THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN. PORTLAND. AUGUST 30, 1908.
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UNOFFICIAL CLIMB OF THE .SNOW PEAK INVOLVING lMKUoni
PANGER AMD WONDERFUL ENDURANCE -
BT FRANK BRANCH RILEY.
IN THE enjoyment of vigorous sport
there is never quite absent the zest, or
the menace, -as you please, of sudden
and real peril; and it la in the unususl
adventure that the unusual courage is re
vealed. Mountain climbing is not the most
dangerous of Summer diversions; neither
Is it the mildest, and the annals of the
Xazamas OregonV mountaineering club
are crowded with situations startling and
critical. And it Is recorded that In none
of hem was there a failure of that brav
ery and daring that go with the playing
' of the game.
The Maxamas outing this year was really
remarkable for the sensations, the thrill
ing episodes, the nervy performance of
the Intrepid climbers, on the two ascents
of Mount St. Helens from the north side.
I called "official" climbs because they were
planned by and executed under the direc
. lion of the club leaders. But the narra
i tive of an 'unofficial" ascent, undertaken
for the saving of a life, by certain mem
bers, is the one that will be longest re
membered. It to a story big with heroism
and with unselfish and successful en-
hleavor. It will be retold about campflres
end listened to with breathless interest as
loose as men and women go to the mountains.
j On the evenlng of the first Tuesday the
Mazamas. after a day of excursions, were
lying lazily about the permanent camp lo
cated in a forest of stately fir about the
chores of Spirit Lake. Suddenly from out
of the shadows closing in about the camp
fire, there staggered a stranger, a mes
! senger, haggard and wearied by some
great effort. He proved to be one 01
': three men encamped at some distance
Irom us on the lake shore. This was his
story:
He and his two partners 9wedlsh saw
; mill men had made the ascent of. St.
I Helens from the north early that day.
Though inexperienced and Imperfectly
ehod and outfitted, they had gained the
summit and had just begun the descent
and exploration of the south slopes when
a plunging rock, loosened by the meltWig
enow near the summit, came zigzagging
at frightful speed down through the steep
enowfleld. striking one of the men and
breaking both bones of the right leg.
Alone with their now helpless and strick
en companion In the wilderness of St.
Helens, they did the only thing which
r seemed reasonable. Strapping with their
belts the dangling leg to his sound one,
they dragged him down the long miles of
! snow to the first shelter of timber.' One
f remained by his side, while the other be
. gan. to encircle the peak to the north side
for the aid of the Mazamas. There were
; no trails and the way was puzzling and
j strange, but he had accomplished it.
Blectrified, the camp sprang to its feet.
Organization of a relief was the matter
i of less than 10 minutes. Precipitously a
! party of seven sturdy men flung itself
I into the black night. They were burdened
j only with nourishment for the wounded
i and a canvas sleeping bag for his litter.
' AU through the long night these men of
; the rescue struggled feverishly down and
up out of numberless canyons, waded
mountain torrents, scaled ridge after
ridge, slowly, bravely fought their way
over the wild and rugged buttresses of
the peak toward the south side, where
somewhere in the mountain fastness lay a
man in agony. It had happened on that
day the peak had also been climbed by
two young Mazamas who, upon reaching
the summit, had noticed the new tracks In
the snow leading down the south slope,
and believing that they led to a well-provisioned
camp which would prove a hos
pitable base for their exploration next
day, the young men. eager for adventure,
followed the trail, till it led them, amazed,
to the side of the stricken Swede. Sensing
at once their share in the relief, they
of the Mazamas .Drag-
J&M0y ' Sg a Wounded Man Up Mt.
pushed forward and upon the highest
wooded shoulder of the peak built a mon
ster signal fire. About 3 o'clock in the
morning, into the light of this fire the
men of the rescue, eager though wearied,
dragged themselves. Pushing on without
rest and by direction of the two fresh
guides, they stood a little later by the
side of the sufferer just as the first faint
light of the dawn appeared.
It was Impossible to carry the man of
170 pounds back through the wild and
broken country around the peak. Below,
the first cabin of the Lewis River country
lay beyond a moat of forbidding canyons.
