Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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THE TARGET 15 ORCHESTRA. Upper row, left to right: Arthur Gunderson, Robert Edgar, Harold Woolsey, Robert McCullough, George Gilchrist, Lucian Eastland, Jean Waste, Miss Ellerhorst (conductor). Second row, left to right: Frances Phillips, Constance Lutgen, Dorothy Sawyer, Walter St. John, Victor Bigelow, Blanche Tomaire, Mildred La ird,- Kenneth Graham, Eleanor Weber, Charles Whitworth. Lower row, left to right: Ruth Scotford, Ashley Hill, Lawrence Kett, Sherrill Conner, Edward Derby, Edward Borgstrom, Marjorie Bond. FOOL’S GOLD. The room, richly hung, heavy in its richness, seemed to extend on all sides to black voids, limitless spaces. The half glow of the nurse’s night light seemed aeons of distance away, the nurse — a creature of another world. The old man felt utterly a- lone in a black nothingness on a big four-poster bed. He started to call, but shut his eyes with the help- lessness of the very ill. He opened them again to find the space before him filled with a hard, dazzling light, blackening the dark- ness round. Floating in the radiance, appeared to be a flaming sword, but as he looked, clammy with fear, he saw it become a woman, dressed as the Greek Gods, but her girdle twined of moving, hissing snakes. Her eyes were bright and wild, and her left breast, — her heart, was gone. “Who comes?” the old man breathed so still his breath, it seemed but a thought. “Gold!” screamed the specter, and yet it seemed to make no sound. “Gold! Know you me not? I am that for which you have toiled, that for which you have lived, that for which you have wasted, crushed, de- stroyed all that was good in your life, — happiness, respect, love!” “No, no!” the old man whispered. “Such loyalty can but earn its just rewards. — Come! ” She held out glittering arms, the snakes, writhing upwards, fastened themselves on the old man’s throat. “Celia— my wife,” the old man panted, “my children, — help!” “Gone, all gone,” the specter re- plied, “deserted for me.”

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14 THE TARGET between tightly clenched teeth.“lf you ate not out of here then I will put you out.” Deliberately the tramp stepped up and sat in my chair. He glared at me and I at him. “The minute is up, sir, Will you go or not?” “I’ll stay,” was the answer. Instantly oft came my coat. The tramp had not even removed his slouch hat and, for a starter, with a quick sweep of my hand I sent his hat into the far corner on the floor. “You little insignificant rat, take that,” he roared, and leaping on both feet, his clenched right hand shot forth with terrific force, but I was spry and dodged it with ease. I was no match for him as he was 6 ft. - 2. anyway and I only 5 ft. — 7. We locked together in each other’s arms and struggled for supremacy. At first he hushed me nearer and nearer the window, but in wrestling as in all other sports you need wind; he was winded. Finally just abreast the door, the tramp was thrown on his knees. In an instant I had the door thrown open and throwing myself against the culprit, I sent him out. Rushing across the floor, I picked up his headpiece and sent it sailing after him, calling out, “come back when you want another dime, won’t you?” “Which boy will be good enough to get me a cup of water?” I asked as I again took the platform and donned my coat, breathless and well given out. Big Bill Davis was on his feet in an instant. “I will, sir,” he called and in passing the blackboard he stooped and picked up the missile he had thrown and tossed it out the window. Upon returning with the tin cup of water he looked me squarely in the face and said. ' Tm glad you woo, I be honestly. You ain’t no milksop, you aint.” Then turning to his band he called out. “say kids let’s give the schoolmaster three times three and a tiger, he’s all right.” RUFUS .JOHNSON. o Mr. Cobert explaining a Latin con- struction; “When I’m eating pie. I’m happy.” CHRISTMAS CHEER. Darkness covered all the world. When suddenly a sound was heard; A sound that gladdened every ear. Was echoed from afar and near. “Rejoice! “rejoice!” it seemed to say, “Rejoice! rejoice! ’tis Christmas day.” ness. Now, all was changed from woe and sadness, The world seemed clothed in peace and gladness. GERALDINE QUILLINAN. o THE TREASURE. There is a certain hill region in California which is noted as the haunt of robbers in early days. In this region are many tunnels to which the robbers are supposed to have brought their loot and buried it. Many have tried to find their treas- ures and some poor people have become suddenly and mysteriously rich. At any rate, to the younger members of this community the treasures are realitites, to the older, merely jokes. One day, as some boys were play- ing cross-tag, the one who was being chased was crossed, and, in looking back, stumbled and fell. His head bumped on something hard which felt like wood, and on close examination it proved to be a trap-door. All excitement, he pulled it up, and the light feebly disclosed a badly con- structed staircase. He looked around and seeing that the boys had not yet noticed him, he slowly descended the stairs. When he was almost at the bottom his foot slipped and he fell, and was surrounded on all sides, to the right and to the left of him by — mushrooms. His treasure was but mushrooms, and treasure cave a mushroom tunnel, the trap-door of which had been covered with sod by a wise owner. NOEL MORROW. o — A CHRISTMAS WISH FOR YOU. May the friends you love so dear. Round about you gather near. Make your Christmas day so bright That your heart glows with delight. MINNIE CHAN.

