Document text
Accession no.
W
Date received
1/4e
Consignment no.
Shipped from
1:teilt14%.40?-i
Amount
Via
sroni,S OceupATIOOL 145.
'WPA L. C. PROJECT UNIT
Form -3
Title
Place of origin_
Collection (or Type)
--Zerze„.
Date..,t/tdif•
Project worker._04/...
Project editor
Remarks
Form A
Federal Writerst Project
Circumstances of Interview Works Progress Administration
Name of worker
OREGON FOLKLORE STUDIES
William C. Haight Date February 24, 1939
Address 1225 S. W. Alder Street, Portland, Oregon
Subject Occupational Lore.
Name and address of informant Charles Mmus, 1624 S.W. 16thjStreet, Portland. Oregon
Date and time of interview 1624 S. W. 16th Street. Portland. Oregon.
Place of interview
Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch wdth informant
Joseph McLaughlin, Project office.
Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you
Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.
Mr. 'must home is in a low-income district, located at the end of an
alley. The house is an unpainted, weather-beaten, two-story building. Steps
rise from the ground to a porch on the second floor; leading to an apartment.
His front porch is underneath these steps. A rickety door opens to a
second flight of dark, unkempt, dirty steps. At the top of these steps a door
opens into a long, musty smelling, ill -lighted hallway.
The hallway widens into a kitchen used by the informant and wife. The
interview was conducted in a small, unclean living room. Old chairs, and tables
filled the small room. A radio many years old stood under an unwashed window.
An incongruity in this obvious setting of poverty were many fine pieces
of china and Klmaaware. These, presumably, a hold -over from the more abundant lifei
(Use as many -additional sheets as necessary, each bearing the proper heading
and the number to which the material refers).
13862
Form B Federal Writers' Project
Personal History of Informant Works Progress Administration
OREGON FOLIIDRE STUDIES
Name of worker William C. Haight Date February 24, 1939
Address
Subject
1225 S. W. Alder Street. Portland, Oregon.
Occupational Lore.
Name and address of informant Charles Imus. 1624 S. W. 16th Street. Portland. Oregon
Information obtained should supply the following facts:
1. Ancestry 6. Occupations and accomplishments with dates
2. Place and date of birth 7. Special skills and interests
3. Family 8. Community and religious activities
4. Places lived in, with dates 9. Description of informant
5. Education, with dates 10. Other points gained in interview
1. English and Irish.
2. Roxberry, Kansas, June 11, 1879.
3. Wife.
4. Roxberry, Kansas, 1879 to 1889.
Portland, Oregon, 1900 to 1939.
Kalama, Washington, 1889 to 1900.
5. "Ain't had none."
Wife: "You have too Charley, now tell him what he wants."
Charley: "'Well, maybe a little grammar school. I can write purty good."
Wife: "Yes, Charley, a real pretty hand you write."
Charley: "I learned a little as I went along."
6. Farm worker, logger, livery stable keeper, dance hall manager, "jack-of-all-
trades."
7. Cribbage, and playing wind instruments.
(Use as many additional sheets as necessary, each bearing the proper heading
and the number to which the material refers).
Charles Imus Form B 2
8. None.
9. Light blue eyes shaded by light eyebrows accentuate the informant's smooth
features. His face is expressive; the movements of his eyebrows punctuate his
speech. A faded, ragged, brown tie, against a once bright green shirt supplied
a concession and mark of distinction to the occasion. His suit was a peculiar
color of blue, nearly green. Be more light brawn shoes and dark socks that
were held up by large safety pins.
Form C
Extra Comment
Federal Writers' Project
Works Progress Administration
OREGON FOLKLORE STUDIES
Name of worker William C. Haight
Address 1225 S. W. AlderjatreetA_Portland.
Subject
Occupational jdpre.
,Date February 244_1939
Name and address of informant Charles Mmus, S.W. lfith, Street, Portland, Oregon.
Texts
Well, feller, I hope this comin' up here at night don't discommode
you none. Shucks: Joe told me you wuz a-comin' and for me to give you all
I got. I'll be dingbusted if I knaw what you want but you just shoot the
questions at me and I'll be a answerin"am as well as I can.
