October 1937

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October, 1937 Vol. 9

Corvallis, Oregon

No. G

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Ye Sylvan Archer Vol. 9

No. 6

October, 1937

Published the fifteenth of each month by

J. E. Davis and J. R. Todd 505 North 11th Street, Corvallis, Oregon Editor

J. E. DAVIS

.$1.00 Per Year

Subscription Price

.$1.25 Per Year

Foreign Subscription 15 Cents

Single Copies

Advertising Rates on Application

TABLE OF CONTENTS STUMP HUNTING IN SEATTLE

By Erie Stanley Gardner

1

IT CAN EE DONE

4

INDIANAPOLIS TOURNAMENT

5

WALT'S OWN STORY

5

EDITORIAL

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REMEMBER THIS PICTURE?

6

DORMITORY WARFARE

By Capt. C. H. Styles

7

THE MILWAUKEE JAMBOREE

By Larry Whiffen

8

CAMPFIRE SHOTS FROM CANYON CREEK

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CALIFORNIA FIELD ARCHERS

By John L. Yount

9 10

THE BOYS IN THE LOWER BRACKETS By tiie Retired Basement Champion .... 11

THE LIGHTER SIDE OF ARCHERY Edited by George Brommers

12

October, 1937

YE SYLVAN ARCHER

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Stump Hunting in Seattle

By ERLE STANLEY GARDNER

Stump hunting varies, from its more simple, primitive, grammar­ school application of “Now there's a stump over there that's about the size of a rabbit...........” to some of the post-graduate stump hunting that you run into in various parts of the country.

The Seattle bunch have a few patents of their own which are worth a try anywhere.

Kore Duryee and Art Partee came out to where I had my portable fic­ tion factory parked on the Olympic Peninsula in order to teach me some new ones. They have a species of stump hunting called "MURDER.” You put a target up on a bale of hay and the opposing teams stand in two lines. The leaders start shooting. The first leader who gets a bull’e eye kills off the opposing leader, who immedi­ ately jumps to one side. The person behind him steps up and starts shoot­ ing until he is killed in turn, or has shot the six arrows representing his allotment. Much of the suspense de­ pends upon correctly deciding wheth­ er to shoot fast and beat the opposing

leader to the punch, killing him off before he can get started, or take sufficient time to be reasonably cer­ tain of hitting a bull's eye. The game is like playing the stock market in that whichever you decide to do will be wrong.

By that time the bed of coals was thick enough to barbecue the steaks.

I had some loins about three and a half inches thick, and when they had been cooked to a steaming turn, we piled them on a big platter, with slabs of butter in between the steaks. While the butter was doing its stuff, we split some loaves of French bread and then put them over the coals.

When they turned a golden brown we poured on melted butter in which a little garlic had been simmered. The coffee pot was bubbling merrily away.

We built air castles while we cut the steak in big, red slices, spread them on the toast, washed down the residue with coffee, and shamelessly dunked the hard crusts in the red drippings which had collected in the platter. It was nearly an hour before

Left to Right—Partee, Gardner, Duryee—“Look, a deer!”

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October, 1937 YE SYLVAN ARCHER "There!” Kore’s mental processes, ■trying to make several adjustments all at once, finally compromised by shooting an arrow directly at the camera..................... Which, after all, was about the best retort he could have made under the circumstances.

Now we come to the one you have to build up to and it's a lot better to practice it where there isn’t an audience.

Each archer is supposed to repre­ sent both a galloping horse and rider.

A synthetic deer is placed between two trees. The archers come gallop­ ing across at full speed and aren’t supposed to see the deer until they get directly abreast of it. when they pull out and shoot with one motion.

The opening between the trees being not more than eight or ten feet, it is obvious that this requires some fast action, depending upon the speed at which the “horses” gallop.

I still maintain that no archer really knows the full possibilities of his friends until he sees them, shortly after a good barbecue, coming “Tgallop.................. T-Gallop...................

T-gallop” along the path of greatest resistance You’ll note that the photographic illustrations are centered mainly upon the feet. The reason for this is quite obvious. If you’ll try it on your piano, you'll find that the feet become the most interesting part of the entire affair. Any good archer can

we were ready for any more stump hunting stunts.

Now, personally, I’m crazy. My friends have known it for a long time and my enemies have always taken it for granted. So the fiction factory’s stump hunting stunts aren’t designed for the same type of archer who worries about the national deficit, the war in China, and the European situation. But, if you’re a bit balmy yourself and don’t give a darn what happens to the deficit just so you can have a barbecue with friends and then hunt stumps, you might read on.

We put a rubber ball on the ground about twenty-five yards away. Every­ one sat cross legged, with his bow and arrow in his hand and his back to the ball. The idea was that they were out hunting and had just sat down for a rest, the official "starter” stood facing the ball (just for sheer cussed­ ness, holding a concealed camera).

The game went like this: The starter kept talking about various and sundry things until he had the con­ testants lured pretty much off guard.

Then, all of a sudden, he yelled, "Good God! Look.” The contestants said, “What? Where!" The starter pointed to the rubber ball and yelled, “There!

Right behind you!” It was then up to each man to get to his feet from a cross-legged position, and get his bow drawn and an arrow smacked into the rubber ball ahead of every other contestant.

It sounds rather innocuous, but the game is capable of some interesting variations. For instance, when one of the good looking secretaries engaged Kore in such interesting conversation (see photograph) that he became entirely off guard, and I yelled, “My God, look!” Kore got up so quickly that his feet skidded out from under him. He dropped his right hand to break the force of the fall (see photo­ graph) and one-tenth of a second later was lying flat on his back, with arms, legs and bow pointed toward the heavens.

