and Griffith. Stolen bases — Griffith, Larrey, Myers. Sacrifice hits — Dexter, White. Time of game — 1 hr. 40 min. Umpire — Pete Smith. D. Diaz. PREP BASEBALL. S. C. Preps 10 Mountain View On Tuesday, March 4th, the curtain rose upon the Preps ' baseball season. Bob Pashburg, the handsome blonde from Yreka, was assigned the leading role, and acquitted himself with much credit. The members of the supporting cast included Falvey, catcher; Chase, 1st; Judge, 2nd; Pipes, short; Becker, 3rd ; Lambrosa, Bedolla and Sheid, out- field. The Mountain View boys, directed by Mr. Smith, son of Mr. Smith, Sr., also had their parts to play, the star of their cast being located behind the plate. Regli made it hard work for the Preps to do any base-stealing that they might have been planning for the afternoon. Preps 6 Mountain View Just to prove to the sceptical, and in particular to the lovers of the National game at Mt. View, that a foreign field is no hazard to our crossing the pan, we went and performed that act six several times on the afternoon of Wed- nesday, March 12th. The Mt. View boys utterly failed to shine as heroes on their native heath and before their many friends ; but the fair-minded critic had to lay the blame for this fact upon the Preps great little battery. Bobby Pashburg had oodles of stuff he must have scooped from Mt. Lassen, the smoky hillock hard by his northern home. This enabled him to turn in a sheet with a no-run no-hit record, while the few opponents who got to first were slaughtered in their tracks by the " bullet-ball " of " Gumshoe " Ray Falvey. THE REDWOOD 195 Preps 7 Centerville Our friendly rivals up near the Bay have always boasted a formidable ball team ; but on March 19th, as they re- turned to their homes, the chug chug of their Stutzes beat a sort of Runic rhyme to some dismal thoughts inspired by Pashburg ' s playful habit of pitch- ing no-hit games. This was his second display of Scotch extravagance as it were. Preps 10 San Jose High Not an error chalked against us, and eleven hits made when hits were need- ed account for this victory over our friends from the wrong end of the Ala- meda. Pashburg was not in his usual form, allowing two real hits ; but we can say in his defense that he kept ' em well scattered. Our infield in this game performed with the ease and skill of professionals. Maybe the outfield- ers were in the same class ; but there was no way to tell, as only one ball bounced out that far. Preps 8 Palo Alto High 8 We had often heard of a wonderful ball team that was cleaning up every- thing they met along the Peninsula, thanks to Shadd, a no-hit twirler, al- ways supported by a noisy up-and-at- ' em rooting section. So, on a bright Wednesday afternoon the Preps mo- tored north with prospects of a hard game in mind, but, nevertheless deter- mined to bring home the stout end of the score. The game got a very late start, the little bullfinches and the rob- ins and the whip-poor-wills snuggling in their nests when the cry of " Play Ball " reached our eager ears. It took two innings for the Prep hit- smiths to solve the dips and twists of the renowned Mr. Shadd. From then on the horsehide was kept busy visiting the peaks of the young Alps in the out- er garden. In the fifth frame we faced a new pitcher whose specialty was a slow ball. It was slow only on its way to the plate. Meantime Bobby more than held his own, not in the least dis- couraged by some rickety support, mostly due to the rough playing field. Our team is from a valley school and I doubt if any of its members could get used to starring on the Rockies. Palo Alto could make money by leasing their diamond to Jazz O ' Connor for his Mountain Leaguers. Costly bobbles presented their runs to Palo Alto, and in the seventh and last inning they tied the score. By this time the sun had gone to rest, and the stars were doing some nifty twinkling in a cloudless sky. The aroma of eighteen delicious steaks came to us on the southern breeze; so we called it a night ' s work and dug for the Mission, with a tied score in place of the desired victory. J. E. Neary. 196 THE REDWOOD BOXING. The manly art has been more or less in abeyance since the days of the S. A. T. C, but the lessons then learned have not been all in vain. While the Seals were plowing up our turf before going forth to do battle with their Coast League opponents, it was the desire of the management to stage a side attraction; so, one Sunday we saw Long Tom Whelan do a Salome with the well-known W. Meehan from the city. Before the act, it was agreed that the slogan " play nice; don ' t fight " should be in force. They had not been dancing long, however, when Willie got out of step and handed a few mean ones seemingly intended to knock the " Skeeter " for a goal. Now, Tom has no aspirations to shine in Wil- lie ' s profession, but he knows what his hands are for; and despite the com- ments of the scribes who missed the spirit of the affair, we maintain that a couple of those wicked hay-makers were all William wanted for the time being. Another informal affair was staged between Cactus Gleeson and Count Reyes of Spain. No official record was kept and we have only the following few details to offer the curious. " When that Count started manoeuvering, " Cactus explained to the reporter, " I felt for the guns, but when I found the irons missin ' , why, I just naturally had to spur out the best I could. " N. K. F. M. CONTENTS the mission Sentinels (Verse) THE DEAD FISH OUR WILD DAYS ARE OVER MOONLIGHT THOUGHTS (Verse) ROBERT E. TWOHY JUDGMENT (Verse) California poets and the new his birthday present THE LONE HEARTH (.Verse) SMARTY AN INCIDENT OF NO MAN ' S LAND BECAUSE (Verse) EDITORIAL - UNIVERSITY NOTES ENGINEERING NOTES ALUMNI EXCHANGES ATHLETICS Edward L. Nicholson Armand E. White Edwin A. Heafey A.J. Steiss, Jr. G. Menager, S.J. Edward L. Nicholson FREEDOM Henry C. Veit Frank Maloney Martin M. Murphy Frank Conneally Randall O ' Neill H. F. 197 198 203 205 206 208 209 214 223 224 228 231 232 235 239 242 245 251 RYLAND DEBATERS TOP ROW — PHILALETHIC SENATE: FRANK CONNEALLY. EUGENE JAEGER. HENRY C. VEIT LOWER ROW— HOUSE OF PH IL H ISTOR I A N S : RANDALL O ' NEILL. MARTIN WALSH. EDWIN HFAFEv Entered Dec. 18. 1902, at Santa Clara, Cat., as second-class matter, under Act of Congress of March 3, 1S79 VOL. XVIII SANTA CLARA, CAL., MAY, 1919 NO. 5 The Mission Sentinels ILL ye Kearken now and wander back again ? Rest witk me Kere beside tke ivied wall ; Tkese bricks, rude-shapened by tke Indian ' s kands Have eckoed maiden ' s voice and warrior ' s call. See now wkere dayligkt fades bekind tke kills ! Tke wooden cross is kid by deepened skade ; List ! Can ye kear it calling us to come ? Tke Mission Bell its evening prayer kas prayed. And days will ever dawn and twiligkt fade, And witk eack fading day, tke old bell ' s prayer Skall greet tke wooden cross and ivied wall — Lone sentinels of saints wko reared tkem tkere. EDWARD L. NICHOLSON The Dead Fish Armand E. White. ELL, " mused Anaxagoras Jones, " I guess I ' ll have to admit that I ' m a dead fish. " He was of course speaking figuratively ; but even though it is not to be taken in its literal sense, the statement is a shock to finer sensibilities. His thoughts were in the past, when his good old high school professor would dwell upon the interesting proverb : " A live fish swims upstream, a dead fish drifts with the tide. " It is not well for a youth of eighteen to consider himself a fish, either quick or dead. And you may begin investigations when he adopts the custom of speaking in parables. Though mentally back in " the days of old " , this melancholy young man was physically in the cow corral at- tending to the simple tedious duties that fall to the handy man of a small ranch. The farm was on the outskirts of a little college town, whither Anax- agoras went daily in a street car, whose line terminated at a point thirty min- utes of rapid walking from his place of residence. Each morning after making this eventful trip, young Mr. Jones would wander listlessly from class to class, never distinguishing himself in any of them, and never worrying himself on that score. So the unhappy youth ambled into the dreary kitchen where Aunt Mary, his only living relative, was preparing a simple repast. The meal was to con- sist principally of eggs, and already the disgusting odor of burning eggs, grease and egg-shells permeated the atmosphere. " How many eggs d ' je get to-night Aggie? — or did you forget to gather them, like last night ? ' ' whined the dear old lady as she turned her face, worn by the burden of years of hard work, but roseate with her culinary exertion. The greeting did not have a pleas- ant effect upon Anaxagoras ; not mere- ly because of the name of endearment which he loathed, but because he had done his chores every night within the memory of man and no longer found them an interesting topic for conversa- tion. He had been given this flowery first name through a vain attempt of his mother ' s to lend a tone to the ple- beian surname. But through a series of downward steps it had degenerated into " Aggie " . Such are the things that try men ' s souls. But no such at- tempt had been made to mitigate the 198 THE REDWOOD 199 calamity in the case of Aunt Mary. She was to go through life, and as a matter of fact had gone through the greater part of her life with a handicap equally as severe as her nephew ' s, though it leaned toward the other side of the bal- ance. Don ' t misunderstand me. 1 con- sider Mary a beautiful name. Since her first attempt at conversa- tion had elicited a mere non-commit- tal account of the number of eggs gath- ered, the cook made another effort. " How d ' je get along at school to- day? " To her, all branches of study were " school " . It annoyed Aggie to have his university studies referred to as school. For, after leaving high school the average American youth wants to have a distinction made be- tween himself and his young neighbor who has not yet mastered the alphabet. " Oh, all right, " he drawled, and list- lessly wandered into the front room. This apartment was even less at- tractive than the dirty, lean-to kitchen would lead one to expect. At the time of the earthquake in 1906 the old frame dwelling had settled on its foundations, saying: " I ' m too old for such facetiousness, I ' ll have to sit back and rest a while " , and was on the point of collapse. The timely applica- tion of boards run diagonally across the walls had prevented this calamity, but had not enhanced the charms of the apartment. And so it had remained for over ten years. The excellent view which the windows afforded of the chicken yards was not spoiled by drap- eries even of the simplest description. Festoons of spider webs which like great cathedrals had been begun in past ages but were being perfected by the present generation, formed a fitting cornice to join the bleak walls to a plain board ceiling. This ceiling was always thickly populated with flies in spite of the elaborate fortifications erected for their destruction. Possibly their enemies were able to live comfort- ably without the diligence necessary for wholesale slaughter of the flies. On the floor at occasional intervals one found a nondescript fragment of carpet, which admirably set off the scrawny, mangy and utterly wretched assortment of furniture. Here was the place where Aggie in the dreary evenings pored over his de- lightful Commentaries on the Gallic Wars, Abbe Constantine, Manuals of Rhetoric and other gems, literary or scientific. And here, too, the invincible Mary would sit on the edge of a squeaky rocker with her knitting and remark : " In my day we took more in- terest in our school work. Why, my sakes! I ' d no more go to school with- out my lissons perfect than I ' d — " Here her small vocabulary would de- sert her, forcing her to complete the comparison by that expressive sound which authors conventionally set down as " tut-tut-tut! " This happened to be Saturday even- ing, so the student of course had no lessons to prepare and the evening had 200 THE REDWOOD the prospect of furnishing unbearable monotony. " Why don ' t you ever go out to dances on Saturday nights like all the other boys do? " inquired his dutiful guardian. " Oh, I don ' t want to, " he evaded. It was not necessary to say that in these days one can do nothing without an automobile. That one cannot be- come very intimate with his school- mates if he is ashamed to bring them to his home. And that his rustic ap- pearance and natural shyness had branded him as a " goof " among his colleagues. And that under these com- bined circumstances one cannot very well attend Saturday-night parties with great pleasure. No, all those things would have made Aunt Mary feel unhappy, and there was little hap- piness that could be spared from her life. " But, " he thought, " there really is no reason why we should skimp along in this awful way. We could afford to have the house fixed up and buy a ma- chine besides. We have economized so long that we can ' t get out of the habit. " So that night he summoned courage to begin his campaign. The time had come when something had to be done. He cleared his throat. How would he begin it? As he opened his mouth in a second attempt, Mary was prompted to do like- wise, wondering " What will the Itali- ans do now that they have quit the Peace Conference? " After thus boosting his resolution to its highest pitch, Aggie had watched it fall time after time to be bruised and shattered. But finally he began. " Aunt Mary — Do you remember the last time you went to town with Pau- line? " — Let us stop to explain. Paul- ine was an antiquated gray mare who drew the old buggy to town in her leisurely fashion whenever it became necessary for lady Mary to go thither on shopping tours or for any other business. — " How she slipped on the pavement and nearly threw you out of the rig three times? " " I do indeed, " the lady replied, " I was that mortified, I could have left her there and walked home. " " Well, she isn ' t good for very much longer, " he persisted. " Let ' s get a lit- tle machine, even if it must be a fliv- ver. " Neither am I good for very much longer, " said Mary. " And as to buy- ing a flivver " — A rheumatic gesture showed her contempt for cheap cars, and her scorn of the idea of ever own- ing one. After some further discussion the subject was dropped, and Aggie began to hear the whisperings of Hope. " Whispering Hope! Oh, how wel- come thy voice, Making our hearts in our sorrow re- joice ! " " If I keep at it, who knows? " thought he and he " kept at it " as he THE REDWOOD 201 had never before worked at anything. The next day blase youths in silk shirts and waist-seam tailored suits, watched the familiar impossible figure enter the campus. Familiar it was, but still there was a difference. Where dull unhappiness had been written be- fore there was a suggestion of pleas- ure and a very strong appearance of determination. Roy Baxter, the keystone of the arch of beaux expressed the general opinion in his announcement: " Jazz seems to be having a pleasant dream this morning. " In his law class that afternoon the Professor asked: " What is an incorpo- real hereditament? Mr-r-r-r. Jones. " But through Mr. Jones ' mind was run- ning the soliloquy — " I wonder if there is any possibility of a ' Rover ' . But I ' d be satisfied with a ' Futz ' . ' ' " Mr. Jones! " repeated the Profes- sor. " Present! " yelled Mr. Jones with a start ; then grew very red as the merry laugh spread through the class room. " You ' re present bodily, I grant, " admitted the pedagogue, " but, whether or not there is anyone home mentally is more than I can fathom. I asked for the definition of an incorporeal hereditament. " To Aggie ' s confused mind this mouthful might have meant anything that this world has to offer, so he re- plied: " I don ' t know, " and relapsed into his reveries. But it is not by the building of air- castles alone that we realize our hopes, as Aggie with his past experience was perfectly aware. So in due time he had persuaded Miss Mary Jones that she wanted an automobile. Shortly after this triumph the car itself made an ap- pearance and as Anaxagoras expressed it, " Oh, Boy! " Just