Oregon150 » Oregon Stories http://www.oregon150.org Happy Birthday, Oregon! Wed, 30 Sep 2009 19:03:24 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.7.1 en hourly 1 © orstories@oregon150.org () orstories@oregon150.org() Happy Birthday, Oregon! orstories@oregon150.org No no http://or150.eroi.com/wp-content/plugins/podpress/images/powered_by_podpress.jpg Oregon150 http://www.oregon150.org 144 144 Around the Horn http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/around-the-horn/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/around-the-horn/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:50:06 +0000 Marcia Allen http://www.oregon150.org/?p=1720 by Marcia Allen
Cottage Grove, OR

Upon my engagement in 1940, I was delighted to find that my future husband also claimed elite forebears in the settlement of the early Oregon country. This story is about a young man who “sailed around the Horn”. Imagine my delight in later years to find an article printed in the ‘Illustrated Historical Atlas of Marion and Linn counties of Oregon by Edgar Williams & Co. 1878′. I’d like to share it with you:

Edwin Napper Tandy was born in Christian County, Kentucky and remained there until he reached manhood. He received a good education in the schools of the state, and at age 19 commenced reading law under the prominent attorneys Grey & Knight. Mr. Tandy made such rapid progress that at age twenty-one, he was admitted to the Kentucky Bar. He immediately began a law practice in the town of Hopkinsville in the year of 1851. According to family lore I picked up at the TANDY family reunions held every year here in Oregon, he decided to “come west” and sailed around the Horn, through storms and high seas, bringing his rocking chair and his law books. It was 1854. Emigrating to California, he went into the mines, and as the story goes, “met with tolerable success”. By now, it was 1857.

He came to Oregon and purchased a farm in Lane County, near Junction City. He succeeded well, rapidly improving the land, building good buildings and fences. In 1862, he was appointed Judge of Lane county by Governor Whiteaker, to fill an unexpired term. In 1868, he was elected to the Oregon Legislature, serving his time with credit to his party and himself. In 1870, he moved to Harrisburg and opened a law office. In 1871, he was elected Mayor of the City of Harrisburg; in 1872, he was elected County Judge of Linn county, a position he held for four years. Through all his long official career, he performed his duty and won the respect and confidence of all. On January 3, 1858, he married Nancy Liggett, who came to Oregon in 1846.

The ‘Illustrated Atlas’ story continues: ” The judge is the father of four children” [one of whom was my husband's grandfather Charles Hershel Tandy]. “The judge is considered one of Linn County’s solid men; he has always taken an active interest in the welfare of the county, or in whatever could be improved and benefit the people. Now practicing law in Harrisburg, he owns a fine farm which he personally superintends. ”

I heard at the last Tandy Reunion we attended that portions of that farm were still in the Tandy family. Judge Tandy was a lifelong Methodist, and a staunch Democrat. He was well read and in his advanced age became frail, but retained a wonderful mentality. He was the oldest member of the Thurston A.F.& A.M. Lodge, and died at the age of 96 years.

Pony Express & Stagecoach Routes http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/pony-express-stagecoach-routes/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/pony-express-stagecoach-routes/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:41:14 +0000 Susan Reed http://www.oregon150.org/?p=1822 by Susan Reed
Beaverton, OR

While growing up in Eastern Oregon there were quite a few stories about the Pony Express coming through there. My dad, Harry D. Proudfoot Jr., had a place named Sarvis Springs Ranch. It was 40 mi from Pendleton, 30 mi from Heppner, and 20 mi from Hermiston on Butter Creek. Our address was Star Route, Echo, OR, but that was our post office. It was 10,000 acres of mostly wheat until the government intervened and paid the ranchers to plant certain crops if they wanted to or not, which proves you never really own the land you think you do.

If you rode your horse straight back through the property, it was 20 miles. Part of that road was a section of the Pony Express and Stagecoach route. There was an old building and a corral still standing. The building was the home of the station manager and there were fresh horses kept in the corral for the Pony Express rider. Depending on the destination, the stagecoach occupants could spend the night there. On the hill above it, you could still see the wagon ruts in the ground. At one time, there was a water well too.

It was an integral part of the Old West until the railroad came through with the mail and passenger cars. The Columbia River ships could bring the mail just so far, then it had to be handed off to the Pony Express.

Learning male driving habits http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/learning-male-driving-habits/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/learning-male-driving-habits/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:36:24 +0000 Robert Canaga http://www.oregon150.org/?p=5579 by Robert Canaga
Eugene, OR

My dad enjoyed driving as much as I do. On random Sunday mornings, very early, he would say “Let’s go!”.

