Sixtythree Years Ago

Before beginning to tell of this adventure which took place sixty-three years ago I should give a short biography of three people principally involved.

The youngest, Everett Dahack, was born circa 1900. I don’t know much about Everett. I was well acquainted with his father Eli, and his much older brother Earnest. I understand Everett was a spoiled son, sort of a brat. In the year 1913 I know Everett lived with his father on a small farm about two miles north of Eagle Point.

In about 1930 a friend of Everett was in the moonshine making business. This man had an operating still a few miles north of Eagle Point. There were at that time many moonshine stills in our area, and occasionally the Feds or sheriff would raid these stills.

One morning a deputy perched himself, well camouflaged, on top of a tree near this still of Everett’s friend. To be in such a position, to kill must have been his intention. This morning Everett killed a deer and for some unknown reason carried it to the still. When within a few steps of the still the deputy shot and killed Everett. The deputy was tried for murder and acquitted.

The second member of this party to introduce is Elmer Robertson, who was born in Missouri in 1887. With his parents and many brothers and sisters (eleven I believe: Elmer being the fourth in line) they migrated to Eagle Point in 1913 and settled on a farm near Eli Dahack. I first became acquainted with Elmer in 1929. He was a big man, about six feet two, and weighed about two hundred twenty pounds. He was a very likeable fellow, a good worker, and a good friend. He was a good shot and always carried a big gun. He died in 1971.

The third and last member of this party is George Daley, grandson of early settlers to Rogue Valley, born in Eagle Point in 1896. Young George got the two-wheeled fever early. He was always very ambitious, worked at anything, and saved his money to buy motorcycles mostly. He was a money maker, sharp, and a good mechanic. He is now Captain Daley, retired California Highway Patrol.

In 1913 he with his cousin Lynn Daley boarded a train and went to Portland, Oregon. George had saved about four hundred dollars. There he purchased a brand new Excelsior. It cost three hundred thirty dollars, and weighed about three hundred fifty pounds. This was a real motorcycle, two cylinders, chain drive, and had a buddy saddle.

They rode it home to Medford where George then lived with his mother while he attended high school. That summer he explored a radius of about one hundred miles to Crater Lake, to Klamath Falls over the old emigrant road, to Yreka in California over the old Dollarhide Toll Road. He took his grandmother on the buddy saddle to Crater Lake.

When World War 1 came along, George sold the Excelsior (it had eighty thousand miles on the speedometer) and volunteered in the Navy. When the war was over George went to Fort Jones, California to visit his father, immediately landed a job in a garage, and soon married a very good and patient understanding woman. He then joined the California Highway Patrol.

Before 1932 California did not furnish its patrolmen any equipment. Motorcycles were cheaper to buy and did not cost so much to operate. So it was motorcycles for Captain Daley and his crew when the weather permitted. During this time Captain Daley wore out three Harleys and one Indian.

I have noticed that when we get along in years our thoughts seem to inadvertently reach back to the good old days, and so it is with Captain Daley. About three years ago the motorcycle bug bit again. In one and one half years he bought and tried seven new bikes before hitting what he wanted, a 1976 BMW.

I also ride trails a little and have two BMWs. We are near the same age (Captain Daley is twelve years older), have the same riding habits and are very congenial so we often ride together. Last August Captain Daley and I followed, where possible, a trip he and two other young fellows made sixty three years ago.

Eli Dahack, Everett’s father, besides the farm, also owned a garage in Medford. From time to time George would ride his motorcycle to Eli’s garage. Young Everett saw George having so much fun that he decided he must have a bike too, so his father bought him a used Pope, the same as George had a few years before. The Pope was a single cylinder, belt drive, and weighed about one hundred fifty pounds.

This was 1914 and plans were made to leave the latter part of August. They could make it to Crescent City in one day, stay two nights and return on the same route. Each was to take one blanket. They were not going to cook, only eat cold canned food so all that was needed was a spoon and a can opener. They were not going to take any tools. George had a grass rope and that was all.

They started from Medford at the crack of dawn. Traveling through Central Point they skirted the south side of the old Fort Lane, then through Gold Hill, and from there the road was on the south banks of Rogue River. On they went towards Crescent City, on what is now Highway 199 or near the same location.

At O’Brien near the state line the road was known as the Gasquet Toll Road. Almost all of the roads in 1914 were not graveled or surfaced. Motorized power was out except for a few months in the summertime. The roads were all one lane, but about every five hundred feet there was a wide place where teams could pass. The road was very rough and steep in places. The boys had to push the bikes over the steep places.

