REMINISCING

(Carson Life - 1942-1954)

By Terry Bringazi

P R E F A C E

  The following is an account of childhood in Carson, WA for a small group of children between the years 1942 and 1954.

  In 1942 Carson had a population of approximately 200-250 (including the community of Hemlock).

  Carson Elementary School consisted of three teachers: Mrs. Theopa Bringazi (1st and 2nd), Mrs. Zella Brockman (3rd, 4th and 5th), and Mrs. Alma Hockinson (6th, 7th, 8th and principal). Mrs. Freida Bloomquist was the custodian and Mr. Herd was the bus driver.

The student population was probably between 50 and 75.

 Theopa was the first and second grade teacher from 1943 until around 1960. She was the first authoritative figure (outside the immediate family) that most of the children knew.

  One mother that tried to enroll her child in school, even though his birthdate was one day beyond the entry deadline, came to the school insisting that her child be allowed to enroll. Theopa was adamant that the child's birthday was beyond the deadline and would not be enrolled.

  At the time the mother threatened to sue the school board. The child was not enrolled until the following year.

  Eight years later the mother came to Theopa apologizing and thanking her for allowing her to be a mother for one more year. Then the family bought Theopa a trip to Alaska.

    Then there was a girl that today would be in special education classes. In the 40's and 50's there was no such thing so the teachers just continued to fail her.

  Finally the girl made it to the 5th or 6th grade. Her teacher said they would have to pass her that year because she was getting to big for her desk. Theopa suggested just getting a bigger desk. This was done so she repeated another year. She had a sister that wasn't any brighter.

  We were not allowed ice cream at the school but she had gone downtown during the lunch hour and bought her and her sister each an ice cream bar. Upon leaving the store she met Billy McNee. Billy told her that ice cream wasn't allowed at the school.

  The post office had a mail slot located on the outside of the building for after-hours mailing. Not knowing what else to do with the ice cream she "mailed" it.

  Billy also traded her two pennies for a dime once. Convincing her that two coins were better than one. They were both in the fourth grade at the time.

  In the mid-50's Theopa was diagnosed with leukemia and given only months to live. Her doctors told her to retire and enjoy what little time she had left. She emplatically told the doctors that she was enjoying life and would continue teaching as long as she could.

  She finally retired in the early 60's due to other ailments. Her leukemia slowed her down but she would not quit.

  After her retirement she took teenagers into her home and helped at least six of them through college.

  Mr. and Mrs. Fred (Phyllis) McHenry and their two children, Ronnie and Terry, came to Carson around 1945-46. Mrs. Florence Lilligard came about the same time. Alma and Zella retired. So now we had four teachers for 8 grades.

     When Theopa told the minister and his wife that we were getting new teachers the minister's wife asked what religion they were. When Theopa told them she thought they were Protestants the minister's wife responded with, "Oh, I had so hoped they would be Christians".

  Fred and Phyllis only stayed a few years but they made a great difference in our school and were a great influence in the lives of their students.

  For many of us Fred was a father figure. We had what today would be called dysfunctional families, i.e. single parents, step-parents, alcoholics, seasonal workers, etc. Fred not only served as teacher but as counselor as well.

      If we had been told we needed counseling we would have rebelled. As far as we were concerrned he was just someone to talk with that we all respected and trusted and that respected and understood us. Of course we didn't think we were dysfunctional because we all interacted into a cohesive, functional community.

  He was always true to his word.  He'd find out some (not all by any means) of our transgretions and tell us that if we made restitution to the satisfaction of our "victims" he would not apprise our parents of our midsdeeds  (for which many of us will be enternally greatful).

  He would do well in today's world as a child guidance counselor.

  There are few teachers today that would take such an active interest in their student's welfare.

    Fred McHenry and his wife, Phyllis, were both very good with the children.

  Mr. McHenry taught 7th and 8th and was the principal. His wife, Phyllis, taught 5th and 6th, Florence taught 3rd and 4th and Theopa taught 1st and 2nd.

  The children referred to in this narrative were for the most part, those listed below. Many others were on the fringe, so to speak.

  Brothers Raymond, Larry and Robert Cummings; brothers P.K. (Paul) and Gilbert Bailey; Eugene  Baugher, Johnny Garwood, Jim Murray, brothers James, Robert  (Bubba) and Lawson Meadors, LaMar Loomis, brothers Marvin and (author of this essay) Terry Bringazi.

  There were many others but this was the nucleus of the group that I spent the majority of my childhood with.

  After 40-50 years my memory is not infallable, I can only recount events that happened as I remember them. Some details may be inaccurate but the following account is the way things were as I remember them.

  Most of us had bicycles. Three speeds and above were so far in the future as to be beyond our wildest imagination.

  For the most part we had heavy, balloon-tired Schwinns. They were the most popular. Western Auto produced a popular bicycle also.

  A new Schwinn sold for about $70.00 and good wages were about $1.00 an hour in 1942. A school teacher brought home approximately $125 a month.

  We would ride out to Government Springs (15 miles) if we had all day to make the trip. On shorter trips we would ride down the "Sand Grade", dodging the many logging trucks that used the road, to the main highway.

  Other times we would go toward St. Martin's Hot Springs then turn off to the "Red Bridge". By the time we reached the bottom of the hill (if the chain didn't break, or come off) the rear hub would be cherry red from the heat of constant braking for a mile or more. So at the end of the road we would just ride off into Wind River to cool them.