as soon as he felt confident of his ability as a driver, he took the beau- tiful machine to town, that it might distend the eyes of the less fortunate. The proud young man went up one street and down another graciously sa- luting all his acquaintances; and they returned his greetings in a spirit far more friendly then was their wont. He turned a corner. There at the curb stood Elaine Breene; " Elaine the fair, Elaine the beautiful. " " Hello, Aggie; " she cried with gen- uine animation. It had been her cus- tom to refer to him as " Goof " when speaking of him, and had on many oc- casions become absorbed in window displays featuring garden tools, stor- age batteries or overalls in order to es- cape greeting him. She may have been prompted by the same consideration through which the buck private ad- mires similar assortments of merchan- dise in preference to saluting an offi- cer — forsooth that it is tedious for the officer to return the compliment. Be that as it may, she gave the friendliest smile that her artless face could exe- cute, and in return received a ride in the car. What cared she if her chauf- 202 THE REDWOOD f eur ' s uniform was not of the ' ' dernier cri " ? " Well, Aunty, I ' m going to fix up the house, " said Aggie that evening as he cast his gaze upon the motto : " After Clouds, Sunshine " neatly done in silk as multicolored and gorgeous as the celebrated coat that Joseph used to wear. " No, " said Mary, " you ' re not going to fix up the house, I ' ve had about as much expense as I can stand for a while. " " But I ' ll do the work myself and furnish all the material. I ' ll begin with the kitchen so that I ' ll be exper- ienced when I come to the front. And I ' ll pay for the paint and paper with my own money. " Not convinced, but reconciled by the belief that it could not be any worse, she turned over the house to her deter- mined nephew to let him do with it what he would. And under his firm hand it developed into a real home. The historic abodes of Br ' er Spider were ruthlessly crushed; the furniture was refinished; a few rugs appeared, and in general the whole atmosphere was changed. It was a beautiful night in June. A car purred along the highway. In that car sat Aggie Jones, clad in the latest haberdashery and looking wonderfully well. At his side was Elaine Breene, who had now become a regular passen- ger on all such trips. Their destina- tion, the little birds tell us, was a dance at the country club. " I ' m going to have a little party out at the ranch next month, " he was say- ing, " to celebrate my birthday. " " And it will be another Renais- sance, " ventured Miss Breene, anxious to show that she remembered her his- tory, but still not certain that the word applied. " But Aggie, what was it that made such a ehange in you all of a sudden? " " It was, I think, " he explained as he ' stepped on ' er ' and the car bounded forth along the road, " a case of a dead fish come to life. " Our Wild Days Are Over Edwin A. Heafey. ULY has always been looked upon in this country as a most beautiful month, com- ing in the midst of summer when the joys of vacation are at their height, and when the happy June brides are begin- ning to think of Heaven as it is on earth. In fact, our forefathers looked upon it with such favor in the past that they saw fit to declare their independ- ence from England on its fourth day. It is a month that has always been looked forward to by the younger ele- ment, for it affords the only opportun- ity of displaying their true patriotism through the medium of fireworks. Ah, well would it be, gentle reader, if we could look upon this coming July with as much happiness and patriotism as in former years ; but, due to the recent ac- tion of our Conscript Fathers, it seems doomed to be a month of gloom, of sor- row, of sadness, of despair, and last, but not least, a month of arid dryness. However we might derive some buoy- ant consolation from the fact that July is again to be made as epoch-making a month in our country ' s history as it was a hundred and forty-three years ago. But this time its initiation will be sorrowfid instead of joyful, for when its first dawn appears above the horizon, John Barleycorn, who has held forth on this continent since time im- memorial, and who has added more in the way of ephemeral happiness to man ' s heart than anything else, will be no more. Yes, John Barleycorn has been sentenced to death, the date of execution being set for June thirtieth. After a long and eventful trial, before a jury that was as suave and tractable as the proverbial Baalam ' s Ass, a ver- dict of guilty was returned, which left the old judge without an alternative. With tears in his eyes (he was ' thinking of the future) he read the fateful sen- tence which was to affect over one hundred million souls and especially that of John Barleycorn. The very thing, which twenty years ago no one would have had the effrontery to pre- dict, has taken place with such sudden- ness that we can hardly realize its truth or foretell its consequences. Sad as it may be, we must gather suf- ficient courage to attend our late friend ' s funeral, and always bear a word of praise for the game struggle he made to persevere. Nor was this John ' s first serious trouble. His pulse had been dangerously weak, from " pro- hibitions " on many former occasions; yet it always responded nobly to the political hyperdermic. But this time the poison of propaganda which had been slowly injected into his veins by 203 204 THE REDWOOD long-haired men and short-haired wo- men for two centuries, gained too much headway for modern politics to combat. The dexterous politicians of the day were unable to prescribe a remedy when the shrewd prosecuting attorney demanded the death of John Barley- corn on the ground that it wa s a war necessity. With the passing of liquor into obliv- ion the customs attached to the use thereof will likewise cease to exist. Strange will it seem not to see the doors on the corner " beverage empori- um " swing to and fro, and to see the lamp-posts in the wee hours of the morning dull and lonesome with no one to look up to them for support. The milk man will no doubt be astonished to find the streets depopulated of stag- gering figures when he makes his ear- ly round, and " Friend Wife " will no longer have to sleep with one eye open and attain a degree of expertness in twirling frying pans and rolling pins. Nor will the boss himself have to suf- fer the embarrassment and humiliation of removing his shoes before entering his abode (even though it was a sign of respect for his wife ' s feelings if not for his own), or hesitate on the thresh- old so long trying to open the front door with the office key. The quaint old police judge, who was formerly as busy on Monday morning as a bar- tender on New Year ' s Eve, will have plenty of opportunities to go fishing and read his Blackstone, while the city prison is destined to resemble a de- serted boarding house. Doctors will find such a material increase in their office practice, and such a desire on the part of their patients to obtain prescriptions for certain ailments, that they may deem it wise, if not prudent, to establish a pharmacy in connection with their office. The tonsorial par- lors have already served notice on their patrons that after July a new con- venience is to be introduced in the form of a specially prepared Bay Rum Gargle. Yes, when the sparkling vint- age will no longer be able to instill mirth and gayety into our gatherings, the Club is doomed to resemble an un- dertaking establishment; and Tait ' s, on New Year ' s Eve will have the effer- vescent hilarity of a charity whist tour- nament. They say the movement will mean a saving of money; for milk shakes and grape juice are to be the fashion. But if we may consider the past as a crite- rion by which to judge the future, the creases will still abound in our pocket books, for the members of the cow fam- ily, seeing the great demand for their wares, are scheduled to become possess- ed of the Bolshevik spirit about July and go on strike to have the price of their product raised. Perhaps we shall discover later, much to our surprise, that the grape juice market is cornered by Messrs. Daniels, Bryan Co., but we should be on guard against these surprises in the future, for as soon as John Barleycorn is gone, Lady Nico- tine, who they claim is closely related to him, is bound to be the center of attack. Moonlight Thoughts OWN tkrougH tke vistas of pine trees, Down from tke vault of nigkt, Shines tke moon in resplendent glory, Bathing the earth in white. As its silvery beams through the branches Sift down in a light filigree, I think how those same beams tomorrow, Will fall on a stormy sea, Where a lonely ship is sailing, With her prow ever turned to the west, And a lonely boy is thinking, Of the one whom he loves the best. And I would, silvery moon, when thou shinest, From thy heavenly heights above, On the sea where my sailor is roving That thou give him my message of love. A. J. STEISS, JR. 205 Robert Edmund Twohy G. Menager, S. J., Ex.- ' 09. " And in the cruel strife Waged by grim Time so ceaselessly on all, Even the best must fall : Friendship and love must some day cease to be. But shall they wholly perish? Not while the heart can cherish A tender memory. " poem come of These lines from a Redwood by Maurice Dooling, Jr., ' 09, back to me as I begin writing " Bob ' s " most untimely death. Yes indeed, this dear friend and companion of my college days certain- ly left a most tender memory with all who ever had the advantage of know- ing him. Though more than a decade has passed, it is easy for me to picture Bob in his Santa Clara days, the hearty, genial, wholesome fellow that he was; easily the youngest of his class but among its recognized leaders, and wielding his influence invariably for good. The spirit of fair play and the unobtrusive piety I admired then, re- mained with him throughout his life, a fact I could not help noting when 1 came into intimate contact with him in later years. And seldom has death cut short a career so brilliant, both in achievements and in promise, — as the following brief sketch will attest. Bob was the youngest railroad pres- ident in the United States, builder of sections of the Canadian Northern rail- road which cost millions of dollars, con- structor of the Riverside aviation field for the government, director of the Se- attle, North Pacific Shipbuilding Com- pany, which constructed many vesesls for the government at a time during the war when ships meant the life- blood of our army overseas, director of the Pacific Car Foundry Company, which had contracts for and delivered thousands of vitally-needed freight cars to the government during the war, and vice-president of Twohy Bros. Co., one of the largest contracting firms in the west. Robert Edmund Twohy was born in St. Paul, Minn., in 1891, and came west with his family as a young boy. He entered Santa Clara in 1905 and gradu- ated in 1908. At college he was a not- ed athlete, being the catcher of the ' varsity baseball team and member of the football team. When he graduated from college, he entered the business established by his father, the Twohy Bros. Company, rail- road builders, and within a short time became vice-president of the concern. 206 THE REDWOOD 207 Before his majority, he contracted for his company to build large sections of the Canadian-Northern Railroad. He supervised personally the immense construction undertakings involved in this contract, the costs running into millions of dollars. He was an intensely patriotic Ameri- can and his business experience became an invaluable asset to the government when the building facilities of the coun- try were put to the tremendous strain of constructing shops, training camps and equipment for the great army which the nation put in the field. He was a director of the Pacific Car Foundry Company. This concern un- dertook contracts for and delivered to the government thousands of the new cars which were needed to keep the army supplied and men and munitions moving on schedule. As a director of the Seattle, North Pacific Shipbuilding Company, he was directly concerned in the work of a great shipbuilding contract which gave to th e government many vessels for helping to " bridge the Atlantic. " His company had the contract for the con- struction of the March field at River- side, Cal., a contract that was fulfilled many days in advance of the time limit set for it and at a time when every day gained was a step toward victory for the allied forces. When he was but 24 years of age, Bob Twohy became without question the youngest railroad president in the United States, if not in the world. He was elected by the stockholders of the California Oregon Coast Railroad as their chief executive and was president of the company at his death. He was a great organizer of men. They had confidence in him, inspired by his spirit ot fair-play and his abil- ity to achieve results, they helped him to accomplish the wonders he worked in the business world. He was popular with business men for in him they rec- ognized a man of equity. No transac- tion in which he was engaged was ever questioned as one in which all fairness had not been shown in all matters wherein he had jurisdiction. It is often said that a man of this age, 28 years, is a promising young man. More can be said of Robert E. Twohy, because even at his age, he was a man of achievement. He had accom- plished more than most men whose lives run three score and ten or even four score years, and withal he was a most wholesome personality, honest and just in all his dealings with his fellowmen, a most patriotic American and a citizen of such a character that his untimely death will be regretted by all who had the pleasure of his ac- quaintance. He was married in 1917 to Miss Mar- garet Marie Deary and leaves a six- months old daughter, Roberta. He was the son of Judge and Mrs. John Twohy, brother of the late Mrs. Seymour T. Montgomery of San Jose, John D. Two- hy of Portland, Ore., Mrs. Frank Mar- ten of San Jose, James F. Twohy ' 07, 208 THE REDWOOD of Portland, Ore., Mrs. James C. Mcln- ery of Seattle, and Philip J. Twohy of the American Expeditionary forces. The funeral Mass was celebrated in the old Mission Church which Bob loved so well. Sad as was the occasion, one could not but draw comfort from the thought that his parting from life had been a real triumph — a triumph of Christian faith. Bob had learned to make God ' s will the rule of his life and he proved true to it to the end. He breathed his last, fortified by the Sacraments of the Church and in a most edifying spirit of hope and resig- nation. And so, while deeply grieved over our own loss of so dear and true a friend, we may find consolation in the words of the great St. Bernard: " 0 Death, thou didst not take away his life, but didst change it for a better. " Judgment Friends oft Kave met and parted, And sorrow there has been , But curst be he whom God shall see Thrust himself in between. Yet many they whose forked tongues Give judgment ere ye ask ; While Angels grieve these shall relieve The Devil of his task. God chose Himself to judge at death ; Lest scandal seal thy vault, Heal well thine own ere thou bemoan And judge another ' s fault ! EDWARD L. NICHOLSON California Poets and the New Freedom Henry C. Veit. VERY generation for ages past has been character- ized by some vital in- fluence, and this determ- ining power has mould- ed the lives of men ac- cording to its peculiar temperament. In our day, too, we find such an influ- ence, one perhaps as widespread as any thus far recorded in the annals of his- tory. We find its recurrent flow, turn where we may, alive and breathing in an atmosphere charged with its min- strelsy. I refer to the influence of po- etry ; for who could substantiate his denial of the vitalizing power which poetry is now exercising? This is only as it should be ; for among other good results, poetry opens up to its patrons a field of purest in- tellectual pleasure. Its joys are such that they can be felt even by those who can not or will not attempt to define the source of its attractiveness. The lowliest in the plane