Oregon

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

Written by: Jerry Cox Nicholson, great-great-great grand daughter of Jesse and Ruby Bond Looney

“Jesse Looney was born near Knoxville, Tennessee and spent his youth and early manhood in the South. He was a first cousin of Andrew Johnson, President of the United States.

“Jesse Looney inherited land and many slaves as his heritage. Slavery was one of the local conditions under which he was reared, but early in life he espoused the idea of human freedom and decided to leave the land of his birth and its tradition of human slavery. He sought a place where he could rear his family under better influences. Jesse, with his wife and six children, joined a wagon train made up of many families. With Dr. Marcus Whitman as their captain and guide, they headed for the Oregon Country. They started on May 22, 1843 from Independence, Missouri and arrived in October of that year in what is now called Jefferson, Oregon.

“Jesse Looney showed his good business judgement in fitting out his family wagons. There were three. One was built like a boat, with a tight bottom, so as to ford the streams without getting the contents wet. One was called ‘fiddle’ because of its peculiar construction. In these wagons they had packed everything they could think of that they would need in the new country.

“Jesse and his wife Ruby Bond Looney chose for their donation claim a beautiful location about twelve miles south of Salem, known later as ‘Looney Butte’. The Looney cemetery is only 1/4 mile from this home and Jesse Looney (1802-1869) and his wife Ruby Bond Looney (1808-1900) are both buried there.

“Jesse Looney packed the wagons for their new home in Oregon Country. A jar of apple seeds was a dream for their new land. Jesse developed one of the largest orchards in the new country. When the apple trees all came to bearing, folks came all the way from California to get apples.

“The old Jefferson Institute which was located near where the present elementary school now stands was in operation from 1857-1899. The first enrollment was 89 pupils. Courses were taught from the elementary level up to the equivalent of two years of college.”

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

Written by: Weltha Jo Goin Johnson

“My Dad’s family, the Goins, came to Oregon in the late 1850s by covered wagon. They first settled east of Jefferson near Green’s Bridge. In about 1898 my grand dad, Alfred Goin, bought the property north of Jefferson that my husband and I live on now. My dad was born on the farm in 1903 and died there in 1993. My children, Kari and Blair, and their families, including Danielle, live on this same property. That’s five generations to have lived on this property. The farm used to go from Danielle’s house all the way to the Jefferson Middle School, but most was sold.

“My dad went to school at Jefferson. So did I, my children and now my grand daughters. My dad walked 3 miles to school and home. Sometimes he rode a horse or drove a buggy on the dirt or mud road, but it was too much trouble to take the horse to livery stable downtown Jefferson in the morning and pick it up after school, plus the horse was ‘barn sour’ and really didn’t want to be taken to school. So my dad just walked or jogged. Our neighbor says he was the original ‘jogger’ way back in 1916.

 

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

Written by: Margie Chrisman Powell

“I was born in Kansas and when I was 2 1/2 years old my mom and dad moved our family (one sister, two brothers and me) to Jefferson, Oregon. We had lived on a small farm that my dad farmed. Jefferson was small then and everyone knew each other.

“I especially remember the bridge that was brand new and so clean that it sparkled. That was in 1934. Jefferson had an onion festival before mint was grown here.

“There was no Interstate 5 so all the traffic came through town. During World War II the troops would ride in their trucks and jeeps through town. We would stand on the sidewalk and wave to them.

“There was a movie theater where the Masonic Lodge is now. It cost 10 cents to get in. There were wooden floors and sometimes when the film came off the roll everyone would stomp on the floor until Mrs. Curl, the owner, would come down the aisle and tell us to stop.

“My mom always took me to pick strawberries and pole beans to buy my school clothes. She never just sent me, but came with me because she liked to pick beans too. When I started first grade in the fall of 1938, the brick building which is now the elementary school was brand new. We were the first class to go all 12 years there. Mr. Pat Beal came as our principal in 1940. We had a great band that played at lots of parades. Our motto was “Not the biggest, but the best.”

“I graduated in May of 1950 and married my sweetheart on June 1950 in the Jefferson Christian Church where we still attend. We have 3 grown children who all graduated from Jefferson High School. We also have 6 grandchildren and 1 great granddaughter.

“I can’t imagine living any place but in Jefferson.”

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

“Little Woodburn, Oregon was called ‘The Berry Capitol of the World’. Maybe it still is. I don’t know because when I drive through the town now, I don’t see many berry fields anymore.

