Spring is the time for new beginnings, and one of the most ubiquitous signs of spring is nesting birds. They build their homes in a variety of places: trees, under the eaves of roofs, and even in houses provided by helpful humans. But one set of parenting birds in 1990 built their home in a most precarious place — on top of a wind chime.
Arnold and Arlene Schiller first noticed the pair of Rufos hummingbirds fluttering around the porch of their home on Southwest Hailey Avenue in Pendleton in early June. The nest, built of spider webs and grass, was perched on the top of the wind chime, where it swung freely in the breeze. “That nest must be on there pretty good because the wind blows it around like crazy. They must like the swinging,” said Arnold.
Usually, hummingbirds are a frenzy of activity, flying upward, downward, backward and forward on wings that beat more than 70 times per second. On June 22, 1990, the female hummingbird was firmly planted on the nest, which the Schillers said contained two or three navy bean-sized eggs. Bill Jacobson, biology instructor at Blue Mountain Community College, said the birds sometimes will have two broods, each with one to three eggs, which hatch after a 20-day brooding cycle. Rufos hummingbirds, which usually breed and nest in the forest or on brushy slopes, winter in the southwest as far as south central Mexico.
The Schillers said they hadn’t changed their lifestyle much since the arrival of their tiny guests. They put up a feeder, and they didn’t let kids come up on the porch. And, of course, they kept the cats away.
“They really are a lot of company,” said Arlene. “They will fly up and look though the window at us.”
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Man saved from death by fancy ropework
Round-Up roping champs, move over.
A workman hurtling to his death from the 14th floor of the Loop Hotel in Chicago was saved when a coworker caught him with a loop of rope in a one-in-a-million rescue April 10, 1946.
James Anderson, 29, swung out on a rope from the scaffolding on the 15th floor of the partially finished hotel, intending to lower himself to a 14th floor window to enter the building and pick up his tools at quitting time. He lost a glove and suddenly began to plummet to the street.
Coworker Philip Walsh, a 53-year-old tuck pointer, grabbed the rope from which Anderson had fallen, twirled it in a wide circle and jerked. The rope, corkscrewing in the air, looped around Anderson’s body and braked his descent. Anderson slid the length of the rope with the loose loop around him but lost his grip at the second floor and fell the rest of the way to the ground.
Walsh rode down the elevator and found Anderson sitting up in the street. Anderson was rushed to St. Luke’s Hospital, where attendants said he suffered from nothing but rope burns.
A workman hurtling to his death from the 14th floor of the Loop Hotel in Chicago was saved when a coworker caught him with a loop of rope in a one-in-a-million rescue April 10, 1946.
James Anderson, 29, swung out on a rope from the scaffolding on the 15th floor of the partially finished hotel, intending to lower himself to a 14th floor window to enter the building and pick up his tools at quitting time. He lost a glove and suddenly began to plummet to the street.
Coworker Philip Walsh, a 53-year-old tuck pointer, grabbed the rope from which Anderson had fallen, twirled it in a wide circle and jerked. The rope, corkscrewing in the air, looped around Anderson’s body and braked his descent. Anderson slid the length of the rope with the loose loop around him but lost his grip at the second floor and fell the rest of the way to the ground.
Walsh rode down the elevator and found Anderson sitting up in the street. Anderson was rushed to St. Luke’s Hospital, where attendants said he suffered from nothing but rope burns.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Hero laid to rest after Indian uprising at Camas Prairie
On the 20th of October, 1878, a hero was laid to rest in Pendleton’s pioneer cemetery. The remains of J.C. Lamar (also reported as William Lamar) were interred with a large number of Pendleton residents in attendance, and many in the crowd swore vengeance on those responsible for his death and subsequent mutilation.
