6A
THE DAILY ASTORIAN • FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2018
Twidwell: ‘I’ve had a good life; it’s been a hard life’
Continued from Page 1A
the engine and fire rooms of
seven vessels ported in New
York, California and Washing-
ton between 1954 and 1973.
During that time, Twidwell
was exposed to asbestos dust
released from the manipula-
tion of gaskets. After a three-
week trial last month, a New
York jury retired for just two
hours before awarding him
$40.1 million in compensatory
damages.
For a young person in the
prime of health, that fortune
could buy a lifestyle of world
travel, luxury boats and fast
cars.
But Twidwell doesn’t move
fast or far these days.
Two quarts of fluid has been
drained from his lungs.
Attached to a industri-
al-sized oxygen tank by a thin
green tube that snakes 20 feet
or more across his wooden
floor, he is home.
Preparing for the end.
And the New York bar asso-
ciation website reports that the
defendant, Goodyear, is filing
an appeal.
Dangers
Mesothelioma has a latency
period of 10 to 50 years.
Last year, the Brooklyn resi-
dent experienced shortness of
breath and a cough. Doctors
made the diagnosis after an
X-ray revealed a mass in his
right lung.
In the 17 months since, he
has deteriorated. “More and
more and more, I’m having to
rely on people to help me and
that’s what hurts,” he told law-
yers during his trial testimony.
The dangers of asbestos
have been known since the
early 1900s. Lawyers argued
that the manufacturer, Good-
year, knew of the hazards
as early as 1939, but never
warned anyone.
Twidwell testified for 14
hours over two consecutive
days, beginning each session
with a prayer for strength. He
credits his discipline memo-
rizing Freemasons’ rituals in
assisting his recall of details
from decades past. An oppos-
ing lawyer, seeking to cast
doubts on his memory, asked
him to recite a Bible verse; the
regular attendee at North River
Christian Church was word
perfect.
“While no amount of
money will give Walter back
his health, this result is fair
compensation for his loss of his
self-reliance and dignity,” said
his attorney James Kramer,
announcing the verdict.
Mike Carmel of Long
Beach, past master of the
Ilwaco lodge, flew to the East
Coast to testify on Twidwell’s
behalf. His admiration for his
buddy is evident.
“He shoots his own food,
catches his fish, grows his veg-
etables and cuts wood,” Car-
mel said. “He is like a home-
steader, but with some modern
advantages — although he
built his house with hammer
and saw and no electric tools.”
‘Hands-on chief’
Twidwell was born in 1937,
the son of a logger. He remem-
bers logging camps packed
with 500 men; now his North
River Valley is home to barely
60 residents. An early memory
was his grandfather’s angry
disbelief announcing the Pearl
Harbor attack when Twidwell
was four.
The oldest of four brothers
(a sister died), Twidwell had
a tough childhood. “Dad was
proud of the kids, but when he
disciplined you … you knew
your ass had been kicked.”
Eager not to become a
logger, the teenager joined
the Navy in 1954 just as the
Korean conflict was winding
down, serving on an aircraft
carrier, Franklin D Roosevelt
(CVA-42), and two destroyers,
the Gurke (DD-783) and Zel-
lars (DD-777).
“I was not afraid to get dirty,
even as a chief petty officer,”
he said. “I put my ‘grubbies’
on. I was a hands-on chief.”
For nine years he sailed
back and forth to Vietnam,
serving seven years on the East
Coast. Highlights included
a brief stop in Plymouth,
England, and a 1958 visit to
Odessa in the Soviet Union.
“You would go ashore, four
or five together on the buddy
system,” he recalled. “Peo-
ple would invite you into their
homes for dinner — they were
bitching about their govern-
ment the same way we were
about ours.”
In the 1970s, antiwar pro-
testers did not differentiate
between opposition to Amer-
ican foreign policy and those
who served in uniform. “Didn’t
like getting spit upon,” Twid-
well said, recalling it happened
at least twice. “You spit on me,
the fight’s on!”
