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 .
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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 !!!
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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 .
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Photos ; Saddle Mountain looking Northeast from the Nehalem River near Wheeler Oregon .
Saddle Mountain
Black Tail deer
Roosevelt Elk
* unidentified boy helping with laundry 
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