MAGAZINE April-June, 1936
CONTENTS
CALIFORNIA: 5 articles with 37 illustrations
San Francisco the Improbable Plant Collecting on Lanai GELETT BURGESS \N al, E :11tvs±rot,c,riii F. PAL BERG Boto,Is!, 5i ive rFitt pf Ha wq California's Mountain Thrones Rana Rugosa. Schlegel LAWRENCE H. DA I NCE With onctornicol ficiuresi DR, ARTHG SVIHLA, State College of Washinotor; California: a Drama of People JOHN CUDC A Troublesome Introduced Grass With figures! EDWARD Y HOSA I," A Educational Facilities of Southern Bishop /V\ciseLyn California DR. R. B. von KLEINSMIC, Pan-Pacifica to Discuss Problems s,ersIty of Southern Coliforn;o FREDERICK c.,ImPICEI JR
Haiku Poetry of Japan Commonwealth Club of California STUART RICHARDSON S
Seed Dispersal in Hawaii English Favored as Philippine Notional W,0-; 5 illustrol,01, CHAS, LE: _ Language Tern Fore,t&-r E's.r_/,[ .1^ NL,c,: -
OTHER FEATURES: Fishes of the American Northwest PROF LEONArs:E' LL C News of Pon-Pacific Union affiliates in China. Japan and the Philippines Books received, reviewed; INDEX pccr A. for Mid-Pacific Magazine, 1935,\
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The Mid-Pacific Magazine of the PAN-PACIFIC UNION GEORGE MELLEN, Editor Published quarterly by Alexander Hume Ford for the Pan-Pacific Union, Honolulu, Hawaii, U.S.A. Entered as second-class matter at the Honolulu Post Office under Act of Mar. 3, 1879. All members of the Pan-Pacific Union receive the magazine as one of the privi- leges of membership. Single copies 50 cents, mailed to any address in the world. [From the Honolulu Star-Bulletin press.]
VOL. XLIX APRIL-JUNE, 1936 NUMBER 2
San Francisco the Improbable
By GELETT BURGESS
With illustrations from photographs selected by The Editors.
ACH one of us cherishes openly or Here was the ideal site for a city—a in secret an Ideal. It may be dy- peninsula lying like a great thumb on namically expressed or it may rest the hand of the mainland between the E inert in some sanctum sanctorum Pacific Ocean and a deep, land-locked below the level of consciousness. But bay, an area romantically configured of when that ideal is encountered in life hills and valleys, with picturesque moun- we realize that thrill which is called tain and water views, the setting sun in Romance. And my first Romance I the broad Pacific and Mount Diablo a found in San Francisco. sentinel in the east; to the northward, Perhaps it was my puritanical though the sea channel of the Golden Gate enlightened training in Boston, the leg- overhung by the foothills of Tamalpais. acy of generations of Mayflower ances- The old town of Yerba Buena was a tors, which made me feel, by vivid little Spanish settlement by the cove in contrast, the freedom, the sincerity and the harbor. Its straight, narrow streets the simplicity of life in the city by the had been artlessly ruled by Francisco Golden Gate. Proselytes are notori- de Haro, alcalde of the Mission Dolo- ously fanatical. Perhaps it was the cli- res. He had marked out upon the mate, the same, we used to say, as that ground, northerly, La Calle de la Fun- of Greece and of Japan, most favorable dacion and the adjacent squares nec- to art expression and individualism. But essary for the little port of entry in primarily it was the unique physical 1835. Four years later, when Governor character of the gray city on its hills, Alvarado directed a new survey of the almost surrounded by water. And so, as place, Jean Vioget extended the original I am going to piece together a picture lines with mathematical precision to the of what San Francisco meant to me in hills surrounding the valley. In 1846 it the purple '90's from my novel, The would still have been possible partly to Heart Line, written while my impres- correct that artistic blunder of the sim- sions were fresh, let me begin with a ple-minded alcalde. But Jasper O'Far- sketch of the growth of the old Mission rell, the civil engineer, had seen military town. service with General Sutter; his ways
MID-PACIFIC MAGAZINE, APRIL-JUNE, 1936 81
were stern and severe, his esthetic im- From Nob Hill one sees ships in the pulses, if he had any, were heroically harbor and the lights of the Mission; subdued. Market Street, indeed, he from Kearney Street one keeps the permitted to run obliquely, though it view of Twin Peaks, Telegraph Hill ris- went straight as a bullet towards the ing on the harbor side in a sheer preci- Twin Peaks. The rest of the city he pice over a hundred feet high. And so made one great checkerboard of right- the San Franciscan has always the angled streets in defiance of its natural whole picturesque, improbable town topography. with him wherever he goes. O'Farrell knew no compromise. His That was the fascinating city as I streets took their straight and narrow knew it, almost five decades after the way, up hill and down dale, without gold rush of '49 had overnight changed regard to grade or expense. Where a sleepy Spanish town into a reckless, might have been entrancingly beautiful roaring, roystering gambling center of terraces, rising avenue above avenue to tents and rough shacks. the heights, preserving the master-view In the '90's, though a little sobered of the continent, the streets are hacked down, it was still feverish with dance out of the earth and rock, precipitous, halls and gambling dives and the cli- grotesque. So sprawls the fey, leaden- mate and the outdoor life had flavored colored town over its dozen hills. San Franciscans with a unique quality San Francisco, the Improbable! Its of