"The past actually happened but history is only what someone wrote down." A. Whitney Brown.

About Us

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San Juan Archipelago, Washington State, United States
A society formed in 2009 for the purpose of collecting, preserving, celebrating, and disseminating the maritime history of the San Juan Islands and northern Puget Sound area. Check this log for tales from out-of-print publications as well as from members and friends. There are circa 750, often long entries, on a broad range of maritime topics; there are search aids at the bottom of the log. Please ask for permission to use any photo posted on this site. Thank you.

28 December 2022

WRECK; HOOSIER BOY~~1911

 HOOSIER BOY

96409
Built in 1898 for Coast Fish Company of Anacortes, WA.
31 G.t.. 58' x 12.4' x 5.5'


Scanned photo courtesy of J. Canavit.
From the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society.



San Juan Islander newspaper, 9 June 1911.

From the archives of the S.P.H.S.


WRECK; HARVEST HOME ~~1882

 HARVEST HOME

Capt. A. Matson
Built for Preston & McKinnon
San Francisco, CA.
Lost: 18 January 1882
About 8 Miles north of Cape Hancock.


HARVEST HOME 

Possibly a reproduction by the esteemed 
photographer/historian Charlie Fitzpatrick 
a resident of this  North Beach area, WA.
Click image to enlarge.
Photo from the archives of the S.P.H.S.©

"If it is possible for a shipwreck to be a happy affair, perhaps the loss of the bark HARVEST HOME would fall under this classification. The date was 18 January 1882, and the bark was beating up the coast under a pleasant breeze in a calm sea shrouded by a white sheet of fog. Her destination was Pt. Townsend, WA, and she rode low in the water with a full load of general cargo. Under the command of Capt Matson, the bark was skirting along in a northwesterly course in the early morning hours while most of the crew were asleep. Only the sea water caressing the hull of the vessel broke the silence of the nearing dawn. Then came another sound, a sound quite divorced from those of the sea. The helmsman cupped his hand to his ear and then pinched himself––had he heard a rooster crowing or was he dreaming?
      Suddenly the vessel began to pitch and roll as though it had been struck by a tidal wave. The crew was tossed from their bunks and in a matter of minutes the ship was deposited on the sands and suddenly became motionless.
      Capt Matson stormed up on deck and leaped upon the poop, but before he could get his mouth open, the helmsman informed him that the vessel was aground.
      "Aground you say, Mister, why we're six miles to sea, I set the course myself," bellowed the Old Man.
      Fog was all about the stranded ship, but there was little doubt about her being aground, and before the flood tide had decided to go back to sea again the HARVEST HOME was bogged down in the sand up around the driftwood area.
      Several hours later the bewildered skipper discovered that he had been navigating with a defective chronometer which was responsible for the stranding.
      When the fog lifted around noon, the helmsman sighted a big barn a few hundred feet from the beach, and it was then that he knew that the rooster he had heard crowing had not been a figment of his imagination. The wreck was lying eight miles north of Cape Disappointment, on the sandy beach of the peninsula.
      Later the crew walked ashore and the wreck remained stationary while the tides swished around her, more firmly entrenching her in the sands. The cargo was salvaged but the bark was left to die a slow death.
      In the months that followed, tourists paused at the wreck to have their pictures taken under the summer sun or to picnic on her rotting timbers. Some of the shipwrecked sailors found themselves peninsula belles and tied the legal knot of matrimony.
      Meanwhile, Preston & McKinnon of San Francisco, owners, collected $14,000, the amount for which the vessel was insured."

Above text from Pacific Graveyard. Gibbs, James A..Binfords & Mort. 1950 

WRECK; GROMMET REEFER ~~1952

 GROMMET REEFER

246509
Blt. 1944, Duluth, MN
G. t. 3,805.
323.9' x 50.1' x 26.5'



GROMMET REEFER
246509
Seattle, WA. 1948

This year this vessel was moored in
Seattle, classed as a 
US Navy ship but under US Army jurisdiction.

Original photo from the archives of the S.P.H.S.©



GROMMET REEFER
Four US Navy helicopters hover
over the disabled ship.
Leghorn, Italy,
16 Dec. 1952.

AP Wire photo via radio from London,
Archived with S.P.H.S.©


GROMMET REEFER,

Italy, 1952.
From the archives of the S.P.H.S.©

On 16 December 1952 the freighter,  GROMMET REEFER, supplying food to servicemen, ran aground on a rocky reef on the coast of Leghorn, Italy, splitting in two during a violent storm. The first operation involved breeches buoy, small boats, and swimming, with the rescue of 26 crewmen. 
      Next, the Navy helicopters rescued the remaining 13 crew during a daring aerial rescue from wave-lashed decks, as viewed in these two dramatic APWire photos from the S.P.H.S. archives.

WRECK; GOVERNOR ~~1921

 

GOVERNOR

April 1921
Capt. F. P. BartlettCapt. Thomas Marsden.
Pacific Coast Steamship Co.
Near Port Townsend, WA.
Loss of life: 7 passengers and 3 crew.


S.S. GOVERNOR

One photo and one lithograph postcard 
from the archives of the S.P.H.S.©
Click images to enlarge.


