Berkeley High School - Olla Podrida Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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interesting to know that this family, so far away from the one first mentioned, indulges once every two weeks in that same concoction, the Olla Podrida. On the specified day an announcement is made that the Olla Podrida will be given out, and then, of course, the famished multitude make frantic efforts to get their individual allotments. This unseemly haste would, perhaps, be excused, considering the intervening time between servings, but when groups of boys and girls pass down the principal streets of the town eagerly devouring the Olla Podrida, it is evident that it is no longer Old Mexico, and that custom is different. This compound is somewhat drier than its namesake, and in place of the earthen bowl it is served between crimson leaves, one of which is adorned by an artistic sketch; the other is covered with hieroglyphics interesting to decipher. The ingredients are as varied as could be imagined. Some are pithy, but hard to digest ; these the chief cook attends to himself, so he alone is responsible. Some ingredients are at times sharp and cutting ; others are pleasant and mild — Exchanges one might call them. They can always be relied upon and are relished by those who live at a distance. Again, there are parts sweet, delicious and familiar, having a spicy personality which is thoroughly enjoyed by all, and highly necessary to the excellence of the mixture. Then there is one of a Latin name, found in the compound only, in tiny pieces, because of the great and lamented scarcity of the essential elements. Tales of varying lengths and grades are the most substantial of all parts. Other titbits, plain and healthful, add their own peculiar touches of flavor. All these numerous compo- nents are blended and made into a composite mass by the application of a liberal amount of spirits, voluntarily bestowed by the whole school. This school spirit is the essence which contributes so much to the enjoyment of all who are interested in the welfare of this Olla Podrida. katherine Frances storie, ' 00. 12

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H Sketch Look on this picture and then on that. AR off in Old Mexico there stood one of those charming low ranch- houses of stone and adobe, enclosing a court set with flowers and shrubs. The morning was nearly gone ; indeed the stillness suggested noontime. Within the court the faint tinkling of a bell announced to the inmates of Senor Lorenzo ' s household that the dinner-time was actually at hand. Presently a door opened gently and the stately figure of Senora Lorenzo appeared under the portico. Glancing at the table spread a short distance away, she saw that no one, except herself, had answered the summons to dinner ; so she stepped to the edge of the portico, where sunshine and shadow met in a distinct line, and called softly two or three times. Children ' s voices answered from another part of the garden, and soon three little boys, dark eyed and curly headed, came racing up, only to be quickly dispatched to get ready for their meal. The children had no sooner disappeared than the sound of galloping hoots was heard, which announced the arrival of the lord of the ranch, Senor Lorenzo himself. In a few moments he appeared within the court, fanning his dusky face with his huge sombrero. When at last this little family was seated at the table, what could be more homelike than the picture they presented. Under the shady arches it was cool and restful ; the sound of the water in the fountain dropping into the stone basin and trickling happily away in a little stream through the flower beds furnished an accom- paniment soft and musical ; gentle breezes wafted faint perfumes hither and thither. The birds chirped, the children laughed and chattered. The first part of dinner over, the little ones waited impatiently for the coming of the old servant with their favorite dish. That dish most savory, most appetizing, was the far-famed Olla Podrida, which is as often identified with a Mexican as a guitar is with a Spanish troubadour. It came upon the table in a large earthen bowl, a family heirloom, which some Lorenzo of ancient days had obtained from an Indian chief. The crude scrolls and circles on the outside gave it an unique appearance, strongly in contrast with the delicate and elaborately worked linen which surrounded it. A peep at the interior revealed an indescribable mass of meat and vegetables : peas, corn, beans, tomatoes, potatoes, onions, red peppers and — the cook only knew what else ! As the name indicates, a most interesting mixture was this. The family appetites were at length appeased, and the noble dish was borne away. But the Olla Podrida transported to the shore of San Francisco Bay, banishes the thought of the picturesque southern mansion, with its balconies, portico, garden and fountain. Instead we see a grim old building covered with a coat of gray paint equal- ing only itself in age. Within this uninviting structure a large family dwells, and it is I I

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VX)t JMystery of San JMarco EARS and years ago, when America was little more than a name to most of the European nations, a quaint little vessel, proudly floating the Spanish flag, sailed into the quiet harbor of what is now the oldest city in the United States — St. Augustine. She dropped anchor under the guns of the grim, gray fort guarding the harbor entrance, greeted by a royal salute. Soon a small boat shot out from the walls and sped swiftly to the side of the ship, now so calmly rocking in the swell, while her weather-beaten sails were rapidly being furled. In the boat was the governor of St. Augustine, captain-general of Fort San Marco, supreme in power over the province and responsible only to the Spanish king. He was richly dressed and his face, though resolute and strong, was cruel and relentless. The governor of St. Augustine had come to welcome Don Fernando Menendez, who had been sent by the Spanish sovereign to investigate the manner in which the governor had executed his high trust, and to report the condition of the settle- ment. The people rejoiced at his coming and whispered among themselves that he would redress their wrongs, put an end to injustice and tyranny — that he would dare report the governor ' s treason to the king. The people had murmured — they had even spoken of ' ' treason ' ' ; but they dared do nothing against their powerful leader. He had felt this distrust, had caught an echo of the whispered treason, so he welcomed the royal deputy most graciously, and for several weeks the old fort was the scene of lengthy feasts and nightly revels — the governor spared no effort to favorably impress Don Fernando. He realized that if all his deeds, all the people said against him, were reported to the king, not only would his high position be lost, but his life would be endangered. Treasonable -actions were summarily punished in those days. Yet in spite of the captain-general ' s most courtly care for his guest, and of all the gayety, Don Fernando Menendez found time to go often among the people ; to learn of many dreadful deeds which the gloomy cells and thick walls of San Marco had wit- nessed. He gained many proofs of the governor ' s faithlessness, and could scarcely conceal his distrust and scorn, as he waited impatiently for the date set for his return. But the governor knew well that his king would learn how he had betrayed his trust : all was lost should Don Fernando return. He must never reach Spain. With no conscience, unlimited power, a few trusty servants, and the secret dungeons of San Marco, the governor ' s plans were not difficult to execute. One morning, just before the return of the vessel, St. Augustine was horrified by the news that the gallant Don Fernando Menendez, who had won all hearts by his universal kindness, was most suddenly stricken with the dread yellow fever. The governor had small need to command that no one should go near his apartments, save two servants. The word fever was sufficient to make everyone take all precautions against contagion. Don Fernando was kind and good, but to try and help him would be to risk one ' s life. l 3