Lamar came to Pendleton in the winter of 1877 and soon established himself in Pendleton society. When the news came in July of 1878 that hostile Indians were encroaching on the John Day River, Lamar was one of a large scouting party that decided to go to Camas Prairie to find out what the Bannock and Paiute warriors were up to. Frightened settlers had flooded into Pendleton, and were camped in every available vacant spot, including the courthouse lawn.
The scouting party arrived at Camas Prairie July 4, and met the advance guard of the Indian warriors. After killing one of the Indians, the scouting party fell back and held a meeting, deciding to return to settled territory because about half of the men present had less than 10 rounds of ammunition apiece. But before the meeting was over, a band of 100 well-armed Indians suddenly appeared on three sides of the party. A handful of men, including Lamar, decided to stay put and fight. The rest of the scouting party panicked, “and were not particular upon the order of their going.”
Lamar and his few supporters were finally forced to flee, and Lamar took up his place at the rear of the retreat but continued to urge his companions to make a stand. He did what he could, however, returning fire shot for shot for eight miles as often as he could load and shoot his rifle.
Upon arriving in Pendleton, Lamar enlisted Captain Sperry’s Company of Volunteers and returned to meet the Indians the next day. The company camped at Willow Springs on July 6 and, while at dinner, were surprised by the hostiles. About a quarter of the company was separated from the rest and fled; Lamar was among those who stayed and fought. One of two men killed in the battle, Lamar’s body was mutilated and burned by the Indian combatants.
The first news to reach the outside world was when 13 survivors of the battle arrived in Pendleton July 7. Major Throckmorton, just arrived from Umatilla with a company of U.S. cavalry, sent Captain Bernard with a small force to aid the volunteers and the Indians were routed by the use of mountain howitzers. The war was over.
The conflict was short, but disastrous: Altogether, more than 50 stockmen, ranchers and sheep herders were killed and $500,000 in damage was sustained in burned buildings, unharvested crops and dead or stolen livestock. Much of the blame was placed on Snake River Indians, but reports that local Umatilla Indians were involved caused an uproar and censure of the federal agent in charge of the reservation, J.C. Cornoyer.
Lamar came to Pendleton in the winter of 1877 and soon established himself in Pendleton society. When the news came in July of 1878 that hostile Indians were encroaching on the John Day River, Lamar was one of a large scouting party that decided to go to Camas Prairie to find out what the Bannock and Paiute warriors were up to. Frightened settlers had flooded into Pendleton, and were camped in every available vacant spot, including the courthouse lawn.
The scouting party arrived at Camas Prairie July 4, and met the advance guard of the Indian warriors. After killing one of the Indians, the scouting party fell back and held a meeting, deciding to return to settled territory because about half of the men present had less than 10 rounds of ammunition apiece. But before the meeting was over, a band of 100 well-armed Indians suddenly appeared on three sides of the party. A handful of men, including Lamar, decided to stay put and fight. The rest of the scouting party panicked, “and were not particular upon the order of their going.”
Lamar and his few supporters were finally forced to flee, and Lamar took up his place at the rear of the retreat but continued to urge his companions to make a stand. He did what he could, however, returning fire shot for shot for eight miles as often as he could load and shoot his rifle.
Upon arriving in Pendleton, Lamar enlisted Captain Sperry’s Company of Volunteers and returned to meet the Indians the next day. The company camped at Willow Springs on July 6 and, while at dinner, were surprised by the hostiles. About a quarter of the company was separated from the rest and fled; Lamar was among those who stayed and fought. One of two men killed in the battle, Lamar’s body was mutilated and burned by the Indian combatants.
The first news to reach the outside world was when 13 survivors of the battle arrived in Pendleton July 7. Major Throckmorton, just arrived from Umatilla with a company of U.S. cavalry, sent Captain Bernard with a small force to aid the volunteers and the Indians were routed by the use of mountain howitzers. The war was over.
