Portland's Lost Waterfront

In mid-April 1861 a group of local lads formed a boating club, which they named the “Regatta   Club.” It so happened that about this time the Willamette River went into a semi flood stage, and a boathouse in Oregon City came loose and floated down to Swan Island. Seeing a fine opportunity the members of the newly formed nautical association made arrangements with the owner of the boathouse to purchase it at a greatly reduced price should they be able to salvage it, and bring it up to Portland. At that time there was a farmer living on the island who claimed that he had grown up there since he was a “waif.” Furthermore he claimed that he had long ago claimed the island as his own, and declared his sole right as sovereign of the isle to claim as flotsam any items that washed ashore on his beach. It was upon this right that the “agriculturalist” (as the Oregonian put it) laid claim to the boathouse. Undeterred by these proofs the lads (Did I mention they were stout chaps, use

This being my 100th post I will wax poetic. What I offer below is my own weak attempt to turn one of Portland's undying pieces of folklore B.S. into folk song. I have turned this lyric over to some songsters to see if they can come up with something. My left hand is almost useless right now . This prevented me from doing this on my own, accompanied by my tenor guitar and banjolele. The story is no older than the 1930s and Stewart Holbrook's marvelous experiment to hoodwink the public with yarns that he attributed to old timers. This tale he told several different ways, always changing the number of corpses involved.  For the record: According to the City Directory there was no saloon in Portland called the "Snug Harbor" nor was there ever a "Johnson & Son" undertaker. According to maritime records there was no ship named the "Flying Prince" registered during the late 19th century; but I happened to notice a famous race horse with that name