THE EPIC DRAMA OF THE WEST ON PARADE 



On Saturday morning the last day of the carnival, the Round- 

 Up marshals its page and pageantry into a great panorama of 

 the Westward Ho parade — the Old West on the move. Pendle- 

 ton is filled to the brim with holiday humanity. Here, indeed, you 

 see the efficient, courteous character of its community, for a com- 

 munity's real nature is usually worn on its holiday sleeve — and 

 you agree that Pendleton's faultless carnival jacket needs no 

 mending. 



Preceded by the mounted cowboy band, the Governor of Ore- 

 gon heads the march, followed by the clean-cut western types 

 of the Round-Up president and committee. You now look into 

 the kaleidoscope of time; revolve it and its color particles on 

 your field of vision evolve into rainbow shirted, kerchiefed cow- 

 boys, hundreds of them four abreast, range types you'll never 

 forget. As they ride by, stir in you a forgotten, primitive, 

 natural something, an atavistic element you didn't know existed. 

 Again they evolve into cowgirls, scouts, old-timers, miners, mules, 

 oxcarts, prairie schooners, stagecoaches pack trains which shape 

 up and then disintegrate by. Now they dissolve into form — the 

 hunter scene which floats bv — ?.wi the pioneer, the Indian, the 

 camp fire, and all the principle epic episodes of the old life of 

 the hunt and range. And lastly into a magnificent, galaxied 

 mass of color which falls transforming into the mobile shapes 

 of Indians. You catch your breath, is this riot of color Indians 

 or an interweaving of broken up rainbows as the glorious 

 chaliced spectrum of the Indian section passes in its shifting 

 variety, — a seemingly endless human chromoscope — you agree it 

 is the most gorgeous mass and merge of color you have ever 

 conceived. 



So it passes, this picturesque, romantic, adventurous Old West 

 in its last review, passes between the solid banked phalanxes of 

 neutral clad spectators, along these less inspiring gray lanes of 

 modernity, passes under the triumphal arches of color, bunting, 

 banners, and flags which gracefully back and fill in the soft lift 

 of air which breathes down Main Street. The most conspicuous 

 banners, next to those of America are those of the Round-Up 

 bearing its emblematic symbol, a rider on a bucking horse and 

 the Round-Up slogan — "Let 'er Buck." 



The parade of Westward Ho, did they say, soft pattering 

 down the pavements of Main Street? It is Westward Ho, re- 

 echoing down the corridors of time. 



