Woodland High School - Ilex Yearbook (Woodland, CA)

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THE ILEX 27 send one of them away. I, the ten of clubs, sent a man from his love and future to an agony of despair, and united two unsuitable persons for an unhappy life. Think not of all of us as bad. Our history is as varied as we are. Often we have whiled away the tedious hours for the old and the feeble, the sick and the worried. Our absorbing fascination has drawn the mind of many a busy man from his work long enough to give it the rest necessary to let him return the grind refreshed and clear. In the slum's saloon, in the queen's palaceg in the poor man's home and in the camps on the desertg in ships at sea and at fashionable parties, we have provided diversion and pleasant pastimeg brought misunderstanding and death, tragedy and comedyg raised hope from despair and plunged hope back again to the utmost depths of failure. We have formed the careers of many men and chosen the lives of others. We now serve the old and the young, the good and the bad, the humble and the proud. ln centuries past we have held our sway. In the future we will continue, like the hand of F ate, choosing and rejecting, making and breaking, building and destroying. Trust us and we turn against you. Doubt us and we show our allegiance and then down you. Play for the joy of the game and we recreate your mind and rest your body. Use us for selfish gain and we ruin you. Our power is great, but its greatness is in your hands. Now, Son, take this: get a good meal. Find a room and take a good sleep: then get a job and buckle down to work. The world is yours: earn it. The old man passed a bill to his young friend and turned away. The young man looked around the room, then at the cards, then at the five dollar bill. He reached for his hat. JAMES WATSON. The Grand 'Uariation It was approaching the day of the great contest which meant much to Jack Dawes, star center on both the basketball and football teams. But the contest was not one of athletic ability, but rather one of musical ability. This contest was held every year in the large school of Montrose, where it was the custom to choose members of the musical classes to represent the school at the State Musical Tournament, which was to be held in February. The contest took place in the large assembly hall, and it was judged by some very well known musicians of the city. One day after school, a week before the contest, Jack was talking to Chuck Davis, a very warm friend and a great admirer of Jack's musical and athletic abilities. I sure hope I won the contest, but I'm sure that if I do, l'll do it fairly, said Jack. Yes, replied Chuck, how are you coming along with the piece that you are to play? Fine, I know it by heart and can almost whistle it to the note besides playing it on the flute, said Jack. Wonder how Basil is coming along with his piece? mused Chuck, thinking of the boy, Basil Trent, who was picked by all to be Jael-Us strongest competitor. I wish him lots of luck, but I think I can beat him any time, said Jack. His technique is good but his tone is not so good. Come on. let's go to basketball practice and let the flutes go hang, shouted Chuck, as he set off at full speed toward the gym which lay at some distance from the main school building. jack slowly followed, his thoughts still on the contest. Could he win? He must! He would I He knew Basil was good, but athletics had taught him never