I betcha you have a hard time a gettin' the truth out of people.
The truth was better in older times. Yes sir, seems as haw people nowadays
hear a story and they tell it from the angle that appeals to them. By the
time that story has been told by three or four different people it ain't
one dingblasted bit like it NUS.
Somethin' that might interest you is the re -union that my family
had not so long ago. It was all written up in the papers. I got over 3000
relatives all a-livin'. I never in my life seen so many bloody bloamin'
people as we had that there meetin'. Telegrams from all over the United
States came to us that day. It seems that anybody by the name of Imms is
a relation. Kinda funny.
I think the most important thing that happened to me when I wuz
a kid wuz a-readin' Peck's Bad Boy. I read that book until pa caught me
(Use as many additional sheets as necessary, each bearing the heading given
above).
Charles Imo
Form e 2
a-readin" it and lambasted the devil out of me for readin' trash. Well,
just to get even, I tried some of them tricks that Peck used. Pa just
lambasted me all the harder. I learned nighty quick it tweren't no use
a buckin' the old man. When he had his say it was up to me to say, 'Yes,
sir', quick like, and be a-doin' what he wanted.
You've heard of bull doggin', ain't ye Well, us kids rampun'
around on the farm used to get hard up for somethin' to do. You know
there ain't much for a kid to do on a farm. When time was a-hangine
heavy we'd round up all of them bloody dumb oxen in a corner of the field.
Ever one of us kids would jackknife off a switch to tickle their flanks
with, and then we would back up quite a ways so we could get a run, to
jump on the critter's backs. We would run up behind the bloody devils
and leap from the ground to their backs. Always us kids would spraddle
our legs in mid-air and one hand would slap their rears to help boost
us on.
Wellosoadis we'd hit their backs, them ignorant critters would
let a rip-snortin' boiler out of 'em, and run like a scairt rabbit for
the barn. You take several kids, put 'am on oxen, and have the oxen and
kids a-yellin' and holler'n, beller'n, you really got some noise.
There wuz a little hill near the barn them dumb critters allus
vent down. Sure as they went a-buckin' and beller'n down that hill they'd
pile us up. Kids can figger out ways to keep on if they figger they're
havin' some fun. We figgered if we held onto their taib whilst we Ina
a-goin' down that hill they wouldn't pile us. I'll be dingblasted if it
didn't work-- er-well for a while.
Haw them old oxen used to beller a-runnin' like hell for the
barn. Sure funny. This idea worked for a while but them dumb ignorant
Charles lmus
Form C 3.
(I allus thought them the dumbest animals God ever made) creatures got
to runnin' to a small clump of trees and scrapin' us kids off. You'd
never think them dumb critters could a -thought of that.
Sometimes we'd ride mules. They're almost as ornery a critter
as an oxen. One thing About the stubborn little devils which distinguished
them from the oxen v.= the way they could figger out, haw to avoid movin'.
A mule can figger a 101 ways on haw not to move. When you least expect
it they will start out and go like hell.
So, you want to know somethin' about loggia? I don't know much
about it. The first bit of logEin' done around my parts-- Selma (Wash-
ington) --was done by hand. A crew of fellers; buckers, swampers, knotters,
barkers, snipers --the usual bunch of guys needed to get the round stuff
out, with axes, saws, jackscrews, and grab hooks would go out in the woods
and go to work. Allus they worked close to the river so's we could chute them
logs down without no trouble of no kind.
Not much to tell about those loggin' days, just bullin' her
through with plenty of sweatin' and swearin'. The first real loggia'
operations started when they begin using oxen to drag the logs out from
the woods, to the chutes. That way we could work further in from the
river, makint the operations larger.
Those dingblasted ornery, ignorant, oxen would make top cussers
out of all bull punchers. The bull punchers would've quit if the foreman
had tried to stop 'em from cussing.
