The Issaquah History Museums

The Mystery of the Haunted Mansion

2012-02-11T14:48:00.001-08:00

There's something about an abandoned house that captures the imagination. No one's childhood is complete without a nearby haunted house to inspire scary stories, and offer the challenge of exploration.

We received an email asking about an abandoned house that once existed on the shores of Lake Sammamish, in what is now the South Cove neighborhood. It read:

“I was raised on Lake Sammamish and when I was in grade school, Jr. High, and High school (1964-1970) there was a very strange mansion on Lake Sammamish, near the state park, that had fallen into ruins. As kids we would play in it and make up scary stories as to its origin and history. Now, as an adult I am very curious about its true origin, who built it, who lived there, and why did they leave it? It was located on West Lake Sammamish Pkwy near the spot where there are many sunken trees and logs, not far from the shoreline.

We always called it the "Haunted Mansion" or "The Green Mansion." You could not see it from the road but it was visible from Lake Sammamish if you were in a boat. I believe it butted up beside the Lewis property on the southwest end of the lake, not far from Lake Sammamish State Park. It was lake front property, completely covered in vines and blackberries, but we were always able to find our way to the house by following a small trail from the lake. It was a mansion to us (3 stories, I think, plus a basement and an attic) a brick exterior, fireplaces, and I still remember the flocked wallpaper in the living room.”

We passed the message along to the folks on our mailing list. Many of our mailing list members, and the friends they forwarded our email along to, remembered the house and it's rough location. A few people also recalled the name of the people who owned the property -- Shaw.

Who were the Shaws?

John Nivett Shaw married Gertrude Fagan in 1896, and the couple settled in Seattle in 1899. Between 1899 and at least 1938, John Shaw was the president of the Commercial Importing Company, which imported and sold coffee and spices under the names Corona Coffee and Hollywood Spices. Passenger documents available at Ancestry.com show that the Shaws frequently traveled by boat to a variety of destinations, including New York City, Vancouver BC, Tokyo, and Honolulu. Obituaries for both John and Gertrude Shaw note a Seattle address (1226 22nd Avenue), suggesting that the mansion on Lake Sammamish was not their primary residence. According to the King County property records, the house at 1226 22nd Avenue E, on Seattle's Capitol Hill, is 7,000 square feet in size and was built in 1920.

The Shaws probably acquired their Lake Sammamish property sometime between the 1930s and late 1940s. However, it was never their primary place of residence. Dan Greenwood, whose family owned land adjacent to the Shaws, recalled that the property was "very elaborate, with ponds, tennis courts, a boat house and a saw mill for the construction. You can still see remnants of the mill in the shallows along the shore. There was also a fancy multi-car garage next to the caretaker's (Lars) residence."

The couple did not have any children. When John Shaw died in 1953, his wife was his sole inheritor. After Gertrudge Fagan Shaw died in 1957, settlement of her estate was delayed by one of the provisions of her will. A June 18, 1958 article in the Seattle Daily Times notes that Gertrude’s will specified a bequest for all employees of the Commercial Importing Company who had been there longer than 5 years. However, the company was purchased by Continental Importing after John Shaw’s death. This left some question as to whether Mrs. Shaw’s estate was legally obligated to pay the bequest, given that the company in question was not actually owned by Mrs. Shaw at the time of her death.

Aside from charitable contributions and the questionable employee bequest, the estate was left to Gertrude Shaw's siblings, who ranged in age from 60 to 71 at the time of their sister's death. We don't know how many years it took to settle the Shaw estate, but Gertrude's siblings were of an age that anything they inherited was likely to end up as part of their own estate, leaving the ownership and use of the property potentially tied up for some years.

What about the ghost story?
The story of a maid who drowned in a pool on the estate is well known, but difficult to substantiate. I wasn't able to find any information to confirm the drowning, but there are several other stories of drowning accidents that may have become tangled up with the story of the Shaw family. Gertrude Fagan Shaw’s brother, Edmund, worked for the Commercial Importing Company. He died by drowning while on a fishing trip in Allyn, Mason County, Washington in 1939. There have also been a number of drowning deaths on Lake Sammamish over the years, including incidents of multiple drownings in 1907 and 1916. There doesn't seem to be a clear answer to the question of what inspired the ghost story -- at least, not yet.

Drowning or no drowning, dozens of kids (maybe hundreds?) who grew up in Issaquah reinforced the story that the house was haunted. Even those who didn't necessarily believe the story of a haunting did enjoy capitalizing on the story for entertainment purposes. Chuck Olsen remembers, "My father told me about Shaw because he hauled coal for his house. My grandparents owned Alexander's Beach resort on the east side of the lake. Every summer people from all over the states would come and camp at the resort. The kids were then our victims of the scary "Haunted House". We would load them in our boat and take them to the house. One of my cousins would run up to the house and hide and when the victims entered the house they would be scared to you know where! Just by what we could see it was a beautiful home and a beautiful piece of property."

The Shaw property was located roughly where 187th Street is today, in the Meadowbrook Point neighborhood. Among the many unknowns is when the grand old house might have been torn down. The property was subdivided into a number of lots, which seem to have been built on between 1977 and 1980. A visit to the Puget Sound Regional Archives could help us pin down the years when the Shaws purchased the property, and who owned it in between the Shaws and the time it was developed. But for now, we have a pretty good solution to this particular history mystery.

Thanks to everyone who shared memories, bits of information, or just enthusiasm for the search!

Dahlheim's Meats

2012-01-12T12:30:00.000-08:00

IHM member Bill Janzing recently emailed these pictures of Dahlheim's Meat Market, located on Front Street. Dahlheim's was the successor of Finney's Meat Market, and was in operation from 1940 until 1943. Today, this space is the Jones Agency Allstate office.

Thanks for sharing with us, Bill!

Bill Janzing and stepfather Gus Dahlheim, circa 1940

A Thrft Shop Treasure

2011-11-03T16:01:00.000-07:00

By Carolyn Davis

I have been a collections volunteer at the Issaquah History Museums (IHM) since the fall of 2009. This summer I started volunteering at the Eastside community Aid Thrift Shop in Kirkland. the director of the shop, Jody Orbits, showed me a textile that had been donated and asked me if I thought it was a real antique or a reporduction. My first thought was that it had to be a reproduction because a real 1848 textile would be quite rare. I told her that I didn't know for sure but knew people who could help authenticate it.

First I showed it to the members of the Seattle Vintage Clothing & Textile Club. The club was founded three years ago and the membership has a wealth of historical textile knowledge. They pronounced it to be real and a great find.

Then I took it to Julie Hunter, collections manager at the IHM. As she looked at the warp, the weft, the pattern, the bright colors, the condition, and the weavers mark, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. IHM director Erica Maniez was also there that day and was excited about the piece.

What is this prize? It is a hand woven half-coverlet. The weaver's mark is in the bottom right corner and reads, "Somerset, Ohio, 1848, L. Hesse, Weaver." Erica's internet research found that Mr. Hesse was recorded in a book called American Coverlets and their Weavers: Coverlets from the Collection of Foster and Muriel McCarl, by Clarita Anderson. He was born about 1809 in Germany. His wife's name was Madeline and they settled in the Somerset Township, Perry County, Ohio, by about 1837, when their eldest child was born. The 1850 census listed Hesse as a 41-year- old weaver with real estate valued at $800. The book stated that he used Alsace-Lorraine dyed yarn produced by Michael Kircher. It also noted that Hesse was known to weave his mark in the corner block, including his name, location, date, usually his client's name or initials, and "Weaver." He was active between 1838 and 1860.

Julie determined it to be a half coverlet because there are some cut threads along the selvage where it had been sewn to its other half. She knew that most coverlet looms of the period in which this was made were only about a yard wide. This piece is thirty-five inches wide (the coverlet is seventy-nine inches long.) I can only imagine what the whole coverlet would have looked like. I'm sure it was magnificent! After 163 years, it is still in excellent condition and the dyes are vibrant, although one corner has some damage. If there had been color fade, the green might have faded to brown first. The fibers are wool and cotton or linen. The pattern is striking with birds, vines, grapes, leaves, flowers, stars, and buildings. All the motifs are consistent in style with other textiles and quilts of the mid-19th century, especially those with German heritage.

It would be wonderful to know how it got ti Kirkland, Washington. Did it come with settlers that came west of the Oregon Trail? Did a Gold Rush miner's family bring it to the region when they settled here? Was it ever in Issaquah? Jody Orbits said when it cae into her thrift shop, it was under some other items in a box. Did a family clear a deceased relative's estate, passing on all of the old things? Or did the donor think it was a reproduction? We will never know but it is fun to think of all the possibilities.

Since we established that it is indeed an antique, Jody agreed

that we should find an appropriate museum home for it. Julie wrote to the Ohio Historical Society. Later a curator called and said the OHS has over 400 coverlets in their collection, inluding a full coverlet woven by Mr. Hesse. He suggested that I contact the Perry County Historical Society, also in Ohio. David Snider, the Acquisitions Chairman of the PCHS, was delighted to have this half coverlet join the four already in their collection. I was sad to see it go when I shipped it to him, but it is going back home to where it belongs. I hope the Perry County museum and its audience enjoys it as much as we have.

I'd like to thank Julie Hunter and Erica Maniez for their expert help and for inviting me to tell this story. Jody Orbits and I were interviewed by the Kirkland Reporter and await the publication of this story in that paper. The reporter asked if we were going to take the coverlet to the PBS Antiques Roadshow. This little treasure has touched many people these last few months and has certainly earned its fifteen minutes of fame!

Photo Analysis: Can you identify anyone?

2011-10-05T13:17:00.000-07:00

We recently had some photos digitized and realized we don't really know a whole lot about them. We are looking to gain as much information as possible about the two photographs - specifically, the who and when. Click on the pictures to see them larger.

The first picture in question is just listed in our catalog as "Group of Men at Logging Site with Machinery (donkey)." Nothing is known about who the men are, where it was, and when it was taken (we can guess about 1900-1915.)

The second picture is of Climax Logging Engine 1 from the Preston Mill Co. The person sitting on the engine is possibly Hugo Johnson. There is no other identification.

Labor Day, Issaquah Style

2011-09-01T10:13:00.000-07:00

Before Salmon Days, Issaquah had a Labor Day Celebration. Like Salmon Days, it took place on Memorial Field. It lasted three days, and featured a carnival and a parade. The Labor Day Queen and her court had a spotlight role to play in the parade. Queen candidates were sponsored by fraternal organizations in town, and ticket sales determined the winner. The poster at left is from the 1956; Florence Bergsma was elected queen in that year.

There was also a dark side to Issaquah's Labor Days Celebration. The weekend-long event has been described as "a big drunk" by a member of Issaquah's police force who served in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The hard-partying aspect of the annual Labor Day celebration led to its demise. Although the party line was that the celebration had been discontinued due to "volunteer burnout," in reality, the town could no longer manage the throngs of revelers. The last Labor Day Celebration was held in 1968.

Mystery Artifact from Tiger Mountain

2011-08-10T11:03:00.000-07:00

A hiker sent us the images below, along with the following note:

My girlfriend and I were hiking along 15 Mile Creek on Tiger Mountain near Issaquah on Tuesday afternoon, when I stumbled upon what looked like a large metal coil of some type. It looked like it was pretty old, especially since one end of it was buried in the hillside. It is extremely close to the old railroad grade which used to go up Tiger Mountain, and maybe a couple hundred feet away from the sealed entrance to an old coal mine. There is also the concrete foundation of a historic coal crushery, and also a coal washery (which have been recorded by the Washington State Department of Natural Resources) about a half mile from where I saw the coil. This makes me think it was part of a piece of mining or railroad equipment.

I've been researching and trying to figure out what it was used for, and just wondered if you guys might have any insight? Each loop was roughly 20 cm in diameter. I took some pics and used my camera bag for scale so you can take a look if you want.

I contacted a couple of my coworkers to see if they had any ideas, and they think it could be remnants of a trolley car wire or blasting line.

If you have any ideas about what this cable might have been used for, let us know!

Providence Point: From Chicken Farms to Retirement Community

2011-06-08T12:39:00.000-07:00

by Joan Newman

The story of Providence Point, the spacious retirement community off S. E. 43^rd Way above Lake Sammamish, begins over 50 years ago when it was “unimproved stump land,” according to Brad Best, a Providence Point resident who founded Brad Best Realty in Redmond in 1955.

Best provided some of the site’s history recently, as did E. J. “Bud” Dale, a member of the Providence Point Planning Committee, who has located and preserved a notebook and other materials outlining the development history as compiled by early residents.

In the 1950s, said Best, developed land on the Sammamish Plateau was chiefly in chicken and mink farms, operated by local families such as the Erickson brothers Edward, Theo and Tuano, and Bill and Faye Sween. But Plateau property was selling so fast, he said, that although he created a color-coded chart to show how many times each property sold, he couldn’t keep up with it.

Owners of the property which eventually became Providence Point were retired chicken farmers Earl Miller and his wife Dorothy, and Walter and Monica Gwin. Best’s files show that Charles J. Johnston owned adjacent land and later granted a right-of-way into the property.

In the mid-1950s the Sisters of Providence were looking for a site for a new college for the training of teaching nuns. Best picked up the Sisters in West Seattle and walked the Miller and Gwin properties with them. “I’m a Presbyterian,” he warned them. “Well, we hope to convert you!” they answered.

Because there were no roads into the site, he took the Sisters up Duthie Hill Road and they tramped in on an old logging railroad grade which ran west through the property downhill to Monohon, a lumber mill town on Lake Sammamish until 1925. (The Monohon mill burned down that year, but was eventually re-built and operated into the 1940s.)

The Sisters bought 240 acres in 1957 and built Providence Heights College of Sister Formation, one of six major academic units at Seattle University. The College opened in 1962, combining a college education with professional studies which prepared graduates for teaching, nursing and other specialties. Mother Mary Philothea was Dean.

By 1969, however, enrollment had dropped and the Sisters closed the College. They stayed on to run an educational conference center, used by Boeing, the State Patrol and many school organizations for training and professional meetings until 1976. The property was then sold to the Lutheran Bible Institute (LBI) in 1978, the Sisters expressing pleasure that educational as well a religious activities would continue there.

Other potential purchasers had been Pacific Northwest Bell, which wanted to use the buildings for an employee training center, and the State of Washington, which wanted to train state and local police at the facility. The legislature approved that purchase but it was not funded, according to the Providence Point History Notebook.

LBI, later re-named Trinity Lutheran College, sold 180 of the original acres to Swanson-Dean Corporation in 1979 to develop a retirement community, with a provision for continuing education as well as other amenities. A Community Advisory Committee was established to help with a Development Plan for Providence Point. Its members are listed in the History Notebook as Bob Small, then Dean of Architecture at the University of Washington; Bob Johnson, the retired sales manager of Panorama City, in Lacey WA; and Marty Wilson, a “TV Personality and Seniors Advocate.”

King County approved the Swanson-Dean project, stipulating among other things that Providence Point must purchase an extension ladder for an Issaquah fire truck because three-story buildings were planned, and must provide an “internal transportation system” to minimize the increased traffic to be produced.

Ground was broken for Providence Point in 1983 with Lt. Governor John Cherberg attending. The central “Town Hall,” with property management and real estate offices and a large meeting hall, (and later Stromboli’s Restaurant and now Bake’s Place jazz restaurant) was dedicated in May, 1984. Balloons were released and the Seattle All-City Band marched past. The first ten condominiums were occupied by August, by new homeowners from Seattle, Bellingham, the San Juan Islands, Bellevue, Redmond, Issaquah and Enumclaw.

The first residents were Pastor Erman Lunder, a professor emeritus from LBI and his wife Stella.Their previous home had been on a busy street.”The first night [at Providence Point] was so quiet you could hear yourself think,” they said.

The fifth residents, Archie and Mildred Gunderson, also wrote a short memoir for the History Notebook, noting that the nearest grocery story was “in Issaquah on Front St.….QFC [at Pine Lake]was to be opened soon and new Safeways were something for the future.” Mildred was especially pleased that “one winter morning when there was a little snow on the ground, we looked out our dining room window to see deer tracks and two spots where two animals had bedded down…probably on their way to the lake from the woods.”

Today there are 1300 residents in 1008 condominiums in seven “villages.” The first organization formed was “Communiversity,” which is still an immensely popular, resident-run program providing courses and seminars over a broad range of topics and skills, supported by homeowners’ dues and small attendance fees for others.

The original campus acres are now owned by The City Church. The Sammamish YMCA conducts its programs in the Sisters’ former gym and pool.

Joan Newman is one of several Providence Point residents who volunteer for the Issaquah History Museums.

It's Official -- Local History Month is Here!

2011-05-07T14:08:00.000-07:00

May is Local History Month in Issaquah! Celebrate with a local-history-themed coffee drink from Common Grounds Coffee (in front of the Front Street Market) and a free pass to the Issaquah History Museums.

The Issaquah Alpine: a creamy white chocolate mocha with a mint kicker

Issaquah’s semi-pro football team was named for the Alpine Dairy plant, whose Issaquah location sponsored the team. The Issaquah Alpines won 7 championship games in the space of 9 years.

Squak Valley Hot Shots: latte with a straight shot of Irish cream.

Originally an outgrowth of the Pythian Sisters, this all woman jug band entertained at Labor Days celebrations during the 1950s and 60s. They even played for a Governor’s Ball one year.

Let ‘er Buck: a macho Mexican mocha with a loop’n dash of cinnamon.

From the late 1910s until the Depression, Issaquah held an annual rodeo. Horse races were staged on Front Street, but the main action was at today’s Memorial Field.

Hop Vine: root beer creamosa

Issaquah’s first cash crop were hops, whose blossoms give beer its bitter flavor. Issaquah hop farmers sent their crop to breweries in Seattle. The Issaquah hops industry collapsed after an invasion by the hop aphid.

Stella May: a bold, dry cappuccino with a sprinkle of raw sugar.

Named for Stella May Alexander, Issaquah’s first woman mayor. Stella was bold, brash and opinionated. She was recalled in 1934, just two years after taking office.

The Issaquah Skyport: thick cappuccino with rich espresso dripping over a fluffy cloud of foam.
For more than 30 years, the Issaquah Skyport operated in the midst of Pickering’s cow pasture. Thousands learned how to parachute there, and locals loved to watch air shows. The Skyport closed in 1987.

T-Shirt Designs, again

2011-05-02T14:39:00.000-07:00

One of the negatives mentioned in association with the Alpines shirt design was that the graphics might be muddy because of the size of the image and the people in it. Take a look at this before and after, and let me know if the image with 8 players in it works better than the image of the whole team.

Drive-By History

2011-04-30T10:16:00.000-07:00

Dr. Hiram Rand Corson at his desk, circa 1900. (IHM 72.21.14.176)

I've been at this job for nearly 12 years now, and there are few places I go in Issaquah that I'm not aware of the past events that occurred there, the people that lived there. Now that phenomena has spread to my life at home in Seattle. When preparing a program about his life, I discovered that Bill Evans lived in Seattle with his parents for a time, just five blocks north of my house. John Simon Umberger, minister at the Issaquah Community Church from 1936 to 1943, retired to a small home a few blocks west of me.

People are rarely only of one place. Like coal seams, they can travel from place to place. I'm fascinated with where people came from to settle in Issaquah, and where they went when they left. Because of this, I end up learning about the history of number of other places and time periods in the process of doing local history.

All of this verbiage is meant to introduce one little historical tidbit that I recently discovered linked back to Issaquah.

