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THE ASTORIAN • THuRSdAy, OcTObER 21, 2021
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IN ONE EAR • ELLEDA WILSON
IREDALE AGROUND
M
onday marks the 115th anniversary of the wreck of
the steel British bark Peter Iredale, which ran aground
on Clatsp Spit at 7:45 a.m. Oct. 25, 1906, with 27 (including
two stowaways) aboard. The next day the grounding was, of
course, the lead story in The Morning Astorian.
Capt. H. Lawrence became disoriented in the fog and
mist during a heavy storm, and sailed too close to the shore.
By the time the lookout called “breakers dead ahead,” it was
too late.
When the ship hit the sand, the force was so great, most
of the spars snapped immediately, and the sails sagged deso-
lutely. The anchors loosened, and hung by their chains from
the bow. She was stuck hard and fast.
Capt. Lawrence gave the order to abandon ship, but
before he had completed his instructions, the Point Adams
lifesaving crew, under the command of Capt. Wicklund,
had pulled up alongside in a surfboat. Before long, everyone
aboard the Iredale was safely ashore. They were only able to
save the ship’s chronometers and instruments.
The timely arrival of the Point Adams crew was the result
of a herculean effort. It was made possible because Col.
Walker at Fort Stevens sent a team of mules to Point Adams
so the livesaving boat could be dragged 2 miles across the
“soggy” sand to a spot where they could launch it for the
Iredale rescue. Incredibly, they arrived at the wreck almost
within the hour.
Most of the crew enjoyed Col. Walker’s hospitality for
a bit at Fort Stevens until they were dispatched by train to
Astoria, where they were given board and lodging, and had a
visit from Dr. Holt, the government quarantine officer. Three
of the crew stayed at Fort Stevens, and four stayed to keep an
eye on the wreck.
At the end of the day, the ship was lost, but all hands were
safe and sound. It was her ninth voyage to the North Coast.
(Photo by Elleda Wilson)
CREATURE COMFORTS
DASTARDLY OUTRAGE
A
lso on Oct. 26, 1906, The Astorian revealed that news
of the imminent grounding of the Peter Iredale
made the coastal rounds quickly, “in some telepathic way,”
and people began to swarm to the wreck’s location, despite
the awful weather, to help, or just watch.
Astorians were not among them, however, although
several took the train down to Fort Stevens. However,
the prospect of a 2-mile walk from the train stop to the
wreck, on the wet sand, in a full-blown gale, dampened
their enthusiasm, and the rest of the trip was abandoned.
Those who did arrive wanting to assist at the wreck
site had honorable enough intentions, but unfortunately,
most of them came loaded with large and small bottles
of liquor.
“Liquor … under certain circumstances may have done
a certain amount of good,” The Astorian noted, “but … in
the instance under consideration, was altogether too gen-
erously applied, and to the ultimate discomfiture of several
of the Iredale’s crew, who were too drunk to make good
with the rest of their fellows in reaching this city.” Presum-
ably, this refers to the three who were left at Fort Stevens.
“A bottle of whiskey is the most tempting of all crea-
ture comforts to a sailor,” The Astorian proclaimed, “afloat
or ashore, safe, or in a stress, and this was proven all too
plainly yesterday.”
O
n Oct. 27, 1906, The Morning Astorian reported that
the Peter Iredale had been “plundered” by a gang of
12 ”West Side (aka Warrenton) toughs” on the 25th, at low
tide, calling the theft “one of the most dastardly outrages
ever committed in Clatsop County.”
Capt. Wicklund of Point Adams put four men in two
shifts on guard at the ship. The thieves were aware that the
watch changed around midnight, so they hopped on board
during the shift change and “commenced their depredations.”
They grabbed anything loose, ransacked the personal
trunks of the captain and crew, and the desks and lockers,
and made off with over $1,000 worth of valuables (about
$30,000 now) before leaving the ship.
They tarried too long, and the incoming tide was strong
when they headed for shore. One of the 12, Malcolm
Grider, was crippled, and couldn’t keep up. Despite his
cries for help, the others ignored him, and he drowned. Capt.
Wicklund discovered the body the following morning.
An investigation revealed the names of the other 11
involved. The thievery would be construed as “voluntary sal-
vage” if all of the items were returned; if not, “a term in the
penitentiary” was in order.
LIFE IS PRECIOUS
A FLUKE
MOBY RICK
C
hinook Observer editor Matt Winters spotted this photo
by Kendra Smith posted on the The Dalles Happen-
ings Facebook page, and passed it along.
No, she’s not an albino raccoon, because she has a black
nose and dark paws — instead, she’s leucistic. The Oregon
Department of Fish and
Wildlife describes leucism
as “a lack of pigment that
keeps an animal from hav-
ing a uniform coloration.”