We'd get three, four, maybe six or eight oxen, dog them together
to haul the round stuff to the river. Slaw? Jesus Christ! Those goddam,
ignorant critters would take an hour to move a mile. They were good pullers
Charles Mmus Form C 4.
through. You know, them ornery, bloody critters would take their awn
time to get started. Cuss 'am, beat 'am, but by God, they wouldn't
move until they had wiggled around under their yoke and got it to
fittin' their shoulders.
Then, those devils would start pullin'. I mean pullin' too,
a horse a -long side of oxen would look like a cream puff in a pullin'
match. The bloody devils in bad weather would get mired down and we
would have one hell of a time to make 'am move. Bad weather allus made
loggin' lots harder. It rains so much in these here parts that the ground
gets soggy and won't take much of a load. Logs are purty heavy stuff to
be a-pullin' over soggy ground. To make it easier for the oxen we would
put little poles underneath the logs so they would roll along over the
ground. In bad weather, the weight of the logs would sink the poles and
the logs would get stuck in the mire. Then the bull puncher could really
fill the woods with some first-class cussin'. Only miners and loggers
know haw to swears
A difficulty in using oxen was the fact you always had to clear
the windfall trees, and such, for the trail to the chute. You wasted
a lot of good loggin' time just for a-shapin' things up to log. Them
dumb critters couldn't pull a log over a stump or tree like the donkeys
we used later in the game. All this hardship in gettin' the logs out,
and the expense of keepin' all them animals and people kind& put a few
crimps into loggia'. Soon as the donkey came in loggin' business really
picked up a bit.
Old Joe Gill WAS the first loggin' man to put a steam donkey in
our neck of the woods. I remember there was only one mill around where I
Charles lmus Form C 5.
wuz on the Kowamen river. Soon's the donkey came in I counted 19 loggia'
camps in the radius of 21 miles.
The steam donkey sure made a difference in loggin'. Shucksi
A day's haulin' with them oxen amounted to nothin' after we got used to
workin' the donkeys. We could high leaihe it m -h -m I'd say, 2100
feet in the woods with the donkey. Quite a difference.
The donkey could sure pull 'am out. We could dog several logs
together, run our drag line up in a tree sad start a-goin. Windfalls
made no difference to the donkey. She made her awn trail as she drug the
dogged logs a -long. Sometimes the drag line would lift those logs way
up in the air. It would always top a number of trees. When we was runnin'
the ground straight the donkey and drag line would lift those logs just a
little ways off the ground. When I was a young feller, I used to go out
on log and shingle bolt runs in the early spring and fall after puttin'
my time in a-loggin'.
Know anything about a shingle bolt drive? Well, I didn't think
you would. Not many people do.
Along the river banks after the heavy log drivers have been made
you find logs about 4 feet long. However, there ain't no restriction on
the size. Those logs have been broken up by hit -tin' rocks in the river,
and the log jams have squeezed them up in the river banks. Come the high
meter mad 'tis boltin' time. With high water it wuz easy to roll the
logs into the river.
To push the bolts into the river we would use peavy's, jack -screws,
and sometimes we'd just pack 'am. It took a lot of nerve on a cold morning
to walk into the icy water and get those bolts to runnint. If a feller
Charles Imus Form C 6.
didn't get all met right away, why, it was a disgrace. He'd either junp
in or somebody would trip him and he'd fall in. Funny, I'm the only one
left out of my bolt runnin' crew. Husky, big fellers, you know, but that
workin' in oold, wet clothes all day got 'em all but me. Lucky, I guess.
You know I went out of a login' camp onto a street car and I
ain't been worth a penny since.
Yee -up ---I used to drive a stage -coach. The owner of the stage-
coach I had to drive had a contract calling for the run from North Yamhill
to Tillamook. My run was from Parkins Mill, which me and the old lady run,
to Trask. Perkins Mill was kinda like a hotel. The old lady would do the
work around there, and I'd drive the coach. Course, I'd help her quite a -bit,
particularly if I wasn't busy.
My drive was 16 miles. Took us about two and half hours in good
weather. The first tan miles was on level ground and we could hoop-er-up.
