Hickory Bill's Tales of Yesteryear

Hickory Bill’s Century of Tales 10/22/2007

November 8th, 2007

I may be cutting off more than I can chew but let’s give it a try. We are told that the Pacific plate is pushing into, and under, the North American plate along the Pacific coast. This is said to account for the many earthquakes in California and the many volcanoes to the north in the Cascade mountains of Oregon and Washington. Some of the prominent volcanoes going south from the Canadian border are Mt. Baker at 10775 ft. and farther south Mt. Rainer at 14411 ft., Mt Adams at 12307 ft., Mt. ST. Helens at 9671ft.,and nearer the coast and over the line into Oregon, Mt. Hood at 11253 ft.. My interest in this letter is in little Mt St. Helens. But, there is a remark I wanted to include, probably by a ‘Washingtonian’, about Mt Hood. Portland is know to be overly free with it’s rainfall. Mt. Hood lays 40 miles east of Portland and “if you look out the window and can’t see Mt. Hood, you know its raining. If you can see it, Its only fixing to rain”. Oh well.

Both Margie and myself were raised in the Midwest and were fascinated with the mountains when we came to the state of Washington. We were raised as farmers and felt more at home on the east side of the Cascade Mountains than on the forrested west side near Puget Sound. We did have relatives on the coastal side and made trips over that way, frequently. We were awed at the sight of Mt. Rainier towering up there 14411ft. almost, from sea-level. That mountain could not be considered as typical of the Cascades as they only averaged about 5000 ft. Even Mt. St. Helen, at 9671 ft. was almost dwarfed by Rainier, though some 40 miles farther beyond. That was up until 1980 when maybe, it began to complain about it’s size. In the spring of 1980, St Helens began to act up. First there was some earthquake activity. Then came a small eruption of steam and a little ash . Exciting but nothing spectacular. Over a period of weeks it shuddered and rumbled but nothing much happened. However in the early part of May, it began to develop a definite bulge on the north side of the peak. This continued to grow and expand. I don’t have the measurements at hand but it was a matter of a couple of hundred feet. Interest was high by his time and we watched the newscasts very closely not knowing what to expect. Then on May 18, 1980. the blast came. The whole north side blew away with an explosion that was heard 200 miles away. Bill and Debbie had taken a college aged group from our church camping near the Canadian border and they heard it go off. Thousand of acres of forest were laid waste. Huge trees 6 feet or more in diameter, were thrown around like straw. But this is all history and whole books are available on the subject. The following account is from the notes that I made while the eruption was reaching our home, here in Ephrata, 160 miles away. Believe me,it was an experience never to be forgotten.

Sunday, May 18, 1980. (Notes taken at time of eruption/)

We started the day like other bright, sunny, Spring morning. At breakfast, we thanked the Lord for whatever the day might bring forth. But before the day was over we had cause to question our sincerity. At Church, that morning and just before the Service took up, at 10:45, a friend, Don Wallace, told me they had just heard on the radio that Mt. St. Helen had blown it’s top/ literally. I went outside and saw, what looked like, a black storm cloud across the south and west that reached to a position of about 11 o’clock.

Shortly after church took up, at 11:00 a.m., the windows began to darken and by 12:00, noon, it was like an early twilight with headlights needed on the cars. At 1:00 p.m., it had become pitch black with ash beginning to fall and a slight sulfur smell could be detected. Soon ash was falling, so heavily that visibility was near zero. The darkness began to lessen by 3:00 p,m,. During the peak, we could not distinguish the features of the house next door, about 65 feet away. We had no idea of how wide the path of fall-out of the ash was but it turned out that it was 40 miles, or more, and we, fortunately, were near the north edge and only we got less than 1/2 inch of ash, where, 20 miles south of us, they cleared 2 inches from their roofs, every place, as well. Yakima, some distance back in the path, had several inches to contend with.