adventurous boy and girlish tempera- pageantry is unrolled for all to see at ment. It still had the appearance and first glance. In every little valley where the manners of an overgrown town of the slack, rattling cables of her car lines wooden houses and sidewalks. Many slap and splutter over the pulleys, some one and two-story stores remained even great area of the town exhibits a rising in the business districts. Tobacco and colony of blocks of wooden houses butchers' shops with no front walls, stretching up and over a shoulder of the Chinese in colorful costumes. The sum- hill. Atop every crest one is confronted mertime ferries loading and unloading with farther districts lying beneath and joyous camping parties. The famous rising opposite with rival summits. As Coggswell statue was still standing, you are whirled up and down on the surrounded by red, white and blue lamp cable car, the city moves stealthily about posts—till I helped pull it down. Horse- you in valleys and steep declivities. cars were still plodding along "South of Now she is all waterfront and sailors' the Slot". But the bay had been filled in lodging houses and dance halls; in a up to Montgomery Street, covering the trice she turns sandy Chinatown; then hulks of ships abandoned for the gold shocks you with a Spanish, Italian or fields. negro quarter and then surprises you Until the wide sand dunes had been with a terrifying ascent crowned with built upon, the strong Summer after- palaces. Past the next rise you find her noon west winds swept clouds of dust whimsical, fantastic with garish flats through the city, penetrating every and apartment houses. She lurks in and crack in house walls. The Golden Gate about thousands of little wooden houses, Park, one of the finest in the world, and beyond, she drops a little park into stretched its wizardry of gardening your path, discloses a stretch of shim- from Central Avenue to the Ocean mering bay or unveils magnificently the Boulevard. green, gently-sloping expanse of the There were no copper cents, no bank noble Presidio. notes, only silver coins were considered No other city has so many points of worth having, and gold eagles and view, none allures with such originality, double eagles such as we shall probably even oddity. Some cities have single never see again. Generosity, extrava- dominant hills. Rome has seven; but gance like the fog was in the air. I don't San Francisco is all hills. They mount know whether that jovial, carefree prod- north and west and must be climbed. igality is gone. ( I doubt if I'll ever get The important lines of traffic accept teal for two bits again, or a hundred these conditions and plunge boldly up oysters delivered on chipped ice to Rus- and down upon their ways. sian Hill for fifty cents ). But I'm sure "Horse-cars were still plodding along." ment repair gang, right, seems to be Note four beyond cable-car, center, busy. Derby hats, or bowlers, didn't starting up Market Street while, right, care who wore them. Two men on the another on the turn-table is being old Ferry building roof, right, looking headed uptown. Two street sweepers, for the usual leaks, perhaps.—Photo left foreground, are waiting for some- from Chas. B. Turri I I collection, cour- thing. One of the cobble-stone pave- tesy Society of California Pioneers. the Pacific fog still is giving San Fran- a flight of wooden steps; the facade was broken cisco gals the most splendid complexion by a single bay-window, ornamented with con- ventional severity. Block after block of such in the world—unless cosmetics are un- dwelling houses were built. They had a short doing its beauty treatments. of restful regularity, they broke no artistic I had been graduated from the Mass- hearts. achusetts Institute of Technology as a In later days, when San Francisco had begun to take its place in the world, a greater degree civil engineer and was with the South- of sophistication ensued. Capitals of columns ern Pacific Co. for three years before became more fanciful, ornament more gro- living in the city, but I have always tesquely original, till ambitious turners and been interested in architecture and this wood-carvers gave full play to their morbific imagination. Then was the day of scrolls and is the way the physiognomy of the town finials, bosses, rosettes, brackets, grillework and impressed me. I quote from The Heart comic balusters. Conical towers became the Line. rage, wild windows, odd porches and decora- tions nailed on regardless of design made San The architecture of San Francisco was, in Francisco's nightmare architecture the jest of early days, simple and unpretentious, befitting tourists. Lastly, after an interregnum of Queen the modest aspirations of a trading and mining Anne vagaries, came the Renaissance and the town. Builders accepted their constructive limi- Age of Stone, heralded by concrete imitations tations and did their honest best. False fronts, and plaster walls of bogus granite. indeed, there were, making one-story houses appear to be two stories high, but redwood At the Bohemian Club camp in the made no attempts in those days to masquerade virgin forest, once, after a particularly as marble or granite. hilarious High Jinks—now soberly During the sixties, a few French architects called "Grove Play", I stood on a red- imported a taste for classic art, and for a time, within demure limits, their exotic taste pre- wood stump and dodged flying cham- vailed. The simple, flat, front wall of houses, pagne bottles ( empty ) aimed at my now grown to three honest stories high, they head because, in an impassioned har- embellished with dentil cornice, egg-and-dart angue I dared defend the cursed name moldings and chaste consoles; they added to the second story a little Greek portico with Corin- "Frisco". We had, I shouted, the only thian columns accurately designed, led up to by city in the world, almost, with a nick- MID-PACIFIC MAGAZINE, APRIL-JUNE, 1936 83
