Carol Johns: 02-02-2008:  (Phone conversation): "Chet is outside blowing snow with the blower.  We've got about five feet of snow here in Bates and it's snowing hard." 

Norm Rasmussen: 01-30-2008:  Staff writer Jayson Jacoby from the Baker City Herald Newspaper granted permission to reprint his entire article about the new proposed Bates Park that recently got picked up by the Associated Press (Thanks, Jayson!): 

By: Jayson Jacoby, Baker City Herald

The remnants of the sawmill that gave birth to Bates, a Grant County ghost town that was quite lively as recently as the mid 1970s, will become Oregon's newest state park.  The state Parks and Recreation Commission has authorized state officials to spend as much as $500,000 in lottery revenue to buy the 131-acre property that includes the site of the Oregon Lumber Company sawmill that was Bates' centerpiece, and the reason the company-owned town was founded in 1917.

Bates, which had a population of about 300, basically folded in October 1975 when the Edward Hines Lumber Company, which then owned the mill, closed the operation, moved the equipment to John Day and sold the other buildings, including several dozen houses.  Many of those houses were moved to either Prairie City or John Day, where they're still used as residences.

The 131-acre property is just west and south of the intersection of Oregon Highway 7 and Grant County Road 20, which follows the Middle Fork of the John Day River.  That intersection is about a mile north of Austin Junction, where Highway 7 and Highway 26 meet.  Bates is several miles from the Baker County-Grant County line, about 48 miles, by Highway 7, from Baker City.

"The 131-acre parcel is near, but does not include, the Bates townsite," said Dennis Reynolds, a John Day resident and board member of the Bates Park and Museum Foundation, the private nonprofit group that bought the property in December 2006.  Reynolds said the Foundation originally intended to transfer the property to Grant County.  But he said county officials were concerned that the county could not afford to build a park at the site, so they suggested the Foundation talk instead with state parks officials.  Foundation board members agreed, Reynolds said.  Their main goal is to preserve the property, and along with it the story of Bates, Reynolds said.

Right now there isn¹t even a sign to indicate that the thriving little town existed as recently as the Gerald Ford administration.

"It would be nice to give the area some recognition," said Chris Havel, a spokesman for the State Parks and Recreation Department.

Havel expects the agency will take ownership of the Bates property by late spring or early summer.  State officials probably will need at least a couple of years, however, to decide what type of state park to build.

Parks range from day-use sites such as the nearby Sumpter Valley Dredge, to parks with campgrounds equipped with water, sewer and electrical hookups for RVs, such Farewell Bend near Huntington.  Havel said state officials hope to open the Bates park in 2011.

Grant County Judge Mark Webb is excited about the prospects for the Bates property.  "Having it become a state park would reward the vision and diligent efforts of former Bates residents who wanted this area recognized and protected for its many attributes, and developed to its full potential,"  Webb said, according to a press release from the Parks Department.

Norm Rasmussen is one of those former residents.  Rasmussen, 61, lives near Grand Rapids, Michigan, "But I always tell people that at heart I'm a hillbilly from Eastern Oregon," Rasmussen said Tuesday in a telephone interview from his home.  "Bates is home and I love it and want to see it prosper." 

Rasmussen thinks a state park at Bates could attract thousands of visitors whom he predicts will be fascinated by this mostly forgotten place's legacy as a classic Oregon company sawmill town. "Those places are becoming a thing of the past," Rasmussen said.

Rasmussen moved with his family from Long Creek, also in Grant County, to Bates in 1951, when he was five.  He attended school in Bates through eighth grade.  Because Bates never had a high school, students had to ride the bus about 17 miles, over the sometimes treacherous Dixie Butte pass, to Prairie City.  Rasmussen graduated from Prairie City High School in 1965. He moved away and never again lived in Bates.

But Rasmussen still cherishes his years growing up in Bates.  "The best years of my childhood," he said. "Tons of memories." And most of them are good memories.

Except certain ones involving Dooley Mountain and throwing up, which is a combination anyone who has ever traveled that serpentine route will understand.

Because Bates was relatively isolated, Prairie City is the nearest other town of consequence, and getting there was no minor matter when snow was three feet deep and the temperature 35 below.  "Bates kids weren't accustomed to traveling," Rasmussen said.

"For a kid up to say 15 or 16 years old, going to John Day, which is where all the parents went to get groceries or see a movie. . . . wow, it was kind of like you or I going to Hollywood," he said. "In our mind that was a long ways away." John Day is 13 miles past Prairie City.

"But the journey to John Day," Rasmussen said, "Was commonplace compared with the nearly epic expedition to Baker."  He said his family made that excursion maybe twice a year, including one in late summer to buy school clothes because prices were cheaper in Baker.

Today, the easiest route from Bates to Baker is Highway 7.  It's a bit curvy in places but it's not like, say, one of those amusement park rides where a low-ranking worker is always stationed with a shovel and a bucket of sawdust.  Back in the 1950s, though, what¹s now Highway 7 was a rough dirt road.

The only paved route to Baker was east on Highway 26 to the Unity Junction, then past Unity Reservoir and along the Burnt River to Dooley Mountain.  The highway that climbs Dooley (it was, curiously, Highway 7 then, and is Highway 245 now) has more squiggles than a toddler¹s first drawing.  Rasmussen's stomach did not appreciate this.

"I threw up every time," he said, chuckling at memories which, half a century on, have made that magical transformation from unpleasant (and messy) to humorously nostalgic.  "My parents hated to take me," Rasmussen said.  Sour stomach aside, he said the family's arrival in Baker never seemed less than a wondrous event to him.  "To us Bates kids, John Day was big but Baker was huge; just a huge city," he said. "It was just the largest city around." 

