Balloon aeronaut fails to wow Independence Day crowds

An advertisement from the June 30, 1906, East Oregonian for a balloonist trapeze act taking part in the annual Fourth of July festivities in Pendleton.

 

 

In 1906, in the days before the Pendleton Round-Up, the city's biggest to-do of the year was staged on the Fourth of July. A novel acrobatic act was scheduled for the day-long festivities: a balloonist who performed on a trapeze 1,500 feet in the air and then parachuted to safety on the ground.

The Fourth of July committee pulled out all the stops for the annual event, scheduling a full day of activities for old and young alike. The event began at 7 a.m. with a cannon blast, followed by a parade at 10 a.m. with prizes for the best decorated wheel, best makeup and best sustained character during the parade, and the ugliest float during an afternoon Plug Ugly parade.

Six hours of races and athletic events, dances, and performances by bands from the Pendleton Eagles Lodge, Pilot Rock and Milton ran throughout the day. The local fire department staged hose cart races and other competitions. And a bronco busting contest, held at the city stockyards, boasted $50 prizes for the champion riders.

An illuminated parade featuring members of the fraternal organizations from all over the region also offered prizes of$25 for the lodge with the best float, and $15 for the order having the best showing during the parade.

But one event was a complete bust: the balloon ascension. Aeronaut Paul, as he styled himself, was unable to get his craft off the ground because the balloon would not hold the hot air needed for the ascension.

Paul, describing the balloon as faulty in shape, made a second attempt at his ascension on July 5 after removing 10 feet from the bottom of the craft. Taking off from the O.R. & N. train depot, he climbed aboard his trapeze with the intention of performing his act before a large crowd that had gathered to watch the performance a few minutes after 8 p.m.

In only a few moments, however, it was clear that the balloon again was leaking hot air, as the craft began to droop. As it passed over the railroad's roundhouse the balloonist hit the roof with a thud. At the same time, the ropes hit a guy wire and Paul was forced to let go of his swing. After it had passed over the wire he was unable to catch it again, and the balloon sailed away toward the west end of town, where it landed in the backyard of a house, catching on the chimney as it passed and pulling it down. The balloon crumpled, leaking hot air and smoke out of a tear in the fabric.

The owner of the house, John Van Orsdall, presented a bill to the Fourth of July Committee for $16, to pay for the damage to his chimney. He also retained the balloon in his possession as security for his loss.

On July 15, after securing permission from the Fourth of July Committee to use his confiscated balloon, 

Aeronaut Paul made another attempt, this time launching from the baseball grounds. The balloon, well filled, rose in the air with Paul swinging from his trapeze for about 50 feet. The craft then began to descend again, and touched down within just a few minutes, to the disappointment of the crowd at the ballfields and the residents watching from the surrounding hills.

Frustrated with his failures to achieve a proper ascent, Aeronaut Paul packed up his bags and left town.

Pendleton residents get too-close view of Mt. St. Helens eruption

Four Pendleton residents in Eastern Washington for a rodeo got an up-close-and-personal look at the ash cloud that covered most of the state after the eruption of Mt. St. Helens in May of 1980.

Jim Bosworth, Paul Rogers, Mike Bosworth and Gary Cunnington were traveling to Longview from Yakima on May 18, 1980, after attending a rodeo in the central Washington city. About 50 miles from Yakima, "the sky got a strange black ... not like a rain cloud," Jim Bosworth said.

Then the ground shook. The four heard rumbling, and the sky turned a reddish orange.

The group traveled another half mile before the sky turned pitch black, and by then they could not only see the volcanic ash hitting the car, they could hear it, too.

Unable to pick up a radio station, they continued on another five miles, hoping they would drive out from under the ash and smoke. But soon they decided to turn around and head back to Yakima. Twice they stopped to try to call friends in Yakima to tell them they were all right, but the phone lines were jammed.

During their nightmare drive, one person in the car drove while the other three gave directions — "You're too far to the right"; "A little left" — as they crawled toward Yakima. They had covered the 50 miles toward Longview in about an hour, but the return trip took them 6½ hours.

The four returned to Pendleton on May 19 with an ash-covered car, two first places from the Yakima rodeo — Cunnington in bareback riding and Rogers in bull riding — and a bucketful of ash.

After reporting their experience to the East Oregonian, they headed for home to give the car a thorough washing.

Pendleton Apartment manager Bob Maxwell displays ash deposited on his car as he traveled through Eastern Washington May 18 and 19, 1980, during the Mt. St. Helens eruption (EO file photo).

Stanfield censors animal sex

Owners of frisky animals faced fines and even jail time if their pets were seen engaging in amorous activities in Stanfield after the city council enacted a new ordinance in May of 1975.

According to a city ordinance put into place by the Stanfield City Council, reported in the May 15, 1975, East Oregonian, owners of capricious dogs, cats, horses and other animals that were caught having sex in public could face a fine not less than $15 or a jail sentence from two to 25 days.

Stanfield mayor Charles Huxell explained that the ordinance was designed to avoid any bothersome nuisances. Stanfield, which was partially zoned rural, had a great number of animals within the city limits, Huxell said, many of which were used for breeding purposes.

While the ordinance had no definite geographic application, it generally applied to the immediate downtown area — including any horses tethered against city hall.

The west Umatilla County town's ordinance made worldwide headlines after the story was leaked to wire services. Stanfield city clerk Diane Hutchinson said calls were received at city hall May 15 from the London Times, a Honolulu, Hawaii, radio station, and Northwest cities including Portland, Eugene and Yakima. A Boise resident passing through the area stopped by in person to ask if the ordinance actually existed.