The Sinking of the Steamship GOVERNOR

A letter from E. W. Horsman to author R. H. Calkins of Seattle:
      "The memory of the collision is especially vivid in my mind as I had the unique experience of actually seeing the impact of the WEST HARTLAND on the starboard beam of the GOVERNOR. I was employed at that time by the Pacific Steamship Co. and was working out of the office of A. F. Haines on special assignments and happened to be on board the GOVERNOR in a deluxe stateroom directly under the bridge. I had retired but was not yet asleep and on hearing the danger signals, jumped up and went to the starboard railing. I saw the dark outline of the WEST HARTLAND about 20-ft from the GOVERNOR.
      One or two minutes after the collision, the lights on the GOVERNOR failed. This made a particularly dangerous situation on the starboard side, as the nose of the WEST HARTLAND had pierced considerably into the promenade deck of the GOVERNOR, leaving a large hole that extended into the engine room. This, I fear, may have caused some of the loss of life.


Captain F.P. Barlettt

Master of the GOVERNOR on this day. 
He was a graduate of the famed New York
nautical school ship St. Mary's and one of 

 the senior masters under H.F. Alexander.
Bartlett was exonerated of any blame;
he was not on watch at the time of the wreck.
Original photo from the archives of
 the Saltwater People Historical Society©

      Immediately after the collision, I reported to Captain Bartlett and was instructed to assist in getting the passengers out of their rooms and into lifeboats, which I did with all of my energy. After we had checked all of the staterooms and no other passengers seemed to be on board, I again reported to Captain Bartlett near the bridge and he instructed me to slide down the boat falls. He followed immediately behind me. To the best of my knowledge, we were the last persons leaving the ship.
      Our lifeboat pulled a safe distance from the sinking GOVERNOR and we watched her slowly settle by the stern. Finally, when the deckhouse was just about submerged, a bulkhead collapsed and the stern settled very fast. The bow of the ship rose high in the air and as she took her final plunge, there was much noise of escaping steam and crashing wood.
      One of the peculiar incidents the next days was the attitude of a well-known Seattle man, the president of one of the railroads. He had two valuable horses on board the GOVERNOR and they, of course, were lost. The Seattle railroad president threatened steamship company officials with everything but murder because of the loss of his horses."


WEST HARTLAND

Capt. John Alwyn
Original photo from the archives of
the Saltwater People Historical Society©


Above text by R. H. "Skipper" Calkins. High Tide. Marine Digest Pub., 1952.
For an excellent in-depth report by Douglas Egan with fine drawings from the pen of Ron Burke, see the Sept. 1993 issue of The Sea Chest, the quarterly membership journal of the
Puget Sound Maritime Historical Society.

And then the salvage crews––

Here's a link to read more about the divers' efforts over the years.

Maritime Venture, Inc., Aug. 1987.

Two divers in a pressurized bell 
drop into the water off Pt. Townsend, WA.
An effort to recover an estimated $9 million
 in gold coins, fine wines, and other goods
that went down with the luxury liner 
SS GOVERNOR.

From the archives of the S.P.H.S.©

WRECK; GRACE ROBERTS ~~1887

 GRACE ROBERTS


ON 10870
269.91 G.t. Barkentine
129.5' x 32.' x 9.'
Blt Port. Orchard, WA. 1868
Home Port in 1886 was listed as San Francisco.
Wrecked Oysterville, WA.
8 Dec. 1887 Capt. M. Larsen


GRACE ROBERTS

Photo by Charlie Fitzpatrick.
From the archives of
the Saltwater People Historical Society©

      The American barkentine stranded two miles south of Leadbetter Point, 8 Dec. 1887, without loss of life. The vessel, commanded by Capt. M. Larsen, was feeling her way along the coast in a thick fog when she drifted into the breakers, knocking several holes in her hull. The crew had to take to the boats. Shipbreaker Martin Foard purchased the wreck for a small sum and salvaged the cargo and equipment. The ROBERTS was built at a cost of $30,000. It was said that the owners of the barkentine had run the vessel hard, overlooking badly needed hull repairs which may have caused her to bilge on the sands. Parts of her barnacle-encrusted remains could be seen on the peninsula as late as 1953. They are the oldest visible ship's remains in the Pacific's Graveyard.
Above text from:
The Pacific Graveyard. James A. Gibbs, Jr. Binfords and Mort, 1950

WRECK; GENERAL M.C. MEIGS~~ 1972

 GENERAL M. C. MEIGS

Lost 9 January 1972
US Navy troop transport ship.
7-mi south of Cape Flattery, WA.
Unmanned.


GENERAL M. C. MEIGS 
wreck, 1972
Near Tatoosh Island, WA.
Photo by Roy Scully 
Original photo from the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society

Early 9 January 1972, the San Francisco tug BEAR put out to sea from the Strait of Juan de Fuca in the face of gale warnings, towing the 622-ft troop transport GEN. M. C. MEIGS, formerly in layup at the Olympia Reserve Fleet and en route to the remaining West Coast reserve fleet at Suisun Bay near San Fran. No sooner had the tug and tow rounded Tatoosh Island than the wind and seas tore the big two-stack transport loose and drove her ashore 7 miles south of Cape Flattery. Soon afterward she broke in two against a murderous cluster of pinnacle rocks. Although unmanned, the MEIGS was carrying much material from the Olympia Reserve Fleet, including a steel harbor tug chained on a deck forward [visible in photo].

Burning wreckage from the 
GENERAL M. C. MEIGS, 1972
"Smoke rose from a pile of burning driftwood 
and timbers as USN enlisted men mop-up oil 
washed ashore from ruptured tanks 
on the MEIGS.
 The Navy is burning oil-soaked timbers 
and shoveling globs of the tar-like substance
into bags. the beach is owned by 
the Native Makah tribe.
The MEIGS was carrying 116,000 gallons and 
only about 5,000 have appeared." 
Seattle Times 1/1972.
      
