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

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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

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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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Gen+Iemen, he said finally, I am Jrhe only man in 'lhis room who ever heard Ihis Chrisfmas Carol iwice played upon Ihe same harp. For'I'y-eighi years have passed since I..oHa Crablree firs+ played This carol on Thar harp, in Ihis very room. The music was wrillen by our friend Franlc Ranner. If was Jrhen, as ii is now, an unnamed carol. H has been losr for lorry-eighi years. Genllemenf'-'rhe crowd Iislened brealrhlessly,-as he raised The glass upward Jro saluie, We drink a Jroasir io Jrhal grear arjrisl and singer now beyond recall-Io Loljra Crablree, and 'ro Frank Ranner, who is slill wilh us. The crowd drank in silence. Arlingion weni on, his voice subdued by emolion. And now, I wish To suggesi a name for 'lhis song. May +his beauliful melody of The lonely Nazarene unsung and lorgoilen for so many years forever live io add +0 +he music of Chrislmas, under 'rhe name of 'The Los+ Carolf No one spoke, buf 'rhere was a murmur of approval. Arling+on mused lhoughflully, Only yesferday did I hear 'rhe niece of our beloved l.o+'ra singing in 'rhe slreel. Such a coincidence musf noi go unregarded. Charles, he molioned io his secreiary, we musl find lhar girl. I-Ier voice musl be given ihe chance io carry on Jrhe Jrradifion of I.oHa Crab+ree. IVIAURICE DAVIS '37 Yrelca I-Iigh School. .-'?: 4513, , j' if ',:'., Zgx 71:l':ge O',L.4-:5:-.1 :E K H . , :'r:'.Y: ': 1Y:T 7532: war-'MIN uw VY' .:..,- - I -:v W Zin If i '51 .-Si J I f-2,1 5 I., 4 Wi Ii' ILL ' I 5 T 4 is - R 1 :I A V1 V X 'I 74 g 1 illx'4- I pw, I W f 1 gf 1 ,...,.....-i l, Q Ne IH' ll ,N mm .iullllll 61 f T JENA ROSSETTO, Weed High School 2 26 if