“I was raised in Woodburn. In the 3rd grade I started walking with my Grandma to the Kahut strawberry field early in the morning, when the sun was just peeking up over the hills. We would pick all day long whether it was hot or whether it was cold, until sometimes 5 in the late afternoon. The fields all over town were loaded with moms and dads and grandmas and grandpas, big children and little children.

“From the end of May to the middle of September, we were picking away — strawberries, loganberries, marionberries, raspberries, blueberries, santiamberries, and of course blackberries. Berries, berries, berries!

“After the long, hot day sometimes my mom would buy me a nice cold ice cream cone. I remember driving to the Molalla or Pudding River and jumping in ver cold water and swimming as fast as I could to warm up. It felt so refreshing after a long hot day in the berry fields.

“Then we’d eat dinner and I’d go to bed about 6:30 – 7pm. I had to get up very early, around 4 am to pick again.

“Every day I would try to beat what I picked the day before. All my money I put into my savings account. When I had enough I would buy a $25, $50, or $100 savings bond. I was saving for college. My parents would buy my clothes and things I needed.

“When I went to high school, I got a job during the summer at Conroy’s Packing Company and guess what we packed? Berries, berries and more berries! I would work 8-12 hours picking out bad berries and stems on a conveyor belt, singing songs in my mind or whistling tunes out loud. I’d try to be the fastest although I was slow by nature. And guess what I would often dream about? You got it: berries! On days the cannery wasn’t working, I was out picking in the berry fields again. I liked picking.

“I was able to pay for three years of college with my savings bond. One year at Marylhurst and two years at University of Oregon before having to take out a school loan to pay for my last year at U of O. I paid that loan off in 9 months after I graduated. Guess how? You’re right!

“Because of Woodburn, Oregon being the berry capitol of the world!”

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

Written by: Teresa Barber

“I was raised in The Dalles, Oregon, which is located in North Central Oregon, along the banks of the Columbia River. Family history has always been important to my family. As a young girl growing up, I fondly remember the wonderful stories my grandfather, Tom Driver would tell me. Our Driver family came to Oregon by covered wagon, pulled by a team of oxen, on the Oregon Trail. They arrived in Oregon in 1853.

“I moved from The Dalles to Jefferson in 1996 and started attending the Jefferson United Methodist Church. One day, as I was helping with the cleaning chores at the church, I discovered a big, old leather bound book. As I opened the book, I soon realized that this was historical documentary of the church’s past. It was recorded that the Jefferson Methodist Church was dedicated on Christmas Eve, December 24, 1871. As I continued to read about the church’s early beginnings, I couldn’t believe my eyes! It said that Reverend I.D. Driver conducted the dedication service (he was my great-great uncle who was a circuit rider and often rode his horse to small communities in the Willamette Valley to preach the gospel).

“Reverend I.D. Driver is buried in the Jason Lee Methodist Cemetery on ‘D’ Street in Salem, Oregon.”

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

Life in Little Norway

“In the 1920s and ’30s there were several Norwegian families living in Evans Valley (Silverton, Oregon). Among them were the Rue, Langsev and Brenden families.

“All the neighbors would often walk together (20 or 25 people) to each others’ homes when there was birthday to celebrate. They brought sandwiches and goodies to share. They made lanterns from tomato cans because they were larger than other cans. Bailing wire made the handle and a candle inserted from the bottom made their flashlight. They played card games after dark.

“There were small farms through the valley. A truck from the Rose Valley Creamery in Mt. Angel traveled through the countryside, picking up mild cans that were left out by the road for them. If they needed butter, they would leave on big rock on top of the can. If they needed cheese, they left two rocks. They had tried leaving notes but they would blow away.

“The valley was a happy place in those days.”

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

Written by Shirley Johnson

“In 1835, Loda Wiska’s parents Ephraim (Buck) and Sara Jane Adams were living on the East Coast. Ephraim was thought to be a grandson of our second president, John Adams.
Sara was expecting their first child. They had a friend who frequently passed their house, transporting liquor on his wagon. He often stopped to visit and was there one day when they were trying to decide on a name for their new baby girl. Their friend said, ‘if you will let me name your baby, I will give you some land I own in Oregon.’ It was a huge tract of land and it seemed like a reasonable offer so they agreed to let him name her.

