Robert Franklin: My name is Robert Franklin. I am conducting an oral history interview with Alice Didier on July 12th, 2016. The interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. I will be talking with Alice Didier about her experiences working at the Hanford site and homesteading outside of—Connell?
Alice Didier: Eltopia.
Franklin: Eltopa.
Didier: Eltopia, yeah.
Franklin: Eltopia, okay. So why don’t we start at the beginning. Where were you born?
Didier: I was born in Portland, Oregon.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Didier: I was a city girl. Met my husband, who was born in Condon, Oregon, and he came from wheat farming country. However, his dad was not a farmer; he ran a machine shop in Condon. However, Don worked on many of the farms up there in Condon. We were married in 1951, and Don was in the service. He was in the Air Force. So after he was discharged, we came home to Condon. Our dream was to have something of our own—a farm, or—you know—mainly a farm. But the ground in that area was way too expensive for us to ever dream of owning anything. So we had the—we decided to make a trip to Canada. We went all the way to Prince George looking for land to buy, because they were encouraging American citizens to come up there and settle. Well, after that trip—before that trip, Don got an inquiry, or got a letter from the—I don’t really—it was the Bureau of Reclamation? I don’t know. It was if you were a veteran, you were entitled to throw your name in the hat, and if your name was drawn, you might have an opportunity to draw some land up here in the Columbia Basin. On a whim, he filled that out and mailed it before we left. And we were very glad we did because Prince George was a pole thicket up there. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: It was a what?
Didier: A pole thicket.
Franklin: A pole thicket.
Didier: My goodness gracious, if you had to clear that land it’d take you forever and a day. Plus—what is—peat? It had a peat—you couldn’t burn it, because you’d burn off everything that was worth—of value to farm. So you had to clear everything by hand.
Franklin: Oh, wow.
Didier: So, anyway. Very glad that when we got back, he had sent this in, and he was informed to come for an interview in Connell by a board of people that would determine if we were qualified. You were supposed to have assets, I think, of $1,500. I don’t remember what the qualifications were. But we did not have—we did not meet the qualifications. But we decided that we’d bluff it through. [LAUGHTER] So we came up in the fall of 1953. To Connell. I was eight-and-a-half months pregnant with my daughter. First thing I did was look up the name of the doctor in the phone book in Connell, because I thought I might not make it back to Condon before she appeared on the scene. But anyway, didn’t work out that way. But they took Don out in a Jeep, and bounced over hill and dale, and showed him the land that they had laid out that was available for drawing at that time. Not everything was available at the same time. So he picked out our farm unit. I had never—I didn’t get to see the land. I didn’t have any part of that, because I didn’t want to chance taking a trip in the Jeep in my condition. February of ’54, his dad and Don loaded up—we bought this Army tent, and he loaded up everything we owned in the way of furniture and moved up to our unit. It was nothing but rock, sagebrush, rattlesnakes—[LAUGHTER]—and, yeah, sagebrush, I said sagebrush. A lot of sagebrush. All of that had to be cut and burnt—cleared, in other words, in order to farm anything in the area that we picked out. Some land around there had been farmed—wheat farmers had tried their hand at raising wheat in that area, small areas. But not enough rainfall. And there were sheep camps in there. They had been running sheep, some of them. When Don brought me up, he pulled up on this—we had to come in from Eltopia; there were no roads built. So we had to come over hill and dale to get out to our farm unit. And he pulled up, and he said, this is it. And I said, this is it? I mean—[LAUGHTER] there was nothing there, period. It was sort of a shock.
Franklin: And you hadn’t seen it before this?
Didier: I had not seen it before then.
Franklin: It had been purchased sight unseen by you?
Didier: Yes, yes. And he and his dad had preceded my coming up there to drop our stuff off and build a wooden floor and side—what would you call it? Sidewalls. Sidewalls for the tent. So they had it pretty well constructed. Anyway, that was the beginning. [LAUGHTER] Don had borrowed from a farmer in Condon a small little D4 Cat, I think it was. We hauled that up here. And he and his dad had built a scraper, a small scraper, to put behind it. So Don started developing a piece of land behind where we had pitched this tent. My daughter was three months old when we moved up here. Let’s see—October, November, December—four months old, I guess. And my son was about a year-and-a-half, or less than two. So we took up residence in our tent. [LAUGHTER] And when we finally got our power, we had a refrigerator. Like I said, I had a Sud Saver washing machine that you could dump the water. We had two tubs out front—laundry tubs, like there used—women used to have in their house. So I’d save the wash water, and I’d save the rinse water, because we were hauling every drop of water. It was pretty precious. You reuse it a couple of times. Maybe not the most sanitary, but that was the—[LAUGHTER] That’s what we had to do.
Franklin: How long did it take from when you moved in to when you got power?
Didier: I’d say two weeks at the most.
Franklin: Oh.
Didier: Big Bend came in and dropped power in. But we still had no roads. We had a little ’51 Oldsmobile and we had a water trailer, and we had to go into Eltopia to the railroad—there was a railroad well. And we’d fill there. It took a half a tank of gas to get down to the well and back with a tank of water. Yeah. And we had no neighbors. There were no neighbors. It was just Don and I out there. Over the hill was a couple. She was an English war bride. And they had settled in there before we did. And then we had another couple to the south of us. But we were the only people in that whole area. It was pretty dark at night, I’m going to tell you. There were no lights. There was nothing. It was black.
Franklin: Wow. So how fast did the land clearing go?
Didier: Not very fast.
Franklin: Not very fast?
Didier: Because we didn’t have any money. We used a big Noble blade and cut the sagebrush. Then we’d have to go out and pile it by hand in big stacks and burn it. Don managed to level off, I think—well, I don’t know, what was it? 14, 15 acres was the first—because in those days, there were no circles. It was all either you had hand line—irrigation hand line, or you had to level the ground to a grade that you could put in a ditch and use siphon tubes—rill irrigation, they called it. And Don didn’t want anything to do with the hand lines. So he was leveling it for rill irrigation.
Franklin: And so you used real irrigation?
Didier: We did.
Franklin: And how do you spell that?
Didier: R-I-L-L.
Franklin: R-I-L-L. We did a previous oral history where someone mentioned that and we didn’t—
Didier: Know how to spell—
Franklin: No one at the Project had heard of that and we weren’t sure how to spell it.
Didier: Really?
Franklin: So it’s R-I-L-L—
Didier: Mm-hmm.
Franklin: --irrigation. Thank you so much. Can go back and fix some transcripts.
Didier: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So it’s—just will you explain that again? That’s when you lay down—where you grade—
Didier; You have to grade the land so that the water will flow from the top to the bottom.
Franklin: Okay.
Didier: You know, enough of a grade so that the water will flow down the—well, you put ditches from the head ditch up here that carries the main body of water. You would back up to that with ditch shovels and make ditches every so far through your crop. That’s where you would set the siphon tube and the water would go from the top to the bottom. When it reached the bottom, then you’d pick them up and move on down. You could only set so many at one time, depending on how much of a head of a water you had—or how many feet you had coming down the ditch.
Franklin: So that’s a much more labor-intensive type of irrigation. I imagine, probably an older type of irrigation, as well.
Didier: Right, but not maybe as labor-intensive as packing that hand line. That’s work. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: And what would the tubes be constructed out of usually?
Didier: Aluminum.
Franklin: Aluminum tubes, okay.
Didier: Yeah.
Franklin: Okay.
Didier: And there’s a picture, I think, in that magazine I gave you from International Harvester, showing me priming one of those tubes.
Franklin: Oh, okay, great. Wow, that’s great.
Didier: You had to learn how to do that. You had to learn how to give it a deal like this and flip it over quick so you didn’t lose your prime. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: A lot of people didn’t know how to do it in the beginning and they’d suck on it, if you can believe that, to get the water running. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Kind of like siphoning gas?
Didier: Yeah, only—the water was much cleaner than later on. I mean, after more—we actually, on this end of the Basin, reuse the water that comes in up north. So a lot of it’s recovered—what is that lake up there that—there’s a lake—I can’t remember the name of it right now. So, that was our first—and our first venture was to plant some hay. There was nobody to buy what you raised. We had no markets then. So I remember the hay that we baled—we finally got it baled and it sat out there until the hay grew up over it, because there was no sense picking it up; we didn’t have anybody to sell it to. [LAUGHTER] So it wasn’t a very productive, I guess, in the beginning, as far as producing money. So I went to work at Camp Hanford.
Franklin: Do you remember what year that—
Didier: No. Well, it’d be—okay, ’54 we moved up here. It was probably during ’54. Because we had to eat.
Franklin: Right, you needed some cash coming in.
Didier: Yeah.
Franklin: Hay wasn’t going to cut it.
Didier: No.
Franklin: So what did you do at Hanford?
Didier: I was a secretary. I was interviewing people for jobs out there.
Franklin: All kinds of jobs, or--?
Didier: You know, that—I didn’t work there a whole long time. That was a long trip for me, clear from Eltopia.
Franklin: I imagine.
Didier: I had to drive that every day. I don’t remember. Not all kinds of jobs, I’m sure, because I’m not versed in scientific things, you know. I’m not sure it was Camp Hanford, so I don’t know what did Camp Hanford do? They were—it was long before all this Project stuff started out here in—I think it was—wasn’t that a military type of camp? Camp Hanford?
Franklin: There’s a few different things that are referred to as Camp Hanford. There’s the actual Camp Hanford, as it’s oftentimes noted as the camp where the construction crews lived. Then there was—there were a couple—there was a military camp--
Didier: I think that was it.
Franklin: --called Camp Hanford as well, where they—when they had the military stationed there for—
Didier: But I wasn’t interviewing for military; it had to be civilian people they were hiring or stuff. I wasn’t military. Because I was not in the military and whatever.
Franklin: Right. So you said you were a secretary, but then you said—didn’t you do something with the whole body counter?
Didier: That was for GE.
Franklin: For GE, okay. So in the beginning you worked at Camp Hanford, secretary/interviewer.
Didier: And then I went to Bureau of Reclamation in Eltopia. They had a construction office there.
Franklin: Okay.
Didier: So I went down and applied for a job there, and I was so happy when I got a job, because I didn’t have to go very far to go to work. They were still completing canals and doing work. So I worked down there for a while. And then I decided, I guess, that I guess that I needed more money—or that we needed more money. So I went out—I applied to go to work at GE. And the first job I had was for Roy Lucas in tech shops. That was 300 Area. All my jobs that I held during that time that I worked out there were all for GE. It was just as GE was phasing out. And I forget who the next contractor was that came in, but GE—yeah. I left just as GE was—they were changing over.
Franklin: And you said you worked for Roy Lewis at—
Didier: No, Roy Lucas.
Franklin: Roy Lucas.
Didier: Lucas, L-U-C-A-S.
Franklin: At the tech shops?
Didier: Tech shops. He ran—it was like machining.
Franklin: Okay.
Didier: They did machining. They had these tech shops—T-E-C-H—tech shops. And then I went to work for—well, there was a little incident between there. I got pregnant again. So I had to take a leave of absence, and my youngest son was born in 1960. So I think three months after he was born, I had taken a leave of absence, I came back, and I got a job at the Whole Body Counter—I think that was next—with Frank Swanberg, where they did all the testing on people that were working out there with their dosimeters or whatever they were wearing. They did a lot of testing on people that had worked out there for their levels of radiation exposure. Then I got a job—I got a promotion and went out to 300 Area again, and I went to work for Ward Spear. I don’t remember the name of that. They were all scientific people there. The papers I typed up were horrendous, with all their equations in them. [LAUGHTER] Then I worked for the boss of that whole group and he eventually became the CEO of Battelle, Ron Paul.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Didier: You know Ron Paul, or have you heard of him?
Franklin: I’ve heard the name, yeah.
Didier: Yeah, he was—I can understand why he was promoted to what he was. He was one of the best bosses I ever worked for, let’s put it that way.
Franklin: And why was that?
Didier: Very well organized. Never, ever last minute, I got to have this like ten minutes ago. No. He was always—I don’t know—just was a very personable man. Yeah, I really liked him. And then I got another promotion and I went to work for Art Keene in radiation monitoring.
Franklin: So kind of back to radiation monitoring.
Didier: Yeah. And he was head of the whole group that supervised the Whole Body Counter and whatever work—you know, all the people that were doing the monitoring out there. And that’s when I decided that I’d better call it a day. I had five children, and I was driving—I was spending ten to ten-and-a-half hours a day—well, ten hours, I guess it was—for eight hours of work out here. I mean, it took me—we still were not financially doing that well, so I hopped car pools. I had three car pools by the time I got to work at 300 Area. I had to switch and pass go. [LAUGHTER] And then had one more switch, I think. I can’t remember, but anyway.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: Yeah.
Franklin: So then you moved back to the farm.
Didier: I went back to the farm, and that’s when things started to pick up, and our markets were better, and you had more choices of what to raise.
Franklin: Do you know what year that would have been?
Didier: Well, Brett was born in 1960—oh, gosh. I think he was two, something? Probably 1962 or ’63.
Franklin: And so you said things had kind of improved, at least market-wise by that time?
Didier: Right, well there were more variety of crops to raise.
Franklin: So what were you—so you started with hay, so what were you expanding out into?
Didier: Well, we raised—in the beginning—well, we tried beans. We tried beans, we tried—I can just give you a repertoire of everything we raised. We didn’t do all that at one time. We raised sweet corn, we raised sugar beets, we raised potatoes. We were into potato growing—my husband loved to raise potatoes. Let’s see, sugar beets. Asparagus. We had 80 acres of asparagus once. So, we—can’t think of anything else. Wheat. We’ve had wheat off and on. I can’t think—and hay. Mainly, here in the last years, we’ve been mainly hay farmers.
Franklin: Okay.
Didier: Because potatoes were always a big gamble. And we had a very bad year one year and almost had to go into bankruptcy.
Franklin: Is that because of weather or—
Didier: Because of circumstances. We had two circles of potatoes, and they had out this chemical that they claimed if you sprayed it at a certain time, that it would set your potatoes so they didn’t put on any more small ones—undersized, which paid you nothing. That you’d get bigger growth on the potatoes that were already set underneath the vine. It was MH-30, was what it was. So we tried that, and they sprayed it on on the hottest day of the year, I think. It was very hot that day. In two days, our potatoes were dead. Yeah.
Franklin: So you literally could watch them perish.
Didier: Yeah. Our field man came and he said, Don, the potato vines are dying.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: Because it was a salt solution, and they had no warning on their label that you should not spray over a certain temperature. And other people had used it and came out fine. But not us.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: But what was there we harvested. It was pretty sad. And then that was the year we got a rainstorm. We had wheat and we had a really hard rain. Then next day was like a pressure cooker. And all that wheat sprouted in the head. So it was feed wheat. It was not marketable.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: Just—you know, one of those years. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. Where nature seems to be throwing everything at you.
Didier: Yup.
Franklin: Yeah. I grew up on a farm.
Didier: This year seems to be that way, too. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: I grew up on a farm as well. My mom still farms.
Didier: Really?
Franklin: Yeah.
Didier: Then you know what I’m talking about.
Franklin: Yeah, I’ve heard lots of stories.
Didier: When things start going wrong they just sort of escalate, you know? But potatoes, you had—at that time, you had $1,000 an acre into potatoes before you ever put a harvester in the field.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: Yeah. So—
Franklin: I guess that explains the switch to hay. So you said that you had done—the people—I’ve read that the people in that Bend area had tried wheat in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and kind of gave up. But you guys also tried wheat. Did you try that with irrigation or did you try to—
Didier: Oh yeah. We had nothing dryland. Everything was irrigated, everything we farmed.
Franklin: And how did the wheat do, besides that one awful year with the pressure cooker?
Didier: Well, you’d better expect over 100 bushel of wheat or—you know, I’m not as up on yields now as I was then, because my son farms our operation since my husband died. I always kid him I’m on a need-to-know basis. [LAUGHTER] I have to ask questions if I want to know—[LAUGHTER]—if I really want to know the nitty gritty about things, and then sometimes he gets sort of upset with me. So I’m saying 120 bushel—120 bushel is not unheard of, and over. Depending on the variety of wheat, you know. The year, the weather, everything.
Franklin: So you said that right now you’ve pretty much just reverted to planting hay now—growing hay.
Didier: Until this past two years. And the hay farmer’s in a world of hurt out there now after that port slowed down over in Tacoma. Sort of ruined the foreign markets. And then, too, our dollar’s been so strong, those people that depended on—I guess that were our markets, they went elsewhere when they weren’t getting their shipments. So you have to work to get those people back buying again. And there is hay stocked all over the basin. We’ve got hay from two years ago we haven’t sold.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: And this year we have had rain, rain, rain on about every cutting which makes it feeder hay. My son had an offer the other day of $60 a ton. You got $150 into it to break even.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: So you take your licks and walk on, hopefully, if you don’t get your financing cut off. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. Did you spend a lot of time in nearby communities, in Eltopia? Were you involved in any organizations there, or social groups, or church groups or anything?
Didier: Oh, yeah. Yes. I belong to St. Paul Catholic church. We actually built that church, the people that moved in there.
Franklin: Oh.
Didier: Yeah. The people of that area, we built the St. Paul Catholic church at Eltopia.
Franklin: How large was Eltopia when you moved there?
Didier: Oh, the town of Eltopia?
Franklin: Yeah.
Didier: [LAUGHTER] Ooh, not very big. There had been a bank there once. There’d been—well, when we first moved in there and we had no refrigeration and I had a new baby, there was a Streadwick that opened a little store there. And he carried milk and bread, thank heavens, because I could buy milk from him. Because I couldn’t keep milk without it going sour for more than a day or so at a time.
Franklin: There was a who?
Didier: A Stredwick. His name was just Stredwick. There was a Stredwick family that owned a filling station on the old highway there. And Millie, she was a widow, but she had a pack of kids, and she was the switchboard operator in Eltopia. If you wanted to make a phone call in the beginning, you had to go to Millie’s house to make the telephone call. Because we had no phones.
Franklin: Oh, wow.
Didier: Or if you received a call, they’d have to come out and tell you that somebody was trying to get ahold of you.
Franklin: And how far away was that?
Didier: Well, about the same distance as getting the water. A little bit closer, but not much, because we had to go right into the town of Eltopia to get to her house. She lived in Eltopia.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: I would say there wasn’t more than 150 people, or less, in Eltopia per se.
Franklin: Where did the children go to school?
Didier: They started in Eltopia, my two oldest. But then we—they decided school districts. You either were going to go to Pasco or you were going to go Connell. We were—the dividing line was Fir Road, which was one more road to the south. Well, no, it’s more than one for me, but Eltopia West is the main road now that comes off of 395. It’s one road over from Eltopia West—Fir Road—was the dividing line. If you lived on the left side of Fir Road, you went to North Franklin School District, which was Connell. If you lived on the other side, you went to Pasco. So we went to Connell.
Franklin: Okay.
Didier: Mesa—they built a grade school in Mesa, they built a grade school in Basin City. That’s all North Franklin. Then they had a grade school in Connell, then they built a junior high and a high school. So my kids all went through—finished. Some of them completely went through the North Franklin School District. The two oldest had a few years there in Eltopia. There actually was an old high school in Eltopia. But they closed it down, too. We used to have dances down there.
Franklin: Oh really?
Didier: The floors went up, and the floors went down, but we had an orchestra that did the playing. In the middle of the music they’d just stop. [LAUGHTER] We’ve laughed about that.
Franklin: Wait, why did they stop?
Didier: Just decided to stop! [LAUGHTER] And you’d be dancing away, all of the sudden the music just stopped. I don’t know. Probably had too much to drink. Everybody had to bring their own bottle, you know.
Franklin: Really?
Didier: Yeah, oh, yeah.
Franklin: And who put these dances on?
Didier: Well, we sort of had a—hmm, I don’t know. Don’t remember that. Just—I don’t know—we didn’t have an association, particularly. It was just our local group around there decided, you know, like New Year’s Eve or something, is about when—it wasn’t all the time.
Franklin: Was the high school being used at that time, or was it just kind of an empty—
Didier: No, no, it was going downhill. And that’s what I said—the floors were warped because the roof had leaked.
Franklin: Oh, my. Wow.
Didier: Yeah. And so you had to watch your step. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: I bet. So were these adults-only dances?
Didier: Yes, yes, yes. Yes, it was adults only.
Franklin: That’s great. That’s really interesting.
Didier: We were involved—I had a 4-H club. Don coached Little League—yeah, Little League, down in Eltopia. We had a team, because our boys played on that. We were big boosters of Connell High School, because all our boys—Clint played—my one son played in the NFL for nine years. The other boy was the one we thought was going to be the NFL player. But he wanted to farm more than play football. He’s the one that’s farming my place now. But our boys all participated in sports up there, so we were big sports boosters. Don helped build the bleachers. The old—we used to have our games down there in the—well, it was in the town of Connell. Since then it’s all moved up by the high school. But he helped build the bleachers into the side of the hill. He had a trophy case built for them. And then the boys went to CBC, both Clint and Curt. And we donated there, the foundation or whatever it is. Still do—Clint still supports that.
Franklin: Did you or your husband go to college?
Didier: Don did for a year. He was going to be an engineer. I went to college at night school for a while, but I never got a degree, no. I came out of a high school in Portland that you learned bookkeeping, shorthand, and so when you graduated, you also had a degree—you had English and a language and everything else—but you could go out and get a job.
Franklin: Oh, okay. Yeah.
Didier: And then they had Benson at that time for the boys where they learned how to—you know, like shop and things like that. And then they did away with that; we don’t have those kind of things anymore. Big mistake. I think we should still have those type of—because some kids are just not college material.
Franklin: Yeah.
Didier: To be able to go out and work and do something when you come out of high school. Because kids nowadays, they need work.
Franklin: Right. To have a trade or at least to have—maybe have post-high school schools that are geared for trade instead of—
Didier: Yeah, instead of—because when you come out of high school now, what do you have? You don’t have a trade of any kind, or a skill of any kind. Except supposedly your brain, and then you got to go on to another four-year school, and you’re still—if you want to really amount to anything, that isn’t adequate now either. And then we wonder why we have such high debt for these kids that are—[LAUGHTER]—you know, trying to get a college education or get a trade or whatever.
Franklin: Yeah. Oh! How did you meet your husband?
Didier: Uh-oh. [LAUGHTER] Do I have to tell you the true story? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Well if it’s racy or saucy, then yes.
Didier: Well—
Franklin: For the good of history.
Didier: Okay, well--
Franklin: I’m just kidding. Whatever you’re comfortable with.
Didier: Well, every year in Portland at the beginning of the football season, they would have sort of a roundabout where each high school came and played a quarter or something against another one of the other teams. I had been a cheerleader at my high school. This is since I had graduated, and I’d started to work. I went to work at 16 for the Soil Conservation Service in Portland.
Franklin: Oh, really? Okay. Wow.
Didier: So, my girlfriend and I decided that we were going to go to this celebration—the football thing—that night. So I took a bus and I got off the bus where I was to meet her. And Don and a friend were standing there on the corner. He was enrolled at the—is it University of Portland is the Catholic school down there, or Portland U? No, it’s University of Portland, yeah. Anyway, he’d just started college there. So he tried to strike up a conversation, and I—my mother told me never—[LAUGHTER]—Don’t do those kind of things. I’m just kidding. But anyway, I wouldn’t talk to him. I walked across the street to meet my friend, and we had to walk back in front of him to get back on the bus to get to where we were going. He says, why don’t you let us give you a ride? And I said, no. I said, we’ll just take the bus. So we did. We got on the bus. So they ran around, got in their car, and they followed our bus over to the stadium. Later in the game, I went down and was sitting on the bench with my friends from my high school there. And around the corner walks Don. That was the beginning of the end. He said, well, as it turned out we had a mutual acquaintance—my girlfriend did. So we went to the dance at Portland University that night with them. And that was the end of me ever dating anybody else. Next day, he called me and—[LAUGHTER] So. And it was ironic because my son, Clint, you know, played for Mouse Davis down there, and years later he played in that stadium.
Franklin: Oh, wow.
Didier: [LAUGHTER] I call that sort of ironic coincidence, that years later we came back to the place where we actually engaged in a conversation that night. Anyway. So it was a pick-up, I guess you’d say.
Franklin: Yeah. Sounds like he was pretty persistent.
Didier: Well, he wasn’t very talkative. But I was impressed. He was pretty good-looking. [LAUGHTER] I liked what I saw. So anyway.
Franklin: That’s—aww. And was he drafted, then? You said he was in the Air Force.
Didier: Yeah, he was in the reserve.
Franklin: Okay.
Didier: And he got—it was the Korean situation, and he got called up. So we were married just as he—right after he got called up, his commander was gracious enough to give him a couple of days off to have a honeymoon for—what did we have? Three days or something, when it was supposed to be boot camp. He happened to then be stationed at the Portland—there in Portland, for almost a year. And then he got orders to go to Nashville, Tennessee. So we up and moved. I went with him. Didn’t have any children then. We went to Tennessee for less than a year, I think, before we came back. And when we came home, we went to Condon, Oregon and Don went to work for a wheat farmer there.
Franklin: Oh, okay. So he was drafted in Korea, but didn’t—he never—
Didier: He never served overseas, no. He never had to serve overseas. He was a lineman—supposed to be his—whatever, what do they call it? His MO, or whatever? It was supposed to be—oh, I don’t know—what’s the second in command? I don’t know. Anyway, they found that he had been a telephone lineman at one time, so that’s what he ended up being, was a telephone lineman.
Franklin: Do you—when you were homesteading out there, did you have any run-ins or—well, not run-ins is the right word, but interactions with Native Americans who would have inhabited that area long before? Did you ever see, or were you ever aware of--
Didier: No, there was nothing. The only thing, we found a couple of arrowheads on our place once. No. Some old sheep camps, we found some things in that, but there was no—no, there was no indication of any—
Franklin: From earlier settlement days.
Didier: No.
Franklin: How has farming changed over the years for you?
Didier: Oh, my gosh. Well, what are we talking here? ’54 to—is that 60-what? ’62 years?
Franklin: 60 years, yeah.
Didier: Phenomenal, I guess, would be my word. Equipment-wise. Everything now if possible is circles, for irrigation. Tractors are—how many times bigger should I say than what we started out with? My son owns a quad-trac, which—I don’t know, what are they? $280,000 or $300,000-some-odd and it’s monstrous. You have GPS now; everything is—you plant by that. I guess—I don’t really have a word to—I guess express how much it’s advanced. Planters are all—well, just like we planted some beans this year, trying to find out something else besides hay to plant. This guy just pulls into field we had with timothy hay, and you don’t have to disc, you don’t have to do anything. He just sets down, and he’s got things that open it up to plant the seeds, so you don’t have to worry about the wind problem you used to. It used to be, we had horrendous winds and dirt. You’d plant a crop, and you’d pray that you didn’t get one of those winds or it’d be gone—the seed would be gone. A lot of replanting back in the old days. We could look towards block 15 and see this wall of dirt coming at us. Yeah. One of the windstorms hit 90 miles an hour here. It blew down the drive-in screen in Pasco. It blew the side out of a block building. And we were in that tent. My husband said, load the kids up, we’re going to town. We’re not going to be here when it goes down—if it goes down, is what he said. So we loaded up the kids, drove to town, spent the whole day in town. As the day—as the sun started to set, the wind went down and we headed back out there and didn’t know if there would be anything left of everything we owned in the world because it was all in that tent. And it was still standing.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: But he had a pretty hefty crossbeam—is that what you call it, the main deal at the top? But he said it put a permanent bow in it, though. That wind against that canvas. So he took that thing down and put up a four-by-six by himself. How he did that, I don’t know. But he says, not going to have that happen again.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: And then we had just a few incidences of some of the things that happened out there. We had a winter that first winter when we still in the tent. My husband was doing land-leveling. He got this D7 Cat and he was out working for other people, leveling their ground. That day, it was a beautiful day, that day. When he got off the Cat, he started home, and for some reason he turned around, and he drained that Cat. Because there was no antifreeze. We didn’t have antifreeze in it. That night, it dropped to 19 below. I don’t know—we’ve never, ever had that happen again. Don stayed up all night. We had a wood stove in that tent, and we had an oil stove. He had both of them cranked up as high as they would go. The next morning, he reached over, and we had packing cases for cupboards. He reached over for the coffee pot, and when he got it, it was all slushy, after he—and it wasn’t that far away from the stove. [LAUGHTER] And sagebrush—he was burning sagebrush in the wood stove. That puts out a hot fire. So decided it was time to move. And I was working at the Bureau then, so we were entitled to one of their Quonset huts down there.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Didier: So we picked up and moved that day. And it was wonderful not to have a roof flapping in the breeze, and it had running water, and I had wall—baseboard heaters, and they paid the bill. You could be as warm and toasty as you wanted. So I was in seventh heaven. [LAUGHTER] We lived there until—well, then I got—while I was working there, I got pregnant with Curt. And the Bureau wrote us a little letter, saying, you have not proved up on your land. You had to put in 12 months out of 18 to establish residency. And said, if you don’t move back on your unit, you’ll forfeit it. We didn’t have a house, didn’t have anything. So went to town, and started tearing down—we called them Navy homes. I don’t know. Somebody said they were Victory homes or something. They had a lot of them in Pasco, they had a lot in Kennewick. He and his dad went in there and they tore—we got enough money from the bank to tear down a section of that housing, and used all the materials out of that for our house. When we moved in, the eaves weren’t boxed in, the sub-floor was the roof, like, slats. So the dirt just settled between the slats. And we had no running water again, because we didn’t have a well. And I found a rattlesnake in my closet one day.
Franklin: Oh my.
