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| Volume XXXVIII, Number 1 |
Spring, 2003
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| North River High
School Basketball
Cron Oyster Cannery "Tommy Moore" Turns 100 |
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| Volume XXXVIII, Number 1 |
Spring, 2003
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| North River High
School Basketball
Cron Oyster Cannery "Tommy Moore" Turns 100 |
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| The
Sou'wester |
| ISSN #0038-4984
Copyright, 2003, by the Pacific County Historical Society. No portion of this publication may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the Society's Editorial Board. The Sou'wester is a quarterly publication of the Pacific
County Historical Society and Museum. The Pacific County Historical
Society is a non-profit 501(C)(3) organization in South Bend, Washington.
In addition to the Sou'wester, the Society publishes a monthly newsletter for its members and operates the Pacific County Historical Society Museum in South Bend, Washington.
Design and electronic page layout by Charles B. Summers,
South Bend, Washington.
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| The
Sou'wester Spring Issue, 2003
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North River Redskins basketball team and Tri-County Champions, 1963-64. Front row: Dave Schlesser, Fred Holmes, Darius Edwards, Ken Mills, and Mike Wagner. Back row: Chuck Henson, Jesse Cox, Dan Wolford, Darsel Cox, and Jerry Cox. Photo by Dell Mulkey.
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Author John E. Barnes, 2002. Photo by Bruce Weileep. |
Introduction
Recent demographic trends in Pacific County point towards a graying, elderly population. While our future may seem to be focused on people in the later stage of life, it is interesting to note that this is a very recent phenomenon. We have been, for much of our history, a youth oriented county. Immigrants and natives alike tended to have large families, and the school population was often sizable. The first two stories in the issue feature aspects of our youthful community members at work and play. The first story is actually two chapters from a recently self-published book on North River (Brooklyn) basketball teams of the 1960s by their former coach, John E. Barnes. Titled Strokin’ Cotton on the Glory Road, a reference to the cotton nets attached to basketball hoops, John’s book is a remarkable record of a high school team in one of the county’s smallest school districts. Candid, and readable, John’s book is the kind of work I wish was available for all of our local teams. |
The cover graphics on the cover of John E. Barnes' book on North River High School basketball. |
Sports is an important part of local history, but it
rarely is collected andpresented with such skill. Those who would like
a copy of the complete book should contact John at the address found elsewhere
in this issue.
The transition from school to work life is another important part of youthful passage. Leo Millam shares with us a first hand account of his early work experiences at one of the early Pacific Oyster canneries in South Bend. Leo’s vivid memories of the good and the bad give us an interesting insight into the early development of our current oyster industry. I was unaware, until reading this story that there was a Jewish connection to the local oyster industry. Cron and Company did not have a long life, but it helped provide employment during the depth of the Great Depression, softening the impact for Willapa Harbor. Last but not least, we present a logging story by the next generation of Pacific County historians, Bryan Penttila. Bruce Weilepp, Editor |
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| Strokin’ Cotton On the Glory Road
By John F. Barnes
Preface
The real start of the Southwest Washington District B Tournament didn’t begin until 1936. Before that time, the B schools had to have a play-off to see who got into the District A Tournament; or there were sub-district play-offs which would qualify one team from each play-off to go to the state tournament. Valley won the first Southwest Washington District Tournament in 1936. There was no State B Tournament yet. Valley went to Seattle to the only State Tournament there was for all schools. Valley upset Lewis and Clark of Spokane 42-39. They also beat Walla Walla 34-33. Then they dumped Everett 32-31. They won the State Championship by defeating Hoquiam in overtime 32-28. |
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North River Redskins basketball team and Tri-County Champions, 1963-64, with a record of 17 wins 3 losses. Front row: Dave Schlesser, Fred Holmes, Darius Edwards, Ken Mills, and Mike Wagner. Back row: Tom Roberts, Chuck Henson, Jesse Cox, Dan Wolford, Darsel Cox, Jerry Cox and Coach John Barnes. Photo by Dell Mulkey.
