University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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THE REDWOOD. procession which serpentined about the hall, aligned in front of the table of honor (at which sat the officers of the Alumni andl the speakers of the even- ing), and elicited cheer after cheer fo r the emblematic red and white of SANTA CLARA. Electra once again touched the chan- deliers with her wizardry, and the ban- queters tilted their glasses to the wid- ening fame of the college that effectu- ates the fond dream of Nobili, the sainted Jesuit pioneer. There is never a dearth of eloquence at a Santa Clara College banquet, and the June re-union was profusely dec- orated with the choicest flowers of rhetoric, plucked anywhere from Quin- tilian to Quackenbos, while the rare and princely display of gems of ora- tory suggested! thoughts of the lavish pearls and gold which Milton showered en kings in porphyry halls in the gor- geous Orient of his imagination. Lewis F. Byington discussed the achievements of The College Man in the Professions ; Hon. James D. Phe- ian treated of the duty of The College Man in Public Life ; John J. O ' Toole compared Santa Clara Old and New ; Joseph A. Farry recited some of the traditions of The College Campus ; James P. Sex told of the glories of The Mission ; and A. D. Splivalo fitly concluded the program with a beautiful tribute to Santa Clara Col- lege . Was the festal happiness unallowed? The speeches contained never a note of sadness, but around the flower- deckedl tables, in the silences between the music and the toasts, the boys spoke softly and tenderly of the befov- ed ones who had graced the board in days gone by, but who are seen no more, save in dreams that fade, or v hen the filmy procession passes mournfully through the dim chambers of memory — boys, like Steve White, who left their lasting impress on the Nation and the times; boys, like George Sedgley, who made the world their debtor for the modest good they wrought. There is a tinge of sorrow upon every earthly joy. The tear on the face of Pleasure was for dear old comrades missing; and that tear made unwilling answer to the poet ' s ques- tion, so pathetically sweet: Shall we always be happy and laughing and gay, Till the last dgar companion drops smiling away? The night is done, the tale told, the banquet history. Old Time a liar? Nay, Time is only too true. Let us propitiate the grim fellow with the scant forelocks, — the snowy-bearded monarch with the hour-glass and the scythe ! In our behalf we would have him exercise a fonder care as now he rolls the big globe round the sun, for every boy of all that intellectual king- dom of boys which made its capital for a day in the Gold Room of the St. Francis — every foster-son of Santa Clara longs to see again the kindly faces, hear again the music voices and feel again the rejuvenating inspiration of the epoch-making Festum Alum- riorum. — Chas. D. South. Litt. D. ' 09.

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THE REDWOOD. There was music, too; the best of music, and plenty of it, all of which had been expected, because the music program had been arranged by Augus- tus Aguirre and Harry McKenzie, Bachelors of Arts and masters of near- ly everything else. McKenzie, it may be noted, an passant, is lawyer, politi- cian, musician, monologist, heavy- weight comedian, and all-round foot- ball star; while Aguirre is merchant, prune speculator, vocalist, sketch-art- ist, Shakespearean reader and profes- sor emeritus of Rugb3fology; but, as entertainers, they are Cohans; they are Dockstadters. The toastmaster was Charles M. Cassin, whose classmates of twenty years agone marvelled at the meta- morphosis of Slats, the living skele- ton, into the impressively heroic fig- ure of the aflfable giant from the shade of the Casino. Cassin ' s youthful atten- uation lent color to the libel tha t, when shaving, he used a step-ladder to reach the auburn stubble on his map. Since that interesting period, he has attained a rare and radiant baldness from scrap- ing his altitudinous dome against the bottoms of chandeliers. The success of the Alumni speechfest, however, was in no small measure due to the versa- tile Cassin, whose vocal electrics illum- inate Santa Cruz campaigns with the best brand of oratorical pyrotechnics exploded anywhere from the Big Basin to the Seventeen-Mile Drive, and from the Apple Center to the sea. The responses to the several toasts were characterized generally by a de- lightful intermixture of wisdom, wit, humor and college spirit, which made the intellectual enjoyment worthy of the gastronomical. Toastmaster Cassin ' s remarks were all very felicitous, and his encomium of Rev. James P. Morrissey, Santa