Willis Corson's obituary
(click to view full-size)

In 1879, Willis Hiram Corson was born to Hiram and Eve Payne Corson in Sharon, Maine. As a child, he moved with his parents to Washington State. Hiram Corson was born in Maine in 1844. He and his wife, Eve St. Clair Corson, moved to Washington State in the 1880s. They lived in Seattle until the mid-1890s, when they relocated to Issaquah. Hiram Corson was appointed the official mine physician; he later went on to serve as Mayor of the town. Although he and his wife returned to Seattle to live for a time, they returned to Issaquah in his retirement. He died there in 1944, at the venerable age of 95.

Willis H. Corson, meanwhile, followed in his father's footsteps by training to be a physician and surgeon. After serving in the medical corps during World War I, he went on to work in private practice at Providence Hospital. He also served as King County Coroner, and his findings were relied upon in several high-profile murder cases.

Corson also served as the supervisor of the King County Hospital in Georgetown (now part of Seattle), as early as 1907. The King County Hospital was a public facility, which meant that people without means could find treatment there. Corson retired from the hospital in 1912. Before his retirement, the street that passed by the hospital was named in his honor: Corson Avenue.

So, if you've ever had reason to drive south of Seattle on I-5, you've passed a little bit of Issaquah's history, in the form of the Corson Avenue Exit.

Local History Month

2011-04-22T11:27:00.000-07:00

This May we will celebrate Local History Month. It's the first time we've observed Local History Month, so we are starting out slow. We've teamed up with Common Ground Coffee (at the Front Street Market), who will offer a series of Issaquah-inspired coffee drinks during May. Customers will also receive a free museum family pass with their purchase.

We'll also offer at least one (maybe more) of the following T-shirt designs:

I'd love to have your feedback on these designs. Are there things you'd change? Which would you be most likely to buy and wear? Either comment here, or email me at info@issaquahhistory.org.

1928 Preston Shingle

2011-04-14T15:39:00.000-07:00

Al Ward, a resident of Rapid City, South Dakota discovered this shingle during a 2001 remodel of his house on Mount Rushmore Road. The shingle stamped with the Preston Mill Company's stencil had traveled from Preston to Rapid City in 1928 when the house was built. The shingle grade was Extra Clears, the best of 4 grades sold by the Preston Mill Company. An advertisement in The Issaquah Press in 1929 advertises this grade of shingles for $ 3.40 per square, delivered (presumably in the Issaquah Area). A "square" of singles equals 4 bundles of 25 square feet each which equals 100 square feet.

Mr. Ward indicated he paid $240 per square for his replacement shingles. The shingle that he donated is on exhibit at the Gilman Town Hall

Archives Preservation Roadshow

2011-04-06T12:49:00.000-07:00

Most of our staff's professional efforts are, appropriately, concentrated on the work of the Issaquah History Museums. But it is also true that we benefit from contact with other people in our field, and we can also help or be helped by people who do not happen to come to Issaquah. A year or two ago, I was in the process of finding the best home for some glass plate negatives that had nothing to do with Issaquah but much to do with a prominent alumnus of UW. We wound up transferring the gpn's to the Special Collections at the University. In the process, I was invited to join the Seattle Area Archivists organization. I have been very glad I joined. The group is composed of bright, professional people who work with archival and photographic collections throughout the region. We meet in each other's facilities, learn about the holdings and projects for their care and study, and have a chance to share knowledge up and down a couple of generations of archivists and curators. Our next sharing opportunity will be the "Archives Preservation Roadshow," to be held on Saturday, May 14, from 10:00 to 2:00, at the National Archives and Records Admistration faciltiy at Sand Point. (The poster is reproduced below, but the print is looking very tiny.) We will be providing free advisory services for people who have questions about the care of documents and photos. Note, though, that we will not be providing price valuations--that's a different specialty. I am looking forward to volunteering that Saturday and hope that some of you will make it in. There will be tours and talks, as well as opportunities to meet with archivists one-on-one. I wonder what the coolest thing we'll see that day will be?

Recipe of the Week: Imperial Sunshine Cake

2011-03-25T15:05:00.000-07:00

Earliest Photo of Pickering Barn

2011-03-24T11:16:00.000-07:00

This entry first appeared as an article in the Past Times newsletter in Spring of 2003. The Reard/Freed house is still standing, but continues to be under threat.

The most exciting moments in any local history career are those when the pieces of history fall together and have a real impact on people in the present. One of those moments occurred in January 2003 when Paul Thomas donated an old family photograph. The photograph dates to 1893 and depicts Thomas’s family members standing in a field planted with celery and cabbage. In the background is the familiar form of the Pickering Barn, not more than a few years old. Thomas’s grandparents, who were tenants on the Pickering Farm, had passed down to him the oldest known photograph of the Pickering Barn.

Mr. Thomas, who is also the founder of the Paul Thomas Winery, identified some of his relatives in the photograph: Jacob and Emma Reard, and their son John. Also pictured in the photograph is Albert Giese, one of the founders of the Northwest Milk Condensing Company.

Jacob Reard was born in Luxembourg and later immigrated to the United States. He settled in Yreka, California near Mt. Shasta. There he met Emma Groat, the daughter of German immigrants. Jacob moved to Monohon, Washington and Emma sailed to Seattle later, in 1889. They were married in Gilman in 1891. They had four children who survived to adulthood: John, Herbert, Marguerite (Thomas’s mother), and Alice. Another son, Alfred, died in infancy. The family lived in the area until 1905, when they moved to Ephrata, Washington to homestead.

As we talked about the photograph and the Reard family, Mr. Thomas mentioned that the Reards built a home on the Sammamish Plateau, after working the land at Pickering Farm. This comment got my attention and led me to the Sammamish Heritage Society’s web site and their history of the Reard/Freed House. Sure enough, Jacob and Emma Reard were the original residents of the home, which the Sammamish Heritage Society has been working to save from demolition.

As a result of this brief meeting, the Issaquah Historical Society received the oldest known photograph of the Pickering Barn, the Sammamish Heritage Society received more information on the Reard family from

a Reard descendant, and Paul Thomas the address of his ancestors’ home. Since that time, Mr. Thomas has been to visit the home where his grandparents once lived on what would have been his mothers’ 100 birthday. He has also been in touch with the Sammamish Heritage Society.

This incident is an example of the value in preserving and sharing historical information. The pieces often come together in unexpected ways, benefiting everyone involved.

From left to right: three unknown, Emma Groat Reard, Jacob Reard, John Reard (in carriage) three unknown, and Albert Giese. IHS 2003.2.1

Remembering Ted Stonebridge

2011-03-19T17:23:00.000-07:00

I can't remember precisely how I met Ted Stonebridge, although I know it was in 2003. I think he called me to tell me about his memories of the Alpine football team. He ended up donating some photographs of the team, which he managed starting in 1933, until at least 1941. He also decided that he should take me out to lunch.

Ted was such a gentleman. I was charmed when he insisted on holding doors for me, and handed me into the passenger seat of his car. I'm sixty years younger and a good eight inches taller than Ted; if necessary, I probably could have carried him to the car. But I enjoyed the rare treat, enjoying social niceties that had all but disappeared by my early adulthood.

Ted was the son of George Stonebridge, who worked as a foreman in the coal mines. Ted joined the Coast Guard and would have been just the right age to serve in World War II -- but Minnie Wilson Schomber, who was on the draft board, insisted that he be exempt because he was the only fuel dealer in town at that time, and was needed more in Issaquah. He owned a Chevrolet dealership in downtown Issaquah for 25years (and was still driving a Chevy at the time I met him).

In 2010, the Greater Northwest Football Associated inducted Ted into their Hall of Fame, for his role as manager of the Alpines during their powerhouse years. Last week, on March 11, Ted passed away at the age of 98. I consider it a privilege to have met him.

The Irish in Issaquah

2011-03-17T01:41:00.000-07:00

Ah, St. Patrick's Day. The day when most everyone is at least a little bit Irish. Apparently, our genealogy database to agree with this sentiment, as some glitch has caused it to rename the birthplaces of several thousand former residents as Ireland, whether they were actually born there or not. I'm going to blame it on the leprechauns, and hope that they reverse the glitch on Friday.

Between 1890 and 1910, Issaquah grew rapidly, as people from all over the nation and all over the world came to live here. Many of them were coal miners, following work. Others set out to capitalize on the growing populations by providing services or retail. Although immigrants from the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Scandinavia were more numerous, a number of Irish immigrants settled in the Issaquah Valley and contributed to the rich history of the area.

Irish immigrants who played a role in Issaquah's history include:

John McQuade, born in County Tyrone, served as Issaquah's town marshal from 1892-1899, and then as mayor from 1900-1901.

Archie Adair III, born in County Antrim, served as both town councilman and town treasurer. He was also a successful saloon-keeper until Washington's early prohibition put him out of business in 1916.

Peter McCloskey donated the land on which Issaquah's first Catholic church, St. Joseph's, was constructed.

In addition, many Irish families farmed in the Upper Squak Valley (the area south of town). Martin & Nora Hines and their seven children lived in the upper valley, as did Michael and Ann Dolan. Martin Gleason. Gleason was born in County Kilkenny, and after immigrating he married Catherine Ryan, the daughter of Irish immigrants. Catherine's sister Mary Ryan wed Patrick Walsh, another Irishman, and they settled in the Upper Valley as well.

Other Irish immigrants came to Issaquah briefly, and then moved on to other areas. In 1889, 7% of Issaquah's population was born in Ireland. Among these immigrants were coal miners, saloon keepers, hotel proprietors, and laborers.

If you find yourself attending one of the dozens of St. Patrick's Day celebrations scheduled in Issaquah and the surrounding area, take a moment to lift a (green?) pint in honor of Issaquah's early Irish. Erin go bragh!

Recipe of the Week: Mother's Doughnuts

2011-03-12T15:42:00.000-08:00

A generous grant from 4Culture is currently funding the digitization and cataloging of several archival collections, include the recipes of Mary Wold, Issaquah resident. Mary Wold had an exciting life, working as a teacher and as a nurse most notably for the Red Cross in WWI in Siberia. Later, she and her sister Sena lived out the rest of their lives in Issaquah.

As I sit here eating my store bought doughnut, I can’t help but think this recipe is the most appropriate for the week. Reading through these recipes and trying to decipher some of them makes me wish I wasn’t in the middle of a huge kitchen remodel project in my home. I wish I could taste test some of these recipes before posting about them on here, but I just have to settle for eating their store bought alternative while I compose a list of all the recipes I’ll try out when my new and improved kitchen is finally installed.

The title of this recipe, “Mother’s Doughnuts” is kind of ambiguous. Our good friend Harriet Fish labeled it as Henrietta Wold’s recipe. Henrietta was indeed Mary Wold’s mother, but I’m not inclined to believe this is her recipe. My main indication is that typewritten at the bottom of the recipe is the name “Colleen.” It’s unfortunate that we don’t have a last name or anything else to help us decipher who Colleen may have been but through research I have an idea.

A good majority of Mary’s recipes come from her friends and women her age. I looked at every Colleen that we had in our Family Tree database and found only one that was in Mary’s generation: Colleen Neukirchen Orchard. While this isn’t a perfect match, I did find that this Colleen attended nursing school in Seattle in 1911. We know that Mary Wold was in nursing school in 1914. Again, this doesn’t fully indicate that Colleen Neukirchen Orchard is the Colleen from the recipe but it’s as close as we may get.

If the recipe did indeed come from Colleen Neukirchen Orchard then we have two options as to who “mother” is. Colleen’s mother was Selina Neukirchen (we do not know her maiden name) who was born in France. She died when Colleen was 7 years old. Colleen’s father, John Neukirchen, didn’t remarry until 1909. I’m not certain that at age 18 Colleen would have considered her father’s new wife as “mother.” Anyways, I really can’t be certain about any of this but I think it’s as close as I can get.

If “mother” is indeed Mary’s mom (and Colleen is just a random typo…unlikely) then it would be Henrietta Walters Wold. We know that by the time Mary was 14 years old Henrietta was living in Steilacoom, WA at Western Washington State Hospital for the Insane. We don’t know what Henrietta’s condition was but she was in Steilacoom in the 1900, 1910 and 1920 censuses. By 1930 she was back home living with Mary and Sena in their home. She died in 1938. This is all interesting, but it doesn’t help us determine authorship of the recipe.

Anyways, now onto the important business – actually making the doughnuts. One ingredient stands out – “sweet milk.” Sweet milk is just fresh milk, generally whole (not non-fat.) When milk went sour in the “old days” people used it in baking, so they would distinguish fresh milk from sour milk by calling it sweet milk.

Like many of the other recipes in Mary’s collection, the instructions are lacking and all there is are ingredients. But as Harriet Fish said in her article about Mary Wold: “Mother’s Doughnuts gives ingredients but no directions…I’m sure [they] needed no directions. You fry them, of course!”

Mother’s Doughnuts

1 cup sugar
4 small tblsp. melted butter
2 eggs
1 cup sweet milk
2 teasp. Baking Powder
Pinch of salt
Nutmeg to flavor

(Note: the handwritten information was added by Harriet Fish and is NOT part of the original document. Only the typewritten information is original.)

Recipe of the Week: Mince Meat

2011-02-12T08:00:00.000-08:00

An Opportunity to "Do History"

2011-02-08T15:47:00.000-08:00

Want to make an historical joyful noise? Then come out to the Sacred Harp Convention and join in singing the music that encouraged some of our ancestors!

20th Annual Pacific Northwest (Washington) Sacred Harp Convention
Saturday February 19 and
Sunday February 20, 2011
9:00am–3:30pm
Mercer Island VFW Hall
1836 72nd Ave. SE, Mercer Island, WA
All-day singing on both days! Registration begins at 9:00, singing begins at
9:30, with potluck dinner-on-the-grounds at noon. No experience necessary.
Shapenote music dates from American colonial times and is characterized by
fervent a cappella singing in four-part dispersed harmony.
We sing from The Sacred Harp (1991 Denson edition), a shapenote tunebook
which has survived in continuous traditional use since its publication in 1844.
Books will be available to borrow or purchase.
All sessions are open to the public and admission is free.
Children are welcome at the convention, but no childcare is provided.
For more information: www.seattlesacredharp.org
or contact Bob at bschinske@aol.com or (206) 783-8157

Recipe of the Week: Aunt Lucy's Brown Bread

2011-02-04T13:56:00.000-08:00

Recipe of the Week: Most of the Garden

2011-01-21T14:22:00.000-08:00

A generous grant from 4Culture is currently funding the digitization and cataloging of several archival collections, include the recipes of Mary Wold, Issaquah resident. Mary Wold had an exciting life, working as a teacher and as a nurse most notably for the Red Cross in WWI in Siberia. Later, she and her sister Sena lived out the rest of their lives in Issaquah.

Food is always a subject that peaks interest. What we eat and how we prepare it changes so quickly – think of what you grew up eating, is it something you still prepare? I’m currently sorting out and digitizing some recipes that have been in our collection for awhile. The ones I’ve first started on are from a box of recipes from Mary Wold that came into the possession of Harriet Fish.

We have an article written by Harriet Fish to go along with the recipes – the article describes what she first found when she opened the box. Unfortunately, what we have now doesn’t match Harriet’s article - not completely anyways. Recipes are missing and Harriet seems to have added her own. Luckily, we have determined which are the originals to the box and which are the extras added at a later date.

But the recipes that are missing are the ones that intrigue me the most. They are mostly main dishes and include such titles at “Codfish a la Mode” and “Welsh Rarebit.” But there are some good ones that remain. I’d like to begin a series of posts containing a recipe and the women behind them as each recipe generally has an old Issaquah name attached to it.

The first recipe is called “Most of the Garden.” The recipe is handwritten on a piece of paper and slowly wearing thin. I chose it as the first recipe because of its fragility (I wanted to digitize it right away) and because it sounds delicious. It’s a sort of relish and indeed uses “most of the garden.” There is no attribution on the recipe and Harriet doesn’t say in her article if she knows who wrote it. Nevertheless, I hope to try the recipe myself one of these days.

Most of the Garden

1 c sweet peppers (half green and half red)
1 c cucumbers
1 c onions
2 small hot red peppers
1 c chopped celery
2 c green tomatoes
2 T white mustard seed
1 qt. string beans
1 c dry kidney beans
1 c dry lima beans
1 c carrots

Put all but beans through medium food grinder.
Dissolve ½ cup salt in 1 qt. water and pour over this ground mixture – not the beans.
Let stand over nite and drain.
Soak kidney and lima beans a few hours then cook until done. Cook the string beans.
Make a syrup of 2 c sugar and 2 c vinegar.
Combine all ingredients and cook 10 min after it begins to boil.
Seal boiling hot.
Delicious relish.

Holiday Open House a Great Success!

2010-12-15T10:24:00.000-08:00

For those of you who attended the Holiday Open House on December 4th at the train depot, kudos on you - fun was being had by all. For those of you who missed this delightful event, please join us next year for unforgettable joyfulness!

We provided a jolly Santa who happily had his picture taken with his admirers. Parents were encouraged to bring their cameras to record these happenings. Live music from the Essie Blue Band set our toes to tapping, children made ornaments fashioned after the old time originals, crafters offered their homemade items for sale, and delicious homemade cookies were for the asking. All this and no admission charge!

The Issaquah History Museums has been holding Holiday Open Houses since 2005. We look forward to seeing you December 3, 2011.

The Importance of Being Meticulous

2010-12-12T08:00:00.000-08:00

In this blog post are scans from Ruth Johns Anderson’s personal photo album. They are currently being cataloged into our database and perfectly illustrate how taking the time to label your photographs now can make a difference in years to come.

The most frustrating thing for me is when am faced with a photograph with no indication of those four important things: who, what, when and where. It’s usually a wonderful photograph, in-focus with an interesting subject, stacked right in the middle of a bunch of other photographs that have been overly labeled. More interesting than trying to figure out the provenance of the picture is why someone took the time to label all the others and not this one. Where did it come from and why is it here?

Here at the museum, we often run into this problem – a photo that isn’t labeled or is mislabeled. Between all of us, and sometimes the help of members, we are able to identify people fairly easily. But there are those pictures we can’t identify – and we may never be able to.

The most important factor in labeling a picture is just putting a name down. First and last names if you know them. Any other information will be well appreciated. I determined everyone in a personal family album because I knew the original owner of the album and could therefore figure out who she meant by “Aunt and Uncle” and “Cousin.” And don’t forget to label yourself! These photos will not always be in your possession.

Try and take the time now to fill in the other “W”s: What is going on in the picture? When was it taken? Where is the place in the picture? I can assure you this information will be well appreciated in the future.

Digital photos pose a bit more of a conundrum – it’s not as easy as taking a Sharpie to the back of the picture. Thankfully, there are easy options:

1. Windows actually has a built in system for labeling your photos. Your digital camera should automatically embed the date taken into the picture but once you have uploaded your photos onto your computer you can then begin to add details. In Windows 7 it’s as easy as single-clicking on the picture – this will bring up a bar in the bottom of your window where you can then begin to add details such as “Date taken”, “Title”, “Tags”, and even “Rating”. The information you enter then becomes embedded into your picture file.

In previous versions of Windows it’s as easy as right-clicking on the picture and selecting “Properties.” In there you’ll find fields to enter in information.

2. Windows also provides Windows Media Center as a program to organize and detail your photos. There are also programs available for download on the internet. Here is a site that provides some options with a summary of each: http://graphicssoft.about.com/od/imagemanagementwin/tp/thumbbrowse.htm

I am not an Apple user but I imagine there are similar options available.

3. There are many photo sharing sites available online. I feel like this is a fine option for now – but I’m not sure how far in the future these programs will be available. But at least it’s another way to store your photos.