  I don't recall that we ever rode to Stevenson (4 miles).

  Mr. Olmstead had two horses that lived up on the power line named Duke and Fanny. Mr Olmstead lived in Portland, Oregon. The horses roamed almost free. The power line was fenced on either side and near the road to the east. To the west a cliff impeded their movement but they could maneuver up and down it.

  They were usually easier to find than they were to ride. Anyone could ride them as far as Mr. Olmstead was concerned. Duke, however, had a much different attitude about this arrangement. Fanny was much more docile. We rode them all over town.

  However, if you took them off the power line you had to take both of them. They were inseperable.

  Ray Cummings tried to ride Duke out alone once. Duke realized Fanny wasn't coming so he bucked Ray off and returned to the pasture. Ray suffered a broken arm.

  They were always ridden bareback as saddles were a luxury we could ill afford.

  Eugene (Gene) Baugher had a gentle gray horse we could all ride. Gene was our age. Occassionally there would be four or five of us kids on that horse at the same time. If it was standing still it would shift its weight off of one leg and the kid sitting on that portion of the horse would fall off.

  The horse would wait patiently for them to climb back on. It was probably quite amusing for the horse.

  We found a set of wagon wheels complete with axle someplace. We were 10-12 years of age at this time. We attached one end of a large plank to the axle. The other end just dragged on the ground. Limited steering was obtained by a rope attached near the wheels.

  We would manually push this contraption up a hill near Bailey's place. Then we would sit on the plank and roll down the hill. Occassionally we managed to stay on the plank all the way down the hill and across the main road into Carson. Braking was not an option.

  In the summer we would find a large piece of cardboard and slide down Cretny's sheep pasture. It was a long, steep hill covered with dry grass and quite slippery. We could get going pretty fast before we got to the bottom.

  Our biggest concern was avoiding Mr. Cretny. It would be an understatement to say that Mr. Cretny didn't care for us kids.

    In the winter we had many hills to go sledding on. The most popular was the power line. It was a long, steep run of half-mile or more. We would set fires along the hillside and go sledding at night. After starting the fires we would roast marshmallows or hot dogs. Then put tires on the fire that we had obtained from the garages downtown. The tires would burn long into the next day.

  Kirma Russell had a toboggan that we all enjoyed.

  One day we went down Cretny's hill when the snow was quite deep. Carson Creek (at the bottom) was running quite heavily. We thought we could jump the creek with a toboggan.

  It doesn't take a master's degree in quantum physics to understand the effects of gravity on airborne objects. I think our immediate, very immediate, future was covered in lesson one of "Attempting to Cross Open Areas by Toboggan".

  We did manage to become airborne for a short distance, a very short distance. Our momentum was overcome by what can best be described as a sudden gust of gravity.

  The two kids in the front were given an unexpected opportunity to contemplate the pros and cons of the most expeditious way to build a snow cave. The two in the rear were in a position to experience first-hand how cold fast-running water can get before solidifying.

  Tom Monaghan, Jr., (an adult) built a heavy-duty bobsled, He would tow us behind his car on the icy roads. All of us kids would ride this thing all over town. He enjoyed towing us up and down the roads.

  The winters were a lot of fun for the kids but it must have been hard on the adults.

  There was one winter when some neighbors of an elderly man in Hemlock realized they hadn't seen any smoke from his chimney for a few days so they went to check on him.  They found him in the barn with his cow. The snow had slid off the barn roof while he was in there and he couldn't get out. He was pretty phiilosophical about the whole thing., He felt there was no need for concern. He had the cow to keep him warm, plenty of milk and oats ahd a cow to talk to. What else could he possibly need?

  Another family, Mr. and Mrs. Joe Zydlo, I think, quite elderly, had run out of available wood for their stove. They had an adequate supply buried under 8-10 feet of snow near the house.

  Mr. McHenry heard of their plight. He got a bunch of us 7th and 8th grade boys together and took us out to Mr. Zydlo's house to dig all the wood out and cut it for them. They in turn baked cookies and fixed hot chocolate for us. We worked on the project nearly all day and felt we had been well paid for our labors with the cookies and chocolate.

  One winter day the school was closed because the bus couldn't get out to Hemlock to pick up the kids. One parent thought his kids had missed the bus so he made them walk nearly three miles to the school in a severe snow storm. Fred and Phyllis were at the school. It didn't seem practical to Fred to send the kids back out into blizzard conditions so he took them home with him. A day or two later Fred went out to inform the parents that he had the kids. The parent seemed unconcerned that his kids hadn't come home from school.

  During deer hunting season Fred would allow up to three days of excused absence. Providing that the absentee returned with a few venison steaks for him and his family. No venison, no excuse. This procedure made good hunters out of many of us.

  Before the McHenry's came to Carson the school  didn't have any sports activities. They decided to implement a complete program.

  The first order of business was to get some equipment.

  Phyllis went before the school board and acquired enough money to go the Vancouver to purchase the necessary supplies.

  Phyllis walked in to a local sporting goods store and read off a long list of sporting equipment she wished to purchase. The clerk, thinking this woman was a bit daft, or at best not in complete control of her faculties, refused to sell her anything. She had to explain that she was from a little country school and really did want to buy these items.