Following that was a mean trick.

I got the boys in position and yell­ ed, "My God, Kore, Look!” Kore tensed his feet, ready for a spring, and asked, "Where?” knowing of course, exactly where the rubber ball had been planted. I deliberately pointed way off to one side and yelled,

“T-gallop . . . .T-gallop . . . .T-gallop!"

Notice the fast action.

October, 1937

YE SYLVAN ARCHER 3 overlook stump hunting. It’s peculiar­ ly suited to archery. It leads to the formation of friendships, helps one forget the overdraft at the bank, the wars in Europe, and the increase in rent. I know I can never make a will which will stand up in court. Any smart lawyer could introduce some of my stump hunting stunts and a jury would promptly decide that the de­ cedent had insufficient mental equip­ ment to make a will in the first place.

But as Dusty Roberts so frequently remarks, “Who Cares?”

And for those who had just as soon be crazy as the way they are, I can offer two or three additional recipes for stump hunting which have been tried to advantage: 1. Take half a dozen archers, place in a straight line, with arrows nocked, stand 10 feet behind them with a tennis ball, yell, “Here come a rabbit!” and bounce tne tennis ball on the ground so it will go hippity­ hopping along in front of them.

2. Take the same archers and the same tennis ball and say, "Here comes a quail!" Make clucking noises like an alarmed quail, then Imitate the beat of wings by vibrating the tongue against the roof of the mouth, and shoot the ball out in a straight line, giving them a perfect wing shot.

3. Go back to the rabbit business, only when they are all set to have the rabbit come hopping along in front of them, send it bouncing down to one side so that each shooter has to jump out of position to get a shot—(Then run like hell).

Personally, I’m a stump hunter.

(Continued on page 15)

come reasonably close to hitting a synthetic deer with bow and arrow, but it takes an artist to imitate a galloping horse, and when you see a bunch of archers chanting in unison, “T-gallop. . . . T-gallop. . . .T-gallop” and thundering along the path, it be­ comes a major effort to even point the camera, let alone click the shut­ ter.

There are other stump hunting stunts as practiced in Seattle which sound perfectly well on a barbecue, but which seem a bit balmy when put in cold print. However, the point I am making is that whenever you get a bunch of archers together, with bows, arrows, beefsteaks, French bread and garlic, it’s always possible to work out some variety of stump hunting which will suit the occasion.

I am not trying to minimize the kick a man gets out of stealing silent­ ly along through the forest, watching where he put his feet to make certain he makes no noise, slipping from shadow to shadow, every nerve tense, knowing that a deer may crash out from cover at any moment. Nor do I think there’s anything which can quite compare with the freshness of early morning, a taut bow string pressed along the fingers, an arrow in the nock, moving silently along a game path between clumps of sage, knowing that the next hour will pro­ duce dozens of adventures with runnig rabbits or scurrying quail. Those things are experiences which really make life worth living and offset a lot to the worries incident to civiliza­ tion.

But in between times, let’s not

Reaction and Action — at left Kore engaged in interesting conversation — At right Kore gets up so quickly his feet skid out from under him.

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YE SYLVAN ARCHER

October, 1937

It Can Be Done “It just can’t be done. An Indian in the old days, before the white man’s civilization made the deer man-con­ scious, could kill deer with bow and arrow, but a white man, under mod­ ern conditions—no, it just couldn't be done.’’

So thought John E. Cooter as he wearily dragged one foot after the other. It was four o’clock on the first afternoon of the deer season and John had covered many of the hundred and twenty-eight square miles of the Canyon Creek Archery Reserve. He had started at the break of a cold, foggy day, had climbed a couple of thousand feet in altitude, just to go down into East canyon to have to climb another thousand feet to get out. He had seen two or three dozen deer, many of them bucks, and had had several shots at from seventy to a hundred yards. But the deer in Canyon Creek are alive today because they are wary and John, convinced of their wariness, thought dejectedly, "It can’t be done.”

Mr. Cooter, as speaker of the Ore­ gon House of Representatives during the 1935 legislature session, had been

instrumental in getting the reserve created and had hunted industriously during the 1935 and 1936 seasons without success.

And now after a hard day he was a thousand feet above the camp in Wall creek canyon where other archers were already straggling in, lured away from hunting possibly by the aroma of John Hubler’s mulligan stew as it was wafted up the mountain side on the clear mountain air.

Yes, is was just another day in the mountains for Cooter as he made his way in and out among the rim rocks on the mountain ridge. The sun, blood red in the distant haze, was approach­ ing the mountainous western horizon.

Tired muscles had relaxed and it was only the instinct of a hunter whose forefathers had actually stalk­ ed the King’s deer in Sherwood Forest and not his mental alertness that caused him to approach the edge of a rock wall stealthily and peer over cautiously.

John’s heart missed three beats and jumped completely over two more. A four-pointer stood a hundred feet straight down nibbling lazily

a Cooter Inspects his kill

October, 1937

YE SYLVAN ARCHER

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ranch in the heart of the reserve. on the twigs of a grease-wood bush.

We’ll be back again, Canyon Creek, John admits excitement and nervous­ because we know "It can be done.” ness as he leaned over the rocky rim and loosed a hurried arrow down­ ward; but it was with more nervous­ INDIANAPOLIS TOURNAMENT ness that he drew another shaft from .