By evening, 1/4″ of ash had fallen. Not much fell through the night and by morning, we were fortunate in that our total accumulation was only 1/3″. Cars going along the street threw up a very dense fog of ash. Drivers with any smarts, either stayed off the streets or drove very slowly. But, as to be expected, many of the less intelligent drivers were driving, as through there was no tomorrow, and if their air-cleaner isn’t in good shape, their engine may not have one. The Highway Department and the Police have lost several engines due to the abrasiveness of the ash. (This was found,later, to be not true, but the air filters were completely pluged causing the engines to stall out.)

Monday, May 19, 1980

The roof, over the shop is 35 X 100 ft. and I checked it out first thing in the morning. I found we had been spared a heavy covering, with only 3/8″ but I spent most of the day sweeping it clean. The ash is so fine and traps so much air that it flows ahead of the broom like water. Yet, the ash is surprisingly heavy. 5 gallon bucket full, is all one wants to handle. When one considers that it has been air-born for over 155 miles from the Mt. St. Helens. It is truly amazing. All trains, cars and truck, service, have been brought to a standstill, due to fear of damage of being damaged from the abrasive ash. Road blocks are set up at the edge of town in all directions, stopping all outbound traffic. Visibility has greatly improved, but a passing car, even at low speed, throws up an impenetrable fog. We hear that cars are being allowed to leave Ellensburg, west bound only, and one at a time, with a span of several minutes between cars;

There is much ash in the air and we have washed it from the garden, trees and roses, several times, today. We don’t know if it is still falling or has been stirred up. The sun could not be seen, this morning until about 9:30 , and then it was nearly obscured. The sky is strangely overcast but not from clouds and the humidity is very low.

Going back to the air cleaners, our boys, in their store, next door, have already sold more than half the filters they usually stock and could have sold many more of the popular numbers. The Highway Department showed us one that was completely plugged with only 30 miles of driving. Most business houses in town are closed, as well as the schools. The local radio station keeps warning people to stay home and indoors. No cars are to be driven except in emergencies. Both of our boys walked to work this morning wearing breathing masks. Most of the people on the streets were wearing some kind if breathing mask. We have been fearful that the ash might be harmful, but it seems our fears are groundless as the reports are negative as to acid or sulfur. All rail, truck and air services have been at a stand still, due to danger of ash being abrasive.

Tuesday May 20th 1980

About 9:00 or 10:00 a.m, rail service was resumed and a couple of freight trucks made it into town. Highways are still closed to Spokane and Ellensburg and some stranded motorists are begging to be convoyed to Wenatchee, where the roads are open over Stevens Pass to the Seattle area.

Speed limits of 10 mph have been established, though not well observed. Moses Lake has forbidden all cars from the streets. It has been, reliably, reported that they have 3 to 4 inches, of ash fall-out, much more than we. The dry ash could be mistaken for Portland Cement, the same color and texture. I just heard on the radio that it weighs 90 to 100 pounds per cubic foot.. Days later we heard that the ash settling in western Montana in the Flat-head area, was as white and fine as talcum powder.

Thursday, May 22nd, 1980

A light rain fell last evening and this is first bright clear morning since the 18th. Friday. We rejoiced to soon. By noon the wind came up to 15 or 20 mph, out of the southwest and the air was filled with ash. Some of the roads are closed again, but not for long. Actually, in our area, The ash caused little damage and worked into the soil in a short time. it seemed to do no harm and neither was it of any benefit. I never heard a report of any damage in the area of the highest fall-out. There has been reports of the mountain attemping to rebuilding it’s peak but hasn’t made much head-way. Oh Well.

Hickory Bill

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Hickory Bill’s Century of Tales 10/01/2007
November 8th, 2007

