The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1936-07-23
ster-Yedrs

u ester-qe
For a year or more have thought
about organizing Pioneers Club
membership limited to, say, people
who are still in Kennewick who ar
rived prior to 1910. Just to see who
might be eligible to become MEM
beers of such an organization, a list
of names was compiled and while
still quite incomplete, it has more
than eighty names on it.
Thinking about the old timers, it
occurred to me that perhaps a col
umn of miscellaneous thoughts
might prove interesting-especia
to those who might happen to be
acquainted with the principals
mentioned.
Such column would, of neceS-
ity, be very personal and if it were
started, the repeated use of the
first person singular pronoun would
have to be forgiven. While I always
tell everyone who inquiries that I
will be '.27 on my next birthday" I
find that I have quite vivid recol-
lections of things which happened
around 1905, 1906 to 1910 or 1915.
Strange, isn't it?
y - -
Kennewick has always been some
what of dissappointmen to me,
starting from the first time saw
it. But still I stay and stay and
stay. The first disappointment I
had was that there were no Indians
or wild cowboys shooting up the
town. Coming from the effete East
(clear back in Minnesota) I suppos-
ed that sway out west" Indians were
part of the natural scenery and
that whooping cowboys shooting out
the lights were matter of course.
To find that everyone I met was
from Chicago, indianapolis, Vir-
ginia or New York (much further
east than where I came irony was
quite a disappointment to me.
Thru the intervening years have
experienced one disappointment aft
er another, but still when come
to look back on the whole picture, I
find that really I have nothing to
complain about.
= q 4
My stepfather's health was the
primary cause of the family coming
to Kennewick. We'd heard about the
wonderful country where dollars
Tin the form of big, red, juicy ap-
ples) grew on trees. One could sit
on his comfortable porch, turn on
the rain when needed and watch the
dollars grow. No weeds, no bugs, no
aggravating marketing troubles
just Uptopia where everything is
sublime.
The first person we met was G..
w. Story, father of Guy and Cliff
ford, who was in the real estate
business. At least score of real
estate men met every incoming
train in those days and many was
the deal that was made before the
unwary investor even left the depot
platform.
The old man was not too quick on
the trigger and didn't bite the first
bait. Right here Mr.. Story made a
real friend.
When Story found out how much
money there was available he sug-
gested that perhaps the old man
had better get a job for year and
see how he liked the country. It
was good advice he didn't
like 1t and pulled out for Seattle,
where the rest of the family has
lived since. The writer stayed here
for reasons which will no doubt
appear in this column later on.
- - -
We moved into the Bill Morain's
house out on Washington street
Bill was out of town at the moment,
but it was the only vacant house in
town and the whole tribe of us
couldn't live in a hotel, so we just
tumbled in. Later we moved to the
Bartlett ranch where the old man
got a job irrigating. Rev. Bartlett
was rector of the local Episcopal
church and kindlier person never
lived than he. He afterward sold