.jpg)
Ye Olden Oakland Days
(Contributed by Oakland Pioneers, No. 71)
At the annual meeting of the Oakland Pioneers held on January 27, 1922. the following original poems by members of the society were read and enthusiastically applauded. Copies were ordered printed for all the members:
The Oakland Pioneers.
As I look around this evening,
My eyes with moisture fill,
The memories that crowd upon me
Give my heart a mournful thrill,
As I think of the old-time faces
That are not here today.
Some are too old and feeble
and many have passed away.
But as I gaze about me
There are many I can name
Who still are in the struggle
And playing the same old game,
I only hope the younger men
will be as straight and true,
And play the game right on the square,
As the old boys used to do.
I am sure you all remember
What a village this used to be.
When our business blocks were shanties,
On each corner a big oak tree;
When Broadway was a pasture,
And the streets with grass were green
When a street car or an auto
Was only an idle dream.
And away back in the sixties,
When war was in the land,
It didn't take a minute
For the boys to take a hand;
And when the bugle sounded,
Giving warning for the grey,
They shouldered the old musket
And proudly marched away.
So the boys were true and loyal,
And worked with all their might
To help the old town on its way
And started it off all right.
How we have succeeded
I do not like to boast,
But now we have the finest town
On the whole Pacific Coast.
Now the old roll call is dwindling
And our ranks are growing thin,
But we fought our battles nobly
And knew that we would win.
But few are left to greet us now,
And few are left to know
The struggles all the old boys had
To help our loved town grow.
Now we're here to see the victory,
To see Oakland take Its stand
Among the greatest cities
In all this glorious land;
And the boys who blazed the path-way
That set this old town right,
Are the boys who are assembled
Right in this hall tonight.
So let us give a toast tonight
To the boys who've passed away,
And then we'll give another
To the boys whose looks are gray;
For who can tell whose turn comes next
To answer to the call,
For God ne'er gave us better men
Than the old boys, after all.
- Fred A. Campbell.
RETROSPECT.
I remember my home,
The woodshed just nigh it,
The strap and the groan
When daddy would ply it.
I remember the knee
With fright and a crack
And that part of me
My daddy would whack.
I remember the noise
As I struggled and cried;
More fun to the boys
Listening outside.
I remember that strap.
Blows came like rain.
And I vowed with each rap
I'd "no'er do it again."
Dad's arm and its clutch.
The pain and the paddy.
Didn't hurt me as much
All it did my dear daddy.
Oh, no!
- Gus A. "Candy" Blank.
