Clark: Well, you know Dick's story, and it's ~very complete, with the two-volume oral history [Richard M. Leonard, Mountaineer, Lawyer, Environmentalist, 1976], so I don't need to go into much of that, but I want to say that Dick is a longtime personal friend, and an incisive and very intelligent person. Besides being president of the Sierra Club, the Sierra Club Foundation and the Save-theRedwoods League, now he is the Honorary President of the Sierra Club.
I got acquainted with Dick particularly when the rock climbing got started. As you know, Bob Underhill [Robert L.M. Underhill], the guru of rock climbing, came out from Massachusetts to the Sierra at the invitation of Francis Farquhar. Francis also invited me, Bestor Robinson, Gien Dawson, Jules Eichorn, Norman Clyde, Neill Wilson and several others to meet Underhill on a climbing expedition in August 1931. Some of us met at Tuolumne Meadows after the high trip, and others joined us later. We drove along the east side of the Sierra, set up a camp at Fourth Lake, just below the east face of the North Palisade. We climbed the east face of the North Palisade from the big notch, and climbed on some other peaks, too, but weather interfered on some of them. It rained very hard at times in our camp. However, we did climb and name Thunderbolt Peak, a 14,000 foot point along the crest north of the North Palisade. The real summit was a schmoo-shaped rock.
Kuhn: Why schmoo?
Clark: You will undoubtedly remember some cartoon characters; they were pear shaped little creatures with happy faces. Well, to feel that we were really on top we had to shinney up this rock which was just barely big enough for one person. One by one we got up there and signed our names on a scrap of paper which we put in a little bouillon cube box. Storm clouds were blowing up fast and Norman said, "Come on, let's get out of here." So, we closed the box and started along the ridge, which narrowed toward the south. We were on that arete, trying to get down as fast as we could to a safer place. We were carrying ice axes, which were sizzling and crackling; and our hair was crackling, too. When the thunderbolt hit with a blinding flash and terrible clap, we all thought we were dead, but obviously we were still alive. We were lucky not to have been hit, and later we discovered where the bolt hit the rock behind us. We continued along the arete and found shelter behind a flake of rock. About half an hour later the storm had passed and we returned to the "schmoo" rock to finish signing our register. The little box was welded shut and had to be pried open with a knife. [See Sierra Club Bulletin, 1932, p. 124.]