The loss of the MEIGS and her valuable cargo aroused numerous questions in maritime circles, aside from the basic one of why the GEAR, under contract to the US Navy, proceeded to sea in defiance of a Force 8 gale. Several experienced mariners reported seeing the tug headed out with the transport on a short towline and an inadequate hitch. The Coast Guard does not investigate accidents involving naval vessels unless asked to do so, and the Navy made no such request, leaving many questions unanswered to the present day. Naval personnel were dispatched to the scene to clean up the spill of heavy bunker oil and to guard the wreck, although no effort was made to salvage anything from it. Subsequent winter storms have torn the ship into many pieces, with only a section of the bow and a mast remaining visible [at press time].
Above text: The H. W. McCurdy Marine History of the Pacific Northwest (1966-1976). Gordon Newell, editor. Superior, 1977.
 

WRECK; GLEANER ~~ 1940

GLEANER

O.N. 204548
422 G.t. / 408 N.t. Sternwheeler
Built 1907, Stanwood, WA.
Aground 6 December 1940.
Owned by Skagit River Trading and Navigation Co.


GLEANER

Skagit River sandbar, 1940
Photographer unknown.
Original photo from the archives of the S.P.H.S.©

"No more bends in the river for the abandoned Skagit River sternwheeler GLEANER that ran afoul of a sandspit at the north fork of the river on 6 December 1940. Lying upstream from the North Fork Bridge, the steamer had her machinery and fittings removed. She operated between Seattle and Mt. Vernon. 

WRECK: LIBERTY SHIP GEORGE WALTON~~ 1950

 GEORGE WALTON

243051
Liberty Ship hull #0344
7,176 G.t. 4,380 N.t.
Built 1943, Savannah, Georgia. 422.8' x 57' x 34.8'
Lost to fire off WA. coast.
Died: 1 by explosion and 5 by drowning, according to McCurdy's.
Another source claims more died.
Capt. Alfred Bentsen


Liberty Ship GEORGE WALTON

Lost en route to India loaded
with a cargo of wheat.

Acme Wire Photo to US Coast Guard.
From the archives of the S.P.H.S.©

"The steamship GEORGE WALTON was swept by fire 390 miles off the WA coast on 6 Nov. 1950 as a result of a boiler explosion which killed Second Engineer Gus Larsen. Capt. Bentsen and the crew launched boats in heavy seas that capsized one of the boats. Five more members of the crew were drowned as a result of this accident. The Greek freighter KATHERINE picked up 12 survivors, the Japanese freighter KENKON MARU rescued 12 and the Coast Guard cutter WACHUSETT, six. The injured seamen were flown to Seattle hospitals, the remainder being landed at Port Angeles. The GEORGE WALTON, a Liberty ship, had departed Portland with 9,000 tons of grain for India. It was first assumed that the burned-out vessel would sink, but she maintained an even keel and, almost two weeks later, was towed to Puget Sound by the tug Barbara Foss. She was later scrapped."

Above quote from The H.W. McCurdy's Marine History of the P.N.W. Newell, Gordon, editor.

20 December 2022

LIME WORKS WITH JUNE : November 1929


Roche Harbor,
San Juan Archipelago, WA.
 The Lime Transport
moored to load barrels.
Click image to enlarge.
Original gelatin-silver photographs from 
the Saltwater People Historical  Society©

Puget Soundings
June Burn
Bellingham Herald, November 1929

"Five years ago and Capt. Wirstrom retired from the sea. He had sailed his last ship, kept his last watch, and tooted his last whistle in a pea-soup fog. He was going to farm for the rest of his life and take things easy far from the mad winds and the merciless reefs of rock out where no gentlemanly reef ought to be.
      Today, as you read this, Captain Wirstrom is probably down in Coos Bay, having navigated a boatload of lime rock from Roche Harbor, WA, to the paper mills of Empire City. For, when the call came, the old mariner found he could not resist it and so he sits again in what seems to me a lonely state in his captain's quarters aft, on the big Roche Harbor Lime Transport.
      On the northern tip of San Juan Island, two companies dig lime from hills full of the purest lime deposit in the world, they say. Moreover, there is said to be enough lime in those hills to last more than a century with both companies going for all they are worth. (It is my private opinion that in a hundred years they will have dug up the whole island at the rate they are going now.


Orcas Lime Company
Click image to enlarge.

"The Orcas Lime Co worked a small quarry 
just a few hundred yards south of the 
Roche Harbor deposit. 
It supplied its single kiln with 
limestone by means of rail carts pushed 
along on top of a long trestle.
That plant and dock were located on narrow
Mosquito Pass, also served by 
Puget Sound Freight Line boats.
When the quarry rock finally gave out 
in the mid-30s, this trim little competitor
 gave up the ghost and the land 
  became a sheep ranch."
Text from the Journal Jan. 2003.
Author unknown.

Roche Harbor, San Juan Island, WA.
Original gelatin-silver photograph from the 
archives of the Saltwater People Historical Society©



On the beautiful old Scurr place, the Orcas Lime Works dig out the fine, white angular rocks to be broken and burned in the kilns where they will become flaky snow-white lime for a score or uses.
      And against the curving hill slopes behind one of the prettier harbors in the world, Roche Harbor Lime Company digs and burns, and barrels are loaded on ships for places far and near.
      The fine long dock at Roche Harbor is piled with barrels upon barrels, four deep, all filled with lime ready for the boats. Sacks upon sacks of lime are stacked behind the barrels. The daily capacity of the works is 1,500 barrels.