Leonard Cardwell shares both Rasmussen's love for Bates, and hopes that the creation of a state park will help preserve the town's history.

"There's a real need there," said Cardwell, who was born in 1937 and lived in Bates until he graduated from Prairie City High School in 1955 and joined the Navy.  Cardwell, who has lived in Pendleton since 1989, owned a cabin at Bates for many years which he used as a base camp for hunting and fishing trips.  He attends the reunions that former Bates residents put on at the site every two years.  About 300 people came to the most recent reunion last year.

"There's still a sense of home there whether there's houses or not," Cardwell said. "The people had real close family ties, and most everybody who lived in Bates has stayed in touch over the years.  It's home. Still home."

SIDEBAR:  Bates got its start when the Oregon Lumber Company built a sawmill near the Middle Fork in 1917.  The Sumpter Valley Railroad, the famous Stump Dodger, passed nearby on its way to its terminus in Prairie City.  According to Oregon Geographic Names, Bates post office was established on March 24, 1919, and was named for Paul C. Bates, a Portland insurance agent involved in the Oregon Lumber Company's negotiations to buy timberland near its sawmill.

Lenora Healy (Rasmussen):  01-29-2008:  It was good to be able to read the many memories recorded in Sonja's book, and the memories and thoughts others have shared below.  Reading them has brought back many memories of my own, and I'll share some of them.

Ruby Mc Callister, daughter of Riley and Elizabeth Mc Callister, was one of my best friends in Bates.  We were in the same grade.  I don't recall now exactly what year it happened, but in was somewhere between 1953-1955.  We were between the ages of 11-13.  Ruby was an excellent swimmer.  One day she and I were swimming in one of the "dredge" holes in the river down from the saw mill.  She was teaching me how to swim.  I could dog paddle, and that was all.  I ventured out into deeper water.  I couldn't touch bottom and started to panic.  I bobbed up and down in the water, thrashed my hands and feet and coughed and choked.  I lost control and feared I was drowning.  Ruby swam to me, pulled me to shore and slapped my back to expel more water.  I don't remember if we were with anyone else, or how we got home.  I only know Ruby saved my life that day and I will always be grateful to her.  Ruby lived in The Dalles, Oregon, where she deceased in 2004. 
 
Marlene Blume was another best friend, also in the same grade.  Sometimes we would go to the Bates Hotel, where her mother, Hazel Blume, cooked for the men who boarded there.  Hazel fed us many home-cooked meals and I thought she was the best cook in all the world.  We were only allowed to go into the kitchen, and could never speak or mingle with any of the boarders.
 

I spent many hours in the home of Lyle and Hazel Blume.  Marlene and I had several "sleep-overs" and I remember waking up to the smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes - Hazel made for us for breakfast.  Lyla Blume was Marlene's younger sister.  She could play "honky tonk" piano like me.  We used to takes turns at the piano in their home trying to out-do one another on the keyboard.  Hazel and Lyle would join us in singing.  Their favorite song then was "Mocking Bird Hill."  I loved to play that song and they loved to sing it.
 
My interest in learning to play the piano started in the 4th grade when Raymond Rasmussen moved his family from Long Creek to Bates.  I attended the Assembly of God Church and was allowed to stay after meetings and plunk on the piano.  Mrs. Davis was the lady minister then.  She could sing and play the guitar.  She made music come alive for me and sang solos in church meetings.  She encouraged me to play on the piano and to sing.  She had two step-sons, Vern and Ralph, who were also my friends.  I taught myself to play the piano by ear.  I started with a simple tune of "Mary Had A Little Lamb."  As I hummed and plunked out the keys that matched my hums, slowly I put together melodies and chords.  As time went on, I learned how to use full-octive chords, syncopation, rolling and sliding chords.  I developed a "honky tonk" sound that I became very good at over the years.  Eventually I was able to play some of the gospel tunes in the meetings in that church.  Mrs. Davis gave me my first Bible.  I earned it in summer vacation Bible school.  It was white leather with a zipper.  I prized it, read it, and marked it. 

My piano playing continued in the Bates grade school.  I often stayed inside at recess, and after school, to play the piano.  When I was in the 5th grade, my parents bought a piano.  It was a surprise, and the day I came home from school and saw it in our living room, I screamed and cried.  I have that piano in my home today and it has the best touch for Honky Tonk playing.  My parents, Ray and Edna Rasmussen, had previously traveled to Portland and mother picked it out for me.  They made payments of $10 a month until it was paid for.  I still have the receipts.
 
The Hines Lumber Company made available wall paper and paint for employees to fix up their houses.  Dad brought home wall paper samples in a big book and we choose our designs and colors for each room in the house.  Because I had a keen interest in art and working with color, Mom let me make most of the choices for the house.  We worked together as a family decorating each room.  I remember Mom making wall-paper paste out of flour.  Dad brushed the paper with the paste, and hung it on the wall.  Our house came alive with color.

Mrs. Kranenburg (not sure if this is the proper spelling of her name) hired me to trim the grass in her yard.  I did not mow the lawn.  My job was to trim where the lawn mower couldn't mow.  I used her clippers to trim under fences, around flower beds, and next to the house.  I weeded flower beds.  She gave me cold drinks of lemonade or Kool-Aid with homemade cookies for refreshment. She instilled within me a sense of pride to do the very best job I could and was generous in paying me, thus developing my work ethic.  Working in the summers for Mrs. Kranenburg was the first job I ever had.  I remember how grown-up and important I felt to be earning my own money.  I saved my money to buy clothes for school.  Mrs. Kranenburg was always friendly and kind to me.  Going to her house was like going to a "Grandmother's" house, a blessing I never had with my own grandparents, who were deceased, or lived too far away.  I will always remember the little white-haired lady who lived at the end of the middle row of houses closest to the airport hill.
 