name. And a nickname, I maintained, is San Francisco. Of its psychic quality it the surest sign of popularity. San Fran- would be hard to write definitively. One ciscans are fools to object to the term. finds in San Francisco whatever one For surely no city in the United States looks for. I was young and ardent, I is so well known and so well beloved. found Romance. I found Adventure. I No city has so pronounced and so allur- found Bohemia. ing a character. Its name is known It is a trite expression, "Yes, but you wherever men tell tales of travel. should have been here when—" Every There are a thousand reasons for this new generation says it to its successor. individuality. In my Heart Line I cited The outward form does indeed change. many of the city's bizarre details. Here But the heart of youth does not change. are a few. It can always find its little Bohemian There are beaches in other places, but Paradise for a while in no matter what there is no other Carville-by-the-Sea. environment if it can find congenial This capricious suburb, founded upon spirits. Merely to meet any new person the shifting sands of The Great High- is Romance. I have been thrilled at a way, as San Francisco's ocean boule- tea in a Woman's club. I have felt my vard is named, is a little, freakish ham- heart go faster in a subway train to let, whose dwellings are built, for the Harlem. And so you may accept this most part, of old street cars. The archi- account ( quoted in part) from my novel tecture is of a new order, frivolously in- as perhaps a bit too youthfully cynical. consequent. According to the owner's Since Henri Murger's time, the definition of fancy, the cars are placed side by side Bohemia has been variously described, until or one atop the other, arranged every now what is commonly, called Bohemia is a way, in fact, except actually standing place where one is told, "This is Liberty Hall!" —and one is forced to drink beer or cocktails on end. From single cars, more or less whether one likes it or not, where not to like adapted for temporary occupancy, to spaghetti is a crime. Not such was the little co- whimsical residences, in which the car terie of artists, writers and amateurs, who dined together every night at Fulda's (Coppa's*) res- appears only in rudimentary fragments, taurant. a suppressed motif suggested by rows In San Francisco is recruited a perennial crop of windows or by sliding doors. The of such petty soldiers of fortune. Here art re- owners' taste and originality have had ceives scant recompense and as soon as one gets wanton range. Balconies jut from roofs, one's head above water and begins to be recog- nized existence is unendurable in a place where piazzas inclose sides and fronts, cars genius has no field for action. The artist, the are welded together, dovetailed, mor- writer or the musician must fly East to the tised, added as ells at right angles or great marketplace, New York, or to the great forcing-bed, Paris, to bloom or fade in competi- used terminally as kitchens. ( Add to tion with others in his field. this the things mentioned by Cayley, So the little artistic colonies shrink with de- such as the House of 1000 doors, etc. ). fections or increase with the accession of So much for the physical aspect of hitherto unknown aspirants. Many go and never return, A few come back to breathe again the stimulating air of California, to see with new Old Telegraph Hill, nor'west boundary of the * Joe Coppa's old "red paint" restaurant, long the roaring "Barbary Coast," seething sinfully rendezvous of artists, writers, many of whom became on the flat, left, between this 49er ship world famous. The great fire wiped it out, scattered lookout station and the busines district of to the four winds its coterie of bohemians, and though Coppa endeavored to hold on in several successive Son Francisco.—Photo from Turrill collec- locations the spell was broken and another landmark tion, courtesy Society of California Pioneers. of old San Francisco became a memory. ..111Pr''77'.77 • z6'.' • ' Clissli`r-dilt.1111111MIto-riKAW"WAWIREMIVrIg....7(-7-
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"A fig for care, and a fig for woe— Let the World slide, Let the World go."
Coppa's old "Red Point" restaurant was for years a rendezvous for bohemia on the frontier between San Francisco busi- ness district and Latin Quarter. Top, Joe Coppa welcoming his patrons, a choice portrait group of famous writers, artists, poets, several mentioned by fictitious names in the author's novel The Heart Line (text, opp. page) . Next, below, the famous host and his wife taking their ease e Laue before the night's work begins. Behind them (also in three views below) upon the walls of this, a bohemian city's great- est bohemian restaurant, were pictures, poems, other spontaneous expressions of exuberant genius limned in colored chalk, paint or crayon.—Photos from the collec- tion of George Mellen, Honolulu, one- time habitue, who designed and modeled in leather the cover of Coppa's guest book wherein stand names of many immortals.
