Humboldt County High School - Winnada Yearbook (Winnemucca, NV)

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FOR 1935 V This sounds very well to someone who might be interested but I'm not. Here, take this five dollar bill and run along. I have no more time to waste. With this the woman turned and walked away, leaving little Loretta wondering what she would do now. The town was big and she was lonely. She had five dollars and no place to go. Big tears started falling down her cheeks. She caught her breath with a convulsive movement. At the corner of the lobby a man stepped to the piano to play. He was Samuel Norton, a well-known teacher of music, arid popular with all the people in the hotel. The best people in town went to him for lessons, and he only accepted those who were talented. His students, almost without exception, had made a name for them- selves after having completed his lessons. Hearing music, Loretta dried her eyes, forgot her troubles for the moment, and devoted herself to the joy of listening. Evef ince she could remember, music had held a charm for her. She had been told that she could sing, but she had never thought that her voice could be made to amount to anything. The song Samuel Norton was playing was one she knew loved and an overwhelming desire to sing filled her. Rising from her chair, rather slowly, she made her way to the piano. Astonished eyes were turned in her direction. One woman whispered, What is this little vagabond going to do now? Hasn't she been bold enough? A beautiful voice broke the sudden hush. Such an extraordinary voice had not been heard before in that hotel. Here was a thin little wisp of a girl singing as if she had spent her whole life with music. Samuel Norton recognized the fact that when she sang her whole soul was in the music. When the song was finished, he turned to Loretta and inquired, What is your name? Loretta suddenly became embarrassed. She realized that she had done the wrong thing and that the people were probably laughing at her. Also she became conscious of the hole in her stocking and the small kitten in her arms. I am Loretta Langdon. I'm terribly sorry that I was so rude. When I hear music I can't help singing. I love music so. I've always planned to study but we've been too poor. Samuel Norton then knew that he would not let this chance slip. This girl had talent. That was difficult to find. He told himself that he could make this girl famous. Just a rmypent, please, he began, I have a studio where I give lessons in voice training, tou may live with my wife and me, but you will have to work hard. Here was the opportunity that she had longed for all her life. How odd life is, she thought. One moment I am plunged into a state of despondency and the next minute I have the chance of a lifetime. Oh! Could I? she questioned with eagerness. I would be so happy. The felicity in her face told Norton that this was so. Well, come! come! said Norton, We will go home and have chicken dinner, then we can get down to work. Five years later in the same hotel, there was considerable confusion. The great opera singer, Mademoiselle Langdon was going to occupy suite number 10. After a tour through Europe, Loretta Langdon had returned to San Francisco to begin work once more. At eight o'clock the night clerk was on duty when Mademoiselle Langdon entered. After staring at her, the clerk remembered that she was the same person who had asked for Mrs. Johnson about five years before. With all the grace and charm of one accustomed to luxury, she entered the elevator with her personal maid and three bell boys. As the door closed behind her, the clerk said to a man near by, That girl entered this hotel five years ago, cold and hungry. Today she has found her public.

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WINNADA Lost and Found By Marianne Breier Is Mrs. Johnson registered here? inquired a small voice. The man at the desk raised his cold, blue eyes and saw a thin girl with a tired, worn face. Her body was so stooped that one might judge she was carrying an unbearable burden. Her clothing consisted of a cheap gingham dress which showed signs of much wear. Her straight yellow hair was concealed under a black straw hat. Her feet were covered with black, badly scuffed, square-toed, Oxfords. A hole showed at the heel of her woolen stock- ings. In one hand she carried a much used, straw suitcase from which protruded a corner of a dress similar to the one she was wearing. Under her arm she ca fied a large black umbrella and a kitten. Quite unconscious of the peculiarity of her wearing apparel and the attention she was drawing tp herself, she repeated the question, I'm looking for Mrs. Glenn Johnson. You surely 'know her. She is a pianist, and plays at concerts frequently. The clerk by this time had gained his bearing and answered, Mrs. Johnson is registered here, but is she expecting you? With this the girl's face lit up with a smile, an extraordinary smile, which trans- formed her thin face into something that could almost be called beauty, and replied, Oh, no, you see, I'm her niece. She has never seen me, but I know that she will be pleased. The clerk gave her a doubtful, half-laughing glance and turned to the switch- board. He knew Mrs. Johnson's attitude toward people such as this young girl, who knew no better than to walk into the lobby of this important hotel in such clothes as she was wearing. As the clerk turned his back, the girl thought he had krgotten her. Tears which she had endeavored to keep back ever since her hurried leave from Linden, the only place she had ever known, began to fill her eyes. Mrs. Johnson will be down right away, ''•u may sit over there and wait, if you wish. The clerk indicated a chair and the girl sat down to wait, impatiently. She had started on the trip with only a few dollars which her mother had given her. Thinking of her mother caused her to forget where she was and tears came into her eyes. She choked back a sob and thought of her mother's friends who had told her about Mrs. Johnson, her wealthy aunt, who was going to be so glad to see her. They had put her on the train and sent her away. With thoughts of fame in her mind she had left home for the city which she imagined would be more than glad to welcome her. Now that she was here everything was much different. She was looked upon with wondering eyes, and people all but laughed in her face. Thinking of these things, she made the resolution that someday she would make these people look at hep with awe and admiration. With these thoughts going through her mind, she was unconscious of the fact that a tall, well-groomed woman was lookmg at her with questioning eyes. Finally, the woman spoke in a cold tone. Well, what can I do for you? Oh, you're my aunt. I'm Loretta Langdon, your niece. My niece! Good heavens A haven't a niece. Run along. Tm not the person you're looking for. But you are, I know you are. My mother had a picture of you. I am certain you are. Her voice began to break, because she knew it was useless to plead with this heartless woman. Loretta began again, My mother passed away a week ago, and I was sent to you. I promise to help you in your work all I a'm able, and I'll 'rfev Jpother.

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WINNADA The Legend of the Willow By Louis Peraldo I One day a golden-haired child, who lived where no trees or flowers grew, was gazing wistfully through the open gate of a beautiful park, when the gardener chanced to throw out an armful of dry cuttings. Among them the little girl discovered a tiny bud » just starting. Perhaps it will grow! she whispered to herself; and dreaming of wide, cool boughs and fluttering leaves, she carried the little bud home and planted it. Day after day she watched and tended it, and when, by-and-by, another bud had started, she knew that the slip had taken root. Years passed. Her lovely home gave place to a pleasant man- sion, with 3 spacious garden where many a green tree threw its shadow. But for the golden-haired child, now grown into a lovely girl, the fairest and dearest of them all was the one she had so tenderly nourished. No other tree, she thought, cast such a cool, soft shade; in no other boughs did the birds sing so sweetly. But while the tree lived and flourished, the young girl drooped and faded. Sweeter and sadder grew the light in her blue eyes, till by-and-by God's angel closed them to sights of earth. Loving hands crowned the white brow with myrtle, and under the branches she had loved, laid her tenderly to rest. But from that hour, as if in sorrow for the one who had tended it, the stately tree began to droop. Lower and lower bent the branches, until they caressed the daisied mound that covered her. See, said her young com- panions, the tree weeps for one who loved it; and they called it the Weeping Willow.