Honestly, I feel a little shaky on the stability of digital photos. I’m not a doomsday type of person at all, but I wonder what would happen if all the technology we currently use just went away. If you’re as anxious as I am about this, your best option (although most time consuming) would be to have all the pictures you couldn’t bear to lose professionally printed. Then you could easily label the back of those and keep them safe.

The other side of that is to digitize your heirloom photographs. In the case of a non-doomsday scenario, your best bet is to have a CD of digital copies of all your photographs (old and new) and to keep them in a waterproof, fireproof safe in your home.

I would go so far as to recommend you do all of the above for photographs that you really care about. This way you ensure that your photos will remain safe. Just make sure they’re labeled!

If you’d like more information on this topic as well as how to properly care for your family heirlooms, Issaquah History Museums will be offering a program on “Preserving Family Photos and Heirlooms” on Saturday, January 15, 2011 at 11am. The program is FREE to the general public. Please visit http://www.issaquahhistory.org/ and click on the link at the top of the page for more information.

So Ya Wanna Do Some Research?

2010-12-09T12:24:00.000-08:00

In this day of internet access to a huge variety of information, it is tempting to think that we can find out everything we ever want to know online. And it is true that, between government record sites, library information sites, electronic newspaper archives and for-profit research sites such as Ancestry.com, we can learn more in an evening in front of our computer screens than we used to be able to dig out in a week of traveling to assorted repositories and hoping that we asked for the right materials. (Trust me on this--I remember when the old-fashioned way of doing the research was the only way.)

For serious researchers, the new tools are wonderful, but they do not completely replace the older methods. Nor is it likely that they will do so any time soon. There is so much information available that complete digitzation of research notes, books, and other resources can only be a very long term goal. This is why the Issaquah History Museums maintains, and continue to add to, the David J. Horrocks Memorial Research Center.

Named for the late David Horrocks, whose personal research files included thousands of carefully labeled photographs taken throughout Issaquah's civic history, the Research Center is located in the historic Gilman Town Hall, with our offices. The space is small, but the information holdings are rich. Along with Mr. Horrocks' visual records of the area, there are books of Issaquah History, as well as more general works about Washington History, mining history, lumbering, agriculture, and social history. Some of the volumes of biographies were contemporary when they were published--a century or so ago. There are indicies and collections of local obituaries from the twentieth century. Genealogists can find many leads in the vertical files organized by family. Many years of the Issaquah Press are available on microfilm, and we maintain the machine to view the microfilms. We have paper copies of other local publications from Issaquah, as well as many of the Issaquah High School yearbooks and even a few of the Junior High's "Lightnin'." There are information sheets from surveys of residential properties, copies of official town records and building permits, and keys for tracking through Issaquah's several rounds of changing street names.

A couple of years ago, we completed a major reorganization of the clipping files that had been accumulating for over twenty years. We sorted all of the old loose files by subject, consolidating and eliminating redundancies, and built new topical notebooks. We then indexed the topics and entered the information into our collections management software so that these materials are just as readily findable as are our books and official records. The notebook format allows us to continue to add new articles and write-ups while maintaining order and accessibility. Topics include a wide variety of the happenings in Issaquah over the years, from mayors to parks to pageants and celebrations to businesses. The sixty-two notebooks filled thus far hold a wealth of information.

When we combine the Research Center materials with our other archival holdings, which include thousands of photographs and hundreds of maps, a uniquely comprehensive view of Issaquah and its environs and inhabitants over the last century and a half emerges. This is the kind of research result that is aided by the wonderful indexing and tracking capabilites of the computer but that still can only be put together in person.

If you have research questions about the history of Issaquah and the people who have lived here, you are welcome to come into the Gilman Town Hall during our open hours, 11:00 to 3:00, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. You can also email (collections@issaquahhistory.org) or call ahead (425-392-3500) to check on whether your topic is covered in our holdings or to make an appointment for an alternative time if you are unable to come in during the open hours.

Photo Analysis: What Roads are These?

2010-11-19T16:10:00.000-08:00

We recently got a call from someone who purchased Images of America: Issaquah, WA, a pictorial history of Issaquah that we published several years ago. He was fascinated with this picture, and called to see if we could help him figure out what roads are pictured (one runs straight from left to right, and the other curves through the lower left of the frame).

Our catalog notes indicate tht the picture was taken in September of 1943 by William Conway. The picture was taken from Squak Mountain. In the center of the picture is Tibbett's & Sutter's gravel pit. The straight road in the background is Highway 10, and the house at right (in distance) is probably the Barlow Farm.

But as the caller and I looked at the picture, we both agreed that if the two roads in the image were Highway 10 and Newport Way, than the photo must have been taken from Tiger Mountain. Right?

On the other hand... another note in the catalog indicates that the image might be reversed, and the original image might look more like this:

What do you think?

Women's Voices, Women's Votes

2010-11-17T12:01:00.000-08:00

Many thanks to photographer Bruce Tom and 4Culture for capturing the October 6 performance of Women's Voices, Women's Votes! You can see photos from the performance here and here. More than 70 people attended the performance, which is part of our Celebration of the Centenial of Suffrage.

Up Front Opening

2010-11-10T14:31:00.000-08:00

The Lewis Hardware store was in business for 100 years and was a place where you could always find that unusual size of screw or bolt that was a challenge to locate anywhere else. Unfortunately competing with big business took its toll and Steve White reluctantly closed Lewis' doors in 2007.

Happily an enthusiastic group of artists - artEast - viewed the empty store as an opportunity to relocate its Up Front Gallery from its cozy but crowded location to the larger building across the street. In this way the historic building would be preserved, and the artists would have a new home housing not only their pieces of art, but room for a community art center to blossom. It was hoped that Steve White, an artist himself, would be pleased with this new use of a local Issaquah landmark.

On November 5th and 6th visitors flocked to the grand opening of the new Up Front Gallery and store. Speeches were made, art was viewed and sold, live music abounded, delicious food consumed and a good time was had by all. Indeed a happy story and one that promises to continue promoting art in Issaquah and preserving its history.

We are very happy that this building filled with old memories is now a place where new memories will be created.

For more information see the article in the Issaquah Reporter.

Touching History

2010-11-10T14:22:00.000-08:00

I credit my father with sowing the seeds of my career choice. He was a history teacher, and traveling across America with him in the '60s was like traveling with my own personal tour guide. It was an era when most children from rural Maine, where we lived, went on very few school field trips, but as we drove through long stretches with no exterior entertainment but the scenery and scratchy AM radio music, he would tell me about what had happened in those places. I still have vague memories of General Mad Anthony Wayne in the Revolution in New York, and there are pictures of me standing in the rain at Little Big Horn and in the sun in the ruts of the Oregon Trail where it crossed into Kansas. I was fascinated, and I kept imagining what it would have been like to be part of the events that these places had hosted. I desperately wanted a time machine.

Probably the day that sealed my decision to work in museums, rather than in formal academia, came during the summer that I was eight. Not that I knew it then, but here's what happened.

We were in North Dakota, and it had been a hard day. On our way between Grand Forks and Mount Rushmore, we either got lost, or there were no good roads. The gravel washboard that we'd spent the morning driving over had done a number on my little girl's stomach, and car sickness won. My mother got out and walked with me until I could deal with the car again, but I was pretty bedraggled. Late in the day, we arrived in a town called Medora. There was a house museum in town, and we were all eager for an interesting reason to get out of the car. So we stopped at the Chateau de Mores. They were about to close, but it had been a quiet day, and we had four people willing to pay for a tour, so the guides on duty gave us a very personal one. Medora de Mores had been a wealthy woman, and she had fine things even in her summer house in the Badlands in the 1880s. When she stopped summering there, she left almost everything behind. What I actually remember from that day in 1965 are her square piano (they let me play some of my careful beginning piano student music on it), her many travel trunks (I always like to pack plenty of wardrobe, and they could have packed me and my clothes and dolls and books in any of several of those behemoths!), and her side saddle (which they let me sit on). As a museum professional who is dedicated to preserving the artifacts and documents that show us the past, I am horrified by how much contact they let me have with the original artifacts. But the truth is, it is the things I could touch that I experienced most fully that day. The lesson I learned that revealed itself over time was that nothing replaces being in the real setting, with the real things, that defined the parameters of the happenings of the past.

So how does this apply to here and now in the Issaquah History Museums? We preserve and share real buildings where key parts of Issaquah's history happened. The Gilman Town Hall was here before the town became "Issaquah," and it housed not only early town decision making, but also early elementary scholars. It continues in that tradition, holding exhibits that share and explain the development of this community from the days of the Native American inhabitants to the present. It has many "hands on" features that let visitors have the opportunity to connect physically with the ways in which people carried out the tasks of their lives before they had today's tools. The 1920s jail still stands in the back yard, and visitors can go inside. The Depot is located a couple of blocks away, between the train tracks, where it facilitated the relatively easy connection between local daily life and the rest of the world. You could ride the train north a stop or two to Monohon to work in the mill, or you could take it to connect to Seattle and boats across the Pacific. You could ship coal out or milk in on the trains, and the mail came more than once a day. Today's visitors can experience the spaces that housed the commercial and transit hub of the community. They can try the telegraph, too, using the fastest communication method of its day. They can climb aboard the caboose, and they can visit the diorama in the Army Car to see how the train connected a variety of places in this part of the world. Next year they will be able to board the Trolley for a ride through the center of town.

One of the ways in which we share these physical legacies is through providing tours to school groups. Our school tours are tailored for the ages involved, and we can do them for any group from pre-school to senior high. The tours provide an enjoyable personal connection to the history of this place where we now live our twenty-first century lives. There are groups who come every year, but we would like to share this experience with more students. We know that teachers at all levels must fulfill specific curriculum needs, and we work to ensure that our offerings will help that effort and be a good and effective use of their class time. The cost of bussing students to visit on location can also be an issue, but there may be funds available to underwrite this kind of personal local learning experience.

Please contact us if you want to discuss scheduling a tour or any of the logistics of doing so. We want to make Issaquah's history available and engaging to all ages. When you touch history, sometimes history touches you.

Hot Riveting

2010-09-18T15:00:00.000-07:00

This post at the Northwest Railway Museum's blog shows some of the recent progress on caboose repairs. A video also shows how hot riveting was used to repair the side of the car.

Shell Shock in WWI

2010-08-07T08:00:00.000-07:00

A generous grant from 4Culture is currently funding the digitization and cataloging of several archival collections, including the letters of Minnie Wilson and Jake Schomber, Issaquah residents and sweetheart. The couple corresponded during World War I, when Jake was serving in the Army. This post is part of a series of posts about their lives and letters.

Finishing up in the series about Minnie and Jake is a different sort of letter. This letter was written to Jake post-WWI from an Army friend, H.J. Hurd, and is dated November 6, 1919. This was only a couple of weeks after Jake arrived home to Issaquah.

When I first started reading the letter, I thought it would be interesting to have an insight into what Jake's relationship was with the men in his company - particularly people he was close to during his experience "over there." The letter quickly delved into something different and I soon realized that H.J. Hurd was suffering from some sort of depression caused by his time in service.

This is the second paragraph from the letter:

"Well Jake old man, Liberty is sure a great thing but honest I’m lost since I came out of the service, don’t know what I want or anything, I stopped in Port[land] till Thurs night when I came from Lewis, got home Fri. morn. Went to work the next Monday but am lost all the time. I’m not interested in any thing don’t mind to work or anything like that, and don’t want to go off the ranch for any thing and haven’t very much either haven’t saw hardly anyone as I have stuck close to home, and haven’t had to tell much for I don’t talk much about my experience and I find there has been so much told that the best thing I can do is keep still."

During WWI many soldiers experienced what was known as "shell shock." Similar to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, shell shock is now called Combat Stress Reaction. Symptoms of CSR include: loss of initiative with fatigue, depression, extreme feeling of losing control, loss of adaptability, confusion and mistrust of others. There are many other symptoms, but Jake's friend seems to fit the bill.

From paragraph three of the letter:

"Well I’m out of the notion Jake, don’t want any girls or any thing else. I don’t know what is the matter with me wouldn’t be surprised if I ended in the Army again for all I hated it while there but I’ll tell you there is some thing radically wrong some place. I can’t figure where it is but I’m not satisfied and don’t know what I want. If every one feels like I do there are sure a lot of fellows that are on the bum right since the War believe me. I’m no good to my self or any one else. Guess I saw to many bright lights and ect."

This letter made me curious and a bit worried about H.J. Hurd's future. Through some digging on Ancestry.com (my favorite thing to do) I found that Henry Jay Hurd, Jake's friend, was born January 5, 1889 - only 3 years younger than Jake. I found both his WWI draft registration and a WWII draft registration. I couldn't find any information on him being enlisted in WWII. He married about 5 years after he sent this letter - to a woman named Veva who was 11 years younger than him. In 1930 they were living in Portland. He worked as a mechanic and she as a grocery store clerk.

The letter ends with:

"Well you old ex cpl I would like to see you pretty well, I’ll tell the world of all my buddies, I had rather see you than any of them and I sure miss you old man. We were pretty good friends at that weren’t we?

Well I will bring this to a close hoping that you are well and better satisfied than I am. Write soon to your Old Buddy.

H.J. Hurd
Pilot Rock,
Ore."

It seems through my research that Henry was able to get out of his "shell shock" but I wonder if he and Jake were ever able to meet-up again. I wonder if Jake was worried when he received this letter. I wonder if Jake ever experienced anything like this after he arrived home.

In my research of shell shock during WWI I discovered that in 2006 there were 300 British soldiers that were granted posthumous pardons for cowardice. These men were executed during WWI when they were discovered to have deserted. Through research and family campaigning it was discerned that a great deal of these men had deserted because they were suffering from shell shock.

The US Military did not execute for desertion after the American Civil War until World War II. Around 50 men were sentenced to execution for desertion but only one was carried out on Private Eddie Slovik. It is not clear if Eddie Slovik suffered any sort of PTSD, but he did experience combat and was later sent to the front lines. That is when he was found with evidence of intention to desert.

Click here for a link to a page with more information regarding the British pardon and executions for cowardice on men suffering shell shock.

Here are the scans of Henry Jay Hurd's letter to Jake Schomber:

William Pickering's Farm

2010-08-03T13:54:00.000-07:00

Robert Pickering tells the story of how his great-grandfather, Washington Territorial Governor William Pickering, established the Pickering Farm. This story is one of dozens that make up the Oral History Video Project. The two-DVD set is now on sale on our web site

Issaquah's Skyport

2010-08-02T13:52:00.000-07:00

Another in a series of clips from Issaquah's Oral History Video Project. Issaquah History Museums Director Erica Maniez relates the history of Issaquah's Skyport between 1945 and 1961. The Skyport was a part of Issaquah until the early 1980s.

The full-length video can be purchased at our website.

Inge Johnson: One Man Show

2010-08-01T13:42:00.000-07:00

Today the City of Issaquah has a Public Works staff of at least 20 people. In the 1960s, the Public Works Department was a man named Inge Johnson. Inge's name came up in a number of our oral histories, one of Issaquah's cast of characters. You can buy the full-length video on our web site.

Jake Schomber's Nieces

2010-07-31T08:00:00.000-07:00

A generous grant from 4Culture is currently funding the digitization and cataloging of several archival collections, including the letters of Minnie Wilson and Jake Schomber, Issaquah residents and sweetheart. The couple corresponded during World War I, when Jake was serving in the Army. This post is part of a series of posts about their lives and letters.

After finishing the cataloging of the letters between Jake Schomber and Minnie Wilson, I came across some miscellaneous letters written to Jake during WWI. This was an exciting event as the letters of Minnie and Jake, while interesting, become a little repetitious after awhile. I have noticed that while reading correspondence (whether it be Minnie and Jake's or the Anderson's) there are references to other letters written and it makes me curious to read that specific letter. But, for some reason, the letter mentioned is not in our collection. This always reminds me that what I find important in an item is not necessarily what was important to the original recipient.

With this letter, however, it is not hard to see why Jake kept it.

The letter is from his niece, Evelyn Lewis, daughter of Anna Schomber Lewis and Joseph Lewis. It is dated October 5, 1918, and in the painstaking script of a 10-year-old Evelyn told Jake all of what she deemed important and newsworthy in Issaquah.

(click on the letters to read them full-size)

She begins by talking about the hunting by the men in her family. She probably knew Jake was an avid hunter and liked this kind of information. She rats our her dad, Jake's brother-in-law, calling him an "awful poor sportsman" and that "he's went hunting twice and didn't bring home a thing."

She continues by saying that Carrie is home again, presumably her Aunt Carrie, Jake's sister. I am curious to do a little more digging to determine where Carrie was, perhaps school?

As someone who loves shopping the next part was my favorite (I have corrected some of the punctuation, not all, to make it easier to read):

"Mama went to Seattle Saturday and got a suit a pair of shoes and two waists and a hat[.] [S]he got some gingham for the kids she brought some candy to[o]. [D]ad bought two pairs of shoes a pair for him and a pair for Tom[.] Mama bought a pair of shoes for me but I am sorry to say that Toms[,] dads and my pair of shoes were small and we had only three working days in which to exchange the shoes. [S]o dad said he'd go down to Seattle and exchange them so he went down Wednesday and exchanged them[.] [H]e got me a pair of shoes that costs $6.50 they are brown shoes. Toms are to but dad got a tan pair. I wish you could see them gee they are nice."

Evelyn's section on new shoes and waists is the majority of the letter. A trip into Seattle would have been a big deal and she was probably excited to relay the whole ordeal of her parents going into Seattle not just once but twice. (As a side note, inflation on that price for a pair of shoes roughly translates into $100 today.)

Evelyn's letter also contains a separate piece of paper on which she has written "Here is too pictures Florence made you aren't they beautiful." On the front of the paper Florence, Evelyn's 4-year-old sister, has drawn a house (complete with door, window and chimney) and a lady. The amazing part about these drawings is that you could compare them with the drawings of a 4-year-old of today and they would be very similar. It seems that the stylings in drawings of children doesn't change much, even over almost 100 years.

This letter and the enclosed drawing was such a pleasure for me to find in our collection that I can't imagine how happy Jake must have been to receive it while in the Army. Jake was still in Camp Fremont at the time Evelyn (and Florence) wrote the letter but no more than 2 weeks later he was shipped out to go overseas. I can imagine this letter helped to lift his spirits.

No Time to Monkey

2010-07-28T13:14:00.001-07:00

Rob Pickering, Donna Pedegana Arndt, and Dick Campbell reminisce about the childhood chores they were responsible for, growing up in Issaquah during the 1930s-1950s. This is yet another clip from the two-DVD set produced as part of Issaquah's Oral History Video Project. You can purchase the video here.

Rod Visits Hollywood

2010-07-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

I have truly enjoyed reading Rod Anderson's letters home during WWII. He created a window into his experience in the Army - each letter descriptive and telling of the era. Even when Rod laments that he has nothing to write about he writes anyway, discussing the small things he did during his day which I am certain put his family at ease. While reading his letters I was able to tell when Rod was tired, disappointed, exuberant, and happy even during wartime. One letter in particular stands out to me as Rod at his most excited - his first trip to Hollywood.

In this post I want to follow the adventure that Rod experienced. At the time Rod was stationed at Camp San Luis Obispo, CA. He had previously been stationed in some fairly unexciting places like Oregon, Texas and Iowa. Imagine yourself at 19 - you've never really lived anywhere but Issaquah. Prior to the war you probably haven't been any further than Seattle. And now you're stationed near, and ready to jump into, the glamorous land of Hollywood, CA.