After I graduated from the 8th grade in 1956, I attended high school in Prairie City for the next two years.  Mrs. Kranenburg had moved to Prairie City at some point around that time.  One day I went to visit her on my lunch time, and she made me a huge breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and milk.  I don't remember ever seeing her again.  I really liked Mrs. Kranenburg.

I was employed by the Allenbaugh family, who lived in Newtville, to babysit their children for three days while they were on a trip.  I stayed at their house, did the cooking, and got us all off to school.  The year was about 1955-56.  I don't remember the names of the children, but the oldest daughter helped me make dinner one night and asked if she could make the dessert.  She opened home-canned peaches and bing cherries, mixed them together, and called them "Pa-cherries."  We all laughed at her creativity in the name she called her dessert.  The combination tasted good....especially with cream.
 
My classmate, Marilyn Jones, swallowed an opened safety pin one day while sitting in class.  It was the 5th and 6th grade room because I remember Mr. Cardwell, the Principal, coming in being very concerned about her. (About 1953-1954).  It was decided that she would go home so her parents could take her to the doctor.  When she returned she told us that the doctor told her to eat a lot of bread to bind around the pin and that it would pass from her body.  I imagined all sorts of horror that pin might cause for my friend.
 
The first time I remember driving a car while living at Bates, was a time Larry Immoos drove his car to Unity with a car full of kids to get a Coke at the Unity Store.  My older sister, Yvonne, had taught me a little about driving, so on the way home Larry asked me to drive the car to the "Y" Junction, so he could sit in the back seat with his girl friend, Lana Owens, who was my classmate.  Larry gave me pointers from the back seat on driving until he felt confident I could handle driving the car.  We arrived safely, and I will always remember how I held the lives of those people in my hands, while Larry held his girlfriend in his arms.  Larry and Lana got married a few years later.

My father, Raymond Rasmussen, was a champion cribbage player.  He often went to the Bates Hotel in the evenings to play his favorite card game.  One December, the "Y" Junction Inn had prizes of boxes of chocolates they were giving away to the winner of card games.  My dad came home with boxes of chocolates every time he went to play a game.  There were several boxes of chocolates in our utility room where they were stored.  I opened the boxes and looked for my favorite chocolates.  Seemed someone else beat me to my favorites, because all the carmel nut ones had all been eaten and all I could find was a coffee-mocha soft filling I did not like.  I went through a lot of candy trying to find one that tasted good.  One day my Dad went to get some candy, and found so many missing, and shouted out to his children, "Who's been eating my chocolates?"  I did not answer, thinking it would pass and one of my siblings would get blamed. After a period of days, my conscience burned, because I knew I was the guilty party.  I confessed that I was the chocolate sampler.  I never knew who ate the "good" ones, and since Dad kept bringing home more and more boxes of candy, he did not punish me for telling the truth.
 
My mother, Edna Rasmussen, loved to pick huckleberries.  One day in August about 1954 - 1955, she and I drove our green Buick "down the river" to one of her favorite berry patches.  We walked a long way through a small valley and up the side of a mountain to find a good patch.  While filling our buckets, we heard a loud snort in the bushes.  I was scared stiff, and shouted to my mother, "Bear, bear!"  We both took off running down the mountain not looking back.  When we reached the bottom, there was nothing following us so we stopped to rest.  Mom said it must have been a buck deer snorting in the woods, and not a bear.  We walked out that day with only a few berries.  We found an old gold mining dredge hole, and went swimming - in our clothes.  Mom was a very good swimmer and I marveled at how smooth she was in the water.  It was the only time I ever saw her swim ... it was the only day I ever had a one-on-one day with my mother.  Mom died June 1996 in her home in Bend, Oregon; 86 years old.

One afternoon one of my friends and I went for a hike up Airport Hill.  I can't remember who was with me.  It was either Darlene Caldwell, Ruby Mc Callister, or Marlene Blume, as those where the friends I played with the most, who were all in my classmates.  I got the big idea to push a big rock down the hill to see how fast it would gather momentum, thinking it would end up in the big mill pond at the base of the mountain.  We both pushed, and away it rolled......faster and faster down the hill.  Suddenly we saw an empty logging truck headed down the river to bring back another load of logs.  I clenched my teeth, squeezed my hands together, and watched the horror of the rock hitting the road at the same time the truck aligned with it.  The truck high-centered on the rock, and stopped.  My friend and I high-tailed it over the mountain, scared to death to go home and face our parents.  I knew my Dad would be very upset with me if he found out.  Somehow we worked our way around the mountain and went home.  I said nothing to my parents about the incident.  Strangely, Dad never mentioned it as part of the "scuttle-but" mill talk that passes through a small sawmill town.  I carried the guilt for a long time, wondering what kind of damage I did to that logging truck.  I never found out. 

(Uncalledfor Editorial Comment:  Suppose this was how the term came to be: Rock-In-Roll?  Furthermore ... wouldn't it be "interesting" to know just how many kids rolled rocks down that SAME hill?  I can raise MY hand!)