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eyes its fresh, vivid color, its poetry, its ro- "Two fingers1" mance. To have gone East and to have re- The sound increased in volume. turned without abject failure is here Art's patent "Three fingers, four fingers, five!" of nobility. Of those who have been content to The crescendo rose. linger peaceably in the land of the lotus, some "Two hands! One foot! BOTH FEET!" are earls without coronets, but one and all share There was a hurricane of galloping fists and a passionate love of the soil. San Francisco has soles. Then, in diminuendo: become a fetish, a cult. Under its blue skies and "One foot! One hand! Four fingers, three, driving fogs is bred the most ardent loyalty in two, one! Halt!" these United States. San Francisco is most mag- The clatter grew softer and softer till at last nificently herself of any American city, and San all was still. Franciscans, in consequence, are themselves My novel, The Heart Line, was a with an abounding perfervid sincerity. Faults they have, lurid, pungent, staccato, but hypoc- story of three plots. One carried the risy is not of them. That vice is never neces- love interest, one the history of Fancy sary. Life is too candid. Gray, crowned Queen of Bohemia and The party that gathered nightly at "Fulda's" the third had to do with a precious lot was as remote from the world as if it had been ensconced on a desert island. It was uncon- of palmists and spiritualistic mediums. scious, unaffected, sufficient to itself. Men and I speak of this because San Francisco girls had come and gone since it had formed, at that epoch was notorious for the num- but the nucleal circle was always complete. ber of public seances being continually Death and desertions were unacknowledged— else the gloom would have shut down and the held. They were advertised by the red wine of the country would have tasted salt score in all the newspapers. with tears. There had been tragedies and come- Many of these seances I visited with dies played out in that group, there were names Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson, who spoken in whispers sometimes, there were silent toasts drunk; but if sentiment was there, it was shared my curiosity. It was not how- disguised as folly. Life still thrilled in song. ever the revelations from the Other Side Youth was not yet dead. Art was long and that attracted us. It was the human exigent. dramas enacted, the tales, the confes- It was their custom, after dinner, to adjourn to Champoreau's for cafe noir, served in the sions told by devout believers who ap- French style. In this large, bare saloon, with pealed to us as writers. It was from sanded floor, with its bar and billiard table, al- innumerable visits to these fakirs and most always deserted at this hour save by their the life stories of three different self- company, the genial patron smiled at their gaiety, as he prepared the long glasses of coffee. confessed charlatans that I derived the Tonight there were six at the round table. information used in my novel. Perhaps * * * nothing was more significant of the life Starr pounded with one fist upon the table, of the city than these popular assem- his thumb held stiffly upright: blies. People sought Adventure even "Dance, Thumbakin, dance!" he sang, and the chorus was repeated. Then beyond the grave. with the heel of his palm and his fingers out- I have not visited San Francisco since stretched, pounding merrily in time: 1913. There are sky scrapers now. The "Oh, dance ye merrymen, every one," Golden Gate, to my sorrow, is being then with his fist as before: "For Thumbakin, he can dance alone!" bridged, and so is the Bay. Almost all and, raising his fists high over his head, coming of my old friends have left, or gone. down with a bang: But the same fogs sweep in from the "For Pacific, the same climate is doing its Thumbakin he can dance alone!" work of emancipation from convention- They went through the song together, danc- ing Foreman, Middleman, and Littleman, ending alities, I suppose, and new generations in a pianissimo. Then over and over they sang of Native Sons of the Golden West, I that queer, ancient tune, till all knew it by heart. am sure, are carrying forward the ban- Benton pulled his manuscript from his pocket ner of Youth. and read it confidentially to Elsie, who smiled and smiled. Starr recited his last poem while San Francisco, you must know, has Doug al made humorous comments. Maxim one beloved superstition, one idol still. broke out into a French students' chanson, so I share the superstition and cherish the wildly improper that it took two men to sup- idol. So, with all loyal San Franciscans, press him. Mabel giggled hysterically and began a long, dull story which, despite interruptions, I trust and believe, so long as Lotta's ended so brilliantly and unexpectedly that every Fountain stands in the centre of that one wished he had listened. magic city, the spirit which has made Then Dougal called out: the place adored and which has sent "The cavalry charge! Ready! One finger!" They tapped in unison, not too fast, each so many of its citizens on their way to with a forefinger upon the table. fame and glory will not perish. Sole living link with our planet's lush and lavish Highway. Fossils or dust now these thousands youth these woodland monarchs proved invul- of centuries ore the sabre-tooth tiger, enormous nerable through untold ages to every destruc- elephant, brobdinagian buzzard (illustration p. tive force save one—pygmy man! Now his 146) and all other life contemporary with their hand has been stayed by patriotic Save the heyday for these were old, old trees when Redwoods League and for that you will give "coves where the cave men dwell" were first thanks as you travel California's Redwood illumined by " . . a sense of law and beauty". MID-PACIFIC MAGAZINE, APRIL-JUNE, 1936 87
California's Mountain Thrones
By LAWRENCE H. DAINGERFIELD- Meteorologist, U. S. Weather Bureau, Los Angeles, California
With illustrations from photographs by the author excepting those credited otherwise.
