Author: dave

https://www.opb.org/article/2023/11/15/new-lumber-mill-in-philomath-aims-to-market-oregon-hardwoods/

I met Marlin almost 40 years ago when Jan and I were dating.  I remember his 50^th birthday party, he was a big guy, my height but thicker and he had a black moustache.  The kind of guy you did not want to have the guard on a basketball court.  It was not long into knowing Marlin that I found out he had played Freshman basketball at The Ohio State University.  Not being deterred by his presence and probably seeing past his tough exterior Jan and I got married and Marlin became my father in law.

Hospice for many in the family was bittersweet.  I spent more time one on one with Marlin in the past 6 months than I did in the past 40 years. He had a lot to say, and often it was only me and my dog there to hear it.  Marlin was in the Navy, I asked him one day about the boat he was on…”David, it was a Ship”  Recently being in Pearl Harbor I wondered how he navigated the “Ship” being such a big guy, and sharing bunks/toilets and showers.  “David, I was an officer, we had our own quarters”.  I learned he was a Proud man, an Officer on a Ship in the Navy.

We spent a lot of time in Sunriver at the vacation home Marlin and Nancy build.  Many great memories there with the family, grandkids and dogs.  I came into the family with limited skiing ability.  My first day skiing with them Marlin pulled me to the side and said “let the girls go, we can go this way”.  And he helped me get my legs, spending the time to teach me how to keep up.  So I learned he cared and was a good teacher.

Over the past few months we talked about where he grew up (New York), where he went to school (The Ohio State) where he met Nancy (Greenville, IL) where he worked (Pet Milk & Smuckers).  We talked about his time with the Mazamas, the Fruit processors and even a little about his favorite team to root for.  At Smucker’s, I knew him as the regional plant manager for Oregon and Washington, based in Woodburn.  He knew the Smucker family personally and they wanted him to move back to the headquarters to take on a larger role.  When he considered this with the family the vote was stay in Oregon.  So I learned he valued family above all.

In my last visit with Marlin, I wheeled him to breakfast, we had just returned from the UK with Ron and Lisa.  And he wanted to know about the trip.  Then he asked about us hosting Julie and Chris in Corvallis for the next weekends football game.  He expressed how deeply grateful he was that we were doing these things together, as a family.  He absolutely loved his grankids, all 10 of them.  And in return, they loved him.  Most of the time he wanted to know what was happening with everyone and would share what he had heard on the last visit from one of them.  His deep gratitude and love for his family was at the root of his existence.

A few years ago, Marlin gave me a baton, it was his dads.  Its wooden, and signed by the relay team Ike was on.  Since I had also ran track and participated on relay teams, it was something I had admired and commented on over the years.  When he gave it to me, I did not think about the symbolism.  It seems so obvious now, he was passing the torch: be a good teacher, be proud & care, be loyal and love your family.

Marlin, you will be greatly missed…but we will not forget.

After the pandemic sent us away from the office in 2020, we found ourselves meeting outside in Philomath more often.  Our focus there was on production, and after adding 20+ acres a couple years after the initial purchase there was plenty of room to grow.  My partner Brad Mehl was always around and encouraging me to “walk the hill” with him.  He kept talking about how nice the view was, the silviculture, Mary’s Peak and “the heart of Oregon Forestry”.  Our lease in Portland happened to be ending after a second 7 year term in December 2020.  So the idea was hatched:  for a roughly 10 year payback we could build our own office on site.  Leaving Portland after 106 years would be a tough decision, but we were growing roots in Benton county.

2021 was a year of planning, selling and developing the plans.  The shareholder group quickly came on board and after we built a road up to the building site so did the trading group.  Patrick Lumber was going to have a new home.  We selected an oversized timber frame structure, understated “barn” style design and signed DC Builders to construct it.  Most of the materials were salvage logging from forest fires.  The siding reclaimed redwood bridge timbers.  The building has a soul.  It’s in the spirt of Frank Loyyd Wright: known for his organic architecture, his buildings are sited to be viewed as one with nature. The Lodge at PLM already seems to grow into the hill rather than out of it.