The next six miles were straight up the hill. I mean straight up, too.
You know, in the olden days we allus followed the Indian trails. They
built their trail on the highest ground they could find. Allus the trail
would lead to a point -where you could see the whole country. Their idea
behind this wuz on high points they could smoke signal the news of the
day to other Indians. Nowadays, the people build their roads up the draw.
Easier goin', make better time. Bahl Hehl We can get our news now so fast
it'd make a smoke signaler bow his head in shame.
When those old Indian trails got too tough to travel we'd make
our awn roads. The feller that had the contract bought the toll road we
traveled from a feller. His contract for runnin' the mail was about up,
so's he wouldn't put no work in on the road. Sure made it lots tougher
on us coachman.
Charles Imus Form C 7.
There were three of us coachmen that did the runnin'. Shucksl
We could skin them horses through in no time atall. Of course, that wuz
providin' there wuz good weather.
A feller called Billy, somethins-er-other, was the best stage-
coach driver I ever did see. By gum, he could turn a four or six horse team
around as easy as pie, on a sawdust ring. The sawdust rings was where we
fellers used to exercise the horses and practice fancy driving. Old Billy
woulda made a good tallyho driver. That feller could take a six horse team
and drive a stake with his rear wheel. That's really plaoin' the horses
where you want 'am to go.
The coach we used was a tharough brace ooach the hardest ridin'
coach man ever made. Most coaches were springed up and they would rock
sort of from side to side. The tharough brace's motion wuz a forward and
backward one. It made it awful hard ridin'. Too, when you hit a good
bump like as not you'd bite a kidney. Sometimes you'd slip and fall into
the boot. Demme, but that would hurtl
The tharough- brace stage -coach was a much harder drivin' coach.
Many times we would have to strap the passengers and ourselves in good
and tight to stick with the durn wagons.
When the roads started getting bad, wuz when our real trouble
started. The tharough- brace coach would give way to a democrat and four
horses. A democrat is a skeleton wagon that has a bottom bed and wire
rack for a side. A feller could easily lift one and of a democrat with
one hand. Even so, the snow and slush would get too much for the horses
to pull a light wagon like a democrat. Then the democrat would go into
the barn and we'd have to pack the mail through. Passengers would ride
a horse.
Charles Imus
Form C 8.
About thirty or forty years ago I don't recollect dates well
there wuz a terrible snowstorm. I seen somethin' then I ain't seen since.
It's a God's fact too, but most people won't believe it. The snow was so
high when we packed the horses through we blazed a trail on trees. Come
spring and that there trail we blazed was 20 or 30 feet off the ground.
Snow sure got deep.
The following summer people comm' through on the stage -coach
would look an see them marks high on the trees. They'd allus ask us
what they were. When we told them they'd say, "You damn liars," but 'twas
a God's fact.
The mail had to get through despite the weather. Dunn' this
bad storm we were havin' one hell of a time. The old postmaster was a
cantankerous soul and even if he could see us comint, if we were overdue,
he'd lock up and wouldn't take the mail. Everytime this happened the boss
would get fined $100, for not fulfillin' his contract.
The snow kept pilin' up until we couldn't get through atall.
The inspector, from the Portland office came out to see what wuz the
matter. He said they figgered in the office we were shirkin' our duty.
Well, that feller was kind of fat which made it bad for him when he told
us he would show we fellers haw to bulldog her through. No snow could
stop him. We started out from the office with a loaded pack train. Up
that mountain we tried to go.
That poor inspector cussed, drove, pounded them horses and yelled
at us until we wuz well nigh exhausted. He finally quit when he fell off
of his horse into a large snowbank. He durn near strangled to death in
that drift. My boss pulled him out. The inspector said then we might as
Charles Imus Form C 9.
well go back, nobody could get through. We'd figgered that all along
but them city fellers didn't understand and we kinds. thought "well, may-
be he can get us through, we ain't too old to learn a few new tricks."
It was sure comical matchin' that inspector flounderin' in the snowdrift.