  There was one family, the Rakestraws, that was very much against the children playing flag football. They argued that it was much to dangerous a sport for the children. So they would not allow their son, Howard, to play.

  During the first year of football there was only one injury. A boy fell off the fence while watching the game and broke his arm. That boy was their son, Howard.

  The McHenry's also implemented a School Boy Patrol program. This consisted of 7th and 8th graders. Our main duty was to act as crossing guards. The playground was across the road so there was a definite need for the program. Many of the adults didn't take the program serious at first. After the first logging truck got a ticket for speeding through the crossing word got around fast that we were a serious force to be reckoned with.

  It was quite an honor to be on the patrol. We had to keep our grades up and stay out of trouble. It we stayed on the patrol for a full year Fred would take us all to Portland to a movie and dinner or to the skating rink in Washougal.

  It was while the McHenry's were there that UNICEF was started. Our school received national recognition for being the first donor to the program. UNICEF in turn sent us a nice plaque presented by the state governor in recognition of our donation. The plaque cost more than we had sent them. At the time we felt this was counter-productive, but we were proud.

  We always (well, most of the time) treated adults in kind. They were good to us, we were good to them. There were a few, however, that had a different attutude toward us,

  Ernie Metzger was an elderly fellow that was handicapped. Any kid that happened to be "downtown" when they heard him come putt-putting down the hill in his Model T would wait for him at the post office. He would always have his crutches tucked in beside his spare tire just in case none of us kids were around,. We would go in and ask the postmaster for his mail then walk across the street to the grocery store, get his grocery list and do his shopping for him. Occasionally he'd give us a nickle for our efforts,.

  Ida Greer was another nice person. She was widowed and lived next door to the Bringazi family.

  She would go to town daily to get her mail. She always went early so she could sit and have coffee and chat with her lady friends at the soda fountain across the street.

  While she was there Terry B from next door would go over to her house and cut her wood or mow her lawn.

  When she came home she would go over to Terry's house to see his mother. She would tell her what had been done by some unknown person and how nice it was. She would go on and on about how she sure wished she knew who was doing this.

  Terry had her fooled for a long time. R-I-G-H-T.

  If Terry seen her at the store with her groceries he would offer to carry them home for her. Occassionally he would carry them to the middle of the street and set them down. Ida would stand in the middle of the road shaking her fist and raving. People that didn't know them well thought this was terrible. Later Ida would laugh about the incident among her friends.

  Mr. Cretny was a very reclusive individual. He owned a large sheep ranch near the south end of town, The kids would go down to Carson Creek in the summer months to the area that bordered his ranch to fish. Now old Mr. Cretny didn't like us being there so he would shoot at us from the hill nearby with a .22 rifle. This was part of the fun of being there.

  The fact that the creek nearly dried up and we would go there and bail out the deeper waterholes with buckets to catch the fish which, in turn, deprived his sheep of a watering hole may have had some bearing on his bad attitude toward us.

  Just below his place was a hobo jungle. A fellow named Jim Bargo set up residence there.

  At first Mr. Bargo was just another 'bo. After a period of time he was given the job of bringing the mail into town from the railroad depot. A very practical idea because he was already in the area to meet the train.

  During duck season he would come to town with his daily bag limit of ducks and a mail bag  slung over his shoulder. After delivering the mail to the post office he would carry the ducks back to his starting point.

  Mr. Cretny's fence was not well maintained so it wasn't long before Mr. Bargo had a respectable sheep herd  of his own. Sheep are not known for their intelligence so there is a distinct possibility that the sheep received some assistance in getting to "greener pastures" on the other side of the fence.

  Mr. Bargo had a unique way of doing his laundry. He would string in on a rope and throw it into the Columbia River for a day or two. His dryer was completely solar powered. He'd spread the clothes out on the bushes to dry.

    Then there was Gladys, dear, dear old Gladys. Easily the most visible of the odd people in Carson.She was mentally deficient but a very nice lady and a heart of gold. Most of the children teased her unmercifully. She liked to trade comic books with the children.. At one time she was crocheting hot pads and selling them for 25 cents each or 3 for $1. The principal (Fred McHenry) bought 3 and presumably others bought them in sets of 3 also.

  Her sense of value may have been better than suspected.

  She had a daughter that excelled in school but was teased a lot by the other children. If given the opportunity they would all, individually and/or collectively, apologize for their behavior.

   As the daughter neared graduation from high school the school board and teachers met discussing scholarships for college.

  Mrs. Bringazi, her first grade teacher, suggested awarding her one. The board felt it would be inappropriate because of her mother. They viewed things differently in those days. Mrs. Bringazi then said if the board didn't provide the scholarship she would. Mrs. Bringazi thereupon provided funding to help the girl through college.

  Then there was Charlie. He and his wife owned one of the two grocery stores in town. The vagarities of running a small country store were probably quite stressful to Charlie so he had a tendency to relieve the stress with a little alcohol. Sometimes it required large quantities to assuage the vicisitudes of ownership. This would not have been a problem except that he often chose to self-medicate while tending the store.

  His wife would find some reason to send him into the cold-storage lockers. She would lock him in there for hours as she continued business as usual.

  He would be back the next day suffering from acute alcohol poisoning (a hangover).

  Aggie Hyke was another colorful lady of the era.

