❖ HARNEY CHANNEL ❖

Happy Easter 2019
Coming from Harney Channel
Photograph courtesy of Lance Douglas,
Blakely Island, San Juan Archipelago, WA.

❖ FIRST HOME IN 1950 ❖ ALOTOLA

ALOTOLA 
Skipper: Charles Frisbie.
Photographed in 1947 
Kenneth G. Ollar
The Brotchie Head start was 12:30 PM.
Original photo from the archives of
the Saltwater People Hist. Society©

The hungry Thirties had been hard on Northwest boat builders, but by 1935 things were definitely on the move again. Blanchard's yard had managed to keep their crew together by mass producing their popular 23-ft Knockabout. It became increasingly obvious that there was a market for a really capable sailing craft; one that not only had a fair turn of speed but one that could accommodate four or five persons for family cruising.
      Young Ben Seaborn was working as an apprentice in the yard at the time and spent all his spare moments and evenings sketching boats. From his father, he had inherited a natural gift for the development of sweet lined hulls for sail craft of many types. One day, during the lunch hour when the crew was gathered, Norman Blanchard Sr asked a straightforward question––"Why can't we build a good looking family cruiser that will really sail?"
      Ben took up that challenger and went immediately to his drafting board. In a matter of days, he came back with the plans for a sleek racer-cruiser. The boat that was to become Tolo had been born. Without delay, the lines were laid down and within a month she began to take shape. Now enter Charlie Frisbie, insurance salesman supreme. Frisbie took one long look at the boat on her cradle in the big shed––and bought her on the spot. 
      She was christened TOLA, destined under Frisbie's skilled drive to lead the Pacific Northwest into a new era. For the next five years, Charlie Frisbie and TOLA were inseparable. If anyone on the PIYA circuit had ideas of winning, he knew that he had to beat TOLA first. During WW II, TOLA was sold, as her skipper enlisted in the US Navy. 
      By wars end, Charlie Frisbie was a full-fledged captain. When he mustered out, he bought a 57-foot Alden Schooner, sailing her up to Seattle from California. He promptly christened his new love ALOTOLA. ALOTOLA first appeared at Swiftsure in 1948*. The sweet Alden sheer of her gleaming black hull, offset by a truly romantic schooner rig, made her an immediate favourite of the photographers and fans.
      By 1950, Frisbie had grown tired of just being picturesque. He wanted to win some races. With this in mind, he converted ALOTOLA to a 7/8 rig sloop. With the rig came new life. 

OFF TO THE START for the 1950
SWIFTSURE RACE,
VICTORIA, BC.
ALOTOLA was first home.
Original photo from the archives of the
Saltwater People Historical Society©

ALOTOLA was first boat home in Swiftsure 1950. Garry Horder was one of the crew. He recalls this incredible event: "ALOTOLA's crew, with the exception of myself, was made up of Charlie's cronies who had served with him in the Navy. There were commanders, captains, and at least one rear admiral, and every one of them tried to run the ship! It was a circus, but one of the happiest trips I ever made."
      Charles Frisbie was very much a part of the yachting scene wherever yachts gathered in Puget Sound. With his infectious accent, irresistible laugh, and great voice, he endeared himself to all he met. Buoyant, fun-loving, a master raconteur, gentleman, and above all, a sailor man's sailor, he was unique. To sit with friends in the spacious cabin of ALOTOLA and watch the magic fingers of the skipper as he fashioned an intricately knotted garter for the leg of the prettiest girl aboard was one of life's rare moments. His salty wit, shining eyes, and flying fingers always left some happy girl with the souvenir of a lifetime, plus memories of ALOTOLA to last forever!
       In 1959 Charlie Frisbie and his wife Betsy set out for San Francisco with the ultimate goal of sailing ALOTOLA through Panama, across the Atlantic, for a year cruising the Mediterranean. At the end of this voyage, ALOTOLA was sold in Greece. She has been reported many times since by visiting yachtsmen and still in wonderful shape, busy chartering.
      When the Frisbies returned to Seattle, they attended several more Swiftsures as spectators in their Newport motor sailer. Through his two loves, TOLA and ALOTOLA, Charlie Frisbie gave much to yachting. His name will ever be deeply engraved in the legend that is forever––Swiftsure."
Humphrey Golby and Shirley Hewett. SWIFTSURE, the First Fifty Years. Victoria, B.C. Lightship Press Limited. 1980.