I have told you folks a number of times, I don’t know where my memory is going to lead me. I started out thinking of a young hound dog that came to our place, one time, when we lived on the farm at Hollenberg. Before I could get anything written, I found myself involved in a Dutchman’s store in Lanham, maybe, 10 miles from Hollenberg, right on the Nebraska - Kansas state line. The town itself was an oddity. It’s main street ran east and west, right on the state line. You might ask, “So what?” Normally it wouldn’t mean anything but in early days of the 20 th century, Kansas voted the state dry, no liquor could be sold in Kansas and that included the south half of Lanham. If south side resident wanted a drink, he had to walk over to the north side to get it. This Dutchman ran a grocery store but also was the local telephone operator with the office, sort of walled off, in one corner. Winnie, a senior in High school and later to be my brother Ted’s wife, was a good friend of the operator of our local Central Office and spent some time with her. The switch-board in our little town was not complicated and Winnie learned to operate it and would fill in on it at times. One day she had to make a call to Lanham. Her friend, warned Winnie that she might have to ring for several minutes before the Dutchman would answer. If he was waiting on a customer, the switch-board had to wait. After quite a spell he answered, rather gruffly, “Hallo!”. She asked, “Is this Lanham?” He barked back at her, “of course! Who da deffel you tink it vas? Chicago?” I don’t know what she thought at the time but later, she thought it was hilarious. I have one more little item that, at least, mentions Lanham’s name. One day while we still lived out on that farm, a fellow living over by Lanham, came by our house looking for a lost, strayed, or stolen horse. Dad assured him he hadn’t seen any stray horse but he asked for a description of it. Dad asked what it’s color was. The fellow was sort of nonplused, I guess one could say. He scratched his head and finnally said, “Well now. I guess you could say, yes you could say, he’s sort of a, yes sort of a humpf color.” Dad was sure he had never, in his whole-put-together, even seen a humpf colored horse. He agreed it truly was a “horse of another color”.

Now about that hound dog that came to our place. It must have been a coon dog. I don’t know if they are used in hunting coon, now,or not. Years ago it was a very popular sport in the deep south. They trail by scent and when they latch onto a scent, they get excited and start baying. It’s hard to explain a bay, or baying, sound. It’s not much like a bark. It’s much deeper and more like a wolfs howl but is a single deep sound, repeated over and over, about every breath. I don’t remember just how he showed up. I know we heard him on a trail, several times, while he was with us probably rabbits, there were lots of them around. I’m sure he could feed himself quite readily. I have a strong feeling that Bernard found him down on the creek and brought him home. He was a friendly little cuss. He was on the small side and I just took it for granted that he wasn’t full grown but his breed might have run to the small size. He made himself right at home with us. There was one little incident while he was with us. There was a young couple living about 2 miles south of us and the wife’s brother came to visit them, that summer. He was a wrestler but whether he was a professional or maybe a coach, I don’t know, but he had all the young neighborhood boys interested in wrestling. I know that Bernard was in on it and he had Bob and I wrestling most of the time. It was hot summer time and Bob and I had a make-shift tent out on the lawn that we were sleeping in. It was, probably just a sheet thrown over a cloths-line. Anyway, the hound had free run and one night Bob woke me up, That pup had come in the tent with us and I was wrestling with him, in my sleep. I don’t know if I ever got him pinned or not but I must have hurt his feelings as he left right after that tussle and never did came back.

Telling about that pup reminded me of another batch of pups. And this is one that I’ve never told before. A neighbor of dad Boice’s had a pair of German Shepard dogs. This was in July of 1930, not long after big stock crash of Oct. 1929. Whether the coming depression had any effect on it or not, I don’t know, but his last batch of pups didn’t sell. The city of Wolf Point, 50 or 60 miles north of our town of Circle, was having a big, really big, celebration. Wolf Point was located on the north side of the Missouri River and their only contact with the south side was by ferry, in three quarters of the year. The other quarter of the year, when the weather got down to a minus 50 to 60 degrees below zero, the farmers could drive their horse drawn, 100 bushel, loads of grain, across the river on the 3 to 4 foot thick ice. Margie experienced a verified minus 54 degrees temperature in the winter of 1929. A brand new all steel bridge had just been completed, across the river, there a Wolf Point bringing on this celebration. As I remember, we camped over night. there. Louie Hofeck, the fellow with the pups, had brought them up there with them, figuring, if he couldn’t sell them, he’d give them to some Indian. He had them in a fair sized cardboard box and the evening we got there he struck out looking to dispose of them. He soon found a big Buck Indian. He opened his box and asked the Indian to look at the pups. He looked at them with approval but shook his head and said, “No. I got no money.” Louie said “you don’t need any money. I’ll give them to you.” He said, “What’s the matter? Them sick” Louie said they were very healthy, he just couldn’t feed them any more. The Indian took them. I guess he thought that while Louie wouldn’t feed the pups, the pups might feed him.