In the Spring of 2023, we will complete construction and move in.  Its another re-birth for this company founded in 1915, and opportunity to shift into the future.  Mr Mehl’s hillside walks provided the inspiration.  Meetings have already commenced.  Transactions completed; lumber traded.  Wood is good in many ways.

Compiled by my dad, Beth’s son, Warren, assisted by extensive chronicles of the Smithson Family in the upper Shasta River Watershed in northern California, including the anthology of California history 1822-1888 by Helen Boggs, “My Playhouse Was A Concord Stage” as well as extensive research of family history by Kelley Kreitzmann, Beth’s niece.

Beth Halsey (Elizabeth Smithson) was born in Kennett, California, Feb. 3, 1903.   She married Frank Halsey, DDS, January 16, 1932, and died July 30, 1988.

Until 1917 Beth lived a rural life in the Sacramento River Canyon, north of Redding. California.  Her parents had lived in the same area where her Grandfather, James Smithson, the family patriarch, had spent most of his life after moving to Shasta County in 1859.  James was an esteemed Stagecoach driver and entrepreneur, owning and managing stage stops and associated businesses for stage travelers.  The colorful history of James Smithson is well-chronicled in Redding newspapers and history books, including various accounts of the famous stage robber, Black Bart, and the noteworthy historian, Helen Boggs, author of “My Playhouse was a Concord Stage”, 1942.  Beth was given a personal copy by the author.  James Smithson is memorialized on a bronze plaque in the town of Old Shasta in 1931, which reads:  “In Loving Memory To The Pioneers Who Held The Ribbons But Have Turned the Bend In This Road.”

    James  owed a Ferry for crossing the Sacramento River until a bridge was built.  The settlement was referred to as “Smithson’s”, .  The location of the Smithson is believed to be near the current I-5 Freeway Bridge.  James Smithson’s Stage routes traversed the route from Redding, California to Ashland, Oregon.  He built a home in Kennett and owned various business establishments, including hotels, restaurants, and bars built to service the booming copper mines in the canyon. James was also involved in civic affairs  being an appointed Judge in Kennett.  By 1917 fires and hazardous conditions caused by the mine’s smelters resulted in the demise of the town and James Smithson’s holdings. Trains had, by then, replaced the Stage.  In 1938 construction of Shasta Dam was begun, and completed in 1944, submerging the site of Kennett.  Beth’s father, Stenton, (Sten) and several of his brothers with little or no formal education appear to have worked for James primarily as laborers and handymen in Kennett.  The family  moved to  Hayward in 1917,  James apparently established a chicken farm and with depleted resources he lived out a simpler life in Hayward.  At the time Beth was 14 years old and her parents moved to Oakland . The move to Oakland provided much improved educational opportunities.

Beth’s family lived in Millville, east of Redding.  She recalled as a child riding in a horse-drawn buggy while making Doctor calls to patients with her Maternal Grandfather, Dr. Henry W Hereford. 

The upper Sacramento River canyon for centuries was occupied principally by Native American Indians primarily from the Madiu tribes and bordered to the north by the Winton’s and Shastans.  By 1903 the Indians had suffered terminally.  Their villages first began to fall fatally ill- victims of small pox and outsider-borne ailments to which they had no natural immunity. Those who survived were forced to abandon their lands to white settlers who had no knowledge of the land and its needs, and who regarded it only for its potential reward.  Ref: Simon Winchester, Land,  Harper Collins,  2021., p.17.

By the time Beth was born in 1903 there remained only a sorrowful remnant of Native American families and individuals of a defeated race who tried to remain and survive under the harshest conditions.  Joaquin Miller, an early Indian sympathizer, (author of:  Life Among The Modocs, Unwritten History, 1874), wrote from the Indian perspective and reportedly had a cabin on Indian Creek near the Smithson’s.  Miller  was an early perhaps first, Indian sympathizer.  It is  likely that James Smithson, or  even more likely James father Stenton was acquainted with Joaquin Miller, as Joaquin’s travels overlapped between upper California and Oregon., Stenton arrived in Shasta County in 1859 and James was born in 1853.  Joaquin wrote of his experiences in the Canyon, circa 1856     James reportedly had lots of stories to tell about the Indians, and reportedly was well liked by the Indians.  This report seems inconsistent with  Beths  views as she had nothing good to say about them, and she considered them as filthy creatures.

