The River Pioneers: Early Days on Grays Harbor 0914718657, 9780914718659

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Early Days on Grays Harbor by Edwin VanSyckle On his second voyage to the Pacific in 1792, Captain Robert Gray discovered first the harbor that bears his name and then the mighty Columbia River. Subsequent expeditions by explorers and scientists, armed struggles between incoming white settlers and native Indians, and the various grabs for land

and timber rights among the settlers themselves form the colorful tapestry of this history of Grays Harbor. A little over a century after Gray's discovery, loggers, timber barons, and

mill bosses had built the Grays Harbor towns of Hoquiam and Aberdeen into the world’s leading lumber ports. From William O'Leary,

the first pioneer settler in 1848, to the powerful mill owners and timber barons of the twentieth century, all the actors in this historical drama are present and accounted for.

In his award-winning book, They Tried To Cut It All, Edwin Van Syckle told the timber tales of the Grays Harbor area. Now, in The River Pioneers, he draws upon a lifetime of reporting and research to tell about the early explorers, the native Indians, and the determined white pioneers who settled the valleys of Grays Harbor, using rivers as their travel routes.

“Ed Van Syckle has dipped a wide net into the teeming waters of Grays Harbor history and brought up some colorful lore, indeed... . All it takes is the right bait—patience and skill— to convert the catch into permanent print. Van Syckle has made another valuable contribution to the growing shelf of Pacific Northwest regional history.” Bruce Le Roy, Director Washington State Historical Society

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Preface

N-. as a sequel to They Tried To Cut It All, I write of the first people who came to the rivers and valleys of the Grays Harbor region. Before the whites were the Indians who had been here all along; then came

the discoverers,

the adventurers,

the

land-hungry settlers, the exploiters, the dreamers, and all the host who streeked the plow or put an axe to the wilderness. In these river valleys there was much grubbing toil and struggle, and all the insolence of weather, the rain—especially the rain—the snows, and the blister of summer sun. The hills were reluctant, and so were the bottomlands; thus, perforce, the

pioneer was battle-drawn to brawl with a begrudging place fora foothold. The

mother

of valleys was,

and

is, the Chehalis

River,

nourished somewhere in the smother of timber in the Willapa Hills. It flows northward,

and then by sudden

westward to the narrow gut through which it spills into the by eight tributary rivers and but this giant land would be

change,

flows

called the Grays Harbor entrance, Pacific. For eighty miles it is swelled innumerable creeks, which in any called rivers. The Skookumchuck,

far inland, wanders off into the Cascades. Farther downstream the

many-forked Satsop enters, then the Wynooche, the Wishkah, the Hoquiam, and the Humptulips, all starting as trickles from the Olympic snowfields, then gushing to torrents from incredible rains in the foothills.

10

Preface

From the south come two rivers rising among the high ridges and canyons, but with small consequence of flow. They are Johns River, named

for John Hole, and the Newskah,

dians, hard pressed, found fresh water along the Chehalis system. Up the coast ripple three streams which the sea through country normally considered tory. They are the Copalis River, which has

where the In-

this tidal portion of

empty directly into Grays Harbor terriits beginning in the

upland marshes of the Promised Land; the Quinault, glacier-fed

and interrupted by that jewel of the Olympics, Quinault Lake; and the Moclips, revered by the Indians as sanctuary for young girls near puberty. These streams grooved the valleys, incising the land with swift water and laying down rich flood plains. The hills between, and the broad uplands, were clothed in the greatest stand of fir timber on earth, ridge after ridge, section upon section as far as the eye could see. Here was the wealth, the giver of cities, but not that which called the first settlers. They came to carve meadows and plant spuds and rutabagas, and run cattle on the salt marsh and inland prairies. They came to hardship, sweat and pain, everpresent danger and death, with a few rich moments of laughter. Life was austere, and a thirty-pound cabbage was real satisfaction. Here was a place where a gunshot wound, more often than not,

could be fatal; where frontier women, sentenced to drudgery yet an insuperable power in the valleys, bore babies many of the drudging years and peopled the place with names to live for generations. All this was a land of hard promise. The first settlers took to the open glades, or clawed clearings from the almost impenetrable forest to begin a way of life like nowhere else, no longer seen and but little remembered. For these people, the Chehalis was the highway. It and all the valleys set the course of empire. In them the logger goaded his bulls, thrashed the benches and hogbacks with a thousand steam-driven demons, leaving devastation. Thankfully, the simple exuberance of the land swiftly covered the scars, giving a tomorrow that is now here. My sincere thanks to the many persons of Grays Harbor who assisted this work with precious photographs and rich memories of pioneer times and the rugged growth years of the huddle of mortals called cities, towns or just communities.

Preface

11

I particularly appreciate the generous support for research to preserve Grays Harbor history of Henry N. “Heine” Anderson, the donor, and the Friends of the Aberdeen Public Library, who encouraged me to publish. Individuals and organizations who provided substantial historical materials are included in the bibliography appendix. My sincere apology to any I may have missed. I wish to express especially a gratefulness for the help of Dave James, a fellow laborer in the fields of history. He maintains in his waggish way that he was born to the pioneer James family in a strawberry patch at Grand Mound; but that notwithstanding, I am beholden to his dedication, his historic acumen, his hard work; besides, he is my friend. Without him I doubt this volume

could have emerged in print from the mountain of notes, drafts, and rewrites. He was the element to make this work jell. My gratitude and tribute to him. Ed Van Syckle

Acknowleag ments

Source materials were acquired from the Grays Harbor County Courthouse, Records Book No. 1; Navy and Old Army Branch,

Military

Archives

Division,

National

Archives

and

Records Service, Washington, D. C.; Grays Harbor Title Company; U.S. Coast Survey, 1862; National Ocean Survey of Grays Harbor; State Capitol Museum, Olympia; Tacoma Public Library; Washington State Historical Society, Tacoma; Aberdeen Public Library; Hoquiam Public Library; Oregon Historical Society, Portland; University of Washington Libraries; and Ban-

croft Library, University of California at Berkeley. For pioneer family material the author is indebted to Mrs. James Gleason, Frank Peterson, Dr. Kenneth Redman, Capt. Fred Klebingat, Harold Olson, Joe Randich, Mrs. Joe Malinowski, Joe Zembal, Frances Gurrad, Mrs. Emil Dianovich, Hazel Caldwell Russell, Gladys Phillips, Isabel Collins, Florence Pickering, John Hughes, Olena Egge Routt, Richard Olson, Willard N. Morss, Charles H. Clemons, Rev. John Adam Fischer, Steve Turk, and to many others who were so helpful with a name, a date, or a recollection.

The author extends special thanks to the Historical Photography Collection of the University of Washington Libraries; the Washington State Historical Society; and the Oregon Historical Society for permission to use photographs which appear, with credits noted, in this volume.

Chapter i} Explorers and Pathfinders

THE SPANIARDS ae: white man’s first contact with the Northwest Coast, and

the Indians’ first with the white man, took place tragically on July 14, 1775 near Point Grenville, a rocky promontory on the Washington shore some 25 miles north of the Grays Harbor entrance. Seven Spaniards died here, while six Indians were slain

by Spanish gunfire. The tragedy had been four months in the making, from mishaps, scurvy, contrary winds, and mulish minds. It began as an expedition of three ships out of San Blas, a Spanish base on the

Mexican coast eighty miles northwest of Guadalajara, ordered and meticulously outfitted by Viceroy Antonio Bucareli. One of the vessels was bound for Monterey, California, with mission and

presidio supplies, while the other two were commissioned to sail to 65° north latitude for exploration of the coast and to take possession “where prudent and possible.” The two exploring vessels were the frigate Santiago of 225 tons, 82 feet in length with a beam

of 26 feet, and the little

schooner Sonora, sometimes called Felicidad. She was 36 feet over all, with a 12-foot beam and a depth of 8 feet. Her pilot noted: “The deck and tiny cabin were alli it had to offer for security or living quarters, with no chests or other baggage than a bed and what could be contained underneath in a box; the height and

14

Explorers and Pathfinders

width of the sleeping space necessitated remaining in a sitting position; the small deck did not offer the possibility of a walk, and in this inaction one lived for the space of 10 months.” The Sonora had to accommodate a crew of seventeen: the captain, the second officer, a pilot, and fourteen seamen,

ten of

whom had never been to sea before. They were ranch hands or vaqueros recruited from Jalisco and Nayarit. Command of the expedition was given by seniority to Bruno de Hezeca (or Hezeta, now “Heceta” by common usage), twenty-four, a Basque from Bilbao, who chose the Santiago as his flagship, with Juan Perez,

who would not return, as sailing master or piloto. The escort vessel Sonora fell to the command of Juan de Ayala, with Juan Francisco de la Bodega y Quadra as second officer. The supply ship San Carlos was under the command

of Miguel Manrique,

with Alferez Antonio Mourelle as piloto. Fray Benito de la Sierra, one of two Franciscan friars borrowed from the College of San Fernando to act as chaplains in the Santiago (the other was Miguel de la Campa Cos), thus insuring a formidable and badly-needed linkage with the Almighty, described the departure of the expedition thus: “On March 16, 1775, at five of the afternoon, we left the church of San

Blas with the image of Our Lady, Maria Santisima, and reciting the litany proceeded in procession to the shore where we

embarked. On the 17th after midnight a land breeze sprang up and we made sail, raising the topsails only, so as not to draw away from the schooner, the Sonora, which accompanied us and which was a small vessel, suitable for examining the coast.”

With the fleet was a complement of 106 men supplied for a year’s voyage. The Santiago was particularly heavily manned and armed. She carried a surgeon, a boatswain, first and second mates, 2 carpenters, 2 caulkers, 2 stewards, a sergeant of marine artillery, a coxswain, 14 gunners, 49 seamen, 4 cooks, and 2

pages.

For armament

she carried

6 bronze

cannons

and

36

muskets with bayonets, 500 cannon balls, 300 flints, and 36 “matches.” Provisions included 5% tons of jerked beef, 3,400 pounds of dried fish, 17 tons of hardtack, and half a ton of lard.

It was shortly after midnight on March 17, 1775, with a high tide, when the ships got under way with a land breeze, the frigate under topsail so as not to pull away from the schooner. For

Explorers and Pathfinders

15

twenty-six hours the fleet milled around with feeble and variable winds, anchoring twice. At daybreak on the morning of the 18th, the Santiago and the San Carlos were again at anchor not far from San Blas to await the schooner, when a cannon was fired aboard the San Carlos. The Santiago sent a boat in response, only to find the San Carlos under way for San Blas. The boat overhauled her and brought aboard her captain, Don Miguel Manrique, and three sailors. Once aboard the frigate, Don Manrique desired a council of

war, then went back to the San Carlos for two of his officers, returning with one of them and the pilot. To the surprise of the Santiago's crew and the consternation of her officers, Don Manrique was armed with six fully-loaded pistols because he feared being slain by his own men. It was soon determined that he was mentally unbalanced, his hallucinations growing by the hour. Medicines and blood-letting only seemed to make his condition worse. Don Bruno de Heceta called a council, directing the officers, the

surgeons, and even the friars to give their opinions of the madman’s condition. It was determined that one of the officers of the Sonora should be sent into the San Carlos and Don Manrique sent ashore. It was no easy task persuading and eventually subduing the insane man. He refused to leave the frigate, even though he was assured he would be accompanied by two chaplains from his own ship. However, after two hours of argument and haggling, and some physical persuasion, he was gotten off and into the San Carlos’s launch, to be taken ashore. Command

of the San Carlos was given at sea to Juan de

Ayala, who was taken out of the Sonora. The Sonora in turn was placed under command of Bodega y Quadra, thus setting a course of events that was to have a profound effect upon Spain's fortunes in the North Pacific. With the Santiago at first towing the schooner Sonora, the two vessels were belabored by calms and adverse winds through

the remainder of March and into April; on the twenty-seventh they had barely reached 24° north. (San Blas is roughly 21° north latitude.) They were outside Cabo de San Lucas and in the open Pacific, but already growing short of water, having consumed fifty-two casks and four quarter-casks since leaving San Blas. The two vessels did not arrive in the latitude of Monterey until May 21,

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Explorers and Pathfinders

where it was decided by council not to enter. Continuing northward, the ships drew near the coast in 42° north on June 7, then

followed the coast southward to a small bay which Heceta named Santisima Trinidad. He went ashore to take formal possession in the name of “Carlos III, King of Spain by the Grace of God.” The vessels replenished wood and water here, and took aboard what food they could purchase from the friendly Indians. The two exploring vessels left Trinidad June 19 for the north,

keeping company until, by the end of June, they found themselves a hundred leagues (300 miles) offshore, the result of unfavorable

and variable winds. Bodega y Quadra and his pilot were in favor of going farther offshore so as to get a slant of wind to the north. Heceta supported his piloto Perez. However, when the winds did come they were from the west and northwest, driving the vessels

landward sooner than desired. As fate would have it, they found land near the northern point of the Strait of Juan de Fuca (according to M. Bellin’s French

map), and on July 11 sighted land again in latitude 48°23’ north, perhaps in the vicinity of Cape Alava, about midway between Cape Flattery and the Indian village of LaPush. Probing southward, the vessels anchored July 13 in latitude 47°23’ north, the Sonora behind what is now known as Sonora Reef, which extends south-southeast from Cape Elizabeth toward Point Grenville for

more than two miles, its southern end lying about one and oneeighth miles offshore. Fray Benito de la Sierra in his account of the expedition noted that the schooner anchored in an inlet, while “the frigate dropped anchor a league away in an open roadstead farther down about seven o'clock at night in eight fathoms of water.” At 6 o'clock

on

the morning

of July 14, 1775,

Captain

Heceta, the ship’s chaplain Fray Benito Sierra, second officer Perez, surgeon Davalos, Cristobal Revilla, the second piloto, and twenty armed seamen went ashore on the bay just inside the-point to erect a large cross and ceremonially take possession of this land in the name of Carlos III, King of Spain. The ceremony was watched by six grown Indian boys who were hunting shellfish and roasting them over a fire. They made gestures offering some of the food to the Spaniards, but the commandant refused the offer. The possession party did not linger, not even long enough for Fray

Explorers and Pathfinders

17

Sierra to say mass. Time was short and the Santiago was in a poor anchorage (which was named Rada de Bucareli,

‘Bucareli An-

chorage,” in honor of the viceroy). The name soon fell into disuse

not only because the cove was of minor importance geographically,

but because of the tragedy that would soon take place there. The Spaniards later called the point Punta de los Martires, “Point of the Martyrs.” Heceta and his party were back aboard the frigate by 7 A.M. While the Santiago was engaged in its ceremonial landing, Bodega and his Sonora were in trouble. At dawn, with the tide at ebb, Bodega found he was behind the reef with only a fathom of water under his keel. As the tide flooded, the Sonora was able to work into deeper water about thirty yards from shore—a shore covered to the beach with heavy brush and gnarled trees. To the north, a few miles distant, Bodega could see an Indian village

back from the beach, no doubt the forerunner of present-day Taholah near the mouth of the Quinault River. On that day, July 14, as they had done the day before, a large number of Indians visited the Sonora once Bodega had moved her to a safer position. The Indians appeared friendly and eager to trade furs and bows and arrows

for beads and other trinkets,

especially pieces of iron. During the exchange some of the Indians insisted on trading furs for an iron linch-pin from the Sonora’s boat tied astern. The Spaniards succeeded, they thought, in appeasing the Indians with some metal strips ripped off an old chest. The Indians then took their leave, only to return around nine

o'clock that night with great clamor, whooping and yelling. Bodega, fearing an unfriendly approach, armed his men and posted them about his vessel, but his misgivings at the time were unwarranted. The Indians were returning with salmon, sardines, whale meat, “sweet onions,” and other foods. Bodega thanked them and handed out a few beads, handkerchiefs, and some rings

and earrings for the women.

Badly in need of fresh water and firewood, and assured by the conduct of the Indians that they were friendly, Bodega sent the ship’s boat ashore with six men under command of boatswain Pedro Santa Ana. The men were armed with a musket and cutlass each, while some carried a pair of pistols apiece. The rough surf caused some confusion in handling the boat as the men attempted

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Explorers and Pathfinders

to clamber out. The backwash pulled the stern down and the next wave swamped the boat, throwing the men into the water and

making most of their weapons useless. No sooner had the men slogged out of the surf onto the beach than some 300 Indians

stormed out of the woods to fall upon them, shrieking and yelling. Five of the crew were immediately killed and “hacked to pieces”; the other two dashed into the water, but soon drowned.

The Indians then pulled the swamped boat onto the beach where they tore it apart for the metal, all of this in full view of horrified shipmates aboard the Sonora. The attackers carried the remains of the white men into the woods, and soon the entire beach was deserted. By noon the tide was high and, being unable to help his boat crew in any way, Bodega sought to extricate the Sonora from the shoals and get her into deep water. With five seamen bedridden with scurvy, Bodega had only a small crew to hoist sail. As soon as the Indians became aware that the Sonora was attempting escape, nine or ten canoes carrying upwards of thirty warriors each put off from the shore; but instead of brandishing their arms, they feigned attempts to get the Spaniards to trade. One canoe in particular hovered around the Sonora’s prow, the occupants holding up fur garments and food. The Spaniards held out beads

in an

effort

to entice

the Indians

closer,

but the

tribesmen soon tired of the subterfuge as other canoes approached the Sonora’s stern. With the Spaniards’ attention diverted,

the

Indians in the lead canoe began to climb aboard. At that moment Bodega and his available crewmen opened fire with the swivel gun and muskets.

Six or seven Indians died in the first salvo, their

canoe riddled. Several were seen to be badly wounded, but managed to paddle the filling canoe out of range. The Indians in the other canoes retrieved the swamped craft and retreated to hold council. After some loud talk and much gesticulation, and with the Sonora making good way in deeper water, the Indians finally returned to their village. Bodega now took the Sonora to the Santiago's anchorage, where he and Mourelle were taken aboard the frigate to tell the story of the massacre. Bodega pleaded with Captain Heceta for

thirty armed men to gain “vigorous satisfaction for such execrable evil,” but Heceta, taking the advice of two other pilots, Juan Perez

Explorers and Pathfinders

19

and Cristobal Revilla, refused. The sick from the Sonora were

taken aboard

the Santiago,

while Heceta

schooner with another boat and a cannon,

provided

the little

and reinforced the

crew with five seamen and a mate from the frigate, already shorthanded because of scurvy. Once the exchanges were made, on the evening of July 14, the two vessels raised anchor and started tacking in an adverse wind. Sometime later, during a storm, the two vessels—by accident or design—became

separated.

Heceta

returned

southward,

while

Bodega kept on until he reached the latitude of Sitka.

THE RUSSIANS The Russians were thirty-three years behind the Spanish in their ill-fated probing of the Northwest Coast. But they did give Grays Harbor a flicker of history. The year was 1808, just six years after the Tlingit massacre of the Russians at Sitka, then called New Archangel. On September 28, 1808, the Saint Nicholas,

reportedly a “fine little brig acquired from the Yankees,” sailed from New Archangel for an exploration and fur-trading expedition along what is now the coast of Washington. She was under command of Nikolai Bulagin, a Russian naval officer. With him was his eighteen-year-old wife, attractive and venturesome Anna Petrovna Bulagina, who was to have the distinction of being the first white woman to set foot on the West Coast. Aboard the Saint Nicholas were twenty people—seventeen men, four of them Aleuts, and three women, two of them Aleuts. Timofei Tarakanov, the supercargo, had been with the

garrison building the first fort at Sitka and was one of the few survivors of the Tlingit attack. He had been captured and taken to a Tlingit village, and had been the last man rescued by Captains Ebbets and Barber. About the time the Saint Nicholas left New Archangel, so did another vessel of the Russian-American Company, the Kadiak

(Kodiak) under Ivan A. Kouskov. She was scheduled to put into Grays Harbor for a rendezvous with the Saint Nicholas, take aboard Timofei Tarakanov, and then proceed to probe the coast just north of California. The Russian-American Company, organized in 1799 by Czar

20

Explorers and Pathfinders

Paul, with Alexander Baranof as leader, was under heavy pressure to cast southward. From the time the survivors of Vitus Bering’s second and tragic expedition had returned in 1741 to Kamchatka

with furs, to the establishment

of the first Russian

settlement of Bering’s “Great Land” in 1784 at Three Saints on Kodiak Island, and the move of the Russian capital at the close of the eighteenth century to New Archangel, the Czar’s people had exhausted the natural resources of the Aleutians. They had to seek elsewhere. Baranof, although a capable leader, was also a tragedymaker. In the Aleutians he made slaves of the more peaceful Aleuts, but when he attempted the same thing with the Tlingits—a more warlike people—he met resistance. The Tlingits in 1802 overran Sitka and massacred the garrison, forcing the Russians to rebuild a short distance away. This virtually denied Russian trade in Tlingit territory. Even more dangerous to Russian ambitions was the encroachment of American and English traders upon what the Russians claimed as their exclusive trading territory. The Spaniards were already established at Nootka on the west coast of Vancouver Island. The task of the Kodiak was to search out a California trading site to neutralize the inroads of Spain. So it was that the Saint Nicholas sailed from New Archangel that September day in 1808. She sighted Cape Flattery at the entrance to the Strait of Juan de Fuca on October 10, but became bedeviled by calms and light winds, working northward along the coast of Vancouver Island. There the ship’s officers mapped the shore, while Bulagin tried to trade beads, cloth, and iron for sea otter pelts, deer, and fish. The Indians, however, would trade sea otter skins only for cloth like that in the jackets of the Russian sailors, or firearms, which the Russians would not sell. After working as far north as Clayoquot Sound, the Saint Nicholas sailed south to the vicinity of Destruction Island to, begin surveying the shore in latitude 47°33’ north. She had hardly begun her survey when the wind fell calm and the heavy Pacific ground swell swept her inshore, dangerously near the rocky coast, a short distance south of the mouth of the Quillayute River.

Captain Bulagin put out his anchors, but the cables chafed and parted. The ship was thrown upon the rocky beach by a stiff on-

Explorers and Pathfinders

21

shore wind. She struck at high water to become a total wreck in latitude 47°56’ north on November 1, 1808. The crew reached shore without losing a man. Some arms, ammunition, tents, sails, provisions, and other goods were saved.

While they were salvaging what materials they could, the Quileute Indians stood around on the beach watching and stealing small articles when the opportunity afforded. The Indians finally attacked the Russians with stones and spears, but faded into the underbrush when the Russians opened fire with muskets, killing two natives.

Knowing the Russian ship Kodiak was to follow them south for a meeting at Grays Harbor, the survivors of the wrecked Saint

Nicholas decided to attempt a journey down the coast on foot. Accordingly, after throwing the ship’s cannon and other equipment into the sea, the crew, taking their arms, ammunition, and a

small amount of food, started along the shore over a path pointed out to them by the Indians. After three days of stumbling along the rocky beach detouring around promontories through almost impenetrable masses of wind-matted salal, salmonberry, and dwarf spruce, and harassed by the natives, the crew reached a river (the Hoh) too deep to ford. On the shore was an Indian settlement of bark “shalashes” or huts. The Russians hired some of the natives to take them across in canoes. The Indians selected two canoes, into one of which nine Russians were loaded, while into the other canoe went

Anna Petrovna, wife of the captain, an Aleut native of Kodiak Island, and a young Russian. In the middle of the river the Indians pulled a plug from the bottom of the larger canoe, then jumped overboard to swim ashore. Indians on the opposite shore attacked the canoe with spears and arrows, wounding several of the Russians, one, a man named Sovasnikof, so severely he soon died. The canoe drifted back toward the bank from which the party had embarked. The smaller canoe was landed close to the bark huts, where Anna

Petrovna, the Aleut, and the Russian boy were made prisoners. The Russians from the larger canoe fired on the Indians with such arms as had not gotten wet in the river, killing two natives and

wounding several. After the encounter the Russians withdrew to a small hill to

22

Explorers and Pathfinders

make camp, fearful of their lives, for there were some 200 Indians opposing them. Bulagin was overcome by the loss of his wife. Adding to their misery, rain fell incessantly, all the muskets and ammunition were wet, provisions were exhausted, and stomachs

growled with hunger. The men searched for woods fungi, plant roots, and anything else that might serve as food. They even ate pieces of their leather boots. In despair, Bulagin resigned leadership to Tarakanov. On November 14, two weeks after the wreck of the Saint Nicholas,

Tarakanov—also in desperation—decided to descend upon village and fight the Indians. The Russians found the Indians departed. From the huts they took as much dried salmon as could carry and returned to the camp. A day or so later, attempting to find a route toward

the had they the

mountains, Tarakanov, a hunter named Ovchinnikov, and an Aleut were ambushed by the Indians, the Aleut and Ovchinnikov

being wounded by arrows. The three, however, were able to fight off the attack and return to camp. They now gave up the idea of meeting the Kodiak on Grays Harbor, determining instead to make their way into the mountains for a winter camp. Hampered by the rain and dense forest, the party made way slowly, but the few Indians they met proved friendly and offered salmon for beads and other trifles. After several days of exhausting travel, the Russians were overtaken by a native from the village at the river mouth. He came with a proposal for the ransom of Anna Petrovna, to which Bulagin readily acceded, offering virtually all the remaining property the party possessed. But the Indians demanded four muskets in addition to the offering. This the Russians refused, whereupon Bulagin asked to see his wife. The interview was granted. Following an emotional meeting, Bulagin begged for her return, but the Indians would not abandon their demand for the muskets and took Anna Petrovna away. : After fighting their way upriver over gravel bars and through dense woods for a few more days, the Russians built a makeshift

fortified camp with a log house and sentry boxes. During the winter they also built a boat, with which on February 8, 1809,

they went downriver under the guidance of an old Indian. At the mouth of the Hoh they camped opposite the Indian village.

Explorers and Pathfinders

23

A large number of Indians gathered around the Russians, who as a precaution captured two Indian women and a young man and held them as hostages for the. release of Anna Petrovna and the others. After a few days more natives appeared, bringing Anna Petrovna. However, she refused to leave the Indians when the exchange was demanded. She said she had been well treated and that if she rejoined the Russians she would be compelled to wander through the forest half starved with but faint hope of rescue. Bulagin became so enraged at her refusal to return that he threatened to shoot her, but later went away dejected and grieving. Tarakanov, hearing Anna Petrovna’s story and learning that the other Russian captives had also been well treated, proposed to surrender to the Indians, hoping for rescue by some European ship along the coast. Four other Russians joined him. The rest attempted to cross to Destruction Island, but their boat was destroyed on the rocks, with all the provisions lost. The men barely escaped with their lives, only to be captured by the Indians. Tarakanov, who had surrendered himself to the Indians, was

taken by a chief named Utramaka to his home near Cape Flattery, called by the Indians “Koonistchat.” Bulagin was claimed by Utramaka, but was finally exchanged to the chief who held Anna Petrovna. As was often the custom with Coast tribes, the prisoners were exchanged from hand to hand among the Indians. Anna Petrovna died in August 1809; her Indian master at the time

threw her body into the forest, as was the Indian custom. Bulagin, hearing of her fate, sickened and died of consumption the following February. Tarakanov was well treated by the natives, largely because of his resourcefulness, his knowledge of tools, and his capability to amuse the Indians, even to constructing and flying a kite. In September 1810 the Indians, with Tarakanov, went eastward along the Strait of Juan de Fuca, but during the winter suffered severely for want of food. On May 6, 1811, a brig came to anchor near the Indian camp. Tarakanov and his Indian master went on board, where they learned the vessel was the American Lydia under command

of a Captain Brown, who soon set about ran-

soming the Indians’ prisoners. Among the prisoners brought aboard was an Englishman, John Williams, who was ransomed for five measures of cloth, a

24

Explorers and Pathfinders

locksmith’s saw, two steel knives, a looking glass, five packages

of powder, and five bags of shot. The Indians accepted the same ransom for each of the Russians except for Bolotof and Kurmachof, for whom

higher ransom was demanded.

Refused, the

Indians took them away. Captain Brown then seized a chief who came aboard, and held him hostage for delivery of the remaining Russian captives. All were brought within a few days. Thirteen captives were successfully ransomed; seven had died in captivity, while one Aleut was later ransomed on the Columbia River by the American ship Mercury. One Russian named Philip Kotilnikof had been traded away so far he could not be found. The Lydia sailed May 10, 1811, from the Strait to Sitka, arriving June 8, 1811. There is no record of the Kodiak’s calling on Grays Harbor, whether because of a change of plans, or because her master

Kouskov had learned of the Saint Nicholas disaster and reasoned that it would be useless to attempt the rendezvous.

ROBERT GRAY The year 1787 was momentous in the history of Grays Harbor. In that year ships inbound to the busy port of Boston were bringing extraordinary news—some good, some disquieting. Causing the greatest stir in the counting houses were the published accounts of Captain James Cook’s voyages to the Pacific. More disquieting was the sudden awareness that American goods were not competing well in the China market with those of Great Britain and other nations. A third matter of concern, this one gratifying, was that the Pacific was being virtually closed to British trade by the constrictions of certain British monopolies. The South Sea Company had one monopoly extending along the whole west coast of the Americas to 300 leagues offshore, while the East Indian Company had another preventing other British subjects from trading east of the Cape of Good Hope. With all this in mind, and alerted by Captain Cook to the possibilities of a fur trade, especially in sea otter pelts, six adventurous spirits gathered one night in the library of Dr. Charles Bulfinch on Boston’s Bowdoin Square. With Dr. Bulfinch were Joseph Barrell, merchant and mainspring of the enterprise; John

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25

Derby, wealthy shipmaster of Salem; Captain Crowell Hatch of Cambridge, Samuel Brown of Boston, and John Marden Pintard of the New York merchant firm of Lewis Pintard Company. Why, they conjectured, if Captain Cook’s crew could sell one-third of a water-rotted cargo of otter skins in Canton for $10,000, could not ships fitted expressly for the fur trade make a fortune? And if the American goods were not trading well in China, why not trade them to the Indians for pelts? Besides, the latest word from China was that Canton was avid for otter skins. Before that 1787 evening was over, Messrs. Barrell, Bulfinch, Derby, Hatch, Brown, and Pintard had formed a partnership with a capital of $50,000 divided into fourteen shares, designed to carry out a fur trade on the Northwest Coast of America, and traffic in silks and teas with China. Within a matter of days the partners purchased the ship Columbia Rediviva, commonly called the Columbia, a full-rigged two deck vessel of 212-plus tons, 83 feet 6 inches long, with a beam of 24 feet 2 inches, mounting 10 guns. Accounts differ as to the date and place of her building. The commonly given date is 1775 at Hobart’s Landing, North River, Scituate, Massachusetts,

by James Briggs. However, two registrations for the Columbia in the National Archives, Washington, D.C., give her building date as 1787, and the place as Plymouth,

Massachusetts.

(The same

register in the National Archives gives the year of the Columbia's demolition as 1801. The cancellation date of her final registry was October 15, 1801, with a so-final comment, “Tript to pieces.”) As consort for the Columbia, the company purchased the

90-ton sloop Lady Washington, which was to cruise the islands and inlets of the Northwest Coast and do most of the actual trading. Command of the Columbia Rediviva and of the expedition was given to Captain John Kendrick, forty-five, who had done

some privateering in the Revolution and was reputedly cautious almost to indecision. The sloop Lady Washington went to Captain Robert Gray, a native of Tiverton, Rhode Island, who since his

marriage in 1774 had made his home in Boston. He had also been an officer in the Revolution, and later had been in the merchant service of two of his new owners, Messrs. Brown and Hatch, com-

manding their vessel Pacific in the South Carolina trade. Simeon Woodruff, Captain Kendrick’s first mate, had been

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with Captain Cook in the Pacific. Joseph Ingraham, second mate,

later rose to become captain in his own right. Robert Haswell, third mate, was the son of a British naval officer. Richard Howe went along as accountant, Dr. Roberts as ship’s surgeon; Nutting, formerly a teacher, as astronomer. Tret was the fur trader. David Coolidge went with Gray in the Lady Washington as first mate. It was noted by historians of the expedition that Roberts and Woodruff left Kendrick at Cape Verde because of Kendrick’s indecision and delay in doubling Cape Horn. Haswell was sent over as first mate to Gray. So it was that destiny, in the form of a smelly cargo of sea otter pelts, and merchants who saw their fortunes turn, so to speak, on the edge of a knife or the shine on a pot, placed two ships upon the tide in Boston harbor September 30, 1787. The Columbia and the Lady Washington had been carefully fitted out and stowed with beads, brass buttons, earrings, calico, tin mirrors, blankets, knives, hatchets, copper kettles, iron chisels, snuff, tobacco, iron bars, nails, and other items that might catch a savage’s fancy. These were not trifles and trinkets, but important trade items. Captain Gray later was to obtain off Prince of Wales Island 200 sea otter skins worth $8,000 in exchange for an old iron chisel. Although it was the Sabbath—and Boston took its Sabbath seriously—the waterfront was crowded with cheering wellwishers, and saluting cannon fire rumbled as the trading venture

put to sea, destined to write a brilliant page in American history, frustrate Britain, and cut the trim of Captain George Vancouver's sails. But it was not to make a fortune for Messrs. Bulfinch, Barrell, Darby, Hatch, Brown, and Pintard.

When the Columbia and the Lady Washington were hulldown to Boston, they were footloose and free, yet bound by some very careful instructions. They were “to trade carefully, treat the Indians with caution and respect and fairness, carry the American flag with honor’ —and presumably return 1,000 percent profit. It had been estimated that the voyage could pay ten times the cost of outfitting and sustenance. To ensure good reception for the vessels, sea letters were obtained from the federal government to foreign powers; Massachusetts furnished passports, and the Spanish minister to the

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United States gave letters to the viceroy of New Spain. Medals in bronze and pewter, hundreds of them, were struck to commemo-

rate the voyage. These were to be distributed among the peoples the voyagers might meet. Instructions given upon sailing apparently were followed faithfully, for this expedition, and the one that followed in 1790, were well received on the Northwest Coast, where all Americans thereafter were called “Boston men.” Gray himself made a reputation among the Indians, being called “E-lop Hyas Boston Man” (“Great Boston Man”) and “Hyas Kloshe Boston Man” (“a very good Boston man’). But on departure day Kendrick and Gray were inestimable miles and years away from a place in history. They had yet to call at Cape Verde, double Cape Horn in company, and become separated in a violent storm shortly after entering the Pacific. They had previously established Nootka, on the west coast of Vancouver

Island, as a rendezvous,

so they set their separate

courses, reaching the Northwest coast the following August. On the way, Gray in the Lady Washington had an encounter that eventually was to change the course of history and perpetuate Gray in the annals of time. When he reached 46°10’ north latitude, he passed through what seemed to be the powerful effluent from a great river. The color of the water was also convincing. With an explorer’s curiosity Captain Gray turned shoreward, and then for ten days beat off and on Cape Disappointment, fighting wind and current, without being able to

enter what he assumed to be a large and powerful stream. Running low on water and provisions, Captain Gray again turned northward, resolving to return and make another attempt at his “river.” Gray arrived at Nootka September 17, 1788, nearly

a year out of Boston. The Columbia arrived a few days later—a bedraggled ship with her topsails reefed, her t’gallants on deck, two of her crew dead from scurvy, and many of the remaining crew in the advanced stage of the disease. Kendrick told a harrowing story. After parting company with the Lady Washington off Cape Horn, the Columbia had

encountered terrific gales and had been so severely damaged that she had had to put in at Juan Fernandez (Robinson Crusoe Island)

for help. Kendrick had been politely received by the governor,

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Don Blas Gonzales, who had supplied the ship with everything she needed. Don Blas’s compassion had proved expensive. He had lost his job, for the Spanish had instructed that no help should be given

to the Americans,

and

San

Francisco to seize the American Spanish jurisdiction.

Diego

had

ships should

instructed

San

they put into

The two vessels spent the winter in Nootka Sound, the Lady

Washington making occasional runs up and down the coast to collect furs, which were placed aboard the anchored Columbia. When the Columbia was loaded, it was agreed between the two

captains that Gray should take command of the Columbia and proceed to Canton, while Kendrick would remain on the coast in the Lady Washington. Captain Gray left Nootka July 30, 1789, in the Columbia, stopping in Hawaii for provisions and taking aboard Atto, the son of a Hawaiian chief, to visit America.

On December 6, the

Columbia delivered her cargo of furs to Shaw & Randall in Canton. Gray sailed from Canton laden with tea in February 1790, rounding the Cape of Good Hope, touching at St. Helena, and arriving in sight of Beacon Hill, Boston, on August 10, 1790—the first man to carry the American flag around the world. The Columbia was taken immediately to a shipyard for overhaul, while her owners debated their next move. Owing to a glut in the Canton market, the sea otter pelts had not sold well, and the Columbia's voyage was considered a loss. Derby and

Pintard sold out to Barrell and Brown. The remaining partners decided on a second voyage, intrigued by the chances of discovery and the possibility of a better Canton market. In preparation Captain Gray took Haswell as first mate, while Coolidge and Ingraham quit the ship. George Davidson went along as artist, Samuel Yendell as carpenter, Hoskins as accountant, with Joshua Caswell, Abraham Waters of Malden, and

John Boit as other newly-enlisted crewmen. Listed with the Boston port authorities in Renter ner 1790: “Ship Collumbia ofisers and Crew, Capt. Gray Command, Haswell C. Mate, Caswell 2d Mate kild, Owing Smith 3d Mate, Abraham Wartis 4d Mate, John Boit 5d mate, John Hoskins clark, Saml Homer and Jack Atoe Cabn Boys, Bengaman Hardden Botswain, Saml Yendell Carpenter, Nathan Dweley mate, John

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Emes Blacksmith, Popkins Armer [armorer], Bart peas Coopper, Tom Cook of Ship, Seamen, Joseph Barns, John Butler, Bryant Winle, Anteny Lows, Joseph Folger, Andrew Newhil, Elsworth

and Weks, Obediar Weston Sail maker, green Hands Isack, Ginnings, Sheperd, Gorg Daiveson [George Davidson] painter, Nickles, tailor, Nathanl Woodward

Coker [caulker].”

In further preparation for his second voyage Captain Gray received two sea letters. One was from the president of the United States, George Washington: “To all emperors, kings, sovereign princes, states, and regents and to their respective officers, civil and military, and to all others whom it may concern.” The second sea letter was signed by the governor of Massachusetts, John Hancock. Included was a certificate of the Columbia's cargo by B. Lincoln, collector, and James Loveil, naval officer, for the District

of Boston and Charlestown, which reads: These certify all whom it may concern, that Robert Gray, master and commander of the ship Columbia, burden two hundred and twelve 95th tons or thereabouts, navigated with 30 men, mounted with 10

guns,

has permission

following

articles,

to depart this port with

viz:

Two

thousand

bricks,

the six

chaldrons sea coal, one hundred and thirty-five barrels beef, sixty barrels pork, three hogshead N.E. rum, two hogsheads W.I. rum, five hogsheads molasses, five barrels sugar, ten boxes chocolate, two hundred and

twenty-eight pounds of coffee, seventy-two Bohoa tea, six casks rice, twenty barrels flour, seven thousand pounds ship bread, six firkins five hundred pounds cheese, thirty barrels tar, barrels pitch, thirty packages of merchandise, bar iron, twenty hundred

pounds twentybutter, thirteen six tons

bar lead, fifteen hundred

pounds gun powder, three hundred pounds small shot. Given

under our hands at Boston

aforsaid,

the

twenty-fifth day of September, in the year of our lord one thousand seven hundred and ninety. Outfitted and victualed, Captain Gray set sail September 28,

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1790, on his second voyage to the Northwest Coast. He reached Clayoquot on Vancouver

Island June 5, 1791, a faster passage

than his first time out. While trading and exploring in the vicinity of Queen Charlotte Island, Gray met with a “melancholy accident” at a

place called Massacre Cove: his second mate, Caswell, and two crewmen were murdered August 22, 1791.

Gray returned to Clayoquot to winter while his crew built a small vessel called the Adventure, the frames for which had been

constructed in Boston and carried to Clayoquot by the Columbia. She was the second vessel built in the Northwest, John Meares having built one at Nootka in 1788, which he had named the Northwest America. As spring advanced, Gray decided to determine whether or not there was a great river in the vicinity of latitude 46°. Off what is now called Cape Flattery, Gray encountered the British Captain George Vancouver, in the Discovery, who sent a boat to Gray bearing “Mr. Puget and Mr. Menzies to acquire information” regarding Gray’s observations along the coast. In response to Vancouver's rather patronizing queries, Gray told of encountering the strong outflow down the coast. Vancouver disdained the information and turned north for further explorations. Gray, on the other hand, proceeded southward, and on May 7,

1792, made this entry in his log: May 7, 1792, a.m.—Being within six miles of the

land, saw an entrance in the same, which had a very good appearance of a harbor; lowered away the jolly boat, and went in search of an anchoring place, the ship standing to and fro, with a strong weather current. At 1 p.m. the boat returned, having found no place where the ship could anchor with safety; made sail on the ship—stood in for the shore. We soon saw, from the

masthead, a passage in between the sand bars. At half past three, bore away, and run in northeast by east, having four to eight fathoms, sandy bottom; and as we drew in nearer between the bars, from ten to thirteen fathoms, having a very strong tide of ebb to stem. Many

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canoes came fathoms

alongside. At 5 p.m. came

water,

sandy bottom,

31

to, in five

in safe harbor,

well

sheltered from the sea by long sand bars and spits. Our latitude observed this day was 46 degrees 58 minutes.

Thus the first white men came to Grays Harbor. Gray made two

other entries in his log, fragments

of which

have been

preserved in extracts made in 1816 by Charles Bulfinch, one of the owners

of the Columbia,

from the second volume

of the log,

which was then in possession of Captain Gray’s heirs but has since been lost. These entries were: May

10—Fresh

breezes,

and pleasant weather;

many natives alongside; at noon all the canoes left us. At 1 p.m. began to unmoor, took up the best bower anchor, and hove shore on the small bower anchor. At

half past four, being high water, hove up the anchor, and came to sail and a beating down the harbor. May 11—At half past seven, we were clear of the bars, and directed our course southward, along shore. At 8 p.m. the entrance to Bulfinch’s harbor bore north,

distance four miles.

That was all. Gray went on to discover the great river of the West, which he named the Columbia after his ship, but that is

another story.

Gray named his earlier discovery “Bulfinch Harbor” after Charles Bulfinch. Vancouver, however, entered it on his charts as

“Grays Harbor.” His charts were published; Gray’s were not. So the name “Gray” prevailed. The Spaniards Galiano and Valdez furthered establishment of the name by calling the Harbor “Puerto de Gray.” Fortunately for history, John Boit, Jr., born in Boston, October 15, 1774, sailed as fifth officer aboard the Columbia when he was only sixteen years of age. He kept a complete record of the voyage, a journal generally accepted as the “second log” of the ship. The original manuscript of John Boit’s log or journal is now in the possession of the Massachusetts Historical Society. Boit’s account of the discovery tallies with that of Gray, but Boit gives details

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Gray omitted. He wrote:

At anchor in Grays’ Harbour 7 (May 7) N. Latt 46 degrees 58 minutes. Saw an inlet in the land which had the appearance of an harbour, sent the Cutter under charge of 2nd officer to examine it. Laying to a strong

current with squally weather. The boat returned, and the officer reported that he cou’d find nothing but breakers at the entrance, but further in it had the appearance of a good harbour. This appearance being so flattering, Capt. Gray was determin’d not to give it up. Therefore ordering the boat ahead to sound with necessary signals the Ship stood in for the weather bar and we soon see from the Mast head a passage between the breakers. Bore off and run NE by E. having from 4 to 9 fathom sand, an excellent strong tide setting out. The boat having made a signall for anchorage and a good harbour we continued to stretch on till completely within the shoals when we anchor’d in 5 fm in an excellent harbour. Boit gave the ship’s position at anchor as 46°58’ north latitude, as did Captain Gray, and 123°0’ west longitude. The latitude, allowing for minimal error, would have placed the Columbia in the North Bay region somewhere behind Point Brown.

Boit’s longitude obviously was wrong, for the 123-degree meridian passes inland just to the west of Olympia and the cities of Centralia and Chehalis. Gray recorded a northeast-by-east course as the Columbia

approached the entrance to the harbor at 3:30 o'clock in the afternoon. The ship ran another hour and a half against a strong ebb tide before she came to and anchored. This course too would have placed the Columbia on the north side of the harbor. John Boit recorded:

Vast many canoes came off, full of Indians. They appeared to be a savage set, and was well arm’d, every man having his Quiver and Bow slung over his

shoulder. Without doubt we are the first civilized people that ever visited this port, and these poor fellows view’d

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us and the Ship with the greatest astonishment. Their language was different from any we had yet heard. The men were entirely naked, and the. women, except for a small apron before made of rushes, was also in a state of

nature. They was stout made, and very ugly. Their canoes was from the logs rudely cut out, with upright

ends. We purchas’d many furs and fish. May 8N. Latt 46 degrees 58 minutes W. Long 123 degrees 0 minutes—vast many canoes along side, full of

Indians. They brought a great many furs which we purchas'd cheap for Blankets and Iron. We was fearful to send a Boat on discovery, but I’ve no doubt we was at the entrance of some great river, as the water was

brakish, and the tide set out half the time. This evening heard the hooting of the Indians, and all hands was immediately under arms several canoes was seen passing near the Ship, but was dispers’d by firing a few Muskets

over their heads. At midnight we heard them again, and soon

after, as it was

bright moonlight,

we

saw

the

Canoes approaching to the Ship. We fired several cannon over them, but they still persisted to advance, with the war Hoop. At length a large canoe with at least 20 Men in her got within 7 pistol shot of the quarter, and with a Nine pounder, loaded with langerege [langrage] and about 10 Musket, loaded with Buck shot, we dash’d

her all to pieces, and no doubt kill’d every soul in her. The rest soon made a retreat. I do not think they had any conception of the power of Artillery. But they was too near us for to admit any hesitation how to proceed. May 9—Very pleasant weather, many canoes along side from down river, and brought plenty of Skins; likewise some canoes from the tribes that first visited us, and their countenances plainly show’d that

those unlucky savages who last Night fell by the Ball, was a part of the same tribe, for we could plainly understand by their signs and gestures that they were telling the very circumstances to their Acquaintances from down

River, and by Pointing to the Cannon,

and

endeavoring to explain the noise they made, made us

66)

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still more certain that they had no knowledge of fire arms previous to our coming amongst them. I am sorry

we was obliged to kill the poor Divells, but it cou’d not with safety be avoided. These Natives brought us some fine Salmon,

and plenty of Beaver skins, with some

Otters, and I believe had we staid longer among them we shou’d have done well. May 11—Weigh’d and Came to sail, and stretch’d clear of the barr. Named the harbour we had Left, after our Captain, Standing to the South.”

There is a discrepancy between the two accounts of the Columbia's departure from Grays Harbor. Boit wrote: “May 11, weigh’d and Came to sail, and stretch’d clear of the barr.” Captain Gray entered his account in the Columbia's log on May 11, stating, however, the ship had cleared the “bars” at half past seven the evening of May 10, and at 8 p.m. the entrance to Bulfinch’s harbor bore north, distance four miles. The Columbia proceeded south-

ward all night and by 4 a.m. May 11 saw the entrance to the Columbia River bearing east-southeast, distance six leagues. “At 8 o'clock she ran east-northeast between the breakers and came to anchor 10 miles inside the Great River of the West at 1 o'clock, May 1792, the entrance bearing west-southwest.” Boit must have been a capable seaman to have sailed so young as fifth with Captain Gray. What is not generally known is that this same young man, a year later, was given command of his own ship, the sloop Union, for a voyage to the Northwest Coast for maritime trade. He was to proceed to China with furs, exchange them for Oriental goods, and return to Boston. This he did, sailing from Newport, Rhode Island, August 1, 1794, return-

ing to Boston July, 1796. Once Captain Gray ended his voyages into the Pacific, he vanished into what few records are preserved of his life and death. There are few factual accounts of his passing, but it is generally believed he died and was buried at sea on a voyage to or from Charleston, South Carolina. Although Captain Gray’s discovery of Gray’s Harbor was part design and part accident, and although his visit was somewhat perfunctory, the small out-of-the-way harbor was to

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preserve his name for history, the only geographical feature he observed to do so.

JOHN WORK An Irishman born in the year when Captain Robert Gray put the first sails across the bar which admits the Chehalis River to the sea has provided us with the first written record of white men venturing inland to the valleys. He was John Work, born John Wark at Geroddy Farm, not far from St. Johnstown, County Donegal, in 1792. Family tradi-

tion-has it that John ran away from home to join the Hudson's Bay Company at their recruiting station in the Orkney Islands. He was then twenty-two, rather old to be called “a boy running away from home,” but that is the record. He was to become one of the most observant recorders of Hudson's Bay expeditions in the Northwest. Work was thirty-two when he was assigned as a clerk to the Hudson's Bay expedition sent from Fort George (Astoria) in 1824 to break trail to the Fraser River across Shoalwater Bay (Willapa Harbor) to and up “Chehalis Bay,” (Grays Harbor) to Black River, Black Lake, and Puget Sound. It was a big party of forty men—Englishmen, FrenchCanadians, Iroquois Indians, Hawaiians and one American.

Work began his journal in November 1824, then—as now—a time of storms, rain, and early cold. On November 26, as the expedition paddled into the fresh waters of the Chehalis River,

Work noted “weighty rain in the night and with the exception of a few short intervals in the afternoon, pouring down rain all day. The men are completely drenched and it was with difficulty a fire was got made when we put ashore for breakfast.” The sturdiness of these men who plodded sopping wet through streambeds and along the brush-hampering shorelines is told throughout Work’s meticulous reports. He speaks often of portages. A portage means lifting one’s boat and freight from one

navigable point to another when obstacles prevent continuous flotation. During the travel period of November 18 to November 28, which took this expedition from present Astoria, Oregon, to Black Lake, near Olympia, Washington, men actually carried,

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Explorers and Pathfinders

dragged, and pushed three heavy flat-bottom boats and hundreds of pounds of provisions more than twelve miles across gravel bars, around log jams and impassable canyons. We learn from Work’s journals that white men had been on the Chehalis and Black rivers long before his expedition. Likely they were trappers and wandering mountain men. Work’s first comments on the Chehalis Indians reveal these earlier contacts with white men: Friday, Nov. 26, 1824...the navigation so far is

very good, the river is deep and the current slack, the tide ascends this far [about where Montesano now stands]. In

the course of the day we passed several islands. Passed four villages of the Chehalis Nation, two houses in the first, five in the second, two in the third and three in the

fourth, opposite which we camped. Though these people are well accustomed with the whites and have been still on friendly terms with them, we were surprised to find them all under arms on our approach, and at some of the villages assuming threatening attitudes, shouting from behind trees and presenting their arms particularly their bows and arrows, as if in the act of discharging them. On inquiry into the cause of this unexpected con-

duct, we learned that Cumcuilus’ son, Cassica, had spread a report among these people that the whites were coming to attack them and they were too credulous as to disbelieve it but they were soon undeceived and a present of a little tobacco to some of the chief men dismissed all appearances of hostility. Work described how the Chehalis Indians built their homes in 1824:

These people's houses are constructed of planks set on end and neatly fastened at the top, those in the ends lengthening towards the middle to form the proper pitch. The roofs are cased in with the planks, the seams between which are filled with moss, a space is left open

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all the way along the ridge which answers the double purpose of letting out the smoke and admitting the light. Canoes of these people accompanied us from one village to another, many of them quite naked regardless of the rain. Work wrote fifteen travel journals covering his travels between July, 1823, and October, 1835, recording material of great value to later historians. The runaway Irish boy belongs in the annals of Grays Harbor not only for his first descriptions of life along the Chehalis River but because this journal led to the many valuable observations Work was to compile before his death in Victoria, B.C. in 1861 at the age of sixty-nine. He is remembered by a street in Victoria and a marker in the abandoned Quadra Street cemetery, in recent years dedicated as a park to “early pioneers.”

DAVID DOUGLAS The next white man of note on the Grays Harbor scene was David Douglas, a young Scottish scientist, who stamped a swollen leg across the portages and miseried twenty-five days traversing from the lower Columbia to the Chehalis, upstream sixty miles, then down the Cowlitz to Fort Vancouver. He was a

botanist bent upon exploring what he termed “this wished-for spot, resuming wonted pursuits and enjoyments.” It was not to be “enjoyments” for David Douglas, for he had fallen upon a rusty nail at Fort Vancouver and suffered a badlyswollen leg hv the time he ventured on the Grays Harbor journey in October, i825. The condition of the leg became progressively

worse and more painful as Douglas continued on through the rain, fog, and cold. Having lost most of its supplies in a rough crossing of the Columbia, Douglas's party was hungering by the time it arrived on Point Chehalis. Smoke from their campfire drew the attention of Chief Thaa-muxi's Indian village across the bay. The chief sent a canoe and took the cold and hungry party to his village, where Douglas rested and recuperated for several days. Douglas did some “botanizing” in the vicinity of the Ho-

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Explorers and Pathfinders

quiam and Wishkah Rivers, then was taken up the Chehalis in Tha-a-muxi’s canoe. Because of his condition, Douglas decided not to trace the Chehalis to its source as he had planned, but took off across country to the Cowlitz, thence to the Columbia. Perhaps the most noteworthy result of David Douglas’s botany venture in the Northwest was the perpetuation of his name in the magnificent Douglas fir, which overwhelmed Douglas with its extent, size, and beauty. He recorded it, praised it, and carried seeds back to England, deeds that permanently placed the name

Douglas in forest and world history. CHARLES WILKES Sixteen years after David Douglas made his painful way out of the Grays Harbor country, another party of white men appeared. This time, in 1841, it was an offshoot of the United States Explor-

ing Expedition, commonly known as the “Wilkes Expedition,” Charles Wilkes, U.S.N., commander. Wilkes (1798-1877) is better known

to history as the U.S. naval officer who, in command of the San Jacinto in 1861, stopped

the British mail packet Trent and seized two Confederate envoys, James Mason and John Slidell. The “Trent affair” aroused a storm

of international protest. Wilkes’s name also is affixed to Wilkes Land in Antarctica in recognition of his 1838 survey of 1,600 miles of Antarctic coast. At the time Wilkes ordered the survey of the Grays Harbor and Shoalwater Bay areas, he was in the ship Vincennes anchored in “Nisqually Roads” (Puget Sound). His orders were first directed to Lieutenant R. E. Johnson, who was to be in charge of the party.

However, on July 17, 1841, when it became time for the party to depart, Johnson had not completed preparations and at the last moment declined to obey orders. Wilkes had given orders that Passed Midshipman Henry Eld, Jr. who was associated with Johnson on the journey, must be consulted in regard to abandoning any public property should that be necessary. Lieutenant Johnson was placed under arrest and Midshipman Eld assigned to command the expedition, with Passed Midshipman George Colvocoresses to accompany. Wilkes sent his party from Puget Sound down the Black

Explorers and Pathfinders

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River and into the Chehalis, then into Grays Harbor. He gave explicit directions for a twenty-day journey which would examine transportation routes and geographical features. Nine men and a boy interpreter identified only as “Joe” were assigned two canoes and supplies for the journey. Wilkes wanted no encounters with the Indians. “In executing this duty,” he wrote, “you will be very particular and respect the safety of our party from the natives, taking great care to avoid any collision with them, and to take up your encampment at remote distances from their lodges. Your party are provided with the necessary arms to protect themselves. None of them must be disposed of, nor anything else given for trade, and you will take particular care and use great economy in the expedition of everything belonging to the government, and not abandon anything, except through absolute necessity, in which decision the officer who accompanies you must coincide.” Commander Wilkes chronicled Midshipman Eld’s journey through the “Chickeeles” country and Grays Harbor in Volume V

of his Narratives. The assistance given the Americans by a “squaw chief” forms an intriguing part of the official report. Her abilities as a leader brought admiration from the exploring group.

On the first day of the seaward journey, July 19, 1841, “Mr. Colvocoresses went, with Sergeant Stearns and the boy, to an old squaw chief who had promised at Nisqually to be their guide to the Sachap [Satsop] River and to furnish horses and men to cross

the portage.”

Squaw chief was not to be hurried. She sent word she would arrive with horses and the promised men the next day. And she did. She brought five horses and a number of Indians who minded her “with great obedience.” Colvocoresses negotiated a trade for one of his canoes, which

was thought to be too heavy to carry. He accepted a smaller canoe; and ten Indians were furnished to transport it and the rest

of the articles,

. and they were soon in a condition to move. This despatch was principally owing to the directions and management of this squaw chief, who seemed to exer-

40

Explorers and Pathfinders

cise more authority than any that had been met with; indeed, her whole character and conduct placed her much above those around her. Her horses were remarkably fine animals; her dress was neat, and her whole establishment bore the indications of Indian opulence. Although her husband was present, he seemed under such good discipline as to warrant the belief that the wife was the ruling power, or, to express it in more homely language, “wore the breeches.” Squaw chief was to be seen several more times. On July 24, while going down Black River “in a fatiguing manner,” dragging over sand bars, shallow rapids, and sunken snags, the party was overtaken by the squaw chief and her husband, who passed them quickly in a light canoe. Eld’s group rowed out of the Black River into the Chehalis on July 25. They met one lonely Indian at the junction, from whom Eld bought some pieces of dried elk meat. Eld was impressed by the size of the “giant pines” along the Chehalis River. He was viewing the edges of one of the largest Douglas fir stands in the fabulous forests which blanketed Grays Harbor country. Some trees had been burned and fallen, possibly downed by the Indians in the only manner by which they could “log” such massive trees. One, that was not selected as the largest, for there were many of equal if not greater length and diameter, was measured, and the part that lay in one piece was found to be 200 feet long; another piece of the same tree was 25 feet long, and at the small end of the latter it was

still 10 inches in diameter. Allowing 12 feet for the portion destroyed by fire, Mr. Eld thought 25 feet ought to be added for its top, which makes the whole length ‘of the tree, when growing, 260 feet. Others were believed to exceed this, both in height and diameter. These were the giants the loggers were to assault with axes

and saws a half century later when Grays Harbor began its climb to world-wide lumbering fame.

Explorers and Pathfinders

41

On July 26, the party found an Indian family hunting who had just killed an elk, of which Mr. Eld procured the greater part for a quantity of powder and shot. These were members of the Suquamish tribe. On the thirty-first, after passing two elbows in the river, the party sighted the cape on the south entrance to Grays Harbor. They faced a strong flood tide “so that they made

slow progress and when they opened out the harbor and entered it they found a strong southwest wind blowing which caused a short and disagreeable sea that very nearly swamped their small canoe.” They made a run for the shore. “Here all things were taken out and placed to dry on one of the huge trees that had been brought down by the freshets.”

Who should show up but “the old squaw chief,” who had preceded them from Nisqually. She came over in her large canoe with ten Indians and offered to carry the party over to the weather shore where they could encamp in a less exposed place. This offer was gladly accepted and the drenched visitors were taken over to the village. Mr. Eld here endeavoured to treat for the purchase of a large canoe, in which attempt his patience was soon exhausted, for when the bargain was all but closed,

difficulties of a trivial nature were brought up which

entirely broke off negotiation.

The Indians of this

village proved themselves to be in all respects like the tribes in the interior,

who

will never

adhere

to a

bargain if they can avoid it. Mr. Eld and his party had now a great many difficulties to contend with in carrying forward the survey of the harbour. These arose as well from the weather as the want of means. The Indians for some days continued unwilling to lend them any aid in the management of their canoes, and none of them could be induced to ven-

ture out in what they deemed stormy weather; another reason for not engaging in the service was they did not wish to leave their wives behind. It being at last agreed that their wives should accompany them, Mr. Colvocoresses embarked in order to join Mr. Eld; but to do

this it was necessary to encounter both the wind and sea,

in consequence of which the Indians refused to proceed

42

Explorers and Pathfinders

unless they had an extra allowance of powder and tobacco. This being refused, they quietly steered the canoe back to the encampment. On arriving there, it soon became evident to Mr. Colvocoresses that their intention was to take away their canoe, for they at once began to put in her the few things they possessed. He therefore took two of their guns, and concealed them in one of the tents. An Indian, the moment Mr. Colvocoresses’ back was turned to the tents, drew his knife,

rushed into them, and brought forth the guns, one of which he handed to a woman. The musket which the squaw had was again taken, upon which the Indians said that they would complete their bargain, and induced Mr. Colvocoresses to believe they would do so. He therefore embarked, and they proceeded with apparent willingness, until they came opposite their own village, where they landed, and refused to go any further. They, however, offered him a small canoe, to take him across the river, and the Indian, to whom the

musket they had taken belonged, ferried him across. In the evening, the Indians returned to ask for the musket, but it was refused until they should return the

axe that had been left in the canoe, and agree to abide by the bargain they had made to render them assistance. The next day the axe was

restored,

and the musket

given up. After this, a more friendly disposition was evidenced, as Mr. Eld supposed from the fact of their having learnt from the Nisqually who they were. From the Ist to the 6th of August, the party effected little, and their supply of provisions was becoming very low. Ona

latter day they shifted their camp, about five

miles toward the capes, to a small patch of meadowland, near one of the small streams which empty into the harbour. After remaining here a few days, they select another spot, at the South Head; and on the 10th the In-

dians failing to perform their engagements, they moved

their articles themselves to their new encampment. They

Explorers and Pathfinders

had now very nearly exhausted their provisions, and were living on the dead fish they picked up on the beach, a sort of hake, and some berries. From continual exposure to wet, with hard work, as well as scanty and bad

food, they all became very feeble and sick, and were able to do but little work. On the 13th, Lieutenant De Haven, whom I had sent over, arrived, and relieved

them; and on his return to Baker's Bay, 20 days provisions were sent with a party of Kanakas, under the guidance of Colileau, a Canadian. This supply reached them on the 19th of August, from which time they proceeded rapidly with the survey, when the weather would permit. Previous to the arrival of Lieutenant De Haven, Mr. Eld and his party had parted with their own clothing and blankets, for the purpose of effecting the purchase of a large canoe to carry on their work. The Indians refused to deliver it, except for actual pay; for they had not yet learned to value the small pieces of paper, or orders on the Company’s store, so much prized in the upper country, and which are there usually preferred to the articles themselves. The threat to stop trading for powder, Mr. Eld found, was a strong inducement to accomplish any object with the Indians, for they prize this and tobacco beyond any other articles, always excepting rum. Mr. Eld, in one instance, treated one of the Indians

to a pipe and tobacco, which affected him so much that they thought he was going into a fit, and created consid-

erable alarm. This effect arises from their mode of using the pipe, for they invariably swallow the smoke, and retain the greatest part of it in the stomach and lungs. On the 24th, the survey was finished, and they prepared for their departure. The tract of land bordering

on the Chickeeles, below the mouth of the Sachap, and around Gray's Harbour, is of a poor description for cultivation. The spruce forest extends down to the water's edge, except in a few places around the harbour, where there are patches of salt marsh, which produce coarse grasses and cat's-tail (Typha). The salt creek into

43

44

Explorers and Pathfinders

which the tide flows are generally very tortuous; and the meadows are occasionally overflowed at spring-tides. The only piece of land that seemed suitable for cultivation, was immediately within the South Head; but this is of small extent. The coast, as far as Cape Shoalwater, is

no more than a smooth sandy beach, which rises in a gentle aclivity to a line of low sand-hills. Mr. Brackenridge describes the coast vegetation as consisting of Oberonia, Neottia, Ambrosia, two species of Aster, several Gramineae, and Armeria, with anumber

of saline plants; the Gaultheria is found in great abundance, bearing a palatable berry, of which the party had occasion to make use. For further information respecting the plants of this section, I refer to the Botanical Report. Gray’s Harbour seems to offer but few facilities for commercial purposes. The entrance is narrow, the width being from one-half to two-thirds of a mile, with dangerous breakers on both sides. The depth of water is from five to seven fathoms. The space, after entering, is extensive, but the greater part of it is filled up with mudflats, which are bare at low water, and confine the har-

bour suitable for the anchorage of vessels to very small limits. The river Chickeeles, before entering into the harbour, increases in width to several hundred feet, and

is navigable for vessels drawing 12 feet water, eight miles above its mouth. The harbour is only suitable for vessels of from one to two hundred tons; and there are

places where such vessels may find security between the mud shoals, some distance within the capes. The tides are irregular, and influenced by the winds and weather; the time of high water at full and change was found to be 11h 30m. Fogs prevail very frequently during the summer season. Our party remained at this place for 23 days, three-fourths of which time it blew a strong gale from either the southwest or northwest, accompanied with a dense fog, that rendered it impossible to see farther than a half mile. The Indians in this portion of the country are not

Explorers and Pathfinders

numerous. The region at the head of Puget Sound is inhabited by a tribe called the Toandos, whose number

Mr. Eld was unable to learn. The Sachals are about 40 in number; they reside about the lake of the same name, and along the river Chickeeles; they appear to be a kind and inoffensive tribe. The Sachap tribe numbers about 60; they are not as well off for clothing as the former, and few of them are supplied with firearms; they reside on the borders of the Sachap river. The Chickeeles tribe number from 150 to 200, and

inhabit the country around Grays Harbour, which is generally occupied by those passing to and fro, and where they await fine weather. Mr. Eld found this tribe supplied with good muskets, blankets and knives; they paint their faces and have altogether a warlike appearance. At one time during the stay of the party they were disposed to be troublesome, but the party being constantly on the watch, to protect themselves, remained unmolested, though occasionally annoyed by the disposition evinced to take advantage of any oversight. The chief of this tribe is spoken of by the party in very high terms, for his kindness to them. He seemed mortified at

the events which occurred and took much pains to keep his people in order. In this, notwithstanding he possessed little authority among his tribe, he succeeded, although

with difficulty. As a proof of his good intentions, he invariably returned all the signals the others had stolen. This tribe lives principally on salmon, which they take during the season in vast quantities, and the fish are said to be as fine as those taken in the Columbia. On the Chickeeles and in its branches, are many of the weirs and,stakes that have been already described. Sturgeon are also taken in great numbers, and of a superior quality. It may be inferred from their seldom receiving any supplies of venison through the Indians, or meeting with any themselves, that there is but little game in this part of the country. They shot a few grouse, some wild geese were seen, and the mudflats were covered with white gulls in immense numbers, among which were a few

45

46

Explorers and Pathfinders

pelicans. The amusements of the Indians, and the manner of

lounging away their time, were similar to those of the other tribes before spoken of. On the 24th, they were glad to leave Gray’s Harbour, after having, by great perseverance and with much fatigue, completed the survey. Mr. Eld now took up the remaining portion of the work he was ordered to perform, namely, to trace the coast to Cape Disappointment. The Indians whom he hired to take the canoe around by water, preferred to pass close along the beach, inside the surf, by tracking the canoe; notwith-

standing there was a very heavy surf, they managed to pass along very quickly. This is the mode they always adopt in journeying along the coast in their canoes, to avoid accident from the heavy surf, of which they have much dread. The evening of the day on which they left Gray’s Harbour, they reached a small inlet, distant 15 miles from Cape Shoalwater, where they found the lodge of the Chickeeles chief before spoken of, who supplied them with dried salmon, etc.

The coast between Chickeeles Harbour and Cape Shoalwater

is bordered

by sand-hills,

behind

which,

from the Indians’ account, there are lakes and streams of fresh water, in which plenty of beaver are found. From this chief they hired another canoe, and accompanied by him they proceeded through Shoalwater Bay towards Cape Disappointment. The two canoes separated, which caused them to pass over the two portages between Shoalwater and Baker's Bay; that to the east is about four and one half miles in length, while that to the west is six or seven miles across. The former is usually preferred by the Indians, and is one of the main passes of communication between the different tribes on the sea-coast. The woods through which they passed were of spruce trees, some of which were of large dimensions; the lesser plants were principally Vacinium, Ledums, and some candleberry-bushes (Myrica).

On the 27th they reached the Flying Fish then in

Explorers and Pathfinders

47

Baker’s Bay, and were taken over to Astoria. Mr. Eld received, on his arrival at Astoria, my orders to repair with his party to Vancouver; where,

being furnished by Mr. Burnie with a flat-bottomed barge, he set out to join me at the place, which he reached on the 31st August. I cannot refrain from expressing the satisfaction | felt at the manner in which the service was performed, and deem it my duty to make known to the country the commendable perseverance with which the party persisted in completing the duty assigned them, regardless of the inconvenience, privation, and discomfort. This tour forms part of the operations of the Expedition that I look back upon with pride and pleasure, and I feel that my thanks are especially due to Passed Midshipmen Eid and Colvocoresses, and Mr. Brackenridge, for their devotion to the service in which they were engaged.

Two geographic names resulted from Eld’s visit to Grays Harbor. “Eld Island,” which flanked the tip of Point Brown, no

longer exists, having ‘gone ashore,” so to speak, when the north jetty at the harbor entrance was built. Prior to that time, however, the island was distinct, with a channel between it and

the mainland through which fishing craft and tugboats could pass. The other geographic feature was, and is, ‘Brackenridge Bluff” just to the east of Ned’s Rock (James Rock), named for James Dunlop Brackenridge, a six-foot, broad-shouldered Scot-

tish horticulturist, who faithfully but complainingly recorded his visit to Grays Harbor. With a botanist’s eye he saw and mentioned the poplar, alder, willow, dogwood, and “raspberry” bushes and the “rich, deep, alluvial loam.” Brackenridge noted that the party in two canoes “met a sharp

breeze setting up the harbor” when on July 31, they “rounded a point” (opposite the mouth of Elliott Slough) and had some difficulty reaching a camping spot somewhere near the mouth of Charley Creek or the Newskah River. The party stayed there until

August 6, then shifted downshore about five miles.to “a nice patch of meadow close to a stream of water.” This was no doubt O'Leary Creek, upon which William O'Leary, Grays Harbor’s

48

Explorers and Pathfinders

first white settler, was to make his home seven years later. On the eighth, Brackenridge set out along the shore of the bay to dig some clams, but “when | got about three miles a deep river setting up a long meadow put a stop to my progress.” Thus

Brackenridge was probably the first white man to stand on the shore of Johns River. The party’s supplies were low, the men hungry, so Brackenridge filled his collection case with “Shallon Berrys” (salal berries). He with others in the party stayed on Grays Harbor for twenty-four days and then proceeded to the Columbia River.

Chapter ws The Indian People

x

Grays Harbor emerged from the eons, it displayed evidence of much geologic commotion and cataclysm, the more visible dating back some fifteen million years. At some time in these ages, the Olympic Mountains were upthrust, with massive flows and upwellings of lava. Later, all the land around was submerged and re-emerged at least three times, as the mile-thick glaciers of the Ice Ages came and retreated. The last of these may have been as recent as 10,000 years ago, leaving the contour of the land not too unlike that of today, save for the action of swift rivers and other work of

the elements. Sometime in the wake of the ice, the land grew warm and rich

with vegetation, including one of the greatest timber stands on earth. Fish returned to the streams, and wildlife to the valleys. The sea became populous with all manner of aquatic life. And then, finally, came man and woman. The Ozette “digs” and other excavations reveal that Indians

were on the coast hundreds of years before the first white men came to “discover” what the Indians had discovered centuries before. They had a sophisticated culture and art of a high order. They could snare salmon, hunt seal and whale, weave bark and

reed fabrics, cure meat and other foods, travel in beautifullyfashioned cedar canoes. They sheltered a workable society in split cedar houses before Scipio and Flaminius were avenged of Hannibal. When the first whites appeared there were perhaps no more

50

The Indian People

than 1,000 native inhabitants in the entire Chehalis Valley, the

bay and its tributaries included. Lewis and Clark, who encountered some Chehalis people at the mouth of the Columbia

and made the earliest recorded estimate of the Chehalis population, placed the figure in 1805-06 at 700. The explorers, writing in their journal in November, noted that “The Chieltz lived to the north

of the river

and were

[Columbia]

a large nation.”

In

December they noted: “The Chieltz tribe live near the seacoast and north of the Chinooks. They live in houses and are said to be numerous.” Lieut. George M. Colvocoresses, U.S. Navy, with the Wilkes expedition through the Grays Harbor country in 1841, observed in his own account of the journey: “The Indians, who inhabit the shores of the harbor, call themselves Chickelees, and their number

is about two hundred; they construct their huts after the manner of the Squamish tribe and, like them, live principally by fishing. We found them well supplied with blankets, muskets and knives. They are excessively fond of tobacco, and invariably swallow the smoke, and oftentimes retain it so long in the stomach as to throw them into convulsions. They enjoy a high reputation as warriors, for which reason they are much dreaded by their neighbors, the Sachals and Sachaps [Black River people], who are of a more

peaceful character.” James G. Swan, in his book The Northwest Coast or Three

Years’ Residence in Washington Territory, said that an “‘on-theground” census of Indians was taken at Cosmopolis in February, 1855, while the tribes were gathered to confer with Territorial Governor Isaac I. Stevens regarding a proposed treaty. Swan said, “The Lower Chehalis people numbered around 217, the Upper Chehalis 216, the Queniults 158, Chenooks 112, and Cowlitz 140.”

In 1868 William Billings, farmer-in-charge of the Chehalis reservation, numbered the Chehalis at 550. He estimated the Chehalis, Shoalwater Bay, Chinook, and Cowlitz Indian popula-

tion at 900. A year later Cyril Ford, then farmer-in-charge of the Chehalis reservation, gave the same figure for the population of the four peoples. It is unlikely that the Chehalis people ever numbered more than

1,000.

numerous.

The

Lewis

Chinooks,

and

Clark

on

the other

in 1805-06

hand,

estimated

were

more

the total

The Indian People

Chinook

51

population at 16,000 from Astoria to The Dalles, of

which 700 were Lower Chinook living at the mouth of the Columbia River and ranging into the Shoalwater Bay region. This figure was reduced by eighty or ninety percent by the great malaria epidemic of 1829-32. Sometime in the 1770s there was an epidemic of smallpox among coast Indians. It is believed that there were 2,000 natives at the mouth of the Columbia in 1780. By 1800 the population had dwindled to 800 Chinooks, including those on Willapa Bay. The population of other tribes then was 300 Clatsops, 300 Wahkeakums, and 450 Kathlamets. Herbert C. Taylor estimated that the Chinook population from the Pacific to the Cascades was 5,000 in 1780. The brig Owyhee, 116 tons burthen, Captain John Dominis, in service of the Boston firm of Marshal & Wilde, had appeared on the Columbia River June 4, 1827. She subsequently sailed up the coast to trade and to take a cargo of furs to China, returning

February 22, 1829, to anchor in Baker Bay just inside Cape Disappointment on the north side of the Columbia entrance. She carried the infection the coast tribes called the “cold sick” —a plague to rage through 1832 with high fever, cold chills, muscle cramps, intestinal upsets, and coughs. Dr. Meredith Gairdner, who came

to the Columbia River with Dr. William Fraser as a Hudson's Bay Company doctor, believed the disease was some form of virus influenza, but Dr. John McLaughlin of the Hudson’s Bay Company and others called it the “intermitting fever” or “fever and ague.” Modern ethnohistorians have suggested that it was cholera, typhus, or malaria, with malaria the most likely. The 1832 epidemic had barely waned when in 1836 another appeared “out of the north.” This, apparently, was not as deadly as some of the others—certainly not as devastating as the 1853 affliction, which virtually wiped out the Chehalis village of

Point Chehalis (now Westport). Many of the victims died from hurling themselves into the cold water of the bay to cool the consuming fever. Indians called this epidemic the “Big Sick.” So many deaths occurred that too few were left alive to bury the dead, and bodies often were left upon the ground or in abandoned lodges. Years later, whites attempting to cultivate Point Chehalis frequently dug up remains from the “Big Sick.” In some places there is evidence the dead were disposed of, not in tree

52

The Indian People

burial as was the Indian custom, but in common shallow graves. Such a grave was uncovered in 1930 during excavation for a

garage at the South Bay Hunt Club, inside the point at Bay City, site of an ancient fishing village. Several skulls, so fragile they disintegrated at a touch, were found close together, indicating

hasty burial in a common pit. The 1853 epidemic, which appeared among the Chinooks on the lower Columbia, spread to the interior and up the coast. It reduced the Chinook-Chehalis population on Willapa Bay to seventy souls. In some lodges on the lower Long Beach peninsula, corpses were found wrapped in blankets “like people asleep.” With the Chinook population on Willapa Bay virtually erased, the area was open to encroachment from Chehalis tribesmen who had survived the epidemic in their own region. They took over many of the fishing sites on the numerous streams flowing into the bay and sites long used for gathering oysters. Anthropologist Franz Boas, seeking remnants of Chinookspeaking people, found only two living among Chehalis people on Willapa Bay in 1890-91. One was Charles Cultee, who was able to give Boas information concerning Chinooks. It was recorded that smallpox also broke out in 1853 among Indians camped near the Samuel James place at Grand Mound. They had gathered to pick blackberries and were an easy mark for the dreaded disease. While smallpox ravaged the tribes with periodic epidemics, other afflictions traceable to the white man were more persistent and just as deadly, tuberculosis and syphilis among them. Meriwether Lewis noted that in the winter of 1805-06 at Fort Clatsop (now Astoria) at the mouth of the Columbia, his men were suffering from dysentery, colds, boils, and venereal diseases, the latter being treated with mercury. He also noted the ravages of venereal diseases among the Indians, writing in his diary that he “regretted giving his men bits of ribbon to trade to Indian women for their favors.” Not exactly a disease—at least not considered so at that time—but nevertheless a suffering upon the aborigines, was the white man’s alcohol, called “lum” (for “rum”) in Chinook jargon. The Indian was unable to cope with the powerful effects of the distillation. It disrupted relationships between and within the tribes as well as between individuals, and had disastrous effects on

The Indian People

53

Indian relationships with the white man. It eased and accelerated the white man’s subversion of the Indian and dulled the Indian's ability to cope with other white transgressions. In time “lum” became the greatest single item of conflict between the white invaders and the Indian. Some of the first American laws passed to deal with the Indian, aside from the so-called “treaties,” were those attempting to

control or even prohibit the passage of “lum” to the tribesmen. However, the laws were honored more in disregard than in observance, for “lum” was a prime item of trade and could purchase most anything the Indians possessed. Another torment of the Indian was the flea. Whether this parasitic insect was indigenous is hard to determine, but it was here when the first white settlers arrived. Virtually every voyager through the Grays Harbor country and up the Columbia to inland tribes noted this warm-weather plague. In the warmer months of the year fleas literally took over Indian habitations. Swan had occasion to visit the home of

Caslah’han, “an ugly-looking scamp with but one eye,” who had ferried him across the Grays Harbor entrance to Point Brown. Caslah’han had a lodge there, built of split cedar, but the lodge was empty when Swan arrived. The Indian’s family was living in a mat structure a short distance away. Swan wrote that the reason for this was soon known, for when he walked into the lodge he

was “instantly covered with swarms of fleas, so numerous and large that they seemed to me like flax seed, they were so big and shiny. We had to run for the water to get rid of these unwelcome intruders, and then found the Indians had been fairly driven from

their lodge by these swarms.” Early white settlers were no more fortunate in dealing with the hopping and biting insects. Children in the small schools squirmed and scratched, householders inspected their beds before retiring, the preacher in his pulpit scratched unashamedly and said the strongest words permitted, while his congregation in affinity likewise scratched, squirmed, and wiggled, seeking some passage from the Scripture to alleviate their torment. Once the sawdust began pouring from the sawmills of Aberdeen and Hoquiam and was used as fill for city streets, the flea came into its own. Sawdust seemed to be its element; it flourished to the discomfort and discomfiture of any and all within smell of

54

The Indian People

sawdust or hopping distance of a flea. Strangely, researchers in this period find not a word about the mosquito. The Indian did not complain of the mosquito, but he did know the flea and the fly, the latter a summer swarm around drying fish and refuse dumps. There was an old saying among the Quinaults that “A summer of many flies was a summer of good fish runs.” The spread of disease, particularly smallpox, and other ills was

hastened by communication

between

tribes, either for the

peaceful purpose of trade, or for raiding and war. Trade was the exchange of foods, craft objects including canoes, meat, weapons, shell money, metal and metal tools gotten in trade with the white traders, and in many cases slaves. Warfare was for retaliation or plunder, and the taking of slaves. Thus slavery in many cases was the reason for tribal communication in one form or another, and

it was quite possible for a raiding party to return with more than just slaves. There could be a carrier of syphilis, tuberculosis, or some other disease amongst the loot. Slavery was such a widespread practice among the tribes that slaves, along with wives and other possessions, were used as a measure of wealth. The Nootka chief Maquinna was supposed to have fifty slaves in his household, while it was estimated in 1841 that one-third of the Alaskan population was slaves. A report by A. DeHarley on tribes in Oregon Territory estimated that among twelve tribes in the Puget Sound region there were 232 slaves, or about 4 percent of the population, and that other Indian populations nearby, including that on the coast from the Columbia River north, had the same percentage. Slaves were a prime commodity of trade, and the Chinooks were the outstanding traders on the coast. They not only held the most slaves but trafficked the most widely, trading slaves back and forth from the coast up to the Strait of Juan de Fuca, south to Tillamook, and inland to the upper Columbia, with some dealings with Puget Sound tribes. One proposed derivation for the name “Oregon” is from the Indian name for the Columbia—’OQwahwakan,” “the river of slaves.”

Daniel Lee in his Ten Years in Oregon tells of “Killemooks” raiding their southern neighbors, stealing many slaves, and selling them to “their Clatsop, Chenook or Chehcalish neighbors.” Hawaiians, on the other hand, were not slaves, but contract

The Indian People

55

labor brought in by white men’s ships from the Islands to work for an agreed time and then returned to their homes. On May 26, 1810, the Albatross entered the Columbia with 25 Hawaiians aboard and anchored three miles above the Chinook village. The Islanders, according to the Thirty-third Annual Report of the Hawaiian Historical Society, planned to become permanent colonials. They may have done so, for in 1818 some twenty-nine Hawaiians were at Fort George, while the schooner Columbia “brought pork and Hawaiians” from Hawaii. The “kanaka” (Hawaiian for “native people”) village was near the Hudson's Bay Company Fort Vancouver. In the village in 1818 many Lower Chinook women were living with the Hawaiians. The Hawaiians usually returned home after their contract period of work, leaving their half-blood children behind. The Islanders wandered afield, for several were known to have reached Grays Harbor, the Chehalis people, and the Quinaults where, it was said, they were taken into the tribes. There is one recorded instance of a Hawaiian becoming a slave: a Hawaiian girl known as Jessie Bill was sold by a sailor as a slave to a daughter of a Columbia River chief. The Hawaiians generally were well received. Because of their sea-related life they made good Columbia River bar pilots, and readily learned to be good pilots on the river itself. Tribes on the Washington coast, in the Cowlitz Valley, and some on Puget Sound belonged to a language division of Coast Salish, with a number of linguistic groupings. The Upper and Lower Chehalis both spoke the Salishan languages and were closely related to the Quinault, Humptulips, and Wynooche. The Lower Chehalis apparently had no common name for themselves, while the Upper Chehalis called themselves “Kwaiailk.” The name “Chehalis” was applied to the Indians by whites, and came from,the Indian place name meaning “sand” or “sandy.”

The name Chehalis (Tschehalis or Checalish) was first applied to a single large Indian village at the mouth of Grays Harbor, according to George Gibbs, who spent twelve years on the Northwest Coast in the first half of the past century. The same definition is

given by Rev. Myron Eells. The Chinook or Tschinuk tribe, its name dérived from the Chehalis word T’sinu’k, at the mouth of the Columbia, had its own dialect, differing materially from others, even from those of

56

The Indian People

its nearest neighbors the Cathlamets and Chehalis. The dialects had not the faintest resemblance Makahs, or Quileutes.

to those

of the Nootkans,

Up the coast from Grays Harbor lived the Quinaults, spelled in several ways but a corruption of Kwi'nail, in the same cultural

horizon as the Salish language similar to that communication

Chehalis and Chinooks. The Quinaults spoke a identical with that spoken on the Queets and of the Chehalis, with whom they had constant by way of Oyehut. The name itself derives from

the Quinault’s

largest settlement,

now

called Taholah,

at the

mouth of the Quinault river. The Chehalis people had other neighbors to the north, one being the Copalis (Kope'ls) who claimed territory from Joe Creek to the mouth of Grays Harbor and a portion of North Bay within the harbor. They also laid claim to the valley of the Copalis River. Their largest settlement was Oyehut, on a crossover trail from the open beach to North Bay. The name is from the Chinook jargon ooahut or wayhut. To the east lived the Xamtu'lapc or Humptulips, who held the north shore of Grays Harbor perhaps as far east as Elliott Slough and had several villages on the Humptulips river. There were villages on both sides of the mouth of the Humptulips, and the tribe no doubt claimed the entire valley, for they had fishing, hunting, and berry camps as far upstream as the present-day Walker Bottom and Humptulips City. The Humptulips was a difficult stream to ascend because of the current, shallows, and rapids, and its Indian name meant “hard to pole.”

The Humptulips people may have claimed the Hoquiam Valley as well, but there are indications the Hoquiam Indians considered themselves a distinct group. “Hoquiam” meant “hungry for wood.” North of the Quinaults were the Queets people, called l'wi'ts, “people made of earth.” Although they were confined more or less to the Queets Basin, they did have a close relationship with the Quinaults in language, trade, culture, and marriage. North of the Queets was the Hoh tribe, speaking a Quileute dialect, but regarded as a distinct group. Next to the north were the Quileutes who, with the Hoh and a village on Jackson creek, were the only Chinakuan-speaking people on the west coast of the Olympic Peninsula. The Quinaults were at one time a fairly numerous people,

The Indian People

57

considering their range, which was the region drained by the Quinault River and the ocean shore roughly from Raft River to Joe Creek near present-day Pacific Beach. It was estimated that the Quinaults numbered around 800 prior to the smallpox epidemics. Quinault villages, except for one near Moclips, were along the lower Quinault River. Olson records that at the time of the

white man’s coming there were thirty-eight “villages” along the lower Quinault but states that probably no more than twenty were occupied at any given time. The average number of houses

in a “village” was four, with the population depending upon the fishing activity in any particular location. “Villages” were located where there were good fish weir spots or where hunting or berrypicking was worthwhile. The concept of Indian social organization is perhaps best described by the Quinault Tribal Council in its excellent booklet “Portrait of Our Land,” a tribal forestry perspective: “We settled along the river banks in small family groups to harvest and process the salmon. . ..We needed no formal structure of government, but relied instead upon tradition, loyalty, and conscience of social order. We had the most contact with the people who shared the same watershed drainage and formed a loosely knit larger body or organization that some people later came to regard as a tribe. The concept of a tribe was really a mechanism of other governments developed to make dealings with our people more convenient.” In this concept the Quinaults, when it came to government alloting of the Quinault reservation, recognized as “tribes” with

blood affiliation the Quileute, Hoh, Queets, Copalis, Humptulips, Grass Creek, Wynooche, Lower Chehalis, Georgetown, Willapa, and Lower Chinook. Harry Hobucket, in his “Quillayute Indian Tradition,” describes the village grouping as much the same

as the Quinault. The “villages” were on the seaboard, like LaPush, while fishing, hunting, and food-gathering camps were located along the Quillayute, Sol Duc, Bogachiel, and Kalawa rivers.