After rasselin' around in the snow drifts al day he was mighty glad to
get back to the mill.
Old man Shillings used to ride our stages. He was quite a
character in them days. A good old scout but he had peculiar ideas. He
allus called a -head to the old lady to tell her what he wanted for dinner.
The same menu every time. Plot biscuits, mashed potatoes, milk gravy, meat,
and lemon pie.
One time when he come through we had a young boy hangin' around
whose hair was fixed in long curls. Old man Shillings VMS a sittin' at a
spool.' table. (bein' a little out of the ordinary he allus got the
speoial table), and when he saw this kid come through the room, thinkin'
he was a girl, he called, "Hey, little girl come here."
Well, that boy did mind a lot a bein' called a girl. I'll be
dingbusted if he didn't up and wham the old man a good one. It tickled
the old man so much he apologized and gave the kid a dollar. Allus he
paid the old lady $2.50 for his meal, which 'sae a lot of money for one
dinner.
A lady ridin' through on the stages one time got soairt at the
hairpin curves. Finally, she said she wanted to sit up with the driver
so's she could jump if the wagon went over the grade. To pacify her they
let her sit up with the driver. Are were shufflin' along pretty lively
when all of a sudden the lady got scairt and grabbed the lines away from
Charles Mmus Form C 10.
the driver. I swear to goodness if the driver hadn't been a humdinger
stage hand he would have piled the coach up. Those horses jack-knifed
and nearly threw the coach over.
During the excitement the lady slipped off the seat and fell
into the boot. Alter everybody cooled off they decided to strap the
lady in the wagon. They strapped her in, all right, with her a hollerint
and screamin' bloody murder. She screamed that she was a-goin' to sue
the company) then I'll be dingblasted if she didn't tear off a string of
cuss words that mould make a bull puncher blush with shame. Women are
funny, sometimes.
Say young feller, I just happened to think that at the time of
the big snow which held us blocked for 28 days, my pardner and me ski-ed
supplies into bar -bound Tillamook. We heard the town was out of supplies.
You see, they were not only bar -bound but snow -bound too. Don't happen
very often.
It took us three days to pack the stuff into them. Those poor
horses we were packin' were played out when we got to Tillamook. The
people were mighty glad to see the pack train get over the mountains into
the town. It wuz worth all the sweatin' and swearin' we had to go through
to get the food to them.
There were many trapper's cabins scattered through the hills we
used to drive over. Trappers in that district built shacks near creeks.
They would look around and find a place where the windfall was right and
start building.
The shacks, not much more than lean-tos, were made from small
poles, rigged together just like a log cabin. The sides were banked high
Charles Imus
Form C 11.
with evergreen boughs to keep the wind from howlint through. Furniture
WAS al made by hand. The trappers would rig up a bench, a table, and
build a bunk. The tables and benches were built without nails. To
make the legs stay on they would carve a hole in the top, flat part and
then run the leg up through this hole. It made the benches a little
uncomfortable if they didn't take the end off of the legs that were stickin'
through.
Allus they would leave blankets, utensils, food stuff, and most
often a gun. This was done so's if anybody was lost they could use the
cabin. The guns were left there, with stuff to clean them with, and
bullets, for the wanderer to get his meat. Kinda funny, none of that
stuff was ever taken. Sure would have been too bad for the guy that
tried to take it. Nowadays, a set-up like that wouldn't last a week.
The ghost story I experienced didn't amount to very much. I'm
tellin' ya' though, it sure kept the young folks home for a while.
I'd been hearin' about the ghost in the cemetery behind the
Methodist Church for sometime. Pa had allus told us kids there wasn't
no such thing as a ghost. But mighty reputable people whose words -raiz
good as gold had seen this ghost. There wuz some kind of a doin's in
',YEW
town that I attended one night, and on the/home I decided to see about
this here ghost everybody was a-doin' so much jawin' about.
Just before I got to the church I let my horse walk real slow.