Antique copper stencils 
once used to inscribe lime barrels  
shipping out to these destinations from
Roche Harbor Lime Co.
Now archived at the 
San Juan Island Historical Museum.
Stop by during their open hours
and visit their wonderful 
effort highlighting history of San Juan Island,
San Juan Archipelago, Washington.



Boats come and go, bringing in thousands of cords of wood to Roche Harbor, going out with tons and tons of lime from Roche Harbor. The little bay is lively with boats.
      Ten years ago we helped to dig rock out of those hills. That is, Farrar broke the rock and I watched him! I used to walk up the Clematis-covered banks, over the tiny railway to the high-walled quarries to watch the men with their big sledge hammers cracking the boulders, breaking off one corner after another, sometimes finding themselves faced with an almost round, unbreakable rock at the end if they weren't skilled. The game was to break them so that there would always be another angle left. Farrar used to say there was poetry in watching the rocks come down after the blast, in selecting one's boulder to conquer with sledge and muscle, in breaking it so skillfully that the last bit was so full of sharp angles as the original boulder had been.
      The Clematis on those banks was planted forty-three years ago on the birthday of Mr. McMillin's son. The original plant is now a hoary old vine several inches thick, crawling all over the place. And the progeny of that vine softens every nook and cranny of the hill. It is chiefly responsible for the beauty of the place as one comes in by boat.

Hotel de Haro
Roche Harbor, 
San Juan Archipelago, WA.

      Against the dark hill rising up from the harbor on the left, as one enters, are the white cottages of the laborers, the combination church and schoolhouse, with its spire, the vine-covered hotel, the Clematis banks, and the big flower garden coming down to the water's edge. The effect is incomparably lovely. If there were no lime there at all, and no industry, the dainty small harbor would still be a village for the sheer beauty of the location.
      But to get back to Captain Wirstrom: Several years ago the lime company bought a big sailing boat––a beautiful thing she is, with flowing robes riding her prow. For two or three years, the long slender six-masted schooner sat still in the harbor. She too has retired, maybe. Thought to ride the calm waters of a picturesque harbor for the rest of her days. But now she is to be used again. Stripped of three of her masts, part of them used now as cargo booms, she will haul lime rock down the coast to the new paper mills at Empire City in Coos Bay.
      La Escocesa (Scotch Maid) was built in 1868 in Dundee, Scotland. She ran as a steamship between England and India. Later her name was changed to Coalinga and she was used in the carrying trade, whatever that means. Freight, I suppose. Finally, the Alaska Packers bought her, changed her name once more to Star of Chile, and used her as a sort of floating cannery in Alaska. Now she is the Roche Harbor Lime Transport barge and once more a "carrier" of things.
      Of iron her hull--thick plates of Swedish iron--and of her iron spirit, else she would never have lived out the seas which have broken over her in every sea in the world. And perhaps there is some iron in the spirit of her new captain that he comes from retirement to pilot a "barge." She doesn't look like a barge, certainly, with her trim lines and the three masts rising so fine and tall. But she is to be towed, sailing only when there is sufficient wind to make the use of her small canvas, worthwhile, and so she must now be called a barge, though her captain doesn't like it.
      Here comes my boat to take me to another island! I had thought to have dinner in the attractive hotel here and the soft-voiced Japanese boy is just serving the salad, but I must run. There will be a sunset on the channel as we chug across the island's dark shadow against the bright waters. See you tomorrow. June. "




10 December 2022

PULLING 250 MILES EACH SUMMER –– FOR FIFTY-ONE YEARS

 


Arthur O. McCormick,
Rowed the San Juan Archipelago 
for 250 miles every August.
His vacations were enjoyed for
fifty-one years in his 15' boat.
He passed at age 81, in Seattle, WA. 
Gelatin-silver original photograph 
from the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society©

"A. O.  McCormick rowed a journey of 250 miles each summer for his three-week camping trip in the islands. He did this every August without fail for 51 years. Often his excursions made news in the weekly newspaper in the islands.

His mode of transportation was a 15-ft rowboat, of the old type that does not move unless someone is pulling the oars. McCormick said in 1947 when this photo was taken he pulled his oars just as hard as 45 summers ago. "Not as fast, maybe, but just as strong," he says.

McCormick attributes his robust health to all the Augusts of rowing in the sun.

He tried a sloop once––in 1905, his third junket into the islands––but sold it that fall. "I couldn't go where I wanted," he explained.

McCormick preferred to pull silently along the crooked shorelines of the San Juan Islands, putting in here and there wherever it struck his fancy. Often in the heat of the day, he hauled his craft above the tide line and scrambled off into the woods or rock to make pictures with one of his two ancient cameras.

McCormick said he would rather prowl along a shady shoreline with a camera than sit in a boat on the sunburned end of a fishline.

The oarsman shoved off from the same spot about a quarter of a mile west of the Deception Pass Bridge, which oldtimers of the region have named "Mac's Cove."


CANOE PASS,
Deception Pass State Park, Washington.
48°24'30"N, 122°38'40"W

Signed original gelatin-silver photo
by photographer James A. McCormick,
who might have been catching his brother Arthur
down below in his small craft working the tide   
from "Mac's Cove" to camp on island beaches.
Arthur was still rowing in 1935 when a 511.2'
bridge was built across this scene  
to carry vehicles and foot traffic 
on WA-20 from Fidalgo Island
 to Pass Island (on right),
then to the next bridge   
over Deception Pass to Whidbey Is., WA. 
The views are a major attraction
for visitors to the area. 
from the archives of the Saltwater People Log©

Every night during his three weeks trip, McCormick pitches his tent on a different beach, just out of reach of high tide, where he can hear the waves washing and there are no ants to crawl down his neck.

