Three escaped Rhesus monkeys who wreaked havoc in Pendleton in June 1951 were finally captured by a crafty housewife and a handful of bananas. The monkeys were part of a carload of animals from a disbanded circus in the Midwest that were en route to a zoo in Everett, Wash., and were involved in an accident on Emigrant Hill that also briefly set an elephant loose on Umatilla Indian Reservation land.
The monkeys escaped from a cage at the Round-Up caretaker’s house June 10, 1951, when he opened the cage to feed them. Two of the monkeys took up residence in the trees near the E.O. Stratton and Forrest Zirkle homes on Northwest Eighth Street. A third monkey was discovered at the Dean Oliver home on Southwest 18th Street on June 13.
Mrs. Oliver saw the monkey in her yard and, after a little thought, lured the monkey into the garage with a trail of breakfast cereal. Police caged the relatively tame animal and took the “two-apartment” cage to Northwest Eighth in an attempt to round up the other two, who were eventually lured into the cage with bits of broken banana. All three monkeys were put on display in their cage on the lawn of the police station.
One of the monkeys, which had been given to the police by the driver of the truck as repayment for taking care of the animals after the crash, escaped again June 26 after a grass fire near the Vern Hollinsworth home on Southwest Seventh Street endangered him. Mrs. Hollinsworth opened the cage door and he followed her to the porch, where she chained him.
The monkey broke loose from the chain on the arrival of Officer Clifford Murray and escaped into the trees, and for several hours policemen tried everything they could think of to lure him back to the cage. Tear gas backfired, as the monkey avoided it and it blew back onto the officers, driving them away. Oranges doped with knockout drops only gave the monkey “a cheap drunk.” Finally, officers Bryan Branstetter and Orville Simmons gave up when their shift ended at 8 a.m., leaving youngsters Jerry Lane and Diana Johnson to man the trap.
Jerry attached a cord to the door of a cage baited with cookies. The monkey entered once and, when the door stayed open, returned again for more food. Jerry slammed the door shut on the second foray and the monkey was back in custody. The monkey was moved to a bigger, permanent cage and Jerry and Diane each earned a dollar for their help.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Pendleton lawmen capture Los Angeles killer near Echo
A nationwide manhunt was brought to a close near Echo in December 1927 when two Pendleton lawmen captured William Edward “The Fox” Hickman. Hickman was wanted for the kidnapping and murder of 12-year-old Marian Parker of Los Angeles, and was on the run when state police officer C.L. “Buck” Lieuallen and Pendleton police chief Tom Gurdane stopped his stolen car just outside of Echo on December 22.
Marian Parker disappeared from her school in Los Angeles December 15, 1927, after she was released with a note saying she was needed at home. Hickman allegedly picked her up outside the school and then delivered a ransom note to the girl’s father, signed “The Fox.” The father agreed to the ransom and paid it, and the kidnapper said he would drive down the street and let Marian out of the car. Marian’s father was following the kidnapper’s vehicle and saw a bundle tossed out of the car. He found his daughter’s dismembered body inside the bundle. The kidnapper was quickly identified as William Hickman, a Los Angeles resident originally from Kansas City.
Early investigation of the kidnapping and murder was slow until a $20 bill known to be part of the ransom turned up in Seattle. A green Hudson sedan also was stolen in the area at about the same time. A service station attendant in Portland identified Hickman as someone who had bought gas there on December 22, and he told police the car was headed east. A short time later the East Oregonian received a report from the Associated Press about the sighting of Hickman, and editor E.B. Aldrich phoned local and county police with the news.
Sheriff R.T. Cookingham set up in Umatilla in case Hickman decided to head north. Chief Gurdane and Officer Lieuallen pulled up near Echo and were just lighting their pipes when the green Hudson drove by, heading east. Lieuallen took up the chase and soon pulled up next to Hickman at 40 mph with Gurdane on the running board, pointing a pistol at the other driver. Hickman pulled over and when Gurdane pulled open the Hudson’s door a pistol dropped to the floorboard from where Hickman was holding it between his knees. He surrendered without a struggle and was taken to Pendleton, where he was lodged in the jail.