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In 1940, Oakville finished second in the State Tournament. It wasn’t until 1946 that the B schools finally had their own state tournament in Tacoma. It was always very difficult for the little schools from the old Tri-County to go to district and do anything other than lose. In 1938, Moclips was the first team from the Tri-County to win a game when they defeated Battleground 25-22. They lost to Valley 45-35, and defeated Oakville 24-21 to finish in third place in the eight-team tournament. It wasn’t until 1941 that Moclips again won against Boistfort 36-30. They then lost to Cathlamet 44-26 before defeating Woodland 38-30. They again took third place in the eight-team field. |
| In 1947, Moclips
again won their opening game with a 31-27 win over Ryderwood. In
1948, Moclips won their opener against Toledo 38-27 and repeated it in
1949, this time beating Toledo 46-30.
Wishkah made their first tournament appearance in 1945 only to get beaten 61-53. Their second showing was in 1949 with a 42-26 loss to Winlock. In 1953, Wishkah lost 53-30 against White Salmon. With two losses in both 1960 and 1961, Wishkah finally won their first district tournament game 56-50 over South Bend in 1962. Mary M. Knight had its first district tournament game in 1937, where they lost 31-13 to Castle Rock. They didn’t return until 1971, 34 years later. It wasn’t until 1956, when Ocosta defeated Mossyrock 63-50, that a Tri-County team other than Moclips was able to win. It was also in 1956 that the North River Redskins made their first ever trip to the district tournament to lose to Toledo 79-59 and also to Tenino 72-60. Up until Ocosta’s win in 1956, Moclips was the only Tri-County team to win a game at districts, with a total of seven wins in the 20 years of the tournament from 1936-1956. For the little schools to even get a win in the district tournament was a very tough thing to achieve and for a small school to make it to the State Tournament was a very monumental achievement indeed. The first team to achieve this was in 1955 when little Labam, led by the outstanding Skip Freese, went all the way to State with a 56-45 defeat of Stevenson. This was followed by a 34-29 win over Castle Rock, then a 53-48 loss to Winlock. The final game was a 53-38 win over Ridgefield. The last of the real small schools to get to State from our district was in 1968, when Boistfort made it. Boistfort lost its first game 54-39 to Toutle Lake. They came back with four consecutive wins: Valley 51-46, LaCenter 60-50, South Bend 58-53, and a triple overtime win over Toledo 54-53. The only other of the real small schools to make the trip to State was in 1966 with the North River Redskins. Most small schools, somewhere along the line, will have a good bunch of kids come through. For a year or two, they will do well, and then they’ll drop out of the limelight for several years or maybe forever. Over a five-year period from 1963 to 1968, North River was able to maintain a high level of performance and compete head to head with the best in our Southwest Washington District. From the 1963-64 season through the 1967-68 season, there was a complete 100% turnover. The guys that finished the 67-68 season were a completely different bunch of guys from the ones that started the 63-64 year. They were able to sustain their high level of success with a lot of hard work, dedication, determination, and a whole lot of heart. This is about the guys that made it happen. This is their story. |
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Chapter One
The Willapa Hills and First Encounters I grew up on a 90-acre farm, five miles east of Toledo, where we attempted to have a dairy farm. It never did really pan-out, as the most cows we ever milked was 16 or 17. What it was really, was just a futile effort, a whole lot of unnecessary work, and nonexistent pay. To relieve boredom and make use of any free time, I cut the bottoms out of coffee cans. Then I would nail them on walls at various locations where I would then shoot tennis balls through them. You do have to develop a certain amount of touch to gain any kind of consistency. This was my first introduction to basketball. Off to the west from our place, you could see the Willapa Hills. The most dominant landform that we could see was Abernathy Peak. You could just barely make out the lookout on the top of it. I used to go fishing a lot at a place called 502. It was a stop on the Weyerhaeuser railroad line where the Green River joins the Toutle River. I would often go on up to the lookout on the top of Signal Mountain. You could climb up the tower, and then you had a fantastic view. You could almost reach out and touch Mt. St. Helens. Off to the west, before you, lay all of the Willapa Hills. You could see the mouth of the Columbia River and all the way up to the Olympic Mountains. |
| I always wondered
what it was like over there in those Willapa Hills. I had never been
into them and didn’t know much about the area. The only time I had
been into the area was on football and basketball trips to Pe ElI and once
to Valley. They were all night trips, so you never saw anything.
