Feb - Portland Yacht Club

PAGE 9 | The Portlight | 02.05
GROWING UP AT PYC
W
hen I was young, my father resigned
his position with the Studebaker
Corporation because they wanted to transfer
him to another part of the country. He
wanted to stay in the Northwest. Then the
Wall Street crash of ’29 occurred, and he
was out of a job.
He was Vice-Commodore of Portland
Yacht Club at the time, and the board was
considering hiring an on-site manager.
They offered him the job, at least for the
summer… he stayed for 15 years! His title
was Port Captain, so he became known as
“Cap.” We moved into quarters above the
ballroom in the old club house. When the
new club house was built, the old one was sold,
and moved to a location on Interstate Avenue.
The only transportation available in those
days, other than the auto, was the streetcar.
It came down Union Avenue (now Martin
Luther King, Jr., Blvd) to Columbia Blvd.
At that point, it took off on a trestle to
Faloma Street and then across the slough to
Hayden Island, where it linked up with the
Interstate Bridge and continued on into
Vancouver. To this day, the end of the old
trestle pilings and rocks has a green marker
that you pass as you travel down the slough
toward the I-5 bridge.
One winter the river froze over from bank
to bank. It was rumored that a car was driven
across and a sternwheeler was trapped in
the ice for a while. One spring the river
came up to within a few inches of the ballroom
floor. The river was much higher during
the flood of 1948, when the water was
4-5 feet deep over the floor, but it was still
kind of scary living there at the time.
In those years, the club had quite a few members
who owned canoes, small sailboats and
runabouts such as Chris-Craft, Dodge, etc.
They were dry stored in a large floating
building. Some were light enough to be
picked up and carried to storage racks.
Others entered a slip and were picked up by a
hoist that traveled on an overhead I-beam,
pushed into the house, and lowered onto
a cradle. Since the cradles had casters on
them, they could be pushed around into
their storage spaces.
Mother (Mauni) cooked dinner for the
Board of Directors before their monthly
meetings for a period of time. She also was
asked to take over the job of bookkeeper. It
was a position she enjoyed and continued
doing for 40 plus years. Many of you may
not know that PYC’s Mauni Elliott sailboat
races are named after my mother.
Activity on the river was pretty slow until
the first Saturday in May (Opening Day,)
just as it is now. Opening Day was an all
day affair with flag raising ceremonies, the
boat parade, sailboat races, an afternoon
tea, and a formal dance. Of course, we were
the only club around in those days.
There were cruises to Willow Bar (the present
site of our Outstation) and to the Lewis
River where a farmer would bring fresh
strawberries, cream, and the Sunday papers
down to the boats that were tied to the
bank. The big summer cruise was the
Rooster Rock Barbeque. We would put up
large tents for serving food, awarding
prizes, and providing shade for the pop, ice
cream, and beer. The drinks and ice cream
were buried in the sand with lots of ice and
wet burlap over the top. There were swimming
races, dinghy races, sack and three-legged
races. Also, a nail driving contest, soft ball
throw, and many other events. Cap would
hit up all the local merchants for donations
to be awarded as prizes. But the best thing
about the cruise was the barbeque. We took
an old southern black gentleman named
George Washington Jackson with us to the
park. On Saturday, with some help from
the kids, he would get his pit dug. He’d get
up very early Sunday morning and start his
fires. Then in the afternoon we would get
wonderful pork ribs, beef ribs, and lamb all
mopped with his “secret sauce.” It was
wonderful, and everyone would go home
with a full tummy and probably a sunburn.
Though not an official cruise, quite a few
members took their vacation time at the
end of August and first part of September
to cruise to Ilwaco. You could go fishing,
sightseeing or hiking, and of course, there
were the great raised glazed doughnuts at
the local bakery. One of our members loved
the kids, and he would organize us to hike
to the beach and collect firewood. Then
that night everyone would go to the beach
for a huge bonfire and wiener roast. After a
week or so, we’d cruise to Astoria for their
annual Regatta, which was bigger than it is
now. All sorts of races were held—fish boat,
sailboat, speedboat, etc. Usually a big name
band came to town and added to the festivities.
Everybody usually went home after Labor Day.
Sailing and sailboat racing were gaining in
popularity on the Columbia. At one time
or other we had organized classes of 16’
Snipes, 18’ Flatties, and 28’ Crods. Also,
there were usually a couple of handicap
classes. There were some odd things done
in those days, such as starting or finishing a
race at the gas dock, or sailing through the
cut between Hayden and Tomahawk
Island, which is now filled in. There was a
large gilnetter fleet in those days, and they
mostly lived on the Oregon shore, downriver
from PYC. Occasionally, a gilnetter
would pick up a race buoy in his net,
although we tried to set them as far inshore
as possible. Cap would get in the work boat
and go down to their place and with the
“possible” help of a bottle of bourbon,
barter with the gilnetter to get the buoys back!
December 7, 1941 brought about a lot of
changes. Many members joined the U.S.
Coast Guard Auxiliary. They painted their
boats “Battleship Grey” and put large white
CGA numbers on the bows. Once or twice
a week, we would patrol various facilities
along the river from sundown to sunup. Of
course, we got to watch them building the
Vancouver Shipyards and then the ships. As
I recall, one of the first ships launched ran
aground on the tip of Tomahawk Island…
Glenn Elliott
*Editor’s note: Glenn has been a member of PYC since 1939.
Glenn and Lois were Commodore and First Lady in 1980.