Baseball seemed to be the Smithson’s passion.  Stenton, Beth’s father, played semi-pro baseball and was described as having a happy-go-lucky character.   The Hereford’s also participated in local baseball leagues.  Athletics seemed to be a family trait also shared by Tom and Gordon  Hall,  grandsons of Stenton.  It was Beth, not Frank, who taught me to play baseball, and she was my  frequently sought after partner for a game of catch outside the schoolyard.  Frank disparaged sports of all kinds.

When Beth’s  grand parents, , moved to Hayward in the San Francisco Bay Area, in  circa 1918 the area was still quite rural.    Most of his family, including his father James, eventually lived within a mile or so of each other in Hayward, including one male relative who had suffered brain damage in WWI due to nerve gas. Stenton and Mamie, Beths  parents moved from Oakland to Hayward circa 1927.  Beth visited Stenton and Mamie nearly weekly while I was growing up.  I believe Doris Hall, Beth’s younger sister, lived nearby and also visited frequently.  Mamie Smithson was known as  “Big Mama” to me.  She cooked a lemon-meringue pie almost every time I went along with my Mom to visit.  My grandfather, Stenton, I called “Dad”.  Their basement for me was a delight, containing bike parts of every sort.  Big Mama cooked on a wood stove.  They owed a hand-cranked Model T .   Mom’s sister, Doris, was almost never there at the same time that Beth was visiting, although on occasion Doris’s sons, Tommy and Gordon, were there after the war (WWII).  I admired them both as they were big, strong, and athletic, and they were more fun than the older adults.  I don’t recall ever meeting Walker, their father, except at Doris and Walker’s 50^th wedding anniversary.   I remember asking what was the big deal about that, and I don’t think I ever got a good answer.

Beth attended Fremont High School in Oakland and graduated with honors in 1922.  She later graduated from the College of Arts and Crafts in Oakland, circa 1927.  She became active in the Thespian Society where she developed life-long friends.  Based on her photographic renderings, she became a “free spirit” with a love of nature.  In 1925 Beth and two of her kindred spirits, with the aid of a mule, hiked the back-country of Yosemite on what Beth called a “Very Merry Fairy Dream”.   Helen Myers Sharsmith was one of the three adventurers.  Helen became a noted Botanist and was the wife of Carl Sharsmith, the legendary Yosemite Ranger, (The Sage of Yosemite).  Helen and Carl were married in 1931.  According to the YNP historian, it was highly unusual for three young women to embark on such a journey in the 1920’s.  Beth put together a photo -journal of the trip as well as photos of her frequent trips to Mt. Tamalpais with her college friends, entitling it “Sunny Days When Youth Is At The Helm.”

Maude (Smithson) Kunz, Beth’s cousin, who lived in San Francisco, mentioned that she and Beth would hike together, including on Mt. Shasta on several occasions.  Beth loved to tell about frequently taking the train to San Francisco with a group of friends and then riding the Ferry to Mill Valley where they would hike Mt. Tamalpais and down to Stinson Beach.  Beth liked telling the story about when she was arrested for skinny- dipping in the Mill Valley Reservoir.

Youth was definitely at the helm.

In circa, 1924 Beth became engaged to Walker Hall, an itinerant Journalist then working for the SF Chronicle.  However, quite shockingly Beth learned that her sister, Doris, had become pregnant by Walker.  Doris gave birth to Walker’s son, Gordon, on December 1, 1925, following Doris and Gordon’s sudden marriage on April 25, 1925.

 Beth’s Sunny Days darkened rapidly   A note beneath a photo in Beth’s album dated May 1925 is inscribed:  “Cinderella Loses a Slipper”.    Beth’s Yosemite adventure began shortly thereafter, in the summer of 1925.  

Then came the Great Depression beginning in 1929.