McCormick and his older brother, J.A. "Mac" McCormick, a noted photographer of Seattle and San Juan County came to Puget Sound in 1901 from Denver, 1,500 miles on foot for 14 months. 

'Part of the time we walked, and part of the time we shoved the burros.'

The brothers came across the Rocky Mountains in the dead of winter, but they feared not because those were the days when young bucks laughed at danger the way young fellows today sit by the radio and laugh at Bob Hope. 

Arthur O. McCormick was a picture framer in the University District, widely known for his rowing tours. Proud of his physical strength and health, he declared he had never taken a nickel's worth of medicine in his life."
Lenny Anderson, for the Seattle Times.


Two salty scenes captured by  
James A. McCormick.
Click the double image to enlarge.

 Mac also took summer vacations in a small craft 
loaded down with glass plate negatives,
tripod, camera, and camping gear.
When he got back to shore, he would process
at his seasonal photo studio in the county
 seat of Friday Harbor, Washington.
Two gelatin-silver original photos from 
Saltwater People Historical Society archives.©


 



30 July 2022

MEMORIES OF MADRONA INN :::::: ON A SMALL ROCKY SPIT :::::: Orcas Island, WA., 1950s.

 


MADRONA INN
in the center of this photo of 
Madrona Point, Eastsound, WA.
The first cottages were built by 
Dr. I.M. Harrison and managed later by 
his widow Dr. Agnes A. Harrson and 
their son, Max. 
postmarked Eastsound, 1924.
Click the image to enlarge.
Original photo from the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society©

"The thoughts of those summers working at Madrona Inn are filled with warm and nostalgic memories.

The location of Madrona Inn was on a small rocky spit that went out into the waters of Eastsound, Orcas Island. It was surrounded by tall firs and native Madrona trees. The small self-contained cabins were tucked along winding trails, craggy boulders, and trees at various places. The main lodge housed the dining room, kitchen, lobby, office, and sitting /library room. The style of the main lodge was rustic comfort having a large stone fireplace (usually lit,) solid homey chairs, and exposed dark oak ceiling rafters. Many window views overlooked the grounds and pristine water. The dining room tables always had tablecloths and flowers. Fresh water, tea, and coffee were available in the library. Although there were other inns and lodges on Orcas Island, Madrona Inn was considered unique and was usually well booked all summer. This was true until the privately owned Rosario Estate (near Eastsound) was sold and turned into a high-end resort.

The guests came year after year often for months at a time. They came from the cities in Washington, California, and other states. Meals were served three times a day with a set menu that rotated over a couple of weeks; some menu variations were also enjoyed–– such as a guest sharing a self-caught salmon. There were 12-14 college students who worked various jobs to fulfill the needs of the guests at the Inn. The jobs were housekeeping, waitress, dishwasher, hostess, laundry, pots and pans washer, building and grounds maintenance, etc. Seven to eight girls were selected as waitresses' they wore yellow uniforms and were assigned tables. Two people were in housekeeping; one was a rover covering those who had days off; one was a dishwasher, and one was a hostess. We, as employees, came from a variety of colleges in Washington, and other states and island residents were also part of the team. A two-story house was the home for the girls. Our meals were at the lodge and showers were at the bathhouse by the laundry. I remember the night some bats flew in through the open upstairs window. Some girls shrieked with fear and put towels over their heads. After that, there was always an open window check and often the lights were left on all night. 

I worked as a dishwasher, waitress, and hostess over three summers. I remember serving meals to Mark Toby, a renowned artist, with some of his artist friends from Seattle and around the world. At the time I did not recognize his fame as an artist with work in the Louver in Paris. I also remember serving an evening meal to the Harrison family one Sunday night. Mr. Harrson's son, a distinguished and decorated U.S Army General from WA, D.C., and his family were visiting. I set a plate of bread on the table; my finger caught the edge of a slice of bread and the slice flipped over the flower arrangement into his soup. I was mortified!!! Many distinguished guests had their names on the sign-in roster. Mr. Max Harrison was an amiable proprietor––always wore a sports coat, usually had a cigar in his hand, and often cleared his throat with a "harrumph." Mrs. Harrison, a frail and gracious lady usually stayed in their private quarters.


The Orcas Islander newspaper
26 July 1951

Always a front page source of information
about the many resorts on Orcas Island,
the guests, and the reports of the
salmon being landed.

By mid-summer, much of the produce came from local growers. Other groceries bought in bulk, came from the mainland by ferry or from the local grocery store. The boys often made grocery runs to the ferry or the store. As a kitchen helper, I remember shelling peas, washing lettuce, and strawberries, or helping with salads. On days when the kitchen was hot, it was good to step into the large walk-in refrigerator and rearrange things. As a waitress or cabin worker, you got to keep your tip money, therefore you tried to do your best to serve your people well.

On Saturday nights we rushed to get our work done because there was always the Island dance to attend. The dances were alternately held at the Eastsound Grange Hall or Deer Harbor on the other side of the island. The dances were attended by vacationers, visiting people from their yachts, the young men who worked at Camp Orkila, and many island residents. At about 11 P.M. food would be offered; it was usually a generous and welcome spread. The band played music from the 40s and 50s with some polkas and schottisches included. What fun we had as did most anyone there. When the dance at Eastsound ended we girls walked home amid giggles, teasing, and singing. Without street lights, the road was very dark and a bit scarey. As a postcard from Orcas Island claimed, "there was never a place as dark at night as Eastshoud on Orcas Island.

