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

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Good Cleopatra Arthur D. Spearman. INCE the big game when we humbled Leland, a peculiar association of thought has existed be- tween the little town of Milpitas and room 51 — Junior Hall. In the out- skirts of Milpitas is a rather retiring home standing behind palms, locusts and prodigal oleanders and scarcely visible from the road. In this spot some years ago Claude Ed- ward Adrian first taught his father the pain of a sleepless night and even in his cradle commenced the study of his fingernails. Their culture he has since become familiar with to an amazing de- gree. Claude ' s father was a poet; he wore flowing ties, velvet hats and ate opium. This last perhaps explains the dreamy fingernails of Claude, first and only hope of the family. With a dash and snap that even the Freshmen commented upon as rash, old Bartholomew Buchanan, hereditery baggage man of Valley University, drove through the Alemeda gate amid a chorus of greetings from the Arcade, drew sudden rein on the horse and stop- ped. Did I say Bartholomew was old? He was — nay, antiquated — one of the original Franciscans claimed Bartholo- mew was raised in the mission eleva- tor. However true this may be, he is old, his horse is old, his jokes are old and his wagon too, for that is one of his jokes. At the opening of the 19 — season, Bartholomew, as we have agreed, drove with unbecoming rapidity into the campus and stopped, that is, the horse stopped — too efficiently. Bartholomew made a flying effort, and his load, a moderate sized piano-box, reeled dizzi- ly sideways and crashed open upon the ground. A cry of horror echoed down the Arcade. Not from Bartholo- mew, he was. past the effort ; not from the horse, he stood wickedly calm. The cry was again heard and a small lithe figure ran toward the disordered piano- box. ' ' Oh my picture, my picture ! ' ' shrieked Claude as, burrowing frantic- ally towards the center of confusion, he dashed aside red flannel B. D. X ' s, victrola records and scattered dabs of raspberry jam. Quickly rising he held aloft a Platinum Print: a radiance of beauty smiling demurely upon his up- turned face. ' ' Thank God you ' re not hurt, Marie, ' ' burst from his anxious lips, and over- come with emotion he fainted in the arms of Duke — the varsity captain. It 19

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18 THE REDWOOD And no one yet by his folly Hath proffered the glad excuse For me to appear from spectral void Till thou, Earth, by abuse ' Of thy gifts and gems and glinting gold. By thy love of moneyed clay, By the damning, deadening, decadent din Of thy blatant factories bay To the gods of gold, which whines the while Like the howl of a wolf to the moon, Hast invited me to chasten thee With biting whip of ruin. She spoke, and straightway took abode On the fair, full fields of France, And blighted their grace with foul, thin hand As she played her game of chance. The game that only she can win. With men ' s blood as refreshment of wine; And stupid men in their pride of sin To blame her this waste decline. Some blame Kings and a Kaiser some — But ye who are wise well know T ' was Chaos own mother of Cosmos Who deluged our world with woe. W. KEVIN CASEY

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20 THE REDWOOD was here unconsciously that Claude made his first deep impression on the students of Valley University — with his fingernails. On the facade of Ju- nior hall are two balconies. Each sub- tends four windows of a Moorish type that blend splendidly with the mission lines of the building. On the north the balcony is unimportant save that it opens into the junior chapel. On the south it forms a convenient passageway between rooms 51 and 53. To 51 several college men carried the l imp form of Claude Adrian, and the Platinum Print. Give him air, was the brief com- mand of Duke. The word was enough and the crowd vacated to emerge riot- ing as usual on the Arcade steps. Take your knee out of his stom- ach, cautioned a reproachful voice, as looking at the scene of disaster the boys saw the ponderous limb of Fat Chesario apparently buried in the un- resisting vitals of Bartholomew. Why don ' t you jump on his head a few times r advised another. By the time Fat had risen the crowd was around him. Oh, he exclaimed modestly, I just gave him an Infirmary Special. ' Before leaving Milpitas, Claude had encountered and been the victim of the intense Leland U. spirit that seems to permeate the villages lying about that nob]e institution. The Spirit had been personified for Claude in the person of one Desmond O ' Melveny, who forgetful of ancestral affiliations, visited severe displeasure on all youthful Milpitites who evinced a preference for Valley University. Despite the confusion in- cident to the arrival of his piano-box at Valley, Claude had not forgotten the equally unpleasant farewell ten- dered him at Milpitas by Desmond and his Leland friends. He even suspected the surprising weakness of the piano- box was to Desmond attributable — and he was right. One night a few months later, the fatigued respiration of a discouraged Ford ceased under the restraining in- fluence of Desmond O ' Melveny and Clarence Lacquerre, two Leland sopho- mores. We ' ll give them the rase tonight, huh Desmond? The old raspberry is right but don ' t talk so loud, they may have guards around. ' ' Alighting from the car they stole cautiously forward along the edge of Dean Richards garden, paused in the shadow of Administration Building and then made boldly for the pile of ties, boxes and logs lying ready to be built into the Funeral Pyre of Leland U. Claude Adrian was a temperamental boy. Nothing else saved Valley from lasting humiliation. In carelessly working out some geometry construc- tion for Prof. ' Radian, Claude ' s roommate had dropped so many per- pendiculars that Claude ' s head ached. Rising from a sleepless bed he threw open the Moorish window and sought