Mission High School - Mission Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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THE MISSION was fair and he enjoyed the solitude. Coming at last to the gate of an old, dignified, country mansion, he paused and calculated the age of the house, the extent of the sur- rounding grounds, the possibility of an inconspicuous entrance, the number of people that would be present and the plausible chance of securing anything of real value. His conclusions were of a depreciating character. The house might be one hundred, per- haps a hundred and a quarter in age, average country home of well-to-do families of the preceding century, might cover fifteen acres, probably less, no chance to enter unnoticedg crowds of people, not a thing of real worth in sight. Donning an air of a mildly interested spectator, he entered the gate to go into the house. To his right was a large colonial dining hall. There the auctioneer was glibly praising the wares. Aleutian wandered through the entrance hall into a small back parlor. On the wall he noticed a simple oil painting. The artist was practically un- known. Presumably the contents of the room were to be auctioned off next. The color of it caught his eye and he waited until the crowd had dispersed, then accosted the auctioneer. Assuming an air of sublime ignorance he asked the price. But, though small, it was too high for the painting and he returned to the main hall where the featured article of the day was being sold under a separate group. The bidding progressed heatedly. Cautiously, Aleutian bid, never too low to be trifling and never too high to buy. Deftly he created the impression that he was a novice at antique hunting. Then even went so far as to pay a ridiculously high price for the mediocre painting that he had refused before. People smiled knowingly. The pic- ture was valueless and they laughed at his supposed ignorance. Then the crowd became subdued. The choice antique of the whole collection was to be bid for. Breathlessly they waited while it was brought into view. Enviously the auctioneer was watched as he removed from a clumsy box a sparkling chandelier of ancient design. Here was what Aleutian had been waiting for all afternoon. He gloated over it with hungry eyes. The lights danced in the crystal glass of its candle holders and sent out inviting lights of red and orange. The auctioneer held it higher so all might get a full view of the shining gem. Then the bidding began. Higher and higher the price rose until all the bounds of sanity were broken. Aleutian bid with the rest. Seeing one bid who seemed so innocent of the wiles of antique hunt- ing, people gradually dropped out of the race. If one so ignorant were bidding, they reasoned, the chandelier might be only a manufactured antique. Two were left Aleutian and a rival. The triumph of victory ran through him as he out-bid the man again and again. After an endless period of indecision, his opponent dropped out. The chandelier was his. True, he had paid an unprecedented price for the prize but it was Worth the sacrifice to him. The onlookers eyed him with respect now. They no longer smiled at his ignorance. Acting the part of a beginner was now dropped from his repertoire and he stepped forth again as Aleutian Adams, A. D. C., experienced antique collector. Jubilantly, he carried it back to the shop. In his excitement he forgot the painting he had bought. The chandelier was fastened in full glory in the central portion of the E121

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MISSION HIGH SCHOOL His Antique Shop was known far and wide as the Mecca of all antique hunters. Rich matrons, shrewd collectors, stranded artists and business men all came to him for that one chair to complete the Mid-Victorian dining set, that old tapestry for the Conservatory wall, that rose-bordered tea-pot to complete the Vere de Vere collection, that ancient bracelet of Queen Mary of Scots, that collar of Henry the Fifth's hunt- ing dog, that arrow of William Tell's, that portion of sail from the Santa Maria. From his shop the searching collector always emerged satisfied. No matter how futile previous attempts had proven, there the hunter found his game. True the price might be more than bargained for, or the color might be Wrongg Aleutian would then point out the added merit of the purchase. The site for the shop had been chosen with Wise forethought. lts rustic surround- ings belied any suspected claim it had to newness. He had planned for the time when he would become sufliciently well-known in his work to be able to permeate his shop with that illusive quality of atmosphere that inveigles the curiosity of the treasure- seeking public. Having reached the pinnacle of its popularity, the shop did a thriving business. Set back from the road which rose to its highest elevation at the center, the shop was surrounded by a high-picketed, green fence artistically shaded to look old. The build- ing itself was nondescript. High, slanting roof and numerous windows, rickety door and crooked, brick chimney