Northern Arizona State Teachers College - La Cuesta Yearbook (Flagstaff, AZ)

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LA CUESTA 1930 ALARM CLOCKS Necessity is the mother of invention. I have to write a familiar essay for English III. Although I have almost a hundred topics covering every known subject, my mind does not seem to want to inform me of enough material with which to write five hundred words on any subject. My roommate is visiting and how I'd like to join the bull session, but I must write this familiar essay. I'm. getting dreadfully sleepy, guess I'll go borrow my alarm clock from whoever has it. I'll set the alarm for four-thirty in the morning, then get up when it rings, and write my familiar essay on some unfamiliar subject. Alarm clocks are truly a wonderful invention. Mine's name is Na- poleon, he is truly a wonderful person. But how I hate him and his brothers on some occasions. Only winding the key and turning the alarm will bring crowds of girls to the room. Wtih many angry exclamations they demand that horrid thing be turned off. I can't sleep, I can't study, I can't think, are what they say. I don't feel sorry because I know they were all glad of a chance to rush from their rooms during study hour. Napoleon is bright canary yellowg his name is printed in large letters across his face. His whole body is autographed with names of my friends who borrow him. His face is clean and I like clean faces fthose that stay clean for weeks without washingj. In the center of his face, extending outward, are two arms. I wish I had the patience with these armsg with a little encouragement they are always on time, never late to class. But sometimes when I'm too lazy to wind Napoleon and he stops, causing me to be late to class, I say horrid things about him even if I know it was my fault because I failed to wind him. Napoleon has a slogan on his back, one which makes me uneasy when I look at it: Be on time. It reminds me of the lessons I want to leave till tomorrow and then till the day after that. Right now the slogan says, Be on time with your familiar essay. Each tick, steadily repeated, re- minds me that I must get it in on time. As I sit here looking at the alarm clock I am reminded of the many times I've set it at a certain hour I must get up at in order to finish some lesson or study for a test. I am fully determined when I go to bed that I will not turn over in bed, and think I'll get up in a minute, but finally reach out, turn off the alarm and go to sleep again. We have a great deal of fun with alarm clocks disturbing the peace- ful quiet that always reigns in the hall. At least it is fun when we play the trick on someone else. Only, when someone else awakens us with the ringing of an alarm clock, we don't think it is funny. . But after all, alarm clocks are a great help in college life. I'll set mine for five-thirty and get up and write that familiar essay. -A. P. Onc Hundred Fifty-nin

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LA CUESTA 1930 THE OCOTILLO Many, many years ago, while the Imperial Valley was still an arm of the ocean, there lived, at the foot of the Chocolate Mountains, a tribe of Indians with their mighty chieftain, Kwonesha. He was famed, far and near, for his quiver of arrows, which were so effective that many Indians believed them to be magic. Only Kwonesha himself knew the secret of making the bright red poison in which he dipped the tips of the arrows and which made them the most deadly weapons in the west. He was very proud of his quiver full of poisoned arrows. He depended on it much in battle, and called it his trusty Ocotillo. Kwonesha had a beautiful young daughter named Wanewis, the pride and joyof the tribe. On the opposite side of the valley the Ojawebos lived, a fierce and warlike tribe. But Mahnomonie, the son of their chief, was, though fierce in battle, kind in heart. He had asked her hand in marriage, but Kwonesha would not consent to his daughter's marrying the son of a hostile chief. Then one morning Kwonesha awoke to find Wanewis gone from the camp. At first he hoped that she had only wandered away for a walk, but after the hills were searched and she was not found, he decided that she had' been kidnapped by Mahnomonie, Kwonesha was enraged and deter- mined to follow them himself to bring Wanewis back. Thereupon Kwonesha went to his tent and took down his quiver of arrows, his great and trusty Ocotillo. For days and days Kwonesha followed his daughter's trail across the hot, sandy desert, but never did he even catch sight of the runaway pair. Occasionally he would come upon signs of them, but that was all, every day he grew more bitter toward the man who had stolen his daughter. He determined to kill him the moment he saw him. On the last evening, almost within sight of the Ojawebos camp, Kwon- esha lay down to sleep. Before lying down he carefully stuck his quiver of arrows, his Ocotillo, into the ground to keep them safely, saying as he did so, Mighty Ocotillo, tomorrow I will send one of your arrows into the heart of Mahnomonief' As he slept a gentle rain came and gave new life to the desert. In the morning when he awoke, he found that his arrows had taken root and were growing. A delicate tracery of green leaves covered the shaft of each arrow and the red poison tips of the arrows had turned into long clusters of vivid crimson flowers. Taking this as a sign from the Great Spirit that he was to allow his daughter to live with Mahnomonie, he sadly gave up the chase and re- turned home, saying, Farewell, my trusty Ocotillo, as he left the beau- tiful plant in the distance. To this day the Ocotillo, with its tall and slender stalks and its flam- ing tassels of gorgeous red, attracts visitors to our southern desert and reminds them of the gentle Wanewis and her warlike lover, Mahnomonie, of her angry father, Kwanesha, with his mighty quiver, The Ocotillo. One Hundred Fifty-eight

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LA CUESTA 1930 THE GHOST OF DEATH'S HEAD CROSSING It was just a year ago to the hour that the tragedy had occurred, the same train, the same crew, and Death's Head Crossing just ahead, Where the old farmer, tied to the tracks met his fate in the form of the monster locomotive. We were approaching Death's Head at the rate of fifty miles an hour. Big Jim was firing again and as I looked at him his face grew pale. Not understanding why, I questioned him. He replied, Hank, this train can't make the crossing tonight. The old farmer will be waiting to wreck it. I paid no attention to him, but turned to blow the whistle for the crossing. When I turned again, Big Jim, wild-eyed and white with fear, was tugging at the throttle. One heave and the train shot ahead, roaring with the sudden pressure in her cylinders. Death's Head curve was not more than five hundred yards distant and to make the curve at this speed meant sudden death. I sprang to the throttle and applied the air brakes. Big Jim did not interfere, but stared out the Window. After setting the brakes, I turned around just in time to see Big Jim fall to the floor of the cab, crying as he fell, Hank, he's waiting for me. With wonder I looked out the cab window but saw nothing more than an old, snow-covered, property-line post. Big Jim lay upon the floor dead. -L. B. INTRAMURALS Intramural sports played an important part in the school athletics this year. Prominent among the competing teams were the Sigma Alpha, the physical education fraternity squad, who won the honors during the first quarter by winning the volley ball tournament. During the winter quarter, the A Men took the basketball honors and took possession of the intramural trophy for the winter quarter. Sev- eral teams competed in the cage tourney and more than twenty games were played. . Thomas, graduating senior, was chosen captain of the mythical all- intramural basketball squad. Several of the faculty team, runners-up, were placed on the first team. - Baseball, golf, volley ball and tennis were listed as the intramural sports for the spring quarter. Women's intramurals have played a large and interesting part of the campus activities throughout the school year. Major sports including hockey, tennis, and in-door baseball, and minor sports such as archery, schlag ball, volley ball, horseshoe throwing and soccer were offered. Practically every girl in school participated in one or more of the sports. The efficient leadership and management of all women's athletics is due to their director, Miss Lora Maxwell. Onc Hundred Sixty