  One day her husband had gone duck hunting on the Columbia River against Aggie's wishes. The raft he was on capsized. Charlie managed to swim to shore where he was found minus his clothing. He was transported to the hospital in Hood River.

  Finally he sent word home for Aggie to send him some clothes. Aggie replied, "If he got there without clothes he can damn well come home without them".

  Aggie really enjoyed smoked salmon. She had an outhouse that had been converted to a smokehouse. A common practice at the time. It was clear full of salmon one day when it caught on fire. She was just grief stricken.

  Some of the older boys in town got together and built her a new one and us younger kids filled it with salmon for her. The fish may have lost some of its flavor but she did have a nice-looking smokehouse,

  There was a woman that lived near town that had a long, wooden sidewalk beside her place. She voiced strong objection to anyone that walked too heavily on the boardwalk. If you dared to glance in her windows as you walked by you were in for a severe tongue-lashing when you reached her doorway.

  The children retaliated by running very heavily down the sidewalk. That probably didn't help her disposition much so we tried other means.

  Her home was a large two-story place with a flat roof.

  One winter (probably 1949-50) we had an overabundance of snow so she offered Raymond and P.K. $5 if they would shovel the roof off. This they did. After they finished she told them she didn't have any money so she couldn't pay them.

  This turn of events only added impetus to our desire to retaliate to her complaining.

  We would run very heavily down her sidewalk. That didn't help her disposition (Nor did it get the boys their $5). So we tried other means.

  P.K. put an M-80 firecracker (1/4 stick of dynamite) in her paper box. It not only blew up the metal tube, it also eliminated a portion of her fence. She was not pleased.

  We tried other things but it seems the more we did the worse her attitude became. Some people are just plain hard to get along with. We even took it upon ourselves to trim her beautiful flower garden. Collectively our knowledge of horticulture was very limited. Since then I've learned you can lead a horticulture but you can't make her think. Many environmentalists will be glad to know I chose a different occupation.

  There were other colorful characters in town but most of them were reclusive.

  There was a young man named Donald G. that took it upon himself to clean up the community in his own inimitable way. He blew up old, abandoned, buildings in town with dynamite.

  That, of itself, was not too annoying except for the loud noise it created late at night.

  One evening he decided to blow up an old building next door to the Town Tavern. Being of a conservative bent and finding his night's work creating a great thirst he went to the tavern next door to await the impending explosion.

  Due to an oversight on his part the explosion was far greater than anticipated. It blew the windows out of one side of the tavern and probably a few drunks off their stools.

  A truck stored in the building by the local grocery store was destroyed.

  It wasn't long after this incident that an abandoned federal government weather station between Carson and Stevenson was destroyed by dynamite. A lot of the lumber ended up on the railroad tracks below. This was very disconcerting to the engineer of the next passing train.

  There was little, if any, objection to obliterating the old buildings in town but the F.B.I. had a much different attitude regarding their buildings. They came to investigate this transgression.

  They inquired of the local populace, Finally they had a name. Their "intelligence" division soon discovered that their prime suspect was incarcerated in our local jail on the night in question. So it couldn't have been him. Or could it?

  Now maybe they had a little better security in the jails they were familiar with but it was well known that our local facility was very lax in security measures. The non-violent were often sent (unescorted) to a local cafe for meals as the jail had no such facilities.

  Getting permission from the jailer to go out to a movie or almost anyplace else was an accepted practice.

  If you waited long enough the jailer would go to sleep on his cot in thetoffice then you could come and go at your leisure.

  Nobody ever told these "outsiders" that the cells were seldom locked. So this particular case was never solved.

  One night Bob Meadors, Terry Bringazi and Jim Murray were given lodging at this marvelous facility for some infraction.  The local "constabulary" impounded the vehicle. The reason now long forgotten.

  Impoundment consisted of parking the vehicle in front of the jail and taking the keys (if the car had any). Frequently we just hot-wired them.

  The boys had plans that didn't include staying in jail all night.

  The car was missing a few non-essential parts. Not the least of which was a muffler.

  The boys walked out late that night and not wanting to awaken the jailer, for obvious reasons, quietly pushed and coasted the car nearly a mile down a side road before "hot-wiring" it  and driving off into the darkness.

  They got as far as the Carson junction (3 miles) before the sheriff pulled them over. The boys were returned to their lodging. This time they locked the cell door and took the rotor out of the car.

  Another time the F.B.I. came to town was to investigate the kidnap-murder of JoAnn Dewey (1949?).

  She was a nurse and had been kidnapped in Portland. OR. Her body was found below the foot bridge on Wind River.

  Us children already knew thre F.B.I. was not the most intelligent group around but when one of them stopped in front of the local grocery store (Carson's only business intersection) and asked the boys for directions to get to Carson it confirmed our opinion.

  We still had magneto (crank) telephones at this time.

  One of the agents went into the local confectionary (after being given directions) to use the telephone, He soon came out of the booth asking the proprietor, Mrs. Faye Menice, where the dial to the phone was located. Us kids thought this man had a severe mental handicap because we had never seen a phone with a dial of any kind.

  Their preliminary investigation surmised that she had been thrown from the suspension bridge about four miles up the river.

  The first problem with this idea was that it was very difficult to hit the river way down in the canyon., Secondly, there are four miles of white water rapids and a waterfall between the two points. If a body could drift that far it would be beyond recognition by then.

