Iron sharpens Iron but you have to have a clue

 

I do not have a very good Idea how it came to pass that I would go to Benson High School. Benson Polytechnic High School was what would now be called a Magnet School . It drew on students from all over the Portland Metropolitan area . Its focus was on an Industrial Arts and Science curriculum .

The School was located in SE Portland, near a newly opened Mall ( the Lloyd Center ) which was billed as the largest Mall in the Northwest . The Lloyd Center was opened August 1st and I entered Benson High School the day after Labor day in September 1960.

Looking back through my life I can easily see the reason and the good that came out of almost all of my life experiences ..Benson is the exception . If I could relive any part of my life it would have been the two years I spent at the school .

I suspect my parents encouraged me to go to Benson because of my interest in Science , and knowing my own personality I must have at least been neutral about the idea . In other words I am not going to lay the blame on Benson years on my parents . But I would have still liked to have those years back .

You had to apply to go to Benson so there was some prestige in being accepted . But that did not last long . I am guessing that in 1960 about 500 of us entered as Freshmen . At least half of the students at Benson were black . This was my first experience with people of color and the first thing I noticed is that they weren't really black I also noticed they were as complex and diverse as those of us who had been inappropriately call white kids .

Classes were hard . Writting ( english ) , Social studies , Math , Science ( we could choose which discipline ) , PE / Health , And Shop ( Shop was Two periods ) . English , Social Studies , and Science were fairly good to me ..PE was indifferent , and Math and Shop were where I failed the most spectacularly . MY Math teachers insisted I not only get the math Problems right , but tht I showed them how I got the problems right ...I insisted that the only thing important was the right answer ...in a struggle for class domination between my Teachers and myself ..the Teachers seemed to have the upper hand . Shop was ...Horrid . During the two years I was at Benson I was enrolled i 6 different Shop classes ; They were : Machine Shop , Auto Shop , Electrical Shop , Areonautics Shop , Sheet Metal and Welding . Each shop class was basically the same , you given an assignment to complete by the end of the Term . Each assignment was a series of tasks bringing you to the competed task .

 

  For instance in Machine shop we were to turn a Piece of steel that was 2 inchs in diameter and 8 inchs long into an impressive work of art . IN order to do that we first needed to build our own tool to make the changes in the Metal Cylinder ...To demonstrate how easy this was our instructor would grab a piece of tool steel , put his goggles over his eyes approach a Grinder and then in just a few minutes would grind the tip of the steel into an impressive looking point . He would then take the tools steel with its point , place it in a vise and with the Cylinder attached to a Lathe then in a matter of a few more moments turn the steel rod into a beautiful shinny expertly crafted something . All this was demonstrated to us in a matter of a few minutes. I was impressed with my Instructors skill and I also found myself wondering OK ? what will we do for the rest of the term ?

Before we began we went to the Student Supply Depot where we were given: 1: An Apron 2: Gloves 3: Goggles 4: Four little bars of tool steel 5: One large Steel Cylinder 6: a Padlock .

We were given A locker and were told that if we needed to replace any of the items we were given we could but there was a cost involved .

At first I thought the 4 bars of tool steel were really generous ....but

Looking back

 

Galatians 3:28

There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

When we first moved to Nashville I was surprise to see how segrated the churches were. I have heard it said that Sunday is the most segregated day in the South. From my own evidence I would have to agree with this.

I don't understand why. I have also heard the segregation is mutual . Likewise I have no evidence to dissagree with that.

If you were born after 1970 I suspect it is very difficult for you to fully understand just how painful , angry and divisive the fight for intergration and racial equality was. My parents were segregationists , I would like to believe that neither my father or mother would have never participated or support racial violence , but they were certianly unwilling to do anything to change it.

My mother was from Oklahoma and was culturally disposed towards racism , my father seemed indifferent, but I also overheard him tell many jokes at the " expense " of black people.

Both of my parents urged me to proceed with caution when I became involved in the Civil Rights movement , and for reasons I cannot truly remember our home never had a black visitor.

I remember vividly the first time I really came face to face with the ugly reality of Segragation.

Living in Oregon we were largly divorced from the struggles in the North and the South. There were a few black people living in Oregon , but not in our neighborhoods.

The Summer between my eighth grade graduation and my first year in High School I spent the summer in Oklahoma ...this was 1960. I traveled to Oklahoma alone on a Greyhound Bus. When the Bus stopped in Oklahoma City near the end of my trip I needed to use the Bathroom in the Train station. There were three bathrooms there , they were marked : White women , White men , and Colored. I didn't get it I choose colored , when I walked out a man in uniform stopped me and asked me why I did that , I joked I was Pink . He wasn't amused , he thumped on a Bible He was carrying and said " well you must not be a Christian then ".

Prior to that time I had not thought much about Christians and " race " . I had as a youngster assumed that the Church was the moral guardian of society and having heard very little from the Pulpit on this issue I guess I just assumed all was well ....Likewise I assumed that if there was a problem and some of Americas Citizens were being mistreated because of their skin color that the Goverment that represented us would do something about it. I had no reason to believe that these two institutions , the Church and the State instead of leading America out of this growing cancer of segration and inequality would actually participate and contribute to the problem.

That summer in Oklahoma was like a graduation present from my parents for completing Grade School. I suspect that in today's world you would never send your 13 year old child , boy or girl on a three Bus trip across country.

But 1959 was a simpler time ...and a harder time as well. I remember constantly looking out the windows , taking in as much of the scenery as I could ...I enjoyed the different stops , I especially remembered Salt Lake city and seeing the Mormon Temple there ...and wondering where the lake was.

From Oklahoma City to Muldrow was a few hours drive it was night and there was a fierce storm lighting our way , on one occasion I know I saw a lightning bolt hit so close to the bus that the pavement was bone dry when the bus raced over it.

Late that night my Uncle peeked into the bus and shouted my name , and I left the bus an onto a summers adventure in the land of my Mothers birth.

My uncles name was Mel , he was the town barber in Muldrow , he smelled of hair tonic and shaving cream, had a twinkle in his eye , and an easy way with conversation. His wife was my mothers Sisters , Aunt Alice , Aunt Alice is still alive , the last of four children born in the hard times of hard scrabble , storm tossed , Oklahoma. She looks alot like my mother , younger , and less weary , My mother had two boys , Alice and Mel had no children.

Muldrow Oklahoma is a small town , a very small town , my mother had one Brother Otis who had nine children and one brother James who had two children , then two more . Several of Otis Children were close to my age and we spent that summer adjusting to being teenagers.

There are a few memories from that summer , driving a tractor , poisonus snakes , foul tasting well water , catfishing at night watching a tornado head our way. That summer I found how how blessed I was living in Oregon.

Mel and Alice were pretty comfortable , with no children and a corner on the Barber shop trade , they lived well within their means. Otis was a different story , likable , but indifferent to work , Otis was an inconsistent provider. The children lived a hard life , those things I took for granted like candy bars , and bottled cokes were rare treats for his kids. There was occasional Ice Cream but it was handmade , and the hand making was difficult work.

And there was more ...there was a poverty of education , I must have sounded like an Ivy league professor to those nieces and nephews and they didn't care much for professors ...they were disdainful and untrusting of education , preferring the " street " smarts of a city that had few streets.

And by their standards I must have been quite a nerd , struggling with hay bales , driving the tractor into the pond, and putting a hole in a 50 gallon oil drum while target practicing for a planned squirrel hunt.

The Squirrel hunt turned out to be a turning point , they had armed me with a 22 while they carried shotguns, they knew I would be at a disadvantage with the single shot rifle, yet when it was over I had two squirrels to my credit and the three cousins that adventured out with me had none.

I have to thank my dad for that ...he was a very good hunter and taught my brother and I how to shoot and shoot well . We trained on a single shot 22 and learned to make one shot the right shot.

