This is a story written to the Anderson Historical Society from “Hoopie” who now resides in Batavis, Ohio. Many people and classmates will remember him. He keeps abreast of what is happening here through the Valley Post and friends. – Gean Vonk, Anderson Historical Society

My brother, Stanley Arnold sent me a copy of the article he wrote regarding the early football history at Anderson High. His article got me so enthused that I just had to add my two cents worth, even though it is from a younger perspective.

I started my Anderson High experience as a freshman in the fall of 1942. My oldest brother Murray, called “Murph,” was a senior. Stanley, called various things, was a junior. I was only 13 when I entered high school, and I was called “Hoopie.” That brings up a sidebar of information on the education system at that time in Shasta County.

I went to the first grade in Mt. Shasta. We moved out on the prairie on the Dersch Road and all five of the Arnold family children enriched the coffers of Prairie School. According to my sister Lorraine — called “Red,” but after the movie “Gone With the Wind” she was called “Scarlet O’Hare — we only attended there a couple of months and then we moved to Churn Creek where we attended Pacheco School. A few years ago I was attempting to locate the school records of the Arnold kids, and when I contacted the Pacheco School secretary, by mail, she mentioned that “Pacheco School had always been where it is now.” I knew that was wrong, because we lived about a quarter mile from the school and I knew where our house had been. I checked with one of my classmates and she set the record straight for the school secretary.

Back to where I started. When we arrived at Pacheco School, Lorraine was the only student in the seventh grade; I was the only one in second grade. We were both promoted. Nobody cared about my promotion, but Wanda, the oldest girl, was upset because her younger sister was now in the eighth grade with her. We were still attending Pacheco School when Stanley was in the seventh grade, and since he was the only student, he was promoted to the eighth grade. Murph did not care because he was still one year ahead of Stanley.

Those early and well-earned promotions put Stanley and I one year behind in our chance to star in football for dear old Anderson High. My year as a freshman was spent learning to survive on the rough and tumble world of a big school. Luckily I had two older brothers to protect me, and Murph was a well-known protector. Stanley, because of a chipped tooth, was also called “Fang,” had a lot of friends among the weaker sex.

My sophomore year I finally went out for sports. I was too young for contact sports, as the league rules said you must be at least 15 to participate in football. Coach “Flea” Bailey took pity on me — he could see a lot of potential there, I just know he saw it. He knew that I couldn’t play with the big boys, so all season he had me practice dropkicking conversions, as they were worth two points.

My junior year I had finally turned 15, so I could play. Our first game was against Trinity High. We made a touchdown and the coach said those dreaded words. “Arnold, go in and kick the conversion.” With fear and trembling I entered the fray. The ball came back from the center and I made the mistake of loosing my concentration on the ball and looked at the opposing lineman. Trinity High linemen — loggers — were all seven feet tall and three feet wide and they were coming to kill me. I missed the conversion. I don’t recall if the coach ever asked me to try it again, probably not.

Coach Bailey usually played the seniors for most of the games, just using the younger players for substitute and cannon fodder during practices. There were exceptions, of course, for the more talented players, but since I wasn’t one of them. I won’t mention any names.

In my senior year I was 16, so was allowed to play with the varsity. My brother, Murph, who graduated in 1943 and promptly joined the Marine Corps, played halfback and was team captain. I could think of no better way to honor the name of Arnold than to do the same in both categories. Stanley played center and his favorite play was “flip over center with a lateral.” That was the only play where he got to handle the ball other than passing it back to the quarterback. Stanley graduated in 1944 and worked at the Marin shipyards, where Dad was working. Then Stanley went to work as a rod-man for the U.S. Geological Survey. He finally joined the Navy in the first part of 1945 when he turned 18.

In my senior year we had a great six-man football team. We won all our games, including the championship game against Arbuckle High, who we defeated 32 to 14. Our other eight games we won by a combined score of 248 to 25. Our last game against Los Molinos was ended early because we were ahead by 47 to 0, and league rules called for a game to be over if one team was 45 points ahead.

I know that the 1947 football team also won their championship and that was the last year that Anderson participated in the six-man league. The only game I saw Anderson play was in 1996 when our class had our 50-year reunion. Anderson played Shasta and we lost in a very disappointing game. I did get to toss the coin for the kick-off and was introduced as the drip kicker for our team. The two young game officials asked me, “What is a drop kick?” I never told them. Let them figure it out for themselves.