To make matters worse, the belt broke on Everett’s Pope. George had a grass rope and with this he made a makeshift belt. They continued to push, rest, push, and struggle on. The Pope was the worst problem. Just at dark they made the summit, thirsty and tired. The only flat place they could find to sleep was the road itself. They slept in the road.

Next morning, from the high point where they were, they could see way, way west, and it was all down, down: they had it made. (It is in fact mostly downgrade, some very steep until Gasquet.) They soon got started, but were to find the road in some places steeper and rougher than the day before. At Gasquet they found a store and ate their first hot meal.

The road crossed low flat stretches of up to one thousand feet where planks and poles about ten feet long were laid crosswise to prevent getting stuck in the mud. It was virtually impossible to ride the bikes–too rough, bouncing over those planks and poles. They had to idle the motors and trot along beside the bikes.

The group arrived in Crescent City fairly early in the afternoon, where the first priority was a new belt for the Pope. None could be found, so a garage man ordered one from Seattle and told them he would have it in four or five days. They found a nice place to camp on the beach a little north of town.

On the summit of this bank was a small cabin in which lived a lone elderly Indian, who was in the crab selling business. He had three or four crab pots a short distance from the shore that he tended in his rowboat and sold the boys twelve huge crabs for one dollar.

The boys did not have any equipment nor did they know how to prepare the crabs for eating. The Indian agreed to do this for them. He got a five gallon pail of water from the sea, and poured it into a large kettle suspended over a fire. When the water was boiling he dumped in the crabs. When the crabs were cooked he cracked them and served them on a piece of driftwood. The boys had a feast.

Late in the afternoon of the second day there came from Corvallis about twelve teenage girls, along with two older women chaperones. They were collage students and came fully equipped for camping, with tents and so on. They set up camp a short distance up the beach from the three bikers. When Elmer saw the girls he immediately went to his blanket and got out his big gun.

Evening came and the boys had a nice bonfire going. The girls started playing with a beach ball. As they played they also drifted near the boys’ camp.

Visiting followed and presently all were romping together, having a great time. Soon they all started playing leapfrog. Elmer stooped low, hands on knees, a girl ran, planted her hands on his shoulders and leaped over. As she went over she did not allow sufficient clearance for Elmer’s big gun: her foot caught the barrel and the gun discharged. The bullet went into the sand. The girls screamed and ran.

After a little time they all ceased playing and retired to the fire. George noticed Elmer walking slowly toward the fire. Every time he put his foot to the ground George saw the whiskey squirt from the lace holes at the top of his foot.

When Elmer was about ten feet from the fire he turned and walked backward a few steps. George saw him pick broken pieces of glass from his pocket and when no one was watching, so he thought, he would toss them into the fire. When the whiskey got warm it made an awful stench. That was the finale. The girls went to their tents and never came back.

Time now began to drag. Losing the girls’ company so suddenly was a serious blow to their morale. Worse yet they were in sight. They wanted to get going but could not because they had no belt for the Pope. They were not anxious to take that terrible road back home the way they came, so by inquiring they found there was a road going south through Eureka and then east through the mountains.

Five days went by and no belt. They could wait no longer, so George went to a hardware store, bought a few pieces of leather and made repairs the best he could on the belt.

Next morning at daylight they headed south. The road was not bad and they made good time. They crossed the Klamath river on a ferry. The road was beautiful, winding in and out among the big trees. Then it happened again: the Pope started having belt trouble. George and Elmer were good comrades and would not leave Everett behind, so often they had to stop and push the Pope over some of the steeper hills.

About fifteen miles from the junction they came to the Van Duzen River. The day was gone and they decided to spend the night on a nice sandy spot near the water. The boys were very tired but contented, considering the trouble with the Pope. (In 1020 automobile time from Crescent City to Eureka in twelve hours considered good.)

They did not get going very early the next morning. The river was lousy with salmon and they made so much noise splashing that Elmer complained he could not sleep. They could have had a barbecued salmon for breakfast, but Elmer did not make any use of his big gun.

The river here turned north and makes a U-turn of about two miles across. There are now bridges at both heels of the U, but in 1914 the road graded around the north bank of the river. This bank slopes into the river quite sharply, approximately seventy degrees: it is one hundred fifty feet high and fifteen hundred feet long. The bank is a white rather soft sedimentary formation that can be moved with a shovel.