As the demand for racial equality began to swell and build I spent my High School years almost oblivious to the first tremors of change. For two years I went to Benson High School in Portland Oregon. My parents wanted me to go to this school because if its Advanced Science Programs , Science was an Area I excelled in , I didn't excell in Shop class. ( Seventh and Eigth Graders in the 50's went to either Shop class ( boys ) or Home Economics ( girls ) . What my parents hadn't planned was that Benson was one all day Shop class. In the two years I went to Benson I Failed Welding, Aeronautics, Automotive, Machine Shop, Sheet Metal and Foundery classes , while getting a smatering of A's in Biology and Physics .

Benson was a " segragated " school with just about equal number of blacks and whites. I have no memory of any racial incidents while at Benson. It was at this time that I developed a reputation for getting in fights , I was constantly brawling with kids much bigger than me , Usually kids who because of their size and physicality liked to push other kids around ...I set a record at Benson I believed I had only lost about 17 of the 18 tiffs I was in ...It took me two years to really embrace passive resistance. Two years several broken noses , a couple of cut lips and an unfortunate nickname of Rocky ( not for the fighter but for the racoon ).

 

The Universe expands

Science fairs , Dancing lessons , guitar lessons , fishing trips to the Oregon Coast ..The Seventh and eighth grades went by in a blur ...for two years all we would hear about in Grade school was the promise of High School and more homework . We were getting older , our bodies were changing , our parents were giving us more and more responsibilities . As I try to recall memories from my last two years in Grade School they seem dimmer than the earlier years . I suspect because there were simply so many distractions .

In 1959 we were on the verge of a new decade Average Cost of new house $12,400.00 Average Yearly Wages $5,010.00 Cost of a gallon of Gas 25 cents Average Cost of a new car $2,200.00 Movie Ticket $1.00 Loaf of Bread 20 cents Kodak Movie camera $67.50 Ladies Stockings $1.00

There were seeds being planted world wide that would have lasting impact on our lives but for the most part we were unaware of them : Fidel Castro comes to power in Cuba after Revolution with the first communist state in the west. Alaska becomes a State , in the Congo the first person dies from a new disease we will come to know as AIDS , and the micro Chip was invented in the USA by Jack Kilby .

At school Transistor radios were the rage , and on the playground at recess and noon the first feint stirrings of rock and roll could be discerned . The chartered plane transporting musicians Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper goes down in an Iowa snowstorm, killing all four occupants on board. The tragedy is later termed "The Day the Music Died," popularized in Don McLean's song, "American Pie."

In 1960 John F Kennedy announced He was going to seek the office of President of the USA and for some reason , perhaps His name Had Ken in to I decided to volunteer stuffing envelopes at His campaign headquarters in Portland Oregon. I remember initially my parents were not pleased mostly because Kennedy as a Catholic and they were convinced that the Catholic Church was behind His presidential bid . But in time they were less disturbed by my volunteering.

My boundaries were stretching ..from the confines of my yard ...Past the block , beyond the neighborhood and now to downtown Portland and the USA political Scene . More and more people apart from my Parents were beginning to form an impression on me . Several of my Teachers most notable Paul Jandreau the Science teacher and my Seventh grade teacher as well . Mr Pollard the Local Printer who let me watch Him set type , and listen to His Irish records . _______ a classmate who encouraged me to make my first phone call to a Girl.

Mr Kalisee , my Sunday School teacher , and there were the books lots of books . I was reading a lot in those days .Les miserables  by  Victor Hugo , Battle Cry by Leon M. Uris ,Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand ,Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak , Exodus by Leon Uris , Moby Dick Herman Melville , I was also enjoying Comedy narration like the Egg and I , and a book called Until Fish Do Us Part .

Like a planet settling into orbit I was attracting bits of flotsam into my boundaries . I was definitely sorting all this out ...Atlas Shrugged made the biggest impact on me ..and for the most part probably made a lot of people around me kind of miserable . Imagine the tension between the Humanity of Les Misreables and The virtue of selfishness espoused in Atlas Shrugged ..fortunately in time Victor Hugo held serve ...

As I think back ..I am confirming just how much each and every one of us are affected by the people and world around us ...and the need for boundaries that can put all of our experiences into perspective . Its not eh experiences that form us ..experiences happen , but it is the firm boundaries of faith , and family and Teachers who care that fuse those experiences into our world view ....

Slidding and Gliding Thank you Norm And Helen

As we grew older my parents continued to encourage Bob and I to develop intersts in the arts and Sciences . Dad would help Bob and i on our Science fair projects . The Science fair was a yearly event which began by having exhibits at the local Grade Schools and from there selected exhibits would be asked to be presented at the Oregon Museum of Science and industry . Both Bob and i had exhibits make this journey to OMSI .

My most memorable exhibit was a map of Oregon complete with mountain ranges and painted lakes and rivers . placed in the appropriate areas of the Map were rock and mineral samples . Dad was instantiate that i do most of the work . He assisted me in building the case that presented the exhibit. For years that Map was in our house . It was about 3 feet square , with wood putty mountains and actual samples of the rocks and minerals . A white frame enclosed the map and a glass cover finished it off .

My Parents also encouraged us to take Music lessons. Perhaps a response from a particularly bad experience I had with the Music teacher at the Grade School . Mr Brown was his name a quick tempered , mean spirited megalomaniac , who frankly had no business teaching children . Prior to being in his class I had used to enjoy singing in school . Singing was part of the curriculum in the early grades and we had quite a repertoire of Steven foster and pioneer Songs we used to sing in class . That was until Mr Brown felt it necessary to call me out in front of the Choir I had volunteered to be a part of and tell me and everyone listening I had no business being in Choir because my Voice was crappy . Or words to that affect .

Dad and mom were furious . while they definitely knew we had limitations they also felt that we should be encouraged rather than discouraged .

Bob and I started taking music Lessons in downtown Portland. Bob Took Accordion lessons and I took Spanish Guitar lessons from a man named Elliot Sweetland . Both required the purchase of an instrument and of course money for lessons , which my parents freely offered , though a hardship for them .

Both Bob and I took the local bus to downtown for our lessons . I don't know the exact address but the Studio was in a basement near the pioneer Courthouse. I enjoyed the guitar . And ended up laying pretty well . The big problem for me was the Chords . The Guitar had not made a breakout as a solo instrument yet , and it was used principally as a support instrument . I had very small hands and the F Chord in particular was very difficult for me . I did learn to read music , fascinated that those little marks on the music page could then be applied to the guitar strings and frets . I enjoyed playing the melody and for a long time I would spend my money on Music books instead of comic books ...Unfortunately over the years I lost interest in the guitar , too many competing interests I guess . But I wish I would have continued .

My parents then made a very important decision for me . One that would have a lasting impact . Truly one of those turning points in a life . I was enrolled in the Norman Stoll School of Dance .

Norman was trained by Author Murray . After the war Norm began teaching ballroom dancing at the Palais Royale Ballroom on West Burnside Street. While there Norm met another teacher and professional dancer, Helen Mills. He went on to marry Helen in 1949 and in 1952 welcomed their son, Wayne. In 1950 Norm and Helen founded the Norm Stoll School of Dance and Norm Stoll Enterprises. Through their dance studio, the two travelled all over Oregon teaching dance in many places-Milwaukie Jr. High and Gardiner Jr. High in Oregon City; Lake Oswego Country Club; Capitol Hill Community Center; The Dalles; Bend; and Elk Lodges, to name a few.

I was enrolled in the Capitol Hill Community Center . One of those things I have no idea how it happened I an  Sure I wasn't thrilled at first . Not only did it require being in the close proximity of girls , but it meant taking a bath and dressing up. This ordeal was made a little easier by meeting back up with my friend Lee whose parents had also decided to enroll him . I found put much latter than another friend , who you will meet later was also enrolled and went on to be a teacher with the Norm Stoll school .

