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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (July 6, 1913)
8 THE" SUNDAY OREGONIAN, PORT! AND, JULY 6. 1913. UNIVERSITY OF OREGON RICH IN ITS TRADITIONS AND ASSOCIATIONS Campus Dotted With Memorials Put Up by Outgoing Classes Earliest Dates From 1879, When Small Laurel Bush, Now Great Tree, Was Planted "Condon Oaks" Are Most Famous Reminders of Former Classes. (: ft .v rV,j . -i 7" T !& Jii. UNIVERSITY OF OREGON, Eugene, July 5. (Special.) Though insti tutions of greater size and pre tensions in the United States may be counted by the dozens, few of them, however venerable their history, are richer in tradition and association than the University of Oregon. About the campus at Eugene, with Its half-dozen quaint buildings, are clus tered memories of 37 classes which have played their part in the dress-rehearsal of college and passed on to the real stage of life. Many of these classes live only in the tales which are transmitted, from generation to generation of students, or in the fame of some of their successful members, but others left tangible and perma nent memorials to counteract the an nihilating effects of time on past events. When the graduating class of the present year dedicated a concrete foun tain midway between Ueady Hall and the Library building for this purpose, It departed from the precedent set by " most of its predecessors. Generally the memorial has taken the form of a tree bearing the class numerals, a shaft, tablet or some other convention al type of monument. Class of 7S Plants Tree. So far as is known, the first class to adopt the idea of presenting a mem orial to the university was that of 1878, which numbers in its ranks many illus trious graduates, including Judge Rob. ert S. Bean, the present president of the board of regents. The memorial is an English laurel, planted just north of Deady Hall. Laurel, usually re garded as a shrub, has here attained the proportions of a tall tree, which hides the old building from view when approached from the north. A big California redwood stands east of Villard Hall as a monument to the class of 1880, by Judge E. O. Potter, now a prominent- citizen of Eugene. The memorial of the class of 1883 Is an elm, which was sent from the site of Washington's tomb - at Mount 11, v ' ' " H 4 !. ,'.; - W ' " , - V - k y & - -r-T-ir -v.r-.-r Vernon by Senator Slater, the father of Judge W. T. Slater, a member of the class and one of Oregon's most loyal alumni. The last normal class to graduate from the University planted an arbor west of Villard Hall, which has now become a, dense mass of Ivy. One of the most pathetic incidents connected with the giving of a class memorial Is that which will always be associated in the minds of the stu dents with the class tree of 1891. A few years after the first tree had been planted it withered and died, and the young girl graduate who had planted it with her own hands lived .only a short time after. The grieving mother determined to replace the tree, and, with the assistance of Dr. John Straub, dean .of the college of liberal arts, she set out another, which still stands southeast of Villard Hall3 as a me morial to the class which graduated 22 years ago and to one of Its members who no longer answers to the roll. Dr. Straub Is College Authority. Dr. Straub, who Is responsible for the details of this Incident, Is the local authority on all matters of campus history. Coming to the university 36 years ago, his long term of active ser vice has encompassed all but the first few months of the life of the university. A redwood standing south of Deady Hall and a large black walnut near the carriage entrance to the campus perpetuate the memory of the classes of 1892 and 1894, respectively. The class of 1893 was the first to break the custom of planting or ded icating trees' as memorials. A pictur esque column, of rough basalt stands in the northeast corner of the campus as the gift of this class to future gen erations. The class of 1894, as has already been mentioned, returned to the cus tomary tree, and the classes of 1895 and 1898 followed with two lindens. The class of the next year, 1897, instead of planting a tree of Its own, selected a magnificent oak standing near the column of 1893 and appropriated It as their memorial. It still bears the tab let with the class numerals, inclosing the class roll and records placed with in the tree at the time of its dedica tion. This- tree, and a neighboring one ded r i C?wafo?? erf &s icated by the class of 1900, are known as the "Condon Oak3," because they were cared for for many years by Dr. Thomas Condon, the eminent Oregon geologist and former member of the university faculty, who also collected the geologic specimens now compris ing the Condon museum. The second Condon oak of 1900 was the last ' tree planted or dedicated as a memorial on the campus, the class of 1898 having set out a myrtle which Is still alive and thriving. From this time the classes became large and the memorials, more diversified and elab orate. The class of 1901 purchased a marble tablet in memory of a beloved instruc