My younger son Bill and grandson, Steve run the parts store door and I go out once in while. Not to give them advice. Thee Smart alecs are doing better than I ever did. But, anyway the subject of airplanes came up and Bill remarked that there must not have been many airplanes around, in the 1930s. How wrong he was! True, there were few commercial air lines, but barnstormers? They were a dime a dozen, well maybe not that plentiful but, if there was a celebrations, there would be several Barnstormers there, Fact is, the first date I had with Margie, my wife to be, though neither of us had any inkling of what the future held, I took her for a flight. I am not through with the Wolf Point celebration but I want to carry this Barnstorming a little bit farther. After WW-1 The Government sold surplus army airplanes, for, almost, a song. The only one I ever got acquainted with was the Flying Jenny. The Northern Pacific was laying rails from Glendive into Circle when Sam and I first saw Circle in 1927 and it was completed and a big celebration was held on June 2, 1928, to welcome the first train. That little town of Circle, with a population of 500, hosted a crowd , estimated, at over 10,000. It attracted a flock of Barnstormers. There was only one accident. One plane came in a little too low and wiped out his landing gear. The only injury was a bloody nose for one passenger. It couldn’t have been more than a year later an air show was put on and I have no idea why. It was held in a pasture several miles out of town. I think they intended to put on the show and sell rides. I know one pilot announced that he would fly his plane upside down and another was going to demonstrate a loop-the loop. I don’t remember how the looper made out but pilot flying upside down didn’t do so good. Evidently he didn’t have a proper carburetor for every time he got upside down, his engine would sputter and start to die. He had to give up on that and before landed a wind- storm came up and it was a duesey. When he came in to land the wind was blowing almost at the landing speed of the plane. It was blowing hard enough that men got out there as he touched down, and were able to get hold of the wings and hold the plane steady while they drove stakes to anchor it down.

Now the next air show we saw, (Margie and I were newly weds, by this time,) was the one at Wolf Point. The Barnstormers were out-classed so badly by a new comer that they weren’t even noticed. The new comer was a Ford Trimotor monoplane. He, also was taking up passengers and, to top it off, on one flight he was going to take up a parachutist who would jump from the plane. I happened to get tickets for that flight. The door was located on the right side and my seat was the first one ahead of that door. My window would open and it worked out that a rope was tied to the door handle and run out and around the right wheel support and back through my window. There would be a lot of air pressure on the door so they asked me to help pull the door open when we got high enough. I was glad to do it and it was exciting. The ’sky diver’ did make the jump and the pilot circled him down as far as it was safe. That was an unforgettable flight. I posted a picture of that Ford Trimotor at Wolf Point at the start of this article.

I have room for one more airplane incident, well maybe two. This was after had moved to western Nebraska. One summer day I was out in the yard when I heard a airplane coming. I never missed a chance to watch an airplane fly. Soon I spotted it coming at not much over tree-top level, and straight for our place. I’m sure (I think) he wasn’t over a hundred feet in the air. There was a hay-rack close by as well as a bunch of mother’s laying hens scratching away at what ever hens scratch for. But when they saw and heard that plane coming, they dove for that rack and in two seconds there wasn’t a hen in sight. I’ll bet they thought that was the biggest old chicken hawk any one ever did see. I never did hear mother mention it but I’d just about bet that none of them laid another egg for a month.