Rod's letter begins: "Dear Mom, Well I made it to Hollywood Sat. by 6:15pm and that's the reason I'm writing. I want to tell you what I did!"

Rod's first stop was the Hollywood U.S.O where he got a bed for $0.50. After that he "fooled around til 8:30" at the Hollywood Canteen (pictured at right) - a well-known club for servicemen offering food, dancing and entertainment for free (your entry ticket was your uniform.) Oftentimes celebrities visited to help out and entertain.

After fooling around at the Hollywood Canteen, Rod's next stop was the Palladium Ballroom where he saw Sonny Dunham (pictured at left) play, a popular tumpet player and bandleader of the time. Rod says he "danced for a couple of hours and then left as it got too crowded. Really had a swell time there though."

(Palladium Ballroom, circa 1940)

Next, Rod returned to the Hollywood Canteen and continued his night of dancing. The Kay Kyser Orchestra (pictured at right) was playing, but Rod says Kay Kyser himself, bandleader and radio personality, was not. At that point, Rod was probably exhausted and so he "hit the hay."

Sunday morning Rod got up at 9:30am and without a plan headed out. This part of Rod's letter makes me smile because it shows to me just what a great time Rod was having:

"...I hopped a trolley and rode the 7 1/2 miles to L.A. There in my wanderings I saw that Jimmy Dorsey and his Orch. was playing at the Orpheum, so naturally, I saw him too."

(Orpheum pictured at left, Jimmy Dorsey at right)

After the concert, Rod returned to Hollywood around 4:30pm and wandered around. He saw a bunch of different notable landmarks of the time: Earl Carroll's, Grauman's Chinese Theatre, Sardi's, NBC studios and CBS studios. He says "There's just so much to do one isn't able to begin doing it." I want to note that in his letter Rod underlined "Sardi's" which was a restaurant (sister to the original Sardi's in New York City.) I wonder what the special meaning was for him to underline it. All I could find was that it was frequented by the stars of Hollywood and so perhaps was well-known to folks at home.

(Earl Carroll's Theatre, circa 1947)

(Grauman's Chinese Theater, circa early 40's)

(Sardi's Restaurant, opened in 1932)

At 10:30pm Rod picked up his ride back to camp at Hollywood and Vine. He says that he picked up a private ride from a guy in another company and only paid $4 round trip which was apparently "darn reasonable." Rod notes that most fellows charge $10.

He finished his letter by explaining and describing the pictures he had enclosed (which unfortunately are not in our collection.) The pictures, though, were taken on Hollywood Blvd and were "one of those pay while you wait propositions."

As someone who loves old films and musicals, I couldn't help but think of movies like On the Town and Anchors Aweigh. You know the ones, the hardworking servicemen get time off to go into the city and gawk at landmarks (and somehow always get into shenanigans and end up falling in love.) While this wasn't exactly Rod's story, there is a sense of wonderment in his letter that he just can't wait to tell somebody at home about.

So there you have it. Rod's whirlwind tour of Hollywood. He does visit Los Angeles and Hollywood again later, and tells his mother about it in his lettes. But his later descriptions are never any longer than a few sentences that basically detail what he did and who he saw. He never again writes with the enthusiasm he has after his first visit.

Below you can click to view the full-size images of Rod's letter.

The Birth of the Seattle Biomedical Research Institute

2010-07-21T12:17:00.000-07:00

One of Oral History Video Project stories that most surprised us was the birth of the Seattle Biomedical Research Institute -- which occured in Issaquah. In this video clip, Robert Gray relates the beginnings of Seattle Biomedical as a project of the Pine Lake Presbyterian Church.

City Slickers Visit the Farm

2010-07-19T09:41:00.000-07:00

The second in a series of clips from the Oral History Video Project video. The two-DVD set will soon be available for purchase at either of the museum gift shops, or through our web site at www.issaquahhistory.org.

The Night the Waterhole Tavern Burned Down

2010-07-16T18:19:00.000-07:00

Here's a sneak peak from our Oral History Video. The two-DVD set will soon be available for purchase at either of the museum gift shops, or through our web site at www.issaquahhistory.org.

Rod Meets “Boody” Gilbertson

2010-06-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

A generous grant from 4Culture is currently funding the digitization and cataloging of several archival collections, include the letters of Rodney and Vernon Anderson, Issaquah residents. Rod and Vern both served in the Army in the 1940s, and they wrote home to their mother regularly. This post is part of a series of posts about their lives and letters.

In what is a recurring theme across WWII veterans, Rod Anderson got the opportunity to see and do a lot of things he might not have had he remained in Issaquah. My first insight into this came while reading Rod’s April 28, 1944 letter. At this point in time he had left Drake University after the Army cancelled his Air Force training and was stationed at Fort Leonard Wood, MO.

His letter begins with “Had a bad day today…” and goes on to tell his mother about spending the day in the rain. Rod consistently wrote the date and place at the top right of his letters and this one tells us he was stationed in a “Pup Tent, Bivouac Area, By Candlelight.” The troops were roughing it and subsequent letters tell me they were helping with a flood area.

But despite this Rod had good news. He writes:

“Met a kid from Everett today. He’s in my company. He used to play basketball at the W. Names “Boody” Gilbertson, anyone that has followed the W teams would know of him, I did. He was at Sheppard Field the same time that I was, I heard that he was there but didn’t get to see him before he shipped to college.”

This piqued my curiosity and I was excited to learn that Merlin “Boody” Gilbertson was indeed a sort of local celebrity. He was enlisted in the Army National Guard September 16, 1940 with only 2 years of high school under his belt and served four years. His basketball history began on Everett High’s basketball team and with him they easily claimed the state championship during his 1939-40 year. The timing is fuzzy in my research but Boody did play basketball at the University of Washington (either before the war, after or both) and played 2 seasons of pro basketball – one for the Seattle Athletics and the second for the Sheboygan Redskins.

Here is a great Seattle PI article profiling Gilbertson.

Here is the copy of Rod’s letter with his brief description of meeting “Boody” Gilbertson:

Today in History: Monohon Lost to Fire

2010-06-25T08:36:00.000-07:00

Eighty-five years ago today, the mill-town of Monohon burned down, leaving only a handful of homes. Monohon was located on the eastern shore of Lake Washington, a few miles north of Issaquah. Some of the homes that survived the fire are still in existence, incorporated into the Waverly Heights neighborhood. You can read more about the day Monohon burned on our web site, or at HistoryLink.org.

Rod Receives AFPMP 6122

2010-06-18T14:39:00.000-07:00

A generous grant from 4Culture is currently funding the digitization and cataloging of several archival collections, include the letters of Rodney and Vernon Anderson, Issaquah residents. Rod and Vern both served in the Army in the 1940s, and they wrote home to their mother regularly. This post is part of a series of posts about their lives and letters.

When Rodney Anderson was drafted into World War 2 he was placed in the United States Army Corps of Engineers, and began his training at Camp Abbott in Bend, Oregon. In Rod’s first letter home he says he is surprised that they didn’t put him in the Air Corps.

So Rod took matters into his own hands and, after covertly asking his mother for his birth certificate (he didn’t want to worry her), he applied to the Army Air Forces (previously called the Air Corps.) Rod was accepted into the AAF and moved to Sheppard Field in Wichita Falls, Texas. There he began his training.

Training sent Rod to Drake University in Des Moines, IA. College life seemed to suit him and his letters were happy and excited, talking of classes and coeds. After 1 month at Drake University, Rod received memo AFPMP 6122 titled “Army Ground Forces and Army Services Personnel.” The memo basically said that any men who had not yet fully completed AAF training were to be pulled from their training and placed back into Army Ground Forces due to a shortage in men. Rod wrote a disappointed letter to his parents on April 7, 1944 and included memo AFPMP 6122.

Here is the memo followed by the letter Rod wrote home to his parents:

(click on the pictures to enlarge)

The memo is not a clear indication of why the men are being pulled from training. The memo indicates that there were “accumulated shortages that [had] developed since last July [1943] in Selective Service.”

In Vernon “Babe” Anderson’s (Rod's brother) oral history, he speculated that it was a result of heavy losses during the Battle of the Bulge. So many troops were lost that they had to pull some out of training and send them back to infantry. But the Battle of the Bulge didn’t really begin until December 1944 – almost 9 months later.

Doing some research into the AAF during WWII indicates that enrollment reached its highest point in March 1944 at 2.4 million men with less than half being overseas. At that point men were sent back to the branch of the Army that they had come from due to a surplus. It is also important to mention that D-Day occurred only a few months later and men may have been pulled in preparation for anticipated loss.

Rod went back to the Engineers and had some good times in training near Los Angeles (stay tuned for a future post on all the wonderful things Rod saw in Hollywood.) He ended up overseas both in Europe and Japan and returned safely home.

The only remaining mystery I haven’t been able to fully decode is what “AFPMP 6122” stands for…any ideas?

This NOT Just In: Great Seattle Fire

2010-06-10T14:59:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday marked the 121st anniversary of the Great Seattle Fire, which destroyed a large portion of Seattle's downtown area on June 6, 1889. The Seattle Fire obviously had a profound influence on Seattle, a city still in its infancy in 1889. The mark of the fire spread throughout the region, too. Rebuilding the city required a great deal of lumber. The sources closest to Seattle had already been depleted to build the city the first time around, and builders turned to lumber mills on the east side of Lake Washington to provide raw materials. This helped drive the lumber trade in eastside towns like Issaquah, Preston and High Point.

I happened to tune in to KUOW the morning they featured a piece called This NOT Just In: The Great Seattle Fire. The piece talks about the fire, but the main focus of the story is a rediscovered oral history artifact. If you listen to the piece, you'll hear the only known first hand accounts of the Great Seattle Fire. The accounts were recorded at an event held at the Museum of History and Industry in 1953. The resulting record album remained in MOHI's collection for decades, the value of its contents unknown. When MOHI staff played the recording in 2003, they were stunned to hear accounts of the fire as recollected by people who were school children at the time.

Imagine hearing people describe an event that they witnessed, more than a century in the past

This reminded me of the old oral history tapes "discovered" in our own collection -- recordings made anywhere from 20 to 50 years ago. Up until last year, no one had listened to these recordings. Because of the age of the audio tapes, we didn't want to risk playing them and having them break. A grant from 4Culture allowed us to get the recordings transferred over to compact disc and then transcribed. When we received the CDs in the mail, I sat down with the Jacob Jones, Jr. CD, the oldest recording, and played it.

The recording, a bit fuzzy but audible, began with Jones' account of taking the train into Seattle at the age of seven, in the year 1888. Jones' vote emanating from the computer's audio speakers described a Seattle with wooden sidewalks and gas streetlamps. Jones' voice, recounting a day more than 100 years in the past, raised goose bumps.

The sound is faint, so turn the volume up and have a listen to this voice from the past:

(transcript after the jump)

This recording was made in 1958 by Jake Jones' grandson, Willard Krigbaum. Jones had already been diagnosed with the cancer that ended his life in 1959. This five-minute recording is a small fraction of the full Jake Jones oral history.

JAKE JONES: But anyway, we left here in the morning – Sam and Mother – and Dad packed Sam down at Goode’s Corner [inaudible] down the hill there. And got on a horse wagon and rode over the top of the hill to Newcastle. And when we got to Newcastle, we went over to the ticket office and bought a ticket on the coach of the little narrow-gauge railroad.

They were loading coal and the coach was on behind it – it was a baggage car and then the coach – to Newcastle. We had to wait a long time before the coal train was loaded. And the train started out, went down around Lake Washington on the narrow-gauge, went around by Renton, came into Seattle on a hard [trestle wood?] built out over the mudflats.

And from there, when we got into Seattle, at that time it was dark, getting dark. We’d left here at daylight in the morning [inaudible]. We got in there, and we went up on a wooden sidewalk, somewhere built way up high. And we got up at 7th and Lenora quite a while after dark. And I was pretty tired, I guess. I was about 4 ½ years old.

WILLARD KRIGBAUM, JR: It was after dark when you got into Seattle?

JJ: Yes, it was after dark when we got into Seattle.

WK: When did you leave Issaquah?

JJ: Daylight with a lantern in the morning. And then, we had something to eat and they put me to bed pretty early, I guess. I was tired and I fell asleep. And early in the morning around daylight, I heard a bell, like a sheep bell ringing. And I went up and looked out the window, and it was an old horse-drawn streetcar taking people to work with all its passengers, pulled by one horse, led on a 3’ narrow-gauge railroad. And the back, the seats were turned out sideways so you faced the side of the small car.

And the brakeman, or the fellow that was running it, he had more uniform badges and buttons and brass on it [chuckles] than a general in the Army!

But anyway, the next day we went downtown. We rode that horse-drawn streetcar. Went from 7th and Lenora, by Lake Union, down to 2nd Avenue. And they had an extra man with an extra horse to pull up the hill. When the fellow come down and met the streetcar, and they hooked on the head of the horse, and he pulled to the top of the hill and made it go, then it would go down 2nd Avenue. He had a brake on it, but there was no tongue or shaft in it. And that was the first streetcar they had in Seattle, in about 1885 … 1884-85.

And I don’t remember how we come back. We came back the same way, through Newcastle, on the train. And old Charlie Smith was a freight man. He run every other day over to Tibbetts’s store on the Squak Valley.

WK: Tibbetts’s store where?

JJ: Yeah, that was at Goode’s Corner. He had a store there. It was the only store in the valley.

So, that was the first trip into Seattle. The railroad was built on trestle wood piling all the way. Now it’s filled in, all that’s filled in where Sears Roebuck and all that company is all filled in, and buildings built on it. At that time, it wasn’t nothing but a big, dumb mudflat.

WK: You went through Renton, then?

JJ: Yeah, we went through Renton, across the Black River. Went along Black River till it comes to the bay [inaudible] followed the beach on this trestle wood. That was the first trip into Seattle. [tape recorder turned off]

Honoring Issaquah's Veterans

2010-05-28T11:57:00.000-07:00

If you haven't seen it yet, you should take a look at the Issaquah Press's special Memorial Day section, "Lest We Forget". This special section profiles the residents of Issaquah who died serving their country. These same people are memorialized on the granite marker outside the Senior Center. The section also features photos and brief biographies for other Issaquah Veterans who have served during peacetime and during war.

The Issaquah Press and the local chapter of the Veterans of Foreign Wars worked hard to represent as many servicemen and women as they could in the pages of their special section. One name and face not included (and I regret now that I didn't send the photo and suggestion to them) was Bill Evans, a long-time Issaquah resident and veteran of World War II. I had the opportunity to visit with Bill a few times over the years, and he was a warm, personable fellow and an excellent story teller. When we put up an exhibit called Wartime in Issaquah, he stopped by to contribute his picture and ended up staying for nearly an hour, telling me stories. I was completely captivated, and Bill must have been also, because his wife finally came in to retrieve him -- she'd been waiting for him in the car!

We are very fortunate to have Bill's first-hand account of his time at war, thanks to the oral history project we conducted in 2006. Our oral historian, Maria McLeod, was talented when it came to drawing interesting stories out of subjects. After the interview, Bill suggested that we edit out the World War II stories he'd told, since they weren't "really about Issaquah." I responded that although the stories he told were not set in Issaquah, they were vitally important to telling the story of Issaquah during World War II. They tell the story of a generation of young men who left home to travel thousands of miles, and serve alongside hundreds of other young men. I'm not sure that I succeeded in convincing him, but he gracefully agreed. Excerpts appear below, and I think readers will agree that we are lucky to have these stories.

Bill Evans passed away in January of 2008. He is missed and remembered.

[interview has been edited for length]

BILL EVANS: So I was shipped from Fort Lewis to Camp Roberts, California, by Paso Robles. I went right into the infantry. When I get there, I thought, Ohgod, the worst possible thing that could happen to me now has happened to me [Evans had wanted to enter the Navy but had been assigned to the Army instead].

I was on KP the following Sunday morning, and the first sergeant came to get me. I said, “Where are we going?”

He said, “Down to get your gear. You’re going to a different barracks.” So you don’t ask any more questions, you just go. They transferred me because of my scores entering into the Army, the test scores, they sent me to message center and code work training. So I thought, Well, at least I’m not carrying a rifle in a foxhole. So I took my training there for three months. Now, I’m shipping out. I had graduated with a diploma and everything, talking about message center and code work.

Then I got to Hawaii for more training. I was there two weeks, and the commanding officer called me in and he said, “Soldier, we’re over-strength. We’ve got too many men in our outfit.”

I thought, Well, this is strange. “You’re a combat outfit and you’ve got too many men? If you get into combat, you’re going to lose men! You’d think you’d be building up.”

He said, “No, our table organization is too high. You’re one of the last guys in our outfit, so I’m transferring you out.”

I said, “Where am I going?”

He said, “Oh, you’re staying in the same battalion, same regiment. But,” he said, “you’re going to be a medic.”

I said, “A medic? The only thing I’ve ever had in the way of training is high school public health, you know? How does that qualify me?”

He said, “Well, you’ll get training.”

So they sent me out to north central Oahu… Two weeks after I joined this infantry outfit, I got my medical training. When I talked to the first sergeant in this company, out at the Dole Pineapple plantation, I said, “When do I get my training? I was told I was going to get training. I don’t know a darn thing about medicine.”

He said, “Oh, you’ll get it. It starts tomorrow.” He said, “After breakfast tomorrow, you report back to your tent.”

They were wood frameworks, but tent top. And he said, “I’ll have another guy go with you. He’s going to take medical training, too.” So they came and got us the next morning, and we went back to our tents.

The guy said, “Now, you straddle this cot, the Army cot that you’re on. And you face him this way, like you’re sitting and looking at each other. Here’s a needle and a syringe. Now, you stick him in the arm till you can learn to hit the veins. Because you can go right through a vein, you know, if you don’t hit it proper. Then you have to pull it back out and try it again, until you get it.”

And I said, “This is the first training we’re getting?”

“Yeah.”

And the other guy didn’t know any more about it than I did… One would stick the other one until he could hit a vein, or an artery. When you’d get sick to your stomach from the needle and the pain and everything, then it’s your turn to stick the other guy. That was the first medical training I got. I didn’t get much more for a long time.

Then we shipped out to New Guinea. That was our first time in combat. I had four amphibious landings from one end of New Guinea to the top end.

Other than the ones we fought on the landings, further up – we mostly set up crews out on the trails. The jungle trails were just like a tunnel. They’d grow right over you. You’d get just off the trail a little bit, and we’d set up machine guns. When the Japanese troops would come along, we’d just mow them down.

Then we’d have to bury them. Some of the guys said, “Well, the heck with this noise.” An arm would be sticking out, or a foot would be sticking out, or something, which would give away our positions.

The rest of us were on the beach – the Japanese would bomb us every night. We did have army cots there, I’ll say that. But right alongside it, we’d have a foxhole. So we’d get to go around the bed into the foxhole.

MARIA MCLEOD: Did you sleep in your foxhole?

BILL EVANS: I did in a lot of them, on those landings in New Guinea. But not at Sansapor, which is the northern tip, when we were ready to invade the Philippines. Then we took off for the Philippines.

…It was a kamikaze that came over. And again, the 5-inch gunner on the front end, when he spun around, he shot part of his tail assembly away. So the kamikaze knew he couldn’t get away. So he just banked around and come from behind us again. Dropped his bombs. But they went between our ship and the ship behind us and just exploded in the water.

Then the pilot tried to drive his plane down the stack because then we’d have gone up, the whole ship would have blown up. But he missed it by about 25 feet. But he got the whole deck on fire, gasoline and everything. And twenty-three sailors were killed, right at their gun mounts.