1947 Swiftsure
1.  OWENS CUTTER, Chas Ross, 1st overall.
2.  DORADE, Franklin Eddy, SYC
3.  MARUFFA, John Graham, SYC.
4.  SEAWEED, Gus Gratzer, SYC
5.  ALOTOLA, Charles Frisbie, SYC.
6.  CIRCE, Ray Cooke, SYC.
7.  ANGELICA, John Locke, SYC.

*The above finishers as listed in SWIFTSURE, the First Fifty Years. Humphrey Golby and Shirley Hewett. 1980.

Hello ALOTOLA og crew in Danmark.
      
   

❖ FISHING OFF THE GUT SCOW ❖

Friday Harbor Packing Co.
Original photo from the archives
of the Saltwater People Historical Society©

"In 1894, three men from Astoria, Oregon, Johnny Devlin, Fred Keen, and Phillip Cook, came to San Juan Island looking for a good place to start a fish cannery. They built the Friday Harbor Packing Co where the Cannery Condominiums are now, near the ferry landing. I started to work in the Friday Harbor fish cannery in the summer of 1942 when I was fifteen years old. By then its name had been changed to the Friday Harbor Canning Co.
      In those days you had to have a permit to work if you were under sixteen, and I got my permit from Howard Carter. My brother, Albert, started working at the cannery that same summer. He was only twelve at the time. Leith Wade, the superintendent of the cannery, told us that we were doing a man's work so he was going to pay us a man's wage. My mom also worked in the cannery that summer, in fact, my mom worked in canneries for 48 years.
      

A bounty of salmon
Friday Harbor Packing Company,
San Juan Island, WA.
original photo from the
Saltwater People Historical Society©

In the years when there were big fish runs, many people worked 15-18 hour days. Some even longer. Sometimes in the 1940s, there would be 100,000 fish on the floor when we came to work. The canneries, fish buyers, and purse seine boats in the northwest would all be swamped. We worked such long hours that some of the guys would not even bother to go home. They would just sleep for a couple of hours in the boiler room or on the salt sacks. When it was busy like that, people would come down to the cannery to work and help us out after their businesses closed for the day. I remember Blair King and Alfie Middleton doing that.
      In the 1930s, 40s, and the early 50s, the fishermen worked 6 days a week. They would come into the docks on Friday afternoon and would be gone by Saturday afternoon. There would be a fishermen dances at the Moose Hall every Friday night. The old Moose Hall is now the Front Street Cafe and Boardwalk Bookstore.
      In the late 1930s and early 40s, a lot of us kids would go fishing off of the gut scow. 

Young boys fishing off
the Gut Scow.
Friday Harbor, San Juan Island, WA.
original photo from
the Saltwater People Historical Society©

The gut scow was where the heads and insides of the cannery fish went. We caught a lot of herring, as there were hundreds feeding off the little pieces of fish and blood that ran off of the scow into the water. When the scow was full, the tug CHALLENGER towed it to Anacortes where the remains were ground up.
      In the 1950s we used to have freezer ships come to our cannery with frozen fish from Alaska. They would unload just so many fish into the cannery from the freezer ship so they could thaw overnight. The cannery had a water sprinkler system to thaw the fish, and then they would be canned along with what fresh fish were caught the day before in our local waters. We had to skin and bone the fish by hand, and then hand pack and can them in 1/2-pound glass jars and the jars sold for fifty cents. In 1953 Bud Murray and I started working on the Iron Chink, which is a machine that cuts the head off the fish, then cuts off the tails and fins, then slits the belly and brushes out the insides. At high speed, the Iron Chink would do 72 fish a minute."

Written by Tony Surina, Friday Harbor, San Juan Island. Courtesy of Terry Jackson, John Wade, and Wally Botsford, The Fishermen and the Fisheries of the San Juan Islands. Unknown date of publishing.