Newspaper reporters from around the country descended on Pendleton for the story, and hundreds of people crowded into the jail to get a look at the prisoner. Hickman was taken back to Los Angeles where he was tried, convicted and hanged.
Gurdane and Lieuallen also traveled to Los Angeles, where they were feted by officials, motion picture celebrities and others. They took the stage at the Pantages theater in LA and later San Francisco, where they described the arrest and lectured on law enforcement in front of hundreds of people. They also split a $5,000 reward for Hickman’s capture.
Marian Parker disappeared from her school in Los Angeles December 15, 1927, after she was released with a note saying she was needed at home. Hickman allegedly picked her up outside the school and then delivered a ransom note to the girl’s father, signed “The Fox.” The father agreed to the ransom and paid it, and the kidnapper said he would drive down the street and let Marian out of the car. Marian’s father was following the kidnapper’s vehicle and saw a bundle tossed out of the car. He found his daughter’s dismembered body inside the bundle. The kidnapper was quickly identified as William Hickman, a Los Angeles resident originally from Kansas City.
Early investigation of the kidnapping and murder was slow until a $20 bill known to be part of the ransom turned up in Seattle. A green Hudson sedan also was stolen in the area at about the same time. A service station attendant in Portland identified Hickman as someone who had bought gas there on December 22, and he told police the car was headed east. A short time later the East Oregonian received a report from the Associated Press about the sighting of Hickman, and editor E.B. Aldrich phoned local and county police with the news.
Sheriff R.T. Cookingham set up in Umatilla in case Hickman decided to head north. Chief Gurdane and Officer Lieuallen pulled up near Echo and were just lighting their pipes when the green Hudson drove by, heading east. Lieuallen took up the chase and soon pulled up next to Hickman at 40 mph with Gurdane on the running board, pointing a pistol at the other driver. Hickman pulled over and when Gurdane pulled open the Hudson’s door a pistol dropped to the floorboard from where Hickman was holding it between his knees. He surrendered without a struggle and was taken to Pendleton, where he was lodged in the jail.
Newspaper reporters from around the country descended on Pendleton for the story, and hundreds of people crowded into the jail to get a look at the prisoner. Hickman was taken back to Los Angeles where he was tried, convicted and hanged.
Gurdane and Lieuallen also traveled to Los Angeles, where they were feted by officials, motion picture celebrities and others. They took the stage at the Pantages theater in LA and later San Francisco, where they described the arrest and lectured on law enforcement in front of hundreds of people. They also split a $5,000 reward for Hickman’s capture.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Famous Cayuse twins overcome ‘bad medicine’ superstition
Some of the most well-known photographs taken by Major Lee Moorhouse were those of the famous Cayuse Twins, Tox-e-lox and A-lom-pum, daughters of Cayuse chief Ha-hots-mox-mox (Yellow Grizzly Bear). The photos, presented as a set, show the girls as infants in cradleboards: somberly studying the photographer in the first, and crying in the second. The photos became a financial windfall for Moorehouse in the early 1900s and brought worldwide attention to the Cayuse people. But the chief had to do some fast talking when they were born because of a superstition brought about by another set of twins that almost caused the decimation of the tribe before the arrival of white men to their land.
More than a century before the birth of Tox-e-lox and A-lom-pum, another set of twin girls was born to the Cayuse chief Qui-a-min-som-keen and his wife. As they grew up they became the loveliest maidens in the country, and not only the men of the Cayuse tribe but Walla Walla, Yakama and Nez Perce warriors sought to win the girls as brides. Their fame spread across the Blue Mountains to the Bannock tribe of the Grande Ronde Valley, the hereditary enemies of the Cayuse, and two Bannock chieftains crossed the mountains to assess these beauties for themselves. Seeing the rumors of the girls’ beauty were true, the chieftains managed to kidnap the twins, carry them back to their home country and marry them.