The Quinaults were the most southerly tribe to engage in whaling, but only a few men took to this hazardous occupation.

Salmon were the staple of Quinault fare, nearby and plentiful, and most domiciles were located too far from the sea to make whaling practicable. The Chehalis were a more widely distributed people, and more populous, than the Quinaults. They claimed the entire

58

The Indian People

valley of the Chehalis; in addition, there are records of a Chehalis population along the north shore of Shoalwater Bay (Willapa),

and even scatterings of the tribe as far south as the Columbia. Lewis and Clark wrote that they observed the Chehalis near the Columbia during the winter of 1805-06. Sir Edward Belcher’s map of 1839 shows a cluster of dwellings labeled “Chehalis Village” on the Columbia shore immediately north of Chinook Point. There was another gathering of houses labeled “Klatsop Village” a mile farther north. These villages were only seasonal dwelling places during the salmon runs on the Columbia. Records of the United States Claims Commission describe the area the Chehalis claimed as their territory: “Beginning at Copalis Rock and from there to the head of the Copalis River; from the

head of the Copalis River to the head of the Humptulips River; from the head of the Humptulips River to the head of the Hoquiam River; from the head of the Hoquiam River to the head of the Wynooche

River, to the head of the Satsop River; from the

head of the Satsop following the watershed between the Chehalis River and the DesChutes River to a point near Centralia, Washington, where the Chehalis bends; thence to the watershed

of the Chehalis in the Willapa Hills; from there along the northern edge of the watershed westward to the Pacific Ocean at a point near

Graylands,

Washington,

and

above

the north

reach

of

Shoalwater, or Willapa Bay.” The Chehalis lived in widely dispersed settlements, the main village being at Chehalis Point, a site now occupied by the town of Westport. There were other villages at the mouth of the Humptulips, the east side of the Wynooche River mouth, the west bank of the Satsop where it enters the Chehalis, and the east bank of Porter Creek, a site since destroyed by flood. There were a number of fishing sites or camps throughout the region: in South Bay between the mouth of Beardslee Slough and the point where the modern highway bridge crosses the Elk River estuary; Elliott

Slough, which was a notable place for sturgeon fishing; Cosmopolis, Moxchuck, Black River, Lincoln Creek, Scatter Creek,

Independence

Creek;

the

mouths

of

the

Hoquiam,

Wishkah and Newskah rivers; and the Upper Humptulips. There were also fishing camps on Chenois Creek, Grass Creek, and on

Sand Island in the Chehalis above Cosmopolis.

The Indian People

59

To the south, the Shoalwater Bay region was occupied largely

by Chinooks and Kwalhioquas (Willopahs or Wheelappas). Originally Athapascans, the Kwalhioquas are believed to have filtered into the region and established themselves on the Willapa River during a southern migration. The Chinook people, on the other hand, are believed to have made a gradual infiltration down the Columbia to wedge between the Salish people to the south (Tillamook) and the Chehalis to the north. The Chinooks, like the Chehalis and Quinaults, lived in scat-

tered villages or camps, moving back and forth between Shoalwater and the Columbia as the fishing and food-gathering dictated. Swan lists Chehalis village sites “on Willapa [Shoalwater] Bay, in territory earlier occupied by Chinook,” as Chiklisilkh on Point Ledbetter, Hlakwun

near Willapa, Lawhlak on the Palix River,

Nai'yasap on the Willapa River, Nickomin on North River, which was known to the Indians as Necomanchee (“shadow water,” because of the color), and Willapa on the Willapa River. There

were also dwellings on Toke Point, named for Toke, an Indian chief, a keeper of legends and traditional tales and, according to

Swan, one of the best canoe handlers on Willapa Bay. He, like his brother, Calote, traditionally wore only a white man’s shirt and blanket. The Chinooks normally retreated to the Long Beach peninsula for the winters, and to sheltered rivers emptying into Shoalwater Bay, the Willapa, Naselle, Palix, North River, and Smith Creek.

Nemah,

Quer’quelin,

Due chiefly to depopulation by disease, the Chinooks deserted the Shoalwater Bay region, the vacuum being filled by the already encroaching Chehalis. By the late nineteenth century they had all but vanished. As late as 1854, however, the Chinooks were picking cranberries on the Long Beach peninsula for the Astoria and Portland markets. At that time a bushel of berries would buy fifty pounds of flour costing $2.50 in Astoria and $3.00 in Portland. By 1852, Chinook and Chehalis people had developed a ready market in San Francisco for Shoalwater Bay oysters. By June 1853, some nineteen ships had entered the bay for oysters and miscellaneous cargo, including piling. An 1854 report from San Francisco valued the oyster business at more than $100,000;

60

The Indian People

shortly thereafter, shipments reached 30,000 bushels annually. Not all the oyster harvesting at that time was done by Indians, for white settlers had joined the trade; but oyster marketing disclosed there were still Chinook tribesmen around at mid-century. Dr. Franz Boas, collecting Indian myths and legends in 1890 for the Bureau of Ethnology of the Smithsonian Institution's publication Chinook Texts, tells of seeking the last remnants of the Chinooks and Clatsops of Shoalwater Bay. He found them located at Bay Center. “They proved to be,” he said, “the last survivors of the Chinook, who at one time occupied the greater part of Shoalwater Bay and to the north of the Columbia as far as Grays Harbor.” Dr. Boas noted at the time that the remnant of the

Chinooks on Shoalwater Bay had “adopted the more expressive and flexible Chehalis dialect.” The Quinaults, along with the Chehalis, are known to have

traded and sometimes raided along the coast as far as the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The Chehalis became familiar with firearms in their dealings with the Makahs at Cape Flattery, who had traded with Captain Vancouver for muskets, balls, and powder. The Makahs

in turn traded the precious articles to the Chehalis, giving them their first knowledge of the “sticks that roar.” By the early 1800s, the Chehalis were well supplied with firearms from another source: trade with the Chinooks and Clatsops. For some reason, perhaps a lack in trading contact, the Quileutes and Quinaults were without muskets until years after the Chehalis were armed;

the two coast tribes were still hurling spears and stones and firing arrows when the Russians arrived on the scene in 1808. Aside from Toke, whose name survives in Toke Point and

Tokeland on the north shore of Shoalwater Bay, few Indian personal names live in narratives or Indian legend. Written history of the Northwest tribes began with the coming of the first whites, who were meager in recounting their observations of the aborigines. However, there were two Indian leaders who figured

prominently in the sparse accounts, and the Indian chronicle begins with them. They were Maquinna, great tyee of the Nootkans, and Concomly, the influential chief of the Chinooks.

Concomly was first mentioned in writing in a journal kept by Charles Bishop, master of the trading vessel Ruby, which entered

the Columbia in 1795, three years after its discovery by Captain

The Indian People

61

Robert Gray. Among Chinook sub-chiefs who visited the ship, wrote Captain Bishop, was “Comcomally,” “a little one-eyed man,” who endeared himself to the crew and often slept in the captain’s cabin. By the time John Jacob Astor's trading ship Tonquin entered the Columbia in 1811, Concomly had become first chief of the Chinooks, although Chinook “chiefs” did not have all the power the term usually connotes. Concomly was tied by relationship and marriage (one account said he had six wives) to a number of

neighboring tribes, including the Chehalis. His influence came from his noble status and his control of trade with whites. The main Chinook village, with Concomly’s favorite dwelling on a hill behind it, was on the beach to the southeast of Chinook

Point, between present McGowan and Point Ellice—“about five leagues from the entrance,” wrote Captain Robert Gray in May 1792. (The site is not to be confused with the present community of Chinook north of Fort Columbia.) Concomly often spent winters near a creek that flowed into the Naselle River, where he found

protection in heavy timber from the strong winter winds. Concomly died about 1830. John Hussey, National Parks Service historian, asserts that he was buried on the south shore of

the Columbia on a hillside behind the trading post in what is now Astoria. In the fall of 1835 Dr. Meredith Gairdner, a physician in

the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company and a scientist of some note, secretly exhumed a skull reputed to be that of Concomly, which was flattened in front in the manner characteristic of his tribe, and sent it to a friend in England. For years the skull was on

display at the Royal Naval Hospital near Plymouth. After 120 years it was returned to Astoria for display in the Clatsop County Historical Society museum, only to be sent to the Smithsonian Institution for study. It was then returned to Astoria to rest until 1972, when it was buried in the Ilwaco cemetery. Coricomly had been dead for eighteen years when the first whites settled on Grays Harbor. Concomly may or may not have known Carcowan, who was chief of the Chehalis and Shoalwater

Bay Indians when William O'Leary in 1848 established himself at the mouth of O'Leary Creek to become Grays Harbor’s first white settler. Carcowan was mentioned as “Old Chief Karkqwan of the Chehalis tribe” in an account of a trip down the Chehalis River

62

The Indian People

published in the Oregon Spectator in October 1850. The account told of a two-week journey from Sidney Ford’s home on the Cowlitz trail to Grays Harbor and return. The party went first to Browns

Point,

then

to

Chehalis

Point

where,

wrote

the

chronicler, “the Indians resort part of the year.” The writer said he saw “a number of horses in meadows around, many deer tracks and signs of elk herds.” On February 25, 1855, Carcowan and his son, Tleyuk, were

on the site of Cosmopolis for the treaty meeting with Washington Territory's first governor,

Isaac I. Stevens. The date was of im-

portance to the Indians and to the meager white population on the Chehalis. It was the time set for parley between Stevens and Cowlitz, Shoalwater Bay, Chehalis, Quinault, and Queets Indians

regarding a proposed treaty. The day began cold and frosty, but tempers heated as the day progressed. The scene has been best described by James Swan, who had

been officially invited by Governor Stevens. He arrived from Shoalwater Bay in company with several Indians, who, on their way up the Chehalis, rested their paddles off Elliott Slough to enable the men to put on their finery in preparation for meeting the governor. The meeting site was a prepared campground on the south bank of the Chehalis, a claim held by James Pilkington about ten miles from the upper bay. There was a long gravel bar in front of

the site, with a six-to-eight foot bank or cliff rising above it. A space of two or three acres had been cleared of logs and brush,

which had been piled in a windrow along the southern side of the clearing, leaving a large, clear rectangle. A huge fallen spruce lay along the windrow, which served as backlog for a great campfire and cooking fires. In the center of the rectangle,

next to the river, was

the

governor's tent, and between it and the windrow were the commissary and other tents, “all arranged in proper order.” There were crude tables in the open air and a huge framework of poles, from which hung carcasses of beef, mutton, deer, elk, and salmon, with a virtual cloud of geese, ducks, and other small game. Along the sides of the rectangle were ranged the “tents and wigwams’ of the Indians, each tribe having a space allotted to it. The Coast Indians were placed in the lower part:of the camp, first

The Indian People

63

the Chinooks, the Chehalis, “Quinult,” “Quaitso” (Queets), Sat-

sop or Satchap, Upper Chehalis, and Cowlitz. Governor

Stevens was dressed in a red flannel shirt, dark

frock coat and pants, these tucked into his boots California fashion; a black felt hat with a pipe stuck through the band, and a paper of fine-cut tobacco in his coat pocket. Swan reported that the whites present were fourteen: Governor Stevens; George Gibbs, who officiated as secretary of the commission; Judge Sidney Ford, with his two sons, who were assistant inter-

preters; Lieutenant Colonel B. F. Shaw, chief interpreter; Colonel Michael T. Simmons; William B. Tappan, Indian sub-agent for the

southwestern section of the territory; Dr. James G. Cooper, a “surgeon and naturalist”; James Pilkington, the owner of the claim;

Colonel H. D. Cooke; Cushman the commissary; Green M Cafferty, the cook; and Swan himself.

After “hiyu wawa” (Chinook jargon for “much talk”), the parley got nowhere, and the February night closed upon distraught Indians and frustrated whites. The next day Governor Stevens's hopes were no higher. Tleyuk, son of chief Carcowan, was adamant in his refusal to sign the treaty. On one occasion when Tleyuk confronted him, Governor Stevens seized the young Indian’s “paper’—a governmental acknowledgment in writing of Tleyuk’s right to succession as chief of the Chehalis—and tore it to pieces before the assemblage. This of course was a grievous blow and insult to Tleyuk, an abuse upon him before all of his people. In answer, he more than ever harangued the other tribes present into resisting Stevens's attempts to put the tribes on reservations. The matter came to a head when Carcowan, despite Governor Stevens's rule forbidding liquor, smuggled whiskey into camp and appeared before the governor deep in his cups. Stevens angrily closed the parley. Not all was lost for the territorial governor, however. Within a year, on January 25, 1856, Stevens signed the treaty and won the signatures

(actually

their marks)

of the

“Quinealts”

and

“Quillehutes.” Tah-ho-lah and How-yatle, head chiefs, signed for

their respective tribes, while twenty-nine other chiefs of smaller tribal units affixed their marks to the documents. The treaty was confirmed by the U.S. Senate on March 8, 1856. It led, or had

already led to establishment of the Quinault reservation, and in-

64

The Indian People

directly to government control of the Chehalis people, the Cowlitz, and the tribes north to Cape Flattery. It was in April 1856, the year of the treaty signing with the Quinaults, that Sidney Ford, pioneer of Fords Prairie and Lewis

County, was appointed special agent in charge of the western district. The Chehalis, Cowlitz, and Chinooks were thereafter held

to be non-treaty Indians. Though they were under federal control, they were without federal beef, flour, blankets, land, or other

governmental “generosities,” including the “rights” that were retained by treaty Indians. There were, however, two tracts of land set aside supposedly for the benefit of the Chehalis and Shoalwater Bay people: the Chehalis reservation between Oakville and Rochester, and the Shoalwater reservation at Georgetown. The Chehalis reservation in no way qualified as Chehalis ancestral lands or mode of living, at least not for the Lower Chehalis people, while the Shoalwater reservation was a poor excuse for a traditional way of life for the Shoalwater Bay segment of the Chehalis tribe. The great bulk of Indian lands were seized,

surveyed, and thrown open to white settlement. The whites also preempted Indian fishing and hunting grounds almost to the complete exclusion of the tribesmen, and no compensation was ever given or offered. By 1857 leadership of the Chehalis had changed, and Chenamus was their highly-regarded and respected chief. In his diary, P. F. Luark writes of an exploring expedition down the Chehalis in 1857: ‘The party reached the Indian village [West-

port] where Chenamus, the noble and hospitable chief of the once numerous Chehalis tribe, had his residence; but all his people were absent at the time.” Tyee John, who lived on Point Brown near Oyehut, reputedly was the sub-chief next in succession to leader-

ship of the Chehalis. Years after the event of 1855, a son of Tyee John told how his

father and Chenamus handled a request by inland Indians for war against the whites. Inland Indians sent emissaries to Chief Chenamus to obtain cooperation in wiping out the white settlers. Chenamus in turn sent runners to all subordinate tribes under his chieftainship calling them to a council. The inland emissaries then stated their case, charging the whites with innumerable crimes against the Indians. The whites, they said, should be destroyed. After listening to the envoys, Chenamus sent men to other tribes

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66

The Indian People

to ask their experiences with the white men. Their testimony was uniformly favorable to the whites as fair neighbors and good people to have in the land. Chenamus then turned to Tyee John and asked: “Now, what is your decision?” Tyee John sat several minutes in contemplation, then rising to his feet and facing the other chiefs, said: “I will have no part in the war. There are no whites among us who need killing.” Turning to the emissaries, he continued: “If you have white people among you that ought to be killed, go ahead and kill them, but don’t disturb the whites in our country, for if you kill them, we

will kill you.” Within 10 years the “noble and esteemed” Chenamus was dead. He was stabbed to death near Chinook on the Columbia River August 4, 1865, by a white man named Dickerson, who was promptly killed by the Indians. Another account of the event gave this version: “In August 1865, Chenamus, a dissipated character and chief of a small band between Grays Harbor and Willapa Bay, perhaps under the influence of liquor, was stabbed through the heart by a white man during an argument. . .the people then choked the killer to death with a chunk of wood.” News of the tragedy reached Grays Harbor August 10, 1865, causing a stir among the Indians and apprehension among the whites. Chenamus was succeeded by “Coolidge” (as the whites interpreted the Indian name), who remained leader of the Chehalis until he went blind some years later. Coolidge was succeeded in turn by Lighthouse Charley Ma-tote, a North Cove Indian who had received his “paper,” a highly-valued written appointment, August

10, 1876,

as chief of the Shoalwater

tribe, with

his

authority and influence spreading to the Grays Harbor Chehalis as well. Upon Lighthouse Charley’s death, his son, George A. Charley, was given a chief's authority. George Charley dropped the Indian name “Ma-tote” and took his father’s given name as his own. He was one of the last Shoalwater Indians to have a flattened head, a common practice among the Chinooks. Heads were flattened occasionally among the Shoalwater people, and the practice was sometimes indulged in by the Chehalis. The basic social unit was the kin group, which in turn was loosely knit into a tribe with a headman or, in the white man’s term, a chief. There were also sub-chiefs and an acknowledged

The Indian People

67

right of succession. The chief maintained his rule mostly by results but also by wisdom. Occasionally a chief could maintain his position by autocratic power. He could be overthrown, and sometimes was. Generally, if the tribe was content, the chief endured.

Coastal Indians were known as “canoe Indians” as distinguished from the “horse Indians” east of the Cascades and beyond the Rockies. The canoe Indians had considerable mobility up and down the coast and up and down the innumerable rivers. The whites found the Indians great travelers within their canoetravel limitations, constantly on the move to and from their fixed villages or between their fishing camps. There would be hardly a daylight hour when from one to a dozen canoes, big Chinooks or shovel-nosed, could not be seen upon the Chehalis. By sea the tribes were often far-ranging, up and down the coast from Vancouver

Island to the Columbia,

whaling, and sealing. Slavery was common,

for trade, raids, slave traffic,

slave buying or trade was indulged,

and slave raids, prior to the coming of the white man, were an ex-

pectation. The exchange of women between tribes for conjugal purposes was prevalent. Thus most of the tribes were not as tightly formed units as might be expected. Often there was enmity between tribes, and not infrequently bloody encounters. “Old Suis” of Shoalwater Bay told Swan of a fierce battle between Shoalwater Bay Indians and the Chehalis, whose chief at that time was “Kaith-lah’wil’-nu.” The battle was fought on the Palix River, the site since being called “bloody ground” by the Indians. Silas Heck,

a full-blood

Chehalis,

related in 1914 a story

often told by his father of a great battle between the Upper and Lower Chehalis over a boundary line. Heck said that the many arrowheads to be found along the Chehalis and Satsop rivers are reminders of the battle fought more than 300 years ago. It was said that the Chehalis people on Chehalis Point and the Copalis village at Oyehut had a long history of enmity prior to the white man and that raids back and forth were frequent. Most all coast tribes were predatory, and made raiding an avocation. When not occupied with the necessities of life, and with time on their hands, it was a common practice, weather permitting, to set out on a plundering expedition. All canoe Indians practiced it, some more than others. The up-coast tribes, par-

68

The Indian People

ticularly the Quileutes and Makahs,

and of course the Nootkas

and oftentimes the Quinaults, were the boldest raiders. They would cruise along the coast in flotillas of big whaling canoes, and pounce upon any village weak enough and worthy of their time and effort. The Chehalis people and the Chinooks farther south, often the objects of attack, were always wary of strange canoes coming through the harbor entrance. Such an event, which had happened years before the white man arrived, was recounted by Lafayette Lincoln Bush, a Pacific County pioneer of 1871, who had graduated from Portland University and was for a time a professor of mathematics there. He was recognized as an authority on Indian history and affairs, acknowledged by the Smithsonian Institution and often serving as consultant to serious students of Indian matters. Late one afternoon the people on Chehalis Point saw strange canoes come into the harbor. From long experience with coast peoples, they recognized the canoes as Quileutes, their very presence meaning a raid and danger. There was dismay in the village. Tsa-lase, the chief who had become famous for his prowess in war, was down on the Columbia visiting relatives, for one of

his wives was a Chinook woman. The Chehalis’s best runner was sent down the beach to Toke Point, where he borrowed a canoe and paddled furiously down Shoalwater Bay. By the afternoon of the next day Tsa-lase had returned home, bringing along some friendly Indians from Shoalwater Bay. The next morning the Chehalis scouted the harbor, spotting strange drift on the beach some distance below the mouth of the Hoquiam River. The “drift” turned out to be canoes hidden under a brush-covered bank. The Quileutes appeared to be awaiting another night before starting their forays. Now Tsa-lase was known not only as a strong and agile fighter, but as a strategist. His reputation was such that the Quileutes would credit any raid a success if they could lay their hands on him. Down the shore from where the Quileutes had hidden their canoes, the beach in places is soft sandstone rock covered with a scum of tidemud, making the footing slippery and treacherous. The place now is known as James Rock. To this place Tsa-lase

The Indian People

69

directed some friendly upriver Indians, telling them to keep under cover until called upon. Meanwhile the chief loaded two large Chinook canoes with as many fighting men as they could hold— lying on the bottoms, covered with “klis-kwiss” (mats made of

cattail rushes.) He assigned two paddlers to each canoe, instructing them to paddle within easy sight of the Quileutes. Tsa-lase went in one of the canoes himself. The strategy began to work almost at once. The men paddled the two canoes along the shore, and were seen by the Quileutes. The raiders, thinking the two heavily-laden canoes would be a good prize, could not resist. They took off in pursuit. When it appeared they were about to overhaul the four paddlers, Tsa-lase gave a signal and all the hidden Chehalis rose up shouting and making defiant gestures. The Quileutes were stopped momentarily, but soon realized they outnumbered the Chehalis and took up the pursuit again. The two Chehalis canoes headed for the beach, still making challenging gestures, but appearing anxious to make shore. When

they reached shallow water, to the surprise and satisfaction of the Quileutes they seemed to mill around in confusion, not heading for shore and cover as expected. The Quileutes soon reached the shallows and jumped out of their canoes, whooping, to the attack. Then things began to happen. The mud-slimed rock of the beach was as slippery as whale oil. The Chehalis were at home on it, but to the Quileutes it was disaster. Tsa-lase signaled for his reserves, which gave Tsa-lase

numbers equal to the enemy, and the battle was on. Tsa-lase knew that in an open fight the Quileutes would recognize him and make him their principal target, so he and his nephew took up

position

among

the drift ashore

and picked

off individual

Quileutes with bows and arrows. After a time the Quileutes had had enough. They returned to their canoes and started a hasty retreat from the beach, but here Tsa-lase’s strategy really paid off. The beach and flats were laced with many small sloughs, well known to Tsa-lase’s people, but sheer confusion to the Quileutes. The tide was ebbing fast. The invaders, unfamiliar with the terrain, were trapped on the mudbanks and shallows and had to jump overboard to extricate their canoes.

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The Indian People

Tsa-lase called off the pursuit when there were only a few Quileutes left. The raiders, making their painful way home, had to pass the mouth of the Quinault. They placed mats, blankets, and other belongings on sticks to look like a canoe full of occupants so the Quinaults would not know of their weakness and attack them. The story goes that the Quileutes never again raided Chehalis territory.

Another element fostering communication between Northwest tribes was the trade language to become known as the “Chinook jargon.” It had no doubt existed for centuries as a purely Indian creation, and was unsuspected by the whites for many years. Then, picking up a word here and there from British Co-

lumbia to the Columbia River, white explorers and traders realized the Indians were using two languages, their own tribal dialects and a second language familiar to all tribes. Many jargon words persist, especially in geographic usage. For instance, the Nootkan word “chuck” was familiar to all Chehalis people who named streams “Skookumchuck” meaning “powerful or rapid stream,” and ‘“Mox Chuck,” meaning “two waters.” The English word “salt” was taken unchanged into the jargon, so the sea was known as the “salt chuck.”

In the peculiar relationship among coast tribes, there was one custom

of never-failing intercourse.

This was

the “potlatch,” a

Nootka word in the Chinook jargon meaning “gift” or “to give.” The potlatch, common

to all tribes in the Pacific Northwest,

was the element affording communication despite enmities and conflicts. The chief, or even the well-known tribesman, who gave the biggest potlatch and distributed the greatest array of gifts won fame, prestige, and property. He would invite tribes from Vancouver Island to the Columbia, often as far south as Tillamook. He would feed them, entertain them with games and dances, and

lavish gifts—indeed all his wealth—upon them. He would expect, of course, that in return he would be invited to all other potlatches along the coast. One notable festival of this kind was given by Xle’Kmalcu in the village called Kwi’nail (now Taholah, named after Chief Taholah). It may have been the first potlatch among the Quinaults. Xle’kmalcu built a special potlatch house, said to have

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71

been 150 fathoms long and 25 fathoms wide, but still not large

enough to contain all the dancers and the audience, so holes were opened in the walls so that those outside could see. So many guests climbed upon the roof that it collapsed, and for a time there was chaos. But the confusion eventually was considered a great

prestige builder for Xle’kmalcu, who had so many guests and such fine entertainment that there was no way to match his largesse. Just as the Northwest tribes ably resolved their linguistic communication problem, they were equally resourceful in providing food, clothing, shelter, and transportation for themselves. In fact, few peoples were as skilled in making use of the gifts of their natural environment, while few environments were as lavish. The rivers teemed with fish, wildfowl was abundant, berries and roots plentiful, while the sea was unstinting with shellfish, seal, otter, and whale. The giant red cedars were turned into canoes; reeds, roots, and skins into clothing. Deer, elk, and an

abundance of furbearers provided both meat and covering. Shelter was in houses of split cedar or, in temporary fishing camps, under woven mats. The coast Indian as a canoe builder had no equal anywhere. His creations were marvels of line, symmetry, balance, and work-

manship, all done by the eye and with the crudest of tools—stone or horn adz and chisel, and fire. With the coming of the white traders the Indians obtained iron and particularly the axe, which greatly simplified canoe and house building. Coastal Indians generally built large canoes, deep and wide with sharp prows and sterns. These were seaworthy craft, some forty or more feet in length and six feet wide. This type of canoe, called a Chinook, also provided early white settlers with a means of heavy freighting and cruising the often rough bay waters. Chehalis Indians built and used the shovel-nosed canoe for easy handling, particularly for poling on the swift river waters. All canoe Indians built various sized craft, some for a single occupant, others capable of carrying two, three, and four persons on purely local trips and for river work. All were carved from cedar logs in much the same way and with the same precision. Good canoe builders were esteemed members of the tribe. They were the ones who had an eye for curvature and form, and could size up a log for the best possible model, but somehow they

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The Indian People

were not destined for fame as were some warriors and hunters. Indian legend does not preserve their names, and it remained for the whites to recognize the experts of later years. Charles F. Streater, who at eleven years of age moved to the Queets Valley in 1893, became an expert canoeman after the Indian fashion. He recalled some of the expert Indian canoe builders as “Old Man” Harlow, Charlie Moss, William and Sam Sams, Queets Bob, Howard Wheeler of the Hoh, Chow Chow and George Underwood of the Quinault, and Ben Harlow of Queets.

Streater himself built several canoes after the Indian model but could not approach the workmanship of his Indian neighbors. He did learn to paddle a canoe after the Indian fashion, which was to paddle on either side of the stern, often shifting the paddle. The peculiarity that set the Indian canoeist apart from the white was that the Indian gave the paddle a little salmon-tail flip at the end of each stroke to keep the canoe on course. A white, on the other

hand, gave the flip every three strokes or more. The red cedar that provided the Indian with canoes also supplied housing. All coast peoples used split cedar boards. Houses from the Queets south were gabled; north of the Queets there were no gable houses. The houses were usually thirty to sixty feet long and from twenty-nine to forty feet wide, with sleeping platforms arranged around the walls. Some houses were built over three- or four-foot excavations, the walls of split cedar, the roof of

the same material overlapped. Generally the ridge boards were arranged so they could be lifted or pulled aside to permit smoke to escape, for fires for cooking and warmth were built on the ground in the center of the house. As often as not, houses were partitioned with mats to accommodate more than one family. A “village” would contain several of these houses scattered haphazardly. Invariably, near the houses were the odorous refuse heaps

and shell mounds. Meat and fish were smoked and dried in the peak of the houses, or weather permitting, strung outdoors. Fish, of course,

was

the basis of the Indian diet, mostly

salmon along the swift coastal rivers, augmented with sturgeon on Grays Harbor and Shoalwater Bay. Several species of bottom fish were also used. Quinault Indians had five species of salmon spawning in their river, providing them with a year-long supply. The blueback, or sockeye, entered the river as early as December,

The Indian People

73

gradually increasing until April, the quantity taken probably outnumbering all other species combined. The black salmon (or tyee or king) ran in August; the silver (or coho) and the dog salmon (or keta or chum) appeared in great numbers in September and continued to run until mid-December. Steelhead ran from November to May. A few humpbacks appeared in late August through September.

Similarly vast quantities of salmon spawned in the Chehalis and its tributaries, and in streams emptying into Shoalwater Bay. They were caught in weirs, speared, or gaffed, but gaffed in the Indian's peculiar way. A hook, usually of bone or some hard wood, later of iron supplied by white traders, was fastened with twine to a socket made of salmonberry stem, which has pith in its center and is easily hollowed, but exceedingly strong. The hook and socket in turn were fastened to a cord about three feet long. An eighteen- to twenty-foot pole was used, one end being shaped to fit into the hook socket. The short hook line was firmly secured to the pole. When

a salmon was hooked,

the hook and socket

parted from the pole and the fisherman could “play” the salmon until it was landed. Indians fishing in tidal estuaries had an uncanny way of hooking salmon, a method few whites could master. Unable to see the salmon, the Indian fisherman swept his pole back and forth under his canoe until the pole touched a fish, then with a quick jerk lodged the hook. The same method was used in fishing for bottom-feeding sturgeon, although the task of landing the sturgeon was much more difficult because sturgeon often ran 200 to 300 pounds, and

twelve to fifteen feet in length. In sturgeon fishing the hook and socket often were attached to a long line which the fisherman held in his hand with the pole, thus being able to “play” the sturgeon with the line alone.

Indian fishermen carried special sturgeon clubs, heavy and knobbed,

to dispatch

their fish. And

it was

a fisherman

and

canoeman of some skill who could haul a 200-pound sturgeon into a canoe without shipping water. Some sturgeon, even longer, were towed to the village. Sturgeon fishing was for experts only, and one of the most skilled was Putsenay, a Hoquiam Indian famed as a medicine man

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The Indian People

and village doctor. Another was Cosmopolis Pete, who fished abreast of Cosmopolis and at the mouth of Elliot Slough, two of

several fine sturgeon grounds fished by the Chehalis. The others were in the Oyehut channel, and certain areas between Cow Point and Grays Harbor City.

Another readily-accessible food was shellfish, which abounded in the ocean and bay shores. Razor clams were in inexhaustible supply, with the best digging in the vicinity of the Copalis River and near Oyehut. Dozens of Indian families moved to these locations each summer to harvest clams, which they dried for a winter supply and traded to other tribes. Shell heaps at Copalis reputedly were miles long and many feet deep. Indian women did the digging, using a flat digging stick of yew, which they forced into the sand about four inches seaward

from the razor clam hole. Then, with a single movement, they dislodged the sand and quickly inserted a hand to grab the clam neck. To make the clams “show” the diggers tramped in circles on the beach—a chore usually left to the children, who marked the clam holes with a stick-drawn circle. Clams were usually placed in a large open-work basket for washing and transporting. From the flats inside the harbors the Indians dug a large clam called “metar” or “smetar,” a quahaug called “clolum,” and the

common mud clam called “mita’k,” along with oysters and mussels. Rock oysters were a favorite of the Quinaults, who had several beds in hardened blue clay a mile south of the Quinault River mouth. The clay was broken with a crude maul or stone and the oysters removed. Large quantities of big black-shell mussels on the rocks of Point Grenville and Cape Elizabeth were usually harvested from canoes because shellfish were too heavy to carry any distance. Mussel shells were often used as knives and harpoon heads. Heavy concentrations of driftwood inside the harbor, especially at the mouth of the Hoquiam River, were heavily encrusted with mussels, while there were huge beds of cockles near Chenoise Creek and along the shore of Laidlaw Island. The sea also provided vast quantities of crab, usually taken from pools and lagoons along the beaches, sea anemones at Cape Elizabeth, herring in the lower harbor, flounder, and turbot. Salmon was prepared in several ways, mostly dried or smoked for preservation, and baked on hot rocks or coals for immediate

The Indian People

75

use. Broiling alongside an open fire was a common practice, as it is today. The Quinaults were particularly adept at preserving salmon;

along with dried elk meat

and sea otter skins, dried

salmon was one of their most profitable items of barter. Other sea-given items of diet cherished by the tribes were dried salmon eggs, herring eggs (particularly by the Lower Chehalis), whale meat and blubber, sea lions, seal (both hair and fur), sea otter, and of course a whole array of waterfowl: ducks, geese, loon, seagulls, pelicans, snipe, and herons.

At certain times of the year candlefish and smelt fairly teemed in the waters along the ocean shore and filled the lower few miles of the rivers. This was a bonanza for the tribes, but presented an immediate problem as well. Because the runs lasted only a short time, the Indians were forced to catch as many candlefish and smelt as possible within a matter of hours, extract as many eggs as possible, and dry or smoke the fish. As the fishing season neared there was great activity among the coast tribes. They built weirs in shallow water and prepared other fishing gear, for the salmon would be coming in late March or April, reaching a height in May and dwindling in June and July. The same urgency of collecting and preserving held for the plant foods as well. They were seasonal, and abundant in their time, but they had to be collected in season. Berries were plentiful and relished: blue and red huckleberries, blackberries, blueberries in open mountain

glades, salmonberries,

wild currant,

salal berries, and whortleberry, called “shot berry” by the Indians because they resembled buckshot, but known to whites as “evergreen huckleberry.” Salal berries were little used by the whites, but the Indians gathered them in great quantities; dried and pressed into five- or six-pound cakes, they kept very well. Other berries, particularly the trailing blackberry, were dried and thus preserved. (There were no so-called evergreen blackberries in pre-white times, for the berry was introduced by white settlers.) A popular place for berry picking and drying was the Humptulips Valley, though there were other berry patches throughout the Chehalis Valley. The popular camas of the Pacific Northwest was not prevalent in the diet of the Lower Chehalis or other Indians along the coast. It appeared inland in the Chehalis Valley on the gravel

76

The Indian People

prairies from around Elma eastward, again throughout the Puget Sound-Columbia River “trough,” and along the Columbia River. There were however, a few locations within the Quinault influence

where camas appeared: on Bakers Prairie, O’Took Prairie and Cook Creek (called Chow Chow Creek). The lily-like bulb was

dug with a digging stick similar to the clam-digging stick, washed, and baked in a hot rock pit with thick layers of ferns. The bulbs were mashed and made into cakes about twice the size of a loaf of bread. The cakes were then placed in a preheated pit and baked, and in this condition would keep through the winter. The Lower Chehalis people had to forego camas unless they could acquire it from the Quinault prairies or trade for it with inland people. However, the Chehalis had other sources of plant food. They ate the roots of certain ferns, mainly the “lady fern”

(tsamxai'h), which they dug with a digging stick in August, roasted in coals, and then tapped on a large stone to remove the rough, scaly outer layers. They used “snake head,” both stem and roots, skunk cabbage (the white part of the stalk just below ground), a sorrel called “kwi-tsap,” the root of the common

cat-

tail, and the root of a certain species of rush found by the seashore, the size of a walnut and eaten either raw or cooked. Then there were the roots of the cow parsnip and wild celery, eaten either cooked or raw, and salmonberry sprouts which, eaten at the proper times, were considered a great delicacy. There was, of course, considerable game. Deer were plentiful, and elk could be had in quantity, though not all Indians were elk hunters. Hunters of the wapiti, such as Pollocks, the famed elk hunter of the West Hoquiam, were a special breed. They worked the upper reaches of the rivers, the Quinault, Humptulips, Hoquiam, Wishkah, Wynooche, and Satsop. They hunted the shores of both Grays Harbor and Shoalwater Bay and the crossover trails between the many river valleys. At first they used the bow and arrow, and later the white man’s rifle, butchering their kills with mussel shell knives and drying the meat on the spot. The hunters often burned fern-covered prairies and old burns to lure elk to the new browse. Some hunters used an elk call to lure bull elk within arrow distance. The call was a double-end whistle eight inches long, made of elderberry stem. Some elk hunters used dogs along the rivers and in mountain meadows,

The Indian People

77

loosing four or five dogs, then waiting in position on the rivers or

game trails. Although elk hunters wore draped and belted deer or elk skins during their hunts, they dressed like other tribesmen for the remainder of the year. The well-groomed Quinault or Chehalis men likely would be entirely naked during the summer months, the women wearing a grass or shredded bark skirt. During the frequent rains, both wore a hat of tightly-woven reeds, cedar bark, or spruce roots and a waterproof cape of the same material. Eyebrows and beards were plucked, while toe- and fingernails were filed down with sandstone, never cut.

After the white man appeared, the tribes adopted many of the materials and the ways of the invaders. The blanket —especially the heavy, dark-colored wool blanket traded by the Hudson's Bay Company—was one of the first white man’s items adopted. Perhaps next was the musket or rifle, along with a taste for the white man’s firewater. Pants and shirts and the white man’s hat soon became part of the Indian wardrobe, along with highlycolored fabrics much sought by Indian women. White food was much harder for the Indian to accept, though they did find use for wheat flour, and many Indian women became exceptional bread bakers. Frank Peterson, who came to Grays Harbor in 1858 at the age of three, recalled that in his youth the “klootchman,” or Indian

woman, wore only a skirt of “klis-kwiss,” cattail or other swamp reeds, or spruce roots. She was bare from the waist up except in cold weather when, like the men, she donned a blanket, or a short

coat made of mat material. Hats were worn on ceremonial occasions. A few men wore pants, some wore shirts, and a few wore hats and coats. The universal garb was the blanket, fastened with a long pin that looked like a knitting needle.

Chapter os

Mysterious Mr. O’Leary

IN came the enigma, the first white settler on Grays Harbor. He was William O'Leary, a testy Irishman, County Cork-born in 1821. A few personal belongings, a few legal documents, and a headstone in the old Catholic cemetery near Elma separate him from pure legend. The tough-fibered five-foot-nine recluse came to Grays Harbor in 1848 to live a lonely thirty-three years on the south shore of Grays Harbor beside the tidal stream that preserves his name. It is also a matter of record that O'Leary lived with the James Gleeson family in the Satsop Valley for the final twenty of his eighty years. He died September 25, 1901. No one ever learned exactly why or how O'Leary came to this wilderness, which in that year was but fifty-six years removed from white discovery. O'Leary left no records in his own hand, not even a signature—only his spectacles, his razor and a few other personal possessions, tax receipts, and the memories of the James Gleeson family. O'Leary's story, entirely by word of mouth, was never clear, and there is some suspicion O'Leary himself confused it. There are, for instance, two entirely different versions of his arrival upon Grays Harbor. O'Leary never put the matter straight. The sparse-worded Irishman admitted only that he was born in 1821, and even that date was doubted by some of O'Leary's fellow pioneers, who thought him much older.

Mysterious Mr. O'Leary

79

That O'Leary arrived by sea has been a widely-accepted version. The story varies with the fancy of the teller, but it is essentially that he deserted a British ship, either a merchantman or a man-of-war, and rowed or sailed into Grays Harbor in a ship's boat. And there have been variations of this theme, one being that he deserted in Esquimalt, B.C., stole a ship’s boat, sailed it through the Strait of Juan de Fuca and down the coast to Grays Harbor. It is not recounted how he knew of Grays Harbor, or how to find it, or whether it was pure chance that brought him there. However, some old-timers recalled the story of O’Leary’s stolen boat hidden far up O'Leary Creek, and purportedly seen in later years in a bad state of decay. That story of his coming caught popular fancy, enhanced by O'Leary’s easily-understood reluctance to tell of his arrival. The other story, the “overland” version, was equally credible (or incredible). If true, it was a saga of the devious, for no journey could have been more roundabout. O'Leary is supposed to have sailed from the Irish port of Queenstown to New York, a sevenweek voyage. After a short stay in New York, he moved to Canada, spending two years in Montreal and other parts of Quebec. He then crossed the Great Lakes and made his way down the Mississippi to New Orleans, where he spent a winter battling a siege of fever and ague. The following summer he took a ship to Panama, crossed the Isthmus on foot and embarked for California,

landing in a country he later claimed the best he had ever seen. O'Leary is said to have done some gold prospecting there, even before the Forty-Niners, and to have found some gold which he had made into a ring set with a nugget. This, the story goes, he wore until the time of his death. Leaving California, he is supposed to have traveled overland to a huddle of houses that marked the present site of Portland. He stayed there over winter, trading up the Willamette, then crossed the Columbia and traveled up the Cowlitz to winter with John R. Jackson. In the spring he trekked to the Chehalis River, where he fell in with a party of Indians at Boisfort, Lewis County. From them he traded for a “ducking canoe” into which he stowed his parcel of possessions and provisions—including a quantity of potatoes, for it is related that one of O'Leary's first acts upon reaching his future homesite was to till a small patch of ground

80

Mysterious Mr. O'Leary

and plant “spuds” (actually thick potato peelings, for he ate the inner part of the tubers). This would indicate that he arrived sometime in the spring. He paddled several days down the Chehalis before he reached the harbor. One of his stops, it is said, was made at the present

site of Cosmopolis, where he lingered for a time at an Indian camp. Continuing, he came upon the bay, no doubt skirting the south shore, for it is related that, in the face of a rising wind, he

put ashore at the mouth of a stream to which he took immediate liking. It was to be named O'Leary Creek, and was to be his home

until 1881. (The Chehalis County assessment roll of 1874 notes O'Leary’s holdings as Lot No. 3, Section 32, Township 17, Range 10—valuation $275.) O'Leary built a house of split cedar not unlike those of the Indians, with a stove of clay. His food came from his garden. The

spuds thrived and the first year the vines were green until December. In a few years he was able to get vegetable seeds from Hudson's Bay

posts on the Columbia and from Nisqually. Ducks and geese by the thousands were upon the bay, great rafts of them at O’Leary’s doorstep. Salmon were plentiful, there was an occasional deer, and from the beaches came an unlimited supply of clams and other shellfish. O'Leary lived a comfortable, if lonely, life. What little is known of O'Leary was not established until after white settlers began arriving in the early 1850s. John Brady, the first settler in the Satsop valley, visited O'Leary in 1852 and related that O'Leary had learned there were white men on

Shoalwater Bay and had made a trip there for provisions. Frank Peterson, two years old when he arrived at Point Chehalis (Westport) in 1858, recalled in later years that O’Leary had occasionally come to Chehalis Point to work for his father, Glenn Peterson. O'Leary became a fast friend of young Frank Peterson, who recalled O’Leary’s Irish brogue, thickened occasionally with firewater. (Mrs. James Gleeson related, however, that

she had never known O'Leary to take a drink of spirits.) O'Leary

was considered a quiet and amiable fellow, though he always went armed with a knife, which he brandished alarmingly at times to the fright of both Indians and whites, said Frank Peterson. Unquestionably O'Leary (the Indians called him “Lally” or “White Man Lally”) was a strong and vigorous man, for otherwise

Mysterious Mr. O'Leary

81

he would not have survived alone in such a wilderness. Many of his fellow pioneers have testified to his industry, and fragments of documentary evidence show that he did upon occasion labor at being a good citizen. Extant receipts made out to O’Leary show that he worked on various jobs to pay taxes. One, dated September 1868 and signed by Glenn Peterson, “supervisor for the Carter district,” certified: “William O'Leary a half days work

in staking out the channels under my directions in Grays Harbor according to law to the amount of seven dollars and fifty cents for road tax for the year 1867.” A note underneath says the “above receipt Wm. O'Leary was entitled to last year but failed to call for

it or report the labor performed that he was assigned to do.” O'Leary had the right to take a donation claim of 320 acres, but declined this and, after the county was surveyed, selected thirty-six acres, for which he paid cash to the territorial office in Olympia. It is believed that he sold the land eventually to Simeon Markham, Johns River pioneer, in 1873 or 1874. Why O'Leary left his bayside home is still unknown. Mrs. James Gleeson recalled that her husband had met O'Leary in 1881

at the Jonas Garrison place near Montesano and had invited him to the Gleeson farm on the Satsop, either for a visit or to work. Either way, the stay lasted twenty years. Mrs. Gleeson remembered O'Leary as a fiercely independent man, extremely self-sufficient and not beholden to anyone. He was outspoken, when he did speak, and somewhat testy. Many termed him an “odd character.” He did what he pleased, when he pleased. He was immaculate of person, clean and tidy. He

possessed a fair education, and in the years he lived at the Gleeson farm he was an avid reader of books and particularly of newspapers, as though starved for information about the world outside. Mrs. Gleeson said O'Leary never wore glasses and could read the smallest print. (However, among his effects was a pair of spectacles’) O'Leary did his own washing and trimmed his own hair. Mrs. Gleeson remembered her long-staying guest coming into the farmhouse for a small mirror, a pair of shears, and his razor, then

disappearing around the corner of the house. There he trimmed his beard and mustache carefully and shaved his cheeks and underchin. His hair-cutting was primitive: he pulled his full locks

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Mysterious Mr. O'Leary

into a bunch behind his head and whacked off the ends. He habitually wore his hair in that fashion and trimmed it often. O'Leary smoked a corncob pipe with “Teaser” tobacco, a brand of that day. (In his Irish brogue he called it “Tazer.”’) It was

plug tobacco as hard as brick. Gleeson once forgot “Billy's” tobacco when he went to Montesano. O'Leary made such a fuss that Gleeson had to hitch up his team and make another trip. Idleness was one of O'Leary's pronounced abhorrences. If not busy with farm chores, he had to keep busy with trifles. His farm jobs were of his own choosing—slashing brush, cutting wood, cleaning stables, plowing, planting, anything he could find to keep him constantly busy. Mrs. Gleeson recalled that O’Leary had his own chair by the fireplace and each evening would sit there whittling shavings and kindling for the morning fire, a ritual from which he never deviated. Another was his retirement routine. He would go to the water pail and fill a quart bottle with water. This was a sure sign to the Gleeson family that the day was done. He went to bed early, often at sundown. At the Gleeson place O'Leary became something of a “good talker,” perhaps because he had been conversation-starved for so many years. However, he never revealed anything about himself. He told of the dog he had had at O'Leary Creek, of his chickens and of trading eggs to the Indians for salmon or game. He once mentioned a younger brother in Ireland, but in all the twenty years he was at the Gleeson farm he never wrote or received a letter.

Chapter 4 These Were the Pioneers

W

illiam O'Leary was not to see another white face until two years after his arrival on Grays Harbor. In 1850, John Butler Chapman and his son John M. Chapman made their way through the Grays Harbor country on their way from the Columbia River to Puget Sound. They stopped long enough to contemplate building a city on Chehalis Point, one that they proposed to call “Chehalis City.” The dream was short-lived, for with William O'Leary the only settler in sight, father and son could have expected few citizens for their “city” in the foreseeable future. They went on up the Chehalis River and into the Puget Sound basin, to settle just north of a Captain LaFayette Balch of Truscott, Maine, who had a place near Steilacoom Creek.

Not long after the Chapmans had come and gone, William O'Leary had his closest (and first) neighbor, John Hole. Hole arrived

between 1850 and 1852 to build a cabin at the mouth of a tidal stream thereafter to be called Johns River.

A man of advanced

years when he came to Grays Harbor, Hole was soon disenchanted

with the prospects of the Johns River flats, the crowding forest, and the grassy island that one day was to front the community of Markham. He sold his cabin to “Indian Bill” and moved to a new claim site about a half mile east of Oakville. Again he seems to have become dissatisfied, for he soon quit the Oakville area and disappeared into hinterland. In the mid-19th century, Isaiah L. Scammon grew weary of

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These Were the Pioneers

scratching and scrabbling on the brutal acres of his native Maine. He raised his head one day to listen to galvanic news: gold in California! There was no resisting. The tall, lean State-of-Mainer settled his wife and daughters as best he could and headed for the “Golden Southwest.” But things were not as the sensational stories had portrayed. There were no fortunes for the asking—or even in reward for grubbing toil. But there were stories of a land of plenty in the far Northwest. Scammon listened intently, and in 1852 found himself on the banks of the Chehalis River in Oregon Territory. Here, opposite the mouth of the Wynooche River, Scammon filed on 640 acres, allowable under the Donation Claims Act passed by Congress in 1850. His claim included all of what is today South Montesano and all the south bank of the Chehalis from the middle of Section 17-17-7 to the township line. Scammon may not have realized it at the time, but his claim was to become the most im-

portant stopping place for pioneers between Blockhouse Smith's and Chehalis Point, which in turn made him the first host of the

valley. It followed that every settler knew Scammon, which gave him considerable political substance and made him one of the outstanding figures in the territory. The indomitable Lorinda Hopkins Scammon,

Isaiah's wife,

was of the stubborn stuff that made pioneering possible. She had been left behind when Scammon came west to prove a claim and build the first frame house on the Chehalis. To support herself and three daughters, she had taken in boarders and done tailoring for her neighbors in Hancock County, Maine. Then Isaiah sold

part of his claim to T. F. Carter for $500. With the money he returned to Maine and brought his family west. Thus it was that Isaiah L. Sammon, Lorinda Scammon, and

their three daughters perched in a frame house upon the south bank of the Chehalis at the head of tidewater. It was a day’s run by shovel-nose canoe from Grand Mound and the Upper Chehalis, and a hard pull from Grays Harbor by Chinook canoe. This was the place where scowloads of cattle and freight from the lower valley went ashore for overland travel to Olympia and Puget Sound, and also the stopping place for all travelers up and down the Chehalis. It is little wonder that Samuel James later was to call

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it the “Scammon’s hotel.” The popularity of the place, and Lorinda Scammon’s cocking, became such that the Scammons could not afford to house and feed all the travelers as their personal guests, so they did indeed operate a public inn—but under Lorinda Scammon’s rules and regulations. Scammon, who had a working knowledge of blacksmithing, started and for years operated the only blacksmith shop along the river, and he developed the second fruit tree nursery in the region. His place was made the county seat in 1860 and remained so for twenty years. From it grew the townsite platted by Scammon and named Montesano by Lorinda Scammon and Samuel James Sr. Court was held here, political planning was done here, and it was here that Isaiah and Lorinda Scammon raised four daughters (Edith, Ella, Cornelia, and Eva, their fourth born March 7, 1860),

all proficient in the Chinook jargon, a necessity for communication with neighboring and frequently-passing Indians. It was here, too, that Lorinda Scammon,

only five feet tall,

ruled her household and her frequent “guests” with an iron hand. She was deeply religious, strait-laced and puritanical, and would have none of the shenanigans so often committed by bachelor settlers and adventurers who stopped at “Scammon’s Landing.” The story was often repeated of a party of boisterous wayfarers who stopped for the night, bringing ashore a keg of whisky, with which they expected to pass an otherwise tedious night in

hilarity. They planned without Lorinda Scammon. She promptly rolled the keg down the embankment into the river, wiped her hands on her apron, and stomped, five feet of indignation, into the house without a word or a side glance. The Bible always had a place of honor on the living room table in Lorinda Scammon’s house. One night a number of men, bent upon an evening of cards, removed the Bible and put it aside

as they prepared the table for their game. They had barely dealt the first hand when Lorinda discovered the ignominy. She virtually exploded, made them replace the Bible, then shooed them out the

front door and told them to “git.” They “got.” Nor was the Bible ever again disturbed for such a shameful reason. Lorinda Scammon’s religious dedication was extraordinary, deep-running and fervent. In June 1877 she was attending a camp

meeting on a grounds east of what is now Montesano.

Camp

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meetings could be emotional almost to the point of hysteria. Lorinda, firm in her own belief, was having trouble with her children. It was not recorded whether they had rebelled or just were indifferent to religious admonitions,

but whatever,

it was

not to Lorinda’s liking, so, during one highly-charged encounter, she stomped out of the grounds and into the woods alone, “vowing unto the Lord that she would not come back until her children were converted.” Three of the children professed conversion but, it was believed, only to get her back into camp. Scammon, termed “a man of tireless industry,” was a postmaster, judge, church organizer, and school official in addition to his workday chores; and eventually he was a ferryman, for with all the traffic accumulating around the Scammon place there was need for crossing the Chehalis. According to an act of the Territorial Legislature, passed in the winter session 1859-60, Scammon’s ferry rates for the bridgeless crossing were ordered thus: Footman to be crossed for 15 cents Man and horse 50 cents Horse and carriage 75 cents Two horses or oxen and wagon $1.00

Each additional span 35 cents Loose cattle or horses 20 cents Sheep and hogs per head 10 cents Scammon was characterized by an early chronicler as a man of “unquestioned probity, retiring habits, and business integrity.” He was a tall tree in a wilderness of trees, and one of the most

respected men ever to come down the Chehalis. In 1888 Isaiah and Lorinda Scammon, both in failing health after thirty-six years of pioneer struggle, moved to Lake County, California. Lorinda died there, and in 1891 Isaiah followed her in death at the home of his brother, Justin Scammon,

in Lakeport.

This closed a vivid chapter of Grays Harbor history. The two Luark brothers, Patterson Fletcher Luark and Michael Fleener Luark, were unquestionably two of the better known early settlers in the Chehalis Valley. They chronicled the daily happenings in meticulously-kept diaries of events not only in their own lives but in those of their neighbors. Nothing seemed

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to escape their broad and minute observations, to the extent that their leather-bound tomes were carefully expurgated in later years. Whether by themselves or at the behest of those who were “revealed” is unknown. The diaries are still extant, but the reader will find passages carefully expunged by razor blade or sharp pocket knife. One

or the other of the brothers,

in a lighter moment,

entered comments like this: “Sunday, December 3, 1876, a very fair pleasant day, went to the Methodist religious service. Rice P. Mace officiated, said some good things & murdered the King’s English horribly.” On the other hand there were far more serious commentaries, such as this concerning one God-fearing, Bible-quoting father who could hardly cope with the sin, open rebellion, and temptations of the flesh within his own family: “One son got into trouble with the son of another pioneer family and left home, drifting hither and hither! Another son came under evil influences and went to Shoalwater Bay in open rebellion.” And of a daughter “not yet 14 years old but already a woman. ..she met the Tempter and fell and has a son born Dec. 2, 1875, she being 13 years, 6 months and 13 days old at the time. Of circumstances surrounding the case perhaps they had better be forgotten. Father give us patience that we may bear our every lot.” Patterson Luark was born December 16, 1814, in Sullivan County, Tennessee, to John Luark and Catherine Varner Luark.

When he was two years old Patterson was taken by his parents to Washington County, Virginia, where his brother, Michael F. Luark, was born July 24, 1818.

In 1822 the family moved to Fayette County, Indiana. Patterson Luark lived in Indiana until 1840, when he migrated to Bond

County, Illinois. In the same year his brother Michael married Rebecca Leisure, a native of Ohio, in Madison County where they remained until 1853. The year 1853 seemed one for the “great decision.” That was the year Michael disposed of his interests, left his family in care of his father-in-law, and started west. That was the year, too, that Patter-

son got the “Western fever.” It would seem that they came together, for there is a notation that a man by the name of Grasty (mentioned several times later in the diaries) “came west with the Luarks.” It is

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known that both Luarks landed on the Cowlitz and then went on to Grays Harbor, or more precisely, the Chehalis Valley. Patterson settled near the Chehalis River three miles west of the present Centralia. Michael settled on 320 acres near Grand Mound prairie, where he farmed for three years, but because of illness in the family, he returned east in 1856. Meanwhile in 1858, Patterson Luark moved to the peninsula on the south side of the Grays Harbor entrance (Chehalis Point), where that year was born Robert Gray Luark, the first white child born on the Harbor. In 1868 Luark moved to a place on the Chehalis River. Later he moved to Montesano, where he made his

home until 1888. Patterson Luark took an active interest in the development of Grays Harbor. At different times he served as probate judge, assessor, and justice of the peace, and took part in organizing the first county government in Chehalis County. He aided in locating and opening the first cattle trail from Cedarville to South Bay in 1858, and was the first to land cattle, by scow, on the tidelands of

Grays Harbor. He was married three times, and when he died in Lake County, California, at the age of eighty-six, he was survived by six children. In November 1862 Michael Luark, who had returned to the

East in 1856, was back in Washington Territory seeking a place to settle. He sought out Isaiah Scammon and from him purchased two “40's” adjoining the 205 acres Scammon had sold to “One Arm” Carter. Luark cleared some land, built a small cabin, and on March 14, 1863, moved in his family, which then consisted of Rebecca and their nine children: Mary Ellen, Lucetta E., Walter C., Nina Evelyn, Evered H., William M., James Buchanan, and the twins Julius and Julian. Two more children, Lillian Elizabeth

and Captiola Eulalie (“Minnie”) were born in the Chehalis Valley. (A later report says that the Michael Luarks had children who reached adulthood: Evered, William, James, Julius, Julian, Mrs. Alex Holman, Mrs. Isaac Spencer, Mrs. Garrison, Mrs. J. N. Wilder, and Mrs. F. Kesterson.) A busy and enterprising man, Michael Luark soon

twelve Walter, Charles

built a small grist mill, the first in the valley, and then a water-powered sawmill on Sylvia Creek near Montesano. Luark did a thriving

business until 1888, then sold out and moved to Lake County,

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California, where he bought a fruit farm. California and fruit-

growing were not for Michael Luark, for by the end of the year he returned to his old haunts on the Chehalis to reside with his son, Evered, to whom he had deeded his farm “Glencoe.” He died January 21, 1901, and was buried in the Montesano cemetery.

It was almost foregone that, upon reorganization of Pacific County in 1860, the Scammon place should become the county

seat for shrunken Chehalis County. Chehalis County was created by an act of the Washington Territorial Legislature April 14, 1854, and for several years the county seat was Bruceport in what is now Pacific County. The geographical situation was unreasonable. Here was Chehalis County with two tiers of townships on the north shore of Willapa Harbor, with the great bulk of the county far to the north. Bruceport was almost inaccessible to the greater part of Chehalis County, approachable only by water or by what was hardly more then a cattle trail down the Willapa River. The reorganization of 1860 meant that a new county seat would have to be selected on Grays Harbor proper. Thus a general election was held Monday, July 9, 1860, for Chehalis County. The polling place was Chehalis Point. Seventy-four votes were cast and these were canvassed at the Scammon place by Patterson Luark, James A. Karr of Hoquiam, and Joseph Mace of Montesano. The Scammon place received thirty-three votes for county seat, the Byles and Young place at what is now Cosmopolis received twenty-eight votes, Chehalis Point two votes, and Satsop one vote. Thus Lorinda Scammon’s living room became the seat of Chehalis County until 1886. In that year the people of the county voted to remove the county seat to the site of present-day Montesano, and the Scammon place became known as “South Montesano.” In

the

1854

act

of creation

for

Chehalis

County,

the

legislature had designated the Captain David K. Weldon place at the mouth of the Necomanchee River (North River) to be the county seat. Captain Weldon and his wife, the first white woman on Shoalwater Bay, had come from San Francisco, and built a “fine house and store” at the mouth of North River. Together with

George Watkins, they erected the first sawmill on Shoalwater Bay. By the time the Scammon family had settled in their riverside home, there were a number of other arrivals in the valley. Dr.

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James H. Roundtree had been through the Grays Harbor country and had located a claim on a point about a mile west of O'Leary. The location became known as Roundtree Point, jater (until the 1880s) Jones Point, after Samuel C. Jones, who was to teach the

first school in the county at Chehalis Point. Still later it was platted as South Arbor. By 1855 Dr. Roundtree’s cabin was already deserted, and in 1857 his location was claimed by T. J. Carter, who apparently disliked the place, for he moved with his wife and two children to Chehalis Point August 10, 1858. T. J. Carter, known as Jeff, had

visions of a city at Roundtree Point, but gave up the idea when he learned the main harbor channel was over on the north side of the bay and not at the foot of the point. Dr. Roundtree was the oldest of four sons of T. R. Roundtree,

a Kentuckian who had settled in Knox County, Illinois, in

1835, and had served in the War of 1812, participating in the battle in which Chief Tecumseh had been killed. His wife’s family had been reared in Ohio. The other sons of T. R. Roundtree were Perry O. Roundtree, A. J. Roundtree, and Martin D. Roundtree. There were two

daughters in the family, Mrs. Roundtree.

Betsy Murphy

and Miss Polly

P. H. Roundtree, son of Perry O. Roundtree, wrote in his auto-

biography: “In 1852 and 1853 all of father’s family crossed the Plains and settled on the Chehalis River at Boisfort. In the fall of 1858, A. J. Roundtree,

father’s brother, returned to Illinois via

Isthmus of Panama, then father concluded to go to Washington by crossing the Plains. (‘We started journey April 4, 1859 and arrived at Bawfaw Sept. 25, 1859 where T. R. Roundtree was liv-

ing.’) T. R. and Martin Roundtree had crossed the Plains and settled on ‘Bawfaw’

[Boisfort] Prairie. P. O. and A. J. Roundtree

took up donation claims on PeEll Prairie. Martin Roundtree was then sheriff of Lewis County.” : Another account of the arrival of the Roundtrees is that of Mrs. Mary A. Borst McKee,

daughter of James H. Roundtree,

who was only thirteen when she crossed the Plains with her family. Mrs. McKee recalled in May 1892: Just 40 years ago my parents, myself and a brother

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and sister, younger than I, were on our way across the Great Plains bound for the Pacific Coast. We landed in Oregon City in September 1852, and the following month set out for Puget Sound, but after arriving at

Skookumchuck changed our minds and course and steered for Grays Harbor instead. I have not language at my command to describe the privations and suffering we endured that winter among the savages. At this time we were the only white people living on the harbor and so far as I have ever been able to ascertain, |

was the first miss to set foot on the shore of the harbor. For 13 months we did not see a woman or child or domestic fowl of any kind, and | heard nothing but Chinook “wawa.” All our supplies came from Olympia which was the nearest place, and while father was gone we were alone. My mother was a very determined woman, and the number of times she saved us from the

wrath of the Indians are almost countless. I have often thought there was not another woman in the world who could have so courageously braved the hardships and dangers of life on Grays Harbor in the early period. A club, a gun and an axe were her weapons of defense,

and many times she was required to use them. Upon one occasion a vicious Indian insisted on coming into

our cabin, and after parleying with him for some time, my mother seized her club and struck him on the arm hard enough to break it.” T. R. Roundtree’s autobiography says nothing of the whereabouts of Dr. James J. Roundtree, but he was in the territory, for John Rogers James (1840-1929), son of the Grand Mound pioneer Samuel James (1805-1866), related his first encounter with Dr.

Roundtree thus: “In the winter of 1852-53 there were about two feet snow for about a month on Grand Mound Prairie. One day two men came to the James place wading through snow. They were Enoch Chapman with Dr. J. H. Roundtree leaning on his arm. Roundtree was sick. They had gone down the Columbia to Astoria, up the beach to Shoalwater Bay, across Grays Harbor, and up the Chehalis to the mouth of Black River where their

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canoe upset. They managed to find their way to the James cabin. Dr. Roundtree’s feet were badly frozen and he was laid up at the James cabin all winter, Chapman going on to the Cowlitz.” When Dr. Roundtree relinquished his claim on Roundtree Point he took up a claim a mile east of Oakville, and was to visit his old haunts on Grays Harbor in 1890, at which time he was to make the claim (in which others took little credence) that he ‘‘actually was the first settler on Grays Harbor, that is, he and his son Jaspar, and John Hole.”

A newspaper account of 1890 said Dr. Roundtree claimed “to have gone to a point below O'Leary Creek and found there a cabin built by an early-comer named Armstrong, with O'Leary arriving a year later.” Which Armstrong Dr. Roundtree referred to is something of a mystery. There were undeniably two Armstrongs figuring in early Grays Harbor history. One was a squatter on the inside of Point Brown, for a cove there was long called Armstrong Bay. He no doubt was Absalom Armstrong. The other was Benjamin C. Armstrong, the 1852 builder of the first sawmill in the Chehalis Valley, at the “falls” of Cedar Creek, which flows into the Chehalis below Oakville. Armstrong's mill was a “muley mill,” with a stiff saw that operated vertically. He is said to have arrived on the scene

in company witha “Mr. Strahill and Mr. Cox,” cutting a trail from Scatter Creek, near Grand Mound. Armstrong used the “falls,” hardly more than a very steep rapids, to power his mill, with the original intention of cutting 3x12 planks for San Francisco. He wound up cutting lumber for almost all of the first buildings in the Chehalis Valley, and all the

lumber for settler boats and scows (the only transportation available until the coming of the first steamers). Although settlers appreciated the lumber cut by Armstrong’s mill, wags among them had fun with the cutting. The stiff-blade saw, which cut with an up-and-down

motion,

was so slow its

action was characterized as “up today, down tomorrow.” Armstrong's lumber products were widely praised. James G. Swan in his book The Northwest Coast or Three Years’ Residence in Washington Territory, published in 1857, had this comment: “Some ten or fifteen miles above our camp are the excellent sawmills of Mr. Armstrong, where timber of all kinds is sawed in the

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best manner, the cedar and ash plank, and boat-stuff I have seen

from Armstrong's, was equal to any | ever met with, while the fir and spruce lumber can not be surpassed by any mills in the Union.” Swan later related: “At length arrived at Armstrong’s Point, or Point Brown, as the maps have it; but the settlers call it Armstrong’s Point, as Mr. Armstrong, owner of a mill on the Chehalis river, had built a house there a year or so previous, for a Mr. Roundtree, who intended to found a city, and go into the manufacture of salt. The project however, was abandoned, and I found the house in very dilapidated condition.” Swan's third mention of Armstrong was in February 1855, while enroute to the Indian treaty negotiations at Cosmopolis: “Arrived at the lodge of old Carcowan which had been built near Armstrong’s house where Carcowan’s wife, Aunt Sally, provided some fresh-baked bread, just out of the ashes, which indicated the

Indians by then were familiar with the white man’s use of flour and had added it to their diet.” In the courthouse at Montesano, in Marriage Record Book A,

there is this item for May 9, 1855: “Benjamin C. Armstrong to Mary Nechard...Sidney S. Ford, JP.” Mary Nechard was an Indian woman often referred to in early-day accounts. It is believed that

following Armstrong’s death she became the wife of John Riddell of Shoalwater Bay. M. F. Luark, describing a trip down the “raging” Chehalis in January 1863, said that his party left some of their goods at Blockhouse in the charge of “Armstrong's squaw widow.” During his brief lifetime (he drowned mysteriously in his mill pond at thirty-one) Ben Armstrong apparently did a satisfying job of supplying the needs of the Chehalis Valley. There are several references to pioneer purchases of lumber from the Cedar Creek Mill. In the fall of 1853, John Rogers James and his brothers, Samuel and William, “made a trip to Armstrong's mill down at

Cedar Creek and brought home to Grand Mound the first load of

lumber for the new house Father [Samuel James] was building.” Five years later Patterson F. Luark would record in his diary: “First raft of lumber ever run to Grays Harbor was cut at Arm-

strong mill, hauled to the Chehalis river and rafted—consisting of 40,000 feet belonging to P. F. Luark, Charles Byles, David Byles, and W. B. E. Newman to be used in building on Johns River.

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After many mishaps and one smashup and rerafting reached Johns River—but no homes built—the Byles and Newman never built but left the Harbor, and Luark eventually located on Point Chehalis and most of the lumber was lost the following winter moving it to the Point.” Another diary entry by Luark in 1857 read: “Attended sale of property of B. E. Armstrong (deceased) and bought coat etc. and nine thousand feet of lumber for a house at $15 per M.” While Benjamin C. Armstrong was busy with the first cutting in his sawmill on Cedar Creek, another prominent early-day settler was filing a claim and building himself a home on what was to be known as “Blockhouse Prairie” (later Cedarville), known to the Indians as “Claquamish Prairie,” across the Chehalis from the mouth of Cedar Creek. Here James Smith, to be known forever

after as “Blockhouse” Smith, and John Billings located. Smith took up and “proved up” on a donation claim of 320 acres. Billings gave up his claim in 1858 and moved to Jefferson County, Oregon. Smith built a good farm on the bench and river bottom and raised a large family, mostly girls. He and his wife, a good cook, of necessity turned their home—as the Scammons had— into a public house (which also served for a time as the Cedarville

post office, with Smith as postmaster). Smith came to be known throughout the valley for the blockhouse he built on the bank of the Chehalis following or during the Indian “scare” of 1855-56. There never was occasion to use the blockhouse and it was neglected, eventually to fall into decay. Blockhouse Smith, at one time a member of the New York

City fire department, had come around the Horn and landed in San Francisco in 1854. In 1855 he came to Washington Territory and settled upon his now well-known prairie. He became a member of the third Washington Territorial Legislature. He died in Oakville in March, 1912, at eighty-seven, and was buried in the

Oakville cemetery. He built the Blockhouse Smith building at 417 East Heron Street in Aberdeen and another commercial building in Montesano. Two stories are recounted by M. F. Luark of how Blockhouse Smith was shot by mistake by George Waunch. Luark wrote that he did not know whether the stories were true, or merely rumors passed along the frontier. One story was that Waunch mistook

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Smith’s head for an owl, “because he was near the hen house and a hen was squawking.” The other account was: “It was said Smith and someone else went down to Williams’ Xmas night on a harmless lark and neighborly visit and their identity was not recognized.

Waunch

fired a shotgun at Smith and one of his eyes was

destroyed.” Neither shot was fatal, for Smith lived well into the

twentieth century. In 1852 Martha Medcalf, wife of William Medcalf, had the uneasy distinction of being the only white woman in the county for the first nine months after her arrival. She and her husband, originally from England but reputedly born in Dublin in 1813, crossed the Plains in 1852 and settled with their three children on what

became

known

as Medcalf

Prairie,

the present

site of

Montesano, then a broad unbroken expanse of bracken fern six to nine feet tall with merely an Indian trail through it. Martha Medcalf spent many nights with her small children on the hill back of their donation claim for fear of Indians. The

Chehalis Indians were friendly to the whites, but news filtered down the valley of Indian raids and killings in other parts of the Territory, and most settlers in the fifties, especially the women, were fearful. M. F. Luark chronicled the Medcalfs as “natives of Canada” who came to the coast in 1851, settling first in Lewis County on the site of the present city of Chehalis. They remained there until 1856, moving to Grand Mound, and the following year to a prairie just east of present Montesano “where they lived until their two sons and three daughters were all married.” Medcalf and his sons built the first piece of wagon road on the lower Chehalis “from the foot of what is now Main street in Montesano to the slough.” Luark said Medcalf was an exceptionally fine farmer who for years made a success of stock-raising and dairying. The Medcalfs had five children, John T., James E., Elizabeth

Jane (later Mrs. C. N. Byles), Annie (later Mrs. Andrew Smith), and Sarah (later Mrs. James Arland). Elizabeth Jane was the con-

necting link between the Medcalfs and the Byleses, who arrived on the Grays Harbor scene in 1853. She was seven years old when

her parents rolled their wagon over the tortuous miles of the Oregon Trail. As a child she peeked through the cracks of Fort Henness, near Grand Mound, where her father was a member of

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the volunteer company of “Indian fighters just in case.” At the same time Charles Newton Byles, then nine, was peeking through the same cracks, expecting to see Indians on the warpath. Within four years of his arrival in the Territory, William Medcalf took up a donation claim of 320 acres along what is now Beacon Street in Montesano. After his hitch with Henness’s volunteers, Medcalf bundled his family and all their possessions into canoes and descended the Chehalis to the Wynooche, where

Isaiah Scammon had built a small house family from Maine. The Medcalfs stayed Medcalf built a house on his own claim, down the Chehalis from Armstrong’s mill

and was awaiting his with Scammon while using lumber floated on Cedar Creek. The

family moved into their new home December

6, 1856, the first

white family on the lower Chehalis. In 1859, Elizabeth Jane, called Eliza, attended school for three

months in Westport, the whole family moving there for the session. Early schools were located where the most families with children lived; in this year the soldiers were at Point Chehalis and many had their families with them. The school was taught by Samuel C. Jones. For a later session Eliza lived with an officer's

family in Fort Chehalis. When the soldiers were recalled, the officer gave Eliza the family melodeon, not wishing to be burdened with it in his coming moves. In 1861 the Medcalfs made a springtime move to Cosmopolis for another three-month school term, this one taught by James A. Karr, founder of Hoquiam. The next year, after the most severe winter early settlers had ever known in the Chehalis Valley, school was held in South Montesano,

which meant Eliza had a

three-mile hike and a boat ride across the Chehalis to reach school. Then Eliza wanted to go to Olympia to school and stay in a minister's home. Gruff old William Medcalf gave his permission, but said that first she had to have a pair of shoes. He then instructed Eliza’s brothers to make her a pair. This they did, but when the shoes were presented they were a clumsy pair made from heavy cowhide. Eliza went to Olympia, but didn’t stay long—whether or not because of the clodhoppers was never disclosed. Then she made a move that would affect her life thereafter. She went to a school on Grand Mound Prairie, where she

renewed a childhood friendship with Charles N. Byles. They were

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married June 23, 1870, and set up housekeeping in a two-room

house near Broadway and First Street in Montesano.

The elder of the Byles brothers was the Rev. Charles Byles, an 1809 native of North Carolina, who eventually became a member of the revivalist “Cumberland” Presbyterians and demonstrated his capabilities in many appearances on Grays Harbor. He was married to Virginia-born Sarah Wright Usher. In 1853 the family joined Rev. Byles’s brother, James Biles (who retained the original family spelling) for the long slog to the Pacific Northwest. Their wagon train out of Independence, Missouri, joined that of James Longmire, after whom Longmire in Rainier Park is named. The train became known as the “Longmire train,” the first to attempt to cross Natchez Pass in the Cascades. It was a grueling passage of deep valleys, bouldered rivers, timbered hills, sheer cliffs, mountain cold. The train did not arrive in Olympia until autumn—minus some of its cattle, which had been slain for their hides to make ropes for lowering the wagons into almost unfathomable canyons. The Rev. Byles immediately took up a claim on Mound Prairie fourteen miles south of Olympia, where he and his Sarah were to reside many years while their sons attained eminence westward in the Chehalis valley. Charles Newton Byles, who had been born in Madisonville, Kentucky, March 20, 1844, lived with

his parents on Mound Prairie, worked in his uncle James Biles’s tanyard in Tumwater,

and joined the survey party to run the

preliminary lines for the Northern Pacific from western to eastern Washington. In 1868 he attended a Portland business college. He became a U.S. surveyor, working with his brother, David, during

the summer months running lines for three townships in Pacific County and teaching school during the winter. In 1869 he bought a farm from Walter King on the present site of Montesano. When in the following year he married Elizabeth Jane Medcalf, the two

bought an additional 160 acres, which they farmed until 1882. That year Byles platted three blocks on the west side of present Main Street. At the time of her marriage Elizabeth Jane Medcalf was postmistress; in changing the location of the post office from her

parents’ home to her new home with Byles, she carried all the postal equipment a mile in her apron. She relished the post office

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job, for it gave her an opportunity to read all the newspapers and magazines that came in from the outside world. In time Charles N. Byles became Chehalis County auditor and treasurer, Montesano councilman and mayor, a large landowner, and founder of the first bank in Montesano. While he was

county treasurer, the county seat was moved from South Montesano to the Montesano of today. It became his obligation

to move the county’s treasure—in that day, gold and silver. He filled a brand new pair of boots with the coins, tied the boots together, and swung them over his shoulder. The treasure was so heavy that Byles virtually staggered from South Montesano. The task ruined his boots and left him exhausted and with an asthmatic condition that plagued him the rest of his life. He would say many times that carrying the gold and silver “broke his wind.” He died at fifty-two on January 26, 1897, and was regarded thereafter as the ‘father of Montesano.” Charles N. Byles’s older brother by eleven years, David F.

Byles, settled on a 320-acre claim on Mound Prairie. He married Mary Hill, daughter of Robert and Lauretta Hill, on July 21, 1854, served with the volunteer garrison at Fort Henness

on

Mound Prairie during the Indian “trouble,” wrote field notes for

the surveyor-general’s office in Olympia, and in 1859 settled in Cosmopolis upon the claim of James Pilkington, the first white to become neighborly with the Indian village on the site. Within nine months of her arrival Elizabeth Medcalf's mother, Martha Medcalf, had two white women for neighbors. Lorinda

Scammon

arrived from Maine,

while Ann Price Mace

and her husband, Joseph Davis Mace, located “up the Wynooche.” The Maces, of Quaker stock, came to Lewis County in the early

1850s and in 1855 moved from Drew’s mill to the P. F. Luark place three miles north of the mouth of the Skookumchuck, where they spent the summer of 1856. In the winter of that year, having moved his family to Mound Prairie, Mace made a trip with William Medcalf and Walter King down the Chehalis to the Wynooche, where all three located donation claims. Mace and King settled just west of Montesano. Included in Mace’s claim was a hill to be known as ‘Mace’s Mound,” which became in 1871 the site of the Wynooche cemetery, first called “Mound Cemetery.”

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Mace moved his family to his Wynooche claim to live there for thirty years. He then sold his holdings and moved to Montesano, where he engaged in shopkeeping, an occupation of his younger days in the East. To his fellow pioneers Mace was too generous for his own good, a trait that made him the victim of

“the dishonest and improvident element,” so much so that “his Portland creditors drove him to the wall, and seized all his property.” In 1887 Mace and his family moved to Lake County, California. There Mace suffered a “light stroke” and the family returned to Montesano, where he died.

Mace was one of the commissioners appointed by the Legislature in 1859 to organize the new Chehalis County after the Willapa separation. He was the first elected treasurer of the county, and some time later spent two years on the staff on the Quinault reservation. His pioneer skill as a boot and shoemaker was a vital one in a time and place when most footwear was homemade. He was also a skilled carpenter and farmer, and could handle a canoe, scow, or raft on the Chehalis with the best

of the river navigators. Also “just up the Wynooche” was Walter King, born January 6, 1822. His early experience as a flatboat navigator on the Mississippi stood him in good stead on the unpredictable Chehalis. King came to Washington Territory in 1852, first to the Cowlitz, then to stake a claim on the Wynooche. He sent for his wife in Iowa, and by 1858 the two had carved out a farm where the Northern Pacific rail line crosses the Wynooche. King’s skills as a riverman were called upon frequently by those coursing the Chehalis, while Mrs. King, always called “Aunt Betsy,” was one of the most helpful of pioneer women. Walter King had only a few years on his farm. He died January 24, 1861. John Brady, of Irish descent, settled on a prairie west of the Satsop River in 1853, giving his name to the community of Brady. Brady married Mrs. Wagstaff of Hoquiam, sister to the

Campbell brothers, and became a successful farmer. He was one of the first commissioners of the county even before the Pacific

County separation. Corydon Fairfield Porter appeared shortly after the Scammons and took up a donation claim across the Chehalis from their location. Porter had crossed the Plains with John C. Fremont,

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explorer of the West and military figure in California, probably on one of the general's last two crossings in 1848 or 1850. Porter left his claim in 1860 and relocated on the present site of Porter, named after him. Sometime before 1855, James Pilkington squatted on the present site of Cosmopolis, snuggling up to a centuries-old camp of the Chehalis people, home of the famed Indian sturgeon fisherman who was to become known as “Cosmopolis Pete.” The camp had been the home of Cosmopolis Pete's father and grandfather, who had been born there and who could tell the tale of the

big ship and the first white men the Chehalis had ever seen. When Pilkington arrived the village had perhaps fifty permanent residents, most of them near or distant relatives of Cosmopolis Pete. Their canoes were pulled up on a gravel bar that stretched against the bank for a half mile. The village was often swelled by transients and visitors coming and going between fishing locations. Pilkington’s place made him a host to almost every white wayfarer. His claim became a favorite stopping place as were Scammon’s, Blockhouse Smith’s at Claquamish, and Glenn Peter-

son’s on Chehalis Point. Pilkington was sometimes a source of

amusement for his Indian neighbors, especially the time when he attempted to lay shakes on his roof from the ridgepole down. His attempts to shove the next layer of shakes under the ones above drew a crowd, with much finger-pointing and “mamook heehee” (literally, in the jargon, “make laugh”) and the observation “white man cultus laplach man” (“poor builder or carpenter”). While James Pilkington was neighboring with the Indian village at Cosmopolis, his brother Richard Pilkington was homesteading a claim near Montesano, which he later sold to Richard

Arland in April 1863. By that time he had a young bearing orchard of apple, cherry, and pear trees, his apples a particular

pride of the valley. James Pilkington had quit the Harbor earlier, under very different circumstances. A story remembered by later Cosmopolis settlers said that Pilkington had ‘shot and killed a Grand Mound Indian over an Upper Chehalis Indian maiden.” Whatever

the reason,

he came

into disfavor

with his Indian

neighbors and in 1858 moved away, selling his claim for $1,500 to David F. Byles and Austin E. Young, both of the migration of

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1853 to Grand Mound. Byles and Young filed a deed from James “Pilkinton” on April 26, 1859. The land is described as “beginning at the mouth of a small stream emptying into the Chehalis river [no doubt what was to become known as ‘Mill Slough’) on the south side and about three miles from the mouth of said river and following said river to the mouth of another stream [once known as ‘Big Slough,’ near the western city limits of Cosmopolis], thence south 80 rods, thence east 80 rods, thence north 80 rods to the place of

beginning.” On June 25, 1861, David R. Byles and wife Mary J., and

Austin E. Young and wife Martha J., dedicated the property to the public “in consideration that a town to be called Cosmopolis is to be laid out on our lands. ...” And that day they filed a plat for the Town of Cosmopolis. David Byles, the eldest son of Rev. Charles Byles, had located first on Johns River before he teamed with Austin E.

Young to buy the Pilkington place. He surveyed much of the land on the south side of the Chehalis and the harbor. After living several years at Cosmopolis, he located east of the Cloquallum at what was to become known as Greenwood. Rev. Charles Byles never became a permanent resident of Grays Harbor, although he was instrumental in opening up the country. As a settler on Mound Prairie he became, as one pioneer neighbor phrased it, “the noblest of pioneers, affectionately called Uncle Charley.” He was a member of the “big Chinook canoe” party of explorers to the lower harbor in 1857, and preached the first sermon heard on Grays Harbor, at Bay City in the South Bay region. He also helped open the “parallel cattle trail” in 1858. With Rev. Byles, his wife Sarah, and their children was another party member to struggle through Natchez Pass. She was Mary Jane Hill, whom David Byles married the following year. Also with the Byles party was Wilson Guess. In her Montesano

history,

Mrs.

James

Arland

calls him

“Guest,”

a

school teacher “with a streak of cruelty.” M. F. Luark described him as “a martinet in discipline’ whose sinister influence was known as “the dread of Guess.” Luark also described him as “violently and artistically profane.” He filed on a quarter section immediately west of the Wynooche’s mouth, and taught in the

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Montesano school. Three parties from the Grand Mound Prairie region made explorations down the Chehalis to the coast, one in 1855, two others in 1857. In 1855 Michael F. Luark, Charles Wormer, H. A. Judson,

and Alec Underwood

started from the Grand

Mound

Landing in a shovel-nose canoe to descend the Chehalis. They found James (Blockhouse)

Smith and John Billings settled on a

prairie to be known in later years as Cedarville. Downstream they found no sign of habitation, though back of the brushy bottoms there were cabins of three new settlers, including S. S. Ford Jr. and Thomas, his brother, sons of Sidney S. Ford, pioneer settler

south of Grand Mound in 1845. Sid and Thomas Ford were still in their teens when their father took up his donation claim. Both were believed to have been with a company of prospectors who in November 1851 were wrecked in the small vessel Georgiana on Queen Charlotte Island, then captured and made slaves by the Haida Indians. They were eventually ransomed by a few white settlers on Puget Sound and the Upper Chehalis. Officials on Puget Sound chartered a vessel, the Demaris Cove, and with a number of other early notables as volunteers, went to Queen Charlotte Island, paid for the prospectors’ release, and brought them home. (That Sid Ford was a member of the prospecting company is fairly certain, but it is only “understood” Thomas Ford was also a member. M. F. Luark, who chronicled the doings of the Fords, notes that Bancroft, the historian, had omitted Tom Ford’s name

from his list of the captured prospectors. Bancroft also omitted the name of Green McCafferty who, it was well known, was one of the captured.)

In any event, the two sons of Sidney S. Ford were back in Lewis County by 1855, and married to Indian girls. They located claims on the Upper Chehalis some distance from Cloquato, when settlers were pushing down the Chehalis in 1857-58. Sid Ford located on what became known

as Ford’s Prairie, later Sharon

Prairie, across the Chehalis from Porter. Sid Ford had separated from his Indian wife, by whom he had three children, and married

Miss Moore of Cowlitz. He moved his family to the prairie site, where he became a successful farmer, postmaster of the Sharon post office located in his home, and a several-term county com-

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missioner. Thomas Ford, meanwhile, had also separated from his Indian

wife and married a daughter of John Remley of Mound Prairie. He lived for several years at Chehalis Point, then moved to the Humptulips Valley where he died. The Luark party of 1855 found Peter Anderson, a Swede, located on the present site of Elma. John Brady was on a prairie west of the Satsop River. Up the Wynooche was T. D. Mace. Walter King had located some time before on the prairie just east of present Montesano. William Medcalf and his family had just begun a home. I. L. Scammon was across the Chehalis from the mouth of the Wynooche, while Corydon R. Porter had settled on the north bank of the Chehalis on a place now called Porter. The explorers found no settlers down the Chehalis until they reached James Pilkington’s place, at what was to become Cosmopolis. Pilkington had a cabin in a small clearing near the Indian village, with solid forest, made up mostly of huge tideland spruces, all around and to the water’s edge. The explorers encountered William O'Leary at O'Leary Creek, a mile east of Jones Point. At Jones Point the party found the deserted cabin of Dr. James H. Roundtree. John Hole, then an old man, was living at the mouth of Johns River. Hole had built a split cedar shack in

1852 on the river bank. Just south of Hole were two Indian houses built of cedar

slabs. Behind the houses was a low sand ridge covered by a dense growth of spruce and crabapple. Between the spruce and the river bank was a stretch of natural prairie, dry most of the time and high enough to escape even extreme high tides. The spruce grove had been used by the Indians as a burial site for perhaps a century or more. In the 1850s there was ready evidence of this: moss-covered bones and skulls on the ground, beads and brass and copper trinkets, cooking vessels, crockery,

horn and whalebone spoons and ladles. Remnants of burial canoes in an advanced state of decay were scattered about. More recent burials were still in decaying canoes or on frames fastened

to the trees. Every canoe had a hole cut in the bottom for drainage and to prevent theft of the canoe. Personal articles of the dead, including household goods and weapons, were scattered about, although some were still in the canoes or hung on stakes or tree

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trunks nearby.