Didier: [LAUGHTER] Came home from town, and I walked in to take off my blouse and hang it up in the closet. And I heard this noise, and I thought—out of the corner of my eye—I thought, there’s a snake. But it had curled up on top of a suitcase. We had no bathroom—we had an outhouse. Had no bathroom, and he found his way into our bedroom there, and the light—the sun was coming through the bedroom window, and he was sunning himself. He’d crawled up on this suitcase in an old army hat that Don had laying on top of the suitcase. And he was telling me, you’d better back off. I screamed, I said, there’s a rattlesnake in here! And Don says—he didn’t believe me, he thought I was having pipe dreams. He told everybody afterwards I made a new door out of the bedroom, which I did not. But anyway, he grabbed a weed fork and killed it. Believe me, we stepped out of bed gingerly for a while, thinking where you find one, you usually find two. But we could see where he’d come up through the—we had the sewer pipe laid for the bathroom that was not in. And the kids had been out there playing in the dirt with their trucks and stuff. He had a piece of tar paper thrown up against it and some dirt that he’d thrown up against it. Well, they’d knocked that down and that snake found that pipe, and he decided that was a nice cool place to be in. Yeah. We had quite a—in fact, we have a big rock bluff behind my farm unit there to the east. And the people at the Bureau called that Rattlesnake Mountain. In the spring, they’d go out there, and when they’d come out of their dens they’d kill a lot of snakes. So we encountered rattlesnakes off and on quite a bit.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: We were pretty worried with our kids that they might get bitten. We actually went to town and got a kit—not the normal kind—it had a hypodermic needle or whatever. Whether I could have used it [LAUGHTER] I don’t know. We had to keep it in the refrigerator. But just in case, because we were a long ways away from a doctor.
Franklin: Right.
Didier: But anyway, didn’t happen.
Franklin: That’s good.
Didier; Yeah.
Franklin: And now how—when, roughly, was your house built?
Didier: Well, it was built in stages. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: When did it—
Didier: Well, right as Curt was born, which was 1957. ’57.
Franklin: And is that still the same—is that house still out there?
Didier: It is. Only we’ve added on to it. You’d never know what part of it is built out of.
Franklin: [LAUGHTER]
Didier: It’s all bricked.
Franklin: Oh, wow.
Didier: Yeah. I have a fairly nice home. It’s nothing luxurious or anything, but it’s very comfortable.
Franklin: And you have roads out there now?
Didier: Oh, yeah. [LAUGHTER] Yeah, we’d better have. But that was something, when you didn’t have any roads, I’ll tell you. They were putting them in, but they were just the bases. I remember one day, our neighbors across—that turned out to be our neighbors across the road on Holly Drive—we saw this truck with all of their stuff loaded on it pull in over there. We thought, wow, are we getting a neighbor here? But they pulled in and dropped off a bunch of stuff and then took off again. So we jumped in our car and we followed them to find out who they were, and were they going to be our neighbors, and whatever. Because we were excited that we had another human being that was going to be that close to us. That was Johnsons. Were our neighbors for years and years. They both since have passed away. Don and I were probably eight to ten years younger than the majority of the people that settled out there, because they were World War II veterans, many of them. So we’re losing them one by one.
Franklin: Yeah.
Didier: Yeah, most of them are—well, just lost one down the road here. He was 93, I guess. Year before last. He was a bomber pilot in World War II. Flew 70-some-odd missions, and made it through.
Franklin: Wow.
Didier: Yeah.
Franklin: That’s really incredible odds.
Didier: Yeah. Yeah, it is. I did his eulogy at the church, and—those guys really—anyway, yeah.
Franklin: So working out at Hanford, you would have been privy to—you would have known what was produced there. Did you ever feel—how did you feel about making your living off the land so close to Hanford?
Didier: I never worried about it. Some people tried to prove, or think that they got thyroid cancer, whatever. But I—working in the monitoring, I knew they were monitoring the milk. They monitored milk, anybody that was dairying out there. Plus, they had instrumentation across the river. They were monitoring the river itself. However, you never knew what the figures were. I mean, I—yeah. But I really never worried about it. But maybe out of ignorance, in a sense. Not really, it’s not like, I guess, Chernobyl or something, where you had—although you had reactors out there. But a lot of them were not even active at that time, even. But there were a few, wasn’t there the—was it Fast Flux? I don’t know. I worked on that project, trying to save that Fast Flux Facility.
Franklin: Really? So in the ‘80s, then?
Didier: Yeah. Who was the commissioner? Yeah, I got involved in that. That was a travesty that they ever destroyed that, simply for the fact that medical isotopes—they had no idea what they could have engineered from that reactor that would have helped in the medical field. The dream was the guys that knew—he since has died, too. He moved to Portland. That if you had cancer, you’d go in, and you’d sit down, and they’d do, I guess, an injection. Sort of, probably, like chemo now, but in 15 minutes you’d be out of there. The possibility was there to make medical isotopes. If you know what medical isotopes are. I’m not a scientist, but because of the way the Fast Flux—it was one of a kind in the world, I think.
Franklin: Mm-hmm. How did you become involved in the committee to save it?
Didier: I don’t remember who got me into that. [LAUGHTER] I don’t remember. Claude Oliver, for one, was active in that. Wanda Munn, who is still alive, and she’s still—yeah.
Franklin: Yeah, I’ve—
Didier: I know Wanda and I talk to her quite often and she was very active in that.
Franklin: Yeah. She was very supportive.
Didier: I just went down to the office and did what I usually do, you know. Write thank-you letters for donations and filing and that kind of stuff. But I was very interested; I thought it was a very good project that our government—all the money that had been expended thrown down the toilet, to put it bluntly. I see in the paper they’re going to use one of the warehouses they built, though, to store the sludge or something. Did you see that?
Franklin: I didn’t. I do know that our collection that we manage—the Department of Energy’s Hanford Collection, which is a historic collection of artifacts and archives gathered onsite that document history, and that’s actually stored in one of the Fast Flux Facility warehouses.
Didier: Is it?
Franklin: Yeah. We’re moving everything out, but I go up there once or twice a week to do work on the collection, yes. It’s one of those warehouses that was built for Fast Flux.
Didier: Yeah.
Franklin: I hadn’t read about storage of waste.
Didier: Yeah, sludge or something. So they can—I don’t know—something about the tanks, they can put it in there? Something that had been built for the Fast Flux reactor. So at least maybe something’s being—[LAUGHTER]—what should I say? Salvaged. But anyway.
Franklin:Um, what do you recall about living in the Cold War—during the Cold War era? Especially—was there any sense of danger or even pride living so close at Hanford or working at Hanford, given its role in the US nuclear weapons arsenal during the Cold War?
Didier: Well, all that was sort of over with when I was out there. No, it was a job, and it was money. [LAUGHTER] Better money than I could make anywhere else. And the people were great to work with, and they were always interested in what we were doing out there. You know, you would have thought being of the scientific community and whatever—completely different ideas than being a farmer. But you know what? It’s interesting—there’s always a bit of farmer in everybody. Have you ever realized that? I mean, guys particularly.
Franklin: Well, I grew up on a farm.
Didier: I know that’s what you said, but it seems like no matter what they’re line of work is or whatever, there’s always this curiosity about farming and what to do and whatever. I used to have a lot of questions. They always treated me very well. I really hated to quit out there. Because I enjoyed the people. I enjoyed getting away from the farm, and the worries and the whatever. I could go to work and have a different scenario for the day, you know?
Franklin: Right, right. So when you were out there, you—all of the children were with your husband?
Didier: No, I hired a babysitter. She had to come to the house, because I couldn’t get five kids up—I had to leave at like seven in the morning, something, to be to work. We started earlier than 8:00. What was it? I don’t know what time I had to leave, but she had to come to the house and get the kids dressed and whatever.
Franklin: Was that a—
Didier: Don was not a babysitter. [LAUGHTER] He had better things to do, you know. No, I had to hire someone to come in. And sometimes you wondered if—that’s when I finally decided that I needed to quit and come home, because there’s a fine line there about whether you’re really—how much are you contributing here, when you have to pay someone to look after your children, cost of getting to work, better clothing—had to dress better—you know, all these things you got to factor in. It was better when I did come home, because my husband—he liked conversation and people. So he sometimes got sidetracked at the neighbors’ and stuff when I thought he should have been home doing some things. So when I finally came home for good, it was better. Things improved. [LAUGHTER] In my eyes, anyway.
Franklin: Okay.
Didier: Well, it was lonely out there if you were—he just liked, as all farmers do, they like to talk a lot. They still get together. We’ve had some restaurants up there at the corner, and that was the gathering place every morning, the coffee shop and all the BSing that goes on. They’ve come and gone. So now we have a small Mr. Quick’s up there, and some of them still meet up there. Yeah. Got to compare notes, you know.
Franklin: Oh, yeah. Yeah.
Didier: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: A lot of things to talk about, I’m sure.
Didier: Yup.
Franklin: How—you mentioned, especially when you were growing some of the other crops, maybe not the hay, but like the corn and potatoes—how—did you rely on migrant labor at all? Or have you noticed--?
Didier: We did in asparagus, but they really—the families we had I don’t think were migrant. They came from California every year. We furnished housing for them. When amnesty was declared, that’s when we tore out the asparagus. The next year, it was—well, they got better jobs, they stayed in California, they didn’t come back. The people we were getting were not—well, that’s when they also made the deal that if—before, you paid by what they cut a day. I guess you’d call it piecework. They could make good money. But then they said, okay, if they don’t cut enough to equal so much an hour—and I forget what the minimum wage was or whatever it was—then you’ve got to pay them that. So you had to keep track of both things. Well, then you started getting people that would start at the top of the road, and they’d get to the bottom of the road, and then they’d sit down on their box or whatever they had down there and smoke a cigarette. They didn’t care if they made—yeah. They got paid so much no matter what. The caliber of people changed drastically. We got a crew leader or something out of Texas to bring us people, and that was not good. So we just decided to tear it out.
Franklin: That’s when you went to a more mechanized--?
Didier: Well, yeah. Just planted other crops. When we lost the sugar beet industry here, that was hard, because that was a very, very dependable cash crop. That hurt.
Franklin: What happened to the sugar beet industry?
Didier: Well, they decided to pull the factory at Moses Lake out of here. So we had no place to ship the sugar beets. I think, took acres and stuff back to Idaho. So we lost our sugar beet industry here.
Franklin: Is there anything that I haven’t talked about that you’d like to talk about?
Didier: Well, I don’t know. I don’t know what it would be, except that I think at the end of my composition in that book that I gave you there on the block, I just said I was so grateful for the opportunity that we had here. I think this probably was the last—what do I want to say—the last land that was opened up for development, like the Columbia Basin, the last project. We raised five great kids. They learned how to work. I’m proud of all of them. I just felt, being a city girl, my mother-in-law particularly didn’t think I’d ever make it, but I did. [LAUGHTER] It was a great opportunity. A lot of people didn’t stay. There were a lot of women that—it was hard.
Franklin: Yeah.
Didier: It was hard out there. We had a couple of suicides. You’d get—yeah. I don’t know what else to tell you.
Franklin: Did your parents stay in Portland?
Didier: My dad had died early in life. My mother, yes. I was an only child.
Franklin: Okay.
Didier: She lived in Portland, yes. And--
Franklin: What did she—oh, sorry.
Didier: That’s okay.
Franklin: What did she think about—
Didier: Oh. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: --your going out to homestead in—I’m sure she thought it was—
Didier: Not too much.
Franklin: --kind of the middle of nowhere.
Didier: Not too much.
Franklin: Did she ever come out?
Didier: Oh, yes. Oh, yeah. She came up. She always came up whenever I had a baby and helped me. In some of the rougher years, so she knew what was actually happening. Of course, you know how you feel about your kids. You don’t like to see them—think that they’re being—what should I say—deprived. [LAUGHTER] And Don’s folks were very helpful. They—his dad came up and helped us many a time work on the house. She’d come up and do the cooking, since I was working. I’d come home to a meal, which was great. She made the best cinnamon rolls. My kids have never forgotten that.
Franklin: [LAUGHTER]
Didier: [LAUGHTER] Yeah, she—anyway. Yeah, they—we also were in sheep. I guess I forgot to say that. We all had a—I used to do the lambing.
Franklin: Oh, wow.
Didier: Yeah, we bought a bunch of old ewes, which was not the best idea. But that’s all—his dad and Don went together and bought this bunch of old ewes. And so we lambed—I think we had lambs for—or we had sheep for—what? I don’t know, maybe five, six years. We never were much of a livestock people. My husband, when he was young, his dad went to some auction or something, came home with some milk cows, and Don got the job of milking the cows. He says, I’m never having a milk cow, and we never did. [LAUGHTER] We had a guy actually delivering milk out to the farm, come to think of it. And he left a big supply everyday with the boys I had.
Franklin: Wow, yeah, I bet.
Didier: I ended up with four boys and one daughter. My daughter’s a school teacher here in Kennewick. Has been for umpteen years. And Brett works at Battelle, my youngest. Curt and Clint and Chris—Chris is my oldest—they all are in the farming deal out there.
Franklin: And Clint’s a local politician, right?
Didier: Oh, yes. Yeah. He thinks he has to try to make a difference. But anyway, it’s a rough go. But he’s determined—stubborn. [LAUGHTER] No, I admire him for his, I guess, bravery, because it is—you do have to be brave. You take a lot of flak, I’m going to tell you, and a lot of—after he loses, which he has, takes him a while to recover. It’s a rejection, is what it is.
Franklin: Yeah. That’s understandable.
Didier: And then he takes a bit to regroup, and turns around and comes back for another go at it. And I tell him, I said, I don’t understand you, Clint. [LAUGHTER] Anyway.
Franklin: Well, great, well, thank you so much, Alice.
Didier: I probably talked your leg off.
Franklin: Nope, my legs are still here.
Didier: Well, I don’t know what else I could tell you.
Franklin: Did anyone else have any questions?
Didier: Oh, I could—I guess I should have told you, I did a lot of tractor work. I was not just a housewife. I ran almost every piece of equipment, except I never ran the stacker or—but I drove tractor. Did cultivating. Never rode a—I never ran a potato harvester, of course, but I worked on enough of them sorting potatoes. You know when you’re digging in the field? I’ve eaten a lot of dirt in my day. [LAUGHTER]
Tom Hungate: Did you ever notice a difference, was there a boys’ club that you kind of had to work through? Or was it just you were a good worker and so you were accepted as a worker on the farm? Or there weren’t enough people even to judge you as a woman out there working on a farm?
Didier: Yeah. Most all the women out there—not every woman worked in the field, but the only one that I worried about judging me was my husband. [LAUGHTER] Which, sometimes—[LAUGHTER]—I would pull something that wasn’t—I mean, do something that wasn’t too good. We had a big windstorm one night, and I thought I had to go down—we did have wheel lines at the far end of our place, down in—well, it sloped down pretty readily there. And those wheel lines, if you don’t block them, will take off in the wind and tear them all up. So the guys headed down there, and I thought I had to go down and help. Well, the first thing I did was run over the pipe that hooked into the main line. [LAUGHTER] I got told, why don’t you just go to the house? Because I hadn’t helped the situation any. [LAUGHTER]
Emma Rice: Another thing I was kind of thinking, did you have anything else to add about being kind of a working mom in the 1950s and ‘60s—
Didier: Yeah.
Rice: --to watch over your own [INAUDIBLE]
Didier: Well, funny you ask that question, because I have granddaughters now that are—well, I have two granddaughters that are CPAs. One just moved—she was working out here on the Project, and she just moved to South Carolina. And I look back on the days when I was working, and they never come again. You’ve lost some of the years of your kids’ life. As things happen, when they learn—when they walk, when they—first time they do something. And not being—and I remember I came home, and I was so tired. I gave my best at work, and there wasn’t a whole lot left over at the end of the day. And I know I was cranky. [LAUGHTER] And I just think sometimes—I’m sort of like my granddaughter, I kept wanting to—each time I got a promotion, it was—how do I want to put that? Not a feather in my cap, but made me feel worthy—more worthwhile, or whatever. I enjoyed working, I admit that. But I just look back on it now as—I’m going to be 85—August. I think, was it really that important? And I wish, maybe, some of our younger generation had the benefit, maybe, of my years later on the road. That’s just my—
Rice: Yeah.
Didier: But I have thought about that a lot. Whether I would have done it any differently at the time, because we needed the money. But sometimes we get—we forget what’s most important in our life.
Franklin: I agree.
Rice: Yeah, great.
Franklin: So what we might do now is—we’ll maybe have you kind of narrate some of these, some of the items you brought along.
Didier: Where you go across it, when I was—
Franklin: Right.
Didier: But with these—this is hay we’ve laid down, and I thought it was quite—yeah, there. I thought it was sort of a neat view of how things look now, compared to that other slide you’ve got there.
Franklin: Right. Yeah, no, that’s really—
Didier: So I don’t know if you want me to bring in that picture or not, so you—
Laura Arata: That’s the more comforting way to look at it. [LAUGHTER] Oh, are we ready?
Man One: Yup.
Arata: Oh, okay, so we're ready to get started. If we could just start by having you say your name and then spell it for us.
Vanis Daniels: Vanis Daniels, V-A-N-I-S, D-A-N-I-E-L-S. And that’s the second.
Arata: Thank you. My name's Laura Arata. It's November 14, 2013 and we are conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So I wonder if we could just start by having you tell us a little bit about when you first arrived at Hanford, who you came with, where you came from, that initial experience.
Daniels: Oh, boy. I arrived, well, let's say I arrived in the Tri-Cities. My dad came here in '43 and worked here off and on until '51 when he moved the family here. Now, between the time he first came here in '43, he, my uncle, and cousin of ours helped pour the first mud that was poured to start the B Reactor. And then, after that, he worked here off and on until '51, when he brought the family out. And I was just a little—barely a teenager when I came here in '51. I was a sophomore in high school. I was supposed to graduate in 1954. At that time, you had to be 17-and-a-half years old in order to graduate from high school. Well, see, I was just turning 16. So then when I got ready to graduate, the vice principal came to me and he says, you can't graduate. I said, why can't I graduate? He says, you're not old enough. I said, oh? What's that got to do would graduation? He say, you're only 16. You have to be 17-and-a-half years old to graduate from high school. Well, it didn't make any sense to me, you know, if I got the grade point and all that and able to graduate. And he say, well, let me ask you a question. And I said, yes? He says, if you graduate, what are you going to do for the next year and a half? I said, I don't know. He say, you're not old enough to get a job. Nobody's going to hire you. He say, so you're just going to be whiling away your time. I said, well, I guess. He says, I'll tell you what, I'll make a deal with you. He say, you come back to school next year. He say, because you're not going to be doing anything. He say, you can come as many hours as you want to. If you can find you a little part time job or something like that, you're free to leave to go and work. And you don't have any restrictions on you, you know, as far as having to be there every day. I told him, okay. So that's what I did. But that's when I really started appreciating school. Because up until that point, I had been an A student, but where I came from--I came from Texas, by the way. I was born in a place called Terrell, Texas, but that's all I know about it. We moved to East Texas, which is a little place called Kildare, which is right out of Texarkana. I personally lived in Oklahoma during those eight or ten years that I was there, and then back to Texas and then to the Tri-Cities here.
But being from the south, I went to an all-black school, segregated. And I didn't know anything about interacting with other races. And when I came here, nobody gave you a—I wouldn't call it a crash course, but I'd say interaction—it has a name for it—But anyway, they just threw you into the school with everyone else. And you had to learn to adjust. Well, that can be kind of hard. And it can also be kind of devastating. So my grade point dropped, but not to the point where I didn't graduate. And I see some kids right now that I went to school with that--I see them every once in a while--and if they hadn't been there to sort of support me, hold me up, I might would have fallen all the way through the crack. I might would have dropped out of school altogether. But they were—let's see, one retired from Franklin County. I don't know what the other three girls did as far as work go. But for some reason, they sort of took me under their wing, and I guess boost my morale or whatever you want to call it. And I was able to transition in and go on and finish school. After I finished school, I tried for ten years, 12 years really, to get a job at Hanford. And for some reason, they didn't want to hire me. I went to Seattle, tried to get a job at Boeing. They didn't want to hire me. I have, later in life since I retired, I learned why I didn't get a job at Hanford or Boeing, as far as that go. The people that I thought would be my biggest asset became my biggest enemy as far as getting a job. Because when you're asked for references and you put people down, I asked them if I could put them down, I let them know that I was putting them down for references and all this stuff. But the things that they put down there hindered me from getting a job rather than helping me get a job. And I learned this since I retired. But needless to say, I worked construction. I finally got a job--an interview--for Battelle. Meissinger was his name that interviewed me. And I must've gone out there for an interview the better part of a dozen times. And every time I'd go, he'd tell me, well, we don't have anything right now. In June of '66, he called me for an interview and I went out. And I'm working every day, working construction, when you leave work on construction, that's when your pay stop. I had a wife and a kid by then. And I went out one evening because he told me, he said, I'll stay here until 7 o'clock. You get of work, you come out. I told him, okay. So I got off, went home, took a shower, when out, talked with him. And I think he was about to tell me that he didn't have a position, ‘til I told him, I said, let me tell you something. I said, now, if you're not going to hire me, tell me now because I can't keep making arrangements, taking off work and all that stuff, coming out here just to sit and talk with you. I need a job. He says, just a minute. I don't know who--he left the room. He went and talked with someone. When he came back, he say, when can you come to work? I don't know. Whenever you want me to. He said, can you come Thursday? I told him yes. So I went out on Thursday.
They interviewed me, gave me a permit, which was a red badge at the time, to go to work. I started as a janitor in the 3706 and 3707 building in the 300 Area. They transferred me from there to Two East and Two West. From Two East and Two West, they gave me a job in what was called Decon at the time. We did all of the glassware, all of the pigs--which is not a literal pig. It's a iron cast. You know, you can get the gallon, half gallon, or quarts. And it contains radioactive waste on the inside. The pig is just to shield the radiation. And we handled all of the hot water from the 300 Area. So I worked in there for two and a half years or so. And we took care of all the waste, did all the filter changing and everything in 300 Area. From there, I went to 100-F, to inhalation toxicology. And inhalation toxicology is just a matter of inhaling and exhaling is what it is. But I worked with the dogs, which at the time, Battelle was doing an experiment on the effect that cigarette smoke had on the human body. We worked with beagle dogs because at that time, they said that the closest thing to a human’s physique was the beagle. A grownup beagle weighs anywhere from 15 pounds to I think the heaviest one we had was probably 47 pounds--which is a wide range for a dog, but the human anatomy is also a wide range. 15-pound dog would be equivalent to 130-pound man. A 47-pound dog would be equivalent to 350-pound man. And every three months, we sacrificed a dog. And we did everything from blood, urine, feces, muscles, tissue, everything. We learned everything we could about cigarette smoke on what effect it would have on the dogs. The dogs smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. Now, we had dogs that got addicted to cigarettes. And they were just like humans, chain smoke if you allowed them to. Then you had dogs that could not stand smoke, period, and they would fight it all the way through. But you had to give them the equivalent of two packs of cigarettes a day. Okay, we had hamsters that we shammed with cigarette smoke. We also did plutonium on them to see what effect it would have on the organs, on the inside of the body. And I worked in there until I got kind of fed up with supervision at the time because we weren't getting the raises that we should as far as finances go. And when you got a family you got to take care of, $2 just don't get it. So meanwhile, I talked with supervision and they say they didn't have money for raises. But yet and still, they're turning back money every year to DOE, which was set aside for raises. They just weren't giving it out. Well, at that time, they had what they call merit raises. And I worked second shift. I very seldom saw my supervisor. And so I asked him, I say, if I very seldom see you, I must be doing a good job. Because otherwise, you should be here checking on me to see what I'm doing. I later learned that one of the guys that worked in my department had told him that he had to recheck all of my work every morning when he came in, to make sure that I was doing it right. Well, see, that wasn't his position. He's an employee like I am. The other thing is that if the supervisor had just used a little bit of common sense, he would have known the man was lying. Because when you pull samples, the minute you pull the sample, it starts to decay. Now you would have had some variation in my results and his results if he's going to run my sample the next morning to tell me that I'm not doing it right. And he's getting the same results I'm getting. Something's wrong with this picture. Well, anyway, as it turned out, I told him I couldn't work for them if that's the way there were going to do things. So I quit.
The day I left from out there, I went home and I was sitting at home. And thinking, boy, I just quit my job. I got to get me a job. I went up to my sister's house and my brother-in-law was home. And I said, what are you doing home? He say, today is Veteran's Day. And also, it used to be Election Day, the 11th of November. And he say, I'm off. And so we sat round and talked for a few minutes. He say, would you be interested in leaving Hanford and going to work someplace else? He didn't know I'd quit. [LAUGHTER] I say, why, sure. He say, I got a guy you need to go and see. He told me where it was and everything. And the next day, I went looking for it. I drove right by the office and didn't find it. I went back and when he came in from work, I said, I--he say, you passed right by it. He says, it's a little building. I says, okay. The next day I went, the guy that became my supervisor wasn't in. But the secretary knew who I was when I got there. So I didn't get to see him that day. But the next day, they told me what time to come back. I went back, I walked in the door. He say, so you're looking for a job. I say, yes, I am. He says, come on back here in my office. So we went back to his office and, meanwhile, he's talking and asking me some questions. He's saying, I know your brother-in-law real well. He say you’re a heck of a nice guy. I say, he did? You say, yeah. When we get in the door and he closed the door, he say, you got the job if you want it. But I got to go through the motion of interviewing you. I says, okay. So I worked there at the Tank Farm in Pasco, which we distributed petroleum products, fertilizers, and fire retardant for forest fires. And I worked there just two or three months shy of 16 years. I went back to Hanford after that and went to work for Westinghouse. From there, Bechtel took over. I became supervisor. I worked in every area out there, decommissioning all of the buildings, the outer buildings, the 105s, tore down the 103s, basins. You name it, we did it. Took care of all the asbestos, worked in the asbestos department of the Tank Farm. They're talking about, now, where the tanks are leaking and all that stuff. We took care of all the above ground asbestos and stuff there for them. And I worked there until I retired in '97.
Arata: What year was this that you quit your job, your first job with Battelle?
Daniels: In '71.
Arata: And so then, what year was it that you went back to work at Hanford for Westinghouse?
Daniels: '89.
Arata: Okay. Well, it sounds like you had quite an array of jobs between all those sites.
Daniels: I've done some more besides that. [LAUGHTER] I owned my own restaurant for a little while in Spokane out at Airway Heights. I went in the service. I was at my basic training in Fort Ord, California. When I finished my advanced basic, I had run into a captain. I didn't know him, but I knew his family from Pasco. And I was talking to him and I had been home on leave and I had seen his mother. And I was telling him that she was doing fine, I'd just seen her and all that stuff. And when I finished my advanced basic, he was there and he ask me, he says, I got several places you can go if you want to, he said. Which ones do you want? I could've gone to a special forces in Chicago. I didn't think I wanted to go there. It get too cold there for me. [LAUGHTER] I could've gone to Presidio in San Francisco. I don't like San Francisco. I could've gone to Germany. I didn't want to go at that time. I could've gone to Fort Lawton, or I could've gone to Fort Lewis. I chose Fort Lewis. So I went there. And I liked Fort Lewis for some reason, although we were in the field most of the time. But I'm an outdoor person anyway. We got transferred from Fort Lewis to Germany. At the same time, the Vietnam War was breaking out. They took all of our officers and sent them to Vietnam. They took all of the personnel that had six months or less left to do, they extended them a year and sent them to Vietnam. All of them that had a year or better to do went to Vietnam. I had eight months left to do, so I didn't have to go. But they sent me from Germany back to Fort Lewis. And I trained the Milwaukee National Guard because they had activated them to take the 4th Division's place when they sent them to Vietnam. And I was sent back to Fort Lewis to train the Milwaukee National Guard. Once I got them trained, I got discharged. Three weeks after I got discharged, I got drafted again. [LAUGHTER] But I didn't have to go. I didn't have to go. For some reason, they decided they didn't want me. And those were some of the jobs I've had and some of the things I've done.
Arata: Wow, there's about a million things I want to ask you about but we have to start somewhere.
Daniels: Well--
Arata: I wonder if we can talk a little bit about kind of some of your early memories when you first arrived in the Tri-Cities area. And particularly, I'm interested in what your housing situation was like that and where you lived and what the community was like at that time.
Daniels: Okay. When we first arrived in the Tri-Cities--coming from east Texas, where you got greenery all around you, you know, it's like the west side of the state of Washington--and coming here to the desert, you just sort of get a sickening feeling. [LAUGHTER] To tell you the truth. But if you were black, you lived on the east side in Pasco, where I still--well, I live northeast Pasco, now, but that's by choice. Anything west of Second and Lewis in Pasco, well, it wasn't off limits—it was off limits as far as houses go. The banks or anything would not loan blacks money to buy homes. The finance company—which, at the time, Fidelity Savings and Loans was the biggest one in the Tri-Cities--would loan you money to buy an old, raggedy car with interest rates so high. But that's beside the point. When we came, my dad tried to borrow money to buy a house. He couldn't get any. He found a house and the lady that owned the house sold it to him on a contract. And she let the bank, BV, whatever you call them, hmph. Anyway, he paid his payments to the bank. So, therefore, I guess they would be the proprietor or whatever you call them. And in the agreement was that if he was three days late with the payment, they could foreclose on it and take the house. And the house was less than $10,000 at the time. They never took it, of course. But then he would always make sure that it was paid on the date that it was supposed to, if he had to haul me out of school long enough for the bank to open to go pay it and then go on to school. But other than that, kids are kids. And kids aren't prejudiced. We all played together. We had baseball, we did
Basketball, we had BB gun wars, which I don't know why some of us didn't get our eyes shot out. But we didn't. [LAUGHTER] And, let's see, you couldn't live in Kennewick if you were black. You didn't live in Richland because that was government and you had to work for the government in order to live out there. Well, up until probably '49, I think Mr. Newborn went to work out there in '49, which was the first black as far as know that ever worked in processing at Hanford. They only thing, blacks could work construction out there and help build it, but they couldn't help operate it, which—it still baffles me to this day, but that's just the way it was. Signs of the times, I guess you would call it and ignorance on a lot of people's part, as far as that go.
Arata: So you graduated from high school, then, in Pasco.
Daniels: Mm-hmm.
Arata: Do you remember about how many students were in your high school and approximately how many of you were black versus the white students?
Daniels: Okay. There were—let’s see—three? The high school was built for 600 kids, I think, 500 or 600 kids. And the day that they opened the doors, it was already overcrowded as far as that go. And that's the Pasco High School they got there now. I was the first graduating class out of that school. There were 107 or 108 of us in the graduating class. And I think there's probably 25 or 30 of us that I know of. In fact, I just saw seven or eight of them a couple of weeks ago. One of our classmates passed away.
