|The U of W Eight plus cox in their Pocock|
with a 'swing' that earned them the
1936 Olympic gold, Berlin.
Original photo from the archives of the S.P.H.S.©
- Saltwater People Historical Society
- San Juan Islands, Washington State, United States
- A society formed in 2009 for the purpose of collecting, preserving, celebrating, and disseminating the maritime history of the San Juan Islands and northern Puget Sound area. Check this log for tales from out-of-print publications as well as from members and friends. There are circa 500, often long entries, on a broad range of maritime topics; there are search aids at the bottom of the log. Please ask for permission to use any photo posted on this site. Thank you.
31 July 2014
"When you get the rhythm in an eight, it's pure pleasure to be in it. It's not hard work when the rhythm comes––that 'swing' as they call it. I've heard men shriek out with delight when that swing came in an eight; it's a thing they'll never forget as long as they live." George Yeoman Pocock.
26 July 2014
Dick McKay & Jim Vallentyne (l-r), Seattle, 1962,
with the antique bronze steam whistle from
the Russian built POLITKOFSKY.
Original photo from the archives of the S. P. H. S.©
|Letting off steam|
Whistle from the POLITKOFSKY
L-R, Joshua Green, Jim Valentine, Ralph Hitchcock
Courtesy of historian Ron Burke, Seattle.
The POLITKOFSKY whistle from 1850 was acquired when the gunboat was turned over to the US by the Russian government in connection with this country's purchase of Alaska, 18 October 1867.
This whistle was used to open the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition in Seattle in 1909.
|President Taft, by telegraph,|
Opening the AYP Exposition, 1909, Seattle, WA.
Steam whistles once were an organ concert of the industrial and economic life of the city. Men went to work, ate lunch, and left work––all to the deep-throated blast of a steam whistle at factory or mill. There was no dispute about the correct time––the whistle was absolute.
Whether it was the sharp "toot" of donkey engine or the deep-toned blast from the Stimson Mill or Seattle Cedar Lumber Man. Co., Ballard whistles were a veritable symphony each morning, noon, and evening––the steam whistle was king.
At that time, many housewives used the sound of the "5 o'clock quitting whistle" as a reminder to start dinner.
But, alas, the assembly-line production of wrist watches, radio time announcements, and other modern conveniences (including the electric air whistle) spelled the doom of the colorful steam whistle ejecting a long white plume (often you could see and count the plumes long before you heard the whistles, especially if the wind was strong and the distant sound of the whistle was carried away on the wind.)
The whistle is in the collection of the Museum of History and Industry, Seattle, WA.
Above words by John J. Reddin for The Seattle Times, March 1962
Letting Off Steam
"The speaker was the wharf agent of a large steamship company, and he was seated in his cool office looking hot and worried. The reporter to whom the remark was addressed, admitted that he sometimes felt so inclined, but rarely.
'Next time you feel that way I want you to run a little two-line item in your marine column, saying if the captains of the various steamers would hang onto their whistle ropes thirty seconds instead of fifteen minutes when landing or departing, the waterfront business men would deem it a favor.
'The way of it is this: There are a large number of boats in and out of harbor daily. For some reason––probably some savage blood in their veins––the captains delight in hearing the sound of their own whistles. A year or so ago it was bad enough, but now the owners are vying with one another, as to who can get the most unearthly sounding one. They have got to using combinations to deepen the sound-rending shrieks. The BAILEY GATZERT has a triple affair that is enough to turn a man's hair gray. The GREYHOUND sports one of the same character, but more piercing than deep; the PREMIER has one with a dull rumbling roar, that shakes every beam in the wharf when it goes off. There there is the MOCKING BIRD. I feel like stealing out some quiet night and contriving a scheme to sink her.
Every fifteen minutes in the day some of these diabolical contrivances are going off. The captains hold onto the ropes as if they were the ladder to salvation instead of to––well, anyhow, they ought to let go sooner.' The agent then subsided, but began again as the reporter was quietly leaving. The last words the latter heard were 'fiendish,' 'hair-raising'."
Above text from The Sea Chest, March 1973, quarterly journal of the Puget Sound Maritime Historical Society.
24 July 2014
|Tug TYEE, locking through, Seattle, WA.|
Original photo from the James A. Turner Collection,
Saltwater People Historical Society©
Click to enlarge.
"The big tug TYEE, of the Puget Sound Tug Boat Co's fleet, entered Friday Harbor from Ladysmith [BC] after clearing for Victoria, went to Waldron Island to tow a barge of sandstone to Grays Harbor.
The tug is equipped with wireless apparatus and the captain, who had never been here before, sent a message to the deputy collector of Friday Harbor, asking him if it would be all right to come here, enter, and clear that evening. The tug was 12 miles away when the message was sent and the answer was received in five minutes and the tug was here an hour and ten minutes later."
21 July 2014
| Washington State fishermen |
with cooked Dungeness crab.
Photos from the archives of the S. P. H. S.©
"Haven't you read stories in which sturdy old salts go out in stormy, blizzardy weather to lift the lobster and crab traps? Don't they always thrill you, make you feel somehow as if your soft life lacked something? When Amundsen, Byrd, Stefanson, and the Lofoten fishermen go off on their wild ways, aren't you drowned with envy and yearning to go off with them, to endure hard things, to feel blasts of icy winds on cheeks already nearly frozen? The hard things. Only they are worth doing, really.
