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| Mallet 2-8-8-2, built at Great Northern Hillyard Yard, NE Spokane |
Second
Interlude: 1930s
Paul was
rehired by the Northern Pacific. After the birth of first son Pat the
little family moved to South Tacoma, where Paul was assigned a six-month stint at
the NP shops there. After their return
to Spokane, he was transferred to the Spokane, Portland and Seattle Railway,
jointly owned by the Northern Pacific and the Great Northern. Detailed one of two
firemen on a Mallet 2-8-8-2 articulated locomotive, then the largest locomotive
in the northern hemisphere, probably built at the local Hillyard Great
Northern locomotive works, Paul was part of a crew hauling a consist of grain for
a ten-hour run from Spokane to Portland, Oregon.
With little rest two firemen kept the locomotive's
enormous maw sated with coal. Stopping
only to take on water, the train steamed from Spokane south to Pasco, and then west along the Columbia
River Gorge to Portland. Paul made the trip
several times, exalting in what he considered the ultimate of railroad jobs,
except perhaps for that of the engineer.
But economic times were tough and even
railroads made cutbacks, the last hired the first fired. Unemployed again, he moved his family to
Wallace and then Kellogg, Idaho, where he worked as a hard rock miner. Then jobs opened at a copper mine in Butte,
Montana, and they moved again. Six
months later, when Grace become pregnant with Sandra, they returned to Spokane.
A remodeled and clean filling station on
Spokane’s north hill put a roof over their heads. Paul found work as a timekeeper on a Works
Project Administration (WPA) project on the upper Columbia River near Kettle
Falls, Washington. The Grand Coulee Dam
was nearing completion, and the forests north and east of it were to be cleared below
an elevation of 1310 feet, so no dead wood would float downstream to damage its
turbines.
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| Lower Kettle Falls, Washington, 1929 |
For several weeks at a time, Paul,
the loggers and ancillary personnel lived on barges anchored on the Columbia’s shoreline. Eventually the project ended and the dam was
closed, the river's waters backing up to form Lake Roosevelt. Some three thousand people from eleven small towns, including Kettle Falls, had
moved to higher ground. The falls themselves were covered by Lake
Roosevelt, which eliminated traditional salmon fishing for Native American
tribes of the area. The trade-off was irrigation of the Columbia Basin and electricity for the region.
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| A house being moved to higher ground before the closing of Grand Coulee Dam |
Back in Spokane, Paul found work as a
timekeeper on the Perry Street construction (recalling that it was another WPA project) to cut a
north-south arterial along Spokane’s east side north of the river, giving
better access to those Hillyard rail yards, where the Great Northern Railway was still building Mallet locomotives and had repair and overhaul facilities.
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| Great Northern works in Hillyard, NE of Spokane |
Paul sat in a small café on a Valdez dock, nursing a
cup of coffee, well-aware of his dismal situation. He’d fallen for a rumor that work was available in Alaska, the allure of a far-off destination compounding his hope, and
had traveled from Spokane to Seattle by rail and then up to Anchorage by ship.
He did get employment on the Alaska Railroad as a longshoreman for the
astronomical wage of $1.50 per hour, but the job lasted only eight days, and
now he was without funds or employment.
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| Early Valdez, Alaska |
He chatted up the cook scraping the grill. Paul’s instinct was right. Alaska was
inhospitable in winter. Fishing and crabbing were slow now, the cook
related. Old sourdough miners and native
Alaskans expected and got preferential treatment to fill scarce jobs. As a
lowlander, hadn’t he noticed their unwelcoming glances? Reflecting on his misfortune and saddened that his wife and children were far away, Paul resolved to
return home. The cook advised that his best bet was to catch a ride on a boat
heading south. “Go down and walk the
piers. Try your luck.”
Leaving his duffle in the café, he went out to find a
boat home, walked up and down several piers, inquiring about space
available. No luck! Finally a skipper asked if he could cook and
Paul gave an enthusiastic, “Sure can!”
He could barely boil water, let alone fry an egg. But he was hired, recovered his gear and made
himself at home on the boat.
The boat left the next morning and immediately things
got hairy. Cruising south through Valdez Bay toward Prince William Sound, it was followed by a large colony
of gulls and other sea birds attracted by its fishy smell. A tide was pushing
it close-in to a nearby island. The birds, the odor, or both, had attracted the
attention of a huge bear, which plunged into the bay and was now swimming rapidly
toward the boat.
The three crewmen ran to the boat’s stern, yelling at
the bear – whether grizzly or Alaskan brown they didn’t inquire – trying to
dissuade it. The skipper ineffectively blew his claxon as the bear closed the gap.
Weaponless, the crew retreated to the bridge for safety.
Paul was in the galley, cutting up
chickens for a stew, when he heard the disturbance and, meat cleaver in hand, came up on deck to investigate. The bear was pulling itself onto the boat when
Paul saw it. He rushed forward, yelling and waving his cleaver, but didn't get even a pause from the bear, so he smacked the bruin on the top of its head
with the flat of the cleaver and then came down hard on a large paw clawing at
the railing. With a roar the bear slid
back into the water. Paul stood shocked at
his own bold recklessness, while the admiring crew and skipper rushed
forward, slapping him about the shoulders for his courage. Paul insisted he just hadn’t wanted the bear
to ruin the chicken stew.
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| Kodiak brown bear |
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| Author Patrick Raney with Uncle Denny Raney, 1940 |
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