Arata: Do you recall any specific incidents, anything that stands out to you about your time. I'm curious, particularly about high school, because you've told us all these great stories about it--where race was an issue at Pasco High School when you were attending there.
Daniels: Yes. There were maybe, at the most, 13 black kids when I went to high school. Most of them were underclassmen. There was a couple or three upperclassmen. We had football players, basketball players and stuff like that that were starters, what you might want to say were the star of the team. When they would have homecoming, the football players got to escort the queen and her court and all that stuff. Black kids couldn't do it. They wouldn't allow it. Some of the kids have since told me and another friend of mine that passed away that whenever one of them--because I was small, so I didn't play basketball or football--but anyway, if one of them turned out for football, they tried to do everything they could to hurt them. They didn't want them on the field with them. They didn't want to play with them. If any of the black kids got any type of award or anything, it was never given to them during assemblies or anything like that. If it was white kids, they made a big to-do of it and he got it on stage, came up before the whole school and got it. Black kids, they gave it to him as he was leaving school one evening or something like that. But this is faculty doing this. This is not the kids doing stuff like this. My vice principal and my shop teacher I ran into one day, oh, years after I graduated from school. They were hunting agates. And I stopped and was talking to them. And they actually apologized to me for some of the things that went on. The vice principal told me, he says, I am so sorry. He said, there are things that went on that I dare not tell or divulge--two reasons. First of all, I had a wife and kids that I had to support. And if I told them anything that was going to advance you, then I'd be looking for a job. He say, and I am sorry, but the community as a whole, well, it's like the council now, you know. They tell you what to do and you more or less jump and do it. Or like the government, which I think we all ought to vote everybody up there out, but that's beside the point. [LAUGHTER] It's just the way it was. And then I could understand their positions, because if you've got a wife and kids that you've got to support, you got to look out for them and you in the process of whatever you're trying to do. Now there's another way that it could have been done. But at the same time, they probably did what they knew to do. And that's one thing I never fault anyone for. If you don't know how to do something or to do something, then I don't fault you for not doing it. Now my brother, which you will interview next week, is probably the first black to have a job in a department store in the Tri-Cities, or at least in Pasco, I know. Well, he'll tell you about it. I won’t try to tell you about him. [LAUGHTER]
But those are some of the things that we encountered. We walked every day from the east side of Pasco to Memorial Park, which was the only swimming pool in town within the last year. And at that time, there was probably 5,000 to 7,000 people in the whole of Pasco. They had one swimming pool. You got 80,000 to 100,000 people in Pasco now. You got one swimming pool. [LAUGHTER] Doesn't make any sense at all. But we walked over there every day to play baseball and go swimming if we wanted to go swimming. There weren't any park other than Sylvester Park and Memorial Park was the only two parks in town at the time. Later, they put the Boat Basin in down there at Pasco. But when we didn't have any place to play, other than going over there, then we started making our own baseball diamonds in vacant lots and things. And as the lots would be developed, they would—well, naturally, they'd run us out because there wasn't enough room for us to play. So one evening, we didn't have any place to play baseball and we wanted to play baseball. Two blocks from my house, where I grew up at was Kurtzman Park. Well, actually, it's a block and a half. But it was just a vacant field. And we took shovels, a bunch of my friends and me, and we went out there and we cleared all the tumbleweeds out, took the shovels and kind of levelled it off, and started playing baseball. A lady named Rebecca Heidelbar happened to come by there and see us. I don't know exactly what period of time, how long we'd been playing there. And she stopped and asked us if we had a park that we could play in. We told her no. We told her the only park was Memorial Park. She says, mm-hmm. And she talked to us for a minute. She left. Well, we later learned that she was an attorney, her husband was an attorney, her mom was an attorney, and her dad was an attorney. And that was Judge Horrigan and his wife, and then their daughter Rebecca. And then she had married an attorney. So she came back and asked us to get as many kids together as we could and she would meet with us. And she did. And she went to the courthouse, found out who the land belonged to where we were playing. She helped us to draft a letter to Mr. Kurtzman, which she found out lived in Seattle and ask him to donate enough land for us to have a baseball diamond. Well, it took him the better part of six months to answer us, but he get back to us because I suppose he had to look into the legal aspect of it. He got back to us and told us that he could not give any land to a special interest group or persons. He would donate six acres of land to the city if they named the park after him. That's how Kurtzman Park came into an existence. And there's a letter someplace that we wrote him with my name right on the top of it. But in the process of this, we got the land donated to us, the city of Pasco, as far as the city go. The only thing they did to get that park in there was they gave some used pipe that they had laying around out there at what we call the Navy Base, which is out by the airport. And the black parents went out there and broke all this pipe apart and everything, took it down to the park, actually took shovels--we took shovels--dug the trenches for the water system down there, put the pipe back together, put the water system in. The city did seed it. They did plant the trees. And they keep it up. But the Kurtzman building has a park right in the front of it that myself, my cousin, Mr. Louzel Johnson put up, free of charge, right where U-Haul is on Fourth Street and Pasco now, used to be a brick place where they made brick blocks, your cinder blocks. And they donated the blocks. We did the labor and put it up. At first, they named the park Candy Cane Park. And then we had to let them know that you can't do that. That park got to be named Kurtzman or else we don't have a place to play because that's the only way he would donate it, so that's the way we got that. Where Virgie Robinson's Elementary School is now, on Wehe and Lewis Street, used to be what we call the lizard hole because you get off and then had toad, frogs, and all that stuff down in there. And we'd we go down in there and get those frogs and stuff out of there and bust them because that's what we did. [LAUGHTER]
Arata: Just to clarify this, I just have this great mental image in my head of this group of kids running around playing baseball. Was that integrated at all? Were most of you African Americans? A little better sense of--
Daniels: Well, what we did was, like I say, we lived on what we called the East side. There was a bunch of white kids that lived over there. Right on the north side of Lewis Street was enough white kids that they had two baseball teams. We lived on the south side of Lewis Street. We had one baseball team. And we played each other every day. [LAUGHTER] Yeah. We had a lot of fun. We played each other every day. In fact, one of the kids--I haven't seen him in years--but I was catching. And he threw a ball. He threw that ball so hard it--because I was using a board for the plate--and it hit that board and hit me right there. And I later had to have a hernia operation. [LAUGHTER]
Arata: The scars of childhood.
Daniels: Oh, yeah. We had a lot of fun. We played, like I say, we did BB wars and all that stuff again. I don't know why we don't have eyes out or something, but none of us ever did. Used to dig holes, tunnels. And I know you've probably read here in later years here, where kids are digging tunnels on the beach and all that stuff and then they collapse on them and they suffocate and stuff. I don't know why that didn't happen to us either because we'd dig as far as we could underground. [LAUGHTER]
Arata: Wow, there's so many things I want to ask you about. If we could go back to your time at Hanford just a little bit. So you did have a bunch of different jobs over the broad course of time. Could you talk a little bit about sort of security, or secrecy, or safety, things like that? Did any of those things have a major impact?
Daniels: Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Now security was at a point where that certain buildings, certain areas, you couldn't go in if you didn't have the clearance to go in them. One of the things that they especially emphasized was paperwork—security or classified documents and things. And documents was classified, like secret, top secret, and they had another one. But anyway, the way you knew which one was which was the border that was around it. Like, I think secret had a blue border. Top secret had a red border around it. Now, if you went in any building, and you saw that document laying anywhere unattended, you were to report it, stay right with that document until somebody of authority came and picked that document up. It wasn't supposed to be laying around any place. Again, if you didn't have the clearance, you weren't allowed in the buildings. They didn't allow you, even if you had the clearance, unless you had business in the building, then you wasn't supposed to go and fraternize and all that stuff, like, well, like first instance, my brother. The only time I went to see him or he came to see me was if there was an emergency at home and he got the message, he came and told me or vice versa. See, you just weren't allowed to do it. You were allowed in your work area to do your work and that's it. I worked all over. So I had a Q clearance. And I had a clearance for everything but the arms room. Now in the arms room, you needed a Q, but you also needed a chip. I didn't have the chip. I worked in the arms room, but I had to be escorted to the building. And then once I got to the building, I could go all around in the building, but I couldn't come out until my escort came and got me to bring me back out of the building. So there were security, and I can remember, for instance, where that DOE--which is what we call them now--actually right where Jackson's is now, down here on George Washington Way, it was a tavern. And DOE actually put people in there to watch and talk with people that worked at Hanford, got off work, stopped in to have a beer and stuff like that, just to see if they would divulge anything that was going on out there. So it was pretty hush-hush. You couldn't go past the wire barricade unless you had business out there. Again, like I say, there's not an area or a building I don't think I haven't been in. But that was because I worked all over the place. ‘Til this day, there are still areas out there that still classified. You know, they're declassifying it and cleaning it up. And I don't know how many acres they got now, but—no, I'll take that back. The only place I never did go was up on top of Rattlesnake. And I didn't want to go up there, because I'm afraid of snakes. And my brother-in-law helped put the telescope up there. And he say when they were digging and getting ready and there was plenty rattlesnakes. I said, I'm not going up there. And so I never went. [LAUGHTER] But any area out there that you can name, if you didn't have any business in there, then it wasn't a good idea to go. I can remember working, and you would look up--and they had environmentalists--and you'd look up and you'd see one way out across the desert someplace. And what in the world are they doing? Who are they? You had to go and get your supervisor or someone, or if you was in a vehicle, you went and you challenged that person. If they didn't have a badge, then they had to go with you. You held them some kind of way until they was identified, in some way or form. You just didn't walk around out there. When the Army was out there, they would do drills and stuff. And they would come in and several times—they finally had to kind of curtail that because we had guards out there that carried weapons. And some of them almost got shot, scaling over walls and going over fences and things like this. It was an exercise, but you going the wrong direction and in the wrong place without proper identification, so they had to sort of curtail that because you don't want anybody to get hurt.
Arata: Right. I wonder, I know it's a little bit before your time working at Hanford, but JFK visited in 1963.
Daniels: Well, that was before I started out there. I helped put the railroad spur in that he was supposed to come in on because he was supposed to come in by train. We finished the spur the day before he dedicated the steam plant the next day. It was so hot until I decided I wasn't going. So I didn't go. My brother took my mom and dad out to the dedication.
Arata: Did you ever wish maybe you had gone, braved the heat?
Daniels: Yeah, now I do. But back then, I didn't. I was sick of the heat.
Arata: Sure. I guess when you think about overall and through all your different jobs, maybe you could talk a little bit about how Hanford was as a place to work overall and if there were sort of any aspects of your jobs that were more challenging or more rewarding than others? Anything that stands out?
Daniels: Probably the worst part of working out at Hanford was the fact that when you worked inside the buildings, they had what we called recirculated air. You didn't get any fresh air. So it was always just sort of ho hum. You know, I always felt kind of drowsy all the time when I worked inside. Other than that, I think everything I did out there I really enjoyed. And I enjoyed being a supervisor. Although, if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't have the job. But I had everything. All of the crafts worked for me. And that's electricians, crane operators, rigors, laborers, RCTs, the whole ball of wax. I was in charge of taking down all of the holding tanks, which, if you watch TV and you see this deal on there. This guy says he worked at Hanford for 21 years and now he's under this health care and they come out and visit him. If you watch it, you'll see three great big tanks in the back while that is on. In every area out there, they had those tanks. I took down all of those tanks in all of the areas out there and cleaned them enough that all of the metal was shipped to Japan. And that's the first time any metal, that I know of, was shipped of off the Hanford site to go anyplace except for the burial ground. But in the process of doing that, we started out doing it the way they that our RCT and everything said that we were supposed to do it. We cleared I don't know how many pounds and shipped them down here to Pasco. From Pasco, they went to Seattle and was put aboard ship. Well, before they left the Hanford area, they were surveyed to be cleaned. We shipped them down to the 1100 Area. When they left the 1100 Area, they were surveyed again. They shipped them down to Pasco. When they left Pasco to go to Seattle, they were surveyed again. When they got to Seattle, before they put them aboard ship, they were surveyed again. Got to Seattle, getting ready to put them on board ship, and they found I don't know, I'll say ten milligrams on one corner of one piece of metal. They stopped it right there. Everything that they hadn't loaded aboard ship they sent back to Kennewick. All of it. I was on my way home when it was on a Friday evening. And how they knew where I was, I have no idea, but they found me. I was in the Towne Crier down here in Richland. Guy came in. He say, I've been looking for you. I said, what do you want with me? He say, you got to go to work in the morning. I say, no, I don't. He say, yes, you do. He say, I got to have RCTs. You need to go and get ahold of Ray Jennings and get some riggers and O’Reilly, get some riggers, and crane operators, and all that stuff and we got to be out there are 8 o'clock in the morning. Says, oh. So anyway, we got it all done. I drove up out there probably at 7, 7:30 or so. We all gathered around and everything. Pretty soon, here come a guy that I've never seen before. He came in. He got out of the car, he came over, he spoke to everyone. He say, who's in charge of this project? I said, well, I guess I am. He said, well, I don't need you to guess. He say, either you or your aren't. I said, well, I'm in charge of this project. He said, come over here. He says, you haven't done anything wrong according to the RWP. He say, but we found some contamination and we can't have that. He say, so today, you are going to go step-by-step through everything that you did in order to release this metal. I told him, okay. So I call my RCTs, I get my riggers and everything. We get a panel out. And we lay it out for him. And you got to lay it out in feet, every square foot, you know, is a square. And then there's a certain amount of time that you should take to go over that square foot. And he watched us. He says, you're doing everything right if that's the way you did. I say, that's the way we did it. Well, I got the RCT head supervisor there. I got the rigger supervisor and everybody saying, well, this is the way we do it. He says, okay. He says, but how do I know—and I'll give you a for instance on what I'm talking about here—when you cut a piece of metal with a torch, you get something like the rim of this glass, where the metal actually rolls as it melts. He say, how do I know it's not contaminated underneath there? I say, well, I guess I really don't, except the instruments that we use is supposed to detect anything a quarter of an inch deep. He say, that's not good enough. He say, because some of that slag is better than a quarter of an inch. He said, have you ever heard of a Ludlum? Well, now, there's none of us out there that ever heard of a Ludlum, which is a radiation detector machine. We'd never heard of it. He says, well, that's what I want you to use. He was from Washington, DC, the Pentagon. [LAUGHTER] I said, uh-oh. But anyway, he says, I'm going back this afternoon. You will not survey or ship anymore metal off of here until I am satisfied that it's clean. I told him, okay. He went back to Washington, DC. This was like on a Wednesday. On a Monday morning, I had eight Ludlums. I'd never seen the things before. So I give them to my RCTs. And they had instruction with them. And the two kids live in Kennewick now, they read the instructions and everything, tried them out and everything. And then they became the instructors to teach other people how to use the Ludlum. Battelle has a program where that they have to certify all of the machines that are used on the Hanford site. Well, they didn't get their hands on these. So I'm working. I get a call from Battelle. And they tell me, say, Vanis, I understand you've got some machines out there that didn't come through us. I said, I don't know who they came through. But I said, they sent them to me. I said, so I got them. And I'm using them. You can't use them because they're not certified. I say, that's not what I was told. So I tell them exactly what I was told, who told me, where I got them from and everything. You got to bring them in here. I said, nope. I'm not bringing them in there. I say, I was told by the head from Washington, DC what to do. And that's what I'm going to do. Anyway, I had to go down and sit on their lap and talk with them, get them to understand that, hey, you can buck whoever you want to up there. I'm not going to do it. Well, anyway, they finally got it all squared away that they weren't going to get these machines and that I was going to use them because they had been overridden by Washington, DC. So then I got to get all that metal and everything cleared and it went to Japan. And one of things I can remember he told me before he left that evening, he say, you're doing a good job. But the thing I don't want is for one of my grandkids to get contaminated sitting up working on a computer where you have sent some contaminated metal and they made computers out of and sent it back over here. That was an interesting one. [LAUGHTER]
Arata: I can imagine. And what year would that have been?
Daniels: That would've been in '95 or '96.
Arata: Okay. Well, I wonder if we could just wrap up. Obviously, the Cold War in this time period, kind of a very conflicted legacy. Most of my students were not alive during that time. So they have sort of a limited window into it. So I wonder of you could just tell us a little bit about, in your experience, living through and working at Hanford during much of this time period of the Cold War, just maybe what changed over the course of time, if anything in terms of—like I know the NAACP eventually came to Hanford at did some good work later on. Sort of what that experience was of living through that change.
Daniels: Okay, one of the things that happened was in '68, I believe it was, about that time anyway, I was working in the 325 Building and Decon at the time. And I saw this gentleman, oh, for the better part of a week walking around. In the building, he'd always nod his head, you know, speak. I'd speak, go on about my work. Whatever he was doing, he'd go on about it too. My supervisor, one morning, told me, he stays, I need you to stay here, answer the phone. He say, take any work orders that come in. He say, and if you need to go and estimate a job, you know how to do it, go do it. I got to go to a meeting. I'll be back. I says, okay. So he went on to the meeting. And when he came back, he says, I told you something was going to happen. He say, heads are going to roll around here. I said, what are you talking about? He says, remember, they got all these blacks out here. I say, yeah. He say, 90% of them are janitors. I say, yes. He say, that guy that's been walking around in this building? I say, yes? He say, he's head of DoE. He's from Washington. And he's been observing all of the jobs, the people that are doing the jobs, the people that are in the jobs, the education that the people have, and the whole ball of wax. And he just told us that we got three weeks to start transferring some of these people into some of these jobs. He say, because you can't tell me you got that many black people out here and don't none of them have enough sense to do anything but janitorial work. He say, I know better. [LAUGHTER] So that's when they started diversifying and sending people to all different jobs and all that stuff. Because before then, most of them were janitors, I think. I got a cousin that worked in a lab, one supervisor, one operator—that was about it. Everybody else mostly were janitors. But, again, see, you're looking at an area when they start hiring blacks out there. Most of them had been here since the early '40s. They had worked construction out there and all that stuff. But none of them had ever been able to get a job in what I call production. They hired them all. They hired them as janitors. They were already elderly people. And when I say elderly, some of them may have been as young as in their 40s. But most of them only worked ten, 12 years, and they retired. They were that old. Some of them didn't want to do anything else except janitorial work.
A whole bunch of the younger people actually went on and became Teamsters and electricians and pipefitters and all that stuff. But that was the first time that a lot of the blacks had ever had a steady job in their life. And they, in the run of a year, they probably made is much or more money than they ever made in their life because they had a steady job. You got a paycheck 52 weeks to the year, with a vacation, which they had never had before. So they didn't want to branch out per se, a lot of them didn't, because I know some of the people that I worked with, many have gotten in 12 years out there and they retired. They just weren't interested in killing the world at their age. They just weren't interested in it. We first went to hot standby they call it. In other words, hot standby is when you redo everything, you rebuild everything. You get it ready to go if you need to go back into production. Then they go from what they call hot standby they downgraded it to just cold standby. When they did that, then after about six months we went in, we start draining everything. This is all the oils, all the antifreeze if you had antifreeze, whatever you had that was liquid, we start draining all this stuff out of all the equipment and everything. You started taking out all the electrical stuff. And they had spent millions and millions and millions of dollars upgrading all this stuff. You've got engines, diesel engines just in case you had a nuclear attack or something to that effect that once the electricity went off, the engines kicked off and kept the reactors running. One of those engines is longer than this building is this way, and they rebuilt them all. And the only time they started, they just started them up enough to make sure that they were working and they shut them off. We drained everything out of all those engines, and then they took them out, and when I left they were still in the buildings. I think they've since sold them to someone, but that means that you can't start it back up. If you want to, you've got to put all new stuff in.
Well, in 1943, when they built the B Reactor, when they started it, 13 months it was online. Try to build a reactor today. 40 years from now it won't be online. Because the government took and they put all of these entities into place. And it's a safety precaution as far as that go. But see they didn't put any restrictions on these people. And that's just the ecology, ERDA, all those people, they don't have any restrictions on them. And you get all of these in--if I hit you on the toe, don't holler ouch too hard--but young people are the worst in the bunch because the only thing they know is what they read in a book. And the book is just a guideline for you to use this up here, because there's no two things out there that's ever going to be the same. And DoE put young people in positions out here to tell people that have been working and doing this job for 30 and 40 years and they tell them what to do instead of coming out there asking some questions and trying to learn? Because the book don't tell you nothing. Do you cook?
Arata: I do.
Daniels: Okay. You go get a recipe, you fix the food exactly like the recipe says. It's not always good to you. But now if you are allowed to put your flair into it, then it's good, right? That's the same thing with a life. That's just the way life is. You've got to learn, and you do it by trial and error. And they don't have any business out there. I had a guy, 27 years old or roughly there, shut one of my jobs down. He did not ask the questions that he should ask. He just saw it and shut it down. You're not going to do this and you're not going to do that. Well, when you're talking to a rigger that's been rigging for 40 years, he know when he's in danger and when he's not. He didn't live that long by being stupid. Well anyway, it all comes down to not putting a barrier around where he was working. Well, he's got to be able to see the rigger down here, up here, and then he signals the crane operator. Well, if you can't see the rigger down in that hole, you can't signal the crane operator. And he shut my job down because this guy didn't have a barrier between him and the hole where he could look down in there and see the rigger. They shut it down. I had to go to a critique. And we talked about it and the rigger told him, he says, you don't have a clue what you're talking about. He said, you just shut a job down, he say, and you've got all these suits sitting up in here and making all this money and the job's still not done. But those are the things you have put up with, too.
Arata: Absolutely. Well, sir, is there anything else that I haven't asked you about, any final stories you'd like to share?
Daniels: I don't know. Maybe he got something he want to ask me. You got anything you want to ask me? I am just here. Just ask me whatever you want to ask me, and if I know, I'll tell you. If I don't, I'll say I don't know.
Arata: I guess my one sort of follow-up question, we've heard from a couple other interviewees about having some definite run-ins with the KKK. Did you ever have any experience with the KKK in the area?
Daniels: No, I never did. Now I do have a friend in Kennewick that tells me that they used to have meetings right up here on Jump-Off Joe. But no, I never ran into any. If I did, I didn't know who they were. Never had that experience, because we still might be fighting if I had. [LAUGHTER]
Arata: I think that covers all my questions. I want to thank you so much for coming and sharing your stories and experiences with us. I really appreciate it.
Daniels: My brother, he's got probably--let's see, I worked out there about 15 years all total and I think he's got 36 or 37 or 38, so he can probably tell you a lot more than me.
Arata: We'll get him next week. We're looking forward to it. Well, thank you so much, Vanis.
Daniels: Okay. You're welcome.
Robert Franklin: Okay. My name is Robert Franklin, and I am conducting an interview with Linda Davis on May 26th 2016. The interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. I will be talking to Linda Davis about her experiences growing up in Richland, and her father’s experiences coming to work on the Hanford site. So, Linda, let’s start at the beginning. Why don’t you—you were mentioning earlier, with some of those items you brought which we’ll view later—you were showing us pictures of growing up and your father’s photo when he came here. So I guess why don’t we start with your father coming here.
Linda Davis: My dad had been working in Kansas on I think it was a CCC project. And it came to an end. And they were told very little. Go to Washington. They’re like, right. [LAUGHTER] But my parents had always wanted to get the heck out of Kansas, so they found that this was their escape. And it was during the Depression, so jobs were tough. My dad came out. He was supposed to be coming out with a bunch of friends, and my brother got sick, so he ended up coming out later. He had to—he hopped box cars to get here! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow!
Davis: He rode the rails and hitchhiked. And he got here a few weeks after his friends—a couple weeks after his friends did. They all got the management positions, and he got to be Joe Blow. [LAUGHTER] But he came out in February, March of ’43. He had been working cement. They sent him out with some other guys. They drove all over the whole reservation looking for the right rocks and gravel and sand to make the cement to start pouring B Reactor footings. After he did that, he was there when they poured the footings and that was always one of his—he was always very proud that he was there when they did the footings. Briefly, he was sent over to the extrusion and he was one of the first ones to actually run the machine to extrude the plutonium. Then after a short term there, he went back to B Reactor and became a nuclear operator until he retired.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: And he was first here in a tent.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: They supplied these big tents with a stove in the corner. And he says those really weren’t that bad. Then they, quote, moved him to barracks. And he says, those were the pits. They had gaps in the wood. There was just one layer of wood and gaps. So you learned really early on—you woke up in the morning, you shook your head, you wiped your eyes off, because you’re either removing snow or sand. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: And he says when he got here off the train, he says, there was as many people getting on the train to leave. And he says, the sands would come in and people were missing their families, and they were leaving in droves. My mom and the kids did not come until fall of ’43. There was no housing at that point in time. They went and lived in Yakima and my mom got a job and dad would commute on his long changes to Yakima to go visit the family. The rest of the time, he’d go stay in the barracks. And when he first got here with some of his friends, they had long lines for the showers. They were like, oh, we don’t want to wait in these stupid shower lines, we’re in a hurry. So him and his friends went—they’re from Kansas, streams there are shallow and warm. They went, there’s this great big river, so they ran down and jumped in the river. And jumped right back out! [LAUGHTER] He said it was so cold! They went and stood in line after that.
Franklin: That’s a great story.
Davis: And my dad played poker and he was well known for his poker playing here. We thought he used to—was just bragging, until when he died and people were coming in and they were going, wow, was he one wicked poker player. They used to be able to play poker on the buses.
Franklin: Really?
Davis: Yeah, you know, an hour ride, they had these little tables they’d set up towards the back and they played poker.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: He could earn almost as much money playing poker as he could working. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow, that’s great. So how long was it before your mother and—so you weren’t born yet at the time.
Davis: No! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So how long was it before your mother and the rest of your family were able to move to the Tri-Cities?
Davis: They stayed in Yakima for about a year and a half. And then they moved—their first house was a A house on MacPherson, which was just finished and they ended up having to go to a hotel the first night, because it was freshly painted, and it made them all sick because it was still wet. [LAUGHTER] They were kind of unusual because they had their own furniture that they had brought from Kansas. Most people came and they had—everybody had the same bed, dresser, everything was supplied. But they had a lot of their own furniture that they brought from Kansas. So they would have been here—let’s see, he came out in ’43, ’44—early ’45 is when they got their first house--
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: --in the Tri-Cities. During that time, Dad had commuted back and forth.
Franklin: Wow. And you said that your mom was working in Yakima. What kind of work was she doing?
Davis: She was a receptionist in a doctor’s office.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: She was telling me—oh, just a few years ago, she was telling me that she was working, and people had been displaced and all the, quote, riffraff was coming in, and people looked really down on the people like them who were coming in. She was working in a doctor’s office, so nobody really thought about it, so they were a lot of times just talking, and some ladies got real snippy about, well, you got all this riffraff coming in and these lowlifes and stuff. And she just looked up and said, oh, well I’m one of those. [LAUGHTER] But they were really looked down on, because people didn’t know why they had been displaced. And they didn’t know why all these people were coming from all over the country.
Franklin: Right, because they hadn’t—
Davis: Nobody was allowed to know anything. So there was a lot of anger, and a lot of looking down their noses at people that had come into the Hanford Project.
Franklin: Do you think maybe some class conflict? Or maybe people they had perceived as Dust Bowl type people--?
Davis: Dust Bowl type people, because a lot of them came—Kansas, Oklahoma supplied a lot of the workers out here, because the word had gotten around, go to Washington, go to Washington. They didn’t know why, just go to Washington, you’ll find a job. You’ve got crummy farming, a lot of them just packed up and left. And they showed up. Then the, quote, natives of the area who had felt that they had been here for a significant amount of time really did look down on all these strangers coming in. It was—they would look like refugees to them. Because a lot of them came with homemade trailers and, literally their own tents if they couldn’t find a place to live.
Franklin: And they hopped boxcars.
Davis: And they hopped boxcars to get here! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow, that’s really interesting. So, earlier you mentioned that your family had lived in a lot of different houses early on or kind of gone all over. So can you talk about that? Those early years of being in Richland.
Davis: You were assigned houses by what kind of job you had and how many children you had. You could apply to get a different house. And for all sorts of different reasons—my mother liked to move, I think, because a lot of it—she always liked to move. And Dad went along with it. They lived in ranch houses, F houses, A houses—they sneakily got into an H house, which they didn’t qualify for. You couldn’t—weren’t supposed to get into any housing unless it’s written out by the government that you could. They traded with somebody who wanted something—they wanted like the A house. They were in an H house and Mom and Dad said, oh, we’d like the H. So they traded without telling the government.
Franklin: Ooh.
Davis: That lasted six months. [LAUGHTER] Then they had to move again. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So the H houses were bigger then? I’m not quite up on all of the—
Davis: They have a basement; they have one floor. They were probably better made. They were nicer houses than like the A. But the one people were having more kids or something. I can’t remember why they wanted to change. But Mom and Dad sneakily did it, then they sneakily had to slink out [LAUGHTER] when they were told they had to leave.
Franklin: Wow. Yeah, one thing I’ve heard around here is that basements in those early years were pretty rare.
Davis: What basements you had, like in the A houses, B houses, F houses, they were dirt. I’ve been in them when they hadn’t been changed yet. It’s basically a dirt floor, you walk down the stairs and then you’re there. Then there’s like this raised cement block area. Well, that’s where they’d dump the coal into. They would come with these trucks and dump the coal in. You just had enough room to go down there and shovel coal. They were pretty gross. [LAUGHTER] But I remember Mom and Dad, though, said everything was supplied. You had no utilities, they brought your coal—you had to call and ask for a lightbulb to be changed. You were not allowed to do it yourself. [LAUGHTER] Totally government.
Franklin: Yeah, that’s a lot like here. You have to put in a facilities request to do that.
Davis: Yeah, well, they had to—she goes, a lightbulb? Like, we can’t change your own? Oh, no. But she says they were really Johnny-on-the-spot.
Franklin: Really?
Davis: Yeah. They’d call and say, you know, lightbulb in the bathroom burned out. Oh! We’ll be right there!
Franklin: Wow, so it would have been a whole department of people.