The photos of the critter
were sent to state Fish and
Wildlife, along with the
question of how unusual
sighting this raccoon in
the wild is. State Fish and
Wildlife replied on their
Instagram page:
“… When this raccoon showed up in our … messages, we
started calling it Moby Rick for obvious reasons … So, how
rare is this? It’s difficult to say. There are probably many leu-
cistic raccoons, but … few would make it to adulthood …
“No, really, how rare is this? In short, nobody at ODFW has
seen a nearly completely white raccoon in the wild before.”
F
un rerun: Rachel Krotzer was mentioned in a Clats-
kanie Chief article as having seen a funnel cloud over
Clatskanie. She took photos (one is shown) and film of it
from her house on the top of Stewart Creek Road.
It happened around 6 p.m. July 17, while Rachel was
sitting at the kitchen table, facing a window, talking on the
phone. Even without her glasses, she could tell something
strange was happening in the sky.
Rachel saw the funnel for about three minutes, but she
heard from others that it lasted about 10 minutes. While
she was watching, it constantly changed shape, but never
touched the ground.
“It’s kinda scary,” Rachel admitted to the Ear. “What a
fluke to see that.”
Her photos were featured on KATU News. “My son,
Iolaus, and daughter, Lillian, thought it was really cool to
hear my name on the news,” she added.
“I’m now constantly looking at the view for more than
sunsets or rain warnings.” (In One Ear, 7/29/2011)
NO FURTHER DANGER
A
morsel to consider from The
Morning Astorian, Oct. 21,
1899:
• No further danger of the small-
pox spreading is apprehended,
and the school board has decided
to remove the prohibition against
unvaccinated pupils next Monday.
Mr. Sloop, the patient, is getting
along finely.
Note: Oregon and the Pacific
Northwest were not exempt from
major diseases in the late 18th and
19th centuries, and were subjected
to the ravages of smallpox, malaria,
Pacific Northwest oddity: Ruth Hamilton, of
Golden, British Columbia, was fast asleep when she
was awakened by a loud crash, and debris landing on her
face, the Pipestone Flyer reports.
After jumping up and turning on the light, she saw that
on her pillow, near where her head was a minute ago, there
was a rock. There was also a large hole in her ceiling. To
her amazement, the rock turned out to be a meteorite. Her
photos are shown. She loaned the rock to Ontario’s West-
ern University for study.
“When we first heard this story we were pretty sur-
prised, but also pretty convinced that it was a meteorite,
and we certainly had a pretty good idea of the fireball that
was related to it,” Peter Brown, a researcher at the univer-
sity, said. “The chances of a meteorite big enough to pen-
etrate a roof and hit a bed are about one and 100 billion
per year.”
“I’m just totally amazed over the fact that it is a star that
came out of the sky …” Hamilton marveled. “… Life is
precious, and it could be gone at any moment, even when
you think you are safe and secure in your bed. I hope I
never ever take it for granted again.”
A
measles, influenza, cholera and
typhoid fever — some recurring
periodically, some annually. The
first documented smallpox virus epi-
demic in Oregon occurred around
1781; western Oregon experienced
a smallpox epidemic in 1870.
However, according to the Public
Health Reports (1896-1970), there
were only seven smallpox cases in
Oregon in 1899 — as opposed to
Texas, which had 188. Only one of
those seven was reported in Astoria,
on Oct. 11. It was undoubtedly the
recuperating Mr. Sloop.
A BOW OF GRATITUDE
‘I
would like to give a shout-out and a stand-
ing ovation for the Warrenton Fire
Department,” Warrenton resident Sam Blair
wrote.
“Recently, my rescue cat, ‘Moose,’ either
fell or jumped into the furnace ducts for
my house, which was being remodeled,” Sam
explained. “Nobody I called had any ideas of
what to do to save him from whatever fate
awaits a cat in the bowels of a three-story
home.
“In desperation, I called 911, and explained
I had a potential life-threatening situation
involving a cat. The dispatcher couldn’t have
been nicer, and said she would have someone
there soon.
“Within 12-13 minutes, two of Warrenton’s
finest were in the driveway, lights blinking in a
massive truck. Bottom line, after over an hour
of various attempts, they cut a hole in the soffit
to get access to the ductwork, then cut a hole in
the ductwork to give Moose a place for egress.
“Ron Dugan of Dugan’s Heating Solu-
tions by now was also adding excellent ideas.
Bottom line, I had to remove part of the fur-
nace, exposing the end of the duct system, and
there Moose was, within reach. Dusty, whin-
ing and wide eyed, Moose walked away.
“Just wanted to give a huge thank you to
the Warrenton Fire Department, and Fire Chief
Brian Alsbury and volunteer firefighter John
Sleutel, for their truly incredible commitment
and dedication to service.”
“The community, and all our cats, are in
safe hands,” Sam added. “A deep, dusty bow
of gratitude!”