The conflict was short, but disastrous: Altogether, more than 50 stockmen, ranchers and sheep herders were killed and $500,000 in damage was sustained in burned buildings, unharvested crops and dead or stolen livestock. Much of the blame was placed on Snake River Indians, but reports that local Umatilla Indians were involved caused an uproar and censure of the federal agent in charge of the reservation, J.C. Cornoyer.
Monday, May 18, 2015
Orphaned children stay together with help from local service clubs
Janet Goon was determined to keep her family together.
Janet, just 18 years old and a Pendleton High School senior in 1970, became the head of the household in February of that year when her mother died after a two-year battle with cancer and her father, deeply depressed over the death of his wife, apparently took his own life. With the help of a guardian, Roberta Furlong, Janet found a small house where she could take care of her siblings Dennis, 16, Lydia, 10, and Garry, 5. Another sibling, Ruby, 12, lived with her godmother in Canada.
The family home on Southwest Goodwin Avenue had been damaged by a fire and was falling down. Furlong found a little house the Goons could rent, bought some used appliances and helped the family get settled. Janet participated in a head start program for parents over the summer where she learned to sew, got good nutrition advice in cooking, and learned to swim.
By October Janet was attending Blue Mountain Community College on a scholarship, working toward a career in computers. At home, she was in charge of the cooking, making sure her siblings were getting their homework done and taking care of the laundry. Every child did their share, even Garry, whose talent was folding sacks.
The struggling family lived on Social Security benefits and eventually veteran’s benefits, but were determined to avoid welfare, which would split the siblings up into foster homes. So the Pendleton Jaycees and the Veterans of Foreign Wars stepped in to help the Goons. Volunteers, including boys from the Umatilla County Boys Ranch, organized a huge rummage sale and auction for the benefit of the Goon children that brought in almost $1,100.
An email from the wife of Janet’s son Samuel Catherson tells the rest of her story. Janet joined the Army and became a special investigator for San Francisco, and a martial arts master. She had two sons, who were 12 and 15 when she passed away in 1993 from cancer. Her sons went to live with their father after their mother’s death, and both eventually served in the Army as well. Samuel read his mother's story in a faded copy of the original East Oregonian article on May 8, 2015 — 21 years after her death — when the family received a box of her belongings that had been “lost” for years.
Janet, just 18 years old and a Pendleton High School senior in 1970, became the head of the household in February of that year when her mother died after a two-year battle with cancer and her father, deeply depressed over the death of his wife, apparently took his own life. With the help of a guardian, Roberta Furlong, Janet found a small house where she could take care of her siblings Dennis, 16, Lydia, 10, and Garry, 5. Another sibling, Ruby, 12, lived with her godmother in Canada.
The family home on Southwest Goodwin Avenue had been damaged by a fire and was falling down. Furlong found a little house the Goons could rent, bought some used appliances and helped the family get settled. Janet participated in a head start program for parents over the summer where she learned to sew, got good nutrition advice in cooking, and learned to swim.
By October Janet was attending Blue Mountain Community College on a scholarship, working toward a career in computers. At home, she was in charge of the cooking, making sure her siblings were getting their homework done and taking care of the laundry. Every child did their share, even Garry, whose talent was folding sacks.
The struggling family lived on Social Security benefits and eventually veteran’s benefits, but were determined to avoid welfare, which would split the siblings up into foster homes. So the Pendleton Jaycees and the Veterans of Foreign Wars stepped in to help the Goons. Volunteers, including boys from the Umatilla County Boys Ranch, organized a huge rummage sale and auction for the benefit of the Goon children that brought in almost $1,100.
An email from the wife of Janet’s son Samuel Catherson tells the rest of her story. Janet joined the Army and became a special investigator for San Francisco, and a martial arts master. She had two sons, who were 12 and 15 when she passed away in 1993 from cancer. Her sons went to live with their father after their mother’s death, and both eventually served in the Army as well. Samuel read his mother's story in a faded copy of the original East Oregonian article on May 8, 2015 — 21 years after her death — when the family received a box of her belongings that had been “lost” for years.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Two-year search for missing boy ends in mystery
A family outing in July 1906 turned to tragedy when a four-year-old boy went missing in the Blue Mountains east of Weston, Oregon. Cecil Brittain, son of R.L. Brittain of Walla Walla, disappeared after he wandered away from his family near Tollgate on Weston Mountain July 15, 1906.