  The local boys went to the sheriff (Jim Reid) with this information. Now the F.B.I. had something to work with.

  In actuality she had been thrown from the footbridge. Just a few hundred yards above where the body was found. This subsequently led to the arrest and conviction of Truman and Dewey Wilson (two brothers).

  The Perollaz family had a cider press. Fred McHenry had somehow cajoled them into letting the 7th and 8th grade kids come down to his farm and make apple cider every year. This was one of our many field trips Fred initiated. Also one of the most memorable. If not the trip itself the aftereffects certainly were.

  The kids would always manage to stash a few jugs of this potent potable cider in the rafters of the boy's restroom at the school.

  After a proper period of time to allow for fermentation it produced a somewhat heady, if none to palatable, concoction.

  If Fred had found these jugs he may have thought they were either (A) some type of cleaning solvent placed there by Freida Bloomquist (the school janitor), or (B) an experiment for some clandestine science lab. In retrospect it may have made a good cleaning solvent. On the other hand he may have known more about how to make apple vinegar than we did.

  Paul Bailey and his wife, Lucy, had two children, P.K. (Paul, Jr.) and Gilbert. Paul was a logger (catskinner). In the wintertime he was a bounty hunter for cougar. They had a bounty of $75 each.

  He had his own hounds and would load them into an old yellow pickup and go hunting for days at a time in the wilderness behind the community of Willard.

  On one particular trip he came home with nine cougar. He had lost most of his dogs to the cougar and was mauled badly himself. Two of his dogs, Queenie and Lead, returned with him but Queenie was badly torn up. Terry went over daily and helped nurse her back to health.

  The largest cougar he killed was 9 feet, 11 inches long and may still be the state record.

  On the hill across the powerline, behind the Legion Hall the kids had built a lean-to like shelter to while away the idyllic summer days.

  To shorten the trip home we tied a rope to a tree and hung it down over the cilff. From the bottom it was a short hike to the road.

  Unbeknownst to us a cougar had taken up residence in the cave at the bottom of the cliff.

  Gilbert had slid down the rope and Terry was part way down when Gilbert pointed into the cave and stutteringly said "t-t-t-there's a cou-cou-cougar in there". We "slid" back up the rope about as fast as we had slid down it. The effects of gravity were momentarily suspended.

  Gilbert reported the encounter to his father. Paul went up and killed the cougar, collected the $75 bounty and gave us $5 each.

  Vandalism against the general population was extremely rare. There were occasions when we felt it was justified but they were rare. We seldom destroyed anything just for the sake of destruction.

  There were absolutely no drugs or street gangs in Carson. We were ruffians, perhaps, but a far cry from the present day gangs.

  If there had been a gang, Gilbert, without doubt, would have been the leader. He was more of a daredevil than the rest of us.

  Drugs were never a part of our culture but guns were prevalent. All we had were .22 rifles and it was rare, but occasional, that we shot at each other.

  P.K. did, accidentally, shoot his brother, Gilbert, in the leg once but the wound was superficial and didn't require, or at least didn't get, medical attention.

  We had "modified" a B-B gun so it would shoot .22 shells. A kicked rock would have been more accurate, but it would fire.

  Metal was in short supply during World War II. All scrap metal was donated to the war effort. These donations apparently included all house keys and many car keys because hardly anyone had a house key and many people "hot-wired" their cars.

  None of the houses were ever burglarized. The confectionary was burglarized a few times but that wasn't us local kids. It was however, perpetrated by a couple of kids from North Bonneville. They were never apprehended for these burglaries.

  A good example of the integrity of the town as a whole was the way they collected money for charitable organizations.

  Someone would start a large manila envelope circulating around town. Each person in turn would make their donation, write the amount on the outside of the envelope and then pass it to a neighbor. These envelopes never got lost.

  Mrs. Bringazi was hospitalized through the Christmas holidays one year. The townsfolk started a "money tree" for her. They put this small fir tree on the public counter in the post office. As people came to get their mail they would tape coins or currency to this tree. It sat in the post office for a few weeks then was delivered to Theopa at the hospital. There was over $200 on that tree.

  Nearly every family's children had been her students.

  One day, in the 7th or 8th grade (it must have been a very boring Sunday). A new equation interdited itself into our otherwise idylic, tranquil world.

  Through some physical transmogrification we managed, individually, to get both brain cells working in harmony with one another.

  This took place over a period of time but it must have started on a Sunday as that seems to be when most great revelations occur.

  We discovered girls.

  This not only gave new meaning to the word "playmate" it also gave new direction to life. A direction some of us were reluctant to go.

  Some of the boys fought the battle of the sexes bravely but, finally, due to insurmountable hormonal changes we nearly all became prisoners of a far superior force.

  Among the leaders of this opposition were the misses Joan Roberts, Elaine Grant, Joan Beasley, Judy Cotant, Kirma Russell, Jeannie Hutchins, Billie Rae and JoAnn Gregorious, Billie Larson, Ruby McCarty and a host of others too numerous to mention.

  An overview of Carson and its people would not be complete without mention of the following:

  As mentioned before drugs were not a part of our culture. They were totally non-existent in our community.

  If we felt the urge to get high there was an overabundance of mountains to climb. We could get as high as our abilities and dreams would take us.