Davis: There was a whole department of people who were doing that. If you were not working at Hanford or what they called support, like supplying the oil and changing the lightbulbs, a grocery store, pharmacist or something, you were not allowed to live here.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: And if you were, like, married and your husband—one of their friends that happened—dropped dead of a heart attack, she was given 48 hours to leave with her kids. They were kind of severe at times. But it was super safe. Kids could run and play. If your kid got in trouble, you could lose your job. That was—I remember my dad always holding that over my brothers. [LAUGHTER] If you get in trouble, I can lose my job and we’ll have to leave.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So kids were good; they didn’t have a choice. If you had a kid who became a juvenile delinquent, then you could lose your job and given 24 hours to leave town.
Franklin: Did you know of any incidences of that happening?
Davis: My parents talked about it, but I didn’t have names or—you know. Just somebody that they knew, their kids had been a real pain—and he ended up I think keeping his job, but he had to move to Kennewick. He couldn’t stay in government. He managed to beg and plead and keep his job, but he had to leave town.
Franklin: So they were not only kind of controlled the work site, but they also really controlled the fabric of the community as well.
Davis: To the point where they had—after leaving Richland, and living elsewhere and now in Kennewick, you realize the layers are like military layers. And it’s taken a long time for that to kind of break down. You had your echelons, just like in the military. They even went so far as to tell people, you are in this job and you’re in this job, and you’re not supposed to communicate. They may have grown up together in some Podunk place in the Midwest, known each other since childhood, but, all of the sudden, oh, you’re not supposed to talk to each other? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Right, so kind of like that difference between commissioned officers—
Davis: And a non-com.
Franklin: Non-com.
Davis: Yeah. Oh, you’re more of a commissioned, you’re too high up and you can’t talk to the lower echelon.
Franklin: Right, scientists don’t talk to janitors and so forth.
Davis: Yeah.
Franklin: That’s really interesting. Did your mom work after—
Davis: Yes, she worked at Dr. Ellner’s office, urologist here in town. She worked there for—I don’t know—from the time I was about nine, eight—I guess I was about eight when she started working there. So that would have been ’62.
Franklin: Okay. And so then you would be born in ’54.
Davis: Mm-hmm.
Franklin: ’54. Okay.
Davis: Part of that big baby boom.
Franklin: Yeah. And how many siblings do you have?
Davis: Three.
Franklin: Okay. And were any of them—did any of them move to Richland from—so your parents came, your father came out in ’43, and then your family came out in the fall. When were your siblings born?
Davis: They were born all in Kansas.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: And so they were born in ’37, ’40, and ’41.
Franklin: So you’re the real baby of the bunch.
Davis: Oh, yeah. I was the surprise. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Ah. I think we all are in some way.
Davis: Oh, I was—my mom was 41, so yeah, I was a shock.
Franklin: Wow, yeah, that is quite a surprise. So tell me—then you would have been born then when Richland was still a government town.
Davis: Right.
Franklin: So tell me about growing up, like maybe from your earliest memories on. What was it like to—do you have any early memories of before—while Richland was still a government town?
Davis: Yeah, I have a lot of memories from really early. My brother and I seem to both have the brains from early, early. The other two go, I don’t remember anything then. [LAUGHTER] They don’t really remember anything until after they’re five! One of the things that always struck me was, as a kid, driving through town and they had that asbestos siding that you had a green house or this dark reddish house. They all kind of looked the same. I know my sister one time accidentally ended up in the wrong house after school. And one of Mom’s best friends came in and found some guy sleeping in her bed. He was on leave from the Army and he had gotten in the wrong house. But they all looked the same. And people had the same furniture.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: So my sister went in and says, like, the living room furniture, I think, was all the same. And she says, she came home, put her papers down and then went out and played. Then came back later and went, Mom keeps moving the furniture! [LAUGHTER] She says she has no idea which house she went into.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Yeah, they had basically—I remember the green and the red. There might have been—and then there was some blue. And then they had like a cream color with them. So like the A houses would have been light colored on the top and then the red on the bottom. Or cream and—there was like three choices. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Right. It’s like the Model T. You can get it in black or black.
Davis: Right. Yeah, this was—and you didn’t have a choice what color it was. And I guess when they first moved in, besides the paint being wet, they literally handed them a ten-pound bag of grass seed and said, plant your yard! Have fun! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. That’s great. So, how about any memories that stand out from your early childhood or early life in Richland? I remember, earlier you mentioned that before we started taping, that your family had bought one of the first commercially available houses.
Davis: Spec home.
Franklin: Spec home. What year was that?
Davis: 1960.
Franklin: Okay, so you would have been about six years old then.
Davis: Right. That was just before I was six, yeah.
Franklin: And what was that like, to be in one of these?
Davis: You—
Franklin: New, new, new homes.
Davis: Because of the class thing going on, I was not considered—and then shortly after they started building this North Richland area—I always felt like I didn’t fit in. I didn’t fit in with the kids in the, quote, government houses.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: My house was basically a ranch house. We had hardwood floors instead of tiles. And we had a one-car garage, ooh, ahh. [LAUGHTER] But it really wasn’t—it was just a three-bedroom ranch. One bathroom and a one-car garage. And then all the scientists and the people making more money and the doctors started building into North Richland. And I didn’t fit in with them, either, because they went, oh, you’re in that little house. It was kind of like feeling like you didn’t fit in anywhere. Because I wasn’t in a government house, and a lot of the government houses were way bigger than the house we were in.
Franklin: Huh.
Davis: But I remember saying—one of the first memories in that house was—they’d moved us in—oh, they’d never allow it nowadays. Moved us in, we had no water. So the firemen came and hooked up to a fire hydrant about a block and a half away. [LAUGHTER] And then it ran into a garden hose, and it was February, and like below zero. So you always had to have water running in the bathtub to keep the little garden house. And if froze up, all the neighbors would come out and jump up and down on it, breaking the ice up. But nowadays you wouldn’t be able to move into a house without full running water.
Franklin: Right, right. Wow. That’s fabulous.
Davis: And then when we were first there—we were the very first ones sold. The others were having open houses. And we’d be sitting there having like a family get-together, and people start walking in our house. Oh, this one’s not open! No. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: And then that of course touched off a boom, though, right, in house construction in Richland.
Davis: Right. North Richland, I remember we used to sit at our kitchen table and look out and watch all the houses going up, and here are all the—for years, you could see new houses and hear hammering every morning. North Richland just really took off because everybody started building their own.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: A lot of people went ahead and bought their original house from the government, but my parents—I don’t know, they fell—my dad fell in love with this house. My mother hated it. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: How long did they live at that house?
Davis: We lived there 13 years.
Franklin: Okay. So they really do like to move around a lot.
Davis: That’s like mom’s record, yeah. Her last move was with us and she had to live with us ten years without moving before she died. [LAUGHTER] But generally, about—when my siblings were growing up, they got used to moving every six months to a year and a half. And they went to every single school in Richland.
Franklin: Wow. Well, I guess they know a pretty big cross-section of the community, then.
Davis: They were always—when you talk to different people, they’re like, oh yeah, so-and-so, and I go, oh yeah, my parents were their neighbors. And somebody else would say, oh yeah, they were their neighbors, too. Like Garmo who owned one of the grocery stores. All these different people, they were their neighbors at some point in time. Probably Johnson, who was the photographer for the area. He was a good friend and I’m still in recent contact with his daughter.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: But pretty much, if you lived in Richland for any length of time, my parents were your neighbor at some point. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: That’s great. So when did your father retire from Hanford?
Davis: I was married, so—when did he retire? I got married in ’74, so I’m trying to remember exactly. ’75 or ’76, something like that.
Franklin: Oh, wow, so he was on—did he have any gaps in employment, or did he work onsite since 1943?
Davis: He worked onsite that whole time.
Franklin: Wow, and so what did—
Davis: Except for the six-week strike they had. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Oh, well tell me about that.
Davis: I don’t even remember what it was about. I was in junior high. They had a strike which my dad was not in favor of, but he wouldn’t break union line. So he was on strike. During that time, he says, oh well, I’ll make the best of it, so he built a family room onto our house. [LAUGHTER] And got hooked on soap operas.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: He used to make fun of Mom wanting to watch her soap opera, and then when he went back to work, he’d come home from work and go, what happened with—[LAUGHTER] But they were only on strike for like six weeks.
Franklin: And do you remember what the strike was about at all?
Davis: I don’t remember what it was about. Like I say, it was in junior high. It was—
Franklin: Do you think you can give me kind of a date range so we could try to find something about that?
Davis: That would have been in the late ‘60s? Somewhere in—yeah. It wasn’t a very long strike, but it was the first one that I know of that they had. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Was that site wide, do you remember?
Davis: Yeah, it was site wide. I wish I remembered what it was, but in junior high you don’t pay attention to stuff like that. Yeah, Dad’s on strike, well, so is everybody else’s dad, so—
Franklin: All you know is that he’s camped out on the couch watching soap operas.
Davis: No, he was busy building the family room.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Davis: He literally put a whole addition on the back of the house. So that’s what he was doing during his six weeks.
Franklin: Still worked. So you mentioned that he had been kind of a construction guy and then had worked at the separation plant, right, and then worked in the B Reactor. So what other jobs did he have?
Davis: He went from B Reactor, when they closed it down, then he went to K. And then he kept saying, oh, I sure hope they don’t ever send me to N. That’s where he ended up. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah?
Davis: He was always—he liked his B Reactor. Just the way the others were set up and they were different, he liked his B Reactor.
Franklin: He got comfortable—
Davis: But he ended up at N Reactor anyway. That’s where he retired from.
Franklin: Oh, wow. And what did he do at—
Davis: He was a reactor operator. He was—yeah, from after construction, he was a reactor operator.
Franklin: So it seems like a really big career jump, from construction to—
Davis: Yeah, but they didn’t—nobody knew what they were doing exactly.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: So it’s learn-as-you-go. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah, I bet.
Davis: My dad—I remember him—it was really neat to go on the B Reactor tour, because it was probably the 70s before he ever even talked about what it looked like or anything. I never knew what it looked like. But he started—in the 70s was able to start feeling comfortable—I mean, it wasn’t classified or anything then. But the guys had just been used to not talking about it.
Franklin: Well, yeah, I mean secrecy.
Davis: But he started describing the panels and stuff. And there was this office behind him, and he says—during World War II—he says, the crazy Italian in the silk suits sat back there. And then he’d go get crapped up, is when they’d get contaminated and they’d have to take his silk suits away and burn them. I didn’t realize it until after Dad was gone, when he was talking about the crazy Italian in the silk suits, that was Fermi.
Franklin: Yeah.
Davis: Sitting behind my dad! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow, that’s amazing.
Davis: But he never said his name. He never said his name. Just the crazy Italian in the silk suits.
Franklin: But, of course he probably would have known his name.
Davis: Oh, during World War II, they didn’t.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Davis: So that’s how—I think they just referred to him as the crazy Italians with the silk suits. Because they literally did not know their names. He was the guy who sat back there, and he’d go into places they weren’t allowed to go to. And he wasn’t really supposed to, but he’d go in and tinker. Then they’d check him for radiation and go, eh, those clothes—I remember, one of my early memories is being in grade school and my dad getting off the bus, because everybody rode the buses to work. They were just like clockwork and super on—I mean super on time. And I remember coming out of the house, and my dad’s getting off the bus in the afternoon and—I guess I was heading to school. He’s coming down—my dad was only five-foot-six. And he’s got a pair of pants that he’s holding up around his armpits, and a shirt that’s probably was past his knees rolled up to his—and clomping along in these shoes that don’t fit. He had gotten crapped up at work.
Franklin: Oh.
Davis: And he ended up—one of his friends who was like six-foot-six had some extra clothes. [LAUGHTER] Yeah, he’s like, you know, when you get your clothes crapped up, you lose your clothes.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: Even your underwear. [LAUGHTER] So he’s coming home with—[LAUGHTER] I still remember—luckily we only lived like a half block from where the bus dropped him off. But I thought, that had to be a little uncomfortable at work, walking around like that.
Franklin: Yeah, no kidding.
Davis: Trying to hold these. Yeah, Trawler, he was six-five, six-six. He was a tall guy, skinny. But Dad was only five-foot-six. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow, that’s a great story. So there’s some—a couple of the big events that we always ask people about and one of them is Kennedy’s visit to the N Reactor in 1963. Did you—were you—
Davis: Both my parents were working.
Franklin: They were both working, so—
Davis: [LAUGHTER] I didn’t have any way to get there. I wanted to go, but my parents, oh, it’s going to be a big crowd. They didn’t like crowds.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: So, yeah, I didn’t get to go. They were both working. So I heard about it from my friends. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Your friends who went?
Davis: Yeah, I had friends who went.
Franklin: Awesome.
Davis: And they still remember it, and I’m going, oh, I didn’t get to go.
Franklin: Ah, you were busy. So any other major—any other big events that kind of stick out at you in Richland, growing up in Richland or maybe even a little later?
Davis: Ah, let’s see, what were the events? They always had their fire parade, their fire prevention parades. That was when you were a kid and you got to decorate your bike and ride down the road.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Davis: G Way, and they had—when I was really little, there was like Frontier Days or some other parade that we had. And then one of the big thrills was in the spring, they would bring in, quote, well, we’d call them travel trailers now, but they were the early mobile homes that were like eight-foot-wide and 12 feet long. And they’d set them up in the Uptown Richland parking lot. You’d go look through them and go, oh, aren’t these cool. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: They brought them up for sale?
Davis: Yeah, you know how they do car shows now in parking lots? Well, they’d bring these little mobile—[LAUGHTER] little dinky mobile homes. Which nowadays, I says, my fifth wheel’s bigger [LAUGHTER] than these, quote, homes that you’re supposed to live in.
Franklin: I could imagine for some of the people who had been here in the early days that those might have given them some flashbacks to the trailer camps or—
Davis: Yeah, my parents didn’t live in the trailer camps, but they had a lot of friends who did. And one of my best friends, her parents had built—they had no place to live, so they built their own trailer and lived down at the Y. It was a homemade, and it was really little with three kids. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. That’s amazing. So did you end up staying in Richland, then—did you ever move out of the Tri-Cities?
Davis: We went to the Chicago area, and we were gone—I didn’t leave until I got married.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: My husband went to Pullman for a year and then we went to Chicago. We were gone about nine years and then came back and raised our kids here.
Franklin: Oh, okay. And so what brought you back to the—
Davis: Family. My parents were here, my dad’s health was failing, and I had just lost my father-in-law. So we kind of wanted the kids to get the chance to know their grandparents, because my husband’s parents were both gone. So, family. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Oh, wow.
Davis: And good memories of being growing up here.
Franklin: Sure, sure.
Davis: Versus Chicago. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So, what would you—is there anything you would like future generations to know about growing up—like kind of the experience growing up in Richland, or what it would have been like to be so close to Hanford? To help them understand what that would be like.
Davis: Growing up with my dad, the guys and women who worked out there, they were proud of what they did. Yes, bombs, they all agreed, the bomb is nasty. But in the long run it probably saved millions of lives on both sides. Because Japan was willing to fight ‘til the last man, which would have been millions of more lives lost. And if they would have gotten the bomb first, we’d be speaking Japanese. [LAUGHTER] I think there’s an overall pride—and my husband and I were just talking about this last year, that what was accomplished at Hanford would never be able to be done today. Back then, the old—they had all the signs, loose lips sink ships. My husband says, well, it’d been sunk long—they couldn’t have even gotten the first thing done before it would have been out in the open. Nowadays I don’t think they could pull it off. And people knew they weren’t supposed to talk about it. My dad—my mom said when they were living in Yakima, my dad, he had read about the reactor—splitting the atom in the Collier’s magazine before the war. They were going to go get the magazine and look it up. They never got around to it. Found out if you asked about that magazine, you were fired.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So they learned not to say anything. They handed some uranium around and my dad by the weight, he said, it wasn’t very big but he knew by the weight what it was. And he started to say something, and his boss says, don’t. And later he says if you would’ve said it, I would’ve had to have fired you on the spot. I mean, you just knew that if you said anything—so he whispered it to my mom one night, under—they were sure that there were microphones everywhere. So even though they were living in Yakima, he would put a pillow over them. And he says, I think we’re making the bomb.
Franklin: Really?
Davis: And my mom kind of went, pfft. Sure you are. [LAUGHTER] And then my mom didn’t know—said they didn’t really know what it was until my brother came home from school and all the kids and everybody was going, we dropped the bomb, we dropped the bomb.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: But I think there’s a pride in what they did. It was very secretive and when you realize that everybody was doing their little part, and they didn’t know what the other parts were. I mean, it’d be like trying to tell somebody to put a car together. Here, you have this screw, put it somewhere—and only that one. And you don’t really know what’s going on. It was really amazing what they pulled off.
Franklin: Yeah.
Davis: And I think they—all the men and women who worked out there were really proud of what they did. And I think it went on to their families to feel proud of what they did. Yeah, the bomb’s not a nice thing, but where we would have been without it?
Franklin: Right. What about later in the Cold War, after, and all the other things that were produced—all the other bombs that were produced? Do you think that added or ever shifted and change, or—especially in the late 60s with the protests?
Davis: Yeah, in the ‘60s, my dad used to get to work with Dixy Lee Ray periodically and they’d sit and talk. And he always kept saying, you know, we’ve kept it so quiet and we keep it so hush-hush. He says, we’re past that point now, we need to educate people on nuclear power and get away from the—people, and I still talk to people, especially not from around here, when you’re in other states, they cannot separate power from bomb. To them, it’s all one thing. There is no power, it’s just a bomb. And it’s like, no, you can have nuclear power and not have a bomb. And he kept saying, we need to educate—and I remember learning stuff about it in school here. Cousins and stuff back east, they never learned anything about it. They knew nothing about nuclear power, nuclear fission—nothing. [LAUGHTER] I think the sad part is that they didn’t do more educating, they just—they lived too long in that shroud of secrecy, and didn’t spread the knowledge.
Franklin: Right. So you think, maybe it was—even though everybody knew after ’45 what was—and that they were continuing to produced, there was maybe a missed opportunity there.
Davis: And throughout the ‘50s it was still—you didn’t talk about it.
Franklin: Right, the fear, the specter of international communism.
Davis: Right, even though war was over with the bombs, everybody knows about it, it still was a hush-hush. Yeah, I think they missed an opportunity on education. And people just grew up fearing it and not understanding anything about—hey, this could be a decent power source.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: Taking Chernobyl out as a factor. [LAGUHTER] That was a poorly designed—
Franklin: There’s also Three Mile and other—certainly when a lot of people on the East Coast found about nuclear power first—
Davis: Yeah, they learned about it when it wasn’t—sometimes it was a poor design to start with. Well, when we lived in Chicago, there’s the Indiana Dunes. They were trying to build one on the Dunes. They didn’t even have any bedrock to sink it into. And we’re going, you know, they’re dunes? They kind of like, don’t stay put? [LAUGHTER] When we left there, they were still trying to do it. And we’re like, that doesn’t even make sense. So then there was a lot of stupid mistakes, too, that—yeah, you got to think about all the safety part.
Franklin: Right. But it seems kind of hard sometimes to separate the secrecy even from the—there’s so much [INAUDIBLE].
Davis: Do you know, through even the mid ‘60s there was still tremendous secrecy. Mid and late ‘60s. You still, living here, felt like, you know, it was hush-hush.
Franklin: But I imagine with the government owning the town until the late ‘50s that certainly you would keep that element of—that kind of vibe alive.
Davis: Yeah, and pretty much the same people who were here when the government released the town—when I graduated from high school, what, were there 9,000 people in Richland? That was in ’72. So a good chunk of those people were ones who were still here from World War II.
Franklin: Right, and you lived in Richland the whole time, from when you were growing up, when you were born.
Davis: Mm-hm.
Franklin: So did you ever go to the other two cities much?
Davis: Oh, yeah! Downtown Pasco was one of the best places to shop!
Franklin: Oh really?
Davis: Oh, it had the classy stores!
Franklin: Really?
Davis: Oh, yeah. It was a major trek, but you’d go to downtown Pasco to go shopping. Well, that was a big day shopping, because they had the fancier ladies’ stores, they had shoe stores, they had the pet shop!
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Davis: And they had a big drug store, and furniture stores and you could spend a whole day in, quote, Downtown Pasco! [LAUGHTER] That was a classy place to go. And then the old downtown Kennewick was—that was more functional. It had Penney’s and Sears and stuff, you know. Not Sears—what was it? I can’t remember the name of the store. But when you needed fireplace stuff or a stove or something.
Franklin: So like a Woolworth’s or something like that.
Davis: Yeah, but there were several stores. And there was the hardware store that’s still there.
Franklin: Yeah, the—
Davis: Kennewick Hardware is still there. It was there when I was little. I think one of the big things you remember is like going there in three feet of snow because our stove had caught fire. We had to buy a new stove. Back then you could leave your kid in the car, and I was tired of going in and out of stores, and sitting there in the car. I was probably about four. Mom was just inside, you know, ordering a stove and we got a chinook. Within like the time that they took them to order their stove and come out, I watched the snow leave. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Totally fascinating. It was gurgling and stuff, but wow. That’s one thing about this area, you get chinooks. When you talk about it in Chicago, they go, huh? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. Wow, that’s really interesting. Did you have any friends from the other cities, or did you mostly—
Davis: My parents’ best friends moved to Kennewick, which was my sister’s best friend—it started out with my sister’s best friend who they lived kitty-corner from us when I was born, and then our parents met and became best friends, and then her younger sister and I are best friends, and we’re each other’s kids’ godparents. But they—when I was about three or four, they moved to Kennewick to a new house. [LAUGHTER] And then he commuted. He had to drive out to work because he couldn’t—the buses didn’t go to Kennewick; they were only in Richland.
Franklin: So there was still a lot of inducement, then, to stay in Richland.
Davis: Yeah, you didn’t have to get that second car, because you’d just walk—most of the guys didn’t walk more than a block or two to get to the bus.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: I mean, these buses were everywhere.
Franklin: Yeah, at the project offices, we have a map—I think it’s from the very early ‘80s but even then they were still running buses, and yeah, they’d go all—
Davis: They go everywhere and nobody walked more than two blocks from their house to a bus.
Franklin: That’s [INAUDIBLE].
Davis: So you only had to have one car. Even when my mom was working, she got the car to go to work and Dad rode the bus. Wasn’t any problem.
Franklin: Right. I bet that would help instill a certain sense of camaraderie, because you’d ride the bus with these guys, and it’s not like today when you get in a car and you’re kind of in this bubble—you have a radio, but you’re kind of in a bubble. Whereas in a bus, everyday, you--
Davis: Well, we lived there, where—the change between the government town and the newer part of town. So you had people like Dad—you’ve got nuclear operators, you had janitors and you had the scientists, all on the same bus. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: I mean, everybody rode the bus. When the bus would come, there’d always be five or six guys standing out down there. And a bunch would get off and a bunch would get on.
Franklin: So after the changeover, it was still the site that operated all the buses.
Davis: Mm-hm.
Franklin: Did they have to pay for that, or was that just a perk?
Davis: That was just—yeah, they just paid for it. I mean, the government paid for it—nobody else could ride the buses, only the workers and they only went to and from work. They weren’t for like the families to go shopping or anything. It was just for the workers. And, yeah, they just got on the buses and they knew they were going to be there.
Franklin: When did bus service start in the area for other people living in Richland?
Davis: It had to have been after—as soon as they started building houses.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: Because these guys had to get to work—
Franklin: Right. Oh, no, sorry—
Davis: And most people back then, you had tire vouchers and stuff—you couldn’t like get tires overnight. You couldn’t even get bananas without a doctor’s prescription. [LAUGHTER] My siblings were skinny, so Mom always ended up with a prescription for bananas.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Yeah, they had to write doctor’s prescriptions. So getting a second car wasn’t even really an option. So they started the bus service really early, just getting these guys out to work as they started building the home.
Franklin: Wow. So you brought in some documents and things. Would you like to—
Davis: Where’d we put them? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: I think it’d be really interesting to get those on video and to have you talk about some of those.
Davis: All right. They’re not super exciting. This is my dad’s birth certificate. The City of Miller which never was officially a city, in Lyon, Kansas. My father’s records were in the courthouse along with three generations of family records, and it burned down when he was about seven. So he had no birth certificate. And not too long after he started working here, they asked for his birth certificate—that he needed to get it. And he says, I don’t have one. So this is his newer birth certificate that they issued in May of ’42. He came in February so to May he had to get it. They sent an FBI agent out who interviewed his father, his uncle who raised him—his mother died when he was born so his uncle raised him—and his aunt. And they also used an insurance policy that was issued when he was 20 to verify that he was him.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So not everybody has all these affidavits and stuff at the bottom of their birth certificate, but this was from the FBI being able to verify. My great aunt was like, that was the weirdest thing. [LAUGHTER] Because back there, you just don’t have government people.
Franklin: Right. So they would have been out to the small town in Kansas, then.
Davis: Out in the middle of nowhere.
Franklin: To ask questions about her nephew.
Davis: That was one thing growing up in Richland. You were so used to the FBI coming to your door at least once a month, because everybody had different cycles for their clearances. They would always come to your door and ask, are they part of your—do they drink, do they do that? We talked to them all the time. It was never any big deal, because always somebody in your neighborhood was renewing their certification—their clearance. When I lived in Chicago, they came about somebody who was going to work for the Tennessee Valley Authority. It was my neighbor. My neighbors all slammed the door in their face. I talked to the guy, I opened the door, and I go, oh, yeah! It was security clearance. He goes, you’re the first one who’d talk to me. [LAUGHTER] I says, did it all the time when I was growing up.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: But it scares a lot of people.
Franklin: Yeah.
Davis: But I think they thought it was a little—because the war’s going on, they don’t know what’s going on and here’s these FBI people wanting to know about my dad. I think they’re going, what’s he doing?
Franklin: Yeah, is he a spy?
Davis: Yeah, did he get in trouble? And they’re not allowed to tell them anything. So they thought it was very, very strange when these suited men showed up.
Franklin: That’s great, that’s a great story. And it’s great to have the documentation here to—
Davis: You’ve already seen a million flood pictures.
Franklin: Well, that’s still a pretty—very scarring event for a lot of people, I bet.
Davis: Yeah, this was the flood of ’48. It came within a few blocks of where my parents were living at the time. Don’t ask which street that was back then, because they moved so much. But this was just a family picture of the Flood of ’48 that was so devastating. And then they put the dyke in.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: Here is—well, this one’s tiny. This is just a picture of any summer day in Richland. Everybody had kids. Most the families were young, so there was lots of kids. It was just—even when I was growing up was the same way in the ‘60s. There was kids everywhere. Riding bikes and running between houses, and you came in when the street lights came on.
Franklin: And I imagine not a lot of elderly people in Richland, right? And so that must have—because you would have had grandparents, but they would have been far away, or they wouldn’t be living in town. Whereas in Kennewick and Pasco people might have more extended families living near them.
Davis: Right. My grandmother came here to live with Mom and Dad not too long before she died. But, yeah, grandparents—if you were retired you couldn’t live in Richland.
Franklin: Right, right.
Davis: If you were not working for Hanford, you didn’t live there. So, yeah, there weren’t old people and most of the construction workers who came were young and all had young families.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So there were kids pouring out of every house.
Franklin: Yeah.
Davis: So this is—how many kids are in just—this is Mom and Dad’s front yard. And the kids played ball together, they ran and played tag. There were no fences, so all the backs of the yards were like one big yard.
Franklin: Wow. And probably still not a lot of trees at that time.
Davis: Not really.
Franklin: And when—can we look at this photo on the back?
Davis: This was 1948. So that’s only three years after the war. So, yeah, the trees are still—if you look around, you don’t see any trees.
Franklin: Right. Wow.
Davis: And here’s another one. This one would be—let’s see. This’d be ’46. No trees. There’s a bush. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: And this is one of your sisters?
Davis: This is my sister. Yeah. First day of kindergarten. But what I brought it for was the A house. See, they had the dark color on top—this one, I’m guessing, is probably the red one. And then the cream. They were all like that, they were all bicolored. We had cream and then one of the other three choices. You had green, red, and blue. That was it.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: The government supplied the paint. This is the house that I grew up in on Newcomer. It was the first spec house sold. We’re still getting our water lines.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: And my dog, Tippy. This isn’t the garage anymore; somebody’s changed it out. But we had—it was really fresh and new.
Franklin: And this was 1960?
Davis: ’60. Yeah, February of ’60 is when we moved in.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Mom says January of ‘60. I always think it was February but oh well. Halfway through kindergarten, I had to change schools. My siblings went, so? Because they had to change schools all the time.
Franklin: Yeah, not a lot of sympathy for you, I bet.
Davis: And this is my dad getting an award for what they called the Christmas Tree, which was the front of the reactor that had lights—indicator lights on it. I don’t know if it says exactly what he—just came up, yeah.
Franklin: He’s D. D. Smith?
Davis: Most people called him D. D. or Smitty. His named was Derald.
Franklin: Derald.
Davis: Derald. Like Gerald but with a D. Let’s see. Yeah, he was considered a pile operator. $185 was his award, which—like I said, that was a lot of money.
Franklin: A couple weeks’ wages, probably.
Davis: At least two or three weeks’ worth of wages. So that was a really big thing. Yeah, something about modifying the lights or something so they were easier to read. Apparently they thought it was a good idea. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. Do you know when that was? Was that during the war? Was this—
Davis: Since my dad never looked any different over a 40- or 50-year period, I’m not sure what date is on this. What was funny is on the back, I found my friend’s dad’s name on it. [LAUGHTER] And I went, oh! I’m kind of guessing this might be the ‘50s?
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: Early ‘60s? I’m looking at the ties.
Franklin: No, that’s good.
Davis: They had a paper that came out of the Areas. That was in that paper—the Area paper was a little fold-up.
Franklin: Yeah, we have a bound collection of a lot of the Hanford GE News and a lot of that. Let’s see this here.
Davis: 1944. This is my dad’s card for the International Union of Operating Engineers.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: And that was December of ’44.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So this is still during the war.
Franklin: Yeah!
Davis: And this is the other part of the same thing, the International Union of Operating Engineers. Came out of Spokane. Got stamped; I guess for going to meetings. No, his dues, his dues and going to meetings.