The grade begins fifteen feet above the river and when fifteen hundred feet distant it tips the ridge and at this point it is about one hundred fifty feet above the river. The grade was only one lane wide. Terminal points of the grade could be seen, so traffic had to wait for clearance.

By the time the boys got going the sun was shining hot on this bank. The roadbed did not have boulders but was very rough, with deep ruts. They were forced to walk and help the bikes along. Halfway up the motors got hot and the boys got hot too, so they parked the bikes on the stands and sat down to rest. Everetts, by coincidence, was pointed toward the river, at this point about seventy feet below. The stand gave way and the Pope rolled into the river.

The other two were so glad to see him go. He was not invited on the trip in the first place and had been a hindrance to their progress. George and Elmer had enough problems of their own.

As Captain Daley and I toured along, at times I could see signs of the old road. I wondered what would have happened if Everett had been determined to stay with them. He and the Pope could never have made it. Would the trio have reversed; gone back, or would George and Elmer have left Everett to fare for himself?

Everett’s luck now changed for the better, much better; he did not walk more than fifteen or twenty miles when by chance an automobile came along, gave him a ride, and even carried him clear to Medford. In fact he got home before George and Elmer.

Strange things can happen; Everett was to see the Pope again. A few years later some men fishing along the Van Duzen River saw the bike, dragged it out, and by detective work on the license and motor number found it was registered to Eli Dahack of Medford, Oregon. One day the freight station called Eli, and told him that there was a large C.O.D box for him. When Eli got back to his garage with the box and opened it, there was the Pope. Eli paid the freight and that was the end of the Pope.

George and Elmer continued to go forward slowly but surely. Both springs broke on the buddy saddle. They found some haywire and wired it tight to the fender. It was now terribly rough riding for Elmer. Presently the road came to where it forded the river. The water was about ten inches deep. Elmer told George to go on for a mile or so; he would walk. In this distance, Elmer kept count. The road crossed the river forty-two times.

On Highway 36 motels are a long distance apart. Captain Daley and I arrived at Dunsmore at 8 p.m. and were in the market for a place to rest for the night. In 1905 a lodge was built there to accommodate stage travelers. It gradually deteriorated until several years ago when it changed ownership.

I was told the new owners spent two hundred fifty thousand dollars restoring the lodge and yet did not destroy the old appearance. They did a wonderful job and have everything a tourist could wish for. It makes no difference how you are traveling. There is a small grocery store, a café, gasoline, swimming pool, camper trailer spaces, and airport nearby, a beautiful little park, and the people are very hospitable. I felt at home; it reminded me of many places in Europe.

George and Elmer passed many places that had a post office and little store; some had gasoline too,. One place called Peanut they still remembered, probably because of the unusual name. I had to see Peanut too. We had to do some inquiring to find it, or where it was—Peanut is no more. Nine miles past Forest Glen, Highway 3 forks left toward Hayfork. Peanut was four miles from the junction, on the first road left across a creek with a concrete bridge, just across the creek and on the left among some pine trees.

One half mile past Peanut, George and Elmer went to Wildwood. This road did not look very good now and I read that about ten miles it forded the creek thirteen times, so Captain Daley and I backtracked the four and one half miles to Highway 36. At Platina our present highway map shows 36 going to Red Bluff. In 1914 this road was not there. Highway 36 (now A16) went to Redding. This road is the one George and Elmer took. Almost the entire distance is rolling hills, steep, dry, and covered with brush. Bike travelers should carry drinking water.

At Redding they turned north, and the road was much better so they had no trouble and made good time. At Yreka George was on home ground. He had been here on the Excelsior the year before. From Hornbook to Ashland, Oregon, a new road was under construction. It had just been graded. Wonderful road, they thought.

Soon past Hornbook an almost continuous grade of six percent was maintained for seven miles until the pass on the summit of the Siskiyou Mountains. When George and Elmer were halfway up this grade it began to thunder, lightening, and rain. It did not take long for the sticky adobe to gum itself between the fenders and wheels. The faithful Excelsior came to a halt directly opposite a large pine tree. They took shelter under this tree, (not a very safe place to be during an electrical storm), and remained there all night.

When dry the next day they motored on home to Medford without any more trouble. George completed his assignment, Elmer was terrible shook up and sore all over, but he got to see the ocean.

The End.