The Cayuse declared war on the Bannocks, and attempted to enlist the Umatilla and Walla Walla tribes to their cause. But the Bannocks heard of the declaration and moved swiftly, meeting 700 Cayuse warriors with 1,000 of their own at the site of present-day Umatilla. A desperate fight followed and many were killed on both sides, but the Bannocks had superior numbers and only a fierce wind storm brought the battle to a halt. After the wind abated and the air cleared of dust and sand, both sides attempted to return to the battle but were again stopped by a heavy rain and hail storm.
The superstitious tribes retreated and consulted their medicine men. A Bannock approached the Cayuse camp and said the Great Spirit had advised his tribe to compensate the Cayuse for the twins with a large gift of ponies. The peace offering was accepted, more for fear of the wrath of the Great Spirit than a desire for material gain. The opposing sides buried their dead in a common grave and departed for their homes.
But the trials of the Cayuse were not over. Their journey home was overshadowed by an intense thunder and lightning storm, and on returning to their encampment the medicine men were told to learn the cause of the Great Spirit’s wrath. After a time they reported the Great Spirit was displeased because the Cayuse had permitted the twins to live, and ordered all future twin girls must be killed at birth, or misfortune would overtake the tribe again.
Ha-hots-mox-mox was an enlightened man, and desperate to save his daughters. He told the tribe that he had been shown a vision while on a hunt on the Little Minam. He said the Great Spirit had promised him twins that would bring good fortune to the whole tribe. Visions being important to the Indian people, the girls were allowed to live.
The girls were joined by twin brothers when they were 15 years old. Major Moorhouse lost no time in adding a photo of the new twins to his collection, but he was unable to make them cry; the mother was present and it is said Moorhouse feared to resort to poking them with a stick, as he was rumored to have done with the girls (but vehemently denied).
More than a century before the birth of Tox-e-lox and A-lom-pum, another set of twin girls was born to the Cayuse chief Qui-a-min-som-keen and his wife. As they grew up they became the loveliest maidens in the country, and not only the men of the Cayuse tribe but Walla Walla, Yakama and Nez Perce warriors sought to win the girls as brides. Their fame spread across the Blue Mountains to the Bannock tribe of the Grande Ronde Valley, the hereditary enemies of the Cayuse, and two Bannock chieftains crossed the mountains to assess these beauties for themselves. Seeing the rumors of the girls’ beauty were true, the chieftains managed to kidnap the twins, carry them back to their home country and marry them.
The Cayuse declared war on the Bannocks, and attempted to enlist the Umatilla and Walla Walla tribes to their cause. But the Bannocks heard of the declaration and moved swiftly, meeting 700 Cayuse warriors with 1,000 of their own at the site of present-day Umatilla. A desperate fight followed and many were killed on both sides, but the Bannocks had superior numbers and only a fierce wind storm brought the battle to a halt. After the wind abated and the air cleared of dust and sand, both sides attempted to return to the battle but were again stopped by a heavy rain and hail storm.
The superstitious tribes retreated and consulted their medicine men. A Bannock approached the Cayuse camp and said the Great Spirit had advised his tribe to compensate the Cayuse for the twins with a large gift of ponies. The peace offering was accepted, more for fear of the wrath of the Great Spirit than a desire for material gain. The opposing sides buried their dead in a common grave and departed for their homes.
But the trials of the Cayuse were not over. Their journey home was overshadowed by an intense thunder and lightning storm, and on returning to their encampment the medicine men were told to learn the cause of the Great Spirit’s wrath. After a time they reported the Great Spirit was displeased because the Cayuse had permitted the twins to live, and ordered all future twin girls must be killed at birth, or misfortune would overtake the tribe again.
Ha-hots-mox-mox was an enlightened man, and desperate to save his daughters. He told the tribe that he had been shown a vision while on a hunt on the Little Minam. He said the Great Spirit had promised him twins that would bring good fortune to the whole tribe. Visions being important to the Indian people, the girls were allowed to live.
The girls were joined by twin brothers when they were 15 years old. Major Moorhouse lost no time in adding a photo of the new twins to his collection, but he was unable to make them cry; the mother was present and it is said Moorhouse feared to resort to poking them with a stick, as he was rumored to have done with the girls (but vehemently denied).
