Mountain View Union High School - Blue and Gray Yearbook (Mountain View, CA)

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BLUE AXD GRAY 21 of genius. However, we expect far l)etter and more polished stoi ' ies from you in the near future and, to liasten the improvement, we enclose a ticket and a cheek which will cover expenses for an ex- tended ocean trip, which we are certain will greatly lu ' oaden your now excellent knowledge of fiction. We remain yours ever — both in business and in friendship. The Editors. P. y. We hope your next works will l)e romantic, the underly- ing theme being love . T. E. Twas dusk upon the walers. Cape l ' lanco s light house had just begun to twinkle, ])ithling farewell to the soutlibound vessel. All about the decks lounged the jiassengers on this sultry evening, an evening early in fall. Lovers strolled casually along with senti- mental gazes directed toward each other. Hilent, comfortiible look- ing gentlemen puffed contentedly at their pipes. An aged, grey- haired couple, smiles in placid silence. Yet among this peacefulness and piietude two men, one ith temples touched with gray, the other young and business-like, talked in earnest tones, unappreci- ative of the beauty of the scene. We 11 introduce your friend Arthur to Jane, suggested the elder, and we 11 see to it that (Jenevieve is so entertained that she won t hinder the develo|)ment of their acquaintance. ' The younger gentleiium assented with a noil. Hut first we must get Arthur in a eoi ' uer and have a serious talk Mith him. Tell him of — Oh, yes, 1 understand, ' interrui)ted the elder. Here he comes now. Leave the talking to me. A third party approached. He was of medium height, notice- ably broad. His first characteristic which would command the at- tention of the casual observer was the dreamy, far-away expression of his eyes and the sad drooping of his mouth. Yet his step was decisive, his walk athletic. Do you know, said he, there is nothing like an ocean trip to stimulate one s artistic sentiments. 1 have already at least a dozen ideas for both pictures and political cartoons. ' 1 certainly agi ' ee with you. Art, assented the younger num. What do you think, Mr. Martin? Well, to tell the truth, Arthur, I don t go much on this ' artistic sentiment business, although 1 do thoroughly believe that an ocean trip is exceedingly helpful to an artist and even more so to a per- son interested in literature. In fact I happen to know of a young lady accomi)anied by her sister who is making this trip in order that she may thoroughly fit herself for the world of fiction. 1 should like you to meet the ladies. They are personal fi ' iends of mine. Nix on that acquaintance business. I want solitude. Tve a purpose in mind and have no intention of wasting my time making lady acquaintances. ' You ' ll like em Art, ' assured the editoi ' . Ask 8aiiiurl. I don t think inui-ii of Sam s judgments on such iiialtcrs. Sam 11 fall for anything cute in iietticoats. They ' ere both snuirt girls, said the assistant. Xone of that liuttei ' fly life for me. I ' x ' e got a pur|iose and T can carry it out onlv in solitude.

