Cloverdale Union High School - Spectator Yearbook (Cloverdale, CA)

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1 nd to he •ea ■ry to , I Led lat t I mt iad ers ion red the his es. on Sty 3St- up lay ieir cks in¬ habitants out. Here the fire chief had lost his life in a ram¬ shackle building . Now nothing greeted the eye but heaps of twisted iron and cellar holes, all intermingled with ashes and dust. The utter ruin and desolation around me at that moment has seldom been seen by man. The ruined structures, bent, shatter¬ ed, twisted, and distorted by the destructive elements, suggest a world long since dead and forgotten. This effect was height¬ ened by a brilliant moonlight. The very Creator had forgotten this place, No sounds, no lights, not a living thing was there to suggest life had ever been in these desolate ruins. The rustle of the wind through the torn and broken structures seemed to be the whispering of spirits of beings long, long ago departed. Not a worm, not an insect, not a bug, not a bird, or mouse, not a blade of grass or any living creature sent forth its friendly greeting. It seemed as if I had landed in a dead planet to view the remaius of its departed life. On yonder walls the lights and shadows were the spirits of ladies in holiday shopping. The murmur of the wind on its ragged edge was an echo of their laughter and gossip. Yonder dark shadows were a group of fellows with more than they could carry. That falling brick was an echo of their discordant voices. The whistle of the wind through that arch was the song of the Salvation Army Lassie calling men from their lives of sin. I seemed to pass into a trance and see the old life be¬ fore me again, the busy city with its unending stream of life but all spectral and dim, a shadow life passing before my eyes. At last weariness caused me to turn away and as I left the desolation behind me the challenge of the sentry broke the spell. A. W. MILLER. 19

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The Stricken City by Moonlight On Tuesday night, just seven days after the earthquake and tire that destroyed San Francisco I crossed from Berkeley to the ruined city. I was returning from an errand done in the service of the Red Cross and passed through the devasted area to the headquarters. I stepped from the boat to the Ferry Building with but few companions, and while they dispersed to their destinations in distant parts of the unburned suburbs, I gave the countersign to the sentinel and entered the burned out area. But few men have beheld a scene like the one I saw that night. Alone I passed among the ruins. Up Market Street I went where a week before life flowed in its fullness; now silent and covered with debris. Down this same Street we had marched on Saturday, the hot pavements and glowing embers reminding me that we had fought in vain for the preservation of the city. What a march that was! Every man was awed into a realization of his own insignificance. No sound save the swish and tread of our feet in the ashes. Each gripped his musket and choked down a sob as the tears came to his eyes. No soldiers ever felt a keener sense of defeat than we did on that Saturday marching through the ruins of the Beloved City we could not save. To the south of Market I cast a hurried glance. It was most¬ ly burned bare. The flimsy wooden structures had gone up like dried grass before the fire. In this part, on Wednesday morning, the soldiers and police had to exert themselves to their utmost to save the people. Westward, for a score of blocks from the waterfront a wall of roaring fire had driven the in- 18

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The Victory and the Girl ZOLA IIOTELL, ’14 It was one of those mornings in early February when the air is filled with a crispness that causes eyes to sparkle, the blood to rush through the veins, and make the step elastic with the very joy of living, that a group of boys stood talking and laughing before the laboratory door. “I say, have you heard the news?” inquired a tall, good natured looking youth, as he rushed up to the group. 44 What ' s the joke, Ray? Havn’t found a new girl have you?” asked one of the boys with a grin. 44 Girl! Fiddlesticks! Don’t you know that Dan has been expelled and now we will have no show of winning the pennant from Wilcox High again this year?” 44 What! Dan expelled! Impossible! Surely Prof, wouldn’t be so mean as that! What’s the row?” Came from the astonished group of boys. 4 4 He is mean enough, and furthermore he has already ex¬ pelled him. You know Dan had only one more chance, and that on good behavior, and now he has broken bonds, got into a scrape and that ended it. There isn’t another boy that can run as Dan can, and he was our only hope of victory over Wilcox,” explained Ray with a very dejected look, as he saw the other boys’ faces fall at the bad news. 44 What about Wilcox, and what’s the row, fellows?” asked Ned Anderson, a tall looking boy, who had come up to the gathering just in time to hear the latter part of the speech, and noticing the crestfallen looks of the boys. 4 4 Dan Nelson has been expelled, and there will be no hopes of the pennant being taken by one of our boys again this year.” explained Ray, as he took Ned by the arm and walked away with him. Ned was a new boy in the school, having entered at the beginning of the semester, and was rather ignorant about school happenings as yet. 20