The community center had a large dance floor and a stage area . when we entered the girls would usually be in one area and the boys in another. We dressed very formal for these lessons boys in slacks, dress shirts and ties occasionally a sport coat . Girls in party dresses . When the lessons began Norm and His wife Helen would demonstrate the dance we were about to learn . Music would begin and they would glide effortlessly around the floor the guys would exchange looks with each other that quite frankly showed more fear than batting against Wayne Twitchel or Frank Stricker . But before we could go into a full panic the boys formed one circle and the girls another . Music would play and we would revolved in opposite directions , the music would stop and we would be facing our dance partner . We did this frequently during the night.

We were taught the waltz , foxtrot ( two step ) calypso , and swing . each dance requiring us to hold on to each other and move in unison as a perfect graceful couple . Lee was very good at this , I would try as best I could to keep in eye contact with him ...He made me a better dancer .

It was also apparent that all of us were trying to learn .that each of us had stepped out into the unknown. even in those days of intense peer pressure it seemed as if all in that room encouraged one another and we were for the most part all equally intimidated and rewarded .

At the end of the evening the we would form a line the boys would then present their last dance partner to Norm and Helen . We would say Mr and Mrs Stoll I would like to present to you --and we would introduce our dance partner .

I never really realized until much later in my life just how important and how life changing these classes were ... Helen and Norm lived their lives with passion they gave more than they got out of life and they left a profound legacy of young adults encouraged and emboldened to meet what ever life put in our paths . I wish I would have understood in time to thank them for what they sewed into me ...Helen died in April 14, 2008, at age 83. Norm died Nov 30th 2011 , no doubt they are dancing in Heaven Closely holding each other Gliding gently on Heavens floor .

Quickly gone ..racing forward

" it goes so quickly "  Emily ( Our town )  

No matter how hard we try this planet keeps on spinning . There must be something about whirling in orbit that ages us .

 By the time I was in the Seventh grade I was already looking toward High School . Our teachers were constantly reminding us how much more difficult High School would be . By the time we reached seventh grade we were the " Big " kids in the school .

 I entered the Seventh grade in the Fall of 1959 . There was a lot going on in that year .

Science had gotton popular : Two major events seemed to fuel it one was the Space Program ,April 9, 1959  NASA  announced the names of seven men who will become the first US astronauts. They are Alan Shepard, Jr., Virgil (Gus) Grissom, John Glenn, Jr., Malcolm Scott Carpenter, Walter (Wally) Schirra, Jr., Leroy Gordon Cooper, Jr., and Donald (Deke) Slayton.

 The other was the Results of the International Geophysical year which had begun in 1957 and ended in 1958 . BY the time we had returned to School in the Fall of 1959 the planet was beging to give up some secrets and was on the brink of looking a whole lot smaller as well .

 During the 50's there was a change in some of the underlying theories of earth Sciences . By 1959 textbooks on the formation of the earth were being changed dramatically. It had seemed almost over night we had gone from believing the mountains of the earth were formed by the cooling of the earths crust , a theory sometimes referred to as the shriveled apple theory . to the idea that the there were these huge plates of earths crust floating on the Molten mantle of the earth . And as they jostled for position they would occasionally slam into each other and the result was mountain building , earthquakes and volcano's .

 In 1957 the Soviet Union had surprised the USA by putting a man made satellite in orbit . Sputnik was a small device . but this 23 inch sphere was about to change the world as well . As a Seventh grader I was not able to fully grasp the implications of the Russians putting a satellite in Space befre we had a chance to do it , and to be honest not sure i understand as an adult as well .

The Barbie doll was introduced in 1959 . Bonanza was first aired , and as 1959 rotated into 1960 John F Kennedy announced his Candidacy for the president of the USA .

Events from years before were forming the events of my last years in Grade school and these in turn were rushing toward a political murder and a man on the moon .

and just as the great plates of the earth were being thrust together and pulled apart by forces we could barely understand ..The boys and the girls of the seventh grade were racing toward ...maturity.

It wasn't a sudden thing , nor was it the same thing for everyone ..but for many of us boys girls started to look a little different in the seventh and eight grades . The smiles were brighter , the skirts were tighter , and curves were curvier . Boys went to shop class in the Seventh and eight grade . Girls went to Home Economics .

At Multnomah Grade school the Shop class was next door to the Home economics class ...through the smell of sawdust and burned plastic came the sweet smell of baked bread and cupcakes next door .

There was a huge gulf between the opportunities for girls and the opportunities for boys in those years . There were a few occupations that were " suitable " for girls nursing and teaching were foremost . For boys it was a wide open field . Boys had more opportunity in the work place and in the education system . It was a mans world .

But we weren't men yet ..we were working it out , In play grounds and locker rooms we joked , we dispensed bad information , we told tall tales , and somehow in spite of our collective ignorance we found ourselves ..thinking more and more about girls .

IN time each of us would find our particular niche of girl magnetism. For some it came as sports , for some it came as snappy dressing . For a great number of us it didn't come at all , at least not yet .

I felt awkward around girls , a perfectly normal conversation about rocket fuel would turn to mush when confronted with a ______ or a _______ . A perfectly executed Yo Yo spin would dangle hopelessly when Pricilla went by . A normal 1/2 minute conversation on the phone would turn into an oral dissertation of War and Peace if I tried to call a girl .  I aslo found out that most girls were not intersted in a dissertation about War and Peace , nor the Nuances of rocket fuel .  

Fortunately there was more to These late years than girls , I found refuge in the science class , and had already successfully blown up several rockets and set the Science Laboratory on fire by an ill advised use of turpentine on a smoldering fire .

The boy Genius who in the 5th grade had been invited into the select ranks of the special Science Club for seventh and eight graders was by the 7th grade a full blown nerd. And even as a Nerd I was failing ...then a singular event , something i never saw coming and when first thrust into I resisted with all the wiles in my wiley youth , would despite my protestations change all this in just a few months ....

Little League Lessons

Summer was Little league season . In our area we had two groups for kids my age , the majors and the minors . I Played on a minor league team . I was not all that bad . ( pats self on back ) . I was very good at fielding , fast . Hitting was my downside , but I cold bunt and hit through the infield so usually I batted lead off .

I tried all the positions except First base , but most frequently was put in as either shortstop or Catcher .

My dad coached the team for two years . We won our division each year , and I was selected to be on the Minor league all star team twice .

Dad was a great coach for little league , he had this unusual idea that if you came to practice you should be able to play . He was even heretic enough to believe that what was important in the game was learning to play it , enjoy playing , and having fun. Radical.

I really can't recall how many games we played in a week I think we played twice a week . and some of the games were double headers . IN the photo attached to this post my father is the one standing back Left , I am the good looking guy holding the bat on the right hand side and my Brother bob is sitting beside me .

We practiced a lot . Dad was real insistant on teaching us the fundamentals of fielding . I can't Remember the name of the other coach I belive His name was Mr Feller and His son was the other one holding a bat .

As I mentioned Dad would make sure that everyone of the team got a chance to play during a game regardless of the score . Often this would create some heated remarks from the parents in the stands , occasionally my mother would get into it with another parent ..Baseball was a family game .

My friend Lee played in the majors , Often we would se each other at the baseball games . and once a year we got to play at Alpenrose which was the big league venue for Baseball in the West hills .

 

Most of the team members names are gone in my memory . My Brother and I , Jim Miller , Earnie Bartnick  ( deceased ) ,  I will try to recall the others as well .

Our team was Verdermun Oil . Our colors were Dirty grey and Dirty black .