Above slanted the smooth slopes of Hel
ens. Unhesitatingly the amazing plan
was determined. Placing the injured man
upon the litter of canvas and alpine
stocks they began audaciously to make
the ascent of the mountain with their
burden. The day dawned and grew old
and still these men crawled upward In
frightful, body-breaking struggle. Twelve
hours passed and they had no food and no
sleep save as they fell unconscious face
downward In the snow, as they did many
times, from fatigue and lack of nourish
ment. At 4 o'clock P. M. Anderson, the
Injured man, was again on the extreme
summit of what appears from Portland
the smooth, modest white cone of St. Hel
ens. Then, without rest came, the descent to
the north. Down precipitous cliffs of ice
they lowered him, as tenderly and gently
as might be, down vast snow slopes
seared with bottomless crevasses some of
which were crossed by spans of Ice, some
by bridges of alpine stocks, while others
were encircled. On downward, shielding
the man from the death-dealing rocks
which often came plowing down through
the snow fields, over ridges of ragged
lava, often dropping him from sheer ex
haustion, valiantly they made their way
until in the deepening darkness of the
second night they found themselves again
at timber; but in the network of canyons,
they had selected the wrong one and were
lost. Here at 3 o'clock the following
morning they were found by a second re
lief party and guided over a painful and
trail-less five-mile journey home.
The camp was awake at five o'clock
clustered about the newly-erected "hos
pital" tent. In front of it, in blue shirt,
kaihki trousers and high boots, an eager
young surgeon awaited his patient. Be
side him. In sweater and bloomers, there
waited also an alert and sympathetic
young nurse who had come Into the wilds
to forget her vocation for awhile. Under
the direction of these two, the day be
fore, the little surgery had been equipped
with all the emergency supplies to b?
found in the Individual dunnase bags. ,
Within all was scrupulously neat and j
chemically clean. Blankets and clothing ;
nad been stripped into bandages and j
enough splints had been whittled to bind j
a hundred fractures. The kitchen had
been raided and the cook's tin wash boiler
made over into an ingenious outer case
for the foot and leg.
A hush fell upon the camp as silently
the little column came up the rude trail
and, laid Anderson, haggard but smiling
bravely! upon the operating table. The
stolid hero had made only exclamations
of .thankfulness and cheer. "With incred
ible nerve he had never. In all the 40
wretched hours, allowed a groan or a
complaint or a sigh of discouragement
to escape his set, white lips. And now
after he had at last enjoyed the first re
lief of soothing hot applications, the
surgeon and his muscular assistants stood
over him for the last ordeal. Them were
a few moments of skillful manipulation
of the llinp leg, while spasms of pain
came and went over the features of the
conscious sufferer, and then at last, when
the doctor looked up radiantly, and an
nounced a perfect reduction, the long
pent-up cheer' outside the tent eclioed
through the great forest.
During the operation, the nurse said
tenderly, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Anderson,
that you suffer so."
"Oh, don't mind," he said smiling, "Ay
ban all right. The leg feels fine."
One of the rescuers, looking into the ,
tent, reminded him huskily. "Ah. Ander- ,
son, but that's Just what you told us all j
last night, and all the day and night be-
fore!" ,
The leg was encased in the forest-made j
splints and wrapped with bandages, and j
its brave owner laid in a comfortable
wagon bed for the long ' journey of 48 ;
miles to the village of t'astlo Rnck, where ;
the Northern Pacific train should carry ,
him to Portland. Struggling to a sitting :
posture as the start wa about to be ;
made, he searched long through brimming ,
eyes the faces of tiie crowd about the
wugnn.
"Ay don't want ever to forget how you
look," he said brokenly; "you who have
done all this for me!"
Here in a Portland1 hospital, his leg
mending rapidly, he'now lies to tell you
In his own way, simply, but graphically,
the wonderful story.
It remains for me only to name, the
actors in this drama of the mountains.
The injured man was John Anderson, and
his two friends. Perry Olesou and John
Hanson, all of Little Falls, Wash. The
two young Mazamas who built the signal
fire were Francis Beneliel and t W.