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
WW II bomber crashes kill 14 near Pendleton, Boise
During World War II, Pendleton was a training site for bomber crews supporting the war effort in the South Pacific. A pair of crashes killed 14 men and injured two more on March 16, 1942, when B-17 Flying Fortress bombers went down between Pendleton and Boise, Idaho, during separate routine night training exercises from the Pendleton air base. A second crash happened just 10 days later, but all 10 crewmen parachuted to safety.
One of the B-17s crashed three miles southwest of Gowen Field, near Boise, at approximately 2:30 a.m. on March 16. Four men were killed in the crash, and two men were seriously injured. One of the flyers killed in the crash was 2nd Lt. Charles Hosford III, of Butler, Pennsylvania, the pilot of the bomber. The 25-year-old Hosford had been married just a month before in the Pendleton base’s chapel to Helen Pruitt of Pendleton, and celebrated his birthday the day before the crash took his life.
The second bomber crashed 20 miles south of Pendleton in the Blue Mountains, and salvage crews struggled through the snow to recover the wreckage and the bodies of the 10 crew members, who all perished instantly in the crash. The wreckage was strewn over a mile-wide area after the plane hit one ridge and then caromed across the canyon to the other side. Only parts of the tail and one wing were found intact.
A third Flying Fortress crashed shortly after takeoff on March 26, landing a half mile from the home of Jack Shafer, who owned a ranch six miles northeast of Pendleton, near Adams. Shafer first caught sight of the plane traveling at about 5,000 feet with smoke trailing from its motors. A few moments later the 10-man crew bailed out and parachuted safely to the ground. The plane then went into a left spiral and crashed to earth “like a ball of flame,” according to Shafer, strewing wreckage over a half-mile area. The first Army men to reach the crash site were six African American privates from an infantry division stationed at Walla Walla, who were en route to Walla Walla from Pendleton when the crash occurred. They took charge of the scene and stood guard duty until the crash crews could arrive from Pendleton Field.
On a lighter note, one of the sergeants involved in the March 26 crash complained, “With all that territory to land in, I had to light on a barbed wire fence and tear my pants.”
One of the B-17s crashed three miles southwest of Gowen Field, near Boise, at approximately 2:30 a.m. on March 16. Four men were killed in the crash, and two men were seriously injured. One of the flyers killed in the crash was 2nd Lt. Charles Hosford III, of Butler, Pennsylvania, the pilot of the bomber. The 25-year-old Hosford had been married just a month before in the Pendleton base’s chapel to Helen Pruitt of Pendleton, and celebrated his birthday the day before the crash took his life.
The second bomber crashed 20 miles south of Pendleton in the Blue Mountains, and salvage crews struggled through the snow to recover the wreckage and the bodies of the 10 crew members, who all perished instantly in the crash. The wreckage was strewn over a mile-wide area after the plane hit one ridge and then caromed across the canyon to the other side. Only parts of the tail and one wing were found intact.
A third Flying Fortress crashed shortly after takeoff on March 26, landing a half mile from the home of Jack Shafer, who owned a ranch six miles northeast of Pendleton, near Adams. Shafer first caught sight of the plane traveling at about 5,000 feet with smoke trailing from its motors. A few moments later the 10-man crew bailed out and parachuted safely to the ground. The plane then went into a left spiral and crashed to earth “like a ball of flame,” according to Shafer, strewing wreckage over a half-mile area. The first Army men to reach the crash site were six African American privates from an infantry division stationed at Walla Walla, who were en route to Walla Walla from Pendleton when the crash occurred. They took charge of the scene and stood guard duty until the crash crews could arrive from Pendleton Field.
On a lighter note, one of the sergeants involved in the March 26 crash complained, “With all that territory to land in, I had to light on a barbed wire fence and tear my pants.”
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Shower of rocks baffles police
Pendleton police were baffled when a resident of 1802 West Railroad Street [S.W. Frazer Ave.] reported a rain of rocks, pebbles and sticks falling onto the roof of their house, apparently out of thin air, on April 2, 1915.