tor. Professor S. E. McClure, who had died a few months previous to Its graduation. The tablet Is imbedded in the wall of McClure Hall, also named after the Instructor and finished about the same time. For a few years after this the custom of leaving memorials was abandoned by the graduating classes, but it was revived in 1910. The class of this year built a concrete bench near a winding path midway between Deady and Mc Clure halls. The memorial has ever since been known as the "Senior bench," and It is an unwritten law of the campus that no student may sit upon it until he has attained fourth- year standing. One of the most handsome and un lque memorials left by any class is the offering of last year's graduates. It is a replica of the Oregon seal In brass, imbedded in the cement sidewalk at the north entrance to Villard Hall. Sundial Has Harvard Moss. Another memorial, though not of i class year is the Mays sundial, pre sented by Franklin P. Mays, of Port land, in memory of his son who at tended the university before his death. The dial, xnountedson a handsome ped estal of rough-hewn stone, stands on the south campus just west of the President's house. Professor A. A. Berle of Harvard University, who was member of the Summer school faculty the past Summer, has sent to Eugene a clipping from the ivy on Memorial Hall, Harvard, to grow against tnis stone, The Memorial Hall Ivy was itself a clip ping . from- ivy. grown at Cambridge University, England, which is almost immemorial in its antiquity. The fountain presented by the class of 1913 was another original depart ure from the established order of me morials. To continue the precedent of bestowing: ifts which shall be dis tinctive, and at the same time useful. will seriously tax the ingenuity of fu ture classes. However, the plan -of merely leaving a loan fund for the use of needy students has already been adopted by one or two classes, notably that of 1911, and will no doubt find favor should the campus ever become crowded with memorials. Exposition Plans 'Are Progressing San Diego Fair Finds Finances Btrf nsrent ' Bohemiaalam Given Blow by Exposure of Clubman aa Thief Graduates' Gowns Cost 2.32 Each. SAN all AN FRANCISCO, July B. (Special.) The Exposition is emerging from all Its difficulties and is declared to be In satisfactory shape. The foun dation committee was advised by Pres ident Moore this week that the build ings would practically be all complet ed nine months before ' the time for opening the gates. All. the states are falling into line and the foreign coun tries of any pretension. excepting England and Germany, have signified their intention of having exhibits. The president seemed confident that Eng land and Germany would be properly represented, since the Federal Govern ment had made an appropriation for a National exhibit. Finances are In excellent shape. Over $1,000,000, the proceeds of the third call on the subscribers, in on hand and ttie work has been so arranged that it will proceed from now on without hitch or danger of strikes or other troubles of the kind, which caused so much embarrassment at Chicago and St, Louis. The question of a building for coun ty exhibits Is settled. The cost is guar anteed by the space already subscribed and the demand for space is clamorous. The chief problem which faces the directors at present Is handling dis tlnguished visitors. Of late it has be come difficult to get prominent citi zens to attend banquets . and recep tions. President Moore showed how essential are these affairs to the suc cess of the Exposition and urged upon the committee the necessity for an or ganization to take care of visitors. . The San Diego Exposition has bumped up hard against financial stringency, according to a statement issued recently. The Exposition is $38,000 in debt and has $284.71 cash on hand. Of the total subscription of $1, 137,992, there is $617,531 yet to be col lected. The Exposition directors can only pay the expenses now by the len iency of the banks. Conditions In Mexico have put a damper on the enterprise and the lack of population in the immediate vicin ity of San Diego makes the outlook still more discouraging. The overhead expenses when the gate opens is fig ured at $15,000 a day. The daily at tendance will scarcely rufi above 8000, so the burden of carrying the Exposi tion will fall upon the concessionaires. If Los Los Angeles doesn't help out with enthusiasm, the San Diego show will be, a financial failure. Professional Bohemianisro, was eiven a hard jolt with the exposure of Allan Dunn, who worked the clubs until he was discovered to be little more than pretender. The discovery was that Dunn, who Is one of San Francisco's best-known clubmen and writers, while visiting at the home of friends, had taken some articles of Jewelry and pawned them. His excuse was that he needed the monev and didn't lennw wnere to turn. Among the friends Dunn was re garded as a talented writer, but the reading public was a stranger to his writings. He was a good story-teller and had a knack of getting off witti cisms that for a time gave him quite a vogue. Wearing dresses designed and made by themselves, with an average cost of $2.32, 37 seniors of the Durrant grammar school were graduated this week. Not only the dresses, which were of different designs, but also the lace with which they were trimmed, was made by the girls in the domestic science department. 