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Southern Oregon Journal: Eugene 'Debbs' Potts left behind an impressive legacy Sunday Jul 23, 2017 at 12:01 AM By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune Southern Oregon is peppered with scores of communities that survive long after their glory days. This week, I drove up Interstate 5 looking for a fresh location, one which scratched the curiosity itch. The exit sign read Hugo. Just a few miles north of Grants Pass, I’ve passed its borders hundreds of times. Jump-Off Joe Creek flows there, along with variations on a theme of Joseph McCloughlin taking a tumble from a cliff while on a trapping expedition in the 1830s. I realized these small towns are usually settled back off the main drag. I made note of a vineyard sign on my way in and planned to check it out on the return. Then I saw the sign for Pottsville, so I detoured from the detour. I’d heard of Pottsville, of course. Each Father’s Day, the place fires to life as it throws a party that attracts no fewer than 8,000 curiosity seekers and history buffs. Mr. Eugene “Debbs” Potts (1908-2003) founded Pottsville and proclaimed it “Home of Oregon Memories.” Even from outside the fence, I understood why. The sign said open at 10, but there wasn’t a soul in sight, and I fudged 15 minutes. OK, so here is a big warning about their entryway “dip in road.” This dip lies in wait and eats undercarriages for breakfast, so roll in softly. After examining Fiona’s underbelly for ruptures, I looked around at the pioneer settlement spread alongside early farm, lumber mill, and mining implements of every description. Antique tractors, huge diesel engines, an old car museum and one with additional artifacts. I would still be standing there reading a posted list of all of Mr. Potts’ life accomplishments if I hadn’t had to sit down and catch my breath. The man did everything for the State of Oregon and without any monetary contributions. Hard to grasp, I realize. From an illustrious military career to 24 years as Oregon’s senator and 18 years as the first Oregon Lottery chairman. Read the list at www.potsvilleoregon.com, and challenge your inner slacker. A person can wander in solitude and hear the cranks and whispers of rural Southern Oregon commerce from the 1920s to the Sixties. I poked around, loving the peace and quiet, but when I looked up, Bart had sneaked in quiet as a lizard on ice aboard his golf cart. Bart and his wife, Evelyn (together since kindergarten) recently rented a house on the property. He offered a riding tour. When we stopped in front of a behemoth of the diesel engine community, a Fairbanks-Morse the size of a small house, I couldn’t help sitting there like a kid, with my mouth open. I mean, I’m no engine enthusiast, but that thing is impressive to view and even more so to hear, apparently. Bart said when they started her up, it could be heard for miles. While I ogled machinery, Vikki and Mark drove up. Vikki is Debbs Potts’ stepdaughter. They live in Brookings where she teaches school, and the two repair and run Pottsville during summer months. Mark is an artist who has left his, well, mark, in the form of beautiful murals throughout the exhibits. If Debbs Potts had a reputation for being a friend of the people, he left that attribute to Vikki. She and Mark opened up the museums and told me some fabulous stories I don’t have room to share. But go to their website for contact information, and they’ll be happy to set up a time to tour in keeping with Potts’ wishes of sharing the wealth of history and memories. There’s no charge, but donations are welcome. Back on the road, I resumed the hunt for Hugo. I saw a speed limit sign and felt encouraged. Then, I spied a stoplight complete with panhandler in the distance and thought for sure Hugo would appear. It never did, at least in any altogether, community hub sort of way. Backtracking to I-5, I decided to detour through Merlin. Darned if I didn’t come upon the same straw-hatted panhandler at a light. Then it hit me that Monument Drive runs between Hugo and Merlin, and I could have hopped on I-5 from the end of what never was Hugo. Nice area for retirees, though. I’m past my word limit again. — Peggy Dover is a freelance writer. Email her at [email protected].