Leaving things for others to find

Our Adventures on the Coast were weekend adventures ...Friday we would leave , sometimes after a little league game. And we would return Sunday afternoon usually before dark.

The house was always left clean and spotless as if we had not even been around . If we used wood for the stove we replaced it on the wood stack . There was always wood to split and stack . Dishes washed and put away , beds made .

We would pile into the car and Head home . Bob and I would recount the curves on Highway 53 , surprised I guess their turned out to be the same number . We would turn right on the Sunset Highway and head east back toward Portland . about 30 miles up the road into the Coastal mountain range there was a rest stop . Not much more than a very wide place on the road . there was a natural spring that came out of the hills there and there was a stone enclosure for a water spigot . The water here was cool and sweet . and we soul stop for a drink and rest . MY dad would take a short nap in the car as we played on the grass and explored the creek that ran by the fountain .

Several years ago I was sharing part of this " History " with Lori , it was a rainy day and we had headed over to the Coast for a small vacation . I stopped at this same location . the Faucet was still there ..I wandered a few feet to catch a glimpse of the stream we played in . but the hillside was wet and slick and the under brush was not very inviting . I retreated to the car and we head on our way ..within a few minutes we could tell something was very wrong . The car began to reek ..the smell was horrible . Someone had let there pet run around and the pet had relieved itself near the fountain , and I Had tracked the evidence of this into the car . Realizing the enormity of the problem I pulled over at the first wide spot and immediately began to wipe my feet on any grass ,bush or limbs i could find to remove the offending material .

 Inside Lori worked feverishly with what ever she could find to remove the same material from the Gas and brake Peddle , and from the floor mat . We put what we could not leave behind in a Garbage bag , probably double bagged it . and headed back out . But it was not enough , the strong stench still remained ....and Lori started peeling some oranges we had brought with us for the trip and placing them in front of the hot air vent , then I would grind them up with my foot on the floor ...It eventually got better ..but for years later on the dark and rainy nights if you held your nose just right .....

The next major landmark on our Journey home was the Sunset Tunnel . The Sunset Tunnel was built in 1941 it was a WPA project the Tunnel is 800 feet long. Heading east once out of the Tunnel you begin a decent in to the Willamette Valley . Dad would usually honk his horn as we traveled through the tunnel if He didn't do it we would remind him ,

We would try to get home before dark. This made the unpacking part much easier . each of us had our assigned Tasks . Mine was usually disappearing quietly , and heading across the street to see if Rex were out . Rex made this weekend trip with us a few times , but after the Wounding him with the knife episode , the breaking of his bike during the great raid event , and the burning down the woods catastrophe , Rex's Mother seemed to have plans for him when ever we asked if He could join us .

I always appreciated it when Rex was in the Yard ... If he was not to be seen I would knock on His door , but often no one would come to the door . I found it odd that with as little money as they had that they would leave with the TV blaring and all the lights on ...but People do as people do .

If Rex was available I would spend a little time with him and tell him about all the fish I caught usually adding a little length , and weight to them as well as number ..I did this not to brag but to encourage his Pleading with His mother to let Him join us the next time out .

Rex was usually unimpressed about my fishing adventures ..even at times going so far as to suggest I was gently stretching the truth , however He said it differently.

I had learned when to return to our home just in time to see my dad and brother dragging the tent off the back of trailer and depositing it into the garage . MY " what can I do to help " was warmly greeted and usually well rewarded.

I did take responsibility for unpacking my own gear . Putting my Fishing poles where mom could trip over them and my tackle box in the middle of the floor where i could easily find it the next time out . Leaving the tackle box indoors seemed to have a negative impact on the almost live bait i carried in it . At times it was kind of comical to watch my mother race around the house sniffing both Bob and I trying to figure out what we may have stepped in . As I gained maturity I learned to take the eggs and crawfish tails and clam necks out of the tackle box and store them in the refrigerator . Usually at the back in the corner behind several Jars of half eaten pickles . Sometimes these moldering baits would slip their hiding spots and present themselves to my Mother as she was preparing some meal or another , whenever this happened it did not go well with me or the bait . I don't think my Mother ever understood that some fish preferred old bait as some people preferred old cheese . She also seemed to be somewhat territorial about the refrigerator..when it came to what went into it . My mother was wonderful , but she was not perfect .

If we got home early enough I would watch Omnibus . Then settle in for the wonderful world of Disney ...

The weekend would end with Mom tripping over my fishing poles and dad Demanding I take the tackle box into my room or the Garage . Depending on how stuffed up I was ...I would make a decision and then it was lights out ....the weekdays were coming .

A Mystry to Solve

The Cabin on Buchanon Creek came with its own caretaker . Although it seems ot me He was more of a " squatter " than a Caretaker . We called him shorty . I have no idea what his name was . Nor do I know much of his history. I wish I did .

If Shorty lived in Nashville , or Portland he would be one of those people you would find living under a bridge . As it was He lived in a small shack that could not have been more than 10 x 10 in size . inside of this shack was a small wood burning stove , the only source of heat and were He cooked the meals he needed to cook. The walls were covered with various items , all apparently useful to him and in the back of the space a platform with blankets for his sleeping needs .

As his nickname implied He was short , Just over 5 feet . I can't remember if he had a beard ..if he did it was invisible because of the dirt and grime on his face.

Shorty bathed once a week . He would ride his bike to a friends house near Saddle mountain . there He would take advantage of the friends Shower and Suana . then return back to his shack .

I do not recall ever seeing shorty smoking or drinking . Most of the food he ate he either grew or caught . When we started using the Farm house i know we often brought him meals and left him with whatever we had left over as we parted .

I can't recall Shorty ever doing anything for money . I suspect He barterd , traded , and foraged for his sustenance. In today's terms he was definitely off the grid .

The farm had some Livestock , Goats , Geese and Chickens and I am sure they needed some one to feed them and tend them . The Chickens layed eggs and shorty was able to eat them . When ever we came down on the weekends He had some for us . Maybe money went from my fathers hands to his I don't know .

Shorty didn't talk much when He did it was with a heavy accent . I believe He was Swedish. He smelled badly and His cabin reeked . Mom did not allow him in the cabin . and He had questionable decision making skills . ON one occasion we pulled into the house late at night as we entered the house we were greated with the worst smell you could imagine ...it was so bad we all got back in the car while my father went to investigate . finally after a heated conversation with Shorty ..Dad got in the car , slammed the door and we returned to Portland . Turned out that Shorty had trapped some salmon in the creek , but they were too old and decayed to eat so he through them away under the farm house .

When we returned the next week the smell was all but gone . Im not sure what Dad said to him not what threats he threatened him with , but it seemed to work. There was only one more similar instance and that was when Shorty had managed to trap a skunk under the house . although I do remember my dad saying the skunk did improve Shorty's aroma .

The interesting thing is all this did not seem to deter my brother and I striking up a friendship with Shorty. He let us Help him feed the animals , chop wood , and allowed us to do some of the other chores he did around the house . whenever we arrived we would usually ask him about the fishing conditions , which fish were in the creek , and if any wildlife was around . Deer were always a given . but we had the occasional Elk and black bear that wandered into the property . espicially when the apple trees were dropping their fruit .

Once we were established at the Farm House I bought some Forest service maps of the Area . and discovered that there was what appeared to be a lake not too far from the cabin . The lake was unnamed on the map . Shorty told us the lake was named Soapstone lake , and not too many people knew about it ...there was an an abandonded homestead near it ..and a larger orchard nearby as well . Twice Shorty took us to the lake . It wasn't quite what I expected to find , and yet I don't know what I expected . The lake was small ..it had the appearance of a lake formed by a beaver dam . As it turns out it is a spring fed lake and yes there were beavers there . The area around the lake had several dead trees , in various stages of decay .