Local authorities from Milton requisitioned a set of bloodhounds from the Walla Walla penitentiary, who traced the child to Looking Glass Creek, near the store at Tollgate where Cecil had bought candy before wandering off. Local residents were concerned that wild animals might carry the boy away, and a crowd of men combed the woods looking for him, to no avail.
The boy’s father left no stone unturned in his search. In September, a clairvoyant dreamed that Cecil was hidden in the Bowman Hotel in Pendleton, and Pendleton police searched the premises. While they did find several people who were not listed on the hotel register, they did not find the boy. Major Lee Moorhouse investigated a tip from a Touchet, Wash., man in October who said an Indian on the reservation near Adams might have some information on Cecil’s whereabouts. Mr. Brittain traveled to New Mexico in November to investigate a snapshot sent to him, but the boy in the photo was not his son.
A search of East Oregonian archives showed no progress on the case through 1907. But in March of 1908 the Brittains raised the reward for their son’s return to $2,500 and, on March 27, a man came forward saying he had knowledge about the boy’s disappearance — but only if he was paid for the information. James Breen had been arrested for check fraud and forgery perpetrated in Spokane, and while jailed in Pendleton claimed he knew about Cecil Brittain’s whereabouts. His claims were weakened by the fact that he was a known felon who had spent time in prison for cattle rustling and other crimes. Breen claimed he was living in the Blue Mountains in the Tollgate area at the time the boy disappeared, and demanded payment for his information, saying “he was merely thinking of the future of his wife; that if he got this money it would be used to care for her.”
Mrs. Brittain, in the meantime, traveled to Spokane to investigate a boy found near Marshall, Wash., who was said to be very like her son. While the boy looked very much like Cecil, and seemed to be familiar with the area where the Brittain boy disappeared, his identity could not be confirmed. When confronted with the idea that he was Cecil Brittain, the boy became frightened and hid in the bushes, leading the Brittains to the conclusion that he may have been coached to deny any association with them. The EO reported that, regardless, the Brittains had decided to bring the lad home with them to Walla Walla.
James Breen, however, did not give up in his quest to claim the reward. He convinced the Brittains that he knew where the boy was, and promised on Aug. 19 he would meet them at a camp outside of Walla Walla to hand Cecil over to them. It was unclear whether any money changed hands. Breen didn’t make the rendezvous as planned, and the Brittains went home empty-handed. Breen quietly slipped back into town the following evening and was arrested by Walla Walla police at the East End Saloon while reading about his own escapades in the newspaper. He claimed the Brittains had left the camp too early, and that he had left the child with a friend (who he refused to name) near Fletcher Mill before returning to town. The Brittains were heartbroken.
A search of EO archives did not turn up any further information about the fate of Cecil Brittain.
Local authorities from Milton requisitioned a set of bloodhounds from the Walla Walla penitentiary, who traced the child to Looking Glass Creek, near the store at Tollgate where Cecil had bought candy before wandering off. Local residents were concerned that wild animals might carry the boy away, and a crowd of men combed the woods looking for him, to no avail.
The boy’s father left no stone unturned in his search. In September, a clairvoyant dreamed that Cecil was hidden in the Bowman Hotel in Pendleton, and Pendleton police searched the premises. While they did find several people who were not listed on the hotel register, they did not find the boy. Major Lee Moorhouse investigated a tip from a Touchet, Wash., man in October who said an Indian on the reservation near Adams might have some information on Cecil’s whereabouts. Mr. Brittain traveled to New Mexico in November to investigate a snapshot sent to him, but the boy in the photo was not his son.