We usually drove east and he NEVER turned around and seldom stopped. My mother would see something of interest and point it out as dad drove passed, oblivious. We once ended up at the end of a gravel road far above Green Peter Dam’s site, then merely a deep canyon. He sat for a very long time peering ahead trying to figure out a way through, but finally turned and drove straight back home, defeated.

We often went over the Cascades on Highway 20, always stopping at the Mountain House Café for a hamburger and a visit with the cursing Myna bird. He was trained by the log truck drivers and had quite a vocabulary. Peterson’s Rock Garden, Lava Butte, the ice cave, the forest of petrified wood and many other wonders, waited for us on those long Sunday drives.

We visited all the dams on the Columbia, the redwood forest, all the Oregon coast, Oregon Caves, Mount Hood, and as far east as the Malheur county, always returning home very late, but in time for sleep before school the next day.

Today I drive all over the state gathering wine for Oregon Mozart Players’ annual auction, one bottle at a time. I hate to turn around, and seldom stop unless there is a blue sign nearby.

Twentieth Century Pioneer http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/twentieth-century-pioneer/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/twentieth-century-pioneer/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:33:20 +0000 Ric Minich http://www.oregon150.org/?p=5582 by Ric Minich
Portland, OR

From my youth, having been born and raised in Delaware, the west coast was my dream destination for life. Opportunity arrived in the Spring of 1974 and like the forefathers a century before, our family (my wife, two sons, and I) left Pennsylvania headed for the Willamette Valley. A week before the journey began, my wife had a miscarriage.

A schedule to meet, furniture packed and house sold, we loaded the two children, house plants, and two dogs in our 1973 Plymouth Duster, a “U-haul” trailer behind (somewhat similar to a Conestoga wagon), the Willamette Valley our destination. The family recovering and sleeping in the back of the Duster, the dogs in the trailer, we arrived in Portland, five days later, the same week as Bill Walton. This is the time of Govenor Tom McCall, “Visit Oregon but don’t stay” proclamation. We feared hostility from the natives. Our family was of good stock; soon many good Oregonians (the natives) befriended us. Like many pioneers, our family grew with the addition of two native Oregonians, by birth. We experienced the 1997 Blazers NBA Championship and the 1980 St Helen’s eruption (the two defining NW Oregon events of the second half of the century).

In 1977, using the Oregon Veteran’s loan process, we purchased and developed property in Boring that in fact was part of the last leg of the Barlow Trail to Oregon City. Within six short years, we had truly become Oregonians.
Thirty five years later, our family boast of three Oregon college graduates (the universities of Oregon, Eastern Oregon, and Multnomah) as well as a Mt Hood CC Associate. We have started two businesses and begun the careers of numerous young Oregonians in both the electrical field and special education. In the field of limited energy electrical, our family is synonymous with success (another second half-century phenomenon).

We rejoice, cry, laugh, suffer, enjoy, volunteer, participate, preserve, and defend nearly everything Oregonian. In a single generation, our family has become integrated Oregonians (three native born daughter-in-laws, one son-in-law). Today, our Oregon family reunion consists of sixteen people with more grandchildren to come, me being the patriarch. Perhaps after many more generations will the significance of our family be fully recognized in the longer history of Oregon. Meanwhile, having begun life outside Oregon, we more than many appreciate the natural, plus created, beauty, environmental, and progressive thinking of our wonderful state. We are an Oregon story, because we are the Twentieth Century Pioneers.

January 7, 1979 http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/january-7-1979/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/january-7-1979/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:28:13 +0000 Rose Garacci http://www.oregon150.org/?p=5593 by Rose Garacci
John Day, OR

I arrived in Eugene Oregon, at 6pm in the evening on January 7, 1979. It was raining and cold. The trip was long, coming from the bayous of southern Louisiana. I stayed the winter in Eugene, but fate took me over the Cascades into Eastern Oregon, Grant County, June 16th, 1979. And this was the moment my soul connected with my special spot on earth. The sunshine, the desert wind, the smell of juniper and sage, I knew I had found the place. That was 30 years ago. I still appreciate the sunrises and sunsets in the John Day Valley, I will never take this for granted. My children were born and raised here, so I have given them a very special gift. I love eastern Oregon and while I was not born or raised here, I will most certainly die happy here. My ashes will be spread on the top of Strawberry Mountain, and in the Alvord Desert. I am home.