Lenora's Email:  paulandnorahealey@hotmail.com

Norm Rasmussen: 01-20-2008:  Len Cardwell emailed me the proposed site plans in attachment form of the future Bates Mill Park, but I'm not able to post them on this site for some unknown reason.  There are some nice aerial photos of the Bates area in these attachments, so you can email Len and ask him to forward them to you, or I'll be glad to email them to you.  My email is: norm@precious-testimonies.com

Mick Watterson: 01-18-2008:  News Flash!  Bates Mill Park APPROVED!  (Thanks for updating us, Mick!)

"State Parks panel says "YES!" to Bates site.  The Oregon Parks and Recreation Commission voted Thursday, Jan. 17, to proceed with buying the Bates mill town property in Grant County for development as a state park."

From Mick Watterson: 01-14-2008:  (Mick dug up this old news article somewhere on the Internet and thought maybe someone might be interested in reading it.  It was published in 1936):

BATES RECOVERS AS LUMBER CREWS BUSY

Oregon Company Has About 250 men in Several Woods, Mill Crews.

A crew of about 250 men is now employed in the lumbering operations at Bates, including three logging crews, and that town is enjoying the greatest prosperity for several years.

The Bates mill of the Oregon Lumber company is now operating two cutting crews days and one crew at night, and is turning out lumber for the trade at the rate of about 165,000 feet a day.

There are three logging camps; a railroad camp on the west side of Dixie mountain in charge of S.W. Coulter; a truck camp on the east side of Dixie in charge of R. M. Hiatt; and a contractor camp operated by Frank Gardiner on White Pine siding over further east. The work of constructing ten miles of new railroad line to tap a belt of timber 20 miles up the Middle Fork was started this week and it is expected that logging operations will be transferred to that section this fall.  The rail line now extends ten miles north and the extension will be ten miles beyond that.

Norm's note here:  If anyone wants to forward me newspaper clippings such as this one, feel free to do so.  If I get enough of them, I'll build a separate folder to put them in, so we don't clutter up this section of the Bates/Austin site.  I want to keep it solely for personal dialogue, because some may not want to read old news clippings along with personal dialogue from former Bates/Austin-onians.   I recently contacted the Manager of the Blue Mountain Eagle, and they do NOT have old newspaper clippings on their Internet data base.  They are filed in a different manner, and would require a person to go there and spend a great deal of time searching, copying, then emailing them to me.  The Manager said it would be much easier for a person to go to the County Library and search for past news clippings from their microfiche records. 

Eunice (Olsen) Bullis:  11-06-2007:

Judith Nielsen: 10-30-2007:

Hi Norm.  I went to school with Floyd and Flora Rasmussen and remember them well.  I still have a Bates Elementary School class picture that includes them and some of my other classmates.

I read with interest the story about "Bambi", the pet deer that was kept at the "Y" Junction, because Bambi was brought home by my brother, Dan, after her mother was killed by a hunter.  When she grew so large that we couldn't contain her, the "Y" Junction owners kept her there. One day she disappeared and I did not know what happened to her, so when I read the story about how hunters killed her, even though she had red tags on, I had closure about what happened to that little deer I loved so well. We still have a photograph of her when she was living with us.

My family was more familiar with the "Y" Junction, which at that time was owned by the Imooses, then we were with Bates.  We did live on and off at Bates for a few years in one of the company houses across the meadow from the main part of town, near the McConnells and Sibleys.  My little brother, "Butchie", died while we were there.  My parents then bought a trailer and we moved on the hill above the "Y".

My Dad, Frank Nielsen, worked as a bulldozer operator for the Hines Lumber Company; my Mother, Maggie, was a 4-H and Brownie leader; my brother, Dan and I attended the Bates school.  The young people we went to school with were:  Floyd and Flora Rasmussen, Maxine and Gary Ackerson, Nancy and Lois Olson (the Assembly of God pastor's girls), Cliff, Larry, and Danny Barnhart, Ginger and Larry Johns, Susan and Mike Bogart, Larry and Myron Losey, Gladys McAllister, Richard Boyer, Beverly Gates, Stephen Frazier, Ruth Wilkes, Linda Gray, Tommy Davis, Deloras Allenbaugh, Connie Gause, Lyla Blume, Terry Ewing, and John Quisenberry (from the Blue Mountain Ranger Station).  (It's not that my memory is that sharp.  It's that I recorded the names of most of these students on the back of the class picture.)

My brother, Dan and I, stumbled onto the old Hobbs Ranch when we were exploring the woods near the "Y".  I never knew the name of it until I read the stories and letters in the "Bates Memories".  At that time the beautiful old house and barns were still standing.  The most scenic meadow I have ever seen is the one behind the old structures.

Our family and some of our friends, such as the Sibleys, found an abundance of agates along the Middle Fork of the John Day River and up Camp Creek.  Some of the residents used them to decorate their yards.
    

A young pastor from Multnomah School of the Bible in Portland, Oregon by the name of Floyd Moore, began preaching services in the back room of the school gym (community hall).  It was during one of these services that I accepted the Lord Jesus as my savior.  Since we either didn't have a piano, or no one could play one, my Dad played his ukeline during the services and I sometimes accompanied him by singing.  Mrs. Grames was the Sunday School teacher. 
    

Pastor Moore went away for awhile and returned with his new bride, Marion.  He and Marion took it good naturedly when someone put their car up on blocks and removed the tires.  Floyd and Marion bought a trailer and moved near us on the hill along with another Christian couple, Ray and Hazel Ewing.  Our white cat used to visit Floyd and Marion, for a few extra morsels, as it were, but it returned to us one day with a ring of food coloring around its tail.  We painted a ring of a different color on its tail and sent it back in their direction.  It came back with another colored ring around its tail.  This kept up until we either ran out of food coloring, or tail. 
    