Perfect weather greeted the twentyhis quiver, with what he claims was three members of the Indianapolis Howard Hill speed, as the buck only Archery club who met in champion­ started a little when the first arrow ship tournament on September 19th. splintered on the rock beside him.

Three guests from Terre Haute also Four arrows followed the first in participated. The next event planned almost as many seconds, according by the forty members of the club to John, and the deer had moved is a rovers shoot on October 17th at hardly a dozen feet from his first the Boy Scout camp ten miles north­ position. He refused to run until he east of the city. knew what he was running from and W. B. Lincoln Jr. was high in class where it was safe to go.

A, with 179-1213 for double American; "Well, old boy, if you are going to Pres. Shields in class B; and Dr. W. wait for me, I’ll take my time,” said P. Morton in class Cl Grace Van Cooter to himself as he steadied his Wormer lead the ladies in class A, nerves and drew a sixth shaft from Mrs. Morton in class B, Richard Jones his quiver. in junior division, and Marian Sturm “Thud,” said the arrow and a white in Junior girls. man, normally considered quite sane, W. B. Lincoln Jr. won the men's did a dervish whirl, an Indian war clout, Grance Van Wormer the dance and a modern tango all at the women’s, Dick Jones the boy’s, Mar­ same time, and shouted, "I got him! in Strum the girls, and Paul Earl and I got him! I got him!”

Grace Van Wormer the novelty John admits all this, and his ex­ events. citement is somewhat substantiated by the fact that close examination of the dead deer revealed only two WALT’S OWN STORY points instead of four.

Most archers have heard of Walt Wil­ And the next day on the next ridge helm's car wreck in which his right to the south Pat Chambers pretty arm was badly smashed. We had sup­ much reenacted the scene but his deer posed, and presume others did also, tipped the scales at 200 pounds dress­ that the "Old Prowler” had become ed and carried a number of points on unruly and tossed Walt over a cliff, each antler. a high cliff, but we are mighty glad Two deer among the many archers to publish Walt’s own story of the who have been carrying bows and accident and clear the good name of arrows through the Oregon forests the "Old Prowler.” Walt says: since September 20th seem insignifi­ “It wasn’t the old ’Prowler’ that I cant to non-archers; but to archers got hurt in. We didn’t use it on this it means, “It can be done.” It stimu­ trip. Ken and I were returning from a lates any flagging ambitions of the wild cat hunt over near the Colorado rest of us who have had to be content River and just about fifty miles from this year, as in the past, with the home on the good highway a guy thrill of the chase rather than the side-swiped us and we rolled over a capture, who have had to be satis­ few times in Ken’s big sedan. Brother, fied with the less exciting, but to an I wish we’d used the ‘Old Prowler' for archer, no less gratifying, pleasures if we had we’d been traveling through of the great open spaces, the tang of the country and then we’d never have the mountain air. the scents of flow­ seen any of these damn crazy drivers. ers and pine and cedar, the nights From now on we’re going to travel under the stars as the howl of the through the wilds and steer clear of coyotes echo from ridge to ridge, the all busy hiways. Adios.—Walt W.” re-living of the days activities around the campfire at evening, the aroma and taste of John Hubler’s mulligan, Karl Gruber of Munich. Germany, the hospitality of the Williams family an archery enthusiast, visited in Ore­ who own a most beautiful 4000-acre gon in September.

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October, 1937

Editorial The publishers of Ye Sylvan Archer are mighty proud of our frequent con­ tributions from Erie Stanley Gardner who is one of the highest paid detec­ tive story writers in the country. Many of the leading magazines would be glad to pay top prices for any article under his name. Mr. Gardner says he is glad to stand shoulder to should­ er with other archers and take time out to donate material for the good of the cause—which after all is the real spirit of archery. Not many love the sport enough-to donate a thous­ and dollars worth of time for its en­ couragement.

Personally and in behalf of our readers we thank Mr. Gardner.

Most anyone can kill a deer with a machine gun, but it takes sports­ manship to get them with the long bow and of all real sports that invade the county there are no better out of door fellows, among those who go in quest of their kill than the fellows of the bow and arrow.—Blue Moun­ tain Eagle, Qanyon City, Oregon.

TELLIN’ YOU Forest Nagler, Toronto, Canada: Thanks for the article for next issue and hope the moose spare you so we get the story. Wouldn’t Klopsteg look rather ridiculous draped across t)*e antlers of a moose as he (the moose) dashed through the brush?

F. H. Zimbeaux— Salt Lake City: Change of address noted. Be sure to look up the boys there. We under­ stand there are some great fireside (as well as otherwise) archers in Salt Lake.

Walt Wilhelm, Yermo, California: Surely glad to know that you are coming along fine and am relieved to have the finger of guilt removed from "The Prowler.” Some way I just couldn’t believe it of "The Prowler” anyway.

J. N. Keyser, Fredonia, N. Y.: Con­ gratulations on the fine enrollment in your archery classes. You will put many a young man and woman in tune with the harmony of nature.

Earl Grubbs has received an order .from Warner Brothers for bows to be used in the forthcoming production of Robin Hood. We understand that one of the leading field archers in Los Angeles is going to have a part in the picture.

REMEMBER THIS PICTURE?

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This picture of A. E. Coleman of Corvallis, Oregon, appeared in the September issue, 1932. Mr. Coleman was state champion, having won the coveted honor at the Sixth annual state tournament held on July 3rd and 4th, 1932, at Sherwood Field, Port­ land. Mr. Coleman’s total was 2003 for the double York and double Amer­ ican. Homer Prouty set a state flight record of 460 yards, 2 feet at the same shoot. Mr. Coleman is a Corval­ lis jeweler, the father of two lively youngsters that keep Papa and Mam­ ma Coleman pretty busy, and is still an archer, shooting in the last state tournament.

o'

October, 1937

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^Dormitory Warfare

By CAPT. C. H. STYLES, Berkeley, California In every tournament that I have shot through I have learned a val­ uable lesson or made a fine friend.