The party explored up Johns River, where they noted many immense cedars. They then ran around into South Bay where, because of lack of provisions, heavy weather, and high water,

they decided not to return up the Chehalis. They left their canoe on Chehalis Point and walked

to Shoalwater

Bay, where they

found a settler named Barrows to take them up the Willapa River to an Indian trail that led to Boisfort Prairie on the Upper Chehalis. The 1857 explorations were more significant and effective than the 1855 trip in that they led directly to settlements on the Lower Chehalis and along the bay shores. The first in that year was undertaken by Patterson Luark, the diarist who chronicled the journey; Samuel James Sr., with his wife Anna Maria and sons John and Billy, J. W. Goodell and his son William, Levi

Gates, and Charles Byles. With them as guides went one Siwash, Sesenahan, his two wives and one “tenas” (child). The party started on August 12, 1857, from James (Blockhouse) Smith’s place at Claquamish (Cedarville) boarding a thirty-six-foot Chinook canoe with a fifty-two-inch beam and a thirty-inch depth—one of the largest ever seen on Grays Harbor— loaded with 2,000 pounds of camp dunnage. They landed first at the mouth of the Satsop, after touching bottom twenty times during the day. On the 13th the party started at seven o'clock in the morning, stopped to dine with the Scammons, and landed at James Pilkington’s place at four o'clock in the afternoon, where they spent the night. They took off again at seven o'clock on the 14th, paddling down to Roundtree Point, where they dined, then walked

the beach around to Johns River to explore, the Indians following with the canoe as the tide came in. “Admiring the beautiful tide prairie” on either side of Johns River, the explorers paddled upstream for five or six miles, returning to camp for the night at the river’s mouth. The following day, August 15, they pulled around into South Bay, explored what they called “Island Grove” (Laidlaw Island, then covered with a dense growth of hemlock, spruce, crabapple, and alder) and the mainland to the east, camping on the south side and one-half mile east of the point. There they found a spring of

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fresh water and two families of Indians. Sunday the party remained in camp. Having two ministers of the gospel in company, they listened to a sermon from J. W. Goodell, and an “exhortation” from Charles Byles. It was noted that the ‘Siwash” also attended. The following Monday, August 17, most of the party hired the Indian Cloutliteh to take them across South Bay to the peninsula where an Indian trail crossed to the ocean beach. At eleven o'clock that day they beheld “the great ocean” for the first time. After resting and meditating on the “mity Pacific,” the party walked north to where the canoe awaited. After hauling the canoe and luggage “a great distance” over the sand, the voyagers were thwarted by fog and an ebb tide in their intent to cross over to the north point (Point Brown). Instead they found a light breeze to carry them up the harbor to Roundtree Point, where they spent the night in Roundtree’s old house. They found no Indians on Chehalis Point that day. On Tuesday, August 18, the party started at 8:30 o'clock for the mouth of the Humptulips, stopping a short time near “Lone Rock”

(Ned’s Rock,

later James Rock).

At the mouth

of the

Humptulips the ebb tide stranded them, so they camped for the night, exploring along the shore eastward until dark. Here they found two large camps of Indians, who proved friendly. The following day the party coasted the canoe along Brackenridge Bluff, or the “red bluffs” as they called it, then ran up the harbor

and into the Hoquiam River. They camped on the east bank “near

the point of the hill” not far from where Edward Campbell would build his dwelling years later. Thursday, August 20, the men in the party explored ten miles up the east fork of the Hoquiam, returned to camp with the ebb tide, and on the 21st ran up the middle fork of the Hoquiam to

the head of tidewater. In all probability, as the Indians said, they were the first whites ever inside the mouth of the Hoquiam. Saturday, August 22, the party, starting at six a.m., crossed over to the mouth of “Sooskain” or, as they recorded it, ‘Cutler's

Creek” (actually the Newskah), where they explored for a few hours, then paddled up to Pilkington’s location, where the two James boys, William and John Rogers, decided to stay. Their

place in the canoe was taken by Richard Pilkington, brother of

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James Pilkington and owner at that time of the Richard Arland place in Montesano, for the trip up the Chehalis to the mouth of the Satsop. Here camp was made for the night. The following day, Sunday, the two Goodells, Byles, and Gates left for home over an Indian trail, while the rest stayed in camp for the Sabbath. Early the next morning Samuel and Anna Maria James and Richard Pilkington set out on the Indian trail for Grand Mound, while Patterson Luark, with the help of Sesenahan

and his wives and another Indian hired to help handle the canoe, paddled to Claquamish, or Smith’s Landing. Here Luark, having decided to settle on Grays Harbor, purchased the big Chinook canoe of Sesenahan for twenty blankets, paying two blankets down. The full twenty blankets were to cost him $75. The third expedition down the Chehalis to the coast was undertaken, according to a chronicle of Mary James Shephard (1848-1913), by Mr. and Mrs. Samuel James, Rev. J. Goodell and

son William, Rev. Charles Byles, Mr. Gates’s son from Cloquato, David Byles, John R. James, 17, and William James, 19.

The party started Monday, September 7, 1857, “for the hitherto unknown country.” By Saturday night they arrived on the Hoquiam River, where they spent the Sabbath, Rev. Goodell preaching the sermon. From there the travelers skirted the north side of the harbor as far as Damon’s Point. When the tide started to flood they boarded a large Chinook canoe, having left their shovel-nose canoe at Cosmopolis as un-

safe for the trip to the ocean. About halfway across the mouth of the harbor, the Indian woman

discovered that Mrs. James had

gathered round clam shells. The Indians insisted she throw the shells overboard or they would bring bad luck. The Indians threatened to turn back; the shells were thrown over the side.

From Chehalis Point the party went up the south side of the harbor, where they found William O'Leary and his little dog. These explorations, and the reports spread concerning them, caused a spate of settlement in the lower Chehalis Valley. In the autumn of 1857 the site of Aberdeen-to-be had its first resident, George Jones, who by September 14 already had a substantial log cabin built on the west bank of the Wishkah just below where the railway bridge crosses the river. It was the first real log cabin on the Harbor, where other early structures were

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built of split cedar. Jones, a native of England, was a brother of Mark Jones, a

well-known citizen of Olympia. Jones went upriver for the winter of 1857, and returned the next spring, but finally quit his claim on the Wishkah to settle west of Elma, where he died years later. A second venturer down the Chehalis that autumn was Captain Elliott. No records show his given name, although a William A. Elliott had been mentioned as a petitioner for formation of Pacific County in 1850. He was middle-aged and slightly gray when he appeared on Fords Prairie in the early summer of 1857 with a packhorse loaded with dry goods which he planned to trade to the Indians, Patterson Luark met Captain Elliott, Charles Crater, and J. T. Crater at the Blockhouse Smith place September 19, 1857, all

three of them bound downriver. Captain Elliott located at the mouth of a slough and built a sort of hovel just upstream from the high bluff near the mouth of the Chehalis. The slough eventually was called Elliott Slough, as it is today. The “captain” came by his title as a seafaring man of the Atlantic coast. He went up the Chehalis the winter of 1857, never to return.

Thompson Barker Speake first heard of the Grays Harbor country from an acquaintance, Glenn Peterson, then living in Portland, Oregon Territory. Peterson had heard stories of the Chehalis Valley and the tidal bays on the coast and was chewing on the idea of going there himself. His reports so impressed Speake and his wife, Sophia Newcombe Speake, that they sold their home in Hillsboro, Washington County, Oregen Territory, May 8, 1857, packed all their household goods and four children in a single-team wagon, and started into what was, for them, the unknown. The children were Martha, then seven, who later was to

chronicle experiences of the Speakes on Grays Harbor; Mary, five; Emmaline, three; and Ben, one.

The family spent several weeks on the trip, going down the Columbia, then up the Cowlitz to Toledo, heading from there for the mouth of the Wynooche. The horses and wagon were left there, the family and possessions being loaded on what Martha later called a “flatboat.” They drifted down the Chehalis to where it entered the harbor, then took the south channel to Chehalis Point. Once ashore, the Speakes packed their goods to fairly high

ground about a half-mile south of what is now the intersection in

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Westport of Ocean Avenue and Montesano Street. Martha Speake wrote years later that the family arrived late in the summer in good weather. Speake immediately set to work building a makeshift shack of driftwood, dug a well for fresh water, and planted several apple and pear trees he had brought from Oregon. Martha Speake recalled: Clearing land became a problem as there were many Indians on the peninsula much dissatisfied with the recent treaty negotiations [at Cosmopolis February 1855] and hostile toward a white family settling there.

They would watch every move we made and follow my father while he worked, muttering and grumbling in their guttural jargon. My mother feared for our lives every day we were there. The winter of 1857 was cruel to the Speake family; it was long and hard with much wind, fog, and rain, and

our shack was inadequately heated by a small woodburning cook stove. Our food supply grew low, our chief articles of diet being clams, fish and venison, much of which we bought from the Indians. When Spring came father was anxious to make a garden but with the natives threatening, he had to carry a musket while he worked,

which was a handicap to getting much accomplished. Mother was so depressed from the hard winter, and also the fear of the Indians, that she tried to induce my father to give up the venture and leave, but father

was reluctant. In the spring of 1858, Dame Fortune smiled upon Mother, for a man by the name of Glenn Peterson came looking for a homesite and father decided to turn our shack and land claim over to him and seek a new home near Tumwater.

The Speakes, however, did not go to Tumwater immediately as they had planned. At Wynooche the settlers, seeing that father had a family, insisted on his staying there; they wanted more

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families in the area. There was a vacant land claim taken up by Mr. Metcalf, who had gone east to get his family, but was many months overdue; the claim was open for anyone, the settlers assuming he had been killed by Indians. They induced Father to take it, and he immediately started building a house and clearing land. When Mr. Metcalf suddenly returned with his family, Father agreeably relinquished his claim to the property, having heard of some good land available near Olympia. He moved us to Tumwater, where we lived for many years. The Speakes apparently stayed but a short time on the Medcalf claim, for Patterson Luark recorded in his diary on August 7, 1858: “Today loaned Mr. Speake my canoe to leave Grays Harbor in; he is bound for Tumwater, Thurston county.” On September 29, Luark

noted: “Went to Tumwater with 18 bushels of wheat and had it ground for bread. Stayed with Speakes.” By 1857 there was a wagon road of sorts from Mound Prairie to the Samuel H. Williams place at Claquamish or Blockhouse Prairie. That year a road was proposed from Blockhouse Prairie into the Grays Harbor country, but the project actually turned into a little-used trail ending somewhere in the O'Leary Creek area. On February 25, 1858, Patterson Luark and W. B. D. Newman, with three Indian packers, started to “view” a road along the standard parallel which ran from south of Cedarville through Vesta in the North River country, to the coast just north of Grayland. They blazed a trail along the parallel with some difficulty, because of snow and dense forest, to where the parallel crosses North River near Vesta. There Luark and Newman,

tired

and running short of provisions, struck north for Scammon’s place on the Chehalis. They hit the river one-quarter mile below Scammon’s, where they found Thomas Carter, who with others of a

survey party had “viewed” eight miles of proposed trail from south of O'Leary’s place along the standard parallel eastward. They too, had exhausted their supplies and returned to the Chehalis. The following April 5, 1858, Patterson Luark, in company

with Rev. Charles Byles, started to open the trail “viewed” in February. They had with them a Mr. Quinn, who was hired as a

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These Were the Pioneers

substitute for D. F. Byles, and three Indian packers. On Tuesday, April 6, 1858, they “reviewed” one mile and then turned to the

Samuel Williams place for the night. Thereafter they cut twentyfive miles of trail. It went over the top of Parallel Butte, and in twelve days was within a mile of the point where Luark and Newman had completed their “viewing.” Someone else completed the trail to O'Leary Creek, for it is a matter of record that William O'Leary worked out some tax assessments by helping to cut trail near his place. First use of the trail on June 30, 1858, was made by Patterson Luark, Reuben Redman, Robert Brown, James M. Luark, who was then a boy, and an Indian named Heck. They left the Samuel

H. Williams place with thirty head of cattle and three horses and on July 8 reached O'Leary Creek. The next day they drove the livestock around the beach to the Luark cabin on Johns River,

where the remainder of the family had just landed in the big Chinook canoe.

Previously, on April 26, 1858, W. B. D. Newman, Charles Byles, P. F. Luark, and three Siwash had started from the mouth

of Cedar Creek with a raft of 40,000 feet of lumber cut at Armstrong’s mill. After several hang-ups and reraftings, the lumber arrived at the mouth of Johns River, then was taken up the river a

short distance and piled ashore. All the effort Luark, Newman, and Byles put into rafting and moving the lumber parcel was lost, for no homes were ever built. Newman left the Harbor without proving his claim, while Charles Byles and his son, David Byles, also moved

out, but for a dif-

ferent reason. The Byleses’ plans were dropped when “pretty Rebecca Byles and Mr. Melanthon Zuingle Goodell eloped,” creating what Mary James Shephard reported as “some feeling between the families, so that both parties gave up their land on

the Harbor.” With their expected neighbors on Johns River gone, Patterson Luark and his growing family began casting around for a new homesite. Luark made two brief explorations on Chehalis Point, finally choosing a location two and one-half miles south of the point, and one and one-half miles south of Speake’s claim. Here Luark found, surprisingly, a spring of fresh water on the bay side of the peninsula.

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(Eventually, on December 7, 1876, Luark filed for record a

government patent embracing 159 acres in all.)

Accordingly, on July 27, 1858, Luark, with the help of H. N. Stearns, two of his surviving hands, and Samuel James Jr., drove his cattle and horses across the mouth of Johns River to the Red-

man claim on the banks of what is now known as Redman Creek in Ocosta. From there, with the help of Reuben Redman, T. J.

Carter, D. F. Byles, and the survey crew, Luark swam his herd across South Bay to where the long Westport wharf was later to project into the bay. The crossing was made without loss and the cattle were driven along the bay shore tideflats to where Luark had staked his claim. The family lived in a lean-to of Armstrong lumber until a logand-lumber cabin could be built. It was in this cabin that Mary Luark “was delivered of a son” at 11 a.m. Nov. 6, 1858, the child to be named Robert Gray Luark. In the autumn of 1858 the Luarks acquired some near and distant neighbors, while losing the Speakes, who moved to Tumwater. Lyman Schaffer raised a house with Luark’s help, at what he called Groveland on “Island Grove” or Laidlaw Island (named

for Alex Laidlaw, who built a mill some years later on the east side where the Highway 105 bridge now crosses the Elk River channel).

John A. Ewell, born in Utah in 1860, came to Grays Harbor

from Portland in 1887. He worked in the Bennett blacksmith shop in Hoquiam and in several sawmills until he met “Old Man Laidlaw.” Laidlaw had been seeking someone to run his sawmill on the island. He had a contract with George H. Emerson of the North Western company for logs, but the contract did not specify the grade. Emerson fulfilled his contract, but with cull logs and logs too large for the North Western mill. With this type of timber, John Ewell, who made a deal with Laidlaw to operate the mill, could not make the enterprise pay. After six months of hard

work and no profit, Ewell quit Laidlaw and the following spring went into the Quinault country to settle. Laidlaw also quit the mill, which stood idle for years and finally fell into decay. Reuben Redman had located on the east fork of Redman Creek. In 1859 he gained a neighbor on the west fork: Francis Talbert, who set about establishing a nursery on his claim. He had

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served an apprenticeship with the Llewellyn Nurseries in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and was fairly skilled in tree-growing. But he got caught up in the Salmon River, B. C., mining excitement and abandoned his embryo nursery. When he returned from British Columbia he found the Fort Chehalis troops gone and the Harbor economic situation looking dismal. Talbert then took up a homestead in 1863 on the south side of the Chehalis at what later became the site of the fish hatchery. For some time he carried mail between Olympia and Chehalis Point. Talbert in 1866 married Lenora, eldest daughter of Patterson F.

Luark, but she lived only three years, dying of tuberculosis in 1869. Talbert stayed on his homestead until 1876, when he sold his holdings and located in Montesano, purchasing land from C. N. Byles east of Main Street between Pioneer Avenue and the

railroad tracks. Here he operated a blacksmith shop for a while and was married a second time, to Hattie, eldest daughter of Charles

Sheasby. He sold out and moved to Colorado in 1885, then to Southern California, where he died at the age of seventy-six. Before Talbert rubbed neighborly elbows with Reuben Redman on Redman Creek, Patterson Luark was to lose two more neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. F. Hatch, who had a claim near the

mouth of the Humptulips. In attempting to sail their canoe from the Humptulips to Chehalis Point, they perished in the breakers when their heavily-laden canoe was carried out of the harbor entrance by a strong ebb tide. Early August 1858 was a busy time for Chehalis Point. On the 5th Dr. A. G. Henry, accompanied by his daughter, Mrs. Aleck C. Smith,

wife of the attorney-at-law,

and three small

children arrived from Oregon to take up residence on the Point. On Tuesday, August 10, T. J. Carter, his wife and two children, and Glenn Peterson, his wife and one child arrived as residents,

while Thomas Carter, his wife and a daughter arrived as visitors. On that date the Point boasted four resident families. Glenn Peterson had first come to Grays Harbor from Oregon in 1857 with Tom

Carter, Jeff Carter, Charley Carter, and Joe

Payne, driving fifty head of cattle. They were sixteen days going from Blockhouse

Smith’s to Chehalis Point, herding down the

south side of the Chehalis to emerge at South Arbor, or Roundtree Point. They then drove the cattle along the beach to the

Robert Gray, captain of the ship Columbia, | Captain George Vancouver missed both entered and discovered Grays Harbor on — the Columbia and Chehalis rivers, which May 7, 1792. (Hoquiam Library Collection) Captain Gray found. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

Artist George Davidson labeled this drawing of the Columbia “Surprised by the Natives of the Chicklerset,” another way of spelling “Chehalis.” (Oregon Historical Society)

John Boit, Jr. (Courtesy of

David Douglas

John Work

C. Jared Ingersoll and Oregon Historical Society)

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Artist George Davidson's drawing of the Columbia “Attackted at Juan De Fuca Straits” by the native navy. Davidson shaped his Olympic Mountains like teepees. (Oregon Historical Society)

Captain Charles Wilkes (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW

Lieutenant Henry Eld, leader of harbor expedition

See-see- me keeper of Chehalis Indian legends who lived into this century

Libraries)

fee Mite William O'oe settler on Grays Harbor

O'Leary's personal estate: spectacles, scissors, wallet, razor, and case

Indians tending salmon weir on Chehalis River in 1841. Sketched by Captain Charles Wilkes.

Indian cradle invention. Sketched by Captain Charles Wilkes on Grays Harbor.

;

George Quinotle, interpreter

Peter Heck, policeman

fuk

Lena Heck, Peter's wife

University of Washington professor Edmond S. Meany photographed these people on the Chehalis Indian Reservation in 1905.

h

Michael Luark (eerrtest of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

Patterson Luark (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

South Montesano in 1883. Painting by Mary E. Achey. (Courtesy of Washington State Historical Society)

birdie. Seated, from left: Zoa holding a fan, E. L. Wade, Martha Wade holding Barnaby

Rudge, and Aus. Standing, from left: Charles, Alf, Mint (wondering if the hens need water), Walter, and Rhoden. (Florence Pickering Collection)

a

Isaiah and Lorinda Scammon, first

Willi ‘am ae

harbor hosts (Billee Holbrook Collection)

Locals

Eliza called him

Ann Carter. “One Arm.”

(Florence Pickering Collection)

Gathered on this long-ago day at the first Carter home on the Chehalis River were from left: Eliza Carter, Martha Wade, Ada Carter, Mary Hill Carter, Mint Wade, William Henry “One Arm” Carter, Carrie Holburn, the hired girl, John Carter, William Carter, and little Albert Carter. When the house needed patching, One Arm slapped on another board. (Florence Pickering Collection)

Sane James, Sr. Sketch

by Kim

Young.

(Dave

James Collection) =

sis

The Grand Mound.

ae

TEs ad

Sketched in 1872.

Anna Maria James

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James Rock. Watercolor by Ed Van Syckle, 1930. The Mound and the Rock, seventy-five miles apart, were linked by the Chehalis River, which the pioneer Jameses kept frothy white poling their dugouts between points over a century ago.

John Rogers James

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near the church spire. (Charles Clemons Collection) Right: Charles N. Byles, founder of Montesano, preened up real nice for this 1895 photo. (Isabel Collins Collection)

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Cornerstone laying for the Grays Harbor County Courthouse at Montesano in 1909.

Umbrellas were showing, but white spots are women's wide hats. (Montesano Vidette Collection)

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George einer spread his arms before one of his land-clearing problems in the Lower Humptulips Valley. (Ed Van Syckle Collection)

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A farmer yanked giant Douglas fir stumps out of his land, using horses and a chain capstan. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

i

“ig

Hoh,” poled his Indian dugout canoe in the John Huelsdonk, legendary “Iron Man of the (Photo by Jones. Bronco Tesia Collection) manner used by all pioneer river trave lers.

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Left: Prominent in early Cosmopolis were Thomas B. cae ‘bull team oacea and his wife, Lorena, the town midwife. (Aberdeen Library Collection) Right: Cosmopolis boasted few houses in the 1880s, but it had the Harbor’s first tidewater sawmill. (Aberdeen Library Collection) n=

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River plank (puncheon) roads like this one near Melbourne in 1882 were called'sade shakers.” Without plank roads horses sank to their bellies in the ooze. Crude ladder on tree at left may have been used to escape from bears. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection,

UW Libraries)

$

A.O. Damon, Oyehut's first merchant

Frank Peterson, Westport pioneer

r amon’ s trading post at Damon's Neone (OvehneDwasae ai handy for 1880 shoppers. Wharf extended a half mile into North Bay to handle up-coast freighting to the Quinault Indian reservation. (Photo by Jones)

Quinault mail carrier delivered weekly. (Photo by Asahel Curtis)

tg 52

Crippled William Sherwin, known as “Billy the Bear,” lived a hermit's life way up the Wishkah Valley with his pelts, weapons, and phonograph. (Joe Malinowski Collection)

These Were the Pioneers

vicinity of Ocosta,

from where

they swam

113

the herd to Point

Chehalis. Peterson's family followed in 1858, as did the families of several other drovers. Thompson Speake was just completing his cabin on Chehalis Point when the Peterson family arrived. They were to take over Speake’s improvements and become permanent settlers on the Point. Frank Peterson, who arrived as a child in August 1858, was to become the best known figure on the Point. With his wife, he

was to plat, in 1891, the town of “Westport Beach,” which became the nucleus of the town of Westport. He made a contract with J. H. Shields, R. E. Hasbrook, A. M. Tenny, Jim Boland, and a man named Kennedy to sell the property. Later he developed the town of Peterson south of “Westport Beach.” Frank

Peterson

became

cattleman,

freighter,

mail carrier,

host, and hosteler for virtually every immigrant to approach Grays Harbor by way of Shoalwater Bay. For years he freighted, and carried passengers, along the beach between the “lighthouse” (to early Grays Harbor the “lighthouse” was the light at North Cove at the entrance to Shoalwater Bay, with keeper Van Cleve in 1858) and Chehalis Point, which for a while was known as “Peter-

son Point.” He parlayed the original Peterson preemption, a takeover from Speake, into one of the largest land holdings on the peninsula. In October, 1859, Patterson Luark gained two new neighbors. On the 26th A. H. Fisher took a claim south of Luark, and on the 28th Thomas James (third son of Samuel James Sr.), who had just come of age, picked a claim on the ocean beach

southwest of the Luark place and south of present Cohassett. On Thursday, Nov. 3, 1859, Luark “raised a house” for young James,

and on November 12 the James family came over from the north shore to help the family’s newest claimant. A. H. Fisher (listed as “Henry Fisher, 36, laborer, from Indiana,” in the 1860 census) arrived on Grays Harbor in 1858. He

had served in the Mexican War, 1846-48, and had been “creased” in the neck by a Mexican bullet, lying still while the enemy stripped off his clothing and escaping when they departed. Fisher went first to Damon’s Point; he and William Harris built two bridges

for Luark across sloughs towards the ocean. He was still in the

vicinity in 1865, for it was reported that he had come in with the

114.

These Were the Pioneers

mail on April 19, bringing news of President Abraham Lincoln’s assassination only four days after the date of his death on April 15. There was considerable settlement along the south shore of the harbor in 1859. Charles Johnson had a place on the beach northwest of Luark, but in August suddenly decided to leave for California. Fred Burr and Simon Feeler were located on the shore not far from Payne, while E. Barnes and George Warbass, or Wurbis, were on Elk Creek (Elk River). W. K. Melville, former sheriff of Pierce County, and his family —including his son, David Melville, who

was to figure prominently in the Grays Harbor community— arrived on Chehalis Point in 1859, but took up no claim. They moved to Montesano, settling east of Metcalf. There was tragedy and near-tragedy in the bay region in 1858. Francis McKee Stocking, going up harbor in a small sailboat, disappeared. Search parties were organized to scour both north and south shores, but without avail. Indians finally discovered Stocking clinging to his overturned craft, with the mast stuck fast in the sand, on the flats west of the mouth of the Ho-

quiam. He had been holding onto his overturned sailboat for twenty hours and was near death from cold and exhaustion. The Indians took Stocking to the Karr place on the Hoquiam. C. Windsor and a man named House recovered Stocking’s boat and returned it to Chehalis Point. On November 18, 1859, H. Herndon died at the home of Glenn Peterson. Three weeks earlier, working on his own place

on the south shore of the harbor, Herndon had slashed his ankle with an axe and had been taken to the Peterson place for care,

where he died from the loss of blood. Immediately after his death,

T. J. Carter, Glenn Peterson, and Patterson Luark picked a place for the Chehalis Point cemetery, where Herndon was buried Nov. 18, 1859, the first burial on the Point, with a prayer read by Patterson Luark and remarks by J. W. McKee. Luark was to write in his diary that same day: “Butchered steer and sold part to Matthew McKee for 10 cents a pound.” Meanwhile, up the Chehalis, Merritt Wood settled on the east edge of Elma. He was there in April 1863, but later moved to the Brady Prairie area, where he located on a quarter section, most of it bottom land. A widower with three small daughters, he married a widow named Hall, who had two small daughters and

These Were the Pioneers

115

two young sons.

Andrew J. Smith Sr. crossed the Plains in 1858, visited in the

Grand Mound area, and finally located on a small gravel prairie between Medcalf Prairie and Brady's place. Reputedly a man of untiring industry, he became a successful farmer. He invested in

the rich bottoms east and south of his claim and accumulated a large body of land, which he divided among his six sons and daughters. Smith had a “picturesque imagination” and was widely recognized as a yarn-spinner. In fact he was nicknamed “Gassy Smith” because of his story-telling talent and his fondness for exercising it.

The James family of Grays Harbor history stems from the Lizard, the hard coastline of southeastern Cornwall upon which the Spanish Armada disintegrated as it sailed against England. From here Samuel James and his tiny wife, Anna Maria, migrated to Wisconsin in 1843. James had been a successful farmer at Mullion, Cornwall, upon 500 acres of land he called Trelan, a name the farm has borne for nine centuries. He, like his wife, was a devout Methodist, a no-nonsense man of strong convictions,

well educated for his time and fiercely independent. His wife, the daughter of Rev. William Foxwell (1761-1837) a famed Cornish

Wesleyan minister of Mullion, was to become a courageous pioneer homemaker in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest and the venerated friend of her Indian neighbors. On Saturday, October 5, 1850, the James family quit their log cabin on the banks of Root River, Caledonia, Racine County, Wisconsin, and drove twelve miles to Yorkville with their three

wagons, each pulled by three yoke of cattle. The following day the train, joined by Daniel Lucas, Mrs. Lucas and three sons, Dan, Sam and Johnnie, with two wagons, took off down the road

westward to Oregon. They wintered in Dudley, a tiny log cabin town on the banks of the Des Moines River. On April 8, 1851, the

train hitched up again to begin the long journey that was not to end until the faithful oxen were unhitched for the last time on Grand Mound Prairie, Oregon Territory, October 12, 1852. The Jameses had wintered through 1851-52 near Milwaukie on the Willamette River. The Samuel James family settled at Grand Mound and maintained their claim until 1858, when the parents and several

116

These Were the Pioneers

children moved to Grays Harbor. The reason why they temporarily left the prairie on which they were “first” may have been Samuel James’ strong anti-slavery feelings and his often-voiced support of the Abolitionists in the years leading up to the Civil War; or it may have been the family’s hankering for salt water, for all had been raised within sight and sound of the sea and none was quite at ease on the landsman’s prairies. In any event, following the explorations of 1857 and the filing of claims, Samuel James Sr. and his sons, Samuel and William, built a 14-by-45-foot scow at the mouth of Cedar Creek,

splitting the 36-inch planks from the round tree and dressing them with a broad axe. The bottom and deck were of two-inch planks cut in Armstrong’s mill. Iron clamps were fitted to the thick sides, one above the other, and four-by-fours inserted to support heavy railings. To these the cattle were tied, and the lumber and house-

hold goods secured. All drift down the Chehalis, guiding the craft on the Once on the north

loaded, the family boarded and began to with two long sweeps, one at each end, river’s treacherous course. shore of the harbor behind “Lone Rock”

the Jameses built a fine house of one and one-half stories, the first

anywhere in the North Bay region. On the same site Samuel James Sr., in 1857, had built a small “donation claim” cabin near Brackenridge Bluff, while William James had built his claim cabin

on the point nearest the rock. The Jameses did very little “living ” in these claim structures, having built them solely to fulfill requirements for their preemptions. The new house, of Armstrong-cut lumber, was sixteen by twenty-four feet in size, with an annex for kitchen and bedroom (four beds upstairs) and a fireplace. Painted pure white, the house was a landmark for years. Sam Williams, who operated a store on

Chehalis Point (roughly on the eastern edge of what is now Westport) had an overstock of buff-colored calico “with a very pretty vine running through it.” He was selling it cheap to get rid of it. The Jameses lined the entire inside of their new house with

buff-colored calico. M. F. Luark, who visited the James place in October 1861

while on a location exploring trip to the north shore of Grays Harbor, described the James house thus: “I helped James put up a kitchen adjoining the house, but I must give a description of

These Were the Pioneers

our

setting.

chimney,

Imagine

a staircase

a room and

117

12 by 16 feet with an inside

three

doors

on

one

side,

and

a

workbench occupying the other side beside an endless amount of boxes, chairs and bits of lumber, books, tool boxes etc and 13

grown persons and you have a faint idea of our circumstances. Then imagine some reading, some singing, some arguing politics or religion, some courting and some looking on and wishing. Such is a pioneer life on Grays Harbor.” M. F. Luark had arrived on Mound Prairie on October 14, 1861, to find that his claim, upon which he had settled some time

before, had been jumped by Elkannah Mills. He was perforce plunged into location seeking, which led him to the James place near Grass Creek, and to his brother Patterson's place two miles

south from the tip of Point Chehalis. His party was stormbound for some time at the James place, and were seasick all the way across the harbor to the P. F. Luark home. Near his house Samuel James set out his third orchard in seven years (the first had been at Milwaukie, Oregon Territory, and the second a ten-acre orchard at Grand Mound). Many of the

apple trees in his new orchard at James Rock were grafts on native crabapple and are still in evidence. Rails fenced the yard and made corrals for the cattle. There were sheds to build for the calves, and

wild hay to be cut. From Grand Mound, the family had brought the few luxuries it possessed: a library brought from Cornwall and carried over the Oregon Trail, Ayres’ Almanac, two globes, a barometer, and blankets woven by the Jameses’ southern neighbor women of Grand Mound wool. Later the Jameses acquired a melodeon, the first musical instrument on the Harbor, from an officer who was

about to leave the “fort” on Chehalis Point. Mary Ann James became the family musician, picking out tunes from memory, among the first being “John Brown's Body”—

an accomplishment that soon captivated the Indians. In fact, the melodeon was such a pacifier that it once soothed three canoeloads of Makahs from Cape Flattery who had stormed into the

James house. The James men were at Hoquiam helping John Rogers James, who had a 160-acre preemption at the mouth of the Hoquiam River. The Makahs had paddled all the way down the coast to sell their sea otter pelts and were vexed when they found

118

These Were the Pioneers

no whites with whom

to trade. The James girls were

badly

frightened, but Anna Maria James, who was virtually fearless and often called “Tenas-la-me-ah” or, as the Jameses interpreted it,

“Little Mother” (the word is similar to the purely local Chinook jargon word of Northern Puget Sound “limmieh” or “old woman”),

had a streak of courage twice her size. She told her

daughter to play, and Mary James played “John Brown's Body” with all her might while the Makahs milled around, fascinated by the sounds that came from the queer contraption. In fact, they were so enthralled that they gave Mary James three otter skins worth from $500 to $800 each, while some of the Makahs took off

their rings and bracelets as. gifts to the maker

of marvelous

“latlah” (noise).

Anna Maria James was so revered and respected by the Indians (the Jameses while on Grays Harbor adopted “Sampson,”

an Indian boy, who died of fever at the age of fourteen) that she was called upon to lead a two-canoe delegation of Indians summoned to Point Chehalis to appear in connection with the death of one Absalom Armstrong. On October 15, 1861, Absalom Armstrong had been cited as

“principal evidence or prosecutor” in a warrant arrest of George Wood, charged with shooting an Indian by the name of Cox. Wood was arrested by Sheriff Sam Benn and his case heard before Justice of the Peace Patterson Luark. Bound over to District

Court, Wood was placed in the custody of the sheriff, but escaped and was captured on Toke Point, Shoalwater Bay. There was an outcry by citizens of Chehalis Point, notably by Sam M. Williams and T. J. Carter, who claimed that there was not enough evidence to convict Wood, adding “Cox was a notorious thief, and it

wasn't right to convict a white man for shooting such.” Armstrong's name did not appear again in this action against Wood, but it did figure in events of late 1862 and early 1863. Patterson Luark wrote: “Saturday, December 1, 1862, A. Armstrong last seen at Jameses this morning when he got into his canoe, meaning to go over to Armstrong’s Point [pow Damon’s Point].

This man had a squatter’s right to it.” Supposedly that was the last time Armstrong was seen alive. It was widely believed that he and his canoe had been carried to sea. However, an Indian said he had

seen Armstrong land safely on the point. This report started the rumor mill humming, to be climaxed on Thursday March 5, 1863,

These Were the Pioneers

119

when D. Helser, Henry Fisher (reputedly the first settler on Point Brown), and Matthew McGee brought news to Chehalis Point that part of the body of Armstrong had been found “and that he was murdered.” The three then swore out a warrant for the arrest of four Indians, and subsequently four Quinaults were arrested. There were so many rumors of Indians slaying Armstrong, of Armstrong's death at the hands of an assistant Indian agent— a charge made by the Indians—and of other causes for his disappearance, that territorial governor Isaac I. Stevens and the Indian superintendent came down from Olympia to Chehalis Point to have a hearing on the matter. Thus it was that the diminutive Anna Maria James, in plum-

colored bonnet

and gray shawl, the points just touching the

ground, led the chief's son “Chanoos”

(now spelled “Chinois,”

after whom Chenois Creek was named) and a file of Indians across the sands of Chehalis Point to the hotel where the governor awaited. Mrs. James explained that the Indians had requested that she represent them; she made their plea of innocence, upon which the governor dismissed them. Afterwards the governor told Anna Maria “were she a man he would appoint her Indian agent.” The Jameses quit the Lone Rock scene in 1864, when Samuel James Sr. suffered a stroke and moved back to his former place at Grand Mound, where he died two years later. John Rogers James remained on his claim at the mouth of the Hoquiam, but eventually returned to Grand Mound. John R. James married Mary Cornelia Scammon, a daughter of Isaiah Scammon, in 1866, and Samuel James Jr. married Clara Heal of Victoria, B.C. They and

their children remained at Grand Mound. In time the community from the Mound south to Scatter Creek, some two miles, was filled with Jameses, and is known to this day as “Jamestown.” Anna

Maria James survived her husband by thirteen years and was buried beside him in the James family burial ground at Grand Mound, where six generations of the family now lie. Here is an excerpt from the diary of M. F. Luark concerning Samuel James Sr.: He was an exceptionally welteducated man for his

time and place, and his skill at medicine saved many In-

120

These Were the Pioneers

dian lives during the great smallpox epidemic of 1852-53. He was also a staunch advocate of peace. In 1861 he and his sons built a sloop for use on the lower harbor. While his sons were busy elsewhere, Samuel Sr. took a paint brush to the completed hull and painted the name “The Anti-War,” creating a family furor.

However,

there was

a compromise

and,

the

sloop was named the Olive Branch.The Olive Branch was an eight-ton craft built at Grand Mound by Samuel James Jr., William James and Robert Calhoun, a Scot-

tish shipbuilder. The hull was fashioned in the yard of the James home place, dragged to the Chehalis and floated to Lone Rock, where she was fitted with a mast,

a fore-and-aft mains] and two jibs. She could also carry a small tops'l upon occasion. The sloop became a familiar sight on the lower harbor, occasionally making trips up the Chehalis as far as the Scammon landing. In 1864 at “The Rock,” Samuel James Sr. became ill and was

visited by Dr. Johnson from Shoalwater him. James protested against taking the goes, because it would “affect his brain mind.” His family insisted and the

Bay, who prescribed for medicine, so the account and cause him to lose his prescription was taken.

Whether or not it was the result of the medicine, a stroke, or the

senility of age, Samuel James Sr. became too ill to continue his life on Grays Harbor. He was taken to Grand Mound, where he was cared for by his family until his death in January, 1866. While Samuel James Sr. and his son William were building claim cabins at Lone Rock in 1857, his son John Rogers James,

then only seventeen years of age, filed on a 160-acre claim, which embraced nearly all the business and residential sections of present-day Hoquiam. He built a crude cabin of alder logs near the mouth of the Hoquiam River, a site to be occupied by the North Western mill. He slashed an acre of willow and brush for a clearing necessary to hold his claim. M. F. Luark, at that time a mere boy, was to write later that on September 5, 1857, he, his father, and Samuel James Jr. went

down the Chehalis to the mouth of the Hoquiam, where they found William James, N. E. Goodell, son of Rev. J. W. Goodell,

These Were the Pioneers

and Levi Gates building cabins. east side of the Hoquiam, but their claims. It can be supposed on his brother John’s cabin, and other builders.

121

The Goodells had located on the apparently did not prove up on that William James was working that Gates was helping one of the

Later John R. James was to build a more substantial house of

lumber brought down the Chehalis from the Armstrong mill on Cedar Creek. The house was located near the bank of the river about sixty rods south of James A. Karr’s east-west line. When John James went to live at Grand Mound, his acreage was rented to James A. Karr for pasture and was eventually sold by James for

$1,209 for a sawmill site. His house became schoolhouse.

Hoquiam’s first

John R. James wrote later that James A. Karr was one of five

young men who arrived at the mouth of the Hoquiam in 1858 (the others were the Campbell brothers, Edward and Alex, Sidney Dunlap, and John Milroy). In that year Township 17-10, embracing the lower Hoquiam, was surveyed by government engineers and thrown open for entry, either by homesteading or by “cash entry’ —purchase at $1.25 an acre, quantity limited only by the size of the purchaser's poke. James Karr took a liking, and for good reason, to higher ground above the tides and built his home, with an ingenious “secret latch,” on what is now Orchard Drive of modern Hoquiam. The latch, renowned along all the reaches of salt water,

was not so “secret”: Karr had to show every curious visitor how it worked. Karr filed a homestead on the tidal prairies and brush patches abutting the John R. James 160-acre claim. James Karr had come to the Pacific coast by way of Panama.

He spent some time mining in Nevada and British Columbia, but when the mines began to peter out he went to Portland, where he met the crew of surveyors who had been working on Grays Harbor. They had been working in the very township in which Karr was to homestead. Their accounts of the Grays Harbor country so intrigued the young land-seeker that he immediately set out to see for himself —first to Olympia, then overland to the Chehalis, and

down the Chehalis to the mouth of the Hoquiam. He liked what he saw, though at that time the mouth of the Hoquiam was no place of beauty. The mudflats were wide and both shores of the

122

These Were the Pioneers

river were covered with tremendous amounts of drift, including masses of huge trees torn loose and carried down the Hoquiam and Chehalis by freshets and stranded on the bay shore. For this reason the Indians called the place “Hoquiam,” meaning “hungry for wood.” Another highly visible family closely related to early events

in Cosmopolis were the Frys. These County, Illinois, had been orphaned in 1845 and 1846. In 1848 John Fry, had been beyond the Rockies with

four young brothers, of Knox by the deaths of both parents then twenty, met a man who the American Fur Company.

He had wintered in the Oregon country and told of the marvels of the land,

its mild climate

and

lush vegetation,

its mountains

and rivers. John Fry got a bad case of “Oregon fever,” but he was not the first of the Fry children to take the trail westward. That remained for Jason, who at the age of seventeen, joined his uncle, Olney Fry, then forty-seven, and Simon Markham (after whom the community of Markham was named) in the great adventure of 1849,

driving a team of oxen. Olney Fry, on his second trip west, went into the Willamette Valley and settled at Albany. Jason stayed on the Columbia, where he worked with a group of men cutting piling for the wharves of San Francisco, helped build some of the first houses in Portland and helped survey the Portland townsite. Jason often thought of his brother, John, back in Illinois, and

finally sent a lengthy letter telling John the wonders his young eyes had seen. The letter cost forty cents in postage, but apparently was well worth it, for it passed from hand to hand all over that section of Illinois and finally became too frayed to be readable. If John was not already of a mind to go west, the letter settled the matter. By this time he had a wife and an eight-month-old son, Charles. On April 2, 1851, accompanied by John’s brother, Amherst, the family set out for the Oregon country. Their “mess” was part of a fourteen-wagon train when it crossed the Missouri. The “mess” consisted of the Frys and four young men, all John’s schoolmates. The train was soon joined by smaller trains until there was a caravan of twenty-seven wagons, fifty-one men, and about the same number of women and children. It was not until October

15, 1851,

that the Frys arrived

at: their destination:

These Were the Pioneers

123

Rainier, Oregon Territory. They had been met between Sandy and Portland by Jason Fry, who had a claim at Coffin Rock on the Columbia. In 1852 Jason and John Fry bought a team and started logging. In 1854 they had a contract to supply Oak Point mills with beef at twenty-two cents a pound. In 1856 trouble broke out in the Yakima Indian country and Amherst Fry joined the volunteers fighting east of the Cascades. After a bitter winter, weakened by exposure and illness, Amherst developed tuberculosis and died at the age of thirty. Jason Fry had met Annette Huntington at Castle Rock and, early in 1858, married her. They set up housekeeping in Rainier, where Jason was engineer in a sawmill. Shortly thereafter John and a man named Minett acquired a sawmill in nearby Beaver Valley. The winter of 1861 was the coldest settlers had ever known in the Northwest. The Columbia froze over to a depth that permitted teams and heavy wagons to cross with ease. Snow began to fall on Christmas Day and was thirty-two inches deep before it stopped. The snow lay on the ground until April, causing disaster for settlers who owned stock, for the cold and lack of food killed nine-tenths of all cattle and horses in the territory. John and Jason had started

the winter feeding sixty-three head; only three survived. Discouraged by loss of the stock, Jason went to the Huntington place at Castle Rock where his father-in-law, then territorial marshal, was instrumental in having Jason appointed to the Quinault

Indian reservation, supposedly to teach the Indians farming and blacksmithing under Connor, then the Quinault agent. Jason proceeded immediately to Taholah and was followed in June by Annette and their two sons. Annette went by stage to Claquato, by canoe to the mouth of the Wynooche, and then by sailboat, operated by Don Scammon and Joe Campbell, to James Rock. From James Rock she hiked the bay shore and up the coast to the Anderson house which stood on the site of present Moclips, and then on to the reservation. Annette’s infant son, Albert, was the first white child most of

the Indians had ever out of the house to Annette out of the became too pressing,

seen. They were constantly tramping in and see the child, sometimes almost crowding kitchen. In desperation, when the crowd she poured water upon the hot stove, send-

124

These Were the Pioneers

ing the Indians scampering in a cloud of steam. Jason was known to the Indians as ‘“Moclips,” because to the

Indians’ surprise he was able to recognize the Moclips River far upstream when the Indians were not able to do so. He remained three years at Taholah, during which time he wrote to his brother John in Oregon extolling the Grays Harbor country. Leaving the reservation, Jason Fry moved with his family to several points in turn on Grays Harbor. In the winter of 1869-70 John Fry, in answer to his brother's entreaties, came with his son-in-law J. N. Markham to prospect the Harbor region, but the weather was so severe the two men gave up and returned to Oregon. The following June John Fry returned, this time in company with Simon S. Markham and Nathan Voorhies. That fall the John Fry and Voorhies families moved to Grays Harbor. The families landed in Montesano, the two men immediately setting out for Olympia with a four-horse team for supplies for the winter. When they returned, Jason Fry met them on the lower Wynooche with a scow to carry the provisions and all the household goods to the lower harbor. Voorhies settled on Johns River while John Fry prepared to settle on Redman Creek, the future site of Ocosta. There, with the help of his two sons, he began splitting shakes for a house. After about two hours of labor, John decided it was an “uphill business” and told his sons

that what the Harbor needed was lumber for building. On his first visit to the Harbor John Fry met M. F. Luark, who had taken up a mill site on Sylvia Creek near Montesano. Fry had visited the site and found it well suited for a waterpower mill.

Fry told Luark there was a man in Oregon indebted to him who owned a set of mill irons for a sash saw and a circular saw. He advised Luark to go to Oregon and bargain for the equipment. By the time John Fry returned to the Harbor with his family, Luark had the irons and a waterwheel acquired in Portland—and an empty purse.

Discouraged with shake-cutting, Fry approached Luark with a proposition to build the mill and take his pay in lumber. Jason Fry and the Markham brothers agreed to help with the project, to which Luark agreed, though advising the men Hehad no means of paying them.

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John finally agreed to take cattle to stock his place on Redman Creek. Luark agreed to allow Fry $300 worth of cows, whereupon John Fry started work with the others, and by spring the mill was ready to cut lumber. John Fry took some of the first lumber to build a store building for John Eastman of Montesano. Within a year John Fry had purchased the Patterson Luark place south of Chehalis Point and was running cattle on shares with Miles S. Griswold

from Oysterville. John’s son, Charles,

took up a four-year contract to carry mail between Olympia and North Cove, and John himself joined in the contract and carried

mail in 1874 and 1875. Sometime in 1876 John Fry gave up his cattle business on Chehalis Point and moved to Oysterville to build boats and houses. By 1879 Jason Fry had settled on Fry Creek on property he had “swapped” with Archibald Campbell. Jason Fry had been impressed with the sawmilling possibilities of an unsuccessful grist mill operated by a man named Stevens. He persuaded Stevens to install a saw rig. Stevens liked the idea and started work, but soon ran out of money. Upon Jason Fry’s suggestion Stevens wrote a letter to John Fry at Oysterville, asking him to come over and put the mill in running order and saying he would pay when he sold the first lumber. The proposal did not appeal to John Fry, and he did not answer

Stevens's letter. A year later, however, Jason Fry, who

had taken up a tract of cedar timber on Johns River and had made a deal with Stevens to saw on shares, appealed to John Fry to investigate the condition of the mill, and if possible put it in running order. This time John Fry agreed to the appeal and moved to Cosmopolis in 1880. By that time Stevens had his mill heavily mortgaged to Esmond and William Anderson of Montesano. They trusted John Fry’s judgment and agreed to supply materials, whereupon John Fry proceeded with the work, aided by his sonin-law, Fred Carter, and M. W. Fletcher, who did the iron work.

The mill's initial output in 1881 was used to build some of the first houses in Cosmopolis—homes

for John Fry, Charles Fry, and

Fred Carter. Stevens

had shown

no business

ability, so Jason Fry en-

couraged the Andersons to buy him out. They could have fore-

closed, but instead paid Stevens $700 cash and took the property.

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John Fry was placed in full charge of the operation. An edger was installed, and for three years water powered the wheels profitably. In the final year of the three-year waterpower operation the plant cleared $3,000 for its owners, besides cutting timber for the boiler

room and other additions to a proposed steam mill. John Fry left the plant in 1884, the year it was converted to steam, and took up a homestead on Mox Chuck, where the Grays Harbor Country

Club is now located. Another family prominent in the affairs of early Cosmopolis were the Lyonses of Virginia. The name first appeared on the Grays Harbor scene in June 1879, when John G. Lyons and two sons, Walker J. Lyons and Charles A. Lyons, arrived in Cosmopolis. Walker J. Lyons reputedly was the sawyer who cut the first log in Stevens's water-powered sawmill. He gave the date in his diary as 1879. Walker and Charles Lyons returned to Virginia in 1882 to spread news of the vast timber riches in the Grays Harbor country. They were persuasive, for the rest of the family followed them to Grays Harbor in 1883. Walker Lyons became head sawyer for the converted steam sawmill, and later was the first

regular postmaster of Cosmopolis. He died of an accidental gunshot in February 1884. At that time another member of the family, John G. Lyons, was the plant's millwright. Upon Walker Lyons’s death the postmastership passed to Thomas E. Davis, who died of typhus September 12, 1886. Then Matilda Jane “Tillie” Davis (nee Lyons) became postmaster. She relinquished the post to her brother James E. Lyons in 1889. James E. Lyons, Cosmopolis’s first city clerk, later was elected Chehalis County clerk. A prominent baseball player, he was lured away by Asa M. Simpson to Coos Bay, to work at a lucrative job and play baseball for Simpson's sawmill team. In 1889 Charles Stevens sold his 480 acres on Stevens Prairies,

Humptulips, to John Angelo, who settled on the place with his family. In 1889 Angelo sold to Chase & Ogden, who divided the prairies into lots for Humptulips City. Jason Fry decided to move back to his old haunts on Johns River in 1882. In company with his sons Albert and Orren, he took up a claim in the neighborhood of what was to become known as Western, some distance upstream from his original

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claim. His sons also took up claims, and in the following years the bull teams of Jason Fry, Albert and Orren Fry, and the Markham

brothers, Jasper and Douglas, logged a big portion of the Johns River valley. In the autumn

of 1886 John Fry and his wife, Margaret,

decided to return to the Midwest for a visit with relatives they had not seen for thirty-five years. This time they crossed by train in as many days as it had taken months when they had come west in 1851. In Kansas John found his brother, Harvey, living beside the

old emigrant trail. Some sixty people responded to John’s glowing accounts of the Pacific Northwest and returned with him in 1887,

bringing with them the first evergreen blackberries to grow in the Grays Harbor country. Harvey Fry did not accompany his brother, but came west the following year with his daughter, Elizabeth, and her husband, Will Hutton. With John Fry, however, was his sister, Elmira Van

Syckle Weaver, who had been widowed in 1874 by the death of Samuel Van Syckle in Yates City, Illinois. She had married F. M. Weaver in Colusa County, California, while on a visit with her sister, Waitie.

The year 1888 was a year of sorrow for the Frys, for that was the year Jason Fry died on his Johns River claim of “inflammation of the bowels,” an ailment that would today be diagnosed as appendicitis. He was buried on a timbered bench on the north side of the river he knew so well. That was seven years after the brothers Jason and John Fry had devised the first lumber cargo to leave Grays Harbor. True, it was but a small parcel of cedar in the little schooner Kate and

Ann, but it was the forerunner of thousands of cargoes to depart for worldwide ports thereafter. The Kate and Ann was to be followed by the greatest procession of lumber-laden ships the West Coast ever was to know.

Chapter 5 How the Pioneers Lived

|PESe life on Grays Harbor differed substantially from that on many frontiers, mainly because of transportation. The wheel was of little use in the dense forest and on the river-silt terrain. Emigrant wagons, already hard used on the Plains, could get no further than the more open lands of the upper Chehalis River valley. In time roads and trails were opened to the Wynooche and the head of tidewater on the Chehalis. From there on to the Pacific it was paddle, oar, and sweep. The Indian canoe,

either the big Chinook

or the smaller

shovel-nose, was the principal means of conveyance when the first settlers ventured down the Chehalis. Later the small undecked scow propelled by sweeps and the tide handled livestock and heavy freight. In time virtually every family had a rowboat driven by an “ash breeze” (oars) generated by an “armstrong engine” (muscle)—as settlers called the backbreaking job of pulling long distances on the tides. Later loggers were as facetious, operating their pumpjacks and peaveys with “Nova Scotia steam.” It was a common practice to use sail on all kinds of craft. Canoes were jury-rigged with small sails, as were rowboats, and most scows had provision for the use of square sails, for the frequent nor’westers and southwest winds often favored the long haul upbay and upriver. In time there were a number of sloops on the lower bay, smaller but built on much the same lines as the Shoalwater Bay oyster sloops.

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Naturally, with travel confined to the water, life was at the

mercy of the ebb and flow of the tides. No settler would think of bucking a tide except in dire emergency. And to reach solid ground above the long tideflats, or to land above the ooze of the sloughs,

the traveler had best await high water;

otherwise

he

could be stranded a quarter-mile from shore, or forced to wade knee-deep in tidal mud. The tides often governed the supply of victuals—the times for gathering shellfish, fishing, and shooting waterfowl. The tides told the shoreside settler to seek high ground for his home, while they imperiled his cattle, flooded his garden patch, floated his haystacks, and often, if storm-driven, carried away his chicken coop and woodpile. But, if used well, the tides were also a boon. They hastened the settler’s craft, even to some distance above the mouth of the Wynooche. They permitted entry and often fairly deep penetration of the many slough estuaries, but above all they floated and carried his burdens.

The tides and their influence dictated somewhat where early settlers located. Tidal prairies were the most enticing, which often meant building within stone-throw of the water. Here the grass was rank and a long-time green, and the pioneer need not hack a cattle run from the almost impenetrable forest. Above tidewater on the Chehalis, and along its tributaries,

the early comers took to the less-forested bottoms and gravel prairies. The bottomlands,

built to unbelievable richness by an-

nual freshets, were subject to annual floodings, and so they were avoided as homesites if there were higher ground nearby.

The pioneer’s first concern was shelter, which usually meant a log house or a shack of split cedar or spruce. Eventually there would be a more substantial house of sawed lumber. The pioneer and his family usually arrived with only the bare necessities, a quantity of goods that would not have exhausted his animals on their long walk across the Plains. There would be bedding, clothing, and enough food to last the first few months, supplemented with fish and game; then a few basic tools, kitchen utensils, a variety of seeds, a few cherished mementos from Back East, and almost always a few fruit trees

picked up along the way in earlier-settled sections of Oregon Territory. And finally, of course, the pioneer’s rifle.

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How

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Heavier household furnishings that had started with the wagon trains were dropped piece by piece along the Oregon Trail as the way became harder and the cattle weakened for lack of food and water or became exhausted from the grueling pull into mountain passes.

Tools were apt to be an axe, possibly a froe for splitting boards, an adz, saw, an auger or two, very likely a plane, and the

indispensable shovel. Kitchen needs were few and simple. The handiest and most used was the “spider,” a long-handled skillet

with three and sometimes four legs to set in a bed of coals. It usually

had a rimmed cover so that coals could be heaped atop the lid. A deep iron kettle was a treasured utensil, as was a griddle. Another vital item was a reflector oven open at both ends. This, propped in front of the fireplace, did the baking and roasting until iron stoves appeared on the frontier. Clothing of the pre-Civil War period was mostly woolen, though cotton became quite common. Some of the settlers still wore their linsey-woolsey underwear when they arrived, and the women their “prairie pants” in which they had crossed the Plains—a bloomer-like under-garment divided from front to back through the crotch. Soon after the first settlements formed, supplies of clothing and cloth were readily available in Olympia, Portland, and San

Francisco. The big problem was getting there to buy them. But shoes were a poser. Most were homemade of elk or cattle hide—some exceedingly crude, some more refined, according to the skill of the shoemaker. Most settlers practiced shoemaking. Sam Benn, Aberdeen’s founder, tanned hides and made all the shoes for his family of seven. However, summer weather saved the shoemaker much labor, for women often—and children

always—went barefooted. Some men, including William Campbell of Hoquiam, pounded around in their bare feet. Winter, of course, was another matter, and called for protection from the

wet and cold. Often shoes were stuffed with feathers, shredded wool, even dried leaves to keep the feet dry and warm. Once the Grays Harbor settler had a roof over his head and his next meal in sight, he took to the land. If he had no cattle with

him upon arrival, he sought stock from longer-established settlers

on the upper Chehalis and on Mound Prairie, moving his cattle

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131

over poorly-marked trails or by scow down the Chehalis. Among the stock often was a yoke of oxen, some of which had dragged wagons across the Plains. Oxen were the first heavy work animals in the clearings; they were supplanted in time by horses, capstans, and stumping powder. The settlers often had what they called “log rollings” to help one another. Logs were needed for houses, barns, bridges, and

firewood, or maybe the “log rolling’ was just to clear land, but in any case it was always a festive affair of hard work and neighborly effort, something akin to a barn-raising. It was a busy time for the women,

too, for they had to feed the “hands.”

By this time the pioneer would have a fireplace, “sticker” beds made of riven slats which served as “springs,” straw mattresses, and, within a short time, down pillows, supplied by the seemingly inexhaustible numbers of waterfowl. Of necessity homesteaders would be almost self-sufficient in many aspects of frontier life, but they relied upon the “outside,” largely Olympia

and Portland,

for flour, sugar,

coffee, a few

primitive medicines (including ‘Wizard Oil,” a powerful concoction good for everything from boozy breath to rheumatism), books, newspapers, and, of course, whisky.

Once he had his garden patch producing, the homesteader’s fare could consist of potatoes, cabbage, carrots, turnips, peas, beans, onions, rutabagas (grown mostly for cattle feed), oats, sauerkraut (or “sowercrout” as he called it) and sometimes coarse flour from home-grown wheat, milk, beef, butter, eggs, cheese, and then a whole list of wild foods such as deer, elk, bear, ducks,

geese, brant, snipe, salmon, oysters, sturgeon, clams, flounder, smelt, cod, wild strawberries, native cranberries, huckleberries,

gooseberries, salmonberries, blackberries, and a variety of orchard fruit. Coffee was often a problem, and at first was virtually nonexistent; but when a housewife ran short she could resort to dried peas, barley, wheat, even browned bread crumbs. Flour could come from several sources, and there were at least three attempts at flour milling with home-grown wheat. The

bulk of the supply, however, arrived by ship from Portland or San Francisco, or by wagon from Olympia.

came

up the beach from

Shoalwater

Smaller quantities

Bay. With all of this

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freighting, the settler of 1859 paid around seven cents a pound for his flour. Sugar, and brown sugar at that, cost twenty-five cents a pound; syrup $1 to $1.59 a gallon. Local beef sold for ten cents a pound, potatoes two cents a pound, wheat from one and a half to three cents a pound. When soldiers were stationed at Point Chehalis, butter sold for fifty cents a pound, while the price in Olympia varied from thirty-seven to forty-seven cents a pound, a vital figure for many Grays Harbor pioneers who sold butter in Olympia. Some homesteaders found another source of sweets; they felled bee trees in the fall and scraped out wild honey after subduing the inmates. Food storage was a constant challenge to the pioneer housewife. The family could live off the fat of the land in summer, but the long, wet, and often mild winters were not so easy. Spoilage was extensive, principally because of the dampness. Dried vegetables, fruit, berries, meats, and fish had to be carefully

“put down.” Elk and pork hams were often smoked in the fireplace chimney or even in a hollow tree. Many kinds of meat and game were salted down, while other portions were “jerked,” that is, cut into strips and dried. Salmon and breast of goose were favorite foods for smoking. In the warmer months surplus meat was hung high in a handy tree above “fly level’ and out of the reach of bear and other prowlers. Butter was put down in brine in spruce casks or boxes, while apples and “garden truck” that would keep were stored underground in root houses. If a homesteader had a cool, clear spring bubbling near the house, he could build a shed over it and he had a springhouse, with passable refrigeration. It could keep butter from running out of the mold, and milk and cream palatable for a few days. Its waters also could slake thirsts and keep some vegetables crisp. Sometimes a raccoon or a skunk scratched at the springhouse door, causing the housewife to shriek or throw something. The stump rancher with an old fir snag or windfall nearby also was fortunate. He had a handy wood supply. He was even more fortunate if he had two or more strong-backed sons to pull a crosscut saw. If they rebelled at the work, he could always threaten to suspend their meals. The most common

way to preserve berries was after the In-

dian fashion, that is, by drying them and shaping them into

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133

bricks. When tin and glass containers became available, berries

and fruit were cocked and sealed in whatever container was available. After Pennsylvania coal oil became popular for lamps and lanterns, it appeared on the frontier in five-gallon cans, to the delight of every homemaker. The cans had a multitude of services once the oil was used. They were ideal for carrying water with a yoke, for slopping the hogs, and for preserving any farm produce that could be cooked and poured through the spout, then sealed. The seal usually was several thicknesses of cloth dipped in pitch from fir or spruce trees and softened with bear grease. The cloth was carefully drawn over the spout and left to harden. Then another layer or two was applied until the can had a tight seal. This was not a long-lasting process, but it could keep food in fair shape through the winter and spring. When it came to preserving eggs the common

method,

once

water glass became available, was to store the eggs in the colorless, syrupy liquid, where they would “keep” for a surprisingly long time. However, most settlers had a chicken house, and a flock, with a fresh supply of eggs available most of the year. The orchard, which was planted almost before he had a roof over his head, was the settler’s pride and joy. Apples were no great problem, for if he had no tame stock to plant, he merely grafted domesticated apple shoots onto wild crabapple stock and had a going orchard in a short time. Patterson Luark and Frank Tolbert grafted 400 apple trees in one day. Apple trees were of many varieties, with Baldwins predominating. There were Gravenstein, Waxen, King, Bellflower, Golden Sweet, July Bough, Winesap, Red June, Red Astrachan and Pippin. Winesaps

seem to have been planted for cider, and some growers had whole orchards of them. Patterson Luark noted in his diary on Monday, July 22, 1864, “manufactured three or four gallons of cider, the first ever made of apples grown on Grays Harbor.” Pears,

plums,

and

cherries

had

to

be

acquired

from

nurserymen, who were numerous in the early days. The common varieties of pear were Bartlett, Vicar of Wakefield, Bonne De Jersey, Burre Easter, Fall Butter, and the Pound Pear, commonly called the “wooden pear,” some pioneers wondering why anyone would ever plant a fruit that tasted like a two-by-four. Plums were mostly Greengage, Blue Damson, and a nameless little red

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plum which spread from the roots and never needed replanting. Cherries were cultivated, but never in great numbers. It is noteworthy that few pests or none bothered the early or-

chards.

A wormy apple was unknown.

The hitherto uncultivated soil of the Chehalis Valley and its tributaries proved extremely rich and productive. Settlers had never before seen vegetables grow so large or so fast. Sam Benn’s garden, on the site of Aberdeen, was a good example. He once bet an Olympia man that he could not pull one of Benn’s rutabagas

out of the ground. The Olympian tried, and again even with some soil removed, but he could not budge the “baga.” Benn finally dug it up to find a forty-pound vegetable four and one-half feet long. Benn also related that he had raised cabbages in those early years weighing up to sixty pounds. The rutabaga, also known as the Swedish turnip, was a popular crop with early cattlemen, especially those in the dairy end of stockraising. The yellow-rooted turnip was raised by the thousands of bushels and stored for winter feeding. Care had to be taken, however, that the rutabagas were peeled, for the peel

gave the milk and butter an unpleasant taste. Each cow was fed a half-bushel twice a day, which meant that even for a small herd the dairyman and his wife or children had to spend hours peeling rutabagas. A common practice was to cut a scythe blade into three lengths, remove six inches of the cutting edge, and attach a wooden handle, making an efficient “rutabaga knife.” Along with the turnips, milk cows were fed grass hay and when it was available, grain. Once a town was established on Grays Harbor someone would open a store, often with a meat market on the side. Beef,

mutton, and pork were fairly common, but for variety the markets handled poultry, and wild fowl in season. Supplying ducks and geese was the trade of the market hunter, three of the

more prominent being Ora Knapp, “Hickey” Belts, and. John Grigsby. The three market-hunted geese and ducks as late as the winter of 1904, mostly for Jake Karshner’s store in Aberdeen. The

hunters received thirty-five cents each for goose, fifty cents a dozen for teal, and seventy-five cents a dozen for most other ducks—sprig, widgeon, mallard, and canvasback. Market hunters did not profess to be sportsmen. They pct-

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135

shot most of their birds, using ten-gauge shotguns. They loaded their own brass shells with number two shot for geese, number five shot for ducks. Grigsby on one hunt shot sixteen geese with both barrels of his ten-gauge. Belts was credited with twentyseven sprig with a two-barrel pot-shot. Most of the hunting was done in October, and the goose shooting was best just north of Grover Creek in the North Beach area. For all their good fortune with the soil and lack of pests, homesteaders were troubled by the weather, which was cold, wet,

and miserable a great part of the year and dry the other portion. Lack of rain during the growing season caused much concern, and the pioneers often mentioned “drouth.” There was a severe lack of rain in 1864, when not a drop fell from April 9 to May 22, and again in 1868, this being the worst in some years, with almost no rain from June 28 to October 21. “There are fires raging in the timber in every direction, and so smoky for weeks past that navigation is difficult. The same smoky atmosphere exists all over the Territory and Oregon and even in California,” a weekly reported. On the other end of the weather spectrum were the often bitterly cold winters, which the pioneers felt acutely in their hastily-built houses with only a fireplace for heat. One such winter came early in the white man’s history on Grays Harbor, 1861-1862. It started to snow on December 22, with a succession of snowstorms until mid-March. The temperature dropped to fifteen degrees below zero at Tumwater. A hard-packed snow cover three feet deep lay throughout the Chehalis Valley, with nineteen inches on the ground at Chehalis Point. The Chehalis river froze over from near the head of tidewater to below Elliott Slough. Ice on still water was six inches thick. As a consequence there was no navigation on the river. Twice since then the Chehalis has been ice-covered to a depth to halt all river traffic between Aberdeen and Montesano. Another big snow came in 1898. It snowed every day and night for two weeks in early February, until the depth reached five feet on the level in the Chehalis Valley. Much stock and wildlife perished. Then there were the winter windstorms, characteristic of the region. Several were notable, especially those that caused excessively high tides. One such was on December 20, 1866, when

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How

the Pioneers Lived

the tide rose eighteen inches higher on Grays Harbor than it did on Shoalwater Bay, and even there it was high enough to wash away fifteen houses in Oysterville. One early-timer, R. D. Rhodes, recalled a storm in November, 1875, as the worst ever known on Shoalwater Bay. That storm played havoc with the oyster beds, but not nearly as much as the Columbia River flood of June 1876, when the vast

volume of water from the Columbia for some unaccountable reason followed the beach northward, spilling into Shoalwater Bay. Rhodes remembered that the water in the bay became almost fresh enough to drink. Then came the eel grass, which reached ten to fifteen feet in length, growing so heavily it made navigation almost impossible over the oyster beds and laying a smothering blanket upon the beds themselves. By 1879, the fresh water and the eel grass had virtually wiped out the oysters. Despite the hardships, pioneers had their lighter moments. On the whole they were exceptionally sober and moral, industrious,

hospitable, and peaceable—with their quota of exceptions, of course. Life was simplicity itself, with plain living, plain housing, plain clothing, plain and mostly home-made furniture. There were few luxuries. All settlers were on much the same level in most respects, save perhaps education and fervor of religious devotion. And there was a high percentage of devotees. In fact, religious services were the principal occasions for pioneer gatherings, which were held in homes before the first churches were built. On the Sabbath there was bound to be a preaching or exhortation within ten or twelve miles. One of the first, recorded by the James family, was at the Grand Mound house of Rev. Charles

Byles, about a half-mile above the crossing on Scatter Creek at Asher “Old Man” Sarjent’s place. ‘There was quite a number of

people assembled with ox teams.” The first sermon preached on lower Grays Harbor was by Rev. Jonathan W. Goodell, with Rev. Charles Byles rendering the exhortation, inside South Bay July 18, 1857. Both were early set-

tlers at Grand Mound, which boasted more preachers per acre than any other settlement. The Oregon Methodist Conference in 1860 set up the Chehalis Valley Circuit and appointed Rev. J. S. Douglas as its first resident missionary pastor. Known as a man who “paddled

How

the Pioneers Lived

137

his own canoe,” he got his fill one misspent day rowing from Cosmopolis to Montesano. At any time this was a long, hard pull in a rowboat, so the Rev. Douglas thought to save time and effort by going through a slough that takes off from the Chehalis just above the mouth of Blue Slough and joins the Chehalis again just below Melbourne. The Reverend rowed briskly over the still waters of the slough for what seemed to him an uncommonly long time. As his pace slowed he encountered more and more debris, until finally the waterway was blocked entirely. There was no hope of pulling his rowboat over or around the blockage. What the good pastor said concerning his situation was never recorded, but after a few moments of study, he determined the only way to go was back. So he retraced his wake to the Chehalis and pulled wearily for Montesano. For years thereafter the slough was facetiously called “Douglas Cutoff,” to become known later as “Preacher Slough,” as it remains today. Grays Harbor’s early religious life seemed to center in and around Montesano. Prior to Rev. Douglas's assignment, Rev. S. C. Lippincott and Rev. N. S. McAllister, Methodist preachers, held services where Montesano stands today. A short time later Rev. Doane, then the presiding elder of the Puget Sound District of the Oregon Conference, Lorinda Scammon,

organized a Methodist class that included William Medcalf, Martha Medcalf, and

Joseph and Ann Mace. From this nucleus, it was said, “grew a deep and abiding religious life in the valley and on the Harbor.” One of the early and prominent itinerant preachers and missionaries was Harvey Fry, who visited outlying communities for years, always with his faithful rifle in his rowboat. If he spotted a deer or other game in his travels, he bagged it for the people at his next stop. In 1893, because the Frys and their relatives had established a considerable colony on Johns River, Harvey Fry and

his son-in-law Frank Hutton built a Christian denomination church in the valley. Although the parson’s primary role was to preach, his services were also called upon at other times: deaths, marriages, baptisms, consolations, or helping with barn-raising or some other particularly difficult chore. The preacher was no stranger to any of these; but death was his hardest call, especially where people were so few, and virtually all were friends and neighbors regardless of distance.

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How the Pioneers Lived

Tragedy was the pioneer’s constant companion. Where so much of life was physical, mishaps were commonplace, and sometimes the smallest could be fatal. Medical practice on the frontier was at best rudimentary. There was little knowledge or practice of sanitation that would have prevented disease, the little sanitation exercised being more often to avoid offensive odors rather than to ward off infection. There were but a few medical doctors in the Territory, and

none practicing on Grays Harbor, in the early days. Dr. Edward T. Balch on the Willapa River and one or two others in Olympia were the only doctors available to Chehalis Valley people. In all except extreme cases, family or neighbors cared for a sick or injured person. However, several Harbor pioneers had a smattering of medicine;

they could administer household medicines,

often

ones learned from the Indians, including a physic brewed from cascara bark—a bitter, gagging concoction worse than the condition it was supposed to remedy. The amateur physicians could set a bone, bind a wound, and even pull teeth (a frequent necessity), but beyond that an ailing settler was on his own. Women attended each other in childbirth, and neighbors came over to lay out a body in death. Samuel James Sr. at Grand Mound

and Richard Arland at

Montesano were two of those whose smattering of medical information saved many lives along the benches and bottoms. Because they were not registered or certified medical men they always refused pay for their services, unless it was a “gift of gratitude” from some happily restored member of the frontier community. They could also treat horses and cattle as well as humans. The demand for toothpulling was frequent, for frontier teeth seldom could be filled and when they decayed they did so at an alarming rate. The only remedy was removal of the offender. The settlers’ appreciation of Arland’s or James's services can best be understood by noting that a physician's fee for coming

from Olympia to the lower Chehalis Valley was frequently $500, a sum few settlers had ever seen. In addition, the doctor had to be housed and fed for an overnight stay. The four most common causes of death—at least early death— were drowning, accidental shooting, consumption, and diphtheria. Diphtheria, being acutely infectious, was often a

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139

visitor in pioneer households, taking its toll especially among children. Drowning, of course, was directly related to the settler’s means of travel and transportation, and to his work upon the swift-running tides when logging and lumbering were developed. A rifle stood in the corner of every pioneer cabin, and with so much handling accidents were not infrequent. Wounds resulting from the use of tools, particularly axes, were common, as was in-

jury from handling or mishandling domestic animals. Cattle were the homesteader’s prize possession. Beef and milk products were readily, if not necessarily easily, converted to cash or urgent household needs. The early-comers sought out locations to run cattle, picking the tidal prairies and verdant areas flanking the north and south beaches, where pasture was plentiful, water

was no problem, and cattle could not scatter. Similar situations were available on the gravel prairies of the upper Chehalis Valley. There the grazing was not quite as lush as that closer to the ocean, but fencing with cedar rails was easier on the open gravel prairies than on the brushy tidal prairies. Reaching the nearest cattle market, at Olympia, was not easy. Cattle and products from the lower harbor, even from the Wishkah, had to be transported by water to the mouth of the Wynooche, and then overland to Olympia, or Tumwater. Water transportation meant the use of small scows, sculled and drifting

with the tide, or transport aboard one of the early sternwheelers. The scow, decked or undecked, with a railing to keep the cattle aboard, and long sweeps fore and aft, was the common

carrier.

Scows could be helped along with a sail if the wind favored, and sometimes they were taken in tow by the sternwheelers. Other homestead products went to market the same way, or by canoe or rowboat to the head of tidewater. Later, with the coming of ship service to and from Seattle and Portland, produce went by that route. The produce was likely to be butter, cheese, eggs, hides, poultry, vegetables, cider, fruit, berries, or whatever else the settler planted, raised, or gleaned from the wild. Back would come cash, fabrics, furniture, tools, books, feed, flour and

kitchen stuff, utensils, and subscriptions to the Portland Oregonian or the San Francisco papers. A few calico dresses were included, to say nothing of shoes, britches, underpants, and billow-

ing skirts. And it was not uncommon for a side of beef to buy a

140

How the Pioneers Lived

few portions of firewater, gunpowder, and eatin’ tobacco. Almost always the marketing of cattle was done by the men— under strict directions and admonitions from the women. The men were not to exercise their own whims in the exchange of produce for goods, and they were to market before they tapped the demijohn. Woe betide the drover whose marketing returns were not acceptable, or whose breath was laden with the effervescence of frontier spirits. Pioneer women were often formidable. The cattle herds, if they could be called that, ran wild with the owner's brand. Wild, unbranded cattle often were a cause of

friction. In many cases a homesteader, to utilize his beef, had to hunt down his cattle as he did elk. This often caused strife. On February 13, 1861, Patterson Luark accused Sam Williams on Chehalis Point of butchering a steer Luark had purchased from J. L. Payne. When it came to proving his contention Luark found “everyone looking out the window.” However, pressing hard, Luark crowded T. J. Carter and Glenn Peterson to make a statement “inviting their opinion about the steer killing.” Finally Williams agreed to arbitration. Pete Carter and

Sam

Benn

were

chosen

to

arbitrate,

and

decided

that

Williams had indeed butchered Luark’s steer. Several months later, May 17, Luark went to Sam Williams’ place to settle accounts, but “received only abuse from the blackhearted villain.” However, their relations apparently improved, for before breakfast on Sunday, January 12, 1862, in the Samuel H.

Williams parlor, Patterson Luark performed one of the first marriage ceremonies in the county, uniting in marriage Sheriff Samuel Benn and Martha Redman, daughter of Reuben Redman.

Four years later, September 17, 1866, Luark noted in his diary that he had been busy hauling four tons of hay from a scow to Williams's barn. Ten days before that he had been cradling oats for Williams. (Hardly anyone escaped Patterson Luark’s observatians. Of the New Year's dinner on January 1, 1861, he had this to say: “We all took dinner at the hotel of Stringham, on Chehalis Point, by

invitation. J. Gandley was offended because he did not get to the table with the first, being considerable ‘tite.’ He went out to anchor his boat at dark and was not thought of further. We procured musicians from the station [Fort Chehalis] and had a dance.

How the Pioneers Lived

141

William was tite and Peterson finally got tite and cut up shines. When started home with Peterson and family in my wagon, Pete vomited in the wagon and made Ida [Luark’s daughter] sick.”)

The open range, though limited, necessitated distinctive markings or brands for the cattle. There were quite a number of such markings, duly registered. For example, W. B. D.Newman had a smooth crop off the left ear and letter “N” branded on the left hip; Samuel H. Williams used the letter “M” turned sideways so that the points pointed forward, branded on the shoulder, with a slit ear; and George Mengee, on the north side of the harbor,

used the number “12”. John Brady, who ran cattle around present Brady, used the letter “B” as a brand for cattle, and for a flesh mark on hogs a shallow fork out of the left ear (recorded Nov. 10, 1861).

Glenn Peterson used a slit in the left ear and under bit in the right ear and letter “P” on right hip (recorded Feb. 22, 1862). Samuel James Sr., for sheep and cattle, used two slits in left ear

or right ear so that the ear became partially divided into three lobes. C. N. Byles used a crop off each ear (recorded June 5, 1874).

Alexander and Edward Campbell made an upright crop, then a “plus” mark on right hip (recorded Aug. 2, 1862). D. F. Byles used a crop off the right ear and a half crop off the left ear (recorded Jan. 1, 1864). James A. Karr recorded (October 31, 1867) the letter “K” as

his brand, to be placed just behind the left hip. Not all cattle-raisers marketed their own beef. It was a common practice for buyers to come through the region, contract for cattle, and move

them to market. On September 8, 1874, Mat-

thew McGee sold to T. F. McElroy for $700 gold coin his entire band of cattle ranging on Point Brown and areas north, consisting of 120 head “more or less” of cows,

heifers, steers, bulls, and

young calves of both sexes, marked with a slit up and down in the lower part of the left ear. “And I hereby promise to collect said band

on or before Nov.

1, 1874, and mark each head not so

marked,” McGee added. When the first whites found their way into the valley, the land-

scape, except for a few benchland prairies and the tidal glades along the bay and tidal sloughs, was smothered in timber. Willow, alder, and crabapple traced all the waterways. Cedars of enormous size

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How the Pioneers Lived

stood on the edge of tidal lands, while the lands themselves had long since sprung to tideland spruces of almost equal size. Beyond, the hills were lost in perhaps the greatest timber stands on earth, endless reaches of Douglas fir, spruce, cedar, and hemlock.

Marshlands were given to heavy stands of grass, especially on the open stretches, but elsewhere grass had to compete with heavier cover. On the up-country prairies there were dense stands of bracken, and in the more open areas a cover of weed-like plants, mixed with a native grass. Weeds we know today were unknown in pioneer times, although settlers did complain of “woolen breeches,” an occasional dock, and some stinkweed, but little else. However,

this gardener’s paradise was not to last. Noxious weeds appeared, often introduced by the settlers themselves, and multiplied until the land was beset by them. One was the field sorrel brought in by the Hudson's Bay Company around 1840 to make sheep pasture of the dry gravel prairies in what is today Pierce County. By 1880 it had taken over the prairie lands and had invaded the hills and bottoms. In 1860 the James family, Grand Mound pioneers, imported some foxglove seed from their native England to remind them of the roadsides of Cornwall. In 1864 M. J. Luark, visiting the Jameses at James Rock, admired the foxglove flowers. He was given two

plants, a white one and a purplish one, which he planted in his garden near Montesano. The beauty of the flowers was admired, but no one paid much attention to the abundance of seed the plants produced. The seed scattered far and wide to the extent that in a short time foxgloves were a nuisance. It became another farm chore to spend several days each year pulling up foxglove plants from pastures and hayfields. Next came the bluegrass and white clover. In the early seventies the so-called “velvet grass” was introduced by “Uncle Jimmy” Gleeson, Chehalis county’s first common schools superintendent, for sheep pasture. A little later “Uncle James” Mouncer of Satsop introduced black plantain, which soon left the pasture and took to the garden patch. Mrs. Ann Mace acquired some burdock seed to raise burdock roots for medicinal purposes. The plant spread, but it did not become one of the more troublesome weeds. A later arrival was the fuzzy-leafed dandelion, sometimes miscalled oxeye

daisy by the pioneers. It insinuated itself into the valley and soon spread throughout the region.

How the Pioneers Lived

143

Another pioneer introduction was the evergreen blackberry, which has become both curse and blessing. The first vines were brought from Oregon by a member of the Fry family. The bramble took to the Grays Harbor country with audacity, until today hardly a country road, lane or meadow is without the arching canes, the vicious thorns and, come late summer,

the delicious

berries, which have been turned into a valuable crop. The first whites also had to contend with some nonvegetative pests in unbelievable numbers. The most frequently

found and perhaps the most pestiferous, was the flea, a little black fellow, voracious beyond all accounting, and numbered by the myriads. Fleas frequented every Indian village and camp, and survived every abandoned site. They readily found their way into the white man’s house and barnyard, and bred in incredible numbers in the warm sands of the bay shore and river banks. Later Aberdeen and Hoquiam sawdust streets fairly jumped with the pests. Pioneers had only one answer to the flea infestation, unless you call keeping the dog outside an answer. Scalding water was poured into the cracks in the cabin floors, especially those in the kitchen

where food particles were likely to be lodged. Scalding was designed to kill eggs and larvae, but it took vigilance and plenty of hot water at certain times of the year to keep the house livable. Garden insect pests were virtually unknown until settlers started importing them in plants and shrubs from infected areas. An isolated reference was made by Patterson Luark in July 1860 to a “kind of worm, something like a common cutworm,” which

appeared suddenly and in great numbers in two tilled areas on Chehalis Point, and was found inland as far as the Wynooche. “There are millions of them on an acre of my place and at Peterson's,” Luark wrote in his diary. He had not mentioned them before, nor did he refer to them later. Other pioneers of that

period failed to relate anything about the cutworm-like invaders. Life on the forest-bound frontier was not entirely grim. Early settlers had their fun, simple as it was. Any excuse was good enough for a visit back and forth, though the visit may have entailed hours of rowing or canoe paddling, or trail-tramping from one homestead to another. Neighbor-help-neighbor affairs were frequent, such as log-rolling, barn-raising, fireplace building,

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How the Pioneers Lived

butchering, rounding up cattle, haying, fence-building or any other enterprise best accomplished with several pairs of hands. With more settlers arriving, church affairs were popular, and

churches became community centers. Private homes often held taffy pulls, dancing parties, and community sings with dulcimer, fiddle, and melodeon accompaniment. Debates were a common form of amusement; several pioneers were widely recognized as hammer-and-tongs orators, willing to speak on any subject, pro or con, at any time. On Johns River, W. W. Fry and A. H. Fry were the valley’s celebrated debaters and always opposed each other for the Saturday night program and debate in the schoolhouse. A. H. Fry was the fiery speaker. He could, as his neighbors used to say, “lay it on,” making impassioned pleas and appeals to the judges for a verdict as though his life depended upon it. His valley audience sat fascinated. It was no wonder the Saturday night debate filled the schoolhouse seats. Spelling bees became popular once schools were established and drew enough pupils to create a contest. Adults took part in the contests as well. Sarah Medcalf, a pupil in the first Montesano school, won harborwide fame for her spelling ability. She won all the spelling contests and even bested the teachers,

who

could

never find a word to stop her. Sarah’s sister Eliza Medcalf was the arithmetic expert, and was often called upon to solve problems that sometimes stumped teachers and parents alike. Because Montesano was centrally located, the county seat, and the site of the county’s earliest church, it became the social and cultural center until industry and transportation created more important centers in Aberdeen and Hoquiam. There were political

rallies, church functions, weddings, court trials, literary meetings, travelings to and from Puget Sound, and a host of other activities. Besides, early Montesano had more families than any other center on Grays Harbor, and hence more eligible. young women, who naturally drew eligible (and some not-so-eligible) young men to make community social life active and appealing. In addition to its other attractions, Montesano in the sixties and seventies had the region’s only camp meetings. The grounds were located one and one-half miles east of Montesano on what for years was known as the Fulmer Moore place. There was a

How

the Pioneers Lived

145

stream of water through the site, near which was constructed a large open building with the west end closed to shelter the pulpit.

For two or three weeks every summer church-goers for miles around attended the revival meetings, living in a number of small buildings from 50 to 100 yards from the meeting house. Families moved in with their beds, chairs, stoves, and utensils, prepared to

stay for the duration, bringing as much food as possible prepared in advance so as not to keep the women away from the religious services. In many cases fathers and older sons would leave the camp meetings in time to milk and feed the cattle, then return in time for the morning services. The women remained on the campgrounds, enjoying the only vacation they would get all year. Several preachers for the camp meetings carried dental forceps and extracted aching teeth between services. There was sometimes a question as to whether some of the faithful came for exorcism

or extraction.

But there was

no

question

about

one

farmer who never failed to attend the meetings. When he prayed— as he did daily —he could be heard a mile from the campgrounds. In time, the camp meetings faded away as the faithful fell to the lure of the beaches for summer vacations. In fact Westport, later Moclips and Pacific Beach (when the railroad was extended to the North Beach) were thriving summer communities prior to

the coming of the automobile. Hundreds of people landed on the long Westport pier each weekend from the steamers Harbor Belle, Harbor Queen, Fleetwood and other carriers—some to spend a week to a month, others for the weekend. They could dine at Mrs. Hinto’s, one of the better cooks on the beach, or sit down to

Mrs. McGuire's chicken dinner. They could stay at the Gleneden or Yana hotels, the GAR grounds, or ride a hack to the Cohasset

hotel, the early-day summer social center operated by Mr. and Mrs. Waldren. And then, of course, there were the holiday celebrations up

and down the Chehalis Valley, notably the Fourth of July, which was always a special event with oratory and sports contests. In time the Fourth of July celebration became the Grays Harbor “Splash,” a heavily-attended event held one year in Aberdeen, the next year in Hoquiam, with each town trying to outdo the other. Even Cosmopolis got into the act one year. Earlier Montesano seemed to be the celebration center, but in

146

How

the Pioneers Lived

1901 Melbourne had its own bucolic observation, which accord-

ing to a newspaper account, went like this: The Fourth of July celebration was a success. The crowd began to gather around Rufus Redman’s stand about eight o'clock a.m. Lengthy program was rendered in the forenoon, after which all sat down to

dinner which was spread beneath the prune trees. After dinner came the horse race, which caused a little excitement and was won by “Old Jack.” Jack was probably

one of the horses in Noah’s Ark. Later came the bicycle race,

which

was

won

by Joe Briscoe.

Walking

greased pole seemed to cause excitement for a the boys took their turn but their feet seemed to go in the air and their head downward water. At last Sammie Pennich walked out as

the

time; all to want into the brave as

Admiral Dewey when he went into Manila harbor, and

succeeded in getting out to the end and tumbled into the water with Old Glory in his hand. A great many sports, such as foot racing and sack racing, were indulged in. No one seemed to want to meddle with the greased pig, therefore Mr. Pig escaped the greased barrel. In the evening all gathered at the residence of Sherman Willis. After dark all witnessed the ascension of sky rockets and roman candles, which last about an hour. The playing of games in the parlor was indulged in by the young folks until the midnight hour, after which all sat down to a sumptuous repast and enjoyed themselves prodigiously. They all went home as merry as a marriage bell.