Whittlesey, both of Portland, and those
of the rescue party who made this "un
official" ascent were: O. E. Foraythe, of
Castle Rock, Wash.; Carlos A. Penning- ,
ton, of Seattle; Rev. William J. Douglass, ,
of Portland: Herman B. Doering, of Port- ,
land: Raymond Casebeer, of Castle Rock; '
B. George Williams, of Spirit Lake, and I
Luther H. Dickens, of Taeonia. And the
doctor and the nunse into whose caro they i
delivered their burden were respectively,
Dr. Otle P, Akin and Miss Emma Hard
ing, both of Portland.
That lAughtor Cure.
Birmingham (Ala.) Age-Herald.
A little trick of laughing. i
When skies are dull and gray,
Will make your life worth living
And mil your cares away.
It isn't hard tor learning.
Since all you have to do
Islust to keep believing still
That Joy will follow rue.
A little trick of laughing
When all your plans go wrong.
Will turn a lit of growling
Into a cheerful song.
Good friend, why don't you try it
For practice once or twice?
Twill change life's dross to yellow ol4 i
And do it in a trice.
A little trick of laughing
Will drive away the pain.
And drive it Just so far away ' ' (
Twill never come again.
It makes the prospects brighter I
And helps us to endure. 1
There's nothing else in ail the -world
.Tuft like the lautrhtcr cure!
r 'r- ' 1
IN WHICH HE TALKS AT LENGTH UPON PHILANTHROPY.
H
BV JIM NASfUM.
ERE'S gratitude for you," said
the president of the team, lay
ing down the evening paper as
the 1 Old Sport sauntered up. "Here
we've gone and risked our hard earned
coin to give this old dump town a
good ball team, we've spent big money
to buy stars in order to please the fanj,
and now that we're right up at the
top of the heap and having something
to say about the place the flag Is go
ing to fly. we never get a line of credit
In these dinky newspapers and the
fans are slobbering all over the play
ers who are getting big salaries for
their -work and handing them the cred
it for our fine showing and never even
think of the men who risked their
coin' to bring this winning combination
together. There's the gratitude that
exists In your world of sport, old man.
Thats how it pays to be a philanthro
pist for the good of the game."
"That's right, old man," replied the
Old Sport, "but you can take my tip
that there are a thundering lot of phil
anthropists in this old dump of a world
who wouldn't be casting their bread
upon the waters If they weren't blamed
sure that the tide would cast op a
roast beef sandwich In return. There's
blamed little charity In a good Invest
ment, and I guess If you guys had to
take all your pay in credit and praise
Instead of the shekels that are rolling
In at the box office as returns on your
investment, you'd kick like a maver
ick under the branding iron.
"It's all right enough to hand out &
spiel about your efforts to give the
people what they want, but away down
under your vests you guys know blamed
well that it was Business instinct and
not a feeling of philanthropy that
prompted you to do It Tou fellows
have enough, hard-headed business
sense stored in your garrets to be hep
to the fact that if you want to get j
e public' money you've got to give
the public what they want. You're
getting the public's money now. and
you can't hand me the bunk that It
doesn't tickle you a blamed sight more
than if they stayed at home to sing
your praises in the highways and byways.
"And you can take it from me, old
man, that that's the way with a thun
dering lot of tightwads loafing around
here who are getting credit for being
philanthropists when they are only
blamed good business men.' Simply
because some old money-grubber bas a
cellar full of money that he can't use,
and spends a shovelful of it for a mil
lion dollars' worth of publicity that he
can use, doesn't make a philanthropist
out of him by a long shot Giving
away a thousand bucks for ten thous
and dollars worth of publicity and ad
vertising space Is a blamed good In
vestment and not philanthropy.
"The guy who slaps up a public 11
tfrary at his own expense or endows a
knowledge factory may be doing the
public good, all right, and I've a good
sized hunch that a thundering lot of
them are doing the public blamed good.
The guy who could cop the credit for
philanthropy is the one who, when ke
casts his bread upon the waters,
doesn't loaf along the beach looking
for a sandwich to be cast up by the
tide.
"So you'll pardon me. old man, if I
fail to see the philanthropy In your
case, but I'll hand it to you guys for
being good business men."
"Oh, Dad," said the president of the
team, "you're too much of a skeptic.