I thought that would be the last but I have one more. Years ago there was a child in Scottsbluff whose life depended on obtaining a certain serum, at once, available in Denver Colorado, 235 miles away. A pilot was found in Denver that would fly the serum to Scottsbluff but he couldn’t arrive in Scottsbluff before dark. Where could he find a lighted place to land? They came up with a field, close to town and they would have it lighted with head lights from cars, for him to find and land on. Everything was arranged and he was on his way. He arrived on time and found the field without trouble however the cars were there with their lights on but, arranged in a circle. He buzzed the field, but of course, couldn’t land so swung around and tried it again but still couldn’t land. But this time he came close enough to them that they got the idea and formed a lane which he was able to land and the child was saved. It looked like they were stupid but most of them had never seen a plane land. Oh well.

Hickory Bill

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TALES OF YESTERYEAR 09/29/2007
November 8th, 2007

I have told you folks a number of times, I don’t know where my memory is going to lead me. I started out thinking of a young hound dog that came to our place, one time, when we lived on the farm at Hollenberg. Before I could get anything written, I found myself involved in a Dutchman’s store in Lanham, maybe, 10 miles from Hollenberg, right on the Nebraska - Kansas state line. The town itself was an oddity. It’s main street ran east and west, right on the state line. You might ask, “So what?” Normally it wouldn’t mean anything but in early days of the 20 th century, Kansas voted the state dry, no liquor could be sold in Kansas and that included the south half of Lanham. If south side resident wanted a drink, he had to walk over to the north side to get it. This Dutchman ran a grocery store but also was the local telephone operator with the office, sort of walled off, in one corner. Winnie, a senior in High school and later to be my brother Ted’s wife, was a good friend of the operator of our local Central Office and spent some time with her. The switch-board in our little town was not complicated and Winnie learned to operate it and would fill in on it at times. One day she had to make a call to Lanham. Her friend, warned Winnie that she might have to ring for several minutes before the Dutchman would answer. If he was waiting on a customer, the switch-board had to wait. After quite a spell he answered, rather gruffly, “Hallo!”. She asked, “Is this Lanham?” He barked back at her, “of course! Who da deffel you tink it vas? Chicago?” I don’t know what she thought at the time but later, she thought it was hilarious. I have one more little item that, at least, mentions Lanham’s name. One day while we still lived out on that farm, a fellow living over by Lanham, came by our house looking for a lost, strayed, or stolen horse. Dad assured him he hadn’t seen any stray horse but he asked for a description of it. Dad asked what it’s color was. The fellow was sort of nonplused, I guess one could say. He scratched his head and finnally said, “Well now. I guess you could say, yes you could say, he’s sort of a, yes sort of a humpf color.” Dad was sure he had never, in his whole-put-together, even seen a humpf colored horse. He agreed it truly was a “horse of another color”.

Now about that hound dog that came to our place. It must have been a coon dog. I don’t know if they are used in hunting coon, now,or not. Years ago it was a very popular sport in the deep south. They trail by scent and when they latch onto a scent, they get excited and start baying. It’s hard to explain a bay, or baying, sound. It’s not much like a bark. It’s much deeper and more like a wolfs howl but is a single deep sound, repeated over and over, about every breath. I don’t remember just how he showed up. I know we heard him on a trail, several times, while he was with us probably rabbits, there were lots of them around. I’m sure he could feed himself quite readily. I have a strong feeling that Bernard found him down on the creek and brought him home. He was a friendly little cuss. He was on the small side and I just took it for granted that he wasn’t full grown but his breed might have run to the small size. He made himself right at home with us. There was one little incident while he was with us. There was a young couple living about 2 miles south of us and the wife’s brother came to visit them, that summer. He was a wrestler but whether he was a professional or maybe a coach, I don’t know, but he had all the young neighborhood boys interested in wrestling. I know that Bernard was in on it and he had Bob and I wrestling most of the time. It was hot summer time and Bob and I had a make-shift tent out on the lawn that we were sleeping in. It was, probably just a sheet thrown over a cloths-line. Anyway, the hound had free run and one night Bob woke me up, That pup had come in the tent with us and I was wrestling with him, in my sleep. I don’t know if I ever got him pinned or not but I must have hurt his feelings as he left right after that tussle and never did came back.

