Prohibition Days in Deer Harbor

Photo postcard by Ferd Brady (1880-1967)
Postmarked Orcas, WA. 1931.

Brady operated a studio in Marysville, WA., 
before purchasing the Anacortes Photo Studio in 1926.

 He moved his shop several times but maintained it in that city, 
until he retired to a nursing home in Seattle.

From the Saltwater People Historical Society Collection© 

"Apparently a rumor had been going around Deer Harbor that government people looking for bootleggers were posing as two couples with their police dog, as they prowled on a boat. This was the winter of 1930 and prohibition was still the law of the land.
      My parents-to-be and my grandparents had been to British Columbia, and were passing back through the area following my parents wedding on 30 October. A business/honeymoon kind of thing, and now they were on their way home to Portland, OR. The stop in Deer Harbor was to be overnight, but good weather along with a bargain of house rent for $5 per month encouraged them to stay longer. That turned out to be a life time for all of them.
      On a dark, quiet, night the US Coast Guard cutter slipped into the harbor and tied up to the cannery. Dad and Granddad had to know why, so they rowed their skiff near, but were careful to remain in the shadows.
      A truck belonging to a local farmer came through the nearby building and started to receive cases of forbidden beverage. A few hours later the cutter slipped out of the harbor; nothing was ever mentioned about the activities of that night. If Dad and Granddad hadn't seen it, it would have been a non-happening. Many years later we have learned that on weekends, the USCG skippers were allowed to use the cutter for their own purpose. Likely not the purpose intended that dark evening.
      Because of the rumor mentioned of government people cruising through the village, the family was not well received. People were friendly but reserved and Granddad could not accept that, being very social and always looking for historic facts where ever he traveled.

Not mentioning any names, Deer Harbor, Washington
From the private collection of L.W. North©

At Norton Store he bought the necessary products to make home brew, not revealing his intended use, but everyone in the store was familiar with the recipe items. A week later he bought bottle caps, a funnel, and a ladies personal device, and went home. Later in the evening a couple of guys dropped by and still later, a couple more, and the siphon party was on. Apparently, Gramps recipe was good because he got a reputation for the best beer. When he passed away in 1936, he was greatly missed by part of the community, anyway."
L. W. North, Deer Harbor, WA. 2010

❖ Rowing Through the San Juan Islands for Fifty Years ❖ (1902-1952) ❖

A. O. McCormick or his   
brother James A. McCormick,

Vendovi Island, San Juan Archipelago, 
inscribed with date of 1914.

Photo postcard from the archives of the S.P.H.S©

Making Fiftieth Rowing Cruise, August 1952

"A. O. McCormick, Seattle, was in town [Friday Harbor] last week making his usual yearly stop while rowing through the San Juan Islands, as he has done for the past fifty years.
      Mr. McCormick, who is 78 years old, rents a rowboat from a LaConner resident and this year started on 11 August. He expects to complete the cruise by 31 August.
      He carries a sheep herder's tent, a comfortable cot, and cooks his meals over an open fire. He never has to camp in he same spot, he says, as there are so many fine camping places available.
      When asked if he didn't find rowing difficult, he replied that he found he found the hardest work in setting up and breaking camp. It was rest to row the boat.
      A. O. McCormick says that this is the last trip of this type he plans to make, as it climaxes a record of 50 years enjoying a "rowboat cruise" among the San Juans.
      He is a brother of the late J. A. McCormick, photographer, who for many resided in Friday Harbor."
Friday Harbor Journal, 28 August 1952.
      If you have any data or photos connected to the life and work of this gentleman, we are archiving a file on his brother J. A. McCormick, professional photographer and part time resident of San Juan County and King County. Thank you.
    

               

❖ THREE MEN IN A BOAT ❖

SUNRISE
Shaw Island landing on Harney Channel.
San Juan Archipelago, WA.
L-R: Darrel Fowler, "Mac" Grubbs, Vern Moe.

It was 1950 and SUNRISE was her name––a sweet Fraser River gillnetter that came up for sale in Friday Harbor––singing a siren call to would-be fishermen. A trio of young "Shawnee" guys, hearing there was a forecast for a good tuna season, took the "bait"; Vern Moe, "Mac" Grubbs, and Darrel Fowler, were soon packing their seabags for a trip to the fishing grounds.
      Darrel went to the mainland for a crash-course on fishing methods for tuna and came home with a barrel of gasoline strapped into the well, back aft on the 32-ft vessel. 
      The men cast off, enduring a rough trip to Neah Bay. As they approached, they noticed the fishing fleet heading in. Out by Tatoosh Island, the land-based Coast Guard crew whistled them down with three whistle-blasts. 