Tou're one of these guys who would a
blamed sight rather rubber at a thun
der cloud and talk about the big storm
that it contains than to let your mind
dwell on its silver lining. Just be
cause the front of it is black you're
ready to swear that it's black all
through and the silver lining dope is a
nature fake. Tou see the possibility of
a certain condition existing, and you
take It for granted right off the handle
that this condition really does exist.
You're alway'3 chewing the rag about
knockers. Dad, and you're the most
confirmed knocker that ever came
down the pike. Simply because you
see a few people In the world who
don't take. much stock in the dope that
"it is more blessed to give than to re
ceive' you think that the whole blamed
world has its hooks out to grafting."
"Now. don't jump your governor belt,
old man," replied the Old Sport, "you
know blamed well away down in your
system that this dope I'm handing you
is straight goods. You know that the
world In general takes this dope that
'it is more blessed to give than to re
ceive' Just like they take a lot of this
literary dope that is handed to them.
They swallow it only when it tastes
good. You can take it from me that
about the only thing most guys think
'it is more blessed to give than to re
ceive' is a blamed good thumping.
"These literary masters who can
dish out the fancy gab with their pens
have handed the world a lot of good
material for bedroom mottoes, but you
won't find many of these old maxims
being overworked in the business
world. There's a thundering lot of
these old literary spasms that bucted
into the world just like we select the
name for the first kid that comes into
the family: Not because they are suit
ed to the occasion at all, but because
they sound well.
"You know as well as I do that we
copy these old, bunches of literary dope
in our school' days till we get the
writer's cramp, we parse chem and dia
gram them all through high school,
and then we curse them all through
college, and about the only use we
make of them after we go out to stab
the world in the face is to hand them
to our kids when we want to give
them a little fatherly advice. If we
ever tried to make any practloal use
of the dope that comes bottled up In
maxims we'd get a slam In the slats
that would put us down for the count
in jig time. Not because the dope
mightn't be straight goods all right.
but this old dump of a world has never
contracted the habit or living by any
set ruje.
"No, you can take it from me, no
literary guy can dope out rules for a
man to live by any more than he can
dope out a guide book to Kingdom
Come. What's one man's meat is an
other guy's poison, and it's a blamed
good thing for the world that it doesn't
take this literary dope too seriously.
"I suppose the wise guys who ripped
off this slush away back in past ages
hugged the dope that they were doing
a thundering lot to better conditions
in this old dump of a world, but you
can take It from me that you won't
see many monuments of success built
upon the foundations which they laid.
This practical old world has got hep to
the fact that you can't carve any nich
es in the hall of fame by working ac
cording to a prescribed formula like
you cure a case of measles, but you've
got to do a little thinking on your own
hook. That's what the gray stuff is
planted in your roof garden for. .
"Now the guy who plugs along
through life trying to follow the dope
that 'it Is more blessed to give than to
receive' may aspire to be a philanthro
pist all right, but you can take my tip.
that in this age of graft he will be
nothing more than an easy mark. And
the guy who gives indiscriminately and
without judgment is contributing a
thundering lot more toward putting the
the world on the bum than he is to the
betterment of conditions. But you can
take it from me that In this practical
age you'll find most guys have a good
strong hunch that 'it Is more blessed
to give than to receive' only to the guy
who gets it"
"Say,"lnterrupted the president, "you
can gamble that If I had known that I
was going to start you off on a lecture
tour I'll be blamed if I would've
ipoken to you when you came in."
"Well, you see," replied the Old
Sport, 'when I see an empty tank I
can't resist the temptation to dump
something into it The trouble with a
lot of you guys who were born with a
silver spoon in your mug is that you
think that you're a blamed sight better
than the poor slob who has to work
like a sucker before he can get his
lunch hooks on a pewter spade.
"If there is one thing that Is pucting
this old world on the bum more tha'n
anything else it is the fact that a lot
of sapheaded slobs who couldn't swim
a stroke on the scream of life if they
had to are floating on the current
without any effort of their own In a
gilded bark hewn out by their ances
tors, and hugging the dope that they
are a superior sort of creation to the
poor slob who has to paddle (down the
stream pf life, swimming dog-fashion."
