Billy Boy and Disaster

 Back in the 19 and 20's Billy Boy was up around Seaside on the northern Oregon coast. From Tillamook to Astoria where the mighty Columbia meets the Pacific with such a loud and thunderous roar, he was a high climber, choker setter and at times a tree faller in the heavy thick first growth timber. This was all before the big terrible "Burns" in the '30's. Now, there are some stories to tell, but not just now! At the moment of this event Billy Boy was powder monkeying for one of the smaller logging outfits in the area, I cant recall just now which one.

 

He was a young man in his mid 20's back then, with dark, thick wavy hair, only about 5 foot 8 inches in stocking feet, slight of build, a grin and smile that lit the room, and with a gift of humor which charmed the ladies Billy Boy cut such a path, so he told it and I dont doubt it for a moment! I mean, I've seen pictures of him in them days, and he was a handsome man. Course I also knowed one of his lady friends from back then to, Dorothy, she was going with Billy Boy's best friend "Cannery" Bob. Yup, and she's told me stories from those days! Like the time Billy Boy and "Cannery" took Dorothy and Barbara, then Billy Boy's fancy, to a "speak easy". Bob drank to much, got throwed in jail, Billy Boy had to bail him out so's they all could get home in Cannery's car. Dorothy recalls it all cause she was not yet legal, being only just eighteen and all! Barbara later became my Aunt, at least for a while, and was a "star"on Portland's theather way but those too are stories for another day. Barbara now resides in a rest home, her memories lost in some distant past, I feel so sorry for her. Dorothy? Well, she is the only one from that old gang still around, at least those that I know of. Of course you all know by now that the event to unfold here is before "First Love" came upon the scene, had she been here then....well, it might not have happened to Billy Boy, that awful event which forever changed his life .

 

Up on some nameless mountain on the rugged coastal range, there where the majestic hoot owls nest among the evergreens, their wings to flap in mighty soar as they spy then sweep the ground talons open to snatch a prey, there to, where the fury rugged Roosevelt Bull Elk bugle their high pitched mating call, and Chinook, Slivers and Steelhead swim up the cold stream currents seeking ancient spawning sites, it was here in this tranquil scene that Billy Boy in youthful agility ran his powder lines on that horrible and unforgettable day!

 

The world was his, unbounded, unrestrained this was Billy Boy's place, here among the forest creatures and the bright, and sometimes brilliant and bold flora placed about by nature's caring hand. Orphaned in mid-childhood by life's sometimes tragic ways, Billy Boy had relied on the forest harvests not so long ago. He could live here. He knew more than most folk the land's secrets so hidden away from all but the careful eye. But on this day Billy Boy could not know that life, using this lush forest green setting, would again toss another obstacle his way, challenging his strength of character and testing his Irish fatalistic although positive philosophy that, "every thing works out for the best"! And he knew it too.

 

Given the task by the landing boss to blow the stumps, those sturdy tree trunk stems left several feet above the spring board cut, Billy Boy was clearing the landing site where spare pole fitted with high rigging cables would guide the fallen tree in response to the whistle punk's call and the choker setter's signals, the trees then to be loaded and trucked to the valley floor mill below.

 

Now powder monkeying back in those early days was a hazardous job, much more so than in recent times where electronic mechanisms so precise control the explosive device. But Billy boy didn't have such luxury on this specific day! Nope, he didn't and maybe it wouldn't have made a difference at all...cause if its going to happen, it will, or so I am told!

 

The landing was almost cleared with just a few remaining stumps to remove by blowing them out with dynamite so that no obstacles would stand between the skid and landing, there high up the ridge where on a clear day like this a feller could catch by eye the Pacific white washed waves as they sparkled in the sunlite and rose to crash the shore line some distance away. Billy Boy often fished the coves and inlets along the northern Oregon coast line. He had crossed the bar on the Columbia, Tillamook, Siletz, Wilson and the others along the way. Yup, he knew the waters of the salty bays and those of the fresh river runs from high up on the mountains to the valleys below and had fished 'em all.

 

But this was another day. Beautiful, bright and with a misty breeze softly blowing its way from the Pacific inland to the remote logging camps nestled in the ravines and hollows and out across to the mill towns found spread about from here to the Willamette Valley some distant and remote route miles eastward toward the mighty Cascade mountain range. It was a picture perfect postcard day, nothing expected nor unusual should occur. But....well, it obviously did.

 

Billy Boy set two charges, lit the fuses, hollered the all clear, "fire in the hole!", turned his back and ran for cover! As he ducked, dodged, and darted his way through the underbrush dotting the partially cleared landing, he chanced a glance over his right shoulder just as the loud clap like thunder rose and roared across the site, the thick choking mountain dust clogging and fouling the air! Billy Boy recalled little of what struck next!

 

The pain was the most intense he had ever felt, excruciating, searing, a throbbing raw burning! He blacked out, came to, couldn't move, tried again, felt pinned in, confined, immobile. He sensed movement, others near by, voices dimly heard growing louder, shouting something. A warm trickle dripping down on his face, salty moisture in his mouth, water, blood? Struggling for breath, sight cloudy, blinking, seeking composure...what went wrong?