Chapter O Long before Westport

ke Grays Harbor events were dated before or after “the coming of the soldiers,” in February, 1860. A settler would have arrived “before the soldiers came,” or some other event may have taken place “after the soldiers came.” The soldiers were a company of Federal regulars of the 4th Infantry from Fort Steilacoom under command of Captain Maurice Maloney. The troops came to Grays Harbor upon petition of a number of settlers and upon the advice of Michael T. Simmons, Indian agent for Washington Territory, who said he considered “establishment of the troops a most judicious movement.” The Indian “scare” which prompted movement of the troops dated back to 1855-56, the time when Fort Henness was built at

Grand Mound and “Blockhouse” Smith built his early-famed blockhouse at Cedarville. At that time there had been Indian disturbances at Colville and Yakima, and one white family had been wiped out in the White River Valley. White settlers on the west side’of the Cascades became fearful, armed themselves, and even set up a sort of frontier militia. The Upper Chehalis “scare”

was slow to penetrate to the lower valley, and even then was only a nagging uneasiness.

In 1859 Sidney S. Ford, Sr., one of the first Lewis County settlers and the first Indian agent for the Quinault reservation, gave a hint of the Indian “unrest.” He reported to Simmons: “The coun-

148

Long before Westport

Parade grounds and structures at Fort Chehalis in 1860.

try had been settled to the entire exclusion of the Indians. Now there is no place they dare establish their households lest the land be taken up by the whites and they be compelled to abandon it. They have had trouble among themselves this Spring, caused by the liquor traffic carried on by disreputable white men.” There was a suggestion—and it may have been well-founded —that Captain Thomas Wright (1828-1906) had influenced the sending of troops to Grays Harbor. It was insinuated at the time that he wanted traffic for his sternwheeler and so promoted Indian “scares” to induce transport of troops and later of supplies. He did profit from the arrival of the troops, for it was he and his 115-foot sternwheeler who were awaiting Captain Maloney and his men at the mouth of the Satsop Wednesday, February 8, 1860,

along with the Indian agent S. S. Ford. The Enterprise, an ironhull craft built in 1855 for the Willamette trade, did bring the troops to Chehalis Point. In 1859 Simmons and Ford made an inspection trip to several Indian communities in the Grays Harbor region. There had been a rumor that the coast tribes were combining to exterminate the settlers. Simmons and Ford found no ill feeling toward the whites and no league against the settlers. When Ford arrived with the soldiers, he called the Indians together to explain why the troops had come. The Indians, believing no white man present could understand what they were saying, talked freely among them-

Long before Westport

149

selves in Chinook jargon. However, the interpreter who was with Ford was proficient in the jargon and understood the conversations fully. He heard no indication of a combination of coastal tribes against the whites. The relationship between the Indians and their white neighbors was not exactly a love-feast, though it was not openly hostile. There is no doubt the Indians resented the whites and upon occasion showed their resentment, especially when under the influence of liquor. Ford traced much of the ill feeling, especially from Oyehut north, to quarrels between white and Indian otter hunters. Sometimes sea otters wounded or killed by the white hunters drifted ashore, to be picked up by the Indians. Often the Indians refused to give them up. This created trouble, the white hunters becoming alarmed when the Indians made threats while drunk. On several occasions the hunters had retreated to the nearest settlement when threatened. Simmons reported that he did not know whether these threats would be carried out, but under the circumstances he suggested “judicious movement” of troops to Chehalis Point. So it was that Captain Maurice Maloney, 42, originally from Ireland, accompanied by his wife, Mary, 38, from Nova Scotia,

arrived on Chehalis Point Thursday, February 9, 1860, a time from which to date Grays Harbor events for years to come. With Captain Maloney were sixty troopers, some with their families, and two or possibly three officers. The troops came from many countries. Over half were from Ireland, while others came from Germany, France, Prussia, and Americans, all from eastern states.

Switzerland.

Ten

were

While posted at Fort Chehalis for the purpose of “protecting” the settlers, Captain Maloney seemed to have more trouble with his white neighbors than with the Indians. At one time he became so incensed he fired off a letter to the assistant adjutant general at Fort Vancouver, dated from Fort Chehalis, December 21, 1860:

Captain: I received your letter regarding a petition signed by citizens asking for a stronger force of troops.

In respect to citizens having been driven from their claims, and depredations being committed by the Indians, I know of no instance. One man went on their

150

Long before Westport

reservation to put up a house, and two men wanted to haul seine for salmon, on which they warned them off. I consider the Indians done very right by so doing. No white man has any right to trespass on the ground laid off for them by the Indian Agent. This reservation is called Point Grenville, 28 miles up the coast. An Indian Agent has now been appointed over them; he will be able to attend to all difficulties and keep the white men away from them. | have always found them peaceable and never known any of them to make threats toward the white man. A stronger force is not required unless something occurs which cannot be foreseen. Whenever any troops are required I shall advise the Department.

Another question, that of jurisdiction over the sale of liquor to the Indians, bothered Captain Maloney. His letter to the territorial governor, dated Fort Chehalis, February 2, 1861, requested:

I want to know if commissioners have the right to grant a license to sell liquors in this part of the Territory, it still being Indian country. Some white men here are constantly introducing liquor and sell it to Indians, but are very careful about being caught. I am endeavoring to put a stop to it and have pretty much done it. One man is going to Olympia to obtain a license and, if granted, will defy the military commander of doing his duty in putting a stop to this traffic. It should never be allowed to be sold in this part of the country until the Indian titles to their land are relinquished. Will the Governor give me his views on the subject? Apparently Captain Maloney got little satisfaction from the letter he received in reply. Written by Acting Governor Henry M. McGill, March 2, 1861, it said:

Although no provision had yet been made for the extinguishment of the Indian title to the lands occupied by the Cowlitz, Chehalis, Grays Harbor, Shoalwater Bay and Chenook Indians, yet this country has been

Long before Westport

151

opened up to settlement; the citizens residing therein are entitled to all the privileges according to those of any other portion of the Territory. I do not consider this country as Indian country within the meaning of the 20th section of the Act of 1834. While the proper county authorities can legally issue licenses for the sale of liquors, great care should be exercised in granting this privilege. The preservation of peace among the Indians, and the safety of the citizens, demand that the party not directly or indirectly sell or dispose of liquor to the Indians UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, or to Soldiers

without the written permission of their commanding officer. Captain Maloney had very little time to exercise whatever prerogative he may have obtained from the Governor's office, or that might have been accorded him as a military commander of a frontier “fort.” His outfit was moved out the following June to Astoria, and from there to service in the Civil War.

As he moved away, he must have sighed with relief to be quit of some Grays Harbor characters. One thorn that would no longer prick him was Matthew McGee, who had a claim on Point Brown, a cabin near the Lone Tree, and cattle grazing on the dunes and grass flats. Maloney had had McGee in the dock on March 12, 1860, barely a month after the troops arrived, for sell-

ing whiskey. McGee was tried before a jury in Justice of the Peace Patterson Luark’s court on Point Chehalis. Luark pronounced him innocent when the jury found no evidence of a criminal act. This was the first of several exercises in futility Captain Maloney encountered in his sojourn on Chehalis Point. At no time was he able to obtain a.conviction, but he did slow the liquor

traffic by the threat of arrest and the pressure of surveillance. As for “protecting” the settlers, there was no record of arms being needed or used in keeping the peace. The troops were responsible for arrival of one of the early vessels carrying freight. She was the little schooner Calamet out of Portland, Captain M. Hayes. She brought in supplies for the “fort” and freight for other residents on the Point. Her first call on record was made in March, 1860, when on the 11th she entered

152

Long before Westport

with supplies for the troops and freight for J. McKee and T. J. Carter. She came again May 18. On June 10 she arrived from Puget Sound with supplies for the “fort,” and to take out machinery removed from the steamer Enterprise, after the Enterprise went ashore on Chehalis Point against a sand dune a few hundred yards northwest of Fort Chehalis. The Calamet entered again Monday, July 23, 1860, with goods for McKee, Carter and Thomas Stringam, who with Benjamin Boman had just taken possession for one year of the S. H. Williams tavern, later referred to as the “Stringam Hotel.” Company A, 4th Infantry, came to what was to be “Fort Chehalis” armed only with muskets, bayonets, and a field piece of pre-Civil War vintage, which Frank Peterson was to recall as about four feet long with a four- or five-inch bore. The men were in civilian clothes, and did not wear uniforms while stationed on

Point Chehalis. Upon arrival, they were put to work constructing barracks for themselves. At the same time Samuel Benn built or helped build quarters for Captain Maloney and his wife, and another structure for the other officers. Frank Peterson remembered several log cabins built for men with families. He also believed lumber for the “fort” came in a small schooner from a mill in Port Blakely on Bainbridge Island. The siding, he remembered, was put on vertically and the roofs were shingled. For neighbors, the troops had operators of two establishments within hallooing distance and the remnants of a Chehalis Indian village within range of a strongarm bowman. Samuel H. Williams and T. J. Carter operated a combination store, hotel, and tavern

near the slough that juts into Westport. Joseph W. McKee had a combination residence-store 300 yards to the west. The Indian village lay from the slough southwesterly toward what is now the intersection of Ocean Avenue and Montesano Street. J. W. McKee appeared in county records for May 9,. 1860, when

county

commissioners

John

Brady,

Joseph

Mace,

and

Austin Young ordered “. . .certain arms in the possession of J. W. McKee of this county and ammunition be taken into custody of the county.” The minutes of the meeting did not say how McKee came into possession of the arms and ammunition, but the commissioners did say that an order was issued for a receipt to the

Long before Westport

153

governor of the territory for “public arms issued to Chehalis county in the year 1860.” It was further ordered that Isaiah L. Scammon be “authorized to take charge of the public arms on their delivery and that W. B. D. Newman be authorized to bring said arms to the house of I. L. Scammon.” It was further ordered “that I. L. Scammon be allowed 25 cents a gun for care and storage of the whole together with the ammunition.” Joseph McKee severed

connections with Grays Harbor in 1861 and went to Portland. The commission meeting in which McKee was relieved of the county’s arms and ammunition was a busy one. Samuel Benn was appointed sheriff and David L. Byles treasurer. However, before the meeting was over I. L. Scammon was appointed treasurer and Lyman Schaffer was appointed deputy auditor. And then, preparatory

to the selection

of a county

seat,

the commission

listed the possible locations, subject to a vote of the people in the next annual election: Chehalis Point, the claim of D. F. Byles at Cosmopolis, Scammon’s claim at Satsop mouth, and “Blockhouse Landing.” Samuel H. Williams was a restless fellow who had had a number of whims and notions before he obtained a government patent to lands on Chehalis Point. He was living there when T. J. Carter arrived in 1858, but prior to that time he had made several locations in Chehalis Valley, having arrived as a young bachelor in the upper valley in the mid-40s. He later proved up on a claim on the Claquamish, on what was to be known as Williams Creek in the Blockhouse Smith Prairie area. Meanwhile, he had joined the Queen Charlotte Island prospecting party of 1851, whose members were shipwrecked, captured and enslaved by the Indians, and eventually ransomed. Returned home, Sam Williams married the eldest daughter of Sidney S. Ford, Sr., in 1852. She was Harriet Jane Ford Waunch,

earlier married to George Waunch, Jr. Born in New York State

May 15, 1826, she had made the six-month crossing of the Plains with her father. She died November 23, 1900, at her home in Cedarville. After completing title to his donation claim on Blockhouse Smith Prairie, a title he held until his death, Williams moved to

the Wynooche settlement and located in a part of Montesano west of Main Street. He stayed there only a year or two, then moved to

154

Long before Westport

Chehalis Point, where he was to become a man of some means,

note, and notoriety. Originally a printer, he became a stockman, storekeeper, operator of the “Our House” hotel, and dabbler in real estate. He was, according to some of his neighbors, a man of

unusual intelligence and versatile capabilities. He was also a man of sometimes good humor, with “a bent toward liquid conviviality.” To another neighbor he was an “agitated indignant,” a rapscallion on occasion, often a thorn, but in all one of the most

colorful figures on the frontier. He nearly lost his life when his boat, also carrying R. Calhoun, capsized in South Bay. They were rescued by whites and Indians. In 1860 Sam Williams and Thomas Carter laid out part of the town of Chehalis on properties they and others had acquired. County record books in Montesano have pages of transactions between “grantee” and “grantor,” first Carter, then Williams, back and forth, each time the “ante” being raised. One such deal was the sale of a lot for $4,000 by Thomas J. Carter and Emma B. Carter February 23, 1861. The plat Williams and Carter filed had streets running on the diagonal to the present streets in Westport, making it easily identifiable on the maps of the town today. The streets were named for women in the Williams and Carter orbit: Helen, Martha, Anna, Emma, Harriet, Margaret, Elizabeth, and Mary. Besides his association with his neighbors on the Point, Sam

Williams had a tenuous and sometimes precarious relationship with Captain Maloney and the troops of Company A. It was no secret that Sam Williams stocked a quantity of frontier firewater. He bought it in barrels and dispensed it by the drink or the demijohn, according to a customer's fancy and pocketbook. And there were occasions when, loaded with tedium and firewater, troopers got hilarious notions, which included blasting the silence of Chehalis Point with cannon fire. Sam had heard it a time or two, a thunderclap rocketing across the harbor. Windows rattled in the Peterson place, Indians dived into their houses in fright, shitepokes flapped madly off the mudflats, and house-

holders as far away as Johns River pricked up their ears. Perhaps William O'Leary away over on the south shore heard the rumble and stepped to his cabin door, and Matthew McGee on Damon's Point mumbled to himself and swore, the cannonading reminding

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him of Captain Maloney. While the boisterous merrymakers were slapping each other on the back—‘Man, was that a hill-splitter’—the guard turned out on the double; and then by the seat of the pants and fistful of shoulder the guard hustled them to the pokey. The next day there would be a number of hangovers bucking wood. The noise-range of the artillery piece interested Sam Williams. Along with the news that came June 16, 1861—that the

troops were to be withdrawn and were to leave their cannon behind—it gave him an idea. When the troops departed three days later, stores were left in care of C. F. Windsor, and loaded July 24 aboard a vessel sent from Astoria for that purpose. The sloop sailed July 27, leaving no word as to why the cannon was abandoned. It was never reported when Sam Williams helped himself to the artillery piece, but it was fairly well-known when he began using it for advertising purposes. It was a time in history when news on the frontier traveled at a trot, or no faster than a canoe, and

Sam needed to convey a message. One shot from the cannon would mean one barrel of whiskey had arrived, and if fortune favored, two shots would mean two barrels on hand. This was primarily for Sam William’s furtive and illegal traffic in firewater with the Indians. The cannon’s boom rumbled over the tideflats and into the hills, echoing in the clearings and cattle runs. Some grizzled oldtimer surely looked up from his mallet and shake froe, loped down to the landing, and dug in his oars for Chehalis Point, most-

ly to get there before the Indians did. That kind of thirst wasn’t a matter of work or weather. Needless to say, when Sam Williams

fired only one shot it meant the supply was short, and there was a great scurry along the reaches and channels. After Sam Williams's supplies became adequate there was no longer need for the old cannon, and it was largely forgotten. Some time later, and in some mysterious way, the fieldpiece ended up in Oysterville on Shoalwater Bay. Mose Freeland had acquired it, and none knew, or would say how. Mose was a saloon keeper in

Oysterville and not above a moment of fun. It did not matter to him that the cannon by that time had lost its carriage and wheels, and had been somewhat sorely treated by attempts to blow it to

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pieces. Mose figured he could do it. So, one jovial night—Mose may have been sampling his own wares—he set about to do what had not been accomplished before. Mose filled the old artillery piece full of black powder and rammed home an armload of wadding with a piece of driftwood. Next he upended the cannon muzzle-down in the sand right in front of his saloon. It was dark by then, and a lot of good Oysterville citizens had gone to bed, where they slumbered the blissful sleep of the tired and worryless. Two of these were Chris Johnson and his good wife, just down the street. While his gleeful cronies watched, Freeland touched a match to the fuse. It sputtered furiously while Mose and his boys ducked for cover. They hid around the corner of the saloon, behind logs or

whatever afforded protection. And none too soon, for just then the old cannon let go. It let go all over, with a thundering that must have reached the Columbia. Flames leaped out like a star flare and flicked a burning light over Oysterville and the bay beyond. Fragments of cannon whipped down the street kicking up spurts of dust, then thudded into the buildings. There was shattering glass as the windows of Mose’s saloon burst their sashes. Two pieces of iron about the size of Mose Freeland’s fist whacked into Chris Johnson's house. One passed through the outer wall, sped over Chris Johnson's bed, and thudded through the opposite wall, taking a sizeable chunk with it. A moment of silence followed the explosion. Then Chris Johnson erupted. Some of the old-timers recalled that of the two, Chris and the cannon, Chris was the louder and more

devastating. Mose and his cronies stood awestruck. What Chris said to Mose Freeland was never recorded exactly; there was no

asbestos around Oysterville then. Anyway, Chris Johnson in his nightshirt stood in the middle of Main Street and burned Mose Freeland’s ears off with more verbal fire than was ever loosed in the Territory. Old-timers still point to certain buildings in Oysterville and say the scorched spots are from Chris Johnson's blue blazes. After the troops left Point Chehalis and because of the economic stagnation that followed, Sam Williams purchased sixteen acres from Fulmer Moore and platted a townsite, naming it

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“Montesano,” expecting to snare the county seat there. Eventually the county seat was moved to its present location, but not until Williams had sold out and returned to Claquamish Prairie and his proved-up claim there, where he died. Williams’s hotel building, the “Our House,” was

dismantled,

transported

to Montesano,

and reerected in remodeled form just east of the Methodist parsonage on Spruce Street. Williams had a part, even if a ludicrous one, in the separation of Chehalis and Pacific counties. A meeting had been held at Chehalis Point in April 1861 to settle the division, but Pacific County had failed to attend; so on February 4, 1863, Chehalis

County Commissioners Alfred Hill, John Brady, and Reuben Redman, County Treasurer Joseph Mace, and County Auditor John H. Hardwood, had gone to Shoalwater Bay in Pacific County to settle affairs between the two counties. With them were William O. Valentine, Chehalis County sheriff, and P. F. Luark, assessor and poll tax

collector. Several months passed, and on Sunday, July 26, 1863, Terri-

torial Governor William Pickering, with C. H. Hale, superintendent of Indian affairs, and Dr. A. G. Herny, surveyor general, en route to Shoalwater

Bay on the same

business,

arrived on Chehalis

Point. They engaged Sam Williams and his team and wagon to carry them to the lighthouse at North Cove. Taking Patterson Luark along, Sam Williams clucked his team over the sandy road to the beach and headed south. Somewhere along the way Williams imbibed overly and, according to Luark, began chasing a cow on the beach “for a little amusement.” The cow took to the soft sand, and so did Sam Williams, “hi-yeeing” his team into a dead run. The cow turned suddenly, and so did Sam Williams; the

wagon wheels bit into the sand; the wagon flipped, and so did its

load of dignitaries. Luark did not record the remainder of the trip, but did say “Williams cut up shines generally.” The separation of the two counties was consummated, so apparently the governor and his party reached Shoalwater Bay. In 1866, Sam Williams's versatile career included partnership in a gold-recovery operation on Chehalis Point. With him were D. S. B. Henry, Sax Henry, George Waunch, and a man named Bruner. They used a “Chinese pump” (cleats on a belt) and ran

sand through sluice boxes and over copper plates. Frank Peterson,

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then only twelve, drove horse for the “pump.” The gold was fine, powder gold, and netted the operators barely $1 per day per man. However, when there was a northwest storm, which washed down some of the bank onto the beach, the “miners” could make

$10 per day. Ownership in the venture changed frequently and by 1868 the partners were Bruner, Williams, Reuben Redman and a man named Bridges. In May of that year Redman sold his interest to Thomas Ford. At one time Frank Peterson carried $125 in gold to Olympia for the operators. Toward the end of the 1870s several men used a steam pump to pull sand out of the bay, but they did not get enough gold to pay expenses and went broke. P. D. Moore of Olympia headed the company, with some New Jersey Quakers as partners. Attempts to recover fine gold from the sands of Chehalis . Point were made on the beach at the extreme north end. It would be difficult to locate such a point today, for the configuration of Chehalis Point has changed greatly in the time since the first white settlers arrived. Where the shoreline was once 200 yards from the Westport light, the beach now is more than a half-mile to the westward, due to construction of the south jetty. As late as 1858 there was a village of ten to fifteen split-cedar houses, each forty feet long, around and mostly north of what is now Pacific Avenue. There had been at one time prior to the coming of the whites another group of houses on a long sandy knoll a quarter mile to a half mile south of Ocean Avenue and west of Montesano Street. The shell mounds and house excavations were still in evidence years after the turn of the century, but are now obliterated by the building of homes and other structures. There was also a good canoe landing on the bay shore opposite this village which was still in use by the Indians and whites during the settlement of Chehalis Point in the fifties and sixties. The Indians, particularly, were extremely careful in picking canoe landings, and in pulling out their canoes. If a canoe were to rest for a time it would be pulled under grass or brush to keep the cedar from drying and cracking, especially during the summer months. They would also pick a landing as close to the village as possible to save packing. Another change on Chehalis Point was in the character of the shoreline itself. In the early 1860s there was still a bank or ledge five or six feet high all the way from Chehalis Point to Shoalwater

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Bay. Against the bank, and often atop it, was a continuous windrow of driftwood, in places six to eight feet deep and in some

places 100 feet wide. At the same time there was a grassy prairie about a quarter mile all the way from Cohassett to North Cove. White settlers began to cut the drift for wood, using the logs for cabins, bridges, and barns. Fires helped in time to destroy the entire miles-long pile of drift, which for years had been an effective barrier against the sea. As the driftwood disappeared, sand began to drift with the heavy winds, building dunes where none had been before and covering most of the coastal prairie. Samuel Benn, a frequent visitor to, and sometimes resident of,

Chehalis Point as sheriff and mail carrier and carpenter, recalled: “Chehalis Point then was a beautiful place, the land a vast clover bed with wild strawberries and flowers, reaching to the natural protection afforded by an embankment of logs and driftwood, which was piled so high it prevented overflow from the sea and kept sand from drifting upon the sod. With removal of this natural barricade by use of the logs for firewood, tide and wind took their toll until the natural verdure gradually receded until now it is far inland from what it was.” Another observer on the Point was fourteen-year-old Michael Luark, who went exploring with his father in the lower harbor in 1855. He found the Point, as he wrote in 1912, “a lonely

and forbidding place. I saw no houses. The timber which now shades the avenues and residences of Westport was mere brush then. White sand was very much in evidence. The ocean waves were very near where the fog horn station now stands and southeasterly there was much swampy ground, which dried out quite fast after cattle were introduced. All about the east side of the peninsula as far south as the old Peterson log house, there was a peculiar series of big pits or hollows with alternating sand hills or ridges, which I afterwards learned were the site of the once

great Chehalis or Chenamus City which were the winter homes of many hundreds of the Grays Harbor natives.” The pits or hollows were of course the excavations in which or around which the Chehalis people built their houses of cedar slabs. They were originally three or four feet deep, while the “hills or ridges” in between no doubt were formed of material from the excavations. The houses themselves were made of cedar planks

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about two inches thick and four to five feet long for the side walls, of varying length for the end walls. The planks were set on end around the edge of the pits and fastened to a gabled frame of poles. The roof was made of long planks, laid lengthwise and overlapping. The boards at the peak were loose so that they could be raised to let smoke escape and light enter. The doorway was no more than a small opening, sometimes oval, just large enough to admit an overly-proportioned body. The door was a cedar slab large enough to cover the opening, hung on a thong. It could swing back and forth, but covered the opening when it came to rest. Sometime after the middle of the nineteenth century S. S. Ford, Sr. visited Chehalis Point to report sand dunes and scrub pine extending more than two miles northwest of what would now be Ocean Avenue and Montesano Street. In ten years, he said, it was gone and breakers rolled over what had been dry land. A half century later, with the help of the south jetty, the area filled in again and now supports an expanse of scrub, grass, and brush. M. F. Luark was to surmise later that the entire peninsula is undergirded by an ancient reef upon which the sands of Chehalis Point rest. He found two pieces of evidence in the timber south of Cohasset, points of hard rock protruding through the ages-old overcast of sand. A much larger rock can be seen just north of Grayland, possibly supporting Luark’s surmise. While the perimeter of Chehalis Point, at least the northwest quarter of it, was changing, there is evidence that the inner face of the peninsula had been fairly stable for centuries. The remains of the great Indian village was perhaps the best piece of evidence. The site had been used for untold years, suggesting that the immediate area had not been much changed by sea or wind-blown sand. There is no record of the village’s beginning, but much evidence of its tragic end. Diggings in Westport still turn up bits and pieces of Indian life, but the tragedy is revealed in human bones. Fragments are few now, but in the 1860s it was not uncommon to unearth large numbers of bones during cultivation. In 1862, while growing potatoes on the Peterson place, M. F. Luark uncovered many human bones. In the autumn he hired Tyee John and his family to dig potatoes, and asked Tyee John about the bones. Tyee John had a ready answer, for the bones had

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been deposited there during his lifetime, a lifetime extended by the

fact that he had escaped the smallpox—the catastrophe which accounted

for the bones,

the deserted village, and the almost-

vanished Chehalis people. Tyee John told Luark that the bones were indeed human. Years before, during the “hyas sick,” the Chehalis had been virtually wiped out. The tribal dead were buried either above ground or below ground if there were strong members living. The dead inside South Bay on Elk River were placed in a mass grave. Survivors of the smallpox scattered, leaving, so it is told, some 300

sick slaves in the village. All the slaves died in or about the houses, and remained where they had fallen. The Chehalis people never returned to the houses, which perhaps accounts for the fact that young Luark saw no evidence of recent habitation when he visited the point with his father in 1855. Point Brown, on the opposite side of the entrance channel, from Chehalis Point, has undergone equally extraordinary changes from 1862 to modern times. White travelers to Point Brown pulled around a low hook-like spit into McGee Cove, inside of which was the Lone Tree, a familiar local landmark. The Lone Tree, a tideland spruce, stood in a waste of grass-covered sand,

and was conspicuous, especially to anyone entering the harbor or approaching Point Brown from upriver. The tree was destroyed in a December storm in 1934. On May 7, 1911, the Robert Gray Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution dedicated a bronze plaque mounted ona granite boulder placed at the foot of the Lone Tree. The plaque is inscribed: ‘Tradition links this tree with the name of Captain Robert Gray who on May 7, 1792 entered this harbor in his ship Columbia.” It further states, ‘The site was donated by Mr. A. O. Damon.”

Perhaps the Daughters of the American Revolution not only perpetrated, but are perpetuating, an error in history by saying

“Tradition links this tree with the name of Captain Robert Gray.” There is no evidence whatever that Captain Gray even noted the tree, or had any connection with it. He did not land on Grays Harbor, and accounts of his voyages make no mention of the tree. All early explorers ignored what should have been a significant feature of the landscape, and even the survey party under Mid-

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shipman Eld, who laid out a base line of Point Brown for survey purposes, failed to record such a conspicuous landmark. It can be supposed that, with all this ignoring of the Lone Tree, the tree did not exist at the time of Captain Gray’s entry. To have been noticed by Captain Gray it would have needed to be of considerable size and perhaps a half-century old. As it was, the tree was only 32 to 36 feet high, and as broad, 120 years after

Gray’s entry, or when the DAR erected the monument. Eld Island, a low sandspit without vegetation, was off the southwest tip of Point Brown. As late as the 1890s there was a channel between Eld Island and the Point through which small craft could navigate. It is hard to believe now, with all the changes caused by construction of the north jetty, that there were from four to twenty feet of water in what is known today as the “Sink” and that tugs and fishing craft used the channel. The island, named for Midshipman Eld, who had commanded the Wilkes expedition through Grays Harbor country in 1841, disappeared after the north jetty was constructed. Sand filled in behind the jetty to the north, engulfing the upper portion of Eld Island, while channel currents cut away its southern portion.

The north jetty construction was started October 1, 1907, and completed December 6, 1913. However, reconstruction was

begun almost immediately because the just-completed jetty had settled to a point where it was no longer effective. Reconstruction was completed January 24, 1916.

PERHAPS THE BEST KNOWN and certainly the most colorful of settlers on the Brown’s Point peninsula was Matthew McGee. He arrived in 1860 to take up a claim around the south end of Duck Lake, and like other early arrivals, he ran cattle. In 1871 McGee hired McFarland, M. W. Fletcher, Peter Petty,

and H. D. Taylor to raze one of the buildings at Fort Chehalis. That winter McFarland and Jasper Markham went to Johns River

to cut shakes for McGee's house. The next spring the same crew of men scowed the lumber and shakes to McGee's cove and built a large structure with four barn-like rooms on the lower floor and four rooms upstairs. Two massive fireplaces, one to each pair of rooms with a hearth in each room, were constructed of soft stone

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cut from a bluff above the Hoquiam River and brick brought in as ballast by a sailing ship. McGee was never able to make or buy enough furniture to outfit his capacious rooms, and they remained almost barren. However, the McGee house became the stopping place for travelers to and from the North Beach region. Most white traffic landed in McGee's cove or embarked from there. Few whites used

the landing at Oyehut until Damon built his wharf and trading post, the place being traditional Indian landing for travel over the sandy road to the ocean beach. The tragedy of Matthew McGee began in 1873, a year after his cavernous house was completed, though the seeds for this “song of the goat” may have been sown as far back as 1860 when the Irishman first stepped upon the sands of the peninsula. Susanna Marie Slover McFarland well remembered,

as she reminisced in

her eighties, that a man by the name of Absalom Armstrong had come to the Point planning to prove up on a homestead and had lived there in a tent alone for a year. Then Matthew McGee had come and, so the story goes, taken a fancy to the location himself. What then transpired history does not record, but when Susanna McFarland first went to the Point in 1870, Armstrong had long since disappeared and McGee was living in a log cabin Armstrong supposedly had built. It was rumored in the upper Chehalis Valley that McGee had hired some Indians to kill Armstrong, but in time the matter was forgotten. Later, to finance a cattle business, McGee borrowed money

from A. O. Damon, then a resident of Olympia, giving a mortgage upon his holdings. With the money McGee bought cattle to range on the lands of the Point. Some years later, for reasons not chronicled, Damon sent Tim Dwyer “to the place” —the assumption being it was McGee’s place—to break cows to milk and wean calves. Dwyer was to have half the calves and all the butter he and his wife could make. McGee, understandably, was much dis-

tressed by the arrangement, thinking—correctly—that a mortgage foreclosure was coming. McGee and Dwyer, both being short-

fused, quarreled repeatedly. After the first year Dwyer told Damon he refused to stay another year and, when spring arrived, prepared to return to Olympia. There is no exact account, certainly none in Susanna McFarland’s memory, of why in early March

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Dwyer “attacked McGee and left him for dead.” Susanna’s husband, William McFarland, was then the county sheriff. He learned

of the attack from the Indian mail carrier on the North Beach and immediately started on the twelve-mile hike to McGee's place. (McFarland and his family then were living on Joe Creek, having not yet built their “comfortable home” of beach-salvaged lumber on Connor Creek.) McFarland found McGee still alive, and after five days sent for Susanna to come and nurse him. Meanwhile, McFarland and

Charles Fry had gone from North Cove up the South Fork of the Willapa, above what is now the city of Raymond, to summon Dr. Edward T. Balch, one of the most admired men in the territory, widely recognized for his skill as a surgeon. They returned by

oyster sloop to North Cove, and thence by Fry’s wagon to Chehalis Point, and the last stage to Damon’s Point by canoe. Dr. Balch was able to treat McGee’s wounds in time to keep him alive. When Susanna McFarland arrived for her nursing duties, she found that McGee had had the ends of two fingers shot

off, a shot through the upper arm, a shot in the right shoulder, and a shot lodged in his upper chest. Dwyer had further attacked McGee by jumping on his face and chest with his hobnailed boots, making the face hardly recognizable. Dr. Balch told Susanna McFarland that if his patient could make it through the twentieth day he would probably live; but during the night of the twentieth day Amanda Fry knocked on Susanna’s door to say that McGee seemed to be dying. The two women hastily built up the fire to heat water, gave McGee some stimulant Dr. Balch had left, applied hot-water jars to the ailing man, and waited. By morning, surprisingly, McGee had revived enough to ask for some water. From then on his condition improved to the extent that Dr. Balch took him home to his own place on Shoalwater Bay, where he attempted to save the injured man physically, if not mentally. The following summer,

in 1879, A. O. Damon

moved his

wife and three daughters to the McGee place, having foreclosed the mortgage. Shortly thereafter McGee returned to the Point to live with some otter hunters, letting his hatred of Damon fester.

Then, one Sunday morning while Damon was in the corral milking a cow, McGee sneaked into the nearby barn and fired a shotgun blast into Damon’s face, lacerating his ear and filling the

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side of his head with bird shot. Damon was virtually blown off his milking stool, and as he lay in the cattle yard McGee dropped his shotgun, ran into the house, and grabbed a rifle. He fled up the tidelands along the bay, where the next day several men from the beach found him with the top of his head blown off. He had put the muzzle of the rifle in his mouth and pulled the trigger with a string tied to his right toe, having removed his shoe for the purpose. McGee was buried where he fell. Damon had arrived upon the Grays Harbor scene between 1868 and 1870 to eventually establish a post on the bay side of the Point Brown peninsula at a place the Indians called Oyehut, which meant literally “the place to cross over.” Oyehut was a favorite canoe landing for the Indians, and when the long pier was built to deep water, it became a favorite freight-handling spot for the North Beach region. Damon had a small building on the inshore end of the wharf which doubled as a freight depot, store,

and sometimes otter pelt-buying station. There was a wagon road from the wharf to the ocean beach over which Ben Grigsby and Dave Bileau hauled freight, passengers, and mail from Oyehut to Taholah and return. The Grigsbys kept a popular halfway-house and post office two miles north of the Copalis River, while Dave Bileau and his family lived at Copalis, with “Isaac” (possibly Isaac Bonner, who was listed in the 1880 census with his family as living on the tidelands near the mouth of the Copalis River). By 1892, A. O. Damon and his son George were operating a general store in their building at Oyehut and caring for the needs of beach travelers. Freight for their enterprise and for the North Beach came in the small steam launches Tillie and Thistle, and oc-

casionally in the larger Ranger. The Tillie ran a schedule of three trips a week from Hoquiam. Another day of grief took place within sight of McGee's house, this in 1875. The incident was retold by Mrs. Amanda Slover Fry, wife of Charles Fry, who with her husband was visiting at the McGee place at the time. The Indians were having a big “blowout” at Humptulips Pete’s place at the mouth of the Humptulips River, with plenty of firewater. A group of Indians approached McGee's house to warn the whites that “Old Kettle” had become drunk, hacked another

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Indian to death, and lit out through the woods “looking for trouble.” The messengers had not been gone long before the people in McGee's house, peeking out of one of the great rooms, saw Old Kettle coming down the bay beach carrying a large rifle such as the sea otter hunters used. Far behind followed another Indian. Kettle suddenly turned and spotted the follower. Deliberately, Old Kettle laid the rifle across a sand dune and shot the other Indian dead. Kettle then threw down his rifle and approached the house with hands upraised, the traditional frontier sign of peace. Several of the men, armed with rifles, escorted Old Kettle to the house to

hear his story and his plea for shelter from the other Indians, who would surely kill him. The whites advised Old Kettle to “light out” for the other side of the harbor while they arranged a settlement. Mrs. Fry recalled that an agreement was reached, with Old Kettle obliged to pay so many blankets, horses, and other goods to the squaws of the dead. Old Kettle not only paid, but eventually married one of the squaws. Old Kettle—white settlers said he really was not very old—was something of a mystery to the whites. None knew exactly whence he came, his status among the Indians, or whether all the stories and rumors about him were true. He was, in some

accounts, a one-eyed slave of the Humptulips tribe, either acquired by war down toward the Columbia or picked up on the beach after his canoe had capsized off the Quinault River. It was also rumored that Old Kettle had been given freedom of action by Chief Tamooua but no voice in tribal councils, and that Old Kettle

had murdered Tamooua and acquired his squaw and property. It was fairly well established that Old Kettle had:slain several Indians and that he was generally feared by other tribesmen. There is no record that Kettle harmed or even annoyed the whites. Another Indian on the North Beach was much feared by the local tribesmen, but when the showdown came he cowered before Susanna McFarland. He was called “Salmon,” from Shoalwater

Bay. Salmon appeared at the McFarlands’ Connor Creek place one day and put his hand upon Susanna’s milkroom door, intending to enter and help himself, but he figured without gutsy Susanna. She shouted: “Salmon, do not go in there!” He gave her a smirk, replying impudently “T will if |want to.” Salmon never got

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past the door handle. Susanna McFarland filled a quart dipper with boiling water with the warning: “You open that door and I'll scald you good.” Salmon backed away hastily and fairly stumbled in retreat when Susanna swished the dipper of scalding water at his heels. Two young Indian friends retreated with Salmon, and as they mounted their ponies they remarked, “Skookum kloochman” (“strong woman”). Word was passed along the beach with much laughter by the local tribesmen, so that Salmon disappeared from the North Beach, having lost much “hyas kloche nem” (literally, “big good name”) to a white kloochman. Susanna McFarland also figured in a somewhat similar but more terrifying incident. This time she had more than a threat of Russian “presence” on the Northwest Coast. She reported in her memoirs that she was never more frightened than when a

“hideous face” peered through a window of her North Beach home. ‘The man had big blue eyes in a massive face and had tawney, slightly curly hair and a month’s beard the same color as his hair, a strange fact to be seen among a tribe of real Indians. | shuddered and started to get my gun when an Indian schoolboy came to the door. I asked him who the man was. He answered the man was Russian Jim from Neah Bay. His father, a Russian, was

there a long time ago, and his mother was a chief's daughter. His father tried to rule the tribe there and the Indians killed him while Jim was still an infant.”

THERE WERE SEVERAL Indians of some prominence along the north shore of the harbor and up the coast. In 1872 “Chinoose’” was chief of the Humptulips tribe, the Indians living at the mouth of the Humptulips and at Chenois Creek, which preserves his name. It is recorded that “Chenois Kluch” was granted a United States patent

to Lot No.

3, Section 22, Township

18, Range

11, as

recorded July 28, 1833. The property is between the mouth of Chenois Creek and Gillis Slough to the westward. The Humptulips people, along with the Chehalis, refused to sign treaties with the whites and refused to leave their ancestral homelands for the government-designated reservation. Thereafter they were designated and treated as “non-treaty Indians.”

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Up the coast was Old Dan, also known as Dan O’Petteman,

called by the whites “Irish Indian.” He had a shack at Point Grenville and was widely respected by Indians and whites alike. He reputedly was an Oregon or Northern California man, large in size, and a slave of Chief Mason, who also had another slave of

some renown, One-Eyed Riley, captured from a northern tribe. Riley, more than most Indian slaves, relished his freedom when

the federal government banished slavery among the tribesmen. He became obnoxious to both the Indians and the whites, and was largely excluded from Indian affairs. Then,

of course,

there was

“Cap-i-tan,” who had a blind

squaw. It was his custom to burden his squaw with groceries or whatever,

tie a line around

her arm,

and lead her behind his

horse, even through the Moclips River. Copalis Jim was a noted salmon spearsman on the Copalis River. He habitually wore only a blanket, pinned in front with what looked like a knitting needle. He was good at his task, always using a deer-horn-tipped spear. No list of north shore Indians would be complete without Caslahan, the “ugly-looking scamp” encountered by Swan. He had a reputation of being a very tricky fellow, but Swan nevertheless engaged him to cross the harbor mouth from Chehalis Point to Point Brown on Swan's way to the Quinault River. On the Hoquiam lived Putsenay, a famed sturgeon fisherman; Matches, the matchless canoe builder; Pollocks, the elk hunter; and Molasses Doctor, a medicine man of wide repute.

Tyee John was a Chehalis Indian of reputation and a respected leader. Humptulips Pete was almost as well-known to the whites as he was to the Indians. Others in frequent contact with the whites as canoe handlers, freighters, suppliers, and messengers were Heck, Meps, and Sean. Quiack was chief of the Claquamish branch of the Chehalis. Then there were Charley Cape, Chehalis Charley, and Sitkum Nose (“sitkum” means “half” in Chinook jargon). In the 1880 census there were five “Noses” listed for the north shore of Grays Harbor: “Sitcum Nose, Indian, 75, farmer, born Washington Territory; then Mary Nose, 55, Tyeeman Nose, 24, Sallie Nose, 14, John Nose, 8.” For the same

region

the census

listed “Chuck

Chenois,

Indian,

Chenois, 24, Joseph Chenois, 9, Allen Chenois, 6.”

45, Mary

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Above Cosmopolis were several Indian families in more or less permanent residence, including Gwalie, Sand Island Charley, and Koonish, who built large “white man” houses on the north shore of the Chehalis opposite Sand Island. They never lived in them—they and their families preferred the Indian camp way of life—but the “white man” houses had great prestige value. A white man with an Indian name—in fact the Indians had named

him—was

“Chick’-a-min

George”

(“chick’-a-min”

in

Chinook jargon means “metal, iron, steel’), famed through the Territory as a gunsmith. He lived at Grand Mound, but many of his customers were people from the Lower Chehalis and Quinault. Indians would take in all kinds of guns for repair, even flintlocks,

and squat on his doorstep until they were repaired. Other Indians well-known to the whites included Cultis Jim, Queets James, Wynooche Charley, Indian Swahty, Otock, Hohlaskins, Sodamish, Indian Johnson, and freighter, Jim Cox.

There was also an early sprinkling of whites on the North Beach. John Connor had a claim, and gave his name to Connor

Creek. In 1865 A. J. Burr of Olympia had a small stock of goods at Connor's place to trade for furs. In 1867 Connor lost his carpenter job on the Quinault reservation at Taholah, and was succeeded in May of that year by Samuel Benn. On July 1, 1868, John Connor was on Chehalis Point on his way to Portland, having sold his place on Connor Creek to David Helser, 38, a hunter

originally from Ohio. Helser reputedly was the first white settler north of Grays Harbor. By April 17, 1874, he was at Black Lake, where his son, David R. Helser, was born on that day.

Chapter yi

Up the Creeks and Valleys THE GHERALISIVALLEY Ne in the nineteenth century there was a descent of Carters into the lush Chehalis Valley. Thomas (‘Uncle Tom”) Carter was the forerunner, followed by his nephew, William Henry (“One Arm”) Carter, the romancer and dramatizer.

They were but two of a host of Carters to join other pioneer families through marriage, populate the bottomlands, and make the vast watershed Carter-conscious for generations. “Uncle Tom” was the first out of the wings, but “One Arm” was center stage. With his wife Minerva and son Jeff, Thomas Carter crossed

the Plains with the 5,000 emigrants of 1847, to settle in eastern

Oregon and establish a cattle business. By 1858 he was reported settled in Chehalis County, W. T., for on October 6 of that year,

he was buying 320 acres of land immediately opposite the Wynooche River mouth on the south side of the Chehalis from I. L.

Scammon for $600. Mike Luark observed that Thomas

Carter “figured prominently on Grays Harbor 1858-61 in connection with Isaac Stevens and others.” An exploring party to the lower harbor in September 1857 reported finding Thomas Carter and wife living on the abandoned claim of Dr. James H. Roundtree on Roundtree Point. It is recorded that Thomas Carter and his wife, on December 27,

1862, quit-claimed a deed to I. L.Scammon for the same 320 acres they had bought back in 1858, and for the same amount, $600. It

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is also recorded Scammon sold 205 acres of the tract “immediately

opposite the mouth of the Wynooche,” to William H. Carter for $600. Thomas and Minerva Carter quit the Chehalis Valley in 1861 to return to Portland, two years after the western saga of William H. Carter had begun. In 1858, William Henry Carter started for Pikes Peak in com-

pany with his brother James Madison Carter. The brother stopped there to become sheriff, but William continued on to Oregon to join his Uncle Thomas. He herded cattle in Umatilla and Baker country, mined and prospected. During this period he met up with a wagon train headed for Portland on the Oregon Trail. The party had camped on the Snake River when William Henry Carter rode up. His arrival coincided with that of a party of Snake country Indians who had come to beg, borrow, or trade, as seemed

to be the custom. The Indians were particularly interested in a young woman with fiery red hair, called by the train “the girl with the sunshine hair.” She was Eliza Bendall, traveling west with her sister, Libby,

and Libby's husband Will Barnes. The Indians were determined to buy the girl—determined to the point of threatened attack—but the people of the train managed to stay the Indians with other tradeable goods. As the train broke camp, Eliza was rolled in a comforter and stowed out of sight in one of the wagons. She thus eluded the Indians, but she could not elude William Henry Carter who, love-stricken beyond sleep, walked from The Dalles to Portland to marry her October 26, 1862. The following year the couple lived in a shanty on the Chehalis, starting a farm on the 205 acres purchased from I. L. Scammon. The

farm

was

developed,

with

a substantial

house,

but

somehow William Henry Carter became more interested in a willo’-the-wisp discovery of gold in 1860 in eastern Oregon and the Bitterroot Mountains. Perhaps it was a mishap on December 23, 1865, that decided him to pull up and get out. A big spruce tree was burning within reach of his house. Carter decided to fall the

tree away from the house in case it should topple. He either miscalculated, misjudged the wind, or was a poor timber-faller, but the spruce fell across the corner of the house, smashing it to the ground and damaging clothing, groceries, and furniture. The Carters, with their dog, went over to the Mike Luark place for

shelter. Repairs were made with the help of neighbors, to the

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point where the house could be warmed for the “delicate condition” of Mrs. Carter who, on January 26, 1865, “raised a muss”

and was delivered of a healthy son with Mrs. I. L. Scammon “officiating.” Still, William

Henry

Carter had the gold fever, which he

weighed against the slogging work on the Chehalis Valley farm. The gold won; Carter prepared to be off in the spring “to make a big raise or lose all.” So, in February, 1866, the neighbors began arriving to buy whatever they wanted or could bargain for of the Carter possessions. The Carters were selling out. The sale went on until March 11, the day of the Carter departure for Portland by way of the Benn place at Melbourne and steamer to the Columbia River. William Henry Carter said he was coming back, but the neighbors were doubtful. And then, on October 31, Eliza Medcalf received a letter from

Eliza Carter saying that William Henry Carter had lost his right forearm in a circular saw in a Portland steam sawmill. Carter had worked only two hours in the mill when the accident occurred. Loss of the arm eliminated Carter as a prospector or miner. He worked at various jobs in Oregon until 1872, when the family returned to the farm on the Chehalis. Two sons, William Jefferson Carter and John Bendall Carter, were born to William Henry and

Eliza during the stay in Oregon. In the next twenty years William Henry built his Chehalis Valley farm into a laudable property. But he was still taken with the “fast dollar,” and when Ocosta-by-the-Sea was heralded across the West as the city of tomorrow, the western terminus of the Northern Pacific Railroad, William Henry could not resist the ballyhoo. Much against the advice and entreaties of his uncle, Mike Luark, he started investing in Ocosta land—first all his cash, then his farm, upon

which he fixed a mortgage to the Longard Investment Company for $2,500 at six percent. By the late nineties the Ocosta dream had collapsed, and William Henry Carter's fortunes with it. Now Ocosta is only a memory spot on the road from Aberdeen to Westport. The mortgage-holders foreclosed on the farm, which was sold at auction on the courthouse steps in Montesano for $3,513.87 on December 23, 1899. Shortly thereafter, William Henry, still chasing fantasies, left for the gold fields of Alaska. He found no gold, but did find a job in a salmon cannery to pay his passage home, where he arrived

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November 4, 1901.

In 1903, accompanied by their younger sons Tom and Albert, the Carters went to Lone Pine, California, where they lived until

1912. Their son John had moved to California in 1902 after despairing of developing a farm in the Chehalis Valley, and it was by his persuasion that, homeless and with no money, they continued their seeming wandering. Then back to Grays Harbor they went to live with their daughter, Lizzie, and her husband Floyd Nutter on North River. Son Tom Carter had meanwhile gone to

Toronto, Canada, to attend a veterinary college. William Henry and Eliza lived with the Nutters until 1916, when they again went to stay with John in California until Tom had returned to Portland to open a practice. They found a final home with Tom, who had met and married Pauline Horton in Michigan. William Henry Carter, after what seemed a lifetime of misadventures,

died in

Portland in 1919. Eliza survived him by thirteen years, dying in Portland in 1932.

No story OF PEOPLE who figured so prominently in the pioneer days of Grays Harbor could contain more of the tunes of life than that of Elijah Luark Wade and Martha Llewelyn Thomas Wade. Born in 1836, West Virginian Elijah Wade had at seventeen married Ann Arah Wade, a distant cousin, who died in 1857 of a stroke after bearing two sons, Marion Edgar Wade and Thomas Rhoden Wade. Needing someone to help care for his two sons, Elijah found Martha Llewelyn Thomas and married her within eight months. Hezekiah Thomas, Martha’s father, had been carried off by

the Indians when his parents were massacred. When he was eight years

old he was

rescued

by another

captive,

a man

named

Thomas. The boy was brought to the small village of Morgantown and given the surname of Thomas, which he carried to his death in 1901 at the age of 105 years. The marriage of Elijah and Martha produced eight children. They lived in the foothills of West Virginia, home to the small, energetic, tobacco-chewing Martha, a resourceful, uncomplaining

woman seemingly made for the rigors of pioneering. Elijah, six feet tall and dark-haired, was better educated, with a fancy for horses,

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politics, music, sports of all kinds, aggressive leadership, socializing over a julep, and generally being a stately man of the world. Despite the family’s earlier poverty, and after service and a wound with the Union forces in the Civil War, Elijah plunged into politics while he and Martha prospered. He was elected sheriff of Doddridge County, West Virginia, serving from 1867 to 1872, a period in which he also served as tax collector. Somewhere in the process of transferring funds to the state auditor there was a ransacking of the sheriff's office, a loss of records, and a loss of tax collections. After months of litigation

and court appearances, Sheriff Wade was held accountable. This meant, in the end, that all of his possessions, down to the very clothes on his and Martha’s backs, were sold at auction. That was

in late autumn 1876. The family was left impoverished. Too disheartened to face life in his old haunts, Elijah Wade decided to seek a new one in the West, leaving Martha and the

children to struggle on temporarily in the West Virginia hills. Elijah’s brother, Alex, supplied part of the money for the trip west, while another brother,

George, furnished a house in which Martha

was to live. With a $65.30 ticket purchased in Cincinnati, Elijah boarded an emigrant train for San Francisco on November

2, 1876, arriving

there the evening of November 11. For a man of Elijah’s standards of propriety, San Francisco was an evil place with its “morals very low. . .and, Oh, the amount of vice in the city.” On November 24 Elijah left San Francisco in the steamer City of Panama for Tacoma, paying $15 for the passage. In Tacoma he took the steamer Annie Stewart to Olympia. In Olympia he expected to be met by his uncles, Patterson and Mike F. Luark, who already had pioneered in the Grays Harbor country. But there was no welcoming party, so Elijah was faced with a forty-fivemile hike to Mike Luark’s place on Sylvia Creek. (This was the place where in 1870-71 Mike Luark had set up the second sawmill in the Chehalis Valley, a water-powered plant at what was then called Sylvia Falls, but spelled “Sylva” in Luark’s accounts.)

Shortly after his arrival Elijah Wade joined in partnership with his uncle in the mill. The partnership did not last long because of constant quarreling over politics and religion. Mike Luark bought Elijah’s interest October 1, 1877, and Elijah moved out of

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Michael Luark’s home to the home of his other uncle, Patterson F. Luark, a farm about three miles up the Chehalis from Montesano. Within a short time Elijah purchased thirty acres of bottomland near Patterson Luark’s place from I. L. Scammon. He also rented a house from Scammon to shelter his family while a house and barn were built on the new farm. The farm, called “Wild-

wood Home,” was occupied July 1, 1880. The family had barely settled when Elijah accepted an appointment as carpenter for the Quinault Indian reservation, to live at Taholah; the job lasted until June, 1881, when the family returned to the Chehalis River farm.

Elijah then purchased 160 adjoining acres, building one of the better farms in the valley—which,

however,

fell to Martha

to

operate, Elijah being too busy with what his wife called “such argufying and carryin’ on in politics, his church singing, debating, just visitin’.” Then there were campaign speeches, organizing literary societies,

soldier reunions,

fairs, revivals,

church

and

community sings; and then the newly-acquired distinction of being one of the founders of the GAR (Grand Army of the Republic) campground at Westport. This was something close to Elijah’s heart; he could organize, make speeches, “argufy,” huddle with

old soldiers from all over the Territory. Besides, there was campfire singing every night from July 1 to September 1. And Elijah Wade was quite taken with his own singing abilities. He was a long-time commander of the campgrounds and, of course, could sing just about any time he wanted. Meanwhile, Elijah’s son Rhoden returned to West Virginia to claim Rose Sommerville as his bride, only to find she had already married; Rhoden then married her sister Lilly. Rhoden and his bride returned to the Chehalis, where Rhoden built a “big house” for William J. Carter (a son of One-Arm Carter), who married Rhoden’s sister, Mint, December 24, 1890.

During the fall of 1896 Elijah Wade and John Carter contracted to-haul fish to the cannery in Cosmopolis. This they did standing knee-deep in salmon in an oversized rowboat. The chore had no appeal for Elijah Wade. He was soon out of the fish-hauling business. In West Virginia Wade had acquired the basics of surveying, a skill he found in great demand in the unsurveyed and undeveloped Grays Harbor country. He was named county

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surveyor for Chehalis County in 1890 and laid out a road site from the Hoquiam to Quinault. In 1891 with a crew of eleven men he surveyed a plat of the Quinault Indian Reservation for the attorney-general. The family farm was base for these survey expeditions, but on July 1, 1901, Elijah was kicked by a frisky stallion owned by J. C. Biles, suffering a broken arm and two fractured ribs. This ended his career as a farmer, and took Martha away from her beloved task of scratching and digging in the garden and fields to the neglect of a sink full of dishes and other awaiting household chores. Elijah and Martha purchased five acres of land, the old Hayes place, just west of Montesano. They built a big house in which Elijah died in October, 1910. Martha lived on until October, 1922, when she died at the Montesano home of her daughter Mint.

THE WYNOOCHE

VALLEY

The Wynooche Valley, carved by a crystal river swelled by the incredible rains of the Olympics, was an eye-catcher for landhungry settlers. Rich bottoms crowded the stream into sweeping meanders and welcome gravel bars, while the flanking hills spiked the heavens with an inconceivable forest, a portion of the greatest

Douglas fir stand on earth. The lower reaches of the valley were wide with potential meadowland, deep-soiled and accessible. Here early-comers hastened to blaze corner trees and file homestead rights, then push puncheon roads along the flats and hogbacks to the ends of the bottoms,

and

trails even

to the “Oxbow,”

above

which

the

Wynooche plunged into its spectacular gorge. This wild region where the river roared each year lured the Indian Hyasman into mysterious comings and goings. Each early autumn Hyasman poled his shovel-nosed canoe to the gorge, hid it—he thought—from prying eyes, and disappeared into the timber. With the September freshet he whisked down the river with enough gold to last him for a year. He was so secretive that no white man ever found his source for the yellow metal. For that matter, few whites ever saw Hyasman’s gold; but apparently he had it, for he spent it. Several whites had followed Hyasman upstream, a few to where he had cached his canoe, but were never

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able to trace him beyond the cache. For that reason there was no “gold rush” on the Wynooche. Charley Mason became the farthest-up homesteader in the valley, living alone on a small place he had hacked out of the grudging wilderness. His nearest neighbor was Tony Reinkens, who one whole dripping day heard Mason’s bull roaring and bellowing. Sensing something, Reinkens tramped up to Mason's place to find Mason gored and trampled to death in his barnyard. _ The bull looked like a berserker to Reinkens, so he shot him.

Mason had other neighbors farther down the river: Parker Askew, Harry Carter, Charles Armstrong, and one named Patton. Armstrong and Patton later quarreled over a log left stranded on a gravel bar. The quarrel became bitter; Armstrong killed Patton with a rifle shot, and went to prison. Downstream, where the valley widened, Sam Long was a homesteader of 1876, a mile north of Black Creek. He came to the

valley with his son-in-law, Frank Magill, who took an adjoining piece of land. Sam Long's wife, born Eliza Early in Tennessee and the niece of Confederate General Jubal A. Early, raised eyebrows along the Wynooche by smoking a corncob pipe, which she always claimed was prescribed by a doctor to cure her asthma. She was horrified by Indian tree burials and the smell of them, and lived in constant fear of cougars. She and Sam Long had a daughter, Miley, who married William R. Caldwell,

called “W.

R.” and

known as “Preacher Bill.” He was the oldest of the “Big Six” Caldwell brothers. Sam Long had a brother, Ed Long, who acquired the Sheasby place and butchered for valley farmers. Sam also had a son, W. J.

Long, who became an Aberdeen dentist and who, in his youth, was scared almost to death by a cougar. He and his youthful friend Oliver Caldwell were returning home from a dance through a patch of timber when an oversized cougar—at least it seemed so to them—jumped behind them from an overhanging tree. Sam Long had a skill not uncommon in pioneer days. He could graft apple cuttings to wild crabapples and cherry scions to wild cherry trees and make them grow. Some of his grafts still sur-

vive in ancient Wynooche orchards. Preacher Bill Caldwell and another brother, John (Jack) Caldwell, homesteaded on Black Creek near its mouth and across

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from their mother, Frances Blaney Caldwell. She was doing her own homesteading since her husband had died years before in Canada. Jack Caldwell taught in the Black Creek school, the same building serving as Bill Caldwell’s church. Bill Caldwell, who homesteaded when not logging or preaching, built a shack of split cedar on his claim for use while he “proved up.” More than most settlers, he had occasion to go to town—a two-day round trip, counting two crossings of the Wynooche by canoe, one at Black Creek, the other at the Wilkie

place downstream. Bill’s wife Miley usually stayed in the shack while her husband was absent, but that ended one terrifying night when a cougar prowled. Miley was alerted by the frenzied barking of her little black dog, which yipped along the walls of the shack as the cougar sniffed and scratched, seemingly the whole night long. By daybreak the animal was gone, and so was Miley. She ran to a neighbor's place, and no amount of coaxing and cajoling could get her to return to that homestead shack. In time Bill Caldwell proved his claim and hired Indians from the reservation at Oakville to slash brush and clear land. The Indians came each summer for several years, camping on a gravel bar with a pen of edible dogs, which they relished. When Miley Caldwell scooted for a neighbor's place, she had her pick of several, for the region around Black Creek was a favorite settling spot. Among them were James Wilson, George Wade, Calvin Birdwell, Sheasby, E. Garrison, Charles Garrison, Willen Giberson, Fritz Studor, and Oliver Moak on Black Creek itself. Jake Goechner, John Taylor, Charley Wade, Bill, Sam, John and Tom Crass had adjoining places; John Olson, Frank

Wedeking (who married Mary Crass), Joe Geisler, and Andy Gleason—all were within cow-calling distance of a quiet evening. Then there was David Wilkie, who drove to town with a highstepping buggy horse. At the crossing of Sylvia Creek the horse bolted, throwing Wilkie from the buggy. He died of a broken neck.

Another tragedy of the valley befell a homesteader named Mooney, for whom Mooney Creek was named. Mooney was a left-handed carpenter, one of his varied services being the making of coffins for the valley dead. His own death came in a fall from a barn roof, and his coffin was made by another neighbor. As was the custom, fellow homesteaders and their women sat up with the

Up the Creeks and Valleys

179

corpse, a night-long frontier vigil or wake, wringing cloths from

camphor water and applying them to the dead man’s face to keep it from coloring. Mooney had a son, Raymond, who gave the valley a laugh by actually performing the time-honored mistake of sawing off a limb he was straddling. But it was not as funny when Bill and Miley Caldwell’s daughter, Hazel, fell into a posthole up to her armpits. Hazel was born on the old William Beardsley place and attended the Black Creek school when Effie Twidwell taught ten youngsters in all grades. Hazel remembered, perhaps because of her name, that the hill now carrying Wynooche cemetery near Montesano was, in her girlhood days, bare of any large trees, and

was covered with hazel brush and blue and yellow violets. Oliver Moak,

who had Tom

Birdwell and Jess Bryant as

neighbors, had figuratively smacked his lips as he remembered the evergreen blackberries “back East.” He hankered so much he sent for some starts, and within a decade had blackberries growing along every rail fence in the valley. Down on the lower Wynooche Sam Crumley, a butcher, traveled from farm to farm upon call to ply his trade, and also to use the opportunity to trade farm machinery. Not far from Crumley’s place Ninemire & Morgan had a slaughterhouse, using cattle shipped from Texas as well as cattle from local meadows and stump ranches. Their Texas cattle were longhorns, wild and ornery, and doubly so after being confined to

cattle cars for the long haul to Grays Harbor. In unloading them Ninemire & Morgan had a horseman ride through the streets of Montesano ringing a warning bell. The residents took to their stores and houses as the steers were herded toward holding pens. It was not uncommon for a steer to get hellishly independent and take off over fences and hog pens, with women screaming and angry gardeners shaking fists. ;

THE HUMPTULIPS VALLEY While Hoquiam was beginning to cut lumber and raise itself out of the mud with plank streets, settlers began moving into the

Humptulips Valley, some to take up land for permanent homes, others filing on timber claims and staying just long enough to

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“prove up.” The first white family on Axford Prairie was that of Joe Clyde, Sr., who located in 1883, built a 16 by 20 foot cabin, and brought in his wife and six children—George, Tillie, Robert, Tom, Lizzie Ann, and Joe Jr.—the following year.

Then came the James P. Sudderth family, of particular interest because of their connection with “Mr. Axford,” after whom

Axford Prairie was named. Sudderth had come to the Prairie in 1885 and stayed with Axford while he built a cabin. After he had filed his claim on Big Creek and built his cabin, he went back to Olympia. Before he returned to Axford Prairie with his wife and daughter, Axford had died. The Sudderths lived in Axford’s cabin

for two years while Sudderth built a log house of his own. The Sudderths’ son, James C. “Bon”

Sudderth,

was

the first white

child born on Axford Prairie. Five other children were to follow: Hugh L., twins Earl and Pearl, William Bryan, and Ernest.

Sudderth’s only communication with the “outside” was by a two-and-one-half mile trail to “Old Kettle’s” place on the Humptulips and then by canoe down the river. Kettle lived in a clearing near the end of what is now known as the Walker road and just below the site of the Walker or “Red” bridge which spanned the Humptulips and provided access to Axford Prairie. There was another trail, however, which had been cut from Axford Prairie to Copalis Beach, over which cattle could be driven from the Humptulips Valley to the beach, then to Damon's Point, where the stock would be loaded aboard a steamer for Montesano, then driven over the Hicklin road to Olympia. (Damon would pick up the stragglers to add to his considerable herd.) The next family in the valley was the Walkers, who were to colonize and log large areas of the region. The immediate family connected with Grays Harbor began with Elkanah Walker, a divinity student in Bangor, Maine. On March 8, 1838, he married

Mary Richardson, and the two began a four-and-one-half month horseback journey to join Dr. Marcus Whitman near Walla Walla as missionaries. Mary Walker became the third white woman to cross the Rockies. The couple spent ten years in the missionary field; after the Whitman massacre they moved to Oregon City and then to Forest Grove, Oregon. To them were born seven sons

and a daughter, Abigail. The sons included Marcus Whitman

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181

Walker and John Walker. James A. Karr had settled in Hoquiam in 1858, and held teach-

ing jobs in Cosmopolis and Montesano. Through a mutual friend he met Abigail Walker, who was teaching in Hillsboro, Oregon. They married in 1863 and settled on Karr’s Hoquiam claim. Some

time later Abigail’s brother,

John Walker,

came

to

Grays Harbor and took up a claim on the old Indian trail between Axford Prairie and “Old Kettle’s” place. While proving up his claim, John Walker taught school at Axford for a year. He married Jeanette “Nettie” Morrison of St. Johns, New Brunswick, and

brought his bride to Hoquiam. After John’s death Nettie became a librarian in Aberdeen, and later the first county school superintendent. Marcus Whitman Walker, who had been teaching in the vicinity of Forest Grove, Oregon, married Sarah Margaret Junkin in 1868. To them were born six sons, two of whom died in infancy. In the spring of 1885 Marcus Whitman Walker filed on a claim at Axford Prairie and built a cabin. He returned to Oregon for his family, moving all his goods by packhorse from three miles above New London, a place they had reached by scow and rowboat from Montesano via Hoquiam. In 1887, to provide his family with a better home, Walker sent out for mill irons, a saw, belts

and other necessities for a small sawmill, which he built on Big Creek. In time he furnished lumber for many homes in the Axford Prairie region. The Walker sons had no opportunity to attend a school until 1889, when Mrs. James (Anna) Lindsay, who had arrived in the

Humptulips Valley the year before, started teaching in her home on the lower end of Stevens Prairie at Humptulips. John and Richard Walker rode the four miles horseback from Axford Prairie. Later a schoolhouse was built in a corner of the Walker homestead. Other pupils at Humptulips were Roy and Charles Lindsay, and the Brittain children, Lydia, Fred, Charlie and Darwin.

Herman and Jeremiah Walker took up claims on the west branch of the Humptulips, and in October 1892 Jerry Walker, along with John McCamat and James Newbury, split puncheon for a road from Axford Prairie to Humptulips. Meanwhile Mar-

cus Whitman Walker built a store, hotel and barns, while his wife, Maggie, became Axford postmistress in 1891. She died in

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Up the Creeks and Valleys

1897, Marcus Walker in 1902. The four sons, Herman, Jeremiah, Richard and John, were to

become widely known as the “Walker brothers,” and to come into possession of considerable timber, logging up and down both branches of the Humptulips for twenty years. The family, third to settle on Axford Prairie, is still closely identified with the region with such names as Walker Road, and “Walker Bottom.”

Upon Maggie Walker’s death, Sadie Brown was appointed Axford postmaster and used a unique distributing system when she was away from her cabin: each Axford settler was given a certain stump near the Brown cabin upon which mail was placed in a covered tin can. One of the first of several bachelor settlers on the Prairie was W. A. Dawson, who arrived in 1883. Others were Clem Brown,

T. L. Knauss, Billy Pearson, and Hugh Hopkins who had adjoining claims. R. J. Robinson, a Pennsylvania Dutchman, took up a claim in 1892 near Billy Dawson. Robinson did not remain a bachelor long, for he was taken with and married a Swiss girl in Hoquiam. Seth Traver took up a claim near Robinson, while Captain W. A. Thompson of the Romp also was a homesteader. Harry Byng, born in Scotland and an arrival in Hoquiam in 1887, told of an Indian known

as “Chief Tamooya,” who sup-

posedly took out U.S. citizenship papers and filed on a claim in the vicinity of Axford Prairie. Some time later Chief Tamooya was inissing. His squaw and horses were found in the Indian village near the mouth of the Humptulips. “Old Kettle” was suspected of doing away with Tamooya, but it was never proved. However, Old Kettle did take over the chief's squaw and his land,

living on the Axford Prairie claim in the summertime. In the early eighties Joe Kelly was a prominent figure in the Humptulips country, much sought as a claim location finder for early settlers. As such he located the Clyde family and many others. Kelly was a small man who was seldom seen without his big 45-60 Winchester, which on one occasion he lugged all the

way through the timber to the Quinault. This early 1890 trip made Kelly the first white to trek from the Hoquiam into the Quinault country. To help settlers reach their claims, Kelly busied himself blaz-

ing a trail from the west branch of the Hoquiam to Big Creek in

Up the Creeks and Valleys

183

the Axford region. With the help of Andy Smith, Kelly cut a pack trail over his blazed route. Kelly later cruised a route for a road

from Stevens Prairie (Humptulips City) to Quinault Lake. In 1884, John Angelo bought from Charles Stevens the lands known as Stevens Prairie. Stevens, who also had his name affixed to Stevens Creek, had quit the Humptulips country to start a grist mill in Cosmopolis. With his wife and family, Angelo settled on the lower end of the prairie on the north bank of the Humptulips. There was no bridge across the Humptulips, and the Angelos often were called upon to ferry travelers across in a canoe. When a road was opened in 1886 from New London, hardly more than widening of the trail to accommodate wagons, John Angelo began freighting with a team. Next to settle near Stevens Prairie was Gust Murhard, who

began logging near Snohomish at the age of eighteen. He and his father, Otto Murhard,

a native of Germany,

moved

to Porter

Creek, where they logged on a small scale. The enterprise was a disaster financially, for the one raft of logs they had put into the water was lost when the boomsticks parted and logs were carried to sea, leaving Gust flat broke.

Still interested in timber, Gust Murhard in 1886 made a trip into the Humptulips prospecting. In 1888, he selected a claim on the river four miles from the Angelos, where he built a split-cedar

house. He married Kate Hottois, who had preempted a claim adjoining his upriver. In the years that followed Murhard cleared land, farmed, located prospective settlers, and freighted supplies upriver. He was considered the best white canoeman on the

Humptulips, and made his own canoes. After an unusually big freshet washed out the upper log jam in the Humptulips and the big jam at the river mouth was dynamited, Murhard began handlogging for himself, floating the logs to the boom at the mouth of the Humptulips. In 1911, after twenty-three years on the Humptulips, Murhard sold his place and moved to Hoquiam to engage in the real estate business. He dropped dead at his home May 1, 1922. In some respects Kate Hottois Murhard did more pioneering

than her husband. She not only was the first bride in the Humptulips Valley, but she proved a claim in her own right. She was born January 10, 1867, in Erie County, New York. At the age of sixteen she went to Cleveland, Ohio, where she learned the dress-

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Up the Creeks and Valleys

making trade. Three years later she joined her two brothers, who had homesteaded in Michigan, where she remained two years. Meanwhile

her older sister, Tena, who with her husband,

Myron Horr, had taken a claim in the Wynooche Valley, kept writing Kate to come west. During a depression in the winter of 1887, Kate decided to move. She took a train to Washington Territory in April, 1888, landing at Tenino over the newly-completed Northern Pacific, then over a narrow-gauge line to Olympia. From Olympia it was a thirty-four-mile ride in a freight wagon to Montesano, with a stop for dinner at the Blockhouse Smith place. When Kate asked Smith how much she owed for the dinner, Smith

said: “Two

bits.” Kate looked

so perplexed,

Smith

explained

“Twenty-five cents, miss.” Prior to Kate Hottois’s arrival on Grays Harbor, her brotherin-law Myron Horr had met Gus Murhard, then a locator, in the

Wynooche country. Through Murhard, Horr filed by proxy a claim just above Murhard’s for his sister-in-law Kate. Kate arrived in Montesano May 1, 1888, stayed until September to earn a little money dressmaking, then, accompanied by Horr, Tena and their daughter Edith Lucile, went to New London. There the party was met by John Angelo and his wagon. Angelo took them to his place on Stevens Prairie, from where they tramped four miles upriver to Kate's claim. Kate Hottois spent eight months on her claim, four of them alone, and then returned to Montesano to resume dressmaking. On February 13, 1890, she married Gus Murhard and returned to

the woods, where she and Gus lived until 1911. They saw some grueling times, such as the winter of 1892-93, when just before Christmas six feet of snow fell within twenty-four hours. It took Gus and Kate almost twelve hours to shovel a path from their cabin to the barn, and another day to clear a path to the creek so the cattle could be watered. Gus made a pair of snowshoes of vine maple laced with elk hide with which he could walk over the sixfoot fence he had built around an acre garden patch. The Murhards were not alone in the hardships of Humptulips pioneering. Several other families lived above them on the river, including two German cabinetmakers who had been located by Murhard. One was “Little Chris” Bechbessinger, the other named Baumgartner, who had a wife and son.

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185

The two Germans raised themselves a large crop of cabbage one year and decided to make sauerkraut and market it in Hoquiam. They made eight spruce barrels, filled them with kraut, and then mulled the problem of getting them to Hoquiam. Being practical men, they dumped the barrels into the river, hoping to float them to the mouth and then tow them to Hoquiam. Murhard had heard of their plan and cautioned them about the big log jams in the river. The Germans disregarded the cautioning. The first barrel bobbled down the current and was picked up downriver by a settler named Hess, who thought it was a stray barrel. Then the other seven barrels came boiling down the rapids and promptly disappeared under the log jam. One barrel escaped and the Germans sold it at Humptulips. Newton Brittain, his wife Mary Jane, and their three children

Lydia, Fred, and Charles started west from Iowa in 1882, traveling by train to San Francisco and by ship, the George W. Elder, to Seattle. In the spring of 1883 they moved to Olympia, where Newton Brittain fell in with Joe Kelly, who persuaded him to investigate the Humptulips country. Following up on Kelly’s persuasion, Brittain located a claim on the river and built a shack at

the mouth of a creek where a spring furnished clear, cool water. Brittain batched

in his shack during 1887 and in May,

1888,

moved his family to the claim. With them came Charles C. Sargent, brother to Mary Jane Brittain, and his family, who located on the Humptulips across from Brittain. In 1889 Newton Brittain began logging the timber on his claim, putting the logs into the Humptulips. In 1902 Brittain replaced the first family “shanty” with a fine new house, with the lumber cut in the Walker mill. Lydia Brittain married Norman McDonald, who later was to operate the Hoquiam ferry, and in 1906 Fred Brittain married Annie Groseclose of Humptulips. After several years of logging Fred Brittain decided to go into the bee business, starting with a few captured wild swarms. The hives multiplied until Brittain was keeping 300, and in 1927 he marketed thirty tons of honey. In 1911 Charley Brittain married Ethel Snyder in Portland and brought her to a cabin above Murhard’s. A son, Wayne Sargent Brittain, was born to them November 6, 1913.

Charles C. Sargent, brother to Mrs. Newton Brittain, mar-

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Up the Creeks and Valleys

ried Kate Monroe, the couple living on a Humptulips claim for a time, then moving to Aberdeen. They became the parents of five children, Roy, Nellie, Jessie, Jennie, and Ethel. Roy Sargent mar-

ried Isabell McDermoth, daughter of the pioneer minister Charles McDermoth. Their three children were Charles McDermoth “Sonny” Sargent (1907-1921), in whose memory the Sonny Sargent trophy is given at Aberdeen High School, Ethel Catherine, and Roswell Monroe Sargent. For many years Roy Sargent engaged in logging, then became Aberdeen city treasurer and later he served as mayor of Aberdeen. Shortly after Kluck and Davidson built their store, E. R. Davis and his father-in-law R. Best, built another structure hous-

ing the Pioneer

Late in 1892,

Fred

a bachelor, purchased the Kluck and Davidson

store

and the stock from the Best and Davis store. Williams became postmaster.

then

Williams,

Hotel and a small store.

In 1898, N. T. “Bud” Loomis, a pioneer of Quinault, traded

30 head of cattle to Fred Williams for his store at Humptulips. Bud Loomis

married in 1907 and in 1918 his wife, Emma,

was ap-

pointed postmaster. She served for thirty years. Fred Williams, a bachelor, opened his store at Humptulips in the 1890s. His flour sacks bore the name “F. F. Williams.” With cloth scarce on the frontier, and with flour sacks made of sturdy stuff, it was customary for women’s undergarments to be made of the sacks. Williams name was printed with indelible ink, and more than one Humptulips Valley woman had “F. F. Williams” stamped across the seat of her unmentionables. “Advertising” was one problem for frontier women. Another was having to “coon” across a fallen tree that had been felled and limbed to bridge a canyon or gully. In “cooning,” a user of such a crosslog straddled the log and inched along, a difficult feat for women with long dresses. Kate Murhard refused to do such a thing one time when two men watched. To the surprise and admiration of the men, she hitched up her skirt ankle-high and walked across, not daring to look to the boulder-strewn stream thirty feet below. The “Promised Land,” a rather poor and soggy section of the Humptulips country, came by its name by the misadventures of George Walker, who arrived on the scene in 1889 from Arkansas. Walker claimed he was a minister of the gospel, and that the people

Up the Creeks and Valleys

187

in the valley would have to support him. Otto Murhard soon put him right: “In this country every man works for a living.” So, after selecting a claim, Walker decided to become a claim locator

himself, though he didn’t know a blaze on a tree from a fire in an iron stove.

Walker picked a spot in a swampy area poorer soil, and agreed to locate three men the three saw the property they refused to proached Gust Murhard with his complaint

with poor timber and for $50 apiece. When accept it. Walker apwhen Otto Murhard,

Gust’s father, intervened: “Well, preacher, you showed them the

promised land. If they didn’t want it, it’s not your fault.” From that incident came

the name

“Promised

Land,” which came

to

mean just about the “nowhere” of pioneer days. It was an area that drained sluggishly into the Copalis River. It was often said by other settlers that a man would get foot rot just passing through the Promised Land; yet there were many who entered to file and prove up on claims. Some took homesteads under the preemption law, which required only six months’ residence on the land along with payment of $1.25 per acre. Others took timber claims at $2.20 per acre with no residence required. Still others gained title by living on the land for the required five years and making the required “improvements.” Subterfuge often came into play here: where there was supposed to be glass in the window, a whiskey bottle was set on the windowsill. A requirement for residents was the planting of some sort of crops. One early settler grafted a number of apple shoots onto young wild crabapples. He had himself the start of an orchard. When he “proved” and departed, a neighboring homesteader dug up the trees and replanted them as his own “improvement.” In turn he proved and departed, and again the trees were moved (suffering some in growth). All told, four homesteaders utilized one “orchard.” John L. Bockover and his wife settled on a Promised Land

claim, but sold their relinquishment to Proctor and Sadie Brown and took another claim at Neilton. Bockover was widely known as “Wildcat John,” because he had killed so many wildcats. Judge Luther Kirkpatrick of Humptulips told how “Wildcat John” and his neighbor “Cougar Ben” (Ben Newnham, Jr.) were plodding down a skidroad one day and happened to meet a

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Up the Creeks and Valleys

stranger going the other way. “Cougar Ben” had tail, the big cat clawing and growling something John” was holding a wildcat at arms length by neck. The cat was spitting and hissing. The stranger stopped in alarm, sputtering: are you fellows going with them animals?”

a couger by the fierce. “Wildcat the nape of the

“What. ..where

“Oh, we're taking ‘em home to kill ‘em,” replied the hunters.

Dewitt Lincoln Boyd, a nephew of Abraham

Lincoln, his

wife, Mary Ramsdall Boyd, and three children, Bernice, Everett, and Beryl, arrived in Tacoma December 17, 1887, from South

Dakota. While in Tacoma they took nine-year-old Ed O’Connor, an orphan from England, to raise. Then on June 1, 1890, the family reached the Promised Land. In 1893-95 Boyd built the Evans Hotel in Humptulips City. The Robert Quinn family reputedly were the first settlers to enter the Promised Land by wagon. Mrs. Quinn had brought her cookstove, bedstead, and other household goods all the way from

Minnesota and was “bound and determined” to get them to the Quinn claim. To do so a road had to be slashed first. It took Quinn, Richard Best, and a man named Lathrop three days, but

the “road” was good enough to get the ox-drawn wagon to the claim. The yoke of oxen, Buck and Bright, belonged to Charley Sargent. Robert Quinn worked for a time at the Grays Harbor Commercial Company plant in Cosmopolis, to earn money for proving his claim. His wife and two sons, Theodore “Rube” and Roy, remained

on the claim except when they moved to an abandoned cabin on Stevens Creek so the boys could be near the school in Humptulips City. While they were away from their claim a claim-jumper built a cabin on the northeast corner. Discovering this, Mrs. Quinn took down Quinn’s 30-30, ushered her two sons to the jumper’s cabin, and proceeded to raze it. Nothing was ever heard of the claimjumper. The Quinn boys returned to their school. In the seven years between the autumn of 1917 and 1924 the Humptulips Valley population was swelled by an influx of disillusioned and hard-used Yugoslav coal miners and their families from the Cascades mining town of Roslyn. They had come originally from the little village of Delice in Croatia, some as early as 1910, to work

their way across the Midwest,

then through

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189

Utah, Montana, and eventually into Washington’s Cascades. They had encountered much labor trouble enroute, and in the Cascades mines they were again plagued by labor disputes. It was there, during a prolonged strike, they were found by Dan Bowes, an Aberdeen real estate dealer. Bowes was trying to dispose of a large area of tracts on Axford Prairie. He approached the Yugoslav miners at the right time. They wanted to move. With Dan Bowes’ persuasion, Phillip Tometich, his wife, and three sons were first to make the move. Then came Tom Petrich, his wife, two sons, and two daughters; John Dragecevich, his

wife, three daughters and a son; Martin Bevandich, who was to be joined later by his wife and daughter from Yugoslavia; Dan Blazina, his wife and son; Vinko Franciscovich, joined in 1920 by his wife, daughter, and son from Yugoslavia; George Malasevich, his wife, two sons, and two daughters; Bozo Starkovich, to be

joined by his wife and son in 1920; Blaz Starkovich, his wife and three sons; and Fred Starkovich,

his wife and four sons. More

than twenty other families settled on the Walker road and the Bowes road. On the Walker road settled Tony Starkovich, his wife, three sons, and three daughters; Stanley Budeselich with his wife, a son, a daughter, and his father, Matt Budeselich; Jack Mara, his wife, and two sons; Roy Gateson, his wife, three sons, and five daughters; George Ozbolt, his wife, daughter, and son; John Polich, his wife, and three children; Nick Sertich, a bachelor who

later went to Yugoslavia for a bride and her son by a former marriage; Matt Snyder, his wife, two sons, and two daughters; Joe Rukich, a bachelor; and Mike Iskra, whose wife came in 1920 with two sons from Yugoslavia.

On the Bowes road to the west of the Highway 101-Walker road junction settled John Golick, his wife, and three sons; Fred

Brolz, his wife and son (in three years her other two sons came from Yugoslavia); Frank Matko, his wife, son, and daughter; Rudolph Ozanich, his wife, son, and daughter; Tony Matko, his

wife and two daughters; Tony Plesha and his wife; Joe Kramzer, bachelor; and John Zapan and his wife. The colonists came two families at a time, their belongings and livestock filling a boxcar, which was usually sidetracked at Copalis Crossing. From there their belongings were freighted by

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Ubp the Creeks and Valleys

wagon, and the cattle driven north to the old Walker bridge across the Humptulips and up the Walker road to where it deadended in the woods and brush. When they came to the end of the

road the women threw up their hands in dismay. This indeed was the end of nowhere. In the years to come the colonists managed to clear enough land for gardens and pasture, while the men went to work for the Polson logging enterprises, most of them on the railroad then winding its way toward the Quinault country.

THE QUINAULT VALLEY While the Humptulips Valley was being settled in 1888 there was similar activity in the Quinault Valley, but on a smaller scale and by a different route. Alfred Noyes is chronicled as the first white settler, coming up the Quinault River with the Indians in 1888 and spending the 1888-89 winter trapping. The first white to post a claim in the valley, in August 1889, was Joseph N. Locke. He had left Minnesota intent on going to Juneau, Alaska, but was sidetracked by a Minnesota neighbor who had moved to Washington Territory and settled at Montesano. The Locke family at the same time was entertaining a man who had spent the summer prospecting in the Olympics. This man was so enthusiastic about the “wonderful Quinault Valley and its beautiful lake” that Joseph Locke decided to see for himself. Accordingly, he left Montesano late in July 1889, armed with a jackknife, a small pole axe, and enough food for two weeks in the woods. He struck out up the Wynooche with no trail to follow and crossed over into the Wishkah watershed, fortunately hitting the Blackwell & Miller logging camp No. 1, the original Wishkah logging camp, then on the forks of the stream. From the Wishkah he crossed the divide above the forks of the Humptulips, coming out on what was called ‘The Spur” between the Humptulips and the Quinault. There he caught a glimpse of Quinault Lake. Once on the lake, he made a raft, and with a blanket sail, made the upper

shore of the lake, where he staked rough canoe and made his way Taholah, where he walked down taken by a sailboat to Hoquiam. Locke, with two brothers

a claim. Then he gouged out a down the Quinault River to the beach to ae and was

and

two

sons,

wintered

in

Up the Creeks and Valleys

191

Montesano, Joseph saying it would be an unnecessary hardship to winter at Quinault. However, the winter was rather mild and good weather came early, so in February the Lockes boarded the Cruiser in Montesano and transferred to Captain Kirkaldie’s Tillie in Hoquiam for the trip to Damon’s Point. At Oyehut they found an Indian who introduced himself as “Josep Coppomine” and “mine cousin Fled Pop.” Further introduction elicited: “I weigh from 160 to 170 and I am pitty good lassler, pitty quick, too. I can loll [roll] ober just like a marble.” This was the man the Lockes were to learn was Joe Capoeman,

and a friend for life. From Oyehut Joseph Locke hiked to the “Agency” at Taholah to get a team. Two days later a small Indian, Andree Jackson, and a bony team arrived to move the Locke goods. They landed at Taholah that night, and then, waiting until the Jackson family took care of a dying relative, they spent four days in the Jackson canoe, arriving at Lake Quinault March 4, 1900.

At Taholah the Lockes had seen Alfred Noyes, who had

wintered at the lake, and had been brought to the Agency suffering from acute appendicitis. Dr. Hudson, the Agency doctor, said Noyes could not live. Noyes was determined. He said he would live. He did. He died many years later after being thrown from a bucking horse. Shorty Axtel, the sea otter hunter, was living in Noyes’ cabin and trapping when the Lockes arrived. Jack Smith and Yeager had spent the winter in Joseph Locke’s cabin, which they had added

on to, and had a smokehouse full of elk meat. In the spring of 1890 the Seattle Press-Times was sponsoring an expedition which had started in the fall of 1889 from the Strait of Juan de Fuca, to the Elwha, and up through the Quinault country. This expedition with its accompanying publicity stimulated interest in the Quinault Valley, as did the next expedition under U.S. Army Lieutenant O'Neil, who traversed the Olympics from Hoodsport. Then, following the O'Neil trail, came Alfred V. Higley with

his son O. L. “Ort” Higley. Having finished a contract to help clear the townsite of Anacortes, he decided to take a trip across the Olympics. This was done in company with Pete Harney, Fritz Herbert Leather, recently from London, England, “Ort” Higley, and a man named LeBarr. The party traveled by way of Cushman Lake, the Duckabush divide, then to the Quinault divide near

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Up the Creeks and Valleys

Hart Lake. The party took five days down the east fork of the Quinault River to Lake Quinault, where they found Rob and Phil Locke on their father’s homestead. Leather filed on a homestead and returned to Seattle. At the time the Higleys went to Hoquiam for supplies and moved onto Lake Quinault, the freight rate from Hoquiam was $5 per 100 pounds. It was reduced to $4 that fall. Twenty-five cents were for crossing North Bay from Hoquiam to Oyehut, the other portion divided in halves for the beach freighters and the river freighters. The Higleys soon went into river freighting and made a living for several years carrying freight from Taholah to the lake in canoes. When the freight rate fell to $1.50 per 100 pounds they quit the business. In the winter of 1890-91 mail came from Hoquiam. Any settler coming in would pick up the mail and carry it to the Lockes at the head of the lake. Late in the winter the settlers agreed to take turns going to Humptulips for the mail once a week. About this time Dr. O. G. Chase was appointed postmaster for the lake and immediately appointed A. V. Higley as his acting assistant. Supplies for the Quinault post office arrived on the first trip carried by Orvie Peeler. In the autumn of 1891 a survey party, consisting mostly of young engineers just out of college, attempted to survey the Quinault Indian Reservation. They started from a township corner south of Lake Quinault and ran a line to the top of the divide. There they ran out of supplies and because one of them had a devil's club spine in one finger which had become very painful, the party decided to go to Lake Quinault and finish the line later. The afflicted man was taken to Hoquiam for treatment, where

a doctor removed the finger. The others decided to “meander” the lake before going back to the line again. Hiring Chesney and Anton Kestner, the crew worked for thirty days on the meander of the lake,

gave it up as a bad job, and departed. The next summer an engineer named Finch, with three men, made the survey in one-and-a-half days.