One memory stands out for me. In August of 1955 six of us girls were invited to be the guest of Mr. Donald Rheem at his Rosario estate. He and his wife purchased the estate in 1938 from the original owner Mr. Robert Moran. Rheem made extensive improvements to the estate property as well as building dock moorings for some of his well-known friends from California. John Wayne regularly visited each summer as did other celebrities. We  (6 Madrona girls) were photographed for the Seattle Times as Rheem showed us the property. The photographer was the well-known Joseph  Scaylea. It was a spectacular mansion on a wonderful site. Later, after it was sold, additions and other amenities were added to make it into an upscale resort; it lost some of its uniqueness and character.

Guest use of the Madrona Inn started to close down after Labor Day. Coed workers headed back to college of jobs; the cook, Mrs. Tharp went back to cook for the "Figi" fraternity at the U of W. Mr. and Mrs. Twedt continued as resident caretakers of the property and handled the off-season use of the property.

I think of the time spent there with fondness. At times I am reminded of the fresh air smell of the warm fir boughs. I hear the rustle of fallen leaves on the trails to the cabins. The boulders held the sun's summer warmth long after sundown. The night darkness, the brilliant stars, and at times the Aurora Borealis, are not forgotten.

Madrona Inn was a place where one could renew and refresh themselves––let the breezes wipe worries and care away. Guests came to write, paint, read, and reconnect with nature. With its comfortable and rustic setting, it provided a haven of rest for the patrons. It was a wonderful place for a college student to earn a wage, and find adventure while getting ready for the year ahead. There were so many things to do in the natural surroundings of the island––hiking, swimming, boating, fishing, and a visit to a local pottery shop or the store in Eastsound. 

The views of Mt. Baker, Mt. Rainier, the Cascades, all the islands of Puget Sound, Vancouver Island, and so much more were and are always spectacular unless surrounded by fog. After hiking the trails we often stopped for a refreshing swim in Lake Moran at Moran State Park. 

On one of my days off, my father met me at Buckhorn Lodge on the north side of the island and drove us in his 16-ft boat to Lummi Island where we had a cabin. In the middle of the Straits, I heard a swishing noise and all of a sudden about 20 Orcas came under and around our boat. As the boat rocked, I was filled with fear. Dad kept his cool and as quick as they came, the Orca pod continued on its way to hunt for food. What an experience to be so close to nature. I will not forget how much they need their freedom 
in the sea just as we need ours on land."
Above words by Kathy Parker, September 2010.

The author of this letter mentions Dr. Agnes Harrison of Madrona Inn. There is more posted about this amazing woman here on this site.

Notices in the San Juan Islander newspaper promoting summer resorts and camping on Orcas Island in the 19th century:

2 August 1894
"Camping sites set up by Smith Stowers and other citizens. Platforms for tents and bathhouses near the beach improve natural facilities and make it the most popular resort on the sound. Civil rights and property must be respected, good order and decent behavior maintained!"

13 September 1894
"Orcas is overrun with campers from all over the Sound. This island has become an attractive summer resort and accommodations will be made for people who desire to spend the summer here." 



22 July 2022

AT WOODMEN HALL AND AROUND LOPEZ ISLAND with June ::: May 1930

 


Lopez Island, 
San Juan Archipelago, WA.

"We didn't arrive at the big Woodmen hall, standing alone in the middle of the woods, until along about 9:30 p.m.

It was exactly like going to meeting in the South. The meetinghouse was a lodge hall and we were going to play five hundred instead of sing and pray. But the feeling was the same. The same quiet assembling of buggies, one after the other coming in out of the night, finding their places between the trees. Except that they were all automobiles instead of buggies. The same leisurely goings and comings to and out of the meetinghouse. The same low talking. And when we get inside, the meeting had started so that we felt a little embarrassed at being late, exactly as if the friendly preacher was about to scold us!

It was a delightful evening and I almost learned how to play five hundred. 

Esther is coming to drive me over the island. What a prosperous, beautiful island it is! The  New England farms look no mellower, no healthier than these big Lopez farms reclaimed in the last seventy-odd years ago. they look like generations of people, of cattle, of crops had grown up here.

Grassy pastures and orchards in blossom on the Strafford farm. Berries and cattle, green fields, and a tractor plowing on the neat Erb place. Rolling green slopes and dozens of gorgeous apple trees in fragrant bloom on the Kilpatrick farm.

Down the road along the backbone of the island, beautiful farms fell away into pleasant valleys on both sides. Sheep in the pastures, chickens cackling from modern hen-houses. Loganberries on Joe Ender's place. The McCloud house, low and brown, nestled on a big rock.Strait of Juan de Fuca. 

A very tiny loghouse with a very big ivy cluster nearly hiding it, a cloud of pear blossoms hovering over it. Somebody lived in that diminutive picturesque house once and enjoyed its charm, enjoyed the sweep of pastoral beauty on the slopes below it.

Pheasants and mountain quail in gardens. the McCauley farm is lush and lovely on both sides of the road. 

Down the dim cathedral woods to McKay harbor. Hemlock, white fir, and cedar. Long, curving beach washed by gentle surf. Crows on a fence. The pretty white Tralness house above the beach and a lavender-pink mass of starry flowers on the edge of the road. Out in the harbor, a gray slick rock tipped with seagulls.

In Barlow's Bay a great flower-covered rock. Lacy yellow blooms. Sedum is about to burst into fragrant blossoms. Dark blue verbena-like flowers, bell-like flowers. Crane's bill. A creamy white bell-like flower––how tantalizing not to know the names of these sweets! You would not live here so long without knowing all the flowers by their real and common names, would you? Well, I knew them once. And I shall know them again!