The house was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Henderson Crowner, their daughter Helen and Eldon Hutchinson, the 16-year-old cousin of Mrs. Crowner. Sometime during the afternoon of April 2, Mrs. Crowner, Helen and Eldon heard what sounded like stones hitting the roof of the house. When they went outside to investigate, rocks ranging in size from pebbles to boulders were rolling off the slanted roof to the ground. A search turned up no one who could have been throwing rocks on the roof, and the shower continued while the investigation was being made, seemingly coming from all directions.
Alarmed, Mrs. Crowner called the police. Chief Kearney arrived soon afterward, but was unable to locate the cause of the shower. The barrage continued at intervals throughout the evening and the next morning, and the next day the police returned to continue their search for the source of the rocks, to no avail.
A neighbor, Ben Pierce, who lived at 501 Maple Street [S.W. 16th St.], was skeptical about the story until he witnessed it with his own eyes. Pierce described rocks rolling to the ground off both sides of the roof, but said he was unable to see any of the missiles until they were within a few feet of the roof. Sticks were also strewn about the roof. He went inside the house and found stones, chips and a handful of dirt that had come down the chimney. Another neighbor, Thelma Coffman, had a boulder the size of a man’s head land near her feet, but it hardly dented the ground. When another rock hit her in the head she “felt it no more than if it had been a feather bag.”
The house, a small three-bedroom building with no attic, sat by itself in the center of a large lot. High bluffs rose behind it about 50 feet away with several clumps of bushes at the base, but the police beat the bushes and found no one hiding there. According to neighbors, anyone throwing stones from that distance would have cracked the shingles, but no such damage was found on inspection of the roof. And there was no way for anyone to hide on the roof itself.
The incident frightened the house’s occupants so much that they refused to sleep there. A search of the East Oregonian archives did not turn up any information that the mystery was ever solved.
The house was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Henderson Crowner, their daughter Helen and Eldon Hutchinson, the 16-year-old cousin of Mrs. Crowner. Sometime during the afternoon of April 2, Mrs. Crowner, Helen and Eldon heard what sounded like stones hitting the roof of the house. When they went outside to investigate, rocks ranging in size from pebbles to boulders were rolling off the slanted roof to the ground. A search turned up no one who could have been throwing rocks on the roof, and the shower continued while the investigation was being made, seemingly coming from all directions.
Alarmed, Mrs. Crowner called the police. Chief Kearney arrived soon afterward, but was unable to locate the cause of the shower. The barrage continued at intervals throughout the evening and the next morning, and the next day the police returned to continue their search for the source of the rocks, to no avail.
A neighbor, Ben Pierce, who lived at 501 Maple Street [S.W. 16th St.], was skeptical about the story until he witnessed it with his own eyes. Pierce described rocks rolling to the ground off both sides of the roof, but said he was unable to see any of the missiles until they were within a few feet of the roof. Sticks were also strewn about the roof. He went inside the house and found stones, chips and a handful of dirt that had come down the chimney. Another neighbor, Thelma Coffman, had a boulder the size of a man’s head land near her feet, but it hardly dented the ground. When another rock hit her in the head she “felt it no more than if it had been a feather bag.”
The house, a small three-bedroom building with no attic, sat by itself in the center of a large lot. High bluffs rose behind it about 50 feet away with several clumps of bushes at the base, but the police beat the bushes and found no one hiding there. According to neighbors, anyone throwing stones from that distance would have cracked the shingles, but no such damage was found on inspection of the roof. And there was no way for anyone to hide on the roof itself.
The incident frightened the house’s occupants so much that they refused to sleep there. A search of the East Oregonian archives did not turn up any information that the mystery was ever solved.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Celilo Canal opening includes wedding, christening
When the Celilo Canal was opened in the spring of 1915, it opened the Pacific Northwest to river shipping from the Pacific Ocean to Spokane, Washington, and Lewiston, Idaho. Prior to the building of the 8.6-mile-long canal and locks, movement of passengers and goods from points east of The Dalles on the Columbia and Snake rivers to Portland was difficult and dangerous, requiring passage over two sets of rapids and Celilo Falls or a tedious portage around them. And any large boat that traversed the dangerous narrows toward the sea had no way to return upstream.