Not sure when ..a few years after we started using the Cabin Shorty was killed . He was riding his bicycle back from His weekly soak . The rain and wind must have blinded him as he road his Bike into the front of an oncoming car .

I find it interesting how God sews people into our lives ...sometimes we know immeadiatly  , what He is doing for us , and other times the fruit takes longer to ripen . Its been over 50 Years since Shorty and my path crossed ..but I have a feeling  that this story is not done yet ....

Bucannon Creek University

Just past Saddle Mountain there is a Junction . Highway 53 branches off of the sunset Highway. also known as the Necanicum Highway , 53 heads southwest for about 18 miles before it brings you out at Highway 101 near Mohler and Wheeler Oregon .

The Farm house we spent several years in on the weekends was Seven and a Half miles from the Junction. For Distraction Bob and I would count the turns on this Highway from the place where we entered the road to the driveway of the home . in Seven and half miles there were 75 turns . One turn in the rod every tenth of a mile . MY dad used to quip the road was laid out by a drunken cowboy chasing a Horse that had eaten Loco weed . The Road divides two great Forests , the Tillamook State forest and the Clatsop State Forest .

The Farm was dissected by Highway 53 the farm house and an old Orchard was on the left hand side of the highway , and on the right was an old Barn . A small creek named Buchanon Creek was just past the barn .

The house had electricity , and even had indoor plumbing . IT was not completely finished . the downstairs had a mud room , Bathroom , Living area and large Common Kitchen . The stove was a wood burner and I believe there was a wood burning stove in the Living room as well . Upstairs were four Bedrooms .

In front of the house was the remains of a very old Apple Orchard . The house also came with its own caretaker . An elderly Man we called Shorty lived on the property in a very small shack next top the main house . He watched over the property and cared for the Numerous , Goats , Geese , and chickens that also lived there .

Shorty appeared to be quite old , was usually very dirty and unkempt . He would ride His bike to a Friends house near Saddle Mountain once a week for a Sauna and shower . A journey of about 18 miles round trip .

On several occasions this man became our personal Guide , and fishing expert . Although for Him he was more inclined to illegally net the fish rather than catch them on hook and line.

The major attraction for me was the Creek that ran by on the opposite side of the road . Like the Necanicum river we were very close to a large fishing hole . where the fishing hole on the Necanicum was dark and mysterious , this hole revealed everything . There was no boundary of Basalt , both sides of the creek could be reached if you didn't mind getting a little wet . And on the side of the Waterhole facing the House there was a bank overlooking and peering into the deep . On this bank at one time two very large Sitka Spruce trees made their home . One had fallen and had been salvaged in part leaving a very wide 7-8 ft Stump to sit on and watch the river . across the hole the top half of the Tree still lay in the water .

Here also High water had eroded the soil under the trees roots , carving out small cave like place under the tree . When the creek was at normal flow this was a perfect place to sit and cast and stay dry when the rains came .

From the vantage of the bank and the stump when the water was not filled with sediments from Heavy rain and runoff you could look into the water . And it was a Dazzling site ..Huge schools of fish rested here ...The King Salmon the Coho , steelhead , and schools of Cutthroat trout . I have never seen so many fish in one place as I would see in this singular wide spot in the river .

At times the water was so clear you could make out the individual spots on the fish , you could see which of the salmon were beginning to molder . and directly under the stump waves of minnows were constantly on the move .

Upstream the creek widened into a long and shallow expanse ..and for some reason I cannot remember I rarely went upstream from my vantage point . Downstream from the hole the water emptied out into a narrow flute ..here the water went quite fast forming a very large rapid . at the point where the water enter the rapids ..there was a fairly shallow gravel Bar , and it was here we could cross over to the other side . On the other side our fishing place was the remaining stalk of the fallen Sitka spruce . The width of the pool was about 40 feet . and even forty fee away from its stump the tree measured over five feet in Circumference .

This place , this deep hole was where I Began to catch fish .

The first catch was me

"I'm going out to fish," Simon Peter told them, and they said, "We'll go with you." So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. John 21:3

The big hole on the Necanicum river was mysterious , the Black rocks, the forest canopy and the Depth of the water all conspired to hide what ever lurked below the water . while I would see the fish coming and going into the " hole " I can never think of a time I saw any fish in it . The current seemed to cut through the middle of the wide spot . The water that lapped at my feet gently tugged my boots . Further out the water rushed by. A cast into the current would swing the lure in a wide arc in a matter of seconds . Past the current , hugging the stone walls opposite me was an eddy . nothing moved in this place . Iif the Fishing hole seemed dark and mysterious , this eddy was even more so . Once i hooked a beaver, at least I thought it was a beaver in the tail in this area almost breaking my pole before I wisely cut the line. Nothing moved in the Eddy . Scum formed on top of it . It was a dead spot in a living river .

I cannot recall ever taking a fish from this " big hole" . Stubbornly I kept returning ..and while I wasn't claiming any catch ..I was learning I was becoming more familiar with the river , and the fish that called it home. It has been said that a Fisherman will forget the fish He has caught but not the place He caught them . And then again I have heard some fisherman relate stories of fish that dwarfed the place they were caught in . But its fair to say my early fishing years helped to conserve the native runs .

It was here on the river bank , alone lulled into a meditative peace by the sound of the water scratching the rocks . The smell of fir and cedar . Dark rocks and brilliant mosses. That i began to think of One who made this all. And then just as quickly I would be pulling my spinner out of the water , snapping the tough line off in my teeth and , looking into my tackle box for another lure, one that would bring that first strike . I would wrestle with God in due time , now was the time to improve my cast .

I now know I was working the water the wrong way . MY " Instincts " told me the deeper the water the bigger the fish. I did not realize that in the Depths the fish were resting , there would be very few strikes in these deep pools , the tail of the rapids and the mouth of the overflow was were I should have been . that knowledge came later .

I would have definitely loved to land a large fish , to struggle with it and be victorious , to carry the fresh caught animal back to the cabin and there receive a hunters welcome . But I took what the river gave me , a surprise visit by an otter , a great blue heron watching me across the way. A shinny bit of agate .

we would occasionally have visitors , friends of my father or even Jim the Park warden come over for dinner , and I would sit an listen to their stories of fishing and hunting , soaking up as much as I possibly could ..I was beginning to realize that the more information I had about the fish the better fisherman I would be.

I started to read as much as I could about the fish here . And about fishing . first there were children's books about fish , but with those soon exhausted I sought the adult shelves in the Library .

Soon my favourite Author was a British Columbia Fly fisherman by the name of Roderick Haig Brown. The first book of His I read was called " a river never sleeps " . written in 1946 it is a Hymn to Fly fishing for Salmon , and Steelhead. For me fly fishing was not practical The streams on the Coast are framed by trees the only way a proper cast could be made with a fly pole would be to place yourself in the middle of the river , not always practical for a seven year old boy and definitely not something His mother would want to encourage . The books contained a lot of information on Habitat and behaviour that I would make use of After that came others till I had read His entire collection of works . I spent my money on a subscription to Field and stream . There was a Sporting good store on the way to my Hay fever doctor and I would spend as much time as I could there , looking over lures , listening to salesmen , eves dropping on stories told around the sales counter. When we were on the Coast I took every opportunity to investigate and pry into the secrets of all who carried a rod and reel and who would let me within earshot .

. It didn't take very long for me to decide I wanted to be a Professional fisherman and live out my life pipe in mouth fishing vest filled with home made flies , chasing Steelhead as they took out 200 yards of line in a mad dash for freedom .

The three major types of fish included the Steelhead . the Salmon and the Trout .