Franklin: Makes sense.
Davis: Whoops. This isn’t for my dad; this is for my grandmother. I need to go show Kadlec this. [LAUGHTER] My grandmother got cancer and was in Kadlec Hospital for six weeks before she died.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: Here’s the total of her bill. $386.15.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: The operating room cost $8.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Anesthesia was $10. It cost more.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Lab, dressings—yeah, and she was there for six weeks before she died.
Franklin: Six weeks.
Davis: And that’s her bill. This bill was—yeah, written on the day she died.
Franklin: Okay. And what date was that?
Davis: 1946.
Franklin: Oh, okay. So she moved in, then, pretty soon after the war ended?
Davis: Yeah, and she moved to—
Hungate: And it’s billed through DuPont.
Davis: Yup. Oh, even I—I didn’t even notice that. DuPont.
Franklin: DuPont.
Davis: I don’t know of many people still have a bill from 1946.
Franklin: No. That’s a very interesting bill, though.
Davis: What is this one? Oh, this is just really bad pictures that they took—every year they had to have their pictures renewed. [LAUGHTER] That was—that had to have been a windy day, because his hair’s sticking up all over.
Franklin: Right, well, like you said earlier, they had thousands upon thousands of men to process.
Davis: Yeah, it’s like while you’re at work, and it’s just like get your picture taken, click, and you’re done.
Franklin: And this, on the front it says GE so—
Davis: Yeah, that would have been from after GE took over. I’d say from that picture from the ‘60s.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: What’s this one? Just a few little odd things I found in Mom’s—oh, just—from February of 1942, The University of Kansas School of Engineering and Architecture, Engineering Defense Training Program from—his certificate.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Yeah, this is—I’m not sure exactly what they taught him, or—he never talked about this. I knew nothing about this until I found this just this last week.
Franklin: Wow, interesting.
Davis: So I have no story to go with this, other than the date and it’s my dad.
Franklin: Right. So then he would have came out here very shortly after getting this, right?
Davis: Mm-hm.
Franklin: Interesting.
Davis: Like I say, when they told him to come out, they didn’t tell him why or anything. Just go to this place in Washington that you’ve never heard of.
Franklin: Yeah, we have a job for you.
Davis: And you’re going to have trouble finding it on a map, even. [LAUGHTER] This is just a—it’s got—it says N Reactor Plant Dates—Data. Just about—I think it was a reference for them when they were working.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: It’s pocket size.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: So I think it was just a—yeah, decontaminating, water treatment—I think it was just a little reference thing that they kept in their—on their person.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: And then my dad was trying to get my uncle to move out here from Kansas. [LAUGHTER] And he wrote a letter describing wages, jobs. So, trying to get down to there. Let’s see. “They want patrolmen pretty badly. The pay isn’t as much as I make by about $18 a week.” But my uncle was single, never married, so it probably wasn’t any problem to him. And he says, “However it isn’t bad. You start at $58 a week.” [LAUGHTER] It says, a week. And after 30 days, after you’ve passed that, you move up to $60 a week. And then after six months you get $62.50 a week. Yeah, they were looking for patrolmen and firemen and a lot of the other stuff. And he asked—my uncle was in World War Two, and he asked if he had any training in anything specific that might be used out here. But my uncle stayed back in Kansas and eventually became a—because of being ex-military, he became a postman. Not a postman, a postmaster.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: A postmaster in a little town. But he never did come out. I just thought the pricing—just thought it was interesting, because 58 bucks a week.
Franklin: That would have been—that’s a good chunk of money back then.
Davis: For my uncle, for what he was making in Kansas it would have been a whole lot of money. [INAUDIBLE] Oh, meals at the cafeteria average $0.75. It’s just littered with little stuff like that. He was trying to convince my uncle to move back out here.
Franklin: Right, wow.
Davis: What’s this? Oh. This was in a Kansas City Times in 1947. “Growing Town of Atom Plant Workers Is a Distinctive Sort of Community.”
Franklin: Mm.
Davis: So, that was kind of—you know. This is what, when people released—after the war’s over, people are starting to hear, now, what the heck was—[LAUGHTER] going on, and how different our towns were from towns that had been around for 100 years.
Franklin: Right. And that it’s completely government controlled and—
Davis: Yeah, and plants were far from town. You know, Dad would usually spend an hour on the bus going out to work, and we were in North Richland.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Yeah, but I think this is what my uncle had cut out and sent to him.
Franklin: Cool.
Davis: From Kansas. And the highest birthrates in the nation. [LAUGHTER] Because everybody was young. I was part of that major boom. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. Wow, that’s neat. That’s neat that he saved that.
Davis: And my sister says—we were talking and she said, yeah, when you went to school, you stood up on the first day of school and said where you were from. Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas. When I went to school, we had all been born here. There weren’t any outsiders, I guess, because we were all born here.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: But during the war, everybody stood up and said where they were from. Because everybody was from somewhere.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: She says, there was a few—once in a while you’d run into somebody who says, oh, I was born here. And they’re like, oh. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah, oh, you’re an original!
Davis: Oh, you’re really strange! You didn’t come from the Midwest? Because that seems to be the biggest proportion came from the Midwest. Kansas, Missouri, Oklahoma, Arkansas.
Franklin: And Texas, too, there was a huge—but that’s definitely where they were pulling lots of people from.
Davis: And it was mostly by word of mouth as their job tended to—go to Washington. What are we going to do? Can’t tell you. Because I don’t know.
Franklin: Take this train to a place you’ve never heard of.
Davis: Yup. Any other questions?
Franklin: No, I think that was great. Thank you so much for sharing. I learned a lot of things that I didn’t know about, growing up here.
Davis: Oh, I probably—going to think of a million things driving home, I’m sure. Oh, I should have said—[LAUGHTER]
Jerry Yesberger: I go by Jerry Yesberger, Jerry, J-E-R-R-Y, and then Yesberger, Y-E-S-B-E-R-G-E-R.
Robert Bauman: All right. Thank you. My name's Robert Bauman, and today's date is December 9th of 2013. And we're conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So Jerry, let's start maybe by having you tell us when you first arrived in the area, what brought you to Hanford?
Yesberger: Okay. Well, I was born and raised in Colorado. Went to University of Denver, and I graduated with a BS degree in 1950. And let's see here. Then I worked for a short time in Colorado, mainly because I wanted to come back from the state of Washington—to the state of Washington. I was in the service from '43 to the end of '45. And I spent some time in the Seattle area and everything, and I really liked it. And so when I got back to Colorado, I applied for jobs with State of Washington and everybody. Then there was an opening at Hanford. And at that time, everything here was General Electric company, as you probably already know. There was no contractors other than GE, and they ran the community. And everything—there wasn't anything other than GE here. And my first job at Hanford, which lasted about five years, was in the public health department, which we had most of our activity concerned for the community here, rather than the site, although there were some activities during that that we were asked to perform, such as—oh, I can remember that I'd been out to the site for some things to do with health matters and so on that I was asked to do the work on, and I did. And after about four, four-and-a-half years, the city became a city away from General Electric company, and I wanted to stay with Hanford. So I applied—well, I don't remember how exactly I got there, but the radiation protection department in Hanford Laboratories at that time. And again, this was a time when everything was one site. There was no contractors other than General Electric—offered me a job in radiation protection. And my radiation protection time lasted an awful long time, because I retired in early--oh, gosh. Say, it was 19—but anyway, I had 36 years' service. [LAUGHTER] And my first job was out here in the 300 Area, and GE at that time gave new people an awful lot of training. And I was trained as a health physicist. And I spent, oh, gosh, the first few months training. And I spent, oh, gosh--they had a project here called 558 Project, and what it did was go through the old reactors, all of the old reactors and replaced the tubing in the reactors. And each one of these assignments lasted, oh, three to four months. So we started out in B Reactor and finished there. And my job was I had a crew of radiation monitors working for me, and we worked shift work, because there was a big, big construction job. And it took about three to four months in each of the old reactors out there to go through these, replace the tubing, and so on. So I followed those from B to C Reactor to 100-DR to 100-H to 100-F doing the same thing, essentially, because we went through there. And then following that time, I went back into 200 West Area, where I worked on projects and so on. And rather than work--I didn't have radiation monitors work for me then, but I had always assigned projects myself to work on. And I did that in the--I have worked in every area on the project out here, with the exception of FFTF. I did not work, and I did not have an office there. But every other area I had an office and these things. So it was kind of really a broad orientation program and so on. I want to back up just a little bit. In the service, I was in the Coast Guard. And this was from '43 to '46. And I was a pharmacist's mate, and again, the training was real, real good. And the last year or so, I was on a ship, USS Aquarius, and it was an attack cargo ship. And our job was to take troops. We had Marines that we had aboard, and we had training to have them land on something. And boy, they really trained us. To make a long story short, we got an assignment, and we knew we were going to move our ship. But we didn't know where or what for. But it turned out it was that they were preparing to invade Japan with troops. And I never saw so many ships in my life, where we all had troops, and we were ready to train. And we practiced getting on these landing barges, and, of course, I was a medic, so I had to go in with the troops. But I never had any real active duty due in that time, prior to that time, because I was always out doing these other things. But we were ready to go in, and so we had actually moved into where we would make our move, and guess what. The Nagasaki bomb was dropped. Well, of significance there is the plutonium on that bomb was made at Hanford. So that was really an interesting aspect of it, and I've always been so, so, so, so interested in that aspect of the thing. Well, shortly after that, the war was over, and everybody was discharged. And then that's when I came back and went from there, like I said, prior to this. But I thought that was an interesting aspect of this whole thing. So I worked for the General Electric Company for about five years in radiation protection doing all of these things I've been telling you all about. And again, I had very, very, very good assignments. Probably my most treasured assignment was I was the health physicist for biology, out in the 100-F Area. And I spent a year out there, and that was because of all the animals--the pigs and the dogs and everything, and my job was to write radiation procedures for them to do where the monitor and I had radiation monitors reporting to me out there during that time. Well, following that—I don't know how this developed, but the Atomic Energy Commission, which it was at that time, got my name, and they asked me if I would be interested in federal employment. So in the 1st of January, 1960, I switched jobs from the General Electric Company to the Atomic Energy Commission. And my job, there it turned out that I was a headquarters person, because we were doing what they call compliance inspection of people that are used in the state of Washington, Alaska, and Washington. Anybody that had a license for radioactive material, they had to be inspected. I was one of these inspectors. And it was a very, very interesting job. It involved a tremendous amount of travel, however. And we were always—when I went up to Alaska several times to inspect people, and there were only for us in this whole division, by the way. [LAUGHTER] So there was only two of us that made any inspections. And so I liked it. I like it, because I like people. But I worked at that, and it turned out that we were called Region 8 Division of Compliance, and it consolidated with Region 5 in California. So I didn't want to go to California. So I was offered a job with Atomic Energy Commission here in the Richland operations office, and I stayed there until I retired for my service. But I was with—most of this time, by the way, where I was transferred, I was in the health and safety division at RL. And at that time, there was no—we had one manager for this whole site at Hanford. We didn't have, like they do now, one on for the 300 Area, and all this kind of stuff. So we had our own health and safety division, so our entire--everything we did was associated with Hanford. And so that's where I finished my career in 19--with the federal government. I did work, however, two years after retirement for a company called MacTech, and they were a contractor to DoE to work on specific problems and so on. And I worked with them for a couple of years. And I also worked on the employee compensation program for about a year, and then finally retired. That's kind of it in a nutshell. I hope I didn't confuse you.
Bauman: No, no. I do want to go back and ask a couple of questions. So when you first came to Hanford in 1950, what was your first impression of the area?
Yesberger: Well it was a shock. Number one, I had never been in eastern Washington in my life. I got a job offer, and I thought it might look like Seattle, but it didn't! [LAUGHTER] So that's my impression. But I wouldn't trade this area for the whole state of Washington now. I love it. We raised our family here, and I'm a big booster of it.
Bauman: When you first arrived, where did you live?
Yesberger: Well, my first housing was a dorm for about three months, and then we moved into a B house, which was a duplex. And we lived right across from Lewis and Clark School here in Richland, and we lived in there for a year or two. Then they sold the houses here, and a fellow that I worked with down here, he didn't want to stay here, so he was living in a ranch house, which I bought. And I'm still there. [LAUGHTER] And we live on Torbett here in Richland, and we've been here ever since. We had one child that was born in Denver, and then our other three, and we finally had a girl, which I was so happy for. I love girls. [LAUGHTER] And she lives here, by the way. And she's the only one that lives here, and she's a special education teacher for the handicapped at Richland School. That's what she got her degree in. And she loves the work, but I couldn't do it.
Bauman: Do you remember how much you paid for that house?
Yesberger: We paid about $6,500. We sure did. And prior to that, they furnished the oil, the painters, everything that was here was done for us.
Bauman: Do you remember what your rent was on the B house?
Yesberger: Yeah, it was about $30 a month.
Bauman: $30 a month.
Yesberger: Yeah!
Bauman: Do you have any other memories of the community in the 1950s, what it was like at the time?
Yesberger: Well, yeah, somewhat. One of the things that mystified me was that we lived in Richland, but blacks could not live in Kennewick. They would not rent to--you couldn't buy a house in Kennewick if you were black. And that always, I thought, was unreasonable, because we had several blacks that worked with us in the AEC here that were wonderful. And I still don't have any--I love them all. I like everybody.
Bauman: So when you were AEC, they weren't doing the hiring of African Americans there?
Yesberger: No, they hired them. Oh, yeah, AEC, there was no question on that with the government, but boy, you couldn't live here. And we had several blacks in our division, and it worked out great. No, the community--do you live--I mean, do you folks live here? Well, when we got here, there was nothing north of Van Giesen. Nothing. And so boy, did we see that grow.
Bauman: Yeah, I imagine you’ve seen a lot of change and growth.
Yesberger: The week we got here—well, let's see. It was about--I lived here for about, well, maybe three months in the dorm, until we got housing for my wife in that B house. And it was great, the idea of that housing.
Bauman: Yeah. What was the dorm like?
Yesberger: I didn't have any problem. Of course, I missed my family. We had a boy at that time living in Colorado, and he now lives in Snohomish. And again, we had the big army camp in North Richland, where we had just thousands of trailers and everything. And that was quite a sight to see.
Bauman: So you said you first job was working for the health department, or public health?
Yesberger: Well, it was the health and safety. Yes, it wasn't the health department at that time, but it included their functions.
Bauman: What sorts of things—that first job, what sorts of things did you do?
Yesberger: Well, we used to do all kinds of inspections, of course. But restaurants, schools, the water department in Richland, just broad health things that required health overviews. So that was the job.
Bauman: You were working for GE, right?
Yesberger: Yes.
Bauman: How many people were working in the health at that time?
Yesberger: Oh, we probably had 20 or 25. We had a doctor that was in charge of us.
Bauman: And then you said you went into radiation protection, right?
Yesberger: Yes, from that function. And the main reason is because GE—went to a community, rather than being GE-managed. We had to elect a city councilman. It was a city.
Bauman: Do you remember what your thoughts were about that, about Richland becoming an independent city at the time?
Yesberger: No, I think we all accepted it. It was good. Obviously, when you work like that, you're interested in benefits. And I think that swayed a lot of it for me to stay with GE.
Bauman: Right. So when you moved to radiation protection then, you said you had to have a lot of training at that point?
Yesberger: Oh, yeah.
Bauman: And for the jobs you were doing, did you have to wear special protective clothing at all?
Yesberger: Oh, yes.
Bauman: Can you describe that? Sort of what sorts of things you had to wear.
Yesberger: Well, basically, they're just white coveralls as the one here, and they're still using the same white coveralls out there, just like we did.
Bauman: How about security at Hanford? What was that like when you first came?
Yesberger: Well, I think it was very tight. It was very tight. They really stressed security and safety. Safety was—in my estimation, my experience, General Electric was the most, the best contractor I ever worked for in my life, because they had emphasis on safety and health and really stressed it, you know. Much better than possibly they did in later years.
Bauman: So was there sort of ongoing training for safety?
Yesberger: Oh, yes. Very, very, very, very--GE was very safety-conscious, and they were so good to their employees. You never read anything about anything happening in the newspaper or anything like that. They got it to their employees right away, and it was a pleasure. And the rest was a pleasure too, but not like--I miss GE.
Bauman: And you talked about, was it the 558 project?
Yesberger: Yeah.
Bauman: With changing the tubing. So what was your job? I know you went to each different reactor as they did that. What sort of things were you doing for that?
Yesberger: My particular job was I was what they called the radiation supervisor. And so I had about eight radiation monitors with me all the time during each outage, and we went from one to the other. And their job was everything had to be monitored just like they do now, in and out of the areas, and move it, and take it to disposal areas, and everything.
Bauman: So was it monitoring the employees’ exposure rates?
Yesberger: Yes, monitoring the employees and the jobs that they're doing, because we had to develop the radiation work procedures, which they were working at. And this would vary during the whole outage. And they were very tight at first, and there was any grinding or anything or heat or anything, you had to have special requirements for that.
Bauman: So of the different jobs you had and the different parts of the site that you worked at, was there a job or something you did that you found the most challenging, and/or something that was the most rewarding of the things you did at Hanford?
Yesberger: Well, probably the most rewarding job I ever had here was Hanford, was I was here with Richland operations office, and during the americium accident in 1955, I think it was, and my job, at that time, was--as a matter of fact, I got involved in that particular incident at about 5:00 in the morning after it happened at 4:00. And I went out with the doctor, a fellow by the name of Dr. Breitenstein, and he and I went out and met Mr. McCluskey out in the area, before they got me into the decontamination center. And my job was really I represented RL in the whole aspect of the care of that patient during the months and months that he was here. Because he was confined, couldn't leave, and everything. And my job was to--as a matter of fact, I came right out to see him every single morning that he was in there, and we became very, very, very, very good friends. And it turned out I was a pallbearer when he died. [LAUGHTER] And it was a rewarding experience, because to begin with, he was such a great guy, and he accepted all of this and was never down, but he couldn't hardly see. He was grossly contaminated. And my job was to keep people at RL down here, the Richland operations office informed of what the situation was with him, and to notify headquarters, keep them informed, because it was a real significant accident, the worst we've ever had at Hanford.
Bauman: So you mentioned that he had suffered probably with his vision. What other sort of injuries or--
Yesberger: Well, what happened, he had put his hand in this glovebox out in 234-5 Building, and it exploded, and came out and hit him in the face. So he was just so grossly contaminated, and he had to have a radiation monitor with him every hour that he was down there. And I became so familiar with that accident and everything, and I felt it was the most rewarding for me to have something like that to do.
Bauman: Do you remember about how long he had to stay hospitalized?
Yesberger: Well, yes. He was down there for probably a year. A year. We got hot food. It was provided to him by Kadlec Hospital down here, and he had a nurse with him down there at all times. And his wife was living down there with him also.
Bauman: And where was he then? Was he at the hospital, or was he-
Yesberger: Well, there was facility at the back of Kadlec Hospital, which is no longer there. And this facility was called Emergency Decontamination Center, and he was there. They had beds and everything in there, showers and everything. And it was a specific facility for that case, to tell you the truth. And it's since been torn down, which I think was a mistake, myself, because if you ever had another one, you couldn't have been a better facility for it.
Bauman: You mentioned you were in close with him, and were a pallbearer at his funeral. How long did he live?
Yesberger: He lived about, I think, about three years. And then he died of a heart attack. It wasn't radiation. But he certainly had radiation in him that would cause cancer if he had lived too much longer.
Bauman: Are there any other incidents or sort of unusual events that happened when you were working at Hanford that kind of stand out in your mind at all?
Yesberger: Well, I happened to be a trained accident investigator, and I had to go to school and learn all this kind of stuff. And I probably investigated more accidents than anybody ever has at Hanford. But we’ve had fatalities, and we had big spreads of contamination. We had several things that cause it, plus, we also responded to off-site accidents. And I had what we call a radiological assistant team that reported to me, and I went out on those where there were trucks that would spill radioactive material, where there was--this is kind of a little odd. I probably shouldn't even mention it, but you'll appreciate it. But we had a truck of uranium billets overturn on Lolo Pass, and these billets weigh 15, 20 pounds, but there's hundreds of them in this truck. Those things went all over the highway up here in Montana. I responded to that one. And one of the things that I was never trained on was guns. But, well, we were up there probably about a week recovering all of those billets that spilled over, because they all had to be accounted for. It was very strict on that. But we were out from town out on this pass someplace, and somebody had to sit in the truck with a gun at night to make sure nothing came, if anybody came from the highway or anything like that. Well, they gave me a big shotgun. I don't even remember what kind of gun. I couldn't have shot that damn thing if I'd had to! [LAUGHTER] And I still can't! [LAUGHTER] But that was kind of humorous. But we couldn't have the guy that could shoot be there all the time. So we all spent about three or four hours a night out there by ourselves.
Bauman: How long were you out there?
Yesberger: We were out there a couple of weeks. But I responded to lots of--the worst probably the most one that I responded to as the team captain was we had a spread of contamination at the University of Washington at the reactor. And I actually, again, there was some plutonium that came from Hanford that they were analyzing up there, and there was a spill. And the reactor at the University of Washington was greatly contaminated with plutonium. And I had a team. I had three or four people that went up with me to respond to that, and we were there two or three weeks there helping them get that all in, and we did. We got it all cleaned up, but there was some minor depositions. But boy, if that thing would happen now, the way it's anti-nuclear, it would be horrible. But this happened to be in spring break when all of the kids were away. So we lucked out on that on that thing, but we all had to wear protective clothing that two or three weeks while we were doing that. But I was the team leader on that particular accident.
Bauman: Do you remember what the time period was when that happened? What year that might've been?
Yesberger: Oh, gosh, I can't remember that. But I responded to probably 30 or 40 spills and so on that were all over the country in Oregon and Washington. And then we had spills in Oregon that we had to go down to, because at that time, the state didn't have people for that function to overlook at that. So we did their work for them. And I did that for, like I say, about four or five years.
Bauman: So did you usually respond if it was like material that had come from Hanford?
Yesberger: No, it could be anything.
Bauman: Could’ve been anything, okay.
Yesberger: Could be anything. I loved the job, and I loved the people, because I like people. But it was so much travel. I was always gone from Hanford.
Bauman: So that was probably one of the more challenging aspects for you is just all the travel.
Yesberger: Yeah, it was. We had young children, and it seemed like I couldn't go out and come back, there wasn't a million things broke. [LAUGHTER] So that's the way it went.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you about President Kennedy's visit in 1963, if you went to that that day. Do you have any memories about that?
Yesberger: Well, I got two memories. I got a call after that article was in the paper from the Seattle--no, she was from, I think, a public relations firm down here, one of them, that asked me about it. So I told them everything I knew. So I told them about this one friend of ours that happened to get up and shake Kennedy's hand. Well, of course, they were interested more in that than were what I had to say. [LAUGHTER] So the big article in the paper, he gives his report. He didn't even mention my name. [LAUGHTER] No, I didn't care. But my son-in-law was there when they called too, and they quoted him in the article and everything. But poor me. No, I wasn't looking. I wasn't really looking for my name to be any place. [LAUGHTER] Yes, I was out there. It was, of course, it was in the fall when he was here, not long before he was assassinated. But it was such a hot day, and I think all of Richland went out to it. There was just car after car going out to that area, and some of them boiling over from the heat and all this kind of stuff. But it was a very, very excellent program.
Bauman: So as you look back at your years working at Hanford—how many was it? Thirty--
Yesberger: Gee!
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Yesberger: Yeah.
Bauman: Something like that?
Yesberger: About 36. It was 36.
Bauman: Well, as you look back at those 36 years, overall, how would you assess Hanford as a place to work?
Yesberger: Well, I thought it was excellent and very safety-conscious. It couldn't have—in my aspect—been a safer place to live in my life than I did here at Hanford. And like I say, I worked in all the reactors. I worked in the separation plants and everything, and it was interesting. I think it was rewarding, the fact that you could clean up stuff. So it makes me real--we had such excellent facilities out here at that time. But all those buildings are gone and torn down, and they could've been used for so many things now. And I think that was a really big mistake. But they didn't ask me. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Well, is there anything I haven't asked you about that you think would be important to share or talk about?
Yesberger: Well, you know, I don't know. I think you might want to look at my submittal in the Parker Foundation on that thing and see what I said at that time and the answer to their questions and so on. It went well. And I just feel so fortunate to have been here all this time and be so lucky and still be here. I'm the luckiest guy in the world, and I'm very happy that I was at Hanford. I've got several awards while I was here for my work. One of them I do want to show you, because I'm really probably real pleased, but I was elected a fellow in the National Health Physics Society. I received awards, several from—I was president of our local chapter of the Health Physics Society. I received several awards from those people. I was really well thought of while I was here at Hanford. And I was real pleased.
Bauman: So were you involved in the Parker Foundation as well?
Yesberger: Yes, I've been on it since--I still am.
Bauman: Do you want to talk about that, like how you got involved with that?
Yesberger: I was asked to join it by Dr. Bair, who is still there. And I know you know about Ron Kathren. Everybody knows Ron Kathren. Well, I play cribbage with Ron Kathren every Wednesday at my house now. We play cribbage. I just think he's such a great person, and such a great health physicist, that I was so lucky to know him. And they asked me to join, and I've been real active, until this business with my wife, which I took a leave of absence. And I haven't been able to go there, because I can't leave my wife. But I still pay my dues and go there, and it's been a good organization.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you for coming today in this cold weather and coming and letting us talk to you. And then maybe we could get a shot of your award that you brought in.
Yesberger: Oh, okay.
Northwest Public Television | Rhoades_Jack
Robert Bauman: Okay. We'll go ahead and start. And if we could start by having you say your name and then spell it for us.
Rhoades: Sure, my name is Jack L., middle initial for Lewis, Rhoades, R-H-O-A-D-E-S.
Bauman: Great. Thank you very much. And my name is Bob Bauman and this is October 16th of 2013. And we're conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So let's start with, if you could talk about your family's background. What brought them here? What brought you and your family here to the Tri-Cities, and when, and that sort of thing?
Rhoades: Sure, well my dad worked for DuPont in the early '40s--like '40, '41, '42--in a TNT plant for the war effort, and he had a college degree in chemistry. So when the Manhattan Project kicked off in late '43, he was one of the people selected out of DuPont's Joliette Plant to go down and train on the chemistry of plutonium at Clinton Works, which later became Oak Ridge, Tennessee. It was located in Oak Ridge, probably an Army Depot at the time. And when he was transferred to the Clinton Works, why, my mom and my younger sister and I—I would have been about four then—went back to the ranch in Colorado and lived with her parents until my father got transferred up here to Hanford in like April of '44. And we finally got a house, or were on line to get a house, by August '44. And so what I can remember--I mean I was a young kid, but this was pretty traumatic, all the excitement of the war effort--but my mom got a telegram, which was hand-carried out to the farm by the postman. And it just simply said, go to Denver, get on train such and such. There'll be a one-way ticket for you waiting, get off at Hinkle, Oregon and the government will take care of you from there. So it was amazing because the train had some servicemen on it, but the preponderance of people on this train were women, just like my mother, headed to Hanford with two or three screaming kids. Everybody was trying to carry a couple suitcases, trying to carry a kid or drag a kid. We got off the train in Hinkle, Oregon—which is out like the armpit of America—and it was dark. It was probably midnight. And the Green Hornets, or the old Army buses, were there with a bunch of MPs. And the soldiers were really great. They helped all the women get their luggage off and loaded us all up into buses and drove over-- course we had to go the long way around Wallula Gap to Hanford. And the parking north of the Federal Building was all administrative and dormitories. So my dad had actually been in a dormitory there with a roommate for six months. And so he was out front waiting when the bus got there, along with tens of other guys. And so his roommate had gotten moved to another room, so there was like two cots in there. And my mom and dad had one cot, and my sister and I had another cot. And we lived there for several weeks until his name came up and we moved into an F house on—it's Jadwin now, but it used to be Goethals—down in the 300 block. There used to be Campbell's Grocery Store across the street. That's the way life started for us. I was five at the time, but my birthday was in late October, so I started the first grade in Lewis and Clark, which was one of the first schools that was occupied by students because they were still building the houses toward the north. I think maybe Marcus Whitman was in place, and later on Jefferson was built. But there were so many kids that when my mother took me to school, I was assigned to go to school from 6:00 AM to noon. And then other kids came in and went from 1:00 to like 5:00 or 6:00 at night. And so nobody had a car. You just were on foot. And then of course, the government had the Green Hornet buses for transporting people around town to a limited extent, but mostly for transporting workers out to the 200 Area. My dad was actually was the first plant manager of T Canyon, which was one of the two bismuth phosphate plants for producing uranium from the fuel from B Reactor. He later became the manager of 231-Z. When they first started processing plutonium, the end result at Hanford was plutonium nitrate, and they had to reduce it. It would come out of T and B Canyons as a fluid liquid. And so 231-Z then condensed it down to like a green Jell-O, and that's what they flew to Los Alamos. And then Los Alamos actually converted the green Jell-O to the metal which went into the first Trinity explosion. And even though everybody knows about Nagasaki because of the plutonium there, there was actually a third pit that was available. And after Hiroshima, Tibbets flew back to the United States to get the third pit in case it was needed. But, fortunately, the Japanese surrendered. So after the war was over, my dad got promoted up to what was called an area supervisor. He managed all of the plutonium activities because they'd started a new building that was called 234-5, or Z Plant. And Z Plant was the plant that produced the pits during the Cold War, and that's the nuclear core. So what they made down at Los Alamos for Trinity and Nagasaki, they transferred the production and the production line up to the building in 234-5 and he was a manager of that. I remember, in later years, my dad talking about the building was divided into two parts. There was the top secret half and the secret half, and the workers didn't know who was on the other side. They had entrances from different directions and they never communicated. And the whole building had—the doors were like a bank vaults, not three foot thick, but they were steel bank vault doors. And he said he had to memorize over 100 combination locks in the building. And to him, that was one of the more challenging tasks that he had to do.
Bauman: And how long did he work at Hanford?
