Commerce High School - Ledger Yearbook (Portland, OR)

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Fourteen THE LED G E R That night as Lon waited for the outgoing log train he sat on the office steps and watched the lightning zigzag across the inky sky; the ominous, threatening rumhle of thunder echoed hollowlv as it rolled about in the vast heavens. The door swung open behind him and he heard O ' Keef, the wireless operator, telling the Old Man that a cloudburst had caused a flood at Flinton about ten miles away, and that a log jam had occurred at the town bridge. Water rose fiftv feet before the jam could be blown out ! finished O ' Keef. The Old Man considered the information for a minute and then grabbed his raincoat and hurried to the door. Come on! he ordered to Lon. That blamed flood isn ' t going to do us any good with that wrecked casement gone, believe me! Just twenty minutes later the wall of water hit the bridge a staggering blow, and with a yell Lon announced the fact that the big hook had come off as the whole structure was heaved up a few inches. It swung idly a few feet to one side of the heavy key beam. Even as the men stood, struck dumb with this new calamity, a slight crackle could be hear d. There she goes! ' shouted a worker. Silence! the Old Man rapped out. Who will go out there and replace that hook? It means no more work for you if you lose the bridge! No one moved and finally a man voiced the feel- ings of all. Me life is worth more to me than your blamed work or bridge either, he said deliber- ately. You ain ' t got much respect for what little brains we has got! Besides there ain ' t nobody holdin ' ya back ; do it yourss ' f. The Old Man bit his lip and, even as the sound of breaking cement and timber grew louder, he turned and started for the structure alone. Lon beat him. Like a cat he scrambled up the frame of steel and swiftly leaped from one cross girder to another. An instant later he stood on the key beam, looking doubtfully at the distant hook a;, il swung in th; blurred uncertain gloom, five or six feet away, and attempting to see just how he was go- ing to manage to get that hook under the key beam before the rapidly crumbling foundations would al- low the bridge to sink too far down. A single slip — his mind invo untarily shuddered — to think of drop- ping swiftly through the night — dropping — tailing, to strike chilled water that would close over his head. Resolutely he shook the fear from him. Sud- denly he leaped out and for a sickening second he thought he had missed his mark, but his clutching fingers finally clojed spasmodically over the heavy chain. The force of his drop made the chain start to swing like a huge pendulum ; the same force nearly tore Lon ' s hands loose. Blood fairly spurted from the broken finger tips. One thumb throbbed quecrly. Despite his crucifying pain he concentrated all his efforts on what he was doing, and presently the momentum of the chain became great enough for him to gain a hold on the master trestle-tree. As he struggled to turn the huge hook around, the sliding crackle became a roar, and the bridge lur ' bed for ihe final p ' unge — a plunge that would result in a hopeless tangle of twisted steel and blasted dreams. With strength born of sheer des- peration he strained, and with a ' ast titanic effort which wrenched a torn sob from him, the obstinate hook turned and slipped home with just a fraction of a second to spare. The Old Man ' s voice rumbled and shook the night air with its deep vibration. Son, where are you? Lon ' s broken pant from his tortured lungs, the result of his superhuman exertion, was his only answer. But the Old IVLan heard, and as f on glided into unconsciousness he felt a strong, pro- tecting arm grip his shoulders. One morning a month later Lon found himself in the Old Man ' s office. What have you got to say for yourself, young man? questioned the gray- haired engineer, peering at him from under heavy, bushy eyebrows. Lon smiled. What would ' ou say were you in my place? he countered shrewdly. The Old Man hedged. What are your plans for building bridges, eh? What about the ones you are going to build? he asked quickly. Lon told him. Humph! he reflected gruffly. Maybe I can help you. 1 have a few thousand dollars in — No! I don ' t want that kind of help. I don ' t want to take money, interrupted Lon. I didn ' t do what I did for the sake of any reward. True and well spoken ! warmly praised the Old Man. But I believe, if you will let me finish what I - vant to say, 1 can lend vou sufficient funds for your course, and you can pay me back when you complete it. Then come to work for me. 1 need a man to take my place. I ' m getting rather along in years and I don ' t enjoy m - work as I used to. Well — considered Lon. A stray bolt of lightning flashed suddenly over- head, illuminating the room for an instant. That instant revealed an old man Axith a noble head, and a imiiing youth ; their right hands were clasped. A curious light reflected in the eyes of both. It was the light of mutual understanding.

