6 JUNE 15,2007
Smoke Signals
Family Is What's Important
OLSEN continued
from front page
daughter), the McKnight family lived
in a house with electricity but no
running water, a white house that
still stands at the end of what is now
McPherson Road. "It was called 'Wino
Alley' in those days," she said.
The family took care of their own
and anybody else's that happened by.
"Mom (Tribal Elder Elvira Rose Lang
ley McKnight) and dad (Thomas Jessie
McKnight) took in poor Indian kids for
six-eight months at a time, and then
they were gone," she said. "If anybody
needed anything, if they were sick,
they brought them to our house."
"Growing up in my family, there
was nothing but love. Every day."
"It wasn't expressed," she ex
plained. "It was just felt.
"My mother never talked bad about
people. She taught us, if you don't
have something nice to say, don't say
anything at all.
"She was never angry. She never
hit us.
"I'd come home from school and she
wanted to know what went on."
Olsen's grandfather, Tribal Elder
William Langley, came to Oregon as a
logger from Quebec, where he met Mary
Catherine Quinelle, when he was par
ticipating in the Phil Sheridan Roundup
of the day. Mary had come from the
Umpquas in Roseburg. Her parents
faced the Trail of Tears march.
Grandma Mary died young, when
Elvira, Judy's mom, was just 12
years old, and Elvira "was raising
her younger brothers and sisters
for grandpa." There were seven
children in the family, two girls and
five boys. The pattern would
repeat itself.
Olsen's mom, Elvira, was
born in 1901 in Grand Ronde.
But her mom was not to
have a long life, either. Elvira
passed on in 1958 when she
was 57 years old and Olsen
was only 14.
"I shut down," said Olsen.
"My mom's death was the first
big event with me, and I locked
it all out. I try to keep it that
way. To me, it's probably easier
for me not to mourn, to just shut
down."
Most of the Elder siblings
were out of the house by that
time "When Momma died, I
took over the house for Daddy
and (her younger brother) Rick
(McKnight). I was the young
est PTA member in the grade
school of St. Michael. I stepped
in with counseling with the Sisters
and Father if Rick needed it. His
first grade teacher was teaching him
to read by association and he didn't
get it. I had to do phonics with him
to teach him how to read."
Olsen was speaking recently on
a hot spring day from her Sheridan
apartment. The windows were open
in the back and the screen door in
front let the air cross keeping the
place pretty cool, but she caught sight
of the cottonwood pollen. "I don't
know what they're good for," she said
of the trees. "If you've got asthma,
they're a lot of trouble."
n tmm'"t'i i ii
A young Judy McKnight and a very young Reyn
Leno on her lap are flanked by Tommy Leno,
left, and Bobbie Leno, right. "She's always
watched over me," said Reyn.
And that's one reason, maybe a small
one, why she will be on her way to Ari
zona to live with her daughter, Laura
Hoeper, and Laura's family, as this sto
ry goes to press. "I can take the heat,"
she said, 'just not the humidity."
The big reason for going is, as always
with Olsen, family. "My grandson,
Brody, said, Tou can have your own
room, but I have two beds in mine, and
you have to sleep with me."'
Her dad, Thomas Jessie McKnight,
an Irishman, was born in 1892 in
Texas and served in Germany in
World War I. They met while he was
delivering mail by horseback and
stagecoach in Grand Ronde and Otis.
Life was almost over be
fore it began for young Ju
dith, who at three years old,
fell into the family well.
"Mama told (my older
brother) Wayne to get some
water. He didn't want to so
I did. I knew from watching
daddy to put my feet on the
side of the well and pull it
up but my foot slipped and
I landed on the bucket eight
feet down.
"Mama said she heard
something, so Wayne came
out and heard me scream
ing. He pulled me up with
the rope. I was determined
to hold on."
Then, at six years old,
the Grand Ronde clinic
uncovered a hole in her
heart, and doctors gave her
a 5050 chance of surviv
ing. Her dad did not want
her to have the operation
for fear of losing her right
away, but her mom took a
longer view and prevailed.
"Corky was so scared, he carried me
around for weeks," she said.