“The name offered was Load of Whiskey and the baby girl became Loda Wiska. Whatever became of the property is not known for sure but we do know that her parents owned a huge ranch along the Yamhill River south of McMinnville. Loda’s father brought sheep from the East Coast by boat around Cape Horn to Oregon. He also owned fine horses and wagons.
“Loda Wiska came to the Amity area of Oregon by wagon train in 1843 when she was eight years old. She was married twice and had eight children. When she was only 29 years old, while at home by her fireplace, writing a letter to her husband in the gold fields of California, her dress caught fire and she died from her burns. One of her twin daughters, Ella, also died in the fire. The other twin, Emma, survived the fire. Loda and her daughter were buried together in the Pioneer Masonic Cemetery West of McMinnville in 1864.

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

Written by: Mike Allen

“My name is Mike Allen and I have been a resident of Salem, Oregon for over 30 years now. Growing up in a climate such as we have here (ie: icy, wet and cold), it is almost second nature for a person who drives a vehicle to almost master driving in these conditions. However, one thing a person can only learn with experience is never use cruise control when driving a pickup up a steep hill and around a bend.

“With the truck being so light in the rear, the truck rear tires will break free and the truck will spin and possibly flip, as mine did! This may seem to be a little story that seems to be of little or no interest to some (or all), but I will say that my sister and I are very lucky to be alive!

“Just be very safe when driving as you go through life, the life you save could very well be your own. “

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

Written by: Connie Baillie

“I was born on a hop farm near Amity, Oregon. I went to Wheatland Grade School through the eighth grade and then to Amity High School. After graduating in 1945 I moved to Salem and got a job with the State of Oregon. There I met my husband to be, Charles Kerper who was employed with the State Tax Department. We raised four boys who have presented me with 10 grandchildren. I served as Den Mother for eight years and also as Room Mother. We did a lot of traveling all over the Northern states, back to where Charles was born in Pennsylvania. We also went to Washington D.C., twice to Yellowstone Park and to Disneyland with the boys. Charles passed away in 1972. I went back to the State Revenue Department and worked until 1989, seeing that my boys went to college. I married Glenn Baillie in 1984. We did some traveling to Nebraska, Wisconsin, California, Mexico and Canada.

“When he passed away in January, 2001 I sold my home and moved to The Springs at Sunnyview.”

HERITAGE JOURNALS: STORIES COLLECTED BY 6TH GRADE STUDENTS OF JAQUI EICHER, 2002

As told by: Edward E. Kahut

“There was a woodbox along the kitchen stove. Matches were kept on the warmer. I was almost 3 years old. I would crawl up there and get those matches, so the adults moved them. But one day i stood on the woodbox and saw one match which had fallen down in the crack between two pieces of metal. I worked and worked and dug it out with my little fingers.

“I went out to the barn with the match in hand. I was thinking about how the other kids took matches, stood them on the striker and flicked them. They would light and spin like fireworks. I got down to the barn thinking to see if they hay would burn. I stuck the match on the wood like I saw my brothers do. I put it on the hay right there. Then I saw the hay would burn. I blew on it to put it out but I saw that it was over my head. So I got scared and ran to the house and hid under the bed. I stayed under there for a long time.

“The barn was burning. They didn’t know where I was. They were scared I was in the barn. I don’t remember if I came out or if they found me under there. They didn’t know I did it. They asked me and I shook my head back and forth for weeks.

News article from March 30, 1933

Three Horses Burn to Death

Woodburn — A large barn on the Joe Kahut farm two miles southeast of Woodburn was completely destroyed by fire Saturday which was thought to have started from defective wiring. Three horses were burned to death and a fourth was badly burned but may recover. 

Tony Kahut, 14, bravely entered the burning structure and led a valuable bull to safety. Two silos, one full and the other about half full of silage, a large amount of hay and other feed, a number of farm implements and several sets of harness were also destroyed. The Woodburn fire department with the chemical truck was able to save the house and other adjoining buildings. The fire broke out about 2:30 o’clock in the afternoon shortly after Kahut left for town and there was no one at home but Mrs. Kahut and six children of which Tony was the eldest. 

The barn was built about 20 years ago and was 60×60 feet in size. Loose hay in large quantities in the lower part of the barn caused the blaze to burn rapidly, and it was impossible to save anything from the burning building. The loss is estimated at $2500, partially covered by insurance. 

Sixty nine years later, the truth comes out:

One day my dad and I were on a walk together. He asked me if I did it and I told him the truth. Maybe it was six months later but it seemed like years. It was too late to give me a spanking.”