My Way Here http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/my-way-here/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/my-way-here/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:23:55 +0000 Marilyn Moore http://www.oregon150.org/?p=5598 by Marilyn Moore
Sheridan, OR

The year was 1980, my husband at the time was in the military, and we were to transfer from California. Our choices were Detroit, Michigan or Portland, Oregon. We chose Oregon to remain close to our families. We divorced shortly there after, and he transferred away, and I decided to stay and make Oregon my home. I raised two kids here, and remarried to a man with 5 kids, we moved to Sheridan eventually and this is where the kids finished growing up. Eventually, I sent for my brother, my sister, and after my father’s death, I brought up my mother. Only a few of my siblings remain in California now. As each sibling, and my mother came to love Oregon, they finally understood why I chose to stay and make this my home. The peace of mind, the great scenery, and the general atmosphere of the public was really quite serene compared to California. My kids now have roots here, and my grandsons attend Willamina Elementary. I work in Newberg, have been for the last 16 years, another great town. Oregon is my home and always will be.

Sixty Years Later http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/sixty-years-later/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/sixty-years-later/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:20:57 +0000 Helen Torney Randall http://www.oregon150.org/?p=5602 by Helen Torney Randall
Portland, OR

When my husband and I drove into Eugene in September 1949, we had been married only two weeks. Neither of us had ever lived in Oregon, and we thought our stay would be temporary, a year or two, while my husband worked on a graduate degree at the University of Oregon.

Sixty years later, it’s September 2009. We are still here! We fell in love with Oregon. We never left. When it was time to leave Eugene, we moved just up the road to Portland where my husband began teaching in the Portland Public Schools. I worked downtown at the FBI and later at Reed College. We had a marvelous time exploring the beautiful parks and many things to see and do in Portland. We loved shopping at the Farmer’s Market at SW 3rd and Yamhill, lunch at the Bohemian Restaurant, shopping at Meier and Frank, Lipman’s, Olds & King, symphony concerts at the old Civic Auditorium, plays at Civic Theater, getting acquainted with the Mormon community in Portland while attending church and volunteering at the chapel on SE 30th and Harrison, playing tennis at Laurelhurst Park, having friends over for dinner, movies, hiking, camping, trips to the beach. When relatives visited from Washington or Utah it was such a pleasure introducing them to Portland and Oregon.

Looking back over these past sixty years, we realize what a great place it has been to raise our four children. How thankful we are that three of them have settled in this area. We have been able to see grandchildren as newborns, toddlers, first graders, and all of a sudden as graduates from high school, who go off to college, get married and have their own children. Our two highest priorities throughout these past sixty years have been our family and service in our church. As our family has grown and expanded, so has the church (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) in the Portland area and Oregon. Today it is the second largest church in Oregon. We served for many years as volunteers in the LDS temple in Lake Oswego. Our children and grandchildren enjoy the peace and serenity as they also enjoy the spirit of the temple.

Our favorite drive is still the old Scenic Highway to Multnomah Falls, at any and all times of the year—never complete until we stop at Chanticleer Point viewpoint, then at Latourell Falls, and finally Wahkeena Falls on the way. Lunch at Multnomah Falls Lodge is a treat. As we drive home on the freeway, I often think about this beautiful Oregon country—this is where so many people, pioneers and others, came and do come, from all parts of the country, to see and some to settle. And just think—we’re right here, we live here, and we’re staying.

Call Me Oregonian http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/call-me-oregonian/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/call-me-oregonian/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:18:23 +0000 Kathleen Lewis http://www.oregon150.org/?p=5603 by Kathleen Lewis
Provo, UT

The first mark of an Oregonian is that we actually refer to ourselves as Oregonians. Nobody else in the nation even knows that that’s what you call somebody from Oregon. The second mark of a true Oregonian is a near obsession with the rain. And I’ve got it.

I love the summer sun and fun days at the beach or the park, but nothing makes me feel the way the rain does. I think the only time I find myself disappointed that it’s raining is when I’ve planned an outdoor party (like my birthday party. Sad day. At least we got to play with the parachute). Everybody says they love the way the rain smells, and I do, but even more than that I love how the sky takes on it’s hue of overcast gray and lets out the beautiful pit-pat-pat-pit-pit of raindrops on the world. Can’t you just hear the sound of rain falling in a tin can? Or on the plastic overhang on the side patio? I can.