I figgered I might need him to travel fast and I wanted to be ready to
go if that ghost came after me. It wuz a nice moonlight night, I guess
that is what gave me the courage to go and find the ghost. I stopped
my horse down the hill aways from the cemetery, so's I could see this
Charles Imus Form C
ghost. I figgered I'd be safe there, the ghost had never come down as far
as I wuz. Well, by golly, I saw it! It seemed like he would raise up from
the tombstones and then go dawn. Just up and down. I tell ya, I ain't
braggin' when I say I finally screwed up enough courage to go up and see
the ghost, I wuz plain scairt all the time.
It seemed like to me it took that old horse of mine forever to
walk the distance to the graveyard. What do you think I saw when I got
there? Well, I'll be dingblasted if it wuzn't a neighbor's ornery Old gray
horse.
Ye' see, this graveyard was on kinds of a ledge and all's we could
see of that horse was his head, goin' up and down; down to grab some grass
and up to chew it. There weren't no more ghost stories around them parts
after that.
Are ya' religious? If you are I won't tell the story. All right.
I ain't got nothint against Catholics, I don't figger you can blame 'an for
bein' Catholics. I don't understand much about what they're aimin' for, and
I don't like much the way they aim for whatever they're imin' for. This
old man Donovan I'm goin' to tell ya about was a Catholic. Because he mut
a Catholic it resulted in makinl most of his life mighty miserable, aside
from makin' him awful dingblasted mad.
Old man Donovan had two kids, Harry and Joe. Joe and me would
fight every day I went to school; mainly, what I went to school for, I reckon.
One day I went to school and Joe wasn't there. Right away, I figgered same
thin' pretty important musts happened or else Joe'd be there.
Sure 'nuff: Later in the day we heard old man Donovan had died.
Soontsthe teacher heard that the old feller was gone she dismissed school.
Charles Imus
Form C 13.
Seems like they sort of needed some people to help around up at Donovan's,
so the teacher asked my side -kick Bill, and me to go up there. Seein' as
haw my old man loaned the widow the money to send for the priest to cone
and pray Donovan out of Purgatory, I guess the teacher thought I'd be a
good one to send.
The priest did his job all right. They laid Donovan out on a
board that was supported by two chairs, threw a sheet over him and put the
candles at his head and feet. After the priest left Bill and me were dele-
gated to sit in the kitchen and watch the corpse, which wuz in an adjoin-
ing room. In the other room the widow and every Irishman and German within
forty miles was a-holdin' the wake. Plenty of good liquor they were drinkin'.
I remember of seem' two demijohns sittin' on the table when somebody opened
the door. The house wuz on a hill and built out of shakes. The wind could
sure make a howl when it tore into those shakes. The wind, coupled with the
wailing of the yekere, made it sort of eerie settin' in the kitchen.
Bill wuz plenty scairt anyhow. This wuz the first time he'd ever
been around a corpse. All of a sudden Bill and me heard the doggondest
sound I'd ever heard. I decided the cat must have got into the corpse some-
way. Godi I thought that wuz terrible. Here those people wuz dependin'
on Bill and me to guard the corpse, and we'd let the cat into the body. I
told Bill to pick up the metal -plated lamp and follow me.
We went in there and could see the sheet goin' up and down, up and
down, with the most peculiar noise I ever heard a-comin' out of that corpse.
Bill was a shakint so that lamp sounded like a rattle. Bill takes a good
look and says, "By God, I'm gettin' out of here." He shoves the lamp in my
hand and runs like a scairt nigger for home.
Charles Imus Form C 14.
I goes over and lifts up the sheet. By that time some of the
makers hard the noise and come in to see what it wuz all about. By golly,
old Donovan Was alivel They picked him up, put warm blankets, and hot
water bottles around him. He got well and lived for 17 years.
Funny part about it muz the fact that the priest wouldn't let him
or his family go to church no more. The priest said he was a sinner and God
had refused to take him, so he had to come back to earth. Anyway, he'd
been prayed our of purgatory and there wuzn't anything could be done about
it. Old man Donovan was the maddest man you ever SEM. Poor bugger, he
wuzn't no more of a sinner than anybody else. He died when he stepped in
front of a freight train 17 years after this all happened.