My brother, Dan, and the other boys in the vicinity of the "Y" built a tree house in the woods.  I was the only girl in the area so occasionally the boys took pity on me and allowed me access to the tree house. 
    

Ray and Hazel Ewing's son, Terry, was my best friend and we would ride our bikes on the woodland trails and roll tires down the hill.  Terry went into the ministry and was married with children when he died in a mine accident in Canada.  When I went back to the Bates area years later it saddened me to see the buildings gone and the original "Y" Junction torn down, but when I walked in the woods near where we lived, I saw an old tire leaning up against a tree, and a lump rose in my throat.  It was as if Terry and I were kids again, whooping, laughing, and rolling old tires down the hill as we once did.

 
Our Mom would take us huckleberrying between Dixie Pass and the "Y" so that we had an ample supply for pies, jelly, and syrup.  But, the best harvest we gleaned in the Bates area were the lifelong friendships with the Sibleys, Ackersons, Allenbaughs, Fraziers, Moores, Gates, Ewings, and others who were family friends for years.  Bates was congenial for forging lifelong friendships with the potlucks, picnics, and sledding parties that brought the whole town together.  Surrounded there by Christian neighbors I was spiritually and emotionally nurtured.  It is the one place from my childhood that is the most precious to me.

When I graduated from high school, I attended - for a time - the same bible college that Floyd and Marion attended.  I was married in 1966 to a born again Christian by the name of John Goodman and we had one son, Jason Shawn.  In about 1973, an independent Baptist Church started in our home in Glendale, Arizona that later became Greater Phoenix Baptist.  John and I divorced in 1993, sadly something that sometimes happens to Christian couples.  I am active in an independent Baptist Church here in Cheyenne, Wyoming.  My brother, Dan, is retired and living in the Philippines.  My Mom, Maggie, died a few years ago, but my Dad, Frank, is living in Union, Oregon and stays busy playing his unusual stringed music instruments at concerts in Baker.  For quite a few years, Ray and Hazel Ewing had a ministry of carrying Spanish language bibles into Mexico.
    

I so enjoyed reading the letters and stories about the Bates area.  I sincerely hope that more people who lived there will contribute to the wealth of stories that already exist.

Judith Nielsen

Email: judithn945@hotmail.com

Mick Watterson:  08-01-07:  I remember an incident that occurred on Unity Lake when I was about 14 or 15 years old.  A cousin of mine, Jane Anne, and her husband met the family at Unity Lake one hot Saturday afternoon.  Jane Anne wanted Dad to teach her how to ski and Dad was more than happy to oblige.  She got up for a few seconds and then fell.  Dad circled her with the rope dragging behind the boat and told her to grab the rope and when the rope was taut to holler "HIT  IT!" Well, we hear the words "HIT IT!" and Dad shoved the coal to the old Evinrude.  I looked in back of the boat and no Jane Anne ... just circular rings and a big bubble ... a big bubble where she used to be. 

It seems that when my cousin grabbed the rope, she put it over her head thereby causing a half-hitch noose around her neck.  When she saw the rope go slightly taut........well, she yelled, "HIT IT!" and basically the power of the boat and tight rope caused her to corkscrew about four to five feet under the water.  When she finally emerged, she had neck burns and the top of her bathing suit was torn off.  Yes, torn off, and the upper anatomy was floating about for all to see!!  She began to cuss my Dad over and over.....emphasizing that she would never do this sort of insane thing again.  Over the years, she came to our house quite often so I assume she eventually forgave Dad.  According to my Mother, she never tried skiing again and forbid her kids to partake in the sport. 

Linda (Gjertson) Mathison: 07-24-07:   My sister, Julie (Gjertson) Thomas and I, attended grade school at Bates, from 1956 to around 1963.  We lived at Blue Mountain Ranger Station, two miles away, and had to ride to school.  My sister remembers Mrs. Koberneck, in first grade, who would slam a ruler on her desk to get everyone's attention.  I remember Mrs. Benson, third and fourth grade teacher, who played piano to start the day.  Our most remembered song was: "Up we go into the wild, blue yonder." (Air Force.) 

At recess we loved to play in the adjacent field outside school.  Boys would scare girls with frogs from the ditch.  I remember music class - "Special Requests." This is where anyone could raise their hand and request someone to sing in front of the class.  My song was: "The Wayward Wind."  I can still sing this and gasp for breath.  Mick Watterson was very famous for "Blue Swede Shoes."  Also, Frances and Phronsie Raines could sing, "I Love Little Willie, I Do, Ma Ma."  I still sing this.  Singing was great, and I liked: "Comin' Around the Mountain, When She Comes, Toot Toot." 

Other memories that come to mind: Desks welded together all in a row, and ink wells with real ink pens for the penmanship.  I enjoyed Mrs. Polly's fifth and sixth grade room.  Boys and girls started to date around that age.  I think we bought either blue or red scarves from the Bates Mercantile store and the boy would wear the scarf if dating the girl.  One day some boy asked me to dance and I slapped him, as I had seen this in a movie somewhere.  I surprised both of us!  We were very embarrassed and didn't ever dance. 

Yet then we went into Mister Cardwell's seventh and eighth grade.  At this age, we had sock hops on Friday evenings in the gymnasium with a record player on the stage, and 45 records we had bought from the Bates Mercantile.  My first record was: "Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini" -- the 45's were cheap and sung by imitators of the real singers, but what did we know?  They were proof of rock 'n roll existing in Bates. 