The single thing I shall remember from 1937’s National will be, most likely, a fireside York round I shot in the Dormitory, on Monday even­ ing, against Archer Turnock, Cham­ pion of Pennsylvania.

The Pennsylvania archers have been working hard to acquire a hunting preserve for themselves. I was mighty interested. Turnock hunts with the bow and also shoots well at the tar­ get; hence I class him as one of the scientific shooters of the bow,— ex­ cept for one thing, the fact that he uses a sight. We talked, and I learn­ ed that much is being accomplished for field archery in that locality. He also told me one of the most surpris­ ing bits of news concerning our sport that has come my way in years, namely that he knows a bow hunter who has killed a buck with the bow each year during the past five years.

If you have tried it, you know how hard it is to kill one buck in five years, with the bow and broadhead.

Our discussion chugged along very well until the subject of sights was brought up, when a baleful gleam burned in my eyes, just like the green light at an intersection; Turnock’s mane began to bristle. In other words, we acted hostile; fanatical. I think that a sight on a bow is just exactly as much help in hitting the mark as Athletes Foot is helpful to a sprinter.

I now sorrow as I confess that I was rude to my fellow enthusiast. With no mellowness, I told him that put­ ting horn-rimmed goggles on the bow caused disgust in the hearts of those who worshiped Saxton Pope and Maurice Thompson.

Turnock snorted with yeomanly gusto, nor did the icicles grow fewer as he urged that I was a horse and buggy era Mud Turtle, incased in a hard, thick shell. With slight clarity, nor sportsmanship, I rebutted that I had kept a few jumps ahead of him in last year’s scramble for the World’s Championship at Battle Creek, Michi­ gan. (It is a point unnecessary to be dwelt upon, that he trimmed the

britches off me this year,—as the great author George Brommers would express it.) I roughly prodded him with the declaration that so far I had gotten more game than he had.

The evening had gone sour. My dear wife with growing alarm snatched for an olive branch; she thinks that I have all the enemies I need. Her counsel was treated with the same consideration given a back-seat driv­ er, and the gloom became steadily worse until providence stepped in.

Men, in arguing, concern them­ selves little with facts; they pay even less heed to logic; prejudices are what they cherish. So it was with your humble servant and the Quaker Turnock—until by slieerest accident we tried defining what it was that we were squabbling over. Turnock told of putting a mark on the side of the bow five inches up from the arrow rest; this enables one to pop an arrow into a rabbit at from 10 to 25 yards (Continued on page 15)

Archer pion.

Turnock,

amateur

cham

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YE SYLVAN ARCHER

October, 1937

Milwaukee Jamboree

By LARRY WHIFFEN, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Some 17,500 persons, most of whom had never before seen a bow and ar­ row, attended the first annual state­ wide Archery Jamboree at Estabrook park in Milwaukee on September 25 and 26. This highly successful event, featuring exhibitions and also com­ petition in novelty target shooting, was sponsored by The Milwaukee Journal and the Milwaukee Archer’s Association.

Of those 17,500 persons, more than 12,000 turned out for the Sunday after noon archery demonstrations put on

by Mr. Russell Hoogerhyde, the national champion, and myself. That’s

!

Russ Hoogerhyde, National Champnion, demonstrates.

certainly a testimonial if ever there was one, that archery, if dressed and presented in the modem manner, still has plenty of appeal.

To say that our Jamboree was a success is to say it mildly. There never had been anything like it offered in Wisconsin, or in the middlewest, or in the United States, for that matter.

Many of those who attended talked about the Jamboree for days. I know.

The show Sunday afternoon (Sept.

26) lasted for about two hours. It was staged on an elevated platform where all could see and the crowd stayed from start until finish. This phase of the show opened with a bugle fanfare and with Mr. Hooger­ hyde announcing his entree by zoom­ ing an arrow into a target of glass.

It was directed from a point in the crowd. After that crashing opening, followed a brief talk on archery by myself and a series of trick and fancy shots in which we both collaborated, breaking pottery as it was tossed in midair, exploding balloons held in the hand and mouth of an attendant, piercing steel and wood targets and otherwise thrilling the crowd.

We worked from an elevated stage, where all could see us. The Milwauk­ eeans' quartet helped set the proper ackground with songs appropriate to the occasion: "Stout-hearted Men,” “The Archer’s Song” and "The Ranger.”

The novelty prize competition which attracted 138 contestants from all parts of Wisconsin, was staged along an 800 foot range, with a slight eleva­ tion in the rear, making it easy to re­ trieve arrows. Twelve novelty targets were set up, with points scored in the usual way for all hits. The Milwaukee Journal presented gold, silver and bronze medals to high point scorers in each of the men’s, women's and junior classifications, and also to the winners in each of the 12 events. Individual class leaders were Ed Holtkelter of Whitefish Bay, Wis., Evelyn Wahlen of Milwaukee, and Dick Wilke of Two Rivers. Wis. Young Wilke is the son of Otto Wilke of Two Rivers, president (Continued on page 9)