There is evidence from a formal dance invitation from the UC Dental School in 1927 that Frank and Beth were dating at that time.  Frank Halsey married Beth Smithson, January 16, 1932.  Frank had received his Dental Certificate (DDS) in 1929, and began practicing Dentistry with his Father, Wilbur, in Oakland, who had succeeded his Father Isaac, who had traded his gold mining tools for dentistry tools, following a stint in Photography.  Frank had all the attributes one would want in a Dentist.  While not outwardly artistic, I felt that his dentistry was his art.  To this day every Dentist or assistant who has examined my teeth comments on the incredible gold fillings and crown work done by my Dad.  One dentist said I should never let a dentist seek to replace them.  My Dad’s dental tools were truly his sculpture tools.

Beth and Frank gave birth to their first child, Ann Stenton Halsey, September 26, 1933, and later to  me, Warren Sherwood Halsey, April 12, 1938.

Frank was the polar opposite of Beth’s fun-loving friends.  Frank was very serious and somewhat rigid moralistically, but he was also a loving, dedicated family provider.   Shortly after they began practicing dentistry together, Frank’s Father, Wilbur, died, cutting short his goal of working professionally with his father.

The Great Depression starting in 1929 had lasting effects on Frank throughout his life instilling very frugal and conservative values.

Frank was interested in the Halsey Family genealogy and read extensively about his gold- rush heritage of the 1850’s codified in Isaac Halsey’s original Journal, which Frank painstakingly had copied.  Frank subsequently gave the original journal to the UC Bancroft Library.   Interestingly, both Smithson and Halsey Families have Colonial roots, and both families have roots as California Pioneers during the Gold Rush era. 

Beth and Frank lived with Sophie Sohst, Frank’s widowed mother, in her home near Lake Merritt near the Oakland city center.  Beth continued to be a devoted housewife, where they continued to live until circa 1950 when they bought their own home in the Oakland Hills.  Beth continued as a housewife and mother, continuing to drive Frank to work nearly every day. 

Beth did not consider herself an artist in a classical sense, rather her art was infused in her very being throughout her life and was expressed in all she did.  In later years she excelled at Ikebana flower arranging .  I speculate that intuitively it represented the beauty of the natural world so missing from the gated development (Rossmoor) where she and Frank lived in their retirement years.  

Beth was particularly invigorated by witnessing youthful energies which would always bring a smile.  She was always keen to observe and support youthful styles.  She had an accepting, uncritical view of others.  She was not particularly religious, but she loved to attend church simply to listen to the organ music and choir.

To me just before her passing Beth said: “…..but it all went by so fast”.

Beth’s life included three distinct and varied life-styles, cultures, and environments.  First, she was raised in rustic conditions in the upper Sacramento River Canyon, spanning an era including Stages and horses and buggies and a one-room schoolhouse.  Secondly, she came of age in the Roaring 20’s, a free-spirit receiving advanced schooling in the cosmopolitan section of the Oakland-San Francisco Bay Area. Thirdly, Beth was a supportive wife, and a loving and gracious mother and grandmother.

Beth’s Granddaughter  Stacy Bender wrote  …….”she has always been my fairy god-mother, my tinkling bell in the warm spring breeze. I always accepted that, never questioning just knowing she was this special spirit who watched over me I couldn’t believe that this was her life- the friendships, the very merry fairy dream…she makes me want to be someone better ~ a more generous soul”

Indeed, it all went by too fast.

Notes:

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For more information on the Smithson era in the Sacramento River Canyon, 1859-1917, see the attached Biographical sketch of James Smithson.

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Further, it appears at least two branches of Beth’s lineage, Hereford and McCumber, include Colonists who may have participated in the Revolutionary War.  Verification of these lineages are currently being verified by the author with

Smithson family historian, Kelley Kreitzmann.

1-3-2021……..WSH

When growing up in the Bay Area, my Uncle Tom drove over the hill from school at Cal Berkley and Stanford to see us. I remember a Grate Dane named Thud, a VW Bus, and always a guitar slung over his shoulder. Here are a few of my favorite songs salvaged from old CD’s. Enjoy!

Coming into 2020 we heard about a virus in China, but did not give it much thought. Proceeded to fly to Hong Kong and the masks and temperature checks we brushed off as cultural. On to Vietnam where we enjoyed the energy and new experiences. We flew back to Japan for a few days and got to know Tokyo, need to return. Other trips to Southern Cal and then Vegas, we keep hearing about the virus but moved on unimpeded. But Vegas…it got real, not as many people and the P-12 tournament was halted. It felt like the virus was chasing us home. And into a lock down.