 

 

Steelhead were the most prized . Difficult to catch , strong from years of swimming in the Ocean , Steelhead would average about 12-20 lbs . The largest Steelhead caught in Oregon weighed 38 pounds . There are several varieties of Salmon but the two most prolific are the King Salmon and the Silver Salmon King Salmon average about 25-35 pounds and the record was 83 pounds . Silver Salmon also known as Coho salmon are smaller From 7 -15 pounds . IN addition to these fish the rivers are filled with Native Cutthroat trout and a distant cousin the Ocean bay cutthroat trout . These fish will be from 1 to 3 lbs in size .

During this period of " book knowledge " about my quest . the cabin on Highway 26 became no longer available to us ...I suspect it sold. Mom and Dad had been able to live in it rent free ...and we were now Oregon Coast homeless ... My fathers friend Jim Webb , a park ranger at Saddle Mountain , had located this place for us , and He came up with a new home for us to use .

This home was much bigger , a two story farmhouse , on Highway 53 7.5 miles from the Necanicum Junction . This place was the one I remember best , it was from here I Caught my first fish ...and began my fishing career in earnest .


Photo Credits :

Lower Necanicum River
Cutthroat Trout
Silver Salmon ( Coho )
Steelhead
King Salmon

The Deep begins to stir

Sometime after 3rd Grade and before 7th Grade I think I began to " experience " God . In Sunday school and school ground chats God was always an Abstraction . MY parents spoke very little about God , they agreed that He must exist , and I believe they felt there as an after life . But Theology , bible discussion was not a fixture or topic of discussion in our home.

Understanding God for me began in the clear creeks and narrow valleys of the Oregon Coastal range . It began as a murmur , the taking of shape of individual trees in the first light of morning kind of way. And when I first saw the ocean the confirmation of God was sealed forever in my heart .

To be fair here I am not talking about the Christian Faith I embrace today . These first shadows and revelations where of God the creator , God the sculpture and painter and God the giver and taker of life .

During this period we were granted access to two different cabins on the Coast , Memory has failed me I cannot choose which came first , I believe it was the Cabin on Highway 26.

This cabin sat on the right hand side of the road a bare mile from the Gas station and restaurant at the Necanium Junction where Highway 53 corkscrewed into the Sunset Highway.

Next door and sharing the driveway to the Cabin was an abandoned School house. Across the Highway a large lava rock narrow the road .

The cabin was small at most two bedrooms , a primitive kitchen , no electricity . Bathroom facilities were out back .

Several hundred yards from the road the Necanicum river pushed toward the Ocean ..several miles down tream it was navigabile by Drift boat ..but the stretch behind the house was barren of boats.

The upper end of the hole and the lower end were quite shallow at the rivers normal flow . But the other side of the river was unreachable . That side was buttressed by a wall of Basalt pushed out of the earth . Steep , slick , black and menacing . Opposite the Basalt wall there was a gently sloping river bank , noving from the water with golf ball sized pebbles to soft sand at the outer margins of the " normal " creek flow . At high water and flood time this margin would spill out in to the field where the path from the House disected. There was a wide spot in the river there , we called these places Holes ..or fishing holes . The frequent floods of water from the storms of Spring and fall had gouged the softer earth away from the Basalt . it was deep and dark there , forbidding . If you waited you could watch the Salmon break out of this restful area and struggle upstream several inches of Salmon visible out of the water ..forcing themselves further up the river . and below the hole the same spectacle could be seen the Deep waters offer sanctuary for the Migrating Salmon . Along the banks carcasses of fish could be easily seen , and several of the fish struggling towards the place of their own birth could be seen decaying and moldering.

Death and life were here ..laid out in perfect order . Even at such an early age I new that if the river were an Orchestra there must be a Conductor , if the rich greens and water stained blacks were a painting there must be a painter .

I did not know who this Master musician , painter sculptor was . But I knew He was . and I knew some how some way that He must be eternal .

There was Mystery and discovery here . the house side of the creek , was very accessible and it gave up its clues easily during the months . BUt the Opposite side , those rock walls were too much of a challenge to investigate , there was no purchase here no place to lay a foot. Life had found a way in places , mosses , and occasional clumps of grass , clinging to the rock.

Sitting at the bank of the river , watching the seasons go by ..I knew with confidence from a very early age that This was His world and we were visitors ... Seems almost egotistical to make this confirmation about myself when I was so young ..but my conviction is unalterable . I did not know who this God was , I had no name for Him save God ...and I did not know that He provided a way for me to be with Him when I pass , I did not know about His plan of Salvation nor the curse of Sin . I Just knew there was a God , and I felt that by knowing more about His Creation I would come to know more about Him .

* Photo note , this is not the Necanicum river , it is the Duck river in TN , the rocks here are Limestone ...When we are in Oregon I Hope to photograph the Place I am describing .

Bob .....

 

I am now more than ever deeply puzzled with my relationship with my Brother. Bob , is about 19 months Younger than I am . I don't think he realizes it , but most often in person I refer to Him as the successful brother . Since College He has had a distinguished career helping others , building communities , and sewing into peaceful resolutions in a complex and threatening world . He has probably Logged more miles than Santa Claus . Traveling to Europe , Africa , Japan , Asia , Australia . Bob Gets around .

He is incredibly passionate about his calling and from what I see extremely well respected .

Not long ago I really started thinking about our relationship. It began innocently enough I was telling Lori about some of the people who in my life time that God hd brought into my life to walk with me for a time and grow me . People who influenced me and encouraged me . My Brother Bob was not on that list .

I find that troubling and interesting. I keep thinking that this is not because we had a troubled relationship ..apart from using him in several science experiments , harnessing him to my war wagon , and stealing his Accordion for Food money .... there was very little tension between us .

Well some .

But it just seems that at an early age we simply drifted apart in our interests and our goals . in the Area of Goals it seemed as if Bob had them and I didn't .

Here again memory may be clouded by fantasy ...but it is my belief that Bob followed me into many areas because I had already occupied them . Play , Little league , Science , Demolay .

I wasn't a very good Brother . I suspect I was envious of any attention he would receive . as if my parents might be forced to divide and thus dilute their attention on us .

He often walked alone to school , and returned the same way . In our Neighbourhood play I don't believe we excluded Bob , but also don't think He was encouraged to participate .

As we grew older I would move from territory to territory , one hobby after another . none interests after another , Bob began to fully occupy territory . I had been asked to Join the Seventh and eight grade Science class when I was in the 5th Grade . I believe Bob had the same honour , but where i succeeded in almost burning down the Science Lab . He used his interest in Science to launch Himself into the world of the New Oregon Museum of Science and Industry ( OMSI ) ..and ultimately this lead to a life time of Community and World service .

By the time Bob graduated from High School , He was receiving full scholarship offers from some of the most influential Colleges in the Nation. His College years took Him into for a year of Study , perhaps one of the most significant Ebenezzers of His Journey in Japan .

I remember one cool and rainy day on the National Guard Firing range in Clackamas Oregon. The Science class had brought their home made rockets to the range . MY rocket was unique I had developed a new method of attaching the fins to the rocket , in hopes of having the fins not melt off and thus making the rocket in flight uncontrollable , I had also placed several ounces of gun powder in the nose cone of the Rocket to give it that " something special " . When it came my turn the Rocket shining on the launch pad began to raise , then the flaw in the design became apparent , the fuel had not been able to pack it self uniformly , the rocket sputtered , landing on its side then it began to careen down the Firing range bouncing off anything in its way , finally the whole disaster ended in a thunderous explosion as the Gun powder at least did its Job.

Bobs rocket by comparison was quite pedestrian , but it was excellently crafted , the fuel was perfectly packed and the rocket raised from the earth that had it bound and arched gracefully , higher and higher till it could be barely seen .

Bob and I have spent most of our lives now in our separate orbits , his a dazzling ride that has taken him across the earth . in service to thousands ..his influence has certainly stretched to millions . A profound legacy of commitment. We talk infrequently , usually at one birthday or another ..