Rhoades: We left in '50, and it ultimately caused his demise. But he had, according to the health physics people, he ended up dying of stomach cancer. And so there was a 50-50 chance that it was caused by working at Hanford. But he had developed really severe ulcers. And they eventually had to cut out half of his stomach because it just perforated and he kept almost bleeding to death. And so we moved to Texas and he went into business with one of his brothers in Odessa, Texas selling real estate and insurance. And later moved back in about 1960 and he then worked for United Nuclear, and he was a manager of extrusion press for N Reactor fuel. And then later on was hired by DOE and was a director of safety for DOE.
Bauman: And what was your father's name?
Rhoades: Paul Gordon Rhoades.
Bauman: And so during the war period when you were in first grade, did you have any idea of what your father was doing? What he was working on? What his job was?
Rhoades: No, absolutely nothing. And he was absolutely paranoid about the secrecy aspect. I can remember that vividly. And I can remember when news of the bomb was released on the radio, and my mother called him on the phone out at the plant. When she said, did you know that the bomb they dropped on Japan was made in Hanford? And he slammed the phone down, wouldn't even talk to her. He viewed working at Hanford as the same way a marine would view going ashore in Iwo Jima. It was his duty. In fact, he was not really for going after the compensation stuff that I think was voted in in 2000.
Bauman: Did he at some point then talk about what he was doing out there? What he--
Rhoades: Not much really. I mean, he did have anecdotes, like talking about the Green Run, when they released iodine-139. And one of the things I remember him talking about was arriving at work in a bus. And ruthenium is something that can't be filtered out in the sand filters on the plutonium processing plants, and so it would condense on the side of the towers because the chimney was so tall that it would cool off and then it'd condense on the inside of the--Well, every once in a while there'd be a change of conditions and this stuff would flake off, and go out the top of the stack, and be like snowflakes falling on the ground, and they have a short lived half-life. So the guys would get off the bus. They'd have to put on gauze mask and booties and everything, and walk into the building, and then get decontaminated before they entered the building. And then that was the start of their eight-hour shift. But there was no question that production was paramount. And there's no question in my mind that what DuPont did with the knowledge that was available in those days for designing the canyons and the reactors, was nothing short of brilliant. And even though people are upset with the environmental contamination--because we basically have got five square miles--or five by five, 25 square miles that's contaminated from the soil to the groundwater out there in the 200 Areas. But compared to what they did in Russia, which was dump it straight into the lake that fed out under the Arctic Circle, DuPont took advantage and was farsighted beyond belief in my professional estimation. I just marvel at how DuPont did on designing the reactor, and designing the canyons, and having them work safely.
Bauman: You say your father didn't really talk about it a whole lot--his work—did he ever express any concerns about safety at all or was he--
Rhoades: Never. In fact, DuPont was--as I grew up, and then as I worked later and they were down at Savannah River, and when I was working at Hanford--DuPont probably had the highest reputation for safety of any large organization in the nuclear industry. At Savannah River, if a guy climbed up a ladder, and did something stupid, and fell off and broke his arm at home, and he came to work and they found out that he had been unsafe at home, then he had time off. I mean, he was punished for what he did on the weekend because he was not thoughtful in his safety process. But DuPont, I held them in extremely high regard, high reputation. And they were, when you think about it, they did this for a dollar. They definitely were part of the war effort that sacrificed for the good of America. They weren't in it to make money or anything like that. They just were doing what they were paid to do. And they got out as soon as they could. And then they came back and did a second stint when they were asked. They were the only company that the government trusted. So they built Savannah River.
Bauman: I want to go back to talking about when you first arrived and you were five years old, do you remember any sort of first impressions that you had, or early memories of first arriving in Richland?
Rhoades: Oh, it was, of course, for a kid in the first grade, it was exciting because everybody was the same. They were all on foot, and they were all new. In fact, that kind of curiosity anecdote was on the first day as I was walking to school with my mother, and we got about half way to the school. And another woman who's coming in on a side street, and she had a little boy. And my mother just about passed out. It turned out it was her college roommate, who they hadn't seen since she graduated from college. And they both had gone their separate ways and it ended up that they are actually living in the house behind us. And they renewed their friendship from college and it went on until they both passed away.
Bauman: Wow.
Rhoades: Yeah.
Bauman: You mentioned that in first grade, you started at 6:00 AM. There was so many children that was a way they could serve the needs of all the families with children. How long did that last? Did that last through first grade or--
Rhoades: Yeah, it probably did last the first year. But by the time the year had gone by and as a year progressed, they were building hutments out alongside the school. So basically, the first grade was about the only time I went to school inside of a building. And maybe the sixth grade up in Jefferson, I went inside a building, but the rest of time I was always in a hutment. There were just more kids than there was space. But yeah, that was sparse. I mean, you didn't have a car. The only entertainment was playing bridge and softball. They had a very organized adult softball league, so that was the entertainment. There was no stores to buy Christmas gifts or anything. You ordered whatever you wanted out of Sears and Roebuck in July, and it got back-ordered, and you got it in the following July. But when Griggs opened over in Pasco that was a big thing because when I wanted a bike. And when my dad bought me a bike, basically, he had to borrow somebody's car. And we drove up to Yakima, and then he came home and assembled it, and turned us loose. For kids, the basic entertainment was skating. And they had concrete tennis courts up by Lewis and Clark--on the south end of Lewis and Clark--and so that was the only surface that you could roller skate on, because you had those old clamp on roller skates that you tightened with a key that just hooked on to your heel and the sole of your shoe. And so we were just constantly roller skating. There wasn't other entertainment. There was just recess at school.
Bauman: Were there any movie theaters, anything like that?
Rhoades: Yeah, there were. There were two movie theaters. And every weekend your dad gave you a dime. And you could get in for a nickel, I think, and get popcorn for a nickel or something like that. Probably everything you stood in line for—I mean everything—there was just a line beyond human belief. Like when it was haircut time, the only barbers in town at that time were down at the Allied Arts, down below Jackson's bar. And so, I don't know, they had two or three barbers in there. So Saturday morning, the boys and their fathers would show up to get their haircuts. And so there'd be a line of 100 kids. There wouldn't be no adults. They were all up at the bar playing pool and having a beer while the kids stood in line waiting to get a haircut. But when Ganzel’s came in was like night and day. Even shopping at the grocery store, you had to become friends with the butcher. If you didn't know somebody in the grocery store, and they befriended you and gave you a heads up that, hey, there's some marshmallows coming into town, why, you just did without. You ate a lot of canned fruit and vegetables and stuff like that. And people were always doing their own chickens and putting them up. But it was just pretty spartan. They gave you a house. I don't know if my dad even paid any rent. Basically, they gave him grass seed. They gave him coal. We just had a real nice house. And my parents had borrowed somebody's pickup, and they'd driven up Yakima and bought some furniture, and brought it home one piece at a time. But we lived down there on Goethals for, probably, from '44 to '49, or something like that. And then we moved up on McMurray, and then we left in '50 and went down to Odessa, Texas.
Bauman: What about institutions like churches? Were there churches for people to go to on Sundays in those early years?
Rhoades: We didn't. It wasn't because my parents didn't believe in God, it's just like we didn't go to church. I mean, we'd have had to walk. I'm not even sure where--I honestly do not remember where the closest church would have been. I'm sure there were churches, though, because the government set off areas for parks, they set off areas for schools, they set off areas for churches, very thorough.
Bauman: What about any community events that--
Rhoades: Not much. They had Richland Days. They had like the polio March of Dimes drives. Actually it was probably after—between, let's say, '45 and '50—when Camp Hanford really had gotten established and they had moved in missile people. This was just a sizable number of soldiers up there in North Richland, but they had much better facilities for entertainment--movies and all--it was just built newer. And so even though my dad didn't serve in the service, he had a lot of friends that had been in the service, and so we could go to movies up there. And they had outside entertainment that came in that you could go to. We never did live out at Hanford or anything like that. My ex-father-in-law actually came here and he lived out at Hanford for a while.
Bauman: So you said your family then moved away in 1950, and then came back in 1960? Your father came back?
Rhoades: Yeah, about ten years later he came back. I'm not too--
Bauman: Did you come back at that point also?
Rhoades: Well, I was in college, so I came up here after I graduated in '61 and went into the—they still had the draft at that time—so I volunteered for the Navy, and ended up flunking a hearing test and flight school. So I got washed out of flight training. And Vietnam hadn't started to build up yet so they weren't desperate for pilots. So after I got out of the Navy, I came back up here and stayed for a short while and got a job. I had a mining, engineering and geology degree, so I got a job in Colorado in a molybdenum mine, and worked there for a couple of years, and decided to go back to college and get a degree in metallurgy. And so I went to WSU and graduated from there in '65, went down to Kaiser Steel in California. By then, my dad had moved from working for the contractor into working for the AEC. Now, I'm not too sure—I'm sure he just probably just wanted me and my wife and their grandkids closer to them—but anyway, he told the people in personnel that I had a metallurgy degree. And one day I got a call from Wanda Cotner, that was the branch chief over the personnel hiring, and she asked me if I'd come up for an interview. And she said that she could give me a nice raise if I'd think about joining the AEC. So I ended up accepting the offer. And when I got my Q Clearance, I moved up here in July of '67, and worked for DOE as an individual contributor over PNLs. It was a Hanford lab. PNL, I guess, had taken over by then. They had a number of very important metallurgical programs on understanding how plutonium reacted, especially in the reactor with neutrons hitting it all the time. So I advanced very nicely. And by the early '80s, I was assistant manager for--it was then ERDA or AEC--for all the compliance programs at Hanford--that'd be safety, and QA, and environmental, and security--so all the compliance structure at Hanford. Then, probably, in about '84, I guess, I moved me over and I was assistant manager for all the nuclear operations at Hanford. So I had the 300 Area for the fuel fab for N Reactor. And we still had N Reactor running. And FFTF was starting up, we had PUREX running and T Canyon. I probably had a billion dollar budget back in the '80s just for all the nuclear operations here at the site. So we did the first comprehensive EIS that was ever done in the Department of Energy for the tank farms, built the last double shell tanks that were ever built.
Bauman: And how long did you work at--?
Rhoades: I worked for about 20 years for DOE, and the AEC, and then I took an early retirement in, must've been like 1988. So it must have been about 21 years I worked here. So I left Hanford and went over to Idaho Falls and was as a manager over their capital construction projects. And then I got transferred to Rocky Flats. After the FBI and EPA had shut down Rocky Flats, the Department of Energy terminated the contract with the contractor. And actually they didn't even compete the contract. They just, literally, gave it to EG&G, which is almost unheard of, to not compete a major contract. So I was in charge of—they had shut down Rocky Flats operations. And so when EG&G came in, our charter was to restart the plant. And so I was the project manager over restarting the plutonium operations at Rocky Flats. I got promoted up to being assistant general manager over environmental remediation. And then I got a call from Lockheed down in Houston and they were trying to break into the DOE business. And so they hired about 20 experienced people that had worked in and outside of DOE to put together proposals to run these big contracts, whether it be Oak Ridge, or Rocky Flats, or Idaho, or Nevada Test Site. And so then I worked for Lockheed and it then became Lockheed Martin. But I worked for Lockheed from like '93 to '96, and I was a general manager of one of their environmental remediation divisions. And I transferred back up here, which was probably about the sixth or seventh time I've been through this town. But when Lockheed Martin and Fluor won the Westinghouse contract in '96, I got transferred back to Richland. So I'd made a circuitous loop that had gone from Richland to Idaho Falls to Rocky Flats outside of Denver, down to Houston, the Nevada Test Site, and the back up to Hanford. But I ended up, after I retired from Lockheed Martin, I went to work for a small business here at ATL International. They currently run the 222-S Laboratory. I was a vice president for them over all their Hanford work. Eventually, I just decided to go out on my own. So I consulted from about 2004 to the end of 2011. And by then, I looked around and all my contacts had either died or moved to Arizona or Florida. Even today, I probably don't know two human beings that are still working for a living. But this place has been--and DOE has been—absolutely a blessing to me.
Bauman: I want to go back. So your family left in 1950. Then you came back in '67, roughly?
Rhoades: No, I came back in '61.
Bauman: Right.
Rhoades: Just for a short period of time. Just long enough to enlist in the Navy. And then when I got ready to start flight school, I took a hearing test. And believe it or not, the physical requirements for all branches of service are the same. It's just that they check people that are going to be in the Air Force or in the Navy, they just check certain things closer than they do if you want to be a marine. And so I was just borderline acceptable in the hearing. And since they had an abundance of pilots and the Vietnam War hadn't escalated or not, they ended up giving me an honorable discharge and reclassifying me as 1-Y, which is, it has to be a national emergency to call you back up. I came home and then went to Colorado and went to work in the mine.
Bauman: When you came back here for the job working at Hanford, I was wondering, what ways had the community changed since you were here as a child going to school?
Rhoades: You know what, to me, at a macroscopic view of the Tri-Cities, the biggest thing that's changed is the number of people. Richland is still uptown and downtown. Kennewick is striving to open up that area between the two bridges along the river. But the biggest thing is now there are probably three times as many people. There was probably 90,000 people between the three towns early in the '50s. And now there's probably a quarter of a million people. And so the biggest changes is that the roads and streets haven't been modernized--or the stoplights--to handle triple the traffic. But the wine industry obviously is a major thing, because when I was a kid growing up here—When they talk about termination dust storms, they were not kidding, because I lived in eastern Colorado and my parents had lived through the Dust Bowl, and I knew what dust storms looked like. And when they hit Richland, your house—I remember my mother, she—when they vacuum--you've just got sweep broom and a wood floor, and your sweeping it up, and throwing it in the yard with a dust pan. But the irrigation changed all that. There's just so much more moisture going up in the air that the dust storms are few and far between. And the humidity has gone from like 10% or 15% probably to 35%. And the summers have gotten less extreme. When I was a kid, it was not unusual at all for July--from the first of July to the end of July--to be 110 to 115 degrees. I've seen it 117 degrees here. And now, just look at this last summer, we had a few days of 101 or 103. But the climate has mellowed out with the extremes. Like in '48, the Columbia River froze clear across from side to side. You could drive a truck across it. The same year as the big flood. So the extremes have gone away. And instead of the real dips and curves a sinusoidal curve, it's more shallow extremes. But the fact that they now have Meadow Springs, and they have Clipper Ridge, and West Richland, of course, has expanded from a nothing. When I was a kid there was just basically a few people that liked to have farmland lived out there. There was probably as many people living in Yakima as there was in Richland, because they couldn't build houses fast enough. And those that worked in the 100 Areas or the 200 Areas, it was just as close to come in from Yakima as it was to drive from Richland.
Bauman: You talk about a number memories from your childhood, are there any other things, events, or particular memories that really stand out from those early years in Richland?
Rhoades: You had to make your entertainment. And you had to wait in line for everything, including getting a car. Jeez, it must have been '48 before we got a car. And in the Sunday paper there was an ad that said, call a number in Seattle, and get on a list for a Buick. And so my mother did that. And about six months later we got a call and said come pick up your car. We got on a train over in Pasco that just had wood benches in it, and we went over Snoqualmie to Seattle, and got this new '48 Buick, and drove it home over Snoqualmie Pass. People from all over the neighborhood were kind of ogling this car because anybody else that had a car basically were driving some pre-1940 model, because during the '40s they didn't make cars. But that was a vast improvement for us to have our own wheels. But self-made entertainment. When we lived up on McMurray—of course, all these guys that came here from the '30s and '40s, all the entertainment they had as they grew up as kids was self-made also. So playing pool was a big activity. And so my dad bought a pool table over in Pasco, and we had it in the basement. And on the weekend, he and all of his buddies iced down beer and played kelly pool all afternoon, that was the entertainment. And probably that night those same guys, with their wives, had a little potluck at somebody's house and played Bridge. My parents played bridge all the time.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you, then, also about your working at Hanford. Hanford for so long focused on production. You mentioned that production, production. At some point, of course, it shifted to cleanup. I wondered if that shift impacted your work at all?
Rhoades: Well, by the time I left Hanford it was still in a reduced production mode. The writing was on the wall that environmental restoration was the future of Hanford, not production. We fought to keep N Reactor going because it was dual purpose. But especially when they passed the RCRA, or Resource Conservation Recovery Act, that was the first major commitment by the US Government for an environmental cleanup. And they sent that law, or bill, out to all the field offices and asked for the field offices to comment on what effect it would have on their operations. And Dixy Lee Ray was the commissioner at the time. And I must've been a director of safety at the time. So we got together with the contractors and we labored over this. And fortunately, I have a knack of being able to synthesize complicated things into a very concise statement. And when we got through reviewing this, I wrote a letter for the manager of the field office. And it was about this long, and it simply said, this will shut down nuclear pit production for the United States of America. And from that point on it was one lawsuit after another as Congress tried to extend its will on the defense industry. But at the time, like when I was a Rocky Flats, the reason they were so anxious to restart that plant that was the only plant in all of DOE complex that didn't have two--like there was Hanford and Savannah River, there was Los Alamos and Livermore Design Lab. So there was a duality in everything. But when they removed the pit production from Hanford, instead having pit production at Savannah River and Hanford both, they built a new plant at Rocky Flats. And it was the only plant that made pits. And so it was a choke point. And when the FBI and EPA shut that plant down, basically, we had nuclear subs that were out in the ocean with 20 missiles and there was no spear point on the end of the spear. They were not loaded because we were not making pits. So that was why the defense industry was fighting with Congress on the environmental cleanup was because we were not in a good defensible position nuclear-wise during that Cold War years if we had the boomers out in the ocean that didn't have a number of warheads on top of them. And that's why EG&G got the contract because DOE believed that they could restart the plant and start making these pits. So even though the environmental law was saying you should be shifting quickly to environmental restoration at Rocky Flats, the headquarters people over defense programs were telling you under the table, get this plant running. We need these pits for the defense of America. So it was real catch-22 for the management of the Rocky Flats plant. But eventually, it became obvious that they were never going to restart the plant and so everybody shifted into a full environmental restoration mode.
Bauman: During your years working here at Hanford, what would you consider some of the more challenging aspects of your job, the work you were doing here, and maybe some of the most rewarding aspects of your work?
Rhoades: Well, you know--[SIGH] I mean, rewarding is a hard thing to define because that was one of the primary reasons I took early retirement. Let me just use Yucca Mountain as an example. When I hired into the AEC in '67, the United States Government was looking for a repository for nuclear fuel in Lyons, Kansas. So that was '67, and here we are, 2013, and we're no closer to solving that national problem today than we were 40 years ago. So the satisfaction that comes with mission accomplished was always very difficult to achieve. It was more of a case of frustration on my part that the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence. If I was going to go any higher in DOE, I would have to go to Washington, DC. Because I was already an SES and that's as high as you could go without a congressional appointment. But the most challenging thing was that when Alex Fremling came in to be the manager of DOE, he brought a complete new, fresh environmental sensitive outlook to the plant. And so trying to deal with the public interface over leaking tanks—106-T was a big bump in my career. I went from a nobody to a branch chief just with one tank leak. [LAUGHTER] But he was very environmental conscious and he was very safety conscious. And so he ratcheted the whole system up, not just one notch, but numerous notches. Because when they built the nuclear industry, they did not have safety standards for the nuclear industry, because it was a brand new industry. So if you looked at the operation of the uranium side, then they used the safety standards of a steel mill and a blast furnace to do the safety standards for Fernald and these other uranium enrichment places. And if you look at the chemical processing in the canyons, they looked to the petroleum cracking industry for safety standards. And if you look to the waste disposal, which was the operation of the tank farms and the burial grounds, it had the same basic safety standards and the interest as a commercial landfill. And so it wasn't until the nuclear Navy was born and Rickover installed a completely different safety philosophy because he was going to have 200, or 300, or 400 sailor—lives were dependent on everything functioning perfectly. And Alex Fremling was bright enough and young enough to recognize that. And he brought that standard into Hanford. So there was just a real crash program on upgrading the operational procedures for tank farms and other waste disposals. Skin contaminations were accepted as—like a guy working on your car, he accepts the fact that his hands are going to get greasy. But Alex didn't accept that. He said, you know, we're going to have zero accidents. And we're going to have zero skin contaminations. We're going to be open with the public on any of these tank leaks. And the problem was we didn't have, really, the skill to measure how these tanks were doing—whether we're losing material or not losing material. And even though you could measure the depth, the interest of whether it was unacceptable to leak was not there. And the reason for that was that when the first tanks were built, they were built in 12. So there's four rows of three, and the separation process was simply a settling process. So the waste would come into the first tank and fill up, and the solids would drift to the bottom. And then it'd overflow into the second tank, another lighter batch of solids. And then it would flow into the third tank, and more solids would fall out. Then it would flow into the ground. And so if you're putting stuff in the ground for ten or 15 years, and using nine exchange properties of the soil to capture the radionuclides, then what's the big deal about a tank leaking a little extra waste? You've already put a billion gallons of stuff into the soil, what's another 100,000 gallons? So that was the mentality that Alex faced with the contractors when he came to Hanford. I give him credit. He single-handedly changed that. And he took on the challenge to do the very first environmental impact statement on tank waste for the whole agency. He was the guinea pig. He was the front runner, or the blazer, for the DOE on environmental issues. And so I honestly think that Hanford, even though, because of the design of the plants, there was no way to retrofit these plants to not discharge stuff to the soil, but there was a way to monitor it better and be more acutely aware of occurrences that you didn't want to occur. Whether it was stuff leaking on the ground on top of the tank, or whether it was stuff leaking into the ground through the bottom of the tank.
Bauman: So what time period are you talking about here?
Rhoades: This would have been in late '70s up to, probably, '87. And Mike Lawrence came in '87.
Bauman: And it's Alex Fremling?
Rhoades: Yes, Fremling.
Bauman: How do you spell the last name?
Rhoades: F-R-E-M-L-I-N-G.
Bauman: So that's when you noticed a shift definitely taking place?
Rhoades: No question. I was a student of, that instead of resisting these changes, I embraced these changes and I was rewarded for that. But the mentality of the DOE—or it was ERDA at that time, but the mentality of the workers in ERDA were no different than the mentality in the contractors. I mean, we'd been doing it this way for 30 years, why are we changing? He conducted the first operational readiness review probably in the nation for startup nuclear facilities.
Bauman: How were you able to change that mentality I guess into the--
Rhoades: You know what, I'd say, probably, through the award-fee process. It's through the money. When I first got here, contractors had contracts, but there was never any real evaluation of whether they deserved their fee or didn't deserve their fee. So once we instituted an award-fee process in which we itemized the areas for improvement, then quantified A, B, C or D or F, you could then quantify. If they had $10 million fee that's up for grabs for this quarter or this six month period, you could quantify how well they did to meet those goals. So it was very intense and it was a steep learning curve, but it produced results. And we changed contractors, too.
Bauman: Mm-hmm, right. So this was when you would have been in charge of compliance programs?
Rhoades: First, yeah. After I was a branch chief, I was an assistant division director. Basically all of my career was in nuclear operations, especially with the tank farms. And even though I moved over to be the director of safety, and then on to be the system manager for compliance, you were just viewing operations from an independent standpoint. You didn't direct nuclear operations, but you did appraisals, and you did audits, and you did oversight, and you graded a contractor on his performance independent from operations.
Bauman: Was it during your time there, I mean, at some point of course there were a lot of questions raised about the tanks. And in terms of the public, questions about tanks leaking and that sort of thing. Did you have to deal with any of that sort of thing?
Rhoades: Listen, I spent—if I wasn't making presentations to the public or defending our actions to the public, I was doing so in front of Congress. There was constant barrage and it was difficult to communicate because by this time the environmental support groups were springing up to put pressure on DOE to perform and to clean up and to accelerate. And, of course, you control certain things, but you don't control your budget. Congress controls your budget. And so it was difficult at best, and it was contentious. It's constantly contentious because it was like I was speaking in English and they were listening in Greek. We couldn't communicate, because they were just totally upset with what the government had done to end the war. They forgot that what was the end result was stop the war and save millions of lives in the invasion of Japan. And they had forgotten that. And it was just on the bad things that have been done to the environment. And I'd be the first to agree to that--I don't think that in hindsight, if you went back and re-ran it ten times in hindsight, I don't think anything would have changed. Because the same pressure to beat the Germans to the nuclear bomb and the same pressure to end the war in the Pacific would not change. And so you'd only have the capability to do what your technology was advanced enough to do at that time and place.
Bauman: I wonder if there's anything that you haven't talked about, or I haven't asked about yet, either in terms of your years growing up here as a young child, or your father's work, or your work at Hanford, that you'd like to talk about, or think it would be important to talk about.
Rhoades: I would just simply say that I think that the people and the contractors in the government, as well as contractors, have always given 100% to do the right thing. And they don't get much praise. And they are constantly vilified because they're missing milestones and stuff like that. But there is just some extremely technically challenging work to be done out there. It's been a flywheel for this site since 1943, and it's going to continue out probably to 2075. But they'll never clean the site up, and they'll never walk away from it. They'll have some 25-square-mile pad out there that has all kinds of markings on it, don't drill here. But they're making tremendous strides in cleaning up the groundwater and removing the stuff along the river. I never dreamed in my wildest dreams that they could clean up all the burial grounds and trenches along the river and the buildings. Each one of those reactors had the facilities enough to run a small city, and now all that's left is a cube. You could paint dots on it or something like rolling dice across the prairie. But I just think it's been remarkable how much they've cleaned up and how safely they've done it. You don't ever read of anybody getting killed out there, or maimed out there, and they're still using a lot of heavy equipment. The safety standards are extremely high and it’s part of the reward, the carrot in front of the donkey. If you're safe and have a good safety record and you make progress, you get your fee.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you very much—
Rhoades: Sure.
Bauman: --for coming and talking to us today and sharing your memories and experiences. I appreciate it.
Rhoades: Great, thank you very much.
Northwest Public Television | Peters_Leonard
Leonard Peters: Leonard Peters. L-E-O-N-A-R-D P-E-T-E-R-S.
Arata: Thank you. My name's Laura Arata. It's November 19th--already--2013, and we're conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. So I wonder if we could start, if you could tell us a little bit about how your family came to Hanford and where you were from.
Peters: I was born in Denver in August of '43. My father came out in June or July of '43 from Denver. And so my mom, myself, and my brother were there in Denver, and when I was two months old we came out with another family, the Carl Eckert family. And it was my mom, Mrs. Eckert, their daughter--who was about my age--and my brothers. So five of us came out in a car in October of '43. And my dad was working out here. And so that's how we came out, was in an old car.
Arata: And what was your father doing at Hanford?
Peters: He was a truck driver. He drove for Remington Arms in Denver, who was DuPont, and he also worked for Bechtel up in Alaska. And he came down and went back to Denver and was driving, heard about this place. And if you'd like a very interesting story--
Arata: Always.
Peters: He was driving for an Army officer. A colonel or something, I'm not sure. Kind of a--I'll say chauffeur, but it wasn't really a chauffeur. But my dad had heard about this place. And he asked his--I'll say colonel--about it. And very few people knew about it. But this colonel says, well, I can't tell you anything about it, but if you've heard of heavy water, it has something to do with heavy water. Of course my dad, heavy water didn't mean anything to him. But you know, hindsight. It's kind of interesting to me this colonel knew a little bit about what was going on here. As big a secret as it was, not that many people knew. But he had some idea of what was going on. I found that very interesting.
Arata: Yeah. And how long did your father work at the Hanford site?
Peters: From '43 until he retired in '73.
Arata: Okay, well, we'll come back to that. I want to ask you just a few questions about the area. Obviously you were very, very young—
Peters: I'm sorry. He passed away in '73. He retired in '67.
Arata: Okay. I'll have more questions for you. [LAUGHTER] Do you remember, growing up, what sort of housing you lived in, what the situation was like?
Peters: My first memory was an A house, 1520 Thayer. We moved in there about 1945. So that's my first memory, though we lived many places before that, as my dad's Q clearance bears out. But my memory goes back to the A house in 1945.
Arata: Did you live there for quite a while?
Peters: Lived there until around '56, '57.
Arata: And could you describe that house a little bit, for anyone who doesn't know what an A house is?
Peters: An A house is a duplex, two-story. You have neighbors literally right next door to you. It was a three-bedroom, all upstairs. And of course back then there was no air conditioning, and it would get hot in the summertime. I can literally remember summers, 109 to 110, 112 degrees. And the only air conditioning was a swamp cooler. So it was pretty miserable, but yet you didn't think about it because that's just the way it was. The government literally furnished everything, from throw rugs to table, chairs. I mean literally everything. Coal. We had a coal-burning furnace, and like once a month or so on, they would deliver coal. And you had to make sure there was a coal bin that had slats in it, and you had to make sure that the slats were in, because if you forgot to put the slats in you'd have coal all over the basement floor. And so that was kind of interesting. My dad, every morning, would have to get up and stoke the fire and get it going in wintertime, because we used to have some pretty bad winters compared to today. And so that was, again, just part of living in this area. Dust storms. You've heard of the termination winds. The wind would blow and the curtains would go back and forth and just wave in the breeze, with all the windows closed. And you'd have a quarter of an inch of dust on the windowsills and everything. But there again, that's just the way it was. I can remember one story--my wife tells that when her mother came out with her and her brother, met at the train station, and the father was there to pick them up. There was a windstorm right then. And her first words were "Sherman, get me a ticket back home." And they ended up dying here, and buried here. And I know my dad, he swore he would never—he wanted to go back to Colorado, but again, he was buried here and lived here all the rest of his life. But what else can I say on the government? Everything—you know, I've heard of people—we never did do it, but people get tired of a chair or something, they'd break it, call housing. They would need another chair, and they'd come out and replace the chair. And if you had—back then they had fuses, as opposed to breakers. Blow a fuse, call housing, they'd send an electrician out to change the fuse for you. I mean, it was pretty amazing, really. And it was good quality furniture.
Arata: Cool. So I'm wondering if you could talk a little bit about growing up in Richland in the '40s and '50s, sort of what the community was like at that time?