Medicine Cure:
Disease, Flu:
Mix one pound of white rock candy one quart of rye whiskey.
Mix the ingredients until they have a consistency of syrup.
Take a glassful, (small) twice a day.
Odd Nick Names of the Quick family:
Gilbert Ebby
Charley Mich
Mamie Toots (long o sound).
Alice Snid
Bill Dicker
Albert Snicker
Charles lmus Form C 15.
One time when I was working in a lumber camp a young swede came to work.
Hein' purty young and not knowin' very much he was plenty cooky. The bull puncher
got a little tired of the young 'uns blowin' so he figgered he'd fix him up.
Ya' know a lot of people don't know the difference between a cant hook
and a peavy. The bull puncher figgerin' this young swede ben' a little dumb
about things around the camp wouldn't know the difference. So the bull puncher
sent the young 'un after the cant hook.
Sure nuffl The swede brought back a peavy. By ding: That bull puncher
gave that young feller the finest piece of cussin' I ever heard one man give
another. He started in on his ancestors and ended up with a Jim dandy of a
finish. I reckon I'd better not tell ya' what he said you couldn't print it.
(The interviewer agrees it couldn't be printed)
The young feller took it all in, never said a word. When the bull puncher
finished he just said, *Well, I'll get one if it takes all day."
He kinda took the sting and fun outa the cussin' by ben' so nice about
it. It tweren't a case of bein' yellow-- leastwise he didn't look scared a
bit. I guess he was bound and determined to make good and no cussint was gonna
stop him.
Long toward evenin' I begin to get a little worried about the kid. I'd
felt kinda sorry for him, and it was a cinch he was gonna be fired a-spendint
a whole day lookine fer a damn cant hook.
Just before quittin' time the feller wanders in with a damn old newly
lookin' cow. "For God sakes," yelled the bull puncher, 4whatcha don' with
that old cow?"
The young fellow with a real sober look said, "you wanted a cant hook,
and this is the only thing I can find that can't hook."
After that the feller got along fine.
Charles Imus Form C 16
Story of a Presentiment
My brother Al, had this presentiment. Be knowed the truth of this here
murder afore he got a confession --I reckon why the story left such a heavy
impression on me, because Al WAS district attorney. Be allus dabbled a little
in politics. Too, Al was in some danger, but the main thing was he had a
presentiment and when Al had a presentiment ya' could purty near figger it
bein' right.
There WAS an old man, his name is not clear in my mind that had a timber
claim near home. I knowed the old duffer well. He was purty sociable and mighty
well liked by everybody in the community.
After timber started gettin' to be a little scarce, people from the out-
side started camin' in and takin' up claims. There was a young feller and his
wife that came into the country and took 1.11) a claim next to the old duffer.
I ain't sure whether their claims joined or there was a forty between, any-
way they were purty close together.
This here young feller didn't know nothinl much. He WAS kinda up against
it to get started buildin' a place to live, buildin' fences, and all the other
stuff you have to do. The old feller, first, felt kinda sorry for the young
kids and started helpin"em.
The three of them got to be reel pals. This old duffer'd came over every
day and help the kids do their work. The young fellers wife'd cook 'am up a
big feed and all was goin' well. This situation went on for a year. Pleasant,
sociable, three -some.
Lots of times after the day's work, the men folks'd go out aid hunt. One
day the meat was a-runnin' low, so they decided to go out and get some. The
old duffer brought a shot gun over from his place and told the young feller
he could use the shot gun and kill some birds, and the old fellow could use
the other gun and get a deer.
Charles Imus Form C 17
A couple of hours later the old man came back out of breath, and
real excited, He tells the girl that her husband has accidentally shot
himself. My brother bein' district attorney went out with the coroner to
look into the case. Al got there, and although every -thin' tallied up as far
as the story went he figgered somethin' was funny about the situation. This
is where Al had his presentiment. And as I told you when he got one it was
always purty good.
The old duffer's story WAS that he had been walking in the lead.
