We have tried to tell of the progress of West High, the Lake District, the City and the State of Minnesota, and to show the relationship among them...
A SKYSCRAPER Not a cold mass of steel and stone, but a living, breathing thing, is a skyscraper. A monument to the hopes and ambitions of its builders, every new girder put in place is a new stone in the foundation of the city; every stone laid is an integral part of the walls and spires which constitute the ideal Minneapolis—a city which has made beauty a watchword, And when the building is completed it is a fairy castle whose spires pierce the air and inspire the passer-by —a castle where beauty and business work in harmony.
A BRIDGE is a cool, white arrow shot from one bank of a river to the other. Romantic and beautiful when it is completed, it is still more romantic when in process of construction. Girders may jut out in wild disarray, the effect may be one of disorder, but there is a romance and a charm, born of blazing days and starlit nights, which claims all half-built bridges as its own. Workmen are toiling on this structure, elemental and strong. And their strength is reflected in the bridge, a bronze and steel women, shouting “power” to us all.
A GRAIN terminal is an essential part of a Minnesota city skyline. Rearing its huge bulk against the sky, it represents all that has made the state prosperous and beautiful Especially at dusk is this building impressive. Its sharp lines loose their harshness and blend into the horizon, blue-gray. Like an unfinished cathedral, the massive structure stands out against the sky, and the growing darkness serves only to accentuate its beauty. More than any other thing does this building represent the state; it is the realization of pioneer hopes.
NOTHING is quite so beautiful as a Minnesota river Gliding along so smoothly, it holds an endless fascination, urging the voyageur ever onward into new lands. Occasionally the water roughens, sharp rocks appear in the smooth course and the once calm river is transformed into a raging torrent, foaming down a rocky bed, or dropping from dizzying heights. This force of nature, the last untamed thing, has at last been harnessed by man. Without loosing any of its former beauty, it has become an aid to the community.
WHEN the first pioneers toiled slowly across the plains in their covered wagons, their purpose was the finding of a “promised land.0ne can imagine the line of wagons coming over the crest of a hill to look down on the majestic, slow-rolling Mississippi, with its fertile bottom lands and then to see the rolling lands across the river, veiled in a purple ha%e, with the sun painting every hill scarlet. Yes, this was and is the promised land. Modern science has made farming a pleasure; it has made the “desert blossom like a rose.
From the Annual Publication of the Senior Class of West High School Minneapolis,
Volume Seventeen, 1925
