Palouse River Adventures
by Bob West
One Saturday morning in March 1940, I, my buddy Revere Lazelle, Charles Clark, and a guy whose name I have forgotten (I’ll call him Bill), decided to build a raft and float to the little town of Elberton, a few miles downstream. The river was in flood stage at this time, and we figured the trip wouldn’t take very long.
In searching for materials for the raft, I suggested we look at the dilapidated, two-story structure on the hillside behind the Palouse Hardware and Implement Company’s building (now Bagott’s used car lot). Bill ridiculed this idea, saying that the building was at least 100 years old, and that there would be no worthwhile material. He was right about the age. It had been built in 1890 as a horse barn and warehouse for storing tools and farm implements. He was dead wrong about the material.
Leaning against an inside wall was a 9 or 10-square-foot door in very good condition, considering its age. By the time we dragged it down the bank, across Main Street, and to the bank of the river beside the old gymnasium, minor repairs were needed. I suggested we nail some heavy planks we had seen beside the old building for added buoyancy, but the rest of the crew pooh-poohed the idea. We needed to find a long pole to control the raft. Again we lucked out. I found a 10-foot-long, hardwood one beyond the hardware store building. It could have been a flagstaff but I believe it was part of a roll-up canvas awning that most of the buildings on the north side of Main Street used in those days. We now had everything we needed for our adventure. We were anxious to start but decided it was too late in the day so we agreed to launch after Sunday School the next day.
That Sunday was one of those rare, warm days in early March. A perfect day for a cruise down the mighty Palouse River. After we changed clothes we met at the launch site. We pushed the raft into the water. Charles jumped on, holding the raft against the bank with the pole. Revere and I then jumped on. With a mighty push, Bill jumped aboard. The raft began to sink! Bill was close enough to the shore to leap to safety. The raft continued to sink!
Using the pole Charles vaulted from the craft to shallow water. His action left Revere and me “up the creek without proper locomotion.” Well, that’s not quite right. We were not up the creek but headed downstream. As for locomotion, we had lots of that from the fast-running current of the river. Boy, were we having fun – that is until we got a few yards past the bridge by the City Park. We had traveled quite a sizable distance in a short period of time. We were surprised to see the top of a large tree in the middle of the river and we were heading right for it. Revere yelled, “We’re going to hit that tree!” Hit it we did, the impact nearly threw us off the raft. Some good news and some bad. The raft wedged itself between two large limbs of the tree keeping it intact. The bad news, the raft was several feet under water and we were standing waist-high in this cold swirling current. More good news, there were plenty of branches for us to hang on to keep us from being swept away. About half an hour later we saw a couple of men walking across the bridge. We began shouting and waving our arms. They finally saw us and waved back, and continued on their walk. Boy, were we disappointed! We thought they would surely make some attempt to rescue us.
A few minutes later the fire siren sounded. That’s all we needed. The firemen who should be rescuing us would be fighting the fire. The siren rang again. It must be some fire! Five minutes later two fire trucks filled with firemen arrived at our scene. Twenty minutes later at least half the population of Palouse was standing on the riverbank, no doubt expecting to see a fire. Instead, they saw two scared high school kids standing waist-deep in the middle of a river gone wild. Several plans were made for the rescue, but discarded. The only feasible plan was to somehow get a rope out to us. A coil of rope was secured and a horseshoe was tied on the end for weight. Two local husky high school students, Bud Potter and Delmer Clark (Charles’ brother) were given the task of getting the rope out to us. Most of the throws were short of the tree and fell into the water. The ones that did get far enough out were swept off the tree before we could get to them. A heavier weight was needed. A local blacksmith solved this problem by lending the rescuers a four-pronged grapple hook he forged in his shop for a previous rescue mission. This was about twice the weight of the horseshoe.