There WAS a vine maple layin' across the trail they were travelin' and as
the young man climbed over this vine the gun got hung up on it some way and
MAS discharged. When the old man heard the shot he turned around and saw
the young fellow lying on the ground. By the time he got to him he was dead.
My brother Al took the old duffer into town and locked him up on sus-
picion. Jesus' The old man sure went on the warpath. He allowed he was goinl
to get Al soon's he got out of the can.
Finally, the old fellow confessed. He'd shot the young fellow as he
had climbed over the vine. The reason the old fellow shot the young tun was because
the old fool was infatuated with the wife.
By ding, the ornery old cuss, just afore they hanged him decided he
was plenty sorry for what he done to those kids. To try and make amends he
turns over every -thin' he had to the widow. In the stuff he had was a heavy
gold watch. The widow wouldn't take none of it. She said she wanted to have
nothint more to do with the old man.
Al figgers the lady needs money so's she can get back home to Kansas
so he raffles the old man's watch off. This here raffle brought in quite a bit
of money, which the lady took.
Funny part about the whole thing is that when the girl was a-comint
Charles Imus Form C 18
out from her place on horseback, the horse slipped and fell, throwins her off.
She bein' pregnant this made her awful sick. In fact, she died in just a
couple of days.
Odd all three were dead in quick order. Nobody gained nothin' by
what they did. That's what you get for covetin', I guess.
Murder Solved by Flour.
There WAS an old couple about a half mile from me that was a whittlin'
out a livin' on a turkey farm. It was just before Thanksgiving and they took
a load of turkeys into town to sell them.
When they sold all of the turkeys they went around town a payin' their
bills and buyin' their minter's grub. After they finished doin' all their buyin'
all they had left was two dollars, which they took home with them to save.
Several days later some neighbors found them murdered. The bodies
were sittin' in chairs by a table, in between two windows, kinds in the corner.
On the table was the remains of a dinner. They had both been shot through the
head. A bullet had been shot from outside one window, it entered the old man's
head then passed through to the old lady's and went on out the other window.
(This is not supposed to be a tall tale).
Detectives from all over the country worked on the case. They couldn't
figger out who done it or why. Outside of maybe, somebody thought they had money
on hand. All the detectives could find that had been taken was a clock and the
two dollars.
The local sheriff had always fancied himself as sorta of a detective.
He messed around the place and couldn't find much of a clue. Wanderin' around
he found down by the river at the boat landin' a lot of flour. He went into
Charles Imus Form C 19.
town and found out the old folks had bought up a supply for the winter, but
there wasn't any flour at the house.
He figger'd then the murderer had stolen the flour. Followin' this
lead he went down the river till he come to a boat landin' where a number of
fishermen docked. Sure inuffi He found traces of flour at one of the fisher-
man's docks. He arrested the feller all right. Didn't have no trouble stall a
gettin' the goods on him. They found the flour and the clock in the feller's
house. The trial was quite excitin'. I never will forget old Judge McCready,
the baseball magnate, was presidint. 'Then he sentenced the feller he stood up
straight and unconcerned like. I never heard a voice sound so loud and heavy
as the old Judge said, "You will hang by the neck until dead---dead---dead."
God 'twits awful.
They hung the guy all right. 'Twas when the counties did their own
hanginl. Seems like the hangman's knot slipped someway and instead of breakin'
his neck it just tore the neck about half off. Blood spurted out of him like
a chicken with his head out off.
Form D
El7tra Comment
Federal Writers' Project
Works Progress Administration
OREGON FOLKLORE STUDIES
Name of =ricer William C. Haight
Address 1225 S. W. Alder
Subject Occupational Folklore
,Date February 211_1959
Name and address of informant Charles Imus, 1624 S.W. 16th Street, Portland,
Oregon.
Comment:
The informant in this interview was cooperative to the fullest
extent of his ability.
Much of the informant's charm is lost in a recording of this sort.
His low chuckle And facial expressions give a delight to his conversation,
that the written words lack.
(Use as many additional sheets as necessary, each bearing the heading given
above).