THE WISHKAH VALLEY The Wishkah Valley, although readily accessible by tide-

Up the Creeks and Valleys

193

water, was one of the last settled; but it was among the first ex-

ploited for its fabulous timber resources. In 1877, George N. Talcott, Hiram Allen, and Walter J. Milroy of Olympia, and Howard H. Lewis of Seattle, then Indian Agent for Washington Territory, made a trip up the Wishkah “on an outing and to hunt elk,” as Talcott described it. At the mouth of the river they found a one-story dwelling painted red. It was vacant. “On the left was a trapper living in a tent. He was a tall man, stood very straight. He had a rather long face and long black hair, inclined to be curly. He was not wishing to be sociable as he was slow to meet with us. I do not have his name.” Upstream a short distance on the same side the party camped in a shed “made of cedar puncheons. . . the floor was of the same.” The shed belonged to Sam Benn, who “lived on higher ground in his log house.” Talcott reported that, besides the Benn family, there were two Karr children and Miss Fannie Baldwin, a teacher

from Olympia. Leaving the Benn place, the party “some distance upstream” came to the home of a bachelor named Small. Directly in front of

his cabin he had cut a spruce tree level with the ground. The stump measured thirteen feet in diameter. “Some two or three years later this man was brought out from there and taken to the asylum at Fort Steilacoom.” At the head of tidewater and the forks of the

Wishkah there was “quite a nice house that had been painted but now looked the worse for wear.” This house was also vacant. The party went up the east branch until they came to “quite a bluff to the right,” from where they returned. At the mouth of the Wishkah they found Sam Benn and James Law in a canoe fishing. Sam Benn told Talcott: ‘George, I am going to have a city here some time.” Not long thereafter axes began to ring and bull teams to grunt throughout the Wishkah Valley. The new North Western sawmill in Hoquiam, starting operations in 1882, stirred loggers to action.

By 1886, Cy Blackwell, one of Grays Harbor’s first loggers, had built a four-gate ‘‘false-gate’’ dam above what was known as the “falls” on the upper west branch. He used a bull team to build the dam, but was to import in 1887 the first steam donkey engine, a Dolbeer, into the Grays Harbor woods. He used the Dolbeer first in clearing the townsite for Grays Harbor City west of Hoquiam,

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Up the Creeks and Valleys

then to log on the Wishkah. The second Dolbeer was brought in by Frank Miller in 1891 to log in the vicinity of the Wishkah falls. He later sold the machine to George H. Simpson, who formed the Wishkah Boom Company to catch, sort, and raft the great quantities of logs sluiced down the Wishkah to tidewater. Cy Blackwell “splashed” logs from his dam and over what was once a considerable “falls” on the west branch. This may have been the reason Joe M. Zembal was to say later there was no such thing as a falls, for as a trapper he had covered every foot of the stream and found nothing more than a steep riffle. On the other hand,

Mrs. Joe Malinowski,

who was

Elizabeth

Achey,

born on the upper Wishkah, said there ‘was too” a falls, for youngster she used to walk underneath it. It can be assumed the maelstrom of water and logs loosed by the Blackwell gorged the falls into a rapids and that both Joe Zembal Elizabeth Malinowski were correct in their observations.

as a that dam and

Then, around the turn of the century, Casimir Mankowski

took a sashay up the Wishkah. Here were uncountable acres of hillsides, benches, hogbacks, and bottoms, all sprouting some of

the biggest and finest stumps left by loggers in Chehalis County. All was underlaid by shot clay, great for tree-growing, but with barely enough nourishment to raise a hill of spuds. But no matter; the cutover land was cheap, and Mankowski had just the people to put upon it, his fellow countrymen from Poland. After viewing the Jand, and with the grapevine spreading a sunlit story of the Grays Harbor region, Mankowski, of the real estate firm of Mankowski & Jaklewicz, established for himself the

Washington

State Colonization Company,

to capitalize on the

eagerness of hard-grubbing Poles to own a piece of land. He didn’t dispel the dreams of other nationalities, but he concentrated on Polish emigrants who had relayed through Minnesota and Wisconsin. He took prospects on the long buggy ride to his township, showing them the glowing future and the stumps: “df the land can grow trees this big, just think what it can do for crops.” He “took” a lot of takers in twenty- and forty-acre chunks.

The Polish emigration seemed to filter mostly through Minneapolis where one arrival, perhaps working his way aboard a ship from the Old World, would in turn buy a ticket for another emigrant once he had earned the money in Minnesota's mines and

Up the Creeks and Valleys

195

timber. Soon a stream of emigrants was pouring into Minnesota and then to the Pacific Northwest. In Poland they had been actu-

ally starving on poor hills, heavily suppressed and taxed, and drinking in every word of freedom and promise from America. Joe Raby (not a Pole) was far up the west branch of the Wishkah. He had forty acres, and with his son Joe he worked in the woods to eke out a living. Next was Mike Rycz, who also had a “forty” upon which he operated a chicken ranch until he went blind. He, or someone for him, rigged wires from his dwelling to his outhouse, his woodshed, his well and pump. With a hand on his wires, he got around handily, even to baking bread. Along with these on the upper reaches was Walter Achey,

who had paddled and poled up the river in a shovel-nose canoe to carve a place out of the bottoms. His family was to be linked by marriage to that of Antone Malinowski, Wisconsin-born, who arrived on the Wishkah with three children, Edward, Joe, and Rose.

Joe Malinowski was to marry Elizabeth Achey, who referred to herself as a “timber wolf” because she was born in the woods of

the upper Wishkah. Antone Malinowski, coaxed into the valley by Antone Stawski, was fortunate enough to settle on a farm with a spread of rich bottom. His son Joe, however, did not take to ranching. In fact he had no taste or talent for raising vegetables, as was evidenced one time

when he was hired to weed the garden of William Turner, who operated the country post office at the forks of the Wishkah. Joe, directed to weed the beets, removed all the beets and left the weeds.

That seemed to indicate he had better go to the woods, which he did, eventually ending as caretaker of what was to become known as the “Malinowski dam,” a splash dam about five miles below the present Aberdeen city reservoir. The dam to everyone else except the Malinowskis was the last bit, of civilization on the Wishkah. Their friends and neighbors thought them continually lonesome, so the friends and neighbors became “neighborly,” descending upon the Malinowskis in twos, threes, and half-dozens, especially when the dam caretakers were about to sit down to dinner, which would consist

of the ever-present potatoes, a vegetable in season, and some venison or grouse Joe had poached on the nearby hillside, or meat from a valley butchering.

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Up the Creeks and Valleys

The solicitude of friends became so burdensome that the Malinowskis often tacked a note to the front door and took off up the river with a lunch and a fishing pole. The dam, like a lighthouse tender’s light, was the fixation of the Malinowski life. They lived by it, they worked by it, they slept by it; every moment was taken by the whims of the dam, which had to be watched day and night. When it came to a “splash” Joe would hike up the river to a smaller dam above to coordinate the timing, for the dams would be “splashed” in series. When the water began to rise in Malinowski’s dam, Joe pulled the “splash boards” on his gates, the cascading water weighing down the false gates and raising the main gates. Then Joe’s nape began to crawl. Once the gates were open Joe took to the float where, with a pikepole, he guided logs into the sluiceway. Here was danger in a most vivid and audible form. The tremendous rush of water roared, sucked, and foamed. Logs fairly plunged through the chutes to the great pool below to go dancing, some on end, down the ever-swelling river. No man had ever survived such a plunge. Yet along in 1911, the Malinowski’s small shepherd dog not only rode the storm of water, but survived. Mrs. Malinowski was sitting on the dam with a counter, or tally, in her hand checking off the logs as they raced away (she once tallied 667 logs in one splash) when the dog,

running and barking along the float, suddenly jumped upon a big log just about to enter the gate. Log and dog were gone in a twinkling, the dog clinging for dear life until the log catapulted into the swirling pool. It was inconceivable to Elizabeth Malinowski that any living thing could survive. She gave a gasp and gave the dog up for lost. When the gates were closed and the splash boards replaced, the Malinowskis went up to the house. They were just sitting down to dinner when they heard a scratching at the door. There, wet and bedraggled, was the little shepherd, whimpering and hungry.

The splash dams, not only Malinowski’s but two other main dams on the west fork and three dams on the east fork of the Wishkah, were a utility. They transported logs from the woods to tidewater, whereon they could be rafted and towed to the mills. The release of water and logs from the dams was a blessing to the

Up the Creeks and Valleys

197

logger. It got his production to market. But the surging rivers were a bane to the downstream ranchers who often watched the torrents gouging great chunks out of their meadows, flooding their fields when the logs jammed. Sometimes the bank-cutting was so bad a rancher could watch his henhouse join the surging logs. The dam builders operated their creations as a common carrier, sluicing down all logs in the river to a boom in the tidal Wishkah. In essence and usage the river became the property of the dam-operating company, and to hell with the ranchers. But there came

times when the hard-nosed ranchers, in their boots

smeared with cow manure, were less supple than the dam operators supposed. They may have stood on the bank swearing in several languages, the hills turning bluer therewith, but with their combined clout came legal action. Several times they joined together, hired a lawyer, and shut down the river by injunction tighter than a bull’s eye in fly time. Lawsuits sprouted all along the river, but in many cases did not replace the rancher’s washedaway orchard. It was upon one of these occasions that Joe Malinowski won fame and the adoration of the loggers. It was a dry summer, the river was full of logs, an injunction bound the river tighter than a hay-fed cow, and not a single logger could get money at the bank until he delivered his logs. Joe Malinowski surveyed the situation. He hadn't been paid either, but he did have quite a head of water in his dam. So, fiddling around on the dam one day, he “‘acciden-

tally” tripped a main gate. What ensued was a hat-tossing celebration, and some of the strongest language ever heard on the Wishkah. Another

Joe Malinowski

contribution,

in a round-about

way, was the Wynooche dam. For years he had been impressed with the possibilities of a power dam in the Wynooche gorge. He advocated such a structure to city officials in Aberdeen and to anyone else who would listen. To further his pet dream he filed for and acquired water rights in the gorge. These he offered free to any constituency that would build a dam. But it was not until 1953-54 that local governments on Grays Harbor, confronted with water supply, flooding, fisheries, and irrigation problems, requested Congress for a review of Wynooche dam feasibility. The review was made, the dam approved by Congress in

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1964. The Corps of Engineers thereupon picked a site near Simpson’s Camp Grisdale, completed all necessary preliminaries, and broke ground for the dam in August, 1969. Construction was completed in October, 1972, at a cost of $22 million, with the City

of Aberdeen shouldering much of the local support. Almost immediately the Rayonier pulp mill in Hoquiam ap-

plied for industrial water from the Wynooche after it had failed to get enough of good quality from the east branch of the Hoquiam by tunneling under Campbell Hill. Upon Rayonier’s request, Aberdeen built a diversion works on the lower Wynooche and tunneled through an adjacent hill to carry water to the man-made Lake Aberdeen on Van Winkle Creek and by a large pipeline to

the Hoquiam plant. In time another industrial water line was built to serve the Weyerhaeuser pulp mill in Cosmopolis. Joe Malinowski lived to see his dream come true. In time, when railroad logging phased out splash dams, Malinowski moved to town to become operator of the Aberdeen pumping station on Stewart Creek and later master mechanic for the city of Aberdeen. Memories of the “splashes” lingered on. Meanwhile,

even before the dams were drained for good,

there were indications the dam operators had come to the end of their rope. The Weekly Vidette of Montesano on May 31, 1901, carried this note: “The Wishkah Boom Company has been notified by United States Marshal Ide that the storage of logs on the Wishkah must be discontinued and the river kept clear. The company have arranged to store the logs in Mox Chuck hereafter, although this will necessitate a toll to be paid by the loggers, the amount of which has not yet been fixed. The action of the marshal was due to numerous complaints sent in by the ranchers.” Yet for some of the ranchers, and especially the kids, the splash not only was exciting, but productive. Hundreds of salmon

and other fish were stranded upon the bars as the flood receded. Theresa and Melanie Szepanski, much farther downstream, remembered searching the gravel bars for salmon. They gleaned

so many that the family finally tired of fish and fed large quantities to the chickens. However, this had to be discontinued, for the eggs began to smell and taste fishy. And then there was the harvest of crawfish, locally called “crawdads,” which could be

gathered from the bank and bars in great numbers, some measur-

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ing five and six inches in length. These were a cherished delicacy and eagerly sought after each splash. Yet the splash could be a very trying event, too. Frances Zembal recalled the time she lost her shoes and stockings and a cow in the rushing waters. She and some other children were driving cows across a gravel bar, carrying their shoes and stockings, when

the splash came without warning. The people at the dam above were supposed to blow a whistle when the gates were opened, but Frances Zembal and the others failed to hear. The children managed to scamper to shore after hearing the first sounds of the water. The cow, gingerly picking her way across the riffle, was caught in the torrent. She just disappeared, not to be seen again. The cow

was a considerable

loss to the Zembals,

for the

family relied heavily upon the herd’s milk for butter and cheese. Meat was not particularly a problem to provide but it was a problem to preserve. They jerked meat, smoked it, and hung it as high as they could get in a handy tree. There, if properly prepared, it would dry and keep for some time. Then there was the common method of salting, but this entailed considerable soaking to get the meat palatable again. The Poles seemed to have a method all their own, brought along from Poland. Glass jars were crammed full of raw meat— beef, venison,

or elk—ieaving no air space, then the jars were

sealed as tightly as possible and buried in a stream, completely covered. The meat kept fresh for more than a month, though if

the jars were not filled to the lid, the top portion would discolor and have to be discarded. Pork was precooked and then “put down” in layers, with pork fat or lard between. In this way it would keep indefinitely, or at least until the family tired of pork. The family’s sweet tooth was satisfied at first with honey, both wild and domesticated. Wild honey came easily by chopping down “bee trees,” while most of the ranchers had a colony of beehives started with swarms from the wild. Joe Zembal recalled that his family had a dozen or more hives, some sacrificed to

marauding honey-hungry bears. The Zembals had a barrel of honey on hand most of the time, a jar of honey on the table all the time. The family, or at least Joe, became sick of honey and preferred to eat the morning mush unsweetened. The families, come

spring, also tired of sauerkraut, which

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could be “put down” in great quantities from the big cabbages grown on the bottoms. After innumerable meals, and the crocks

not yet empty, much of the remaining sauerkraut was sprinkled upon the hay to the delight of the cattle. Besides the milk cow, the bees, and garden patch, the Polish colony, like so many other pioneers, had access to the wild foods,

notably berries. It was in this regard that Theresa and Melanie Szepanski became privy to some mysterious goings-on in the canyons. While picking berries they noticed furtive comings and goings, and wagonloads of sugar disappearing into the woods. In time their curiosity led them to several moonshine stills bubbling merrily— tended, not surprisingly, by some of the neighbors. It was common knowledge that a few ranchers were doing things other than farming or logging, and that one of the settlement’s women was the biggest bootlegger in the valley, but the Szepanski girls never let on they knew the sources of the white lightning supply. The Zembals were a considerable family in the Wishkah country. Around the turn of the century four brothers who lived upon a small hard-ground place in Poland had made their way in relays, one sending a ticket for the next brother, to Minneapolis. From there they filtered in much the same way to Grays Harbor. Florian Zembal was the first, acquiring forty acres through Casimir Mankowski and his Washington State Colonization Company. Then came Mike Zembal for his “forty,” but he was more choosy, picking bottom land on both sides of the river. Then came Thaddeus and Carl Zembal,

the latter to remain in

Aberdeen. Joe Zembal, son of Mike Zembal, was born on the Wishkah. He did not see a ship, a sawmill, a drygoods store, or a saloon until

he was fifteen. He was to become a trapper and work in the logging camps. His sister, Frances, was regarded as the luckiest girl in the valley, because at fourteen she had an opportunity to enter St. Rose Academy in Aberdeen for her eighth grade education. Prior to that she and some ten other children in the all-Polish community had attended a one-room school, the first teacher of which was

Sarah Dorsey. Neither the teacher nor any of the children could speak a word of English. The little schoolhouse also served as the community church, Father Broska of Aberdeen appearing one Sunday a month to care

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201

for the Catholic Polish flock. Out of a welter of Polish names he could say mass for a sizeable congregation. Although not all attended church, Father Broska could scan such a list: Zelepuza, Sak, Kozial, Knysk, Jefernick, Makos, Maslowski, Gabresewski, Szepanski, Manikoski, Zembal, Scutor, Rysz, Bonk, Walczyk, Fosjack, Segai, Snarski, Pekola, Stawski, Malinowski, and some non-Poles like Hannick, McDougall, McBride, Lesman, Raby,

Zigman. If they were not all Catholics, been and gone to church, for the valley accounts, both men and women. They stirred turmoil. Two were unlamented

perhaps they should have had a few “hellions,” by all kept tongues wagging and when they came to their

demise. One, considered an outlaw, shot himself after his wife left

him and neighbors rebelled against him. Another, who had deserted a wife in the east and had his neighborhood constantly in an uproar, was blowing stumps one day when a charge failed to go off. As he probed, the charge let go. Neighbors collected him from acres around.

THE HOQUIAM

VALLEY

In another valley, the Hoquiam, was a woman who made the word “indomitable” the locution for Grays Harbor pioneer women. She was Karina Egge, who joined the ranks of such as Lorinda Scammon, Susanna McFarland, and Anna Maria James, but she was dauntless with a lilt. In some unaccountable way—mostly by necessity—Karina Egge was attuned to pioneer life, however harsh. She adapted; she harmonized. The thrush that trilled beyond sundown filled her with a deep sense of belonging. A blue grouse exploding from a dust wallow thrilled her. Winter storms, though difficult, were exhilarating. She lived, and she did it with a song. Karina Egge became the wife of Peter Hansen Egge, who found the Grays Harbor country through a sister who had settled there in the eighties. He had arrived from Norway in his sixteenth year to take a job on the railway line to Ocosta. While grubbing right-ofway young Peter Egge was thinking farther afield. In time he met Amund Ellingson, who had homesteaded at the head of tidewater on the Hoquiam and was dragging logs into the stream with a bull team. Ellingson was also selling portions of his homestead. Peter

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Egge bought a portion and sent to Norway for Karina. Nothing in her homeland could quite compare with the unsparing place she found on the Hoquiam River. The dense forest had been partly cut, and the stumps were almost the size of Norwegian houses. The place had already been named New London, with the Ellingsons logging and operating a hotel in which Lena Ellingson was the cook. The hotel housed timber cruisers,

claim locators and homesteaders, settlers, prospectors, or whoever else ventured beyond tidewater. They paid Lena Ellingson twentyfive cents a meal and twenty-five cents for a bed, and were more than happy to have a roof and a full stomach. Amund Ellingson drowned in the Hoquiam as he logged, a tragedy that caught Lena Ellingson with eleven children to support. The hotel, and its accompanying warehouse on the bank of the Hoquiam, continued. Off in the timber and stumplands were such neighbors as Jerry McGillicuddy, Helge Ellingson, Nels Amundson, the Nels Olson family, the Greens, the Woods, Gene

and Hez Stowe—father and son—all of whom had bought land from Ellingson, and the John Olson family with their eighteen children. All except the Amundsons and the Egges were burned out in the great fire of September 1902, which created Grays Harbor’s “dark day” of distressing memories. Peter Egge and Karina in 1892 built a big four-bedroom house just in time for the great snow of 1893. Peter went to work for Davis & Dineen in their logging camp, was slashed across the face

by a mainline, and became an invalid for the remainder of his life. Karina had four children and an invalid husband for whom to provide, so she rolled up her sleeves, stomped her foot in determination, and provided.

She milked five cows,

churned the butter,

made the cheese, slopped the hogs, fed the calves with her hand in the milk pail, sawed the wood, pitched the hay, cooked the food, and did the washing. For cash to buy other necessities, Karina tramped from logging camp to logging camp, collecting and

delivering loggers’ laundry which she scrubbed in her own washtubs. Somehow, in all those trying years, Karina Egge found be postmistress for six years, clerk for the district school midwife for most of the children born in the New London and an attendant who helped “lay out” the dead. She was

time to board, region, also in

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203

demand for her special cream cake, the recipe for which she had brought from Norway and made for neighborhood birthday parties and other social functions. Through all this she sang, which made her someone unique even among extraordinary pioneer women. She had what was termed a “fine contralto voice,” which she used lustily when herding the stock, milking the cows, hoeing the spuds, washing clothes, or for the infrequent church services. Song seemed to sus-

tain her and she used it to accompany virtually every chore, to the wonderment of all within earshot. She was a small woman, vigorous, strong-willed, stubbornly independent, sensitive, compassionate, deeply religious. When she was ninety-two, with death next door and no preacher at hand, one of her children asked if she would like the Lord’s Prayer said to her. She replied: “No,

I'll say it myself.” Which she did; and died moments later. Among Karina Egge’s noteworthy contributions to the pioneer scene were her children, particularly daughters Constance (Connie) and Olena, who grew up in the image of their mother.

Connie became a logging camp cook, a satisfying work. However, she quit the camps in 1921 to purchase in company with her sister Olena the thirty-room Quinault hotel on Lake Quinault. This was a huge log structure started by A. V. Higley, who had tramped

through the Olympic passes from Port Blakely. In time the building housed the Ingram store and the Quinault post office, called “Olson” when the family of John A. Olson acquired it. It was from the Olson brothers that the Egge sisters acquired the hotel. Connie tired of the operation in 1924 and went back to logging-camp cooking, leaving her interest to Olena.

As full owner

Olena had little time to enjoy what had

become a very profitable business. In August of 1924 Olena, with her children and others from the neighborhood, climbed to Finley Ridge lookout station. The entire Quinault Valley, including Lake Quinault, was blanketed by a dense layer of fog. As the climbers looked down upon the fog a smoke pillar rose from the south side of the lake.

In the still air the smoke towered higher than the surrounding hills like an eerie eruption from a vast snowfield. And just then the telephone jingled in the lookout. A frantic voice asked “if Olena Seaman was there. . .tell her the hotel is burning.” Return-

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ing, Olena found the hotel a heap of hot embers. Olena sold her lease to Frank L. McNeil, who built a new and

widely-recognized hostelry upon the site, and went to Portland to put her two sons, Sidney and William, into a military academy. She didn’t like the way the academy was operated, so she bought it and operated it herself. Before long she had a hundred boys as students, and another successful enterprise. Once her sons were out of the academy, Olena sold and returned to Grays Harbor to continue her business career, including a gift shop. On Friday, October 1, 1937, Frank McNeil entertained and

fed President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, then on a sweep around the Olympic Peninsula. In the hotel lobby sat Nancy Snell, determined to shake hands with the President. Roosevelt’s protective agents sought to oust Nancy, but she refused to budge. She was buxom and weighty, and the agents weren't about to carry her bodily out of the lobby. So they left her sitting. When Roosevelt entered, Nancy Snell was one of the first to greet him. He gave her a big grin and a handshake, for which Nancy almost floated out of the lobby in ecstasy. The luncheon that day had a distinctive Quinault flavor: Quinault dills, ripe olives, pickled peaches, clam chowder, molded

vegetable salad, broiled Chinook salmon with egg sauce, whipped potatoes, green peas, Grays Harbor cottage cheese, currant jelly, hot rolls, tea, milk, coffee, and buttermilk, all noted on a special

menu printed for the occasion. The President lit a cigarette in its long holder, sagged in his chair, and proclaimed himself a satisfied man. He then returned to Washington, D. C., to approve great expansions of Olympic National Park.

Chapter S Boomtowns and Beaches

ft many parts of the West, Grays Harbor had its towns of boom and bust. Two notable examples were Grays Harbor City, three miles west of Hoquiam, and Ocosta (or “Ocosta-bythe-Sea,” as it was known at the time), an equal distance across

the bay east of Westport. Grays Harbor City was founded when George Washington Hunt of Walla Walla promised to make the city the terminus of a railroad he proposed to build from Centralia to Grays Harbor as an outlet for the Centralia coal mines. Eastern investors early in 1889 signed a contract with Hunt and then with Harry E. Heermans of Hoquiam, and set about forming the Grays Harbor Land Company to exploit the Grays Harbor City site. Clearing of the hills and gullies began on April 13, 1889. A 6,600-foot wharf and trestle were built to the bay channel, streets were laid out and named, and a land office was opened. The first lots were sold July 20,

1889, none for less than $500, with buyers, mostly speculators, standing in line all night to be “one of the lucky ones to get lots.” Soon there were four hotels in Grays Harbor City. One of them was a hotel-restaurant combination called Freeland House,

operated by Mose Freeland, who later would move to Hoquiam and operate the Capital Restaurant. There were the inevitable saloons—three of them—a grocery store, a livery stable, a number of private residences, and a wood-stave pipeline over the

hills to the Little Hoquiam River.

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Boomtowns

and Beaches

George W. Hunt did grade a railroad right-of-way from Hoquiam, but steel was never laid. The dream of a great city of the West died, and was soon buried in brush and second growth. In Hoquiam, however, the old timers reaped a harvest from the Grays Harbor City boom. Ed Campbell sold out at the crest of the tide. James A. Karr divided his pasture into lots and sold them as fast as he could write deeds. Hoquiam built a $100,000 hotel, the massive and ornate Hoquiam. A bank was started, with F. D. Arnold as president. The E. K. Wood Lumber Company began operating a mill at the third bend in the Hoquiam River in August 1892, and downstream the Hoquiam Sash and Door Company built a plant. Hoquiam incorporated as a city of the third class. About the time Grays Harbor City was clearing its townsite,

another railroad-connected enterprise was germinating: the Tacoma, Olympia & Pacific Railroad, a company set up by the Northern Pacific to take advantage of low-cost right-of-way, cash incentives from communities, and other concessions likely on a line proposed from the Northern Pacific junction at Nisqually to Olympia and Grays Harbor. Heading the company were Col. F. D. Heustis of Crawfordsville, Indiana, who was president and also contractor; H. A. Clark, Spokane Falls, secretary; Col. N. H. Owings, Olympia, treasurer; W. H. Calkins, Tacoma, and A. M. Cannon, Spokane Falls. Not long before this, the Port Blakely Mill Company purchased timber west of Kamilche on Skookum Inlet and started building a railroad under the direction of Sol G. Simpson, founder of the Simpson Timber Company. This line was incorporated as the Puget Sound & Grays Harbor Railroad. Steel was rapidly laid to Elma and then to the Chehalis River at Montesano to head off any other rail line bent on the same objective.

Meanwhile Hunt's line, the Walla Walla & Grays Harbor Railroad, was grading westward from Centralia, projecting Grays Harbor City as its terminus. However good Hunt's intent may have been, his finances failed, and his railroad company folded in 1892.

The Port Blakely Mill Company’s line had no connection with any major railway, no rolling stock to speak of, and no prospect of any freight business from Grays Harbor. So, rather than face condemnation by a common carrier railroad, the Port Blakely Mill

Boomtowns

and Beaches

207

Company sold its line from McCleary to Montesano to the Northern Pacific subsidiary, the Tacoma, Olympia & Pacific Railroad. With news of all this railroad activity, R. L. Austin, who owned a big ranch in the vicinity of Redman Creek, was smitten

with an electrifying idea. Despite the February cold, he pushed his rowboat into the water and pulled for Aberdeen. There he caught the ready ear of George F. Filley, a real estate man, who as fast as he could operate had eleven men rounded up, ready to buy Austin’s acreage and appoint a committee to meet with railroad officials. The eleven were F. G. Deckenbach and F. D. Arnold of Hoquiam, A. K. Phelen, H. C. Cooper, J. C. Phelen, W. H. Cramer, J. A. McGillicuddy and R. R. Jones of Montesano, and

R. Bogle, H. H. Carter, and J. B. Ellston of Aberdeen. They picked Arnold, Filley, Cooper, and Austin to offer the railroad company half interest in 1,000 acres of land at “Ocosta-by-the-Sea” if the railroad would make that its Pacific Ocean terminus. The railroad agreed, and started its survey down the south shore of the harbor March 10, 1890. (The selection of the name is credited to Mrs. George E. Filley

and William H. Caulkins of Tacoma. The story is that they took the Spanish “la costa,” “the coast,” and for euphony prefixed the “o.”) In any event, the railroad lit the fuse for Ocosta’s big boom. The Ocosta Land Company was organized to advertise Ocosta and promote sales. Filley was selected trustee of the company. The advertising campaign, in and out of the state, was gratifyingly successful. When the platted city was opened for sale on May 1, 1890, 300 lots were sold the first day. The Ocosta Land Company banked $100,000 for its work that day. During the following three years Ocosta grew rapidly to boast a flour mill, a shingle and lumber plant, a brewery, imposing business buildings, fine homes, a newspaper (the Ocosta Pioneer, first issued in February 1891), a population of 500, and a rosy future. And then fate took a hand. While Ocosta was hurrahing over being declared terminus for the Northern Pacific, Col. F. D. Heustis was telling Aberdeen and Hoquiam that the Northern Pacific would not build down the north side of the harbor. He bridged the Chehalis at Junction City, ran a spur to Cosmopolis, then stretched steel to Ocosta. By 1891 the Northern Pacific had second thoughts about

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Boomtowns

and Beaches

Aberdeen. It offered, on September 24, 1891, to build a line into

Aberdeen providing the city granted right-of-way through its streets and over private property within the city, and further offered to donate depot grounds and build a depot to cost no less than $2,500. Aberdeen would not agree to these terms, and two years passed without another word about a railroad. Then, in 1893,

Aberdeen responded with a right-of-way offer. Railroad officials investigating the offer found they would have to shift the existing line to meet Aberdeen’s right-of-way and that, since segments of the right-of-way offered did not meet in line, a road would be crooked and hard to construct. The Northern Pacific turned down the offer, for these reasons and because it was financially interested in Ocosta through its Olympic Land and Investment Company. Further, there was speculation that the Northern Pacific might continue its line from Ocosta to South Bend on Willapa Harbor and eventually to Portland. Then, too, Ocosta was being considered as a seaport, with a long wharf already built, and expectation that the U. S. Army Engineers would begin dredging operations soon. A jumble of events presaged and actually started Ocosta’s decline and eventual demise. There was a nationwide depression in 1893 and the Northern Pacific was hard hit. Several severe storms damaged the line to Ocosta. Landslides near Markham covered the tracks so that trains could not get farther than six miles from South Aberdeen—a situation that lasted several weeks, with no assurance that it would not be repeated. A bridge across Redman Creek washed out along with several sections of right-of-way on the bay. A committee of railway officials came to investigate the disruption of the line, and did not like what they saw. At the same time, they made a study of the freight possibilities generated in Aberdeen and Hoquiam. Meanwhile, Ocosta was having an election and Giancel troubles. O. A. Sherwood,

a friend of the Ocosta Land Com-

pany, was elected mayor. But he had no sooner taken office than he found that the city had acquired a $10,000 indebtedness and that the Ocosta Land Company had sold the city the long shipping wharf, already badly in need of repair.

Reuben Redman at ninety-two, Sam Benn's father-in-law (Kenneth Redman Collection)

Samuel Benn at ninety-eight, founder of Aberdeen

The second Aberdeen home of Samuel and Martha Benn stood at what is now the foot of F Street. Benn raised potatoes, apples, prunes, and pears. (Kenneth Redman Collection)

Aberdeen's Heron Street looking west from K Street about 1911. Plank streets and sidewalks kept traffic out of the swamps. (Bronco Tesia Collection)

Aberdeen in 1903, before the fire. Aberdeen’s first hospital (left) was spared from flames by dynamiting buildings (right). (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Aberdeen’s big fire was in 1903. Citizens scurried this way and that as the fire hose tower (right) kindled. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

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Household goods rescued from the 1903 Aberdeen fire filled the streets as onlookers watched more buildings burn. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Business as usual after Aberdeen's great 1903 fire. Left only with a charred vault, Hayes and Hayes Bank announced its new location. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

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Firemen had courage but lacked effective equipment when the Aberdeen fire of 1903 outran their hose carts. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

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Even this stalwart, dog-admired fountain positioned by the Women's Christian Temperance Union could not faze thirty-three saloons a block away in Aberdeen. Inset: Bootleggers worked day and night despite Sheriff Elmer Gibson's frequent raids on their copper vats. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Beer wagons rumbled through Aberdeen with barrels piled six deep to quench the thirsts of pre-Prohibition guzzlers on Grays Harbor. At times only the horses were sober. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Emil Olson's saloon at F and Heron, Aberdeen, stood under notorious Billy Gohl’s union hall. Could children at left have been searching for a soused papa? (Bronco Tesia Collection)

Seated beside his sad-faced wife is Billy Gohl (wearing cap), secretary of the Sailors Union of the Pacific and a heartless murderer who sent dozens of victims to watery graves in the early 1900s. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

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Grouped by a Dolbeer and one of the last great steam donkeys old-timers, who posed in Aberdeen fifty years ago. From Blackwell, boss logger; Bill ‘Cold Shut’’ Anderson, donkey Art Young, spool tender; Cy Monroe and George Monroe. Syckle Collection)

are these left: Cy engineer; (Ed Van

Riding a topless automobile in 1910 was a daring deed on rain-prone Grays Harbor streets. Founder Sam Benn and A.J. West, pioneer millman, sat up front. Driving instructions came from their wives. (Photo by Jones)

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D.J. Riley with (Bronco Bowes Collection)

Sam Tesia

D.W. Fleet, Montesano builder

Phil Locke, maker of big deals

Jim Bowes, brother of Sam

James Stewart, famed for the Rock

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Joe Graham, keeper of the peace

Ed Lundgren, Aberdeen’'s Swedish mayor

Ed Campbell, first Hoquiam postmaster

Workers planking Hoquiam streets above the high-water level in 1908. This is looking toward Karr Hill. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

Built in 1898, the graceful Hoquiam Hotel went down in flames in 1910. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection,

UW Libraries)

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This steam-powered bus built in San Francisco in 1902 served Hoquiam commuters until it crashed trying to make it into Aberdeen. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

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Hoquiam’'s town marshal stands in front of homes closed by a smallpox Hiei: in 1908. Classic shingle patterns were then the rage. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

This sign advertised “Think-of-Me” cigars on an Aberdeen hill for many years. The hill still bears the name. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Five hundred dollars were too few to do much in the bigmoney Signal Hill field, but Joe Dabney told Finch that if he could

acquire some promising land nearby he, Dabney, would drill a well and split the profits, if any. Dabney put up the money, the well was drilled, and true to Finch’s up-and-down luck, it came a gusher. He hit it rich, and from then on Finch was in the chips,

Celebrities and Otherwise

291

$35,000 to $55,000 a month. He returned to Grays Harbor, built

Aberdeen’s first “skyscraper,” the Finch Building, promoted a whole area of small farm tracts south of the Chehalis River called “Finch Farms,” developed Finch Playfield for Aberdeen youngsters, financed a thirty-two-piece band, and imported an Italian bandmaster, P. J. Carraba, to teach the young players their music. He toured Europe in grand style buying items of Italian marble, fine paintings, and other valuable collector's items. To house his treasures he built a penthouse atop the Finch Building. Before he died in the early ‘30s he had been a state senator, a millionaire, a philanthropist, a down-and-outer, and a racer after

life at full speed. Ep FiNcH WAS KNOWN as a great bluffer, though his physical size often made bluffing unnecessary. There was one occasion, however, when his size and his bluff didn’t work. That was in his famous “fight” with Charlie Johnson

in Johnson’s bar and dance hall.

Johnson's place was popular as an oasis for nightcaps where the gentry dropped in after lodge meetings or whatever. One night Finch was among the throng at the mahogany bar, getting louder with every drink. Finch said something that offended Charlie Johnson. The two had ugly words and only the intervention of mutual friends kept them from tangling. Finch stomped out of the place, fire in his eyes, boasting he could have licked Charlie Johnson right there. Finch’s friends were quick to encourage his ire, coaxing him to train and challenge Johnson to a showdown fight. The idea appealed to Finch, who thought to make it another bluff. He trained like a prize fighter, while crowds of his admirers applauded, spreading the word about town. In time his friends convinced Finch he was ready, so surrounded by his cronies, Finch marched to the dance hall on G Street. A murky light fell from the windows upon the wooden sidewalk, which rang to the thump of Finch’s bootheels. He pushed the door open boldly. Inside was a scattering of customers around the wall; a few danced; the bar was lined with elbow-leaning imbibers. Behind

the bar stood Charlie Johnson in his bartender apron. He appeared not to see Finch as the challenger walked in, but without demonstration he untied the apron and walked around the end of

the bar. He met Finch at midfloor. Finch thrust his hands upon his

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Celebrities and Otherwise

hips and started to say: “I should have. . .” He got no farther, for Charlie Johnson swung a roundhouse punch that virtually heaved Finch off his feet. There were but two blows struck: Johnson hit Finch, and Finch hit the floor.

Picking himself up gingerly, Finch mumbled something about being hit when he wasn’t looking, then stalked away a chastened man. But the humiliation didn’t last long, for Finch was soon back at his old ways, though carefully avoiding Charlie Johnson.

THE MAN WHO sTAKED Ed Finch to a $500 bank draft was W. J. “Billy” Patterson, who came from Quebec in 1887 at his uncle Jimmy

Patterson's bidding to become one of the big bankers of the state and a power on Grays Harbor. Billy Patterson was a small man physically, dynamic, with quick gestures, positive in manner, and prone to make snap judgments, especially when it came to banking matters.

For the first year of his residence in Aberdeen Billy Patterson sold real estate, handled insurance, and learned a lot about Grays

Harbor’s sawdust economy. So, when Harry Hayes arrived from Illinois to start a bank, Billy Patterson was ready for a job, and was hired as a teller at $40 a month. Before long, however, he received a

telegram saying his father had died in Quebec. After due notice he took off for home to settle his father’s meager estate. While there he went to see his friend Jim Fuller, whose country store had recently been burned out. The two men began to look for jobs, first in Winnipeg, then in Edmonton, but Patterson couldn't forget Grays Harbor. He wrote Harry Hayes for his old job. Jim Fuller went to Chicago and worked in a department store. By the time Billy Patterson was back at his bank job in 1895, the depression of the mid-nineties had hit the country, but he soon had a hand in other ventures. Al Coats and Ben Johnson had started the

American Mill Company; Patterson went to them as manager, while retaining a position on the bank’s payroll, and brought Phil Locke down from Quinault to run his insurance business. The fire of 1903, which wiped out ten blocks of the Aberdeen business district, took the bank building, but Harry Hayes deter-

mined to build a fireproof sandstone structure immediately. The building had barely been occupied when Harry Hayes died. The

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bank was reorganized as Hayes & Hayes by Harry’s father, Thomas R. Hayes, a doctor from Freeport, Illinois, and Harry's

brother, Franklin Hayes, who was secretary. Billy Patterson became cashier. Meanwhile, at Patterson's urging, Jim Fuller had come to Grays Harbor in 1899. First he managed a sawmill, then another, then started and operated a store, but Patterson had other things in mind for him. Fuller finally gave way and joined the bank as assistant cashier in 1907. A few years after Harry Hayes’s untimely death Billy Patterson

married

his widow,

who

as Mrs.

Patterson

became

president of the bank. In the years that followed, Grays Harbor and Hayes & Hayes flourished. Patterson seemed to have the magic touch, his banking judgments seemed without flaw. He became a social bigwig and a fabulous host, and as a throne for his activities formed a company and created the Grays Harbor Country Club. Billy Patterson (Hayes & Hayes was now called “Patterson's bank”) backed Grays Harbor industry heavily: mills, logging operations, shipbuilding, any venture that seemed to be of benefit to the Harbor. It sustained the Harbor in times of financial crisis,

and virtually set the tone for Harbor industry and business establishments. And then came February, 1927. A routine bank examination turned up a weakness in the bank’s affairs. Billy Patterson had invested $537,000 of the bank’s money in H. P. Brown's Independence Logging Company. The logging company failed, and with it the fortunes of Billy Patterson. F. C. Amende was appointed liquidator and took over affairs of the bank. E. B. Arthaud was named liquidator of the Independence Logging Company. Prosecuting Attorney A. M. Wade filed a criminal complaint in superior court in Montesano charging Patterson with “having received money for deposit in an insolvent bank.” W. J. “Billy” Patterson was convicted and sentenced to a year in prison. Thus Patterson, who had said he had come to Grays Harbor barefooted, left after forty years in much the same condition.

In 1904, A YEAR “after the fire,” as events were dated for some time,

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a tall, lance-straight Cherokee of commanding dignity stepped down from a railway passenger car and viewed the town where he was to spend in essence the remainder of his life. The man was James Marston Phillips; the town was Aberdeen.

Jim Phillips’s coming

was

circuitous.

He was

born

near

Lenoir, North Carolina, both his parents being Cherokee.

This

ethnic circumstance allowed him in time to live at Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania while attending Dickinson School of Law in the same town. It also permitted him to play football for famed coach Pop Warner, an adventure that almost cost Warner his coaching career. One day Warner pulled Phillips from his left guard spot, telling him he was too tame; he had to show more rock ‘em, sock ‘em aggression. “Now get down there and show me how it should be done.” Warner took a stance opposite Phillips, who upon signal knocked Warner unconscious with a vigorous charge. When Warner came to, he shook his head to clear the fog and made one remark: “Now, that’s the way it’s done!” Phillips was graduated with distinction from Dickinson, one of the better law schools of its day. He also won a scholarship to Northwestern University, and at Carlisle met Wisconsin-born Ernestine Wilber, who was attending the school under the same

privileges as Phillips. The two were married December 29, 1903, in Chicago while Phillips was taking a postgraduate course in law at Northwestern. He also carried his football career to his postgraduate studies, winning a place on Walter Camp’s all-star team, which was the “All-American” team of its day. In 1904, Jim Phillips grabbed up his diploma, his Walter Camp trophy, his wife, his best friend, Roscoe Wright, and Wright's wife,

and headed for Seattle. On the way he was delayed in Spokane for a year coaching football at Whitworth College. Then to Seattle, where he started a law practice only to be sidetracked by J. Crary,

who was affiliated with a firm that was ready to build Grays Harbor’s first big electric plant and electric railway. There would be plenty of work for one of Jim Phillips's talents. Phillips was a skilled stonemason, having worked in that industry while attending school. With the law business slack in Seattle, he succumbed to Crary’s entreaties, came to Aberdeen, joined the hodcarriers’ union, laid brick and cut stone, some of it

for Dr. Paul Smits and his hospital. He helped build many of Aber-

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deen’s early structures until the field of law began to better. Then he opened a law office in partnership with Judge Robert E. Taggart. Jim Phillips had barely hung up his shingle when he was organizing Grays Harbor’s first football team, sprinting in footraces, and hunting behind a pack of hounds, the only man in these parts known able to keep up with the dogs. In fact Phillips seemed to be making a bigger name as an athlete and sports organizer than as an attorney, including awing a group of workmen idling at Electric Park by doing broad jumps. Phillips, having occasion to cross the park, walked up and without breaking stride took off from the line, sailing fully two feet beyond the best jump any of the others had made. Subsequently Phillips was appointed justice of the peace and police judge of Aberdeen by Mayor Ed Benn. He served in the state legislature, became mayor of Aberdeen,

1915-16, and then spent

from 1928 to 1951 in superior court, retiring after his last elective session. Prior to his election as superior court judge for Grays Harbor County, Phillips was a superb and highly successful trial lawyer, especially in criminal cases. He had a penchant for seeing some good in everyone, a factor that contributed to his success as an attorney. He could conscientiously defend and win acquittals for many who otherwise would have gone to a life term or death at Walla Walla. On the bench he was equally compassionate, in one notable case refusing to allow foreclosure of a mortgage where the mortgagor had faithfully met his payments and then fallen upon hard times during a depression. The lawyer for the bank, preparing to appeal, went to the bank directors to gain consent. The directors felt as had Judge Phillips; they declined to foreclose. Judge Jim Phillips died August 15, 1959, but not before he had made a reputation as a superior court judge, a task he performed flawlessly and with the admiration of all his peers throughout the state. He had become an outstanding worker for youth, physically, morally, and mentally. He was interested in schools, their building and support. With the youths brought before him as a magistrate he dealt firmly but with empathy.

THE MAN WITH WHOM Jim Phillips teamed in an Aberdeen law office, R. E. Taggart, had also been a football player of some note in

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Pennsylvania. His prowess was not of Walter Camp caliber, but it did draw him to Jim Phillips. Robert E. “Bob” Taggart arrived in Olympia in the fall of 1897. The day was Saturday. His uncle met him and put him up in a hotel near the waterfront. Weary, he slept soundly until daybreak Sunday morning when he was awakened by a fusilade of shots...boom, boom, crump, crump. Alarmed, Taggart sleepily reasoned that if this was the state capital, the penitentiary must be here; there must be an insurrection in the penitentiary. He pulled on his trousers, hurried across the hall where his uncle was sleeping, and knocked frantically. A sleepy voice answered: “Oh, it’s you, Bob!” “Uncle, there must be a revolt in the penitentiary. ..] hear a lot of shooting!” “Ah, go back to bed. They’re just duck hunters.” They didn’t hunt ducks in Pennsylvania on Sundays, and they didn’t shoot ducks right under your hotel window. Strange people, these Westerners. Taggart came to Aberdeen in 1899, whereupon, according to his story, it rained for thirty days and thirty nights. The husky Easterner, so tough on the football field, hustled from one Grays Harbor stove to another to keep his teeth from chattering. In the years ahead Judge Taggart became a widely regarded and reported Aberdeen police magistrate.

A YOUNG CIVIL ENGINEER, David Wacker Fleet, footloose and on the

prowl, bounced a buckboard into Montesano in 1903 and within three days was laying out the Dabney addition to Montesano for pioneer financier J. B. Dabney. Completing the job, and upon the urging of R. H. Evans, Fleet prospected for timber on the upper Wishkah, borrowed an Indian canoe and paddled down the “stinking waters” (as the Indian name meant) and pulled out at the Sam Benn place. It was on that evening that the seed-idea for Aberdeen was planted. David Fleet was born February 10, 1851 in King and Queen County, Virginia, a habitat of the Fleets since 1607, when Captain

Henry Fleet of the British Navy had come to American shores

with John Smith and his colonists to establish Jamestown. David

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Fleet was graduated from Virginia Military Academy in civil and mining engineering. For a while he taught mathematics and Latin in the public schools of Lexington, Kentucky, and at his eldest brother’s military academy in Mexico, Missouri. He was then employed by the U.S. Government as a civil engineer helping to survey the Territory of Wyoming. He worked westward, arriving in Tacoma in the autumn of 1883, but was not enchanted with the “City of Destiny,” so he sought greener fields. Olympia, capital of Washington Territory, seemed a likely spot, for here was the seat of territorial government. Fleet attended a session of the territorial legislature, and there for the first time heard of Grays Harbor, a

resources-rich region somewhere “out on the coast.” One day, while Fleet stood on an Olympia street pondering, along came C. M. Byles, one of the promoters of Montesano at the head of tidewater on the Chehalis. Fleet later recalled that Byles was extraordinarily convincing, so that on the next day when he met Byles, J. M. Hopkins, and Senator Watson of Pennsylvania

loading a buckboard in front of “Aunt Becky’s” hostelry and received the invitation “There’s room for another,” he accepted. Fleet boarded the buckboard and hied himself with his newmade friends to Montesano. He was to say that the Chehalis Valley “reminded him of Virginia, the most beautiful land he had ever seen.” He was also to say that his Dabney addition job, which came so soon, made it seem that the inevitable truly was working. Meanwhile, and eight years after his own birth, David Fleet's future wife, Lillian Florence Adella Waite, was born in 1859 near St. Charles,

Illinois, the second daughter of Nelson Waite.

In

March 1861 the Waites started west with a wagon train, stopping at Virginia City, Nevada, so the frail mother could rest. While

there Nelson Waite prospected and puttered, while the little girls washed clothes for miners, getting gold nuggets and arrowheads for their labor. After four years in Virginia City, Nelson Waite again bundled his family into a wagon and headed for Napa, California, where his wife died. The rest of the family then went to San Francisco, where Lillian Waite grew to womanhood and married a man by the name of Favor. In the thirteen years in San Francisco, Nelson Waite accumulated stocks of merchandise, which he shipped to Montesano, Washington Territory, to open a hard-

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Celebrities and Otherwise

ware store in 1878.

Shortly thereafter Lillian, who had lost her husband in San Francisco, came to Montesano to keep books for her father. It was inevitable that two young people in a soul-starved backwoods town should meet and marry. But first Fleet had a job platting a townsite for W. F. Parsons, who owned a government grant across the Wishkah from Benn. Upon Parsons’s request Fleet readily obliged, surveying the acreage and laying out the town, for which Parsons filed his plat as the City of Wishkah, December 18, 1883.

Something of a persuader, Fleet suggested to Benn he plat his side of the river as an addition to the City of Wishkah. Benn hastily agreed, for he had kept town-platting in mind for some time. Fleet started a survey for Benn in January, 1884, running

survey lines through the brush and driving stakes into the tideland. All the lots were a little wide, for Fleet was using an old and badly worn chain which measured a few inches more than it should. Benn liked the idea of a generous-sized lot for it gave buyers “plenty for their money” and it would give prospective buildings a “place to drip.” He did not, however,

envision the

complications his generosity would someday fasten upon future surveyors and lot buyers. By February 1884 the plat was ready for filing, but there was objection to the name “Wishkah,” including one objection from B. A. Seaborg of the Aberdeen Packing Company of Ilwaco, who had purchased the Hume cannery on the Wishkah. Seaborg suggested the name “Aberdeen.” It so happened there was another proponent of the name “Aberdeen” in Mrs. James B. Stewart, a neighbor of the Benn family and a native of Aberdeen, Scotland. To her the name “Aberdeen” was “quite pleasing.” She wrote a letter to the Portland Oregonian, which was

published in February 1884. At the time the letter appeared Sam Benn was in Ilwaco conferring with Seaborg. On the morning the newspaper arrived, a Mr. Morgan, business manager for the packing company, read it and called it to the attention of Seaborg. Seaborg was “very pleased,” especially with reference to the “Aberdeen”

in his company’s

name.

To Sam

Benn,

who

entered Seaborg’s office at a befitting time, Seaborg proposed the name “Aberdeen.” Benn accepted for, inasmuch as the name

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meant the “meeting of two rivers,” the Dee and the Don in Aberdeen, Scotland, it would be appropriate for the meeting of the Wishkah and the Chehalis. With the name problem solved, Benn filed his plat for the town of Aberdeen February 16, 1884. Sam Benn was mystified by Seaborg’s having named his salmon-canning firm “Aberdeen” in the first place. There seemed to be no regional connection. The explanation came years later: the name “Aberdeen” was often affixed to the cans of excellent Scotland salmon packed there, and Seaborg figured to profit by the name, since Scotch salmon was widely distributed, and hardly anyone at that time had heard of Columbia River salmon. In 1884, Lillian Waite Favor and David Wacker Fleet found

time in their busy lives to marry. That was in September. They took a steamer trip to Aberdeen for their honeymoon, staying at Aberdeen House on the bank of the Wishkah. Across the river and downstream a ways A. J. West was operating Aberdeen’s first sawmill, though the mill was not yet sided or roofed. He per-

suaded the newlyweds to take a “honeymoon” ride on his mill carriage, which they did, to some screechings and misgivings. Soon thereafter Fleet was named Montesano town engineer,

then Chehalis County auditor, and in turn Montesano city clerk. To the Fleets on March 6, 1887, was born Reuben Hollis Fleet, and

a year and a half later, Lillian, September 21, 1888. In the years that followed David Fleet used his knowledge as an engineer to survey timberlands for timber holders and claimants. He was soon buying and selling on his own account, and then with the experience of two terms as county auditor, he formed the Grays Harbor Abstract Company in 1889. By 1893 he was prosperous, a heavily-invested property owner, with other accumulations. Then the panic of 1893 engulfed him. He lost all his property in Washington for a $4,500 mortgage and promissory note he had given on a piece of land. With his worldly goods vanished, Fleet went to Alaska, where he found plenty of work for a civil engineer in locating claims. His resourcefulness and engineering ability paid off; he earned his own stake, returned to Montesano to develop a profit-

able land business, and became known as “Daddy” Fleet, revered and adored. Like so many Virginians of his day, David Fleet had gone toa

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Celebrities and Otherwise

military school, so it seemed to follow that his son, Reuben, should also attend. He was sent to Culver, a course that someday would influence American military strength and the strategies of war. Completing his schooling at Culver, Reuben Fleet returned to Montesano, only to be bored by teaching school, dealing in real estate, advising on taxes. In fact he was so uninterested in the

real estate business that he treated it, if not with indifference, certainly offhandedly, as one instance revealed. He walked into the

Chehalis County courthouse one day just as the county treasurer was selling tax delinquent property: “Ninety-six lots in all—what am I offered?” “Ninety-six dollars,” Fleet tossed over his shoulder. From the landing as he was going out, Fleet called back: “What did I buy?” “Ninety-six lots in the townsite of Bay City,” the treasurer replied. Just then Frank Morgan, a Hoquiam lawyer of some repute who was to become widely known as a rhododendron hybridizer, grabbed Fleet by the arm: “What was that you just bought? What will you take for half interest?” Jokingly Fleet replied: “Ninety-six dollars.” ‘T'll take,” said Morgan.

Two years later A. M. Hall walked into Fleet’s office wanting to buy Block No. 1 of the Bay City townsite. Fleet sold it to him for $1,200. (Hall and associates built a whaling station upon the

site, perfuming the Harbor for years to come.) Reuben Fleet did find two diversions from what he thought a rather uninteresting life: he joined the Washington National Guard, and he fell in love, in that order. He joined the Guard

prior to his majority, going to Aberdeen for drills. While there he stayed overnight at the home of the widow of publisher James F.

Girton of the Aberdeen Herald. This was not Fleet's first knowledge of the Girtons.- Their daughter Elizabeth had won the highest grade in Chehalis County in the eighth grade examinations, while Reuben had been second highest. At the Girton home, Fleet met this girl who had outranked

him on grades. The drills continued and so did the opportunity to court Elizabeth Girton. When Fleet reached his twenty-first birthday he asked her to marry him. Six weeks later, April 29, 1908,

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they were married at the home of Mr. and Mrs. J. J. Carney (Mrs. Girton having married her late husband’s partner, Carney). On November 3, 1914, Reuben Fleet was elected to the state legislature from the Twenty-ninth District. After the fourteenth session he returned to his prosperous Montesano real estate and timber business; then, as the nation prepared for war in 1916, he

enrolled in the Army’s new course for aviation cadets. When war came Fleet became an army aviator, served during the conflict, and stayed with the service when the war ended. He flew the first airmail route between New York and Washington, and later was executive officer at Wright Field in Dayton, Ohio. He was now Major Fleet. When he left the service in 1921, he did so convinced the airplane was the weapon and transportation medium of the

future. He turned to building airplanes and picked Buffalo, New York,

as location

for his plant. For funds he sought out his

brother-in-law back on Grays Harbor, Ed Bishop, by then a mill operator in Montesano. By 1923 Consolidated Aircraft was working on plans for a trainer the Army and Navy were to call the “Husky.” Fleet was also busy at the drafting board designing a hydroplane for the Navy, a long-range patrol craft and bomber. Consolidated struggled through the early 1920s, but by 1928 was making headway. Six hundred Huskies had come off the assembly line and were flown to Pensacola, San Diego, and San Antonio for fledgling fliers. The new hydroplane appeared, to become known as the “Catalina,” the PBY of World War II. About this time Fleet determined that he needed a new location, one not winter-bound like Buffalo. He moved to San Diego, where Consolidated began building planes for the Allied nations in Europe. The B-24 long-range bomber was designed and produced, and a new patrol bomber, the PB-2Y. Planes for American forces

came off the assembly lines by the hundreds while Consolidated grew beyond all dreams of its founders. The production lines were turned to commercial craft after the war ended. Reuben Fleet is remembered in Montesano by a neat public square and park bearing his name.

L. L. Matey, ABERDEEN’S OWN cigar maker, was also the town’s mayor

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Celebrities and Otherwise

in 1897-99, and one of Grays Harbor’s most popular personages. He was tall, straight, dapper, personable, charitable, friendly. Maley attributed his youthfulness and long life to never having snubbed a drink of whiskey and never having produced a bad cigar—unless it was his “White Squadron,” which sold for five cents and did not compare to his big ‘“Think-of-Me,” selling for ten cents each. Maley’s cigar shop was in the rear of the Hayes & Hayes bank building on G Street between Heron and Wishkah Streets. It was a gathering place for Aberdeen businessmen, who came for cigars and talk, and from it Maley distributed his wares to virtually every place with a counter or bar in young Aberdeen. In further inducement for Grays Harbor to buy Maley cigars, the enterprising citizen raised a huge sign on Dabney Hill bearing just the name “Think-of-Me” facing downtown Aberdeen. The sign stood for forty-five years, a constant reminder of ““Think-ofMe” cigars, eventually fixing the name upon the hill itself, as it is known today. The cigars disappeared with Maley’s death April 10, 1935, but Think-of-Me Hill remains something of a monument to an outstanding citizen of early Aberdeen.

Tue “Resort” was ONE door back from the G Street entrance of “Paradise Alley,” upon which its front door faced. The back door connected with Heron Street by a staggered passageway between the buildings, often referred to as ‘Paradise Alley.” The “Resort” was owned and operated by L. W. Walker, known as “Walker No. 1,” to distinguish him from his brother, L. J. Walker, who was

called ‘Walker No. 2.” He too was a saloonkeeper, having an establishment nearby. Strangely, the “Resort” had an eddy of respectability —church people to the contrary. The vortex of this eddy was the impeccable “Walker's Resort for Gentlemen.” If you were drunk or rowdy a whole handful of $20 gold pieces couldn't buy you a drink. If you insisted, the answer was still “No”—that is, to a point where the bartender, Fitz, thought things would be quieter if you were in the alley—and into the alley you went. Walker No. 1, almost as regularly as the tide, strolled out of

his bar in the morning, stopped momentarily fo study his weather

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glass hanging near the entrance, and with his dog trotting at his side, took a constitutional in the alley.

It was upon such an occasion that Marshal Joe Graham stepped out of police headquarters into the alley, directly opposite the door to Walker's storeroom. Seeing the door open and hearing a commotion

inside,

Graham

went

to the door

and

yelled:

“What's going on in there?” Out of the dimness came

Fitz’s voice:

“Come

here, Joe, I

want to show you something.” As Graham entered Fitz pointed to a barrel resting on a rack. Two demijohns of liquor were standing nearby. “Look here,” said Fitz, “this barrel is half empty and all the whiskey I’ve taken out is these two demijohns. . .can you imagine old Walker doing such a thing. . .he leaves whiskey standing over in the Burrow & Stockwell warehouse for seven years, and when it gets here half of it has evaporated... but do you think he would let me put a cup of water in it? No, sir, not a drop!” Graham nodded and continued on down the alley where he met Walker himself. “Ah, good morning, Marshal, how’s things this morning?. . . Say, between you and me and tight and tight [it was Walker's favorite expression] don’t you think it’s about time we had a little smile together? Come on in.” Walker clucked to his dog and turned into the “Resort.” At the bar Walker said: “Fitz, fix up a little smile for Joe and

myself. ..you know the kind.” Fitz without hesitation reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle, pouring two “spots.” Both he and Walker watched Joe out of the corner of their eyes while the amber liquid drained away. The ceremony, although infrequent, never varied, and it was not until years later that Graham learned he and Bob Waldron were Walker's official whiskey tasters. Waldron was invited the same way — for a little smile together.” If they approved the whiskey, Walker put the rest of the barrel on sale. if they disapproved by even so much as the arch of an eyebrow, the barrel was condemned, bunged, and sent back to the wholesaler.

ONE DAY, ON A DATE no longer remembered, J. H. Payne, the “armless

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Celebrities and Otherwise

wonder” and champion unicyclist, came to town. Payne was skilled. Within a short time none questioned that, but nobody realized just how good he really was. He hit town with his unicycle, bowler hat, tailed coat, and mustache,

but no arms.

And he wore oxfords, which was enough to set him apart, for oxfords hadn't been seen on Grays Harbor since the year of the blue snow. But they served Payne well, for he could put them on and kick them off easily to do with his toes what others do with their hands. Payne drew a crowd at F and Heron in a twinkling as he mounted his unicycle and pedaled nonchalantly on the wooden sidewalk. He ran it forwards and backwards, made dizzy turns, banged the cycle against a wall, and did other tricks to the amazement of his audience. Then, dismounting, he whipped off his hat with his toes, and passed it for donations. The crowd thought the exhibition worth a sizable contribution. A few more demonstrations and Payne retired into the O'Hare saloon for a beer. In fact he drank several, gripping the mug with his toes, whisking off the foam with a breath, and relishing his drink with gusto.

The sight tickled the funnybone of several onlookers. They brought him some of the free lunch and demanded he eat it with his toes. Touchy on this subject, Payne refused. The crowd baited him until, thoroughly aroused, Payne slammed down his mug, slipped off the chair to the floor, and pawed a small revolver from his pocket. Holding it expertly with his toes, he began shooting. The crowd bolted for the door, dived under the bar, or hunted

protecting corners while Payne, roaring, blasted out the lights over their heads. His gun empty, Payne pocketed it, climbed back upon his chair, and resumed his beer. The barkeeper was not amused. He summoned the peace officer and saw Payne led away to jail. The next day Payne appeared before Judge Pearson. The judge was hard to convince and was just about ready to free the armless wonder as being unable to accomplish all his accusers said he could, when someone suggested the judge ask Payne to sign his name. Payne carried a stub of pencil over one ear. Without hesitation he whisked off a shoe, picked the stub from off his ear, and

with a surprisingly “neat hand” scribbled his name. Judge Pearson was convinced: “Fifty dollars fine.”

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AND NOT TO BE OMITTED from any chronicle of early Grays Harbor was “Megaphone” Johnson, who had a voice like a foghorn, and came to fame for one Fourth of July feat. He was a slender man, his build all out of keeping with his voice, which he amplified at baseball games by use of a megaphone, to the delight and often the consternation of players and crowd alike. However, come the Fourth of July, Aberdeen gathered to see a “daring high diver” demonstrate his skill from the newly-

completed Heron Street bridge across the Wishkah River. Minutes passed, then an hour, but no diver showed. The restive crowd

was just beginning to drift away when Megaphone Johnson climbed the ladder to the top of the bridge, walked gingerly out to the center of the superstructure, and without hesitation catapulted himself into space and ninety feet into the murky Wishkah. He came up blowing and swam easily to shore. While the crowd cheered Megaphone climbed out dripping. He hadn’t bothered to change his street clothes. The crowd gaped, but the feat was an old story to Megaphone Johnson. Back along the Ohio River, Johnson used to dive

off the tall piledrivers, and a ninety-foot plunge was just child’s play. In fact, Johnson and his pals once spoiled a perfectly good show. A diver of some fame along the Ohio had advertised he would make a spectacular dive from the top of a certain piledriver. A big crowd gathered. While the diver posed and postured, strutting around in a build-up for his act, Johnson and a dozen other kids climbed to the top of the piledriver and plunged

off one after the other. The daring and completely upstaged diver pulled on his britches, struggled into his coat, and disappeared without bothering to get wet.

THE Bowes BROTHERS—-Sam, Jim, and Dan—seem to have been salesmen Born: whisky by the drink, flowers, wood, fruit trees,

mortuary services, and real estate were among the many things they peddled. Sam Bowes arrived in Aberdeen in 1891. He started his Grays Harbor career as a painter and paper-hanger. He paid his rent to Sam Benn by papering the houses Benn built for rent. In those days cheesecloth was tacked to the wall as a backing for the

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Celebrities and Otherwise

wallpaper. He also painted the original St. Joseph Hospital building, the Terrace Heights school, and the Northern Pacific railway stations in Aberdeen, South Aberdeen, and Ocosta.

Along about 1893, during a national panic, construction on Grays Harbor stopped. Resourceful Sam Bowes, disdaining ownership of timber, began to cut small trees into firewood, peddling the sawed wood in a wheelbarrow to Aberdeen customers. His supply of raw material came from a logging show back of the St. Joseph Hospital, where the logger had taken out the large trees and abandoned the small stuff. Then Sam Bowes became Aberdeen’s one-man police force,

at $40 a month, while loggers were making $30 to $60 a month and board. About this time Sam Bowes married an Aberdeen businesswoman,

operator of a successful millinery store, which

the couple continued until 1903. In his next venture, Sam Bowes quit the police force and opened a saloon, called “Sam's Place,” on the north side of Heron Street between F and G streets. The saloon survived the great fire of 1903 to leave Bowes with a bonanza; most other saloons had burned. Later Sam Bowes sold out and went into real estate and insurance with Phil Locke in a shack on the southwest corner of Heron and H streets, where the Finch building was eventually built. The firm prospered, for those were good days for fire insurance salesmen. Sam left his partnership with Phil Locke to combine with his brothers in the first of several attempts to bring the others into a single company under a single roof.

By this time the youngest of the brothers, Dan Bowes, had arrived and prospered. He was the least flamboyant of the brothers, though he would appear colorful and bombastic to anyone who did not know how many decibels the other two could generate. He arrived in 1899, to work first for Creech Brothers in heavy construction, then as a logger; but these activities somehow did not fit Dan Bowes’s special abilities. In. 1900 he

was awarded a watch by the Quaker Nursery Company of Portland for being their top traveling salesman of fruit trees. After the Aberdeen fire of 1903 Dan Bowes spread his talents. He started into a hay-and-feed business, supplying mills and logging camps for their oxen and horses, importing the feed by the carload. At the same time he became a wholesale jobber of

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fruit and vegetables brought in by ship from California. Then he joined with his wife in opening the first florist shop in Aberdeen, selling cut flowers and potted plants. By 1906, to enlarge his field of activity, he launched Dan Bowes & Company, real estate and insurance, where he remained for thirty-three years. During this time Dan Bowes served as Aberdeen city councilman in 1907 and 1908. He was deeply concerned with various large Aberdeen construction projects such as the building of Sargent Boulevard along the Chehalis bluff, the paving of Heron Street with brick, and the filling of several downtown areas. Jim Bowes, the third brother, seems to have come into the Bowes picture about the time Sam Bowes was attempting to get all the brothers under one roof. Several attempts failed, the brothers

going their own ways, Jim into the Fashion Saloon, which he operated across Heron Street from Sam's Place. The Fashion burned in the fire of 1903, leaving Jim adrift but not inactive. He

was a prominent figure in three lodges, Foresters, Woodmen of the World, and Eagles; he promoted Fourth of July events, Chehalis County fair public weddings, and other charitable events. The family thought he needed a more respectable occupation, so it set him up in a partnership with Shirley Randolph as undertakers. One of Jim Bowes’s first moves was to purchase an all-white hearse for children’s funerals and a conventional black one for

adults. But the mortuary business was not destined to last, largely because Jim Bowes was a very fat man, a town buffoon, a player

of practical jokes, and an “everybody-knows-Jim” character. Bowes & Randolph had not been in business long when Jim received a call to pick up a corpse on the docks. Jim hitched up the hearse

and went

down

to the riverfront,

where

some

handy

“volunteers” loaded the body. Back at the mortuary, Jim opened the hearse, The “corpse” sat up and stretched out its arms at Jim. That was too much for Jim Bowes. He took off at a lumbering

run, and forthwith ended the partnership of Bowes & Randolph. The whole town guffawed, for most of the “downtown” citi-

zens thought Jim Bowes had it coming, especially after what he had done to a man named “Michigan.” Michigan, a slight mental case, was the town’s paper-peddler and as such was conspicuous in the business district, including the saloons and bawdy-houses.

308

Celebrities and Otherwise

Michigan was on hand the day a carnival came to town and set up for business on the brand new planking on Wishkah between G and I Streets, which had no business houses at that time. The carnival’s “wild man” got sick. Michigan was pressed into service:

long claws and fangs, a wild animal skin, and $2 a day. He was supposed to sit in a pit, spit and growl, and rattle bones. Michigan mentioned his soft job around town, creating a delightful situation for practical jokers, who took a roll of wallpaper, put red paper around it to look like a giant firecracker, and inserted a section of dynamite fuse. It was Jim Bowes who sneaked the “firecracker” in to the wild

man’s pit, lit the fuse with his cigar, and dropped it beside Michigan, who was busy rattling bones and growling in the calling of his job. Michigan jumped up, appalled at the size of the “firecracker” and its hissing fuse. In one leap he cleared the rim of the pit and took off down Wishkah, yelling at the top of his lungs and with half the dogs in town yapping at his heels. Women shrieked, grabbed their kids, fainted, or hoisted their skirts hastily

to seek cover. Michigan dove under Beardsley’s undertaking parlor, still yelling. It took the town’s police force and two firemen to drag him out and quiet him down. So, in the case of the “corpse,” hangers-on around town thought Jim Bowes had it coming. Like his brothers, Jim Bowes had his fling at politics. He was elected Aberdeen councilman during World War I, and in 1919 was elected council president. Dan served as city councilman, while Sam Bowes served a term in the state legislature.

Chapter IS) Hunters of the Otter

Ifwas Grays Harbor’s fortune—or misfortune—to have nearby the heaviest population of otter on the Washington coast. A tremendous kelp bed stretched north for twenty miles from near the Grays Harbor entrance. The kelp housed thousands of animals that moved up and down the coast with winds and currents and the availability of food. Heavy winds, especially strong nor’westers, drove the otter inshore, often just inside the surf where they would

dive into each oncoming sea. They were often hunted by riflemen when in this attitude. In calmer weather the animals stayed well offshore, but never more than seven or eight miles. Another factor in the animal concentration from Grays Harbor north was Point Grenville. Its rocks gave shelter from winds that swept up and down the coast, so it was a favorite hunting spot, especially of the Quinaults. The Indians, using bows and arrows or spears, seldom bagged more than one otter out of a herd, although some herds numbered around 400 animals. The remaining otter simply dove and surfaced out of arrow range.

The white man’s rifle changed all that. Both the white and the Indian took up the gun, and from then on the herds were doomed. The favorite gun was the Sharps 50 caliber, although later there were other makes of 45-70s and 45-90s, with tremendous carrying possibilities. The Sharps, however, was available and popular, despite the fact it weighed as much as sixteen pounds. Hunters loaded their own ammunition, using a brass shell loaded with 100

310

Hunters of the Otter

grains of powder and a 500-grain bullet. Each hunter as he loaded, marked the bottom of the bullet with a special insignia or brand: a cross, three slits, a circle, and so on. These marks were known up

and down the beach, and whenever an otter washed ashore bearing such a bullet, ownership was immediately established. Of course,

when the bullet passed through an animal or when some finder on the beach removed the bullet surreptitiously, there was no identification, and questions and quarrels arose over ownership. An otter found on the beach with no identifying bullet was called a “slick ear,” after the parlance of the cattlemen, and as

often as not was claimed by the finder unless the hunter could establish a reasonable claim to ownership. Bitter disputes and sometimes armed confrontation resulted from such a find, but generally there was a high order of respect for another hunter’s identifiable kill. Most of the trouble came from “beachcombers” other than hunters, for they often picked up otter

and spirited them away. The white hunters, badly outnumbered by the Indians, seldom were able to retrieve their kills once the happy Indians made off into the woods with their easy pelts. The white man’s method of hunting, with binoculars and rifle and shooting from a 20- to 60-foot derrick or some handy rock, left much to the whim of the sea. The otter was shot in the

surf from a range of 400 to 600 yards. A 700-yard shot was not exceptional, and some kills were made as far as 1,000 yards, or more than half a mile. It remained for the sea to deliver the kill ashore. Many kills of course were never “delivered,” and many

“deliveries” were contested, for at one time there were ten derricks in the ten-mile strip between Browns Point and Copalis. Early derricks were simple affairs, two legs toward the sea, a third toward land, fastened together at the top. They had a crosspiece for the hunters to stand upon, and another piece upon which to rest his heavy weapon. Later, by the 1870s and 1880s, the derricks became more elaborate, with four legs, some a foot in diameter and sixty feet long. They would have a six-foot platform on top, some with sides and a roof to protect the hunter. The derricks stood as long as the sea permitted, for all perished in winter storms. Hunting was usually done during the more favorable weather from May through October, though, unlike those of some other animals, otter skins were prime all year around.

Hunters of the Otter

The otter was abalone,

a sleek, thick-pelted feeder upon

and crustaceans,

with

occasional

diversion

311

clams, to other

types of life in the kelp beds. It was a devoted parent, and something else rare in the animal world, it was a tool-user. Its customary practice was to float on its back with a clam or abalone on its chest and crack the shell with a rock held in its forepaws. In this position it was vulnerable, as it was also when sleeping in the same position, or caring for its young.

The buoyancy of the otter is explained by its structure of fur and hair. The hair of the sea otter is unique among fur bearers, in

that each hair is elliptical, very fine at the root, thicker at the central axis, and exceedingly fine at the tip. Coarser guard hairs are fewer and add a frosted hue to the pelt. In the water the fine outer tip hairs become wet, trapping a layer of air between the skin and water. The blanket of air also traps heat, and provides the otter with a buoyancy not found in any other sea mammal. This fine, desirable fur varied in color from almost black

through dark brown to a yellowish-gray. A single pelt in the 1800s sold for $400 in Canton, the primary market in China. So lucrative was the trade that in the eighty years from 1743 to 1823 some 200,839 skins found their way to market, and so devastating

the killing that only 127 skins were marketed in 1900. The last legal skin sold on the London market went for $2,000. This early promise of a lucrative trade in pelts brought tradersto-be-explorers to the North Pacific, with the discovery of Grays Harbor a direct result of such a venture. Captain Robert Gray was offered sea otter pelts once he had entered this harbor, an indication that the Indians hunted otter for dress and for trade. But the Indian was not for long to have the hunt to himself. The white man came with his gun and forever changed the method of pursuit. The white otter hunter was peculiarly suited for his trade. He was without question among the best marksmen on the continent. He was by necessity inured to hardship, the vagaries of the sea,

the wind and rain, the surf, the loneliness, the long squinting upon the water-reflecting sun, long waiting, and his own belly

hunger. He hunted with a heavy-caliber rifle developed during or just after the Civil War. His shooting stand was some high place, a rock, cliff, often a three-legged derrick or tower in the surf. His target was a bobbing animal the size of a hound, some hundreds

312

Hunters of the Otter

of yards offshore. Some otter reached a length of six feet and a weight of eighty-five pounds. The hunters often demonstrated their skill at special “shoots”

wherever they gathered for supplies or social events. There would be a few others who fancied themselves fair-to-middlin’ shots, but

they seldom could outpoint the otter hunters. The target usually was a silver dollar placed in the slit cork of a whisky bottle. The bottle stood upright in the sand 300 carefully-paced yards from the shooting point. Each shooter put up a dollar as the winnertake-all prize, which was hardly ever won by anyone other than an otter hunter. The weapons they used were enormous. George Talcott of Olympia recalled that in 1877 Charles McIntyre and a man named Fletcher were in Olympia to pick up two guns from the express office. The guns, said Talcott, were ordered especially for otter hunting. They weighed fourteen to sixteen pounds and Talcott believed they were made by Remington. Hunters normally worked in pairs, one doing the watching and shooting, the other “running” the beach for the kill. One famous “pair” was Charlie McIntyre and Steve Grover, whose companionship lasted forty years, ending only with Grover’s death in 1916. McIntyre, born in Ballyshannon on Donegal Bay, Ireland, came to the Pacific Northwest after hearing stories told by an uncle, Andy McGee, who had been a miner on the Frazer River and returned to Ireland in 1859. Fired by these stories of vast wealth and adventure, McIntyre sailed for the New World, arriving in Philadelphia March 31, 1873. He stayed there three years and then set out for California, Portland and Olympia to find another uncle, Matthew McGee, rumored to have been captured or killed by the Indians. The rumor proved false when McIntyre, on the last leg of his journey by canoe from Chehalis Point, found his fractious and irascible relative much alive on Point Brown.

With McGee was Stephen Grover, who had arrived on the harbor in 1873 and even then was a man of many experiences. He was a college man, and had marched with Sherman to the sea. He

was already widely known as a frontierman and hunter and a man of sterling character. His marksmanship with a rifle was legendary. He and McIntyre shook hands to cement a friendship of almost half a century.

Hunters of the Otter

313

Steve Grover and Harry Wetherald early in the 1870s had built a tiny shack atop Copalis Rock where they watched for weeks at a time for sea otter. In 1876 when McIntyre came to the beach as Grover’s partner, the shack was improved and bolted to the rock with iron bars. Samson John, a Quinault Indian, took

McIntyre to the rock in a canoe to leave him for weeks, when his only contact with shore was with signal flags. Later McIntyre rigged a line and a basket between the rock and shore. From their position on the rock and from other vantage points McIntyre and Grover one year killed forty-seven otter, their highest number for any one year. McIntyre quit hunting in 1903 as the last of the otter hunters, because by then the animals were so scarce as not to warrant pursuit.

There were a number of other professional hunters along the shores, notably Henry Blodgett and John Thompson, partners for awhile, who hunted from Blodgett’s shack near Copalis Rock. One year they shot four otter without leaving their doorstep. However, Thompson had hunted a full year before he killed his first otter June 18, 1886.

Patrick H. Roundtree and Henry Blodgett formed a partnership, hunting from Blodgett’s shack or Roundtree’s at Moclips, depending on how the otter shifted. Roundtree put up a twentytwo-foot derrick near Moclips but placed it too far out and it was soon beaten down by the surf. Thompson had helped Roundtree and now set about putting up a tower of his own, this time tying the legs to stakes sunk in the sand. The tower stood until it was hit by drift logs and destroyed. Roundtree observed that when he started hunting in the 1863-64 winter, otter were plentiful. Almost any day, he wrote, from 100 to 1,000 animals would be visible. Other otter hunters along the beach, to name a few, were Frank “Shorty” Astell, Lee Kearns, Sampson John, Pierson, White, Captain Joe, William O. McFarland, and his partner, M. W.

Fletcher. According to Ben Grigsby, “Shorty” Astell killed the last two sea otter known to have been slain near what is now Ocean City. Astell received $1,400 for one skin, $600 for the other. The

1880 census for Chehalis County (population 971) listed six otter hunters:

James

Luark,

Charles

McIntyre,

William

McFarland,

Benjamin F. Ford, Stephen Grover, and Henry Blodgett.

314

Hunters of the Otter

McFarland and Fletcher came to Elma in the early sixties and bought the grist mill owned by Charles Taylor on the Chehalis River a mile above the mouth of the Satsop. Fletcher was a miller by trade and operated the mill while McFarland spent the summers hunting otter near Copalis.

In May, 1870, McFarland married Susanah Maria Slover, then but sixteen. She had been born in Oregon City in 1854, and had come to Elma upon the death of her father when she was ten, to

live with relatives. McFarland filed upon a 160-acre homestead on the Chehalis River and built a twelve-by-fourteen-foot log cabin where the family lived for six months of each year until 1878 when the claim was “proven.” The other six months of the year were spent along the ocean shore. In 1875 the family (in their ten years of married life the McFarlands became parents of three girls and two boys) filed on a claim of forty acres on Connor Creek about three miles north of Oyehut. The intent was to cultivate and market the wild cranberries that grew in the marsh, and run cattle. The cranberry project did not materialize, but the McFarlands, after four years in a log cabin on Joe Creek, did build “a comfortable frame house” on Connor Creek with lumber washed ashore from the numerous wrecks along the Washington coast. One such wreck, though not a contributor of building materials, was that of the big passenger ship Great Republic, which foundered not far from the McFarland place to produce one of those oft-told tales to come off the North Beach. It was a tragedy authored by the victim himself. When it was determined the vessel was lost, the captain and crew took to a lifeboat, but as they shoved away they discovered the Chinese cook was missing. As the boat rode the surge perilously, the cook appeared at the ship’s rail. The captain told him to jump overboard and the crew would pick him up as he surfaced. He jumped, but did not surface. The boat pulled away. It remained for Mrs. McFarland to solve the tragedy. -As she patrolled the shore for sea otter shot by her husband from his tower,

she found

the Chinese cook's body on the beach.

His

pockets were loaded with the Great Republic's silverware, which at the last moment he had dashed to retrieve from the vessel's dining room. As he jumped from the ship he went down like a rock. Later the Great Republic's agents presented Mrs. McFarland

Hunters of the Otter

315

with a dozen teaspoons, all engraved with the vessel’s name. Some of the spoons are still owned by McFarland descendants. McFarland was elected Chehalis County sheriff in 1870, and thereafter divided his time between being sheriff and otter hunting. He was also assessor, the county having no funds for

another person to act in that capacity. In 1878, McFarland shifted his otter hunting headquarters from McGee's place to his claim on Connor Creek. At the same time his partner Fletcher sold the grist mill and went to live with McFarland. In the early part of 1880 McFarland obtained a hammerless otter gun. Some young men were at the McFarland place inspecting the new rifle when it was accidentally discharged, after McFarland had assured the men the firearm was not loaded. The heavy slug passed through both of McFarland’s legs. Before a doctor could be summoned, blood poisoning set in, and McFarland died a week after the accident. He was buried on a low ridge behind his house.

Grays Harpor’s COMMERCIAL fish pack, which had begun in Sam Benn’s salt house as salted salmon and had later gone into cans in the Chinese-named

Hume

cannery at the end of Hume

Street,

boomed into a thriving industry that persisted for more than a half century.

The Humes built their cannery in 1876-77. William Hume, who had been fishing salmon on the Sacramento River in California, went into partnership in 1864 to form Hapgood, Hume & Company, to pack salt salmon. In 1866-67, with salmon catches on the Sacramento dwindling, William Hume, George W. Hume, and a junior partner, R. D. Hume, moved north to the Columbia River to pack salmon, this time in hand-made cans. It was from

the Columbia they cast eyes upon Grays Harbor, built a small cannery, and used Chinese labor and Columbia River fishermen, bringing them over at the start of a season and returning them to the Columbia River when the season ended. In 1884 the Aberdeen Packing Company of Ilwaco, operated by B. A. Seaborg, built a packing plant on the west side of the Wishkah and began canning operations in 1885.

316

Hunters of the Otter

At first fishermen worked from open boats, some from rowboats, some from small sailing craft. Then a double-end boat

was

developed

and powered

with the first gasoline engines,

mostly Unions. These became known on Grays Harbor as “Columbia River gillnetters.” They could be either bow-pickers or stern-pickers, meaning a fisherman could pull in his net either from the bow or over the stern. When the craft became powerdriven the engine had to be sheltered, which led to development

of a small cabin topped with a windowed cube in which a fisherman could find headroom, vision, and some protection from the

weather while running. While gillnet fishing was being perfected, cannerymen took to building fish traps, which outproduced the gillnetters a dozenfold. In time there were traps in just about every location that would not conflict with navigation. The south channel from the head of Rennie Island downstream bristled with salmon-trap piling, with a cannery tender making daily rounds to retrieve the catch. Eventually, because of their inroads into the salmon supply, traps were outlawed. Gillnetting, and fish traps up until the time they were outlawed, prevailed as the fishing methods. In 1915 John Berg and John Kari, following the lead of some Columbia River fishermen,

rigged their gillnet boats for outside trolling. Two years earlier, five gillnetters on the Columbia River converted their gillnet craft to troll fishing. The first gear was crude. Lures were made of tablespoons (hence the name “spoons” to this day), sinkers were ordinary window weights. The boats dragged only two lines each, first in the Columbia River estuary, later in the open sea.

After 1915 larger fishing vessels were built especially for outside trolling. Gear became more sophisticated, generating a fishery that in time saw 3,000 trolling vessels in Washington waters. August Makela of Hoquiam is credited with being the first

trollerman to enter the Quillayute River.

t

As the trolling fleet grew, a harbor and berthing facilities became imperative. This the Port of Grays Harbor, a public utility operating public shipping facilities and handling other harbor matters, undertook in 1928-29 by building a long wharf in

Westhaven Cove. The Port installed a series of mooring floats, bulkheaded the entire cove, and in 1950 expanded the facility to

Hunters of the Otter

317

double its original size. Breakwaters were then built and dredging was done by the federal government. Constant enlargement of the cove and addition of hundreds of berthing places were found necessary as sports fishing became a major use of the marina. Sports fishing for salmon, done at first sporadically from commercial trolling craft, became a full-blown industry starting in 1950-51, with operators building vessels especially designed for offshore fishing with pole and line, or “mooching” as this type of fishing was called. Within fifteen years the sports fishing fleet had

grown to a collection of 400 vessels. The Port of Grays Harbor marina also became the center for Grays Harbor’s crab industry, which became active in the 1920s with several small double-end vessels handling only a few crab pots. Like other branches of the fisheries, the crab fleet increased not only in number of vessels but also in size of vessels and improvement of gear. Where the first crab fishermen handled pots by hand, all larger vessels now used power. The razor clam, once extremely abundant on Grays Harbor beaches, played an important part in Harbor fisheries well into the 1930s. Beginning with development of a canning method for minced clams by Peter F. Halferty at Skipanon (now Warrenton), Oregon, the industry grew until there were several packing plants on or near Grays Harbor. Halferty himself started with a small plant at Markham, then moved to Grayland, and eventually built a large packing operation on the Aberdeen waterfront, made notable by a steam siren, which could be heard shrieking

throughout the Chehalis Valley. Halferty’s clams were marketed as “Pioneer Minced Sea Clams,” packed by Pioneer Canneries,

Inc. and sold by Guy P. Halferty & Company, Seattle. Guy P. Halferty took over from his father Peter and parlayed the little Grayland cannery into the biggest operation in the clampacking business. However, in time the clam supply dwindled, and before many years commercial digging was forbidden save by the Quinault Indians on their own beaches. All Halferty operations on Grays Harbor were ended, some even prior to halting of commercial digging. Over the years several salmon canning plants operated on the Harbor, notably Strand, Swanson, Morris, and Kurtz. All halted

operations with the failing salmon supply.

318

Hunters of the Otter

The whaling industry figured prominently, if briefly, on Grays Harbor. Victor Street, who had started a rather unusual business of building whaling stations, came to Grays Harbor in 1909 to put up a station at Bay City on Grays Harbor’s South Bay shore. He had started years before by building a station at St. John’s, Newfoundland—the first in North America—another in Nova Scotia, and ten in Alaska.

None of the latter did he operate. The one at Bay City he had operated one year, before quitting to build a station at San Francisco for E. B. Crary and associates. The San Francisco undertaking, however, did not materialize, for Street persuaded the promoters that whaling was on its way out and a new plant at San Francisco could not possibly profit. Collecting his year’s pay from escrow, Street returned to Grays Harbor, where he married and

started the City Retail Lumber Company, which he operated for a number of years. The whaling station Street had built on Grays Harbor handled from 200 to 300 whales a year taken by the killer vessels Westport,

Moran,

mixture of sperms,

Aberdeen,

and Patterson.

finbacks, and humpbacks.