In the eighth grade, we played basketball at Ryderwood. It was 1952-53, and the last year they had a school there. They had closed the high school down the year before. Long-Bell had logged out the area, and they shut down the Ryderwood camp. Ryderwood had made it to the district tournament five times. The last time was the year they shut the school down in 1952. Ryderwood was another one of the real small schools in the district. They made their first trip in 1947, losing to Moclips 31-27. In 1948, they beat Ocosta 42-30, and then lost to Kalama 30-29. That year, Kalama went on to place second in the State Tournament. In 1949, Ryderwood beat Ridgefield 28-25, and then lost to Oakville 30-26. In 1950, they lost to Castle Rock 44-36. Then in 1952, in their last game as a school, they were defeated by Kalama 55-45. Ryderwood was one of those small schools that had a few brief years of good basketball. The only school in the Willapa country that I had heard anything about was Valley. They had built up quite a good reputation in basketball, having won the State Championship in 1936 back when there was only one tournament. Valley had finished fifth at State in 1947, third in both 1948 and 1949, second in 1950, sixth in 1951, and second again in 1957. All through the 1940s and into the 1950s, the two most dominant teams at the district tournament were Valley and Kalama. Almost every year one or the other, and sometimes both, were playing for the championship. The 1955-56 basketball season went pretty well for us guys at Toledo. We finished the season with a record of 17-1. The only loss was at Morton 45-43. We were rated third in the state polls and were a slight favorite to win the district tournament along with South Bend, Ilwaco, and Stevenson. Meanwhile, out to the west in the heart of those Willapa Hills at Brooklyn, the North River Redskins were gallantly striving to do something that no other North River team had ever accomplished; to be the first team from their school to ever go to the district tournament. The year before, in 1954-55, North River had ended the season in a tie with Quinault for second place. Quinault then won the play-off game 48-46 to make the trip to district. The 1955-56 season saw North River have its best season in their history. They finished the season at 11-7. Ocosta won the Tri-County Championship, and North River once again tied for second place with Quinault. North River saw their hopes of having second place all to themselves dashed when they lost the final game of the season to Quinault 44-43. That year at the play-offs, North River didn’t let it slip away. With a 48-43 win, their first trip to the district tournament became a reality. The district tournament draw had Toledo playing North River. This was the first I had ever heard of North River. We didn’t know very much about the Redskins. About all we knew was that it was their first time to be in the tournament. They had a pretty good guard who could score well; Frank Sholes. They also had one big guy, Lee Wolford, at center. Having lost only one game all year and being rated third in the state, Toledo didn’t take the game with North River with too much concern. We had our pre-game meal at the Lewis & Clark Hotel in Centralia. Great meal it was - bouillon soup - Ugh! The coaches had steak while we had soup. What a rip off! They thought it was funny. I guess they wanted us to be hungry for the game. Afterwards, we went outside and walked around the hotel, and there they were, the team from North River. As we sized them up, we didn’t know what to expect from the guys from the backwoods. We didn’t know if we were going to have to fight our way out or what. They didn’t seem too hostile, so we ended up visiting for a few minutes. They all seemed like a pretty good bunch of guys. After wishing everyone “Good luck”, we all went on our way. One of our guys, Cliff Sands, said, “They seem like a real nice bunch of guys. Too bad we’ll have to beat them tonight.” |
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I can remember some of the North
River kids from that meeting; Lee Wolford, Dan House, and Frank Sholes.
I also remember a blond headed, crew-cut kid standing there smiling.
I didn’t know who he was at the time, but a few years later, I realized
his identity. That kid would someday become a very important part
of my life. He was Pete Bergman who on June 24, 1967 would become
my brother-in-law, as I married his little sister, Marilyn.