of society and on up to the highest, all can relish the fruited songs of sweet singers. Hence we have to-day not a mere sprinkling of verse but whole volumes of poetry issuing from the press, and ever is there a craving for more. The audience seems indeed what Whitman required for the appearance of a great poet ; yet the worth of our singers hardly measures up to an equal height. It may be, however, that another Shakespeare or another Tennyson is just around the turn of the road ; at all events we have volumes of excellent poetry, not all unworthy of even the greatest audience. True lovers of poetry are not narrow devotees of any particular " school " ; they love the Muse for her own sweet self, and in the joy of her presence they little heed her moods and whims of dress. Every period in English Lit- erature has had its school or schools of poetry, nor is the present without its many. But, by whatever name it goes, each school must acknowledge rela- tionship with one or other of the three basic systems known as Classicism, Ro- manticism and Realism. The great age of Classicism was characterized by ' ' ar- tificial correctness and brilliancy of diction " . ' Eventually, the heart of man, yearning for things new, found this ideal too stilted and confining, and the revolt to Romanticism resulted. The cold things of logic, the rather rigid precision admired by a former generation no longer satisfied. Poets with the new spirit launched out joyfully in the untrammelled free- dom of imagination and boldness of ut- 209 210 THE REDWOOD terance sanctioned by Romanticism and they found in the marvels and wonders and mysteries surrounding our common life themes far more stim- ulating to the poetic faculty than was anything the former school had af- forded. Yet in time even this spirit lost its prevailing appeal ; and then came the literature of the senses, po- etic sense-observation of life and na- ture, and Realism became the order of the day. These, in brief, may be called the three fundamental schools, useful for the critic and student toward a scien- tific appreciation of poetry, but hardly remembered, we should imagine, by any true poet, once the " divinus af- flatus " is on him. And much less, we make bold to say, is a conscious knowl- edge of the several sub-varieties of these three systems needed either for the construction of a true poem or for its appreciation. Impressionism, Futur- ism, Imagism, Idealism, Transcendent- alism, Symbolism, Mysticism and the rest, one and all no doubt have much to commend them; but they certainly have no right to claim the whole field of poetry for their very own. It was a woman, you remember, who was at least in point of time responsi- ble for the first wave of trouble that touched this good old earth. We regret to add that a lineal de- scendant of this original trouble-maker has been following the bad example. Came to our fair " Western shores a lady of much enterprise, being publisher of a poetical journal in the Central West, and disturbed our well-known com- placence by boldly asserting to our very faces that California poets are not poets at all. Pressed for a reason for this literary heresy, she accused George Sterling, Ina Coolbrith, Edwin Mark- ham, John McGroarty, and our other singers, of the dreadful crime of " cos- micality " . ' " Those who claim to be pouring out California ' s soul in song, " she said, " are suffering from what the English call ' cosmicality ' , a term which indicates that the writers are bruising their shins against the planets and have their feet entangled in the stars. " Maybe she merely meant that we have no Vachel Lindsay to do " jus- tice " to San Francisco ' s Chinatown. Some ambitious California poet may take a hint from this and merit the estimable lady ' s approbation by " ideal- izing " an opium joint after the manner of the " Congo " . But, granting that our poets are not primarily " realists " is there any justi- fication for the conclusion that there- fore they are not poets? Not unless you are disposed to dis- count the verdict of competent critics from Oakland to London: " The azure sheen of summer skies, And the mellow glow out here, The earth aflush with a gracious blush Through every month of the year, The lilt of linnet and trill of lark, The soft, sweet drone of the busy bee, THE REDWOOD 211 The tinted flowers in nature ' s bowers Stir souls to ecstacy. " We have a Sterling, at least, and a Coolbrith ; — both with their feet solidly upon the earth, — poets who sing of life as they find it, and who can paint their surroundings in colorful imagery. It may surprise the visiting lady to learn that the fame of these true poets has rippled to England and back, and that nowhere has their broadness of outlook upon the great universe been set down to a lack of naturalism or humanism in any artistic sense of those terms. The truth is, our latest critic is a follower if not a protagonist of the lat- est, ultra-modern " school " and its new freedom, the main teaching of which is that no satisfactory definition of poetry has been or ever will be given ; that no permanent standards of judging poetry exist and that poetry is after all only a matter of preference. We wonder in- deed how any one subscribing to such a confession of poetical faith could log- ically formulate an objection even to cosmicality. Perhaps it is another case of the old adage: " with woman the heart argues, not the mind. " Or, it may be, this new " freedom " , like its many counterparts in other lines, is to be an exclusive privilege of " the elect " . How far is poetry a matter of indi- vidual preference? We should answer it is no more so than is artistic prose. There are settled objective standards for each literary prose type ; yet for all that the actual appeal of each will vary considerably with the personal taste of the reader. And we can see no valid reason why the same may not be said for poetry. Many a good working de- finition can be given, marking the lat- ter off from mere prose on the one hand and from mere verse on the other ; and to say it is impossible to define poetry merely because in a particular case it may be hard to apply our defi- nition as a standard, is like claiming that the animal kingdom is not defina- ble because on the borderline between it and plant life there are rare speci- mens that puzzle the naturalist. Con- nell, in his book, " A Study of Poetry " , gives this concise and comprehensive definition: " Poetry is the imaginative representation through the medium of language, of true grounds for the noble emotions. " Now, like most things concise and comprehensive, this definition may need interpreting; still, we venture to assert that without undue straining it might be made to fit everything which in sober judgment could be dignified by the name of poetry. And here, too, we have a tolerable standard — as im- perfect human standards go — of judg- ing poetry as an art, without leaving the final word to so uncertain a crite- rion as passing mood or personal likes and dislikes. In conclusion, we shall quote a few excerpts from some honored disciples of the new Renaissance, later subjoin- ing a selection or two from our old- fashioned poets of California. 212 THE REDWOOD The first is from a " poem " entitled " Prairie " . " Look at six eggs in a mocking- bird ' s nest. Look at six mocking-birds Flinging follies of Oh-be-joyful Over the marshes and uplands. Look at songs Hidden in eggs. " Another : " Keep your hog s on changing corn and mashes of grain, farmer- man. Cram their insides till they waddle on short legs. Kill your hogs with a knife-slit un- der the ear; Hack them with cleavers; Hang them with hooks in their hind legs. " A third, the opening lines of Lind- say ' s delirium about the " Congo " : " Fat black bucks in a wine barrel room, Barrel-house kings, with feet unsta- ble, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, Pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the han- dle of a broom Hard as they were able, Boom, boom, boom; With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay-Boom ! ' ' Contrast these with the following from George Sterling ' s " The Last Days. " " The russet leaves of the Sycamore Lie at last on the valley floor, By autumn winds swept to and fro Like ghosts in a tale of long ago. Shallow and clear the Carmel glides Where the willows droop on its vine- walled sides. " And another from " Nightfall " by the same poet ; who, though he does not omit the stars, yet knows how to keep them to their proper place in the gen- eral scheme of things: " Pure and ardent, westward far, Burns a solitary star, All a-tremble as in doubt If to linger, if to go ; Now the blunt-faced owls are out, Soft of wing as falling snow. " And one short quotation from Ina Coolbrith ' s " Sometime " : " Unto the earth the summer comes again : She has to quench her thirst, the dew and rain ; She has glad light about her all life ' s hour, And love, for gracious dower. To all things else she cometh, once a year, With str ong new life, with beauty and glad cheer; To all things else : ah ! sometime it must be That she will come to me! " THE REDWOOD 213 No one would hold that short ex- tracts such as we have given, are a fair test of the poetic genius of the writers quoted ; but our point is that one can- not be satisfied with the poetic value and inspiration of the first three quo- tations and still find fault with the lat- ter three, unless he lets even the " per- sonal-preference " theory absolutely run amuck. As for our unsophisticated selves, we are conservative enough to have more faith in the traditional judg- ment of the literary world than in the pronouncements of individual critics, be they ever so dogmatic and be they ever so " modern " . His Birthday Present Frank Maloney. R. VAN LOAN of the Van Loan Automobile Company, manufacturers of the fam- ous Dorf automobiles, thumped upon his desk furi- ously. He was a very large man — that is, around his mid-section— about five feet seven in height and nearly the same the other way. When he was angry, his face became florid, his hair stood nearly on end, and he abused his closed hand by striking it forcibly upon the neighboring furni- ture. " When these outbreaks occurred, the office force found a great deal to keep them away from work in the close proximity of their superior. But it was not so this day. The luck- less office boy carried a telegram to his superior, and naturally, being slightly curious, waited around, hoping some- thing would drop so as to give him a little information on the subject — and he was not disappointed. The recipient of the yellow sheet jumped in rage. The inquisitive one saw the mistake he had made and vainly tried to rectify it, but to no avail. His employer ' s eye caught him before he could escape. " Come here! " roared the president. " Do you know what ' s in this? " point- ing to the paper in his hand. " I haven ' t the slightest idea, sir, " returned Billy. " Well, I ' ve just received a telegram from Tanforan, informing me that the machine we were to have entered in this afternoon ' s contest is completely smashed, and both the driver and the mechanician have been painfully in- jured. Now, how do you expect me to do anything when you bring such things as this around? " Then he con- tinued in a sorrowful voice : ' ' and to think this is the third year too. We ' ve won the contest twice in succession, and should we be victorious this time, we ' d have the cup for sure. Oh! if someone would only drive one of our cars to victory today, I ' d make him vice-president as soon as he got the checkered flag. " Billy thought a few moments, then exclaimed: " Does that hold true in any case, Mr. Van Loan? " " It does. Why do you ask? " " Oh, I was jest wonderin ' . Say, could I please have the rest of the day off? They ' s somethin ' important go- in ' on. " ' ' I guess so. What ' s it all about ? ' ' Billy never told him ; but dashed out of the office, flinging back over his shoulder: " Thanks, awfully. " An hour or so later, Mr. William 214 THE REDWOOD 215 Bradley — lately Billy — walked up the steps of Mr. Van Loan ' s palatial resi- dence and rang the bell. A servant answered and of this worthy gentle- man, he inquired the whereabouts of his employer ' s daughter. " Guess she ' s out working on the old racer. You know her father gave her one for Christmas. Shall I call her? " " Never mind, I ' ll go out there and see her. Thanks, just the same. " He did as he said and found a girl about three years his senior, puttering around a little Dorf racer. She was so interested in her work that she didn ' t look up when friend Billy entered her private sanctum. From all appear- ances, she seemed to be vitally interest- ed in something connected with the mo- tor. However, every once in a while a few wisps of wavy, golden hair would get into the spectator ' s line of vision. So engrossed did he become over this charming scene, that he forgot all about the purpose of his visit. At last, however, she glanced around and was rather surprised to see a pair of gray trousers on the other side of the ma- chine. Grasping the first thing she could find — which happened to be a monkey wrench — she straightened up, ready to fight to the bitter end — keep- ing her armament carefully concealed. " Well!!! " was her first shot, and to Billy it sounded like the crack of a whip. The intruder was startled; and one glance at her face made him wish he were not there. It was covered with grease and dirt in the most approved fashion. Her eyes, too, were hard ; and a dangerous light glinted from them, that made their clear blue depths far more beautiful than otherwise. " I — is Miss Van Loan here? " in- quired the frightened William, snatch- ing his cap off in hot haste and letting it fall on the floor in some dirt and oil. " She is, " her tone softened as she saw the person who addressed her was only a boy. " May I speak to her? " " Talk as long as you like. " " Wh-wh-what, y-y-you — " , the rest drifted off into thin air. " Yes, " she laughed, " I know I don ' t look much like a young lady of leisure, but I ' ve been working on this machine all morning and can ' t get it to go. Maybe you can. I ' ve had it apart and there isn ' t a thing the matter with it as far as I can see. ' ' ' " Have you looked into the gas tank? " " I never thought of that. " She pro- ceeded to do so and found it complete- ly filled with — air. " How stupid of me not to have thought of that before, " she laughed ruefully. " You said you had some- thing to say to me. " ' " Yes. Well your father ' s machine, which was to be entered in this after- noon ' s race, was smashed up and the driver and mechanician were injured. " " Oh ! " ' there was great concern in her voice. 