Two days later, we made our landing on Luzon. I was in the fourth wave hitting the beach. I almost drowned because the medics have something like a jacket without sleeves. Their bags on either side had all their medical supplies in there.

MARIA MCLEOD: How much did it weigh?

BILL EVANS: Well, it didn’t weigh a lot in itself, but when I got into my first combat, where I came close to getting it. We even took our Red Cross armbands off our arms because they’d pick the medic first. The snipers would aim at the armband and get you in the chest someplace, went through your body, anyhow and killed an awful lot of medics that way. Then they’d go after the troops. So I didn’t wear an armband. I wasn’t going to give them any more chances than possible. But I went down after my first combat, I went down to the supply office, and I insisted in getting a carbine.

MARIA MCLEOD: What’s a carbine?

BILL EVANS: A carbine is a small rifle. Holds 15 shells in a bracket on the gun itself. I think it’s a .32 caliber.

And then you always have a case on the gun, too, holding other brackets. You’ve got them on your belt. So you’ve got about a hundred-and-some cartridges on it. Semi-automatic.

MARIA MCLEOD: Were medics usually not carrying guns?

BILL EVANS: No. They weren’t supposed to. By, I guess, a Geneva law or something from World War I.

MARIA MCLEOD: People weren’t supposed to kill medics. You weren’t supposed to shoot at another’s army’s medics, were you?

BILL EVANS: No. You had rules to play by, but the Japanese didn’t honor that. And so I carried it through the whole war. But when I landed in Lingayen Gulf in the fourth wave, we almost drowned. In my outfit, we lost about 28 men. Because there was a sandbar that nobody knew about. The coxswain didn’t know any more about it than we did, running the landing craft. A lot of them came in and hit that sandbar, thought it was the beach, and lowered the ramp. Guys went out with all their equipment on, and drowned.

But our coxswain, we were lucky because he came to the same sandbar, but he didn’t lower the ramp. He might have seen something, or else somebody else radioed him or something. He gunned it when he hit it and went over the sandbar. And hell, we went another probably 100, 200 yards before we finally did hit the beach.

We were still up to our waists in water. But I was so loaded down with my medical equipment, and my ammo, and my gun and other stuff that if we didn’t have the beach under us, we’d have been in real trouble. Might not have got ashore.

MARIA MCLEOD: Tell me about the first time you were in combat, and you were dealing with actual wounds, what that was like.

BILL EVANS: Well, I wasn’t much more educated than I told you about. I got to New Guinea and I appealed to my commanding officer, who was a medic, a doctor. I said, “You know, I haven’t had any training at all yet, except this episode with my arms.” I said, “Can’t I get some training if I’m going into combat?”

He said, “Yeah, that makes sense. I’ll send you down the beach about 20 miles.”

There was a station hospital, and down there they had a series of big squad tents. That’s a station hospital. They’re all tents.

He said, “We’ll get you some training at the hospital.”

So I said, “Fine. Great.”

And he said, “You’ll be down there about two months.”

I said, “OK.”

So I packed the gear I needed to go down there. Still took my rifle with me. And got down there to the station hospital.

But they had so many wounded. Broken bones caused by gunshot. These guys are coming back from the Marshall Islands and those places that were invaded before we got to the Philippines – not by our outfit, by other outfits.

You get wounded and shot with rifle shot or shrapnel and so forth. A lot of times, you get broken bones as well as the wound itself. So they were having a lot of them coming in by the boatload to the station hospital down there – Navy men, Army men, everybody.

And so what did they do? They sent me into cast surgery.

MARIA MCLEOD: What’s cast surgery?

BILL EVANS: Well, I thought I was going to learn something about surgery that would help me. But no, what they had me doing was making casts out of plaster of Paris on people who had back wounds – their backs were broken, or some part of it. We had them on ropes – lines. Their feet were down, and their back and shoulders were down, but their body was up in the air, like making an arch.

So all I was doing was wrapping plaster of Paris, learning how to make a cast for a broken back, but who’s going to do that in combat? In combat, you get somebody who you’ve talked to a half an hour before, and thirty minutes later, he’s laying on a litter, covered with blood, or lost an arm, or ribs are all shot up or whatever.

You couldn’t put a cast on. You would do what you could to bandage him up, stop the bleeding, give him a transfusion or whatever, and put him on the back of a Jeep and send him out of the jungle. So I learned the hard way.

MARIA MCLEOD: You said something interesting. You said when you came back to Seattle, you were afraid of people. Is that true?

BILL EVANS: See, my folks, as I told you, still lived on Beacon Hill. They could see out in the bay. It was right across from the Veterans Hospital on Beacon Hill, on Beacon Avenue. My folks bought it. Had the home built in [19]42. And so when I got in the bay, I could see my house from there.

I got out of the service right before Christmas. So I was downtown, buying my folks a Christmas present ... And the signal lights … I’d been three years in the jungle [chuckles] and I was just afraid of people. I’d stop at the intersection and I was afraid to cross the street. I thought, You’ve got to get a hold of yourself!

MARIA MCLEOD: When you were in the jungle, did you think of home? And when you thought of home, did you think of Seattle, or did you think of Issaquah? What were some of the things that kept you going?
BILL EVANS: I’d only lived, all my life, in Issaquah and then Seattle, so yeah. But, you know, when you’re in combat – and seeing death all around you, and being a medic – I was involved with it every day, hour by hour – you didn’t dare think about going home. You thought about making it through another day.

Hooray for Volunteers!

2010-05-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday, May 13, we celebrated our 10th annual Volunteer Awards Night. This event is dedicated to showing volunteers our appreciation of what they do for the Issaquah History Museums. This year we honored 70 volunteers who donated their time to the organization during 2009. More than 2,937 hours donated in 2009. The Independent Sector, an organization dedicated to leading, strengthening and mobilizing nonprofit organizations, has estimated the value of one volunteer hour at $20.85. That means that the total value of volunteer labor in our organization is $61,252. When you consider the fact that our annual budget averages around $125,000, you see what a significant impact volunteers have on our operations.

Each year we honor several volunteers with special awards. This year those folks were:
Joan Newman, Star Docent, put in 40 docent sessions during 2009 (which means she docented at one or the other of our museums 3 out of every four weekends in the year)
Denny Croston, Star Trolley Volunteer, took on the unexpected task of repairing the wrought iron railing around the trolley enclosure after a careless truck driver crashed into it.
Geoff Nunn, Star Programs Volunteer, who contributed more than 75 hours to designing and installing exhibits both on and off-site.
Mike Johnson received an award for his hard work in planning and publicizing the trolley's Braggin' Rights Poker Tournament, which netted the Trolley Project more than $800.
Jean Cerar was given the Timely Time Sheets award, in recognition of her prompt and thorough completion of time sheets throughout the year.

And finally, we named a Volunteer of the Year. The Volunteer of the Year award traditionally goes to someone who has not only donated a large number of hours to the organization, but who also helps out in a number of different roles. This year Bill Bergsma, Jr. was named our Volunteer of the Year for helping out just about any time we ask, at just about any task we ask him to do. We would be remiss if we did not also mention his cheerful demeanor, and the wonderful cookies he bakes to bring to various events.

If you attended the event, thank you very much for coming! If you missed it, you can read my opening comments below, and see a slide show of just some of the volunteers who helped in the past year.

If you have been to our volunteer awards night celebration before, you know that we like to choose a theme for the evening. Last year our theme centered around hops, one of Issaquah’s earliest cash crops. This year we are celebrating our volunteers with a logging theme. I suggested that we all wear flannel shirts and cork boots, but was overruled. I had also hoped we could join together in a rousing chorus of “I’m a lumberjack and I’m okay,” but once again was overruled.

Flannel and Monty Python aside, I’d like to recognize the Special Events committee for once again pulling together a wonderful event where no detail has been overlooked. I am doubly grateful to these people because not only have they taken on the task of organizing this event – they have done it on a volunteer basis. And that is the kind of dedication and support we so appreciate in our volunteers.

Allen Flintoft
Robin Kelley
Joan Newman
And finally, not a volunteer but a wonderful person anyway, my lovely assistant Karen Klein.

The lumber boom on the Eastside began with the Great Seattle Fire in 1889; all the lumber near Seattle had already been used to construct the city the first time around. After the fire, they had to look farther afield for new lumber sources and that is how the lumber industry took off on the East Side of Lake Washington.

As many of you know, the Issaquah area was home to hundreds of lumber and logging operations, from large lumber mills that spawned their own towns (like Monohon, Preston, High Point) to the very small family operations. And it is the very small logging operations that I want to talk about.

Small logging operations run by one or two or maybe three people were dubbed “gyppo operations.” At first this term was derogatory, carrying the implication that small companies were unscrupulous and cheated loggers at other operations out of their wages. The term eventually lost its negative connotation and referred to anyone with a small logging operation.

There are a lot of adjectives that have been attached to gyppo loggers. Some of the ones I came across were reckless, daring, fiercely independent, stubborn, maverick. But then I read this sentence by William G. Robbins of the University of Oregon: "Operating on little capital, substandard equipment, and always on the brink of financial failure, gyppo loggers multiplied in the Pacific Northwest woods in the two decades following the end of the Second World War.”

And I thought, that’s what Karen and Julie and I would be without our volunteers. We would be like those gyppo loggers, out in the forest, trying to eke out a living while we operate on relatively little capital, with substandard equipment, on the brink of a financial failure. It is very comforting to know that we don’t have to operate that way. It is comforting to know that we are working with a vast team of volunteers who won’t allow us to fail. And it is comforting to know that someone will always be around to answer our call for help.

Thank you so much for being part of our operation.

The Clash Between Labor and Capitalism

2010-05-20T15:37:00.000-07:00

Today the CEO of Massey Energy, Don Blankenship, will appear before a Senate panel in order to answer questions about the Upper Big Branch mine disaster, which occurred on April 5, 2010. Twenty-nine miners perished in the explosion, whose immediate cause is still unknown. High methane levels may have been a contributing factor.

The following exchange was part of NPR coverage about Blankenship's appearance in front of a Senate panel:

STEVE NEARY (anchor): And what has Massey been saying about all this?

FRANK LANGFITT (reporter): Well, they insist over and over again that they really care first and foremost about safety, not about coal production. I can tell you, I've talked to a lot of the miners who work for Massey. They say it's the exact opposite. They don't want to say this on tape because they're afraid of losing their jobs. Massey pays extremely well, so it's a great opportunity for people in southern West Virginia."

The Associated Press also reported on Blankenship's appearance:

"Massey does not place profits over safety," Blankenship said in his first appearance before Congress since the April 5 explosion at the West Virginia mine. "We never have and we never will."

Sen. Robert Byrd, D-W.Va., took strong exception, saying the mine had "an alarming record" of serious infractions.

"I cannot fathom how an American business could practice such disgraceful health and safety policies while at the same time boasting about its commitment to the safety of workers," said the 92-year-old senator, speaking hesitantly but forcefully from his wheelchair.

Massey had been cited for safety violations numerous times in recent years; they also made headlines when they refused workers time off to attend the funerals of the 29 dead miners.

And what on earth does this have to do with the history of Issaquah?

Issaquah owes its first period of rapid growth and expansion to coal mining. Between 1892 and 1904, Issaquah's mines averaged more than 100,000 tons annual production. It was no coincidence that the same time period saw the rise of labor unions in mines all over the area. There were fewer incidents of death and injury than there were in places like Black Diamond and Roslyn, but mining was inherently dangerous. Large scale disasters aside, injuries were not uncommon, and many of them resulted in permanent disabilities. Labor unions sought to secure fair pay and safer working conditions. Safety measures cost money and ate into corporate profits. And so the balancing act began.

One of hundreds of items on exhibit at the Gilman Town Hall is a certificate of membership in the United Mine Workers of America, dated 1907. The text reads, "Miner's Record. This is to certify that Andrew Hendrickson was admitted as a member of the United Mine Workers of America in Local Union No. 2362, District No. 10 located at New Castle State of Washington on the 19th day of July 1907." The certificate is in full color and features drawings of mine workers on the job, men leaving home for work, returning home with a disabled brother, and at a union meeting ("In Union there is strength"). There is also a sketch of "Pay day for the miners, doctors, and agents," as well as a large picture of posh homes and well-dressed people labeled, "Homes of the Operators." This is an interesting statement on a poster that otherwise focuses on the hard work of the miners - a pointed reminder that all their hard work profits those who own the mines.

Today coal mining is still one of the most dangerous professions, and still an industry where workers and management struggle over the balance between profitability and worker safety.

Mary Wold's Issaquah

2010-05-11T14:43:00.000-07:00

Mary Wold and her sister, Sena, are two of my favorite figures in the history of Issaquah. Their parents were Lars Wold, an immigrant from Norway, and Henrietta Walter, who moved to the Pacific Northwest from Denmark with her parents and siblings at the age of 24. At one time, Wold owned a large chunk of what is now Issaquah, north of today's Sunset Way and west of Front Street.

Mary Wold studied to be a teacher, and taught in the Issaquah schools for a time before going back to scool for her nurse's training. As a nurse she traveled to Siberia during World War I, to serve with the Red Cross. This boggles the mind, when you consider that going from Issaquah to Seattle was a big trip in that time period, and about as far as most people ever needed to go. After returning home she worked as a nurse at the Firlands Sanitarium in Seattle, the tuberculosis hospital described in Betty McDonald's "The Plague and I." She later worked for the Seattle School District as Director of Nursing Staff. She and her sister lived together at The Wold, as their home was known, until their deaths (Mary in 1961 and Sena in 1968)

Mary Wold took these photos with a Kodak camera in about 1910. After writing on the back of each image to describe the photos' contents, she mailed them to her Aunt Laurine in Denmark. Recently, Laurine Walter Rasmussen's great-grandson emailed us to ask if we would be interested in digital copies of Mary's photographs. The photos are a treasure in and of themselves, but Mary's captions bring the pictures to life. Enjoy your tour through Mary Wold's Issaquah. (If the slide show moves too quickly to read the captions, try going directly to the online album.)

Early Day Railroad Construction

2010-04-13T13:46:00.000-07:00

by Chuck Cerar, Issaquah History Museums Volunteer

If you take a close look at the railroad tracks in front of the Issaquah Depot, you can see bolts that hold together sections of rail. These are known as joint connections. These days, many of the rail joint connections used on older rail systems are no longer necessary. Modern rail laying methods involve welding rail sections together to make a continuously welded rail. Welding rails together is expensive but lowers maintenance costs. And, if you are a rail passenger, welded rail gets rid of the old "clickity-clack" sound when the wheels crossed rail joints. But, the traditional jointed rail system that we have at the Issaquah Depot is still used on some railways in the

and in other countries.

To make a jointed rail, the ends of rail sections are bolted together with 2 heavy steel plates, called fishplates or joint bars, one on each side of the rail joint. Full lengths of rail, as supplied by the factory, would have bolt holes in them. But, if an odd length of rail is cut for repairs or to fit a rail section, new bolt holes have to be drilled through the rail. Unfortunately, railroad workers in the 1800s and early 1900s did not have motor driven machines to make these holes. They had to manually drill holes in the vertical part, or web, of the rail. To help ease this job a bit, a rail drilling machine that used men as the “motor” were developed in the 1800s.

A sample of one of these machines is on display at the Depot museum. It’s a New-Style Paulus model made by the Buda Boy Co., patented in 1890 (pictured at right). It would have been operated by two railroad workers, one on each side turning a hand crank. The cranking would turn a horizontal shaft at the bottom of the machine. Attached at the rail end of the shaft was a large drill bit that turned to cut a hole in the rail. As the drill shaft turned, the machine’s mechanism moved the drill through the rail very slowly.

The IHM rail drill was restored by volunteer Eric Martin (pictured at left) and is fully functional. Eric set up the display with the drill bit completely through the rail as it would appear when workers finished drilling a hole. To do this, Eric and I hand cranked the machine until the drill bit pierced the rail. After about 20 minutes of turning the handles, with a few short rests, we achieved success. However, Eric admits to a bit of “cheating” to shorten the work time; he pre-drilled a half-sized bolt hole in the rail using a modern motor powered drill.

For select groups, like rail enthusiasts, a specially trained docent could demonstrate how the drill operates without actually having to drill a hole.

This is one of a variety of projects we tackle at the Auto Freight Building (aka "The Shop") on the corner of First Avenue and Bush Street. If you see our door open on a Saturday morning, feel free to stop by and find out what we are working on!

German Internment During WWI

2010-04-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

My last post regarding anti-German propaganda and the use of the term Hun during WWI created quite a discussion. You can read the comments and my response in that post.

I want to continue along the same vein of German hatred during WWI, and how it directly affected someone involved in a large part of Issaquah history. Around 1912, Gustav Konstantin von Alvensleben held stake in Issaquah and Superior Mining Company. Von Alvensleben was the godson of the Kaiser Wilhelm and came to America with millions of dollars to start his businesses. He became directly involved in the Issaquah mines, helping to turn the business around after it faced bankruptcy. The mine facilities were brought up to modern standards of the time and he worked to ensure fair wages, humane working conditions and cooperation with the unions. The mine was booming once again.

When WWI came around von Alvensleben was living in Canada. Canada entered the war as a part of the British Empire and so von Alvensleben had to flee to America as he faced arrest for being German. Leaving all his assets behind to be seized as enemy property, he escaped to an America not yet involved in the war. But in 1917, when the United States entered WWI, von Alvensleben became a suspected spy by the Counter Intelligence section of the United States Secret Service.

A business associate of von Alvensleben’s happened to be a part of this Counter Intelligence section and was able to arrest von Alvensleben. He was transferred to an internment camp at Fort Douglas in Utah.

War Prison Barracks Three - Fort Douglas, Utah

I was surprised to learn of internment camps during WWI. We are taught about the Japanese internment camps during WWII, but not so much about German ones during WWI. Fort Douglas in Utah housed Prisoners of War, Alien Enemy Civilian Internees, and Conscientious Objectors. Von Alvensleben was one of about 785 Alien Enemy Civilian Internees. These men were rounded up by the Justice department mostly from the western United States and were civilian men of German and Austro-Hungarian citizenship.

Von Alvensleben was arrested on August 8, 1917 and interned 10 days later. He remained at Fort Douglas until March 3, 1920. For reference, the German armies surrendered on November 11, 1918. After the war he was acquitted of all charges – among his defenders was his arresting officer. He was naturalized as a citizen in 1939. He was never able to return to the economic success he had prior to the war because of the assets seized by Canadian government.

For more information on German hatred in WWI and Fort Douglas Internment Camp see the following:

Fort Douglas Utah War Prison Barracks Three 1917-1920

The System of Arrest and Internment in the West 1917-1920

Collinsville Illinois - The Robert Paul Prager Lynching April 5, 1918

Photo ID Friday

2010-04-09T11:29:00.000-07:00

We often receive photo donations in large batches, often from descendants who aren't sure about the origin of the pictures they donate. The images in the slideshow below were donated by a member of the Horrocks family, and we know that there are a number of images of members of the Gregory and McCloskey families included. The images in this slideshow have not been identified. You might recognize a face, or (if you are a long-time local) you might have the same image in your family's photograph collection. Please let us know if you can help! These images mean so much more when we know who is in them.