During my second year at North River, Marilyn began doing the scorebook for the team. The first time I talked her into doing the books was up at Mossyrock. Marilyn was our scorekeeper from then on and always did an outstanding job. There were no mistakes, and it was always very neat so you never had any trouble when you looked at it. It always tallied out right when you compared it with the shot charts. One time up at Quinault, Marilyn was sitting at the scorers’ table. During the game, I was sitting directly in front of her, and I reached back and grabbed her ankle. She jumped so much I thought the table was going to get knocked onto the floor. I thought it was kind of funny anyway. |
| Scorekeeping kind
of ran in our family. Marilyn got to keep score in the State Tournament
in 1966 at Spokane, and our daughter, Michelle, kept the books for Montesano
at the State Class A Championship baseball game at the Kingdome in 1989.
North River’s first trip to the District didn’t turn out very well for them. Toledo jumped out to a 27-12 first quarter lead and a 40-27 half time score. It was 64-40 at the end of three, and Toledo cleaned their bench for the fourth quarter winning 79-59. Toledo set a single game tournament record with the 79 points, battering the 72 points by Kalama against Morton in 1938. The 138 total points was also a record, beating the 136 total when Castle Rock beat Mossyrock 71-65 in 1953. North River was able to get their name in the record books on their first try. I graduated from Central Washington University in 1963 and had to start looking around for a job. I was over in Montesano one day as they had a position open. After I was done there, I thought I might as well go on up to Brooklyn since North River had a position open with coaching. I said to myself; let’s take a drive back through the hills. It was a gravel road all the way back in 1963. It was a nice, sunny day driving up that winding road along the river with all the shade and everything. It didn’t seem half-bad. Good thing it wasn’t raining because that sort of changes the image of the place. Anyway, it was a nice drive. I drove past some homes, and with the hay fields all cut it looked kind of nice. I went past one home with a couple of guys standing out in front talking. They turned out to be Chuck Henson and Darius Edwards at Chuck’s place. When I finally got up to the school, I went in. There wasn’t anyone in the office, so I figured this was a wasted trip. Then I heard this sputtering around the corner. I looked around the corner, and there was this old feller on his hands and knees scraping the floor with a putty knife while puffing on his pipe. I asked him, “Where’s the superintendent?” He answered with a grunt and a jerk of his thumb, “Over at the house.” He didn’t seem like he wanted to socialize much, so I didn’t hang around any and walked over to the house. |
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The “old feller” turned out
to be Vic Talley. Vic did an awful lot of work around there, but
he seemed to be on some people’s list for some reason. I think some
folks thought he took advantage of his position. After being there
for five years, I think for the most part they were all wet. I know
Vic did an awful lot of extra work for the kids around there, and we kept
him pretty busy on the basketball end of it. He sure spent a lot
of time working on the old scoreboard clock keeping it running. It
seemed like it was going haywire a lot of the time. When we got the
new glass backboards, he sure spent a lot of time and effort trying to
get them up just perfect. Of course he knew he had to get them just
right because there was sure to be some critics if anything was off by
even an eyelash. Some people thought he was using the school’s equipment
to make stuff for himself, but he never did. I did notice that some
of those same people thought it was quite all right for them to make use
of things when they wanted to.
Games at North River always brought in a full house, and all of those people produced a lot of heat in that little cracker box. It wasn’t long before old Vic was running around opening windows and doors trying to get enough ventilation in there to keep the floor from getting slick. Sometimes you could even see the condensation on the floor, and it could get like a skating rink. |
| Anyway, I walked
across to the superintendent’s house to meet the head guy. Phillip
Manning was the superintendent. It was his first year at North River.
He had been up at White Pass for a while, and I think things were beginning
to get a little warm for him up there. He was looking for some place
to cool off and put in a few relaxing years before he retired. He
was trying to get away from the hassle and people looking down your neck
at the bigger school districts. He thought he had found the perfect
place to lean back and kick up his heels at North River. He didn’t
want any more pressure, to just be able to relax and get paid for it.
