Q.” EC 8, Everett Herald Tues, June 29, W76 3 , . Photo couriesv Snohomlsh Historical Sactetv Monroe Log Company crew for ‘portraif’ V Impressions of an oldl'imer By ELOF NORMAN Jim Harvey opened his eyes to daylight and looked around the crum- my Skidrow hotel room. With a groan he turned away from the un- shaded window and wondered briefly who had brought him there, as if it mattered. He saw he was fully dressed even to his shoes, Rising, he held his head. Oh, wow. How it aches. What a night of drinking it must have been. However, he should not be too surprised. This trip to town was evidently ending just the same as all the previous trips. His resolve to spend the winter in comfort away from the logging camp had come to nothing. He wondered, for a mo- ment, if he would ever learn‘ to be a little smarter than most of the log- ging camp bohunks he worked with. Searching his pockets he found a few pennies that someone had ig. nored or missed. Oh well, he still had the two dollars hid in his shoes -— he hoped. Yes, they were there, Good, And his meager quilt-wrapped belongings stood in the corner, Good again. Now at least, he could go back to the log- ging camp and freeze and work for that sob. woods boss and take all the rottenness that he would be hand- ed. Grasping his bindle he staggered out of the room, passed the bleary eyed clerk and out into the street. First some whisky. Across the way he saw a saloon sign. Staggering in the door, he flop- ped on a stool and in a croaking voice ordered whisky. With two trembling hands he managed to get some of it down his throat. His stom- ach jumped, but somehow the drink stayed down, The bartender took the dollar bill and laid the 90 cents change on the bar with an inquiring look. Seeing a nod he poured another shot and took a dime from the change on the bar. Feeling a little better now, Jim wondered if he should try to eat, but his stomach rebelled at the thought. Better get down to the employment office before all the jobs were gone. Jim managed to get out of the sa- loon door and stumble the two short blocks to the employment office. Without a word Jim slapped his dollar on the counter and waited for the work permit, “That‘ll cost you two dollars," Bill said. “The price has gone up. Hain’t got it, eh? Oh well, seeing it's you I‘ll let you have it and you can pay me next time you come to town. Right?” Stuffing the work permit in his pocket, Jim started the long two~ mile walk to the log dump where he could get a ride to camp in the ca- boose. On the way he thought about the stinking bunk house, at the camp, with the dirty wet socks and under- wear hanging around the, pot-bellied stove to dry — to be put on half wet in the morning. He thought about the poor and ill-prepared food. He thought about the bare wooden bunks full of fleas and bedbugs and about the straw he would have to scrounge from the horse barn for a little padding in the bunk, He thought about the company store where he got his tobacoo and about the things that would be on the bill that he had not got. But most of all he thought about the sob. woods boss who would give him all the dirtiest jobs and curse him at every opportunity. It was a hell of a life, Elof Norman came to Monte Cristo from Denmark in 1902 as an 8-Year-old. He later worked in the logging camps of the urea. Norman, 82, is a freelance writer and active senior citizen. , Author: , Accession/Object ID: 2005.326.10, Object Name: Article, Title: , Description: Article by Elof Norman, Everett Herall July 1976, titled "Impressions of an Old-Timer". describes early logging camp life., OCR Text: Q.” EC 8, Everett Herald Tues, June 29, W76 3 , . Photo couriesv Snohomlsh Historical Sactetv Monroe Log Company crew for ‘portraif’ V Impressions of an oldl'imer By ELOF NORMAN Jim Harvey opened his eyes to daylight and looked around the crum- my Skidrow hotel room. With a groan he turned away from the un- shaded window and wondered briefly who had brought him there, as if it mattered. He saw he was fully dressed even to his shoes, Rising, he held his head. Oh, wow. How it aches. What a night of drinking it must have been. However, he should not be too surprised. This trip to town was evidently ending just the same as all the previous trips. His resolve to spend the winter in comfort away from the logging camp had come to nothing. He wondered, for a mo- ment, if he would ever learn‘ to be a little smarter than most of the log- ging camp bohunks he worked with. Searching his pockets he found a few pennies that someone had ig. nored or missed. Oh well, he still had the two dollars hid in his shoes -— he hoped. Yes, they were there, Good, And his meager quilt-wrapped belongings stood in the corner, Good again. Now at least, he could go back to the log- ging camp and freeze and work for that sob. woods boss and take all the rottenness that he would be hand- ed. Grasping his bindle he staggered out of the room, passed the bleary eyed clerk and out into the street. First some whisky. Across the way he saw a saloon sign. Staggering in the door, he flop- ped on a stool and in a croaking voice ordered whisky. With two trembling hands he managed to get some of it down his throat. His stom- ach jumped, but somehow the drink stayed down, The bartender took the dollar bill and laid the 90 cents change on the bar with an inquiring look. Seeing a nod he poured another shot and took a dime from the change on the bar. Feeling a little better now, Jim wondered if he should try to eat, but his stomach rebelled at the thought. Better get down to the employment office before all the jobs were gone. Jim managed to get out of the sa- loon door and stumble the two short blocks to the employment office. Without a word Jim slapped his dollar on the counter and waited for the work permit, “That‘ll cost you two dollars," Bill said. “The price has gone up. Hain’t got it, eh? Oh well, seeing it's you I‘ll let you have it and you can pay me next time you come to town. Right?” Stuffing the work permit in his pocket, Jim started the long two~ mile walk to the log dump where he could get a ride to camp in the ca- boose. On the way he thought about the stinking bunk house, at the camp, with the dirty wet socks and under- wear hanging around the, pot-bellied stove to dry — to be put on half wet in the morning. He thought about the poor and ill-prepared food. He thought about the bare wooden bunks full of fleas and bedbugs and about the straw he would have to scrounge from the horse barn for a little padding in the bunk, He thought about the company store where he got his tobacoo and about the things that would be on the bill that he had not got. But most of all he thought about the sob. woods boss who would give him all the dirtiest jobs and curse him at every opportunity. It was a hell of a life, Elof Norman came to Monte Cristo from Denmark in 1902 as an 8-Year-old. He later worked in the logging camps of the urea. Norman, 82, is a freelance writer and active senior citizen. , Granite Falls Historical Society,Documents (articles, clippings, letters, papers),General Articles & Documents,General Articles,General Articles 01,Article (2005.326.10),Article (2005.326.10) 1, Article (2005.326.10) 1