After a few rescue attempts using this new weight, the rope flew over Revere’s head, and the hook caught a branch and held. He grabbed the rope, freed the hook, and jumped off the raft. By this time we had been on the raft for several hours and were getting very cold. Revere’s hands were so cold he couldn’t grasp the rope hard enough to keep it from sliding from his hands. Lucky for him he did manage to hold onto the hook long enough to be pulled from the water. One down and one to go.
It was nearly an hour before a rope came close enough for me to grab. Someone from shore warned me to tie the rope around my waist. I was very cold now, and it was an extreme effort for me to find the strength to wrap the rope around my chest and tie a knot. I gave the rescuers a high sign when I was ready and pushed myself off the submerged raft that I had been standing on for four hours or longer.
Warm, woolen blankets were waiting for me. My parents had spent the afternoon in Pullman visiting my sister. Chief of Police E.E. (Mike) Ogan and his wife Mary loaded me into their car and drove me home. By the time I had undressed, they had our big old-fashioned six-foot-long bathtub filled with warm water. Oh…how good it felt! Every few minutes I would let out some water and refill it with more hot water. As we had no family car, my parents had walked to my Aunt Lela’s house on Mill Row to borrow her car for the trip to Pullman. On the way back from my aunt’s, they were hailed down by a kid (G.A. Perry) who asked them how I was doing. They, of course, knew nothing about our adventure so Mr. Perry gave them a detailed account. They rushed home expecting to see me at death’s door, or maybe even dead, but I had gotten out of the tub by then and was lying on a couch in the living room in a “nest” Mrs. Ogan had made for me. Thankfully, Revere and I had no ill effects from this ordeal. We went to school the next morning as if nothing had happened. Looking back on this experience, I realize how lucky we were to get “hung up” where we did. If it had been in an unpopulated part of the river, we would probably have died from hypothermia or drowning. Who knows, we could have gone over Palouse Falls.
To us boys, though, the worst scenario would be if we had gotten to Elberton and successfully beached the raft. We would have no way to get back home. We would have then been obliged to call Revere’s mom to come and get us. If that had happened, we would have been in REAL trouble. I mean REALLY BIG trouble!
One Saturday morning in March 1940, I, my buddy Revere Lazelle, Charles Clark, and a guy whose name I have forgotten (I’ll call him Bill), decided to build a raft and float to the little town of Elberton, a few miles downstream. The river was in flood stage at this time, and we figured the trip wouldn’t take very long.
In searching for materials for the raft, I suggested we look at the dilapidated, two-story structure on the hillside behind the Palouse Hardware and Implement Company’s building (now Bagott’s used car lot). Bill ridiculed this idea, saying that the building was at least 100 years old, and that there would be no worthwhile material. He was right about the age. It had been built in 1890 as a horse barn and warehouse for storing tools and farm implements. He was dead wrong about the material.
Leaning against an inside wall was a 9 or 10-square-foot door in very good condition, considering its age. By the time we dragged it down the bank, across Main Street, and to the bank of the river beside the old gymnasium, minor repairs were needed. I suggested we nail some heavy planks we had seen beside the old building for added buoyancy, but the rest of the crew pooh-poohed the idea. We needed to find a long pole to control the raft. Again we lucked out. I found a 10-foot-long, hardwood one beyond the hardware store building. It could have been a flagstaff but I believe it was part of a roll-up canvas awning that most of the buildings on the north side of Main Street used in those days. We now had everything we needed for our adventure. We were anxious to start but decided it was too late in the day so we agreed to launch after Sunday School the next day.
That Sunday was one of those rare, warm days in early March. A perfect day for a cruise down the mighty Palouse River. After we changed clothes we met at the launch site. We pushed the raft into the water. Charles jumped on, holding the raft against the bank with the pole. Revere and I then jumped on. With a mighty push, Bill jumped aboard. The raft began to sink! Bill was close enough to the shore to leap to safety. The raft continued to sink!