The first steam ships traversed the new passage on April 28, 1915. The “Inland Empire” headed downstream carrying a cargo of 15,000 pounds of wool and the “J.N. Teal” steamed upstream with a load of chartered guests — the first ship ever to navigate that portion of the Columbia from west to east. The two ships passed in the lower lock amid pandemonium as the ships’ passengers and hundreds of others who had arrived by auto and the Portage railway celebrated the momentous occasion.
The steamer “Undine,” which had left April 29 to make the first continuous trip from Portland to Lewiston, arrived there on May 3 for a celebration that included the governors of Oregon, Idaho and Washington, a number of U.S. senators and representatives and many mayors and other local notables. On the return trip the “Undine” stopped at many communities to participate in festivities celebrating the opening of river shipping throughout the Inland Empire.
Pasco and Kennewick, Washington, combined for a celebration on May 4 that included an “allegorical wedding” of the Columbia and Snake rivers, complete with a bride (Kate Williams of Kennewick as “Miss Columbia”), a groom (Frank A. Jones as “Mr. Snake”), bridesmaids and groomsmen representing Spokane, Pendleton, Walla Walla and North Yakima, and Washington Sen. Wesley L. Jones to perform the ceremony. Following a parade in Pasco, the “wedding” was performed in a grove of trees on the Kennewick side of the confluence of the rivers.
Umatilla threw a huge party attended by hundreds of locals including most of the populations of Hermiston, Echo and Stanfield and 200 people who arrived from Pendleton and points east by special train. In addition to an inspection of the “Undine” and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ steamship “Asotin,” the celebration included a recreation of an attack by Indians on Fort Umatilla and an outdoor dance. Every home in Umatilla opened its doors to give beds to strangers attending the festivities. The “Undine” and “Asotin” continued downstream at 5:30 a.m. the next morning on the way to Big Eddy and the Celilo Canal ceremonies.
A highlight of the official opening ceremonies on May 5, attended by a reported 10,000 people, was the christening of the canal with water from cities on the Columbia River and each of its tributaries, including Astoria (Pacific Ocean); Lewiston (Snake); Pasco-Kennewick (Columbia); Pateros, Wash. (Methow); Okanogan, Wash. (Okanogan); Spokane, Wash. (Spokane); Kooskia, Idaho (Clearwater); Whitebird, Idaho (Salmon); Palouse, Wash. (Palouse); Walla Walla (Walla Walla); Pendleton (Umatilla); Bend (Deschutes); Hood River (Hood); Underwood, Wash. (White Salmon); Claskanie, Wash. (Claskanie); Kalama, Wash. (Kalama); Vale (Malheur); Kelso, Wash. (Cowlitz); Owyhee, Ore. (Owyhee); Warrenton (Youngs); Thompson, Mont. (Flathead); Portland (Willamette); John Day (John Day); Eugene (Mackenzie); Corvallis (Mary’s); Albany (Calapooia); Lebanon (Santiam); McMinnville (Yamhill); Oregon City (Clackamas); Willamette (Tualatin); Troutdale (Sandy); Washougal, Wash. (Washougal); Sand Point, Idaho (Pend d’Oreille); Bonners Ferry, Idaho (Kootenai); Buena Vista, Ore. (Luckiamute); and Lyle, Wash. (Klickitat).
The first steam ships traversed the new passage on April 28, 1915. The “Inland Empire” headed downstream carrying a cargo of 15,000 pounds of wool and the “J.N. Teal” steamed upstream with a load of chartered guests — the first ship ever to navigate that portion of the Columbia from west to east. The two ships passed in the lower lock amid pandemonium as the ships’ passengers and hundreds of others who had arrived by auto and the Portage railway celebrated the momentous occasion.
