Produced by David A. Schwan THE NATIVE SON By Inez Haynes Irwin TO THOSE PROUD NATIVE SONS James W. Coffroth Meyer Cohn Porter Garnett John Crowley Willie Ritchie J. Cal Ewing James Wilson Andrew J. Gallagher AND TO THOSE APOLOGETIC ADOPTED SONS Albert M. Bender Austin Lewis Sam Berger Xavier Martinez Gelett Burgess Perry Newberry Michael Casey Patrick O'Brien Perry Newberry Patrick Flynn Fremont Older Will Irwin Lemuel Parton Anton Johansen Paul Scharrenberg Waldemar Young All of Whom Have Played Some Graceful Part In Translating California To Me This Appreciation is Dedicated THE NATIVE SON The only drawback to writing about California is that scenery and climate--and weather even--will creep in. Inevitably anything you produce sounds like a cross between a railroad folder and a circus program. You can't discuss the people without describing their background; for they reflect it perfectly; or their climate, because it has helped to make them the superb beings they are. A tendency manifests itself in you to revel in superlatives and to wallow in italics. You find yourself comparing adjectives that cannot be compared--unique for instance. Unique is a persistent temptation. For, the rules of grammar not-withstanding, California is really the most unique spot on the earth's surface. As for adjectives like enormous, colossal, surpassing, overpowering and nouns like marvel, wonder, grandeur, vastness, they are as common in your copy as commas. Another difficulty is that nobody outside California ever believes you. I don't blame them. Once I didn't believe it myself. If there was anything that formerly bored me to the marrow of my soul, it was talk about California by a regular dyed-in-the-wool Californiac. But I got mine ultimately. Even as I was irritated, I now irritate. Even as I was bored, I now bore. Ever since I first saw California, and became, inevitably, a Californiac, I have been talking about it, irritating and boring uncounted thousands. I begin placatingly enough, "Yes, I know you aren't going to believe this," I say. "Once I didn't believe it myself. I realize that it all sounds impossible. But after you've once been there--" Then I'm off. When I've finished, there isn't an hysterical superlative adjective or a complimentary abstract noun unused in my vocabulary. I've told all the East about California. I've told many of the countries of Europe about California. I even tell Californians about California. I will say to the credit of Californians though that they listen. Listen! did I say listen? They drink it down like a child absorbing its first fairy tale.