Telling about that pup reminded me of another batch of pups. And this is one that I’ve never told before. A neighbor of dad Boice’s had a pair of German Shepard dogs. This was in July of 1930, not long after big stock crash of Oct. 1929. Whether the coming depression had any effect on it or not, I don’t know, but his last batch of pups didn’t sell. The city of Wolf Point, 50 or 60 miles north of our town of Circle, was having a big, really big, celebration. Wolf Point was located on the north side of the Missouri River and their only contact with the south side was by ferry, in three quarters of the year. The other quarter of the year, when the weather got down to a minus 50 to 60 degrees below zero, the farmers could drive their horse drawn, 100 bushel, loads of grain, across the river on the 3 to 4 foot thick ice. Margie experienced a verified minus 54 degrees temperature in the winter of 1929. A brand new all steel bridge had just been completed, across the river, there a Wolf Point bringing on this celebration. As I remember, we camped over night. there. Louie Hofeck, the fellow with the pups, had brought them up there with them, figuring, if he couldn’t sell them, he’d give them to some Indian. He had them in a fair sized cardboard box and the evening we got there he struck out looking to dispose of them. He soon found a big Buck Indian. He opened his box and asked the Indian to look at the pups. He looked at them with approval but shook his head and said, “No. I got no money.” Louie said “you don’t need any money. I’ll give them to you.” He said, “What’s the matter? Them sick” Louie said they were very healthy, he just couldn’t feed them any more. The Indian took them. I guess he thought that while Louie wouldn’t feed the pups, the pups could be feeding him.

My son Bill and grandson, Steve run the parts store door and I go out once in while. Not to give them advice. Thee Smart Alexis are doing better than I ever did. But, anyway the subjects of airplanes came up and Bill remarked that there must not have been many airplanes around, in 1930s. How wrong he was! True, there were no commercial air lines, but Barnstormers? They were a dime a dozen, well maybe not that plentiful but, if there was a celebrations, there would be several Barnstormers there, Fact is, the first date I had with Margie, my wife to be, though neither of us had any inkling of what the future held, I took her for a flight. I am not through with the Wolf Point celebration but I want to carry this Barnstorming a little bit farther. After WW-1 The Government sold surplus army airplanes, for, almost, a song. The only one I ever got acquainted with was the Flying Jenny. The Northern Pacific was laying rails from Glendive into Circle when Sam and I first saw Circle in 1927 and it was completed and a big celebration was held on June 2, 1928, to welcome the first train. That little town of Circle, with a population of 500, hosted a crowd , estimated, at over 10,000. It attracted a flock of Barnstormers. There was only one accident. One plane came in a little too low and wiped out his landing gear. The only injury was a bloody nose for one passenger. It couldn’t have been more than a year later an air show was put on and I have no idea why. It was held in a pasture several miles out of town. I think they intended to put on the show and sell rides. I know one pilot announced that he would fly his plane upside down and another was going to demonstrate a loop-the loop. I don’t remember how the looper made out but pilot flying upside down didn’t do so good. Evidently he didn’t have a proper carburetor for every time he got upside down, his engine would sputter and start to die. He had to give up on that and before landed a wind- storm came up and it was a duzzy. When he came in to land the wind was blowing almost at the landing speed of the plane. It was blowing hard enough that men got out there as he touched down, and were able to get hold of the wings and hold the plane steady while they drove stakes to anchor it down.

Now the next air show we saw, ( Margie and I were newly weds, by this time,) was the one at Wolf Point. The Barnstormers were out-classed so badly by a new comer that they weren’t even noticed. The new comer was a Ford TRI-Motor monoplane. He, also was taking up passengers and, to top it off, on one flight he was going to take up a parachutist who would jump from the plane. I happened to get tickets for that flight. The door was located on the right side and my seat was the first one ahead of that door. My window would open and it worked out that a rope was tied to the door handle and run out and around the right wheel support and back through my window. There would be a lot of air pressure on the door so they asked me to help pull the door open when we got high enough. I was glad to do it and it was exciting. The ’sky diver’ did make the jump and the pilot circled him down as far as it was safe. That was an unforgettable flight