The steamer “Undine,” which had left April 29 to make the first continuous trip from Portland to Lewiston, arrived there on May 3 for a celebration that included the governors of Oregon, Idaho and Washington, a number of U.S. senators and representatives and many mayors and other local notables. On the return trip the “Undine” stopped at many communities to participate in festivities celebrating the opening of river shipping throughout the Inland Empire.
Pasco and Kennewick, Washington, combined for a celebration on May 4 that included an “allegorical wedding” of the Columbia and Snake rivers, complete with a bride (Kate Williams of Kennewick as “Miss Columbia”), a groom (Frank A. Jones as “Mr. Snake”), bridesmaids and groomsmen representing Spokane, Pendleton, Walla Walla and North Yakima, and Washington Sen. Wesley L. Jones to perform the ceremony. Following a parade in Pasco, the “wedding” was performed in a grove of trees on the Kennewick side of the confluence of the rivers.
Umatilla threw a huge party attended by hundreds of locals including most of the populations of Hermiston, Echo and Stanfield and 200 people who arrived from Pendleton and points east by special train. In addition to an inspection of the “Undine” and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ steamship “Asotin,” the celebration included a recreation of an attack by Indians on Fort Umatilla and an outdoor dance. Every home in Umatilla opened its doors to give beds to strangers attending the festivities. The “Undine” and “Asotin” continued downstream at 5:30 a.m. the next morning on the way to Big Eddy and the Celilo Canal ceremonies.
A highlight of the official opening ceremonies on May 5, attended by a reported 10,000 people, was the christening of the canal with water from cities on the Columbia River and each of its tributaries, including Astoria (Pacific Ocean); Lewiston (Snake); Pasco-Kennewick (Columbia); Pateros, Wash. (Methow); Okanogan, Wash. (Okanogan); Spokane, Wash. (Spokane); Kooskia, Idaho (Clearwater); Whitebird, Idaho (Salmon); Palouse, Wash. (Palouse); Walla Walla (Walla Walla); Pendleton (Umatilla); Bend (Deschutes); Hood River (Hood); Underwood, Wash. (White Salmon); Claskanie, Wash. (Claskanie); Kalama, Wash. (Kalama); Vale (Malheur); Kelso, Wash. (Cowlitz); Owyhee, Ore. (Owyhee); Warrenton (Youngs); Thompson, Mont. (Flathead); Portland (Willamette); John Day (John Day); Eugene (Mackenzie); Corvallis (Mary’s); Albany (Calapooia); Lebanon (Santiam); McMinnville (Yamhill); Oregon City (Clackamas); Willamette (Tualatin); Troutdale (Sandy); Washougal, Wash. (Washougal); Sand Point, Idaho (Pend d’Oreille); Bonners Ferry, Idaho (Kootenai); Buena Vista, Ore. (Luckiamute); and Lyle, Wash. (Klickitat).
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Poker Jim outsharked in card game
One of Eastern Oregon’s most well-known Indian leaders, Poker Jim, died March 5, 1936, at his home on the Umatilla Indian Reservation after a cold turned into pneumonia. He was believed to be approximately 93 when he died. Long known as the chief of the Indian encampment at the Pendleton Round-Up from the very beginning, Poker Jim was a proponent of keeping his people’s old ways and was well known for the Fourth of July celebrations on the reservation that featured horse racing, gambling and traditional tribal dances. He was not a tribal chief on the Umatilla reservation but was the father of one of the most famous, Clarence Burke, and a great spiritual leader of his people.
Sap-Ut-Ka-Low-Nee (“White Swan”) was born near Wallula and was affiliated with the Walla Walla tribe. He was old enough to remember the Whitman Massacre, and was part of a group that tried to join Chief Joseph during the Nez Perce war to retain the Wallowa country in the late 1870s. He also served as a scout under Captain Collier during the Bannock Indian War in 1878. He was well known among the settlers in Pendleton and, when the inaugural Round-Up was planned in 1910, city leaders convinced Poker Jim to lead an Indian encampment as part of the festivities, an honor he retained for 25 years until his death.
