Westwood High School - Chipmunk Yearbook (Westwood, CA)

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THE CHIPMUNK lor 1922 Page 31 SPRING FEVER Were you ever in High School during April and May when you just feel like setting a match to the school house, and then laughing with real enjoyment at seeing t burn? Well, if such is not the case perhaps you ve just felt like doing nothing but gaze dreamily about at the awakening of the world. 'Iliis ailment which comes to anyone attending school, goes by the name of “spring fever” among some and among others of higher minds “pure laziness.” A sure sign of this disease is when the male sex start puttering with their Elizabeths” even though there isn’t the ghost of a chance to enjoy them. And but a little later you might even see one of these well known “Fords” rattling down the sidewalk like so many cans. 1 he girls in spite of their grown-up feeling take to jumping rope and other childish games of their infancy. rhen, oh! those teachers! Are they naturally cruel or don’t they realize the crimes which they are committing when they laden the poor students’ weakening backs with ex’s, themes, debates and other what nots so dear to their hearts. If there is a cure for this fatal malady, the students of the High School would be most grateful for information concerning the same. A. I.. 73. DAVID COPPERFIELD JACKSON It is a dark and stormy night. In the “colored” section of a certain Southern town are many “Monte Carlos,” gambling places for the convenience of the colored people who have inclinations for gambling. David Copperfield Jackson, a young negro, has been in this town almost a morth. and has been enough at the various Monte Carlos so that the people have some respect for him. This particular dark and stormy night David Copperfield Jackson entered the “gambling joint” of a certain fat. sleek, wealthy negro, whose name is George Washington Lincoln. Our hero goes up to the proprietor, and demands that “c’n he see Mistah Linc’un fo’ a minnit, all private-like.” Mr. Lincoln then shows Mr. Jackson into a back room, where he has his office. Now, Mistah Jackson, what do you want?” Mistah Linc’un, suh. las’ night ah had a dream. Ah dremt that ah fell off a high bridge, and a big fish he grab me by the laig. an he just pulled me under the water. Just as ah was about to get drowned, ah waked up. Ah then looked in a dream book, and it said that ah would be extrem’ly lucky in all mah gamblin’.” Mr. Lincoln, who was as superstitious as he was fat. then said: “Will ten dolla’s entice yo’ to leave mah establishment?” Ten minutes later Mr. Jackson entered the Monte Carlo” of W. Wilson Taft. Five minutes later he emerged with fifteen dollars and a broad smile. He then proceeded to the Monte Carlos of Julius Caesar Booth. Jame3 Monroe Doctrine, T. Roosevelt Daniels. P. T. Bamum Longfellow. E. Poe Jones and Daniel Webster Calhoun, and emerged from each w.’lh ten or fifteen dollars more than he entered with. He used the same “gag” on each one to get the money. That night he caught the outbound train for parts unknown. S. D.. 74. A WESTERN TWILIGHT The sun was sinking slowly behind the western hills, bathing the little cup-shaped valley in a parting flood of gold. The once white and fleecy clouds were changed to burnished sheets of copper and fire. The hills deepened from blue to purple. At last the sun had set and the long western twilight settled down upon the little valley, high in the Rocky Mountains. A coyote’s sharp yap broke the calm, while the birds twittered sleepily in the trees. A large, white owl flapped its way lazily across the meadow in search of some un- fortunate rodent. The gentle evening breeze whispered through the little forest at the edge of the meadow, rustling the leaves and crooning a soft lullaby to nature’s