216 THE REDWOOD " Now, I have a plan I think will work, " and he proceeded to tell her something which evidently met with her approval — that is, if we can rely on her exclamations of delight. " Do you think we can do it? " she asked. And by her voice it was easily seen that she hoped the question would be answered in the affirmative. " We can try, " he assured her. Half an hour later, several pedes- trians and motorists were surprised to see a red racer tear down the highway, going about twice as fast as the ' speed cop ' believed anyone should travel. At this time, however, that gentleman and his trusty Indian — for this was the kind he used — were else- where. An hour later, Miss Tootsie Van Loan departed hurriedly from the home of her father. The only thing she carried was a small brown valise. " You may give this to dad when he comes home, " she directed the maid who had followed her to the door. This obedient functionary did as she was told, and her mistress proceeded to walk hastily down the street as if something very important were about to happen. II. But before we go on any further, let us steal into the private office of the president of the Dorf Automobile Com- pany. After Billy had left him, he sat with that little yellow paper in his hand that had caused so much sorrow in his heart and his spirits dropped to zero. Think of all the people who would come to see his car race to vic- tory; think of all the advertisements he has put in the papers about break- ing the hoodoo, for it was said no car had yet won the prize three years in succession. Now everybody would have the laugh on him ; not that he cared much about that, but his old ene- mies, the Senyah people, would have the race, because their team of three fast racers, were the only logical op- ponents. He put the paper down with a sigh and got up from his chair, utter dejec- tion in every movement. He opened the door marked " PRIVATE " , and calling one of the men whom he saw, told him to gather all the force. " When he had them together, he addressed them — " Boys, I have bad news for you. Our car which was to run this afternoon has been wrecked in an accident and Joe Thomas has been seriously in- jured. " The men eyed each other with sorrowful glances. " But, " he contin- ued, " we ' ll show them we can die fighting. I ' m going to get as many boxes as you need to hold all of you for this afternoon; and I suppose, " a merry twinkle in his eye, " many of you have friends, and wives and kiddies also. Now if you ' ll wait here a mo- ment I ' ll do something for you. " He entered his office and called up the race track. " Hello, is this the ticket-office ? This is Van Loan speak- THE REDWOOD 217 ing. How many people will your box- seats hold — the largest, I mean? " " About fifteen people, " came back the reply. " How many have you left? " " Five. " " Fine, reserve three for me. " " Then you won ' t take the one you have reserved for yourself? " " Yes, I want that one too. " " Awfully sorry about that accident this morning, Mr. Van Loan. Your car would probably have won the race. " " Thanks. " he hung up the receiver. Opening the door, he said to the waiting men: " Well, I ' ve decided to close up now. All of you go home, and be at the track at two. Let ' s see, there are fifteen of you. Now each of you can bring two friends, relatives, or anybody that can make plenty of noise and showing, with you. And be sure to be there at two sharp. " A few minutes after they had de- parted, he followed their example. As it was early, and his chauffeur was not to call for him until twelve, he took a street-car home. So unexpected was he, that his erring offspring had just entered her vehicle of conveyance which is run by electricity as her father was alighting from his street-ear, but being preoccupied, he took no notice of her. She, however, feared he would notice her, so became very interested in a book which she was carrying. When her father reached home, he was rather surprised to find her out, because she was usually there in the morning. When noon came, however, no Tootsie appeared. Calling her maid, he asked about his daughter. " She left about ten o ' clock, " he was informed. " But she told me to give you this, " handing him the note. " Dear Dad: " it read. " Have gone with Billy. See you later. " He read it once, twice, and the third time he jumped clear out of his seat and dashed madly to the phone — al- though impeded by about fifteen or more pounds of; surplus weight. He knew the trouble now. she had run off with Billy Howard, the son of the pres- ident of the Senyah Automobile Com- pany. Oh, the disgrace of it! His daughter running off with a good-for- nothing fellow like that. Never mind, he ' d get them. Then he ' d demand an explanation from her of this conduct. He hunted through the telephone- book, until the numbers of several jus- tice courts were found and then he proceeded to call them up. From each he received a negative answer to his question. This was the last, he would find out for sure now ! " Hello, " came a voice. " Did you want this number? " " Yes. Say did a young lady, " and he proceeded to describe Tootsie, " and a young man come into your place to get married? " " Just a moment. I ' ve just come in. I ' ll ask the other man who was in my place. " A heart-breaking silence en- 218 THE REDWOOD sued, in which the anxious father squirmed about in his chair. " Hello. No, they haven ' t been here. But, say! I remember seeing a girl of the same de- scription you just gave, hurrying down the street towards the court-house two hours ago. She seemed to be in a hurry and it looked to me like she expected someone to meet her. Good bye ! ' ' the receiver clicked on the hook. " What a fool I am! " he said aloud. " Here I ' ve been telephoning all over. Why didn ' t I try there first? Well, 1 can ' t help it now. ' ' He sat in his chair completely crushed. " I wouldn ' t care who it was; but this Billy Howard — that ' s too much. I thought that girl had some regard for my wishes, but what can you expect from the younger generation? " He flung himself from the chair and stalked from the room, his head bowed in sorrow. He ate a light lunch, and ordered his chauffeur to drive him to Tanforan. During the ride out he steeled himself against two things: the derisive smiles of his opponents, and the sight of his daughter in enemy territory. " I never thought that of her, " he murmured. When he reached the gate of the grandstand, he found his office force waiting. Masking his sorrow, he greet- ed them jovially. " All here I see. " He marched up to the ticket-window and inquired about the boxes. " Here they are, sir, " said the oblig- ing one behind the bars. Van Loan handed him some money, telling him to keep the change. In a short time he disposed of the crowd and was free again. Mustering up his courage, he proceeded to the spot where his hopes lay. " Guess old Van Loan won ' t make any more of those statements in the papers. Serves him right anyway. " He flushed when he heard these words, and found, on close observation, the speaker was one of the salesmen of the Senyah people. Unmindful of the grins on their faces, he elbowed his way through the crowd and got up beside the wrecked racer. Mike Donovan, the faithful me- chanic, spied him and rushed up. " Ain ' t this a shame, sir? " he said, big tears in his eyes, as he pointed to the pile of junk. The rear end was torn out, while the hood, engine, axles, springs and everything else but the wheels were so mixed together that one would have a hard time telling which was which. " How ' d it happen, Mike? You see I only received your telegram. " " Well, sir, it was like this: Joe was coming down the track about forty- five when he blew a tire. She skidded and hit a tree. That shook her up a little and tore out the rear end and got Joe. But we could ' a ' fixed her and got her in runnin ' shape — enough to beat anything here anyhow, " the last loud enough for the two Senyah men to hear. " Just about that time that yellow THE REDWOOD 219 thing over there, " pointing to another wreck a little way off, " came down here about fifty miles an hour and just when he got close to us, he blew a tire, and you probably know what happened by all this junk you see around. It was this time that Dick, the mechani- cian ' got his. ' He was tryin ' ' to see if he could fix her up, and then he was going to take her out and win! " " I see, but where are the wheels? " " We took ' em off. They weren ' t damaged, so I thought I ' d get ' em out of the way. I did the same with the high speed gearing too. " The loud voice of the guards warned everyone off the course, so further conversation had to be stopped. As Van Loan left, he failed to notice the smile that played about the corners of Mike ' s mouth ; and, moreover, the lat- ter waved peculiarly at something be- hind the grandstand. Van Loan took his seat in his own box and looked over that of his arch enemy; but — there was no Tootsie there. " Guess she ' s ashamed to show herself, " he reflected. III. The first machine was waiting for the flag ; it was a little red racer, num- ber Nine. Van Loan stared at it. " That looks like one of my cars, " he said dumbfounded. " Shorts like it; and ' by gosh ' , has the same number. " But it can ' t be. I ' ve only one racer and it ' s a pile of junk. Somebody ' s playing a joke on me. " By this time all of the autos were off in their long grind. Hayne, pilot- ing a Senyah, took second place, and was trying to crowd Number Nine out for first, but, somehow he couldn ' t do it. Lap after lap of the two hundred miles reeled off. And there was real excitement too ; the big blue six cylin- der was master of all but one — and that one was Number Nine. Time and again they were neck and neck. Mile after mile this contest for supremacy went on; how long could it last? Some- thing would surely break; machinery could not stand the mill forever. All this time the President of the Dorf Motor Company was on his feet. That was one of his cars, he could tell by its motor — but whose was it? " Who was driving? The stands were on their feet in excitement. Far down the track a blue and a red car were coming. See them take the curve — Ah! there is something wrong with Nine — see it skid— it nearly turns over — Ah ! it is under control again ! Precious sec- onds those ! The blue boat is ahead — Nine is slowly closing up the distance. He is near the driver ' s seat. Slowly — slowly — slowly — s-1-o-w-l-y closing ! Ah ! They are abreast again ! BANG!!! Nine ' s tire goes. The spectators hold their breath. She swerves and skids ! One wheel rises three feet off the ground ! Will it come back? It does and he slows down. Luckily he is near his pit. In six sec- onds the change is made, and he is gone again. Eleven — the blue — is half a 220 THE REDWOOD mile ahead. See Nine go ! He takes the curve at one hundred miles an hour, — see the dust, — he straightens her up and is off in pursuit of his opponent. Will he do it? No! Yes! See! He ' s closer ! A little more and he ' 11 do it. Van Loan is on his beam ' s end, " Who is that driver? If I find him, I ' 11 make him rich ! Whose car ? She ' s better than my other. Is it a Dorf ? Yes ! — No ! Yes ! ! she is. See her cover the ground ! He ' s abreast of the Senyah ! Will he pass him ? Neck and neck they come. Who ' s ahead? No- body; they ' re even! He ' ll be killed! " Van Loan shrieks. It ' s madness to take that turn at the speed he ' s travel- ling! " He ' s going faster! See her skid!! One wheel rises up off the track! Look at the dust ! He ' s gone over! There goes the ambulance! No, he hasn ' t either! He catches up! Two inches ahead! Can he keep it? Will he hold it? He does! " It is the next to last lap ; the stands are in an uproar. As yet it is nobody ' s race. Not an accident; but there is liable to be one at any moment. Nine and Eleven are even. Their motors — the four and the six — are shooting per- fectly. They pass the stand, the me- chanicians are pumping air into the tanks. A little more speed! Of the two Hayne is the more careful and more experienced driver ; but now, he has thrown caution to the winds, his whole thought is to win. Can he do it? Some say yes, others, no. Straight to the curve speed the huge monsters, they take it, skidding and nearly crash- ing into each other in their mad flight. They pass the grandstand on the last lap, they take the turn, straighten out, and go down the homestretch, engines roaring. A new note comes into the case, the engine ' s missing. Slowly — he drops behind; he hasn ' t the power. The best part of the race is over, that is, the close part of it. The other comes down the home-stretch and gets the checker- ed flag. What a shame the other wasn ' t ' there to make it close. Well, he did the best he could. Human na- ture can stand so much and no more. Several men and women go away with sad hearts. Their man lost. But what ' s the difference? — Number Nine won. Van Loan was happy. His make of machine had broken the hoodoo. Think of all the sales he would make. Any car that could stand the grind as that one did, deserves to have a big boost. IV. Van Loan hurried to Number Nine ' s pit and got the surprise of his life. The driver was tinkering with some- thing on top of the hood and pulling something white from it. The other was busily engaged in jacking up the wheels. Another man Avas sweeping the horizon for a strange sail, and when it hove in sight, he notified the mechanician. That person advanced to meet the newcomer. THE REDWOOD 221 When he came within speaking dist- ance, the other said, " Dad! " Van Loan stopped short, looked be- wildered. Then, as though he recog- nized the speaker, he rushed forward and said : " Tootsie! of all things. How ' d you get here? I thought you were mar- ried. " " Me — married? Who said such a thing as that, I ' d like to know? " " You did. " " Me? Say, won ' t you meet the vice- president? I believe you ' re slightly acquainted with him. Mister William Bradley meet my father. " Again Van Loan was surprised, for William Brad- ley was none other than his office boy. Billy. " Of all things! " he gasped. " You see, Mr. Van Loan, " Billy be- gan, " I knew how badly you wanted to win, and knowing your daughter had a racer, I adopted this daring plan. Be- lieving she was a sport, I was almost certain she would help me. " " But, " the astonished auto-magnate replied, " my daughter ' s had no high speed gear or wire wheels on her car. " " That was easy, we took it from the wreck; and the same for the wheels. " " But you certainly didn ' t paint that number on the hood and radiator? " " Oh no, we pasted it on. See, " and he began to take the paper numeral from the car. Quite a crowd had gathered about the car and the speakers by this time, and everyone of the Dorf office force was there. Finally, they broke through the throng and rushed up to shake Billy ' s hand. " What do you think of our office boy now? " one of them shouted. " Hurrah for our office boy! " cried others. " Put him on our shoulders and give him a real ride! " someone else bawled. " Boys! " Every voice was quelled. Their employer was speaking. " I am very sorry to inform you that we have no more office boy. Billy is fired! " Every mouth opened in amazement. They stared at each other, every bit of pleasure gone. " However, please allow me to introduce you to our new vice- president. " This was an unexpected blow. One of them recovered, however, and he cried: " Three cheers for our new vice- president, Billy Bradley. " They were given with a will. Tom Hayne had by this time broken through the cheering body of men, and President Howard of the Senyah Auto- mobile Company was in tow. " Gee, kid, " Tom said, " that was some race you won. Meet my employer, Mister Howard. " " Glad to know you, sir, " was all the embarassed hero could say. " My young friend, " the other be- gan, " I ' ll give you any amount you want if you ' ll only sign up on my rac- ing team. You ' re sure some driver. " " Look here, Howard, " Van Loan said, " you don ' t want to rob me of my vice-president, do you? " 222 THE REDWOOD " If that ' s the ease, I think not. However, here ' s luck to you, young man, " he gripped Billy ' s hand hearti- ly. " But I ' m really sorry for you, " a twinkling in his eyes as he looked at his rival, " because you ' ve got an in- ferior make of car. Now look at the Senyah, for instance, there ' s the real thing. " " I notice it wasn ' t the real thing to- day. Billy, here, beat your best racer; and it ' s the first time he ' s ever han- dled one. " The other laughed and departed, ac- companied by his man. When the crowd had dispersed, which it did shortly after, and Van Loan had the two to himself, he turned to his daugh- ter and said: " Tootsie, girl, why did you cause me so much worry by leaving that note 1 I called up every justice of the peace around here, but could get no inform- ation. The last one, however, said he saw a girl of your description, walking towards the co urt house with a small suitcase. Was that you? " " It was. I was late and was in a hurry. That was where Billy was to meet me. The suitcase contained these coveralls and goggles. " " But still I don ' t understand. " " Well, I might as well tell you the whole story. After Billy saw me, he took the car and went out to the track to see if it were possible for him to en- ter. While there he came across the numeral on the wreck; and found she had five good wire wheels and the high speed gearing left undamaged, so with Mike ' s assistance he put them on our machine. " " But why did you do all this? " " Well, this is your birthday, and 1 wanted to surprise you; besides, I needed some