We only talked for a few minutes, and he offered me the job. I got the impression that he wanted to fill the position as fast as he could, and the first one there got the job. He wanted to get it out of his hair as quick as he could - less hassle for him that way. He told me to come back to the next school board meeting, and they would have the contract ready. I came back over the Oakville Hill and signed it a couple of weeks later. With that, I was ready to start my first year as coach of the North River Redskins. |
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Chapter Two
Foundation Laid: 1963-64 Season When school started that fall, I got dumped on. We, in fact, had no basketball schedule. All we had was the league schedule of eight games. Two games each with Moclips, Quinault, Wishkah, and Mary M. Knight. These four teams, along with North River, made up the Tri-County League. Ocosta had also been in the league but had moved to the Pacific County League a few years before. North River’s coach the year before, Bruce Allen, had left without scheduling any games. Bruce had left North River and moved over to Moclips. He really put the screws to the next coach by not trying to schedule any games. This really puts you in a bind right off the bat. Anyway, I didn’t think much of him for doing that. It kind of shows a “to heck with you” attitude—not much class, anyway. Most schools have their schedules completed the year before, so it makes it awful hard to get any games. I was able to get two non-league games with Mary M. Knight on December 13th and 14th, and a game with Adna on December 20th at their place. The only reason I was able to get a game with Adna was because a friend of mine, Mel Hyde, was coaching there. I was also able to get a game with Forks on the 21st. Quinault was nice enough to play us two non-league games on the 27th and 28th of |
| December, and I was able to get one game
with Rainier on January 4th. That was it; 15 games. Not a very
good schedule, but the best I could do. Later in the season, we were
able to add one more game up at Orting. Sixteen games; I wished we could
have had 20, but it’s really hard to scratch for games just weeks before
the season starts. Thanks, Bruce, for the effort. As the season
went along, it became obvious that these guys needed to have 20 games.
They could have had quite a season.
You could see right away that the bunch of guys we had were going to be a good team. There was quite a lot of talent on the floor. There weren’t very many of them, but the skill level was pretty high. The starting team was made up of one sophomore—Dave Schlesser; three juniors—Chuck Henson, Darius Edwards, and Jesse Cox; and one senior—Dan Wolford. I got to play against Dan’s big brother, Lee, back in 1956, and now I got to coach Dan. It turned out to be a rewarding experience. Other players on the Varsity team were Fred Holmes, Ken Mills, Bruce Stump, Mike Wagner, Darsel Cox, and Jerry Cox. We started out in practice trying to install the “Cincinnati” offense which was a discipline type of offense. After a couple of days it became obvious that this was not what was best for these guys. They were spending too much time just standing around and thinking about what they were supposed to do. You can’t play your best basketball if you’re thinking all the time about where you’re supposed to be, where the next pass is supposed to go, or when you should or shouldn’t shoot. You’re not looking for your shot or a drive. You’re just trying to run the play, and to me that’s not the best or most fun way to play. I don’t think you should take the individual creativity out of the game. The best teams are able to just read to the different situations that happen out there. If you have the basic things down, then you don’t have to think as much. You have your pick-and-rolls, screens and such, and you just read to what the defense gives you. You might have your basic pattern, but if a shot opens up, to heck with the pattern, take the shot or whatever. These guys had all the basics, so just turn them loose and let them run and gun. We always tried to think ‘fast break’ all the time; get the ball out quick and go. North River became well known for their fast break style of play. With the guys we had, we were able to apply a lot of relentless offensive pressure on opposing teams. With this mindset, for five years the guys would become very explosive teams that were able to pour in a lot of points in a short period of time. It was a lot more fun to play that way and a much more entertaining game to watch. For five years, the North River style became well known and respected in our league and district. That first year at North River we had the perfect five guys to run this style—Dave Schlesser at the point; Darius Edwards and Chuck Henson on the wings; Jesse Cox at the high post; and Dan Wolford on the low post. These guys worked extremely well together. Our perimeter game was first class with Chuck, Dave, and Darius. All three were good passers, ball handlers, and shooters. Darius was outstanding in all areas of the game. He was one of the best, if not the best, in our district. We were solid inside with Jesse at 6’3" and Dan at 6’4" and 250 pounds plugging up the middle. They were both probably not much more than average shooters, but their rebounding and defense put them above anyone in our league. They made us competitive with anyone in the district. Dave, Chuck, and Darius were also good rebounders and could really crash the boards well. What put our game in high gear were five guys that could rebound well, pass great, and run. Darius was an especially outstanding passer and playmaker. His outlet passes on fast breaks were, at times, almost unbelievable. They were so quick and sharp. He could thread a needle and with such a great touch. |
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Everyone told me that Big Dan
had improved 100% from his junior year. He had just been a big, fat,
slow kid who got winded pretty easy. But just looking at Big Dan,
you knew you had to have him on the floor. Dan worked real hard,
got himself in good shape, and could get up and down the floor pretty well.