which extended from the ground clear up to its heavenly height above the shingles were its chief claims to convention. Inviting one to enter the threshhold was a ragged-edged sign, The Antique Shop, which hung above the door. Thus had Aleutian prepared atmosphere for his customers. Curiously enough, the shop was divided into two parts. Not that a distinct line of division was visible to the buyer. To the contrary, it looked entirely whole. But Aleu- tian knew enough of human nature to judge his customers. For the occasional experi- enced collector who came he had a store of truly priceless antiques. For the hunter who merely bought for the novelty of the thing he possessed a complete supply of manufactured antiques. Consequently, the unwary victims were satisfied and pleased with imitations. He suffered no qualms of conscience because of the delusion. Knowing that the collecting mania would die a youthful death, he displayed these manufac- tured antiques with those more scarce articles, genuine antiques. No one had ever been known to sell Aleutian an article which had not been worth the price he paid for it. A bargain made him suspicious. Fruits brought in on a silver platter are not half so tempting as those of the forbidden variety. This was the state of his mind when a seemingly friendly customer one day brought him word of an auction to be held in a near-by town. Aleutian listened, and with a bored shrug of his shoulders intimated that he did not waste his time with uninteresting trifles. The cus- tomer departed, Aleutian closed his shop with the sign, Gone for the Day, hung per- tinently on the entrance gate. Glancing around to see that he departed unnoticed, he hastened away in the direction of the near-by town. It took a good hour's walk to reach his destination. But the day llll

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MISSION HIGH SCHOOL shop where everyone could see it. Various people offered him even higher prices than he had paid for it but he refused them all. ln his eyes the chandelier was priceless. And so his customers thought. Only the richest and proudest dared offer a price and always they were refused. This, Aleutian complacently thought, was the crowning achieve- ment of his career. One day a few weeks later the headlines of his home newspaper informed him that Unknown Artist VVins First Prize at National Exhibition. Somewhere he had seen that name, certainly. On that picture he had bought at the auction when-then sud- denly the meaning of the news dawned on him. Daily he watched the account of the activities of the young artist. Overnight, the artist achieved fame. His paintings which had hitherto been valueless now became the fad. Everywhere people sought his works. He attained instant wealth. Meanwhile, Aleutian was thrust out of the cocoon of his self-satisfaction into the depths of remorse. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself. With fool's luck he had come into possession of this painting and then to crown it all he had forgotten to bring it home. Bought and paid for, it was his. But in name only. He had the prize in fancy not fact. Anxiously he revisited the dignified old mansion. The caretaker had not seen the paintingg the local lost and found knew nothing of itg the police had not caught a thief with it in his possession. Finally he obtained the name of the auctioneer the painting had been bought from. In despair he returned to the shop. The chandelier was relegated to the background. In his anxiety to find the painting, Aleutian became blind to the beauty of his former prize. No longer did it occupy the first position in the shop. That was reserved for the painting--if he ever found it. As a last resort, he inserted advertisements in local and district newspapers. He posted bills of reward for the return of the painting-no questions asked. He announced the loss over the radio. Lastly, he hired a private detective, gave him the scant facts of the case and besieged him with probabilities of his imagination. Day after day went by and he received no news of the painting. To find it became his one object in life. The sole reason that the Antique Shop kept up its past record of business was Aleutian himself. He became absent minded. People began to think that his mental equilibrium had become upset. His very eccentricity drew curious people to the shop. Unconsciously, in his soul aim to recover the prodigal painting, he assumed a collection of unusual mannerisms. His constant advertising increased the publicity of his shop. He became a well-known and colorful figure connected with his shop. Gradually his clientele became so large that he moved into larger quarters where the antiques, genuine and manufactured, were displayed to a decided advantage over the old Antique Shop. This new shop was impressive and indifferent to ordinary standards of art. Bizarre and unusual, it compelled Where the former shop had invited. Along with the other antiques came the chandelier. Before it had seemed priceless. Now with the Hush of prosperity upon him, it seemed worthless. - E131