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October, 1937

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Qampfire Shots from Canyon Cree\ John Cooter dancing a jig when he heard the thud that meant curtains for a two pointer .... Homer Prouty taking a flight shot at a buck and Bill Williams taking a car to get the arrow B. G. Thompson’s fifty big bucks waggling its spike at it went over the ridge The hush in camp the night Wallace Rowland was gone John Davis taking cellar position in the Red Ribbon gang by missing at twenty-three yards (mea­ sured) and he had an alibi for every yard Pat Chambers’ strut as he bore his handsome trophy into the town of John Day John Hubler’s descent into East Canyon Dr. Cathey’s failure to get away from professional duties even in the wilds of Canyon Creek Mr. Coyote’s warning to Mrs. Coyote and the children that the same scent was on the air as smelled last year when brother Hank was found dead with a feathered shaft in his chest. (Note The shaft bore the crest of Claude Lampert) .... Grover Gouthier, veteran deerslayer, telling the novices how to do it Bob Cathey’s red shirt Larry Williams and Bob Cathey settling the war in the Far East and the financial and political questions of the day is spite of Row­ land’s buttin ni.. . John Hubler’s mul­ ligan .... Red Evans going bare headed to save the expense of a red hat. . . . Henry (Doc) Hewitt clown­ ing as usual Ken Clayton’s buck fever . . . Vic Adcook’s hand­ some crest buried deep so deep in a dead tree . . . Gene Warnicks wash­ ing dishes Mrs. Lee Williams’ backdoor handout, just two platters of fried chicken, potatoes and gravy, string beans, salad, fresh tomatoes, cake, fruit and coffee disap­ pointment over Erie Stanley Gard­ ner’s failure to arrive in camp as expected Grover Gouthier tak­ ing his wife along so she couldn’t burn up the home town while he was gone. . . . Oh, yes, hate to mention Grover so much by can’t omit his taking a day off from hunting to shingle his mother-in-law’s barn. . . . lack of eastern Oregon archers,—htey were picking their time . . . Chet Stevenson’s and Earl Ullrich’s ab-

sence ment

Mrs. Cathey's camp equip­ we’ll be back.

AFTER MOOSE Forest Nagler of Toronto, Canada, writes us hurriedly that he is “meet­ ing Case and Klopsteg somewhere up on the west side of Hudson bay, to which we will go by plane from the most northerly railroad, to pick up our canoes and try for moose.

“I believe Case has a sneaking sus­ picion that he is about to wipe out his disgraceful miss, at 25 yards, when shooting at a moose two years ago.

Klopsteg wants to join the society of moose missers, so that when any assemblage gets into the ‘speaking of moose hunting’ stage of conversation, he can speak up in meeting.”

THANKS ARCHERS It would be impossible for me to write to every archer and thank them for writing me such swell let­ ters while I was in the hospital. So I want to thank you all for your inter­ est via the “Sylvan Archer.”

At this writing I am getting along swell, and with a little luck I’ll soon have some kind of an arm. By the time this is published I’ll have the old fin out of the sling. Then I’ll know more.

I hope that before another year passes I’m able to meet very one of you, and shake your hand. It sure makes a guy glad he’s an archer to get that kind of letters. Thanks again Archers.

WaltWilhelm.

MILWAUKEE JAMBOREE Continued from page 8) of the Wisconsin Archers’ Association.

I might add that we contemplate repeating the jamboree next fall.

In writing this piece, it is my thought that conducting a Jamboree, such as the one just put on in Mil­ waukee, is the best means to promote and advance the interests of the ancient sport archery. I’ll be ex­ ceedingly happy to get re-actions from my friends and readers of this story in other sections of the nation.

May I hear from you?

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October, 1937

Southern California Field Archers

By John L. YOUNT, Secretary The next tournament of the Field Archers Association of Southern California will be Sunday October 31 at El Segundo. The tournament starts promptly at 9:30 a. m. with 10:30 as the deadline. If you are not on hand at that time your score will not be official. Bob Faas will be your field captain. That means a good meet.

Another special inducement is that you can hear first hand how all the mighty hunters almost got a buck. I grant you that some of the stories will be rare bits.

NEW ARCHERY RESERVE The first two weeks of hunting in our new reserve have been most suc­ cessful. We have had over thirty-five real fellows on the job and hope that the last two weeks of the season will bring out as many more. It is true that no bucks have been taken and very few seen, also that our reserve is small, only four and one-half square miles. It is surrounded on three sides by open territory, which is thick with riflemen. This keeps the deer wild.

Neither is the country ideal for the archer, one-half is too brushy and the other too steep—in fact, practically perpendicular. Nevertheless, there are deer there and the archers are not crabbing. They have shown them­ selves to be real dyed-in-the-wool field archers and not the sympa­ thetic type for whom the hills are always too steep, the sand too deep, and the dirt too dirty. If we get the large reserve we hope for next year, it wUl be because these fellows bought their licenses, came out and hunted even though conditions were not ideal. Through their interest and sportsmanship I believe we have shown the public that the archers are worthy of and entitled to a happier hunting ground right here in Southern California and not have to wait for it in the hereafter.

INFORMATION WANTED I still need information requested last month. What do you know about hunting with a bow? About getting the state legislaure to see things as the archer does? How does the game commission react to the archer in

your section? How many bucks have you killed and how many have gotten away wounded? What kind of head do you use and what weight bow?

You Northerners and Easterners, you may want some data someday your­ self. Please help us build up a library of statistics and information. We promise to make it available to any club at any time. Kindly address your letters to John L. Yount, Secretary, F. A. A. S. C., Box 20, Route 1, Red­ lands, California.