Peters: It was a fairly small town, of course. I think--and this is just my memory--it was about probably maybe 23,000 people, was all. Something like that. And it was truly a Leave It to Beaver era. People laugh at that, but that's exactly what it was, because if you stop and think about it--in order to live in Richland, you had to work out in the area. In order to work out in the area, you needed clearance. And it was not unusual to have someone knock at the door and be an FBI agent investigating someone or something. I mean, it was very controlled. And so there was no crime to speak of. Nickel and dime stuff. But there was one murder, in all those years. They never did find the killer. But no, we'd play out all night and folks wouldn't think a thing about it. That’s just the way it was. And in the summertime, like I said, as hot as it was, all the windows and doors would be wide open and wouldn't think a thing about it. And people kind of knew one another. Not that you knew everybody, but that small a town and everyone working out there. Everyone rode the bus, so there was a camaraderie with not only where you worked but also on the buses. And people I think really did try and watch out for one another. But no, growing up, it was great. One kind of fun story. We used to hooky-bob. You know what that is?
Arata: I don't.
Peters: Okay, what we'd do in the wintertime when the roads were snowy and icy. You'd hide behind a bush, and as a car went by, you ran out and grabbed the bumper and had them drag you around. And that was a lot of fun. That was one of the winter sports. But it was kind of interesting. I can remember, newspaper front page showed a bus with a glove on it. The story was, it was a hooky-bobber and his hand was wet and it froze to the bumper, and--make a long story short, it was on the dangers of hooky-bobbing. But it just happens that the guy that that glove belonged to graduated a couple years ahead of me. Name was Jim Crum, who is now an attorney for the US government. But no, it was a fun time. I mean, Friday night shows was wall-to-wall kids. Very seldom was there a fight or anything. We'd hang out at the Spudnut Shop, or there was another place called Tim's. Someone that had a car would drive around the Uptown area about 30 times, just looking for gals or whatever. I mean, it was an American Graffiti time. Have you seen American Graffiti?
Arata: Yes, sir.
Peters: You see that, and every person in there--Hey, that was so-and-so; that was so-and-so. I mean, it was so accurate to our high school days. It was a good time to grow up. Wintertime, of course, we had Christmas tree forts, and if there was snow on the ground we'd have snow forts and choose up sides and have snowball fights hiding behind our snow forts. We would, if there was no snow--or even if there was snow after Christmas--build Christmas tree forts. Stack them up and have a roof on it, even sleep out in it. But if a neighbor down the street--you know, if they had a Christmas tree fort, about one or two in the morning we'd sneak down and steal all their trees. And we'd have a bigger fort then. We would sleep out a lot in the summertime, because it was hot. I can remember we would sleep out maybe 10 o'clock at night or so. There were still orchards, cherry orchards in town. Up on Van Giesen. We lived just around the corner on Thayer. We'd get up, go down there and steal cherries. We'd steal quite a few cherries. Then the next day we'd sell them house to house. What else was there? The buses were a big part. The buses were fun, because there was two groups. They were both run by the government, but there was what they called the city local, which took people from point A to point B as far as downtown and uptown, different places. Then there was the outer area buses that took workers to work and brought them home. But there was two different--not bus companies, but groups of drivers that drove for each group. But not only hooky-bobbing, but it was always fun to--as buses passed--snowball them, and throw snowballs at them. Just fun things.
Arata: Some good winter sports.
Peters: Yeah.
Arata: Could you talk a little bit more about these--you mentioned Friday night shows, and also the Spudnut Shop. Could you describe those a little bit?
Peters: I mean, everyone went to them. All the kids went to them. And you know, you're talking the '50s, where rock and roll was just coming in. I wrote a piece one time on--I really think that we were born at a nice time, because we can remember big bands, we can remember that type of music and how rock and roll came in. And of course parents didn't like rock and roll at all. It was evil, and all this. But a lot of the movies, some of the movies, had rock and roll stars. I can remember people dancing in the aisles while the movie was on. Things like that. I can remember one gal was dancing what they used to call a dirty bop. They ended up kicking her out. [LAUGHTER] But no, there was dancing and hooting and hollering. Before the Uptown Theater opened was the Village Theater. And that was when we were younger, but that's when they showed the serials, whether it be Superman or Whip Wilson or whomever. But every Saturday we'd go to the show. There'd be a cartoon as well as one or two double feature. That's back--we were young, but a fun thing then, I guess, was to have your popcorn boxes. They were boxes at the time. You'd flatten them and throw them and make a shadow on the screen. That was the big deal. But the Village Theater was so strange because it was all kids, basically. Because the Richland Theater, which is now The Players, was more the adults. The Village Theater was for little kids. But you would walk down the aisles, and was a kind of carpeting, and you'd stick, stick, stick, stick. I don't think they ever cleaned it. Pop spilled on it, candy bars, and everything else. That was fun. Then they did build the Uptown Theater, and that was more adult movies. But on Friday night, it was lot of science fiction. That's where you saw Frankenstein, Dracula, The Wolfman, and all that. Then the midnight shows had really neat--they'd have a midnight show, and we wouldn't get home until three in the morning, but no big deal. You'd walk home. No big deal. I don't know if you can do it today, but there'd be half a dozen of your friends walking home with you, just having a good time. But the Friday night shows--I started smoking quite early. I don't smoke now. But I can remember, for mowing the lawn and peeling the taters and things that, I’d get $1 a week allowance. And with that dollar I could buy a pack of cigarettes, which would last me a week, get into the show, and have like a dime left over. So I mean, a dollar, I was in fat city.
Arata: Do you remember how much a movie cost, about that time?
Peters: First ones I can remember was $0.11 or $0.12, and then it went to $0.20. And I think during my high school days, if I remember right, it was probably $0.35, something like that. I'm not sure.
Arata: All right. I'm fascinated by the Spudnut Shop and Tim's. Can you describe those a little?
Peters: Well, Tim's was where Dr. Chavla placed his--it's kind of caddy-cornered from the graveyard, the old graveyard. And it was a nice place. A fireplace in it and everything. That's where the kids hung out. And it wasn't really a pizza parlor, but it was kind of a pizza parlor sandwich place. It was our high school days, and it closed, I'm not sure exactly when, but became Einan's Funeral Home. It went from the restaurant to Einan's Funeral Home. And then Einan's, of course, moved out on the bypass. But the Spudnut shop, it's bigger now than it was. It used to just be just a few booths. But I can remember Spudnuts were, let's say, $0.10. And for a Spudnut ala mode--that was a Spudnut with soft ice cream on it--that was $0.15. And if you had $0.15 for that, you was in pretty good shape, because we didn't have money like that. And there was another place just two doors down from that that was the Fission Chips. But it was interesting the way they spelled fission. It was fission, like nuclear. It was Fission Chips. You can see some old pictures of the Spudnut shop, and just a couple doors down, you'll see the Fission Chips. But we'd hang out in the Spudnut Shop before the movie, and then maybe go there after the movie. And that's just where everyone hung out. When we had a car later, more in our high school years, we hung out at a place called Skip's. It was where Les Schwab is now. That was kind of the hangout there. I don't know if you want this on there. It's not very nice. But Skip's, there was a young girl worked there with a cleft palate. One the guys that we kind of ran with, he had a cleft palate also. He was about three years older than me. But he pulled in there, him and friends, and she said in her cleft palate way, ,ay I help you? He said yeah, give me a such and such. And she got mad, you don't have to make fun of me! Because she though he was just making fun of her. Kind of a sad story, but kind of humorous also. The movies was a big part of life. Of course, swimming. We used to swim in the Yakima a lot. And the old pool, what we used to call the big pool, down in what's now Howard Amon Park—it used to be Riverside Park--there was a swimming pool there. And the flood of '48, '47-'48, it flooded the park. And so they done away with that pool and built the present one. That flood was quite a deal. I can remember going--the bridge was out--going out of Richland, and they had a pontoon bridge. And that causeway wasn't there then. It was just flat. But I thought that was so neat. We was going across the bridge, and you see pontoons all the way across it with lumber to drive on. And that always impressed me. Down around Gowen and things, I can remember the basements flooded from that flood. And it was quite a flood. That's when they built the dam or dike around Richland and Kennewick and so on. The—I was thinking of something else, and lost it. But no, the flood was quite an event. I worked with a guy named Ralph Schafer, who had a private pilot's license, and they hired him as a bus driver. But they let him go from bus driving long enough, because the only way to the airport at the time was to fly from Richland to Pasco. So they hired him to ferry people to the Pasco airport in his private plane, because basically there was no way out of Richland, until they put that pontoon bridge in.
Arata: I wonder if you could talk about--obviously you went through school here. Do you have any memories--there were also some residents that were here prior to 1943, that were still in school here, that were moved off of their family lands. Did you go to school with anybody who had memories of that, that you recall?
Peters: Not to my knowledge. You hear all kinds of stories and things that I don't know. I know I've heard that one family--or some people, I'll say--when they were, quote, kicked out of White Bluffs Hanford area, they moved to Prosser, Sunnyside, somewhere up there, and swore they'd never set foot in Richland. And whether that's true or not, I don't know. But I know there's hard feelings over it, rightfully so. But no, I don't know of anyone. I know we had a lot of construction workers in trailer parks in north Richland. There was a big trailer park, and they had an elementary school out there, John Ball. And once they got all the houses built that they were going to build, I guess, they closed the trailer park and closed John Ball and had them all into town. But I can remember living on Thayer, going to school at Old Sacky—Sacajawea, the Old Sacky--that for some reason, for two-three days they sent me to Spalding. I had to walk to school, which was maybe three, four blocks, five blocks. I can remember big piles of dirt, having to climb over them to get to school. And the reason for that was they were building the ranch houses at that time. So I was probably first grade, I'm guessing. So they were still building in the late '40s, early '50s. In fact, Bauer Days and the Richland Village came later, after the letter houses. But school--no, I honestly can't remember any kids there.
Arata: No problem. We're here to get your memories, so. A bunch of other things I want to ask you. One thing, you said your father worked in Hanford until '67.
Peters: He retired.
Arata: He retired in '67. So he was working in the area when President Kennedy came, in 1963. Do you have any memories of that event?
Peters: No. I was in the Navy then, so no. I know my wife said that she went out to see him. And there were so many people you could hardly see him, but she went out to it. But no, I got out of the Navy in October, '63. I was on a train back to Denver to visit relatives. It's kind of sad. I was sitting in the club car playing cards with strangers, and the porter came in--a black fella--says, [EMOTIONAL] the President's been shot. And we all--aww, go on, he's pulling our leg, he's joking. Then I says, you don't joke about something like that. We were somewhere around Wyoming on the train, and then they was able to get a radio station over the PA or whatever it was. Sure enough, a little bit later--that he had died. And that's how I learned of it. I'll never forget that train ride. Got to Denver, and it was just strange.
Arata: Of course. And we're right on the anniversary of it now.
Peters: Yeah. Yeah. But my dad, I don't know if he went to see him or not. I mean, he was a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat. He came out of the Depression. He was born in '03, so he'd been through a lot. I can remember him saying that he'd vote for a yellow dog before he'd vote for a Republican. He was the old Democrat. But he did vote for one Republican. That was John Dam, who was running for county commissioner. They were personal friends. He said that's the only Republican he'd ever voted for.
Arata: One exception.
Peters: Yeah.
Arata: So did you work at Hanford at all?
Peters: Yeah.
Arata: You did. So could you start filling us in on that a little?
Peters: I worked 40 years out there. Hired on '65. And luckily my dad was still working, so we overlapped. We were both drivers. And I started out as a laborer, though they called them servicemen--basically a laborer. And I got set up to bus driver. And in '61, had a layoff. And I could have stayed, but I thought, man, let's see what else is out there. And I went and worked for Battelle. I was with Battelle for about 13 years in inhalation toxicology. Long-term study. Plutonium, curium, americium studies on dogs. And in about '84 I quit Battelle and went back to transportation, because money. You know that all your college folks know that biology is not real high-paying, unless you're a PhD or something. But a BS in biology's not much. But no, I really enjoyed that. In fact, when McCluskey's glove box blew up, about 200 Areas were exposed to--I forget if it was curium or americium, but there hadn't been a lot of studies on those. And like I said, I was working in inhalation toxicology, and we got two or three big contracts right after that to study the health effects of curium and americium through inhalation. He was an amazing man, because I worked with PhDs. Immunologists, veterinaries, hematologists. You name it, we had the discipline there. Pathologists. And they didn't give him six months to live, with what he got. And he ended up living probably 20 years or better. It is quite an amazing story. You can go on the internet and look up Atomic Man, and his story's in there.
Arata: We actually interviewed the gentleman who was in charge of the cleanup, cleaning up his hospital room.
Peters: Yeah. I don't know if it was this guy I worked with, what we called a radiation monitor. Now they're HPTs or something. But he was with him, scrubbing him and things. His name was Larry Belt. He'd be a good interview for you. I worked with Larry for a number of years. He was our radiation monitor when we exposed dogs and so on. But he said, you can't believe the pain this man was in. He said, we had to literally scrub him with brushes, because he had stuff embedded in his face and so on. Terrible. He says, submerge him and scrub him. No, Larry Belt could tell some stories about it. But back to my job. I quit Battelle for financial reasons and went back to driving. Drove a bus for a lot of years. They shut the bus system down, and I went and worked driving a truck, and drove ERDF trucks hauling the solid waste from out around the river and so on. Did that for a number of years and retired. I taught HAZMAT classes for the last about ten years. But buses were the fun job. A lot of stories there. One of our drivers named Carl Adcock was driving down Delafield, taking the day shift home--so it was about four or five in the afternoon—and a little girl was standing out in the middle of the street playing. About five, six years old. Stopped his bus, pulled the brake, got out and spanked her butt, get out of here! Got back in the bus, and the passengers were just--what are you doing? You could get in trouble for that. And it was his daughter. But no, we've had people have epileptic seizures on the bus. And there's all sorts of things like that. A lot of stories.
Arata: You must see a little bit of everything.
Peters: Oh, yeah. We had poker games, bridge games, on the buses. They had cardboard tables. Four people would sit down, put their table between the aisles and play cards. They had a bridge game going from 100F, which was where the animals were before they built 300—the animal life sciences 300 Area--but they had a bridge game that was going steady for at least 30, 35 years. I mean, it was different people. You know, someone would retire, someone else would take their place. But it started out at 100F at lunch break and then on the bus, and it continued. When we were at 300 they were still playing. Again, it was different players, but it was the same game.
Arata: Wow. There's something I wanted to ask you about. Returning back to when you worked in inhalation toxicology at Battelle, did you work with the smoking beagles?
Peters: Yes. That was my first job, was smoking.
Arata: We just interviewed Vanis Daniels--
Peters: Oh, yeah. I know Vanis.
Arata: --last week, who worked with the smoking beagles. Can you describe for us the process of getting the beagles to smoke two packs a day?
Peters: Well, the hard part's lighting 'em. No, the reason for the study, as I understood it, was uranium miners were dying early, and they wanted to know why. Because it could be cigarette smoke--because most of them were smokers--uranium ore dust or it could be radon daughters. And so we had a group of--I forget now. 70 dogs, 60. Something like that. And 10 of would receive smoke only, cigarette smoke only. They had a table, kind of a horseshoe. The mask fit over their muzzle with a cigarette in there, and like every seventh or tenth breath, a little gadget would open and their breath would suck in the smoke. But then ten of them would receive uranium ore dust and radon daughters. There was a large chamber that held ten dogs around it, and up in the top there was a grinder thing that would grind the ore dust and sprinkle it down in. I mean, it wasn't noticeable, it wasn't thick, but it was in there. And then we had radon. I think it was water bubbled through it that would give the radon gas, and it would get into the chamber. And then we had another ten that would receive cigarette and the radon. And then a control group that didn't receive anything. They were called sham. You'd bring them in, go through all the same routine, but they wouldn't receive anything. And just see what the effects were. And it was a lifespan study, so you'd look at the dosage and how long they lived and what affected them the most. So that's basically what it was. One story I heard--probably true--was that the Russians said that our limits were too high, should be lower. So that maybe prompted it, I don't know. Then after that when we got to 300 Area, 100-F moved into 300 Area, and they closed 100-F down. And then they had a group of just smoking dogs. And it was more difficult in the sense that we had a mask that fit over their muzzle, and they could trick it. They could breathe out of the side of their mouth. When they did it at one area they trached them, and there was no cheating that. It was direct. There was no getting around that. I learned a lot. I mean, that was one of the most exciting jobs. And the learning curve was just like that. I really learned a lot about physiology and biology and chemistry. You work there that long, and you learn a lot. Because part of my job was necropsy--or what they call autopsy, but necropsing the dogs. And we always said we took everything but the bark. I mean we literally disarticulated them and took every piece that they had. Every organ, every bone, separated it. The reason for that—we wanted to know where the plutonium or curium or whatever went to in the body. Where was the body burden? Was it in the lungs, was it in the bones? And interestingly enough, we exposed Pu-238 and 239, and the 238 would be a bone-seeker. The bones would have high doses. But in 239, the bones hardly got anything. It was all soft tissue. So they learned a lot from that, as far as where these elements--what they seek. The target organs, if you will. I don't know if all that should go in this.
Arata: Fascinating. I really love hearing about it. Could you talk a little bit about--obviously, during those times, security and secrecy was still very much a part of working at Hanford. Did that impact your work at all?
Peters: Oh, a lot. You know, being raised--from my oldest memories, it was secure. And I can remember when I was probably about 10, 11, 12 years old I went in for a library card here in Richland. They asked who my dad worked for, and I was scared to tell them. Because the security--my dad never told me what was going on out there. And I knew security was a big deal. And I says, I don't know. I kind of knew, but I--And she says, well, what does he do? And I says, well, he drives. So then she wrote down General Electric. But no, I mean, it was paramount even as a kid. I can remember—and this is kind of funny hindsight--but kind of put yourself in that timeframe--I can remember calling my brother who was seven, eight, nine years old--would have been in the early '50s, McCarthy era--I can remember calling my brother a dirty communist. And my dad just came unglued. He would rather have me call him S.O.B. than that, because that wasn't something you messed with in the early '50s, with the FBI and everything else. But I mean, security was bred into you, I guess. And when I hired on, it was still, but not like it was. But many of us still had that same mentality. I can remember when they started releasing things to the public. That always bothered me, because this is secure, and people don't have the need to know a lot of this stuff. Security was a big deal. I mean, you didn't go anyplace without a security badge. They could stop you, search your car, and everything else. So it was a high priority. There was seclusion areas within the area. You might get out in the area, but you might not be able to get into a certain area. When you got in that area, you couldn't get into another area, like dash-5 or Z-Plant or REDOX or PUREX. You needed extra security on your badge to get in these places. So security was very tough.
Arata: Could you talk a little bit about how Hanford was overall as a place to work? Anything you found particularly challenging or very rewarding about your time in the area?
Peters: I think it was great. You know, let's face it, it was great for a lot of people that worked here. I mean, good pay—relatively good pay, and a lot of people raised their families and sent them to school on this pay out here. And as far as working out there, we really had fun in the early days. And by the early days, I mean when I hired on. Because I felt very lucky that when I hired on, most of the old-timers were still working. And by old-timers I mean them that hired in the '40s. So a lot of the stories, a lot of things that they knew and interesting things that they talked about, I was privy to. And that was great. And it was, to me, really a fun place to work. I really enjoyed it. Later I can remember saying more than once in the '80s or '90s, this isn't fun like it used to be. And it wasn't. But you know, I was younger then, and that made a difference. I was about 21, 22 when I hired on. And so times changed. I think in the early days--by that, my early days--there was what we call maybe some dead wood. And they might have five people to do a job for two people. But I mean, it was good, it was job security. Well, then came the cuts and so on. I think that made it a little different, because one thing that's bothered me over the years, there's been layoffs. But you can check the records. Many times after these layoffs, within six months they're calling them back, because work has to be done. We might cut 500 people, but that job is still there, so they called a portion of them back. Which, to me, doesn't make sense. But I don't think there's the fat out there that there was at one time.
Arata: Is there anything I haven't asked you about that you'd like to talk about? Any other stories that stand out?
Peters: I think the racial thing was a big story in the early days because there wasn't that many black people working out there. And I can remember us--I mentioned earlier that Richland didn't have hardly any blacks. We had one black I'm aware of. He was a shoeshine guy at the Ganzel's barbershop. His picture is still in there. But I can remember--I must have been six, seven years old--I saw my first black person. I was in a car downtown with my mom. And I saw him, and I just saw his hands and face. And I can remember wondering, I wonder if his whole body is that way—we just didn't see them. We had two black guys in high school. C.W. and Norris Brown, who was terrific basketball players. And the main reason their family moved was because of those two boys. It was a different time then. I don't know it should go on record, because I don't know if it's true or not, but talking about the early people that worked there, one of the stories that I heard--and like I say, whether it's true, I have no idea. But they were out working, and they had a burn barrel. It was very cold. A barrel full of wood and so on, a burn barrel. The construction workers were huddled around it, and this one colored individual this kind of bulled his way in. He wanted to get up to the front. And the story goes--whether, again, true or not, I don't know--a carpenter took his hammer and ended it. And that wouldn't surprise me, though I don't know if it's true or not. Because there was prejudice. A lot of the people that came here were from the South, and it was a different lifestyle. I know that they had separate camps for the blacks and the whites. And it was segregated. So I can remember when I was driving the bus here, we only had--to my recollection—one black in all of transportation. There may have been more, but I think only one. And it wasn't until probably '63 or '64 that they really started recruiting blacks.
Arata: I understand there were labor organizers and people who came in with the NAACP and that sort of thing to sort of assess conditions, which would have been about the time you were working in the 100 and 300 Areas. Do you have any recollections of that?
Peters: Well, the one black that I told you about was a serviceman—labor. Same group I was in. And he was the head of the local NAACP. His name was McGee. And the way you became a driver was seniority. In other words, if this driver retired and you were next in seniority, you'd get that job. Well, he was the next one up, as a laborer, for a driving job. They wouldn't give it to him, for obvious reasons. Well, he fought it through the NAACP and he ended up becoming a driver. But they was not going to give him that job because of his race. Battelle, to their credit, was the first ones to make an overt effort to hire black people. And that's where--gentleman you mentioned earlier. And Battelle had--not overwhelming, but a number of blacks working for them. And in inhalation toxicology we had a number in animal care as well as in the crafts. So I would say from '63 on, it started changing.
Arata: So this is kind of my last question--we'll have students accessing these interviews. Most of my students now are too young to have remembered the Cold War. It's sort of an older--
Peters: Yeah.
Arata: So maybe if you could just talk a little bit about what it was like being part of this Cold War effort, and what you'd like students or future generations to know about contributions to that process.
Peters: Yeah. I know there's different views on this, but I feel very strongly about--because I knew a lot of GIs from that time frame—had two uncles that were in the war. And you know, the atomic bombs, and we made the plutonium here for the bomb, literally ended the war. I am a firm believer--had we had to invade, there'd been hundreds of thousands on both sides killed. And they talk about the badness, rightfully so, of the atomic bomb. But you look at the conventional bombing of Germany, and it was as bad or worse as the atomic bombs. The firebombing of Tokyo. Things like that. So as bad as the atomic bomb was, it did end the war. You'd had to live through it. Now, as far as the Cold War goes, you know, the place wasn't supposed to last much more than ten years. And that's what everyone thought. Well, then the Russians got the bomb. That changed things a little bit. And it was scary. I mean, like I said earlier, me calling my brother communist. I wasn't old enough to really realize what was going on, but I can remember--would've been during the Korean War--my dad came to my brother and I and said, I want to know where you guys are all the time, because we might have to leave town in a hurry. That was the mentality of that time. We had air-raid sirens throughout the town. I can remember every--I believe it was Monday at ten o'clock, they would go off to test. But there was one right behind Jason Lee, where I was going at the time, and it was loud. Every--I think it was Monday or Tuesday, at ten o'clock they'd go off. Because we literally were on standby. We didn't know what was going to happen. And the Korean War and then the McCarthy era, it was a scary time for adults. You know, as a kid, you didn't notice it, other than watching others. But I think Hanford had a lot to do with ending the war. Which ushered in the Cold War, because of the proliferation of the weapons. And you have to give credit to whomever for tearing down the wall, for bringing somewhat of a peace in the world—I say somewhat. I think it was our spending billions of dollars building up our—you know the old saying, peace through strength. That's what Reagan did. He was a big spender, but he got the job done. But Hanford was unique, because I can still remember there was anti-aircraft placements out there. When I hired on, all the old track houses were still there. I worked on a fuel truck, and we would fuel here and there and then we'd go out into the desert area, if you will, and look at these old houses that were still standing. And the old icehouse was still there. And a lot of these buildings were still there in the '60s. And why they had the need to tear them all down, I don't know. I think it was a shame. But they tore them all down other than the bank and the school. I believe about all that's left. No, it was a different time. Like I say, I can still remember my dad telling us both, I want to know where you are in case we have to leave town. I mentioned earlier, the FBI--it was not unusual to have an FBI agent knock at the door and talk to my folks about so-and-so. We had neighbors that lived in the same house—in our A house, our neighbors there was there one day and gone the next. It wasn't unusual to--you're out of here.
Arata: Certainly a different time. I want to thank you so much for coming in and sharing your memories with us. I really appreciate it. We'll film all these goodies you brought us, if that's okay--
Peters: Yep.
Arata: --before we have to go.
Northwest Public Television | Pasch_Myles
Robert Bauman: Okay. All right. My name's Robert Bauman. And I'm conducting an oral history interview with Mr. Myles Pasch, today June 11th, 2013 and we are conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities, and I'll be talking to Mr. Pasch about his experiences working at the Hanford site. So good morning, and thank you for being willing to have me talk to you today and be our first subject in this project. Appreciate it.
Myles Pasch: Welcome.
Bauman: So what if start by just having you tell me how and why you ended up coming to the Tri-Cities area to work at the Hanford site. How did that come about?
Pasch: Well I come about, my mother was working here when I got out of the Army in '45. Why, she already had a job lined up for me out here, and so come out here to take that job that they--the job actually didn't materialize, but I start working with the electrical distribution as a lineman's helper, because of the experience in the Army. I was a communications system in the Army, and so I started out in the line distribution as a ground man for the line gang, and about six months later why the Corps of Engineers turned the telephone system over to DuPont and with the telephone experience I had, they--I mean if you put me in the telephone system and I worked in there then until I--until my retirement. And various jobs from cable splicer helper, to cable splicer, to lineman and supervisor of the installation and maintenance crews, and then supervisor's office. Finally end up in engineering section by the time I retired.
Bauman: So you worked in a lot of different places, but mostly on electrical and phone.
Pasch: Just about all of it on phones. Phones, phones, and phone lines.
Bauman: And what sort of job did your mother have when you arrived?
Pasch: She was in the T Plant, 221-T Plant cleaning instruments and that from the separations group when they--vessels that they had to use for transferring materials and so forth and she was cleanup on that.
Bauman: Oh, okay. And when had she begun work here?
Pasch: She began work there when they went into production. She worked at Hanford during construction in the mess hall, and then she transferred to DuPont and started working soon as--right after they went into production instead of construction. My dad also worked there. Both in construction and in--and he went into patrol, the Hanford patrol, when they went into production.
Bauman: And do you know how your parents ended up coming here for work?
Pasch: I really don't. I was in the Army at the time that they did come out here, and so I'm not sure how--other than I know they were living in northern Wisconsin. There wasn't much going on there, and so I know that they tried to find something in the war industry to work on, so they applied for and came out here to Hanford.
Bauman: And did both of your parents continue working at Hanford after the war also?
Pasch: Yes. Fact is, I think my dad retired in '52. My mother retired when DuPont phased out and they went to General Electric. She phased out with DuPont, but Dad stayed in until 1951, actually, when he retired.
Bauman: Right. So you said you initially worked for the Army Corps of Engineers and then DuPont?
Pasch: No. I worked for DuPont when I hired on in July of '45, but the Corps of Engineers was running the telephone systems at that time rather than DuPont, and they turned the telephone systems over to DuPont in January of '46, and at that time I transferred right over to the telephone section and worked there until retirement.
Bauman: Okay. So what might a typical work day have been for you back in the late 1940s early 1950s? What sorts of things might you have done in a typical workday? Where might you have gone on the Hanford site?
Pasch: Well, we had to go wherever they needed telephone service, and it was installation of the wiring, telephones, and maintenance of them. And so wherever they needed telephones, we went. I worked in the outer areas all the time, very little in the 300 Area. Most of my work was in the two East-West, and the 100 Areas, wherever they needed a telephone repaired or put in, why, there's where we worked.
Bauman: How large of a crew or group did you work with usually, would be out there doing telephone repairs?
Pasch: Usually there was about eight or ten men on the telephone installation and repair group, and there was anywhere from one to four cable splicer crews going splicing cable. Especially when they really start opening up in the late '40s early '50s, and they start increasing the size and that of the telephone systems.
Bauman: So I imagine over the 37 years--is that how long?
Pasch: Yes, 37.
Bauman: Imagine over the course of those 37 years the telephone systems changed quite a bit.
Pasch: Yes, we started out with--when the Corps of Engineers had it, they started out with common battery switchboards with operators on them in each area, and each area had a 100 or 200 line switchboard, whatever they needed. And when they turned it over to DuPont, though, they'd already had installed a automatic switching station. So right after they turned it over to DuPont, why it switched over to automatic switching stations and the operators were taken off the project. And then it wasn't many years later they had to increase the size of that. They went from a Strowger switching system to a North Electric all relay switching system. And just in the--well not what, in the early '80s or late '70s, why, they switched over to a computer-controlled switching system, which is what they are still using out there now is a computer-controlled. But they went from say 100 lines in each area to several thousand lines and now, and the increase in people and buildings that were put in during that time. During that period of time. When I first started there, there was only three reactors and the East-West Area each had a separations building, but the only one that was actually in use was the 221-T Plant.
Bauman: So were some of those buildings more challenging to work with install or fix phone lines?
Pasch: Yeah, some of them we had to get special permits, special clothing, monitor buttons, and pencils, and badges to go into them. Probably only allowed 30 minutes in some spots. They were restricted to how long you could work in there and so forth, because of the radiation.
Bauman: Mm-hmm. So did you have a radiation monitor or some sort when you did that?
Pasch: We had a radiation monitor. Our badge was a radiation monitor. Whenever we went into an area, why, we got a couple of pencils that you put in your pocket that rated different types of radiation. Some buildings they had to have even another different pencil in your pocket in order to work there. Because there was different types, different radiations.