The catch was a

The plant pro-

cessed the entire animal, most of which went into oil and fertilizer,

but for a while the more palatable parts of meat were marketed

locally and on Puget Sound for human consumption. Another product incident to whaling and whale processing was the smell, perhaps the most overpowering and pervading odor ever loosed upon the Harbor. With a southwest wind of almost any velocity the malodorous waftings would wrinkle noses of upriver towns sixteen miles away. Workers at the plant seemed inured to the stench, but visitors often turned away with

the first whiff. True to Victor Street’s prediction, waned, and the plant closed in 1925.

the whaling

industry

Chapter 16 Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

Fz that geologic time when it first emerged from the depths, Grays Harbor had an affinity with the sea. The first white

men, and the Indians for ages before them, found the sea a provider, a means of communication and commerce, an object of awe, a danger and a destroyer. The sea brought discovery and in time countless ships from all the vast reaches of ocean. Their seamen were of many races, to

cavort ashore or soberly to behold the timbered hills, whence came their cargoes. The sea caused a spate of shipbuilding, and made for Grays Harbor a name among the creators of wooden vessels. But most importantly, the sea and the Chehalis estuary were roads of commerce, which possibly began with the smart little schooner General Harney from Portland, with merchandise for T. J. Carter’s store on Chehalis Point and supplies for several settlers. Transportation on the Chehalis River—other

than canoe,

raft, and sculled scow—had its beginning with the 1859-60 Territorial Legislature, which passed an act incorporating the Chehalis Steamboat Navigation Company “for the purpose of rendering the Chehalis navigable to Davis Landing.” This was conditioned upon one Captain Thomas Wright and associates having a steamer on the Chehalis and Grays Harbor within six months of passage of the act. So it was that the little steamer Enterprise became the first to

ply the Chehalis and its harbor. She was a 115-foot open-hull craft

320

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

built on the Willamette in 1855; a stern-wheeler with a 20-foot beam, driven by 12 x 48 engines.

Captain Wright (1828-1906) acquired the Enterprise in 1858 on the Willamette, and at the height of a freshet he and his three sons lined her over Willamette Falls and headed down the Columbia for the Fraser River country in British Columbia. From the time she entered the Fraser she was an extraordinary moneymaker out of the British Columbia gold rush. On one special trip to Murderer’s Bar Wright made $25,000. After this lucrative trade played out, Captain Wright brought his steamer to Grays Harbor, arriving Tuesday, July 16, 1859, with

great expectations. He was disillusioned in a hurry, for the Chehalis was in no way as large a stream as he had envisioned, and no legislative act by itself could make the river easily navigable. An entire mile of the stream was choked with drift eight miles above the mouth of Black River, effectively blocking navigation. In ascending the Chehalis that summer Captain Wright grounded his craft at the mouth of the Satsop, and snagged her and nearly sunk her three times before he reached the jam of drift. Then, when one of the few settlers along the river charged him $50 for a small quantity of butter, eggs, and vegetables, Captain Wright went into a screeching rage. He extricated the Enterprise from the narrow waters of the Chehalis, took her downstream to the head of tidewater, moored her to a handy tree, and took off

for Olympia. It was while in this state of mind and while in Olympia that he was suspected of instigating Indian scares for the purpose of generating freight and passenger business for the Enterprise. Whether or not the suspicions were justified, Captain Wright did get considerable government transportation, troops and freight, down the Chehalis, and eventually recovered his Chehalis River investment.

Not long after the Fort Chehalis troops departed in 1861, Captain Wright beached the Enterprise and removed her machinery and other equipment. In 1864, during an exceptionally high tide, the hull washed free and drifted ashore again on Chehalis Point northwest of the fort, where it became embedded

in the sand. In November

1866 A. J. Miller & Co. built a fifty-foot

type

#

This was Pacific Highway “motoring” between Humptulips and Copalis Crossing in

1912. Signs mounted on old crosscut saws were posted every mile. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

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“ay

MA.

NO

|

me

Raed

an

Coca

:

:

Early-day transport on Lake Quinault was done with a platform laid across two canoes. It could hold horses. (Bronco Tesia Collection)

f

This log-walled hotel served Lake Quinault visitors in the early days. It has been replaced by a larger Quinault Lodge. (Photo by Asahel Curtis. Courtesy of Washington State Historical Society)

Cyclists, derbies, and skirts that swished across the clam holes were a Sunday sight on coolish Westport beach in 1900. (Bronco Tesia Collection)

wat

ee

cours

v

a res

-

oe

Beyond the stern-wheeler Harbor Belle, docking at Westport in 1905, are four whaling vessels. The “cans” on their masts were ‘crow’s nests.” (Bronco Tesia Collection)

ree Wh

hes

ie

onl

,

:

.

‘

r=?

This apparent riot scene was overnight camping on the ocean beach above Copalis in premotel years. (Bronco Tesia Collection)

m

hoa aca

iad

Moclips Hotel, a mighty big place, confronted the Pacific Ocean in 1910 near where the Northern Pacific tracks ended. One winter storm washed out the hotel.

Popular resort hotels around 1900 were the spiffy Essex (left) at Cohassett Beach (Bronco

Tesia Collection) and the Pacific Beach Hotel (right, Orville Engle Collection), both built well back from the waves.

25

:

}

William Dibkey's grocery at Westport featured horse parking at the front steps in 1910. The Manuel brothers drove the “bus,” which locals called the “Spine Rattler.”

Charlie McIntyre, last of the Copalis otter hunters (Ed Van Syckle Collection) Sea otter slain for its pelt by sharpshooting hunters at Copalis Beach; cartridges (right) and Indian canoe (in background) (Ed Van Syckle Collection) Hunter, crouched in a skimpy tripod tower at North Beach, peers at otter feeding in distant kelp beds. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Youths standing in the mouth of a sixty-five-ton finback whale at Westport. Inset: This whaling station at Bay City in 1911 could be located without benefit of sight. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

ihr

ncaa

tener

Cranberry picking at Grayland was a stoop-labor chore before novel machines were invented. (Courtesy of Historical Photo Collection, UW Libraries)

9

Croft lilies aya a famous flower when Markham boasted a bulb industry, now g one. Dave Watson, bulb grower, holds the lily.

Po: When the “Great White Fleet” came to Seattle in 1908, patriotic Aberdeen merchant George J. Wolff organized this Grays Harbor bear marching unit for the big parade. The cubs were presented to sixteen captains as warship mascots. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Painters were putting the final brush touches on the new Westport lighthouse in 1898. The foghorn at that time was steam-driven. (Orville Engle Collection)

Decoration day for Westport Coast Guard heroes who saved twenty-one men from the sea-smashed steam schooner Trinidad at Willapa Harbor bay entrance on May 8, 1937. From left: D.E. Hamalainen, R.H. Woods, J.W. Mathews, R.I. Anderson, and thirty-year veteran Captain H.J. Persson. (Photo by Jones)

ns

=

ee

arf boat and breeches-buoy apparatus at ready for rescues at the Westport lifesaving station in 1905. (Orville Engle Collection)

rae & 4

Dees e

ty i

: Ape

es

ee

E

2

ee

Ce

Westport lifeboat crew with their horse-drawn rescue boat, Peterson Point, in 1906. Man with seaweed on his chin (right) came to observe. (Orville Engle Collection)

sey.

Ace

pitcher

Vean

Gregg

uniform (Polson Museum

in Cleveland

Indian

Collection)

Radmar Pratsch, Grays Harbor's best distance cyclist in 1900s (Polson Museum Collection)

Golfer Walter Fovargue of Aberdeen, a longtime Northwest champion (Polson Museum Collection)

Sparks flew at Electric Park whenever Hoquiam played Aberdeen. This was the 1926 season opener on a rare sunny Sunday. (Polson Museum Collection)

Harbor fight fans followed Leo Lomski all the way to Los Angeles to watch him cold-deck a victim. (Jim Elway Collection)

Leo Lomski,

the “Aber-

deen Assassin’ (Mrs. Leo Lomski Collection)

Face-off between Travie Davis and Hoquiam's Ted Krache in 1924, with promoter Nick Randich, referee King Vanucie, and Krache’s manager, Dick Large (Polson Museum

Collection)

|James

M. Phillips (above) sat on

the bench as a Grays Harbor judge after his years as a Carlisle | grid star. (below).

Mel Ingram, all-time athlete (Polson, Museum

Collection)

George Karamatic. He hurt Hoquiam. (Polson Museum Collection)

“Toad McIntosh. He buried Aberdeen. (Polson Museum Collection)

Russ Ellison, thrice national log-rolling champ, at Albany Timber Carnival, 1947 (Photo by Dell

Ray Sundquist, aallAmerican cager (Polson Museum Collection)

Arne jumping Museum

West,

national

Mulkey)

champ (Polson Collection)

Alfred “Tar” Henderson (left) and Matt Dillon birling at Harbor logging show in 1926 (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Representative Martin F.

Representative Russell

Smith (1933-43)

Mack (1947-60)

Representative

Albert

Johnson (1913-33)

Hoquiam produced three Third District Congressmen in the first half of this century, more than any other Southwest Washington community.

Staff nurses all prim and starched for new patients at Aberdeen Hospital in 1908 (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Gritty Karina Egge with her husband and family before he was permanently disabled in the woods

i

cee

_

Co-ed bathing on a Saturday night in the Wishkah Valley

=

Lacking a jack, this 1920 Cosmopolis tourist hoisted his car on a log and hiked off to find an inner tube. (Aberdeen Library Collection)

Freckled lad with kitten friends on a valley stump ranch (Photo by Asahel Curtis. Courtesy of Washington State Historical Society)

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

321

steamer at Blockhouse, naming it the Satsall after the Indian name

for Black

River,

which

emptied

into

the Chehalis

not

far

upstream. Like other early craft, she was a stern-wheeler, designed

to navigate the shallow waters machinery was made in Olympia.

of the upper

Chehalis.

Her

The first cargo for the Satsall was twelve tons of copper sheathing salvaged from the wrecked bark Decatur. With W. B. D. Newman as pilot, the Satsall churned down to the North

Point of Grays Harbor December 4 to Montesano The Decatur, which bound for California, had

to pick up the sheathing, returning towing a scowload of cattle for Medcalf. had loaded on Puget Sound and was come ashore keel-up on December 17,

1865, three miles south of Point Grenville. She was loaded with

300,000 board feet of lumber and 1,000 bundles of lath and shingles. The bark, because of her size, beached far out and could

not at first be boarded.

On

December

27 Patterson

Luark,

William Mace, Cox, Connor, and Blodgett, the otter hunter, suc-

ceeded in boarding her and cutting a hole in the hull. They found no sign of the crew. Riverside settlers were often amused by Miller and his little

steamer. The Satsall had no bell, so Miller had to convey his navigational wants vocally and often loudly. He would bellow to his engineer, “Let ‘er go, stop her, slow up, full astern.” There is no record of what Captain Miller said when his orders were unheard or slow in being obeyed. For some undisclosed reason, Miller & Co. made the Satsall’s career a short one, for in 1867 they removed her machinery and installed it in a new hull launched in July, 1867, “at the bottom of

the hill” at Claquato, perhaps the most important community of the stagecoach days of 1853-73 between the Columbia River and Olympia. The new vessel, the Carrie Davis, was destined to spend most of her career on the upper Chehalis carrying passengers and freight from Claquato to Borst’s Fort (not to be confused with Boisfort) and points above, below, and in between. In January 1868 the Carrie Davis was making trips between

the two points on the Chehalis River crossed by the military road between Monticello and Olympia. By that date also “the Carrie Davis had ascended the river 20 miles above Claquato. At an estimated 20 miles from Claquato there is a fall of some seven or eight

322

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

feet in height, above which the river is navigable by canoes for several miles. It was estimated Claquato was 100 miles by river from Chehalis Point, so it could be said the river was navigable for about 125 miles.” The Carrie Davis, according to Lewis County auditor's records, “was of the burthen of 29 55/100 tons. . .said steamer is

enrolled Number One on the Custom House books at Port Townsend on July 2nd A.D. 1867.” She eventually was “sold down the river,” meaning to Grays Harbor. In the spring of 1867 A. J. Miller and the Goff brothers of Claquato purchased a small English steamer on Puget Sound. Inasmuch as United States navigation laws did not permit a foreign bottom to ply American waters, a new hull, eighty-five feet long with a sixteen-foot beam, was built at Tumwater and launched on July 6. Jason Fry set her machinery, taken from the British steamer. As the stern-wheeler was launched she was named Chehalis after the river upon which she was to play an important part in pioneer life. She was given her trial run on August 11 and then prepared for her run to Grays Harbor. With everything in readiness, her deck piled with firewood and food and water aboard, with John Goff as captain, Jason Fry part owner and engineer, and M. Jacobson as fireman, the

Chehalis steamed down Puget Sound from Olympia to Port Townsend, where she was to go through the formality of registry before continuing to Grays Harbor. Noting her departure the Washington Standard, an Olympia weekly, noted: “This trim little steamer built at Tumwater, left a

few days ago for Grays Harbor. She is owned by Messrs. Biose, Goff, and Davis, and is intended to ply on the Chehalis River.”

For some reason there was a hitch in registration and a nettling delay, which the Goff brothers remedied by getting the customs official drunk. In his inebriated state he happily made out and officially sealed the Chehalis papers. With a farewell toat of her whistle, the Chehalis departed Port Townsend August 22, rounded

Cape Flattery August 23, and put into the Quillayute for the night. The next day she ran down the coast, only to find the entrance to Grays Harbor smothered in dense fog. Captain Goff turned his craft around and headed offshore out of sight of land. The following day, August 25, the Chehalis made it safely into the harbor and

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

323

anchored in South Bay. Captain Goff was among the first to use the helpful sailing precept when approaching Grays Harbor: “Head her east until the sun goes down, then.west until sunup.” After the Chehalis replenished her wood supply, she steamed up the river of her name to the “heavy drift” eight miles above Black River. There the Goff brothers “with great energy cut a channel through the drift and have ascended to Claquato, and expect to ascend the river as far as Boisfort Prairie. From there and Claquato they expect to make regular trips on the river.” For all the Goffs’ “great energy,” the Chehalis made but one

voyage above Black River. Thereafter she operated only on the lower Chehalis, occasionally going upstream as far as the Black with cattle. The Olympia Transcript for August 1, 1868, carried

this note: “A stage can take passengers from Olympia to Scammons, then by Captain Goff’s steamer down the Chehalis to Chehalis Point, thence by Giles Ford’s wagons to Shoalwater

Bay.”

The

month

before,

Marshall

F. Moore,

governor

of

Washington Territory, and James G. Swan, making a tour of Grays Harbor and Shoalwater Bay, rode the Chehalis from Scam-

mons Landing to Chehalis Point. The vessel failed to find enough business to pay for her

operation on Grays Harbor and the Chehalis, and in 1869 was back on Puget Sound. After several changes of ownership, she was sold in 1882 to the Seattle Coal and Barge Co. On the night on November 9, 1882, the Chehalis was in command of Captain William F. Munroe. Heavily laden with shingles, hides, and bricks from the Snohomish industrial area, the steamer was headed toward Seattle in open water near Ten Mile Point

when she was unable to make headway in the stormy conditions. With waves breaking upon her, and driven by the strong wind, she became unmanageable and was blown stern first upon the beach, where she was pounded to pieces in the surf, ending her fifteen years of life and service. Another early venture in steamboating on the Chehalis was undertaken by a man listed in the census as William Abell, who had bought a grist mill on the river below Elma. He was something of an inventor and innovator, with his own ideas of shipbuilding and river navigation. He proceeded to construct an immense skiff-shaped craft wider at the waterline than at the

324

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

gunnels. He powered her with an engine far too inadequate to handle the craft, connecting the engine to the driving wheel with a sprocket chain. The steamboat was unmanageable even in quiet water, and became a navigator’s nightmare in the currents and eddies.

Settlers along the Chehalis had a standing joke. They said Abell’s craft had to tie up to a stump or tree when she came near a landing in order to get up enough steam to blow the whistle. For all of Abell’s skill at innovating, his steamboat was a mechanical and financial failure. The hulk was reported years later stuck in the mud in Blue Slough above Cosmopolis. The “fine looking schooner General Harney” was presumably the first cargo vessel to enter Grays Harbor, making the trip with merchandise for T. J. Carter and supplies for other settlers. The General Harney made another voyage of record to Grays Harbor, arriving April 18, 1858, from Portland with J. W.

McKee and his family and a stock of merchandise. McKee became a neighboring storekeeper to T. J. Carter on Chehalis Point. The next vessel mentioned in early chronicles was the brig Fontleroy, a United States survey vessel, which moved from Shoalwater Bay to Grays Harbor July 19, 1862. On August 1, 1862, she reported having sounded the Grays Harbor bar channel and found fourteen feet of water at lowest tide. The little two-mast schooner Brant, Captain Silas Olney, from Astoria, arrived from Puget Sound October 3, 1863, and lay at anchor

a day or two

inside Chehalis

Point,

then sailed to

Montesano where she anchored off the Scammon place. The Brant operated in and out of Grays Harbor for some time. On May 26, 1867, the schooner A. J. Wester, Captain Bloomfield, arrived to buoy the channel. She remained several days and placed five buoys. Captain Bloomfield charted the main buoyed channel as running from “Northeast to Northwest.” The A. J. Wester was followed May 1, 1868, by the schooner Fanny of Astoria, Captain Rogers, to inspect the buoys placed the year before. It wasn’t until late December,

1879, that the little two-mast

schooner Kate and Ann, Captain Charles Lutjens of Portland, arrived from Yaquina Bay, Oregon, tramping for freight. In time she was to endear herself to Grays Harbor settlers, but her first

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

325

trip was almost a disaster. A considerable and varied lot of produce was put aboard for Portland. After lying at the mouth of the Wishkah for two days, the Kate and Ann dropped down the harbor to anchor in the South Bay channel to ride out a severe southerly gale. The schooner tossed at anchor for several days and, with no let-up in the weather, her passengers deserted for the mail wagon down the beach to Shoalwater Bay. The Kate and Ann had already lost one anchor when the wind shifted to east-southeast and increased to gale force; then her second and last anchor was lost, leaving the schooner adrift. She was driven high and fast on the beach inside Chehalis Point.

The schooner had aboard a considerable quantity of butter, which was unloaded into wagons driven on the beach and hauled

to Shoalwater Bay. Then it was transported by boat to the lower bay and then hauled overland to the Columbia. When it finally arrived in Portland it was spoiled, and was sold to a soap factory

for eight cents a pound. It was weeks before the Kate and Ann could be freed from the beach on an extreme high tide, to resume what was to be a long career between Grays Harbor and the Columbia River. She was to be particularly valuable to settlers marketing their butter, eggs, hams and bacon, salted meats, and garden truck. Previously the produce had to be taken by canoe or scow to Scammon’s place or to Black River, depending upon the water level in the Chehalis, and then by wagon to Olympia. Now the Kate and Ann did the transporting, shifting much of the marketing from Puget Sound to the Columbia. As late as 1890, tidewater was still the great bearer of Grays

Harbor burdens. The steamer Alliance sailed from Portland every Thursday at 7 p.m. for Hoquiam, Aberdeen, Cosmopolis, and Montesano. The steamer Dolphin sailed from Portland the first and fifteenth of each month Willapa, and Bay Center.

for North

Cove,

South

Bend,

Captain Tom Tew in the autumn of 1890 built a fine wharf at the foot of H Street in Aberdeen, with a warehouse and storeroom thereon. Steamers of the Grays Harbor Commercial Company “used his wharf for all purposes.” The steam launch Jessie, constructed in Portland in 1888, was

326

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

purchased by D. W. Dobbins of Aberdeen, and added to the list of Grays Harbor steamers in 1890. She was chartered as a ferry between Aberdeen and South Aberdeen, leaving the foot of Jones

& Allen’s wharf starting at 6:30 a.m. with a fifteen-minute crossing. The fare was ten cents. The Jessie also ran on Sunday. The steamer Typhoon, launched on the Columbia in 1889, was sold to George Emerson of Hoquiam in 1890, operated on the Harbor for atime, then sold to C. O. Lorenz of Tacoma. The steamer Chehalis, 73 feet long, and the Elma, 74 feet, were

built in Cosmopolis in 1888, the steam launch Romp in Hoquiam. The following year the stern-wheeler Montesano was launched from the yard of the Cosmopolis Mill Company, forerunner of the Grays Harbor Commercial Company. At the time George W. Stetson was manager of the mill company, and it was

upon his invitation that Neil Cooney came down from British Columbia to design and build the vessel. He fashioned a hull 110 feet long, with a 23-foot beam and a 5-foot depth of hold, draw-

ing 20 inches when fully loaded. Into it he put two 12 by 54 engines turning a 14-foot wheel with buckets 12 feet 2 inches in length. The Montesano, “largest of her kind on the Chehalis, had ladies and gents cabins, a dining room and five staterooms.”

She made her initial run in early April under command of Captain Stream between Montesano and Westport. She was named after another Montesano, a small stern-wheeler brought to Grays Harbor in 1882 by Captain James Whitcomb and placed in service between Montesano and Hoquiam, with a run to Peterson's Point (Chehalis Point) on Sundays. Captain Whitcomb was one of several shipmaster Whitcombs so familiar on the Columbia and the Washington coast. Whitcomb

Flats embrace a shallow area of the lower bay,

directly east of the tip of Point Chehalis, and came by their name because of a misadventure

of Captain James Whitcomb

in the

steamer Montesano. Captain Whitcomb was quite familiar with the flats, which then were perhaps one and a half miles wide on the western end and extended up-bay for three miles before tapering off into the south channel. The Montesano drew a foot more water forward than she did aft, a fact well known to Captain Whitcomb and often capitalized upon by him. He figured if he could nose the bow over a shallow the rest of the vessel would

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

327

follow without trouble. However, this time the captain’s confidence failed him. The bow stuck fast. The Montesano was unable to budge with all the paddlewheel thrashing she could muster. She had to sit there until the next flood tide floated her free. Captain Whitcomb was never allowed to forget his miscalculation;

in fact

the flats were named Whitcomb Flats and so perpetuate his misadventure to this day. It was said in jest in the early days—with some substance—that no traveler could escape the Captains Whitcomb. If he were traveling from Montesano to Portland he would leave in the morning with James P. Whitcomb, stopping at Cosmopolis,

Aberdeen, and Hoquiam,

then disembark into Glenn Peterson’s

wagon at Chehalis Point. The next morning meant a wagon trip along the beach to North Cove, where the traveler became the charge

of Captain

James

Whitcomb,

a brother.

Then

from

Oysterville to Ilwaco by stage, and from Ilwaco to Astoria by steamer with Captain Wes Whitcomb, another brother. The final

trip would

be from

Astoria

to Portland

with Captain Will

Whitcomb, the fourth brother. Cosmopolis had three advertised ways of getting out of town

and back in 1904. The steamer Harbor Belle, a stern-wheeler operated by Wilson Brothers Navigation Company, with Peter Wilson master and manager, left daily from Aberdeen at 7 a.m. for Montesano except Wednesday and Sunday when it left Montesano for Westport, stopping at Cosmopolis, Aberdeen and Hoquiam. “Maud’s Launch” made five trips daily between Cosmopolis and Aberdeen. The ferry steamer Progress, on which Cosmopolis people could ride if they walked to South Aberdeen, made a trip from Aberdeen to South Aberdeen every half hour, except from 12 to 1 o'clock, until 6 p.m. During the evening the ferry ran every hour, with the last run at 9 p.m. every night except Saturday, when the last crossing left Aberdeen at 10 p.m. Another stern-wheeler familiar to the passenger run was the Governor Newell, a larger and much finer craft than the first Montesano. The Governor Newell, with Captain Jim Whitcomb as her skipper and W. H. Clough her engineer, was known to be on the Chehalis Point run in June, 1884, for that was when she

brought the A. J. West party from Chehalis Point to Aberdeen.

328

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

The Governor Newell was succeeded by the screw steamer Cruiser, operating between Montesano and Chehalis Point. The Cruiser stayed until early in the nineties, her place being taken by the Typhoon. The screw steamer Tillic, Captain J. B. Kirkaldie, operated between Montesano and Hoquiam in the late eighties and then for many years carried mail and passengers between Hoquiam and Oyehut. The Tillie was first skippered by Burr Briscoe. When Captain Kirkaldie quit his pilot house he joined Minard & Co. in Elma. Along in 1891 the stern-wheelers City of Aberdeen and Clan McDonald were built and operated on the Harbor for a short time before being sold to Puget Sound. The stern-wheeler Aberdeen was also in service on the Harbor at this time, having been in operation before the second Montesano was built. The sternwheelers Hattie Belle and T. C. Reed were also churning the waterways. Some time later the screw Fleetwood became a familiar steamer on the excursion run. Throngs of passengers, especially those going to Westport for the weekend or Sunday, waited on the Burrows wharf at the foot of F Street, or the Tom

Tew dock at the foot of H Street in Aberdeen. In 1888 the 61-foot 14-foot beam Herald, owned by C. B. Weatherwax, was launched in Aberdeen, while the Aberdeen was

built at the same time and place. Small sailing craft were popular on Grays Harbor from the time the pioneer Jameses built and sailed the Olive Branch, and

continued so until the stern-wheelers took over passenger and mail transportation. Frank Peterson, son of Glenn Peterson of Chehalis Point,

was among the first to sail the waters of the Harbor. He purchased the 34-foot, gaff-rigged sloop Maud K from Wallace Stewart of Shoalwater Bay for $300 just “to run around the bay.” The Maud K, built by W. S. Kindred of Shoalwater Bay, was framed with tideland spruce cut from stumps using the natural curve and

planked with fir. The Maud K was typical of the sloops, or were called, that figured in the annual oyster Shoalwater, events won by Wally Stewart Oysterville for seventeen years in succession.

“plungers” as they sloop regattas on of Bruceport and The regattas were

Stern-wheelers on the Chehalis

329

run on a twenty-mile triangular course from Oysterville and without doubt were the most competitive events in the entire Oregon Territory. The plungers were handicapped forty-five seconds per foot of length, allowing the sloops to carry as much sail as they could handle. The skippers found the more spring they had in their masts the better the craft sailed. As a result there was a lot of slack rigging on the course. Captain John Brown took the stays off altogether. In the 1890s sailing craft were used almost entirely for pleasure. A note in the newspaper of that time said there were “two beauties

on

the harbor,

the Katryn

and

Gertrude

owned

by

Messrs. Hussey, Greenebaum and Martin.” The two craft were alike after the “shapely New Haven model.” They were thirty-two feet in length and carried mainsail and “jibber.”

Chapter IF

They Chilled Harbor Hearts

BILLY GOHL

\Waypalls Grays Harbor roared and throbbed with lumber cutting, with the bars and bordellos keeping pace if not outdoing the din, convulsions of a more dangerous nature were rocking the to-hell-with-tomorrow world of timber. Came one Billy Gohl, spawn of the San Francisco waterfront. Schooled in depredation and the niceties of pick handles, he had greed beyond fulfilling, with no compunctions. Here every wharf groaned with

lumber, with ships waiting two deep for berths or anchored impatiently in the stream. The place swarmed with seamen, many of them just paid off. The towns were wide open and humming, with the dance halls jangling and solid lines bellying the bars. It was in fact a ripe time for Billy Gohl and his peculiar talents. Billy Gohl arrived in 1902 with a few San Francisco Bay cronies, just in time to plant his feet well before the great surge of

the lumber business following the San Francisco earthquake and fire. True, he had to watch Aberdeen rebuild after its own fire in 1903, but that was a small matter. The waterfront was still thump-

ing with ships. As shop steward for the Sailors Union of the Pacific and virtually a law unto himself as far as seamen were concerned, Gohl

soon had the isolated Grays Harbor waterfront firmly in hand. He

was thorough. Little escaped his talents. Thirty-six inches of

They Chilled Harbor Hearts

331

hickory handle took care of non-union seamen and stubborn union seamen as well. Threats gave him a “five-finger discount” with ship victualizing. He brought millmen to their knees with delays in ship loadings and ship sailings. His henchmen robbed vessels as they lay at the wharves. Others “shook down” the bawdy houses and saloons. He shanghaied the besotted and became a general scourge to the Harbor. Then, growing bolder, he began to prey upon Grays Harbor landmen. That was an error. Too many bodies, or “floaters,” began to appear in the Wishkah and the Chehalis. Men talked, rumors spread; all fingers pointed to Billy Gohl, but there was no hard evidence. Then Billy Gohl made two mistakes, possibly three. He talked before a crime was committed, and he kicked Andy Jacobsen’s dog.

And he didn’t clear out before George Dean hit town. There came a day when Billy Gohl leaned over the bar in Paddy McHugh’s saloon and bragged he was “going down the bay to kill two men, John Hoffman and Charles Hatburg.” After his dog had been kicked, and some time later found floating in the Wishkah, Andy Jacobsen was ready to tell all he knew about Billy Gohl, and as it turned out, he knew plenty. George Dean became an Aberdeen police captain about the time Gohl was riding high and bodies became too numerous in the rivers. Dean went to work on the case when Hoffman and Hatburg were reported missing. When Hatburg’s body was found in the mud off Indian Creek, the police captain knew he had a grip on Billy Gohl. Paddy McHugh and Jacobsen both gave damaging testimony at the trial, while John Klingenberg, who witnessed one killing and was forced to make the other, brought Gohl’s world down in court. Gohl had shipped Klingenberg off to Mexico in the schooner A. J. West, but a telegram from the Chehalis county sheriff to

Mexican authorities kept the seaman aboard the schooner. Klingenberg perforce had to return to Grays Harbor with the ship. He was taken off when the A. J. West anchored in quaran-

tine. Gohl’s case went to the jury in the afternoon of May 11, 1910, and the “ghoul of Grays Harbor” learned his fate at midnight. He was pronounced guilty of murdering only one man, John Hoffman, and for that was sentenced to life imprisonment in

Walla Walla. Within a few years he went insane and died a

332

They Chilled Harbor Hearts

maniac in the Sedro-Woolley asylum. While he reigned, to the discomfiture of the waterfront, Billy Gohl

had his anxious

moments,

too.

It was

said with every

smidgen of authenticity that Billy Gohl was once caught with his pants down and in a very awkward situation. Seems the schooner Sophie Christenson was towing down the meandering Wishkah with Captain Michael “Black Mike” McCarron himself standing at the helmsman’s elbow. In the midst of a sharp bend at Heron Street, the jauntily-poised jib boom speared a privy perilously poised on the edge of the wharf behind Billy Gohl’s saloonheadquarters. The dockside structure, with its diamond-shaped vent, was swished off the wharf, leaving a bewildered man with

his britches about his knees, flailing his arms and cursing in mighty sailorese. His bottomless accommodation was rapidly dangling down the Wishkah, to be released only when the schooner had reached the lower harbor. It was said, perhaps with

much truth, that “Black Mike” McCarron had purposely and carefully aimed to harpoon the privy, knowing it had an intimate connection with Billy Gohl, who had been giving shipmasters a bad time. It was also said that Hugh Delanty of the Grays Harbor Stevedoring Company, a target for Billy Gohl’s abuse, had been standing on the opposite shore of the Wishkah and witnessed the event in all its uproarious detail, to repeat the story with embellishments forever after. Captain “Black Mike” McCarron would not be as fortunate; he was killed some time later by his Japanese cook. In his cups “Black Mike” often abused the cooks in his ships and, as was

sometimes said by Captain Fred Klebingat, ‘He had it coming.”

JOHN TORNOW Within a year of Billy Gohl’s imprisonment, another convulsion rocked Grays Harbor. A series of killings developed into the sorry “John Tornow case.”

Grays Harbor got its wind up in September 1911, when John Tornow, the thirty-six-year-old stuttering son of a pioneer Satsop Valley family and reputedly “strange,” if not mentally deranged, began a career that was to make him known as the “Wild Man of the Wynooche.” In that month, according to newspaper

They Chilled Harbor Hearts

333

accounts, John Tornow was released from an institution after two years durance.

The story began with a fatal misunderstanding. The Bauer twins, William and John, nineteen-year-old identicals, likeable, friendly, avid hunters and woodsmen, were John Tornow’s

nephews, sons of Tornow’s sister Mary. They decided on that fateful day to go hunting on the upper Satsop. They came upon and shot a bear. While they were considering their kill, two quick shots slammed through the Satsop hills and the two boys were dead. The mother was unworried when the sons failed to return that Sunday night, for she knew they could find their way in the

valley blindfolded. But when the twins failed to arrive the next day the concerned mother called Sheriff Mark Payette. The sheriff sent Deputies Colin McKenzie

and John Schwartz with blood-

hounds to investigate. What they found jolted Grays Harbor like an earthquake. The hounds led the deputies to the bodies of the two youths carelessly shoved under a fallen tree. They had been shot, their bodies stripped of clothing and guns. Nearby, and not far from the dead bear, a dead beef, partly butchered, was found. Smoked beef was found in a rough shelter

near the crime. It was not hard for Sheriff Payette to reconstruct the events that had taken place. The Bauer twins had killed the bear, not knowing a man was butchering a beef nearby. The butcher feared the youths had detected him with the stolen cow, and shot them dead at close range. This was the theory. But who was the killer? There was no positive evidence, but

Sheriff Payette strongly suspected the boys’ uncle, who only a short time before had said he was tired of people and disappeared into the Satsop wilderness. Thus Sheriff Payette wanted John Tornow for questioning. Payette assigned Colin McKenzie to the task, and told him to stay on the trail until he found Tornow. Near ,the end of September,

1911, McKenzie

went into the

Satsop wilds in his pursuit. He found caches of smoked deer and elk meat, and once a smoldering campfire, but no sight of John Tornow.

Between McKenzie’s trips to the outside world, Payette

and his deputies made trips in. They established caches of food on the upper Satsop and Wynooche to keep McKenzie supplied on his long hunt. But in February, 1912, McKenzie came out for a rest. In March McKenzie, with Deputy Al Elmer, returned to the

334

They Chilled Harbor Hearts

wilderness. They had been in the woods but a few days when they met two trappers, Frank Getty and Louis Blair, who had been in the woods for months, but knew nothing of the hunt for Tornow. When informed, they recalled finding a dead elk, partly

butchered, on the upper Wynooche near the Mason County line. The next morning McKenzie and Elmer left their dogs with the trappers and started in that direction. After two days had passed and the deputies had not returned, the trappers turned the deputies’ dogs loose. That night the dogs returned to camp frightened and whimpering. Blair and Getty waited three more days, then hiked to Montesano to tell Sheriff Payette what they knew. Payette feared the worst. That night a posse composed of Deputies Schwartz and Fitzgerald and the dogs headed for the upper Wynooche. At the trappers’ campsite the dogs picked up Elmer's trail, the posse following warily through Behind the dogs they came to a hillside campsite. felled for what was described a “field of fire.” The more

McKenzie and heavy timber. Trees had been deputies found

smoked elk meat in a rude cabin, and behind one of the

fallen trees, the cast-off clothing of the Bauer twins. It was badly worn

and

thrown

away,

the deputies

assumed,

because

the

wearer had acquired something better. The posse knew now what to expect, and guards were posted while the campsite was searched. There were empty rifle shells that matched those found near the bodies of the Bauer twins. There were signs someone had lived here for some time. About to leave the campsite, Getty walked across the snowdusted edge of the clearing and found that his shoes sank into the soft earth at one spot. With a tree limb he began to dig. He uncovered the body of Al Elmer. Nearby was the body of McKenzie. Both had been shot through the heart. Their outer clothing, shoes, and rifles had been removed.

Chehalis County commissioners offered a $2,000 reward for the capture of John Tornow. A short time later, loggers at Simpson's Camp 5 in the upper Wynooche country saw a man resembling Tornow run from one of their storage buildings. The camp was in Mason County, and Sheriff Lon Sanderson organized a posse and joined in the hunt, which continued on through the summer of 1912. The posses

They Chilled Harbor Hearts

335

worked in threes and fours, stalking through the woods with deep respect for Tornow’s deadly markmanship. On November 17, 1912, Sheriff Payette called off the search, and Tornow dropped

out of the news until January 5, 1913, when a party of hunters reported seeing a heavily bearded man with a gun disappearing over a ridge on the upper Wynooche. The report prompted another hunt, one posse being made up of Deputy Giles Quimby and Deputies Charles Lathrop and Louis Blair. Nothing was heard until late April, 1913, when Giles Quimby stumbled into Simpson Camp 5 in the Wynooche Oxbow country. When he was able to talk he told of the posse’s fight with Tornow. Deputies Charles Lathrop and Louis Blair were dead. Quimby had seen them fall, shot down in quick succession by Tornow’s unerring aim. Quimby believed Tornow was dead, but he wasn’t sure.

Within a few hours Deputy Quimby was telling Sheriff Payette that the three deputies had been close upon Tornow’s trail on the upper Satsop toward the Wynooche country, when they found a dead elk butchered in Tornow’s familiar style. Nearby was a small pond heavily thicketed with brush. As the deputies approached the lake they saw smoke from a campfire and a small cabin on the far side. Deputy Quimby cautioned that the three should split up and approach the cabin from different directions. The two others would not agree, and carrying their rifles a-swing, they advanced ahead of Quimby toward the smoke. As they passed a clump of bushes, Quimby, who trailed them by twenty yards, saw a man rise up and fire twice. Both men fell. Blair fell first, less than eight feet from Tornow. Lathrop dropped without knowing what had hit him. Quimby dropped behind a tree which had fallen almost across his view of the cabin. He eased his rifle across the log and waited. After what seemed a century to Quimby, a head raised from behind another fallen tree on the shore of the pond. Quimby fired. The head disappeared. There was no return fire. After a long period, the head appeared again. This time Quimby fired twice in quick succession. Now he realized Tornow was actually pinned down and could not get away without exposing himself. Quimby waited tensely, his rifle ready. Once, twice, three times

336

They Chilled Harbor Hearts

the head reappeared, and each time Quimby squeezed off a round. Finally he had fired seven shots; his gun was empty. On the last shot he thought the head had snapped to one side. Quimby waited a quarter of an hour, then edged backwards from the pond, belly-crawling until out of sight. He wanted no face-to-face confrontation with John Tornow. Once away, he virtually ran to the Simpson Camp 5, from where he got in touch with Sheriff Payette. A posse was formed, with Dr. Hunter, the coroner. Hounds led the posse directly to the bodies of Blair and Lathrop, and without hesitation to the body of John Tornow,

who had slumped behind his fallen tree with two bullets through his head. Before the three bodies were lashed to the horses of a packtrain, that of John Tornow was propped up against a stump and photographed. Hundreds of reproductions were circulated throughout the Northwest—the “Wild Man of the Wynooche,” grisly in death with his multitude of shirts, wool trousers, and tin pants, all shucked from his victims. His deadly rifle was laid across his lap.

Chapter 1S Fans Filled the Bleachers

D:= through the years Grays Harbor seemed to be the place of prowess, especially for athletes and sporting events, amateur and otherwise. Almost from the time the Harbor had enough people to compete, sports events were popular. The first were foot races, bicycle races, horse races on up-valley farms, and a smattering of baseball between pick-up teams. Jim Phillips, who had played football for Coach Pop Warner at Carlisle, brought his enthusiasm for the sport to Aberdeen in 1904, organized the first football team, and himself beat a lot of

Grays Harbor sprinters. In time the Harbor was to experience Fightin’ Billy’” McCabe, who pounded down the skidroads for the loggers’ twice-a-year forays on the towns. What he did to rivals, challengers, bullies, and professionals is legend, the story of the fightingest man ever to scuff the streets of ‘Plank Island” —the seaman’s name for Aberdeen. It wasn’t until the early decades of the twentieth century that Harbor sports activity bloomed to its best. Those were the years of

heyday for professional boxing, when Seattle, Tacoma, and Aberdeen were the centers for the sport in the Northwest. Among Harbor top-notchers were Leo Lomski, Roscoe Jantzen, Archie Stoy, Ted Krache, and Frank “Indian Pete” Pickernell. Indian Pete boxed

his way out of Taholah for an unforgettable fling, flattening a whole parade of featherweights to the delight of Northwest crowds. Jantzen peaked as a fighter just before U.S. entry into World

338

Fans Filled the Bleachers

War I. He won fame as a terrific puncher. Archie Stoy, popular throughout his ring career, was the consummate boxer, ring-wise, durable, and always a crowd-pleaser. Shortly after the war a Hoquiam boy, Ted Krache, started as a preliminary fighter and became a headliner throughout most of the “Roaring Twenties,” when Grays Harbor’s bearings were running hot and lumber spewed out of the mills at better than a billion feet a year. Krache was a big drawing card in Seattle too, especially when he was matched with his arch-rival Dode Bercot. Along about 1923 a rugged newcomer climbed through the ropes. He was Leo Lomski from the North Idaho mining district,

fighting as a middleweight. He rose swiftly in the ring ranks and disposed of one Northwest fighter after another. He went into the big time as “The Aberdeen Assassin,” dubbed so, it is suspected,

by Harold Olson, then sports editor for the Aberdeen World. His New York title match with light heavyweight champion Tommy Loughran was a classic. Lomski missed the title by a whisker, Loughran coming up off the canvas to barely save his crown after being knocked upon his backside. Lomski’s reputation was built upon a powerful punch and his skill as a boxer. He fought a lot of men in his day, retiring to Grayland, Washington, where he died in 1979.

The fight game was so popular on Grays Harbor that twicemonthly shows were staged in Aberdeen’s Eagles hall and later in the Grand Theater. The shows sold out for years. To gain and keep up such popularity called for a promotion wizard, a genius entrepreneur. Such a man was Nick Randich, father of Joe Randich, who became a sports editor for the Aberdeen

then

Washingtonian

publisher

and

print

shop

World,

operator

in

Hoquiam. (Joe Randich and his wife Ruth were the driving force

in establishing Hoquiam’s popular Polson Museum.) Others prominent in the fight game were King Vanucie, tops as a referee, and Dick Large, who became Krache’s manager. Other fighters appearing in the Grays Harbor ring were Babe Folmer, Lakey Morrow, and Steve Mullens. One special bout still remembered was an exhibition match between Mullens and the aging but still formidable ex-heavyweight champion Jack Johnson. It was staged in the Olympic arena, with the two putting on quite a show, Johnson demonstrating how to block punches,

Fans Filled the Bleachers

339

and Steve exhibiting how to pull them. Grays Harbor started with baseball early. Virtually every town in the region had “town teams” in the 1890s, with better-

organized teams after the turn of the century. Remembered were the Aberdeen Blackcats, the Hoquiam Loggers, the Swamphawks, and such players as Fred Gibcke, Tom Marlowe, Alan McKay, Ed Blonski, Doug Dreeszen, and the incomparable Vean Gregg, tagged by Ty Cobb as “the greatest left-hander in baseball.” Prior to the war years, the Aberdeen Black Cats had a brief but memorable fling in the old Northwest League of organized baseball. More lasting was semi-pro ball beginning with the Timber League in the early 1920s. It was a pretty fast outfit, often seeing pitchers and catchers shipped in from the Pacific Coast League. Games at Electric Park often drew 2,000 or more fans. And then Vean Gregg arrived as a new Hoquiam citizen and pitcher for the Hoquiam Loggers. Fans turned out in droves. Gregg’s name was actually Sylvanus Augustus Gregg. His baseball career had started in Spokane in 1909. The next season he pitched for Portland in the Coast League and won 32 games, striking out 367 batters in 395 innings. Cleveland bought him in 1911 to amaze the majors as a rookie with a record of 23-7. He followed that with identical seasons of 20-13 in 1912 and 1913. During the 1913 season against the Pittsburgh Pirates Gregg struck out 19 batters in 13 innings, including the great Honus Wagner twice. Gregg also pitched for Boston and Philadelphia before he injured his back and Connie Mack placed him on the retired list. In 1922 the Seattle Indians enticed him back to the Coast League, where he became their top hurler for three years. He was recalled by the Washington Senators in 1925 but, plagued with arm trouble, he decided to retire. Backers of the Hoquiam

Loggers

in the fast

Western

Washington Timber League talked Vean Gregg into settling down in Hoquiam, and incidentally doing a little pitching for the Loggers. Gregg opened a cigar store, the Home Plate, in Hoquiam, and did “a little pitching,” winning his share of Loggers’ games. His biggest victory of all was the wooing and wedding of Dorothy Halbert, a native Harborite, in 1927.

Vean Gregg died in 1964, with enough fame for one of his

340

Fans Filled the Bleachers

teammates to say: “Vean could throw a curve ball around a barn and hit the cow on the other side.” He also had a singing fastball and a swooping sinker “that was a sight to behold.”

On the same team, the Loggers, was a promising young player, Fred Gibcke, who was soon tabbed by organized ball and had a career well started when he was seriously injured by a

pitched ball. Fred and his father, Charlie, had enlisted together for war service in the Army when Fred was only fifteen years old. Both came home unscathed; Fred went back to high school, later joined the fire department, and rose to chief. While

baseball

was

having

its best years,

football

was

coming into its own as a popular sport, producing some of Grays

Harbor’s most outstanding athletes. Football at its agitated best was unquestionably the annual Aberdeen-Hoquiam Thanksgiving Day game. This was easily the Harbor’s biggest sports event, a rejuvenator of rivalry and hostility, and usually an athletic thriller. The game was a sell-out every time, with excitement at a high pitch. The rivalry became so intense in one game that a Hoquiam pastor, Rev. John W. Beard, and an Aberdeen insurance man, Goodbar Jones, squared off with fists and invective.

It may not be nationally recognized, but it is true, that the now familiar “huddle” in football began with Aberdeen’s coach Don Hawley in 1914 at Electric Park. Hawley, who had been an

assistant to the great Gil Dobie at the University of Washington, came to Grays Harbor to coach the Aberdeen high school team. The epochal game, according to Henry N. “Heine” Anderson, who was Aberdeen’s quarterback, was with the University of Columbia of Portland, and Aberdeen won 6-0. Here Hawley for

the first time used the huddle for signal-calling, creating a practice that has been with football ever since. Anderson recalled that he would look up from the huddle to see his opponents straining to hear what was being said. Grays Harbor football produced a number of outstanding players. The greatest was the legendary Mel Ingram, who began his high school athletic career in Aberdeen in 1919. He earned sixteen letters, four each in football, basketball, baseball, and track,

nearly duplicating the feat at Gonzaga University, where he fell one letter short because of a football injury which prevented his playing basketball as a senior.

Fans Filled the Bleachers

Baseball was

341

considered Mel Ingram’s best sport, one in

which he led Gonzaga to the Northwest Conference championship. Leaving Gonzaga, Ingram signed with the Pittsburgh Pirates to play briefly in the major leagues, retiring from organized baseball in 1929. He shifted to coaching that year at Wallace, Idaho, moving to Roseburg,

Oregon,

in 1944, then to Grants Pass in

1947, where he led the high school team to four state championships. He retired in 1969, continuing as a substitute teacher for several years. Mel Ingram died in Medford, Oregon, at the age of seventy-six, still hailed as one of the greats among athletes. On the roster topped by Ingram were other outstanding Grays Harbor football players, such as “Boots” Schumacher, father of Judge John Schumacher; Ira “Hippo” Blackwell, son of

Cy Blackwell,

the Harbor’s renowned

logger; the Ingebrigsten

brothers; Dick Graham, powerful Hoquiam fullback; Ervin Pinckney; Nick McMonagle; Ed “Toad” McIntosh, who once

scored 11 touchdowns against Aberdeen; Elmer Huhta; George “Automatic” Karamatic, who became an All-American at Gonzaga; Bob Basich, who made Little All-American at St. Mar-

tin’s College; Bob Ingram (no relation to Mel Ingram), who came down from Quinault and went on to make it big at the University of Washington in both football and crew; then there were Thor Peterson, Glen Boyle, Chuck Swanson, Richard “Dick” Kolts, Paul Smits, and R. Osgood of Elma, who went on to make Little

All-American. While football players seemed to dominate the field, Grays Harbor had some outstanding performers in other sports, notably Bob Lawson, who just missed the USA decathlon team; Arne West, member of the pioneer Aberdeen West family, who won the national broad jump championship while attending Stanford University in 1930; Morris Bowes, the sprinter, and Fran Polsfoot,

the Montesano track and football star. Ray Sundquist went from Hoquiam to Washington State University to become an AllAmerican basketball player in 1943. Another Grays Harbor “big name” with a national reputation was Walter Fovargue, a standout in the ancient and honorable game of golf. He was not only an excellent player but a good teacher, and a nationally-recognized golf course designer. He

designed numerous courses in the Midwest, but his favorites were

342

Fans Filled the Bleachers

the first eighteen holes for the Olympic in San Francisco and a course in Yokohama, one of Japan’s first. Fovargue came to Grays Harbor to design the course for the Country Club on the insistence of W. J. “Billy” Patterson, the driving force in forming the club. He went on to design the Willapa course, Oaksridge, and Olympia’s first nine. After beginning his professional teaching career at the age of eighteen, Fovargue became a nationally-known pro in the Midwest and South. In 1913, Fovargue was one of six professionals sent to Europe to compete in the British and French open tourna-

ments. In all Fovargue spent forty-five years on Grays Harbor, where he died in 1963 at the age of eighty-four. Not to be overlooked among Grays Harbor performers were Radnar R. Pratsch, a champion distance cyclist, who won the tenmile Spokane marathon among many other trophies; trapshooters like W. L. “Billy” McLaughlin of Cosmopolis, the Pratsch brothers of Aberdeen, Dr. J. B. Kinne, Noel Lowry; tennis players like state boys’ champion Jack Ehrhart, John Forbes, Jim Shaw, Junior Wayman, Dick Street, and Bob Preble.

Then there was that particular sport in which Grays Harbor exceeded for years. Logrolling was a natural, right off the boomsticks. Over the years a long list of birlers put on their calked shoes and churned Grays Harbor tides. Among the better ones were Blair Acker, Orland “Harley” Foster, Eddie Odd, Harry Williams, Elmer Swanson, the brothers Pete and Elnor Willis, Matt Dillon, Gus Spiegle, Tar Henderson, Perry Hubble, Johnny

Perry, Herb and Winslow Powers, Pearl Stone, Johnny Fry, Billy Charley (who was killed working on Hoquiam’s Eighth Street bridge), and then the all-time champion,

Russ Ellison, and his

daughter Diane. Tar Henderson, who worked on Harbor tugs and years later became a Grays Harbor bar pilot, was the showman of the early logrollers. Performing for Fourth of July “Splashes,” his favorite stunt was cooking on a seventeen-inch log. He had a small stove fastened to the log, a fire going, and a frying pan on top. He broke an egg into the pan, flipped it dexterously with a pancake turner, all the while sitting on a stool. Then he would announce he was going to wash the dishes, whereupon he rolled the log over, stove

and all. The frying pan was leashed to the stove and easily

Fans Filled the Bleachers

343

recovered. The stool floated away, to be retrieved by an attendant in a rowboat. The egg was speedily grabbed by hungry seagulls. Russ Ellison grew up on the Wishkah River near the long log boom where Matt Dillon and Gus Spiegle were boommen. In the course of their work they became pretty catty on the logs, a skill young Ellison often admired from the bank. Then he tried some of the smaller logs himself. One Fourth of July, after several sets of birlers had finished their contests, they let the log go adrift up the Wishkah. Ellison recovered it. Spiegle gave him an old pair of calk shoes,

and

Matt

Dillon

joined in teaching

the nimble-footed

Ellison the skills. From then it was just a matter of time and innumerable spinning logs until Russ Ellison won his first world championship in Albany, Oregon, in 1947. He repeated in 1948 and 1950, and was

a five-times champion of trick and fancy logrolling—all won in Hayward, Wisconsin. In 1948 and 1949 he won the Canadian championship at Sooke, British Columbia, and then went back the following year to win and keep the championship trophy. During his birling career Ellison teamed up with Harley Foster for fifteen years for contests and exhibitions. Diane Ellison began her logrolling career at the age of six under her father’s tutelage. In 1947 she and her father put on a show in Victoria, B.C., the first of many. Diane herself won the

world women’s championship for birling twice in Albany and again in Hayward.

Chapter de, Back in Port

qe Port of Grays Harbor, strongly opposed at first by mill owners, timbermen and up-country taxpayers, eventually proved an industrial catalyst, with Frank Lamb the prime catalytic ingredient. The struggle began as far back as 1905, when the state legislature passed a law allowing counties or regions of the state to form port districts upon a favorable vote of the people. Frank Lamb lobbied for this measure. Prior to passage of the port district act, the federal government had in 1896 begun construction of a jetty on the south side of the harbor entrance in order to deepen Grays Harbor channel. Four years later it was completed, with little benefit to channel depths across the Grays Harbor bar. A companion jetty on the north side of the entrance was begun in 1907 and completed in 1916. This jetty more or less stabilized the bar channel and improved the depth, but not enough to permit ships greater than steam-schooners and sailing vessels of the day. Frank Lamb took to the stumps again, promoting the idea of a port organization. He appealed to the Grays Harbor county commissioners, who reluctantly set a port election date of December 12, 1911. Lamb then fostered a countywide campaign to insure a favorable vote. The effort paid off, with a 1,961-to-562 vote. At the same time three commissioners were elected, A. C. McNeill,

a Montesano real estate dealer, W. J. “Billy” Patterson,

head of the Hayes & Hayes bank in Aberdeen, and Frank Lamb of

Back in Port

345

Hoquiam. Lamb was named president; McNeill, secretary.

The state port law provided that a district must have a “comprehensive scheme” before it could spend money for development, so the new port commission hired Virgil G. Bogue,

formerly chief engineer for the Western Pacific for its extension to the Pacific. After four months and the expenditure of $5,000,

Bogue came up with a port plan that Frank Lamb said would have served the Port of New York. Lamb said Bogue “planned miles of docks covering most of the mud flats of Grays Harbor.” However, there followed another campaign, with voters approving the plan 1,017 to 325. The state solved the next problem that confronted the new port commission: selection of a site that could be approved by both Aberdeen and Hoquiam. The infighting had already begun when the state in 1913 gave the port district 68-3/4 acres straddling the Aberdeen-Hoquiam line. Things were looking up; the port could levy $75,0C0 annual taxes and it could bond the port district for $1,250,000, but then the grand scheme screeched to a

halt. Between 1910 and 1920 it was impossible to get the commission to vote for starting development. Patterson represented the large taxpayers of the county, who opposed the taxes and the issuance of bonds. McNeill represented the eastern end of the county, which was not interested in building port facilities on the harbor proper. Lamb, from Hoquiam, was alone. Lamb’s next move to, as he said, “smoke them out,” was to

propose a port facility at the end of Eighth Street in Hoquiam. In what Lamb termed “a largely attended and acrimonious meeting”

in the Aberdeen City proposal down. By now they formed an alliance McNeill. In the election

Hall, Patterson and McNeill voted the the people of Hoquiam were up in arms; with Elma and East End interests to oust of 1919 McNeill was defeated by a vote of

1,526 to 345 by Malone lumberman Joe Vance. When the new

commission was organized in January, 1920, Lamb and Vance had the majority vote, which Patterson quietly accepted. The commission then appointed C. A. Strong as engineer to prepare

plans for slips and docks at Cow Point. This work went ahead with two interim bond issues, dedicated September 26, 1922.

the new

port

facility being

Meanwhile, the Port had rented the dredge Washington from

346

Back in Port

the Puget Sound Dredging Company for deepening the inner channel from Grays Harbor City to Aberdeen to a depth of twenty-four feet. Afterwards the commission bought the dredge, putting the machinery into a new hull in 1937. There had been a long-running debate, particularly within the ranks of federal engineers, over whether jetties or dredging could better keep the entrance or bar channel stabilized and of sufficient depth. The “dredgers” won, and the dredge Culebra began work in 1924. She was succeeded by the Col. P. S. Michie and others, with immediate favorable results. At one time the bar

could boast a depth of forty feet. However, the jetties continued to sink and lose their effectiveness. Because the bar channel had a strong tendency to shift, dredges were no longer able to maintain the channel, so the Board of Engineers approved rebuilding and extension of both the north and south jetties. The south jetty was finished in 1940, and in March 1941 the first carloads of rock were

being placed on the north jetty. Upon W. J. “Billy” Patterson’s “removal” from Aberdeen after the failure of the Hayes & Hayes bank, J. W. Clark became a Port commissioner. In December 1928, R. J. “Dick” Ultican was

named to the commission, and in 1932 Captain Ralph E. “Matt” Peasley, the sailing master, joined the board. Due to illness Joe Vance moved to Seattle, and on August 20, 1924, C. N. “Bud”

Wilson was appointed to fill the vacancy. In October 1930 the Port commission became involved in a near-scandal dredge-switch deal that could have been called “the great dredge ruckus” and that gave the Port its only real embarrassment. Roy Miller of Seattle, a so-called broker in this type of equipment, secured an option to purchase the dredge Missouri from the Long-Bell Lumber Company of Longview, Washington. Then he approached the board and attempted to sell the Missouri to the Port of Grays Harbor for $195,000 cash and the Port's dredge Washington. ; Dick Ultican had been proposing that the Port have a steam or diesel-driven dredge in place of the electric-powered

Washington.

He and Bud Wilson voted for purchase of the

Missouri with interest-bearing warrants, which banks were eager to obtain. Frank

Lamb,

normally

mild-mannered,

was

this

day

Back in Port

irritated. The Port’s attorney was late. As Lamb

347

fidgeted, his

temper rose. Finally he remarked: “Do we have to wait for this shyster?” Dick Ultican was taken aback by the outspoken remark, but remained silent until the attorney sat down at the table. “Now,” said Ultican, “Mr. Lamb, will you repeat the remark you

made to us a while ago?” Whereupon, Frank Lamb paraphrased his remark:

“I said, do we have to wait for this shyster?” As

silence settled upon the scene, the lawyer made his only remark: “Humph!” Lamb said no more. Political pressure was feverish for the deal, but inasmuch as

the Port commission meeting had been held on a Saturday, the warrants could not be prepared for presentation until the following Monday. Frank Lamb hotfooted to Hoquiam, where he succeeded in getting three men to file an injunction against the proceedings, Lamb himself supplying the funds. Judge William E. Campbell granted a temporary stay of thirty days. Lamb thus had won breathing time to mount a campaign against purchase of the dredge. But he didn’t need the time, for along came the Puget Sound Bridge & Dredging Company with evidence that the Long-Bell Company had offered the Missouri

for $150,000 only a few weeks previously. A New York dredge broker later confirmed that the Missouri was indeed offered for sale for $150,000. This was enough to convince the public. The promoters got cold feet and the Port commission, in a special meeting, cancelled all previous proceedings pertaining to the dredge deal. In subsequent Port commission meetings Frank Lamb sub-

mitted his bill for $1,000 incurred during the injunction. The commission repeatedly refused to honor the bill. It was a small matter to Frank Lamb; he had thwarted what he considered a “steal.” By 1948 he had served thirty-seven years and planned to retire, but in November of that year he was elected without opposition for another six-year term.

Chapter 20 Ad Infinitum

C= Harbor already has performed the miracle of the age. It has survived the abuses of Man. Perhaps nowhere else has a land so rich been so plundered and despoiled, yet lived to heal its wounds and cover its scars. Here the land's riches were timber, fertile valleys, a multitude of rivers, shoals of salmon. Timber stood upon every hill and in every canyon to the very last horizon—an eternity of timber. Yet before Man was through with his wastefulness and heedlessness, all this was wasteland, a measureless expanse of stumps, slashings, and fire-blackened hillsides. Even the rivers and the valleys were ill-used by the territorial splash dams, which marred the watercourse and gouged the bottomlands. It is a wonder that the salmon runs survived such despoilage or the downstream rancher had enough meadow left to mow. These were grievous afflictions upon an unspoiled country; yet for the healing the first settlers found the answer. The marvel was

rain-rich lushness,

the very exuberance

of the moist earth

where every inch provided rooting space for some form of growth, whether it be grasses, timber, or a toadstool on an old windfall.

When the pioneers found their way to the gravel prairies of the upper Chehalis, or plunged downstream to tidewater, they brought the infestation of change to a hitherto unchanging wilderness. Here the ages-old silence was profound, the only voice that of the Indian guttural, the only sound his canoe paddle

Ad Infinitum

349

stroke, or the wild challenge of the gulls. The roar of the sea came

with the westerlies, and great storms seemed to bend the hilltops, but there was little else to disturb the quietude. Too, it was a lonesome place, with reaches and backlands for easy isolation and a neighbor a rarity. The land-hungry would find struggle and hardship. The living would be crude, the amenities few, and the rewards no more than a pioneer could expect. Yet the settler found a place. He found glades and grasslands in rare places. He hacked at the almost impenetrable forest for a foothold, and fought the floodplains for a patch of meadow. With him came his needs. The log cabin was poor excuse for abode, the shake shack not much better. Thus came the first sawmill, an apologetic contraption to be sure, but the forerunner of the giant sawmills later to denude the hills and make Grays Harbor the greatest lumber-producer on earth. The early-comers brought other changes as well. They elbowed aside the Indian and in time virtually ousted him from his heritage. Upon the heels, or rather the canoe wake, of the settlers came the exploiters, the great rush for the timberlands, which parceled out the hills and broad benches into homesteads and timber claims. The latter, of course, were useless without sawmills: so the mills came, dozens of them, sprawling, rumbling,

roaring giants, wasting as much timber as they cut into lumber. But, like the logger, the philosophy was “What the hell! There’s no tomorrow, and there’s always more timber over the ridge.” In the course of these years—which lasted more than a century —the region was vastly changed. Even the contours of the land and configurations of the shore were changed. Thousands of pilings spike the shorelines today, snaggled and unsightly monuments to lumber-cutting greatness. The mills, wharves, and booms are gone, but the pilings remain for the seagulls to sit on. They remind that “once was” no longer is here. In the change, men built much, but not always wisely or well. They built of wood for expeditiousness and practicality.

Their creations, no things of beauty, were made for swift and easy riches. The maniacal steam donkey engines used in the woods implemented the most wasteful and destructive method of logging ever devised. More timber was destroyed and left on the ground than was ever hauled down a skidroad. The sawmills themselves

350

Ad Infinitum

were monsters of noise and ingenuity, but certainly not efficient. They succeeded for so many years only because fine timber was abundant and waste brought no financial harm. All the while a new way of life was creeping in. Roads reached to the outside world and fingered up all the valleys where the first settlers poled their canoes. The canoe gave way to the wagon, and the wagon in turn to the motor vehicle. The railroads came; so did

shipyards and ships. Men spanned the rivers, first with wood, then with steel. Communication widened the Westerner’s horizons and told the world of his land. Stumps were burned or blown; stump ranches became farms and dairy ranches. Farmers turned the bottoms

to the sun for the first time ever, and broad fields lay

where timber once grew. Pulp mills and plywood plants came to supplant the sawmills. The estuaries became polluted, and fisheries were faced with an uphill struggle for survival. Meanwhile all the trappings of civilization and so-called progress settled upon the land. Freeways fed the Harbor, and soon were jammed with traffic. Pleasure-bent visitors found their way here by the thousands. No longer was there the wearisome simplicity of pioneer life. Even the simple amusements succumbed to electronic gadgets. There was no longer hellfire in the clearings, no more oratory and harangue on a Sunday evening, no elk hams smoking,

or bear meat in the stew; but on the other hand, no

more plowing with one yoke and one ox lame. As a climax to all this change, in this river land first ventured upon by David Douglas, John Work, Henry Eld, and George Colvocoresses,

two massive stump-shaped nuclear towers loom

on the Chehalis Valley skyline near Elma. These are the gift of a new time. Viewing them, the pioneer would stand aghast at what has happened to his quiet valleys. But thus it was, and is, with the future ahead endlessly. And to all this, as he often rasped at new wonders, Charlie Jump would have added: “Now, wouldn't that physic a woodpecker!”

Appendix

ISAAC INGALLS STEVENS 1G

bill creating Washington Territory was signed by President Millard

Fillmore March 2, 1853, just two days before his term ended. It remained for President Franklin Pierce, who assumed office March 4, 1853, to select

officers for the new territory. His choice for governor was Isaac Ingalls Stevens, born March 25, 1818, at Andover, Massachusetts. Stevens was graduated from

West Point with distinguished honors at the head of his class. As lieutenant of engineers he helped build several military establishments. He was married in 1841, served throughout the Mexican War on General Scott's staff, and took part

in all important engagements until he was wounded during the capture of Mexico City. About the time Stevens was appointed governor of Washington Territory, Congress appropriated $150,000 for the survey of railroad routes to the Pacific. Stevens sought and obtained the job of superintendent of the northern route. His report of the surveys became a rich source of information for settlers and builders along the rail route to the Pacific Northwest, and today is one of the better sources of Northwest history. Before the close of the second session of the Washington Territorial Legislature, which met in December 1854, Governor Stevens called a number of

treaty councils, and during the years 1854-55 made treaties with 22,000 out of the 25,000 Indians in the territory, extinguishing the title to more than 100,000 square miles of land. The council at Cosmopolis was one of the governor's series of meetings, but not one of his successful.

At the outbreak of the Civil War Stevens was commissioned a colonel of the 79th Highlanders, New York Volunteers. He served in the defense of Washington, D.C., and participated in the actions at Stone River and Secession-

352

Appendix A

ville and the second battle of Bull Run. Chantilly.

He was killed leading a charge at

TREATY WITH THE QUINAIELT, ETC., 1855 Articles of agreement and convention made and concluded by and between Isaac I. Stevens, governor and superintendent of Indian affairs of the Territory of Washington, on the part of the United States, and the undersigned chiefs, headmen, and delegates of the different tribes and bands of the Qui-nai-elt and Quil-leh-ute Indians, on the part of said tribes and bands, and duly authorized

thereto by them. ARTICLE 1. The said tribes and bands hereby cede, relinquish, and convey to the United States all their right, title, and interest in and to the lands and coun-

try occupied by them, bounded and described as follows: Commencing at a point on the Pacific coast, which is the southwest corner of the lands lately ceded by the Makah tribe of Indians to the United States, and running easterly with and along the southern boundary of the said Makah tribe to the middle of the coast range of mountains; thence southerly with said range of mountains to their intersection with the dividing ridge between the Chehalis and Quiniatl Rivers; thence westerly with said ridge to the Pacific coast; thence northerly along said coast to the place of beginning. ARTICLE 2. There shall, however, be reserved, for the use and occupation of the tribes and bands aforesaid, a tract or tracts of land sufficient for their wants within the Territory of Washington, to be selected by the President of the United States, and hereafter surveyed or located and set apart for their exclusive

use, and no white man shall be permitted to reside thereon without permission of the tribe and of the superintendent of Indian affairs or Indian agent. And the said tribes and bands agree to remove to and settle upon the same within one year after the ratification of this treaty, or sooner if the means are furnished them. In the meantime it shall be lawful for them to reside upon any lands not in the actual claim and occupation of citizens of the United States, and upon any lands claimed or occupied, if with the permission of the owner or claimant. If necessary for the public convenience, roads may be run through said reservation, on compensation being made for any damage sustained thereby. ARTICLE 3. The right of taking fish at all usual and accustomed grounds and stations is secured to said Indians and in common with all citizens of the Territory and of erecting temporary houses for the purpose of curing the same; together with the privilege, gathering roots and berries, and pasturing their horses on all open and unclaimed lands. PROVIDED HOWEVER, That they shall not take shell-fish from any beds started or cultivated by citizens; and provided also, that they shall alter all stallions not intended for breeding, and keep up and confine the stallions themselves. ARTICLE 4. In consideration of the above cession, the United States agree to pay to the said tribes and bands the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars, in the following manner, that is to say: for the first year after the ratification hereof, two thousand five hundred dollars; for the next two years, two thousand dollars

Appendix

A

353

each year; for the next three years, one thousand six hundred dollars each year; for the next five years, one thousand dollars each year; and for the next five years, seven hundred dollars each year. All of which sums of money shall be applied to the use and benefit of said Indians under the direction of the President of the United States, who may from time to time, determine at his discretion

upon what beneficial objects to expend the same; and the superintendent of Indian affairs, or other proper officer, shall each year inform the President of the United States of the wishes of said Indians in respect thereto. ARTICLE 5. To enable the said Indians to remove to and settle upon such reservation as may be selected for them by the President, and to clear, fence, and

break up a sufficient quantity of land for cultivation, the United States further agree to pay the sum of two thousand five hundred dollars, to be laid out and expended under the direction of the President and in such manner as he shall approve. ARTICLE 6. The President may hereafter, when in his opinion the interests of the Territory shall require, and the welfare of the said Indians be promoted by it, remove them from said reservation or reservations to such other suitable place or placed within said Territory as he may deem fit, on remunerating them for their improvements and the expenses of their removal, or may consolidate them with other friendly tribes and bands, in which latter case the annuities, payable to the consolidated tribes respectively, shall also be consolidated; and he may further, at his discretion, cause the whole or any portion of the lands to be reserved, or of such other land as may be selected in lieu thereof, to be surveyed into lots, and assign the same to such individuals or families as are willing to avail themselves of the privilege, and will locate on the same as a permanent home, on the same terms and subject to the same regulations as are provided in the sixth article of the treaty with the Omahas, so far as the same may be applicable. Any substantial improvements heretofore made by any Indians, and which they shall be compelled to abandon in consequence of this treaty, shall be valued under the direction of the President, and payment made accordingly therefor. ARTICLE 7. The annuities of the aforesaid tribes and bands shall not be taken to pay the debts of individuals. ARTICLE 8. The said tribes and bands acknowledge their dependence on the Government of the United States, and promise to be friendly with all citizens thereof, and pledge themselves to commit no depredations on the property of such citizens; and should any one or more of them violate this pledge, and the fact be satisfactorily proven before the agent, the property shall be returned, or in default thereof, or if injured or destroyed, compensation may be made by the government ‘out of their annuities. Nor will they make war on any other tribe except in self-defense, but will submit all matters of difference between them and other Indians to the Government of the United States, or its agent, for decision

and abide thereby; and if any of the said Indians commit any depredations on any other Indians within the Territory, the same rule shall prevail as is prescribed in this article in case of depredations against citizens. And the said tribes and bands agree not to shelter or conceal offenders against the laws of the United States, but to deliver them to the authorities for trial.

354

Appendix A

ARTICLE 9. The above tribes and bands are desirous to exclude from their reservations the use of ardent spirits, and to prevent their people from drinking the same, and therefore it is provided that any Indian belonging to said tribes who is guilty of bringing liquor into said reservations, or who drinks liquor, may have his or her proportion of the annuities withheld from him or her, for such time as the President may determine. ARTICLE 10. The United States further agree to establish at the general agency for the district of Puget Sound, within one year from the ratification hereof, and to support for a period of twenty five years, an agricultural and industrial school, to be free to the children of the said tribes and bands in common with those of other tribes of said district, and to provide the said school with

suitable instructor or instructors, and also to provide a smithy and carpenter's shop, and furnish them with the necessary tools, and to employ a blacksmith,

carpenter, and farmer for a term of twenty years to instruct the Indians in their respective occupations. And the United States further agree to employ a physician to reside at the said central agency, who shall furnish medicine and advice to their sick, and shall vaccinate them; the expenses of the said school, shops, employees, and medical attendance to be defrayed by the United States, and not

deducted from ARTICLE them, and not ARTICLE

the annuities. 11. The said tribes and bands agree to free all slaves now held by to purchase or acquire others hereafter. 12. The said tribes and bands finally agree not to trade at Van-

couver’s Island or elsewhere out of the dominions of the United States, nor shall

foreign Indians be permitted to reside on their reservations without consent of the superintendent or agent.

ARTICLE 13. This treaty shall be obligatory on the contracting parties as soon as the same shall be ratified by the President and Senate of the United States. Tah-ho-lah,

Head

Chief

Qui-nite-1

tribe, his X mark (L.S.)*

How-yat'l, Head Chief Quil-ley-yute tribe, his X mark (L.S.)

Kal-lape, Sub-chief Quil-ley-hutes, his mare

dS

Tah-ah-ha-wht'l, Sub-Chief Quil-ley-

Cla-kish-ka, his X mark (L.S.) Kler-way-sr-hun, his X mark (L.S.)

——_Auart-ter-heit’l, his X mark (L.S.) .

Stolameta, his X mark (L.S.) Tamayechotote, his X mark (L.S.)

_Qu@osh-kin, his X mark, (L.S.)

hutes, his X mark (L.S.)

Wiska Ka, his X mark (L.S.)

Lay-le-wash-er, his X mark (L.S.)

Che-lo-tha, his X mark (L.S.)

E-mah-lah-cup, his X mark (L.S.)

Wetone-yath, his X mark (L.S.)

Ash-chak-a-wick, his X mark (L.S.)

We-ya-lo-cho-wit, his X mark (L.S.)

Ay-a-quan, his X mark (L.S.)

Yoka-nolth, his X mark (L.S.)

Yats-see-o-kop, his X mark (L.S.)

Wacha-ka-polle, his X mark (L.S.)

Karts-so-pe-ah, his X mark (L.S.)

Kon-ne, his X mark (L.S.)

Appendix

A

355

Quat-a-de tot'l, his X mark (L.S.)

Hay-nee-si-oos, his X mark (L.S.)

Now-ah-ism, his X mark (L.S.)

Hoo-e-yas'lsee, his X mark (L.S.)

Quilt-le-se-mah, his X mark (L.S.)

Klay-sumetz, his X mark (L.S.)

Qua-lats-kaim, his X mark (L.S.)

Kape, his X mark (L.S.)

Yah-le-hum, his X mark (L.S.)

Hay-et-lite-],

or

John,

his X mark

(EES)

Je-tah-let-shin, his X mark (L.S.)

Ma-ta-a-ha, his X mark (L.S.)

Ash-ka-wish, his X mark (L.S.)

Wah-kee-nah, Sub-chief Qui-nite’l tribe, his X mark (L.S.)

Pasquai, his X mark (L.S.) Wasso-kui, his X mark (L.S.)

Yer-ay-let’l,

Quaino-sath, his X mark (L.S.)

Sub-Chief,

his X mark

(Se)

Gha-ya-tema, his X mark (L.S.)

Silley-mark’'l, his X mark (L.S.)

Wa-ya-le-chel-wit, his X mark (L.S.)

Cher-lark-tin, his X mark (L.S.)

Flitch Kui Kui, his X mark (L.S.)

How-yat-1, his X mark (L.S.) Kne-she-guartsh,

Sub-chief,

Walcha Kas, his X mark (L.S.) his

X

mark (L.S.)

Watch-tla, his X mark (L.S.)

Enias, his X mark (L.S.)

Executed in the presence of us; the words “or tracts” in the II article, and

“next,” in the IV article, being interlined prior to execution. M.T. Simmons, Special Indian Agent H.A. Goldborough, commissary, & c.

James Tilton, surveyor-general Washington Territory

B.F. Shaw, interpreter

F, Kennedy J.Y. Miller

H.D. Cock

*Locus sigilli, meaning “presence of the seal,” indicates a legal signature.

THREE PIONEER LAND ACTS Donation Act of September 27, 1850 . . hereby grants to every white settler or occupant of public lands, American half-breeds included, above the age of 18 years, being a citizen of the United States, or having made a declaration on or before the first day of December, 1851, now residing in the territory or who shall: become a resident before the said first day of December, 1851, and who shall have resided on and cultivated the

same for four consecutive years, and shall otherwise conform to the provisions of this act, the quantity of one half section, or three hundred and twenty acres of land, if a single man; and if married, or if he shall become married within one year from the first day of December 1850, the quantity of one section, or six hundred and

356

Appendix A

forty acres, one half to himself and the other half to his wife, to be

held by her in her own right; and the surveyor shall designate the part enuring to the husband and that to the wife.

Donation Act of February 14, 1853 Section 1 provides that persons may be permitted after occupation for two years of land, to purchase the same at one dollar and twenty-five cents per acre. Section 3 limits the Donation Act to December 1, 1855 at which time all per-

sons must file notice of claims. After that period, any actual settler can purchase the land on which his claim is located, provided the land has been surveyed, at

the rates mentioned in Section One.

Homestead Act of 1862 This act stipulates that the homesteader must be at least twenty-one or head of a family, must be a U.S. citizen or have declared intention to become one, cannot own more than 160 acres of land in the U.S., and must live on the homestead

certain number of years and make certain improvements.

Appendix

EARLY HARBOR CHURCHES BS First Presbyterian Church of Aberdeen was an outgrowth of a Presbyterian church organized in 1883 on the second floor of the Commercial store building in Hoquiam by the Rev. John R. Thompson, who was pastorat-large for Oregon and Washington. Rev. Hiram F. White soon became pastor, moved to Cosmopolis, and began work in Aberdeen as well as Hoquiam. This arrangement continued until March, 1888, when the Presbyterian Church of Aberdeen was formed with charter members Fred J. Fletcher, Mrs. N. F. Kelman, Mrs. Jean B. Stewart, Mrs. Amelia W. Tew, William McKay, Mangus Waples, J. R. Walker, and Mrs. J. R. Walker.

A small church building was raised on a lot Samuel Benn had donated on the northeast corner of Wishkah and H Streets. Captain J. M. Weatherwax and A. J. West were made members of the board of trustees upon completion of the tiny edifice. The structure was so small it could accommodate only three small windows on either side, and no bell tower. A bell tower was built apart at one corner of the church. This is the church structure Rev. White used to rock with a thumping Sunday sermon. It was destroyed by fire in 1903. Rev. J. A. Hanna became pastor in 1888, and shortly thereafter the church ceased to be affiliated with the Hoquiam church, though the two churches were served by the same pastor. Rev. Hanna was succeeded by Rev. J. T. Glover (1889-90), Rev. Alexander J. Lackey (1890-93), Rev. M. S. Riddle (1893-94), and Rev. J. R. Thompson (1894-98). After the structure at Wishkah and H Streets burned in 1903, the congregation acquired a lot on the northeast corner of First Street and Broadway. The structure built upon this site served until 1906, when it was purchased by Polish Catholics and moved to West First Street. In 1908 a very large wooden structure was raised at Broadway and First Street during the pastorate of Rev. E. R.

358

Appendix B

Pritchard. Pritchard was followed by Rev. R. E. Cooper (1910-14) and Rev. T. H. Simpson (1914-18). Rev. Charles T. Hurd became pastor in October 1918.

The beginnings of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Aberdeen date back to 1883, when Rev. S. H. Lougheed, who was something on the order of a circuit rider, held services in Aberdeen and organized a Methodist Society. In 1884 Rev.

J. H. Stuntz was assigned to Aberdeen, but he stayed only one month, being unable to cope with the strenuous pioneer life. Then John Pattison, a local preacher and carpenter at Emery, Mack & Wood, took over the pastorate for one year. On

August

20, 1885,

Rev.

Charles

McDermoth

came

from

Seattle

to

become the Methodist church’s first regularly ordained minister and one of Grays Harbor’s outstanding citizens. He lived in Cosmopolis until he could build a parsonage at First and F Streets, moving to Aberdeen in the spring of 1886. Rev. McDermoth’s first services in Aberdeen were conducted in a saloon kept by Jack Wilson near Heron and F Streets. The pulpit was a cracker box covered with a checkered tablecloth borrowed from the dining room of Levi Sargent’s hotel. Meanwhile Sam Benn had donated another lot next to the corner at First and F Streets and work was started on a small church structure. Meanwhile,

too,

McDermoth had shifted his services to the Presbyterian church building until his own was dedicated in December 1887. The First Methodist Church in Cosmopolis was dedicated the same year. Rev. McDermoth left Aberdeen in 1888 for Portland, where he was to spend

eleven years before being reappointed to Aberdeen. He served as Methodist pastor until February 1, 1903, when he went to the Congregational church as pastor. He died in 1929 after thirty-three years of church and public service to Grays Harbor. In 1909, during the pastorate of Rev. E A. LaViolette, the Methodist congregation purchased lots at the southwest corner of Second and I Streets and drafted a plan for a “great cathedral.” In September, 1909, Rev. B. E Brooks was

appointed to the church. A parsonage was built on East Second Street, and the walls of the cathedral were built. In 1911, Rev. J. T. McQueen came to serve the church for four years and

work on the church’s ambitious “cathedral” project. He saw the basement gymnasium completed and started using it for church services. In two years the Sunday school room on the second floor was completed and in turn used for services. In the autumn of 1916, Rev. E. M. Hill was appointed to the church. Finding both the congregation and the townspeople skeptical of the church's ever being finished, he proposed to the community that it contribute to completion of the structure in exchange for use of the huge auditorium for community purposes. The idea took hold and the public responded liberally. One group of citizens organized by banker W. J. “Billy” Patterson purchased 1,200 opera seats for the auditorium, and other groups contributed enough money to finish the church completely. On Sunday, June 1, 1919, Bishop Matt S. Hughes dedicated the

Appendix

B 359

structure. The giant edifice was in later years abandoned and razed, while the church was built anew on the northeast corner of Second Street and Broadway. Aberdeen’s First Congregational Church was organized May 10, 1890, with Rev. William Coburn of the People’s Church, Tacoma as the organizer. Signing the charter were Mrs. A. L. Crowther, Mrs. Margaret Weatherwax, Mrs. L. L. Trask, Mrs. Eva Florance Antrim, Mrs. Mary Zent, Mrs. Lydia M. Worth, Mrs. Sarah Carman, Jacob Weatherwax, A. D. Pinckney, L. L. Trask, and W. H. Johnson. The church building at First and H streets was completed December 14, 1890, and the church’s bell was first tolled at the close of a watch meeting for New Year's 1891. The first pastor of the church was H. Calvin Crane, followed by Rev. F. C. Craige, Rev. G. A. Lindsey, and Rev. A. A. Doyle. In 1899 the Presbyterian church joined with the Congregational church and Rev. H. D. Crawford, a Presbyterian, became pastor of the united bodies. On December 31, 1902, the churches agreed to separate and Rev. Crawford resigned. On February 1, 1903, Rev. Charles McDermoth became pastor of the Congregational church until his death in December, 1929. The most notable feature of the Congregational church structure was a handsome stained glass window dedicated to the Aberdeen “Pioneers of 1885.” Names of the pioneers listed on panels on either side of the window were: Mrs. Alice Remer, Mrs. Phoebe Kinnison, Mrs. Mary Fish, Mrs. B. Minnie Wappenstein, E. B. Benn, Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Young, 'Mr. and Mrs. James A. Stewart, A. J. Stewart, Mr. and Mrs. A. J. West, J. M. Weatherwax, George Weatherwax, C. B. Weatherwax, Leon J. Weatherwax, Mr. and Mrs. A. D. Wood, Mrs. F. H. Green, W. Wood, Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Haynes, Mr. and Mrs. J. A. Hood, Mr. and Mrs. Charles McDermoth, Peter Emery, Edward Emery, Eugene France, Mr. and Mrs. A. Damitio, W. B. Fetterman, Mr. and Mrs. S. H. Smith, Mr. and Mrs. J. D. Morehead, Mrs. A. Coates, James Patterson, Ida Crowthers, Mr. and Mrs. J. M. Stout, E. L. Koehler, Mr. and Mrs. Sam Benn, T. C. Moulton, R. H. Evans, John Waldron, R. P. Waldron, S. E. Slade, H. C. Finch, Mr. and Mrs. J. C. Pearson, John Pearson, Silas Pearson, M. L. Pearson, Joseph B. Dabney, Mr. and Mrs. J. A. “Joe” Graham, Mr. and Mrs. Levi Sargent,

Mr. and Mrs. J. G. Lewis, Mr. and Mrs. John Curtis, Mr. and Mrs. B. F. Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. O. M. Kellogg, Mr. and Mrs. H. G. Rowland, William

Anstey, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Granger, Mr. and Mrs. McDougal, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Pratsch, Mr. and Mrs. Ross Pinckney, Mr. and Mrs. C. H. Pinckney, Mrs. J. M. Walker,

Mrs.

Frank Whitney,

H. H. Carter, J. W. Farquer, A.

Payette, Mr. and Mrs. C. H. Phelps, Isaac Beamer. The first baptism to take place in the Congregational church was that of Bell Birch Wood, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. A. D. Wood, January 1, 1893, and the

first formal wedding was May 5, 1896, when Maud Perry becamne the bride of John R. Douglas. Besides Rev. Charles A.McDermoth, who occupied the pulpit from 1903 to 1926, others on the roster of servants were: Rev. H. Calvin, T. C. Craig, George Lindsay, A. A. Doyle, H. D. Crawford, Henry Haller, H. D. Crawford, Henry

360

Appendix B

Tracy Strong, Paul R. Shelly, Virgil Carlson, Lawrence Henderson, Robert Elliott, Carl A. Viehe, Henry Wannamaker, Henry Harding, E. Forrest Byers,

and Cyrus M. Gonigam. The Norwegian Lutheran Church of Aberdeen was organized September 26, 1890, by Rev. N. J. Ellestad, missionary superintendent of the United Norwegian Lutheran Church, with a membership of thirty-five. Officers elected were: Rev. N. J. Ellestad, president; H. S. Olsen, secretary; C. Knudsen, treasurer; deacons, Peder Eine, Knudsen, Johannes Myhr; trustees, Ole Gunness, C. H. Natwick and

John Hegdale. Pastors serving the congregation have been: Rev. H. S. Olsen, 1890-91; Rev. J. A. Mortensen, 1891-92; Rev. I. J. Skrondal, 1892-1902; Rev. C. O. Rosing, 1902-07; Rev. J. J. Skarr, 1907-12; Rev. A. Wold, 1913-18; Rev. T.

Castberg became pastor in 1918. The first church building was raised in the spring of 1891 in the 600 block on East First Street. In 1904, through the efforts of Rev. Rosing, a parsonage was built to the rear of the church structure. Rev. T. T. Ove succeeded Rev. Castberg, and during his pastorate the church burned. The congregation then purchased a site on the southwest corner of Fourth and I Streets, changed the church name to Our Savior’s Lutheran Church, and built a large edifice. At the same time the First Street parsonage was moved to a new site alongside the new church structure. The First Baptist Church of Aberdeen was organized June 14, 1891, by Rev.

D. D. Proper and Rev. W. H. Sherman. Rev. Sherman closed his work in September 1892, and a pastorless period of ten months followed. Then Rev. F. K. Van Tassel became pastor in June 1893, and closed his pastorate in September 1895. The church again was without a pastor for nine months until S. A. Abbott conducted services starting in June 1896. Abbott was followed by Rev. Robert Ross, 1896-97; Rev. J. M. Neyman, W. H. Gibson, 1898-1901.

1898; Rev. A. H. Hause, 1898; and Pastor

The church building was begun in January 1899 and dedicated on April 30, 1899. Rev. G. K. Gilluly was pastor from December, 1901 to May, 1902, followed by Rev. G. W. Griffin, 1902-03; Rev. L. L. Cloyd, 1904-06; Rev. G. W. Watson, 1906-07; Rev. Amos H. Hause, 1907-09; and Rev. Edker Burton, 1909-13.