The SUNRISE crew checked the charts and saw they were clear of the rocks so kept motoring onward, not realizing the whistle they heard was a bad weather warning. Two passing fish boats hailed the Shaw Island trio to suggest since they didn't have a radio perhaps they better give it up; they did, and after that one adventure to the edge of the big ocean, as Vern remembers, "that was the end of our tuna fishing."

ORCAS ISLAND WOMEN ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ WORKING THE BOATS

No scraping, no sanding, no varnishing.... these boats came back to life with lots of handwork on some fresh, clean, cotton.
      Going back several decades, artistic quilts have been designed and stitched by teams of Orcas Island women dedicated to supporting causes important in the community. The luscious quilt featured in these photos has a maritime history theme which earned it a place within the pages of this log.        
      The 14-member crew for this artistic endeavor was led by Eclipse Charters co-owner, Denise Wilk, who conceived the clever design and then drew the boats to chart the course. The completed quilt is such a treasure that the names of the participants must be listed; they were Jan Kolton-Titus, Eva North, Judy Slater, Dorothy Lundquist, Mary Hatten, L. Baney, Jacque Kempher, Irene O'Neill, Tony Knapp, and Denise Wilk.
      Some of the vessels depicted stitch-by-stitch are from our early days, with two boats that are still active. They have all been an important link to the interesting culture in the islands. At least four of the boats were constructed on different islands in San Juan County; they served multiple needs, for transport to the mainland, fishing, sightseeing, and a combination of general work and family recreation.
        Maggie Kaplan volunteered to carefully join the squares; Betty Marcum joined the banners and did the binding, no small task, and done beautifully. Gail Mikuchonis used her skills for the machine embroidery of the vessel names and petit signal flags, while Keri Stone did the first-class quilting. Jane Willis Barfoot-Hodde was a great source of help with her memory of the early days.
        The completed treasure was raffled in December 2010 in support of the Orcas Island Museum in Eastsound.
        Thank you quilters, for depicting some of the rich histories of the colorful San Juan Archipelago. An amazing textile to come from your skilled hands and generous hearts.
The photos below are courtesy of Margo Shaw, Orcas Island.
Please click on the individual square to zoom in on the beautiful stitching.

  

A DANISH STORY ON ORCAS ✪ ✪ ✪ by West Sounder John Gorton

         

Danish fishing boat from Bornholm to West Sound, WA.
Photo by author/photographer/mariner John Gorton.

One afternoon back in the '90s, I was down at my dock pottering about my boats - "pottering" is an English boating expression signifying a deep, soul satisfying peacefulness that comes over certain people when left alone with a boat that doesn't need anything done to it but requires a very careful perusal to be absolutely sure. Pottering is best done on a Sunday afternoon when there is no wind, although a little light rain is acceptable.

       This particular afternoon was an entirely pleasant afternoon for pottering because it was warm and still and not raining. I had spent some time examining the mooring lines of my dinghy. My wife was away for the day and so I felt quite relaxed about checking the stern rope for wear one more time.   Actually I was kneeling down in ROSIE with my head poked down in her stern checking the brass ring to which the stern line was fastened. I am giving you these details because I want you to understand that I was quite absorbed in what I was doing and really quite oblivious to what was happening - if anything - on the greater waters around me (known to Navigators of the World as West Sound).

       When it came it was as though somebody had suddenly ripped a blanket from over my head. I mean it was a terrific splash followed immediately by the clanking of heavy chain running down a hawse pipe - almost next to me! I poked my head up above the gun'll and felt my eyes widening in absolute amazement. Not fifty yards away, was a genuine Danish fishing boat! Here in West Sound - ten thousand miles from, I mean the other side of the world from Denmark! Incredible as it was, it even had a Danish fishing boat registration painted on its bow. I hadn't seen such a boat for maybe ten years.