  In the forests and on the rivers we were at one with (not opposed) to nature.

  The drugs of today cannot, in any way, compare to an encounter with an unfrightened deer and her fawn, a beaver stockpiling a winter food supply or even just sitting on a stump watching a spider meticulously build such intricate designs among the leaves and branches.

  We could come back from our "trips" with a discovery to share with others or a renewed outlook on life and ready to accept new challenges that life had to offer.

  We had reality. Today's drug users don't see reality. They only see an artificial world like a hall of mirrors that distorts the view.

  We didn't know where we were going in life but we were certainly having a good time getting there.

  Many families were either single-parent or step-parent oriented. Logging was a very dangerous occupation so many of the children suffered the trauma of losing a father.

  The children of this era all had respect for adults and most adults were more tolerant of the children than they are today.

  The townsfolk, as a whole, didn't discriminate between single-parent, live-in relationships or "normal" families.

  Carson only had one Afro-American. He lived way out on Panther Creek and was a nice, unobtrusive, gentleman.

  He had a lot of Model T parts around his place and was always willing to help the boys repair their cars.

  Racial discrimination was totally foreign to our community. Everyone was nice to him. He was no more different that the Dutchman that still wore wooden shoes and pantaloons occasionally or the Frenchman (Mr. LaChapel) that spoke with an accent.

  Among the others that gave Carson its "color" (no pun intended) there was Bear Creek Jack (Caples). A very reclusive individual that lived way out on Bear Creek (of course). His wife, Elsie, worked at the grocery store. He would not drive her to work and she couldn't drive so she rode a bicycle to work winter and summer. A distance of about 5 miles.  If the snow got too deep she would walk. It is lilkely she was their only means of support in the winter months.

  Lee M. was another character with a mean streak. He had 3 or more children.

  His youngest, LeRoy, came to school one day in the 7th or eighth grade with a large cut on his forehead. When Mr. McHenry inquired as to the cause of this injury LeRoy replied that his father had told him to break a horse they had before coming to school that day. LeRoy couldn't even get a saddle on the horse so his father hit him (LeRoy, not the horse) in the head with a hoe handle.

  Child abuse wasn't considered much of a crime at that time but Mr. McHenry took a personal interest in the situation and went out to talk to Lee. Things were a little better for LeRoy after that.

  Willie Meadors came to Carson around 1947. Her husband was killed in an accident within a few months of their arrival so she was left with three boys, James, Robert and Lawson to raise alone.

  One winter some outsider came to Carson to harvest Christmas trees. He was harvesting thousands of trees and used the area between the Town Tavern and the cabins nearby as a staging area.

  Willie was working as a cook in the tavern when a man came in one night and wanted to buy a large quantity of Christmas trees. Well, it just so happened that Willie knew where he could obtain a few hundred trees already bundled and ready for shipping but they had to be moved that night because someone wanted the storage area for some other purpose the next day.

  She accepted his offer of $200 for the entire lot of trees. He returned in short order with 2 or 3 large trucks to haul them away. Willie's boys and Terry loaded the trucks and they were quickly and quietly gone.

  When the rightful owner showed up the next day to pick up his trees no one knew what had happened to them.

  Years later Willie would only say, "Well, he didn't tell me I couldn't sell those trees". Very good logic.

     Paul Bailey was the first person in town to have a ball-point pen. It was made by Parker Brothers (Bic actually invented the ball-point). It cost about $15. A princely sum around 1946. He had bought it in Portland. He spent most of a full day at Bill Larson's Garage showing people this remarkable instrument that didn't need to be refilled with ink frequently. Many people thought this type of pen was impractical because it wasn't refillable and it was so expensive. These pens would never replace the ubiquitious fountain pen.

  Around 1950 a Bigfoot had been seen by one of the local populace. It was the main topic of conversation for a while.

  One day the game warden, Vern Gee, state patrolman Don Drake, prosecuting attorney Robert Sly, Skamania County Pioneer editor Roy Craft and his employee, Terry Bringazi, were in the Depot Cafe in Stevenson discussing the sighting when someone asked "What happens if somebody shoots one of these critters?"

  Mr. Gee stated it would be his responsibility to decide if it was covered by any existing game laws. Mr. Drake assumed the responsibility of incarcerating the perpetrators and Mr. Sly would handle any necessary prosecution. Mr. Craft felt that something should be done about this perplexing situation. So he went to Olympia and petitioned the State of Washington to make Sklamania County a Bigfoot sanctuary. So now the county has the only sanctuary in the United States for a creature that may (or may not) exist.

  P. K. was probably the first of our little group to own an automobile. And what a fine automobile it was.

  Near his home was an old house. The owner of which was incarcerated in ther state prison for some unknown offense.

  In the garage was an old Model T that had long since gone to its final rusting place.

  This fine-looking (rust-brown) automobile was missing a few essential and some non-essential parts. Not the least of which were a motor, a radiator and a rear-end. It was also in need of tires. Actually, about all there was was a body and a frame.

  P.K. contacted the owner of this fine conveyance of a bygone era at the prison. He agreed to sell it to P.K. for $5. To P.K. an offer was as good as a sale. So he never sent the man the $5 but did take possession of the remains of this vehicle. P.K. and Ray Cummings "appropriated" a rear-end from Mr. Mundinger's barn. The motor and radiator he had to purchase from the old black gentleman on Panther Creek for $5.