A search of East Oregonian archives showed no progress on the case through 1907. But in March of 1908 the Brittains raised the reward for their son’s return to $2,500 and, on March 27, a man came forward saying he had knowledge about the boy’s disappearance — but only if he was paid for the information. James Breen had been arrested for check fraud and forgery perpetrated in Spokane, and while jailed in Pendleton claimed he knew about Cecil Brittain’s whereabouts. His claims were weakened by the fact that he was a known felon who had spent time in prison for cattle rustling and other crimes. Breen claimed he was living in the Blue Mountains in the Tollgate area at the time the boy disappeared, and demanded payment for his information, saying “he was merely thinking of the future of his wife; that if he got this money it would be used to care for her.”
Mrs. Brittain, in the meantime, traveled to Spokane to investigate a boy found near Marshall, Wash., who was said to be very like her son. While the boy looked very much like Cecil, and seemed to be familiar with the area where the Brittain boy disappeared, his identity could not be confirmed. When confronted with the idea that he was Cecil Brittain, the boy became frightened and hid in the bushes, leading the Brittains to the conclusion that he may have been coached to deny any association with them. The EO reported that, regardless, the Brittains had decided to bring the lad home with them to Walla Walla.
James Breen, however, did not give up in his quest to claim the reward. He convinced the Brittains that he knew where the boy was, and promised on Aug. 19 he would meet them at a camp outside of Walla Walla to hand Cecil over to them. It was unclear whether any money changed hands. Breen didn’t make the rendezvous as planned, and the Brittains went home empty-handed. Breen quietly slipped back into town the following evening and was arrested by Walla Walla police at the East End Saloon while reading about his own escapades in the newspaper. He claimed the Brittains had left the camp too early, and that he had left the child with a friend (who he refused to name) near Fletcher Mill before returning to town. The Brittains were heartbroken.
A search of EO archives did not turn up any further information about the fate of Cecil Brittain.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Whiskey-soaked policemen go on drunken rampage
During Prohibition, lawmen across the country were tasked with tracking down and confiscating alcohol, but the illegal booze wasn’t always destroyed after it was seized. In July of 1926, in the midst of Prohibition, two Oklahoma officers went on a drunken rampage after partaking of whiskey taken in a raid and busted up three rooming houses before being brought down by fellow officers.
The trouble started in the early morning hours of July 20 in Muskogee, Oklahoma, when deputy sheriff Paul Davis and city detective Ves Cormack broke into the Maple Leaf rooming house at 1 a.m., brandishing revolvers and threatening the guests. Sleeping men were shot and clubbed and the fixtures of the house were wrecked before the drunken officers moved next door to the Antlers hotel, where the guests were brutalized in a similar manner.
A “riot call” went out and a squad of detectives caught up with their drunken brethren in the Tulsa hotel. Davis and Cormack had by this time run out of ammunition and were wielding clubs against anyone they encountered. The squad found Davis holding a dozen officers at bay in one end of the hall while Cormack was cornered in another section of the hotel. Cormack was taken into custody without incident, but as the officers were leading Davis away he grasped a club from Officer Conway, a merchant policeman, and beat him over the head with it while at the same time pinning another officer’s gun hand. Conway was able to get free and shot Davis, mortally wounding him.
In all, thirteen men were shot or clubbed during the reign of terror, and five were taken to the hospital, including Davis.
When officers searched the auto used by the rampaging duo, they found a quart bottle full of whiskey and a half dozen empties.
The trouble started in the early morning hours of July 20 in Muskogee, Oklahoma, when deputy sheriff Paul Davis and city detective Ves Cormack broke into the Maple Leaf rooming house at 1 a.m., brandishing revolvers and threatening the guests. Sleeping men were shot and clubbed and the fixtures of the house were wrecked before the drunken officers moved next door to the Antlers hotel, where the guests were brutalized in a similar manner.