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26 THE ILEX better go and claim this dance or Ted Miller will dance another with her. If I only knew who she was, he thought, as he made his way through the crowd to the side of the ballet dancer. Say, Goldie-Locks, don't forget this is mine, Roger gallantly asserted, and she silently acquiesced. At the end of the dance the manager shouted, Unmask. Instantly the hall was filled with confusion as friends recognized each other. But the little ballet dancer waited until the laughter and noise had subsided and all eyes were focused on Roger and her. Then slowly raising her tiny hand to her head she gave the mask a quick jerk and off it came, bringing her mass of golden curls with it. The crowd was speechless with amazement, but most of all Roger Channing, who stared dumfounded, not at the face of his demure little dancer, but at the grinning countenance of Percival Dewitt Chester, the sissy and his enemy. Then the crowd burst into peals of laughter at Roger Channing, the sheik of Ferndale High. Three cheers for Percival Dewitt Chester. Three cheers for the clever little ballet dancer! everyone shouted, as Roger Channing wilted in disgrace. Percival Dewitt Chester had had his revenge. -ARLEEN lVllLLSAP. c-A CDeck of Cards ln a small room, the air ladened with tobacco smoke held close to the floor by the low ceiling, two men were seated at a card table amid the others in the room. The place was illuminated by a dim electric light which shone bravely through the smoke to show up the rubbish on the unswept floor. The furniture had all seen service and had been used much. The two men formed a striking, but not unusual contrast. One of them was considerably older than his friend and carried the signs of hardship and experience in the lines on his face. His clothing was neat but not particularly attractive. His companion, however, was different. His clothes adhered to the latest fashion. He was a young man, on his first fling of city life and thought himself enjoying it until his money gave out. He still had enough for a meal and at this table he hoped to increase that meal to two meals and maybe more. His com- panion, however, had at first demurred and then flatly refused to play for money. Oh, come on, be a sport, pleaded the young man, take a chance, l am. No, replied the older man. l played for money the last time many years ago Since then I have seen many men lose fortunes and make them with the cards, but l have worked for my money. I'll play for the fun of the game but not for money. Besides, you could not afford it. I've got enough to take chances with, protested the young man, not wishing to seem broke, you seem afraid. My boy, said the older man, quietly, do you see these cards? Each one of thesefcan tell you a story. Each one has a history. Men have been killed and men have been saved by them. They have made fortunes for some and lost fortunes for others. Let them tell you their story. Listen well and think hard. I am the ace of spades. lVly history is cloudy. lVlany times l have slipped unseen from the sleeve of a card shark to snatch the last dollar from some unfortunate man. I am the deuce of hearts. lVly two red hearts sent a man into exile for eleven years for a supposed crime. For eleven years these two prints in his brain kept him away and when at last he learned of his innocence it was too late. The better part of his life was gone, and he died a pauper. Oh, listen to me. lVly story is also one of despair and tragedy. Two men loved the same girl. Rather than come to blows, they decided that a black card would

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28 THE ILEX to underestimate his opponent's strength, or to overestimate one's own abilitiesg but he felt way down deep in his heart that he could win. Had he not practiced faith- fully and worked painfully over each note so as to get it exactly right? Had he not played the piece until it had become a part of him? He would do his best, anyway. He went on to practice and soon lost his thoughts in the thing that he was doing. ln the locker room, while dressing, he found himself whistling the notes of his piece. Chuck, who was dressing next to him, grinned and said, Gee, that's pretty, what's the name of it? The Grand Variation, said Jack, the piece l'm to play at the contest, and once more began to whistle. Say, where did you learn to whistle that way? shot Chuck in the middle of lacing a shoe. Oh, grow up, growled Jack, I've always known how to whistle fairly decent. Well, don't get mad. I'm not mad. Come on, let's go then. That night while practicing, jack thought to himself, What would I do if something happened to my flute and I couldn't play? Say, thati-oh, what's the use of worrying? The next day he put his flute in his locker and went up to his morning recitations. Only two more days and the great day. After classes, and as he was going to his locker room and started down the long rows of lockers toward his own, he saw a fellow disappear around the end of the long row. The next day the same thing happenend and Jack said to himself, Wonder who it is that is doing that every day? He walked up to his locker to find it still locked. He took his flute and went to basketball practice. The day of the contest broke bright and clear and Jack woke to find the earth bathed in a glorious mantle of sunshine. He went downstairs, where he met his father just finishing his breakfast. Jack sat down at the table and began to eat. His father rose and started to leave, but turned to the boy and said, Hope you win today, son. Thank you, Dad, I'll sure try my best. After leaving the house, he went by Chuck's house and whistled for him. Very soon Chuck came tumbling out of the front door, trying to put on a sweater and hold books at the same time. Jack took his books and Chuck put on his sweater, at the same time keeping up a rattling fire of questions. How do you feel? Think you can win? Nervous? Don't get that wayg it doesn't pay. What? Sure, I'll be sitting right in the front row and so will all the rest of the fellows who want you to win. After reaching the school the boys went to their lockers and there Jack put his precious flute away. The moment at last! He went down to his locker and took the flute out. That morning he had tuned it, but he would tune it again when it came his turn to play. He went into the large assembly hall and made his way to the stage where the students were to compete. The announcements were finished and several other contests were played off. Would his turn ever come? Just before going to the front he noticed that Chuck, sitting in the front row, was very nervous and kept pointing to his flute. He looked at it and immediately a sickening fear overtook him. But now it was his turn and he turned to the piano to tune his flute for the last time and to see if everything was all right. As he did so he noticed that the cork in the head joint was twisted all out of shape and he realized that he could not play. He knew that his high notes would not be in harmony with those of the piano.