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

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' 1 - B , miiigi nii if!ji'ijQni1q fm, ,,,,, , ,M , f it li1':i'r 'N f , Y, x i K' DQ, ,. ' I hl NWI M mX,z , lla k 1 ..2f.:.!J. .lf H .ul rn 71 ' 5 HT,-'H' Zlinr th' Svnmmna ZKnnning g5,BYgTHOS. KLECKNER,:'l5 Mgwfqeh WAS Spring. Or, at least, it should. have been, for' the mild, blue-eyed, systematic cashier in the First National Q had, that very morning, discarded his flannels, And if 45 gon it wasnft Spring, but was the, last week in Winter, the Qi 12. li season 1S probably the only thing that has escaped being A ,.4 ' ' influenced by the machine-like Bing Tinker. Bing never understood exactly why people addressed him as Bing , 'BGP But he accepted it in the same friendly, unassuming manner that he accepted everything. In fact, Bing was inclined to be offended when addressed otherwise, for his real name was Horatio Cornelius Tinker. To him Spring meant just three things, a change from heavy to lightweight underwear-he hated it for he always took cold, Spring house cleaning-he despised house cleaning-5 and Spring Vacation -he dreaded vacation. So in the First National, near the cash- ier's window there was little hilarity on the fifteenth day of April, for Bing had discarded his flannels, and that meant Spring. Bing looked at the calendar. Then he looked at the clock. He always looked at the clock after he noted the date for, as we have said, Bing was systematic. Three! It was closing hour. He took out his watch. He always- took out his watch after consulting the clock. Yes-he was sure, now, that he must go to the barber, for it was three o'clock in the afternoon of the Hrst Tuesday in the month. Yes-Bing Tinker was systematic. For nine years he had patron- ized the same barber, at this very hour once in every two weeks. For nine years on each of these occasions he had placidly listened to the barber voice his opinions on politics, baseball, prize fights and pretty girls. Each time he had quietly, yet forcefully, shaken his head at the barber ls monotonous list of queries- Electric masssage? Singe it a bit? Don't y' want a shampoo? Try this dandruif cure? And on -each occasion he had answered Wet to the barber's query, 'iWet or dry? And every time that his fine blonde hair was being plastered into submission he made it a point to refrain from looking into the mirror. He loathed vanity. But on this particular afternoon the barber had seemingly for- gotten his usual routine. lt bothered Bing. He had not even spoke

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A SOUTH SEA EPISODE 19 went my family, and I headed for the blue waters, determined to end it all. '4What was my surprise, when I arrived there, to find my twelve mates, ready to launch a raft, they had been secretly making, how I know not, these thirteen weary weeks. And here those bloomin', bleedin' shipmates were prepared to quit their misery and leave me to mine. Why? 'Tis another thing I know not I threatened to call out the 'town' if they refused me a passage on their raft. 0f course they agreed, and as time was valuable, we piled in, shoved off, and set sail-for any place. We could hear the howl of our disappointed friends on shore when a mile or so out, but we resolved to feed the sharks before we woud go back there. '4We were picked- Bang! some one crashed into the saloon door swinging it violently. 'Into the room burst a hilarious sailor, sea-bag slung over his back. As he approached the group of sailors, Bill burst out with: HWell, by the holy pinktoed prophet, if it ain't 'Mad Bob' him- self. Put her here, matey, he exclaimed, as he rose, extending his gnarled fist. Mad Robert 's eyes opened wide as he shoved his mitt into Bi1l's. I c'This is luck, by Jehosaphatf' he said. t'Haven't seen Bill for thirteen years, sailed on a three years' cruise to the east coast of Africa with him! he exclaimed to the remainder of the salts. When did you get in? asked Bill. Leggo anchor about half an hour ago. Just came off the 'Las- sie Jean,' thirteen months from Rio Janeiro. Hit a dead calm half way thru the straits. Thirteen weeks we lay to until a wind struck up. Then for thirteen days we had a h- of a storm. Lost our mainm'st and mizzenms't and drowned thirteen 0' the crew. Well, I'm home now, so let the Old Pacific roar. Bill Russell 'smiled out loud' as did the other salts as Hthirteenn cropped out again. 'LWell, mates, Bill said, let's have a 'tarpaulin muster'g and drink to the health of 'Thirteen', shipmates with me on the 'Dark Sea' and shipmates with fMad Bob' on the 'Lassie Jeanf

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FOR TH' SAP WAS RUNNING 21 of baseball. Bing had never before realized how entertaining this line of talk had been until today. He was sorely tempted to open the conversation himself-something he had never done in all the nine years in which he had been cashier in the First National. Did y' ever get Spring fever? asked Casey, the barber, at length. Bing hadn't-but he 'd had Scarlet fever and the mumps. f'I've had it every year 'till I came to the city, remarked Casey. HI get it worst when I bite into the red pepper what's always in th' candy on April Fool's Day. Something like the Blues, then? ventured Bing. Yis and no. When you've got the blues you're mad with some one. Whin it 's Spring fever that's ailin' yez, yer'er of a feelin' like ye 'd like to love every darlint that ever wore petticoats. But in both th' disases yer'er as lazy as a greaserf' CI dare say it is a peculiar ailment? Sure, and it is that. Have ye iver encountered wid a Spring Poet, Mister Tinker? Not that I know of. Ye'd of knowed it if ye 'd seen wan, said Casey. I'll not try to describe wan-it 's beyond the powers of language. But wance in a great while wan of 'em sezs somethin' sensible. The wan I had riference to discribes Spring fever to perfiction. He sezs that in the Spring time a young man 's fancy turns to thots of Love. Aint that sensible, Mister Tinker? Quite so. Bing considered it a breach of etiquette to disagree on so slight a subject. Any wan but a Spring Poet, resumed Casey, would of said it more to th' pint-' In Spring a young man 's head is dotty.' That is if it ain't already so dotty it can 't grow worse. I'm afraid I'll get it, Mr. Tinker? Get what? asked Bing with no little concern. The Faver, said Casey. Oi'll get it if Oi hear some one beatin' a rug. ' Bing decided that he 'd stay at a, hotel for a week instead of re- turning to his rooming house. He 'd done it every spring for the last nine years-He despised spring house cleaning. He remembered that his landlady had begun it that morning. Yessir-the beatin' of a rug will start the Faver: Shampoo, Mister Tinker? Bing shook his head. ' Try this dandruff cure? Bing shook his head. Ye 'd better, Mister Tinker, yer bald spots a growin' in towards yer noble brow. VV-w-what! exclaimed Bing. Even the assassination of President McKinley had not brought forth such an utterance. Casey, who had taken Hie shampoo bottle in his hands as he pressed his query, almost dropped it on the floor. Such an emotional exclamation from Bing was more of a surprise to Casey than to hear of Boston winning the World's Series. Oi sezs, repeated Casey, that your crownin' beauty is a fallin' faster than th' rain in winter.