'One of the girls wore a dress representing an outlay of $1.50. The gowns were made of white poplin, each of a different design. Some were elaborately trimmed with lace and embroidery. The girls, instead of pur chasing patterns, made their own pat terns under the direction of their teachers. The acme of realism in moving: clo tures will be approached next week when George Sonta, of Sontag and iivans fame, who served 18 years of his life sentence in Folsom, before being paroled, four years ago, goes into tne bierra Mountains with all the sur vivors of the dramatic Sontag-Evans chapter of California outlawry to act out before a moving picture camera the tragic battle of Fort Defiance, that cost his brother's life, punctured him with six bullets and left Evans a prisoner in the hands of the Sheriff's posse. Where blank cartridges will now be used to bark at the grizzled men with missing arms and legs, 20 years ago lead snapped away those missing limbs. borne there are who will not be there next week and substitutes will act out the scene where they fell victims before the outlaw's bullets. The pictures will be staged in the actual locality of the Sontag-Evans battles. The railroad companies and the express companies which offered $15,000 for the capture of George Sontag and his associates 20 years back will co-operate with him in his pro duction of the four-reel story of the tragedy. v Since his release, Sontag has been lecturing throughout the United States and Canada on "The Folly of a Life of Crime," Illustrating with the story of his own life the truth that crime doesn't pay. It is Sontags purpose now to use the moving pictures t II lust rate his story. Among the characters who will take part are Pete Bigelow, a San Francisco, reporter who penetrated Fort De fiance while Evans and Sontag were besieged and brought out a great news. paper story. There will be deputy sheriffs in the picture who were members of the posse that killed Sontag s brotner ana cap tured Evans. In the past week more than 200 women have applied to Charles Skelly, secretary of the Police Commission, for positions as police women. Three are to be appointed. By telephone, by letter and in per son, the 200 women have made their applications. The charter says that members of the police force must enter between 21 and 35 years of age; that they must be 6 feet 9 Inches In height and must weigh 150 pounds. They must be of good character. Whether, or not these rules will be observed in the appointment of police women, no one seems to know. The supervisors have given their sanction to the appointment of three and they have appropriated $1200 a year to pay each. of them. The three new police women will be under direct orders of the Chief of Police. It la ald . - -. PORTLAND'S RIVER LIFE IS SHIFTIN& SCENE OF MANY AND VARIED CHARMS Dignity and Trouble Are Left at Dock and Trip Up Willamette Reveals Many Joys of Living Exemplified in the "Swimmin' Hole," "Honeymoon Row," Picknickers' Haven, and even in the Canoeists and Rowers. BY LOUISE BOULAN.- K LL aboard for a trip up the Wil lamette. Leave your dignity and troubles at the landing, only no guarantee is furnished that they will be there on your return.. All aboard! We're off! The Willamette is the beautiful. glistening blue ribbon with which Nature has designated our city as a winner. Sparkling with a million points of light it lies before us, still triumphantly wet, in spite of having flowed through Linn, Benton and Yam hill Counties. Its broad shining sur face on Sundays accommodates more different specimens of happy humanity than can be found anywhere outside of a grammar school league champion ship ball game. In front of us is a dazzling white river steamer, puffing softly along with its long train of graceful swells and snowy pennant of smoke. It Is en route to Oregon City, Portland's con venient substitute for Reno. On its crowded decks are shockingly uncon ventional people, who wave brazenly at other river travelers .without even the formality of an introduction. Smaller craft cuddle up close in Its wake riding the waves with all the old forgotten joy of a child on Its first rocking horse. At our right is a young man minus coat, collar and tie, who is apparently a survival of the old Roman galley slave. His feet are firmly fastened to the bottom of the boat, his seat shifts restlessly back and forth with every movement, the perspiration is gushing from every pore like a drinking foun tain, and- his breath is coming and go ing like the audience of a moving pic ture show. But something under a green parasol in the stern smiles at him and he is cheerfully willing to continue until he dissolves away in a pool of perspiration. He is a rower. Difference Amounts to 30. Behind him. is a 'solitary young fel low wearing a blue banded jersey and an air of-well, just air. He is appar ently performing