HIGHLIGHTS OF THE SEASON IN SOUTHERN CALH?ORNIA First Archery Reserve Determination of Fred Woodley, president of Field Archers Assn, of Southern California, to see some one else get a buck. He has been on the job opening day and both week-ends so far although he has been unable to hunt.

A. F. Tullis getting a little mixed up and almost getting a buck away over in the game preserve.

Irving F. Davis having to borrow broadheads after forgetting his own.

Ken Wilhelm using four-feathered arrows, thus eliminating the cock feather. He claims steadier flight and more speed in nocking.

Bob Faas failing to add to his al­ ready imposing string of five bucks with the bow, but determined to get one yet.

Glen Curtiss much disappointed and somewhat disgusted at not getting a buck after hunting one whole hour.

That man really craves action.

Walkey hunting all the opening day and disgustedly going home after a rifle that night. The next day he jumped a buck at 35 yards and the rifle misfired. The archers were very considerate of his feelings—oh, my yes!

The tall stories told around head­ quarters at Twin Lakes.

Ed Hill wounding himself with a broadhead. Some think it was buck­ fever.

Emery Watts making a 70 yard shot at a cap held by Enos Woodward ("Woody") and Woody going places (Continued on page 15)

October, 1937

YE SYLVAN ARCHER

11

13he Boys in the Lower Brackets

By THE RETIRED BASEMENT CHAMPION We are going to give a new service in this magazine, and it will deal with the red ribbon archers. The genuine ones, I mean, and not the wolves in sheep’s clothing who are masquerad­ ing under this heading. These last I will make it my business to expose while the stage is getting set for le­ gitimate news items.

To begin with our president, Sasha Siemel. I know that there are prob­ ably fifty archers right here in Southern California who can beat the pants off him at forty yards or bet­ ter. But if there is anybody who can hold his own with him at twenty yards or less, well, I have yet to see one.

Seeing that the average cat range in Sasha’s country is about five yards, it is the short range that counts in his case.

I am fully aware that Sasha thinks he can live down the title of the greatest hunter of the age, given him

by Duguid, by claiming to be the rottenest exponent of archery. We have to let him get away with it, seeing that he is our duly elected president, but we serve notice right here that wo are not taken in.

Take the case of our first honorary member, Erie Stanley Gardner. Erie was such a barefaced fraud that he had to sneak in through the back door by means of a presidential proclamation, he couldn’t have qualified on merit in a million years.

Enter the star villian, Dr. E. K. (Dusty) Roberts.

Poor Dusty, now he can have some fun, shooting with his peers at the bottom of the list. He tells us all about it in a late issue of the Archer.

Now to the facts in the case: We all know that Dusty is a former National champion and that he was the first one to break Horace Ford’s record officially. He can laugh that off, nor will we hold it against him, since he has now reformed and tried to live a useful life.

But did you know that this low­ down, at the foot of the ladder, pro­ fessed red ribboner has killed more than one hundred wild boars with bow and arrow. I do not know all

his exploits in the hunting line, but that much I can prove against him.

And if you think that one hundred wild hogs are nothing, try to tackle just one of them yourself and you will see who has his hands full. For un­ qualified gall in claiming a distinction he is not entitled to, I nominate Dusty Roberts. Anybody catching him with a red ribbon on his person has my permission to waste a blunt.

Nor is the unholy trinity above re­ ferred to even a fair start. Dr. Cathey of Portland, Ore., tearfully endorses the red ribbon movement feeling that for once he will fit in without half trying. Just as if anybody associating with outlaws like Gardner and Dusty could be on the up and up in this or any other matter.

Don’t let Doc fool you to accept him at face value, my brothers at the bottom of the list. Ask the goats on Catalina Island, the deer and the cats in the northern woods and listen to the tale they will unfold. And don’t forget that Doc was the first man to offic­ ially make 300 yards In flight shooting in this country. I was there myself and can prove it. This was ten years ago or better. Red Ribbon, huh?

I am violating no confidence when I tell my readers that the Oregon legislature had to set aside several , __ hundred square miles as „ game r preserve in the fond hope that they could ----- 1— there lose Dr. Cathey and some of his friends.

One of these friends was B. G. Thompson, who is a pimple on the fair face of Archery, a wart on the nose of progress, an authority in coon hunts and a double crossing so and so. If this monster of iniquity dares to press his claim to our ribbon, just let me know, will you? Just let me know.

More exposures next month. You ain’t seen nothing yet.

Fiat justitia pereat mundus, as the old Babbelonians used to say.

J. N. Keyser reports seventy young men and women ehrolled in his archery classes in the State Normal School, Fredonia, N. Y.

12

YE SYLVAN ARCHER

October, 1937

<&he Lighter Side of Archery

By THE DOGHOUSE PHILOSOPHERS THE LAST OF WALT WILHELM sight of a very ancient touring car bedecked in a most outlandish man­

By TED CARPENTER and with the name "The Growl­ "If you go to Death Valley, and ner, ” painted on the side. “This is my search until you find Wilhelm canyon, er car,” he said. In the ton­ you will see there a great heap of hunting was a miniature oil rig and tied twisted metal and ashes, said to be neau to it was a harp case. “Ah, I see you the grave of Walter Wilhelm, one of are a harpist, said. "Naw, that’s the heroes of the Archery Age. no harp, that’”s Iwhere I keep Chief Legend tells us that this giant of the Little Shield.” "A hunting companion past could shoot seventeen miles, of yours?” I hazarded, completely and that he was the first to use tem­ dazed by this time. "No, my hunting pered rattlesnakes for arrows.” Ex­ ” “What are you hunting for?” cerpt from an old travel booklet re­ bow.