One regret
When Chief Petty Offi-
cer Twidwell retired in 1973,
he sought jobs at steam plants
touting his Navy training, only
to be rejected as too expensive
to hire.
His fall-back job was
inevitable.
“I joined Navy at 17 because
I didn’t want to be a logger,” he
shrugged. “I ended up doing
it when I got out. I love the
woods, but I didn’t want to rely
on it as it’s seasonal.”
He married twice and
had five children, losing one
daughter some while ago. He
spent years of his adult life
in Poulsbo, before returning
home alone.
For two years, he lived in
a camper on his 110 acres.
“When I came in here there
was nothing but brush. I had
to start from scratch,” he said,
gesturing around his house
where ornate baskets of onions
hang from the ceiling, jet-black
iron skillets fill an orderly line
of nails and a Winchester rifle
lays across the bed.
There is no electricity,
though he installed solar pan-
els before it was fashionable.
Water comes from a nearby
spring and his stove is fueled
by propane and wood; until
recently, he split every log.
Outside, his 6-year-old Dachs-
hund, Hiram, greets visitors
with a yap.
“It’s pretty simple, but it’s
cozy,” said Twidwell, who
Photos by Patrick Webb/Chinook Observer
Walt Twidwell lives in rural Pacific County in a rustic home he built from scavenged lumber using a hand saw.
but I soon figured it out.”
It is his eighth year wearing
the master’s hat. He has led
his “mother lodge,” Aberdeen
52, twice, served an unprec-
edented three consecutive
years at the helm in Ilwaco,
and twice led Gavel 48 in
Raymond, a lodge that joined
forces with Ilwaco in 2016
after its membership dwin-
dled. He is a member of the
Shriners, plus six other groups
with Masonic connections.
Twidwell’s recent assign-
ment was helping North River
Road neighbor Jim Banas,
longtime secretary of the
old Raymond lodge, coordi-
nate Bikes for Books at North
County schools. The program
encourages elementary stu-
dents to read widely.
“It’s for the grin on the kids’
faces,” Twidwell commented
‘I DON’T WANT TO BE
REMEMBERED FOR THE
DEEDS DONE. I WANT
TO BE REMEMBERED
FOR THE MAN HIMSELF,
THE MAN THAT I AM.’
Walt Twidwell | octogenarian who lives in rural Pacific County
Washington in a rustic home he built from scavenged lumber
regrets his children never
embraced his lifestyle.
“I wish I could have
passed on this ‘pioneer way’
to my kids. I taught them to
dig clams, they liked that.
But things like splitting cedar
planks, they didn’t want any
part of it. It bothered me.”
‘Encyclopedic’
Twidwell joined the Free-
masons at age 48; his ritual
work is conducted in a grav-
elly, soft-spoken style.
Just before Christmas, he
was installed as master of
Wynooche 43, a tiny lodge in
Montesano 27 miles from his
home. Two of the most senior
members from the Washington
Grand Lodge attended. He pre-
sented multiple fruit pies to his
guests, a trademark gift.
“I like cooking,” said Twid-
well, who shoots his own ven-
ison and catches fish in a creek
out back. “I got tired of asking
the neighbor lady to make me
a pie. I used to take her apples,
on the rewards. “It gives them
a challenge in life — ‘If I read
all those books, I get a bicycle.’
It’s just a good warm feeling.”
He taught Banas how to
operate a chainsaw and hunt
for mushrooms, and gave him
guided tours of logging roads
when the western Pennsylva-
nia native became his neighbor
in 1994. “He could point out
where certain buildings were
once located, when they maybe
burned down, were abandoned,
or torn down,” Banas said.
“When
it
comes
to Masonry, Walt is encyclo-
pedic in his knowledge of the
fraternity. He was most often
the ‘go-to guy’ when a brother
passed away and we needed a
Masonic funeral service,” said
Banas, who frequently assisted
as Twidwell’s Bible bearer.