LEETINGLY the Mount Wilson Another day, when the tender jade- solar towers and great telescope green leaves of spring were trembling housing glistened in their alumi- in the mountain breeze, we climbed the F nium coats through the fracto- Arroyo Seco trail, cutting the side of stratus clouds of spring. There they the Sierra Madre back of Los Angeles, stood like phantom mosques and mina- to Switzer-land. As we skirted the can- rets, cleaving the speeding scud which, yon we glimpsed through the windows viewed from our vantage point on loftier of the trees the tiny stone chapel nest- San Gabriel Peak, billowed snow white ing on the granite wall across the across the range. mighty gorge. It must have been an We had climbed our grand old moun- inspired thought that prompted erection tain to find ourselves in brilliant sun- of this lovely mountain throne. If one light only a hundred feet or so above were to search through all the hidden the enshrouding vapor. recesses of this old earth, it would be In the far reaches beyond Mount difficult to find a more delightful and Wilson the snow-mountains, Old Baldy fitting place for Nature's throne than ( San Antonio Peak ), San Gorgonio, that where stands this peaceful little San Jacinto, arose like jeweled islands chapel dedicated to a profound appre- above the sea of billowy, enshrouding, ciation of Nature and to the very best of human attributes—simple, enduring sun-illumined clouds. To the right we —like unto the hills in age and caught fleetest glimpses of Mount Lowe summit across which surged the glisten- grandeur. Here, body and soul may ing vapor tide. Over the valley land, find peace and rest and a refreshment even to the coast line of the Pacific, that can come only through communion spread the vast canopy like a white sea. in the quietude of such a sequestered place. Each Sabbath day the little organ Beneath the shroud lay the great City of Los Angeles and her many encircling of this tiny temple of the hills sends cities from which we had so recently forth the music of Rock of Ages, Beulah Land, Trees, or some equally appro- ascended to San Gabriel's quiet, de- priate song finding its deep inspiration tached, and soul-refreshing throne, a sunlit island in a white cloud-sea. in Nature and the Creator. Beyond the ocean of vapor the Island In the late winter or early spring the of Santa Catalina beckoned from the California deserts blossom forth in all real sea, a sort of messenger from Ha- their alluring beauty. Thus we entered waii 2000 miles beyond yet none the the southern end of the San Joaquin less real to us even as the nearby hidden Valley by the Ridge Route and looked Cities of the Valley were real. down upon a vast sea of blue lupines, Standing there on the mountain- white primroses, salmon-red poppies, island in all that detached quietude, the and myriad wild flowers lending their illusion came to me of other days when transient beauty and color to the over- I had stood on the summit of Konahua- lying perfumed air. The glorious blend- nui above the trade-wind-swept clouds, ing of seemingly impossible shades into knowing that beneath the filmy vapor a sublime color symphony fills one with lay Honolulu and just beyond spread reverence for Nature's divine art. the blue and purple sea. In the Antelope Valley, an arm of the great Mojave Desert a few miles west * The author was in charge of the U. S. Weather of Lancaster, we drove beneath a mon- Bureau, for Hawaii, at Honolulu from 1918 to 1922. ster joshua tree, the yucca palm of the Great Western Divide, California High arid Southwest. This lonely giant, a Sierra,viewed from Park Ridge near Point beacon of that high plain, stands aloof of View in General Grant National Park. from thousands of its kind whose harsh verdure defies the desert's heat and drought. a vivid gash, Furnace Creek Inn stands Perhaps the weirdest "throne" at in a tiny, green oasis and, a little way which we have found sanctuary in all down the Valley, a large oasis marks California is that strange, unearthly Furnace Creek Ranch where the tem- region known as the Death Valley, a perature rose to 134 degrees in the deceptive, cruel, treacherous place in its shade in September, 1913—the highest original, unconquered state, lying be- known record for the Western hemis- low sea level between the Panamint and phere. Grapevine-Funeral mountains. From Vivid coloration of the canyons cut- Dante's View, a mile-high point, we ting the giant walls of Death Valley is looked into Death Valley depths, paint- extravagant, ranging through red and ed by the morning sun. Deceptive and gold and purple to purest white. Weird smooth the vast basin gleamed and shapes and strange echoes inhabit these glimmered, a ghost of what was once labyrinthine canyons. Out on the jagged an inland sea, long since exposing its salt-filled floor of the old, dead sea— dry, saline bed in chaotic confusion, delightful in winter, pitiless in summer well expressed as the Devil's Golf —supreme quiet reigns. Little known to Course. the general public, Death Valley is a Beneath us, five thousand feet and Nature Throne destined to be a lure more in the Valley, glistened a tiny for myriads of people when the fame of jewel known as Bad Water, poisonous, its weird beauty spreads abroad. nearly 300 feet below sea-level, a liquid Nearby