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About Seaside signal. (Seaside, Or.) 1905-current | View Entire Issue (Aug. 4, 2017)
4A • August 4, 2017 • Seaside Signal • seasidesignal.com SignalViewpoints Celebrating the achievements of James and Chuck Reed regon surfi ng began in 1962,” states a recent book on the topic. Family members of brothers James and Chuck Reed want to let it be known that their relatives staked out Seaside long before legends like Dana Williams and Dick Wald surfed the Point in the 1960s. “Jim supervised the construction of the fi rst real Hawaiian surfboard ever used in Oregon,” his niece Melinda Masters said. “He introduced surfi ng to Seaside and explained to the public how the surfboard is considerable value to lifesaving work. “These were the original ‘Beach Boys,’” Masters’ brother, also named Jim Reed, said. “People here did not know what a surfboard was.” All this may not even match Jim Reed’s greatest athlet- ic achievement: a 9-mile swim from Seaside to Tillamook Lighthouse in July 1934 — Terrible Tilly, aka “The Killer Lighthouse.” Masters and Reed came to Seaside this summer to celebrate the lives of two men, largely forgotten, for their incredible string of achievements: as swimmers, surfers, lifeguards and ultimately, in the case of James Reed, in service to their coun- try. ‘O Webfoots Charles W. Reed Jr. and James Reed grew up in Hawaii in the early 20th century after Charles Reed Sr., SEEN FROM SEASIDE an accountant, and R.J. MARX the family moved from the North- west. The boys grew up on Waikiki Beach, where the sport of he’e nalu — “wave sliding”— was integrated into the culture. While in Hawaii, the Reeds “surfed at the knee” of Duke Kahanamoku, the famous competition swimmer and founder of modern surfi ng. The Reeds were younger, but “they were on the same beach,” Masters said. “I’m sure they met up.” Their early experience riding longboards stayed with them after their return to the mainland to study at the University of Oregon, where both were recruited for the swim team, known as the Webfoots. Jim Reed was a individual medley and freestyle specialist who help lead the team to the 1936 Pacifi c Coast champion- ship. Chuck was 200-yard backstroke champion and several times bettered the record mark in the 100- and 220-yard back- stroke. Together the brothers would help forge a program that remained unbeaten in dual-meet competitions during their Oregon tenure under head coach Mike Hoyman, winning three straight Pacifi c Coast Conference Northern Division champion- ships from 1935 through 1937. Along with other University of Oregon swimmers, the Reeds lifeguarded in Seaside over summers. The Reed brothers fi rst considered bringing boards to the Coast as a way to aid people in distress, Reed said. If they had longboards like they grew up with in Hawaii, the brothers reasoned, they could reach struggling swimmers more quickly. And once they reached the victims, they could use the board to hold onto for the return to shore. “Surf board riding introduced here by beach life guards,” the Signal headline. “Reed supervised the construction of the fi rst real Hawaiian surf board ever used here … When the tide and surf are right, Reed can ride the board for several hundred yards to the beach.” Swim to the lighthouse Swimmer Julie Havelka of Eugene made headlines in July when she swam the mouth of the Columbia. She was following in a long tradition. Long-distance swims were popularized in the 1920s by En- glish Channel swims and silent star Johnny Weissmuller, better known as the actor who played “Tarzan.” Jim Reed undertook the crossing when he entered the fi rst Columbia River swim as a contestant, a feature of the 1934 As- toria Regatta. The swim was a 4 1/2-mile stretch from Megler, Washington, on the north bank to Astoria on the south. Jim won the race in a time of 2 hours, 34 minutes. His performance won so much approval, wrote the Astorian’s Vera Gault in 2011, that the race was publicized as a race called the “trans-Columbia amateur marathon swim.” That feat was only surpassed by Jim Reed’s 9-mile swim from Seaside to the Tillamook Lighthouse rock in the Pacifi c Ocean on July 20, 1934, what the Signal’s Fulton H. Travis de- scribed as “nine miles of cold ocean and treacherous currents,” battling the sea all the way. Accompanied by U of O freestyle swimmer Wally Hug, Jim Reed and Hug lubricated themselves with axle grease at 5:30 a.m., launched by a small pilot boat captained by one Bill Hoops. By 8 a.m., “the stroke of the swimmers has slowed percepti- bly,” wrote Travis, who accompanied Hoops in the skiff. “The strain is terrifi c. Their faces have gone dead white beneath their tans and the lines of their faces have drawn tense. Their lips are black with cold.” Hug complained of seasickness and leaned against the boat for a sip of beef broth before resuming his swim. The pilot boat rocked “drunkenly,” according to the report, as Hoops called out “Riptide!” Panting and nearly exhausted, the swimmers rolled onto their backs when the rip w crossed. As the lighthouse grew in size, the waves “grow bigger with every passing minute,” fi nally close enough for Reed and Hug to board the skiff and tumble into a swinging basket and hauled to the beacon. “Perfect manipulation of the oars is necessary to keep from shipping a wave,” reported the Signal. At 9:25 a.m., the swimmers reached their destination. Their fi nal time was registered in the lighthouse log dated July 20, 1934: “The fi rst men to make the swim from Seaside to the Tillamook Lighthouse: 3 hours, 45 minutes.” PUBLISHER EDITOR David F. Pero R.J. Marx SUBMITTED PHOTO Jim and Chuck Reed and their surfboard, long before the surfi n’ craze of the 1950s and ‘60s. ‘These were the original “Beach Boys.” People here did not know what a surfboard was.’ Jim Reed, son of Chuck Reed and nephew of Jim Reed SUBMITTED PHOTO R.J. MARX/SEASIDE SIGNAL LEFT, Lt. James Reed was killed in 1942 fi ghting for his country. His nephew, Jim, and niece, Melissa Masters, hope to revive memory of his achievements. RIGHT, Jim Reed and Melinda Masters, whose father was Chuck Reed, at the Signal offi ce. Jim was named after his uncle. They were treated to a hot bath and a breakfast of “fried eggs, slabs of ham, seagoing coffee, fresh bread baked by one of the crew,” and canned fruit for dessert. Aftermath Jim Reed died as he lived, Masters said, as a hero protecting others, and giving of himself. A test pilot, Jim’s plane went down in 1942. Even in death he was a hero, she said. Before the crash, he ordered his crew to bail out. Once his crew had safely left the aircraft, Jim remained with his craft in an unsuccessful attempt to land the plane. “My dad and my uncle were only a year apart,” Masters said. “When we lost him in the war, it was very traumatic for my father. It was hard for him to talk about. My grandmother was never the same.” Chuck Reed began a career with the phone company in 1940, but “kept coming back” to Seaside, Masters said. As a lifeguard in 1942, Chuck Reed fought a riptide that carried seven swimmers to sea. Reed, with three of the distressed swimmers on his shoulders, battled the current and the breakers “for better than a half-an-hour,” the Oregon Journal reported. Reed managed to get the three to a buoy, “then, almost ex- hausted,” he swam to the shore for help. Two of the seven swimmers caught in the undertow died as hundreds watched the dramatic rescue at the Turnaround. American heroes Surfi ng on the North Coast languished for many years after the Reeds fi rst brought the Hawaiian longboard, the younger Jim Reed said. It wasn’t until the popularization of the wetsuit — developed by Jack O’Neill in the 1950s — that the sport came northward and modern surfi ng took hold in Seaside. Chuck Reed died in 1989 and his wife Georgette died in 2002. In 2015, James Reed was named into the University of Ore- gon sports Hall of Fame. Reed “helped attract national acclaim on Oregon’s swimming program unlike any other,” the athletic department wrote at the time of presentation. What inspired this retelling was a box received by Masters by the war widow of Jim Reed. She had remarried, but the impact of her fi rst husband was so powerful she and her second husband named their daughter Reed in his honor. The contents of the box proved so compelling Masters later sought to revive the memo- ries of her father and uncle. “I’m the one that went through this box that was sent to me by the widow of Jim Reed,” Masters said. The American fl ag that draped his coffi n was in the personal collection. “I almost didn’t want to touch it, because it was so emotion- al,” she said. “It was just amazing to fi nd out who he was.” CIRCULATION MANAGER PRODUCTION MANAGER Jeremy Feldman John D. Bruijn ADVERTISING SALES SYSTEMS MANAGER Brandy Stewart Carl Earl STAFF WRITER Brenna Visser CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Skyler Archibald Rebecca Herren Katherine Lacaze Eve Marx Esther Moberg Jon Rahl What is the legend of the painted rocks? ou know about the quick access to the beach, don’t you, the woman who used to live in this house said. She was checking up, I think, on her former front garden. A waggish friend told her we’d pulled up everything she planted and covered it over with cement. She seemed quite relieved to discover her friend was pulling her leg. You mean that cut through I replied, referring to a grav- eled, poorly identifi ed short stretch of road I’d discovered that was a shortcut to the beach. The place with the painted rocks, she said. I nodded VIEW FROM like I knew what THE PORCH she was talking EVE MARX about although I didn’t. She said something else about painting rocks not being strictly legal and how once they’re painted they’re considered trash, but almost as soon as she climbed into her truck and drove off, I went looking. Since it is sort of a secret place, I’m not going to divulge the precise location of the painted rocks. There is a bench. It might be private property or at least private property adjacent. It lets out on to a very rocky part of the beach. The amazing part about this magical spot is that it’s been made magical by a the dozens of handpainted rocks humans have so carefully placed. After my initial discovery, I returned again and again. Mostly I go in the mornings. Mostly I’m the only