I have room for one more airplane incident, well maybe two. This was after had moved to western Nebraska. One summer day I was out in the yard when I heard a airplane coming. I never missed a chance to watch an airplane fly. Soon I spotted it coming at not much over tree-top level, and straight for our place. I’m sure (I think) he wasn’t over a hundred feet in the air. There was a hay-rack close by as well as a bunch of mother’s laying hens scratching away at what ever hens scratch for. But when they saw and heard that plane coming, they dove for that rack and in two seconds there wasn’t a hen in sight. I’ll bet they thought that was the biggest old chicken hawk any one ever did see. I never did hear mother mention it but I’d just about bet that none of them laid another egg for a month.

I thought that would be the last but I have one more. Years ago there was a child in Scottsbluff whose life depended on obtaining a certain serum, at once, available in Denver Colorado, 235 miles away. A pilot was found in Denver that would fly the serum to Scottsbluff but he couldn’t arrive in Scottsbluff before dark. Where could he find a lighted place to land? They came up with a field, close to town and they would have it lighted with head lights from cars, for him to find and land on. Everything was arranged and he was on his way. He arrived on time and found the field without trouble however the cars were there with their lights on but, arranged in a circle. He buzzed the field, but of course, couldn’t land so swung around and tried it again but still couldn’t land. But this time he came close enough to them that they got the idea and formed a lane which he was able to land and the child was saved. It looked like they were stupid but most of them had never seen a plane land. Oh well. Hickory Bill

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Hickory Bill’s TALES OF YESTERYEAR 09/18/2007
November 8th, 2007

I’ve told how we starved out in Montana in 1932 and wound up in the State of Washington. Margie’s folk, along with her and myself, settled in Ellensburg, on the eastern edge of the Cascade Mountains. There is something strange about them. They are real mountains and have tremendrious drifts of snow but their altitude is not all that great. Mt. Rainer is pretty tall at 14410 feet but most of the Cascade range averages only a little over 5000 ft. Snoqualmie Pass which often closes because of snow slides is only 3010 feet. I could hardly believe it when I first heard it. I compared the altitude with western Nebraska and found that Scottsbliff sits at 3880 feet. It does come to my mind that when we moved to Minatare, in 1920, we were advised that if we were going anywhere at night, no matter what time of the years it was, we should take a coat as evenings at that altitude were chilly.

I’m getting off my intentions. I said that we stopped at Ellensburg but I hadn’t got around to mentioning that many of Margie’s family on both sides during the “Great Migration”, had given up on the mid-west, and made their way to the Puget Sound near Tacoma. In Tacoma is a lovely area by the name of Point Defiance Park. Both sides of Margie’s parents’ families developed a habit of gathering there now and then for a picnic. Our folks, at Ellensburg seldom missed one. I also enjoyed visiting the Washington State Historical Museum that was located near there. I was particularly fascinated with a display of Flat Head Indian skulls on display there. The thing that amazed me was that the flattened area was on the back of their heads and not on the top, as I had supposed. In fact, the skulls were somewhat pointed at the top. The interesting thing was that the Indians considered the white man’s head to be flat. It was long before WWII that I first visited that Museum. Years later when Billy was about 12 years old, we were in the area and I wanted him to see those skulls. In the meantime something was taking place over on the lower Snake River in eastern Washington. Dams, with locks, were being built, making it possible for river boats from Portland to extend their routes up the Columbia and the Snake Rivers clear into Idaho. Four dams were being built and one of those, Lower Monumental was nearing it’s time for filling.