Lisa’s family contracted the virus and Ron into ICU, we hunkered down and prayed for them. We got a dog, Josie and spent our new free time with her. We gardened more, walked more, read more and as summer came the virus faded. Restaurants re-opened. Things seemed to get better, and then they got worse. We booked an AirBnb in Del Mar, figured we could drive with the dog and isolate in So Cal.

So with governments advising only small gatherings and immediate family, we roasted a turkey in the rental with our boys. Zack and I visited clients the following week in the LA basin, masked and socially distanced. Lumber it seems is immune to the economic pressures caused by the pandemic. Everyone wants a sauna in their backyard, or a deck, or fence. In fact it’s a lumber and housing boom.

The last few weeks Jan and I chilled in this lovely village of Del Mar, lots of walks, sand, beach, sunsets, coffee, a little take out and a lot of cooking in. Picking oranges, limes, lemons and guava. Our song for this trip: La La Land by Bryce Vine & YG. “Come and waste your time with me in California” It was not a waste, it was a revival, lots of Vitamin D, good for the soul. Will we be back? Maybe, but we will get beyond this pandemic and things will be different. I will always look back at the cool vibe here with great memories, positive energy; glad we were able to be locals for a few weeks.

Growing up in the 60’s & 70’s provided unique opportunities for kids to learn about business at an early age. I was a paperboy and along with delivering the paper, we were tasked with collecting money monthly from our customers (hopefully with tips!). Once a month I would sit down with the coordinator and deliver the money, discuss new accounts buy rubber bands for packaging and learn about the rewards available for meeting certain distribution targets. There is a good book called RAIN that does a nice job of describing the business training many of us got in the paper-route business.

My sister also had a paper route. We both delivered our papers on bike, the stack of papers and adds would be delivered early in the morning by the Contra Costa Times to our driveway. Better than the Oakland Tribune, they would drop at a box about a mile away. It was an afternoon paper and I did this sometimes on a sub basis. But ours was a morning paper and someone dropped it off for us to stuff ads and wrap with rubber bands into a size that you could throw. Most customers were OK with the paper tossed onto their driveway, some liked them “porched”. A well wrapped and banded paper could be thrown from the street on a moving bike onto a porch and those customers usually tipped for the service.

It became a habit to watch the papers sail across from lawns onto the porches moving along the street on my bike. It was very early and the neighborhoods void of traffic. Over the years I became quite good at the act, learning from the errant throws which you would have to retrieve from a bush by hand and deposit on the porch. Time was a factor, the quicker the better so missing was not favorable. And when you had customers on both sides of the street papers flew both directions and no hands on the handlebars.

One day after successfully landing a series of these throws I looked up to see a pick-up truck parked in my path. No hands on the handle bars, going at a good clip. Very little time to react. I was able to grab the handle bars just before slamming directly into the front bumper. Me, my papers and the paper bag I wore over my shoulders all few over the cab of the truck and into the bed. I was not hurt, but shaken up quite a bit. My bike however was trashed, broken frame and not ride-able. I borrowed my neighbor friend Curts bike and finished the route.

Funny thing is that my sister Kim ran into a station wagon on her bike a few years later. Not sure if that’s a family thing or a rite of passage.

Growing up in the Northern California Bay Area, I was surrounded with redwood trees, and the lumber that was cut from those trees.  We had coastal redwoods in our back-yard which I remember climbing.  Those trees were young, maybe 50 years old but boy could I get up in them, 60 or more feet in the air, way above the houses.  You could see a long way from up there.

Our fence was built with redwood 4×4, 2×4 and split pickets.  Our siding was Redwood plywood with clear coat finish.  We had redwood trim boards and finish lumber inside.  We were surrounded with it and my dad was a forester who would take us on hikes in the woods.

When I was in high school a Lumber Company was making the news: Palco.  They were the target of a hostile takeover by a Texas company called Maxam.  My dad got the contract to value the timber, and shared with me the volumes.  He predicted at current cutting rates VG Fine grain Redwood would run out in 20 years in commercial volumes.  I went to College, and then into the lumber industry.  By the late 80’s Maxam had doubled the volumes. My dad said: this won’t last for long, not enough timber.