person there. Although the view is spectacular — a treacherous expanse of dark natural rock, the sea, and the sky —it’s the sounds that speak to me; the crashing surf, the bird cries. A few days ago I encountered another human, which was a bit of a surprise. He was a 30-something man, sit- ting on the bench. He was reading a novel. I was with my very young dog, Lucy, who was nose to ground. I thought I’d leave the man to it and come back another time. Then he looked up and said hi. Hi, I said. Do you come here often? Even as the words were leaving my mouth, I felt silly, because they are such an obvious pick up line. My wife and I are renting for the third year in a row a place just up the street, he said, waving his arm in a gener- al southerly direction. I like to come here and sit and read while she’s out shopping or napping. It’s my tranquility place. In the next few minutes he told me a bit about himself, how he would prefer to live at the beach, if he could only fi gure out a way to move his business from Seattle. I cau- tioned while it was very beautiful that day, winters could be tough at the beach. I said there’s lots of wind and rain. There’s a lot of rain in Seattle, too, he said. Since he’d been coming to this particular place a few years, I asked if he’d learned any lore about the painted rocks. He said he also was curious, but no one he’d met could tell him anything. Together we looked at a bunch of rocks, remarking on a color or a date or the words that had been written on it. One said “Suzanne.” Another said, “Life is Good.” Another said, “Road Trip 2017 L.A. to Seattle.” At that point I said I’d better be going. There were more dogs to walk and stories to write and soon it would be time to make lunch. At home I did a little sleuthing on line. That’s how I learned my magic place is actually kind of famous. It’s called Painted Rock Beach. Tucked away as it may be, it is still a tourist attraction. Luckily for me, the spot is still relatively undiscovered. If you go, leave a painted rock behind with your name and an inspirational quote, or perhaps just the date on it. Y LETTERS Zoned for residents I’d like to introduce some history and logic to the cur- rent rental housing crisis in Seaside. For the past 30 years or so, many of us tried to convince the planning commis- sion and city council that allowing vacation rentals in res- idential zoning would destroy the purpose of such zoning, creating motel zones, instead. No one in either entity was interested in the opinions of locals. Creating housing for tourists became their priority. Many city council and plan- ning commission members conveniently owned vacation rentals, or sold them for a living. Now there are 398 vacation rentals here. Of that num- ber, no less than 200 were formerly long-term rentals that provided housing for the people who lived and worked here. Where is the logic in claiming that vacation rentals and the housing shortage are two completely separate issues (“Wanted: Long-term rentals in Seaside,” The Daily Astorian, July 19)? Those 200-plus vacation rentals used to be housing that is no longer available to anyone. And now they are talking of ending all restrictions/licensing of these properties. Think of this: At approximately 16 residential lots per block, Seaside has managed to divest us of residential housing, and replace it with 25 blocks of vacation rentals in a town of only 7,000 or so people. Wouldn’t it be nice to have 25 full blocks of housing available for rent? The council and planning commission are not working for the residents. They are working for anyone who comes from out-of-town, and couldn’t care less about those of us who live or work here. Creating tiny increments of housing by allowing over-retail apartments will not address the tremendous need these people have created via their thoughtlessness. How about using some common sense, and stop the proliferation of commercial-use housing in residential zon- ing? How about encouraging use of residential zoning for residential use? What a concept, eh? I’m so sick of their excuses. Sandy Rea Seaside Seaside Signal Letter policy Subscriptions The Seaside Signal is published every other week by EO Media Group, 1555 N. Roosevelt, Seaside, OR 97138. 503-738-5561 seasidesignal.com Copyright 2017 © Seaside Signal. Nothing can be reprinted or copied without consent of the owners. The Seaside Signal welcomes letters to the editor. The deadline is noon Monday prior to publication. Letters must be 400 words or less and must be signed by the author and include a phone number for verifi cation. We also request that submissions be limited to one letter per month. Send to 1555 N. Roosevelt Drive, Seaside, OR 97138, drop them off at 1555 N. Roosevelt Drive or fax to 503-738-9285, or email rmarx@seasidesignal.com Annually: $40.50 in county • $58.00 in and out of county • e-Edition: only $30.00 POSTMASTER: Send address changes to Seaside Signal, P.O. Box 210, Astoria, OR 97103. Postage Paid at Seaside, OR, 97138 and at additional mailing offi ces. Copyright 2017 © by the Seaside Signal. No portion of this newspaper may be reproduced without written permission. All rights reserved.