  After a lot of work (with the help of our black friend and a prayer or two) P.K. managed to resurrect Henry Ford's pride and joy.

  Tires, in a usable condition, were not available so P.K. went to the town garage dump where there were tires in abundance. The only problem with them was that large chunks had been cut out of them to use for "boots" in the adults vehicles.

  This may seem like an insurmountable obstacle, but to a bunch of resourceful country boys it was only a minor inconvenience.

  We just put two tires on each rim with the holes opposite each other. Innertubes were unobtainable so we just filled the fires with old pieces of cork, chunks of tire, old rags and, on occasion roadside gravel.

  This car would clip along at an incredible, death-defying speed of 50 miles an hour if one were foolish enough to attempt such a feat.

  Frequently, when we hit a chuckhole, which were in abundance, the tires would spring off the rims so we would stop, fill the tire with gravel and be on our way.

  The fuel pump hadn't been invented yet so the Model T had a gravity-fed carburetor that was prone to severe leakage. The leakage, per se, was not much cause for concern but the resultant fires it created under the hood were a nuisance.

  Mr. Dillingham had some Model T tires that were no better than those from the dump but we wanted them,

  One day five or six of us boys had gone hunting on the hill behind his place and on returning decided to stop and ask him for the tires. P.K. and Johnny Garwood left their guns with the rest of the group standing at the end of the driveway and went to his door and asked for the tires. He was more than willing to part with them. In retrospect, did he have a choice when he saw what must have seemed to be a well-armed militia standing in his driveway? if we had wanted to intimidate him we would have all gone to the door.

  With the acquisition of the automobile us young men were able to broaden our horizons and undoubtedly quicken the pace of many pedestrians.

  In our high school years. (beginning in 1950-51) a schoolmate offered Terry a 1932 Model A Roadster for $35. Terry felt this was an exhorbitant price when most of them sold for $20 to $25 but this car had been "modified" with a V-8 engine, hydraulic brakes and a brand new top. Terry finally bought the car for $25 down and $10 a month later.

  Another car he had was a 1934 Hudson Terraplane. It had an electric gearshift that would stick in two gears every time it got wet (frequently). It also had a device called "free-wheeling" that consisted of a large knob in the middle of the dashboard that completely disengaged the driveline.

  Gilbert had a green Hudson that he put a Mercury engine in. Marvin had a '34 Chevy. He inadvertently put diesel fuel in it one day and the engine siezed up at the gravel pit between Carson and Stevenson. So he left it there.

  One night shortly thereafter a couple of his friends (Ray Cummings and Johnny Garwood) thought it would be fun to push the car forward a few yards onto the railroad track. Fortunately, someone (probably another friend) had stolen the tires and left the car on blocks so all they succeeded in doing was to push it off the blocks.

  Gene Baugher had a '34 Graham that came stock with a supercharger. Gene's was missing but a gas station in North Bonneville had a similar car complete with supercharger for sale for $35. Gene offered him $25 just for the 'charger but he wouldn't take it so Gene finally bought the whole car.

  He drove the car to Carson, removed the supercharger then proceeded to the High Bridge whereupon we pushed it over the edge just to watch it disintegrate.It was interesting to note the number of parts that flew off on impact.

  Calvin White (a few years our senior) had a late '30 or early '40 model car that was "fully loaded" with twin spotlights, chrome sun visor, twin antennas, fender skirts and white mud flaps on all four wheels. That was the fanciest car we had ever seen.

  We very seldom bought gas (it was 11 cents a gallon). Most of the time we went to any nearby logging operation (or truck for that matter) and relieved them of any possibility of having any excess fuel. On rare occasions we would find it necessasey to redirect an individual's fuel supply. It may not have seemed so rare to our suppliers but on a percentage basis it was quite rare.

  We knew of a common household product that when mixed with gasoline will increase the octane immensely.

  A minor/major problem with this mixture was that the resultant boosting of the octane was incontrollable.

  LaMar Loomis (one of the boys) surmised, wrongly, that more was better. We used small quantities in a full tank of gas. LaMar put a pound or so in his dad's new Cadillac.

  The next morning his dad started the car and revved up the engine. They lived behind (and owned) the Town Tavern.

  Well it was only a matter of minutes before the engine exploded. The engine head was found later on the tavern roof.

  Mr. Loomis thought he had been bombed by our local one-man bomb squad. Or perhaps a disqruntled patron of his establishment.

  One major explosion that was in no way connected to Donald was the crater created in the Stevenson High School football field.

  It might be self-incriminating to mention names, but two Carson boys, in high school at the time, found a case of dynamite in a locked steel box on the railroad.

  They surmised it would be safe hidden under a stump on the Columbia River near Stevenson.

  George S. (a Stevenson boy) and some of his friends felt it would be fun to hide this "treasure" in the middle of the high school football field. They clandestinely took the dynamite, buried it in the ball field and after a dismal loss of a football game blew up the entire case (minus 4-5 sticks). Terry sold a few sticks to a fellow to clear some stumps with.

   The end result of this escapade was a lot of broken windows on the second floor of the high school and a house across the street was blown about 2 inches off its foundation.

  Donald wasn't the only one with an explosive nature.