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16 THE TARGET “Oh, God, niy mother!” With her name came a smile of wonderful con- tent and the quivering old man lay still. The nurse raised her eyes to the doctor. “Gone,” he repeated. DOROTHY TODD. o THE MESSAGE OF THE HOLLY The holly that blooms ’round the Christmas time. With foliage of bright green hue. Intermingled with red and Yuletime cheer. Gives to life a color anew. And when by the hearth many glad hearts do sing. In the midst of the Christmas cheer. The holly, a message of love does impart And makes every life more dear. WI LLIAM HORSTMANX o SCIENCE NOT ALWAYS TRUE. (A True Incident) In the Sierra Nevada Mountains, in the wonderful valley of the Kern, around a bright, blazing campfire heaped with huge logs sat in a large circle that well-known order, the Sierra Club- The fire cast a ruddy glow on faces young and middle-aged, not sad or troubled faces but happy and laughing, One never is sad or unhappy in the mountains. The fact is ' one never has time to get that way be- cause everything is so wonderful and beautiful. Someone in this laughing circle suggested to Dr. Collins, a geo- logist, tell them something of the history of the country they v.ere now in. Dr. Collins, being perfectlj ' a- greeable, arose and stood for a mo- ment thinking of what he would say, then began with a deep scientific ' . oice. “I have decided to explain how the lake, which is . in this valley and is called Kern Lake was formed. Many years ago, perhaps a thousand, there was a great earthquake caused by the shifting of a rift in the earth. This earthquake was of such a char- acter that it did not extend over more than fifty mtles square. The heaviest part of this earthquake was at the foot of this lake causing the em- bankment which you now see. The water then filled the lake to its present condition.” Just then an old packer who was packing for the party turned to his companion with an amused smile playing about his lips. “Did you hear what that feller was a-saying?” he said with a well-aimed poke at Jim’s ribs. “Yes, what of it?” replied Jim in- quisitively. “Why,” returned the other,“all that junk about earthquakes wasn’t true at all. I was here when that there lake was formed. A monstrous land- slide come down from old Round Top. I tell you it like to scared me plumb out of my wits.” GEORGE HOPPING. o WHAT WILL SANTA SAY? Last year a slight complaint he made Santa so round and full of glee. Because he feared he’d need some aid To get down the small gas stove to me. I wonder what he’ll say this year, Santa the good and kind old sire. He’ll rave, and fret and scold I fear. To see just only ’lectric wire. ISABELLE WARWICK. o A DREADFUL NIGHT. It was in vacation and in a lonely mountain valley that I spent this awful night. Father had gone to town to meet the train on which mother was coining. It had been arranged that a neighbor was to stay with me till he got back. We spent the afternoon quite cheerfully: she told me of all the exciting adventures of her child- hood and of the superstitions of her old negro mammy. It was late in the afternoon when suddenly her eldest son rushed up to the door and said the baby was ill and they didn ' t know what was the matter with it. His mother