He didn’t slow us down any at all. Dan took up a pretty good part of the
floor on defense and made it real hard for anyone inside. We didn’t
want Dan to get very far away from the basket at either end of the floor,
so he never took any shots more than seven or eight feet from the basket.
Dan realized his limitations and worked as hard as anyone to be the best
that he could be. He would have a great year for us.
Jesse was on the high post for us. He would give us, along with Dan, an outstanding season as a rebounder. With his long arms, he did a great job on defense knocking down a lot of shots. Jesse wasn’t afraid to take his shots and had a great year for us. Probably the strongest part of our team was our three guys on the perimeter—Chuck, Dave, and Darius. These three could match up with any perimeter in our district. The season started off with a jamboree at Moclips. We played Quinault first and won 11-8. Then we played Hoquiam’s B squad and tied 11-11. This was really a meaningless night. |
| I have never liked jamborees.
They have always been just a waste of time to me. You could accomplish
a lot more with a normal practice at home. All that jamborees accomplish
is that they bring in a little money for the league, but they are a waste
of time for those that have to play in them.
On December 13th, 1963, we opened the season with a non-league game against Mary M. Knight at home. The previous year, North River had lost to Mary M. Knight 41-39 in their first game but had thumped them pretty well 62-36 in the second game. The guys thought that they should win. Anyway, everyone was positive for the game. It turned out to be a pretty normal game. Mary M. Knight didn’t show much offense and with everyone scoring, we had a lead of 16-5 at the end of the first quarter. The second quarter was pretty futile for both teams, but we led at the half 24-7. We scored 14 points in the third quarter while MMK got things going a little better for themselves with 12. In the fourth quarter, we finally got things kicked into gear with Dan and Jesse taking control of the boards. We got our running game going, and we scored 21 points. We ran away with a 58-30 win. Big Dan pulled down 11 rebounds, Jesse and Darius got 9, and Chuck got 7. Darius scored 15 points with Jesse and Dan both at 12. Chuck had a tough night getting started, as he only had 6 points on 1 out of 13 shooting. It was a good win, and the last quarter we began to show what kind of team we could become. This was our first win in what would become a record setting streak for North River. North River’s record for wins in a season was 13, which was set in the 1959-60 season and equaled the 1960-61 season. These great teams were led by Keith Burke and Reggie Mays. The next night we went up to Matlock and buried MMK 71-48. With this game, the North River style began to emerge—fast break basketball, kick it out and go, and good balanced scoring with everyone getting involved. We bolted out to a 40-23 half time score. Darius scored 10 points in the second quarter, and Mary M. Knight was out of it. Darius ended up scoring 24 points, Chuck got it going with 16, Jesse had 13, and Dave finished with 12. Jesse had a great night on the boards with 20 to trigger our fast breaks. The next weekend’s games with Adna and Forks would be a big couple of games for North River basketball. Beating MMK twice really wasn’t much of anything, it was to be expected. To go over to Lewis County and beat a good Adna team, then beat a class A school—Forks, really set the tone for North River. Editor’s Note: If this excerpt has whetted your appetite for North River Baskeball history, copies of the complete book are available from the author, John Barnes, at 90 Artic Road, Cosmopolis, WA 98537, 360-532-0239. |
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| Hard Work and Odd Hours
My Short Career at the Cron Oyster Cannery By Leo Millam
With the introduction of the Japanese
type, oyster farmers needed a market. The so-called seed oysters
were imported from Japan, often on ships arriving in port to pick up lumber.
The firm of Cron and Wehn, a Jewish company, established an oyster cannery
in converted boatyard buildings in South Bend. They had to install
a floor part of the old boatyard building, and establish a loft on the
end facing the river.
