Sparrow takes up residence at Pendleton Walmart

Most retail stores have a no-animals-allowed policy, excepting service animals. But in March of 1998, staff and customers were delighted when a bird took up residence in the Pendleton Walmart store.

The sparrow arrived at the Pendleton store just before Christmas 1997, according to pharmacy employee Alta Heaton. "When he first got here he was a skinny little thing," Heaton said. "But he's fat and happy now."

More than likely, the juvenile sparrow entered the store through one of the main doors, probably in the garden department. He spent his time flitting about a grouping of store aisles in the southeast part of the store, often perching on bikes — ironically, he mostly liked the ambience of the pet department, stopping for a rest on the fish tanks. The manager there provided the bird, named Sam after the retail giant's founder, Sam Walton, with food and water.

"I think he just decided to spend the winter with us," assistant manager Dale Fundahn said. "He's got it made. It's a great environment." He added that during  the quiet nights, Sam could be heard chirping along to the store's piped-in music. He seemed to prefer rock 'n' roll.

And it wasn't only Sam's chirping that could be heard in the store. Fundahn overheard customers debating over sightings of the diminutive sparrow.

Because Pendleton's Walmart in 1998 didn't stock open container food items, there was no issue with Sam flitting about the store and creating a health hazard. Employees weren't sure where Sam was taking care of his "business," because he was remarkably clean, nor where he was nesting. Ignoring the bird houses in the pet section, Sam liked to perch in the garden soil.

While Sam shunned human contact, he did seem to yearn for companionship. A second sparrow, a female, was soon seen flitting about with Sam. But his new friend turned her nose up at Sam's penchant for perching on bicycles, preferring instead the fragrances of the health and beauty aisle, where she could often be seen perching on a goose-neck bottle of moisturizing lotion or bubble bath.

Perhaps it was a subtle marketing technique.

Walmart officials had no plans to evict the sparrows, citing their presence as a good omen for the store.

Youthful driver avoids ticket with a smile

A young motorist terrorized the town of Milton-Freewater in April 1969, but suffered no repercussions for her short-lived spree of destruction.

Mrs. Richard Hunt of Milton-Freewater, "for the first and only time," left her daughter Elizabeth Ann in their automatic-transmission-enabled car with the motor running on April 6, 1969, while she dashed into the Magic Valley Laundry "for a minute." Elizabeth Ann promptly plopped herself in the driver's seat, put the car in reverse and backed about 25 feet, turned left and crossed North Main Street, a busy state highway, and into the driveway of a tire store across the street.

Elizabeth Ann changed her mind, shifted the car into drive, swung left and back into Main Street and sped past the laundry. She then turned into the laundry's 18-foot-wide driveway, speeding neatly between the laundry building and a high wooden fence on the other side.

Her forward progress, however, was impeded by a pickup truck belonging to Bill Reich. Elizabeth Ann hit the pickup, which then crashed into a second vehicle owned by Reich.

Damage to Reich's vehicles was estimated at about $200. Elizabeth Ann's car sustained only minor damages, and the young motorist none at all.

When the investigating officer arrived at the scene of the crash, Elizabeth Ann flashed him a dazzling smile. Not only did the officer not give Elizabeth Ann a ticket, but he, her still-trembling mother, two horrified witnesses and Reich gave fervent thanks that Elizabeth Ann hadn't hit a building or two in her spree.

Elizabeth Ann Hunt, you see, was 18 months old.

Cayuse chief dies in Chicago accident

A prominent chief of the Cayuse tribe on the Umatilla Indian Reservation near Pendleton accidentally caused his own death in a Chicago hotel while traveling to testify before the government about tribal land sales in February 1920.

Yumsumkin, the chief of the Cayuse tribe and thought to be one of the wealthiest tribal members in the area, was traveling from Pendleton by train to Washington, D.C., in February of 1920 of his own accord to object to the methods being used by the U.S. government for selling and leasing Indian lands. Yumsumkin, who also went by the name Johnson Sumkin, and whose Indian name meant "Grizzly Bear's Shirt," lived on his property about a mile south of Adams — 320 acres of the best land in the section. He also had a financial interest in another 80-acre tract on the reservation. His net worth was estimated at $80,000.

The 65-year-old Cayuse chief had stopped in Chicago on his way to the nation's capitol, and it was there he met his untimely end. Before going to bed, it was reported that he blew out the pilot for the light, and was asphyxiated by the gas while he slept. News of his death was wired to Indian Agency Superintendent E.L. Swartzlander on Feb. 25.

"He was wealthy, very smart and very shrewd," said Major Lee Moorhouse, the former Indian agent, when told of Yumsumkin's death. "He always held onto his lands and wanted the other Indians to do likewise. He was on his way to Washington to personally seek relief from the system which allows the Indians to sell out and then find themselves without land or money."

Yumsumkin left behind his wife Petinta, a sister of the late Chief Umapine, and a 15-year-old daughter, Josephine, who was attending the Catholic school on the reservation.

The chief's body was shipped back to Pendleton for burial.

North Powder murder blamed on insanity

A fractious marriage deteriorated to murder in March 1933 in North Powder when a woman hacked her husband to death with a hatchet, then tried to cover up the crime.

Warren W. May, 42, a farmer living five miles southwest of North Powder, was murdered sometime during the night of March 27, 1933. His wife, Rose May, 30, told police that she awakened around midnight and, finding her husband gone from their bed, went in search of him. She said she found his body just outside the front doorstep. May had been struck several times on the right and left sides of the head with a heavy object.

But investigating officers found some discrepancies with Mrs. May's story. Officers found a blood-soaked pillow covered in a clean pillowcase, and the blankets were soaked with blood. Two pillows had been washed the morning after the killing. And a hatchet with blood and hair on the blade and the handle was discovered secreted behind a cupboard. 

The Mays' two children, Lloyd, 7, and Juanita, 5, said they didn't waken during the night. They were being cared for by the Baker County juvenile judge.

According to neighbors, the Mays had a violent quarrel three weeks before Mr. May's death. He was shot in the left arm with a revolver, but conflicting stories of the shooting were offered to investigators. Mrs. May said her husband shot himself while cleaning the gun. Young Lloyd May said his father was shot while struggling over the gun with his mother. Warren May told a neighbor shortly after the shooting that he was shot accidentally by his wife, and that the argument was "all his fault."

Rose May was arrested on suspicion of murdering her husband, and arraigned on a first-degree murder charge. However, Rose May was judged insane by Baker County Judge Charles Baird, and was committed to the state mental hospital in Pendleton on March 30.