(click on the slide show to see it in a larger format)

Mail Call

2010-04-08T13:00:00.000-07:00

We recently received this email from a fellow whose visit to our web site sparked this memory of the Triple X:

I was recently looking at the history of the Triple X restaurant in Issaquah, WA. My name is Roger J. Noel and I worked on the project for my father Jay Noel as well as the Triple X in North Bend. I especially remember working on the large sign and the large amount of concrete and steel used for it's base. I guess I would consider my father as the first owner, since he opened and operated it for a short period of time along with a cycle and snowmobil store next to it. I hope this information is of some interest to you. It has been a long time ago, but it seems like yesterday that my wife and I rented a small unit across from the Grange with a small creek running behind it. Seeing the article on the Triple X brings back some great memories

Thanks,

Roger J. Noel

History Isn't Always Nice

2010-04-03T08:00:00.000-07:00

A generous grant from 4Culture is currently funding the digitization and cataloging of several archival collections, include the letters of Minnie Wilson and Jake Schomber, Issaquah residents and sweethearts. The couple corresponded during World War I, when Jake was serving in the Army. This post is part of a series of posts about their lives and letters.

There have been a number of times while reading through the Minnie and Jake letters that I have come across a term that is unknown to me. Upon further research, I discover that the term is a racial epithet that has probably gone out use for a variety of reasons. These are the moments that pop us out of the nostalgia of historical research and into the reality of what it was really like to live in that world.

Being as Minnie and Jake were apart during WWI, one derogatory term pops up again and again. Hun. As in “Damn the Kaiser, and kill a Hun for me while you’re over there.” The term "Hun" to reference a German soldier came into vogue during World War I and was derived from a speech in which the Kaiser compared the German soldiers to those that fought under the leadership of Attila the Hun. After that speech it was common for newspapers and people to use it as a generic name for and as an expression of hatred towards the Germans. A Washington State newspaper, The Palouse Republic, ran an article Jan 4, 1917 quoting a soldier as saying “we are now quite advanced along the lines of modern Hun killing.” A number of propaganda posters (the images in this post) came out showing German soldiers as violent, scary, and unforgiving and further spread the derogatory nature of the term Hun.

In essence, we forgive Minnie and Jake because the terminology that they use in their letters was so commonplace during the time, especially the word Hun. The interesting thing here is to look at their genealogy. Jake’s parents actually immigrated from Germany. Let me say it again, his mother and father were both born in Germany. According to the 1920 Census, Henry Schomber (Jake’s father) immigrated in 1871, making him about 11 at the time. Jake’s mother, Anna, in 1875, making her about 13 when she immigrated.

So while Jake’s parents weren’t adults when they came over, they weren’t infants either. It would be interesting to know their side of the story. How much of a connection with Germany did they feel? How did they feel about their son going off to fight against their home country? Did they throw the term Hun around just as much as Minnie and Jake? Unfortunately their letters to Jake are not in our collection or we may have a small glimpse into their thoughts.

Despite the use of innappropriate terminology, I appreciate these moments for all we can learn. Just when I start getting sappy about the epic love tale of Minnie and Jake and how it overcame all odds, one of them decides to throw a nice racist remark into the mix and bring me back down to reality. History, while we can look back upon with nostalgia, isn’t always pretty. It can be ugly and gritty and remind us of how far we’ve come and perhaps how far we need to go.

Happy Census Reference Day!

2010-04-01T11:50:00.000-07:00

Most people recognize April 1 as April Fool's Day, but for the diehard research geek (who also happens to hate practical jokes) this year's April 1 is much more happily recognized as the reference date for the 2010 census.

Census records are critically important when it comes to historical research, because they ideally provide a snapshot of the life of every American. Your census form may feel like a dull bit of paperwork until you consider the fact that this information will be available to your descendents in 72 years. This is the picture they will see of your life.

Privacy laws prevent census data (other than aggregates, without any personal details) from being made public until 72 years have passed, to protect the privacy of living individuals. As the average lifespan extends, I wonder if the government will rethink the number. I rather hope not, because as excited as I am about completing my 2010 census (because, as I said, I am a diehard research geek), I am even more excited about April 1, 2012, when the 1940 census will be released.

Census data collected has differed from decade to decade. In the 1930 census, participants were asked (among other things) whether or not they owned a radio. In this image of Issaquah's first census page, you can see that six households owned radios (Smith, Croston, Evans, Becker, Leavitt and Fritts):

(click on image to view at full size)

Why did the government care about whether or not you had a radio? They were trying to determine to what extent citizens were embracing the new technology. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt later applied this information in his decision to hold "fireside chats" over the radio between 1933 and 1944.

April 1 has been the census reference date since 1930. All questions on the census form relate specifically to April 1, regardless of whether the form is completed before or after that date. This helps make sure the data is consistent and reduces the chance of people being counted multiple times.

In spite of this, some people did get counted twice, generally if they were working away from home. If you were working as a live-in servant or at a lumber camp, for example, your employer often counted you on their own census form while your nuclear family also recorded you as a family member.

Mary Colton Lucas, Squak Valley Teacher

2010-03-25T13:50:00.000-07:00

The spring newsletter, on its way to your email or mail box as I type, features a truncated version of the following oral history interview with Mary Colton Lucas (1898-1982). The full interview appears below. If you'd like to join a discussion about Lucas's experience in early Issaquah, visit our Facebook page.

(IHM 94.41.1)William E. Colton, right, with unidenitifed worker at the Neukirchen Mill, circa 1912.

[Accession # 88.1.7B]

UNKNOWN INTERVIEWER: This is Mary Colton Lucas and the date is September 14, 1973. Mrs. Lucas was a teacher in the Upper Squak School She will be telling of her experiences as a teacher there. for the year 1917 to 1918.

MARY COLTON LUCAS: … the way I wrote it down. And I took it, and she wanted to, you know, glean a lot out of it and so on. And she changed her mind and forgot it for a time. But I don’t want to forget it, I want to keep something of it, you know, this whole class. And she’s a lovely teacher, a wonderful person. It’s really inspiring.

You want me to just start now?

UNK: Yes, go ahead.

ML: [Reading onto the tape]

If you should drive out of Issaquah southward on Front Street Road, keeping left, you will come, in something like three miles, to an attractive building, which houses a real estate office. Across the road stands a fine group of tall cedar trees, symmetrical as though just [pulled?].

You can’t see it from the road, but there is a very large pond beside the cedars. Across the pond is a modern, red, rambling house, a rustic patio extending its length towards the woods behind it. With the red house reflecting in a little lake, you might be quite taken with the beauty of the scene and wish you had brought your camera.

If the lady who lives there should be about, she could tell you that this home of hers was built around an old one-room schoolhouse. She might also tell you that there had been, about 50 years ago, a mill and logging camp just about a quarter of a mile down the side road, where several families had lived. These children, as well as those of the farmers in the surrounding areas, attended the school. In the fall of 1917, I was the new teacher of that school. And my brother, 14 years my senior, was part-owner and superintendent of the logging camp.

Proudly, on the day before Labor Day, I left my home in Snohomish in possession of a teacher certificate from the Bellingham Normal, now the Western Washington State College. I boarded the old Northern Pacific train and got off at Woodinville, expecting to transfer to a small local line running from there to Issaquah.

You want to shut …? Too much?

UNK: No, go ahead.

ML: My brother had neglected to tell me that the local train didn’t run on Sunday, so I was in a quandary as to what to do. Then, I remembered a family who had moved from Snohomish to Woodinville. After inquiring where to find them, and walking down a rocky road about a mile, I came to a brickyard, in which the Shaws operated, and where they had their home. They greeted me warmly, and after I had told them of my predicament, I was invited to spend the night with them.

The next morning, I walked back to the little depot and soon was aboard the local. It was a rickety little passenger car at the end of a logging train. We wobbled along between tall virgin fir trees, and eventually arrived at Issaquah.

I was shocked at the primitive look of the town. My brother Will met me with his friend, Leo Gleason, who was on the local school board. They had planned that I should stay in the old Gleason family home and board with his brother’s family, who lived just across the creek. I was not happily impressed with this arrangement.

We drove out to the place and all entered the house. I found that Mr. Gleason’s old father occupied a room on the first floor, and that a room upstairs had been prepared for me. It was neat and clean but there was no evidence of any bathroom in the house. It didn’t seem that I could possibly spend a winter in this empty, cobwebby house. It was spooky.

We went across the creek to where we were given coffee and cake, and this house wasn’t too bad but very small. They seemed friendly, and the children, three little ones, were quite awed at meeting the teacher.

So, the long-awaited day arrived. The two little Gleason boys and I walked a mile through the woods to the little unpainted school. Now, I was facing the first real challenge of my 19 years, I realized as I unlocked the door for the first time. Opening the door, I was greeted by that old schoolroom odor. There were the various-sized desks, grubby and carved with the initials of long-vanished pupils. The only partially clean window through which the morning rays of the sun slanted … gave evidence … no, I can’t say [tape recorder turned off]

… of the great trees that were on the floor and I can’t read it.

UNK: Oh, the shadows came through the window.

ML: Yes.

It was strangely quiet until the door burst open and in pushed a half-dozen children of different sizes and types, all rather poorly clad but healthy-looking. The scrambled for the seats they each thought best, and settled down to stare at me.

Now, the mothers of the beginners were coming in, and I was busy greeting them and trying to look delighted, although this made the proportion of little tots in the total count of only about 16 pupils in all. How could I find time to break six tiny humans into the mysteries of the four R’s when there sat 10 larger ones scattered over the other seven grades? No two seemed to register [for the same?].

I couldn’t help noticing one in particular who was bobbing around, grinning and making silly faces at the other boys, and poking at them with a ruler. I had a foreboding that this boy was going to be a real problem. His name was Boyd Greenfield.

Now, maybe …

I finally – I’m giving the real names – I finally got all their names and their probable grades down; and after we had sung a few songs known to most of them, dismissed them for the day. I had plenty to do, [inaudible] making up a chart to accommodate all the subjects and still take care of the starters was too much for me this first day. I home and went back to my bleak room and cried.

UNK: What kind of songs did you sing? Can you remember?

ML: Oh, My Country ‘Tis of Thee and …

UNK: Yes, patriotic songs?

ML: Yeah, and I taught them songs, too, you know. Like [singing] “Good morning, merry sunshine, how did you wake so soon?” Some of those.

UNK: Uh-huh.

ML: And, oh, about a rabbit and different things. I had trained for the lower grades, see, and I didn’t expect to be –

UNK: Upper grades, yes.

ML: 1917 was the first year of our involvement in World War I. Almost every girl of my age had a boyfriend who was either in the service or just about to join.

I also had one [inaudible]. [laughing] Mine was a very handsome lad who had attended Snohomish High with me, and lived on a farm about five miles from the school. I thought that he was the great love of my life, so was very upset when he joined the Air Force.

One Thursday afternoon, I received a phone call from Seattle. Harold’s sister. His name was Harold, too [laughing] and this one was named Harold.

UNK: Oh, how interesting! You had Harolds in your life, huh? [laughter]

ML: Yes, I had Harolds in my life. Harold’s sister was calling me, telling me that he was to be sent to training camp in Texas, then to France. She invited me to stay overnight with her, as he was leaving next morning and would be able to spend some time with me that evening.

Wanting to be by ourselves, Harold and I sat for hours and shivered in the cold November night on the steps of an old, deserted building at 5^th and Madison. He had to return to Fort Lawton by midnight, and we tearfully parted, engaged, at his sister’s door.

The school work proved to be as difficult as I had surmised. It seemed impossible to give each child the attention he needed, as they all never had had a fair shot.

And this nine-year-old boy, Greenfield, was certainly what we’d call retarded now. The poor little fellow was never clean, and in spite of the dirty little sack of astafittida [sp?] – have you ever heard of that?

UNK: No, what is it?

MALE in background: [Inaudible]

UNK: Oh, you put it around your neck to keep from catching cold.

ML: Yes. It’s supposed to spook them away, too.

UNK: [Attempts to say the word]

MALE: I don’t sure.

UNK: I don’t remember the word, but I do know what you’re talking about, yes.

ML: … the sack of [stumbles pronouncing the word] on a string about his neck, he always had a runny nose. The sack was filled with some putrous [sp?] herbs to chase away the evil spirits and disease, and smelled horribly. He would rather have lost a leg than that nasty item.

I didn’t know what to do with him. I asked the clerk of the school board if something couldn’t be done, like sending him on to a special school, but he knew nothing about such things.

This was Mr. Ogden.

In fact, he could only sign my pay warrant each month. That was about the [chuckles] sum of his learning.

I have to be careful. I really am [inaudible] [laughing] next generation or two.

The fall was beautiful, and I enjoyed the walks to and from school. But with winter weather setting in, with the rain and snow, I thought it better to take advantage of a chance to move to a farmhouse closer to the school. A girl in the upper grade lived there with her mother and stepfather. We usually got a ride going home.

The food served there was not at all tasty, nor adequate – boiled beans, potatoes and canned tomatoes every evening for supper. Then they butchered a hog, and we sat down to all the parts, which had never been on our menu at home, from brains to pigs feet. [laughing] So I didn’t eat any.

This couple was always quarrelling, especially at meals. And an intentional remark from me almost involved me, and the woman turned to me and said, “What are you butting in for? Keep your mouth shut!” [laughing] So, I would have to move again! [laughing]

Now, it was to a rather attractive log cabin with a new section built on. They were a younger couple and seemed quite jolly at first. I had the log cabin section for my room. It had a fine [inaudible], which I enjoyed, but mostly had to use a little wooden heater – a little wood heater, not wooden.

Now, I wasn’t getting much getting sleep at night because of the mice and rats that came in through the fireplace. After I blew out my lamp, they scampered over my papers, and squeaked and had a ball, while I lay awake shuddering. [chuckles]

I believe I would have put up with this, except that there seemed to be something wrong here, too. There was no conversation at meals after about the first month. The food was very good and I was a little closer to the school.

I couldn’t stand the gloomy atmosphere at dinner any longer, so one evening, as I was helping with the dishes, I asked Mrs. Nelson, “What seems to be the matter? Have I done or said something that offended you people?”

She hesitated a moment and then replied, “I don’t like having girls making eyes at my husband.”

And I was stunned but finally snapped. “Do you mean me? I never made any eyes at your husband. Anyway, he is too old.” [laughing] He must have been almost 30. Now, I would have to move again! [laughing]

UNK: I see what you mean about getting yourself in Dutch all the time.

ML: Yes! I didn’t know from nothing, you know? As a kid, I hadn’t lived around people, and I was scared all the time that, you know, I might get in the doghouse [inaudible].

This time, I was lucky. My brother had a friend [inaudible] who talked his wife into taking me in for the sum of $20 a month. She was a fine cook and housekeeper.

And should have put in front that I got $60 a month for this job.

UNK: I was just going to ask you how much they paid you. You paid a third of it for your board and room?

ML: Oh, yeah.

The Christmas program was the big event of the school year for the children. Of course, we had a beautiful tree, all decorated with a dear, old-fashioned paper chain, strings of popcorn and cranberries.

I loved all the children, for what is more beautiful than a child with an expression which seems to cling to them all at this season? I only hoped that none would be disappointed.

Parents dressed in their best came, and proudly watched their girls and boys as they did their little parts in the playlet, or spoke their pieces. All went home happy, and would discuss the merits of the party and the teacher over for a month at least.

The winter dragged on with heavy, soaking rain, and sometimes beautiful, white snow. It was lovely in this park-like area, where the trees glittered with icicles on the crisscross frost January morning.

I was still feeling very inadequate about getting enough recitation in each day. They were not a very ambitious group, and much prodding was necessary if they took their work home. There was not as much diversion for a young girl in the big – And the biggest thrill was getting back to my room after school to find some mail waiting for me, especially if it was from France.

One Saturday evening, Leona, the daughter [tape recorder turned off] as Leona Neukirchen.

UNK: OK.

ML: Leona, the daughter of the mill owner who lived in Issaquah, came out with two high school boys in a Model T Ford to take me along to the Grizzly Bear dancehall. But we never made it. The little car broke down, and we waited back by the road, as hooting cars passed on the way to the dance. A logger with a kind heart finally stopped, and drove us all to our homes. That was my only social event of the year!

Now, there began to be signs of spring, as pussy willows sprouted on the trees by the little stream running through the schoolyard. Late in March came the trillium, and the spicy-sweet fragrance of red currant. The children deluged me with new bouquets daily. The surrounding woods were bursting with new, pale-green leaves and lovely flowers.

But there was something wrong. I began to have a feeling that perhaps the parents thought I wasn’t teaching their children enough. Sometimes I would come on a little group of girls who immediately stopped talking and scampered off. Or, when I lifted the telephone at my boarding place, I would hear some reference to some “she” in quotation or “who” in quotation, maybe wasn’t as good as she, or any better than she should be.

Do you get that? I don’t know.

UNK: Yeah, yeah.

ML: I wonder why I had ever wanted to teach school. Boyd Greenfield, that kid, was still my big pain in the neck. One day, as I came out after recess to ring the bell, he threw a rock at my little first-grader, Mary Bogdan. She was screaming, and a big lump was forming over her right eye.

I lost my temper and grabbed the handiest stick I could find, and took after him. He headed for the flume, which passed the school en route to the mill. He climbed on the flume and I was right behind him. The flume was very high above the ground in some places, in this rugged terrain. But as I didn’t take a chance of looking down and getting dizzy, I kept right close to him.

He ran to his home and I confronted his mother at the door. I could soon see that she was much like her son, so there was not much use in discussing his behavior with her. The boy didn’t come back to school, and nothing was ever done about it [chuckles] in those days.

I was enjoying the comparative peacefulness around the school when one afternoon, as I was dismissing the pupils, a little third-grader looked up at me and asked, “Are you going to stay to the meeting, too, Teacher?”

This looked like something I should be in on, and must have had some connection with, this secretive business, so I stuck around. About a half an hour later, they began to arrive – the farmers in their wagons and the mill people on foot.

I went back into the school room and sat down at the desk, and pretended to be busy correcting papers. As the people straggled in, I looked up and offered a “Good afternoon.” But most of them evaded my eyes. Some of them took seats at the school desks, but there were not enough. So I went to the closet for a few chairs to place at the back of the room. They acted self-conscious and seemed to be waiting for something or someone.

Mrs. Sidell [sp?] – I’m mentioning the real names, you know, which …

UNK: Uh-huh.

ML: Mrs. Sidell, a very matronly and unattractive woman with stringy gray hair, kept looking at a paper in her hand, and talking behind her hand to a younger, dark-haired woman who still showed signs of former beauty.

There were a few men in the crowd, mostly farmers, I noticed. Then, in walked Leo Gleason. He smiled at me and faced the room, one hand resting on my desk. He was a fine figure of an Irishman, even in his working clothes, with curly brown hair that stuck up in a bunch on one side, and bright, blue eyes that could sparkle with fun, or look solemn the next minute. He looked very romantic to me that day, even if he was an old man of about 35.

His flashing glance passed around the little group, until it lit on the two women huddled in private conversation.

“Well, well,” he mused aloud. “So you two are at it again. What have you got there?”

The paper was passed up to him by the man in the front seat.

“So, you’ve got up a petition to fire Miss Coulton, Mrs. Sidell? Just what has she done to make you do that?”

“Going into Seattle, running around with soldiers and not getting back here till noon the next day.”

And the other one cut in. “And chasing around to dances with that wild Neukirchen girl. She ain’t teaching these kids nothing neither.”

“Just a minute!” yelled Mr. Gleason. “You two are the last people to be making such statements about any girl. There’s been plenty of talk around about how wild you both were when you were young. Now, I’ve known this Miss Coulton and her folks for some time. I’ve never seen or heard anything but good about her. In fact, I think she is too good to wipe her feet on either of you!” [laughing]

He was tough.

He turned to the chagrined group and waved the petition in the air.

“Anyone want to sign this?” Nobody did. “I feel we ought to apologize to Miss Coulton for this shameful accusation,” Gleason said in a calm voice. “I have been considering suggesting that we offer $5 more a month to come back next year.”