       I realized it must have cut its engine some way out and just coasted in close to my dock to contact what probably appeared to be the only living person down at the waterfront that afternoon. Pulling my self together I quickly untied ROSIE grabbed the oars and headed out across the short gap between us. A normal West Sounder might not have done that, but you see, I spent a fair part of my adult life in Denmark, have a Danish wife, many Danish friends and used to cruise amongst the many Danish Island faerylands.
       "Hello on board!"  I shouted as I came alongside. A face appeared above me - a young boy's face, in his twenties, but well weathered.
       "Hi" he said. "Do you want to come on board?" The Danish accent so familiar to me - but it seemed natural on the deck of this boat, all cluttered with boat gear, chain and coils of rope, crab pots etc. We shook hands as he told me his name, I think I recall it was Eigil Petersen. Then a girl appeared from somewhere near the bridge and he introduced me to her as his friend from Seattle.
         "Well, I know Bornholm quite well." I said. "In fact I lived there for a while about thirty five years ago."   "That was before I was born," he observed. "What were you doing on Bornholm?" So then I explained how Bornholm was the only piece of real estate that NATO owned that was behind the Iron Curtain. He knew about NATO and what it was because the Berlin Wall had fallen in '89 while he was still in Denmark and he remembered all the newspaper and TV publicity. Did you have something to do with all those strange antennas in the forest at the center of the island?" he asked. I told him how those installations had been the prototype for a line of huge radars that extended from Eastern Turkey, three thousand miles across Western Europe, to the top of Arctic Norway and how we had been able to watch the Soviets flying across eastern Europe during the Cold War.
       I recall the three of us sat on his boat talking about Bornholm for most of the afternoon. As I got up to leave, he suddenly asked,  "do you have any photos of Bornholm? I would like to show my girl friend where I come from."
       Well of course, being a bit of an amateur photographer, yes, I had quite a few pictures of that idyllic island!   And so we all piled into our dinghys for the short row back to my dock and the scramble up the hill to my house. I used to take lots of 35 mm slides in my travelling days so here I am reaching deep into the storage cupboard marked "Archives" and bringing out all sorts of old slide boxes. Eventually I find one with a rather faded label marked "Bornholm", pop them into one of those ancient rotating slide carousels and fire up the old slide projector - this is a steam driven device that takes an alcohol "spirit' burner to heat the little boiler (that is, it was very old and hence used "metaphorical" steam!) And, in a few minutes - well half an hour - the boiler begins to steam, the mechanism starts turning and pretty soon, a few flashes and a whistle sounding and the screen lights up with a photo of the steamer that used to take visitors from Copenhagen to Bornholm.
       We study the photo of the steamer and my Danish friend tells us about his first trip to Copenhagen. I sound the whistle, pull the clutch on the projector and push down on the (metaphorical of course) steam switch. The projector clanks round to the next slide and poof! in flash there is a beautiful picture of Rønne harbor - the epicenter of life on Bornholm! And so we while away the afternoon while Eigil extolls the beauty of "The Pearl of the Baltic" as Bornholm was known in those days - maybe it still is!
       Suddenly, with a strange look on his face, Eigil asks me to go back to the last shot, that close-up of the quay in the harbor. I wrestle with the (metaphoric) clutch and eventually get the projector into reverse. The Dane leans forward and stares intently at the picture on the screen. I see a lot of identical looking fishing boats and not much else. Eigel lets out an exclamation that sounds like sort of "Wa-how" and stabs his finger on the front of one boat that somehow made it into the foreground. "That's my boat, that's the boat we just came from!" I glance at the photo but can't see any difference between this boat and all the other dozen or so boats at the quay.
       "How do you know?" I say.
       "Look, look at the top of the stem he says stabbing his finger on the front of the boat. See that length of new wood let into the stem? My father put that in after he had hit the edge of the quay in a storm one night. This is a miracle! You have got a picture of my boat here on Orcas Island.
       I went over to the window of my studio, took up my binoculars and focussed them on the fishing boat at anchor below our house. "Holy (metaphorical) smoke, your right!" I said. Yes, yes. I can see it from here - just like there on the photograph." I turned to the screen. "But that means I photographed your boat many years before you were born - and on the other side of the world - and now its here - at my dock! What an incredible coincidence."
       We drank several more beers that afternoon before they finally left - with a print I made for them from the slide.
        I never saw them or the boat again, although over the years I have met at least two people on separate occasions from Seattle who knew who I was talking about when I told them the story - but neither of them knew where he had gone or what happened to the boat. Just another one of life's "stranger than fiction" happenings that one collects as one gets older.