Using the pole Charles vaulted from the craft to shallow water. His action left Revere and me “up the creek without proper locomotion.” Well, that’s not quite right. We were not up the creek but headed downstream. As for locomotion, we had lots of that from the fast-running current of the river. Boy, were we having fun – that is until we got a few yards past the bridge by the City Park. We had traveled quite a sizable distance in a short period of time. We were surprised to see the top of a large tree in the middle of the river and we were heading right for it. Revere yelled, “We’re going to hit that tree!” Hit it we did, the impact nearly threw us off the raft. Some good news and some bad. The raft wedged itself between two large limbs of the tree keeping it intact. The bad news, the raft was several feet under water and we were standing waist-high in this cold swirling current. More good news, there were plenty of branches for us to hang on to keep us from being swept away. About half an hour later we saw a couple of men walking across the bridge. We began shouting and waving our arms. They finally saw us and waved back, and continued on their walk. Boy, were we disappointed! We thought they would surely make some attempt to rescue us.
A few minutes later the fire siren sounded. That’s all we needed. The firemen who should be rescuing us would be fighting the fire. The siren rang again. It must be some fire! Five minutes later two fire trucks filled with firemen arrived at our scene. Twenty minutes later at least half the population of Palouse was standing on the riverbank, no doubt expecting to see a fire. Instead, they saw two scared high school kids standing waist-deep in the middle of a river gone wild. Several plans were made for the rescue, but discarded. The only feasible plan was to somehow get a rope out to us. A coil of rope was secured and a horseshoe was tied on the end for weight. Two local husky high school students, Bud Potter and Delmer Clark (Charles’ brother) were given the task of getting the rope out to us. Most of the throws were short of the tree and fell into the water. The ones that did get far enough out were swept off the tree before we could get to them. A heavier weight was needed. A local blacksmith solved this problem by lending the rescuers a four-pronged grapple hook he forged in his shop for a previous rescue mission. This was about twice the weight of the horseshoe.
After a few rescue attempts using this new weight, the rope flew over Revere’s head, and the hook caught a branch and held. He grabbed the rope, freed the hook, and jumped off the raft. By this time we had been on the raft for several hours and were getting very cold. Revere’s hands were so cold he couldn’t grasp the rope hard enough to keep it from sliding from his hands. Lucky for him he did manage to hold onto the hook long enough to be pulled from the water. One down and one to go.
It was nearly an hour before a rope came close enough for me to grab. Someone from shore warned me to tie the rope around my waist. I was very cold now, and it was an extreme effort for me to find the strength to wrap the rope around my chest and tie a knot. I gave the rescuers a high sign when I was ready and pushed myself off the submerged raft that I had been standing on for four hours or longer.
Warm, woolen blankets were waiting for me. My parents had spent the afternoon in Pullman visiting my sister. Chief of Police E.E. (Mike) Ogan and his wife Mary loaded me into their car and drove me home. By the time I had undressed, they had our big old-fashioned six-foot-long bathtub filled with warm water. Oh…how good it felt! Every few minutes I would let out some water and refill it with more hot water. As we had no family car, my parents had walked to my Aunt Lela’s house on Mill Row to borrow her car for the trip to Pullman. On the way back from my aunt’s, they were hailed down by a kid (G.A. Perry) who asked them how I was doing. They, of course, knew nothing about our adventure so Mr. Perry gave them a detailed account. They rushed home expecting to see me at death’s door, or maybe even dead, but I had gotten out of the tub by then and was lying on a couch in the living room in a “nest” Mrs. Ogan had made for me. Thankfully, Revere and I had no ill effects from this ordeal. We went to school the next morning as if nothing had happened. Looking back on this experience, I realize how lucky we were to get “hung up” where we did. If it had been in an unpopulated part of the river, we would probably have died from hypothermia or drowning. Who knows, we could have gone over Palouse Falls.
To us boys, though, the worst scenario would be if we had gotten to Elberton and successfully beached the raft. We would have no way to get back home. We would have then been obliged to call Revere’s mom to come and get us. If that had happened, we would have been in REAL trouble. I mean REALLY BIG trouble!
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