the near-biblical feat of sitting on the water. His arms bulge' with muscle like a stocking at 6 A. M., December 25, and he is strenu ously occupied in keeping both himself and his eyes In something called a boat or shell, but which is really only a polished splinter discernible at mo ments when the youth exhales. He is an oarsman. The difference between a rower and an oarsman is about $30 worth of clothes. That smell that just passed us is Neptune's automobile the motor boat. The motor boat and the launch are close relatives but there Is as much com munity of interest between the two as between a thoroughbred race horse and the comfortable nag that takes pa and ma and the kids to church on Sunday evening. Both, however, adopt the autocratic air of capital toward labor when they pass perspiring rowers, find ing it Just the proper moment to loll comfortably back with feet up in the attitude of graceful ease to be wit nessed nowhere else outside of a barber shop. They adopt this idle rich air in order to scare-you out of noticing the other kind of air that envelops all slaves of the gasoline motor. Whole vocabularies have been spread all over the motor boat question and yet it never has been entirely covered, and never will be, mainly because every thing a. person can say about a motor boat Is but a drop In the bucket to what he would like to say. Motor boats always go by contraries. When the owner becomes accustomed to treating them accordingly, they sud. denly turn reasonable, just to be con trary. They are like the angel child immaculately arrayed for visitors and coached to sweet obedience who -goes out and rolls In the dirt like a healthy colt and then comes In to stick his fingers to his nose at the company. They are creatures of temperament, like Pavlowa or Maud, who balk just when the curtain Is ready to go up on the scene of action. The motor boat question Is younger than woman (deli cate grounds I'm on!) by hundreds and hundreds of centuries, but already more cusa words have been pronounced on the motor boat question than the woman question on a police motorcycle can catch up with for another century. Canoe Most Popular. All about and around us is the canoe. the most popular of all Tlver craft, ir responsibly gay, impertinently courag eous, refusing to justify the woeful forebodings of Its declalmers. It Is a light, graceful premiere ballet as it dances daintily and coquettishly over the waves. It has the intrepidity of an Antarctic explorer as it plunges boldly Into places where angels might nave to tread water. It Is a fully equipped school in itself for studying the law of balance. In order to preserve the proper equilibrium canoeists always part their hair in the middle. Sidelong glances and side remarks are strictly taboo, while a well-balanced mind Is recognized In this place for its true worth. Changes in position or seats are not advisable, but may be accomplished by anyone familiar with the antics necessary for dressing in a lower berth. Any canoeist who follows these few simple rules will get along swimming ly, or rather will not get along swim mingly. Great white-winged sailboats glide In glorious swoops from bank to bank "on a tack" or dash sweeplngly along up the river with the lightness and aloofness of birds. But when the wind dies down, it's like the morning after the night before. Sadly they creep along in the tow of good - natured launches with the humility of cap tives of old In a triumphal entry to Rome. Tales that owners of sailboats tell of being becalmed are fully as lurid as the yarn of the Ancient Mar iner, in fact they make the story of the old boy by comparison sound like a tender lullaby. "Swimmin Hole" Reached. As we approach the emerald-studded upper part of the river, cries and splashes and shrill shrieks greet our ears. The swimming resorts are filled to overflowing with lithe unrecogniza ble figures that Jump airily upon springboards and separate air and water in distinct sections as they make clean-cut dives. Shouting, yelling forms shoot swiftly down the chutes and emerge dripping and spluttering to do it over again. Rolling, tossing logs and half -submerged rafts form resting places for supjtae mermaids and mermen who slide in and out of the water like seals. The pretty girl in satin suit and silk hose who is always learning how to swim is there in fine shape, as is also the shivering swain who directs her movements and as sures her that all she n-n-needs Is c-c-confldence. Further up the river on banks pru dently picked out with an eye to con cealing shrubbery we find a less con ventional type of swimmer. Little brown-skinned boys attired like the natives of darkest Africa, more or less are enjoying all the bliss of the old swimming pool where dog fashion Is the elementary step, and where a bonfire serves the purpose of a Turk ish towel. Wa pass Ross Island, picturesque queen of all Willamette Islands and the native soil of almost every made-ln-Oregon mosquito. Patriotism im pels every wandering mosquito to re turn like a prodigal son to the old homestead, on. Sundays, .where he feasts I 1 11 Vr v it v . v : V " it I A l I I