"Is this the introduction to another
lecture. Dad?" asked the president
"No," replied the Old Sport, it's only
a tip. But it's a tip that will be a
thundering big help to a lot of you
guys if you'll only keep it handy where
you can grab it when the occasion
arises. When you begin to dream that
you are a philanthropist and the world
owes you a lot of credit and praise
that you're not getting, just bump
your elbow against the door Jam of
common sense and wake yourself up.
Whenever you hear a guy letting out a
spiel about the world not giving him
credit that is due him, you can gamble
that he isn't giving the world all that
he owes it So I'd advise you to look
up your accounts and get thorn
straightened out.
"The lecture is over now, old man,
and I'm going to beat it to the hay.
So good-night"
After All, Who is a Centlemsn?
Some Kings Cannot Lay Claim to
the Title.
Major Charles E. Woodruff In the New
York Times.
IN discussions as to what are the char
acteristics of a gentleman, I have
been somewhat surprised that the orig
inal meaning of the word has been Ig
nored. Several dictionaries show that It
is the same word as the French gentil
homme and the Spanish gentilhombre,
both of which were originally used to
describe men of the gens of clan as dis
tinguished from outsiders who were not
blood relatives, gentilis meaning "of the
clan or gens." This was a vital matter
in primitive times, when a man's survival
depended upon his membership in a clan,
all of whose members were bound to
gether by ties so strong that we can
scarcely understand them now.
Nothing in modern times, not even the
self-sacrifices In war, at all equals the
manner in which these gens folks would
defend each other, even at the expense
of their own lives. They all believed
themselves descended from the same god
and under the protection of a god who
was probably at eternal war with the
god of another gens. Consequently a
person of another gens had no rights
they would respect to Kill him was often
a moral duty. Primitive ethnology is
full of illustrations of the compactness
of the gens and Its religious bearing.
When a clan migrated and conquered
another territory all the inhabitants were
put to the sword or became the chattels
of the gens-men, who were far from
being 'gentle" men; indeed, their sur
vival depended upon being the reverse of
gentle. The only characteristic of a prim
itive gentleman was blood relationship
to the gens. It was a greatness born
with them, and no one could achieve it or
have it thrust upon him.
As civilization progressed. Its refining
effect was of course greatest in the rul
ing classes the conquering type or mili
tary caste. The outsiders were slaves,
serfs, peons, peasants, or what not, who
had sunk Into their positions because
they were more gentle than the fierce
gens-men. Thus the gentleness of cut
ture being cultivated by those who had
been fiercest, became in time a charac
teristic of the upper classes. They were
now more refined than the lowest un
cultured types, and the word gentleman
took on a new meaning that of culture
as well as birth.
Nevertheless the old meaning still held
for many centuries, and referred to a
class between the peasant and royalty.
Indeed, the kings were often not gentle
men, or gens-men, at all, not blood rel
atives, but imported by the clan or na
tion. The king Is now, of course, the
first gentleman in the land, but it wasn't
so long ago that he wasn't a gentleman
at all neither by blood nor gentle man
ners. He often seized his position by the
aid of trained retainers, and he could
not be a gens-nan at all. Indeed, the
English nation many a time looked on
its kings as outsiders, and the sama,
feeling even now crops out occasionally.
In like manner it was no disgrace for
a man to declare he was not a gentle
man any more than it was to say he was
not a Frenchman or Saxon.
As the spirit of democracy welded th
race more men became gentlemen, but
even yet there are whole classes which
make no claim to being of the gentlemen
class, yet they aTe gentlemen In the mod
ern sense. In America the spirit of dem
ocracy has welded the race into one
large gens, and every man is as good as
his neighbor. The word has therefore
taken on a new meaning among the un-'
cultured Americans, a meaning curiously
like the old clan meaning. No matter
how crude, of course, and ungentle ha
may be, the free-born American citizen
is a gentleman in his own mind, and by
that he means a member of the Nation
and on an equality with all others.
U It is thus curious that the word is used
in so many different senses, and that a
modified primitive meaning is adopted
for members of the new American demo
cratic Nation and that this meaning has
no relation whatever to the general ac
ceptation of the term as applied to one
of culture and gentle manners.
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