❖ FERRY NAMES ON PUGET SOUND ❖

M.V. KLICKITAT
approaching Port of Friday Harbor,
San Juan Archipelago, WA.
4 February 1962.
Original photo by Fred Milkie,
from the archives of the Saltwater People Log©

What's the best name for a new ferry?

The Vacation State, or the Klahowya!

The Washington State, or the Tillikum!

How about the Sales-Tax State, or the Duckabush?

If it weren't for William O. Thorniley and a determined band of citizens who followed his lead, our Washington State ferries wouldn't bear the Native American names that puzzle tourists (and a few natives as well).
      It was early 1958 when the furor arose. Lloyd Nelson, a member of the State Toll Bridge Authority, had been given the innocent-sounding task of naming two new ferries in the state's seven-year-old expanded system. After reviewing the names of the most recent acquisitions––the Rhododendron and the Olympic, launched in 1953; the Evergreen State, christened in 1954––Nelson set sail with his imagination and came up with two sure winners; the Vacation State and the Washington State. A small item announcing the names appeared on a back page of the January 14 1958, Seattle Times. With the pleasing sensation of a job well done, Nelson went on to his next task.
      He hadn't reckoned with William O. Thorniley. An employee of the Black Ball Ferry Line before the state acquired that private service in 1951, Thorniley had long advocated using Native American names for the ferries. In fact, he had collected Chinook names for years and had personally named many of the ferries on the Black Ball Line. Now, when he heard the proposed names, Thorniley launched a campaign through the Seattle Chamber of Commerce to return to the tradition of Native American ferry names. The result was a month-long controversy, with hundreds of citizens joining the fray.
      State officials explained that Native American names were too difficult for tourists to pronounce or understand –– and the state intended to make the tourists as comfortable as possible. But to Bill Thorniley, a bored tourist was no more likely to return than a confused tourist. The redundant new names certainly bored him.
      "Vacation State!" Thorniley snorted. "What's the matter with nice-sounding colorful Indian names like Bogachiel, Twana, Humptulips, Solduc, Dosewallips, Nooksack, Stillaguamish, and Duckabush!"
      Poor Lloyd Nelson. Many Washingtonians agreed with Bill Thorniley, and there were plenty of ideas besides those he half-jokingly suggested. Letters poured into the State Toll Bridge Authority. Western Washington newspapers took up the hue and cry. Suggestions ranging from Tahoma after the mountain to Squat (Salish for silver salmon) were submitted by interested and irate citizens, complete with scorching comments about the state's lack of imagination.
      Supporting a return to Native American names, Edward E. Carlson, executive vice president of Western Hotels, asserted, "Anything that has to do with the romance of a region adds to its attraction for tourists. Look at the fantastic job they have done in Hawaii. We should lay emphasis on everything that's colorful and picturesque in the Puget Sound area."
      Rudi Becker, connected with a harbor sightseeing service, branded the new names "unimaginative––just what you'd expect from politicians with no romance in their souls."

Rudi Becker, protestor
with his boat named Sales Tax State.

      In protest, Becker dubbed the 1918-model power dory he kept in his back yard the Sales Tax State. (Now there's a name that would have stood the test of time.)
      In the end, the state gave in. "All I want to do is smoke the peace pipe," Nelson declared. On February 15, just one month after the names Vacation State and Washington State had been announced, Nelson offered to withdraw them. Later, Thorniley served as the expert on Chinook Jargon when the state set up a nine-member committee for name selection. After three months, the committee decided on two new names. Klahowya, meaning "greetings" and Tillikum, meaning "friend."
      Following are the Native American names for some of the ferries currently in service [1986.] Most of the definitions were among Thorniley's papers and can be found with other definitions, in Ferry Boats, a book by Mary Kline and George Bayless. (Thorniley had remarked that Chinook was exclusively a spoken language, so the accuracy of spelling and pronunciation in his list depended on the hearing and literacy of early settlers who first wrote them down.)

Elwha: The Elwha River on the Olympic Peninsula takes its name from the word for elk in the Clallam tongue.
Hiyu: Chinook Jargon for "plenty, much."
Hyak: Chinook Jargon for "fast, speedy."
Illahee: Chinook Jargon for "land, place" or "location."
Kaleetan: Chinook Jargon for "arrow."
Klahowya: Chinook Jargon for "greetings" or "welcome."
Klickitat: Native American tribe of south-central Washington. Some early explorers claimed the word meant "beyond," but the majority seemed to favor "robbers" or "dog robbers."
Nisqually: Tribe which headquartered at the mouth of the Nisqually River.
Quinault: Lake Quinault and the Quinault tribe of the western Olympic Peninsula.
Spokane: Tribe in eastern Washington.
Tillikum: Chinook Jargon for "friend."
Walla Walla: Tribe in eastern Washington.
The most recent line of ferries was launched in the early 1980s, christened in the tradition of Northwest Native American names.
Chelan: A lake on the eastern edge of the Cascade Mountain range, from the word for "deep water."
Issaquah: A city in western Washington, from a word of uncertain origin.
Kathlamet: Tribe in western Washington.
Kittitas: Shoal people; also defined as "land of bread."
Kitsap: Chief Kitsap, sub-chief of the Suquamish Tribe, under Chief Sealth.
Sealth: Chief Sealth, after whom the city of Seattle was named.
What's the best name for a ferry?
      For a sense of regional history combined with a spirit of romance, Bill Thorniley's ideas were worth a few shots across the state's bow––and a second look. Take a ride on the Sealth, or the Tillikum, or someday (who knows?) maybe even the Duckabush.
Text by Margaret D. McGee, Seattle, WA. Excerpt from Ferry Tales of Puget Sound; Collected by Joyce Delbridge. Vashon Point Productions. pp 26-28.