National Geographic : 1929 Jun
THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE traveled El Camino Real (The King's Highway) half the length of the State and brought a Christian model to a heathen land. He was the first great mis sionary, to whom California owes much and whose favorite resting spot this was. One poet sings of it: Madre de Dios, keep for me My dream of hill and sky and sea The green rays where my path was set, The gay guitar and castanet, And stars that hailed, at close of day, The sunset roofs of Monterey. Another famous mission in the series which the Franciscans built a day's jour ney (by horseback) apart is that of San Juan Capistrano, halfway between Los Angeles and San Diego (see Color Plates XIV, XXII, and XXIII). SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO LINKS PAST AND PRESENT One may wonder at the stately palms, whose fronds wave a hundred feet over head, or walk "knee-deep in June" out side. Yet we must not leave San Juan Capistrano for the beauties of the lily ponds (see Color Plate XIII) or the won ders of San Diego's Balboa Park without listening for a moment to the story of this beloved mission, dedicated November I, 1776, only a few months after the Liberty Bell proclaimed the new Republic from Philadelphia's Independence Hall, then almost in another world. The mission was built by Indians, who quarried the red stone from adjacent hills and carried it down to the mission with infinite patience and labor. The building furnished indisputable proof of the high state of manual skill to which the red man was lifted by the tireless teaching of the Franciscan padres. The church was destroyed by earth quake in 1812 and, barring one short-lived attempt, for more than a century it was permitted to crumble to pathetic decay. In recent years the mission has been restored as nearly as possible to its original state and it is now a shrine linking the present with the past, visited by hundreds of tour ists every day, as they travel over a new King's Highway of concrete, which passes a few yards from the mission gates and connects the two major cities of southern California, Los Angeles and San Diego. Though the wild flowers are more spec- tacular in their promiscuous scampering over the face of Nature, their life is com paratively short; cultivated flowers, on the other hand, favored by climate and soil, produce for twelve months a year a never ending and varied profusion of beauty. THE ROSE TOURNAMENT OF PASADENA In the spring it is possible to drive for miles over petal-strewn highways, to be come almost intoxicated with the perfume of the orchard blossoms and wild flowers, but all the year the observer in town or country is rarely out of touch with beau tiful grounds which form a setting for residences, great and small. Often the sur roundings far outshine the house in im posing upkeep, and few indeed are the homes which make no pretense at attrac tive exteriors. Some of the larger and more preten tious estates, where expert gardeners and landscape artists are employed, are more beautiful than public gardens and parks in many Eastern cities. Once a year the flower consciousness of the people of California overflows into outward expression. The Rose Tourna ment, held on the first of January, in Pasadena, is the culmination of a com munity's desire to "tell the world." This gigantic fiesta is months in preparation. It involves an intricate organization in which every civic institution has a part. Almost every town in southern California and some in the north participate in it, and the tournament parade, when it swings into Colorado Street for the ap proval of visitors who have assembled from all parts of the world, is a spectacle of inspiring beauty. It is a pageant of blossoms. This year there were more than 300 entries, each a conception of great beauty. A FLOWER FLOAT FOR THE FAIR LADY OF SHALOTT As an example of the elaborateness of the plan, a description of the 1929 win ning float may be of interest. The subject was Tennyson's "The Lady of Shalott." By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.