They hired Harlan Johnson to be the manager. I was desperate for a job as it was 1933 in the midst of a depression. I was hired to unload oysters brought in on a scow. The scow was moored next to the riverbank at high tide. Tides ran on average nine feet at high tide. They must have copied some farmers system of putting hay in the barn, as they had an iron basket, which was lowered to the scow. Me and my partner, a young lad, used scoop shovels to fill the basket, which was hoisted up to the loft and dumped after a carriage drew it into the loft. |
Cron Oyster Co. Plant from Army Corps of Engineers map of the Willapa River. This is the same site as the former Eli Rockey Shipyard and the present East Point Seafoods. We had orders to not let the scow ground. That did not give us much time to unload, and before we knew it with an ebb tide it grounded. We worked until the last oyster was safely in the loft. The next morning the straw boss was in a rage and fired me! Even if we had not grounded I don’t think we could have moved with the rip tide as we had no equipment and the scow was big and would need a tow boat to move it. We might have gone out to sea with it. In a couple days I saw Harlan Johnson and he said he wanted me back. I said I was fired by his straw boss. He said he had fired the straw boss! I don’t recall the straw boss’s name, but his firing me might be the reason for Johnson firing him. Johnson realized it was not possible for us to move the scow. I don’t recall ever being ordered to move it again. |
Oysters delivered to the Long Island Cannery in South Bend by launch, bateau, and barge. 1930s photo. PCHS #1998.63.24 Now I want to describe the operation of the cannery. If you ever tried to open an oyster you might have a tough time doing it. A skilled oyster opener uses a special knife to cut the [living] muscle holding the shell closed. The cannery solved the problem by dumping the oysters in a steam box, which killed them, and no skill was required to open them [the now deceased oysters, ed.]. The [shucked] oysters were placed in cans, cooked, and a lid put on and sealed. There was a boiler to supply the steam. Lewis Nettleton was hired to truck them to market. The empty shells were conveyed to a hopper where they could be dumped into a truck. A man by the name of Fleanor had the contract to haul them to the railroad, where they were loaded into a gondola. Fleanor drafted me to drive the truck to the railroad, although I had never driven a truck. I managed to get it to the railroad, unloaded it, and left the truck there. The shells were ground up for chicken feed. |
H. Crone Oyster Co. plant of the Northern Pacific Railroad terminal grounds, South Bend. PCHS #9-13-74 11 |
Early 1930s powered oyster scow. The workers appear to be spreading Japanese (Pacific) oyster seed by hand. PCHS #1993.4 |
| The second season they changed
the setup by building a conveyor from a floating dock to the loft.
Instead of a barge, a string of bateaus was used [for transporting the
oysters]. “Blackie” Reischman towed them from the oyster beds to
the cannery. The tides determined the time for unloading. We
often worked at odd hours over night. One thing that helped us was
the pay was changed from hourly to so much per bushel and that increased
our pay. I had a new partner in Kiefer Ledford. I had others,
and often had to get them out of bed!
Another development was that the firm sent a young Jew to keep the books. He proved to be a “sleeper” as he learned the ropes; Harlan was gone. I felt sorry for him as he always treated me well and was good to work for. He knew I was dependable. Ledford and I asked a Japanese oysterman if we could go out one day to pick oysters and he said yes. He used only a boat and grounded at low tide. We had hip boots and went out with a basket to pick up oysters and dump them in the boat. I mainly went out for the experience, although I got paid $5. I worked about two seasons. Fred Knot approached me to help set up a union. I told him I was quitting to go back to W.S.U. for one semester to qualify for a teaching certificate. I spent one half of a semester in Spokane practice teaching, and the other half in Pullman [WA]. I eventually got a position in Cle Elum. The cannery eventually burned down and later was replaced with a more modern plant. Much later I paid it a visit and told them I was an employee of the old cannery when it first started operation and they allowed me to tour the operation. Editor’s note: The Cron Oyster Co. plant was located on the same site as the current Eastpoint Seafoods operation in the east end of South Bend, adjacent to the Northern Pacific Railroad depot. Before Cron moved in the site was used by Eli Rockey for his shipyard. The author has also submitted a story about his brief career in logging on lower North River, which will be published in a future Sou’wester issue. |
| “Tommy Moore” Turns 100
By Bryan Penttila
A vestige of Pacific County’s past
can still be found in many of the high-lead logging operations of the Pacific
coast. It is an oversized pulley, or block, with a specially designed
wide sheave and yoke first conceived in the woods along the north bank
of the Columbia River below Knappton, WA by an astute young logger named
Henry Hoeck. Now entering its 100th year of use, the block and its
many design variations, simply known as the “Tommy Moore,” are a testament
to the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the areas early loggers.