  The abandoned house that had the Model T bordered on Carson Creek. Its sole plumbing consisted of a long piece of pipe laid in the creek and gravity fed.

   His toilet facilities consisted of a procelain basin next to the kitchen sink that drained directly into an oak barrel located in the basement. When it was filled the fellow would wheel the barrel out to the creek and dump it. The fact people lived downstream was apparently of little consequence. The house was probably abandoned in the early '30's.

    Why Donald never blew it up with the other buildings may never be known. I surmise it was too close to home. He lived directly across the creek.

  LaMar bought a Model A from Mr. Bargo. He cut the fenders off and otherwise made a hot-rod out of it. Mr. Bargo seen it one day parked in front of the post office minus its fenders and a few other parts. This was more than Mr. Bargo could handle so he sat on the edge of the sidewalk and cried. LaMar had destroyed his beautiful automobile.

  Mr. Cretny occasionally lost a sheep or two to the local dogs that ran free in the area.

  Two or three times he came to Mrs. Bringazi's home with a dead sheep in the back of his truck and would tell her that Terry's dog had killed another sheep. Theopa would reluctantly pay him for the dead sheep ($10).

  Well, one day Terry was just going out the door to go hunting when he seen Mr. Cretny coming. He met him at the door. When Mr. Cretny asked for his mother he refused tro call her from the kitchen. Then he picked up his rifle and told Mr. Cretny to go bill Jim Reid for the sheep. Reid's dog was one of the pack. Mr. Reid was the county sheriff. Mr. Cretny left rather abruptly never to return. Although the dogs did.

 It would be many years in the future before the sexual revolution was to begin. When it did most of us were too old to join and we hadn't even fired a shot. Gilbert was probably out of ammunition by the time the revolution started.  P.K. was a little slow at getting involved in the dating game (his brother, Gilbert, however, was much more adept at this sort of thing).

  Finally, one  day, (another miracle Sunday perhaps) P.K., Marvin Bringazi and Ray Cummings saw two girls coming out of the theatre in Stevenson. Much to everyone's surprise P.K. told Marvin and Ray they could have the one on the left (Shirley Brackstetter) but the one on the right (Yvonne Gibson) was his. No one contested his claim (least of all Yvonne).

  They dated throughout high school and eventually married at which time they moved way up behind Home Valley. One terribly stormy winter night when she was pregnant with her first child she had a severe craving for peaches. Having none in their larder P.K. (being the dutiful husband that he was) walked the miles in the the snowstorm to the Home Valley store to get her a can.

  Marvin later married a girl from Skamania (Shirley Wilson).

  When she was in the Hood River hospital giving birth to their first child he was unemployed. He went to the hospital to pick up his wife and new daughter. He was told they would not be allowed to leave until some arrangement was made to pay the bill. He didn't have any money or medical insurance so he said, "Okay, will you send me a card so I can attend my daughter's graduation from school?"

  The hospital sent both mother and daughter home the next day.

  Climbing Beacon Rock was always a fun thing to do. Considering we occasionally climbed it at night and would carry a case of beer to the top then climb up on the beacon light and ride it around in circles while drinking beer then dizzily coming down the trail in the dark made the trip a lot more fun. And extremely more dangerous.

   Bob and Lawson Meadors and Terry had hitchhiked to Skamania one cold winter afternoon to visit the Alway (Alway was the family name, not a descriptive condition) girls. The boys knew the parents had gone to Portland and were not supposed to return until the following day. Unfortunately they returned very late that night.

  As they came in the front door the boys made a hasty exit out the back in to near blizzard conditions.

  If we could have foreseen our immediate future we might have chosen to face the wrath of some irate parents. Unfortunately our crystal ball only showed snowy indefinable images.

  The boys walked to Beacon Rock whereupon they broke a window out of a locked restroom there to seek shelter from the storm (and possibly Mr. and Mrs. Alway).

  After a short stay they decided it would be better to keep moving. So they took all the paper towels and toilet paper and stuffed it into their jackets to keep from freezing then ventured out into the storm.

   They walked all the way to Carson (about 16 miles) because there was absolutely no traffic on the roads.

  If you're going to do something stupid you gotta be tough.

  Johnny Garwood, Marvin and a third boy (Raymond Cummings?) decided on a great adventure one day and were going to drive to Goldendale (about 60 miles away). With Johnny driving they made a wrong turn at Marysville and ended up at the Columbia River ferry dock. The ferry charged 50 cents to transport car and passengers across the river.

  To the boys this seemed like fun and they had $1.65 between them. They went across with intentions of coming down the Oregon side to the Bridge of the Gods and then home.

  Sometime between embarking and debarking they had a change of plans. Perhaps they felt one wrong turn deserved another. Anyway, they agreed among themselves to go to California. After all they still had $1.15.

  They stopped in Klamath Falls or Bend, Oregon, and bought a loaf of bread (7 cents) and a jar of peanut butter (about 10 cents).

  Now they had sustenance and approximately $1.00 left. Plenty of money should they encounter an emergency.

  They went all the way to San  Francisco and returned three days later.

  They could have made the trip faster but they needed to wait for nightfall to steal the qas required to continue their journey.

  Such was life for a small band of "angels" living in a quaint little village nestled in the Cascade Mountains of the beautiful Columbia Gorge.

                                                                                                                                                                               Written by Terry Bringazi, 1995