We climb up into the woods and around the outer bluff of the island to find Washington's profile. 


Washington's profile
A rock formation on Lopez Island
that went by several names.
June Burn mentions the
landmark in this essay.
Click image to enlarge.


We find the bluff where the face used to be, but something seems to have happened to the nose, or else we have not come to the right place.

But we find dark blue camas in bloom. And against an old abandoned house a gorgeous lilac heavy with purple flowers. The woods are full of wildflowers. Lady slippers, Oregon grape, starflower. Soapalalee will be along presently. From these berries, the Natives make a bitter foam which some call Native ice cream.

Across the island, is John Thompson's big lonely house where the white-headed old mariner lives alone. He promises to take us with him to Smith's island next Monday. 

The Mud Bay schoolhouse and Eaton's pretty home. On up and around to the Vogt loghouse built a half-century ago of alder logs mind you. Inside, an old square piano, hooked rugs in original designs, and handsome ship models made by the son while tending fishtraps. Outside, flowers and blossoming fruit trees and green meadows and the forest not a hundred yards away. A lovely place.

Well, you needn't think I can go all over the whole island in one letter! See you tomorrow. June"

June Burn. Puget Soundings May 1930


28 June 2022

IN A CLASS BY HERSELF :::::: 12-meter WEATHERLY

 


12-meter WEATHERLY 
Underway on Commencement Bay.
Click image to enlarge.
Photo by Josef Scaylea 
from the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society©

Steve Scalzo, Alan Buchan, and Lynn Sommers, are three guys who should know the 12-meter sailboat Weatherly is in a class by herself. The 1962 America's Cup winner over Australia's Gretel was berthed at the Tacoma Yacht Club and owned by Buchan and Sommers, both Tacomans.
          
Scalzo, a former midshipman at the United States Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, N.Y., and then assistant to the vice president of operations of the Foss Launch & Tug Co., spent four years aboard the Weatherly at the academy.
          "The Weatherly is the prettiest and most durable 12-meter ever built. She's also the fastest 12-meter ever raced in light air. I saw several others during my four years at the academy and none compares with 
this boat."
          Scalzo was also involved in two winters (1968-1969) of experimental stress and durability testing on the boat by the Society of Naval Architects and Marine Engineers.
          "
It's the only time a sailboat has been put to such a stern test. Most of the runs were made on Long Island Sound and designed to determine
the stress and strain on all the primary hull and rigging locations.

           The society had many elaborate computers and pieces of electrical equipment in key areas. In one, a tugboat ran across the projected path of the Weatherly to create heavy water conditions."
          Buchan and Sommers use the converted 67-footer as a family boat and for weekend races in the Pacific Northwest.
          "Although we've had the Weatherly less than a year, we've found her to be durable, fast, and maneuverable," Buchan said.

          Sailing a 12-meter is quite an experience. In fact, it's virtually impossible to compare with any other smaller racing lass."
        Sommers added:
          "There's no question the Weatherly has a sound design and strength. Even with our novice crew, largely family members, she responds favorably."
          Built in 1958 by the Luders Marine Construction Co of Stamford, Conn., for the Henry D. Mercer Syndicate, the Weatherly campaigned that 

year in America's Cup trials.
          Skippered by Arthur Knapp Jr., she won a match race with the Easterner, lost to the Vim, finished last in a three-boat race, and broke down before the start of another. The Columbia went on to defend America's Cup for the United States.
          The Weatherly performed well off the wind and in light going during the trials but proved tender in moderate breezes.

          The Weatherly of 1962 was a different boat, however. A defective keel casting in 1953 resulted in her having less ballast down low than intended. Also, 4,000 pounds of lead were stowed in her bilges. In 1962 she ran a two-ton-heavier keel casting, developed through the cooperation of Phil Rhodes, a boat designer, and Luders, following tests in a model tank. Also, almost two feet were lopped off her stern.
          The result was that instead of lying down and wallowing when the breeze increased to 12 knots, Weatherly stood up and raced windward with the best of her foes in winds up to 18-20 knots.
          Between 1958 and '61, Knapp, one of the country's top skippers, sailed the Weatherly but gradually lost confidence in her as an America's Cup candidate. So the Mercer Syndicate signed Bus Mosbacher, a master helmsman.
          In the 1962 American's Cup nine-race trials, the Weatherly and the Columbia each started with two wins––one each over the other two contenders, the Nefertiti and the Easterner. But eventually, it was narrowed to the Weatherly and the Nefertiti, with the former taking four of five 

races.
           Following the Weatherly's selection as the Cup defender, Mercer, the owner, said:
           "I guess this proves it takes four years to get a 12-meter tuned up."
          The cup duel between the Weatherly and the Gretel ranks as one of the premier contests in the 125-year history of the sailing classic.
          In many quarters, the Gretel was favored––marking the first time in decades a foreigner was picked to capture the cup that has remained in this country since 1851.
          But the Weatherly won, 4-1, in the best-of-seven event.
          Mercer decided to forego the 1964 America's Cup and in 1965 

donated the Weatherly to the academy.
          During the summer months, the Weatherly was used for sail training by the midshipmen," Scalzo said. "In 1967 she was pulled out as a sparring partner for the Columbia in the Cup trials. She was sailed by a combination crew of midshipmen and a spare skipper from the Columbia.
          "She performed well in light air but tended to 'hobby-horse' in the chop.
          "From 1967 to '71, the academy utilized her for training, in addition to the winter experimental stress tests. Again, in 1970, she became an American's Cup trials sparring mate, this time for the Valiant of the Bob McCullough Syndicate. The crew was composed of half midshipmen, and half syndicate members."
          In 1971, the Weatherly was purchased by Douglas Jones of Menominee, Mich., who converted her for offshore racing. He continued to use the boat until his death in the summer of 1974. Thereafter, she was stored in Sturgeon Bay, Wis., until Buchan and Sommers successfully bid for her.
          The Weatherly became the talk of Puget Sound. She dwarfed all other sailboats around her. It's not simply her size that wowed fellow mariners, it's her rich history, too.