We have both married and we both have one Daughter each who each of us adores . I don't know where we will ultimately land , but I now in the understanding that praise and encouragement can never be exhausted. I wish I would have paid more attention to Bob's life . There was much to be learned there .

Camping 101 ...flapjack recollections

Saddle Mountain overlooks the Sunset Highway , a popular road leading west out of Portland ultimatly blending in to Highway 101 along the Oregon Coast .

Saddle Mountain was created around 15 million years ago when lava flows poured down the the broad Columbia river valley. It is the Highest mountain in the Oregon Coast range . rising about 3200 feet above sea level .

Great forests radiate out from the Mountain in every direction . Habitat for Elk and Deer . Headwaters of one of Oregon's popular Fishing streams the Necanicum river rushes from the Mountain.

From Multnomah to Saddle Mountain was a drive of about 2 hours . The Sunset Highway started out over the flat farm land of the Willamette valley ,then climbing into the Coast range , passing under part of it at the Sunset tunnel ..winding through the Northwest forest ...A right hand turn off of the Highway takes you up a few miles to a small camping location at the base of Saddle Mountain. This was our destination .

We would usually leave late Friday afternoon . Preparations would have been made late Thursday . the Tent would have been packed into the trailer along with the camping gear. The trailor would be parked outside , ready for when Dad returned home from work .

Friday Mom would be busy preparing as much food as possible for us to take with us . Sandwhiches , koolaide , Boxed Groceries including pancake mix , coffee ,potatoes . And at the ready in the refrigerator , bacon , eggs , and hamburger . Bob and I would pack some clothes , comic books , and sometimes fishing gear. I remember having a world war 2 compass that was my constant companion . and my Canteen .

Dad would arrive home , dinner would be ready and once eaten we were off . A few minutes delay as dad cursed the wiring on the trailer ..and then off .

 * ( note ...not us I was usually better dressed ) 

It would be dark by the time we arrived at the Camp spot . Arriving on Friday we usually had a good pick of the camping spots ..close to the water was good , a flat space to pitch the tent very good and fairly close to the Bathrooms was really very good . The bathroom facilities were " Modern Primative

*( Note I searched Google for some photos of the campgropund and I belive there is a very good chance these are the very same bathrooms I remember ) 

 

 " . The tent was very heavy most of the hard labor was done by dad and mom . Beams in place posts pushed into the ground , then stakes pounded into the ground . Sturdy rope secured it all . Dad would light the coleman lantern first off ...this device gave off an incredible amount of light . We had several wooden cots to place our bed rolls on . Dad usually slept in the car ..so as to not wake us when we would leave early in the morning .

If there was no kill Dad would be back at camp around mid morning. We would then have a hearty breakfast .

My challenge her is how to accurately write about a smell , the conclusion for me is you can't its only something you can experience. That Morning breakfast smell lingers with me , inscribed on some part of my brain where all things wonderful go . IT was more than the breakfast , it was the scent of the trees , the land turning back into itself , wood smoke from the fire pit , kerosene , Pancakes and eggs on a Cast Iron Skillet , Good strong coffee , and Bacon ...all swhoosed up together and ladled out on a frosty clear blue morning . For me there is no Doubt Heaven will smell like the Camp ground at Saddle Mountain state Park .

 

Rembering my father / Camping and Hunting

The most persistent Memories I have of these middle years of Grade School , before I became a seventh grade adult ..are from our frequent trips to the Oregon Coast .

My father was a hunter ..I would describe him as a practical hunter ..He hunted out of need . For most of our lives we lived off of both Elk and Deer . In the Woods Dad would quarter the animal , and pack it back to the Car .

Deer usually required two trips , the Elk at least four . This was not recreation it was work . And it needed to be as fast as possible . His favorite hunting areas were about 2 hours from our home in the West Hills . IT wasn't unusual for him to Kill the animal in the evening , field dressit at the sun went down spend most of the night packing it through the woods , then arriving early in the morning at home and unloading the animal . He butchered it in our Garage , and later when we moved into the " New " home next door in the basement . Then cut into Steaks , roasts , and various other cuts it was wrapped in butcher paper and placed in the large freezer we had for that purpose. Dad would always share the meat with Family and friends , and if He had a hunting partner Half of the kill would go to them . Interestingly enough he never expected half of another persons animal, but it most always worked out that way .

Usually though Dad hunted alone . His favourite Area was Saddle Mountain State park . A wild area A few miles from the Oregon Coast . Saddle Mountain was an eroded remnant of an undersea Volcano ... Here in the 1950 great herds of elk and deer were plentiful .

The Deer were the Pacific Black tailed deer . These are quite large ... A large buck would weigh in at 400 lbs and a Doe could almost reach 300. Hunting pressure in the 50's limited each hunter to one animal only . But many hunters including my father would have permits for both them and their wives . It wasn't unusual to have my Mother " Kill " an animal while she was fixing dinner for Bob and I back at the Tent . Mom must have been a pretty good shot , because she seemed to always get her animal first too. Deer Season Began in the Early fall , then later was Elk Season . Elk where the big boys on the Block . ON the Coast the elk we found was the Roosevelt Elk .

The Roosevelt elk is the largest of the Elk Family with a Full grown Bull weighing in between 800-1200 pounds . The Cows from 500-650 pounds . Depending on the amount of damage done by the bullet Dad would usually keep the hide for tanning and resale . Some of the Organs were harvested including Kidney , and heart . Non Edible parts were left to return to the earth. The Head of the animal had to accompany the carcass , for identification purposes or in my Dads case it would have been most often left behind . Dad had strong feelings about displaying the animal , he rarely thought of his kills as trophies .

  

Deer usually required two trips , the Elk at least four . This was not recreation it was work . And it needed to be as fast as possible . His favorite hunting areas were about 2 hours from our home in the West Hills . IT wasn't unusual for him to Kill the animal in the evening , field dressit at the sun went down spend most of the night packing it through the woods , then arriving early in the morning at home and unloading the animal . He butchered it in our Garage , and later when we moved into the " New " home next door in the basement . Then cut into Steaks , roasts , and various other cuts it was wrapped in butcher paper and placed in the large freezer we had for that purpose. Dad would always share the meat with Family and friends , and if He had a hunting partner Half of the kill would go to them . Interestingly enough he never expected half of another persons animal, but it most always worked out that way .

Depending on the weather. We would either go with dad , and set up camp in Saddle Mountain State park . Or He would venture out over the weekends on His own . As the Fall pushed into Winter , we stayed at home more .

MY Mother and Father had a very large Canvas tent . Probably a world war 2 Surplus tent . I would guess it was about 12 foot by 10 foot in size . Sturdy two by twos held it in place ..this was not a hike into the wilderness kind of tent ..large enough that dad had a trailer to haul it in . We also had several Coleman Kerosene lanterns , and a Coleman Camping stove . The Smell of wet canvas and Kerosene is a pungent and pleasant reminder of those weekedn camping expeditions.

In the morning Bob and I would wake up to the smell of Eggs and bacon simmering on the Camp stove , MY father would already be gone ..and the morning light would begine to illunimate the possibilities of our own day of exploration .

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few words about my Father Here :

My Fathers name was John Herman Stilger , most of his friends knew him as Johnny , I called him Dad. His life and his adventures I know by faith ...and word of mouth . Dad left precious little behind in the form of journaling or letters ...He was however a storyteller , and what stories he would tell ...

I have no written verification of the authenticity of these stories , but a look at the proposed timeline does seem to at least prove that what he said he did he did ..not that I have any reason to doubt him , in all things my father was quite honest and forthright ..but also there is always the possibility of hyperbole and exaggeration. Since I have no written confirmation the only other proofs I have is that many of these stories were told in audiences where others would have been able to point out discrepency and I was never ware of such disagreements.