Clara ' s brilliant young President, was greeted with prolonged applause. In his toast, The Faculty, Father Morrissey spoke in laudatory terms of the many eminent Jesuits who, after long self-sacrifice, had witnessed the gradual fruition of their glorious life- work in the great school which edu- cates heart as well as mind and keeps in view the ultimate purpose of man ' s temporal life as well as the nature of the Divine promises concerning the life to come. Rev. Joseph P. McQuaidc, whose in- fluence with President Taft was the magnet which drew the Panama-Paci- fic Exposition to the Golden Gate, en- thused the Alumni with a mirthful ap- plication of College Spirit. The sol- dier-priest chose illustrations from the phonological records of the immortal yelling-squad of ' 87, whose representa- tives, by the way, deemed it probable that a few of the banqueters hailed from Missouri, and exemplified their combined lung-power with a yell that oscillated ' the pen of the St. Francis seismograph. Then, all of a sudden, the lights went out and a momentary hush fell on the darkled hall, till out of the silence broke a thundering cheer as out of the shadow burst a white flame, in the glare of which glowed and scintillated, Kohinoor-like, a marvellous crystal letter — the initial letter of the magic name of Santa Clara. With its illum- inant, it stood on a silver salver, which was borne on the head of a liveried servitor. The letter, A , carried like- wise, but reflecting a ruby fire, fol- lowed, and then eight other letters, al- tf mating white and red, completed a

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THE REDWOOD. BOB AT CLARENTA ' WHEN Robert Adams left his Texas home to enter the Sophomore class at the Uni- versity of Clarenta, his estimable par- ent. Sheriff Richard Adams, did not burden his youthful mind with cum- bersome advise. Gripping his son ' s muscular hand in his own, and survey- ing, with pardonable pride, the tanned honest face, and the strong frame be- fore him, he said in his full hearty tones : Son, always do your duty, no mat- ter what the cost ! This sentence had so haunted Bob ' s memory that, ever since he left home, he had walked the straight and narrow path. Then, too, football, thanks to its rigorous training and muscle-building conflicts had enabled him to add to the powerful physique he had obtained on the ranch, so that when he returned for the Christmas vacation, his father was intensely gratified to note no physical or moral defects in his son. But the sturdy Texan, born and reared among men who lived in old and dusty garments, could not accus- tom himself to the change in his son ' s attire. While he did not believe the clothes made the man, he was afraid that they could unmake him. The sight of Bob, arrayed in a stylish suit, with the added changes of a red tie and purple socks, somewhat shook the worthy sheriff ' s estimation of his son. In the two weeks of vacation, the sheriff found no opportunity of trying his son ' s mettle. The college student preferred to seclude himself in the house, smoking and thrumming a banjo, rather than ride the range. Col- lege songs, purple socks and a gay at- tire had assumed ttie place of the lariat and branding irons, and the honest sheriff began to fear that he had made a sad mistake in sending Bob to col- lege for three years. He became possessed of the idea that associations at school were effeminat- ing the once rough-and-ready youth. He could not help feeling that the iron nerve and steady control in the face of danger that had characterized Bob as a lad, would fail now if put to the test. From Christmas till spring, the sheriff alternately worried and swore at the memory of his son ' s transforma- tion. This ghost of a possible degen- eration so preyed upon his mind that, v hen his son wrote his intentions to high-hurdle for his university in the Siramust-Clarenta meet; the sheriff wired back that he would attend the contest. The sheriff hadn ' t the least idea what a dual meet was ; he asso- ciated it generally with pink teas, loud sweaters and other demoralizing influ- ences of college life. Rob was well pleased to hear that his father was coming to the big meet; so that when he met him on the morn- mg before the big event he gripped his hand in a manner that would scarcely betray one that had forgotten the sin- cere but uncouth ways of the rangers. After dinner as they were strolling down the streets, the Sheriff drawing a card from his pocket, read: Shooting Gallery, 155 Lexington Street . And by way of explanation he added : Some fellow gave me this as I was leaving the train this morn- ing. What do you say if we step around to this place and see if your aim is as steady as ever? I reckon you