There was an embarrassed silence. Then he added, “All in favor, please stand.”

They all got to their feet, with much shuffling, and hurriedly left the school, not glancing at the two women, who tried to look as small as they must have been felt.

Mr. Gleason turned to me. “The old vultures, they really aren’t mad at you. It’s your brother they’re trying to get even with. You see, he fired their husbands because they never – they were absent from camp every time something needed them at home [inaudible]. With this war rush, he had to have men he could count on and those old devils just took it out on you.”

UNK: [Laughing] Huh! Isn’t that a cute story.

ML: Well, it isn’t [well-shaped?], you know. And then she said … she didn’t like it too well.

UNK: We can take care of that. But I want to ask you a couple of things.

ML: It was interesting, though.

UNK: How did the mail come? You said you were anxious to get home to see if there was mail.

ML: Well, the mail carrier came by.

UNK: On horseback?

ML: No. He had an old rickety Ford of some kind. He came by.

UNK: Uh-huh. It was a rural route in the country?

ML: Yes.

UNK: And you spoke about the Grizzly Bear dancehall. Was that in Issaquah?

ML: Yeah, it was out there in the country.

UNK: Out in the country. Around the camp?

ML: Around the camp.

UNK: Around the lumber – uh – logging camp?

ML: Yes. I couldn’t tell you just where it was now, but they called it the Grizzly Bear. And they had these country dances, but I never really went.

UNK: Were they hoedown-type dances?

ML: Yeah, uh-huh.

UNK: With a fiddler and …?

ML: Yeah, with a fiddler type of thing.

UNK: Yes.

ML: I never got to one because the war was on and they didn’t do too much that year, see.

UNK: Uh-huh. Well now, during that winter, did you have snow and ice at all?

ML: Yeah, we had some snow.

UNK: Did you have to shovel any part of –

ML: It was awfully pretty. I know it sparkled, and it was very cold.

UNK: Did you have to do any of the shoveling? Did the students do it?

ML: No.

UNK: Somebody else did it?

ML: I can’t seem to remember any shoveling.

UNK: Who kept the fires going to keep the rooms warm, because I remember there was a potbellied stove –

ML: Well, the kids came early. They came earlier and they built the fire. Not very modern.

UNK: No, a potbellied stove. Would you use wood and coal?

ML: Yes, wood. Big hunks of wood.

UNK: And the farmers would bring the wood in?

ML: Yeah, I guess so. Maybe Mr. Bogdan got it over. It’s 56 years!

UNK: Fifty-six years ago. Can you imagine? Do you remember any animals around the schoolhouse?

(IHM 94.41.4) Mary Colton Lucas in 1973, at age 75

ML: There were no animals.

UNK: You didn’t see any wild animals at that time? They had hunted them all out then?

ML: I guess so. I can’t remember seeing any.

UNK: You spoke about ringing a bell. What kind of a bell was it? Was it a hand bell, with a handle?

ML: Yes, I had a handle.

UNK: Oh, it would be wonderful if we had some of these things left!

ML: Yes! Mrs. [Inaudible], I wonder if she has anything.

UNK: No, the people before her was [Collins?]. And my husband and I had known them, and they bought the building pretty raw, and never did change it very much. And we used to go and visit them. They had a piano in there. It was one big room. And upstairs. There was an upstairs. Well, they put in, I think they put in an upstairs. But they –

ML: [inaudible] and then just an entryway, you know, where you’d come in and hang your coat and then go in.

UNK: Uh-huh. Well, the Kiers [sp?] are the ones that have done the most remodeling. How many months of school were there? Did you start in September?

ML: Nine.

UNK: Nine months of school. Through May. And now, you spoke of the flume. You know, I’ve always wished that we could find a picture of one of the flumes. There were flumes around here. The one you speak about came by the school and went to the lumberyard. Then, there was one that went from the lumberyard –

ML: Oh, yes.

UNK: All the way down into Issaquah. There was a flume all through the Squak.

ML: I don’t remember. I remember this one coming to and chasing that kid over it over to the mill. His folks lived in the mill –

UNK: What did it look like? Could you describe it to me?

ML: What?

UNK: A flume.

ML: Well, I could show –

UNK: Was it like a trough up on –

ML: I can show you. [tape recorder turned off] There was a walkway along the side of the [inaudible] and then this thing, it was big enough to handle –

UNK: Logs?

ML: No, not logs. [inaudible]

UNK: [inaudible]

ML: I don’t think logs ever came, because they couldn’t turn the corner.

UNK: There was water in it?

ML: Oh, yes. There was a spring over there.

UNK: It was like a trough?

ML: I think it was [inaudible]

UNK: There was a trough with water in it.

ML: It couldn’t have been [inaudible], could it?

MALE: [inaudible]

ML: [Inaudible] kept the thing buried, you know. It couldn’t have handled a log.

UNK: I see. So this was a shingle mill?

ML: No, it wasn’t just a shingle mill, though. They put out lumber.

UNK: They did. But they didn’t come in this flume [to the?] shingles?

ML: I don’t think they could have.

UNK: No.

ML: Because, you see, it wasn’t just measured …

UNK: For the big [inaudible]

ML: [Inaudible] so a big log could turn the corner.

UNK: I never have found a picture of a flume.

ML: I think my brother [inaudible] pretty near all of the big timber [inaudible].

UNK: Have you any more pictures, do you think, anywhere?

ML: I’ll look more. See, he has some old boots, I think. [Inaudible] we did after the time [inaudible].

UNK: Now, a picture like this, the people are known to you. But to me, it’s the background of the picture that is the most important. Because, now, you tell me that is the store at the mill, the shingle mill.

ML: Yes, the store at the mill.

UNK: The store where they went to buy things. Well now, in this picture, this is the store building right here.

ML: Yes, that’s the same thing.

UNK: Well then, what is this building?

ML: I know my brother –

UNK: But you said there was a blacksmith –

ML: They had bunkhouses, you know, very crude, that a man had to just get in this bunk and have his own blankets. There was no linen or anything.

UNK: No, no. No, no.

ML: Nothing like that.

UNK: No, you’d just roll up in your blanket.

ML: But my brother had his own little house. He was a bachelor at the time.

UNK: Was there a blacksmith shop there, too?

ML: There was a blacksmith shop.

UNK: And what did they shoe the horses – what did the horses do at the mill?

ML: I don’t think they were so much horses. I think it was machinery. See, there was a [lokey?], we called it, a train that ran.

UNK: Oh, yes. A little [shay?] or something. A little locomotive.

ML: So, did they call that other thing a donkey that they had out on the works, the donkey engine.

UNK: Yes, yes.

ML: It was for pulling the logs.

UNK: Right.

ML: But this train came and delivered the logs. I’m not sure, I’ll have to ask Will. Because he’ll know just exactly what they did.

MALE: I’ve worked in the woods, and the blacksmith, his main job was keeping the tools sharp. You could bring in a saw twice a day and have it sharpened, or an axe. You had to have them at top sharpness, you know, because you couldn’t do your work properly if you didn’t.

UNK: I see.

MALE: If you got a saw pinched [inaudible]. Even if you had a sharp one in the morning, you could bring it in at noontime and [inaudible] another [inaudible].

UNK: I see. And the blacksmith was the one that sharpened the saws and axes. Oh, OK.

MALE: That might be the case here.

UNK: Oh, I’m sure it must have been, because they used – well, the [flow?] had to be sharpened, you know, to cut the shingles, sure.

ML: I’m sure they couldn’t have been [inaudible]. I’ll talk to Will. I know he’s kind of confused now. He’s in a nursing home. Had quite a serious illness and he’s coming out of it. He’s a very strong –

UNK: Well, pictures, you know, that tell a lot of the story. And if we could just find a picture of the old flumes.

ML: [Inaudible]. There might be. I’ve got the whole thing. See, he took suddenly ill and had to be operated on. We didn’t think he’d live. And because his old house near the University of Washington was in a kind of a position where people … a lot of the hippies around, they were breaking into things. So we took a lot of things to our home. He bached in his house. He didn’t live anywhere else for years. And we picked up a lot of things like that that we want to be sure and keep and took them to our home, my sister and I, see. And there were a lot of loose pictures, all kinds of stuff. But I didn’t go over them very well.

UNK: Oh, well, so there’s some kind [inaudible].

ML: I took what was of interest to me and took it home. But my sister has some, too, now of them.

UNK: Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d be able to have a look and see if there’s any more of this caliber picture.

ML: Yeah, that’s –

UNK: Well, anything found here in this area that you might have pictures of.

ML: There might be something. This was – this man was a nephew of Bogdan’s. He came to join him from [inaudible].

(IHM 94.41.2) Neukirchen Mill crew, circa 1917.

UNK: Do you mind if I write something on the back of it if I don’t write through? This was your brother, right here?

ML: Yes. And this man, this was the blacksmith, the heavy man. That was his little girl.

UNK: Oh, I see.

ML: And she was the cutest kid. I don’t think I ever knew a more amusing child. She was just a … a very pretty, cute …

UNK: What was your brother’s name?

ML: William.

UNK: William Colton.

ML: Uh-huh.

UNK: And then the next one was the little girl, the blacksmith’s daughter.

ML: Margie Provits. P-R-O-V-I-T-S, I think.

UNK: P-R-O-V…?

Ml: I-T-S, I think. I don’t think there was a Z in it.

UNK: And that’s the blacksmith’s daughter?

ML: Uh-huh.

UNK: And then you said the next man was Bogdan’s nephew?

ML: Yes, the one on my – my near right. Maybe Alice will know. [Inaudible] his name.

UNK: Uh-huh. And you don’t know who the last man is?

ML: This one?

UNK: There’s another man there.

ML: No, I don’t know who he is. This, now, they may be some of the – their name was Hallwood [sp?]. He was a half-brother. His name was Hayward[sp?]. He had one sister. I knew the sister later in Bremerton.

UNK: Now, this other picture shows buildings of the mill site, too. And that’s the little girl, you said, that Margie.

ML: Yes, uh-huh. Yeah.

UNK: Oh, there’s a flagpole in front of it.

ML: Uh-huh.

UNK: There’s a flagpole in front of the store.

ML: Yes. Yeah, there’s a flag on it, too. Yeah, it was pretty rough. [tape recorder turned off]

UNK: You lived here twice after 1917?

ML: You see, I was married and separated, and I had this baby, and my mother kept [inaudible] in town here for my brother while he went, continued with his mill and [shake?] business. And we lived in one of these houses up Front Street where it turns?

UNK: Yes. Yes, and I think the back of the Darigold Creamery.

ML: It was on Front Street, and then it makes a turn.

UNK: Yeah, in back of the Creamery.

ML: I can’t tell you if it was the back. I’m thinking of the creek. Maybe it wasn’t there then.

MALE: [Inaudible] street at the end of it [inaudible].

ML: No, that’s a different one.

MALE: Oh.

ML: I’m talking about the one on Front Street. You go up Front Street and then it makes a [partial?] turn.

UNK: Yes.

ML: And it was after that turn, about the second … and we lived there a little while. And I, yeah, I went away again. I think rejoined my husband.

UNK: Quite separated, yes?

ML: Yeah, we lived away from here. And then later, I did separate, and we – then Mother and Will moved up on this house next to this one – I mean, the street next to this.

UNK: Oh, on Mill Street?

ML: This one – no, the one over there.

UNK: OK, Hill Street.

ML: Well, just before it ends up in the woods.

UNK: Yes.

ML: And it was, I think, the second house down from the woods. I liked that place so well, because we had such a nice yard. So my mother had a garden and my brother, of course. And I’d come up weekends. And she was looking after the baby for me and I was going into Seattle.

UNK: Uh-huh. How did you get – oh, you stayed in Seattle during the week.

ML: I had a sister. She stayed in Seattle.

UNK: You went by train into Seattle and back?

ML: No, we went in this great big old red car. Not a red car but I mean –

UNK: Oh, a Stanley Steamer.

ML: We’d have to get to – oh, I could tell you about this, too, a lot. We used to come down – you’d have to go out to Cedar Valley, and the milk train came through. And you’d have to get there early in the morning, something like seven o’clock, and it stopped for milk and then you had to hurry up and get on. And it went into Renton and in … at least at First Avenue of Seattle. But it seemed like I always went over on this red streetcar into Seattle. A long, red streetcar.

UNK: The one from Renton to Seattle. How did you get to Renton?

ML: On that train. On that milk train. [crosstalk, cannot understand either of them]

UNK: I see. From down at the schoolhouse, right?

ML: Yes, uh-huh.

UNK: When you went from here, how did you get to Seattle?

ML: I didn’t come from here.

UNK: Oh. I thought you said you worked in Seattle and your mother –

ML: Oh, you mean that later time?

UNK: Yes.

ML: Oh, yes, that wasn’t much of a [inaudible]. I think, I’m not sure, that could have been when we had the red car. But no, I think that red old streetcar was going.

UNK: But that didn’t come to Issaquah, that was only Renton to Seattle?

ML: I can’t say for sure.

UNK: Uh-huh, uh-huh.

ML: I can remember the railroad in Renton and the big train. Maybe it went all the way to Seattle then.

UNK: But you only came to Issaquah on a train that once?

ML: Yes, but there was some man that ran his own private car, what they called a … seven-passenger car.

UNK: Yes!

ML: And ran it as a bus from Renton into Issaquah. Because they weren’t too far from where I lived, but we had to walk a mile or so off of that.

UNK: Yeah, I think I have a picture of a similar – of one of those I’ll show you. [tape recorder turned off]

END

Northern Pacific Railway Documents Come For A Visit

2010-03-13T20:22:00.000-08:00

I've committed the worst sin of the blogger: failure to post. It's not because there aren't plenty of things to write about. Between the transcription of oral histories from 20-35 years ago (more on these very soon), cataloging the letters of Minnie and Jake, and managing the fascinating treasures that just wander in the door, it feels like we are always making new and fascinating discoveries about Issaquah's past these days. I will try to be better about sharing them with you!

Today I'm going to tell you about the fascinating treasures that wandered in our door two weeks ago. A member of the Western Division of the Northern Pacific Railway Historical Association stopped by to talk about a project they are working on. They are in the midst of sorting through the Jim Frederickson collection of documents, which consists of hundreds of boxes of old Northern Pacific paperwork. They offered to share with us the documents that relate to the Issaquah station, so that we could scan them.

The documents deal with capital projects along the rail line, usually requested by businesses within the community. Most of them are rail spurs or track extensions, put in to connect the business more easily with the Depot, allowing them to ship and receive more efficiently. The files are filled with official Northern Pacific forms (Form 4947 Roadway Completion Report; Form 1363 Requisition Form; Form 1932 Final Completion Report, Form 1924 Details of Charges to Authorities for Expenditures; Form 7104 Field Completion Report, and so on and so on) and correspondence from one official to the next. They also contain maps for each project, which provide snapshots of the community at specific periods of time.

What fascinates me about the collection is the chance to peak into administrative operations. The station agent at each post along the Northern Pacific rail line acted as the railroad's representative in their community, relaying information back and forth between community members and railroad executives. In the case of some transactions with large companies like the Issaquah and Superior Coal Company, one set of information and instructions might get passed from the mine executives to the local supervisor to the station agent to the NP manager, then to the district manager, and on to the main office in St. Paul, with stops along the way for the addition of estimates or engineer sketches. Reading through these documents is like listening to a game of telephone.

The documents also contain correspondence and reports prepared by local figures: copies of the incorporation papers for the Northwestern Condensery, signed by Dr. William Gibson, reports on construction by railroad section foremen Jack Legg, references to work crew supervisor George Alf, and notes and reports written by a number of different station agents over the years. These will be helpful in refining our time line of station agents in Issaquah. They also provide an insider's assesment regarding the economic health of the various businesses. For example, station agent George Hackett confides to his superior that the Nuekirchen Mill is lagging behind in paying it's bill because it has hit on hard times, being two weeks behind on its payroll and shipping fewer loads of lumber than previously. Several capital projects were also impacted adversely by the slow collapse of the Issaquah & Superior Coal Company, which began with the advent of World War I.

The language of the early 20th Century businessman is also of interest. In one back-and-forth conversation regarding the intricacies of NP accounting, one NP official reached such a state of exasperation with another that he wrote, “You fail to grasp my meaning.” In another exchange between the local rail superintendent and the roadmaster, the superintendent writes, “You have informed me twice that the track at Issaquah Coal mines had been surfaced. The Superintendent of the Mines was in today and stated positively that nothing had been done to the track whatever. I would be glad to know why instructions have not been complied with.”

In total, we probably scanned and saved more than 200 documents, dealing with 20 different construction projects. Below are three of the documents that were scanned (you can click on the document to see them at full size).

From left to right are:
1. January 1, 1914 letter from Issaquah station agent G.H. Worley to NP Superintendent Craver, regarding the Issaquah and Superior Mine.
2. August 28, 1915 letter from NP Superintendent Craver to St. Paul, regarding the Issaquah and Superior Mine, and it's decline.
3. November 14, 1911 letter from Issaquah station agent George Hackett to NP Superintendent Craver, regarding the delay in obtaining payment from the Neukirchen Brothers.

Minnie and Jake: Uncensored

2010-02-26T12:31:00.000-08:00

A generous grant from 4Culture is currently funding the digitization and cataloging of several archival collections, include the letters of Minnie Wilson and Jake Schomber, Issaquah residents and sweethearts. The couple corresponded during World War I, when Jake was serving in the Army. This post is part of a series of posts about their lives and letters.

Minnie and Jake’s letters are quite similar in some ways. They both spend the majority of their time writing about how much they miss each other and wish that they were back together. I can only imagine how important it was for Jake, all alone in muddy Camp Fremont, CA, to receive these letters to keep his morale high.

But their letters are also very different. Minnie’s letters are great from a historical perspective - she provides excellent gossip and uses both first and last names in her letters. The news is pretty benign but the information is good for researchers and cataloging.

Jake’s letters on the other hand are definitely the entertainment pieces. At first you feel a little invasive reading some of the more “loving” parts, but as you dissect the subtleties of Jake’s language, you realize what he is really getting at – and it can get a little racy.

For instance Jake writes on September 2, 1918 “Oh dearest I am longing fore the time when I can hold my little girl in my arms again. But not like I used to. I want it to be different, I want you for my own, then I won’t have to kiss you goodnight at the door. It won’t be a good night kiss but a all night kiss. Won’t this be a grand old world then?” At the time Jake wrote this letter he was 32 and Minnie was only 21. I can’t imagine this was a letter Minnie shared with their families.

Another favorite moment points to the body image of the time. In Minnie’s letter on September 9, 1918 she mentions that “Everyone’s telling me I’m getting fat, not all in one spot either.” When Jake receives her letter on September 13, 1918, he responds with his own opinion:

“You said you are getting fat, that will help some. I want a nice little fat baby girl to meet me when I come home. I don’t meant for you to be flabby fat but if you are I will love you just the same. If you were fat I would have just that much more girl to love. But I don’t want you to get fat. Just as you are will suit me fine.”

It’s surprising how comfortable Jake feels telling Minnie his thoughts on her weight. Maybe he’s just trying to make her feel better, or maybe he really does feel this way. In another letter he tells her that he wants her “fat and sassy.” I think his true opinion really does boil down to his last statement: he just wants to be with Minnie.

(Top picture: Minnie and Jake circa 1916-1918. Bottom picture: Minnie and Jake circa 1965.)