Words by Ranny Green for The Seattle Times, 7 March 1976. 

 

21 June 2022

Get on the Bottom Paint -- SUMMER is Here!!

 


M.V. WANDERER
Inscribed verso with vessel name
& date 1929

Tacoma West Waterway, WA.

The folks are finishing up with the 
bottom paint and Gramps
on the foredeck has the ground tackle
all shipshape. 
Do we know this crew almost 
ready for their summer holidays?
Click the image to enlarge.
Gelatin-silver photograph from the archives of
the Saltwater People Historical Society©

Happy summer everyone. 

15 June 2022

SOME CANADIAN CHARACTERS I HAVE KNOWN with Boatbuilder N. C. Blanchard

 


Harold A. Jones
Royal Vancouver Yacht Club
Commodore 1939, 1944-1947.
He was elected to an honorary
life membership in 1953.
Photo courtesy of the RVYC



"Harold A. Jones was a Canadian who lived in Vancouver, B.C., where he was in the towboat business. As I recall he had between seven and twelve tugs in his fleet, all with their uniformly painted stacks, and he was pretty much the Foss of Vancouver. You'd see his tugs pulling logs, helping ships get away from the pier, those sorts of things. He was a damned good fleet operator, and everybody knew his boats.
        One of my early trips to Vancouver to visit Harold must have been around 1936. Harold had a daughter--his only child--who was around 16 at the time but thought she was 25, and of course, she could do no wrong. Harold was likable and always very popular on both sides of the line.
        Harold Jones was a preeminent member of the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club, and for a long time, he owned a boat that my father built, the Gwendolyn II, which was previously owned by Fritz Hellenthal. Although I never had an opportunity to sail with him, Harold was a very good competitor until WW II came along, and all racing stopped. Well, shortly after the cessation of hostilities Harold phoned me and said he needed to meet with me––something about Princess Louisa Inlet. I said that that would be OK, so we arranged a date, and I drove up to Vancouver.
        When I got to Harold's house he was down in his playroom, I was highly surprised to find that in the space of the octagonal foundation in his basement, he had built, with his own hands, a light diorama of Vancouver from the water, and he had his Lionel model railway running through it.
        Harold continued with the Gwen for quite a few years, and then around 1946, he got Ed Monk to design him a new boat, a big sloop, about 65 feet with a nice teak house. He told Ed he wanted to build her skookum, and Ed designed it plenty skookum, and then Harold went and doubled all the dimensions. The frames were steam-bent oak and four inches square --really crazy. The result was that she floated about eight or ten inches below her designed waterline, but that didn't cut down on Harold's pride. He was very decent about how it came out, and always said, 'It was my own damned fault.'
        On his cruise down to Seattle Harold never came alone. He would always come through the locks with a helper. Of course, he could always pull a deckhand off his list to go along with him. The most memorable thing about his coming through the Lake Washington Ship Canal was that he would stand on the foredeck of his boat and play his trumpet. He always had his trumpet with him, and you could hear him coming. If we were planning to have lunch at the Seattle Yacht Club I'd leave the shop as soon as I heard his trumpet. I'd walk out on the dock at the club and here he'd come, with somebody else steering the boat, and Harold still on the foredeck playing his trumpet. You know, in those days very few adult men could play an instrument of any kind unless they were professionals.

        Harold Jones was a character, and that reminds me of the five old Canadian gentlemen who owned the Minerva. She was still gaff-rigged, but she was a big, powerful yawl, about 50 feet long. She belonged to these five old gentlemen, and they always kept a hired 'boy' on her––he was only 65!
        When the old boys finished their race they would sail right up to their mooring––they'd come in under full sail and pick up their buoy––and there was no sign of a breakwater near the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club like there is now. They always kept their dinghy on the mooring buoy. It was a pretty good dinghy, too, about 11 or 12 feet, because their hired boy would use it to row all of them together into the club float.


Yacht MINERVA
"Jones was also an exacting and
dominant skipper of Spirit II. His
pride and joy was Spirit which he built 
from an Ed Monk design in 1946."
Courtesy of the Royal Vancouver YC.
        

These gentlemen always imported their Scotch in the barrel from Scotland, and the barrel sat with a spigot in it between the berths in the after-stateroom. As soon as the first one came into the cockpit in his white flannels after a race, the 65-year-old boat boy would show up with a water server, but it was full of Scotch whisky. One by one each of them would show up in the cockpit in his white flannels, and then everybody knew it was an open house on the Minerva. If you were aboard you were immediately offered a drink, and one of them would start pouring, and if you didn't stop him he'd fill that tumbler right up to the top with Scotch whisky.

Everybody always liked to talk about these guys, and they were a popular topic of conversation. They had an agreement among them that as they died off, the last survivor would own the Minerva outright. Of course, once they began to die there were only a couple of years before all five of them were gone."

Words by: Norman C. Blanchard (1911-2009) with Stephen Wilen. Knee-Deep in Shavings, Memories of Early Yachting and Boatbuilding on the West Coast. Victoria, B.C., Canada. Horsdal & Schubart Publishers Ltd. 1999. 

From the library of the Saltwater People Historical Society.

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