 

Billy Boy came around, he was somewhat conscious, semi-alert, and aware of others now crowding, crouching, calling out to him..."yuh, ok? Billy Boy you alright? Take it easy, dont move, yur hurt badly," was all he could hear. There was a stillness in the air, 'cept the pounding in his head, the horrible pain spreading up from his right leg, to the thigh and stabbing into his gut, his eyes watered with tears of searing pain! Someone was dampening his face with a cool cloth, others desperately trying to free him from his bent over and twisted position, sideways in the gaping hole left there in his way from a stump blown away earlier in the day! He had fallen into this place, an empty space when he turned his head away. Now Billy Boy's right leg was bent behind his back, torn and ripped almost apart at the knee as he lay in that gawd awful hole!

 

Blackie, Hockshaw and "Milligan" Mike got him out. They pulled him up from the hole, picked him up in their arms, placed Billy Boy on a pole made stretcher, and then tied off the loose right leg hanging torn, ragged, and ripped almost apart at the knee. They didn't want Billy Boy to loose much more blood as they began the desperate but slow trip down the crooked, curving and steep mountain logging truck run. In the distance they heard the sharp, shrill steam whistle of the narrow gauge log train winding its way down the mountain slope... could they beat the engine and pulled flat bed loaded log cars to the siding dock just below the next rise along the winding way! "Hockshaw-Slim-John" took off on the run, cross the landing and down the hill he ran, his long legged strides which gave him his name swiftly carrying him over the ground trying to catch that locomotive before it passed them on! Billy Boy had to be placed on that train, put with "Hooter" the engineer in the cab and hauled down to Seaside where Doc Ketchumkilem could be found.

 

Meanwhile, the others gently placed Billy Boy in the company jitney which had brought them all here at first dawn's light. If Hockshaw could stop the train, they could make the run to catch it, taking Billy Boy to Doc."Ketch" and medical care! If not, well....it would take time, lots of it to make the thirty mile long journey dashing headlong down that serpentine, treacherous and tortuous one-way log truck road. Could Billy Boy tolerate the delay and live for another day?

 

They shoved that old jitney into high gear, pushed the peddle to the floor and took off with such a great roar! As they rounded the last turn, and flew over the rutted road just before the siding should appear, the train whistle was shrilling in their ears, brakes gnashing on rails, sparks flying in the air, and in the middle of the railroad tracks long side the loading dock stood "Hockshaw-Slim-John", his long spindly arms waving in the air! The short log train was screaming to a halt, he had stopped it!

 

The train had barely slowed to a crawl, when Billy Boy was placed upon the engine's floor, Mulligan Mike jumped into the cab to take the journey down those railroad ties along with this powder monkey friend now suffering in awful pain. "Hooter" shouted to his coal shoveling fireman, "Smokey" was his name, "stoke that box, we've got a mighty run to make, we gotta save this man today!"

 

With a blast of stark white steam, the whistle made its high pitched shrill announcing to all its precious journey's run, the wheels began their churn to chug and pull that cargo load on down the rails and to the end. The rest, their logging day now at close, rode the jitney down into town.

 

When the train pulled into town they rushed Billy Boy to the hospital grounds, Doc. "Ketch" just making his rounds met them on the run, Nurse Mary Strong was there calming the throng gathering to insure Billy Boy was given the best of care. Doc looked at Billy Boy's leg, shook his head and ordered Nurse Strong to prepare for surgery, the leg must now come off in a hurry! Well...this was not the thing to say, no siree, not in front of those tough young logging men! That was quite a mistake made by old Doc Ketchumkilem. Woow!

 

A hurried "conference meeting" was called, Milligan Mike taking charge, Shorty was called to join the team, Hockshaw and Blackie standing by all agreed with Billy Boy, no backwoods saw bones would have his knee or leg this day! "Outta our way", came the shouted command to any including Nurse Strong trying to stop the escape of these brash and daring young men! Out the door they flew, Billy Boy supported by strong friend's arms and into the waiting car they ran, the 99 mile trip to Portland town to take. Poor old Strong, she had lost that round! The boys all heard later she was fired for allowing that bold run! They sent her flowers though, kind of an apology... you know?

 

They made the course to Portland in record time for them days, no super highways to travel on then. They sped to Billy Boy's physicians' from earlier days, Doctors Belknap and Sabin who sewed his almost severed knee and saved his leg so's he could walk on another day! Many years later Dr. Belknap became my doctor, he cured me of poison oak allergy one time. His brother, another Doc., attend to my chronic childhood ear infection, never was able to fix it though. It didn't matter, Billy Boy admired those brothers...and for that matter, so do I!

 

Billy Boy's painful agony from this disaster was not over for sometime. He had to learn to walk again, now with a right leg sewn at the knee, not able to bend or unstiffen. He wore a brace for sometime. But Billy Boy's days as a young and agile logger were now gone, set asunder by that one snuck glance over shoulder the earth's gapping hole to snatch away the youthful days. The story does not end here, no way! If you think so, you've not followed Billy Boy or knowed him well! There is so much more to tell, but not just now...just bringing you this far has worn me for this spell.

 

So just let me say, and I'll come back on another day to finish many more tales of Billy Boy who fought a disaster and made a victory, this was a man to call a friend and much more of a pa he could not have been!

T.Condon Aug. 16,1998