Los Angeles a Throne is remnant of the ancient sea. Beyond the found amid Vasquez Rocks beyond Valley rose the Panamints, with Tele- Saugus, near Mint Canyon, tributary to scope Peak standing majestically above Solidad Canyon famed for early gold all. Far beyond, clad in a snow-mantle, discoveries. Here in fanciful, grotesque Mount Whitney, loftiest peak in the shapes, the rock formations are tilted United States ( 14,496 feet ), topped the at curious angles, simulating sleeping high Sierra Nevada. In the Valley, monsters silhouetted against the east- where Furnace Creek cuts the rim like ward desert sky. It was here in this MID-PACIFIC MAGAZINE, APRIL-JUNE, 1936 89 sandstone chaos that a picturesque of white spray, dashing a thousand feet bandit* and his companions of another or more into the depths of Marble Can- generation are alleged to have estab- yon, singing an eternal anthem to rocks lished their secret rendezvous whence and trees, the vagrant breeze, the azure to swoop down upon luckless wayfarers skies and on to its home in purple sea. and their flocks or herds. In the un- Across the way the cumuli foamed up- earthly eerieness of the place one's ward from the mountains to the sky. fancy might easily conjure up the wild A little later we wandered amid the spirits of these fearsome freebooters giant trees of Sequoia National Park, long since gone down the final trail trod ponderous, red-brown monsters, so by others of their kind. Today a strange vast that the human eye fails to grasp quietude haunts this place of jumbled their stature, so ancient that history is rocks, broken betimes by curious visitors lost in the labyrinth of time since they or more rarely by cinema pilgrims from were seedlings. Greatest of all stood the world of Make Believe. the General Sherman in towering ma- Northward in late May, with the jesty, 274 feet high, 37 feet in its great- mountain highways only recently cleared est diameter, symbol of life that borders of their mantle of winter snow, we en- on the eternal. Thousands of these tered the sublime realm of the Sequoia regal trees pierce the sky—arboreal gigantea, land of the giant trees. Along pride of the Sierra. Guarded by the the motor trail where the foamy, wild ancient monarch, delightful in their syl- Kaweah swirled and rushed, we had van glory and freshness were the flow- passed a multiude of wild buckeye trees, er-filled, mountain meadows. Across one prodigal in their perfumed canopies of of these meadows a fallen giant lay purple plumes. A side trip to Marble where old age ended its pride and Canyon revealed tiny, sun-kissed val- grandeur on a day lost in dim shadows leys, made glorious by the dogwood of the remote past. Beyond the mea- empire, wistfully lovely in their recently dow, where living giants pointed mas- opened glossy-white bracts. Here and sive spires to the sky, another monarch there on scarred hillsides by some an- lay uprooted. Within this tree's great cient, broken trees, rare, crimson-colored hollow core the pioneer, Hale Tharp, snow plants peeped through the loam in discoverer of the Giant Forest in 1858, battalions, flowering miracles, where snow had lain but yesterday. Far out on a marble promontory, where our Vasquez Rocks near Mint Canyon Road a few foot trail wandered, we looked into the miles north of Saugus. Primordial evidence of hazy depths of a mighty canyon. Across a riotous geologic spree when the Pacific Coast was readjusted, their romantic lure today is the way the wild falls leaped, ribbons connected with the picturesque bandit Tiburcio Vasquez finally betrayed, shot, wounded, cap- Tiburcio Vasquez—see book Los Angeles, City of tured at an adobe house near the mouth of Dreams, by Harry Carr; D. Appleton—Century Co., 1935. Laurel Canyon, May 1874, hanged at San Jose. 90 MID-PACIFIC MAGAZINE, APRIL-JUNE, 1936 once made his home named the "Noble ramas of sawtooth mountains of the Den" by John Muir, who stayed there Great Western Divide, with their snow- with Tharp for several days in 1875, filled canyons. The sweet odor of young collecting material for his book, Our verdure burgeoning in springtime fresh- National Parks. ness from alpine slopes just freed from Where water leaps in wild abandon, snow, and the joyous songs of birds in changing from crystal to snowy foam, the brilliant sunlight accompanied by we climbed the precipitous Tokopah the melody of leaping waterfalls, lent a Valley, carved by ancient glaciers to glorious joy to the wild, free life along form a canyon with far-reaching, rocky the mountain trail. As we descended walls, talus and moraine in wild con- into Kaweah Valley we glimpsed fusion; delightful little flowering mea- through lacy needles the glacier-polish- dows, finally terminating in its upper ed surface of vast Sugarbowl Dome sil- reaches in a vast precipice between houetted against a burnished sky. In towering rock-ribbed sides. Here the the rock-lined gorge and the canyon water leaps in dazzling cascades from a depths foamed the snow waters of the lofty bench, fresh from snow-clad dizzy Kaweah cascading to the sea, singing heights. the glorious anthem of untrammeled Another never-to-be-forgotten 20- freedom. mile walk over a part of the high Sierra The mountain and canyon vistas from trail led us along the rugged, unspoiled, Park Ridge along the east side