He was right, but when Maxam sold the 7700 acre Headwaters acreage VG All Heart redwood production was over in volume.  That left an opportunity for VG Western Red Cedar to move into the market, and the company I was working for had the perfect distribution arm KD Cedar in Hayward, Ca to deliver the replacement product.  I ran KD Cedar with this in mind from 1992 to 1997 and found good success with companies like Beronio, Melrose, Van Arsdale, Channel and Truitt and White.  Many of these companies stocked the Cedar right where the redwood used to be, it was a natural fit.  Some still called it Red Wood: (Western) Red (Cedar) Wood.

When I went to work at Patrick in 1997, we exploited the strong supply relationships that Patrick had in BC Canada to leverage our Cedar business in California and worked for the next decade to expand the customer base.  It the 2000’s we expanded the reach to Southern California where we found more success with companies who had been sold scant D/Btr Flat grain Cedar.  They greatly preferred the VG full sawn stock.

My father is responsible for planting the seed for this concept to become reality, but my grandfather’s company TUMAC had the connections to make it happen.  It’s now 2019, and while volumes of VG WRC are smaller than they were 20 years ago, the builders and architects in California still prefer to specify Cedar where Redwood was once the norm.  Certainly there were others who recognized the opportunity, but Patrick enjoys a 50%+ market share since we were the first in and the most reputable.

When I was in high school I would spend some weekends at the rule Ranch on the Northern California coast cleaning up for my Dad who managed the ranch.  Bruce Nikolai would join me and together we made up a work and clean up crew.  One winter we were dispatched to burn rubble left around from a century of farming.  We spent several weekends burning all wood and debris in and around the barns and out buildings scattered around the property.

The views were amazing, 300-500 ‘ above the Pacific Ocean just north of the town of Jenner.  This is where the Russian River meets the ocean, on a clear day you could see 20 or more miles into the Pacific.  The original Farm house sat up on the hill above the barns and protected by an old cypress hedge.  The grounds of the house covered over an acre, it was a Victorian style house, tall ceilings and quite prominent.  Local stories told of the ghosts that frequented the house, articles were written about the Haunted house on the hill above Jenner.  Bruce and I were clueless.

After cleaning and burning most everything outside, dad set us on cleaning out a part of the old house which had been abandoned many years prior.  We burned what we could and took the rest to a dump a couple mile away.   On Saturday afternoon we dug to the bottom of a room that had been filled to the ceiling with junk.  So much stuff you could not open the door, so we took most stuff out the window.  Underneath it all was a coffin.  We did not open it, finished up for the day and went to dinner.  We called my dad to ask what to do, he said take it out of there and burn it if it’s empty.

So Sunday morning we drove back up the hill and got our burn pile going, about mid-morning we looked inside and found the coffin empty.  Just some old red sheet and linens in there, we hauled it over to the burn pile and set it ablaze.  It burned hot.  We finished up that day, drove home and i did not give it much thought after that.

At College later that year I found out the house was no longer haunted, then a few weeks later that big home burned to the ground.  Coincidence?  No, I believe we let those ghosts free and they came back and did to the big house what we did to the coffin, set it ablaze.

Stewed tomatoes, 4 to 6 cups or more.  Fresh roasted in oven for 45 min or canned. Put in large chili pot with a can of chicken stock.  Cook 1 to 2 lbs ground buffalo till brown and cut to little pieces with spatula as cooking.  In same pan with remnants saute two large onions and some bell peppers diced and sweat till translucent.  Season with pepper, salt & garlic.  Add to pot.  Add chili powder about 5 tablespoons.  Add salt pepper and a small can diced chilies.  Drain and rinse 1 or 2 cans red kidney beans.  Add after pot has come to boil and reduce heat to simmer.  Check taste after 1/2 hour and add spices as you desire.  If too soupy add tomato paste.

If you like add dark chocolate and cinnamon.

This gets better over time. Usually the next day I pull the pot out of fridge and slowly reheat.

Serve with avocado diced fresh sweet onions and sour cream