excitement, as I hadn ' t had any for about a week. " The Lone Hearth SIT by tke fireside dreaming, Watching tke red tongues leap And dance in a violent frenzy O ' er the furious furnace heap. I gaze, and there rises before me From out of the flame ' s red glow, The face of an absent loved one, And freely my soft tears flow. Can this be the khaki-clad hero Returned from the hell of France ? They said he was lost — I awaken, Out of a drowsy trance! I sit by the fireside dreaming ! The hour grows late — so late, But I know with a mother ' s fond yearning That I still must wait — and wait. MARTIN M. MURPHY 223 Smarty Francis M. Conneally. N ugly sputtering of sound from a snarling machine- gun woke the valley with menacing echoes. A squad of gargoyle Yanks, fully equipped and moving to and fro in the dense clouds of poisonous gas, mowed down the on-rushing foe. " Ammunition! " came the sharp command of an officer in the rear of the first " typewriter " . A private scur- ried to the rear and returned with " ribbons " . ' " With precision they were placed in position and again the gun dealt out its leaden pellets of death. A savage smash of noise from the distant hills — the machine gun was no more. To-day we enjoy the fruits of victory — the blessings of Peace. So it would be completely out of place to deal with the havoc of war, the sufferings of our boys and the death of heroes — but there is one story which has never been told. Late in the evening, just as the stars began to shed glimmering rays of light in the clear canopy of blue, the Red Cross dog, Smarty, left the dressing station. Over the little hillocks, past craters formed by the " Berthas " , his nimble feet brought him nearer to the first line of trenches. His was a mis- sion of mercy. He was a poor, dumb brute, whose kind are the objects of cruelty — yet a willing and most able angel of Mercy. As he came near the lone sentry, a wagging tail was his countersign. " Bless the little fellow indade thin, ' tis him that ' s more human than the most of these blood-crazed boys. " At the edge of No Man ' s Land, ' Smarty ' stopped. Surely he, dumb creature, realized that it was a tick- lish job for any living thing to enter the forbidden space that separated the Hun from the Allies. Yet, love for Man, his Master, pointed out his task. There were men out there: some dead — those he could not help — but the liv- ing, they had to be found. With a sig- nificant shudder he bounded out into the shell-scarred waste. Smarty was an American through and through, for he first beheld the light of day in the land of golden op- portunity — California. In a quiet se- questered town of a famous valley he had spent the happy days of puphood. But when he had just begun to learn how to gather bones and was beginning to acquire the intricate art of burying 224 THE REDWOOD 225 them securely in the war-garden of his owner, an event occurred which left its imprint on his sensitive canine brain. It seems that his mother was in the habit of helping herself, whenever the opportunity afforded, to the next-door neighbors ' meat. Of course the butch- er should have known better than to leave his wares on the porch. But the person who occupied the bungalow was of a very mean and somewhat mysteri- ous disposition. He did not say a word to the owner of Smarty ' s mother, but took the law into his own hands. Leav- ing a fresh piece of tender beef-steak on the back porch one day the old vil- lain awaited the coming of a visitor. And as would be expected, Smarty ' s mother came slowly, cautiously, sniff- ing the savoury odors that were wafted on the gentle breezes. No dog, no mat- ter how strict his or her code of moral- ity, could resist the temptation. But alas ! within that harmless looking meal had been injected a poison, deadly in its effects, and Smarty was now an orphan. The grief that followed the severing of those family ties was so impressive that mere words would never be capa- ble of expressing it. For days, Smarty, alone in the world, went about filled, no doubt, — for who can tell what is in a dog ' s mind — with pious thoughts. He would take a jaunt down to the old creek where his mother had been laid to rest and there his little voice would pour forth a mournful solo — as only a sorrowful pup can lament the loss of relatives. But one day Smarty, who was in the habit of being where there was always something doing, beheld a sight that for some moments held him spellbound. Standing by the house of the man next door — the murderer of his own dear mother — was a man attired in a fine- fitting, pleasing-colored suit with shiny objects on his shoulders and his legs encased in slick leathers. Smarty won- dered what this fellow was doing in the neighborhood, but, after an offici- ous bark, let the stranger do as he pleased. The following day, however, and at the same time, he saw this same person, but now attired in an ordinary suit of clothes. Surely there was some- thing queer on foot — and he, Smarty, regretted that he was not in on it. Sad to relate, Smarty ' s master had grown rather forgetful of late and for two days had not shown up to give the dog his accustomed dinner. So, in or- der to keep fine and fit, the poor puppy was forced to go exploring for some bones which might have escaped his no- tice. After chasing an annoying fly around a circle he slipped over to the house next door — but not to the porch. He had seen the owner leave some few hours before, and it was now no doubt safe to dig for a few choice bones in the flower bed by the side of the house. Accordingly, with eagerness he set about excavating and soon had remov- ed various species of plant life which adorned the flower bed. 226 THE REDWOOD Finding nothing to please him in that locality, he busied himself near the cellar door and after a while was lucky enough to gain entrance beneath the door, which was not fitted securely to the base-board. Inside of that new, strange, funny smelling place, surely there was a bone — or maybe something better. Stumb- ling about in the darkness that envel- oped him, his nose collided with a sack which contained some hard objects. After poking about for a few moments he extracted one and was seemingly pleased with it. There was a strange fascination to it — for it rolled about when he struck it with his paw. Im- mediately all thought of hunger disap- peared. Here was some new toy, made just for the peculiar whims of puppy dogs. So grasping the little rope which came out of it he brought it out on the lawn in front of the house. Barking with exultation, he chased it about, pawed it gleefully and on the whole really enjoyed himself. But while he was resting for a moment, the strange man with the good-looking clothes and shiny objects on his shoul- ders came, and with him several meu who had two letters on their sleeves. The new toy was taken away, and Smarty heard strange new words — Spy — Bomb — Kill — but they had no mean- ing for him. That night when he was trying to snooze in his little box he heard a racket next door; — he heard what sounded like a sharp, short bark — several more — and then all was quiet. Early in the morning he went over to investigate ; and there on the porch, was one of the men with the letters on his arm. " Hello, pup — ' smatter with you? — looking for your master? Well, if that blankety-blank, block-headed German was your master — you ain ' t got no owner now. " But Smarty, knowing full well that he was suspected, that these men thought that he knew, or even was some relation to the murderer who killed his mother, was firmly re- solved to prove his innocence. So, with an angry bark he entered the open door. There, being laid in a bas- ket was the body of the murderer, with a ghastly hole in his head. Smarty looked at him — the men about him stopped and watched him. Then with all the joy which a dog is capable of showing, Smarty jumped and barked, and jumped and barked some more. He faced the body and snapped his little teeth together in a menacing frenzy. One by one the men began to talk. " Darn it; Capt. Slivens was right. He said that this little purp was watch- ing him the other day — and that when he comes around yesterday to question — that — (pointing to the body), the purp has a regular bomb out on the lawn — just having a fine time with it. Regular dog, I ' ll say. " • So Smarty began his military career from that day on. He enjoyed the sea voyage from New York and was now an able and willing Red Cross dog. THE REDWOOD 227 Slowly treading his way in search of those who needed help, Smarty heard strange noises approaching. They were unlike those made by the stretcher- hearers who generally followed in his tracks awaiting the little bark which denoted the finding of a wounded man. No, they were more stealthy — creepy — . He stood tense — then slowly retreated toward the first line of trenches, keep- ing always the same distance away from those approaching noises. Final- ly, when about twenty yards from the American lines he could stand it no longer; surely there was some danger approaching. Then, with a frenzied howl he began to pour forth from that little throat a weird — a startling cry — intermingled with a few snarls and fe- rocious barks. Consternation reigned — star-shells lighted up No Man ' s Land and dimly silhouetted, Smarty could see the spiked helmets of the foe — there were many. A machine gun spat- tered — a sharp pain — Smarty was no more. With the dawn of the day, a lone khaki clad figure crawled out in No Man ' s Land and gathered in his arms the little body ; the white bond which encircled him was stained crimson. Somewhere in France there is a lit- tle cross which bears this inscription — " Smarty — a Hero. " An Incident of No-Man ' s Land Randall 0. O ' Neill. " Oh, this war was a game where the Devil ' s fame, And Dante ' s views on Hell Were small town stuff on the Broad- way boards, And never a tongue can tell Of the battle-rage that takes a sage, And makes him less than a beast, Who ' ll stick his knife in a brother ' s life As he ' d carve meat at a feast. " Yes, and there are tales more won- drous yet to be told, despite the many which have gone down with their prin- cipals to the voiceless silence of the dreamless dust; so if you will harken I ' ll spin you a tale — a tale of murder and war and blood. Come with me for a moment or two, if you will, back to that land where not long since, the shrapnel shrieked and the bullets ripped and whined; back to that land where the cannon belched and roared; where the rockets glared and the flashes flared; back to that land where scattered and flew the leaden and iron gin that humans — hu- mans might drink it in; back to No- Man ' s-Land. There may be duties light and duties gay, duties sweet, delicate and rare, but the duty to porch in the dark and filth and mire of a land that is ravaged and ruined and bled is a duty that will try the steel of any man when he but reflects how probably his very act is the act that will save the lives of a regiment of men, or even for that mat- ter the life of but a single man — per- haps the son of some poor, widowed mother, who at that very moment back at home, is waiting and praying that He above may spare her only own. Patrols, on this red, roaring edge of war ' s outer crust, we started off in number, some thirty odd; each to tra- vel his own alloted path, forever mind- ful that probably he might never re- turn, or live to see the morning ' s sun. So, given our orders, the main part of which was to get information and get back — if we could, — we begin to grope and feel our way along, each alone and each his own master. Oh, the pale moon shone with a sick- ening grace that night, and I actually believe that the man in the moon drew the clouds across his vision, as a baby does its hands, to hide away the sight — a sight the sons of man should never look upon. While the moon was away, and be- tween flares, I ' d dart, the best I could, from one shell-hole to another, and then I ' d grope and crawl and cling to 228 THE REDWOOD 229 God ' s hard earth, like a baby to its mother ' s breast, — ever alert, ever watchful for the inevitable out there where the sky is spanned with its men- ace of death and fright. Along rolled the flame-fanged smoke, here scattered earth and mud, there blew the gas on its mission of death ; then the moon took a last short look, drew the clouds — and then it began to rain. It seemed to me the angels above were weeping at so hideous a sight; and oh, how bitter was their grief ! for the rain, like leaden hail and snarling sleet seemed to bite right in, as the lightning flashed its fiery darts and the deep-voiced thunder rolled along the vaulted sky, and as I lay in the darkness there I couldn ' t help thinking — something a fighter should never do — and crying within " Oh, Gentle Peace! how long? how long? " The rain ceased; it cleared a little and I started onward once again, and after about half an hour of the slow- est progress I ever made I stopped short, for there by the pale moon ' s light I saw crouching a man, not thirty feet away. He was alive, for I saw him move ; in fact, I fancied I could hear him breathe. Except for the slightest mo- tion now and again he lay like a man that was dead; all outstretched like a dusty marble statue. My first impulse was to crawl right over and hug him half to death, so glad was I to meet a mortal out there in no man ' s forsaken land; but I thought I had better wait, and ' twas well that I did — so I flattened out as low as I could, fixed my bayonet, poised my rifle, and awaited results. Soon, by his helmet grey and his accoutrement queer I realized that he was not my friend but an enemy, — a Boche. The fury of war surged and heaved within; to kill, to kill, was my only thought; why should I not pierce his very heart in twain? Why should I let him be? But I stayed my hand the while. And as a panther waits for its prey to come within reach, as a lion lies hidden for an opportunity to spring, so I, when I knew I had this Hun, lay waiting, to watch his tactics and discern his movements. Very shortly, by intently peering I perceived that he, like myself, was also waiting, like a cat which has cor- nered a mouse, for some object right ahead and close at hand. Like a flash, it dashed across my mind, could he be watching a comrade of mine, just as I was watching him, waiting even as I for a chance to spring and murder and kill? God forbid ! He never should ! No, not while my shoulders retained their power to thrust! What should I do? What could I do? Why, I seemed al- most paralyzed at the very thought. Then I saw him lean intently for- ward, rise like a murderer awakened 230 THE REDWOOD from his dream, or a madman from his sleepless cot ; yes, and I know I saw the sweat-drops fall from off his brow ; and I heard him utter a grunted curse ; while a satanical sneer passed over his lips. I knew what I saw when I saw him come down with the pent-up and merciless vengeance of four long years of war ; but I — but I lay there motion- less; I sprang not to aid; I turned not to shudder; nor did I even hang my head in shame, but I actually smiled, so hardened had I become, as I turned away to leave him alone to his gory glory ; for what he had killed was a — " cootie " . sstfs: Because Because I see, wken to the clinging mold Tke tender seed is cast, tke glad ripe grain Tkrusting its promised largess fortk amain, I do not fear corroding damp and cold : Because I love, when clustered storm-clouds Koary Veil Half the splendors of tke noontide sun, The promised arch, of mist and sunbeam spun, I do not crave tke calmer noonday glory : Because I know, wken to its kindred eartk Tkis eartkly frame returns, my soul skall stay And pain must yield to joy as nigkt to day — I kail deatk kerald of a brigkter birtk ! H. F. 231 PU- edmwh PUBLISHED BY THE STUDENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SANTA CLARA The object of The Redwood is to gather together what is best in the literary work of the students, to record University doings and to knit closely the hearts of the boys of the present and the past EDITORIAL STAFF EDITOR-IN-CHIEF BUSINESS MANAGER ASSISTANT BUSINESS MANAGERS CIRCULATION MANAGER EXCHANGES ALUMNI UNIVERSITY