Not that the little storm we are heading into now is dangerous, or that sitting in the back of Mr. Thompson's skiff while he lifts his crab traps is very hard. But it feels as if one were getting close to reality, anyhow. I am shivering half with delight, half with a blowing rain that is not far from being sleet, as one by one the big traps come out of the water, are emptied into the boat.
...Word came last night that I might go at 8 AM this morning with Mr. Thompson, a Dane, to lift the crab traps. It rained all night, so Thompson goes ahead on the trail with a stick, knocking off as much water as possible.
The boat lay the the top of the beach. Thompson bailed it out, tipped it to let all the water run out, and we dragged it down over the gravel into the water, where it began to leak again. With an old putty knife that he keeps handy for the purpose, the master of the skiff stuffed old rope into the cracks and we put to sea, the wind having died down somewhat under the lash of the rain.
In Thompson's early days crab fishing flourished. There was a crab cannery at Blaine. He ran
14 July 2014
Lopez Island, pre 1930.
Photograph by James A. McCormick
Grassy pastures and orchards in blossom on the Strafford farm. Berries and cattle, green fields, and a tractor plowing on the neat Erb place. Rolling green slopes and dozens of gorgeous apple trees on the Kilpatrick farm.
Down the road along the backbone of the island, beautiful farms falling away into pleasant valleys on both sides. Sheep in the pastures, chickens cackling from modern henhouses. Loganberries on the Joe Ender's place. The McCloud house low and brown, nestled on a big rock.
The pale blue and white line of the Olympics off yonder to the south, across the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Pheasants and mountain quail in gardens. The McCauley farm, lush and lovely, on both sides of the road.
Down the dim cathedral woods to McKay Harbor. Hemlock, white fir, and cedar. Long curving beach washed by a gentle surf. The pretty white Tralness house above the beach and a lavender-pink mass of starry flowers on the edge of the road.
In Barlow's Bay a great flower-covered rock. Lacy yellow blooms. Sedum about to burst into fragrant blossom. Dark blue verbena-like flowers. Crane's Bill. You would not live here so long without knowing all the flowers by their real and common names, would you? Well, I knew them once. And I shall know them again!
We climb up into the woods and around the outer bluff of the island to find Washington's profile. We find the bluff where the face used to be, but something seems to have happened to the nose.
But we find dark blue Camas in bloom. And against an old abandoned house a gorgeous lilac heavy with purple flowers. The woods are full of wild flowers. Lady slippers, Oregon grape, star flower. soapalalee will be along presently. From these berries the Indians make a bitter foam which some call Indian ice cream.
Across the island, John Thompson's big lonely home where the white-headed old mariner lives alone. He promises to take us with him to Smith Island next week.
The Mud Bay schoolhouse and Eaton's pretty home. On up and around to the Vogt loghouse built a half-century ago of alder logs, mind you. Inside, an old square piano, hooked rugs in original designs, handsome ship models made by the son while tending fishtraps. Outside, flowers and blossoming fruit trees, green meadows and the forest not a hundred yards away. A lovely place."
Above text by June Burn, Puget Soundings. 1930.
07 July 2014
|Winners of the Star International Trophy|
L-R: Skipper/Owner Adrian Iselin II and
1936 at Rochester, New York.
In the series of five races the ACE totaled 159 points as against 156 for the defending champion. Mr. Iselin won the trophy once before with ACE, in 1925.
See more history below.
|Star boat ROWDY, SYC.|
Skipper Betty Osborne, July 1947.
After this update there was space for 17 sailboats on this dock.
Original photo from the archives of Saltwater People Historical Society©
The Star was a natural evolution from the cat-boat and was almost unsinkable. Nonetheless, its popularity dropped off quickly in 1925, after a tragedy on Lake WA in which four Univ. of WA. students drowned. These students were on their way to a frat party across the lake. They filled the forward flotation compartments with party supplies and removed the foredeck hatch to provide room for an ice cream freezer. Then three couples climbed aboard. This was too many even for calm water. A sudden storm blew up, and in those days before floating bridges curtailed the sweep of the wind, huge swells swamped the boat. Two of the women survived, but the loss of four young lives put a damper on Star boat sailing. The boat was marked as unsafe; this was a bad rap.
Originally the Star had what was called a sliding Gunter rig. Later, taller rigs became popular with a full main but with a much shorter main boom. Class rules were changed accordingly.
The Star recovered its popularity by 1931. A meeting in the late fall of 1929 attracted about 50 sailors in an effort to establish a common design for competitive racing. Some wanted high-performance catboats with hard chines because these boats were easier to build and cheaper, and others wanted a more sophisticated boat that could perform better. There were a lot of ideas for boats under 30-ft. The Star was the consensus choice of most of the sailors. Stars were popular worldwide and were raced in many championships, including the Olympics."
The Seattle sailor who brought home the Olympic Star class trophies can be viewed on a post here.
Article above from Seattle Yacht Club 1892-1992 by Warren, James R.
The Star was designed in 1910 by Francis Sweisquth––draftsman for William Gardner's Naval Architect office––and the first 22 were built in Port Washington, N.Y. by Ike Smith during the winter of 1910-11. Since that time, over 8, 400 boats have been built. The Star began as an Olympic Games class in 1932. Although far from a modern design, the class remains popular today, with about 2,000 boats in active racing fleets in North America and Europe.
Above text from Wikipedia /2014.
04 July 2014
|Card mailed from the revered Captain Sam Barlow, Lopez Is., |
to friend Mary Hudson on Harney Channel,
Shaw Island, Wa. 1910.
From the collection of the Saltwater People Historical Society©
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