I remember going to the dances.  There was not enough boys to go around, so girls danced together.  Oh that Alice ... Alice Vincent; Nancy Workman; Carol Reid; ... such delightful, fun classmates; others.  After dancing, one of the parents who sponsored sock hops would feed us a cupcake and Cool Aid in the church part of the building behind the stage.  It was divine. 

In that very same alcove, I attended church.  I must have gotten saved about 10 times in the kitchen!  We had to go in there so it would be private.  Then we would be escorted onto the stage where the pastor would explain that now we were in the Lamb's Book of Life.  I was very impressed.  I also played piano for this church, and for the church in the brown house on the hill.  I began playing at age 13 and decided to create a music program.  We had just a few faithful.  I loved fast songs and liked to see anything that would make them jump up.  Such power.  I still love country gospel hymns and I always play this at home if I need music.

I remember the love of the teachers for the students (most of the time) and the attention and care we were given.  I especially remember the Christmas program in the community hall (gym), with first the manger scene. We had a little play about it.  I remember being the angel once.  I still remember that speech.  Everyone got to play a part if possible, and rotate it.  We sang religious Christmas songs.  Then we sang popular Christmas songs.  It didn't hurt, blending the two together that way.  At the end, one of the Bates' dads would come into the gymnasium dressed like Santa, bringing those red net stockings that held candy, giving one to everybody. 

Winters were cold around there, but the community was warm.  We would go home to our house where we got T.V. on two stations via a television antenna.  If the picture was too snowy, we suggested to our father that he would climb on the roof and turn the antenna until the picture got better.

I did a lot of hiking around where I lived and loved Clear Creek, with its little baby rainbow trout.  I found a bog where "spring peepers" lived.  My sister and I would creep over there in the spring, in the evening,  listen to the peepers --  little tree frogs.  If they heard any noise, they would all shut up.  Slowly then they would peep, till' all were a chorus again. 

I also found a mesmerizing beaver dam, watching beavers falling trees.  Surprisingly, I found a deer trail that led me to the road that went to Bates so I would walk around quite a distance to get there.  The woods were beautiful, and the air was clean.

I remember where we lived; our house always got some black ice on the stairs to our front porch during the winter's bad weather.  My sister and I would be dressed for school and come marching out of the front door with our books and lunch boxes; take one step on the stairs, and fall backwards and slide into the snow bank.  Of course this knocked all the stuff out of the lunchbox!  Then we would crawl around and look down the street and see John Quisenberry come out of his house, slip on the steps and slide into the snow bank too.  So Funny!

I remember Mister Bolen and the school bus taking the 9-12th graders over Dixie Pass to school at Prairie City.  The bus was always warmed up good before kids got in it. We were a happy bunch and often would sing together.  I remember the road so clearly that I even sometimes dream of it. 

Freshmen were hazed at Prairie City and I remember wearing long johns and a bathing suit.  The Freshmen had to do whatever the Seniors wanted.  Finally we got that over with and then we were launched into high school.  It was bliss.  I was a Panther.  I wrote a newspaper column: "The Panther Purr."  Great days - such precious memories. 

Hello to classmates; bless you all!
Linda (Gjertson) Mathison   
Email:  lmathisn@netzero.net 

Mick L. Watterson:  06-06-07:  I just read your post, Leonard.  Excellent!  Sure brought back some memories…..like the 25 cent haircut at Art & Louise’s row house.  I remember the sparsely furnished house, the school clock that continually ticked in the kitchen, and the sour dough crock that sat next to the sink on the kitchen counter.  Moreover, and for some odd reason, I remember the smell of sauerkraut and Louise sweeping the floor with an old bristle broom.  Lastly, I certainly remember Art’s brown suspenders.  Art was into suspenders long before Larry King.

Leonard Cardwell: 05-22-07:  Email:  lenc@oregontrail.net

Norm Rasmussen: 02-26-07:  Been slow getting responses from others so I thought I'd share another "Bates Story." 

I receive an email from my son's wife, Ellen, yesterday.  Brian and Ellen Rasmussen live in Chicago, Illinois with our three grandsons, William, Gabriel, & Collin.  It read:

If there are any class reunions planned at Prairie City, would someone please send details, so they can be posted here?  Thanks!

In recent communication with Mick Watterson, he brought up something that I think should be posted here.  Why isn't there some sort of memorial marker - sign - SOMETHING ... that lets people know where Bates used to be?  Maybe the Country or State would put up some sort of memorial marker - sign; etc., -- if someone would take it upon themselves to contact the proper officials.

Here is a newspaper Bates-related article that lends itself strongly to what Mick addresses:

http://www.bakercityherald.com/news/story.cfm?story_no=4825

  -- Norm R.

Mick L. Watterson: 12-21-06:  Below is an abbreviated list of my memories of Bates.  I left Bates in the Fall of 1965.

• I remember the smell of Ponderosa Pine.  I especially remember the popping sound of lumber as it was being stacked at the Green chain.  You could hear the popping sound from the Bates store.
   

• The Bates store was special; where else could you find a beer hall, butcher shop, post office and general merchandise under one roof?  Where else would you find a proprietor as fair and nice as Carl Leishman?
   

• How about the winters.  I remember the snow caves, twenty below mornings and the bus ride to high school in Prairie City.  Poor old bus didn’t warn up until we arrived at the Golden West Motel stop.
   

• I remember paydays.  The population dropped dramatically in Bates as hard-working Bates folks took their kids and funds and headed to the big cities of Baker and John Day.
   

• I remember the Bates girls…..very pretty, very smart, and mostly intolerant of those rowdy Bates boys.
   

