Siskiyou Union High School - White and Gold Yearbook (Weed, CA)

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THE LOST CAROL ll-lonorable MenTionT There now lives in a small dilapidaTed cabin along The Salmon River near Sawyers Bar, Siskiyou CounTy, California, one oT The gre-aTesT unknown virTuosos OT music. Never, during The nineTy years oT his liTe, has he Tried To have as much as a single sheeT published. The walls oT his cabin, which was desTroyed by Tire in l935, were compleTely papered by sheeTs oT music oT his own composiTion. IT one could have peered Through The window oT ThaT old cabin in The dim Twilighi' oT The summer evenings, or by Tlickering candle lighT on a cold, bleak winTer's nighT, They would have Tound him sTrolling Trorn wall To wall playing over and over again many oT his old TavoriTes and recalling To memory many a pleasanT dream oT his boy- hood on The canals oT Venice. This quainT old characTer now almosT cornpleTeIy isolaTed by The heavy Talling oi snow, will spend The remainder oT The long winTer, reading, smoking and playing his cares away, his only companions being his violin, a caT, a dog, and a mule, My TaTher in his early boyhood spenT a greaT deal oT Time wiTh The old genTleman and came To know him very well. Through This means The Tollowing sTory came inTo my possession. IT was seven o'clock one evening, and in The hum oT The greaT ciTy, people rushed madly pasT The memorial TounTain dedicaTed To The beloved singer, l.oTTa CrabTree, in San Francisco. Through The crowd a prominenT business execuTive accompanied by his secreTary Threaded his way hurriendly To caTch The Terry which meT The norThbound Train, buT even in his rush he paused To lisTen To The voice oT a sTreeT waiT singing in accompanimenT To The violin oT an alms player. SomeThing wiThin The voice oT ThaT child had sTopped him-a Tamiliarly haunTing qualiTy which seemed To awaken wiThin him a Time-buried memory. Who is ThaT, Charles? he asked. ThaT girl, answered The secreTary, is The niece oT The greaT singer LoTTa CrabTree Trom whom ThaT TounTain was named. Her TorTune was losT before iT could reach ThaT giTTed child. Mr. ArlingTon did noT answer, buT TorTy-eighT years oT Time raced Through his mind. 92444

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FORGOTTEN lSecond Prize Essayl The wind Trom The souTh blew snow over The low knoll oT land and compleTely covered every Tree wiTh a beauTiTul, whiTe blankeT. One large, old pine swayed along wiTh The wind on The verge oT Toppling To The ground. lT appeared To be over T50 years old. lTs limbs were void oT almosT any Visage of green, and iTs heighT was approximaTely 75 or 80 TeeT. As The Tree sways along wiTh The wind, leT's go back To The beginning oT iTs growTh. A young sapling-viewing The habiTs, cusToms, and belieTs oT The indians, hearing Their war cries and TreguenTly being marred Tor indian signs. A year or Two laTer The TirsT whiTe men came. Slowly and cauTiously They wenT abouT building Their homes, planTing gardens, buT always on The alerT Tor indians. LaTer, as a young Tree-wiThin iTs view is a colony oT Americans. They have builT a small school, church, sTores, eTc., and are raising crops Tor Their living. The men are conTinually carrying guns and occasionally make use oT Them by shooTing The Tail TeaThers oTT oT a Turkey, an American name Tor an Indian. As The Tree grows older iT sees The indians gradually become exTincT in Those parrs. The Americans are progressing: The land oT The seTTlers has expanded. Around The Trunk oT The old pine a beauTiTul green lawn is growing. Then, a maTure Tree-a Town has sprung up. iTs populaTion is small and The main occupaTion is lumbering. The indians have leTT ThaT viciniTy. The children who once scaled iTs heighr are now grown inTo men. They go Trom Tree To Tree grading Those ThaT are ripe Tor cuTTing. They leave This one pine because oT The marks ThaT mar iT. Now we are back To The presenT-The Town has grown in populaTion To abouT 5000. The lumber indusTry is prospering and gradaully expanding. People come and go buT never once glance aT The Towering old pine nor dream oT The evenTs ThaT once sur- rounded iTs liTe. ETHEL BEABER '38 Weed High School. DP 23 cc

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T-lowdy, Jack, drawled Birdie as he enTered The Nally Saloon in Sawyers Bar. l-low have Things been going wiTh you These days? Oh, preTTy good, spoke The iolly barTender. T-lave a drink? New, iusT sTopped in Tor a visiT beTore I sTarT back up The hill. Who's ThaT over There? Frank? Yeah, Dead To The world, Too, answered The barTender Turning To waiT on The cusTomer. You know, Jack, l believe Frank's one oT The besT musicians ThaT ever lived-l'll beT The drinks OT The Town ThaT he can play any insTrumenT in The world, asserTed Birdie as he slouched againsT The bar. Make iT any insTrumenT in Sawyers and l'll Take you up. Jack's sparkling eyes beTrayed his gambler's insTincT oT playing saTe. Wake up, Frank, Birdie shook The huddled Tigure. l've beT The drinks oT The Town on you ThaT you can play any insTrumenT in Town. The beT closed, Jack opened The door aT The TooT oT The sTairway and raced up a TlighT oT sTairs. PresenTly he reTurned holding in his arms an insTrumenT The like of which Tew assembled There had ever seen. ' l-loly SainT PeTer, Jack! ThaT ain'T no man's insTrumenT. ThaT's only Ter angels To play. l reckon l'll haTT Tune iT, murmured The gray-bearded old man aTTer running his Tingers over The sTrings. Where is The key? There ain'T ever been any so Tar as l know. said The puzzled loarTender. Hey, Jim, run geT me The monkey wrench ouT a' Carl's wagon, Frank called. Upon being handed The wrench, he wenT To work. One o'clock came: The crowd had grown Trom Tew To hundreds. Among Them by chance sTood ArlingTon unobsTrusTively mingled wiTh The specTaTors. l'm ready To play, announced The old man soTTly, placing his Tingers To The sTrings. l-Te played, and so sweeTly did he play ThaT by The Time he had Tinished all were in Tears. There had come Trom The sTrings OT ThaT long TorgoTTen lyre The inspired melody born in The mind oT The old music masTer. The greaT execuTive walked over To Frank, Tears sTreaming down his cheeks. ThaT harp, Frank-where did you geT iT? Jack, The barTender, inTerposed, ThaT, parclner, ThaT angels' harp, belonged To LoTTa CrabTree TorTy-eighT years ago. Dad Took iT as a parT paymenT on a board bill when The Troups wenT busTed. ArlingTon sTood dazed. an 25 Q