NOTES ATHLETICS ASSOCIATE EDITORS HENRY C. VEIT - HARRY J. GASSETT f T. A. ARGENTI I PAUL DONLON FRANCIS M. CONNEALLY P . F. MORETTINI - JAMES B O ' CONNOR NORBERT KORTE DEMETRIO DIAZ EDITOR EXECUTIVE BOARD BUSINESS MANAGER EDITOR OF REVIEWS Address all communications to THE REDWOOD, University of Santa Clara, Santa Clara, California. Terms of subscription, SI. SO a year; single copies 25 cents EDITORIAL Lasting Peace " With the summoning of the delegates of the Central Powers to sign the articles of peace at the Plenary Peace Council, culminated victoriously the long struggle against a foe threat- ening to unstabilize the tranquillity of the world. The long sought for, long hoped for settlement is here ; but will it be a permanent peace? The war was essentially a peoples ' war and the long- ing of the world has been for a peoples ' peace. Now at last the masses hope to recline from their years of tense uncer- tainty and begin the enjoyment of the recompense which huge sacrifices have justly made their due. But, although they have closed the front door to one evil, they must beware the while, of being oblivious to a much greater one 232 THE REDWOOD 233 lurking in the recesses of the rear exit determinedly awaiting the " zero hour " in which to swoop down upon its prey. Keen social unrest has become a thing of international concern. It spreads like wildfire ; its venom is contagious and would prove the death of civilized society itself were not proper legislation adopted to stem its fatal progress. We are, therefore, in the field of conquest still; only upon the completion of this greater task can we hope to kirn whole-heartedly to the work of reconstruction. But how best to go about this great task is the question. Are we to be guided by the radical few with their still more radical remedies? That would be advocating Socialism with all its attendant evils. Is outward repres- sion or persecution the efficient means ' ? History proves such methods vain; for ideas will but flourish and spread the more in consequence of it. The new universal enemy is an am- bushed foe and must be exterminated by indirect methods. It devolves upon each sovereign state to contribute its share toward the common good. Wise legislation on the part of every nation in dealing with the masses is, we think, the only appropriate and efficient method. Minded that this was a peo- ples ' war, the peace must be kept a peo ples ' peace. Let the laboring class, that vast body of humanity constitut- ing every nation ' s majority, receive a just wage and improved social sur- roundings. Satisfaction and content- ment will prove bitter enemies to an- archistic propaganda. Then, and only then, will a signal triumph have been won by the lovers of universal peace. Disregard this obvious remedy and nothing but a revolt of the masses against the classes will result. The world will be submerged in Bolshe- vism, which means that civilization will pass away in the mire of bloody, mer- ciless Barbarism. Finis We chanced to notice the other day, fine cob- webs hung and strung about many a volume that should have otherwise evidenced marks of much handling and use instead of that state of desuetude they seemed to have lapsed into the past few months. Per- haps all this would have escaped unno- ticed were it not for the fact that we were reminded the end of the trail had been reached. We began to pack, and in packing found our very being sur- charged with conflicting emotions. One made us blithe and jubilant over the coming vacation months with all that these mean; the other brought a tinge of sadness with it. Each little volume with its still un- garnered knowledge, seemed to point an accusing finger at us. Perhaps we have been at fault, or perhaps Fate, that fickle goddess, has made pawns of us all. Indeed our year has been sadly broken up, but that should not discour- 234 THE REDWOOD age us for remember it is better to have played and lost, than never to have played at all. Properly summed up, our losses, if any, have not been real losses at all. " We have been taught in- numerable lessons in the course of this short but happy sojourn and not least amongst these has been the value of ap- plication to duty. Some of us stand at the threshold of the future, looking back upon our Alma Mater perhaps for the last time. To these we extend all encouragement, with every wish for a bright and pros- perous career. Enriched with the no- blest aim of learning, character plus knowledge, that their years in Santa Clara have rewarded them with, noth- ing less than success seems forthcom- ing. But there are others amongst us who will cling to academic life, and to these we would extend a kindly admon- ition. Next year is to be your year and one of happiness and unparalleled success for all. But each one will be the cap- tain of his destiny. It will be for you and the student body, a year of what- ever you yourselves make it. Don ' t let the past be a criterion of our fu- ture. Always aim for bigger things. Work together and act, " that each to- morrow find you farther than to-day. " Reverse the tables and make yourself be the one to point the finger at the text-book for its limited soope. This is all, except that the Redwood wishes to thank all who helped us each month by their timely aid. Adios ami- gos, and may your vacation be a pleas- ant one, free from care and sorrow, that in the fall you may all return to make the coming year the banner one in Santa Clara ' s history. Hniupraitjj Notes During the time of preparation for our final examinations the student body finds little incentive or oppor- tunity to engage in the unscholarly work of Campus ac tivities. The vast majority are ardently applying them- selves to their books lest the merciless examiners, commonly called the " Ben- zine Board " , should leave them by the wayside while their successful class- mates pass on. Then too, from the ranks of the indolent there comes the wild flurry of " cramming " mingled with loud gallops of hard ridden Latin " ponies " . The full realization of their plight is upon them and gallantly they take up the good fight in a vain en- deavor to stave off the inevitable. Let us hope they are successful. But in the midst of all this scholastic soot we have found some time for play, our ideal being a sound mind within a sound body. Some leisurely passed away the time in stately banquet halls while others sought the open hills or shaded glades of the Santa Cruz moun- tains on their annual picnics. But we all came together in one grand demon- stration of our filial devotion on " Pres- ident ' s Day " , May the 13th. However we shall tell you more of these activ- ities presently. Ryland Debate The great clash between the two literary socie- ties of the University for the Ryland Prizes of 1919 is at an end and the outcome of the debate was indeed a surprise to us all. For the first time in many moons the House of Philhistorians conquered the mighty Senators. The question was one of in- ternational importance, taking the form of a conflict between the Balance of Power system of world regulation and the proposed League of Nations. The audience was held spellbound from beginning to end, so lively was the con- test and it was not until the decision of the judges in favor of the contention upheld by Representatives Randall ' Neill, Martin Walsh and Edwin Hea- fey, that most of us settled back with a sigh of relief. To Senators Francis Conneally, Eugene Jaeger and Henry C. Veit must be given the great credit of keeping the Senate ' s debating stand- ard from dishonor even in defeat. Another agreeable surprise of the 235 236 THE REDWOOD evening was the digression from a well established custom of not announcing the prize winners until the annual Com- mencement exercises and the conse- quent relieving of our curiosity by tell- ing us that Representative Randall O ' Neill won first prize for individual excellence, Representative Edwin Hea- fey the second, and Senator Jaeger the third prize. Student Body The last regular meet- ing of the Associated Student Body for 1918- 19 was held on May 8, Treasurer Con- neally presiding in the absence of President Korte. Characterized by the usual interest and enthusiasm that has marked all of the political functions of the campus it brought to a successful close one of Santa Clara ' s most remark- able years. The main business of the meeting was the election of Student Body Officers for the next year. The following were honored : Henry C. Veit, President; Frank Conneally, Secreta- ry ; Zan Coman, Treasurer, and Thomas Whelan, Sergeant-at-arms. The elec- tions were followed by a few timely remarks from our Moderator of Ath- letics, E. F. Whelan, S. J., which he concluded by bidding adieu to the Student Body as this is to be his last year with us. Every student present received this with regret, for seldom before has Santa Clara been so fortun- ate as to have a man of Father Whe- lan ' s caliber at the head of its athletic affairs. Always thinking of others first and himself last, always putting forth his every effort in our behalf, always kind, courageous and gentle; is it little wonder that we shall feel his departure? The meeting very ap- propriately adjourned in his honor. As to the spirit of the students in general, well — even though this semes- ter has been marked by many stormy sessions, still every one has acted for what he thought were the best interests of Santa Clara and where such a spirit prevails, success is bound to be the outcome. Banquets The class of ' 21, our erstwhile Rhetoricians, held forth at the festive board, Saturday evening, April twenty- sixth. The menu was quite the thing; that is, it sounded good and all the Sophs tell us it was " simply grand " , from " Polonius Broth — Manson style " , — to " Gimme the bing " , including the " Blushing Murphies " , and " Roast Young Ones " . Then too, E. Zeek Co- man, beside being the orchestra and committee in charge, acted as Toast- master, calling upon President M. S. Walsh, Silent John Murphy and Class Private E. F. Whelan, S. J., for a few remarks. As usual, they were well taken. Now comes the dignified Senate with its annual banquet in honor of the Ry- land Debating Team. It was more of a " get together " affair this time, not being graced by the usual pomp of the dress suit or long tiresome speeches. THE REDWOOD 237 The Senators tell us, however, that physically they liked it much better, " less noise, more food " , ' being their motto. Rev. Nicholas Bell, S. J., Pres- ident of the Senate, and Rev. Hubert Flynn, S. J., Speaker of the House, ad- dressed the Senators with a few timely remarks in regard to the art of public debating. Wednesday evening, St. Joseph May seventh, the stu- dents made their an- nual pilgrimmage to the shrine of St. Joseph, the patron of Santa Clara, there to pay him their homage by poem and song. The occasion was marked by the usual solemnity and sincerity, going to show how every one of us rev- erence our benefactor. James O ' Con- nor spoke very eloquently for the Stu- dent Body, while Father President gave us one of his good heart-to-heart talks. _ ., ,, Tuesday, May thir- President s , , , , , teenth, marked our first celebration in hon- or of our new President, Rev. T. L. Murphy, S. J. Starting off with the celebration of Mass by Father Presi- dent, at which he made a few remarks, thanking us for our spirit of good fel- lowship and cooperation throughout the year, we proceeded to the Athletic Pentathlon and thence to a feast at which Fr. President was guest of hon- or. The students were indeed grate- ful for the opportunity to pay homage to a man who has become so dear to them. Coming here a practical stran- ger, he quickly gained our esteem by his true American spirit and kind pa- ternal ways. What he has already done for us since his arrival is best told by his works. Finding us in great need of many things he quickly supplied our wants, among which the new foot-ball bleachers stand out as a grand remem- brance. It is little wonder then that we find ourselves so irresistibly drawn to him, ready to back him to a man, so that when he expresses a wish, of that wish everyone is heard to " say, " So shall it be. " Santa Clara is blessed in having one so true and so resourceful to guide her destini ' es. The Pentathlon, as in former years, was a huge success. Every athlete turned out to do his bit, and though all could not be triumphant, still everyone was happy in the privilege of honoring the President by trying. " Skeeter " Whelan was the highest man of the day, amassing the proud total of 4333 points and incidentally carrying off the biggest cup. However, the scorer found, " Pooch " Larrey, " Greek " Be- dolla, Mervyn Kaney and " Silent " Guichon running in close succession to the big fellow, and for this they also received handsome cups. The medals for each event went to the following: Kaney, in the high jump ; with Larrey taking honors in the broad jump and 238 THE REDWOOD shot put, while " Long Tom " took the half and Bedolla and Larrey the cen- tury. To Messrs. William McCormack and Greco, the Misses Bertha and Bernice Downing, the Kocher Jewelry Co., and the White House, the Student Body ex- tends its sincere thanks for the beauti- ful cups they so graciously gave. It was through their kindness that the Pentathlon was made possible. — Norbert Korte. 1 t::IKMgJ3irf [5ra CCTTiTg rc? Last year, and in previous years, there existed on the campus a tiny group of unknown, unmolested, sup- posed illiterate, and seemingly " pep- less " ones, who labored under the title of Engineers. This year, each " En- gineer " is living the new, immortal slogan: " Let ' s show them that we ' re not a bunch of deadheads. " While the S. A. T. C. was in com- mand, the activities and the very at- mosphere of college life were missing. Nevertheless, on every other Monday of the month at precisely 11 :30 o ' clock, an Engineering meeting was called to order by the Society ' s able president, Leo Martin. While nothing important could be accomplished in this first se- mester, yet every meeting served to further incorporate the members into such a loyal and friendly body that, when the Allies did manage to con- quer the savage Hun without the aid of Santa Clara ' s over-anxious Student Army, the Society found itself in a po- sition to shew everyone that it was up and coming. After the New Year holidays, a small, neat sign appeared on the bul- letin board, to announce the date of the first Engineering meeting. At this meeting the members elected three committees which were : to arrange the program of the meetings, to provide means of entertainment and to create an interest in athletic events. The ef- forts of the program committee were rewarded by the interesting talks giv- en, at different meetings, by Mr. Du- laney, by Captain Donovan, who has always been a true friend of the Soci- ety, and by Mr. Roy Emerson, ' 16, an old member. The entertainment com- mittee furnished many a novel sur- prise for the benefit of the members. And, not to be outdone by others, the committee on athletics planned a series of basketball games with the Engin- eers ' natural rivals: the Letters men. However, for reasons best explained by Captain Al. Guichon, his team failed to win the first practice game, and the season closed before the series could be played. The meetings of the Society are con- ducted under strict rules of order. Not the slightest trace of " politics " is al- lowed to creep into the proceedings ; rather, every member is encouraged to express himself openly to the society. And the result of every vote cast clear- ly shows that each member thinks for 239 240 THE REDWOOD himself. Besides its own happenings, the society has taken active part in ev- ery important thing around the Uni- versity. And in everything, to use a well-known expression, the Engineers " know how " . But the main place must be given to the banquet. This occurred on the thirtieth of April; and was acknowl- edged by all to be a huge success. The honored guest of the occasion was Mr. Wm. ' Shaughnessy, City Engineer of San Francisco. Early in the afternoon, Mr. ' Shaughnessy journeyed down to the University, and was greeted at the station by a committee from