The Hawaiian broadcaster didn't doubt the accuracy of the news reports, but wondered "if it had been enforced yet," Hutchinson said.

Explosion demolishes dynamite storage near La Grande

A morning blast obliterated the Union County powder house outside La Grande in April of 1955 in an explosion that was felt up to 20 miles away.

H. Eugene Banton, the Union County shop foreman, went to the county's powder house at about 9 a.m. on Monday, April 25, 1955, to check the county's dynamite supply. He was alone at the building when the blast occurred at 9:20 a.m.

The 12-foot-square brick building virtually disappeared in the blast.

When the first investigators arrived at the scene of the explosion, they found a hole 30 feet by 15 feet wide, and 15 feet deep at the lowest point, at the former location of the powder house. Banton, obviously, was killed in the blast. Union County authorities did not know how much dynamite had been stored at the site.

The explosion shattered nearly all of the storefront windows on Adams Street in La Grande, a mile and a half from the site of the blast. A nearby farm was covered in brick dust from the disintegrated building, and a man working at the county fairgrounds, a half mile away, said he was knocked flat by the pressure wave. The blast also was felt in Elgin, 20 miles away.

Though the window damage on Adams Street was estimated in the thousands of dollars, no one else was injured by the explosion.

Speedster railroad man buries train engine in bluff

A double train wreck near Cayuse in March of 1910 caused the deaths of two railroad employees, including the engineer that was running his machine at high speed down the mountain.

Engineer S.L. Risk and Fireman Edwin Hopple set out about 8 a.m. with Engine No. 215 running light (pulling no cars) on March 20, 1910, from Kamela in the Blue Mountains toward Umatilla after assisting a freight train up the mountain from La Grande. The freight train went on ahead of Risk and Hopple, but No. 215 passed the train at Porter, a wood station between Meacham and Huron.

Risk and Hopple were apparently coming down the river at a high rate of speed and, while negotiating a 9% curve where the road first meets the river east of Mission, the engine leapt the track and hurled itself into the bluff on the left side of the tracks. The crash sheared off all its outer trim and buried most of the engine in the soft alkali dirt of the bluff on the side of the road opposite the river.

Risk's body was thrown backward out of the cab, on top of the coal. Though he was lying entirely free of debris from the crash except for one arm, he was pinned down in such a way that he was literally scalded alive. Hopple's body was jammed in against the firebox and covered by a ton of coal. It took several hours' work to dig him out.

Though both the engine and the coal tender were hurled clear of the rails, the corner of the tender was close enough to the track that another train could not pass unobstructed. Thus, when the block signal registered "all clear" to the freight train coming 20 minutes behind, there was no way of knowing the danger that lie ahead.

Engineer Walter G. Robinson, Fireman C.L. Wilson and Brakeman W.O. Rose were in the cab of Engine No. 385 when the freight train, traveling 25 to 35 mph, rounded the curve and saw the wrecked engine and coal tender. Engineer Robinson immediately closed the throttle, threw on the air brakes and swung out of his side of the cab. He was followed an instant later by Brakeman Rose, who left via the window. Though neither man had said a word, Fireman Wilson concluded something was up and swung out onto the running board on his side, dropping off the just as the nose of their engine struck the corner of the derailed tender. Engine No. 385 was shunted off on the other side, down a 75-foot embankment and into the river.

Robinson and Rose rolled down the embankment, while Wilson landed in a puddle of water leaking from the damaged tender. He remained where he fell for what seemed like an age, expecting to have train cars piling on top of him.

Five of the cars following their engine were smashed to kindling, with the contents scattered in every direction. The first car was loaded with steel rails, some of which were hurled through the end of the car and landed much in front of where it stopped. The second car contained sacks of cement, and the third and fourth were loaded with coal. A fifth car also carried rails, which added to the pile of wreckage.

The surviving train crew called in the wreck from a portable phone in the caboose of the freight train. Because wrecker trains in the area were otherwise occupied, no work could be done to clear the tracks until 6 p.m. The lay of the land in the area of the wreck, with high bluffs on one side of the tracks and the river on the other, meant temporary tracks could not be laid around the accident site, so all trains were held in Pendleton, Gibbon and La Grande until early in the morning on March 21.

Hundreds of local citizens traveled to the wreck site, including every auto in Pendleton making the trip more than once. Some people even rode the wrecker trains out to the crash and walked back to town.

The crash was the first double wreck on that portion of the railroad, but not the first accident in the area. In 1906 eight cars of coal were dumped over the embankment within yards of the 1910 crash, and in 1907 a disastrous wreck five miles away took the lives of four people and seriously injured others.

Pendleton youngsters embark on crime spree

Two daycare attendees escaped their minders in April 1984 and engaged in a miniature crime spree that covered miles of territory in Pendleton.

Joyce Olsen of Olsen's Day Care Center on Southwest Goodwin Avenue in Pendleton called local police at about noon on April 4, 1984, to report two 5-year-old boys had apparently jumped the fence at the center and were missing. At 1:34 p.m., a manager at Safeway, contacted Pendleton police to report he had two "culprits" in custody.

The manager said the boys had first walked to McDonald's, a mile from the day care center, and romped at the fast food restaurant's Play Place before walking to Melanie Square, another three-quarters of a mile. At Payless the pair had filled a shopping cart with toys and then wheeled it across the street to Safeway, where they added food items to the cart until it was overflowing. They also absconded with change from an Easter Seals collection jar.

A cake the youngsters knocked off a counter in the Safeway bakery cost one of the boys' fathers $14.

According to the police report, "After being apprehended, the culprits attempted to con the arresting officer into buying them hamburgers at McDonald's."

The con was unsuccessful.

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.