Time is money as the old adage goes and Henry Hoeck was not making much of either on his logging show a few miles below Knappton in 1902. He had five million board feet of choice Douglas Fir to harvest-skidding the logs out of a large canyon to a ridge top where they were sent shooting down into the Columbia in a chute some 1,000 feet long. This being a time before spar trees and high-lead rigs, Hoeck was slogging his logs out of the canyon roughly 2,000 feet in a V-shaped trough made of long, slender logs called a pole road. Known as ground-lead logging, it was the standard operating procedure of the day. |
Yarder and yarding donkey at the (Hoeck) Frankfort operation in 1903. The donkey is a 9x10 Tacoma. Note the pieces of corrugated iron used to keep the friction clutch dry. PCHS #2002.11.1 13 |
Believed to be Henry Hoeck's logging operation at Hungry Harbor near Knappton in 1902. Sigurd Hansen collection. PCHS #10-22-85 (8) |
| There was a problem however.
Near the top of the ridge where the pole road made a turn toward the steam
donkey, a great deal of time was being lost having to pass the butt-rigging
around the traditional lead block every time a log came in and the rigging
went back out. Previous attempts to use a tree roller had also failed,
serving only to chafe and jagger the line. Out of sheer necessity,
Hoeck conceive a new lead block with an opening wide enough for the choker
and butt-rigging to pass through. This way, both the butt rigging
and choker could pass through the block on its way out and on the way in
with a turn the choker could simply be passed around the block.
To make his concept a reality, Hoeck turned to one of the most capable men around, Astoria blacksmith Alex Bremner. The Canadian-born blacksmith built the block following Hoeck’s wooden pattern. Bremner used three-quarter inch thick boiler steel to craft a frame to house the sheave which was cast by Astoria’s Scow Bay Iron Works. When complete, the monstrosity had a sheave nearly seven inches wide, some twenty inches in diameter, and weighing in at around 600 pounds. Hoeck later recalled, “I think [it] cost me about $40.” Once complete, the huge block was delivered to Fisher Brothers’ dock for shipment to Hoeck’s camp. A crowd of several hundred onlookers showed up to view the new contraption. Despite the naysayers’ predictions, the block was safely loaded on the steamer and taken across the Columbia River to his camp. Although the first block lacked brass bushings and an adequate lubrication system, it worked perfectly. When Hoeck installed the block he had already logged about one-fifth of his holdings. “The use of the block so facilitated the operation,” he noted, “that it did not take a great while to cut out the remaining four million feet.” By 1903, Hoeck had moved his operations to Frankfort. He made the necessary improvements to his original block and even had several more made. At least one camp in Washougal also used the wide-mouthed lead block of Hoeck’s design. He continued to log at Frankfort until 1904 at which time he opened a camp at Smith’s Basin near Coos Bay, Oregon. He would later return to the Lower Columbia region to manage several large operations, including Brix Logging Company at Holbrook, Oregon, for his brothers-in-law, Asmus, Albert, Anton, and P.J. Brix. Henry Hoeck never applied for a patent on his design and for some time it remained an orphan. It was not until an enterprising blacksmith named Tommy Moore produced and marketed the Tommy Moore bull block that its use became widespread. Soon block makers everywhere offered a version of the block. Source: “Evolution of the ‘Tommy Moore’ Block.” The Timberman, May 1929 |
An early "Tommy Moore" logging block made by William Ross, blacksmith at McCleary, circa 1907. PCHS #6-3-84-4 15 |
Butt rigging for logging made by Willapa Harbor Iron Works. From a 1920 Gilchrist Logging Tools catalog. South Bend, Washington. PCHS #2000.91.1 16 |
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