the soci- ety. Later on, he was conducted through the Engineering Department, and seemed pleased with its appear- ance and equipment. After a tour of the Institution, Mr. ' Shaughnessy met Fr. Murphy, the President, Pro- fessor Donovan and a few others, and with them started for the scene of the banquet, the Montgomery Hotel in San Jose. In the lobby of the hotel were al- ready assembled the regular members, the honorary members, and the guests of the Engineering Society. Hence, it was not long before the gay sounds of merriment and the jumbled strains of the " jazz " orchestra announced that the Engineer ' s " Third Annual Capa- city Test " was in progress. To justly describe the inner appearance of the banquet hall, one would have to wax poetic. The tables, decorated with a rope of roses and ferns, were set in the shape of a large " U " , with a small ta- ble in the center. Upon this the Soph- omores had cleverly placed a transit al- though they failed to make the sus- pended carrot point exactly to the mark on the juicy steak beneath the tripod. " When the " big eats " , con- sisting mainly of turkey, with some less tempting morsels had entirely dis- appeared, and when the orchestra could be persuaded to enjoy a rest, Mr. Leo Martin, the toastmaster, called upon the speakers of the evening. First of all, there was our esteemed President, Fr. Timothy Murphy. His talk was, as always, extremely inter- esting. And the applause surely must have indicated the friendly feeling which exists for him on the Engineer- ing side of the " family " . Next in or- der came the class speakers, Clarke, Tuttle, Abrahamson and Sullivan. Their remarks may have been crude or perhaps merely nervous; but the spirit with which they addressed the gathering was plainly appreciated. And then we listened to Mr. ' Shaughnessy. Needless to say, his words were eagerly heard. He im- pressed upon those present the import- ance of the Engineering profession, and the large field for its endeavors. At the close of his remarks, Mr. ' Shaughnessy was unanimously elected an honorary member of Santa Clara ' s Engineering Society and his speech of thanks could not be heard in the thunder of applause. The toastmaster next requested our THE REDWOOD 241 old friend, Captain Donovan, to say a few words. The topic of his speech rested in the honor of the profession, which, according to the Captain ' s re- marks, is the " oldest on earth " . When the applause finally subsided, Mr. Sav- age gave the closing remarks, and the " greatest banquet yet " was over. Last Monday the Engineers held an important meeting. A new staff of of- ficers was elected for the next year; and to judge from their hopeful prom- ises, the coming session will be a most successful one. Following are the new officers: President, John J. Savage ' 20, of San Francisco. Vice President, Leopold P. Di Fiori ' 20, of San Jose. Secretary, David V. Tuttle ' 20, of Atherton. Treasurer, Herman C. Dieringer ' 20, of Austin, Nev. Sergeant-at-arms, Adolpho Vergara " 21, of Zapatlan, Mexico. Reporter, Alfred J. Abrahamson ' 21, of San Francisco. Librarian, Clarence Sullivan ' 22, of Santa Clara. — Alfred J. Abrahamson. ft m-T ' r at mi ■ ■ mwm ' ilffll ' :: 3 ©lC3lSr ' ' 3MJSXJ=%. GlyMJR? - , ' ; ' $$$ " 71 It ' s a long way to travel back ' 59 to the days of ' 59, so near the first of our pioneer Alma Mater. Yet there are some amongst our Alumni who enjoy that distinction and chief of these is Mr. Edmund J. Duf- fin. For many years Mr. Duffin has been connected with newspaper work in Boston. He returns now to the val- ley to spend his remaining days in a clime unexcelled the country over. According to stories circu- ' 00 lated by men who know whereof they speak, Edward M. Leonard, Knights of Columbus Sec- retary with the 363rd Regiment was just about the most popular man in the outfit. In each of the many campaigns in which these troops figured promi- nently, Leonard was always on hand when the men came back from the fir- ing line, to help them to refreshments and enliven their drooping spirits. An interesting story is told of how he once filled a much-needed want. He was absent from camp one night for several hours. Finally, about nine o ' clock he came back with a heavy bar- rel loaded on a wheel-barrow. " What ' s the idea, Spike? " said one of the men. " Going to bring it back home? " " No, " said Leonard, " I saw this bar- rel down the road about three days ago and it ' s going to be the Company K bathtub. It ' s the best thing for a bath- tub I have seen since we left Paris. " The barrel was retained for several weeks as the official " plunge " of the company. ' 04 We have every legitimate reason to be proud of Thom- as F. Feeney, who is certainly doing credit to his Alma Mater. At present he holds the enviable position of Chief Deputy Collector in charge of the Income Tax Department, in the of- fice of Justus S. Wardell, Collector of Internal Revenue for the First Collec- tion District of California, That same spirit of good fellowship which charac- terized him as a student here at College 242 THE REDWOOD 243 is still whirling for him innumerable friends. We wish him every opportun- ity for promotion in his career and all kinds of good luck and success in his new field of endeavor. Perhaps it was the freckled ' 13 face of John Barnard that awakened in us the memories of his college days, or better still, a lit- tle bit of the old pep he was wont to display in his student years. He drop- ped in on his way home from France, and judging from the amount of fight- ing he participated in we can rest as- sured that he did his share to keep things hot for the Huns. ' 15 Word comes from San Diego of one Nicholas J. Martin. When hostilities ceased he was in training for his commission at Camp McArthur, Waco, Texas. While at school here Nick was " Prexy " of the Student Body. A very interesting letter ' 16 reached us but recently from Eugene Charles in which he relates the wonderful esteem and re- gard the French held for all Americans overseas. He says the Poilus thought the best was none too good for the Sam- mies. L. Robert Serpa won his Naval Lieu- tenancy shortly before the Boche tired of the scrap he started and called " Kamerad " . Since then he has been on active duty on the Atlantic. Serpa is a graduate of the Law Department and prior to his enlistment in the early days of the struggle, was practicing in San Jose. Another of Santa Clara ' s sons to taste of early success is Bill Shipsey. In war times he was known as Ensign Shipsey, while back in the gentle paths of civilian life he bears the title of As- sistant District Attorney of San Luis Obispo County. It is indeed with pro- found grief that we learned of the re- cent death of his sister Kathleen. The Redwood extends to Bill and his broth- er Edward Shipsey, S. J., ' 13, its sin- cerest condolences. Ralph Martin is credited with hav- ing been one of the hardest and most enthusiastic workers for Uncle Sam during the War. Ralph was a customs ' officer in San Francisco and bade adieu to his Alma Mater with the class of ' 16. Henry Harkins likes army life so well that he has decided to remain in the service indefinitely. Shortly after graduating from the Engineering De- partment he enlisted and soon won his commission. At present he is on active duty in France. ' 17 The Bolsheviks in wildest Russia must feel, even in their semi-barbaric retro- gression, the stimulating influence of genial Eugene Conway. Gene is a 244 THE REDWOOD graduate from the Department of En- gineering. At present he is with the American Forces in Russia. Perhaps one of the best all-around athletes Santa Clara ever claimed is Benny Bensberg. He won his bars but shortly after enlistment and ere he re- alized it, was on his way over there. Now that hostilities have ceased, he finds the verdant expanses adjoining Chaumont, a splendid place for polo — in which game he delights. He expects to arrive home very soon. The one and only Mike Leonard is homeward bound. Pinky was doing his bit with the 18th Engineers and has been over in France from the very first days of our entrance into the war. We recall him as one of the best little pitchers the Varsity could boast of, in years. It was none other than the same Mike who bested the White Sox in one of their spring training games. ' 18 One of the many Santa Cla- rans to enlist at Camp Fre- mont immediately after grad- uating last year was Hilding Johnson. He received his Law Degree only to turn to the thorough mastery of mod- ern warfare. Shortly after his enlist- ment he was sent to France and re- mains there still awaiting the word to embark for Home, Sweet Home. Dick Berndt dropped in re Ex ' 20 cently to pay us a visit. Dick has seen eleven months of active service in France and is glad to be home. It will be remembered that Berndt, who was a fine student, was also a great athlete while here at school. He was most prominent, per- haps, in Rugby, being a member of Charlie Austin ' s star aggregation of 1916, but shone equally in basket-ball. — James B. O ' Connor. Holy Cross Purple have been stretch our Awaking from the sil- ence of the past few months into which we involuntarily thrust, we hand across the continent to greet our friend from Massachusetts, and without any further formalities of renewed friendship we welcome " The Purple " to our midst again. In its us- ual good literary taste " The Purple " has a pleasing array of commendable college verse with a number of essays to complete the issue. As verse lovers, we cannot conceal a certain partiality towards that form of literature; and here we come to our first choice, " Frus- tration " . The author displays an un- usual power of using language to sug- gest his thoughts and the action of the poem quite to our pleasure. Transcrib- ing the first few lines as indicative of the poem we may say that we have no- ticed nothing better in any other col- lege magazine. " With swelling sweep of endless waves, the sea Assails the stubborn greatness of the shore ; In longing might the frantic oceans roar Upon the gainless coast unceas- ingly. " The onomatopeia of the lines and the choice of the words indicate the effect produced by the waves surging and rolling forward only to break and dis- sipate themselves upon the ocean-chis- eled ledges of the cliffs. " We involun- tarily recall similar lines from Swin- burne, only that here the rhythm is im- perfectly developed. " You ' ve gone, old friend " , leads us into a sympathetic mood in which we too feel the loss of a departed friend. " Two Loves and a Contrast " con- tains in its simplicity a wealth of thought, and keeping the main idea un- til the end gives to this neat little poem an added force and effect. But what shall we say of " To Pyrrha " ? Some- where in our early youth we have faint recollection s of our own poor attempts at deciphering the language of Horace upon the self-same subject. It is in- deed pleasant to know that our favorite poet has not been entirely neglected 245 246 THE REDWOOD since we have ascended into the realm of metaphysics. Certainly it is no mean attempt at expressing the thought of the ancient master, in good English verse. Among the essays we especially not- ed " Prophecies " and " On Silence " ; but our search was in vain for a short story to crown this issue. This is some- thing, indeed, which we did not expect to miss ; but again we can console our- selves that the war is over and that the short story will come into its own once more. So we turned away well pleased indeed, but with a certain void that was not filled and a craving that was not satisfied, to await eagerly the com- ing of the next number of " The Pur- ple. " The Tattler " The Tattler " , from Virginia, makes its ap- pearance with some charming short stories and interesting bits of verse. A story with a different setting and in some contrast to the pre- vailing condition of its surroundings is " Little Mischa " . Its scenes of the peaceful abodes of a music loving peas- ant are set in the wild wastes of Rus- sia. Do not the following lines paint an unusual picture : " As the child talked, Mischotzch came and stood silently watching the black blotter of night soak up the liq- uid colors of the day ' s melted rain- bow. " Out of line with the preceding story we have " A Peasant Poet " , an essay on the life and works of the budding Irish poet, Francis Ledwidge. To tell the truth, we must confess our unfam- iliarity with all but the name of this young disciple of the Muse, out here on the reverse slopes of the Sierras ; but, speaking of the essay, we think that the authoress has made too fre- quent use of quotations, as the article seems to be overcharged thus rendering its reading slightly monotonous. " Why the Willow Droops " has no special literary merit, and we might add, the issue would not suffer by its absence. " The Crucible " is very improbable. It is too devoid of personality to be in- teresting, and too short and discursory to merit much praise. But we do not know why the editor has placed " The Bride of Custis House " in so remote a place. Surely it merits something bet- ter ; we personally consider it the best story in the number. It is slightly marred by a poor simile at the top of the second page, while, after we read the lines " The moonlight gleamed through the broken windows, and black against the light, the cross-bars broke the beam into little squares " we ad- mired the faculty of suggesting by de- scription the lonely barred windows and a train of kindred thoughts ; then, as an afterthought, we were piqued to be told " the window had been barred " quite superfluous indeed. Turning to the realm of poetry, we were struck by the simplicity and loft- THE REDWOOD 247 iness of thought in " The Garden of the Brave ' ' . ' " We seldom meet with such an exquisite contribution in a college mag- azine. The whole contribution of poetry is good ; but again we were pre- vented from saying " excellent " by the puerile effort, " The Flirt " . Don ' t you think this should have been omit- ted, " Tattler " ? We instinctively re- called the lines in Poe ' s " Bells " while reading " Spring " ; and its suggestive- ness added not a little to our pleasure in perusing it. The " Ex " -man ' s depart- ment was also scrutinized, but, we must say that to us the exchanges appear too short and cursory, and we are inclined to think that the editor of this depart- ment has missed one of its aims — help- ful and constructive criticism. Again, " Tattler " , we thoroughly enjoyed the present number, and hope to greet you again when we return to our desks aft- er the summer vacation. _, _ , What must be the Boston Col- ,, „ ,, „ , ■ r.i i wrath of the Exchange lege Stylus .