I asked weakly. "Wild jertoas!” the cently discovered. old man cried, and a fiendish light (Editor’s Note: The following is into his eyes. “Greatest sport from an old manuscript of doubtful came in the world, if the weather’s good. authenticity.) ’s nothin’ I hate worse’n hunt­ One summer day way back in 1987 There ing on a cold day. Seems like I never I had to do an errand out in that new do go hunting now-a-days but what I sub-division thev called Death Valley hafta run into nasty weather." He Heights, so I headed out Wilshire and was silent for a moment, and then was soon breezing along Panamint mad light crept back into his Boulevard, when suddenly I ran into that “But I’ve got a real wild jerboa, a cloudburst that washed out the eyes. road and rolled me over a few times an old outlaw, located not far from here — say, if you’ve got plenty of down Telescope Hill. Blackness closed in upon me, and the first thing I re­ guts — ” “Are they dangerous?" I asked hastily.

“Well, I knew a feller member when I came to was hearing a voice calling from far off. Looking who woke up one night and found a up I saw the face of an old man press­ jerboa trying to get in bed with him. ed against the window. His flowing It kicked him in the stomach and bit mustachios were neatly parted, and he his little finger, and two months later was hollering so loud his face got he died of blood poisoning. Seems to purple and his hat blew off. His me his name was Hill.” “Hill ? I used words came to me faintly. “Can yuh spare some gas — o — LEEN!” I opened the heat-sealed door of my car and was struck by such a blast of oven-like air that I could feel myself shriveling. “Sorry to trouble you. My car’s just around the bend,” the old man said. “That’s all right, I wanted to see if the paint had been scratched. But how do you stand this awful heat?" 1 said as I poured him out some gas. “Hell, this ain’t hot! Why, back in the old days when I first came in here it was a real pleasant spot in July and August, but now it seems like a man can’t keep warm nohow.”

"When did you first come in here?”

I asked as we headed down the can­ yon towards his car. "Well, sir, guess it must have been back in ’53, or per­ haps ’54, anyway, it wasn't long after the gold rush.” “Gold Rush! You mean — !” Just then we came in

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October, 1937 YE SYLVAN ARCHER 13 to know a guy named Hill who could shook the rig so violently that he fell sure — ” "Can't remember his first out and landed head first on his harp name,” the old man mused, disregard­ case. But in an instant he had scram­ ing my words. "There were a lot of bled to his feet and hastily unlashed Hills in those days.” What happened the harp case. Jumping down he pull­ to them all?” I put in. He turned his ed the case after him, and almost be­ crazy eyes on me. “They ail disap­ fore it had clunked to the ground he peared way back in '66 — the year of had opened it and was pulling forth the big rains. Yes, sir, the erosion a contraption that at first I did not sure was bad in those days.” recognize as a long bow. He set it up After a minute he went on: “But if and I saw that the lower end of the you know how to hunt jerboas it’s bow was mounted by a ball-and-sock­ et joint to an old shoe that had a rollei’ skate attached to it. In a breathless voice he answered my tor­ rent of questions.

"Sure I always keep it at full draw — saves time! It’s always ready!” He unhitched a blowtorch from a belt and started it going.

"This? This is to get the furnace go­ ing! Sure! Long ago I refused to hunt unless I was warm enough. Had to hollow out the limbs of Chief Lit­ tle Shield. Sure! The distillate oil comes out of this tank and into the handle and it bums there — the fun­ nel is to give more draft!” He filled the oil tank with the gas I had given him and applied the blow torch to a funnel that was stuck into the end of the lower limb. Soon clouds of smoke began to come out of the chim­ ney. "Had to enlarge the handle to make a fire box — then it was too big for my hand so I put that old the most exciting sport you’ll ever Frontier Model Colt on to give me a see. Why, in the old days you could good What’s the yardstick for? shoot your arm off at jerboas — ” Why, grip. you see, it holds up the oil tank "Shoot your arm off?” "Yes I had a and besides times I get so ex­ brother once, Ken was his name, he— cited I pull ’some too far, so I put he — I hate to speak of it, it was a red flag uperatback twenty-eight inches! very sad — he shot both arms off in No, the thing won’t bum up; its lined one day, yes, sir, wore 'em both right with asbestos — gives it a fast cast — down to stumps. He had to pull his this is the fastest damn bow in the bow with his feet and hold the string world — and the hottest!" in his teeth after that.”

"She ain’t hot enough yet though,” Trying to conceal his sorrow he he said, peering at the thermometer turned quickly and mounted up to the on the handle, which registered 238 top of his oil rig, and setting up a tele­ degrees. "You can’t shoot well until scope began to sweep the country. you’re warmed up right — while I Since we were in a narrow canyon wait I’ll get my whiskers fixed.” with nothing but sheer rock walls and From "The Growler" he took out two a few scrawny bushes growing out car jacks and setting one on each of the gravel of the wash I didn’t see shoulder he put his long mustachios why he was looking there, but in over the top of the jacks and let them another minute he became very ex­ dangle down his back. Then he tied the cited, and aiming his telescope at a ends to the belt loops of his jeans. point about thirty feet from “The "This keeps the pants up in moments Growler,” near a cholla cactus, he of excitement and keeps my whiskers shouted, "I got one spotted!” and out of the way — sure, once when I broke into a sort of victory jig that had cornered a three-ton boar on

14

YE SYLVAN ARCHER October, 1937 canyon a way, seemed to be getting its bearings. Then it made a bee line for the cholla, dodged around in back of it, and baring its fangs growled hideously. The old man, now in a tantrum of excitement, was almost obliterated by the vast clouds of smoke that gushed from the chimney atop Chief Little Shield. He grasped the string, and unloosening it from its catch on the yardstick drew it back past the little red flag. As he released there was a teriffic explosion, and the great broadhead leaped forward from out of a dense cloud of smoke. I fol­ lowed its course to where it struck under the cholla in a spurt of sand.