I don’t have the whole story on this, but a prehistoric human dwelling had been discovered on the river bank of the Snake river, up stream from the Lower Monumental Dam. and would be covered when the reservoir reached it’s level. The site was one of the most ancient, ever found in North America, even including human skeletons dated between 9000-11,000 years old. A great effort was being made to excavate everything possible before the waters covered the site. This was while Billy and I were trying to find the display of Flat Head Indians and failing, at that Museum in Tacoma. I finally found a Curator, and asked where the display could be found? He was very indignant that any white-men would want to disgrace Indians by asking to view their skulls. He told us that the skulls were wrapped and stored in the basement and would never be humilliatingly put on display again. Then he went on to inform me that the Indians had never done anything wrong until whitemen corrupted them. I asked howcome the tribes had fought each other and made slaves of captives? He would not listen to anything I said so I gave up. I don’t remember how the subject of the Marmes excavation came up, but it did and he was ecstatic over it and well read on the findings. He knew just about every item they had recovered. He told how one certain item, an Indian skull, was found with a flint arrowhead embedded in it. I couldn’t pass it up. I asked, “You mean to say that there were whitemen around at that time?” He had no answer. Oh Well.

Hickory Bill

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Hickory Bill’s TALES OF YESTERYEAR 09/11/2007
November 8th, 2007

This bit of history was brought about by one of you readers questioning what it was like in the old days. The Mother of the family had to be very efficient as so much of the everyday things were hand made, such as lye soap, used only for washing clothes. Lye soap was rather strong for hand use. Earlier generations even made the lye, used in making the soap. Lye was made by soaking wood ashes for a certain length of time, then draining off the fluid lye.

This is changing the subject, a little, but who cares? There was a fun time that came around every year or so, filling the mattresses. I’m not sure that they were called mattresses, I just

remembered, they were called “ticks”, and were made from a cloth called “ticking”. It was pretty sturdy material and I am sure Mother didn’t have to replace them very often. The filling, was another story. The straw ticking would wear out in time, but could be replaced at threshing time. They were by no means,” Posture Pedics”, nor were they spring loaded but we kids thought they were bouncy and fun. There was another ticking that the older folks seemed to like, the “feather bed”. I jumped on one, (when nobody was watching) but it was too thin for my liking. Sorry about this but a song just came to my attention,

“Go tell Aunt Roada go tell Aunt Roada

Go tell Aunt Roada the old gray goose is dead

The one that she’s been saving

The one that she’s been saving

The one that she’s been saving

To make a feather bed”

Any way, I got that off my chest. Now, where was I when I got side tracked? Oh Yes! Mother still made our own cheese, when I wasn’t very old, possibly, 5 or 6 years, and still living on the farm, at Hollensberg. I remember watching her make cheese. She used a copper boiler and filled it about half full with whole milk and then put two chemicals. One, I remember as “rennet”. The other, I’ve forgotten. Any way, it made the milk start to solidify and the fluid, “whey” separated from the curds. She then took a long butcher knife and cut up the curds and wrapped them in cheese-cloth. After squeezing out as much of the whey as she could by hand she put it in a press, made just for that purpose, and squeezed the remaining whey out of it. I don’t remember how many loaves she made at one time but seemed to be two or more. What bothered me, though, was it was not ready to eat. I know, because I tried it. It looked about like one of those rubbery eraser, and tasted like it, a well. No! It had to be put in a cool dark place for about 2 or 3 months,or when it turned from off white, to yellow cheese.

Almost very farmer had his own milk cows and sold cream. It was, along with their chicken eggs, the main source of their living. I have to tell something I thought was a little amusing, even after I found he was right. Dad Boice went to an agricultural college in Brookings, South Dakota for a couple of years before he and G’ma were married, and he always spoke of cows that were used for milking, as “milch” cows. I have no idea whether the name it is still used any where.

There was a story told of a farmer bringing unclean, sour cream into this cream station, which every town had. The man operating the station, complained to the farmer, but with no results. It got so bad that he turned him in to the authorities. This Inspector went out to the farmer’s place and found it to be terribly filthy and 10 gallons of cream were sitting there that the farmer intended to sell. The Inspector declared the cream to be unfit for human consumption and to prevent him from ever selling the cream, he dumped some rennet into it, making it imposable to be tested for butterfat which determined the price of the cream.

Why did I bring all that up? I haven’t the foggiest idea. I never know where I’m headed when I start one of these. Something that happened 50 to 90 years ago is right at the tip of my tongue, but why I came up with this particular subject, who knows? Oh well!

Bye now.

Hickory Bill

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