Compiled by Don Hoiness from archived copies of The Bulletin at Deschutes County Historical Society.

100 YEARS AGO

For the week ending

September 1, 1918

Each American division proudly boasts of being ‘the best one in France’

By Lowell Mellett — WITH THE AMERICAN ARMY IN FRANCE — The general never batted an eye as he pronounced this verdict on his own division: “They’re the best division in France, sir!

Thus calmly — he didn’t raise his voice and he didn’t bang the table with his fist — he gave his men credit for having won the keenest competition of its kind that France has seen. This is the competition between the divisions. It has been underway ever since there have been as many as two divisions over here to compete. Each is striving to prove that in organization and in spirit it leads all the others.

“I’ll tell you why,” said the general. “These tar-heels and Tennessee mountain lads of mine are all real Americans. I don’t suppose more than a dozen of them ever saw a foreigner until we came over and see if I’m not right.”

Which we did. Several companies of them were passing the general’s house at the moment. They trudged along easily under the pack that some soldiers consider so heavy. They were cheerful and unwearied.

“Wheah do we go from heah?” asked one of another.

The other replied that the captain had called for volunteers to storm the brewery in the next town. He didn’t smile and the others who heard enjoyed it without smiling. And British Tommies working on the road put them down, no doubt, as some more of those serious Americans.

They looked just as good as the general said they were. But when we visited one of their camps half an hour later the first man to whom we were introduced bore a name as German as Ludendorff. That might seem to refute the general’s theory, if this man, a captain, had not talked with a drawl that comes from being born in the land of cotton.

On a hill slope close by, target practice with machine guns was under way. Every now and then there came a burst of excited cheering. It sounded like a ball game. That was one of the reasons this was the best division in the army, the captain explained; there was keen competition among the men themselves and instead of keeping this feeling bottled up it was encouraged in every way. Of course, he said, there wasn’t much real necessity for teaching his men to shoot, since they came from a section where everybody knew how to use a rifle. A man who couldn’t hit a buzzard in a tree top at half a mile was considered a community disgrace.

The yells of derision and delight continued from the hill slope. They forecasted a new experience for German troops when they meet that bit of Civil War frightfulness known as the rebel yell.

They looked mighty good, these southern boys, However — “I’ll tell you why our division has the lead over the others” said a New York colonel. “We’ve been a division for 20 years; we’re not a yearling outfit, like the rest. We’ve worked together for a long time and came over here together. And now we’ve got an airtight fighting division.”

75 YEARS AGO

For the week ending

September 1, 1943

Drafting of fathers upheld by McNutt; but skilled must stay in industry

The war manpower commission prepared today for coming congressional attacks with the declaration of War Manpower Commission Chairman Paul V. McNutt that drafting of fathers is a move dictated by “stern logic” to prevent “paralyzing blows at our whole war production program.”

“We are making sure that the war will not be prolonged for even one unnecessary hour … That not one single life is lost which it would be possible to save,” McNutt said in a radio address last night.

He said it was no easy task to reach into the homes “of hundreds of thousands of American families” and tell the father and chief bread winner that he must be prepared to serve in the armed forces. But there is no other way, he said, if we are to achieve the size of the armed forces ordered by the president.

McNutt said the only large numbers of single men eligible for service who were still not drafted were either those possessing critical skills or those composing what is left of the less skilled and unskilled layer of industry.

“We cannot take them,” he said, “A stern logic dictates the only alternative … the last remaining source … men with children born or conceived before Pearl Harbor.”

Fishin’ fever grips soldiers at big camp

That far away dreamy look in the eyes of officers and enlisted men in Camp Abbot can’t rightly be pegged to “spring fever.” It’s more of a special variety of fever known as “pyrexia piscatorias.”

For the benefit of those who don’t have dreamy eyes and who haven’t been counting the days and marking their calendars, “pyrexia piscatorias” is plain old fishin’ fever.

Nightly, after training schedules have been completed, hundreds of Abbot men and Wacs trek nearly a mile to the banks of the trout-infested Deschutes river and cast for the big ones.

50 YEARS AGO

For the week ending

September 1, 1968

‘Corral-broke’ horses wear historic Long ‘open A-L’ brand

There aren’t too many persons in Oregon so horse-diversified as Reuben A. Long, according to his own appraisal in “The Oregon Desert,” the Northwest best seller he co-authored with the late E.R. Jackman.