Picking it up I found a kangaroo mouse impaled on the point. “A heart shot at seventeen feet!” I shouted, turning to the old man, but all I saw was a black smoke rising from a crumpled mass of wreckage, and faintly I heard the words: "Warm at last, warm at last!”

Santa Cruz Island they got caught in the arrow as I released and I trailed along behind, and after my pants flew off the first thing I knew my chin came smack up against the shoulder of the boar where my arrow had gone thru. My whiskers got snarl­ ed in the boar’s tusks on the far side, and boy, I’m tellin’ you, I sure had one hell of a ride before I could eat my way thru and untie ’em!”

By this time Chief Little Shield was quivering with heat, the handle was white hot, and great puffs of smoke backfired out of the funnel. The old man took up the slack in his whiskers by jacking up the jacks, and then se­ lecting an arrow with long, spiraled feathers and a longer blade he trundl­ ed the bow into position about twenty feet from the cholla bush he had been looking at from the top of his oil rig.

Again he whipped out his telescope, and sighting with shaking hands he began to jump up and down. It's com­ ing out! It's coming out!” he scream­ ed. Then, turning to "The Growler,” he gestured madly in the direction of the cholla, beneath which I could see nothing. “Here, boy, here, boy! Sic ’em, sic ’em” he shrieked. "The Growler” looked around, then sud­ denly burst into a roar, and leaping over some large rocks the size of houses and ascending the side of the

THE FLAT BOW — Not only com­ plete instructions for making this typical Amercian bow but also in­ structions in making all sorts of archery tackle from the arrows to the arrow case. Well illustrated. 70 pages. Price 50c. Ye Sylvan Archer, 505 North 11th street, Corvallis, Ore­ gon.

Chet Stevenson, Eugene, Oregon in his archery den.

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October, 1937

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YE SYLVAN ARCHER

15

STUMP HUNTING IN SEATTLE (Continued from page 3) I’m crazy and I know it, and thank heavens, as I go through the country, I find a few other archers afflicted with the same brand of insanity.

Now, down in Portland they have a new brand of stump hunting which has anything cheated I ever saw. Some day I’ll write about that. The title of it will be "TREEING A STUMP WITH BLOOD HOUNDS.”

the aesthetic in life, our silent piece of wood is a sceptre with which we command actual romance and living adventure. Turnock, in declaring that he was guided by ideals in his atti­ tude toward archery, in three short seconds, proved to me that he was, as Dr. Pope would have said, "one of the Immortals." Such men are rare.

Find such a one, gain his friendship, and your life is transformed.

CALIFORNIA FIELD ARCHERS (Continued from page 10) when Watts shot.

The gang making an archer out of Taylor, the ranger in charge of the reserve. He’s a mighty fine fellow and here’s hoping we see him at our next tournament.

Everybody will be glad to learn that Walt Wilhelm, whose right arm was badly broken in an automobile acci­ dent a few weeks ago, is able to be taken home and the doctors believe that eventually the stiffness will leave his elbow so that he can shoot again.

W. G. Williams of Portland, new president of the Pope-Young Field Archers of Oregon, came near getting a big black bear with bow and arrow but some brush got in the way and saved bruin’s life; so think Chet Stevenson and Doc Hewitt who were with Williams on a hunting trip near Eugene.

DORMITORY WARFARE (Continued from page 7 with the ease of a boy poking a fork into a piece of apple pie.

"Hades!” I exclaimed, "I thought you were talking of those glass gadgets, prism sights. The kind of a rig you are talking of is a pretty good thing, and I sometimes use such a contraption shooting cottontails, if I’m out of practice.”

This unexpected show of decency from me prompted Turnock to veer toward charity too, and he said that the reason he used a sight was that in shooting that way he had the aesthetic pleasure of watching the object towards which his arrows were flying. Whereupon, it being proven to me that Turnock was moved, even as I am, only by ideals, I was disarmed, speechless and floored.

For, I hold, only because of the aforesaid aesthetic feelings do we shoot the bow. Compared to a gun. a bow is most assuredly not an easily handled, efficient engine of destruc­ tion,—though a filed broadhead, when it hits big game is certainly as deadly as a rifle bullet. But for the man who knows the true values, who is happy enough to have real enthusiasm for

Mrs. Alyce Clayton sends us the films of six pictures snapped at the Oregon Pope-Young shoot. She thought that some of the archers who were at the shoot might like to have some prints. We will have prints made for any who wish at five cents per print. Thanks, Mrs. Clayton.

Willis H. Barnes 601 N. 4th Street

Sturgis

:

Michigan

Maufacturer of BIG GAME

HUNTING TACKLE Barnes Bows held up perfectly in recent Byrd expedition to south pole. It was Barnes bows and arrows that brought down the big cats of Mexico in the latest big game motion picture called "The Jaguar’s Trail,” starring Dan Brennan Jr.

Hunters, write for informa­ tion concerning new design bows and arrows.

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16

YE SYLVAN ARCHER

October, 1937

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Curios, Books, Minerals, Weapons.

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9191 S. Pine St.

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TULSA,

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