The Case of the Unknown Lake

2010-02-26T03:15:00.000-08:00

This week we received a request to help us identify the photograph above; the inquirer was planning to use the image for a magazine article and thought that it was probably Pine Lake, but wanted confirmation to be sure. I sent the image out to our members mailing list and we received a variety of replies. Although several people thought it was indeed Pine Lake, others were sure that it wasn't. Because the photo caption stated that it was the opening of trout season, one person explained, it was not likely to be Pine Lake, which is too warm and shallow for trout. Another long-time resident on the Plateau thought it was unlikely to be Pine Lake because Pine Lake did not have a boat launch of that size. A third person said that it couldn't be Pine Lake in 1962 (the year sited) because at that time, the area around the boat launch was heavily treed.

Other replies suggested a variety of lakes that it might be instead of Pine Lake. I compiled all the answers and sent them back to the author, not sure what he would make of them. It turns out he'd sent the image to a few other people for ID, and the Federal Way Historical Society (and the Federal Way maintenance staff) were unanimous in their agreement that the image is Steel Lake.

This turn of events is not unusual. Efforts to identify photos in our collection often result in multiple choice options when one person is identified with three different names by three different people.

The first lesson? Label your pictures! Twenty years from now there may be heated debates over who, where, or what is pictured in your snapshot!

The second lesson, for museum staff, is to record our line of thinking in the museum catalog whenever we make an educated guess. For example, the image to the right has the following catalog entry:

Eric feels and I (Erica) concur that this was not located in Issaquah. Although there was a Wilson Tibbetts who had an automotive agency, we don't know of any G.I. Wilson. Also, the building behind the Wilson building has "Reliable Auto" painted across the side. There were no businesses in ISQ by this or similar names, although there was a Reliable Auto Parts in Seattle for some time. Issaquah had very few commercial buildings that were two-story. Our guess is that this photo was actually taken in Seattle.

It would have been quicker to note "Not in Issaquah," but fifteen years from now, someone looking at the catalog might be left to wonder, how do they know it's isn't Issaquah? who decided this? where is it, if not Issaquah?"

Along in the same vein are the identifying notes for the image at left: Young couple with small baby.... Erica's note: since this came in the same batch as photos of Jacob & Mary Wilfong, and appears to be taken in the same setting and on the same day, I suspect that this is Paul Wilfong and Hazel Wilfong holding their daughter.

Again, rather than just labeling the image with my suspicions, I recorded my line of thinking. This way, if it is discovered in five years that I am a mentally unhinged and/or legally blind, other staff members know that they need to go back and re-examine this (and many other) conclusions I've made.

But don't panic. I'm pretty sure my faculties and eyesight are within the normal range. So far.

A Scene From the Love Story of Minnie and Jake

2010-02-12T11:35:00.000-08:00

A generous grant from 4Culture is currently funding the digitization and cataloging of several archival collections, include the letters of Minnie Wilson and Jake Schomber, Issaquah residents and sweethearts. The couple corresponded during World War I, when Jake was serving in the Army. This post is part of a series of posts about their lives and letters.

In honor of Valentine's Day, I thought it appropriate to write about one of Issaquah's infamous couples: Minnie and Jake Schomber. During WWI they diligently wrote each other while Jake was in the Army and Minnie remained in Issaquah - and their love letters could put any young couple to shame.

A lot of their story seems like a romance movie, with just the right amount of uplifting moments and missed opportunity. After reading all of Minnie’s letters and currently making my way through Jake’s, there is a moment in the letters that has become my favorite.

Prior to Jake leaving for boot camp, Minnie tried to convince him to marry her – as they were already engaged. Jake hesitated, not wanting to leave behind a wife who, after the war, could be a widow. He left for Camp Lewis (now Fort Lewis) for his first phase of training.

Jake only remained in Camp Lewis for a few weeks, and throughout his entire stay, Minnie pestered him to let her visit. Finally, Jake caved, thinking that his company would remain in Camp Lewis for the duration of their quarantine – of which they had a few more weeks. After getting the go-ahead from Jake, on August 15th Minnie boarded the stage bound for Tacoma.

But, as Minnie’s letter describes, when she arrived at the bus station Jake wasn’t there. She headed to Camp Lewis only to discover that Jake’s company had left the day before - without warning. And as Jake’s hastily scribbled letter on August 14th describes, he doesn’t know where they are going.

It’s hard to imagine this scenario playing out in our lives now. We are all instantly connected by voice or email with our Blackberrys and iPhones. But in the time of Jake and Minnie, this classic movie scene of missed paths is not so unbelievable. What is amazing is the coincidence that a couple of days after Jake allows Minnie to visit, no doubt with the idea to finally marry, the Army decides to move the company.

Jake ended up in Camp Fremont in California and was eventually shipped over to France. He came home safe and sound and married Minnie.
See their marriage certificate here.

You can read a portion of the letters below – Minnie, in all her heartbroken tragedy, writes him one of her longest letters at 12 pages typed. Jake’s hurried apology before he boarded the train is below as well.

(click to enlarge images)

Sliding, Gliding, Dribbling & Casting

2010-02-11T16:08:00.000-08:00

Last weekend several volunteers and I met at the Issaquah Community Center to install an off-site exhibit. The exhibit was designed by volunteer Geoff Nunn, and centers around the theme of recreation. Both summer and winter sports are included. Among the artifacts are a 1920s era women's swim suit, a 1930s era sled, and an Issaquah High basketball scorebook from 1917.

The exhibit is positioned in the Community Center lobby, where thousands of people will pass by every day. We're so pleased to have this opportunity to share Issaquah's past with a new audience!

Above: Volunteer Paris Seabrook trims ethafoam to cover a wooden block. The block will be used to raise and support a dress form. The ethafoam prevents the wood from coming into contact with the wool swim suit; wood is high in acid, which can contribute to deterioration.

At right: Geoff Nunn carefully manuevers the dress form into the case.

Event at the Northwest Railway Museum

2010-02-05T13:19:00.000-08:00

I'm passing this information along to readers who might be interested in supporting our neighbors to the east, the Northwest Railway Museum:

January 21, 2010 (SNOQUALMIE, WA) – This spring, the Northwest Railway Museum’s bi-annual benefit promises to be a culture and history-filled evening, featuring a delicious dinner, prize-winning author and local entertainment. You are cordially invited to join us for Working on the Railroad, Friday, March 5, 2010. The event will be held at TPC Snoqualmie Ridge, 36005 SE Ridge St., Snoqualmie, WA. Featuring excerpts from the Museum’s newest exhibit, Wellington Remembered, the tickets-only event includes a no-host bar, hors d’ oeuvres and dinner. Jim Kelly, Executive Director of 4Culture, and a leader in the arts and historic preservation field, has graciously consented to emcee the evening’s line-up of activities. A musical interlude will be provided by the Issaquah Singers, who have prepared a songbook of railroad themed music. A brief auction of selected big ticket items will precede the feature presentation of the evening. Gary Krist will present a slide show and conversation about his book, The White Cascade. A skilled storyteller, Krist is able to spellbind the reader, all the while informing with fact and painting with details. “[He] describes the frantic rescue efforts, the mounting fears of the passengers, and the malevolent, unending storm, in a thrilling, climactic chapter, he conjures forth the avalanche and its aftermath.” -The New York Times

Tickets are $100 and can be purchased at the Snoqualmie Depot or by phone at 425.888.3030 x202.

Caboose!

2010-02-04T12:04:00.000-08:00

Every Depot museum needs a caboose, according to volunteer Eric Martin. I tend to agree with him, as do the kids who come in for tours. We go to the caboose last because, I tell them, it's the end of the train and the end of our tour.

It's even fun to say. Try it. Go on. Ca-BOOSE!

Okay, maybe it's just me.

In any case, this morning I spent some time looking over our caboose with Richard Anderson, director of the Northwest Railway Museum. Thanks to a generous grant of $18,000 from 4Culture, we will be able to contract with the Northwest Railway Museum to make some major repairs to our little yellow caboose, ensuring it's long life at the Issaquah Depot. The Northwest Railway Museum has a long history of renovating and repairing rolling stock (the official term for rail cars, locomotives, cabooses, etc.) and have just begun doing the work for other organizations on a contract basis. It's a win-win situation, since it provides expertise for groups like ours who have rolling stock in need of repair, and a source of income for the Northwest Railway Museum.

The most significant issues with our caboose include water leaks and rotting wood on one wall and in the cupola, and rusting on the exterior of the car.

The grant from 4Culture represents about half the cost of completing the project, so we will need to do more fundraising in order to complete the work, but the investment will be well worth the effort. It will be great to secure the caboose from future deterioriation and preserve it as part of the Issaquah Depot interpretive experience.

Wherein We Make Our Web Developer Chuckle

2010-01-29T15:40:00.000-08:00

Jenn Mathews of obvio.us has been working on our web design, and just made the following post on her own blog:
Triple X (XXX) Root Beer is the best Landing Page Ever!

Want to Sing a little Living History?

2010-01-28T16:49:00.000-08:00

Shapenote music dates from American colonial times and is characterized by fervent a capella singing in four-part dispersed harmony. You may also have heard it referred to as "Sacred Harp" music, after the most widely used shapenote songbook. In recent years, it has had its biggest public airing in the soundtrack for the movie "Cold Mountain."

Shapenote is still alive and well and sung all over the country. In the Seattle area, several groups meet throughout the year, and there is a big annual convention. That's coming up on February 20 and 21, 2010 (Saturday and Sunday). it will be held at the Mercer Island VFW Hall at 1836 72nd Ave. SE, Mercer Island, from 9-3 each day. There will be a potluck dinner at noon on both days. With any luck, you'll even hear me there!

Admission is free. Come and sing or listen. Children are welcome, but there is no childcare provided. For more information, check http://www.seattlesacredharp.org/ or contact emw130@yahoo.com (206-366-5317).

Still A Little Wild

2010-01-27T13:53:00.000-08:00

Pre-Lake Washington bridge, and especially pre-railroad, Issaquah was considered to be located in the middle of the wilderness. Apparently it's still a bit wild around the edges here -- Julie Hunter, our collections manager, spotted a coyote from the window of the Gilman Town Hall's upper office yesterday!

For more information about Issaquah's origins as a wilderness, you can look at digital images of the original 1864 surveyor's field notes for Township 24, Range 6 East Willamette Meridian -- also known as today's Issaquah.

(click on images to view full-size)

Some of the notes made by Edwin Richardson, Surveyor, are understandable only to folks who know surveyor's jargon, but the notes under "General Description" give hints at what the area looked like in the early 1860s.

Click here for a menu of survey records from a variety of years; these and thousands of other images are available at the Bureau of Land Management's web site.

Local News: Pioneering women pilots of WWII get a belated honor

2010-01-23T11:00:00.000-08:00

This morning's Seattle Times features a front-page article about "Pioneering Women Pilots of WWII" who are, at last, being honored with Congressional Gold Medals. Eleven women who served as part of the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP) will receive the honor, and another 16 will receive the award posthumously.

During World War II, more than 350,000 women served in women’s divisions of the military, among them several of Issaquah’s young women. One of these was Elizabeth Erickson, who trained as a WASP. These women received extensive flight training and relieved men of their non-combat duties. Among other things, they ferried new fighter planes to Europe so that fighting men would not have to leave the front lines to do so. This proved to be an appealing vocation for young women whose early years were filled with news coverage of Amelia Earhart’s daring flights – and eventual disappearance.

Erickson, a graduate of Issaquah High School and the University of Washington, reported for duty at Sweetwater, Texas in January of 1944. Tragically, four months later she was killed in a mid-air collision over Texas. Thirty-seven other women died in service to their country, but never received military recognition. Because they are still considered civilians, the U.S. Army did not even provide military burial.

Erickson was not among those who received a Congressional Medal, perhaps because she did not survive to serve in Europe. However, her name is inscribed on the monument to Issaquah’s war dead that stands in Memorial Field.

* * * * * * * * * *

More information on Erickson's training and last flight is available here.

Township 24 North, Range 6 East

2010-01-21T18:04:00.000-08:00

While looking for a township/range map for the Issaquah area, I stumbled across this fabulous web site, Historic Mapworks.The site features old maps from all over the country, including some of the old insurance maps that show the owner of many larger properties. The site has maps available for Issaquah from 1907 and 1912. One of the questions we get from researchers most often is, where did my family live? These maps can help some folks answer that question.

Today in History: January 13, 1893

2010-01-13T15:25:00.000-08:00

On January 18, 1893, Preston opened its first post office. John F. Hudson was the postmaster, and mail was distributed from his home.

Thirty-nine years ago today, the January 13, 1971 Issaquah Press reported that Issaquah Creek had overrun its banks for the second time in a month, and that ground had been broken for the construction of Bellevue Community College. Meanwhile, Munson's Thriftway (located where today's Front Street Market stands) offered USDA choice chuck roast for 47 cents a pound, just beating the 49 cent per pound advertised by the Hi-Lo on Highway 10 (today's Gilman Boulevard).

Record Year for Museum Attendance

2010-01-13T15:06:00.000-08:00

We're starting to crunch the 2009 numbers to see what kind of year it was - and apparently it was a very good one! Last year we welcomed 8,163 visitors to the Issaquah History Museums, breaking the 2004 record of 6744 visitors. Our annual average is right around 6,000.

If you visited the museum during 2009, thanks for helping make it a banner year.

The Story of a Quilt

2010-01-08T12:15:00.000-08:00

Today marked the first meeting of the Issaquah Quilters Guild at the Issaquah Depot. I'm pleased that the Guild has chosen the freight room as their new meeting space. I dropped by this morning to welcome them, to share some information about Issaquah's history, and to show off one of the quilts in our collection.

Aside from their artistry and their use as a houseware, quilts played several roles historically. They were educational tools, providing hands-on experience in math and geometry. They were often an exercise in thrift, as scraps from other projects were combined to make something new. Quilts can also tell us a story, about the person who made it or the circumstances under which it was created.

The quilt that I shared with the guild members was a crazy-quilt created from scraps of different fabric. It is an unfinished piece, and the process of quilt-making is visible. Although the quilters enjoyed looking at the quilt (and provided me with more information about its construction), it was not the quilt I had intended to bring with me. Ahem. In order to minimize wear on the quilt, I didn't open it before taking it to the meeting, not realizing that we had more than one crazy quilt stored in the collections.

The quilt I intended to share with the quilters appears at left. It was constructed in 1932 as a baby quilt for Mona Jane Beers (whose name is embroidered in the middle of the quilt). The maker of the quilt was Jane (or Jennie) Usher.

Born Sarah Jane Lynch in 1864, Jennie grew up in Ohio. She met and married William Usher in 1881. Around 1898, William died, leaving Jennie a widow. Jennie went to live with her daughter, Edith Usher Beers. The household also included Jennie's son-in-law Charles Beers, and grandson George. Around 1912, the Beers family moved to Issaquah. Charles worked as a mechanic at a garage and Edith became involved with the Issaquah Garden Club and the Order of the Eastern Star. Jennie Usher added to the household income by sewing. Scraps from the dresses and other garments she made were incorporated into quilts.

Mona Jane was George Beers' daughter, and Jennie Usher's great-granddaughter. The quilt was constructed in part out of scraps. It is a crazy quilt, although the scraps appear to have been pieced into twelve blocks of approximately the same size. The most interesting thing about the quilt, in my opinion, is the middle layer. Contemporary quilters use batting between layers of fabric; before batting, quilters used wool, felted blankets, or even old quilts as the quilt's filling. Through some of the paler fabrics, it is possible to see the filling of this quilt -- sugar sacks with the words "Pure Cane Granulated Sugar" printed on them. At the height of the Depression, Jennie Usher combined scraps and sugar sacks to create a beautiful heirloom for her great-granddaughter.

To me, this quilt tells a story of thrift, self-sufficiency, and making do in times of economic hardship.

If you're interested in looking at another quilt that tells a story, visit the Gilman Town Hall Museum and view a Salmon Days quilt made in 1983.

Interested in renting the freight room for an event, meeting, or party? See our website for rental details.

Today in History: January 7, 1953

2010-01-07T17:27:00.000-08:00

Fifty-three years ago today, a Flying Tiger cargo plane flew into Squak Mountain and exploded All seven of the passengers were killed. Phil Dougherty's account on HistoryLink.org draws on original news coverage of the incident, as well as interviews with people who remember the event.

Issaquah's history has been marked by at least two other airplane accidents.

On Octber 12, 1969 a Shelton man piloting an ErCoupe 415D crashed near Lake Side Sand and Gravel (near exit 17). He had been circling the area for several hours, unable to get his bearings. He did not survive the crash. What is purpoted to be the steering wheel from his plane is part of the Issaquah History Museums collection.

On June 9, 1971, two men escaped without injury after crashing a Cessna 150 near Pine Lake.

Henry L. Beebe, Three-Day Marshal

2009-12-18T12:25:00.000-08:00

We are in the process of updating our web site, and as I go through the many, many files that make up the site, I've been reading some of the pages for the first time in years. It struck me that many of the biographies of police and marshals bear updating, now that we have gathered more information in our community family tree. Since it makes the most sense to start at the very beginning, as Julie Andrews would sing, I decided to investigate Henry L. Beebe first.

Henry Beebe was reportedly the first town marshal in Gilman (today's Issaquah), although he served for only three days. Beebe appears in the 1892 Washington State Territorial census. At that time, he was living in Gilman with his young wife Ada Sloper Beebe, and their one-year-old son Henry. The census shows that he was born in the United States in about 1867, and that he was working as a laborer. The Washington State Digital Archives contain copies of the certificate he signed upon his marriage to Ada, and another marriage license for his marriage to Sula Turner several years later. And this is the extent of the information I have been able to locate about Mr. Henry Beebe. Did his first wife die? Did he move away? What happened to his son?

And how did he come to be the town marshal for only three days? The only source I can find for this information is a scribbled note among Harriet Fish's papers -- but no information as to her source for this tidbit.

On April 25, 1892, the King County Council approved the incorporation of the town of Gilman, following a vote by the citizens of the would-be town. The application for incorporation included a proposed slate of mayor and council members. The minutes of the first Gilman Town Council meeting on April 27, 1892 note that the name of John McQuade was put forth for the office of Town Marshal, and was unanimously approved.

Did some other associated incorporation paperwork include Beebe's name as the proposed marshal? Why didn't his name come up during the nominations at the first council meeting?

As is so often the case, seeking the answer to a historical question often leads us... to more questions.

If you have any additional ideas about Mr. Beebe or Gilman's first town marshal, I would love to hear them!

Today In History: December 10, 1909

2009-12-10T12:48:00.000-08:00

The December 10, 1909 Issaquah Independent reported that the school board had placed a drinking fountain on the school grounds for the benefit of the pupils. Progress!

Researching Monohon

2009-12-09T14:13:00.000-08:00

Monohon was a small town on the banks of Lake Sammamish. The town was centered around a lumber mill, which burned down in 1925. Today, the Waverly Heights development is located there. Over the years we have received visits from a number of people who live in Waverly Heights and want to know more about their community's story. Last month another Waverly Heights resident named Ethan made a research appointment to learn more about Monohon for a second grade school project. Ethan was interested in the major landmarks of Monohon -- the depot, lumber mill, and railroad tracks. I showed Ethan and his mom our research files and several different maps of the area while his dad and little brother looked around the museum.

It's always fun for me to help people track down the information they are looking for, and even more fun when the researcher is developing an interest in local history at such a young age. Kudos to the Sunset Hills Elementary teacher who asked students to research the history of their community!

Ethan sent us this picture of his completed project, along with a note of thanks:

Welcome!

2009-12-01T11:13:00.000-08:00

Although we deal with the past on a daily basis, we also try to keep current. Staff and volunteers at the Issaquah History Museums will use this blog to share bits and pieces of what we do with readers. If you have a question about Issaquah's history, or an item to share, let us know!