On some thousands of acres he managed to accumulate on the High Desert in the Fort Rock country, he has kept work horses for hire by contractor’s for freighting, haying or construction jobs. He has owned riding and pack horses to sell, supplied bucking horses for rodeos, broken horses for hire or just for fun. He has caught wild horses and driven them in bands to the railroad; bought and sold horses, hoping to make a profit; kept horses for people short of pasture. Several times he has rented horses and horse gear to movie companies. He is a horse-made man.

Although Reub has had his share of success as a farmer and cattleman, the horses were what it was all about. So he has reduced his land empire considerably, owning and leasing just enough of the desert to run about 80 horses — the prestigious pintos, and the palominos, blacks, bays and chestnuts, from thoroughbred and Arabian blood lines.

When Reub wants to cut a few shipper horses out of the herd, the word somehow gets around, and there are plenty of volunteer cowboys to help with the task. There are always a few spectators, too. The spectacle is a modern-day substitute for the wild horse roundup of bygone days.

After the horses are rounded up on the rugged reaches of Devil’s Gardens, they are herded into the corrals and separated. The riders and the spectators pick out their favorite colts. Every one is suddenly an expert at judging horse-flesh. A city girl tells Reub she would like to have a horse, but she hasn’t ridden much. “Well, I have lots of horses that haven’t been ridden much,” Reub tells her. “Nothing like starting out even.”

The cowboys avoid sudden movements or unusual sounds. There’s no roping in the open country. Even in the corral, you don’t see fancy lariat swinging. The old-timers “dab on the rope” in an easy overhand throw, to avoid exciting the milling horses and prolonging the whole business.

Watching the show, you understand some of Reub’s philosophy.

“It takes a lot of training to learn how to run wild horses, but it isn’t much good except to teach you to run more wild horses.

“If you think all men are equal, you’ve never been a pedestrian and met a man on a good horse.

25 YEARS AGO

For the week ending

September 1, 1993

Cascades railroad dig adds a chapter to state history

When John Frye spotted the shovel blades partially buried in the forest northwest of Hoodoo Butte, he saw more than mere tools. He looked back 100 years to envision men at work on a railroad to nowhere.

Laborers sweat as they moved tons of rock with picks and shovels. Powder monkeys touched off black powder to blow up big boulders. Surveyors made sure that the bed was straight.

In 1887 and 1888, hundreds of workers — many of them Chinese immigrants — toiled high in the Cascades on one of the most ambitious projects in state history.

The Oregon Pacific Railway, founded in 1880, was to start at Yaquina Bay on Oregon’s rugged coast and run 600 miles inland to Boise City. There it would connect with Union Pacific lines to give Oregon it’s first cross-state rail link.

But the project failed.

A portion of the line was completed, and passengers and freight moved for a time between Yaquina Bay, Corvallis and Albany.

However, only a few miles were graded in the Cascades.

Portions of the rail bed still are visible from Highway 20, although few motorists see them as they whiz by.

For example, a hand-built rock ledge still stands on the face of Hogg Rock, appropriately named for Col. T. Egenton Hogg. He formed the Oregon Pacific Railway and went bankrupt when it failed.

After Frye told Forest Service experts about his discovery, the site was excavated in 1992. It yielded not only shovels, but also picks and iron bars.

The discoveries led to an archaeological dig this past week that turned up more bars, pieces of a cart, powder cans and other artifacts.

“I’m really pleased they are doing the archaeological dig, because I think they can learn a lot,” said Frye, a Bend resident.

“It’s sad that we know so little about what happened up there.”

What happened high in the Cascades is part of a tale of high stakes financial wheeling and dealing during the years when investors raced each other to bring railroad tracks — and the commerce they promised — to cities across the west.

One of the best accounts of the Oregon Pacific Railway can be found in Harvey Whitefield Scott’s “History of the Oregon Country.”

Teachers can’t resist sense of anticipation

Marjo May-Korish sat on the newly carpeted floor of her third-grade classroom organizing a pile of colorful children’s books.

“It’s so exciting,” said the new teacher, bursting with enthusiasm. May-Korish is preparing for a special debut: her first day as a new teacher at a brand new school, Elk Meadow Elementary.

She wasn’t required to show up until today, but like most of her fellow teachers, she hasn’t been able to stay away. Many began carting in boxes of books, blocks and art supplies — owned by the teachers themselves — several weeks ago.

Everywhere, there are teachers organizing, decorating and preparing.

“The building is buzzing,” May-Korish said, even before the arrival of the 562 eager students officials are expecting.