of Gen- high rim of the splendid Kaweah eral Grant National Park, from Point River, starting at Crescent Meadow, of View ( 7730 feet), we found even fording the white waters of upper Pan- more sublime than any of Nature's ther and Merten creeks and skirting mountain thrones that had gone before. Seven-mile Hill, glimpsing through Now the snow-clad high Sierra Nevada myriad conifer windows endless pano- and the castellated Great Western Divide, sharply glistening white sen- tinels, raised their spires to the purple sky. Far down in the canyon sparkled snow-fed, trout-filled lakes; the haunt- ing depths of Kings River Canyon ap- peared, and in the far western distance. haze-filled San Joaquin Valley faded into a mystery of the unknown. Down in the realm of the great trees we stopped beneath the towering Gen- eral Grant, for which the park is named. Its diameter is even somewhat greater than that of the General Sherman, al- though in general appearance slightly less gigantic. Most perfect of all the arboreal spires we found to be the California Tree, close by the General Grant, its splendid red-brown symmetry thrust mightily to blend with the cobalt sky. When we first visited these two sanc- tuaries of the giant sequoias in May, snowfilled trails prevented ascent of the high mountains. In July we returned to Sequoia National Park, rode "shanks
Lone "Joshua" tree in the desert near Lan- caster, Antelope Valley, California. These rough and tough members of the cactus tribe seem neither "palm" as sometims called, nor cactus nor tree but grotestque survivors of an ancient age of weird vegetation. MID-PACIFIC MAGAZINE, APRIL-JUNE, 1935 91
mare" over twenty miles of mountain feet above sea level, virtually the same trails and stood at the summit of Alta as that of Crater Lake, Oregon, and Peak, 11,216 feet above the sea. Here equally as gloriously iridescent, vividly the mountain arena spread about us and reflecting the whimsies of sky colors and to the far horizon, a colossal labyrinth shadows, shading through green and of stone and snow and fracturing can- blue and violet, sentient with lustrous yons, dizzy depths and the stupendous sunlight. heights of Whitney, Muir, Russell, and Tahoe at its greatest depth measures LeConte, haze-filled gorges with their 1645 feet, only slightly less than Joa- churning streams—mystical, a dream quin Miller's "Sea of Silence," or Crater divine—and like gems set at the moun- Lake, which reaches the profound depth tain's base glistened Pear and Emerald of 2000 feet. Pine and fir-clad moun- lakes in Circean allurement. Beside the tains border Tahoe, forming a frame of trail appeared dwarfed, misshapen juni- splendor, sky-searching, gorgeous sen- pers marking timberline, the border be- tinels topped by Mount Tallac, throne yond which only pigmy life survived. of the god of rain, approaching in We had passed from the land of giants stature Haleakala, ( House of the Sun) to the realm of the dwarfs in the world on Maui Island, in Hawaii. of trees. Higher still we passed the In the midst of Tahoe's Emerald Bay, frontier of vegetation into the barren, a tree-clothed islet rises from the crystal rocky empire of the high sierra. water, fancifully reminding one of Ten- A few weeks later, on a motor pil- nyson's Lady of the Lake and also, of grimage which carried us to the Colum- the Phantom Ship of Crater Lake. bia River, Mount Rainier ( Washing- In northern California we visited ton ) and Crater Lake ( Oregon) Na- tional Parks, we drove through the Red- wood Empire, a vast realm of the Sequoia Sempervirens. Near Dyerville we saw that monarch of known Ameri- can trees—possibly of all trees on earth —the Founders Tree, 364 feet in height, its regal plume waving in the vivid sun- light high above the heads of its giant subjects. The afternoon sun cast fan- like sheens of light through silent re- cesses of the woodland canopy, the glorious solitude adding immeasurably to the grandeur of this unspoiled empire bought out of commercial bondage by the Save-the-Redwoods League for posterity and the glory of America. One of the gems of our wanderings amid the California Mountain Thrones proved to be Lake Tahoe. Fed by the snow streams of encircling mountains, here nestles in an ancient crater a vast, deep, slender body of water. Lynn Rogers has called Tahoe "the liquid jewel of California—the Koh-i-nor of mountain lakes." The surface is 6225
Nowhere else in all the world is there a bloom comparable, for size, beauty and fragrance combined, with this creamy plume thrusting by thousands from as many bristling bases of green bayonets. It is an annual called locally "Span- ish Bayonet," "Mescal" and "yucca." Cattle relish the budding stalk, make pin-cushions of their noses to get it.