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20 BLUE AND ( ,RAV tlie I ' ottciu ' St and the inusliicst. Who in tlniiidi ' i- liad tlic Miidacity to shi|) us that ' ! Tlif assistant grinni ' d triumphantly at his uncde. A suceuss- ful oilitor is never irritable. lie must hohl his temper no matter how humil — Wlio ' s that from? demanded the editor, fairly choking- with rag ' e. Of all the — ' ' From a Miss Jane Iloopei-. Poi-tland, Oregon. What! ' From a Miss Jane Hooper, Port — Well, I ' ll be switched. Why? No. I won ' t be switched. I ' ll be worse than switched. Jane Hooper is my first cousin. Oh, then, said the assistant with sarcasm, I suppose then we ' ll ha e to print it because of the endearing ties of relationship. The endearing ties of relationship be hanged. We can ' t accept such I ' ot. It would be idiotic. Send ' em back? And yet — and Samuel — oh hang it all, 1 suppose we ' ll have to print ' em. Her dad is backing — well — you understand — the new presses — we are a trifle in debt. But dog gone it. we ' i-e in debt to him, Old Silas Hooper. Then — then we ' ll have to accept this and pay her for it! Huh! We ' re up against it, growled the editor, jabbing his hands in liis trouser pockets. Sam, think. For the first time in your life think. To print that rot is ruination and yet — shipping ' em hack is worse. Couldn ' t we kidanp hei- ? Couldn ' t we kill the insjiiration of her ingeniousness ? We could encourag-e hei ' ingeniousness. What! Encourage her. Tell her she lacks training — experience — any- thing. Tell her she needs to learn of other spheres than her own — that she must travel. We could send her on a trip an ' while she ' s goiu ' we could think. We could at least posti)one the misei-y ' till the next monthly supplement. l!y George, Sam, I ' ve got it. We ' ll seiul lu ' r on that ocean trip your friend, the artist, is making. ' Is Jane — er — Miss Hopper unmarried? Yes, and likely to })e for some time. She ' s past twenty-five. The assistant grinned. Art ' U fall for her. He ' s a genius, (ienei are boobs. And you know all that rot about ' fowl of a feather ' or something of the sort. By Jove, Sam, you are thinking. We ' ll send Jane an ' her sis- ter Genevieve for company, on the same trip with your friend, and we ' ll tag along to promote affairs an ' — well, incidentally, we ' ll make ' em learn. The editor grinned. We ' ll make ' em learn that the ' silver radiance ' don ' t figure in love — that it ain ' t the moon. The editor ' wrote: Dear Cousin Jane: We have received yours of the 14th and are delighted to note a remarka})le improvement over your first writings. Speaking frankly, cousin, we are pleased to state that your work shows signs

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22 Bl.ri ' ; AND CRAY ■ ' . (i v you look lu-rc. dciiiaiRk ' d llic editor, impatiently. You ' re intending to make cartooning your career, aren ' t you? Certainly. And I ' m to l)e thorough; no haphazardnes.s. A cartoonist must l)c good. Ah. that ' s e. actly the point. Wiuit would you thiid of a cai ' - peiitel- who spent the hest pai ' t of tlii ' day in drawing | laiis when iu ' couldn ' t skillfully use his tools ' I ' d say he was an idiot. Exactly. And that ' s exactly the impression you ' ve made upon nu ' . Here you are planning a career before you know the first lessons in Life. You ' ve an excellent education hut no experience, not the least sense of ordinaiy judgment. Your meaning is vague, Sir. Well. I can ' t make it any jiiainer unless you say that you don ' t really know Life as it is. Your mind is narrow. You ' ve tiiought of nothing hut what concerned your personally. What you need is to broaden your knowledge, to know a little of every- thing. Your drawings show your lack of knowledge of human na- ture. They ' re mechanical, they do not reflect the work of one who l)uts his soul into it; they even advertise your lack of nnderstaml- ing. What you need is a knowledge of human nature. You sliould know people, people in every walk of life; get their ideas, their views ; know their desires, pleasures, emotions ; make acquaintances and, above all, cultivate that self-magnetism which captivates the friendship of those who know life as it is, who ' ve felt its knocks and ac((uired their knowledge thi ' ough bitter or sweet experience. Learn of the woi ' ld and in so doing learn of its people, — the farmer, doctor, drummer, pugilist, school teacher; learn their views. I5e a good listener and they ' ll reveal their inner selves to you. To and they ' ll love you. Encourage them to talk — listen to their tales of woe — you ' re the gainer. I always did make acquaintances easily, protested the artist. Certainly at college. But look at this stout Dutchman puf- fing and panting along. How would vou start a conversation with him? Why T — T wouldn ' t want to talk with him; liut if necessary 1 should speak of — of the Aveather and — eventually offer him a cigar. Ah ! T knew it. You don ' t understand people. Whoever heard of a Dutchman smoking anything liut a pipe. Now here is an excel- lent chance to begin. Start a conversation with any one who is dif- ferent from vou. You ' ll never be a popular cartoonist unless vou do. T was (|uite popular at college. Yes — where every one knew vou ]iersonally. You were an athlete, reminded the assistant. Athletes are always jiojiular. And what resjiect do you expect to gain from the world at large .iust because you are athletic? demanded the editor. Do you think mere endurance in a mile race will gain popu- larity? Why, man. a jackass has endurance. Ts a .jackass to be re- spected? No — but his heels are. not his personality. By Jove, Martin, T believe you are right. 1 know I ' m right. Begin now. It ' s half a man ' s education