My father was born in Rygate Montana in 1914 ..He was the fourth child in a family of six His oldest sister was Elizabeth, then a brother Bob , Sister Esther , His younger brother Bill and a younger sister that was killed only a few years into life in an Automobile accident. The family moved fromt he ranch in Montana to Portland Oregon sometime in the early 20's where my Fathers, Father Herman Stilger worked as a brewmeister for Blitz Beer Company in Portland Oregon.

The family moved to the Sellwood area , a suburb of Portland ... My guess is that Dad dropped out of school at a very early age ..and as near as I can tell his first Job was working in the Forests , as a tree topper , this would begin a long association with working above ground for my Dad ...those were tough times about to enter the Depression , I would suspect that you needed an edge to distinguish you from all the others looking for employment and it seems as if my Fathers edge was a willingness to work in extraordinary difficult and dangerous situations. He seems to have moved around a lot often hitchhiking both cars and trains. He told us frequently about riding under the boxcars on the rods that form the undercarriage of the boxcars.

At the height of the Great Depression, a quarter of a million teenagers joined the ranks of the army of migratory idle roaming across America riding freight trains or hitchhiking. I am not sure every place he went , but He told us that he worked on the Boulder / Hoover Dam building project ...
The two vertical foundations for each of the arch walls (the Nevada side and Arizona side) had to be founded on sound virgin rock; free of cracks and the weathering that the surface rock of the canyon walls had from thousands of years of weathering and exposure.

The men who removed this rock were called high-scalers. While suspended from the top of the canyon with ropes high-scalers climbed down the canyon walls and removed the loose rock with jackhammers and dynamite. My father was one of these High Scalers , hanging from a rope he would work all day removing the rock piece by piece ...during the construction of the dam over 100 workers died , many of them were these " High Scalers " . From the Hoover Dam , Dad must have gotten word of another Dangerous Job that he could apply for ..the Building of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.

Here the job was that of Cable Stringing ... Again my father found himself perched high above the San Francisco Bay stringing miles and miles of Steel Cable used to support the Bridge ..unlike the Hoover Dam project the working conditions here were humane ..with great care taken to protect the lives of the workers ...a huge safety net was installed and was responsible for saving over 25 men who fell while working ..these men formed a club called the half way to hell club..there were only 10 fatalities on the bridge construction with most coming on one catastrophic scaffolding fall which combined with the weight of the men , broke through the net .

From the Job on the Golden Gate Bridge my Father found Employment at the Mare Island Shipyard , it was still peacetime but he worked as a " rigger " Hoisting heavy loads into ships a job which required often hanging from beams and rafters securing pulleys to lift the load ...Unfortunately this also brought the workers into direct contact with the Asbestos lined pipes in the ships hulls ... Also a heavy Smoker my Father died from Lung Cancer at the age of 59 .

This was during " peacetime " . When Pearl Harbor was attacked my Father was involved with the Rescue effort to find and save Trapped Sailors on the overturned hull of the USS Oklahoma ..this effort took several days so it seems likely that my father was flown to Pearl from San Francisco. This is unverified , but seems the most likely scenario . He was not drafted into the Service , His Job at the time was considered a vital Civilian Job ...Dad stayed near Pearl Harbor for most of the war working on Rigging , and repairing both war ships and Merchant Ships ...before the War ended He returned to California and the Mare Island Navel Yards . IT was there that he met a lovely young woman who had migrated from Oklahoma to work in the Shipyards as well ..her name was Emma Keith and she was one of the thousands of women who answered the call to work int he plants and factories that were in fact responsible for the Victory in both the Pacific and in Europe .

John and Emma , fell in love , married in Vallejo California ...after the war Dad followed a friend to Denver Colorado who was planning to open up a donut shop ...guessing here but apparently the donut business was not to dads liking and he found employment in a town called Climax Colorado , near Leadville Colorado . He worked in an open pit Molybdenum mine ...here he scaled the walls of the Ore surface and dangling by cable would drill holes in the rock that explosives would be packed into the explosion was designed to remove tons of rock and to be hauled away and refined into a new lightweight metal that was being used in Jet aircraft manufacture . The process was dangerous , but by now many more safety regulations were in place ...and it was arduous Climax is at the 11,000 foot level of the Rockies ...high altitude and bitter cold must have made the work very difficult .

While working in Climax I was born on October 14 1947 ( the day Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier ) ... I do not know how much longer Dad and Mom stayed in Climax ...I do know that my brother Bob was born in Portland where they had moved to next and He was born May 13 1949 . Dad and Mom moved into the old neighbourhood of Sellwood , and Dad started work for Portland general Electric , as a tree trimmer and Lineman ...He worked for PGE until his death .

I have no bad memories of my childhood ..both Mom and Dad were loving , nurturing and desiring only the best for my Brother and I ...They were totally committed to sacrificing their needs for the needs of others , my brother and I included ...Dad come home bone weary from physically climbing vertical poles and trees , using a harness called a hook which was a leather device that attached to his waist then around his crotch , ending in stirrups with metal " hooks " that would be forcefully driven into the tree or pole as he climbed up another belt would encircle the pole providing additional traction , coming down was all gravity , skill and a little bit of luck and daring . Normally dad would take a short nap , then dive into what ever was the current project for Bob and I , either a science project , or teaching us how to field a baseball , or guiding us through our chores . Dad coached our little league team and had only one ironclad rule ..everyone must play ..the score did not matter to him , the willingness to play did ..he took more than a fair share of abuse from parents who were all about winning , but in the end despite his " unorthodox " methods ..we had several winning teams ...For the last few years of his life Dad had it a little easier he was able to gain a Job inspecting the towers that were being built for the New Nuclear Power plant in Oregon , Trojan Nuclear Plant ...this Job took him all over the state ..working on similar projects ...He purchased a small travel trailer and He and my mother would live in one location then another ...I suspect it was some of the best years of their lives ...

Shortly after my first Marriage Dad was Diagnosed with Lung Cancer ...He fought the disease as best he could ...Chemo and Radiation probably were as lethal as the disease ..and He died at home in April of 1974 ... I think about him and my Mother daily , Mom died of cancer much latter , she never remarried and never fell out of love with the man she married ....I am enclosing a letter I wrote a few months after her death ...

                                                  DISCLAIMER   !!!

                                --------------------------------------------------------------

Reconstructing my childhood from Memory has often left me with more questions than answers . This is particularly true of our frequent visits tot he Coast . For the life of me I cannot remember the chronology of which of the two cabins we stayed at came first . I am also quite confused about how young I was when I first went hunting with my Father .

I wish I would have realized how important all this would be to me now so that I might have occasionally written a note to myself . I have talked with my Brother and for the most part His memory is less vivid than mine ..He might be inclined to say its more truthfull.

The issue for me is compacting all that I can recall into what seems like just a few years . This then becomes a disclaimer of sorts . If there are inconsistencies in the stories I am posting , its because I am inconsistent in recalling them .

I do know this . The hunting , camping and exploring the Coast years probably ended my freshman year in High School . And my earliest recollection of them would have been from about 2nd or third grade . That accounts for about 8 years . eight summers , and eight hunting seasons . Minus three overland vacations , and my singular bus trip to Oklahoma .

These were wonderful years . My first caught fish , my first Deer , my first Home run . Contrasted of course with my first Hook in my hand , my first retching as I watched my father field dress a deer , and the slam of the bat as strike three whizzed past the plate.

Eight years of success and failures ...and now looking back over a span of 50 years a little Chronological confusion should be gracefully accepted .

 

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photos ; Saddle Mountain looking Northeast from the Nehalem River near Wheeler Oregon .
              Saddle Mountain
              Black Tail deer
               Roosevelt Elk