Oregonians also know how to puddle-hop. This was a talent I took for granted until I moved out of the state for college where my husband and I started dating and going for long walks all the time. Even in the dark I had no problems stepping or daintily (I’m so sure) leaping over the puddles in my path. Meanwhile, my poor, doting hand-holder was walking around with wet feet. I tried to teach him, but to no avail.

Another thing about rain- there are different kinds. Downpour, torrential downpour, just rain, spittle rain (makes me itchy), the list goes on. Just rain, or a good hard rain (especially when you’re already crying anyway) are the kinds that set my heart right.

Perhaps my favorite way to get caught in the rain is wearing a cozy hoodie. I picture myself running in from the parking lot in high school wearing one of the many promotional sweatshirts from the plays I was in. Why on earth did I ever pack those away in a box and leave them at home? I miss them. They are like old friends. So many memories.

Life feels right when it’s raining on the world. Perhaps that’s why I find myself feeling so thrilled every time it rains here in this place I’m in that’s not Oregon. Today about lunch time we heard the thunder roll in loud and booming. I started feeling excited. Then, the torrential downpour began. It was one of those rains that comes down in sheets and makes the spaces in between the color of trees and buildings look white. I couldn’t help myself- I got up from my lunch to join my two year-old nephew on the balcony to watch the rain.

Ahh. Everything is beautiful.

Summer Days on the Farm http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/summer-days-on-the-farm/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/summer-days-on-the-farm/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:15:00 +0000 Susan Wheeler Woods http://www.oregon150.org/?p=5604 by Susan Wheeler Woods
Salem, OR

I was born soon after my father returned from World War II, the second of 10 children. We lived on a farm that our ancestors had homesteaded in 1853. As soon as I could walk, I got to help bottle-feed the orphan lambs in the barn. Soon, I was big enough to gather eggs and feed calves. It was great entertainment to watch Dad milk the cows, squirting milk into the open cats’ mouths, and I learned how to do that too. Helping round up sheep came next; however, the best thing was hanging sacks on the grass seed combine when I was 6, because I earned a quarter an hour! I was rich! A savings account held my riches not used to buy school supplies and clothes. As I grew, I progressed from sack hanger to sack sewer at 8, and combine driver at 10.

Combines then were open-air affairs, with platforms welded on the side to hold workers and a chute. Sacks were filled, sewed, and stacked in the chute to be dumped at a spot each trip around the field. A crew loaded the sacks onto a flat-bed truck for transport to the warehouse, where the seed was cleaned and sacked for sale. I never got to be on that crew, because I was a girl.

I got to operate a wind-rower (reaper) at 13 to cut the grass and lay it in rows for combining or hay, and help with the field burning. The tractor work was mostly done in the spring during school hours, so I missed out on that. As I grew, my wages (and the state minimum wage) increased until I was earning 95 cents an hour during college vacations!

I had other money-making opportunities. At 9, I bought a ewe, a dairy calf, and a horse for 4-H projects. I sold the lambs and calves every year; the horse was just for fun.

Being a girl, I also helped in the house. Those days were spent preparing and cleaning up after 3 meals (no dishwasher); canning fruits, vegetables, and jams and jellies; washing, hanging outside, and folding 5-7 loads of laundry; cleaning; and watching 2-3 children under age 5. I preferred working in the fields, because the 10-hour work days were shorter!

On Sundays, we’d load up the car, take a picnic lunch, and drive into the Cascades to collect specimens for 4-H forestry books. The county fair was an exciting opportunity to exhibit 4-H projects and sell an animal at the 4-H auction. The best exhibits got to be shown at the State Fair!

Harvest over, I was eager to return to school each fall. My savings paid for 8 terms of college. I had learned the relationship between income and labor, and the importance of saving up for what you want.

Two friends , a burned down Capitol and the key http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/two-friends-a-burned-down-capital-and-the-key/ http://www.oregon150.org/2009/09/24/two-friends-a-burned-down-capital-and-the-key/#comments Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:10:09 +0000 Jamie Harwood http://www.oregon150.org/?p=5768 by Jamie Harwood
Lake Oswego, OR

My great-grandfathers were good friends as well as colleagues in the house. One, was the Secretary of State, Earl Snell and the other was Daniel J. Fry, the Democratic Representative from Marion county. Dan was given the key to the capitol by Earl on February 5 1935. The capitol then burned down on April 25 1935. I have the key; it too got a little burned! Dan completed his term and Earl went on to be the Governor. He died during his second term in a plane crash that killed him, the pilot, and the Secretary of State. That was in 1947.