„ „, . . man it, after viewing the contents of a magazine, he can find no fault in its well-balanced literary efforts ? Such is the c ase with us after perusing the contents of the entertain- ing monthly from the region of Boston. In fact, for its clever stories, instruct- ive essays, and poems it merits nothing but the warmest approval. " Catholic Poetry " is a good exposi- tion of the wealth and beauty of the poetry produced by our own Catholic geniuses; and it suffers nothing in its comprehensiveness by the conciseness and clarity in which it is expressed. Our appreciation of true genius was in no way lessened by reading " Neme- sis of Modern " , and we left it better acquainted with the remarkable talent of one of the best of our contemporary literateurs. This essay epitomizes the character and work of this modern writer, presents his views on religion, morality, and government and explains the resulting antagonism of modern radicals in a clear and forceful style. " Schweinhund " , although well writ- ten makes use of a plot somewhat threadbare ; but we thoroughly enjoy- ed it nevertheless. Poe and Conan Doyle would probably read with won- der the tale of " The Purple Death " , but unquestionably they would pro- nounce its action rather bald and rapid and displaying a lack of atten- tion to particulars. However, it must be confessed, we held our breath until the very end. As to poetry, our finger points to " Requiem " as the best. It expressed the unutterable woe of a sorrowing father and anguished moth- er seeking in vain in the fog-shrouded night for one of their loved ones lost in the purple waters of the lake. The best thing about it is that the action is artfully suggested and hence the emotions it would awaken, unconsci- ously yet forcibly are stirred within us. For clearness and unaffected rhyme we next point to " And who is my Neighbor? " Of course, we said that 248 THE REDWOOD we could find no fault; but probably our chagrin has caused us to reread and scrutinize the contents, and as a result our victim is " Her Mite " . We would not have said anything except for the last stanza, which in our estimation is slightly suggestive of prose and tends to make us believe that the au- thor has unduly striven after rhyme. The last two lines are somewhat out of place, don ' t you think? But remem- ber, " Stylus " ' , our task is not merely to find faults for faults ' sake, only that in this case they so unceremoniously projected themselves upon our vision that we were forced to take notice thereof. In conclusion, aside from such slight imperfections, we repeat that the Boston College monthly is a well rounded and excellent journal. r, . , Noctes fabulaeque Purple an d A r , ,,„, T p Manes! " The League of Nations " is one of the subjects that stares us in the face in the neat issue of our friend from Minnesota. And what shall we say? At the outset, to be frank, we must ad- mit that we have some preconceived opinions about such an affair, and nat- urally an essay exposing the charms of the League of Nations does not impress us favorably. Though, aside from lit erary criticism, this is no place to deal with such a momentous question, still we cannot refrain from commenting upon it. While the author of this ar- ticle has added nothing new to the long array of opinions and arguments upon the subject, he seems to lack a grasp of the theme, as some of his ideas, somewhat vaguely expressed, and even a few patently erroneous, indicate. Again, leaving our domain, we would suggest that the League be allowed to rest until, by zymotic action, it devel- ops into a well-ordered balance of power. " Theodore Roosevelt " is an epitome of the life of this great statesman, re- touching his admirable qualities only to make them stand out more brilliant in the Nation ' s eyes. But the fault here is that the author endeavors to cover too much of the subject ' s life, burden- ing the essay with too many incidents, which tend to make the reading of it monotonous. A few incidents well-de- veloped, disclosing and portraying the character of this world figure would, in our judgment, be preferable and would make more enjoyable reading. The tendency with the author of short stories is to take upon himself the task of explaining his whole plot and action by surplus explanation and obvious remarks, and thus little or nothing is left to the intelligence of the reader. Such is the case with " The Ace of Diamonds " wherein we are told, after a thrilling game of cards, that the hero has won and finally that it was all a dream. This was evident and known long before we were told, and the remarks only irritated us. Still we could not help regretting that the tale was not more lengthy. " Ar- THE REDWOOD 249 mand " is our pick as an ideal short story. With its absorbing theme, in- genuity of plot, and its well ordered action, it leaves nothing to be desired. Here is a good example of suggesting action and describing feelings and emotions. After going the rounds of the short stories and essays we complain that we were only rewarded by one poem, " The Storm Demon " . But, however else we might criticize it, we must say that it is quite good. A suggestion might be made that more verses of this quality would be appreciated amid the other- wise well-balanced collection. How- ever, " Purple and Gray " , we enjoy your visits ; and hoping that your next arrival will include some excellent col- lege verse, with stories and essays ga- lore, we await your coming. Fordham Monthly After months of anxiety we are glad to renew our acquaintance with our eastern friend, that we may con- tinue the work of aiding and encour- aging each other in our literary ef- forts. To begin, we regret that we could not find more to enjoy in its poetry, which in this issue consists of only two selections. Did we say se- lections? This does not apply to " Stuff and Dreams " , because, to tell the truth, we were at a loss to know whether it was prevailingly " Stuff " or ' ' Dreams ' ' ; but to allay our con- science, we have come to the conclu- sion that the harsh word must be chosen. Indeed we found it difficult to decipher the meaning; and such a word as " Sleepy-head " in the first line did not incline us favorably. To be brief in our friendly criticism, there is an irritating absence of rhythm and melody in the verse to aid us over the weak spots. As for the other poem, " Regret " , we find that it possesses all that is required of good College verse, and, needless to say, the thought is good. Consequently, when we can make no adverse com- ments certainly " res ipsa loquitur. " A story that is different, with the irresistible attraction of a gay uncon- querable hero at last conquered by gen- tle yet powerful love — for others, is " Edna " . ' Opportunities are afforded for satire and bits of original wit in " Some wan- derings of a Vagabond Mind " , and the effect is amusing. We would like to encourage more of this kind of writing, because the field is large and fruitful, and particularly develops the resources of the student. " The Log of the Mary Ann ' . ' Where did we read something like that before? But that would be telling. We would kindly suggest that the author turn his literary atten- tion to some other theme, at least one not so hackneyed by the storm of alien pens. The rest we can only commend as good, with special reference to the editorial on the " Educational Re- form " and " The Test of Sincerity " . The former is a clear exposition with a 250 THE REDWOOD logical conclusion on the present day evils of the elective system in our seats of learning. As to its conclusion, we could hardly have reached any other : and the point is well developed. But what shall we say about our President ? The exchange department may not be the place to make such comments, still we cannot refrain from agreeing with your editorial that our chief executive seems to the writer also to be somewhat inconsistent. Would not this be a fit subject for some " Vagabond mind? " But summing up, we must say that we enjoyed your efforts, " Fordham " , and our hope is for many happy re- turns. We gratefully acknowledge receipt of the following : The Young Eagle. Georgetown College Journal. The Morning Star. Duquesne Monthly. The Creighton Chronicle. The Laurel. The Martian. The Exponent. The Villa Marian. The Alvernia. The Xaverian. The Gonzaga. The Dial. The Columbiad. The Memorare. The Canisius Monthly. The Prospector. The Academia. The Borromean. The Rainbow. The Springhillian. The Marquette Journal. — P. F. Morettini. Considering the many obstacles that we had to contend with, due chiefly to the European war and its aftermath, we are more than satisfied with the successful seasons that we had in each sport. In the beginning of the school year the majority of the student body looked forward to a poor season in Football. A month later the Student Army Training Corps was instituted, only to weaken our hopes for a good football year. Notwithstanding all difficulties, through the efforts of Cap- tain Donovan, U. S. A., and Fr. McEl- meel, then Moderator of Athletics, a series of three football games was ar- ranged with our old rival, Stanford University. The success of our varsity in the three encounters has already been related in the early issues of the Eedwood, but in case it may have been forgotten we remind our friends that we defeated Stanford in all three con- tests. On our return from the Christmas holidays we were more than glad to hear that both the S. A. T. C. and the R. 0. T. C. Units had been abandoned and that the old routine of College life was to be resumed. Of course we do not mean to say or even give the slight- est suggestion that we were dissatisfied with the army organizations that had held our student body together. But the battle for democracy having been won, there was nothing else to do but to return to the well loved ways of Col- lege life and devote our free time to Athletics. Our basket-ball season was among the most notable that Santa Clara has had in all her athletic history. Despite many handicaps, we succeeded in bring- ing home the championship title of the California-Nevada Intercollegiate Bas- ket Ball League. Those who witnessed the many games played on our own court will support me when I say that we had " some basket-ball team " . In baseball, while we were defeated in a few games, we must consider that we had often to meet teams composed entirely of professional players. In spite of that fact, however, our record for the season shows a gratifying bal- ance of victories, and had there been a baseball organization in these parts corresponding to the Intercollegiate 251 252 THE REDWOOD Basketball League, we feel sure our players would have come mighty near winning the intercollegiate bunting. For next year the outlook could hardly be brighter. Though no offi cial announcement has been made, we can say with certainty that Santa Clara will play the American style of football. We are the very last to bid adieu to the grand old game of Rugby, Santa Cla- ra ' s true friend for thirteen years ; but we have been left isolated by our neigh- boring colleges, and only one course is open for us. To-day the newspapers carry the an- nouncement that Mr. Emmet Harmon has signed a two-year contract to take charge of all athletics here at the Uni- versity. The new coach, most success- ful hitherto in developing winners in every line of college sport, will doubt- less have little trouble in maintaining and increasing his high reputation, for in addition to excellent material now on hand there is every prospect that several athletes who were summoned hence by the war, will return to col- lege for the next scholastic year. — D. Diaz. PREPS. Now that time has had its way, and the victorious Preps lay aside their spikes, cleats, or tennis shoes and don a more refined English or Florsheim low cut, the thoughts of this year ' s Ath- letics in Prepdom loom before us, and in the minds of all, there is no doubt that they have been a success. Let us turn back over the pages of history to those days when our neigh- boring hills were dressed in white, and the windows of Senior Hall were closed lest the chill north wind should enter and disturb our study. Out on the court we found Chase, Pashburg, Mollen, Falvey, Walsh, and Neary, in their daily basketball prac- tice. It seemed an impossibility to schedule a game with any team, at any place or at any time. It is true we played a few games, but in these our two forwards were missing, so the reg- ular Prep Basketball Team failed to show its worth in those few contests. Later, our time was well spent in scrim- maging with the Varsity. Although this work was tedious at times, we fail- ed to lose our spirit, and Santa Clara ' s victory in the California-Nevada League was largely due to the condi- tion of those who wore the " Red and White. " Then came spring. We knew it was here for " Shirtless " Teague adver- tised the fact. Our baseball team was indeed a nine worthy of all honors. A tall, unostentatious youth under the name of Bob Pashburg was our " find " . On him we bestow much credit, for his pitching was wonderful. Ray Fal- vey, the stripling from the town of mystery, proved to us that they teach one how to catch at San Mateo Hi. ' ' Spud ' ' Chase at first showed many of our opponents how the bag should be played, and it was his one hobby to run the bases without a stop. To see a THE REDWOOD 253 ball pass through Al Becker at third, Joe Pipes at short, or Captain Martie Judge at second was about as common as watching Earnie Bedola, Jim Neary, or " Stubby " Griffith chasing a fly out in the field, and with Bobby pitching, these things happened as often as Old Man Halley ' s Comet. Mountain View twice was treated to the white wash. For the little blue book tells of a 10-0, and a 6-0 victory for the Preps. Centerville ' s hopes were high, but the Preps played a mean trick; for not content with a shut-out for their opponents and with crossing the pan seven times, Bob Pashburg had to pitch a no-hit game. About seven- teen miles from here is a beautiful High School, but oh, how the surface soil of baseball diamonds can change in that short distance. Palo Alto had — or claimed they had — an undefeatable team who professed to know the Na- tional Game. With " Paly " at their last bats we felt certain of victory, but suddenly a few rocks turned the course of their love taps and our studious En- gineers would never attempt to figure the angles that ball then made. Our deserved victory was turned into a tied score, and we have waited in vain for a return game on our diamond; but perhaps our opponents fail to realize the fact that our school closes in May. The San Jose High was defeated three times by large scores but their motto seems to be " never quit " , ' and per- haps that is the reason for San Jose ' s position in the P. A. League today. MIDGETS. The word Midget conveys to one ' s mind something small. Well, a certain Mr. Forge, who, by the way is a hand- ball shark, and who is well primed on the ups and downs of history, informs us that Napoleon was small, yet he was a great man. So be it with our Mid- gets. Small, yet wonderful teams they have. The fates have so decreed that when- ever any Santa Clara Team in the Prep or Midget Class has a world of speed, and teamwork, that lineup shall seek in vain for competition. With our two Joes, — and who else could they be but Pipes and McLaughlin at guard? — two of the fighting Irish stock, none other than Regan and Corbett at for- ward, and Makemson and Volkmor shifting at center, what better team has ever represented the Midgets in basketball? The San Jose Y. M. C. A. 130 pound- ers, and the Santa Clara High School team of the same weight are the only fives that caused our Midgets to take a trip to the Marble showei ' s. The lat- ter had yet to taste the stings of de- feat when they cast aside the rubber soled shoes for the more wicked looking cleat and formed a ball team with Spot Eye Mollen as pitcher, Fat Frank and Speed Burns as catchers, Lefty Kinnison at first, Mick Regan around second, Joe Lambrosa on his toes at short, Mex Farrell " talking ' em up " at third, Shine Florimont, Angelo Rian- da, and Tub Greub basking in the out- 254 THE REDWOOD field, and Co-op Lipman and Red Cor- bett willing to step into any position. Santa Clara High School tasted an 11-2 defeat; Centerville failed to con- vince their home town friends that the Midgets were easy victims, as the score stood 4-2 against the boys up North. St. Joseph ' s fell twice before our youngest and smallest team, by an 11-2, and a 7-1 count. But a certain warm spring day at Los Gatos proved a Wat- erloo for our nine. Perhaps the odor of grape vines affected their senses, but as yet Sherlock Manson has failed to give us the result of his probings. Al- though Mollen pitched a two-hit game, the Los Gatos High School carried away the honors of a 3-0 victory. Taken all in all, the Preps and Mid- gets have been most successful in their Athletics this season and as it is these very Preps and Midgets of today who will compose the Varsity of tomorrow, a unanimous vote of thanks for their valuable services at coaching is heart- ily extended to Messrs. Sprague and McElmeel. E. 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University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA) online yearbook collection, 1915 Edition, Page 1


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University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA) online yearbook collection, 1917 Edition, Page 1


University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA) online yearbook collection, 1919 Edition, Page 1


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