Spotless
While many fraternities
perform similar community
work, Freemasons believe
what sets them apart is their
ancient rituals, which allude to
ancient guild stonemasons who
built the Gothic cathedrals of
Europe. The three degrees con-
tain lessons that take symbols
from architecture designed to
help “good men become bet-
ter,” building character on
solid moral foundations, being
forthright, honest and equal —
“on the level.”
Twidwell has performed
just about all of the ritu-
als, and his patriotism is evi-
dent in his rigid flag salute. “I
wouldn’t want to live anyplace
else,” said the well-traveled
sailor. “We have got our prob-
lems, but we have still got our
freedoms.”
In recent years he has
become especially keen to give
the “apron lecture,” a recitation
that explains to a newly initi-
ated brother why a white lamb-
skin apron is considered “an
emblem of innocence and the
badge of a Mason.”
Many lodge members are
buried with theirs.
The ritual states: “Let its
pure and spotless surface be to
you an ever-present reminder
of a purity of life and rectitude
of conduct, a never-ending
inspiration for nobler deeds,
for higher thoughts, for greater
achievements; and when at last
your weary feet shall come to
the end of life’s toilsome jour-
ney, may the record of your
life and actions be as pure and
spotless as this fair emblem.”
As master of Wynooche 43, Free and Accepted Masons of
Washington, Walt Twidwell is the only member allowed to
wear a hat in the lodge room in Montesano.
Judgment
Now the old sailor is about
to voyage to that “undiscov-
ered country from whose bourn
no traveler returns.”
Twidwell’s strong faith
in an afterlife makes him
unafraid. In refusing chemo-
therapy, he has gambled that
his final days would be more
endurable.
“Your body will tell you,”
he said, recalling a frank-
talking appointment with doc-
tors. “I want to go easy. I don’t
want to go hurting. We all gotta
go!
“I’ve had a good life; it’s
been a hard life. When He calls
me, I will not fight it. I will go
… I have no choice.”
The apron ritual concludes,
“And when your soul shall
appear before that Great White
Throne, there to receive judg-
ment for the deeds done while
here on Earth, may it be your
portion to hear from Him who
sitteth as the Judge Supreme,
‘Well done, good and faithful
Discovering and opening a time capsule from 1956 inside
the old Raymond Masonic lodge when the building was
sold after the 2016 merger with Occident 48 in Ilwaco was
a highlight of Twidwell’s recent Freemason activities.
servant! Enter thou into the joy
of thy Lord.’”
Twidwell has had four score
years to imagine that moment.
“Your body is going to
be gone, but your soul will
be there,” he said. “You will
be judged on your deeds, but
really you will be judged by
the things in your heart. You
are forgiven for everything, but
how much love is in your heart
and for whom?”
When the time comes,
DOING WELL WHILE
DOING GOOD
Great news! Charitable gift annuity payment rates
have increased for the first time in many years.
A charitable gift annuity with the OHSU
Foundation or the Doernbecher Children’s
Hospital Foundation is a wonderful way to make
a gift while receiving income for life.
To learn more, contact the OHSU Foundation
at 503-228-1730 or email OHSUFinfo@ohsu.edu.
Twidwell’s funeral will be
standing-room-only.
Like-
minded men will help fasten
each other’s Masonic aprons,
then don the traditional white
gloves of mourning. A lodge
brother will recite that ancient
graveyard oration that Twid-
well has done countless times.
“I don’t want to be remem-
bered for the deeds done,” he
reflected. “I want to be remem-
bered for the man himself, the
man that I am.”
Gift Annuity Rate Comparison
Age
Old Rate New Rate Increase
70
5.1%
5.6%
0.5%
75
5.8%
6.2%
0.4%
80
6.8%
7.3%
0.5%
85
7.8%
8.3%
0.5%
90+
9.0%
9.5%
0.5%
For illustrative purposes only. Please contact us
for current benefits and rates for other ages.