During Burton’s pastorate the church building was raised and the basement constructed. Pastor Thomas Broomfield served the church from February 1914 to April 1915. Pastor W. H. Gibson returned to the church in July 1915, followed by Rev. F. O. Laboreaux, 1917-19. The church in 1919 selected Rev. L. B. Arvin

of Lexington, Missouri. The First Church of Christ, Scientist, Aberdeen, was organized September 26, 1906, with twenty-four members, the outgrowth of the Christian Science

Society of Aberdeen organized the year before. A church edifice was raised on First Street between Broadway and K Street; years later a much larger structure was built at Third and I streets. St. Mary’s Catholic church was built in 1911 under the administration of

Father Thomas Quain, the building a structure of clinker brick in a Gothic ecclesiastical style. It was located on Third Street between G and H streets. A parish house was added on the corner in 1915. .

Appendix B

361

THREE PIONEER ROSTERS Chehalis Valley Pioneers In its early days the Chehalis County Pioneers’ Association, organized in 1912, compiled a list of pioneers, their places of residence, and their dates of arrival in the Chehalis Valley. Those on the list who arrived prior to 1890 were: Sarah M. Arland, Montesano, 1859; Phoebe Alexander, Hoquiam, 1884; George Adams, Elma, 1882; R. P. Ames, Oakville, 1882; Celesta Ames, Oakville, 1882. Naomi Byles, Elma, 1864; Cathern Balch, Oakville, 1882; Harry M. Byng, Hoquiam, 1885; B. P. Briscoe, Montesano, 1854; Edith Briscoe, Montesano, 1862; W. H. Bush, Montesano, 1883; Lewis B. Bignold, Montesano, 1883; William Borden, Aberdeen, 1883; Olive A. Ballow, Cosmopolis, 1884; Janet Byng, Hoquiam, 1905, Anna Bush, Montesano, 1883; Eliza J. Byles, Elma, 1857; M. E. Burch, Oakville, 1882; Maude C. Allburty, Aberdeen, 1885; Annie Ridings Boyer, Porter, 1870; Cera Brown, Elma, 1874; John L. Barker, Montesano, 1881; Mrs. Belle Barker, Cosmopolis, 1886; C. W. Brown, Fords Prairie, 1888; Ora A. Barker, Cosmopolis, 1886. John O. Carney, Aberdeen, 1883; Emily Corielees, Elma, 1872; S. D. V.

Creemley,

Montesano,

1883; Eva Casper (Donegan),

Tacoma,

1860; B. C.

Crane, Tacoma, 1883; J. E. Calder, Montesano, 1882; James Carstairs, Satsop, 1883; Margaret Carstairs, Satsop, 1887; Carrie M. Cole, Cosmopolis, 1885; W. E. Crist, Montesano, 1884; Fannie Creemley, Montesano, 1875; William E. Campbell, Hoquiam, 1873; John Chalmers, Satsop, 1875; H. H. Carter, Aberdeen, 1884; Mrs. J. E. Carney, Aberdeen, 1893; Sidney P. Comfort, Satsop, 1882; F. R. Carter, Satsop, 1871; Lucy Carter, Satsop, 1870; Nina L. Calder, Montesano, 1888. A. D. Devonshire, 1884; Rudolph Distler, Cosmopolis, 1883; Jesse Dunlap, Elma, 1882; Robert Durney, Hoquiam, 1884. G. W. Elliott, Westport, 1884; E. J. Elliott, Westport, 1884; O. H. Fry, Oakville, 1862; Mrs. Clara Belle French, Elma, 1876; Mrs. Anna M. Flower, Montesano, 1883; C. F. Flower, Montesano, 1889; J. F. Fitzgerald, Centralia, 1867; Effie B. Fitzgerald, Centralia, 1867; A. W. Fray, Western (Johns River), 1862; Annette Fry, Montesano, 1862; A. A. Fray, Western, 1868; E. P. French, Elma, 1884; S. K. Ford, McCleary, 1861; Charles W. Fry, Cosmopolis, 1868; Amanda Slover Fry, Cosmopolis, 1869; W. B. Fetterman, Aberdeen, 1883; Mrs. W. B. Fetterman, Aberdeen, 1888; A. Cc Girard, Hoquiam, 1884; Newton Gilkey, Montesano, 1881; Abel Goss, Melbourne, 1884; Ella A. Gilkey, Montesano, 1865; Mrs. Daisy Gochnour, Montesano, 1878; Mrs. Emma Girard, Hoquiam, 1885; Emma Goodell, Montesano, 1872; J. W. Himes, Elma, 1876; E. John Hanson, Mrs. Lydia Hanson, Aberdeen, 1878; Martha Carlile Hoover, Montesano, 1877; James A. Hood, Aberdeen, 1884; Mrs. Lena F. Halbert, Hoquiam, 1860; Laurie Halbert, Hoquiam, 1860; H. H. Halbert, Jr., Hoquiam, 1873; C. R. D. Hall, Montesano, 1885; Leroy Hall, Hoquiam, 1888; Mrs. Lillian D. Hood, Aberdeen, 1885; W: E. Hagenman, Montesano, 1888.

362

Appendix B

Jessie Young Irvine, Aberdeen, 1878; Mary Infreed, Elma, 1871; Daniel Johnson, Elma, 1880; John R. James, Rochester, 1851; James B. Kesterson, Montesano, 1877; A. H. Kuhn, Hoquiam, 1884; Ida Soule Kuhn, Hoquiam, 1885; Alice M. King, 1862; B. F. Kesterson, Montesano, 1877; J. B. Kirkaldie, Elma, 1882; B. Kinaman, Elma, 1879; E. L. Koehler, Aberdeen, 1883; Marcellus J. Luark, Montesano, 1857; Iva E. Lemmon, Porter, 1872; Edward Lambert, Elma, 1884; Charles Leavitt, Montesano, 1885; Elizabeth Leavitt, Montesano, 1866; J. E. Lyons, Hoquiam, 1883; Nettie Lougheed, Malone, 1866. Amanda Mathews, Montesano, 1884; Flora M. Medcalf, Montesano, 1874; Ruth Karr McKee, Hoquiam, 1874; Clara L. Minard, Elma, 1879; Edwin May, Porter, 1873; E. Belle Marcy, Montesano, 1870; H. B. Marcy, Montesano, 1870; Mrs. George C. McLafferty, Aberdeen, 1882; Belle R. McLafferty, Aberdeen, 1880; James Mouncer, Sr., Satsop, 1875; John Mouncer, Satsop, 1875; Walter Welander, Hoquiam, 1883; E. L. Minard, Elma, 1884; Mrs. S. S. McMillan, Hoquiam; Beatrice Karr McNeill, Aberdeen, 1867; Dora Morehead, Aberdeen, 1882; Fred R. Mathews, Aberdeen, 1883; Charles McDermoth, Aberdeen, 1885; Mrs. Charles McDermoth, Aberdeen, 1885; R. E. Mace, Montesano, 1879; William A. Moore, Elma, 1881; J. S. McKee, Hoquiam, 1874; Fred R. Mathews, Aberdeen, 1883; Mrs. R. Moony, 1882; Bert Moose, 1885; Sam McMaster, Oakville, 1887. A. W. Ninemire,

Montesano,

1885;

Lizzie Ninemire,

Montesano,

1883;

M.L. Nethery, Montesano, 1873; O. B. Newton, Oakville, 1873; Abbie A. Newton, Oakville, 1884; Miss Minnie Nixon, Elma.

J. C. Olson, Elma, 1878; Minnie Olson, Montesano, 1878; Lucy Oberg, Montesano, 1886; Thomas Oswald, Montesano, 1886; Bessie Oswald, Montesano. Frank M. Peterson, Westport, 1858; J. L. Phillips, Montesano, 1883; Mrs. Nina Girard Parker, Hoquiam, 1885; J. A. Phillips, Montesano, 1883; Mrs. J. A. Pulman, Montesano, 1887; H. W. Paul, Oakville, 1882; Minnie Paul, Oakville: Sarah J. Pierson, Elma, 1873; J. C. Pearson, Aberdeen, 1883; Walter C. Pascoe, Hoquiam,

1882.

Susan Quimby, Montesano; Helen Z. Ruddell, Elma, 1879; Thomas A. Ray, Elma, 1879; W. W. Ray, Malone, 1879; Annie E. Ray, Malone, 1893; J. B. Ray, Porter, 1880; J. G. Redman, Melbourne, 1862; Mrs. J. G. Redman. Jean B. Stewart, Aberdeen, 1875; A. J. Stewart, Aberdeen, 1875;

Mrs. N. M. Schofield, Montesano, 1888; George N. Scammon, Westport, 1859; Clara A. Scammon; Stanley W. Smith, Cosmopolis, 1885; Mary C. Smith, Cosmopolis, 1885; A. D. Schafer, Satsop, 1871; Laura Schafer, Satsop, 1874; Rose Karr Snow, South Montesano, 1872; Mrs. F. S. Stearns, Hoquiam; Mrs.

Annie Smith (Medcalf), Montesano, 1857; P. S. Slack, Hoquiam, 1882; Sarah L. Slack, Hoquiam, 1882; Emma L. Simpson, Elma, 1881; J. T. Shelby, Elma, 1885;

Anna Strubel, Elma, 1873; Frank W. Strubel, Elma, 1886; W. E. Smith, Aberdeen, 1882; Mrs. W. E. Smith, Aberdeen, 1883; W. J. Stafford, Montesano, 1883; S. H. Smith, Aberdeen, 1882; William Stephens, Satsop, 1876; Sarah J. Stephens, Satsop, 1876; J. C. Smith, Montesano, 1858: Mrs. Walter Strubel, Elma; George E. Smith, Centralia, 1855 (son of Blockhouse Smith); Frances Smith, Montesano, 1882; John B. Snyder, Hoquiam, 1884.

Appendix B

363

Peter Schafer, Satsop, 1872; Mrs. R. A. Taylor, Elma, 1882; J. A. Taft, Hoquiam; A. R. Vorhies, Western, 1879; Mrs. A. R. Vorhies, Western, 1904;

Mrs. Nellie Van Leer, Elma, 1884; Janetta M. Walker, Aberdeen, 1881; Walter Welander, Hoquiam, 1883; A. J. West, Aberdeen, 1884; Jennie R. West, Aber-

deen, 1884; Ira E. Lemmon, Porter; D. A. Watson, Markham, 1883; Maude E. Watson, Markham, 1882; George M. Wade, Montesano, 1878; Florence Medcalf Wheeler, Aberdeen, 1877; Mary Wade, Montesano, 1882; C. C. Wade, Montesano, 1878; Mary Watkins, Montesano, 1883; Mrs. Walter Welander, Hoquiam, 1883. W. F. Wade, Montesano, 1878; C. N. Wilson, Montesano, 1883; C. E. Wilson, Montesano, 1877; B. F. Wilkins, South Montesano, 1884; Mrs. Addie Wilkins, South Montesano, 1886; Mrs. Anna Walker, Elma, 1882; S. D. Winnger, Montesano, 1888; A. Wilson, Oakville, 1883; Mrs. J. M. Williams, Oakville, 1885;

M. J. Zeuer, Montesano, 1878; Robert James Robinson, Axford Prairie, 1884; Billy Dawson, Seath Reavor William Thompson, Axford Prairie, 1884. On the list of Plains-trekkers to negotiate Naches Pass in 1853 and eventually settle on Grays Harbor were a number of Kentuckians; James Biles (after-

wards spelled Byles by some members of the family), Mrs. Nancy M. Biles, James D. Biles, Kate Biles (Sargent), Margaret Biles, Ephemis Biles (Knapp), Reverend Charles Byles and his wife, Mrs. Sarah W. Byles, David F. Byles, Mary Jane Hill, who was married to David F. Byles at Grand Mound the following spring, Rebecca Byles (later married to M. Z. Goodell), Charles N. Byles, Mrs. Ernest Baker, Mrs. Fred Rosmond, Mrs. Leonard Hall, Sarah I. Byles (Ward), James E.

Baker, John W. Baker and Joseph N. Baker.

Early Hoquiam Residents Albert G. Rockwell, himself a pioneer insurance man of Hoquiam, compiled this list of people who were Hoquiam residents around 1880-1890. Mr. and Mrs. James A. Karr (farming and real estate) and their son, E. W. Karr (mechanic); Mr. and Mrs. Edward Campbell (farming and law) and their

son, Superior Court Judge William E. Campbell; Mr. and Mrs. George Emerson (North Western Lumber Company). Mr. and Mrs. John F. Soule (lumberman); Captain and Mrs. J. T. Soule (sea captain and tugboat operator); A. H. Kuhn (log buyer for North Western mill); Charles E. Kuhn (mill operator and real

estate); Dr. and Mrs. Horace Campbell (physician); R. D. Emerson (capitalist); Mr. and Mrs. Chris Endresen (sparmaker); Fred G. Foster (wholesale grocery). Mr. and Mrs. Henry Eberting (livery stable); Mr. and Mrs. James Hull (grocer); William E. Rockwell (carpenter); Mr. and Mrs. O. M. Kellogg (manager E. K. Wood mill); Mr. and Mrs. Frank Kellogg (E. K. Wood mill); Mr. and Mrs. F. L. Thurber (bicycle shop); Mr. and Mrs. W. L. Adams (teacher, bank president); Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Lytle and Mr. and Mrs. Robert F. Lytle (grocerymen and loggers); Mr. and Mrs. James Lenfesty; Mr. and Mrs. O. M. Moore (one of first owners of the Washingtonian); Mr. and Mrs. W. W. Kurtz (canneryman); Mr. and Mrs. S. L. Crawford, Sr. (engineer North Western mill). Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood Crawford (marine engineer); Mr. and Mrs. A. Sandstrom (factory worker and parents of Reuben Sandstrom, long-time street

364

Appendix B

commissioner); Mr. and Mrs. N. J. Blagen (operator Blagen mill); Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kearney (Polson logging foreman); Robert Polson (logger, lumberman); Alex Polson (logger, lumberman); Mr. and Mrs. Fred Hubble (Hubble Towing

Company); Mr. and Mrs. John Warnken, Sr. (North Western company); Mr. and Mrs. T. L. Holman (shoe store); Dr. and Mrs. W. M. Lamb (bookkeeper and

justice of peace); Herman and John Winters (first store Grays Harbor City, later Hoquiam); Frank G. Quimby (Quimby and Smading (plasterer); W. B. McGee (furniture).

Wilson);

Mr.

and Mrs.

L. E.

Mr. and Mrs. J. A. Tannahill (storekeeper); George and Jack Sparling (loggers); Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Jacka (Woodlawn Shingle mill); James T. Quigg, Sr. (construction); Dudley H. Doe, Sr. (manager Stearns shingle mill Stearnsville); Mr. and Mrs. George Allman (timber cruiser), C. C. “Con” Cooper (woodworking plant); Charles Knokey (millworker); Mr. and Mrs. F. D. Arnold (founder First National Bank); Robert Durney, Sr. (Polson timber buyer); Mr. and Mrs. Peter Girard; Mr. and Mrs. J. O. Stearns (capitalist); Mr. and Mrs. A. H. Hoefer (North Shore Electric Co.); Mr. and Mrs. C. H. Scott (builder); Mr. and Mrs. Charles Stine (clothier); Mr. and Mrs. R. E. Dawly (cashier and accountant). Mr. and Mrs. Peter Autzen (lumberman); Mr. and Mrs. Frank Morgan (at-

torney); Mr. and Mrs. F. R. Annis (furniture); Mr. and Mrs. W. D. Mack (logger); Mr. and Mrs. Claude Williams (superintendent E. K. Wood mill); Mr. and Mrs. Frank Nobel (timber cruiser); Fred Straub (first jeweler); Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Lamping (New York Hotel); J. A. Fairbairn (real estate and insurance); Dr.

and Mrs. T. C. Frary (physician); Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Moore Heath (attorney); Mr. and Mrs. Norman McDonald (lumberman); George Glander (meat market);

Mr. and Mrs. W. B. Ogden (bookkeeper and justice of the peace); Mr. and Mrs. F. F. Winkelman (first operator of city pumping station); Mr. and Mrs. O. H. Romans (carpenter); Mr. and Mrs. J. D. Dean (teacher). Mr. and Mrs. Harvey Lord (shingle mill operator); Owen Jones (jeweler); Mr. and Mrs. W. C. Schuneman (jeweler); Mr. and Mrs. M. H. Tuttle (city’s first abstractor), Harry Linder (mill worker); Mr. and Mrs. Lou Miller (North Western boom man); Mr. and Mrs. P. J. Mourant (builder); Tom Sharp (railroad

agent); Mr. and Mrs. George W. France (operator Aberdeen-Hoquiam stage); Mr. and Mrs. M. R. Ross (storekeeper); Captain and Mrs. Charles Hughes (ship master for E. K. Wood); Mr. and Mrs. Charles F. Hill (city commissioner, she teacher); Mr. and Mrs. John Ihle (teamster); Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Bruce (post-

master, storekeeper); Dr. and Mrs. Chase (physician); L. McTaggart (furniture); Mr. and Mrs. Harry Albright (druggist). Mr. and Mrs. P. M. Carlson (dairy); O. C. Fenlason (millman); A. L. Paine

(general manager North Western); George O. Horton (barber); Mr. and Mrs. Fritz Rebotzki (merchant); Dr. and Mrs. W. B. Wells (physician); Mr. and Mrs. McCauley (sawfiler); Henry W. Bale (apparel store, then logging contractor); William Leck (associated with Bale); Mr. and Mrs. Chris Knoell (meat market); Mr. and Mrs. Alex Tilly (millworker); Mr. and Mrs. C. T. Hall (publisher);

Milton Watson (construction); Mr. and Mrs. A. T. Brown (transfer firm). Charles M. Avey (Weston Basket Company); Adam Dimler (cigar maker); Adolph Werner (first bakery); Nels Iverson (logger);. Peter F. Klein (Polson

Appendix B

general foreman); George Woods James F. Conner (Novelty Theater); Andrew Rosendahl (businessman); Sam Hoag (land owner); Mr. and

365

(meat market); Mose Freeland (restaurant); Otto F. Witte (druggist); John G. Wheelock; Charles Hegner (mill worker); Mr. and Mrs. Mrs. Ben Baldwin (hotel operator); Frank

Stenzil (mill worker); George L. Davis (logging contractor); William Melville (marine engineer); Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Lyden (furniture store); Mike Lafferty (mill worker); John Hoskins (clothing store). John Peel (policeman); Tom Carnine (police chief);

Captain

Hans

K.

“Drawbucket” Johnson (tug Printer); R. C. Hopkins (building contractor); “Granddaddy” Briscoe (carpenter and saw filer); Mr. and Mrs. Pat LaChapelle (mill foreman);

Dr. and Mrs.

John South

(physician);

Mr.

and Mrs.

N. S.

Sorenson (blacksmith); Mr. and Mrs. Fred J. Wood (assistant manager E. K. Wood mill); Mr. and Mrs. Cy Johnson (mill worker); Mr. and Mrs. Charles Beal (blacksmith); Mr. and Mrs. W. A. Dawson and Mr. and Mrs. Dave Lundeen

(Weston Basket Factory).

Settlers in the Promised Land This is a list of settlers in the Promised Land of the Humptulips Valley picked off a land map by the late Dan McGillicuddy, a Grays Harbor timber cruiser. William McAfee, Ritchie McAfee, Sam Ray, Capt. Schneider, Albert E. White, Edmund Wilson, William Kendrick, Sam Adams, Mathias Sweitzer, Lachlin McTaggart, Charles Kellogg, Sarkus Davis, Henry Eberting, Michael Hoffman, Charles Knoell, Dave Anderson, Dolly Winters, H. M. Winters, Mitch Ford, Michael Haley, C. A. Hanson, Robert Quinn, Lizzie Milhoffer, Johann Milhoffer, Freman Watson, Chas. E. Evans, Elzy White, Thomas Larkin. Alfred Anderson, Charles Larkins, Anna Isem, L. E. Smading, George Scruby, E. A. Philbert, Richard Green, Eric Sjolserth, Ima Sjolserth, Johnnie Scruby, Mr. Rasmussen, Thomas Jenson, James L. McNutt, Newton Brittain, H. G. Evans, John Hanson, R. C. Wilson, H. W. Marquis, George Huntley, Geo. A Read, Jr., Michael Slinning, Geo. W. Wainright, Guy Archer, George Hamilton, Verna Wood, Mary Anstie, John Dunning, George Dunning, Fred Turno. Ralph Hewitt, DeWitt Boyd, George Clinton, Kate Kendrick, Mary Kendrick, Jennie Kendrick, Will Kendrick, Scholtze Brothers, Tom McDonald, Mrs. Reed, George Carroll, Ralph Hawkins, Robert Hess, Albert Hess, Tom Newnham, John McCamat, Jack Andrews.

WHEN THE SOLDIERS CAME Federal troops:were garrisoned at Point Chehalis from February 9, 1860, to June 19, 1861. Their presence was largely due to white fear of Indian disturbances after several incidents east of the Cascades. The 1860 census for “free inhabitants of Chehalis County, W. T.” listed the Grays Harbor garrison officers as Lieutenant E. J. Conner, 24, of Connecticut, and L. H. Roberts, 26, surgeon from Maine. (Samuel Benn, a resident of Chehalis Point at the time and a builder of two houses for the officers, recalled First Lieutenant

Kautz, a Second Lieutenant Conner, and a company doctor named Wirtz. The

366

Appendix B

discrepancy in the two lists could be due to the time elapsed between the arrival of the troops in February and the time of the census, which began on July 7. Benn was to recall later that Lt. Kautz, who became a general during service in the Civil War, came back to Grays Harbor in 1893-94 to visit him.) Records of the Navy and Old Army Branch, Military Archives Division, National Archives and Records Service, Washington, D.C., have the officers at “Camp Chehalis” as Captain Maurice Maloney, Lt. Edward J. Conner, and Lt.

August V. Kautz. The archives further record that “Camp Chehalis, Washington was established by Company A, 4th U.S. Infantry on February 11, 1860, at the lower part of the mouth of the Chehalis River in Grays Harbor. It was abandoned June 19, 1861, and on August 3, 1866, the post buildings were ordered to be sold.”

The exact location of the military post is pinpointed on the original plat of the Town of Chehalis, now part of Westport. In relation to today’s streets, the post was bounded on the north by Elizabeth Street and spanned sections of both Adams and Baker streets. The site was described as a fairly level tract surrounded by pine trees. The post location was donated to the United States government for military purposes by Thomas Jefferson Carter and was carved out of what was to be his government patent of May 9, 1861. However, in 1860 Carter did not have his patent, did not own the land, and could not give the government a deed. There was a question whether or not he could get a patent, for the area was still considered Indian land. Captain Maloney, upon the strength of Carter’s statement to military headquarters that the land was being transferred by Carter “without any emoluments for the same,” went ahead with his post building regardless of its degree of legality. The main barracks was 50 by 84 feet, the storehouse, including a small

office, 20 by 40 feet; the commander's quarters (with six rooms) 32 by 43 feet, the lieutenants’ residence, 15 by 24 feet. The barracks had a half-story loft used as a storage room. Later a small guardhouse of logs was built between the barracks and the storehouse. Into this establishment Captain Maloney led Company A, 4th U.S. Infantry, after having disembarked from Captain Wright's Enterprise at the mouth of a rather large slough which even yet wends into Westport. The slough in pioneer days was a busy waterway, serving the Indian village and carrying canoe,

scow,

and rowboat

traffic almost to the doors of two stores built on

grassy flats nearby. The name of the “fort” was never clearly established. It was variously called “Fort Chehalis,” “Camp Chehalis,” and “Post Chehalis.” Army records use both “fort” and “camp.” The site is listed as “Post Chehalis” on the original plat of the Town of Chehalis laid out by T. J. Carter and associates. Colonel George Wright, department commander, considered changing the name from “Post Chehalis” to “Fort Chehalis,” but not increasing its size from

Captain Maloney’s original Company A. This was at a time, however, when the Army was planning to discontinue the installation. More than half the troops garrisoning “Fort Chehalis” were originally from Ireland: George Besinger, 49, John Ford, 29, Charles McGowen, 27, John Donovan, 25, Thomas Scollen, 28, Patrick Shelly, 23, Michael Mager, 25,

Appendix B

367

Patrick Duggan, 33, Dennis Flynn, 22, John Gordon, 32, Michael Donohue, 28, Bernard Kenney, 26, John Murphy, 24, Patrick Malaruff, 24, Daniel Crawley, 29, William Bashford, 29, James G. Boyle, 23, Sylvester Kahose, 23, John McMaster, 27, Patrick O'Connell, 23, William Byon, 37, John Wrenn, 25, Edmund Palmer, 31, August Adamson, 42, John McConkey, 33, John O'Neil, 27, Timothy Murphy, 26, James Brophy, 24, Michael Donovan, 29, Bernard Brady, 27, Valentine Phalen, 36, Bartholomew Barry, 25, Michael Kirwin, 41. Six men came from Germany: Alexander McDonald, 26, Louis Keehmann, 25, Richard Buddelier, 25, John Poyal, 29, Christian Jack, 24, and Rudolph Walters, 24. Four were from England: Nicholas J. Bell, 27, Sidney Brooks, 25, John Lynch, 32, Robert Nicholson, 29. August Rebend, 27, came from Prussia, Gustave Karcher, 26, from France, Fren Schaul from Switzerland.

Others in the company came from the United States: Thomas Burnham, 31, Charles W. Harris, 26, William Swartz, 21, and John Peterson, 26, from New York; Richard Lightner, 27, Henry Hoffman, 20, and John Norman, 31, from Pennsylvania; John Wright, 36, and Henry Dealand, 37, from Vermont; John Moore, 24, from Massachusetts.

Four wives, all born in Ireland, accompanied their soldier husbands: Mrs. Julie Bashford, 28, Mrs. Mary Wrenn, 25, Mrs. Catherine McConkey, 33, Mrs.

Catherine Murphy, 30. There were also five children enumerated as members of the garrison families: Catherine Kennedy, 8, Louisiana; Minnie Wrenn, 3, Ireland; Edward Kennedy, 5, California; William J. Bashford, 1, Washington

Territory; and Mary Gulock, 13, born in New York. Ireland-born Maurice Maloney had come to America as a young lad and joined the army as a private in 1834. His first experience with war was in Florida against the Cherokee Indian Nation. Later he took part in several engagements in the war with Mexico, and was brevetted first lieutenant for service at El Molino

del Rey and later captain for service at Chapultepec. Citizens of New Orleans presented him a gold medal for a gallant record in the Mexican War. He came to the Pacific Coast with the 4th Infantry, was stationed at Fort Steilacoom, and

took a he was served colonel

prominent part in the Yakima Indian War of 1855-56. With his company moved to Fort Chehalis and held command there until May 9, 1861. He in the field during the Civil War, where he was brevetted lieutenant during the siege of Vicksburg and later colonel for meritorious service.

On June 16, 1867, he was commissioned lieutenant colonel of the 16th Infantry. According to Appleton’s obituary “On January 8, 1872, after 35 years of faithful

service, a gallant officer who had risen from the ranks, and widely and creditably known throughout the army, was finally placed on the retired list.”

CITY FATHERS OF ABERDEEN Upon incorporation of the Town of Aberdeen on March 20, 1888, Judge Frank Allyn, judge of the district court, Second District, Washington Territory, appointed a board of trustees: J. M. Weatherwax, Arnold J. West, Charles R. Wilson, Alanson D. Woods, and Samuel Benn. Samuel Benn was chosen as chairman and A. J. West as secretary.

368

Appendix B

March

28, 1888—Town officials appointed: G. S. Thomas, clerk; C. T. Wooding, treasurer; J. C. Pearson, counsel; John R. Walker, assessor; John G. Lewis, marshal and street commissioner. Walker declined to serve and E. E.

Eaton was appointed. April 2, 1888—Election held in schoolhouse for five trustees. Election board:

A. Payette, judge, E. L. Koehler, clerk, L. E. Paine, clerk. Trustees elected: R. H. Evans, O. M. Kellogg, Samuel Benn, J. L. Waldron, A. J. West, all issued certifi-

cates of election April 3, 1888 following a canvass of ballots. April 4, 1888—R. H. Evans elected chairman board of trustees. Town officials appointed: G. S. Thomas, clerk; J. G. Lewis, street commissioner; J. G. Lewis, town marshal (Lewis resigned October 31, 1888, J. A. Graham appointed); A. Payette, assessor; C. T. Wooding, treasurer; J. C. Pearson,

counsel, R. S. Jackson, surveyor. Bid of E. C. Finch accepted to publish town ordinances and by-laws (Aberdeen Herald, owned by Finch and Samuel Benn, Rev. Charles McDermott, editor).

August 29, 1888—Marshal instructed to procure hooks and ladders for fire protection, also instructed to excavate for water tanks in the alley on G Street between Wishkah and Heron. C. T. Wooding appointed to go to Portland to purchase pumps and fire engine. Sept. 12, 1888—Marshal instructed to fill G Street from Heron to reservoir in alley, also instructed to build tank or reservoir at or near intersection of Hume

and H streets. Sept. 19, 1888—Reservoir also ordered at intersection of Heron and H, and Heron and I Street. Vote of thanks to Captain J. H. Gray for bringing fire engine from Astoria in General Miles. Aug. 7, 1889—Petition of citizens filed asking board of trustees to negotiate with Aberdeen Electric Company for eight arc lights. Nov. 13, 1889—Trustees signed contract with existing water company providing for fifteen hydrants and fountain, and water service to schools, hospitals, and jails. Petition also filed asking board to take steps to secure bridge across Wishkah. May 12, 1890—Aberdeen incorporated as a City of the Third Class. First mayor, J. B. Maling; Councilmen, William Anstie, Alexander Young, O. M. Kellogg, A. J. West, L. F. Babcock.

Aberdeen Mayors Samuel Benn, 1891

A. J. West, 1903-04

J. M. Weatherwax, 1892

John Lindstrom, 1905-06

A. C. Little, 1893

(City of the Second Class, 1907)

C. B. Weatherwax,

1894

Eugene France, 1907-08

J. A. Hood, 1895-96

E. B. Benn, 1909-10

L. L. Maley, 1897-99

James W. Parks, 1911-12

A. P. Stockwell, 1900

Eugene France, 1913-14

William Anstie, 1901-02

J. M. Phillips, 1915-16

Appendix B

Roy C. Sargent, 1917-20

Walter T. Foelkner, 1942-47

H. E. Bailey, 1921-24

Ed Lundgren, 1948-61

A. G. Hopkins, 1925

Walt Failor, 1962-67

C. M. Cloud, 1926-27

Ed Lundgren, 1968-69

H. E. Bailey, 1928-29

Walt Failor, 1970-76

(City of the First Class, 1930)

Fran White, 1976-77

G. C. Griffith, 1930-31

Jerry Foy, 1980

H. E. Bailey, 1932-33

Jack Durney, 1981

369

H. Horrocks, 1934-41

HOQUIAM RECORDS Hoquiam set up its first government on June 4, 1889, with a meeting of a council composed of Scott Emerson, chairman; W. D. Mack, secretary; John F.

Soule, O. C. Gamage, and E. T. Balch. H. Kegley, who administered the oath The city was incorporated a year John Richardson, George W. France, first mayor was J. T. Burns.

They met in the office of attorney Charles of office to each. later, on May 21, 1890, with councilmen O. M. Murphey, and Peter Autzen: the

Hoquiam Mayors J. T. Burns, 1890-91

W. A. Jacka, 1920-22

F. D. Arnold, 1891-93

H. B. Fisher, 1922-26

O. M. Moore, 1893-94

George Brault, 1927-29

T. C. Frary, 1894-96

Martin F. Smith, 1929-31

James A. Karr, 1897-99

J. C. Shaw, 1931-32

John F, Soule, 1899-1900

T. O. Kellogg, 1932-35

John Richardson, 1900 (Jan.-Apr.)

Ralph L. Philbrick, 1935-37

R. F. Lytle, 1900-01

Reuben Sandstrom,

George L. Davis, 1901 (Jan.-Aug.)

Ralph L. Philbrick, 1939-45

T. C. Frary, 1901-04

McKinley Johnson, 1945 (Feb.-Jun.)

Peter Autzen, 1905-06

Kenward E. Ross, 1945-46

A. J. McIntyre, 1906-08

F. R. Anderson, 1946-51

pie e. Fraeye 1908-10

F. W. McGuire, 1951-58

P. J. Mourant, 1910-11

H. S. Elway, 1958-62

Harry Ferguson, 1911-12

R. A. Youmans, 1962-71

Chris Knoell, 1912-14

John Baker, 1971-72

J. S. McKee, 1914-17

J. E. McGuire,

Ralph L. Philbrick, 1917-20

Jimmy D. Englund, 1978-

1937-39

1972-78

Appendix

INDIAN NAMES* |fs name for Chehalis River: “Nesoolup.” “Chehalis” is Indian name for south peninsula meaning “sandy land.” Wishkah: ‘“Wishkol,” “bad water.” Indian tradition attached something evil

to the river. There were no Indian camps near the mouth as was customary in such circumstances;

and Indians seldom ascended the river more than two or

three miles. Newskah: “Neuskal,” “drinking water.” The tide reputedly ran clear out of

the creek and at low water fresh water ran in the channel. Indians took supply of fresh water from the stream. Fry Creek: “Chominim.” Small stream midway between Hoquiam (“hungry for wood”) and “Wishkol.” Damons Point: “Mo-sco-to-mox.” Oyehut: “Quidyah.” James Rock: “Clemon.” The name applied to the mainland nearby and to an Indian camp thereon. The rock itself seems to have had no Indian name. Johns River: “Sce-ach.” Cosmopolis: “His-o-lumpish.” Forks of the Hoquiam: “Nusquats.” West Hoquiam River: “Wha-bush.” East branch of Hoquiam had the same name as the main river. Black River: ‘Satsel.”

“Compiled by Edward Campbell, Hoquiam’s first postmaster when Hoquiam post office was established April 1, 1868.

TEACHERS MADE SO LITTLE The first schoolhouse in Chehalis County was a rough log cabin, sixteen by

Appendix C

371

eighteen feet, built by Chehalis Point settlers in 1858. The body of the structure was raised November 2, 1858, some distance south of the original Glenn Peterson

home. The schoolhouse later became the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Francis M. Stocking. The first class in the new school was taught by D. C. Jones, who had located on the abandoned Thomas Carter claim on Roundtree Point. The school was a subscription institution supported by P. F. Luark, T. J. Carter, and William Medcalf (the Medcalf family moved to the Point temporarily during the school term). Classes began January 3, 1859. Jones, the teacher, was

paid $25 a month plus the privilege of boarding around. When the troops deserted Fort Chehalis, some of the settlers took advantage of the opportunity afforded by the empty buildings and moved in for the duration of the school term. The teaching position at Chehalis Point was not all that inviting. In November 1864 M. J. Luark stopped overnight at the James Karr place in Hoquiam in an attempt to persuade Mrs. Karr to teach at the Point that winter. She refused.

MonTEsANo GOT ITs First school in 1863, on Medcalf Prairie, just east of North Montesano. Medcalf, Isaiah Scammon, and Joseph Mace composed the school

board. H. C. “Brother” Rhodes was the first teacher. Later the teaching post was changed to the Ketcham house. The first schoolhouse was built on Main Street near Pioneer Avenue where the Veysey Brothers store building was to stand. Henry Barker, a bachelor, built the schoolhouse alone, except for a few days’ help. The structure did not serve long, for it was moved from the site and on

March 1, 1870, sold to the Philadelphia Lodge No. 181 O.G.T. along with one acre of ground for $120.50. The building was razed in December 1885. The new schoolhouse was built on Spruce Street on the site now occupied by the Montesano High School. The building had an entrance hall and one large room, heated by a big wood-burning stove upon which there was always a kettle of water to keep the air moist. The school was equipped with backless benches, later replaced with seats with backs and desks with sloping tops, which could be raised to store materials within. Two pupils were assigned to each seat. Girls were required to sit on the east side of the room, boys on the west side. Reading, writing, arithmetic, spelling, and geography were the principal subjects taught, with particular stress on spelling. The school days opened with singing and often with prayer. Among early Montesano teachers were “Brother” Rhodes, Dunlap, Moody, Guest, and Charles Newton Byles, father of Montesano schools and a member of

the school board for 25 years. S. Estes, afterwards county superintendent, taught several terms. Miss Janet Moore taught 1879-80, boarding at the Richard Arland home. Another woman teacher was Eliza Medcalf, later Mrs. C. N. Byles. M. F. Luark in his diary noted that the Montesano schoolhouse was first where the James Arland residence is, but was moved further east and stood just east of Main Street and a little north of Wynooche Street. It was moved again in

the fall of 1886 or early 1887 and located a trifle east of the main school building

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in Montesano.

HoguIAM’'s FIRST SCHOOL was in the abandoned shack of John R. James, the

second one he had built. It was upstream on the Hoquiam from the first and was located just off what would now be the west approach to Hoquiam’s Riverside bridge. James, after proving up on his claim, moved back to Grand Mound to be with the rest of the Jameses, who had established a considerable colony around

the Mound. The abandoned house was fitted out for a school in 1874, Karr fireplace and newspaper wallpaper (Christian Advocate and New York Tribune) and all. It was not the most comfortable place, for the roof leaked and the tides came to the doorstep. The new school qualified with six pupils, children of Edward Campbell and James Karr. The Campbell children were Horace (later to be Dr. Horace Campbell), William (to be Judge William Campbell), and Laura, while the Karr children were Olive, Beatrice, and Elk.

Six years were enough for the makeshift schoolhouse. In 1880 a new building was erected near where the E. K. Wood mill was to be. The Stevens school was built around 1882 at Ninth and I Streets and enlarged somewhat in 1889. Hoquiam’s first teacher in the old James shack was Mrs. Julius Andrews,

who drew $20 a month for three months in the year and the privilege of boarding around. Hoquiam at first was part of School District No. 5, along with all the area west of Cosmopolis. But in 1884 Hoquiam had enough territory and pupils to qualify for a separate school district, and District No. 28 was formed. Hoquiam’s early school records show the following roster from 1873. 1873-74

Directors James A. Karr, Samuel Benn, Edward

Campbell;

Edward

Campbell, clerk; Clara Nye, teacher. 1874-75

Same directors and clerk; Mrs. Julius Andrews, teacher.

1875-77

Same directors and clerk; Fannie Baldwin, teacher.

1877-78

Same directors; Samuel Benn, clerk; Mrs. M. B. Virgil, teacher.

1878-79

Same directors and clerk; Cornelia Newton, teacher.

1879-80

Same directors, H. H. Halbert, clerk; Cornelia Newton, teacher.

1880-81

Directors Edward Campbell,

Samuel Benn, H. H. Halbert; H. H.

Halbert, clerk, Mrs. M. B. Virgil, teacher. 1881-82

Directors Edward Campbell, John R. Walker, H. H. Halbert; H. H. Halbert, clerk; W. S. McCready, teacher. j

1883-84

Directors John R. Walker, Samuel Benn, Halbert, clerk; Ella Benjamin, teacher.

1884-85

Directors Edward Campbell, George H. Emerson, H. H. Halbert, clerk; Mary White, teacher.

1885-86

Directors Edward Campbell, A. W. Hutchins, teacher.

H. H.

Halbert:

H. H.

H. H. Halbert:

George H. Emerson, A. H. Holman:

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373

1886-87

Same directors and clerk; Ada Sprague, teacher.

1887-88

Directors George H. Emerson, James A. Karr, E. T. Balch; clerk, Peter

Autzen; Jessie Murch (resigned), Ola Gillespie, appointed teacher. 1888-89

Same directors and clerk; J. D. Dean, teacher-principal.

1889-90

Directors George H. Emerson, O. M. Moore, Edward Campbell (resigned, O. M. Murphy appointed); Peter Autzen resigned as clerk, George E. Watson appointed; J. D. Dean resigned as teacher, W. L. Adams, appointed.

ABERDEEN’S FIRST SCHOOL, although its quarters were temporary and makeshift, was in Sam Benn’s salt house at the foot of Wishkah Street on the Wishkah River. The building was used primarily for storing salt used in salting salmon. Seats were of cedar boards, the pupils sitting with their backs against the wall. The teacher was Miss Annie Trellinger, who was paid $25 a month and boarding around privileges. Later a one-room school structure was built on a site that was to become the site for the American sawmill. The school would have been in what is now the middle of Market Street. The teacher then was Albert Moon, who later became a banker in Oakville. The school structure, with each pupil furnishing his or her own bench, was used for several years by District No. 5, with Mrs. J. M. Walter,

the first county superintendent, appointing Samuel Benn, Alexander Young, and J. C. Fairfield as the school board and Samuel H. Smith as clerk. A special election was called June 14, 1884 to vote upon a three-mill levy to pay the teacher and other school expenses. The levy was unanimously approved. Among the first teachers on the Wishkah were Carrie Gale, Mrs. Jacob Loose, and Fannie Baldwin. The latter taught in 1875-77, and it was said that she

was a relative of Lucky Baldwin, famous in early San Francisco history. Mary Benn, daughter of Samuel Benn, read a paper in 1889 before the Aberdeen Pioneer Association. Neighbors used te be few and far between and we did not see them often. It was a great treat to have them come to see us and to stay a few days. The Campbells lived on the Hoquiam River; Scammons up the Wishkah;

Petersons at Peterson’s Point; Damons

on Damon’s Point;

O'Leary on O'Leary Creek; John Fry on Johns River; Jones on Jones Point and Lyman Schaffer on Schaffer’s Island [now Laidlaw Island]... . We were especially glad to welcome the Fry family because of the number of children the same age as us. One day a tall man came to the farm; he had black eyes and hair and prominent teeth. He asked to stay all night and mother gave consent. When supper time came there was only one of us at the table and he asked how many children she had. She told him six, that the others were somewhere about the house, which was the truth, for most of us were upstairs, peeking through the knotholes in the floor at the stranger. The stranger who stayed those

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three days was Hubert Howe Bancroft, writer of the famous histories of the world. In one of his volumes he used this Northwest incident and father’s name appeared... . Our first school teacher taught at the Judson Scammon house. [This must have been before the school in the salt house.}] We walked

through a trail in the thick woods to reach school, and as there were so many wild animals at the time, father told us always to keep together so that cougars or other prowling forest dwellers wouldn't harm us.

The one-room school building on Market Street served only one year, when classes were moved to the Presbyterian church building, reached by so-called sidewalks made of two planks on stilts. When the teacher complained of falling too many times into the mud and bunchgrass, and when the planks had floated away on other occasions, the citizens thought it time to move the school again. The problem was solved at a public meeting in 1886, when it was decided to purchase lots at the southwest corner of Wishkah and G Streets. The lots were filled with sawdust from the Weatherwax mill, and in 1887 a school building was completed. It served only a short time and was destroyed by fire October 16, 1893. Meanwhile, what was then considered a magnificent school structure was built on Terrace Avenue under the direction of Clarence B. Douglas, who had

met a young woman in northern Texas, fallen in love with her, followed her to Cosmopolis, and married her. He was an architect, the only-one then practicing on Grays Harbor. His bride was Annie Van Syckle, sister of L. E. Ed Van Syckle, and daughter of Elmira Fry Van Syckle Weaver, who was then operating a boarding-house for Johnny Fry on Cosmopolis’s Front Street. Douglas's creation was completed in 1892 and was eventually to be known as the Terrace Heights school. It would serve for both elementary and high school classes until the Weatherwax high school building was completed in 1910. The first high school class to be graduated from the new school was composed of Bessie Crammatte (Mrs. L. P. Dudley), Elizabeth Kerman (Mrs. McKinley Wilson), and Jessie Haynes (Mrs. J. B. Hardcastle). The class of 1894 consisted of Carrie Jones (Mrs. A. P. Stockwell), Lou D. Joslyn, Edith C. Joslyn, May J. Becker, Belle B. Wood (Mrs. Frederick Green), Mabel F. McKinley (Mrs. Willis G. Hopkins), James H. Cochrane, and Will Lanning.

Two years of study constituted the high school course until 1901, when a four-year course was installed. Faculty members in 1898 were R. B. Bryan, superintendent and principal, later to become state superintendent of schools; Mary Arnold, who later became Mrs. Bryan; Blanche Karshner (Mrs. Scott Weatherwax); Mrs. John McNamara; Miss Becker; Miss Crammatte; Mrs. Mildred K. West; Ina Weatherwax; and Florence Gordon. The school’s enrollment at that time was 200.

WHEN THE MAIL ARRIVED One of the most welcome sights for Grays Harbor settlers was the mail car-

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375

rier, whether he came afoot or on horseback, by wagon, canoe, rowboat, or sail-

ing sloop. Until 1859 with someone who material destined for for settlers pocketed

there had been no service at all. Mail that did arrive came had visited in Olympia or Portland and picked up any the Chehalis Valley. Indians often were entrusted with mail in the distant woods, and they were reliable “postmen.”

In 1859, William P. Wright, brother of Captain Tom Wright, veteran steam-

boat man on Puget Sound, was awarded a contract to carry mail every other week between Olympia and Chehalis Point. The mail left Olympia Monday morning and reached Chehalis Point Wednesday night. On the return Wright reached Olympia Saturday night. He stayed in Olympia a whole week before starting another run, which entailed either a journey afoot or on horseback, depending upon the season and the weather, to Black River or Blockhouse Smith's then by canoe to the Point. Wright was still carrying mail in 1862. William Hannigan arrived on Chehalis Point July 9, 1868, with the first weekly mail. He was awarded a contract to carry from Olympia to Shoalwater Bay weekly for $2,300 annually. After William Wright gave up the run there was a succession of carriers, including Samuel Benn, followed by a man named England, who drowned off Westport in 1863. Sid Ford was carrying the route in 1864. Others were Jason Fry, Marcel Luark, Walter Luark, Everett Luark, William Luark, Jim Luark, John Fry, Charles Fry, Fred Carter, John Nailor, John Van Wormer, Charles “Old Man” Van Wormer, George N. Scammon, H. M. Hutton, William Mace, John Jensen, B. P. Briscoe, Frank Peterson, Joe Redman, F. Talbert, and John C. Luark.

There was also a succession of carriers along the beach between Chehalis Point and Shoalwater Bay at North Cove. They included Sam Williams, Giles Ford, Willie Bergman, Tom Ford, Frank Peterson—who drove the route for 18 years, at the same time hauling passengers and freight—John Fry, and Charles Fry. The Shoalwater Bay end of the run terminated in a store operated by Mrs. Lucy A. Johnson, mother of Mrs. L. V. Raymond. L. V. Raymond operated a store in Westport before going up the Willapa River and founding the town of Raymond on Johnson Island, which belonged to Mrs. Raymond and had been settled by her father, George Johnson. Charles Fry had the contract between Olympia and North Cove in 1875 for twice-weekly service. He used a wagon on the beach, a five-ton oyster sloop on the harbor and in the Chehalis River to Montesano,

and then continued

to

Olympia by canoe, wagon, or horseback, depending largely upon the depth of water in the rivers. Three years later John Van Wormer had the contract, using a small sloop on the Montegano-Chehalis Point leg. On January 9, 1878, he pulled out of the

Hoquiam River bound for the Point. He had aboard his blind father, who was a fine oarsman despite his blindness. Van Wormer slanted across the upper bay with a high wind, then disappeared after being last seen off the Johns River channel. Watchers from the Point surmised Van Wormer had put into Johns River to wait out the gale. When he failed to arrive the following day, a search was started. The sloop, with the dead Van Wormer and the mail pouch lashed to the mast, was found on its beam ends near James Rock. Van Wormer’s aged father

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Appendix C

was never found. Sloops of this type were commonly used by the carriers, although most were larger. Patterson Luark owned a white-hull sloop named the Bluejay which a number of carriers used for years. An account of early mail service would not be complete without George Waunch, reputedly one of the strongest men in the territory. It was said that he could hold a fifty-pound weight in each hand and walk away with arms outstretched. He would often carry ninety pounds of mail on his back from Montesano to Olympia in one day, and return the next with an equal load or larger. He made the trips twice a week. At logrollings Waunch was the main attraction. In chopping a log he could swing with such force that the axe would be buried to the handle in a single blow, putting into dead silence other axemen who witnessed the feat. Early postmasterships were changed almost as often as mail carriers. T. J. Carter was appointed postmaster at Chehalis Point January 17, 1861, followed on August 3, 1864, by Patterson Luark who, he recorded, posted $500 bond with G. Ford and G. Peterson as bondsmen. I. L. Scammon was postmaster for the Montesano area for a number of years, falling heir to the job because of his location, which was a stopping point and gathering place for the pioneers. Until the end of the fifties the only wagon road in the county was a few miles of ruts connecting Grand Mound with Claquamish Prairie and Armstrong's mill. In 1861 a narrow, winding road was opened from the mouth of the Wynooche to Elma and another from Claquamish Prairie to Fords Prairie. There was also a barely-passable track from Elma up the Cloquallum to within two miles of Summit, where Uncle Jimmy Gleeson had first located on a small gravel prairie later known as Bucks Prairie. It was several years before the gap between Elma and Fords Prairie closed. During the late 1860s the road up the Cloquallum was extended past Summit and over the divide to Olympia. It was known as the Hicklin Road and, until the bridging of the Chehalis at Elma and Blockhouse, was the main road to Puget Sound. Over it the first passenger stages jolted. The beginnings of a road from Montesano to Aberdeen were made in 1869 by M. F. Luark, Reuben Redman and Redman’s son, Joseph Redman, to enable

Luark to reach his place at Alder Grove school. Later Luark and I. L. Scammon made a_ pocket-compass-and-hatchet survey for a projected road from Montesano to Sam Long's place up the Wynooche, the forerunner of the present Wynooche Valley road. It was not until the middle of the 1870s that a road was opened toward Aberdeen to Elliott Slough, but because of the necessity of crossing the slough, it was seldom used. Besides, there was no road along the bluff to the Wishkah. In the late 1880s and early nineties the Woodland brothers, Joe and Luther,

operated a stage line between Montesano and Olympia. They lived in Elma and had a horse barn there, and another at Gate. The brothers operated with a hardtopped wagon carrying eight passengers, mail, and small parcels of freight. Their rig was pulled by a four-horse team which plodded the rutted and often muddy road for five years. At that time mail was brought up the Chehalis by steamer from the lower harbor and picked up by the Woodland brothers at Montesano.

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377

Mail coming from Olympia reversed the route.

HAWAIIANS

ON GRAYS HARBOR

Hawaiian islanders made significant contributions in one way or another to Pacific Northwest history. Kanakas were not only here bodily, but they left their blood lines in coastal tribes. Their home islands served as wintering havens, watering places, and victualing sources for American trading vessels out of Boston or other New England ports. From the very beginning of the American fur trade on the Northwest Coast, the then-called Sandwich Islands figured in the American presence in the Pacific. Captain Robert Gray himself called there several times. Upon one occasion in 1790 he stopped for twenty-four days at the island of Niihau to provision. Here he picked up a native boy, seventeen-year-old Attoo, who was to accompany Gray to Canton and then to Boston. The youth, aboard the Columbia, arrived in Boston August 9, 1790, and then accompanied Gray on his second voyage to the Pacific in 1792, the historic voyage on which Gray discovered first the harbor that bears his name and then the Columbia River. Earlier in the voyage, Attoo ran away at Clayoquot on the Vancouver Island coast and attempted to hide among the Indians, but his sanctuary was not to be. The Indians were well aware of the cost of harboring runaways—retaliation, taking of hostages, loss of trade, and other means ship captains used to recover deserters. So Attoo was quickly returned to the Columbia and a sound flogging. Attoo’s welts had subsided by the time the Columbia worked her way down the coast and on May 7, 1792, made “passage between the sand bars.” Here Attoo was the first Hawaiian to gaze upon the tree-bristling shores of Grays Harbor. The following November 2, 1792, the Columbia was back at Attoo’s

native island, Niihau. Captain Gray intended to put Attoo ashore, but the youth refused to disembark, whereupon the Columbia sailed away for Boston with Attoo still aboard. The chronicles do not say what happened to the roaming kanaka thereafter, but likely he returned to his island, for it was the practice of most captains to return natives to their homelands. As the fur supply dwindled, trading vessels often had to spend more than one season on the Coast. In that event they would sail to Hawaii to winter or reprovision. By 1815 this practice had developed Hawaii into an all-purpose outfitting station for traders, and later for whalers. It was a common practice for New England trading vessels to leave home with skeleton crews and enough provisions to reach the Sandwich Islands by rounding the Horn. In the islands the ships filled out their crews with natives, and provisioned for a season of trading on the Northwest Coast. Hawaii became the source for “eager, trained and cheap native seamen.” So

many natives made the voyage to the Northwest that in time the islands developed a reserve of well-trained, trade-wise seamen. By 1830 virtually all American furtrading vessels were manned by Hawaiians. The departure of so many natives caused an alarming decline in Island population, to the point where the govern-

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Appendix C

ment forbade islanders to depart without consent of the various island leaders. Ship captains were required to post $200 bond for the safe return of each man. In 1825 some 300 kanakas were gone from the islands. Losses like this, coupled with measles, smallpox, and syphilis, cut the population of the islands from 300,000 in 1778 to 134,750 in 1823. However, as late as 1840 when Captain Charles

Wilkes (who was to send an exploring party into the Grays Harbor region in 1841) wanted 50 Hawaiians to replace some of his crew, 500 Oahuans responded. Captain Wilkes’s log does not say specifically that he sent Hawaiians with Midshipman Eld to explore Grays Harbor and Shoalwater Bay, but with 50 islanders in his crew aboard the Vincennes, one or more Hawaiians may well have been with the exploring party. Hawaiians were expert canoemen and would have been invaluable on a canoe journey such as Eld and his party undertook. There was no doubt that Hawaiians were with the Hudson's Bay party that passed through the Grays Harbor country in November, 1824. John Work, clerk of the expedition, listed six “islanders” making the journey from the Columbia to the Fraser River and return. With the founding of trading posts on the Coast, particularly by the Hudson's Bay Company, many Hawaiians found their way to the Northwest as indentured labor. The Tonquin in 1811 brought in 24 islanders for three years of work, the men to get food, clothing, and $100 worth of merchandise at the end of

their term. A year later 26 Hawaiians were bound for Astoria in the Beaver. They were to receive $10 per month and a suit of clothes. But labor contracts such as these were not without cost. Reared in the semi-tropics, the islanders were easy victims of the wet and cold of the Coast. They became, as one writer described,

“awkward

and lethargic.” Many

Captain Amasa

Delano,

succumbed

out of Boston,

to tuberculosis

and smallpox.

at one time inoculated his Hawaiian

seamen with smallpox vaccine in an effort to stave off the dread disease. With the considerable traffic in seamen and laborers between Hawaii and the Northwest Coast, it is understandable that islanders should stray, some as far north as the Quinault.

DISGOVERY, Ob: THE-R@OCK! A little more than five months after Captain Gray departed Grays Harbor, Captain Vancouver on October 18, 1792 ordered his Lieutenant Joseph Whidbey, commander of the supply ship Daedalus, to take one of the Discovery's boats “to examine Gray's Harbor” while he and the ships Discovery and Chatham proceeded on to the Columbia River. History does not say how, between May 11 and October 18, Captain Vancouver learned of Captain Gray's discovery of Grays Harbor or, for that matter, of the Columbia River. Nevertheless, Whidbey made a hasty visit, taking note of an outstanding landmark, a single large rock (Indian legend says there were once two rocks) standing close to the north shore of the harbor off the point west of Brackenridge Bluff. In time it would be called “Ned's Rock,” after a youth in the Brackenridge party, part of the Wilkes Expedition of 1841, and finally “James Rock,” after the

Appendix C

379

James family which settled on the nearby shore. Whidbey commented in his journal that the rock resembled a large “flower pot,” perhaps because of its sheer sides and a crowning tuft of salal and a gnarled spruce. (The spruce was torn loose and carried away in a howling storm in early 1941.) Samuel James called Ned’s Rock “Lone Rock,” possibly having no knowledge of the earlier designation. After the Jameses settled on the North Bay, the kettle-shaped rock became known as “James Rock,” and is so-called to this day.

EVICTION OF THE CHINESE In 1890, the year Aberdeen was chartered a third class city, feelings against Aberdeen’s Chinese population ran so high, and ugly, that John Wing and his fellow pig-tailed countrymen were ushered aboard the steamer Wishkah Chief, transported to Montesano, and told to keep going. There were twenty men in the crowd of Chinese muscled aboard the steamer by an Aberdeen mob November 14, 1890.

The Chinese had been colonizing in a two-story building on River Street. Some had come to Grays Harbor as salmon cannery workers; others had drifted in to work at menial jobs and gamble when not working. Some were attached to houses of prostitution. None was particularly welcome in the young and rambunctious town, so there were no outcries when the entire Oriental population was shooed away. The Chinese had been coming and going between the Columbia River and Grays Harbor canneries for years. In September 1886, forty Chinese arrived in the General Miles to work the Solomon cannery at the mouth of the Wynooche. The operation shut down in February 1887, the crew returning on the General Miles to the Columbia. The Solomon cannery packed only 500 cases of salmon that season, water in the rivers being too high for fishing. Another mention of Chinese in Grays Harbor history was in March 1887, when a Chinaman named Gong, a cook for Edward Campbell of Hoquiam, was drowned in the Chehalis River when a small raft he and Charles Levitt were riding struck a long cottonwood log opposite the Central Hotel in Montesano. Levitt succeeded in catching hold of the cottonwood log and pulling himself to safety, but Gong was overcome in the swift current.

SHOUTING TO SAVE SOULS Many times in pioneer-day services, especially in Methodist ones, there would be two people performing, either preachers or laymen: one to give the sermon, the other the “exhortation.”

The latter practice was brought across the Plains from the Bible-pounding pulpits of the East and the over-audible ones of the South to the very beaches of the Pacific. Its fervor and fuming of course differed with the participants, but

generally the exhortation was an earnest appeal, often with fire and brimstone, loud in zeal and vehemence: “By God, Brother, you'd better get your hair on straight. ..come unto the Lord!” There were exhortations to be faithful, to forgo Demon Rum and tampering with other men’s wives, for there tempers were short

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and fuses sputtered. Women were to beware of The Tempter and keep their beds inviolate, and recognize a whole list of ills and evils mentioned in the Good Book.

Some exhorters were widely known and recognized, virtually professionals, eagerly invited to camp meetings and other roustings where they made the sinners squirm. There were two approaches: the adjuror who crammed the Good Word in, leaving the sinner stuffed with righteousness, and the other exhorter

who virtually yanked the sins and transgressions out, leaving the wrongdoer bereft, with a bad case of religious limp.

NOTABLES IN TOWN Grays Harbor, with its timber riches, seemed to be a magnet that pulled

people from every state in the union and from abroad as well. The Aberdeen Hotel, once called “Aberdeen House” and Aberdeen’s first hostelry, in a three-

day period in 1900 registered a good cross section of this influx, particularly of people from Chehalis County who found some reason to visit Aberdeen. This particular period at The Aberdeen saw as guests many pioneers and prominent people of the day, including: S. K. “Steve” Grover, the otter hunter, and Ben Gigsby, who came from the North Beach area for a stay; J. A. McGillicuddy from Montesano; Patrick Murphy from Cork, Ireland; R. R. McDonald and A. H. Moulton from Dawson, Yukon Territory; Gilbert Sotomish, Quinault; E. F. Donahue, New London up on the Hoquiam; A. St. Pierce, Wishkah; T. S. O'Hara, Klondike; E. D. Burlingham, Ocosta; James S. Stewart, Aberdeen; Ben Gator, Oakville; William A. Hineline, Axford Prairie;

H. A. Waller, Gillis Camp; Emil Anderson, Lycan camp; Henry Benneet, North River; J. A. Cameron, Hoquiam; George Linz, Cosmopolis; F. M. Mulkey, Portland; Herb Pressey, Stockwell camp; Thomas Teay, Ocosta; S. A. Stafford, Hoquiam; A. Zelasko, Aberdeen; Wright W. Morrison, Quinault; E. J. Callow,

Kamilchie; S. L. Gilroy, Cripple Creek, Colorado; John I. Kirkpatrick, Wishkah Falls; E. J. Croft, Johns River who years later introduced the Croft lily bulb culture; W. S. Marvin, Quinault; O. S. Parker, Gate City; Fred Payette, Aberdeen; A. D. Devonshire, Montesano; Walter Achey, Wishkah Falls; W. J. Patter-

son, Aberdeen; Angus Campbell, Meadows camp; D. F. “Dan” Spiegle and George Pulver, Cosmopolis; Charles White, Oyehut; J. Bernard, Australia; M. McAvoy, Young & Thompson camp; Miss C. Skeen, Cosmopolis; B. L. “Barney” Rice, Cosmopolis; and S. C. Cox, Bay Center.

TALE OF THE ANNIE LARSEN The history of the schooner Annie Larsen is epic. She had long been a*familiar figure in the coastal lumber trade, and on Grays Harbor many times, but on the

morning of June 29, 1915, the green-painted three-master appeared deep-laden in the lower harbor on a different mission. Upon release from quarantine, she was boarded by customs officers and the owner's agent, who found she had a full load of rifles, revolvers, and ammunition,

but no manifests or customs Papers.

Immediately the vessel and her cargo became involved in international intrigue,

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381

for the boxes of arms and ammunition were clearly marked with the name of Hans Tauscher, who was being held by American authorities on several charges of neutrality violation. The arms were consigned to German agents in India to foment military diversions to keep British forces tied down on the subcontinent. According to Captain Paul Schlueter, master of the Annie Larsen and himself a widely-known maritime figure on the Pacific, his ship had loaded a cargo of condemned

United States Army rifles, revolvers, and ammunition

in

San Diego. After clearing for Topolobampo, she sailed the night of February 6, 1915. The vessel was under time charter to a Los Angeles ship broker and had aboard a supercargo who had full authority over the movements of the ship. Known as “Walter Page,” the supercargo was actually Captain L. Othmer, master of the German bark Atlas, then interned in San Francisco.

Once at sea, the supercargo ordered Captain Schlueter to await arrival of the steamer Maverick,

a former Standard Oil tanker owned by Captain Fred

Jebsen, a well-known Pacific Coast steamship operator. At Socorro the Annie Larsen was to transfer her cargo of arms (4,500 rifles, several cases of revolvers, and 4,750,000 rounds of ammuniticn) to the Maverick.

Because of his operations for the Germans, Captain Jebsen drew the watchfulness of the British Intelligence Service, and his Maverick, once at sea to rendezvous with the Annie Larsen, was constantly dogged by the British cruiser Newcastle. After much maneuvering in an attempt to throw off the Newcastle, the Maverick returned to port and the venture was abandoned. Meanwhile the Annie Larsen waited for several fruitless weeks at Socorro Island. With her food low and her water tanks empty, she had to proceed to the mainland for supplies. Acapulco was the nearest port, but here Captain Schlueter and his ship ran into difficulty. For a vessel loaded with arms with clearance for Topolobampo—a port under the control of Pancho Villa—to appear at another port was bad enough; but when the other port was Acapulco, controlled by the Carranza government, Captain Schlueter was in deep trouble. The Annie Larsen was immediately seized by Carranza forces, but the American cruiser Yorktown was in Acapulco harbor at the time, and after some strenuous haggling succeeded in having the Annie Larsen released. After provisioning she was allowed to leave without customs or consular clearance, and proceeded again to Socorro Island. There she put in more weeks of futile waiting, and again it became necessary to resupply with food and water. It was very evident, too, that the Maverick would not appear. Captain Schlueter, fearing to approach a Mexican port again, decided to seek a small port in the United States north of San Francisco. So, almost five months after she had sailed from San Diego, the Annie Larsen appeared on Grays Harbor. Here the U.S. Customs Service seized both ship and cargo, and placed Page, the supercargo, under detention. That same night Page, dressed only in his underwear and socks, requested permission of the guard to go forward. This was granted, and Page was soon over the side into a waiting rowboat and ashore into an automobile. No trace of him was ever found. After weeks of investigation and delay, the Annie Larsen’s cargo was taken

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ashore and stored in a waterfront warehouse. Several months later it was sold at auction to W. Stokes Kirk, a dealer in government second-hand material, and in

fact the same man who had originally sold Hans Tauscher the arms. Part of the money derived was paid to satisfy the ship’s libel against the cargo for freight charges; as long as the arms were aboard the vessel she was considered under charter, but once the cargo was removed the Annie Larsen’s owner could sue for freight charges the Germans did not pay. After her difficulties were settled, the Annie Larsen paid a $500 fine and moved to an Aberdeen mill wharf to load a full cargo of lumber for San Pedro, California. Captain Schlueter stayed with the sea, though he diverted in 1927 by becoming navigator aboard one of the planes in the Dole air race to Hawaii. Some of the planes didn’t make it, some did. Captain Schlueter’s plane was one

of the fortunate ones. He survived to call again on Grays Harbor November 10, 1934, as mate in the steamer West Mahwah.

He remarked at that time that the

Annie Larsen had been lost by a German skipper on a South Sea Island.

THOSE “ROARING” TWENTIES Along with the rest of the nation, Grays Harbor entered the so-called “Roar-

ing Twenties,” a decade of reaction to World War I. It was a period of exuberance and rebellion, a period of “flappers,” the Charleston, Big Apple, Black Bottom, Captain Billy's Whizbang (a cannon during the war had fired shells that sounded like “whiz-bang”), Colliers magazine, F. Scott Fitzgerald, raccoon coats, women’s hiplines somewhere about the knees, spangles, floppy hats, and men with bell-bottom trousers. It was a time when veterans of World War I could still wear their uniforms with wrap leggings, campaign hats and trench caps, when veterans’ organizations were powerful. It was Prohibition time, with whisky runners, bathtub gin, moonshine stills in the Blue Slough labyrinth, “near beer” and home brew (that occasionally exploded in the basement), slow gin that was anything but slow, Rudy Vallee and his Connecticut Yankees, and Al Jolson with “Mammy.” That was the time men wore baggy socks, and the girls affected buckle overshoes which they left unbuckled so they flapped. It was a period of rumble seats and Fred Waring and his Pennsylvanians, while “Pete” Wellington played a mean sax and Stan Spiegle worked his wonders with the drums. The Grange Hall up the Wishkah was a popular dance spot which in time got a sooty reputation; so

was the huge dance hall on the north side of Market between I and Broadway. It was a time when, if you had the money, you could buy a new Ford for $348 f.o.b. Detroit, or whiz around in a Maxwell, Hudson, Essex, Nash, Overland, Packard, Studebaker, Chrysler, Cadillac, Buick, Chevrolet, Chandler, Hupmobile, Cleveland, Star, or Stanley Steamer. You could buy a

Kuppenheimer suit for $35 to $50, and bread was 10 cents a loaf. Coffee was 25 cents a pound, eggs three dozen for 73 cents, butter two pounds for 79 cents and no one had yet heard of margarine. And sugar was 18 pounds for one dollar. Aberdeen then had a population of 15,000 to 17,000 souls, Hoquiam 10,000,

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Montesano 2,158. In Aberdeen you would have had a choice of twenty barber

shops, seventeen tailors, and five theaters. You might have seen Gloria Swanson and Rudolph Valentino in “Beyond the Rocks” at the Weir, or Ethel Barrymore or Harry Lauder in person at the Grand. You could have worked in one of eight salmon canneries or six clam canneries on Grays Harbor, while hearing the piercing siren atop the Pioneer cannery at the foot of G Street. There were 73 schoolmarms in Aberdeen schools when the decade began, with 10 school buildings which cost $313,000, and an attendance of 2,400 pupils. You couldn’t drive to Raymond except by way of Centralia. The road to Montesano was through the swamp from Junction City; there was no road north beyond Lake Quinault, and jitneys were playing hob with the streetcar business, but steam passenger trains were on schedule and doing a big business. Sports fishing for salmon out of Westport was unheard of. There were no airplanes in the sky then, and gasoline sold for 27 cents a gallon. If the steam pumper fire rig, horse-drawn, was called out for a fire it could hook up to any of 198 fire hydrants in Aberdeen. Radio was a novelty. Furniture stores were still featuring tall, wood-burning kitchen ranges, and more

than one kid was branded on the backside with “Round Oak” for having stood too close to an oven door of a cold morning. Washboards were still useful but unpopular, while washing machines were still hand-operated. Sargent Boulevard along the bluff out of Aberdeen was a planked trestle, with the planks rolling like thunder from hard-tired vehicles. The ‘“Think-of-Me” sign still stood atop Dabney hill. The Fourth of July Splash was still the top entertainment of the year, and you could pick blackberries in Sam Benn Park. For Grays Harbor, the “Roaring Twenties” were aptly named: the whistles chorused in twenty sawmills, running and roaring night and day, and all the valleys echoed to the roar of the great logging engines. The decade was just a little mad, but rich with labor and lumber, the coming and going of ships, and all the doings of the rampants.

YEARS OF SALOONS Aberdeen once had a boozy reputation. While the J. P. Haynes, Frank Hubbard, and Damitio families were pioneering in the wilderness between I Street and Broadway on Heron Street, Dave Keith was operating a saloon Lovelace had established on Heron at F Street in 1885; L. W. Walker had another next door, while the Aberdeen House operated a bar off its lobby. The latter was the province of Charley Johnson and Billy Summers. There was a new saloon operated by Colonel Crummey at the southwest corner of G and Heron Streets and Charley Johnson had a second place, a saloon and dance hall, on South G

Street. Later the dance hall was to be known as the Eagle, a real sizzler. Wallace Stewart had a saloon on the northwest corner of F and Heron, having shifted his operations from Shoalwater Bay. With the saloons, the loggers, mill hands, fishermen, and men-about-town

came the gamblers. Some were honest, many were cardsharps. Among the more honorable was a gambler called “Dad.” Few knew his real name or whence he

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came. Dad affected broadcloth trousers and a Prince Albert coat, but in ordinary knocking around town he wore bib overalls over his ensemble. To be dressed for company he had merely to doff his overalls, brush a few spots off his coat, and straighten his stiff collar. Came a night of dense darkness without stars or streetlights, a soughing rain-laden southerly wind, and Dad missed the sidewalk and fell into the slough at Hume and G Streets. With the side of his face skinned, his broadcloth dripping tidemud, he slowly pulled himself out of the sticky drink and waddled stifflegged to the Eagle dance hall. Upon the smoke-filled room, oil-lit and raucous, Dad burst like a walking tragedy, his face oozing blood, his dainty shoes squashy with tidewater, his clothes clinging to his skinny frame. He was hurried to the stove and scraped off. About the time the mud began to stiffen Dad’s pant legs, Marshal Joe Graham dropped into the Eagle on one of his rounds. Charley Johnson suggested Graham take Dad home. Graham and his charge were just starting out the door when Herb Buffington, another gambler, yelled: “Hey Joe, wait for me, I need a guide.” Four others joined the chorus. As Graham went out the door, Dad had a hold on his coattail. Another clutched Dad's, until there was a line of six behind Graham shoving off into the darkness like a string of elephants, Buffington on the tail end, for he was to quit the procession first. There was a trick in walking the two-lane sidewalk perched on stilts above the swamp. Joe Graham had learned it the hard way, for a man looking sideways in the dark soon lost his bearings and ended four feet down in the bunchgrass. The trick was to keep the head up and look straight ahead; otherwise mishaps were frequent, and often painful. Graham tramped into the night, trailing his trunk-to-tail procession, guided only by the oil lamp inside a glass-sided box Colonel Crummey had hanging on the corner of his saloon. Distributing his charges, Graham had only Dad left. He escorted Dad upstairs with something of affection, for Dad was one of the few gamblers Graham could stomach. Others known as honest were George Kerr, Joe Bush, “Montana Pete” Fraser, and George Day.

BIG NEWS IN THOSE DAYS Early in 1887, J. B. Haynes announced he was preparing to log on Elliott Slough for the North Western company in Hoquiam. He said he intended to run his camp on a ten-hour schedule—the first logger to adopt this system—for “ten hours of faithful labor is long enough for either man or beast, and will produce all the logs and lumber that can be sold at a paying price, besides it will be a safeguard against over-production, which is always followed by low prices.” Logs at this time were selling at $4.50 per M. C. N. Byles returned May 20, 1887 from Astoria, announcing he and I. W. Case of Astoria had completed plans for a bank in Montesano, to be opened as

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soon as the steamer General Miles arrived with the safe. The bank opened in June. Willis Hopkins, foreman for the Book ranch, opposite Aberdeen on the Chehalis, announced 200 head of cattle at pasture on the place. In September, 1887, hop picking began around Elma. The price, fifteen cents a pound, was considered good. Weather during the 1887-88 winter was the most severe the Chehalis River Valley had seen in years. In December severe flooding prevailed, breaking booms and washing away two million feet of logs, mostly the property of Mack, Ray, and Leavitt & Clemons. Charley Clemons had recently suffered an eye injury when struck by a piece of steel from a wedge he was driving. He had the eye removed in Portland. And in the first week of January the Chehalis froze over,

making it possible to cross on the ice. In November, 1888 a telephone line was completed between Montesano and Olympia. From

the Montesano

Vidette,

July 4, 1890...’We

are indebted for the

following to M. Z. Goodell who made a trip to Mox Chuck this week over the wagon road; while there he visited the logging camp of J. B. Haynes. Mr. Haynes had about 40 men at work for him and is putting logs into the water very fast. He uses both oxen and horses, has about half-mile of railroad built on a slight incline so that while he has to have logging trucks hauled to the woods by horses, when loaded their weight carries them to the water. The camps are well fitted up and appearances would seem to indicate that Mr. Haynes was thoroughly conversant with his business.” In March, 1901, the Grays Harbor Oil company was formed to drill for oil near Westport, where 1,000 acres had been leased. C. F. White was president of the company; George Ninemire, vice-president; Thomas Morgan, treasurer; J. A. Sells, secretary-manager.

In August, 1901, “Messrs. Carr and Carson introduced the game of golf. The links are at the Merrit Woods farm at Brady.”

MORE ABOUT NEWSPAPERS Before 1900 no less than twenty Grays Harbor county publications were gestated, most of them to die in infancy, with the early exception of the Aberdeen Herald, which managed to struggle from its birth in 1885 to a demise in 1917. The founder, first editor, and publisher of the Herald is listed as Hartford C.

Telfer, who launched a “Democratic” publication in 1885. By 1887, Edward C. Finch, Aberdeen’s early financier and man-about-town, had become editor and

publisher. ° When Sam Benn platted his town of Aberdeen, Finch was the first real estate

dealer on hand. On his twenty-fifth birthday he took over Aberdeen’s pioneer newspaper,

the Aberdeen Herald, which continued with success through 1888,

when Finch sold out to continue his by then other In July, 1889, Ed Finch’s younger brother, H. Walsh, established the Aberdeen Bulletin. The workable, so Ed Finch took over the paper with

feverish activities. K. Finch, along with J. W. partnership did not prove his brother, the two hiring

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Appendix C

Frank H. Owen, to whom the sheet was eventually sold. The two brothers, with

Frank Owen, operated the Bulletin for two years as an eight-page semiweekly, Ed Finch all this time continuing his dealings in real estate. Then came the panic of 1893, and Ed Finch’s fortunes went down the drain.

Somehow Ed Finch had developed the King-of-Phrygia touch, for money seemed available to him for the asking. By 1894, still with an editor's itch, he had

found the means to crank up the Aberdeen Weekly Recorder, a Republicanleaning political sheet, to last until 1897. In 1896, Finch gave way as editor and publisher to J. A. Hood, another early-comer with a hardware store at Heron and F Streets. (His stock, as testified in an 1890 vanity publication South-Western Washington, included builders’ supplies, mechanics’ tools, mill supplies, sisal, manila and cotton rope, oars and locks and other ship chandlers’ goods, woodsmen’s tools, axes, saws, ox-bows, cut and wire nails, house furnishing hardware, tin, agate and woodenware, pocket and table cutlery, etc.) Back in 1889, when Ed Finch was disposing of the Aberdeen Herald, the

paper went to F. R. Wall, who obligations were split with L. H. relinquish to John J. Carney considering early-day strictures;

was editor and publisher until 1892, when the Wall. James F. Girton took over in 1895, only to three years later. Carney had a long tenure, then came John A. Stimson, with John J. Carney

returning in 1916.

Philadelphia-born Carney landed in Hoquiam when he first descended upon Grays Harbor. He had some partnership dealings with George H. Emerson, then shifted to Elma where he dabbled in farming, general merchandising, and real estate. In time he became owner of large sections of Elma and through the townsite built Elma’s first water system. When Elma was incorporated in 1888, John J. Carney became the first mayor. He became the second editor-publisher of the Elma-based Chehalis County Chronicle, started in 1889 by R. M. Watson. Carney had the paper from 1891 to 1895, when it was sold to D. G. Wakefield. Carney, a deep-dyed Democrat, would in 1896 own the Washington Economist, a Democratic publication started in Montesano in 1890 by L. A. Rader. Rader sold his sheet to W. H. Abel, from whom Carney acquired it. There had been a change of name in 1890; the paper was called the Washington Democrat until 1892, but became “Populist” that year. It became “Democrat” again when Carney assumed editorship. Carney abandoned his newspaper career when he became postmaster in Aberdeen in 1915. Judging from his divulgences in their pioneer diaries, it was perhaps inevitable that one member of the Luark dynasty should try a hand at the printed word. He was M. J. Luark, who is listed as the Montesano

publisher of the

Washington Farmer, which bloomed in 1884 and faded in 1885. There were any number of journalistic falling stars in the Grays Harbor orbit, with the Grays Harbor Times as the most distinguished failure. It was

begun in 1890 by Edgar B. Piper, who bowed out in 1892 to go to Portland and become one of the most distinguished editors of the West. Not to be outdone, the Washington News began in 1892 by Flanders & Williams, to last until 1920. Less enduring was the Chehalis Tribune, a Democratic sheet launched in 1890 by L. C. Carson and J. T. M. Stoneroad, and to become. Populist in 1896 under

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387

Benjamin & Morgan. When Ocosta-by-the-Sea seemed a sure-fire “go,” the Ocosta Pioneer blossomed in 1891 under the hopeful hand of Charles J. Coghlan. It went kerplunk in 1896, but was revived in 1898. After short duration it gave up the ghost for good, or worse. In 1892-93 there was a Westport World, and in 1895 somewhere on Grays Harbor there was a Western Star edited by R. L. Austin. It had the magnificent run of one issue. Moclips in its 1910 heyday had the Ocean Wave, a weekly edited and printed by John Alden Seabury, who fancied himself the “Moclips Publishing Company.” And in 1914-15 there was the Moclips Herald, a creature of J. M. Dunning; it was an erratic weekly with a short life. Even Humptulips City on the upper “Hump” boasted a weekly newspaper, the Humptulips Press, which astonishingly lasted from 1901 to 1921. There were three other early-day weeklies in Elma, but they were barely tentative. The first was the Eagle, which began in 1894 and collapsed the same year. The Echo was published in 1902 and 1903 by E. S. Avey, while the Advance managed three years, first under Stanton Rowell as editor and publisher, then under J. N. Johnson and J. Ray Blair as the Advance Publishing Company. Cosmopolis was an early community in the newspaper field. The Chehalis Valley Record, with Ruel Nims as editor, started in 1886 and managed to last into 1887. In 1889 a revived Record managed one issue and then folded. Then came the Cosmopolis Enterprise, which was to distinguish itself for eleven years, first under W. F. Pattison & Ulian, with Pattison alone continuing in 1896. In 1911 A. J. Harder established the Cosmopolitan, independent politically, to last until 1913. In that year Harder, for some reason not recorded, inaugurated the Twin Harbor Times, with the Cosmopolitan going into eclipse. Whether it was

the same

publication

with

a different

name,

or a new

one

with

the

Cosmopolitan abandoned, is not certain. In any event, Harder passed the publication in 1914 to J. E. Hutchinson, who ran it until 1918, when it became the province of E. W. Spidel, who operated it as the Cosmopolis Publishing Company. Because of a scandal, Spidel was forced to abandon to Howard Hughes, a printer, who operated the sheet for two years, when Ed Van Syckle, a native of Cosmopolis, came upon the scene from the journalism school at Oklahoma University. Van Syckle edited the paper as the Cosmopolis Times until 1926, when Werner Rupp, editor-publisher of the Aberdeen World, enticed him away to virtually a lifetime as reporter and editor on the World. Van Syckle relinquished the Cosmopolis Times to Robert “Bob” Spiegle, brother to the well-known radio personage Stan “Silver Tip” Spiegle, so many years with KXRO in Aberdeen. Bob Spiegle in turn leased the publication to Lyle Lancaster, who spent two years as all-around editor and publisher, then tired of the struggle and returned the paper to Spiegle. Shortly thereafter the printing plant burned, the Cosmopolis Times ended its career, and newspapering in Cosmopolis came to an end. In the Cosmopolis Times print shop, when it was located on E Street between First and Second Streets, Victor Vojvodich edited the Slobodna Tribunea, a Croation-oriented paper started in 1922, lasting into 1931.

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Vojvodich, as editor, called himself the Free Tribune Publishing Company. This was but one of several ethnic and/or special interest publications. Grays Harbor Finns for a time had a Finnish language publication called The Independent, edited by F. Tolonen. It existed from 1929 to 1935. The Real American was a journal devoted to the American Indian. Special interest sheets included the Grays Harbor Socialist, begun in 1905 but short-lived. The New Era was another Socialist publication, appearing in 1911 and lasting until 1913. It was printed by the Grayport Press for V. T. Evans, the editor.

A Pythian Record is listed for 1914, and the Northwestern

Home-

builder was edited by G. J. Taylor 1911-13. The Fisherman was a Westport journal edited by Norman Porter 1938-39, while Chapin Collins for the Vidette Publishing Company produced the Grays Harbor Farmer, a monthly, in 1953. Scott R. Stevens started the monthly Chehalis Valley Farmer in Aberdeen in 1911; it succumbed in 1913.

There was a weekly paper in Aberdeen 1901-03 called Comment. The only identification recorded is that it was “Republican,” which gives rise to the assumption it was a short-order political sheet founded for an immediacy. There were a few late-comers among Grays Harbor weeklies, with Robert A. LeRoux’s Hoquiam American perhaps the most prominent. He started the American in 1921, working with his wife Stella. The last issue was run off in 1941, when LeRoux and Stella went to Washington, D.C., with Congressman Martin Smith. McCleary had several weeklies in its career, starting with Harvey and Jacobs’ Tiller and Toiler, 1914-16. In 1925 Roy and Ray Craft started the McCleary

Stimulator,

which

went

to D. Gerald

Cloud

in 1927

and J. D.

Hutchinson in 1928, returning to Roy D. Craft in 1929. It folded the following year, to be revived in 1953 by Norman A. Porter, who carried it alone to 1961. Another weekly was founded in 1945, the McCleary Builder, by W. L. Sheets, who sold to Karl Kerstetter in 1947, with Jean Breidenbach acquiring the sheet in 1951 and operating it to 1953. Back in 1918 there was an irregular publication, The Old Oaken Bucket, started in McCleary. It lasted into 1920. Oakville, founded in 1852, as the easternmost outpost of Grays Harbor country, sailed along for years with a newspaper called The Cruiser. It once had an owner who could neither read nor write, but overcame this deficiency by handing a notepad to train passengers at the depot. They wrote their “news” and the grateful newshawk hurried them back to his more literate printer. Charles Vaughn, a local orator and part-time minister, edited The Oakville Cruiser through the 1920s. In the penniless thirties, its editor was John Fournier, who survived by bartering subscriptions for eggs and home-canned prunes. Fournier lived to establish a successful newspaper chain in the Puyallup Valley. ‘ Another Grays Harbor weekly blooming before the half-century mark was the South Beach News-Review started by John E. Hogan. It was printed by the Quick Print Company in Aberdeen, though recognized as a South Beach publication. It came under John H. Forbes’s editorship in 1950, with Kearney Clark as publisher. Then there was the Grays Harbor Press, surviving from 1912 to 1931. It was

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389

started and edited by Charles F. Allen, with the Press Publishing Company publisher. It was characterized as an “independent weekly,” meaning it could choose any political posture at any time to suit Editor Allen’s fancy.

KEEPERS OF THE LIGHT The Grays Harbor lighthouse and Coast Guard station were instituted within a year of each other in the closing years of the past century. In April, 1897, Charles Jacobsen arrived in Westport from the Point Adams Coast Guard

station to take command of the newly-built Grays Harbor station, where he was to serve the remaining twenty years of his service. When he arrived a crew had not yet been assigned, and it became Jacobsen’s duty to select a crew from a list of men meeting Civil Service requirements. The equipment he found to be an open pulling surf boat (not self-bailing),

a beach cart apparatus,

and a boat

wagon which had to be handled with manpower. The station itself was located on the then outer end of Ocean Avenue, from

where the surf boat had to be wheeled to the surf in rescue attempts. Later the station was equipped with a breeches-buoy apparatus and a gun to shoot a line to a distressed vessel. Eventually the station was equipped with power boats of various sizes and designs, and the station itself moved to the so-called “Westport Cove” on the tip of Point Chehalis. Charles Jacobsen had enlisted in the North Cove (Shoalwater Bay) station in 1887, and was married there in the home of Hans Hansen in 1889 to Elsie Christensen. Two of their children, Edward and Emily, were born at North

Cove. Jacobsen served five years at North Cove and then was transferred to Point Adams. He was five years in command at Point Adams, with three more

additions to his family, Marcus, Maude, and Roy. During his twenty years’ service on Grays Harbor Jacobsen took part in 281

rescues without a single life being lost. He retired February 3, 1917, lived on for several years in Westport, then moved to Seattle. The Jacobsen children all followed maritime activity: Edward in the Coast Guard, Marcus as chief engineer of the lighthouse tender Kukui at Honolulu, Roy as keeper of the Grays Harbor light, and the two daughters married to men active in the Coast Guard and lighthouse service. Establishment of a light and fog signal at Grays Harbor was approved February 15, 1893, the cost not to exceed $75,000. The contract for construction was signed January 30, 1897, with Henry Depauti & Sons, designers, engineers,

and lighthouse builders, of Paris. Early in 1898 the unfinished top of the light tower could be seen from Hoquiam on a clear day. It still needed ten more feet of brickwork and two stories of iron work. The light would be commissioned June 30, 1898.

Meanwhile at exactly eleven o'clock the morning of June 16, 1898, forty-

five-year-old Christian Zauner would step ashore on the Westport wharf, one that in early years extended far into the bay, to become the light’s first keeper. He, with Mrs. Zauner, had been keeper of the light on lonely Destruction Island off the Washington coast, and they would be the guardians of the Westport light

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for the next thirty-two years. He was followed by J. Wilson, who had been the first assistant keeper under Zauner. He received his appointment August 1, 1925. In turn A. O. Settles became keeper. Roy “Sharkey” Jacobsen was appointed keeper October 1, 1935. In 1939 the Coast Guard took charge of all lighthouses, and Jacobsen joined the Coast Guard service as a boatswain’s mate, first class. He retired June 1, 1945, as a chief boatswain’s mate.