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Page 30 THE CHIPMUNK for 1922 Tlirough the kitchen, up the stairs and into the parlor he went, using his flashlight when he was not certain. Now. this particular man was one of San Francisco’s most noted burglars, but only his friends knew that. He had been making plans for this little act for some time. He knew the family had gone to a fancy dress ball, and the servants had taken the evening off. so he made this his night to call. With his flashlight and his dog-like scent, he found the safe in the wall. With steady fingers and lightning speed he discovered the combination. Then, with a final twist, he had the fortune before him. After carefully putting everything in his handbag he shut the safe. With his handkerchief he polished the nickel on the door, so that no telltale finger prints would leave a clue to his identity. Then with a chuckle of triumph he made for the kitchen. When he reached the door leading into the kitchen he heard, or thought he heard, a woman’s scream issue from somewhere in the building. He stopped turned off his flashlight and pulled out his gun. ready for any emergency. After waiting for two or three minutes, he made up his mind that his nerves had gone back on him. so. cursing to himself, he stepped into the kitchen and made for the outer door. Half way across the room he stood rooted to the floor: he heard another scream, louder and closer than before: then everything seemed to go wrong. He thought he saw something white in the pantry: there was a loud giggle and shuffle of feet, and then a baby shrieked and mingled its crying with a dog’s howling. His knees shook, the room swam before his eyes, some one laughed, and a voice said. “Drop that bag and run. So he did, as fast as his shaking legs would go. out the back door and down the street, not once looking back. “Ha! Ha!” said some one in the kitchen. I fooled Red that time. Good thing he does not know I learned to throw my voice when I made my famous trip to New York. I am no safe cracker, but the loot is mine, as sure as my name is Shorty.” At ten minutes to twelve—if you had been there—you would have seen the same window slowly go up and the little man. carrying the handbag quietly emerge and then disappear in the shrubbery—headed for Chinatow-n and home. AN ALGEBRAIC TRACEDY “Goodness, gracious sakes alive! What’s this? You don't mean to say that infernal boy has deliberately put me in the waste basket? It was an algebra book that was speaking, one that apparently was treated very roughly. “Of course, silly, said a very sarcastic scrap of paper. “Are you too good for us?” The idea! Why I should say so! I am a very well educated species! Well, here comes Miss Cornell, the Algebra teacher. I hope she sees me. Ah! this is better: I am among some books of my type. I like this library very much. Now I wonder who my neighbors are? 1 hope they are not too aristocratic. Aristocratic books are so snobbish.” But this poor little algebra was doomed to hard luck for on one side was Vol. X. of the Encyclopaedia Britannica and on the other side was “Little Bo Peep. The former did not see her. and she evidently did not see the latter. It was a very miserable night, but in the morning when she was not yet fully awake she was snatched from her place and banged down on someone s desk just as if she had done something. Oh, how I pity me. she sighed after she was pounded thoroughly by someone. “I really wish that boy was dead. l here is no other way out of my troubles. I wish some senior would take me. Pooh!” grunted some text book next to her, “a Senior wouldn't have such a childish thing as an Algebra I. “Oh! she sighed. “I never thought of that. Well then. I wish a girl would take me, a Freshman girl—here come two now. “Oh. Nancy! cried one of the girls, “look at this perfectly horrible book! I never saw such a dirty one in my life. Yes. I know. she answered. It belongs to Bob Wells. He treats it terribly, as if it knew the difference. I wouldn’t have it.” Why. where is it?” the other exclaimed. It’s gone; why I won- der-----?” But they passed on and were indifferent to one of the greatest tragedies of a lifetime, for in sore distress the algebra had flung itself from a two story window and perished. B. E.. 24. E. B.. ’25.

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Page 32 THE CHIPMUNK for 1922 multitude of little peoples. Here and there a small animal scampered to his late hed. One by one the stars came out and winked mernly down upon the still earth. The moon rose and hung in the dark sky—a crescent-shaped lantern, illuminating the earth with a soft, silvery light. In the moonlight, the distant peaks stood out in black relief standing like huge sentinels, guarding the sleeping. R. G.. 23. THE RED SUNBONNET What could be more humiliating to a girl of thirteen years, than to he forced to wear a red sunbonnet to church on Sunday, while all the other girls of the village came trooping forth in lovely creations of lace and ribbon? Such was my case, and I sat meek and small in the large family pew next to my Aunt Elizabeth. My aunt termed the modem hats indecent and indurable, and I firmly believe that it was against the latter point that she held her greatest grudge. Several small boys sat back of me, who were continually pulling my bonnet strings and calling me a red geranium, much to my mortification. Church being over, we all assembled in our respective classes for Sunday School. Our teacher was a young woman with a sweet smile and a pleasing manner, and as I sat down she flashed me one of her rare smiles, that instantly made me forget the former unplcasantries of the day. She came over to me and began to talk, when she glanced at my sunbonnet. I half expected to see a sardonic smile, instead she said, I like your bonnet—it is becoming and looks sensible. It is rarely that we see such sweet old-fashioned girls.” Since that day no ridicule has ever affected me. R. G.. ’23. THE VALLEY OP THE ATOKI The Valley of the Atoki. softly veiled with the rosy haze of morning, at noon baring its vast extent to the summer’s trial of the fiery sun—at night reached by the balm of the hill winds, dreams under the starlight or high noon. In the dewy twilight the daughters of Cibola grind their corn and sing the grinding song of the sunrise hour, and the praying men with their medicine bowls utter sacred words to the great god of Poscyemo. Madly the young men rush about playing their strange game of endurance. Suddenly the praying men cease their murmunngs. and call to the people in a loud and awe inspiring voice. The tumult and confusion die away, and the inhabitants hurry to their homes. The night descends, and all is quiet. R. G.. ’23. VULCAN Power given to you of old To make your marvelous things of gold. Spears to clash a shield a-sunder. Swords to put a brave man under. Graven images on them made. Of Perseus with his trusty blade. Of Neptune with his wondrous steeds. Of Syrinx changed to tuft of reeds. Of Juno with her peacocks vain. Of Zeus omnipotent god of rain. Your power is great, but one is greater Power of Eros; hearts’ golden mater. M. F.. 25. MICKEY'S CAME It was yell practice, just a week before the game. Mickey slid into his seat with a scowl on his face. He wasn’t going to yell. How could he help his smallness? He didn't want to be short. He could play as well as Slats, even if he was short. Well, they'd see. maybe they’d want him before the