—Nielen photo. Lassen Volcanic National Park, a mountain throne perhaps more Hawai- ian in characteristics than any bit of the Golden State—Hawaiian because Pele makes occasional sojourns in this weird and curious realm. Mt. Lassen had been quiescent for about two hundred years when, suddenly, in 1914, a series of relatively small eruptions began, reach- ing great violence in 1915. We arrived at Manzanita Lodge, in the northwest sector of the spectral realm of Pele, on a showery afternoon; cloud-racks shut in the vast Peak and we little guessed the wild grandeur of the strange land. The entrance led us beside the still waters of a lily-pad lake, circumscribed by young conifers casting vivid reflec- tions. Our first reconnaissance beyond Manzanita Lodge carried us through that extremely complicated lava area. known as Chaos Jumbles to the left and Chaos Crags to the right, finally out to that picturesque reminder of past erup- tions, the Devastated Area. On the edge of the Wild Zone we drove along- side a "volcanic bomb," of many tons weight, shot from Mount Lassen dur- ing some stupendous eruption, a silent Mt. Lassen Volcano with clouds, not smoke, reminder of Pele's might similar to that overhead and, foreground, a great "bomb" manifested at Halemaumau ( fire pit of hurled from its crater. Below, a close-up of the Hawaii's Kilauea ) in 1790 with bom- bomb whose size and weight can be estimated with fair accuracy by comparison with the bardment of the nearby lava plain and motorcar alongside. Fancy a projectile of that destruction of an army of Hawaiian bulk hurtling through miles of air! warriors advancing against the forces of Kamehameha the Great. MID-PACIFIC MAGAZINE, APRIL-JUNE, 1936 93
After photographing the automobile remnant. It is said that if Mill Creek beside the vast bomb ( for proper per- had not broken through and eroded spective) we turned about and snapped away the south rim that a lake surpass- the projectile in the foreground with ing in grandeur the Crater Lake of to- Mount Lassen in the distance, capped day might now fill the vast caldera with by cumuli casting over the ancient crater Diamond Peak in its midst as another an illusion of actual eruption. Wizard Island. The spell of the old mountain was Now we stood on the rim of Lassen upon me, reaching an irresistible stage Crater, Shadow Lake gleaming from the in the early hours of the next day when shoulder of White Mountain, Lake the still surface of Mazanita Lake Helen at the base of our mountain, a imaged Chaos Crags, and Mount Las- beautiful blue glimmer-glass. In the far sen rising through to the perfect morn- southeast, Lake Almanor, vast and ing sky in the distance. The call had to lovely, glowed in the early afternoon be obeyed. sun. We explored the frozen crater Thus it was that we drove around floor, a fantastic realm of solitude and past Hat Creek Lake, a tiny, azure body relics of the eruption of two decades of still water trapped by the 1915 lava ago. Solfataras, steam cracks, fuma- flow; on past lovely Summit Lake, roles contributed their unearthly activi- thence beyond White Mountain with ties. Patches of snow and catchments Shadow Lake nestling on its shoulder, of snow-water dotted the crater sides to the foot trail on the far side of the and floor. The whole area proved to be intriguing cone. As we climbed the trail a region of impossible, magmatic confu- to the alpine zone of Mount Lassen sion, dotted with giant blocks of lava. ( 10,453 feet ), a constantly widening Standing in that vast solitude, filled horizon brought into relief the massive with hidden evidences of Pele's power, ruggedness of the fantastic terrain we dreamed of other days when we formed by the wrath of Pele. August, stood on other crater rims and explored yet snow fields covered protected slopes the caldera depths in Hawaii. Mighty of the fervent-hearted mountain. At the Haleakala, treacherous Hualalai, vast summit, well above the last lingering Mauna Loa, snow-capped Mauna Kea, remnants of western black hemlock and fervent Kilauea, all arose from the far clusters of white-bark pine, near tim- southwestern horizon, passing in mental berline, we beheld one of earth's most review—glorious phantasies of the un- magnificent panoramas. leashed power of Pele. From the base of great Mount We might continue the story of Cali- Shasta, plainly visible on a perfect day, fornia's mountain thrones visited and the eye sweeps a vast horizon for 200 revered, through many, many pages-- miles far down the Sacramento Valley Yosemite, the Mother Lode country, So- to the southwestward, easily placing nora, Angel's Camp ( made famous by our vantage point at Lassen's summit in Mark Twain in his story of the Jumping the list of California's most sublime Frog ), the Great Basin, Mt. Tamalpais mountain thrones. Even into southern and Muir Woods near San Francisco, Oregon to the region of Crater Lake and near Los Angeles the slopes of San and to the east, the shadowy Nevada Antonio Peak ( Old Baldy ), San Jacinto, mountains greeted our vision. In the and the Palomar country; Travertine nearer foreground as we slowly turned Rock near the edge of the Salton Sea; about on that high, lonely eminence, we palm-filled canyons and pine-filled beheld Chaos Crags and, to the east, mountain gorges; alpine lakes and dash- the White Mountains. To the west, ing cascades in the long clefts of the southwest, and south, loomed the en- high sierra--but let those described in circling giants—Loomis Peak, Eagle meager detail suffice to send greetings Peak, Mount Diller, Brokeoff Mountain of aloha to Pan-Pacific Union members and Black Butte, forming the ancient from a kamaaina* member wandering rim of a master crater of which old over the foothills and high places of Brokeoff stands as the far wall and California. Mount Lassen, on which we stood, per- sists as the youngest and most active * Hawaiian for old-timer.