Seattle Sun Newspaper - Vol. 8, Issue 7, July 2004

Copyright 2004 Seattle Sun. Please feel free to use the article below in your research. Be sure to cite the Seattle Sun as your source.

STAN'S LOOKOUT:

No, I didn't wreck the Empire Builder

By STAN STAPP

(Editor's note: The following column originally appeared in the North Central Outlook on Jan. 7, 1960.)

I was a little worried when I first heard about the wreck of the Empire Builder on Puget Sound "somewhere between Carkeek Park and the Highlands."

Could the tons of dirt, mud, trees and debris that had pushed this crack train into Puget Sound have been loosened by my handiwork some 25 years previously?

There had been others who could share in the blame, but just the same I had always felt a little guilty of the misdeed, if such it be, in which we had changed the course of a stream flowing down the hill, through the woods "somewhere between Carkeek Park and the Highlands."

Not that we changed the final destination of the stream, nor its source, just some of the route in between.

But supposing that new route in between had sluiced away enough dirt to weaken the whole hill and dump it down on the Empire Builder 25 years later. Would you be a little worried, too?

So I was considerably relieved upon learning from John Bullard, Phil Webber and Eddy Mannery (local photographers whose pictures often appear in The Outlook), who were all at the scene "first," that its location was either a little north or a little south of the stream I had in mind.

Both Webber and Mannery agreed that the train wreck occurred at about (Northwest) 145th Street, but Bullard was sure it was closer to (Northwest) 120th Street. Maybe it just seemed that way to Bullard (who's a little older than the other two) after huffing and puffing for a mile or two to get to the scene. In any event, they all agreed that it didn't occur at about (Northwest) 137th where the stream enters the Sound.

Enjoyable hike

Back in the 1930s, this stream was frequently visited by "my gang" in the summertime, particularly on warm days. Along with Bill Finlay, Al Whalen, Harold and Howard Moffet, and others, I enjoyed the hike alongside the stream, through the woods, and across the Great Northern railway tracks to the Sound beach.

I first learned of this place, known then as Camp Elford (now Elford Park) from my dad and brother Art. My dad first showed us how easy it was to find the proper spot to dam the stream and, with a little shovel work, start it bubbling on a new course.

Later, I passed this method on to my gang and, on several occasions, we altered the route. A week or two later, we got a kick out of finding the stream still using our new route, rather than the old one.

But always the water ended up in the big culvert that went under the railway tracks and poured out through the big rock bulkhead, emptying into the Sound.

Cold shower

When the tide was out, the water spilled out of the culvert just the right height so we could stand under it and take a shower. It was traditional to douse ourselves in the stream prior to entering the Sound for a swim. No matter how cold the Sound was, that shower made it seem a bit warmer!

In those days, we never thought of pollution, and possibly there was no need to. But most of us today might think twice whether such a shower would be safe.

We used to time our visits to Camp Elford to coincide with the "minus tides" for during high or average tides the beach was completely covered with barnacled rocks. But at low, low tides, a nice sandy beach would be uncovered. Actually, no one swam too long, for it takes a pretty hardy person to stand the cold Sound water. But we liked the sandy beach to run around on, play "indoor" (softball), or just horse around.

To get to Camp Elford, a bunch of us would pile into my '30 Chev coupe, several in the front seat, and the rest in the trunk. We'd drive out to (Northwest) 137th and Eighth Avenue Northwest and park and start down the trail.

Real woods then

Today, there are beautiful homes on spacious wooded lots in that area, but at that time, it was "all woods." The only building had been a Scout cabin halfway down the trail, but when it burned to the ground, the only shelter left was that afforded by the trees.

At one spot along the trail, we always paused to listen to the "mooing cow" ... a sound which never failed to mystify first-timers. They couldn't see any mooing cow! But they could hear one. Then we "old-timers" would point out the two trees that rubbed their trunks together high off the ground, sounding like a contented cow.

On some days, we'd dam the stream, particularly if the tide wasn't right for swimming. But on others, we'd head straight for the beach. If soft drinks had been carted along, they'd be placed in the pool of cold water right under the "shower." Sometimes we'd bring along hot dogs, build a fire, and have a wiener roast. But always we'd have to time our visit by the tide. For when the tide was in, the beach might be buried in five feet or more of water.

Going down the trail from the road might take 15 minutes if we didn't stop. Coming back it would take twice as long. Not only would we be fatigued and fighting the uphill drag, but we'd likely be picking and eating wild blackberries that grew in abundance near the top, among and over the fallen trees.

Rediscovery

After many visits to Camp Elford, I neglected it for a number of years, until one day I rediscovered the spot .. but alas ... it was not the same, nor ever will be, probably until the end of time.

While out driving with my girlfriend, we happened upon a new road called Elford Drive and investigated it until the end. We found the road ended at a turnaround in the approximate vicinity of where the two "moo-trees" were located. The rain was pouring down as my girlfriend and I sat there and talked about this "wonderful place I had known as Camp Elford," which was being destroyed.

It is, of course, a beautiful place to have a home. I would love to live there, myself. But I doubt if the present residents can know the pleasure that one of its former "transient residents" has received from this woodsy spot on Puget Sound.

So now you know why I'm relieved to find out that our pleasures at damming the stream in Camp Elford were in no way responsible for the wreck of the Empire Builder. For who wants a beautiful memory marred by a subsequent unhappy event?