Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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Wagon trains, heavily laden, and drawn by weary oxen, plodded slowly across the once peaceful plain. I watched men erect tents and begin cut- ting trees. Next, I saw lean-tos and cabins take the place of the tents. Men were everywhere, even walking up my sides to hunt and kill my tiny, furred friends. In terror, the squirrels and rabbits fled to the shelter of the trees and the hills above me. I was left alone, without my lively compan- ions, to watch and wait. More years passed. The plain by the Bay was filled with the homes of men. The houses were creeping up the hill from the Bay toward my feet. Men clad in rough clothes began to lay out streets along the old trails followed by the covered wagons. I no longer missed my squirrels and rab- bits, for children came to play games on my grassy sides. As time marched on, the creeping of houses reached my feet. Horse- less carriages raced along the road between. On a lovely sunny day, some men with shovels came to dig away great patches of grass and earth on one of my sides. I heard them saying, This rock is just what we need for our new streets. I wondered what they meant. Next day, I knew. Many men dug and tore at my side with wicked, snorting machines. They carried away my rock in great loads, leaving a great gaping wound in my side. Here I lie, torn and hurt, still looking down on the busy Bay and the long smooth roads I gave my heart to build. But, as I look down, I see that the grass and flowers are springing up again and are fast covering the scar in my side. Hals Sams, High Nine. HE ALSO RAN Brion had always been a dub, a nice boy, but dumb; no athlete, but persistent ; you couldn ' t help liking him. Even in high school field day races, he was always last. When it came time for the two mile race, his friends and some of the track fans who knew him would say, There goes Tony Brion. Poor fellow! Wonder why he keeps coming out? He never misses a race. He ' s a regular institution here for fifth or sixth place every time. After the race, some of the boys would come over, slap him on the back, and tell him that maybe next time he ' d beat the tail-enders. He ' d shake his head and say, If I ' d only put the heat on sooner, I ' d have beaten that fellow out of third place. Then they ' d wink at each other and tell him to slit his pants up a little higher. Then maybe he would be able to stretch his legs out further. But this Saturday was a perfect day for a track meet, hot and still without a cloud in the sky. Records were being broken right and left, and, to top it all, California was ahead. Then came the two mile race, and the fans settled themselves and waited for the gun. Two mile race. They ' re off! blared the field microphone. . . . At the end of the first lap: Tory Brion leading; time, seventy-eight seconds. End of the second lap: Brion still in first place; time, two minutes thirty seconds. End of the third lap: Simpson leading by five yards. Then came the eighth and final lap. Between the leading three men

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VIRTUE HAS ITS REWx RD They called him a Red. They called him that because he didn ' t have a job. He tramped the streets day after day, hour after hour, but just couldn ' t seem to get a job. He knew it as well as did his loyal wife. She knew he had sacrificed his pride to take any kind of job. She could hear him now, trudging up the dark stairs of the tenement house in which they lived. She could hear him through the thin walls and the thin door, symbolic of their thin, meager existence. She wished she could get away from all this. She longed to be free, to leave behind the cramped city. When he came in, she could see by his face, sad and defeated, and by . his step, slow and halting, that he had not been successful. Oh, Michael, she said, Go to bed, and I ' ll fix you a bite to eat before you go to sleep. She tried to be comforting, but she knew all the while that they had hardly enough food to last another day. Then she saw that he had spent a few pennies to buy a newspaper, and she eagerly reached for it. He handed it to her with a feeble smile saying, A present for you. Happy birthday! This with a hint of irony. After he had gone to bed, she shaded the dim light and tenderly opened the newspaper, for she hardly left the dark rooms and was eager for news. A brilliantly colored page with large headlines immediately attracted her gaze. It was announcing a contest being held for anyone who wanted to enter. Her eyes were dazzled by the enormous sums of money to be awarded and she did not bother to look at the lesser prizes, for sud- denly, she came upon an idea for the last line of the jingle on the page. Any one of these prizes would be enough to start them on a home- stead out in the open spaces where she longed to be and to take them away from the big city which she hated with all her heart. When she mailed her entry the next morning, Michael laughed at her but she was not discouraged by his indifference. Finally, after what seemed ages, the day came when the winners were to be announced, and she bought a paper with the few pennies she had saved. She eagerly opened the page, and after scanning the pages she found her name. She had won twelfth prize, a free trip to New York, the big city. Betty Gargas, High Nine. AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROCKY HILL Many years ago, I was a high grassy hill, calmly looking over the Bay. Through the grass on my sides ran countless, happy squirrels, gophers, and rabbits. Only the patter of their tiny scampering feet and the whistling of the wind about my head broke the stillness of the long, happy days. No trees grew on my sides because the rock lying just beneath my grassy coat prevented their gaining any foothold. On clear days, I occasionally saw a great band of grazing cattle from some distant Spanish rancho upon the level plain between my feet and the water. Many years passed. White-sailed ships appeared upon the Bay.

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and the last three, there Was a distance of some sixty yards. The crowd rocked to its feet with a roar of laughter. What was it? Why none other than Tory Brion. bringing up the rear, arms flapping, head jerking from side to side. But look! He is passing the fifth man round the last turn. Pounding dovm. the last straightaway, he battles for fourth place. The cheer leaders spring into action with Six big ones for Brion! ' The field microphone blares the story of that race as if Bonthron and Cunningham were battling it out for the world ' s record. Brion. gasping and panting, parades in front of the stands for all to admire and to see. His friends on the field rush to slap him on the back and shake his hand. Xext time, he will surely catch Dickie. And the next day the papers carried the following account of that masterpiece of competition: Two mile — Simpson (C) first; Xickerson (C) second: Dickie (C) third. Time 10: 18. That Tory Brion also ran ' was not even mentioned. Emily Stout, Hi h Xine. STOOGE Phil Kirk, as became a senior who was captain of the football team, has acquired for himself a stooge. ' Freshman Billy Rathbone had that honor, solely because he had a pretty sister Connie, PhiPs newest heart- break. Not that Billy acted as if he were honored in being Phil ' s stooge. ' He was anything but humble and submissive, and made it all too clear that he hated being anybody ' s stooge and especially Phil Kirk ' s. The attitude annoyed Phil into cracking the whip all the more. Phil ' s stooge problem, however, was sHght compared to his girl problem. He sat in the biggest, easiest chair of the H. H. shack and thought it over. He had rushed ] Iarge for two terms now and she ' d expect him to take her to the H. H. dance. But I won ' t take that anemic-looking blonde, he decided, when there ' s a gorgeous brunette like Connie around. Just then, there was a pounding on the door, and in came, not one of the big shots, but only his puny, scrub stooge. Whatsa matter? taunted Billy. Didn ' t ya hear me the first time? ' Twip. ya better watch out. raged Phil. Outside! and his famous football toe placed the kick neatly. Billy picked himself up and limply sat down on a cracker box outside the door. Gee. I ' d hoped we would be pals, he thought. And maybe he ' d notice Pm a swell football player and put me on the scrub team. He groaned aloud Gosh, if I could only get on the team ! Phil heard this and guffawed. Him on the football team! What a laugh! Mien the date for the H. H. dance was set. Billy pertly asked Phil, I suppose you ' ll be taking that acid blonde? No. I ' m not going with ] Iarge Evans, answered Phil with dignity, and walked away. Billy was dumbfounded, and later on at home he pondered the situa- tion. Boy. I sure admire ] Iarge for standing up to that egg and refusing