• The Bates school and Art Cardwell.  You were going to learn whether you wanted to or not.  I remember Art making me sit under the school clock in the hallway one afternoon for throwing a spit ball at Carol Reid.  I think all the boys in Bates had a crush on Carol at one time or another.
   

• Who can forget the Bates Community Hall?  I remember the grade school dances, ham feeds, Christmas concerts and basketball games.  And who can forget when our parents would go to the New Years dance at the Bates Hall.  I consider it prudent not to go into detail here.  Suffice to say that some friendships suffered as a result of the gala festivities.
   
• I remember hunting season in October.  I loved the fresh deer steaks….deer steaks with Mom’s brown gravy and pancakes.  I can still taste the Elk roast in November.   

These are just a few of my memories of Bates.  I’ll always remember the people…people who taught me honesty, friendship, and the value of hard work.

Mick's email is:  Mick.L.WATTERSON@odot.state.or.us

Norm Rasmussen - November 2006:  My wife and I made a spontaneous visit to Grant Country to attend the funeral of my brother-in-law, Jerry Cheadle.  Regrettably, there were many friends I was not able to visit with during our stay, mainly because I wanted to spend as much time as I could with my father, Ray Rasmussen, after the funeral.  At his age of 102, there won't be many times left to do so.  However, I did somehow manage to catch the spirit of adventure that blows through Grant County at some of the strangest times, and if you are interested in reading about my delightful little hike into Slide Lake during an early November snowstorm, you can click on the link. 

While out there, I was able to visit with Chet and Carol Johns a short while, who are still living in Bates.  Chet is 91, and Carol is 87, I believe.  Two of the finest people I have ever met.  (Can anyone tell us if it is THIS couple Dave Connolly writes about in his Vinegar Hill encounter?)  I was on my way over to Baker to see if I could find Gary Johns, their son, to see if he would grant me permission to publish Sonja's book here on the Internet, and it so happened that Gary popped in only minutes after I arrived there.  What a delightful surprise!  He was on his way over to Prairie.  

Lee Siegrist:  05-08-2006:   We never met, but I knew your brother Dale; he was a couple of years older than myself. The story about your hunting trips with your father brought back a ton of memories from Bates. My family moved there in 1962. I was in the second grade. I remember the Cardwell Elementary School just like it was yesterday. My daughters actually attended the same school building after it was moved to Prairie City behind the High School.  Thanks for posting these stories on the internet, and God bless.

Chester Willis (Brosig):  1-21-2006: 

Hello Norman!  My name is Chester (Chet) Willis.  I used the last name of my step dad, (Brosig) while I lived in Bates.  I was one year ahead of you in school.  I read with interest your story on the Internet of hunting with your dad in 1957.  (Tribute To A Hunter).  I attended the Bates reunion this last summer (2005) and visited some with your dad and your older brother Floyd. 

I too got my 50-cent haircuts from Mr. Cardwell.  Yes, he was exceptional.  When he left the room, Tip Frazier and I would grab yardsticks and sword fight and somehow he always knew.  I also visited Mr. Cardwell in his late years at Leonard Cardwell’s in Woodburn.  The man remembered many he had taught over the years and there were many who looked him up long after school.  What an impression he left on all of us.  I was in the 8th grade class that went to Prairie City so I only had the opportunity to learn from him just one year. 

I really enjoyed the 2005 reunion, although the only one there that I ran around with some was Gunther Clark.  Charlie Workman still lives there but didn't come down to the reunion, although his sister GeorgeAnne did.  I did visit Charlie at his home. 

I live in Shedd, Oregon, which is 15 miles south of Albany, so I have been back to Bates many times and have kept contact with Charlie all along.  My cousin, Roger Derrick, who has always lived in Unity, works with Charlie at the highway department and I visit him also. 

You remember Raymond Brooks.   I used to run around with Raymond and Jim Combs a lot when I lived at Bates.  I thought you went hunting with us once with Billy Campbell.  Bill used to drive over a lot and we would either take his car or Jim's.  One of them (I don’t remember which one) had no brakes and we would run into a bank to slow it down.  The good Lord had to be watching down on us in those days because I have no idea how we survived. 

I remember once Jim talked me into trading rifles and after just a few minutes I realized why.  Jim's rifle was a 30-40 Craig and was extremely heavy.  My rifle was a 30-30 Marlin - much lighter!

As for me, my folks moved from Bates just before my senior year of high school and would not allow me to stay with the Workman’s to finish school. 

I never fit in at Santiam in Mill City. They refereed to me as the hillbilly, although I still don’t know how they thought they were any better.  Like at Bates, most of the kids were children of loggers and mill workers.

My soul however has never left Eastern Oregon. As a child we moved back and forth between Unity, Bates, and Prairie City. That did leave me with and advantage because I went to grade school in all three places so I knew most of the kids.

I knew most of the people in Bates because I shared the Oregonian paper route with Charlie Workman.  Don Sterling and Mike Biedesello shared the Oregon Journal. 

When we first moved to Bates we lived in Knuteville between Rod Frazier and Merlin Vasbinder.  We later moved down on the back road by the river next to Larry McGinnis.  I used to take care of Larry's wood and he paid me $5 a week year-round for doing so.  I had to get up early in the morning when it was cold and start the fire so I probably earned every cent. 