The Westport light is on the seaward side of Point Chehalis, a metal plaque affixed to the base giving its location as Latitude N 46 55.3, Longitude W 124 07.0. The white octagonal tower rises 123 feet above the water, and 107 feet above the ground upon which it is situated, with 135 circular steps to reach the light platform. The staircase, built in France, is iron, bolted together, with the

bolt threads opposite to those normally used in the United States. The great lens was made in France, as was the turning mechanism, which originally was turned by a weight that was cranked up by hand each day. The task is now handled by a one-eighth horsepower electric motor, which easily turns the four-ton light rotating in a drum containing twenty gallons of mercury. Once a year the mercury has to be cleaned by straining it through a chamois cloth. Grays Harbor’s light, the second highest on the coast (the tallest is Estevan on the west side of Vancouver Island, 127 feet high) is lit with a 1,000-watt lamp, which through the lens produces a white beam of 1,520,000 candlepower and a 1,420,000 candlepower red beam. The characteristics of the light are: Red flash,

0.5 seconds, eclipse 14.5 seconds; white flash 0.5 seconds, eclipse 14.5 seconds. The light is displayed from one hour before sunset to one hour after sunrise. The light itself is housed behind windows of glass a quarter-inch thick; shades are drawn during the day to prevent the lens from focusing the sun’s rays and causing a fire. The Westport light is a comparatively late-comer. Its onetime companion light, that at the mouth of Shoalwater Bay (Willapa Harbor) was commissioned in 1858, and the one at Cape Disappointment at the mouth of the Columbia River in 1856. The Willapa light, at or near North Cove, was built of brick upon a base of

New England marble which was hauled around the Horn in a sailing ship and landed ashore by Indian canoe. At the time of its construction it was only eightyfive feet from high water; the site and the light were eroded away in the 1930s, along with a great section of the North Cove shore. The Willapa light’s first keeper was Captain Wells, followed after the Civil War closure by McEwen. Next, in 1870, was A. K. Bush, later a physician in Montesano. Around 1871 F. B. Holman of Portland moved in as keeper, followed by James Anderson. In the years following there were Tom Williams, Sid Smith, Marinus Stream, Robert Peterson, “Uncle John” Tillman, Jerkeson,

Hansen, and John Wilson. The latter was the last permanent keeper, leaving the light in the hands of the Willapa Coast Guard. The light was fed with lard oil. In the early days the keeper climbed the stairs with a feather soaked in turpentine to prime the wick so that it would take fire easily. One of the strange regulations was that no matches were permitted in the lens room atop the tower, but a keeper was permitted to carry a lighted torch

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391

from below to light the wick. The clockwork which rotated the lens was wound every two hours.

GOING OVER THE RIVERS River crossings were always a problem in Aberdeen and Hoquiam, and for that matter throughout the Grays Harbor region. In 1891, two significant arrangements were made. On February 12, county commissioners gave Alexander Young a license to operate a ferry from the end of Young Street to the foot of First Street. On the same day, a crew of twenty men and a pile driver “recommenced” work on a bridge across the Chehalis near the Wilson Brothers mill to become known as the A. J. West Bridge. On September 17, 1891, it was announced that the future bridge across the Chehalis River had been shipped from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The span was said to have cost $50,000. On that day announcement was made that masonry work on the foundation was “going ahead.” The bridge approach was to slue off the end of Curtis Street in South Aberdeen, jump the Chehalis with a toll payment midway, and end ona curving extension of Heron Street almost in the Wilson mill yard. The span was to carry the street railway to Cosmopolis as well, each passenger to pay a bridge toll fee in addition to his carfare. The southernmost span of the bridge collapsed in the early 1920s. Traffic was diverted temporarily over the Northern Pacific railway bridge across the Chehalis at Junction City to South Aberdeen. The railway bridge was planked, and traffic crossed in a one-way procession until the West bridge was restored.

DOINGS AL THE COUNTY SEAT The Montesano City Council met for the first time under the city charter December 6, 1883. The body was called to order by Mayor D. H. Mullen. Other city officials sworn in were Squire Zenor, Lawrence Mooney, Lewis B. Bignold, and Thomas Magill, common councilmen; John W. Mahan, Bush, recorder; W. H. Blair, marshall; Edwin Mace, clerk.

assessor; A. K.

Contract for the bridge or trestle from the foot of Main Street in Montesano to the north bank of the Chehalis was let to the Pacific Bridge Company of Portland, August 28, 1884, for a figure of $6,500. The bridge was to be sixteen

feet wide and built on piles. However, it was not until May 1885 that Alex Polson began clearing the right-of-way for the bridge. He had subcontracted for $122 for the clearing, and engaged three men to do the work. On August 5, 1885, the trestle completed,

Montesano

turned out for a

parade of horse-drawn vehicles and “marching persons” to celebrate the opening. Mayor Lewis B. Bignold of Montesano introduced Governor Squires as speaker of the day. Ex-governor Newell of Washington Territory was on hand as the second speaker. Prior to construction of this trestle another bridge of importance to Chehalis County was built across the Satsop River on the road between Montesano and Elma. The toll span, 800 feet long including the approaches, was built by A. S.

392.

Appendix C

Miller & Sons of Portland and opened to the public in May, 1884. Reid of Lower Montesano shut down his logging camp because of a scarcity of hay for his ox teams. At the same time the J. W. Milroy logging camp near Sharon was reported running full blast, getting feed for animals from Fords Prairie. The Wishkah Lumber Company, J. A. McGillicuddy, president, in August,

1883 leased a mill site from Carter on the south side of the Chehalis at Montesano. Machinery for the plant arrived the following month in the General Miles, and in November the mill was in operation cutting rough lumber. A year later the Wishkah Lumber Company was planning to move its plant to Aberdeen, but before the mill could move it was damaged on January 15, 1885, by high water, which floated away a quantity of lumber. Damage was estimated

at $1,000. In the same month in Lower Montesano, Shelby & Waite’s wharf on the Chehalis was swept away by a freshet and the entire townsite covered with twenty feet of water. Some buildings were swept away and it was feared public records and much private property would be lost. In February 1885 Julian Luark killed “an enormous cougar” near the Montesano campgrounds, and in March Chas. McIntyre of Copalis Rock said he and other sea otter hunters had killed eleven otters during the season. In February 1886 C. N. Byles offered to donate an entire city block to the county for a courthouse if the county seat was moved to Montesano from Lower Montesano. Citizens of Montesano pledged to furnish a suitable building for court and county business for a term of five years, rent free.

In a special county seat election held in March 1886, Montesano won by 338 votes. On the 26th of that month a large number of Montesano citizens and wagons

turned out to move

county property

and records to new

quarters in

Montesano. Brownrigg & Phelon, proprietors of the Olympia stage, were reported making good time on the run from Montesano, “being only nine hours on the road, including time for dinner.” The stage traveled by way of Hicklin mountain, saving 15 miles of travel. In July, 1886 an advertisement appeared in the Vidette: “Montesano to Olympia; good spring wagons; quick time. Coaches leave Montesano at 7 a.m. on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, arriving Olympia at 4 p.m. Will leave Olympia at 7 a.m. on following days, arriving 4 p.m. S. Brownrigg, Prop.” On July 2, Montesano held a local option election and voted 156 to 110 to ban saloons. On the 31st, young men of Montesano organized a fire company under the name of “Prohibition Hook & Ladder Company” with thirty officers and men. Among charter members were William Bush, J. E. Calder, Ben Crane and George Ninemire. :

CARLISLE WAS A TOWN W. A. Carlisle had a string Atchison. He needed lumber for rich hills of Grays Harbor? So, ladies, who had a big interest in

of lumber yards in Kansas with headquarters in his yards, and what better place than the timberwith the help of “the Pennels, wealthy maiden the company,” Carlisle bought two large parcels

Appendix C

393

of timber, one on the watershed of the Copalis River, the other southeast of the

town of Chehalis. To harvest and process timber from the Copalis-Humptulips Valley holdings, Carlisle built a large sawmill east of the Copalis River and some four miles west of Copalis Crossing. He called his milltown Carlisle. Its one street,

actually the highway, was covered with ten-foot planks. He built a company store, a post office, a three-story boarding house with a big poolhall on the lower floor, a cookhouse with sleeping rooms above, and a picture show. In time there was a scattering of small homes for families. The Copalis Crossing sawmill at first had a circular headrig, but this was changed to a band mill, with a big sash gangsaw, a big edger, and a band resaw. In 1915 the company paid 17% cents an hour for common labor. Willard N. Morss, who went to the mill in 1915, recalled that the low wages did not deter a wide selection of unusual laborers. There was an ex-Polish count, an Englishman

who had gone to Edinburgh University with the Prince of Wales (later King George V), and Eddie Sorger, a German who became safety director for the State Department of Labor in Olympia. Sorger’s father was a high colonel in the Kaiser’s army. Ed’s mother wanted him to become a priest, so he ran away aboard a ship stealing amber from the Baltic. Among other things he was purser aboard a passenger ship that sank on the inside passage to Alaska, then turned up at Carlisle to become a highclimber in the woods. The Carlisle mill burned in the early 1920s. Carlisle then developed an operation in Onalaska to process his holdings southeast of Chehalis. He cut his last log there in the Roosevelt “New Deal” days when, in a controversy with National Recovery Act administrators, he shut his mill down and never reopened it. Only a gaunt smokestack remains to mark where his mill stood. Willard Morss, who operated the projection machine in the showhouses, recalled the story of “Alaska Jack,” who arrived in Carlisle one day with a film reel of far-North scenes and some items from Eskimo villages like walrus tusks, sealskins, spears, and so on. During the course of the showing, Alaska Jack came

to a place where he recited the “Shooting of Dan McGrew.” When he came to the line “Two guns blazed in the dark,” one of the millhands—who had been primed by Alaska Jack—was to fire two blanks from his 45-caliber pistol. Alaska Jack recited the lines with fervor, but when he came

to the two guns blazing, all he got was a “click, click.” The millhand had been fiddling with the gun and had the cartridges off center. Disgusted, Alaska Jack continued with the poem—and then the gun went off with aBOOM, BOOM that shook the rafters. All the babies screamed; many of the audience were scared, including Alaska Jack; some went into shock, and some were convulsed with laughter. The folding chairs collapsed, and all was in

an uproar. Alaska Jack was not soon forgotten around Carlisle.

{BILEY GGHEsBEAR=s “Billy the Bear” has been dead these sixty years; but his story is worth recounting if for no other reason than as a lesson in fortitude.

394

Appendix C

Born William Sherwin, “Billy the Bear” grew into a broken manhood. He lost his left arm in a powder blast and his right side was paralyzed, but he was a dauntless soul and lived life with a zest comparable to that of a man wholebodied and vigorous. Hundreds of persons on the Harbor knew him as the lonely Wishkah Valley trapper, an unusual figure of a man dragging one leg and vigorously swinging the stump of his shattered arm. The paralyzed arm he habitually carried in a crook, and as often as not had a rifle cradled there. There are a multitude of stories of his career, and some of the best are remembered by Joe Malinowski, who befriended him and knew as much about the odd character as any other person. The best story, perhaps, was about the time Billy shot the bear. Paralysis had left his right arm virtually useless save when it was partially invigorated by warmth; in cold weather Billy couldn't even move a finger. He was on his trap line one day and encountered a big bruin rather insecurely held in one of the traps. The weather was cold and damp and Billy couldn't raise his rifle or pull the trigger. There wasn’t any use, he had to await some sunshiny

weather, so for three days he camped near the bear to await a beam of sunshine to thaw out his trigger finger. On the third day the sun shone, so Billy worked the rifle across a log and laboriously fired the shot that ended the bear. Another time, in the dead of winter, he downed a big bull elk over on the

Wynooche. With the aid of some neighbors he removed the huge antlers and had them tied onto his back, so that he could take them to a construction camp on the Wishkah River. It was a matter of ten to fifteen miles over the “hump” of the divide, some of the way buried in four feet of snow.

He plowed through the snow for miles and then tired, fell backward. The antlers buried themselves in the snow so solidly that Billy the Bear couldn't get up. He thought he was going to perish from cold, but finally worked himself loose. Hours later, and long after dark, the men heard something fall at the door of the camp. It was Billy the Bear, exhausted. He collapsed and took hours in the reviving, but he got the antlers to his friend. He got the name “Billy the Bear” in Pennsylvania, where he staged a oneman carnival by wrestling a pet bear. He and the bear staged the act for years, until one time the bruin mauled him unmercifully and Billy quit the performance. Billy the Bear could quote the Bible at will, and sang religious songs when the spirit moved him. Once he obtained a phonograph, he learned every song from every record he could find. Later he would sing them at the top of his voice, making the woods ring with his melodies. His cooking was a thing of simplicity. Handicapped by his physical frailties, Billy put everything into one pot. A typical meal consisted of chopping a salmon in two, chucking it into a pot, then adding a can of tomatoes and a quantity of self-rising pancake flour. Visitors shunned his cabin at meal time, for Billy always insisted that they “sit and eat.” Dan McGillicuddy, now deceased, a timber cruiser of some renown and authenticity, told a story of the time when he was running a line through the upper Wishkah and came out of the woods around Billy the Bear’s shack near

Appendix C

395

sundown. Billy had a stew bubbling on his little iron stove, and invited McGillicuddy to “sit for dinner.” Knowing Billy, McGillicuddy peered into the stewpot before announcing his decision. He recognized some spuds and an emaciated onion, but beyond that there was nothing identifiable save the meat portion—which was unquestionably bear, for the hide and the hair were still attached. McGillicuddy excused himself as best he could, gathered up his axe and his compass, and lit out for town. Billy always bought the largest shoes he could find so that he wouldn't have to lace and unlace them, just kick them off. In the summer he invariably went barefooted. One time he offered Malinowski an opportunity to shoot at the bottom of his feet with a shotgun, just to test the toughness of the “hide.” However, Billy asked that he be allowed to put pegs between his toes because “he was tender there.” Coming to town one time to see the dentist, Dr. L. F. Walker, Billy approached the elevator in the Finch Building. He told the girl operator to run “the durn thing” up and down, while he stood in the hallway to examine the cables. Not until after he was satisfied that the cables wouldn't break did he consent to go up. Incidentally, Billy the Bear demanded all gold fillings and went back to the woods gleaming with yellow metal. At one time Billy the Bear almost scared a homesteader to death. It was at the time of the John Tornow case and Billy, not knowing of, or not caring about

Tornow’s reputation, stopped the homesteader to ask the time. As always, Billy had a rifle in the crook of his arm. The homesteader took one look, leaped from his pack horse, and lit out for town. Billy remarked innocently afterwards, “Hell, all I wanted was the time.” As many feared, Billy the Bear died unattended in a lonely cabin on the Wynooche. He was found and buried by Claude Nutter of Montesano; and thus

passed as colorful a character as ever trod the Wishkah hills.

QUINAULT LAKE MEMORIES There is much to be said for the innumerable Olsons of Quinault. They were the progeny of John A. Olson and two wives, who could boast seventeen children in all. John Olson came first in the early ‘90s to claim a 160-acre preemption on the north side of the Quinault River eight miles above the lake. He chose the site because he was interested in raising cattle and he figured the high surrounding hills would keep his stock from wandering. After establishing his claim he sent for his family in Parker's Prairie, Minnesota, and a carload of cattle. The cattle, a yoke of oxen, some milk cows and steers, arrived in Hoquiam and were driven by his son, Ernest Olson, all the

way to the upper Quinault. The Olson family moved with the cattle in 1894, the children being Hilda, Elma, twins Nellie and Sally, Herbert (the oldest, then ten), Richard, Fritzhioff, and

Ignar. Five later children—Mavie, Teander, Elvin, Mildred, and Grace—were born to Olson’s first wife on the homestead in the years after arrival.

The historic Quinault Hotel began as a small log structure built by Jack

396

Appendix C

Ewell and later bought by A. V. Higley, who had crossed the Olympics from Duckabush on Hood Canal by way of the East Fork of the Quinault. Higley operated the place as a small hotel and post office, but after a run-in with the newly-established U.S. Forest Service he moved across the lake, built himself another log structure, and installed another post office, calling the place “Olson.”

Herbert and Richard Olson then bought the lease and building of the Quinault Hotel, and enlarged it with lumber from a steam sawmill built just below the hotel by Herbert Olson and Ort Higley. They installed their sisters, Sally and Nellie, as cooks in the hotel, and they reputedly were good. In time Herbert and Richard Olson sold to the Egge sisters—Olena, then Mrs. Seaman, and Constance. Roy Streater, who had a dance hall near the hotel, tore down his structure, married Constance Olson, and moved upriver two miles above the lake. This was about the time the Olsons regretted they had raised a cougar. The animal was picked up as a kitten, kept as a pet, and when grown, housed in a sheep shed attached to the barn. One day the Olsons thoughtlessly butchered alongside the sheep shed. The smell of blood sent the cougar into a frenzy. To soothe the big cat Ignar Olson thought to open the door a crack and toss in a piece of meat. Ignar had barely unlatched the door when the cougar crashed out, grabbing Ignar by the scalp and arm. Ignar let out a yell that could be heard clear up to the Low Divide. The others came running. Herbert grabbed a handy fence picket and whacked the cougar across the nose. The animal was so startled it let go of Ignar and dashed back into the shed. Richard Olson, last survivor of the Olson progeny, could not remember what eventually became of the cougar. At least, it didn’t eat any Olsons.

PATS|SAD DAY The year 1905 was a bad one for Patrick F. Cloney. In March he almost shook the Windsor Hotel off its foundation, and in June he missed John L. Sullivan.

Saint Patrick’s Day began happily enough, the saints be praised, as Patrick Cloney sock-footed customarily down the stairway of his Windsor Hotel. It was sunny outside, the beams lighting the Windsor lobby and falling, of all things, upon the east end of an orange elephant going west—a large tin sign advertising “Elephant Suspenders.” Pat stopped short. Somewhere down in his slowly-awakening consciousness a spark fell into a powder keg. Pat exploded. He charged into the woodshed, and charged back, swinging an axe and muttering Irish oaths. Straight for the offending sign he lunged. He hacked and hammeréd. The building rocked under his blows, and some of Ellen Cloney’s best furniture shattered. Birdie Cloney came screaming out of a back room. The din of orange conflict rattled the windows. And down the stairway trooped startled guests— some wondering, others, like M. B. Lytle, grinning. Pat, exhausted, leaned on his axe and glared at the twisted metal and the

Appendix C

397

lobby wreckage. Flakes of orange paint were scattered over the rug. Shouldering his axe, Patrick F. Cloney stalked silently out of the room. Several guests were hiding grins behind their hands. They had found the sign the night before in a vacant lot and propped it up in the lobby where Pat would be sure to see it on his early morning rounds. Patrick Cloney had risen to the bait beautifully. Again he was sorely set upon in June of that fateful year, when the faded and paunchy John L. Sullivan came to town. The great Boston Strong Boy had been the greatest fighter of all time until Jim Corbett ended his career in the twenty-first round in 1892. Thereafter Sullivan had wasted a fortune and his $10,000 diamond-studded belt. He had gone into vaudeville to pay for his meals, and was ready for a sawdust town in the tall and uncut. He was to appear in the Anheuser Music Hall, which served refreshments with its stage shows.

It was not surprising that M. B. Lytle was one of the men who told Patrick Cloney that his beloved Irish idol was to appear in Aberdeen. “Ah, begorra, there is a man with a fightin’ heart in ‘im!” So, after his hotel chores were finished, and wife Ellen and daughter Birdie had seen that he had put on his shoes, Pat hied himself to the Anheuser—four

hours early. Now four hours are a long time to wait even for an Irish idol, and Sullivan

had been billed as the final act. Pat Cloney was not averse to good Irish whisky, so he had a spot to while away the time; but it is hard to stretch one shot glass to four hours. So Pat Cloney had another, and another. Somewhat after midnight the mighty Sullivan stepped upon the stage to resounding applause. He had a little trouble getting his sagging chest in place, but he did do a few fancy steps and some shadow boxing, then retired for a few beers. All the while Pat Cloney snoozed, contributing prodigious snores to the handclapping and foot stomping. Some of the “boys” from the hotel awakened him at closing time. He shook himself, swung his eyes around the almost empty hall. “Where's Sullivan?” Pat fairly roared. “He's gone. . .the show's over.” Pat hammered the table until the beer mugs did a jig. He was wrathful. He was mad clear through. “Ah, ‘tis a fiendish trick. ..and ye knowing I had me heart and soul set on it.” He slammed out through the doors in high dudgeon.

TILTING THE FLOUR BIN A. J. West, who built Aberdeen’s first sawmill, was an inventive genius. His West & Slade sawmill firm operated a large wholesale grocery on East Heron Street in what is now East Aberdeen. West observed that the clerks had trouble

handling sugar and flour out of the big bulk sacks. A tilting bin seemed to West to be the answer, so he had several built for the store. Soon every grocery store on the Harbor was using tilting bins—with little credit, of course, to A. J. West.

398

Appendix C

THE ROAD TO ABERDEEN Did you ever try to ride it ona buggy or a bike, A lumber cart or stage-coach for all are just alike— And bump against the knotty boards with mammoth cracks between? It’s a regular “liver turner” is the road to Aberdeen. I've heard about the rough road the pilgrims used to go, Which runs from old Jerusalem around to Jericho, The rocky road to Dublin and the sins of Yesler Way, The road which climbs the mountain tops among the granite gray; But the worst of all the rocky roads my eyes have ever seen Is the one below the slaughter-house which leads to Aberdeen. I've walked the frozen marshes and hit the railroad ties,

Plowed my way through yellow clay and mud up to my eyes; I've read about the men who trod the icy Delaware And left their footprints painted in blood of freedom there; I've wandered in forbidden paths and in the narrow way, Walked the broad road to destruction where my feet are wont to stray; I've walked the path of roses and trod the path of thorns;

Have plowed the crooked furrow and raised a crop of corns; But of all the roads on top of sod to jar a fellow’s spleen There’s nothing like the rocky road which leads to Aberdeen.

I have sought the city council, with a pleasant pleasing smile; I've wasted tears upon them large as those of crocodile; I've written Carrie Nation to come and bring an ax;

I've tried to raise the money from the men who pay the tax. But worse and worse it’s getting, until you cannot tell Which is the road to Aberdeen and which the road to—well,

The passengers carry pillows who ride upon the bus; The hackmen carry feather beds, and bikers walk and cuss. A saint going o’er the road becomes profane and mean, And Satan must control the road which leads to Aberdeen. When life on earth has ended and we lay down our toil, When every saint and sinner shuffles off this mortal coil; When ten thousand blessed angels stray along the milky way To guide new saints immortal to that land of Perfect Day; When men of every nation get aboard the Zion Scow And go fishing for a golden crown to put upon their brow— If | have not been good enough and haven't walked aright, And my record won't admit me to the land of Pure Delight, God of mercy, let me linger ‘mongst the imps with eyes of green, But do not leave me bumping on the road to Aberdeen. Charley Gant (1904)

Appendix C

THINK OF ME HILL Through the world as we roam many sights do we see and the scenery imposing and grand; And somehow or other they always strike me With love for my own native land. There’s mountain and meadow and flower spangled plain And grandeur of ocean—but still

Wherever I wander I turn once again To the beauties of Think of Me Hill. There are bold mountain peaks with summits of snow Thrust high in the azure dome;

There are rivers whose waters sing as they flow, Fill the days with their joyful tone— You may rave of the beauties of snow covered peak, You may sigh for the frolicksome rill,

But there’s none brings the glow to this faded old cheek Like the vista from Think of Me Hill. The waves of the ocean with white breakers gleam Through the mists of the harbor wide While out in the offing a steamer is seen,

Crossing in with the evening tide. Like a ribbon of silver the Wishkah flows down ‘Midst meadows and gardens which will Pour the wealth of their products into the town That nestles ‘round Think of Me Hill.

The hill’s not so lofty as many, I know, And poets ne’er sing of its fame— But, at home or abroad, wherever I go,

I long for the sight, once again. When the pale, silver moon bathes the earth with its light In summer when nights are still,

And songbirds twitter their last good night, Then it’s great on Think of Me Hill. There shut out from the world and the bustling view,

‘Tis the time of all others to tell The story that’s old, and yet ever new,

That holds all the world in its spell So, with my best girl I will climb to the crest And whisper my love to my Lil, And I know that she'll tell me she loves me the best, On the summit of Think of Me Hill.

399

400

Appendix C

I love that old hill and its fresh green sod,

Every tree on its rugged side; They tell me a tale of the goodness of God, Of life and its mirthful tide; And when at last with the world I am done,

And the public wants rest from this quill, I want to sleep on, till the last setting sun,

‘Neath the sign on Think of Me Hill.

Cedarquill [Charley Gant]

Bibhography

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Bancroft, Hubert Hugh. History of the Northwest Coast. San Francisco: The History Company, 1884. Bennett, Guy Vernon. “Early Relations of the Sandwich Islands to the Old Oregon Territory.” Washington Historical Quarterly 4(1913):116-126. Bishop, Capt. Charles. Journal and Letters of Capt. Charles Bishop on the Northwest Coast of America, 1794-1799. Cambridge: The Hakluyt Society, 1967.

an EthnolBoas, Franz. Chinook Texts. Bulletin No. 20, U. S. Bureau of Americ

ogy. Washington, D. C.: U. S. Government Printing Office, 1894. and Boit, John. Voyages of the Columbia to the Northwest Coast, 1787-1790 1790-1793. Edited by Frederick William Howay. Boston: Massachusetts Historical Society, 1941. and Clark, Robert Carlton. A History of Oregon. Chicago: Row, Patterson Company, 1925. la. Cleland, Lucile. Trails and Trials of the Pioneers of the Olympic Peninsu by Humptulips (Wa.): Humptulips Pioneer Association, 1959. Reprinted Shorey Book Store, Seattle, 1973.

rn and Delano, Amasa. A Narrative of the Voyages and Travels in the Northe Southern Hemispheres. Boston: E. G. Howe, 1817.

December Delanty, Hugh M. “Along the Waterfront.” Seattle, Marine Digest, 11 1943.

Oregon HistorDennis, Elsie Frances. “Indian Slavery in the Pacific Northwest.” ical Quarterly 31(1930):69-81,181-195,285-296.

Society, 1914. Douglas, David. Journal of David Douglas. London: Horticultural of Oklahoma Frazer, Robert Walter. Forts of the West. Norman: University Press, 1965. from MonGalvin, John. A Journal of Explorations Northward Along the Coast la Campa) terey in the Year 1 775. (Translation of the diary of Father Miguel de San Francisco: J. Howell, 1964.

Oregon.” In Gibbs, George. “Tribes of Western Washington and Northwestern , pp. Contributions to North American Ethnology, edited by J. W. Powell Mountain 157-361. U. S. Geographical and Geological Survey of the Rocky Region, Part II: U. S. Department of the Interior.

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Hazeltine, Jean. The Historical and Regional Geography of the Willapa Bay Area. South Bend, Wa.: Journal Press, 1956.

Heceta, Bruno de. “Diario de la Navigacion echa por el Teniente de Navio de la Real Armada.”

(1775) Microfilm.

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Bancroft Library. (From original unpublished manuscript in National Archives of Mexico) Hobucket, Harry. “Quillayute Indian Tradition.” Washington Historical Quarterly 25(1934):49-59.

Howay, F. W., ed. “Captains Gray and Kendrick: The Barrell Letters.” Washington Historical Quarterly 12(1921):243-271. Hussey, John. Chinook Point and the Story of Fort Columbia. Olympia: Washington State Parks and Recreation Commission,

1957.

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Jewett, John R. Narrative of the Adventures and Sufferings of John R. Jewett While Held as a Captive of the Nootka Indians of Vancouver Island, 1803-05. 1815. Reprint. Ramona, Ca.: Ballena Press, 1975.

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Index

Abbott, Major L. A., 235 Abell, William, 323 Abercorn (bark), 209, 210, 212

Aberdeen Black Cats, 339 Aberdeen Electric Light Company, 228

Aberdeen Herald, 235, 300 Aberdeen High School, 186 Aberdeen House (hotel), 220, 224, 225, 226, 239, 248, 299

Aberdeen Library Association, 234 Aberdeen Packing Company (Ilwaco), 298, 315 Aberdeen (stern-wheeler), 213, 318, 328

Aberdeen Water Company, 232 Aberdeen (whaling vessel), 318 Aberdeen (Wishkah), 144, 145, 209, 219-249, 283, 298-299

Achey, Walter, 195 Acker, Blair, 342 Adams, W. L., 249 Adventure (sail), 30 A. J. West (schooner), 331 A. J. Wester (schooner), 324 Alcohol, 52-53, 200 Allen, George D., 228, 232 Allen, Hiram, 193

Alliance (steamer), 325 Allman, John, 210

Amende, F. C., 293 American Mill Company (Aberdeen), 214, 292

Amundson, Nels, 202 Anderson, Esmond, 125 Anderson, Henry N. “Heine,” 340 Anderson & Middleton sawmill, 228 Anderson, Peter, 103 Anderson, William, 125

Andrews, Julian, 259 Angelo, John (and family), 126, 183, 184 Antrim, Fred, 244 Antrim, Grover, 239

Arland, Mrs. James, 101 Arland, Richard, 100, 138, 252 Armstrong, Absalom, 92, 118, 163

Armstrong, Benjamin C., 92-94 Armstrong, Charles, 177 Armstrong, Mary Nechard (Mrs. Benjamin C. Armstrong), 93 Armstrong's Mill (Cedar Creek), 92, 965102 A162 1275 250) 282 Arnold, F. D., 206, 207

Arthaud, E. B., 293 Askew, Parker, 177

Index

Astell, Frank “Shorty,” 313 Astoria, 35, 47, 151

Aunt Sally (wife of Carcowan), 93 Austin ik e207

Axford Prairie, 180, 181, 182, 189 Axtel, Shorty, 191 Ayala, Juan de, 14-15 Balch, Dr. Edward T., 138, 164 Balch, Captain LaFayette, 83 Balcom, Laura Campbell Balcom, 257, 259

Baldwin, Fannie, 193

Ballard, William Graham, 210 Baranof, Alexander, 20 Barnes, E., 114

Barnes, Libby, 171 Barnes, Will, 171 Barrell, Joseph, 24, 25 Barrows, 104 Basich, Bob, 341 Bauer, John, 333 Bauer, William, 333

Baumgartner family, 184 Beard, Rev. John W., 340 Beardsley, C. A., 237 Bechbessinger, “Little Chris,” 184 BelmGaRye2 7A Belts, “Hickey,” 134, 135 Benn, Alice, 282 Benn, Ed, 217, 259, 272, 295

Benn, George, 282 Benn, Martha Redman (Mrs. Samuel Benn), 140, 278, 282, 285

Benn, Phoebe, 282 Benn, Samuei (and family), 118, 140, 152, 153, 159, 169, 193, 209, NL, AW, BO), PA, 2S, PX, 231, 241, 248, 272, 278-285,

288, 296, 298, 305, 315

Berg, John, 316 Bessac, Henry W., 270 Best, Harriet, 267 Best, Richard, 186, 188 Bevandich, Martin (and family), 189 Bileau, Dave, 165 Biles, James, 97, 176

405

Billings, John, 94, 102 Billings, William, 50 Birdwell, Calvin, 178 Birdwell, Tom, 179 Bishop, Captain Charles, 60, 61 Bishop, Ed, 301 Blackberry, evergreen, 127, 142, 179 Black Creek School, 179 Black Lake, 35, 169 Black River, 321 Blackwell, Cyrus, 193, 194, 220, 341 Blackwell, Ira “Hippo,” 341 Blackwell & Miller (logging com-

pany), 190 Blair, Louis, 334-335 Blake, Matthew C., 218 Blazina, Dan (and family), 189 Blockhouse Prairie, 94, 109, 153 Blodgett, Henry J., 216, 313, 321 Blonski, Ed, 339 Blum (brewery), 226 Boas, Franz, 52 Bockover, John L. (“Wildcat John”), 187-188

Bodega y Quadra, Juan Francisco de la, 14-19

Bogle, R., 207 Bogue, Virgil G., 345 Boisfort, 79, 90, 104

Boit, John, 28, 31-34 Boland, Jim, 113 Boman, Benjamin, 152

Bonk, 201 Bonner, Isaac, 165 BOOkay Venlea2

Borden Bowes, Bowes, Bowes, Bowes, Boyd,

Oee2alel

family, 221 Dan, 189, 305-306 Jim, 305, 307 Morris, 341 Sam, 305-306 Bernice, 188

Boyd, Beryl, 188 Boyd, Dewitt Lincoln (and family), 188

Boyd, Everett, 188

Boyd, Mary Ramsdell (Mrs. Dewitt

406

Index

Lincoln Boyd), 188 Boyle, Glen, 341 Boynton, C. H., 274 Brackenridge Bluff, 47, 105, 116 Brackenridge, James Dunlop, 44, 47, 48

Brady, John, 80, 99, 103, 141, 152, 157

Brady, Mrs. John (Wagstaff), 99 Brant (schooner), 324 Breakiron, Harry, 267 Bretburg, A., 238 Briscoe, Burr, 328 Briscoe, Joe, 146 Brittain, Annie Grosclose (Mrs. Fred Brittain), 185 Brittain, Charles, 181 Brittain, Darwin, 181 Brittain, Ethel Snyder (Mrs. Charles Brittain), 185 Brittain, Fred, 181 Brittain, Mary Jane (Mrs. Newton), 185 Brittain, Newton, 185 Brittain, Wayne Sargent, 185

Brolz, Fred (and family), 189 Broska, Father, 200, 201 Brown, Clem, 182 Brown, H. P., 293 Brown, Captain John, 329 Brown, Proctor, 187

Brown, Robert, 110 Brown, Sadie (Mrs. Proctor Brown), 182, 187

288

Burr, A. J., 169 Burr, Fred, 114

Bush, Lafayette Lincoln, 68 Bushell, Richard, 275 Butler, G. W., 252 Byles, Rev. Charles (and family), 93, 97, 101, 104-106, 109-110, 136

Byles, Charles Newton, 96-98, 112, 141, 297 Byles, David, 93-94, 97, 98, 100-101, 106, 111, TAP 53) 252 263 264

Byles, Elizabeth Jane Medcalf (Mrs. Charles Newton Byles), 95-98, AZZ,

Byles, George W., 264

Byles, Mary Jane Hill (Mrs. David Byles), 98 Byles, Rebecca, 110 Byles, Sarah Wright Usher (Mrs. Charles Byles), 101 Byng, Harry, 182 Calamet (schooner), 151-152 Calder, J. E. “Joe,” 270 Caldwell, Frances Blaney, 178 Caldwell, Hazel, 179 Caldwell, John (Jack), 177-178 Caldwell, Miley Long (Mrs. William R. Caldwell), 177-178 Caldwell, Oliver, 177 Caldwell, William R. (Preacher Bill), 177-178

Calhoun, Robert, 120, 154

Brown, Samuel, 25 Brunn, R., 263-264 Bryant, Jess, 179 Bucareli, Viceroy Antonio, 13, 17

Calkins, William H., 206, 207 Callender, M. P., 257 Campa Cos, Miguel de la, 14

Buchanan, Bill, 266

Campbell, A. J. “Jack,” 258

Budeselich, Matt, 189

Campbell, Alexander, 121, 141,

Budeselich, Stanley (and family), 189 Bulagin, Nikolai, 19-20, 22-23

Bulagina, Anna Petrovna, 19, 21-23 Bulfinch, Charles, 24-26, 31 Burials, Indians’, 103, 159-161, 177,

Campbell, Agnes, 259

2537298

Campbell, Archibald, 125, 258 Campbell, Edward (and family), 105, 121, 141, 206, 252-259

Campbell, Florence, 257

Campbell, Harriet Scammon Boyce

Index

(Mrs. Edward Campbell), 2530205

Cedarville (Blockhouse Prairie)

Chapman, Enoch, 91

Campbell, Joseph, 123, 258

Chapman, John Butler, 83

Campbell, William, 253, 257, 259, 347

Cannon, A. M., 206 Cap-i-tan, 168 Capoeman, Joe, 191 Carcowan, 61-63, 93 Carey, J. W., 237 Carney, Mr. and Mrs. J. J., 300 Carraba, P. J., 291 Carrie Davis (steamer), 321-322 Carter, Charley, 112 Carter, Eliza Bendall (Mrs. William Henry Carter), 171-172 Carter, Emma B. (Mrs. Thomas Jefferson Carter), 154 Carter, Fred, 125 Garters HH 775 207 Carter, James Madison, 171 Carter, John Bendall, 172, 175 Carter, Minerva (Mrs. Thomas Carter), 170-171 Carter, Mint Wade (Mrs. William J. Carter), 175-176 Carter, Pauline Horton (Mrs. Tom Carter), 173 Carter, Pete, 140 Carter, Thomas (“Uncle Tom”) (and family), 109, 112, 170-171

Carter, Thomas Jefferson (Jeff) (and family), 90, 111, 112, 114, 140, 152-154, 319, 324

Carter, Tom (son of William Henry Carter), 173 Carter, William Henry (“One Arm’), 88, 170-172

,

94, 102, 147

Campbell, Dr. Horace, 257, 259 Campbell, Maude, 257 Campbell, Nina Luark (Mrs. A. J. Campbell), 258

407

Chapman, John M., 83 Charley, Billy, 342 Charley Cape, 168 Charley, George A., 66 Chase, Drv@s Gs 102

Chase & Ogden, 126 Chehalis (steamer), 322-323, 326 Chehalis Charley, 168

Chehalis County (Grays Harbor County), 89, 99, 157, 270 Chehalis Point, 112-113, 116, 149, 153, 154, 156, 158-160, 169

Chehalis Point Cemetery, 114 Chehalis River, exploration of, 102-106

Chehalis Steamboat Navigation Company, 319 Chenamus (Chief), 64, 66

Chenamus City (Chehalis), 159-161 Chenois, Allen, 168 Chenois, Chuck, 168 Chenois, Joseph, 168 Chenois, Kluch, 167

Chenois, Mary, 168 Chick’-a-min George, 169 Chinook jargon, 70, 85, 149, 168, 169

Chinoose, Chief (Chinois), 119, 167

Chronicle (Chehalis County Chronicle, Elma Chronicle), 274, 276

Chute, Lela, 213 City of Aberdeen (stern-wheeler), 328 Clams, 74, 223, 317 Clan McDonald (stern-wheeler), 220, 328

Claquamish Prairie (Blockhouse Prairie), 94, 104, 106, 153, 157

Carter, William Jefferson, 172, 175 Caslah’han (Caslahan), 53, 168 Caswell, Joshua, 28, 30

Clark, Ed, 224 Clark, H. A., 206

Cattle, 130, 139, 140-141, 254

Clark, J. W., 277, 346

Claquato, 321, 322, 323

408

Index

Clark, John W., Jr., 277 Clark, Kearney, 277

Cramer, W. H., 207 Crary, J., 294

Clatsop County Historical Society, 61

Crass, Bill, 178 Crass, John, 178 Crass, Sam, 178

Clothing, 77, 130 Cloud, Dan, 271 Cloud, Gerald, 274 Clough, W. H., 219, 327 Cloutliteh, 105 Clyde, Joe, Sr. (and family), 180 Coats, Al, 292 Coble, Mr. and Mrs. James A., 274 Cochran, Louise, 234-235 Cohassett (Peterson), 113, 159-160, 213

Cohassett Hotel, 145 Collins, Chapin, 271 Collins, Isabel Rosmond, 271 Colonel P. S. Michie (dredge), 346 Columbia (Columbia Rediviva), 25-34

Colvocoresses, George, 38, 39, 41,

Crass, Tom, 178 Crater, Charles, 107 Crater Js le 2to7 Crow, W. D., 270 Cruiser (screw steamer), 191, 328

Crumley, Sam, 179 Culebra (dredge), 346

Cultee, Charles, 52 Cultis Jim, 169 Curtis, Emma (Mrs. John Curtis), 242, 243

Curtis, John (family), 241-242 Curtis, Thomas, 241 Dabney, J. B. “Joe,” 290, 296 Damon,

A. O., 161, 163-165, 180

Damon,

George, 165

Daughters of the American Revolution, 161-162

42, 47, 50, 350

Concomly, 60, 61 Connor, John, 169 Consolidated Aircraft, 301 Cook, Captain James, 24 Cooke, Colonel H. D., 63 Coolidge, Chief, 66 Coolidge, David, 26, 28

Davidson, George, 28 Davis, E. R., 186

Davis, Matilda Jane Lyons, 126 Davis, Thomas E., 126 Dawson, W. A., 182 Dean, George, 331 Decatur (bark), 321

Cooney,

Neil, 266, 277, 326

Cooper, Cooper, Cooper, Cooper, Copalis,

Carl (and family), 216 C. O., 260 H. C., 207 Dr. James G., 63 165

Corlett, “Uncle Tom,” 219

Deckenbach, F. G., 207 DeHarley, A., 54 De Haven, Lieutenant Edwin, 43 Delanty, Hugh, 332 DesLoch @ i. 239 Derby, John, 24-25 Devere, Bill, 262 Dickson, David H., 274

Cosmopolis,

Dillon, Matt, 342-343

Copalis River, 187 Copalis Rock, 313 100, 101, 103, 106, 122

WAS), Wey, SANS). sys), Wc 198, 238, 263-268

IS)

Dinse, Robert, 233

Discovery, 30

“Cosmopolis Jack,” 283

Disease, 51-52, 138, 161, 222

“Cosmopolis Pete,” 100

Divilbiss, J. W., 270 Doane, Reverend, 137 Dobbins, D. W., 326 Dolbeer (steam engine), 193, 194

Cox, Jim, 169 Grab) 747317

Crain, Oscar L., 235

Index

Dolphin (steamer), 325 Donovan lumber mill, 233

409

Erhart, Jack, 342 Essex Hotel (Cohassett), 215

Dorsey, Sarah, 200

Eureka Lumber & Shingle Company

Douglas, David, 37-38, 350

(Hoquiam), 260 Evans Hotel (Humptulips), 188 Evans, R. H., 296 Ewell, John A., 111 Fairfield, Colonel J. C., 220, 226-227 Fanny (schooner), 324 Farrel, John, 210 Feeler, Simon, 114 Filley, George F., 207 Filley, Mrs. George E., 207

Douglas, Rev. J. S., 136-137 Dowling, Nettie Curtis, 241 Dowling, Thomas, 242 Dowling, Walter, 242 Dragecevich, John (and family), 189 Dreeszen, Doug, 339

Drummond, Duncan, 245 Dugas, Mrs., 267 Dunlap, Sidney, 121 Dwyer, Tim, 163, 164

Eagles lodge, 307 Eastman, John, 125 Eaton, Fred, 276 Eells, Rev. Myron, 55

Egge, Constance, 203 Egge, Karina (Mrs. Peter Hanson

Egge), 201-203 Egge, Peter Hanson, 201-202 Eld, Henry Jr., 38-41, 46-47, 161-162, 350

Eld Island, 162 Electric Park (Aberdeen), 228-230, 295, 339, 340

Ellingson, Amund, 201 Ellingson, Helge, 202 Ellingson, Lena (Mrs. Amund Ellingson), 202 Elliott, Barbara, 272 Elliott, Captain, 107 Elliott Slough, 107 Ellison, Diane, 342-343 Ellison, Russ, 342-343 Ellston, J. B., 207 Elma, 103, 107, 114

Elma (steamer), 326

Elmer, Al, 333-334 . Emerson, George H., 111, 255-256, 326

Emont, Leon, 224 Emory, Peter, 219 Enterprise (steamer), 148, 152, 319-320

Finch, Edward C., 242, 247, 271, 290-292

Finland, settlers from, 218 Fire, Aberdeen, 235-241 Fisher, A. H., 113 Fisher, Henry, 119 Fishing, 72-75, 198-199, 316, 317

Fleet, David Wacker, 296-299 Fleet, Elizabeth Girton (Mrs. Reuben Hollis Fleet), 300-301 Fleet, Lillian (daughter), 299 Fleet, Lillian Florence Adella Waite Favor (Mrs. David Wacker Fleet), 297-299

Fleet, Reuben Hollis, 299-300 Fleetwood (screw steamer), 145, 328 Fletcher, N. W., 125, 162, 265, 313 Foelkner, Peter, 272 Foelkner, Primrose Rupp Hinton, 272 Folmer, Babe, 338 Fontleroy (brig), 324 Food, Indians’: plant use for, 75; fishing for, 72-75; hunting for, 76-77, 149;

preparation of, 72-77 Food, settlers’:

gardens and orchards, 131-134, IAA I

UY, PALS

fishing for, 198-199;

hunting for, 134; marketing of, 325;

preservation and cooking of,

410

Index

130, 132, 199, 253

Forbes, John, 342 Ford, Benjamin F., 313 Ford, Cyril, 50 Ford, Giles, 252, 323 Ford, Sidney S. Jr. (and family), 102 Ford, Sidney S. Sr. (and family), 63, 64, 102, 147-148, 153, 160, 252

Ford, Thomas (and family), 102, 103, 158, 280

Forselle, Billie, 243 Forselle, Gus, 243 Forselle, Theodore, 243 Fort Chehalis, 149, 152, 163 Fort Henness (Grand Mound), 147

Fort Nisqually, 39, 41 Fort Steilacoom, 147 Fort Vancouver, 37, 149 Fosjack, 201 Foster, Orland “Harley,” 342, 343 Fovargue, Walter, 341-342 France, Eugene, 230 France, W. H., 249 Franciscovich, Vinko (and family), 189

Fraser, Dr. William, 51 Frederickson, Ade, 272 Freeland, Mose, 155, 205 Fremont, John C., 99 Fry, A. H., 144 Fry, Albert, 123, 126-127

Fry, Amanda Slover (Mrs. Charles Fry), 164, 165-166, 256

Fry, Amherst, 122-123

Fry, Annette Huntington (Mrs. Jason Fry), 123 Fry, Charles (and family), 122, 125, 142, 164, 165

Fry, Harvey, 127, 137 Fry, Jason, 122-127, 265, 322

Fry, John, 122-127 Fry, Johnny, 342 Fry, Margaret (Mrs. John Fry), 127

Fry, Olney, 122

Fry, Orren, 126-127 Fry, W. W., 144

Fuller, James “Jim,” 249, 290, 292-293 Fur trade, 24-28, 32-34 Gabresewski, 201 Gairdner, Dr. Meredith, 51, 61 Gandley, J., 140 Gant, Charley, 261, 274-277, 398-399 Garman, B. J. “Jeff,” 238 Garretson, Charles, 266 Garrison, Charles, 178 Garrison, E., 178 Garrison, Jonas, 81 Gates, Levi, 104, 106

Gateson, Roy (and family), 189 Gauger, Dave, 274 Geisler, Joe, 178 General Harney (schooner), 319, 324 General Miles (steamer), 238-239 George, Emily Hart, 215 Gertrude (sail), 329 Getty, Frank, 334 Gibbs, George, 55, 63

Gibcke, Charlie, 340 Gibcke, Fred, 339, 340 Giberson, Willen, 178 Gilbert, John F., 271 Girard, Alex C., 275 Girton, James F., 300 Glazier, Charles, 272 Gleason, Andy, 178 Gleeson, James (and family), 78-82, 142

Gleneden Hotel (Westport), 145 Goddell, Ed, 250, 252 Goechner, Jake, 178 Goff, John, 322, 323

Gohl, Billy, 330-332 Golick, John (and family), 189

Goodell, Rev. Jonathan W., 104-106,

136

:

Goodell, Melanthon Zuingle, 110 Goodell, N. E., 120-121 Goodell, William, 104-106 Governor Newell (stern-wheeler), DIOR2235 224 eO27 eOlO

Graham, Dick, 341 Graham, Joseph, 219, 221, 223-224,

Index

238, 239, 241, 243-247, 303 Graham, Laura Curtis, 242

Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) Campground (Westport), 145, WAS, ZS

Grand Mound (Mound Prairie), 98, HOT TO2 lS 147, 279

tle

Om 120)

Granger, Della Curtis, 242 Gray, Captain Robert, 24-35, 61, 161-162, 311 Grayland, 160, 217, 218

Gray's Harbor; discovery of, 24, 27, 31-35

Grays Harbor Abstract Company, 299

Grays Harbor City, 193, 205-206 Grays Harbor Commercial Company (Cosmopolis Mill Company), NSS 206427

OZ

OZO

Gray’s Harbor Country Club (Mox Chuck), 126, 293, 342

“Grays Harbor currency,” 249 Grays Harbor Land Company, 205 Grays Harbor News, 270 Grays Harbor Post, 277

Grays Harbor Company, Grays Harbor Company, Grays Harbor Company, Grays Harbor Company,

Power & Light 228 Pulp & Paper 234 Railway & Light 228, 229 Stevedoring 332

Great Republic (shipwreck), 314

Gregg, Dorothy Halbert, 339 Gregg, Sylvanus Augustus “Vean,” 339-340

Grigsby, Ben, 165, 313 Grigsby, John, 134-135 Griswold, Miles S., 125 Grover, Stephen, 312-313 Guess, Wilson, 101 Gustafson, Emil, 268

Gwalie, 169 Hale,C.H.; 157

411

Halbert, A. H. (and family), 253 Halferty, Guy P., 317 Halferty, Peter F., 317

Hall, A. M., 300 Hampson, Fred, 272 Hanna, Henry, 218 Harbor Belle (steamer), 145, 266, 327 Harbor Queen, 145, 266 Hardcastle, Jessie Haynes, 220 Hardwood, John H., 157 Harlow, Ben, 72 Harlow, “Old Man,” 72 Harney, Pete, 191 Harris, William, 113 Harrison, “Arkansas Traveler” (and family), 244 Hart, Alfred, 214 Hart, Alfred Jr., 214 Hart, Fred A., 211, 214, 235, 237

Hart, Lance, 214

Hart, William, 214

Harvey, Paul W., 274, 276, 277 Hasbrook, R. E., 113 Haswell, Robert, 26, 28

Hatburg, Charles, 331 Hatch, Captain Crowell, 25 Hatch, Mr. and Mrs. F., 112 Hattie Belle (stern-wheeler), 328 Hawaiian contract laborers, 54-55

Hawley, Don, 340 Hayes, Captain M., 151 Hayes, Franklin, 293 Hayes, Harry, 292-293 Hayes, Thomas R., 293

Hayes & Hayes Bank (Aberdeen), 249, 290, 344

Haynes, Dode, 248 Haynes, Harry, 220 Haynes, James B. (and family), 220-223, 248

Haynes, Mrs. James B., 234 Haynes, Ora, 220 Haynes, Ted, 220

Haynes, Tom, 220 Haynes & Preston, 231 Heceta (Hezeca, Hezeta), Don Bruno

412

Index

Horr, Tena (Mrs. Myron Horr), 184

de, 14-19 Heck, 110, 168 Heck, Silas, 67 Heermans, Harry E., 205, 258 Heikkila, John, 218 Helser, David, 169 Helser, David R., 169 Henderson, Tar, 342

Henry, Dr. A. G., 112, 157 Henry, Dio. By 157 Henry, Sax, 157 Herald (stern-wheeler), 328 Herndon, H., 114 Heustis, Col. F. D., 206, 207 Higgins, J. J., 274

Hoska, A. F., 244 Hoskins, John, 28 Houses: Indians’ 72, 159-160;

settlers’ 129, 131 How-yatle, 63 Howe, Richard, 26 Hubbard, George, 281

Hubble, Perry, 342 Hudson, Dr. (Quinault Agency), 191 Hudson's Bay Company, 35, 43, 51, 61, 77, 80142

Huhta, Elmer, 341 Huhta, Peter, 218

Hulbert, Ed, 236

Higley, Alfred V., 191-192

Humbarger, H. D., 271

Higley, O. L. “Ort,” 191-192 Hill, Alfred, 157, 252 Hinto, Mrs. (Westport), 145 Hinton, Leonard, 272 Hobucket, Harry, 57 Hodgdon, Judge C. W., 249

Hume cannery (Aberdeen), 224, 298 Hume, George W., 288, 315

Hoefer, A. H., 228 Hoffman, John, 331 Hogan, John, 235 Hohlaskins, 169 Hohler, Charles, 240 Hole, John, 83, 103 Hood, Jimmy, 247 Hopkins, George, 231

Humptulips Pete, 165, 168, 285 Humptulips River, 56, 112, 165,

Hume, R. D., 315 Hume, William, 315

Humptulips City (Stevens Prairie), 126, 183, 186, 264

179-190

Hunt, George Washington, 205-206

Hopkins, J. M., 297 Hopkins, Willis, 231

Hunter, Dr., 336 Hutton, Elizabeth Fry, 127 Hutton, Frank, 137 Hutton, Will, 127 Hyasman, 176 Independence Logging Company (Aberdeen), 293

Hoquiam,

Indian Charley, 227

Hopkins, Hugh, 182

144, 145, 165, 179, 192,

206, 226, 250, 255-262

Hoquiam First National Bank, 249 Hoquiam Hotel, 206, 260 Hoquiam Loggers, 339 Hoquiam River, 37-38, 105, 106, 120, 121-122, 168, 201-204, 250, 251 Zoos 2Oe:

Hoquiam Sash and Door Company, 206

Hoquiam Sawyer, 261 Horr, Edith Lucile, 184 Horr, Myron,

184

Indian Johnson, 169 Indian Swahty, 169

Indians: Chehalis, 36-37, 45-46, 50-52, 55, 57-64, 68-71, 117, 150, 159-161, 167-168; Chinook,

50-52, 54, 55, 61-68, 150;

Claquamish, 168; Copalis, 56; Cowlitz, 62-63; 150; Hoh, 56; Hoquiam, 56; Humptulips, 56, 166-167; Kwalhioquas, 59;

Makah, 60, 68, 117-118; Nisqually,-42; Queets, 56, 62;

Index

Quilleute, 56, 60, 63, 68-70; Quinault, 56, 62-63, 77, 123-124, 309, 317; Satsop

(Sachap), 62-63; Shoalwater Bay (Chehalis), 62, 64, 67, 166; Snake, 171; Suquamish, 41 Ingebrigsten Brothers, 341 Ingraham, Joseph, 26, 28 Ingram, Bob, 341 Ingram, Mel, 340-341 Ingram store (Quinault Lake), 203 Irvine, Captain William, 209, 276 Irvine, Mrs. William, 235 Iskra, Mike (and family), 189 Jackson, Andree, 191 Jackson, John R., 79 Jacobsen, Andy, 331 Jacobson, M., 322 James A. Garfield (steamer), 220 James, Anna Maria (Mrs. Samuel James Sr.), 106, 115, 118-119,

413

John, Samson, 313 Johns River, 48, 103, 104, 110, 111, IDE Mee Ie

ais alley)

Johnson, Albert, 273 Johnson, Ben, 292 Johnson, B. F., 233, 239

Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson,

Bob, 274 Charles, 114 Charlie, 291-292 Chris, 156

Johnson, John F., 209 Johnson, Mary Ann, 274 Johnson, “Megaphone,” 305 Johnson, R. E., 38 Jones, George, 106-107

(Mrs. John Rogers James),

Jones, Goodbar, 340 Jones, Mark, 107 Jones, R. R., 207 Jones, Samuel C., 90, 96 Joutsen, Herman, 218 Juan de Fuca, Strait of, 16, 20, 23 Judson, H. A., 102 Judway, Jack, 240 Kaith-lah‘wil’-nu, Chief, 67 Karamatic, George “Automatic,” 341 Kari, John, 316 Karr, Abigail Walker (Mrs. James A. Kain) elolee25i Karr, Beatrice, 259 Karr, Elk, 259

119, 253

Karr, Henry, 250, 257

201

James, Clara Heal (Mrs. Samuel James Jr.), 119 James, John Rogers, 91, 93, 105-106, 117, 119, 120-121, 250-251, 254-255, 256, 259

James, Mary Ann, 117, 118

James, Mary Cornelia Scammon

James, Samuel Jr., 93, 111, 116, 120

James, Samuel Sr. (and family), 84, 85, 91, 104, 106, 115-116, 119-120, 138, 141, 263-264

James, Thomas, 113 James, William, 93, 105-106, 116, 120-121, 255

James Rock (Ned’s Rock, Lone Rock), 47, 68, 105, 117, 120

Jamestown, 119

Janette, Charles, 260 Jantzen, Roscoe, 337-338

Jefernick, 201 Jessie (steam launch), 325-326 Joe Creek, 164

Karr, James A. (and family), 89, 96, 114i

SI1OS

e206)

250-251, 253, 256, 286

Karr, Olive, 259 Karshner Brothers (Aberdeen), 134, 237

Kate and Ann, 127, 254, 324-325 Katryn (sail), 329 Kaufman, N. G., 236 Kearns, Lee, 313 Keith, Dave, 240 Kelly, Joe, 182-183, 185 Kendrick, Captain John, 25, 27-28 Kerstetter, K. C., 271 Kestner, Anton, 192

414

Index

Kestner, Chesney, 192

Kibbe, P. C., 274 Kindred, W. S., 328

King, “Aunt Betsy” (Mrs. Walter King), 99 King, Walter (and family), 97, 99, 103

Kinne, Dr. J. B., 342

Kirkaldie, Captain J. B., 191, 328 Kirkland, Moses, 258 Kirkland, William, 258 Kirkpatrick, Judge Luther, 187 Kirkup, Samuel, 237

Klebingat, Captain Fred, 332 Klingenberg, John, 331 Kluck and Davidson store, (Aberdeen), 186 Knapp, Ora, 134 Knauss ile loz Knox, Rev., 280

Knudson, Conrad, 248 Knudson, Don, 274

Knysk, 201 Kodiak (Kadiak), 19-22, 24 Koehler, E. L., 235-236, 238, 240

Law, James, 193 Lawson, Bob, 341 Leather, Fritz Herbert, 191, 192

LeBarr, 191 Lee, Daniel: Ten Years in Oregon, 54 Lee, George, 264 Lehtinen, Carl, 218 Lehto, Victor, 218 Lesman, 201 Lewis and Clark, 50 Lewis, George, 219 Lewis, Howard H., 193

Lewis, John G. (and family), 219 Lewis, Mrs. John G. (Curtis), 242 Licourmat, “French Pete,” 246

Lighthouse Charley, 65, 66 Lindsay, Anna (Mrs. James Lindsay), 181

Lindsay, Charles, 181 Lindsay, Roy, 181

Lippincott, Rev. S. C., 137 Livermore, Agnes R. (Campbell), USI, HSE)

Livermore, E. S., 270 Locke, Joseph N., 190-191

Kolts, Richard “Dick,” 341 Koonish, 169 Kouskov, Ivan A., 19, 24 Kozial, 201 Krache, Ted, 337-338 Kramzer, Joe, 189 Kronert, Andy, 242 Kuhn, Charles, 262 Kuhn & Smith (Hoquiam), 262 Kwi'nail (Taholah), 70 Kyser, Jacob, 237 acyplaVNeeZ2e8

Locke, Phil, 192, 292, 306

Lady Washington, 25-28

Loomis, N. T. “Bud,” 186 Lowry, Noel, 342 Luark, Ida, 141 Luark, James M., 313 Luark, Mary (Mrs. Patterson Fletcher Luark), 111 Luark, Michael Fleener (and family),

Laidlaw, Alex, 111 Laidlaw Island (‘Island Grove’), 104, 111

Lamb, Frank, 344-347 LaPointe Brothers, 286 Large, Dick, 338

Locke, Rob, 192 Lomski, Leo, 230, 337-338 Lone Tree, 161-162

Long, Ed, 177 Long, Eliza Early (Mrs. Sam Long), IE

Long, Sam, 177 Long, W. J., 177

Longard Investment Company, 172 Longmire, James, 97 Loomis, Emma, 186

Lathrop, 188

86-89, 93-95, 101-103, 116-117,

Lathrop, Charles, 335

119-120, 124-125, 142, 159, 160,

Index

WA), AVAL, Al, SWS, ASA, Wy, SY)

Luark, Patterson Fletcher (and family), 64, 86-89, 93-94, 104, 106, 107, 109-110, 112-114, 117, MS

I25 140M 142 Sl

57,

Ws), PAKS), PReVH,, SVAN

Luark, Rebecca Leisure (Mrs. Michael Fleener Luark), 87-88

Luark, Robert Gray, 88, 111 Lucas, Daniel (and family), 115 Luke, Al, 267

Lundgren, John, 218 Lutgens, Captain Charles, 254, 324

Lyons, Charles A., 126 Lyons, James E., 126

Lyons, John G., 126 Lyons, Walker J., 126 Mace, Ann Price (Mrs. Joseph Davis Mace), 98, 137, 142

Mace, Joseph Davis (and family), 89, 98-99, 137, 152, 157

Mace, T. D., 103 Mace, William, 321 Mack Building (Aberdeen), 235-236 Mack, Gilbert F., 219 Mack, Russell V., 272, 273 Mack, Mrs. W. B., 235 Makela, August, 316 Makos, 201

Malasevich, George (and family), 189 Maley, L. L., 261, 301-302

Malinowski, Antone, 195 Malinowski Dam, 195 Malinowski, Edward, 195

Malinowski, Elizabeth Achey (Mrs. Joe Malinowski), 194-196 Malinowski, Joe, 195, 197-198 Malinowski, Rose, 195 Maloney, Mary, 149, 152

Maloney, Captain Maurice, 147-152,

154-155

.

415

Mara, Jack (and family), 189 Markham, 83, 208 Markham, Douglas, 127 Markham, Jasper, 127, 162 Markham, J. N., 124 Markham, Simeon, 81, 122, 124 Marlowe, Tom, 339 Martin, Leon, 239 Maslowski, 201 Mason, Charley, 177 Mason, Chief, 168 Mason, Louis J., 275 Mason, J. A., 261 Mason, J. M., 275

Matches, 168 Matko, Frank (and family), 189 Matko, Tony (and family), 189 Maud K (sloop), 328 “Maud’s Launch,” 327 McAllister, Rev. N. S., 137 McCabe, “Fightin’ Billy,” 337 McCafferty, Green (M'Cafferty), 63, 102

McCamat, John, 181

McCarron, Captain Michael “Black Mike,” 332

McCleary, 207 McCullough, Mr. and Mrs. Jack, 266 McDermoth, Rev. Charles (and family), 186, 221, 235

McDonald, Irene Haynes, 220 McDonald, Lydia Brittain, 181, 185

McDonald, Norman, 260 McDonald, Thomas A., 257 McDougal, Mr. and Mrs. Archie, 242-243

McDougal, Fergus, 245

McDougall, 201 McElroy, T. F., 141 McFarland, Susannah Marie Slover (Mrs. William O. McFarland),

Manikoski, 201 Mankowski, Casimir, 194, 200 Mankowski & Jaklewicz, 194

McFarland, William O., 162, 164,

Manrique, Don Miguel, 14-15

McGee, Matthew, 114, 119, 141,

Maquinna, 54, 60

163-164, 166-167, 201, 314 313-315 151, 154, 162-165, 312

416

Index

McGill, Henry M., 150

Moclips, 145, 212, 216

McGillicuddy, Jerry A., 202 McGuire, Mrs. (Westport), 145 McHenry, E. H., 209

Moclips Hotel, 212, 216 Moclips River, 168

McHugh, Paddy, 331 McIntosh, Ed “Toad,” 341 McIntosh, Matilda, 213

McIntyre, Charles, 312, 313 McKay, Alan, 339 McKee, Joseph W., 114, 152-153, 324 McKee, Mary A. Borst Roundtree, 90-91

McKenzie, Colin, 237, 333-334

McKinlay, Mrs. C. W., 234 McLaughlin, Dr. John, 51 McLaughlin, William “Billy,” 267, 342 McManemy, Ed, 219

McMonagle, Nick, 341 McNeil, Angus, 244 McNeil, Archibald, 248 McNeil, Frank L., 204 McNeill, A. C., 344-345

McTaggert, Lathy, 228

Meady, Mrs., 268 Medcalf, Eliza, 144 Medcalf, Martha (Mrs. William Medcalf), 95, 98, 137

Medcalf, Sarah, 144 Medcalf, William (and family),

Molasses Doctor, 168, 253, 254 Monahan, Mrs., 266 Montesano, M2

85, 89, 95, 96, 98-100,

Tia s7, 144 145) 157,

206, 297

Montesano (stern-wheeler), 326-328 Montesano State Bank, 249 Mooney, Raymond, 178-179 Moore, Frank, 240 Moore, Fulmer, 144, 156 Moore, Marshall F., 323 Moore, Otis M., 273, 275 Moore, P. D., 158

Moran (whaling vessel), 318 Morgan, Frank, 300 Morris, T. B., 257

Morrow, Lakey, 338 Moss, Charlie, 72 Motherwell, Robert, 215 Mouncer, “Uncle James,” 142 Mourelle, Alferez Antonio, 14, 18 Mox, Chuck, 126, 198, 266 Moyer, 246

Mullens, Steve, 338-339

Munroe, Captain William F., 323

Melville, David, 114

Murhard, Gust, Murhard, Kate Murhard), Murhard, Otto,

Melville, W. K., 114

Murphy, Betsy Roundtree, 90

Mengee, George, 141 Meps, 168

Mykelbost, Andrew, 244 Mykelbost, Mrs. Andrew, 244

Michigan, 307-308

National Lumber and Manufacturing Plant (Hoquiam), 260

95-97, 103, 109, 137

Melbourne,

146, 280, 282, 283

Miller, A. J., 320-322 Miller, Frank, 194, 226 Mills, Elkannah, 117 Mills, John, 238 Milner, Joe, 268 Milroy, John, 121, 253, 257 Milroy, Walter J., 193 Miner, Mrs. Fred, 246 Minett, 123

Moak, Oliver, 178, 179

183-184, 187 Hottois (Mrs. Gust 183-184, 186 183, 187

Neff, George, 260 Neubert, Jack, 267 Newberg (steamer), 261 Newbury, James, 181 New London, 202 Newman, W. B. D., 93-94, 109, ORIAII

5S

O27h

Newnham, Ben, Jr. (“Cougar Ben”), 187-188

Index

Newskah (“Cutler’s Creek,” “Sooskain”), 105 Nims, Ruel, 256, 264, 266

Ninemire & Morgan (slaughterhouse), 179

North Aberdeen Water Company, 233

North Cove, 113, 159 North Cove Hotel, 223

Northern Pacific Railroad, 172, 184, 206-209, 211, 212

417

Olson, Nels (and family), 202

Olympic Land and Investment Company, 208 Olympic National Park, 204 One-Eyed Riley, 168 O’Petteman, Dan (Old Dan), 168

Oregon Washington Railroad & Navigation Company, 213 Orient (sailing vessel), 256 Osgood, R., 341

Otock, 169

North Shore Electric Company, 228

Otter, sea, 309-315

Northwest Coast: James G. Swan, 50 North Western Mill (Hoquiam), 111,

“Our House” (Chehalis Point), 154,

120, 193, 228, 249, 250, 257, 260

Northwest Magazine, 227, 228, 232 Nose, John, 168 Nose, Mary, 168 Nose, Sallie, 168

Nose, Sitkum, 168 Nose, Tyeeman, 168 Noyes, Alfred, 190, 191 Nutter, Floyd, 173 Nutter, Lizzie Carter, 173 Ocean Wave (Moclips), 275 O'Connor, Ed, 188 Ocosta, 124, 172, 205, 207-208, PAN, HEL

157, 268

Owen, Frank H., 271 Owings, Colonel N. H., 206 Oyehut, 56, 67, 163, 165

Oysters, 59-60, 136 Oysterville, 125, 136, 155-156, 329

Ozanich, Rudolph (and family), 189 Ozbolt, George (and family), 189 Ozette, 49 Pacific Beach, 145, 212, 216 Pacific Beach Hotel, 216

Pacific Beach Naval Facility, 216 Pacific County, 157 Paine, A. L., 260

“Paradise Alley” (Aberdeen), 241

Ocosta Land Company, 207, 208

Parsons, W. F., 298

Ocosta Pioneer, 207 Odd, Eddie, 342 Odd Fellows Hall (Aberdeen), 243,

Patterson (whaling vessel), 318 Patterson, W. J., “Billy,” 249, 290,

244-245

Oglesby, William, 238 “Old Kettle,” 165-166, 180, 182

“Old Suis,” 67 “Old Tiger,” 238-241, 266

O'Leary Creek, 80, 110, 279 O'Leary, William, 48, 61, 78-82, 83, 103, 106, 154

Olive Branch (sailing vessel), 328

Olney, Captain Silas, 324 Olson, Harold, 272, 338 Olson, John (and family), 178, 202, 203

Olson, Mary, 260

292-293, 342, 344-346

Patterson, Mrs. W. J. (formerly Mrs. Harry Hayes), 293 Patton (Wynooche homesteader), 177 Patton, H. W., 271 Payette, Adolphus, 224, 247 Payette, Ed, 224 Payette, Mark, 333-335 Payne, J. H., 303 Payne, J. L., 140 Payne, Joe, 112 Pearson, Billy, 182, 221, 238 Pearson, John C. (Judge), 225, 243, 304

Pearson, Dr. Mahlon L., 225

418

Index

Pearson, Silas, 225 Pease, George A., 210

Polson, Alex, 276 Polson Company, 190, 211

Peasley, Captain Ralph E. “Matt,”

Polson Museum (Hoquiam), 338 Port Blakely Mill Company, 206

346

Pedlar, Billy, 225 Peeler, Orvie, 192 Pekola, 201 Pennick, Sam, 146, 280 Perez, Juan, 14, 16, 18 Perkins, Samuel, 257 Perry, Mrs. John, 234 Peterson, Andrew, 230 Peterson (Cohassett), 113, 159, 160,

Port of Grays Harbor, 316-317, 344-347

Porter, 103

IUSY/, FI3), FAO), WHR, PHU eRe}

Porter, Corydon Fairfield, 99, 103 Porter Creek, 183 Powers, Herb, 342 Powers, Winslow, 342 Pratsch brothers (trapshooters), 342 Pratsch, Charles A., 221, 227 Pratsch, Mrs. Charles A., 221, 227 Pratsch Hotel, 248 Pratsch, Radnar R., 342

Peterson, Glenn (and family), 80, 81,

Preacher Slough (‘Douglas Cutoff”),

IANS}

Peterson, Frank, 77, 80, 113, 152,

LOO MOI?

4

S14 Oar

223-224, 327, 328

Peterson, Thor, 341 Petrich, Tom (and family), 189 Petty, Peter, 162 Phelen, A. K., 207 Phelen, J. C., 207 Phillips, Ernestine Wilber, 294 Phillips, James Marston, 294-295, 337

Pickering, William, 157 Pickernell, Frank “Indian Pete,” 337 Pierson, M. J., 242 Pilkington, James, 62, 63, 98, 100, 103, 104, 105-106, 263-264

7;

Preble, Bob, 342

Presbyterian Church, Aberdeen, 241 Printer (tug), 257

Pritchard, (Gye Bud

«274

Pritchard, Helen “Sam,” 271 Progress (ferry steamer), 327

“Promised Land,” 186-188 Prostitution, 241, 261

Puget Sound and Grays Harbor Railroad, 206 Putsenay, 73, 168

Quadra, Juan Francisco de la

Bodega y, 14-18 Queen of Melbourne (gasoline

Pilkington, Richard, 100, 105-106 Pinckney, Ervin, 341

Queets Bob, 72

Pinehurst Cottage, 213 Pintard, John Marden, 25

Quiack, 168

Pioneer Canneries, 317 Pioneer Hotel (Aberdeen), 186, 227

Quillayute Indian Tradition: Harry Hobucket, 57

Pioneer (schooner), 257

Quimby, Giles, 335-336

Plesha, Tony (and family), 189

Quinault Hotel, 203 Quinault Indian reservation, 63,

Point Brown, 151, 161, 162

Point Grenville, 150 Poland, settlers from, 194, 199 Polich, John (and family), 189 Pollocks, 76, 168 Polsfoot, Fran, 341

launch), 279

Queets James, 169

123, 147, 169, 175, 176, 192 Quinault Lake, 190-192, 203-204

Quinault River, 190-191 Quilleute River, 322 Quinault Tribal Council, 57

Index

Quinn, Robert (and family), 188

Roundtree, T. R. (family), 90

Quinn, Roy, 188 Quinn, Theodore “Rube,” 188 Raby, Joe, 195 Railway, Aberdeen-Hoquiam, 228-229 Randich, Joseph, 272, 273, 338 Randich, Ruth, 338

Rourke family, 267 Rukich, Joe, 189

Ranger (steam launch), 165 Rankin, A. R., 270 Raymond, 164

Rupp, Werner Andrew, 271-273

Russian-American Company, 19 Russian exploration, 19-24 Russian Jim, 167 Rycz, Mike, 195 Sailors Union of the Pacific, 330

St. Rose Academy (Aberdeen), 200

Rayonier pulp mill, 198

Sak, 201

Reardon, Keiron W., 271 Redinger, Fred, 242 Redman Creek (Ocosta), 124, 278 Redman, Dr. Kenneth, 279 Redman, Joseph, 279, 280 Redman, Reuben (and family), 110,

Salmon (fish), 72, 73, 198, 316

111-112, 157, 158, 278-280

Salmon (Indian name), 166-167 Sams, Sam, 72 Sams, William, 72 San Carlos (sailing vessel), 14-15

Sand Island Charley, 169 Sanderson, Lon, 334

Redman, Rufus, 283

Santiago (sailing vessel), 13-19

Reid, George, 235 Reinkens, Tony, 177

Sargent, Charles C. (and family),

Religion, 136, 144-145

Sargent, Charles McDermoth “Sonny,” 186

Remley, John, 103 “Resort” (Walker's Resort for Gentlemen), 302-303 Reunanen, Arthur, 218 Revilla, Cristobal, 16, 19 Rhodes, R. D., 136 Rice, “Daddy,” 267 Robertson, K. L., 273 Robinson, R. J., 182 Rockwell, Frank, 267 Rolf, George, 237 Romp (steam launch), 182, 259, 326

Roney, Tom, 223 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, 204 Rosenthal, Roy G., 271 Roundtree, A. J., 90

Roundtree, Dr. James H. (and family), 90-91, 93, 103, 170

Roundtree, Roundtree, Roundtree, Roundtree, Roundtree Roundtree,

Martin, 90 P. F., 216 Patrick H., 90, 313 Perry O., 90 Point 104, 105, 170 Polly, 90

419

185, 186, 188, 221

Sargent, Ethel Catherine, 186

Sargent, Isabell McDermoth (Mrs. Roy Sargent), 186 Sargent, Kate Monroe (Mrs. Charles C. Sargent), 186 Sargent, Roswell Monroe, 186 Sargent, Roy, 186

Sarjent, Asher “Old Man,” 136 Satsall (steamer), 321 Satsop River (Sachap), 39, 43 Sawyer (Gant's Sawyer, Hoquiam Sawyer, Olympic Oil Record), DOT 4 275

Scammon, Don, 123 Scammon, Isaiah L. (and family), 83-86, 88, 96, 100, 103, 104, itil), aS}, 10), Tl, aA, PAs!

Scammon,

Justin, 252

Scammon, Lorinda Hopkins, 84-86, 98, 137, 201

Scatter Creek, 119, 136 Schaffer, Lyman, 111, 153 Schock, Chris, 267

420

Index

Schumacher, “Boots,” 341 Schumacher, Judge John, 341 Schwartz, John, 333 Scutor, 201 Seaborg, B. A., 298, 315 Seaman, Olena Egge, 203-204 Seaman, Sidney, 204 Seaman, William, 204 Sean, 168 Sea Serpent (schooner), 218

Segai, 201 Selberg, Louisa, 235 Sertich, Nick (and family), 189 Sesenahan (and family), 104, 106 Shaw, Lieutenant Colonel B. F., 63 Shaw, Jim, 342 Sheasby, 178 Shephard, Mary James, 106, 110 Sherwood, M. R., 239 Sherwood, O. A., 208 Shields, J. H., 113

Shoalwater Bay (Willapa Harbor), 35) 68 04s

136 aofedS9,

164

Sierra, Fray Benito de la, 14, 16-17 Simmons, Colonel Michael T., 63, 147 Simpson, Asa M., 126, 255, 257 Simpson, A. W., 257

Simpson, George H., 194 Simpson, Sol G., 206 Simpson Timber Company, 206 “Sink,” the, 162 Sizer, Dr. Edmund A., 267 Skeen, Ben, 267 Skeen, Frank, 267 Slavery, among Indians, 54, 67 Slover, Charley, 268 Small, 193 Smith, Mrs. Aleck C., 112 Smith, Andrew J. Sr. (“Gassy Smith”), 115 Smith, Andy, 183 Smith, Emma, 245 Smith, Jack, 191 Smith, James “Blockhouse” (and family), 94, 100, 102, 104, 107, 147, 184, 279

Smith, “Little” (and family), 221 Smits, Dr. Paul, 294, 341 Snarski, 201 Snell, Nancy, 204

Snyder, Matt (and family), 189 Social activities, settlers’, 131, 142, 144-145

Sodamish, 169 Sonora (Felicidad) (sailing vessel), 13-19, 281

Sophie Christenson (schooner), 332 Soule, Tom, 210 South Bend, 208

Spanish exploration, 13-18 Speake, Martha, 107-108 Speake, Sophia Newcombe

(Mrs.

Thomas Barker Speake), 107 Speake, Thomas Barker (and family), LOK IS

Spiegle, Dan, 265 Spiegle, Gus, 342, 343

“Splash,” Grays Harbor (Fourth of July), 145, 342 Sports, 337-343 boxing, 337-338;

baseball, 339-340; football, 340-341;

logrolling, 342-343 “Squaw Chief,” 39-41 Stafford, 218 Stafford, John, 248 Stamper, John, 212 Stanley, Edward, 274 Starkovich, Blaz (and family), 189 Starkovich, Bozo (and family), 189

Starkovich, Fred (and family), 189 Starkovich, Tony (and family), 189 State Trust Company of New York, PN

ONE

Stawski, Antone, 195 Stearns, H. N., 111 Steen, John, 238 Sterrett, Dan, 259 Stetson, George W., 326 Stevens, Charles, 125, 126, 183, 264, 265

1

Stevens, Isaac I., 62-63, 119, 170

Index

Stevens Prairie (Humptulips City), 126, 183-184

Stewart, Albert James, 289 Stewart, James B. (and family), 221, 283-289

Stewart, Jean Brodie Kelman (Mrs. James B. Stewart), 283-289, 298 Stewart, Malcolm MacKenzie, 289 Stewart, Wallace, 246, 328 Stocking, Francis McKee, 114 Stone, Pearl, 342 Stout, J. M. family, 221, 225 Stowe, Gene, 202 Stowe, Hez, 202 Stoy, Archie, 337-338 Stream, Captain, 326 Streater, Charles F., 72 Street, Dick, 342 Stringam, Thomas, 152 Stringham Hotei (Chehalis Point), 140, 152

Strong, C. A., 345 Studor, Fritz, 178

Styles, Billy, 210 Sudderth, Sudderth, Sudderth, Sudderth, Sudderth, Sudderth,

Earl, 180 Ernest, 180 Hugh L., 180 James C. “Bon,” 180 James P. (and family), 180 Pearl, 180

Talbert, Lenora Luark (Mrs. Francis Talbert), 112 Talbert, George N., 193, 312 Tamooya, Chief, 166, 182

Tappan, William B., 63 Tarakanov, Timofei, 19, 22-23 Naylor 62 Taylor, John, 178 T. C. Reed (stern-wheeler), 328 Tenny, A. M., 113 Tew, Captain Tom, 325, 328

Tha-a-muxi, 37, 38 Think-of-Me Hill, 302 Thistle (steam launch), 165 Thomas, Hezekiah, 173 Thompson, John, 313

Thompson, Captain W. A., 182, 259 Tillie (screw steamer), 165, 191, 244 Tilly, Alex, 210 Tilly, Tom, 210 Tleyuk, 62, 63 Toke (Chief), 59, 60 Tometich, Phillip (and family), 189 Tornow, John, 237, 332-336 Tornow, Mary, 333 Trade, among settlers, 139

Transcript (Olympia), 323 Traver, Seth, 182 Treaty, Quinault reservation, 62-63 Tret, 26

Sudderth, William Bryan, 180

Tsa-lase (Chief), 68-70

Sullivan, J. P., 271 Sundquist, Ray, 341 Swan, James G.: The Northwest

Tumwater, 109 Turner, William, 195

Coast, 50, 62, 92-93, 168, 323

Swanson, Chuck, 341 Swanson, Elmer, 342

Szepanski, Melanie, 198, 200 Szepanski, Theresa, 198, 200

Tacoma, Olympia & Pacific Railroad, 206-207

Taggart, Judge Robert E., 295, 296 Taholah, 56 Tah-ho-lah (Chief), 63 Talbert, Francis, 111-112

Talbert, Hattie Sheasby (Mrs. Francis Talbert), 112

421

Twidwell, Effie, 179 Tyee John, 64, 66, 160-161, 168

Typhoon (steamer), 216, 326, 328 Ultican, R. J. “Dick,” 346-347 Underwood, Alec, 102 Underwood, Chow Chow, 72 Underwood, George, 72

United States Exploring Expedition (Wilkes Expedition), 38-48 Valentine, W. G., 252 Valentine, William O., 157 Vance, Joe, 345, 346

Van Cleve (lighthouse keeper), 113 Vancouver, Captain George, 30-31

422

Index

Walker, Mary Richardson (Mrs.

Van Syckle, Ed, 272, 273 Van Syckle, Samuel, 127

Elkanah Walker), 180 Walker, Richard, 182

Vanucie, King, 338 Van Winkle Creek, 198 Van Winkle, Rollie, 240 Veatch, A. E., 271 Vidette (Chehalis Valley Vidette,

Weekly Vidette, Chehalis County Vidette, Montesano

Vidette),

270-271

Walker, Sarah Margaret Junkin (Mrs. Marcus Whitman Walker), 181

Wall, F. R., 228

Walla Walla & Grays Harbor Railroad, 206 Walsh, J. W., 270, 271

Vincennes (sailing vessel), 38 Volunteer (schooner), 257 Voorhies, Nathan, 124 Wade, A. M., 293 Wade, Ann Arah, 173 Wade, Charley, 178 Wade, Elijah Luark, 173-176, 215-216 Wade, George, 178 Wade, Lilly (Mrs. Thomas Rhoden

Warbass, George (Wurbis), 114 Warner, E. B., 219, 224 Warner, E. B., 219, 224 Wartmen, G. W., 225

Wade), 175 Wade, Marion Edgar, 173 Wade, Martha Llewelyn Thomas (Mrs. Elijah Luark Wade),

Washington Standard (Olympia), 322 Washington State Colonization

173-176

Wade, Thomas Rhoden, 173, 175 Wakefield, D. G., 274 Walczyk, Joseph, 201 Waldren, Mr. and Mrs. (Cohassett Hotel), 145

Waldron, Bob, 303 Waldron, Jack, 239 Waldron, W. B. (and family), 214 Walker Bridge (“Red” Bridge), 180, 190

Walker, Walker, Walker, Walker,

Elkanah (and family), 180 George, 186-187 Herman, 181 Janetta (Mrs. J. M. Walker),

234-235, 241

Walker, Jeanette ‘Nettie’ Morrison (Mrs. John Walker), 181 Walker, Jeremiah, 181 Walker, John, 181 Walker, L. W., 236 Walker, Maggie (Mrs. Marcus Whitman Walker), 181 Walker, Marcus Whitman, 180-182

Washington (dredge), 345-346 Washingtonian (Hoquiam Washingtonian, Daily Washingtonian, Grays Harbor Washingtonian), 228, 271

Company,

194, 200

Water Supply (Aberdeen), 231, 232, 23S

Waters, Abraham, 28 Watkins, George, 89 Watson, R. M., 274 Watson, Williams, 218

Waunch, George, 94-95, 153, 157 Wayman, Junior, 342 Waymire, N., 212, 259 Weatherwax, C. B., 209, 328

Weatherwax High School (Aberdeen), 230 Weatherwax, Jacob, 235 Weatherwax, Jay, 244 Weatherwax, J. G., 228 Weatherwax, J. M., 209, 210, 211, 220-221, 223, 231, 241

Weaver, Elmira Fry Van Syckle, 127 Weaver, F. M., 127

Webster, Daniel, 237 Wedeking, Frank, 178 Wedeking, Mary Crass, 178 Weekly Vidette (Montesano), 198 Weldon, Captain David K., 89 Weldon, Mrs. David K., 89

Index

West, A. J. (and family), 209, 219, 221, 228, 246, 248, 288, 299, 327

Wood, A. L., 212

Wood, E. K. Lumber Company

West, Arne, 219, 341 West, Millie, 235

(Hoquiam), 206, 253 Wood, George, 118

Westport, 113, 145, 152, 159-160, 175

Wood, Marritt, 114 Wood, Mrs. Marritt (Hall), 114 Wood, Mary (Molly) Hart, (Mrs.

Westport Beach (Westport), 113 Westport (whaling vessel), 318 Wetherald, Harry, 313 Wetherby, Harold, 272

Weyerhaeuser Company, 198, 234, 265

Whaling industry, 318 Wheeler, Howard, 72 Whitcomb Flats, 326-327 Whitcomb, Captain James (Jim), 219, 326-327

Whitcomb, Captain James Henry, 327 Whitcomb, Captain Wes, 327

Whitcomb, Captain Will, 327 Whitney, Elizabeth Curtis, 242 Wiggins, Ed, 267 Wilkes, Charles, 38-48 Wilkes Expedition, 38-48, 162

Wilkie, David, 178 Williams, Fred F., 186 Williams, Harriet Jane Ford, 153 Williams, Harry, 342 Williams, Samuel H., 109-110, 116, 140, 141, 152, 153-158, 282

Willis, Elnor, 342

Willis, Pete, 342 Willis, Sherman, 146 Wilson Brothers Navigation Company, 327 Wilson, Charles R., 209, 210, 211, 245 Wilson, C. N. “Bud,” 346 Wilson, Henry, 245 Wilson, James, 178 Wilson, Péter, 327

Windsor, C., 114 Windsor, C. F., 155 Wirta, John, 218 Wishkah Boom Company, 194, 198 Wishkah River, 106-107, 192-201, 219, 220, 233

Wood, A. D. (and family), 213, PUNE), WORN

423

A. L. Wood), 213, 214

Wooding, Charles T., 213, 238 Woodmen of the World lodge, 307 Woodruff, Simeon, 25 Work, John, 35-37, 350 World, (Aberdeen Bulletin, Aberdeen World), 271-273, 338 Wormer, Charles, 102 Wright, Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe, 294 Wright, Captain Thomas, 148, 319-320

Wynooche cemetery, 179 Wynooche Charley, 169 Wynooche dam, 197-198 Wynooche River, 98, 108, 176-179

Xle’Kmalcu (Chief), 70-71 Yana Hotel (Westport), 145, 213 Yeager, 191

Yendell, Samuel, 28 Young, Alexander, 287 Young, Austin E., 100-101, 152, 221, 263-264

Young, Ellen (Mrs. John Young), 219 Young, John, 219, 236 Young, Joseph, 252

Young, Laura Carroll Clark (Mrs. Alexander Young), 287-288 Young, Martha J. (Mrs. Austin E.

Young), 101 Younger, Walt, 267 Yugoslavia, settlers from, 188-190

Zapan, John (and family), 189 Zelepuza, 201 Zembal, Zembal, Zembal, Zembal, Zembal, Zembal, Zigman,

Carl, 200 Florian, 200 Frances, 199-200 Joe M., 194, 200 Mike, 200 Thaddeus, 200 201

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