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| The Claire in 1951, Ben Maxwell Collection, 7990, Salem Public Library |
From time to time one hears the indescribably lovely sound
of a steam whistle echo from the river to the West Hills. Usually this is a
vintage railroad locomotive, or, if it is the month of December, the Columbia
River Sternwheeler pulling away from the dock at Caruthers Landing (by OMSI)
for a holiday cruise. Of course I am prejudiced, but I think the most beautiful
of all the whistles is the one on the steam tug, Portland, the home of the Oregon Maritime Museum—rarely heard, but
a real treat.
Now consider this, around the year 1900 there were
riverboats arriving from (or embarking to) all points on the Willamette and
Columbia Rivers throughout the day and night. At that time Union Station had
about 100 trains passing through every day. Portland was alive with the sound
of steam whistles, the same way the area around the Brooklyn rail yard is
treated to the constant blasts of switch engine horns today. It may have been
an irritation to some folks, but the riverboat lovers were given a little
thrill with each echoing whistle.
It is obvious to history lovers that some things should have
never been changed. In Portland this includes things like: the excellent trolley
system (that we are now struggling to rebuild), the area between S.E. Water
Avenue and the river (which should never have been made into a freeway—ruining the
eastside riverfront), and steamboat travel. Twice I have had the opportunity to
travel on the steam tug Portland. It
is remarkably quiet, the only sound being a soft “whoosh, whoosh,” like soft
breathing, coming from the smoke stack. It is also remarkably smooth—a refined
and elegant way to travel. At one time steamboat travel between Portland and
other cities along the two rivers was so regular and swift there were people
who owned businesses in Astoria and lived in Portland.
Vacationers would take the steamboats to Astoria or Ilwaco;
from there they would take one of the trains running on the narrow gauge lines
up and down the coast. Many of the coastal hotels had campgrounds as well. This
sounds so inviting I don’t dare dwell on the picture for too long, or I will
turn into one of those muttering old geezers who curse every modern aspect of
tarnation.
If you have read my posts called, “How Deep is my River?”
you will know that up into the 20th century both rivers had long
stretches of sandbars that would become exposed in low water seasons. This made
it impossible to reach Portland in the windjammers of the day, so freight was “lightered”
to Astoria via steamboats—some of which had only a 2 foot draft. Smaller
steamboats could go through the locks at Oregon City and on to the cities on
the upper Willamette and Yamhill rivers.
I once knew an old Episcopal priest whose fondest memories
were the days of his youth when he could ride trains all over the Willamette
valley. He cursed the freeways, calling them “truck ways,” and cursed the evil,
conspiring oil and rubber barons who put the bullet in the head of travel by
train and trolley. I don’t want to turn into that man, but I would have liked
to add steamboat travel to his rant.
At the risk of stating the obvious, let me say, these
steamboats were beauties—even if they were designed with a purely utilitarian
purpose in mind. They might not look like much from a distance, but go take a
tour of the Portland steam tug, tied
up at Waterfront Park, and you will see how utterly charming these beauties
were (and are).
One of the favorite beauties of the steamboatmen was the Claire, operated by Western
Transportation Company. The Claire
was well-known for her unique three-chime whistle, which she had from a famous
old time steamboat, the Hassalo. She was a working boat, built to haul paper
products from the mills at Oregon City, and spent the later part of her life as
a tug. (May I add, these steam tugs were very useful for their steadiness and
strength. The Portland was used as a
tug up into the1980s.)
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| The Claire in 1941, Ben Maxwell Collection, 1515, Salem Public Library |
The Claire was one
of those cheerful sights that gladdened the hearts of old timers. Seeing her
churning up the river, and hearing the cheerful blast of her whistle made
people think that the world was still a good place (lark’s on the wing, snail’s
on the thorn, God’s in his heaven,[i]
sort of thing).
It was a sad day for riverboat culture on the Willamette
when the Claire was put out to
pasture. Of course, I don’t remember that day, being at the time a suckling
babe; but my overactive imagination feels the pain. Early on a Sunday morning
in June, 1951, the Claire pulled away
from the docks and headed upstream, stopping midstream by the Steel Bridge
while a freight train crossed over. The Claire
was headed to Champoeg with a passenger load of 150 steamboatmen and
friends heading to the 27th annual Veteran Steamboatmen’s Association reunion. Taking
turns at the Claire’s enormous wheel
were three longtime steamboat captains, who had for many years lovingly piloted
the Clair (and her sisters) on these
waters. These captains William A. Reed, Amil F. Cejka, and Fritz Kruze combined
service would represent over a century of steamboat work—from their time as
deck hands on up to captain.
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| Captain William A. Reed on the Claire's last journey | . |
(Redrawn from a newspaper photo)
When the Claire
moved through the government locks at Oregon City on her return trip it marked
the end of steamboating on the upper Willamette. The three remaining working
steamboats—the Jean, the Henderson, and the Portland—were too large to fit through the locks. The retirement of
the Claire ended a century of
steamboating on the upper Willamette, dating back to 1851 and the steamboats, Hoosier and Canemah. The steamboat Henderson
was retired in 1957 and I have been unable to discover whether she is still in
existence somewhere. In the 1960s the Jean
was sent upriver to Lewiston, Idaho for awhile where it was hoped she could
find a home as a museum. The money was never forthcoming, and now she sits
forlorn on the Columbia River near the Expo Center—empty and without a plan for
her future. Fortunately for Portland, the steam tug Portland is in beautiful repair and open for all to enjoy.
The Claire did not
end so well. After about a decade serving as a floating shop for Western
Transportation, on October 10, 1961 she was towed down to Hayden Island and set
afire. Her decks had been soaked with oil from the years as a machine shop, and
she was deemed a fire hazard.
Time and seasons change, and old methods are often
resurrected. My grandchildren will see a city that is once more traversed with
trolley cars. They may see the freeway along the east bank torn down or buried
underground. They may see the return of economical and eco-friendly wind power to
the high seas, and they may see powerful steamboats one again plying the waters
of these rivers.
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