u K $ K- a 1 1 -g- fan i- m I I v. aim - saWa on Summer flirtations, to speak in the abstract. All the world loves a lover, and so does every conscientious Ro&s Island mosquito, for love is . too blind to note his approach. An agile, energetic mosquito properly imbued with modern ideas on efficiency ar ranges his time so that on week days he has a bald head diet and on Sundays a love feast. We must not overlook a quaint resi dence, lurking among the trees and ingeniously constructed from a pack ing case, a few square feet of sail, a dozen laths and a box of carpet tacks. The whole Is a structure of such airy fragility that some of our modern con tractors are using It as a model when erecting their "cozy little bungalows." An uncounted number of towheads tumble around this residence and are the innocent cause dt its name the Infant Incubator. Picnickers Are Sighted. Under the high, stately trees we catch glimpses of the annual crop of pic nickers, ardent wooers of the sand wich and pickle. And in other shel tered nooks higher up perch patient Izaak Waltons, pipe in mouth, rod in hand, and brain busy concocting tales of tho fish that got away. The same Impulse that prompts little men to smoke the longest cigars also forces fishermen of Napoleonic build to flaunt rods the length of a skyscraper gir der. The long line of white specks ahead is Honeymoon Row a squadron of houseboats, which provides a rose-colored existence for a fair percentage of D. Cupid's victims. Houseboats are an nually gaining in popularity because in one fell swoop they solve the prob lems of "The Simple Life," "The High Cost of Living" and "How Successfully to Dodge Street Improvements." They are undeniably attractive, with their clean white paint, gay flower boxes and graceful hanging baskets. The houseboat is a scow that has gone East to finishing school; it is' the pocket-size edition of the owner's ideal home; it is apartment-house compact ness and convenience without the jani tor coming up at 10 o'clock to put the soft pedal on your old college crowd; it is that model place where disinte grating lawnmowers, plebeian dande lions, crumbling cellars and broken fences are unknown worries. Bachelor houseboats are - frequent, and proclaim the emancipation of the stronger sex from boarding-house tyranny. One is surprised at the im maculate order in which the gay but buttonless bachelor keeps his domain at least the bachelors who allow their premises to be inspected. In some of these a grain of dust looks lonesome, while a burnt match would go out and drown itself for lack of company. As we idle along ell about Is the gay. : ?; -www 3 informal, effervescent river life. River life is champagne in which the bubbles never cease to bubble. It Is the spirit I of eternal youth which Ponce do Leon thought he could discover in a mere fountain. It is the essence of Informal ity and good-fellowship which city folk need to offset the deadening in difference they manifest in most public rjlaces. The fellow that you favor in the streetcar with the blank, unseeing stare peculiar to inhabitants of street cars, a sort of "don't know you, don't want to know you" look is the same chap whom you greet on the river with so wide a. srrin as to look almost Idiotic. The second time you meet him on the river you will be borrowing one of his lanterns to avoid the vigi lance of the harbor patrol. By the third time you will know how much he paid for his launch, why he gave un his ambition to become a politician. and the color of his best girl's eyes. To cement vour friendship you prom ise to be best man when it comes off in June, and he gives up smoking Lx- ports for Van Dycks, and what more is possible! Sunset Is Glorious. We allow ourselves to drift lazily with the current, and watch the glori ous tints of the sunset, which' we had forgotten happened every evening. We had associated the sun's dropping be hind the apartment across the street as a sort of dinner gong for the evening meal. We munch with whole-souled abandon on something that tastes di vine and discover is only a beef sand wich. We watch the pale moon rise and the sky gradually darken like the hair of an unnatural blonde, we rind it unnecessary to talk, but listen con-, tentedly to the soft voices of the water as it gurgles against the sides of the boat, and we watch the moonbeams elfishly dance on the crest of each little wave. A generous hearted motor boat chugs by with a dozen canoes In tow a good, practical example of the Big Brother movement. A metallic phonograph on soma unseen rowboat renders in a voice tnat bites tne oarn- ness "And then he'd row, row, row. He'd row her up the river." The soft, comforting gloom A. dazzling, relentless glare arouses us to blinking consciousness, and the voice of the harbor patrol grates into our ears: "Where are your lights? Twenty-five dollars!" But, undeterred by this light fine, on the following Sunday we pack us some paper napkins, cushions, a rug. a quart of pickles, a sandwich and a lantern. And as we help Her in, sne agrees with us that any other way of passing Sunday would be just toe perfectly -dry 5 flw" V 0ueC409a inn-1