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THE LEDGER [Thirteen WHEN YOUTH REIGNED Elmer Lixcolx (First Prize Story) Lon wanted to be a civil engineer. This desire had become obsessive. The only reason why he was not in college at this particular time in pursuance of his choice was the lack of sufficient funds. He knew the one and only remedy was to get to work and earn them. That is why he arrived at Camp 6 on the Jasen Grade where Old Man Madison had his headquarters. Lon first questioned the section boss for -ork, but was laughed at. Why you couldn ' t keep your balance on those twelve-inch beams, let alone work ! Say ! How do you get that way? Nope. No chance, sonny. Go away and play, I ' m busy. The brusque foreman turned to resume his interrupted supervision. Lon smiled to himself a trifle grimly. We ' ll see! he announced to the world in gen- eral; and with a certain individual in mind, he therewith headed for the main tent. What do you want? snapped the Old I Lan who, without turning his head, thus acknowledged the entrance of Lon. I ' d like work, sir. Lon stated his object firmly. As the Old Man did not answer immediatelv, he studied the bent figure before him. He presented a striking picture as he slowly shook his shaggy head over the blue print in front of him. He was of medium height and his thin shoulders made his clothes fit him poorly. His slight legs .were en- twined about those of his stool. One foot nervously beat a steady tat-tat-tat on the side of his tall desk. All together Lon ' s first impression of him was not over-satisfactory. He shifted his eyes for a minute to glance at an immense map at his left. When he turned them back to the Old Man, he found him- self being given the once over. A pair of frosty blue eyes were regarding him with open hostility. ou work? queried the possessor. Yes, sir, when I get it. Lon advanced a half step. I want a chance to show you what I can do. Of course I am also considering the rudimentary principles this kind of work involves. I want to be an engineer. Humph! I guess you don ' t understand all you do know about it, returned the Old Man. He was about to turn to his study of the print, thus dis- missing Lon, but he caught the eager longing in the boy ' s eyes and mentally noted that here was a live wire. Well, you are too light to slave out on the con- struction, but I can use you here around the office ■ — to run errands and carry orders, he offered at length, ' ou report to me here every morning at six-thirty, sharp. Today you go down and look things over. Your quarters will be with the men. Johnson will assign you properly. Go and see him first. He is that man standing by the handcar. Lon swallowed his pride. This was a kid ' s job but — . The next morning and for many mornings after that, he reported to the Old Man and found him agreeable in a rough, unemotional way. It was just two months later that Lon overheard a sub-engineer remark to another: I never saw a bridge built like this before, yet I like it. The only fault I can see so far is that, if the foundations were in any way weakened, the whole structure would collapse like an egg shell. No, it wouldn ' t, contradicted his companion. See that sixteen-inch cable up there? Well, that alone can hold the construction on its feet. That big hook there is merely slipped under the key beam, and your bridge won ' t need a foundation. I really don ' t see why a suspensioner wouldn ' t work here better, but the Old Man is paid to watch his busi- ness. I ' m not. Lon pondered over this bit of information all day. That night he crawled up the frame work and studied out the whole arrangement. Pretty clever, he muttered. But if that hook should ever come loose — He slid down to the ground and sought the Old Man. You ought to have that hook bolted on, he concluded, after stating the situation. ' Out of the mouths of babes and fools comes the words of infinite wisdom ' , the Old Man qvioted ironically, ' oung man, how many bridges have you set up? None yet, but common sense tells me you ought to have that fixed to avoid any possible trouble, reiterated Lon stubbornly. The Old IVLan stared at him thoughtfullv as he mentally reviewed some of the hundred comple.x and complicated problems that he had vet to work out. They angered him ; he settled the question at once by a curt, I have put together about a dozen of ' em in each state and I guess this one will be com- petent as it stands. I won ' t have anyone like you telling me m ' business. Tomorrow morning you get your time and get out! The next day an Italian was crossing the trestle with a box of special explosives. Midway over he stumbled and the box fell through the frame work. The resulting explosion shook the bridge and also tore out foundation 2. This left the cable the main support of the bridge.

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THE LEDGER [Fifle MIKE CASALENO Vkrda Jappert The old proverb, Happiness must be earned, rings true in the case of every contented and happy person. People will endure the hardest sort of physical toil and at the end be happy; so in the case of Mike Casaleno. When he was a little boy about eight years old, he was brought before a judge on the charge of stealing a saw from a hardware store. It wasn ' t an expensive one, just an ordinary common wood- chuck. What is your name? began the judge. Mike Casaleno. Where do you live? In the slums at 210. Do you live with your parents? I haven ' t got any. Whom do you stay with? My Uncle. Do you go to school? No! Wh • did vou steal that saw; was it for vour Uncle? No! I wanted the saw. You wanted the saw, and what for? I liked it. It was so shiny and nice, I thought it would be lots of fun sawing wood with it. Don ' t you know that it is wrong to steal? The boy was silent. The judge, being impressed with the fact that the boy didn ' t know the difference between right and wrong, delivered a long lecture about stealing. When he had finished, he announced that Mike was to go to school, and that the saw would be given back to the hardware man. Mike began to crv. I suppose the advantage of free education doesn ' t appeal to you, the judge flung at the little, ragged, dirty- faced boy. Oh! Sir! It ' s not that, but that I should lose the only plaything I ever had. The sobbing had grown into a loud cry. Well, Mike, the judge finally said, you can keep the saw, and I ' ll pay the hardware man for it, on the condition that you promise never to steal anything else. I promise. At that the judge reached over his desk and shook hands with the little boy. Mike Casaleno was sent to school and after go- ing there for two months, he decided that he didn ' t mind school so much after all. At the end of a year he loved to go to school and studv. Of course he had not forgotten the saw. Everv night after school he would saw the wood for the next day ' s use. One night after he had sawed enough wi)od to fill the wood bo.x, he laid the saw in his lap. As he handled it and bended it, he observed that by hitting it with a stick there was a whoor sound. His in- terest increased. He finally learned how to hold the saw correctly in order to be able to bend it skillfully and give different sounds. He would sit on a chair, place the handle of the saw between his knees, and with his left hand would hold and bend the saw, placing his thumb on top and the other four fingers at the end. With his right hand he would tap the saw with a little wooden hammer he had made. After he had learned the scales and had become acquainted with the technique of music in school, he learned to pick out the notes on the saw. His hand would get sore at times from holding his queer instrument too long, but he didn ' t notice it, so keen was his interest. After many days of practice he was able to run up and down the scale as fast as a pianist can do on the piano. When he graduated from grammar school, he was able to play a number of selections. People liked to hear him. It was something new — remark- able. He was asked to play for churches and en- tertainments. He became popular. Money poured into his hands — for A hat won ' t people pa ' to hear or see something new! Mike became inspired. He went to high school, playing on his saw. He went to college and when he reached twenty-one he was featured on the great Keith vaudeville circuit at a fabulous salary. Mike, the boy of the slums, who had toiled to perfect his saw playing, had attained happiness.