Most who knew him agreed that before he lost his sight, Poker Jim could fleece just about anyone in a game of cards and it was said that was how he came to have his colorful moniker. One story of an attempted card-sharking appeared in the Sept. 22, 1916, East Oregonian Round-Up souvenir edition, as purportedly told by Colonel John Sims to Col. William Parker.
Col. Sims, no mean card player himself, happened to run into Poker Jim riding along the Snake River between Walla Walla and Asotin, Wash., sometime during the 1870s and was convinced to sit down for a game. Knowing Poker Jim’s reputation as a card player, Col. Sims went into the game vowing to bet carefully, lest he lose more than he could afford.
Poker Jim took a blanket from under the skirts of his saddle and laid it on the ground. When Sims offered his personal deck of cards for the game the Indian insisted on using his own pack that he produced from under the blanket, and to humor him Sims went along. When he looked over the pack, Sims noticed all four aces were in the deck and wondered what Poker Jim could possibly be holding back, since Sims figured there was a secret hand somewhere that would be produced in time for the big reveal. Sims managed to secure all four aces during the early betting stages and as the game wore on the betting went higher, until finally both men had wagered everything in their pockets, and their horses and tack to boot.
When time came for the draw, Sims instead turned over his hand, showing the four aces. Poker Jim glared at the cards, then gathered both hands up with the discard pile, shoved them under the blanket and, with a grunt, started back up the road to Asotin.
“I do not know to this day what the hand was he was prepared to spring on me,” Col. Sims related, “but have always thought it must have been another four aces.” Poker Jim, knowing he was caught if he revealed his hand, had simply acknowledged his loss with the best grace possible. The two never met again, but Sims never failed to chuckle at later stories of men who, thinking they could take advantage of him, were taken themselves by Poker Jim.
Sap-Ut-Ka-Low-Nee (“White Swan”) was born near Wallula and was affiliated with the Walla Walla tribe. He was old enough to remember the Whitman Massacre, and was part of a group that tried to join Chief Joseph during the Nez Perce war to retain the Wallowa country in the late 1870s. He also served as a scout under Captain Collier during the Bannock Indian War in 1878. He was well known among the settlers in Pendleton and, when the inaugural Round-Up was planned in 1910, city leaders convinced Poker Jim to lead an Indian encampment as part of the festivities, an honor he retained for 25 years until his death.
Most who knew him agreed that before he lost his sight, Poker Jim could fleece just about anyone in a game of cards and it was said that was how he came to have his colorful moniker. One story of an attempted card-sharking appeared in the Sept. 22, 1916, East Oregonian Round-Up souvenir edition, as purportedly told by Colonel John Sims to Col. William Parker.
Col. Sims, no mean card player himself, happened to run into Poker Jim riding along the Snake River between Walla Walla and Asotin, Wash., sometime during the 1870s and was convinced to sit down for a game. Knowing Poker Jim’s reputation as a card player, Col. Sims went into the game vowing to bet carefully, lest he lose more than he could afford.
Poker Jim took a blanket from under the skirts of his saddle and laid it on the ground. When Sims offered his personal deck of cards for the game the Indian insisted on using his own pack that he produced from under the blanket, and to humor him Sims went along. When he looked over the pack, Sims noticed all four aces were in the deck and wondered what Poker Jim could possibly be holding back, since Sims figured there was a secret hand somewhere that would be produced in time for the big reveal. Sims managed to secure all four aces during the early betting stages and as the game wore on the betting went higher, until finally both men had wagered everything in their pockets, and their horses and tack to boot.
When time came for the draw, Sims instead turned over his hand, showing the four aces. Poker Jim glared at the cards, then gathered both hands up with the discard pile, shoved them under the blanket and, with a grunt, started back up the road to Asotin.
“I do not know to this day what the hand was he was prepared to spring on me,” Col. Sims related, “but have always thought it must have been another four aces.” Poker Jim, knowing he was caught if he revealed his hand, had simply acknowledged his loss with the best grace possible. The two never met again, but Sims never failed to chuckle at later stories of men who, thinking they could take advantage of him, were taken themselves by Poker Jim.
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