They did the work at Doernbecher
Children's Hospital in Portland, and
told Olsen at the time that she was
only the third of 10 children who
had survived the operation. And her
heart has never given her another bit
of trouble since.
"We lived on the rez, the old one, until
I was 12, and Termination came. After
Termination, my dad said he wouldn't
pay the price of what the government
wanted for land," and the family moved
to a house right by the old grade school
ii I-) ii'in J ii i .iiiiin min, "I v Hi i Hi' m inn IIW.
SIBS...f rom left, Tribal Elders Rick McKnight, Dorothy Lawe, Wayne McKnight, Judy Olsen and
Corky McKnight. Photo courtesy of Judy Olsen
Oregon law prohibited Indians and
non-Indians from marrying in the
state, so in 1919, they traveled up to
Vancouver, Washington, and married
there. Later on, he worked for the
state Transportation Department
and took care of the family's farm.
"We were never rich," said Ol
sen, "but we always had food and
clothes."
"What I look back at is that my
dad was Irish and he was so proud
of my mother."
"He called us his 'ten little Indians."'
"He was the white guy who could
buy the Indians booze."
in Grand Ronde, and later bought a
house on old Hebo Road. "I lived there
until I was married," said Olsen. "It's
now gone."
THE FAMILY
Olsen keeps notices of significant
dates in the lives of , the McKnight
family in her Bible.
The siblings start with the old
est, Tribal Elder Dorothy Lawe, of
Grand Ronde, who she called, "the
matriarch of the family after mama
passed on." (Lawe, herself, passed
on May 11 at age 87). "She became
a mother to everyone," said Olsen.
"She was someone that everyone
looked up to."
Next was Tribal Elder Ramona
Leno, who passed on eight years ago.
Then, Tribal Elder Maxine Leno, who
"just died last Thanksgiving."
Tribal Elder Wayne McKnight
passed in 2005. Wayne was a sol
dier between World War II and the
Korean War. He served most of his
time in Germany between 1951-53.
Wayne needed help in his last years,
and Olsen was there for him a couple
days a week by cleaning his home and
shopping for him for the 18 months
before he passed on.
Tribal Elder Melvin (Corky) McK
night passed on Christmas eve two
years ago. Of all her losses, Corky's
is the one she can't get over. He died
of cancer on Christmas eve.
For Thanksgiving that year, "Corky
said, 'I want you to cook a turkey in
my oven so I can smell it.' I put all
his Christmas lights up, his tree.
"He said, 'You know I'm dying.'
"I said, 'Yeah.'
"His birthday was December 5th. I
told him, 'You can't leave me before
your birthday.'
"He said, 'Ok.'
"He waited until Christmas Eve.
That's something that still hurts."
Olsen tells the story of how Corky
got his name: "When he was a baby, he
peed in Dad's face and Dad said, That
was a corker!' and the name stuck."
Tribal Elder Robert McKnight
passed in 2005. Bob lived in Nevada.
When he was a teenager, he blew
his hand off in a shotgun accident
(Olsen was four or five at the time.)
So, he had a claw for a hand most of
his life, and still became an expert
mechanic, said Olsen. As
"a one-armed mechanic," he
worked for a bus service in
Oakland, California. "He
could tie his shoes with one
hand. He was extraordi
nary," she said. "He could
do anything.
"He was real quiet, very
caring and a big tease," she
said with a smile.
"He was so much like my
dad, that one time, he came
back from Oakland to visit
(after Daddy had passed on).
I hadn't seen him in years.
I thought, 'My God, here
comes my dad.'"
"I lost five in the last
six-and-a-half years, three
brothers and two sisters.
But I have so much that
people who are gone have
given me, I hope there's some
way I can give it back," she said. "I
think that's what I'm about."
Tribal Elder Barbara Feehan lives in
Milwaukie today. "Barbara and I are
very close," Olsen said. "I take care of
their house when they are gone."
Tribal Elder Beverly Cooney lives
in Sherwood.
Olsen has lived many years in
Sheridan but is headed down to
Mesa, Arizona to live with her daugh
ter, Laura Hoeper, her husband,
Clay, and grandson Brody. "That's
what I want in life," she said, "to
be back with my family and see my
grandson grow up."