In 1935, when Portland was that bustling city one sees in old movies—streetcars clanging up and down, crowds of pedestrians, traffic jams—Captain W. H. Brodie paid a visit to the city. That trip he was captain of the Blue Star Liner, Canonesa, a "reefer ship" loading 30,000 boxes of Yakima Valley apples at the Oceanic dock. His first visit had been 46 years earlier, when he was an apprentice seaman on the "little three-masted Orpheus." In those days, before the Panama Canal, every vessel that made it here from the Atlantic Ocean came around Cape Horn. According to Brodie this route, through the dangerous and often stormy waters below South America, was the test that lifted an apprentice, such as himself, into the class of A. B. (Able Bodied) seaman. Capt Brodie from a 1935 Oregonian It never fails to amaze me how difficult the life of a sailor was in those days. Maybe not so difficult as some fiction writers would make out: the cat-o-nine-tails h
Barney Blalock's views and memories of the waterfront unclouded by advanced years, opinionated stance, and ignorance of the facts.