I can probably recall about every waking minute I spent in Bates because it was the greatest place I ever lived. I got my first gun, a .22 rifle when I was 11.  I wrecked Rod Frazier’s Buick when I was 12, and he still let me drive it after that.  I remember selling shiners to Mr. Bolin for a dollar for a coffee can full.   I have wonderful memories that would take a long book to record …

Chet's email is:  hortonjohnny@msn.com

Norm Rasmussen: 12-04-05:     In recent email dialogue with Russ Miles, former resident of Bates, he brought up the name of Arthur Cardwell, and some hilarious memories of Mr. Cardwell came up about his giving haircuts on the side.  I had totally forgotten about Art giving haircuts, and when Russ mentioned it, it suddenly came back!  (There’s hope for my aging memory after all!).  I’m sure story after story could be told about getting haircuts by Art, so I’ll tell one of my own.

First off, I have to mention that I was most likely one of Art’s worse “thorns in the flesh.”  I did not enjoy going to grade school all that much.  There were snowshoe rabbits to hunt in the winter, fish to catch in the spring and summer, and deer and elk to stalk in the fall … and none of that could be done in school. 

As many former residents of Bates remembers, Art was the principal of the grade school.  He was one strong disciplinarian, and he was physically strong enough to handle any “rebellious toughy” who dared rebel against his authority.

Because I was the tallest kid in the 6^th grade class, I was set in the very back so other classmates wouldn’t have to try to see over my head.  We were allowed to put together a puzzle on a table in the back of the room during class breaks, and I loved doing that.  To this day, I don’t know if Art ordered my teacher to sit me near the table the puzzle pieces were on ... just because he was bored with teaching and needed some excitement as well ... or things just accidentally worked out that way.

At different times during the school day I would eye pieces of the puzzle from my desk.  When I saw a piece that I was confident would fit, when the teacher turned her back to the class, I would reach over as quick as I could and put the piece of the puzzle where it fit, if it did.  On occasion she would catch me at it, but she was very lenient with me as best as I remember. 

However, she had a “Sergeant-At-Arms” available to her.  His name was Art. 

Art had the most quiet walking shoes in the world.  Hunters would have paid thousands to own Art’s shoes, because is soles just didn’t make any noise when he would peak through the cracked door that separated the 7-8^th grade classroom, where he always taught, and the 5-6^th grade classroom.  Art would wait to see me stretching over and putting a piece of the puzzle in place … then quickly sneak up behind me and grab me by the shoulders and start shaking the ever- living boredom out of me.   I’m not exaggerating.  If you had a loose tooth, it most likely would have fallen out.  Those shakings sometimes triggered California earthquakes, I declare! 

After a bone-jarring shaking, I would stay patient for a few days, then temptation would knock and I would buckle.  Puzzles can never be put together quickly enough at recess time.  Time after time, you could feel a 7.9 Bates earthquake on the Art Cardwell Scale, as Art would catch me, and shake me a little harder than the time before, to try to get me to behave. 

To this day, I believe I have eyesight behind my head … developed during the 6^th grade.  I would wait for that door to open a tiny crack, and then I would be the best student in the class, eyes glued on the desk or the teacher.  It must have spoiled his moment time and time again, at least I was hoping.

Eventually it became a duel of wits, I think.  At times Art would be so upset at me for continuing to sneak working on that puzzle during class that I would be set out in the hallway as punishment, desk and all.  That was almost prison in a way, but yet it gave me the opportunity to get out of class, so that was a huge positive.  Anything closer to the outside schoolhouse door was better than nothing, I figured.

Art never lost a “duel” that I’m aware of, and he certainly didn’t lose the one between him and I.  Here’s how he won. 

I quit putting pieces of the puzzle together before the end of the school year in the 6^th grade … because something else was happening.   When I would go to his house for a haircut after class, I began to have fear come upon me that while I was in the barber seat with my back to him, he might grab hold of my shoulders and start shaking the hair out of my scalp instead of cutting it.

No kidding.  I started have nightmares about him doing that to me.  After those nightmares, I became almost paranoid that is was going to really happen, although it never did. 

Nevertheless … my fear of Art taking advantage of me in his barber seat was what caused me to start behaving by the time I graduated from the 6^th grade class. 

Years later I was out to Oregon from Michigan to visit my family.  I was visiting my sister, Yvonne, in Salem, and found out that Art was still alive, and was living not all that far away.  I got his son’s phone number, which happened to be where Art lived, and arrangements were made for me to go see him, one last time.

When I saw Art, I almost went into shock.  I stood 6”-4” and he didn’t look to be much more than five and a half feet.  He was bent over considerably.  I always held the picture of him in my mind as a giant, which he was a sturdy man in his prime, and much taller.   It had been some 20 years since I had seen him last.  

I believe Art was in his 80’s at that time.  I don’t remember the year – somewhere in the 1980’s I believe.  He was nearly blind, and couldn’t see my face very clearly. 

When I introduced myself to him, he remembered my name.  He was so delighted that I stopped in.  We had usual conversation … he wanting me to give him an overview of where life had taken me from Bates, and then the impulse struck me:  I wanted to reach up and grab him by the shoulders and shake the ever-loving tranquility out of him as paybacks! 

Just kidding - though the thought ran through my mind, and when it did, I impulsively asked him if he remembered the puzzle-shaking episodes, and try as hard as he could, he said he didn’t. 

He then followed up with, “I don’t believe I ever had one student who was a bad kid.  All of them were good kids that I remember, including you.”

It was such a blessing to hear him say that.  I really believe he meant it.

Art also mentioned that he had kept a diary over the years, and would have to go back and see if he had written anything about shaking people during school.  I never thought to ask him about it then, but I sure would like to read that diary now.  I'll bet it would be a blessing to many.

Art "impacted" my life greatly ... perhaps me more than many others.

Russ Miles: 12-3-05:  By all means, Norm, feel free to link to the stories from off my website.  If they will bless anyone, great: that's why I took the time to write them.