A “riot call” went out and a squad of detectives caught up with their drunken brethren in the Tulsa hotel. Davis and Cormack had by this time run out of ammunition and were wielding clubs against anyone they encountered. The squad found Davis holding a dozen officers at bay in one end of the hall while Cormack was cornered in another section of the hotel. Cormack was taken into custody without incident, but as the officers were leading Davis away he grasped a club from Officer Conway, a merchant policeman, and beat him over the head with it while at the same time pinning another officer’s gun hand. Conway was able to get free and shot Davis, mortally wounding him.
In all, thirteen men were shot or clubbed during the reign of terror, and five were taken to the hospital, including Davis.
When officers searched the auto used by the rampaging duo, they found a quart bottle full of whiskey and a half dozen empties.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Pendleton drone industry began with local hobbyist
Pendleton is home to one of Oregon state’s new UAV test sites, and the drone industry here is gearing up in a big way. But Pendleton’s involvement in military drone technology started 13 years ago, thanks to a local resident. A Pendleton hobbyist who started building remote-controlled planes in 1992 was recruited by the U.S. Navy following the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks to research and develop UAVs — unmanned aerial vehicles — to attack and spy on enemies of the U.S.
Jim Conachen was building remote-controlled planes for a living out of his garage when the September 11 attacks nudged him to approach the armed forces with an offer to build a remote-controlled attack plane. He was contracted to develop three UAVs: a target plane, a surveillance unit and a strike unit. The military in 2002 didn’t have experience with robotic or remote-controlled vehicles, and turned to hobbyists like Conachen for help. Conachen joked that the military didn’t even know there were jet-powered remote-control planes that could travel as fast as 300 miles per hour. “They were playing catch up ... they were so far behind us it wasn’t funny,” Conachen added.
The target plane, made of fiberglass, was designed to travel 150 miles per hour — at least, until shot down by Navy stinger missiles. He was reluctant to discuss the other two planes he was developing for fear a competitor would steal his ideas, but he said both would have stealth capabilities. He added that his surveillance planes would be used for border control. His contract with the Navy was about 300 drones per year, but there was a chance he would be making up to 1,000 strike planes annually. He was planning a move from his garage to a larger space, and hiring more help.
Conachen, a veteran who served in the Army with anti-terror units in the Middle East from 1978 to 1984, also was a licensed pilot and would fly “anything.”
Conachen Aviation is still in business, building custom UAVs for private and corporate customers. The main office is located in Spokane, Wash., with a hangar is located outside Sandpoint, Idaho.
Jim Conachen was building remote-controlled planes for a living out of his garage when the September 11 attacks nudged him to approach the armed forces with an offer to build a remote-controlled attack plane. He was contracted to develop three UAVs: a target plane, a surveillance unit and a strike unit. The military in 2002 didn’t have experience with robotic or remote-controlled vehicles, and turned to hobbyists like Conachen for help. Conachen joked that the military didn’t even know there were jet-powered remote-control planes that could travel as fast as 300 miles per hour. “They were playing catch up ... they were so far behind us it wasn’t funny,” Conachen added.
The target plane, made of fiberglass, was designed to travel 150 miles per hour — at least, until shot down by Navy stinger missiles. He was reluctant to discuss the other two planes he was developing for fear a competitor would steal his ideas, but he said both would have stealth capabilities. He added that his surveillance planes would be used for border control. His contract with the Navy was about 300 drones per year, but there was a chance he would be making up to 1,000 strike planes annually. He was planning a move from his garage to a larger space, and hiring more help.
Conachen, a veteran who served in the Army with anti-terror units in the Middle East from 1978 to 1984, also was a licensed pilot and would fly “anything.”
Conachen Aviation is still in business, building custom UAVs for private and corporate customers. The main office is located in Spokane, Wash., with a hangar is located outside Sandpoint, Idaho.
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