Bauman: And, so you mentioned you worked in T-Plant? In there as well?
Pasch: Oh, yes, I worked--fact is that was one of our most challenging ones. We went there to work, and you had to drive dressed in double protective coveralls and boots, and gloves, and hoods, mask, and then when you went out, you had to strip all that and you couldn't drag your tools out with you. They stayed, either stayed or got thrown away. So in that one you were very limited on how long you could work in the canyon. That was in the canyon itself.
Bauman: Yeah. Now for the site itself, when you first started working at Hanford site, given high security and secrecy, did you have to get a special security clearance, or--?
Pasch: I had a Q clearance all while I worked there. I had a Q clearance, which allowed you into everything except top secret buildings. The only thing about Hanford there is a need to know basis. You never learned anything about anything else that was going on except if you were doing it. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: When you first started, were you--how did you get to Hanford? Were you able to drive your own vehicle or did you have to take the bus?
Pasch: We took a bus out. You could drive your own vehicle off the area, park it outside the fence and that, but most people rode the bus out. They had bus transportation to all areas.
Bauman: And did that continue for most of the time that you worked at Hanford, or did that start to change?
Pasch: That continued. Most of the time I worked at Hanford, except the last few years and I was manager or supervisor of the business office. I was working in the 700 Area in the Federal Building. Was then based in there. So at that time I no longer had to ride buses out. But then the last three four years I worked, I was back out in the areas again, but of course I was driving company car out for instructing people on the new telephone systems. They'd set up meetings and I'd go out and instruct them on how it worked and what they could--what they could use of the communication systems. There was a lot of stuff they weren't allowed to use by DOE because it was expensive and unnecessary. So some of the things that they could have had and used, why, they weren't available to the plant operations. Some of the top management had them, but a lot of the systems was not available to the regular—most of the divisions.
Bauman: Now because of the security at Hanford, and secrecy, were there any sort of special phone--concerns about communication, using telephones. Was there any special security or anything like that, related to telephones?
Pasch: They always stressed security. That, talk and sink your ship, and so forth and that, to keep people from talking, and of course they had monitoring systems that they--the FBI had one set up in one of the buildings there where they could access any phone in the plant if they had the need to monitor to see if anything was going on that shouldn't be going on. And they then recorded them on little old spools of wax. Little drums of wax recordings that they used to use way back when.
Bauman: Really? [LAUGHTER] Wow, that's interesting. Did that impact your work at all, the connections at all, or how you did the telephone lines at all?
Pasch: It just gave us more work. I mean we had to--and that was top secret, we were not allowed to discuss that with anyone that this was set up was there, available to the government.
Bauman: I’m going to shift a little bit now and talk a little bit about the area, the Tri-Cities area. When you first arrived where did you live? And what were your first impressions of Richland or the area here?
Pasch: Well it was--lived in a--with my folks. They'd rented a three bedroom prefab, because they wanted us to come and live with them while I was there. So we lived in that prefab for the first six months, then we moved into one of the B houses down the south end of town. And it was pretty desolate, lot of wind, no trees. [LAUGHTER] And I thought every time the wind blew, why, they'd lose about half their—half their employees would terminate—termination winds they used to call them. [LAUGHTER] And of course the--none of the cities were any too large at that time, and they just grown a lot since. But Richland was all government owned, all the homes and everything was government owned until about '53 they sold the--about '52 or '53 they started selling the houses to the resident who was in the house. And I moved out just before that. We'd moved out and went to Kennewick, so we didn't buy one of the--one of the plant houses.
Bauman: Now had you--did you know anything about the area before you came here? Had your parents told you anything really about--
Pasch: Not a thing. Just come for the job.
Bauman: So what was the community like in those early years in the late ‘40s early ‘50s? Because I would assume most people had come from all over the United States to work. What was that like?
Pasch: They come all from all over from the United States and they--everything in town was government owned. So they had a big recreation building. They had two theaters and they had the recreation building where they would contract some major musicians to come in and play, oh, probably once a month they'd come in and play for a dance there for the people. About the only other--well, we had the bowling alley and one tavern in town. [LAUGHTER] Yeah, the bowling alley and the tavern and two theaters. So a lot of the recreation were just people parading up and down the streets on a Sunday when they weren't working.
Bauman: So there were theaters to go to. Were there any parades or those sorts of events going on in the summer at all?
Pasch: Every year they had parades that the government sponsored. Either parades or art in the park and such as that, that they got started. So there was quite a bit going on, and like I say, every so often they'd get a big band, one of the big bands in to play for the dances. And each department would manage to make a couple of parties every year to keep their people happy.
Bauman: You mentioned the termination winds and often a lot of people came and went. What made you stay and your family stay there?
Pasch: Oh, I guess I liked the job. [LAUGHTER] It was just what I had always had been doing was telephone work. So I liked the job, and the pay wasn't too bad. And we had all—a lot of free time. I mean on the weekends and that, and it wasn't too far to go out to find recreation in the areas. Fishing or boating or just sightseeing. So we enjoyed—and we enjoyed the climate and that here compared to in some other areas we lived in.
Bauman: Not quite as cold as Wisconsin, I guess..
Pasch: Yes. That's--
Bauman: I wonder if there were any major events or things that happened while you were working at Hanford that stand out in your memory. I know President Kennedy was here in 1963, right, to sort of open the N Reactor. I wonder if you remember anything about that or are there any other events that really stand out?
Pasch: That was one time that they even let school out so that school kids could go out there. And our son was in the band, so he was out there playing, and the whole family was out at the N Reactor when President Kennedy was there. Were able to spend the afternoon out there. Fact is, they even got a chance then to take them by the building I was based in at the time, which is out the old BY telephone building. Got to take the family by there, and so we had a family picnic there at the BY building on the way home from the outing.
Bauman: That's probably the first time family members had a chance to be out--
Pasch: That's the first time they were allowed out there at all. I mean if you didn't have a badge you didn't go out there, unless you got special badge to go out into the area. But they had the checkpoints at 300 are and out at--on the highway coming in from the Yakima area--the highway where that highway 24's junctions with it. They had a gate out there, and one out by the--before you got to 300 Area and you had to have a badge to go through there.
Bauman: Okay. And were you able to drive your cars out for that event?
Pasch: You could, but they were inspected. Trunks inside and outside as you went through, and--but you could drive your car out. But most people did use the bus.
Bauman: I wonder if--what would you like future generations to know about Hanford? What it was like to work there. What it was like living in the Tri-Cities, especially in the 1940s and 1950s and those years in early Cold War years.
Pasch: Well, I don't know. [LAUGHTER] That's a--other than the fact, that it was one of the main things that stopped the World War very soon. I mean they saved--people worry about them having killed a lot of people, but they saved a lot lives. And if you look at it in the long run, well, they saved one amount of lives with the production at the Hanford plant.
Bauman: It seems like your work experience in 37 years was generally very good. You liked your job, is that right?
Pasch: Most of the time it was good, yes. It was--there was ups and downs, but it was as a rule it was pretty good. It was a good job and it was a sure job. I mean as long as you did your work and kept your nose clean, why, you had a job for as long as you wanted to stay. I could've stayed on beyond retirement age if I wanted to, but I was ready to go traveling.
Bauman: And how about the Tri-Cities as a place to live? You mentioned you moved to Kennewick in the early 1950s?
Pasch: We moved to Kennewick in 1952, and lived there until 2011. I moved back into Richland, about four or five blocks away from where we first started out in Richland. [LAUGHTER] So I liked it in Kennewick, but it's crowded. We found a real nice location out in Richland that we liked and I built a home there, and we--I moved out there.
Bauman: Well that's really interesting about your work and seeing the different changes right, with the telephone system and changes at Hanford. So you started with DuPont. What other contractors did you work for over the years?
Pasch: Well, DuPont, and General Electric, and ARCO, and Westinghouse, and main one, Rockwell. Fact is, I've spent a lot of time—Rockwell was one of the last ones that I just transferred over to Westinghouse as Rockwell phased out just about the time they were phasing out and combining a lot of the companies. Rockwell went out and I've worked with--or with Westinghouse for just a short time, then just to carry over until they got it--got all their programs going again right. There's a lot of change every five years at least, why, they were changing contractors, and was always a big change.
Bauman: Was there a contract you worked for that you really enjoyed working for maybe more than some of the others?
Pasch: Oh, no. They were all pretty good. I mean they were--had a job to do, and I was working in the same telephone department all the time. We just transferred under different management, and seems like all of those contractors were nice to work for. I mean, they were all—seemed just one as good as the other.
Bauman: Okay. Is there anything that I haven't asked you about? Or any memories that you have of either working at Hanford or living in the Tri-Cities that you think is important to share that I haven't asked you about yet, or haven't talked about yet?
Pasch: Not off hand. I can't think of anything. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Okay. Well, I really appreciate you coming and sharing your memories and your experiences working at the Hanford site and being a part, especially of those early years at Hanford. I really appreciate it, and thanks very much.
Pasch: Other than being a little nervous, why, I enjoyed it. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Thank you.
Man two: The only thing I can think of—well you--
Woman one: Last week my daughter came here when we came for the chancellor thing. And she's 15, and they had studied it somewhat in school, but she had some really strange thoughts, and not really positive thoughts about things that had happened here. And I was wondering if maybe you, since you lived through it, if you could make that—the reality of life at that time more real to them?
Pasch: I don't know, it just--there was a lot of restrictions and that, that you had to consider, going through that. And the security involved with it was very strict, but I can see where it was very necessary. Any of that restrictions and the production that they made, like I say, saved a lot of lives overall, if you'd have continued with the war as it was going. Why, it brought a stop to it in a hurry. And I think we should be thankful that it did that rather than carry on for invasion of Japan and whatever would have happened after that.
Bauman: Well again, thank you very much. I really appreciate you being willing to be the first person to be interviewed as part of this. You get all the little nuances of everything so I really appreciate Mr. Pasch. Thank you very much.
Pasch: You're welcome.
Man one: Okay. Stop the tape.
Northwest Public Television | Moore_Samuel
Robert Bauman: My name is Robert Bauman, and I am conducting an oral history interview with Samuel Moore, correct?
Samuel Moore: Right, Samuel--
Bauman: This date is July 9, 2013. And the interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. And I'll be talking with Mr. Moore about his experiences working at Hanford site, living in Richland and so forth. So maybe let's start actually from the beginning, if you want, could you tell me how and why you came to Hanford, how you heard about it, how you got here?
Moore: Okay, I'm going to tell you how I got here. My father was working at a cook in the mental section of Camp Chaffee, Arkansas. And he came home, and he says, there's a better job at Hanford, Washington. So he left and came out. Then he told them that I can't be here without my family. So they put us on, I think it was a troop train, and it stopped in Pasco and set us off.
Bauman: Could you--where is Camp Chaffee, Arkansas?
Moore: It's east of Ft. Smith and that, so.
Bauman: And how old were you at the time?
Moore: About eight. And then we come in--put us off of this I'll call it a troop train, because there was a zillion soldiers on it. And it picks up and they took us to Kennewick to a place called Naval Housing. And that's where they put the people coming in for Hanford workers to stay until a house was available. And we stayed there, and then from there we moved to this nice little square building which had a flat top, set up on stilts. And it was called a prefab at 1300 Totten Street. And that means that we lived at the end house. The telephones were on the telephone poles at the end of the block. So when the phone would ring you were told to answer the phone and go get whoever it wanted who. So that's the way we started in Richland. And we lived there for I don't know how long. And then we moved to different houses around Richland until I graduated from Columbia High School, which was Columbia High School in Richland at that time. Now it's Richland High. And then after that I did a short job with a construction company. And then I went to work for General Electric, running one of their blueprint machines when they were getting ready to build the REDOX Building and the PUREX Building. So I'd go, I was the first one in to warm up the machines and run them for a while. And then after while I got uplined and I could deliver those suckers out into the area. So that was my starting with General Electric then.
Bauman: Okay, so let me go back a little bit. So what year did your family arrive then?
Moore: 19--it was either 1943 or '44.
Bauman: Okay. And your father, was he a cook here also?
Moore: No, no. He'd come out and he was a, as we call them today, rent-a-cop. He was a patrolman out there. And he worked as a patrolman ‘til he retired.
Bauman: And you said that your first job was with General Electric, and what year would that have been?
Moore: About 1953 or 4. Then I went from there, like I say I was in the blueprint sections and all that. And then I had a job—I got a chance to become an engineer's assistant. And then when they were going out and building different things, so that helped me get into the other sections of General Electric and so on. And when that one cut, I transferred into radiation monitoring. And that was when they had the Hanford labs, and the old animal farm was at 100 F Area. So I worked in that group until--I forget what year it was. I'm not good on years and dates. But when they decided they were going to re-tube all of those reactors out there in the hundred areas and so they could put bigger slugs in them and all that stuff, I worked on that until about 1957. And they said, guess what? We're not going to pay you anymore. So I left here. But I stayed with the government job. I went to the Nevada test site and blew all the plutonium up that they made out here. So then I came back to Hanford in 1960. So then I was still in radiation monitoring and worked all kinds of different places, tank farms and everywhere else out there that I could think about.
Bauman: So it sounds like you worked all over the Hanford site.
Moore: All over the Hanford site, that's right, yes, everywhere. And I worked a lot of the times at the burial grounds in 200 West Area. When they would take the big wooden boxes to PUREX and REDOX and they'd fill them. And then they'd pull them up, and they'd put a big long cable on the whole string of cars, and that box was way down that string of cars. And then when they get up to the burial ground, the train and it would coordinate, and they'd pull it back. And as the cable would come around, and when the box got to the trench, the train would stop. And they'd just spin it around and down in a trench. And then we get the honor of riding the bulldozers to set those freights so they could cover them up. That was one of the deals. And the other times I worked in a lot of the tank farms and pulling pumps and putting new bearings in those pumps and all that kind of stuff. It was an experience, believe me.
Bauman: Yeah, I'm sure it was. So a lot of this was with radiation monitoring?
Moore: It was radiation monitoring. And I was in radiation monitoring until 1980-something. And I had a little problem out there, and they wanted me to release some stuff. And I said, uh-uh, not me, it ain't mine. So they said, well we've got this other section over here that you should be in, so I got into the safety part with respiratory protection. And I was trained to repair the breathing air things, like the firemen use. I was trained to do that, fix the PAPRs, and the escape packs, and all that stuff so. And check over places for where they—oxygen levels to where they could go in and work and all that, so that was my last eight years of Hanford, was in the respiratory section I'll call it.
Bauman: And so when did you retire then?
Moore: In 1994.
Bauman: So almost 40 years minus the years that you were with--
Moore: Yeah, yeah. Well as the way I said, when I came back to Hanford in 1960, they told me it was a temporary job, it would probably only last six, eight months. Well, I found out that at Hanford a temporary job is pretty permanent. It only lasted 33 and 1/2 years. It's a temporary job there, so I guess at all turned out pretty good.
Bauman: I guess you could consider that temporary.
Moore: Temporary, yeah. Yeah.
Bauman: So many interesting things that you've worked on. So let's go back to the early years. First, in the 1950s and you talked about radiation monitoring, something with radiation, you did blueprint and stuff, but then radiation monitoring?
Moore: And then radiation monitoring, yeah.
Bauman: Okay, and some of that was with animals? Is that right?
Moore: Well, I went into the animal farm on some certain times, but I wasn't assigned there for anything. The big one I was assigned to was what they called the 558 project, which is when they re-tubed all of the old reactors. And that was, you'd go in and set dose rates for all the people when they're working. And so it was a deal.
Bauman: And now Hanford, of course, is a highly secure site, right, lots of security, secrecy to a certain extent. Can you talk about that at all? I mean, in terms of getting to work or at work, how did that impact you?
Moore: Most of the places where I was, the secure part of it wasn't that strict. But other places like, some of those buildings, yeah, they were really a strict situation. And when I go back a ways, when my dad and we lived in this—I call it the slum house on Totten Street--nobody knew what was happening. Nobody knew. I didn't know what the guy next door was doing, and they didn't know what my dad did. Until I think it was 1944 or '45 when they announced what they were really doing here. And it was kind of a shock, that deal, so. That was my deals of the secrecy out there.
Bauman: Now, did you have to have special security clearance?
Moore: Yes, yes, I did. I had special clearances, yes. I had everything but the very top secret one. And that was real handy because when I left here, I went to the Nevada test site. I had to use the same secret pass. And then the same thing when I come back. It was very, very--what am I trying to say here? I mean, I'm an old guy. I'm just about at the end of the road here. Most of my work, like I say, was the tank farms, and those places, where secrecy was not involved in that. And it was like times when you'd have a spill, you dig it up and prepare it to the burial ground. A lot of that was the work that we did.
Bauman: And you said your first job was at General Electric. Obviously, there are different contractors.
Moore: Yeah.
Bauman: Now, who all did you work for over the years?
Moore: Well, we went to General Electric. Then it went to there was one called Isochem, Rockwell, oh there's a whole slug of them, I can't remember all of them. So it seemed like every time you'd turn around, they were turned over to somebody new. But it was Westinghouse when I decided I would better leave before I had a real problem.
Bauman: So can you talk about what was happening there toward the end that made you want to leave?
Moore: Well, I was, like I say, I was working on the PAPRs and all that kind of stuff. It got to be a real drag, you know. And everybody was doing that then. It got to the point where every time you turned around, everybody was wanting this, and wanting this, and wanting this. You're only one person. And I was a guy that did most all the fixing. So I decided--to my wife, I said--I call her the voice from the other side. She said, what's the matter? And I says, well, before I mess up on one of these pieces of equipment and kill somebody, I think I better retire. So we just decided, okay. And she worked for the Hanford Project, too. And of course she was much better off than I was. She worked for one of the big managers as a secretary. So we just decided that was it. And we had our nest eggs saved up and said, okay, it's retired and we're going to see the world. And we did that until my one eye decides to go bad. Then we had to stop. Other than that, I'd probably been in who knows where.
Bauman: While you were working at Hanford were there any significant events, or sort of, things that have happened that sort of stand out in your mind specifically?
Moore: Yeah, and I was trying to think. It was about 1962, graveyard shift, 233-S, it caught on fire and it burned. And it was a big mess. That's where I wound up with my shot of plutonium in my bones, as I'll say, from that fire. And, of course, back in those days you didn't know what was what, so they worked on it and cleaned it up. And but there's a couple of contamination things that sticks out in my mind. One of them is, we used to bury the material from 300 Area which is, I guess you would call a Westinghouse, Battelle or somebody. And we used to dump them into caissons in the backside of the 234-5 Area. And we had one of those that kind of broke open and messed us up a little bit. Took us maybe six, eight, hours to get cleaned up so we were able to go on our merry way. But those are the only two that really stick out in my mind.
Bauman: Did you miss any amount of work as a result the exposures when you had those?
Moore: Nope. Nope. They just cleaned you up and said go back to work. You all have to remember that back in those days, all of the things that happened in a lot of places, we didn't know. We didn't know what the repercussions was going to be. We didn't know that. Now, this is why we're paying for a lot of stuff right now is because we didn't know how to do all that stuff. But like I say, there's a lot more people that know a lot more about that Hanford stuff than I do. Like I said, it's been many a year since I worked some of those places, too, that I can't remember some of the stuff.
Bauman: Sure, sure. The radiation monitoring group, how large of a group was that? And how many employees do you know, have an idea who worked--
Moore: There was probably about 60 or better. But each company, I think, had a group of their own. The 200 Areas had one big group. The 100 Areas had a group. And then 300 Area had a group, so you put them all together there was probably more than 60-some.
Bauman: Okay, and just to—you said there was a fire in, you think about, 1962. Was it the 200 Area?
Moore: Yep, in the 200, down behind the REDOX Building. That just, poof, was it and it went, so. And I think the reason they had the fire was because somebody had some greasy coveralls and stuff and didn't take care of them the proper way, and the first thing you know, poof, they were on fire.
Bauman: And this was where there was radioactive material?
Moore: Yeah, it was back in the radioactive area, so everything got messed up.
Bauman: And at the time you probably didn't know necessarily everything, but you've had some health problems since then?
Moore: Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Yeah, but I won't say that my health problem is caused by the contamination that I had or was dumped with. I've had quite a few of those. I've had a melanoma cancer in this ear, and I had a very large contamination that got in that ear and area. So I've had to have some surgery done there, skin grafts and that kind of stuff. But so far it hasn't slowed me up.
Bauman: I'm going to shift gears a little bit here. Were you working here in 1963 then when President Kennedy came to?
Moore: Yeah, yeah.
Bauman: And do you remember at all? Were you there that day?
Moore: No. Well, I was on a project that day, but I was not out where he was. I was one of the, I guess how would I say this, the lower steel, so I took care of the work over while everybody went to that. But yeah, I was here. I came back from Nevada on September 13, 1960, and I worked till '94.
Bauman: And then I wanted to ask you a little about Richland. So other than when you first got here, it sounds like you lived in Richland most of the time?
Moore: Yeah.
Bauman: How would you describe Richland as a community at the time, as a place to live?
Moore: It was very good because at that time, when you were there, you didn't even have to worry about locking doors. I mean, everybody was—it just one big thing. It was a government town and everything would deal like that. And nobody really did—didn't have the vandalism or anything like that around town. And as you probably know that, if you're familiar with Fred Meyer’s on Wellsian Way down there, that was a swamp deal, because that was where Richland got their drinking water. Like I said, I lived in 1303 Totten the very first time and then we moved from there down to on Benham Street. And I don't know how to say this, other than the way I normally say that, but that was down where we called the turd churn. That was the sewage plant down there. Then from there I moved back up to Swift. And then in--I was trying to think when it was, 1963 or so, they did away with the old irrigation ditch that came through Richland and goes underneath Carmichael, because that's where they flooded the cattail place down there for the drinking water in Richland, and let it seep down and pump it up. And they busted everything up and back about then I was reading the Villager, I think it was, the Tri-City paper, and there was a lot for sale on Totten Street. So I bought it and went out and looked at it. It was the old irrigation ditch. And I built a house over the old irrigation ditch, and I still live there.
Bauman: And you—when you first arrived you were a child.
Moore: Yeah.
Bauman: What was it like going to school? I'm assuming that there were people from sort of all over, right?
Moore: All over. Yeah. And you just walk to school. And it was, like I say, there was no buses or anything, you could walk to school. And everybody just seemed to fit right in, you know. Nobody had any qualms whether I was from Arkansas or anywhere else. But like I say when the first house there in Richland, Wright Avenue was the last street in town. And beyond that was one of the most fabulous cherry orchards that there was. And when you were a kid you'd slip over in the cherry orchard and get cherries and take them home to your mother. And she could make you some jams, jellies, or whatever pie, or whatever. But it was a deal. There was quite a group of kids that came from all over the country. And they just seemed to fit in, none of this gang thing or anything like that. They were just, everybody was all buddy-buddy, you know?
Bauman: You mentioned you went to, what was then Columbia High School.
Moore: Yeah.
Bauman: How about elementary and middle school?
Moore: And in elementary school when we moved the one that I really remember was Lewis and Clark down on the south end of town. And I went there until one of the, I'll call them students decided to burn it down. And they burnt Lewis and Clark down. And so a lot of us were told to go up to Marcus Whitman and finish off the year up there. So we did that. And then them from there on Carmichael, the junior high, was being built and I think they opened it up at about a mid-year. And I was one of the ones I went there the mid-year into Carmichael and then over to the high school after that.
Bauman: And so what year was that the Lewis and Clark burned down? Was that like in the late '40s then?
Moore: Yeah. But the funny part of it is, not too many years ago they arrested a fellow down in Portland. And he was laughing about burning the building down. So I guess they couldn't do anything to him, but they found out who burned it down now. Yeah. Well, there was Lewis and Clark, Marcus Whitman, Sacajawea which was right there by Central United Protestant Church was the old Sacajawea school. And then there's Jefferson which is still going. And our fabulous people are trying to shut it down, move it, and do something else with it. But who knows what's going to happen.
Bauman: Do you remember when you were growing up and going to school and living here at that time any community events, parades?
Moore: Oh, yeah! Atomic Frontier Days was a big—the big, big thing. I have breakfast with a group of Columbia High graduates and I can't remember what her name is, but she was one of them that used to run for the Queen of Frontier Days. And there was a couple others. But that was the big thing. And they used to take—Howard Amon Park turned into booths, and just like a big fair down there. So it was things, and then all a sudden they decided to move everything around to the Tri-Cities.
Bauman: And was that in the summer?
Moore: Yeah, that was always in the summer, you know. And then the big hydroplane races, they would come in, but they were the old ones that had the 1,200 or 1,300 horse-powered gasoline engines in them, the noise makers. But that was about the extent of the things. And if we go back I can remember the floods came through and when they build all the dikes that they're tearing down now. But I don't think they got to worry about that, being as the dams are still functioning.
Bauman: Do you remember some of the floods?
Moore: Oh yeah, I can remember the flood deals, when they built the road up to going to the Y. They had to build all that up because you didn't get to Kennewick when the flood was on. Well, it was right up to the George Washington Way road there by wherever the guy that has the petrified stumps down there. The water was just across the street from his house, was right up to the edge there.
Bauman: So I want to go back now to Hanford itself and your work experiences there. You talked about some specific things you did and some specific things. How would you describe Hanford as a place to work?
Moore: Hanford was a real good place to work. It was really good work, and good place to work. Mainly I think because you didn't know everything that was going on. So you knew that you had your section, what you were doing, and you didn't want to make waves or something like that. But to me, Hanford was a good place to work. There was a lot of--I had a lot of good friends that came up through the, I call them the ranks. They were, like I worked in the blueprint and there was guys that drove the mail trucks. We wound up as a real knit group of people there. They work out of the old 703 Building, which part of it's still there. And we used to have Coke breaks and go back there. And everybody put a quarter in the pot and then get your Coke bottle. When it was all through whoever had the bottle that was from farthest away got the kitty. So it was a good place to work, really.
Bauman: And I guess is there anything you would like future generations to know about working at Hanford site?
Moore: Well, I would like everybody to know that where this country really screwed up was when we dropped that bomb and blew up everything. We kept everything too secret. They should have let everybody know what that was and what was happening. Today we would have had a better deal of doing what they're doing today if they'd done that, I think. Now that's my opinion and no one else's, but if they would have just let them know what was going on, and what happened, it would have been a lot better.
Bauman: And then is there anything that I haven't asked you about in terms of either your job at Hanford—or jobs, I should say, at Hanford?
Moore: No.
Bauman: Or living in Richland? That I haven't asked you about, that you'd like to talk about?
Moore: No. Like I say, Richland was a good place to live, though, and Hanford was a good place to work. I mean you did your job, and everybody else did theirs, and everything worked out just fine. There's a lot of things that I'm not too sure of what happened. But a lot of those places they did have things when they were doing experiments for the Navy and all kind of stuff out there. But I didn't get in on any of that stuff at all. It was one of those deals, you go in and you dress out, and most the time the monitors were the first ones and the last ones out. So that was the deal.
Bauman: When you did that, did you wear a badge?
Moore: Yeah, TLD, thermoluminescent dosimeter. So you always had a badge on. I understand that some of the guys used to take theirs and set them aside so they wouldn't get too much radiation, so they would be eligible for overtime. But I wasn't into that overtime route.
Bauman: And so how would you know? How did it register that you had too much exposure? How was that read?
Moore: Well they put it into a meter that would read what the thermo was. And the original ones were--what am I trying to say? Film, there was a film. And they would read the film of what, how much had been exposed to that. And that's how they got your dose rates there, how much you took.
Bauman: And did that change at some point to some other method?
Moore: Yeah, they used the film badges to start with. Then they flipped over and they found out they could use these, what did I call them, thermoluminescent detectors, which is you put at charge on them. And I guess the radiation would discharge the charge. So they'll know how much was used off of it. And then you had pencils that you read, that would tell you, that would read if you were supposed to take, let's say, 50 MR. Well you'd set that when you come out, you'd be there and there was always time keepers. There was a time keeper in that group that was taking how much your exposure was, and how long you had been there, and calculating it to when you should get yourself out.
Bauman: And they would let you know that?
Moore: And then they'd tap you on the shoulder and say, go. So then they’d go out. And then there would be somebody out there that would get them undressed and check them, clean them, and make sure they were all, no contamination on them and either send them to lunch or home.
Bauman: And that sort of procedure--
Moore: That procedure.
Bauman: --throughout the time--
Moore: Throughout the whole time I was there, yeah. Yeah.
Bauman: All right. Well thank you very much. I really appreciate your being willing to come in and talk to us. And very interesting--
Moore: Yeah, like to say, there's things out there that my mind just doesn't pick up on them right now. So probably middle of the night at one o'clock, I'll wake up and say, golly, I should have told him this. But no, that's the deal. But really, Hanford was a good place to work and to me, it's been real good to me. I got a good retirement off of it.
Bauman: All right. Well, thank you very much.
Moore: You bet.
Bauman: I really appreciate it.
Moore: You bet. And seeing now that he's got the shut off, I'll tell you about my week. I took my motor home and went to Ilwaco. You know where Ilwaco is on the Columbia River?
Man three: Yeah, okay.
Moore: On the way over there.
Northwest Public Television | Gilles_Madeleine
Robert Bauman: My name's Robert Bauman, and I'm conducting an oral history interview with Madeleine Gilles. And this is July 2nd of 2013. The interview's being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. And I'll be talking with Madeleine Gilles about her family's history, her years growing up in Richland. So let's start with that, if we could. If you could tell me about how and when, why your family came to Richland. Anything about when and why they came here.
Madeleine Gilles: Well, they came from Montana--Butte. I was about a year and a half old I think. And I guess they wanted to change from a miner to a farmer. And he was from--
Bauman: Croatia it looked like.
Gilles: Croatia, yes. And my mother was American.
Bauman: What were your parents' names?
Gilles: What?
Bauman: What were your parents' names?
Gilles: Mr. Patricia and John Serdar.
Bauman: Okay.
Gilles: S-E-R-D-A-R.
Bauman: And did you have any brothers or sisters?
Gilles: I had two sisters which are a year and eight or nine months between the three of, you know.
Bauman: Mm-hm, okay. And so when you came to Richland, did you have a farm?
Gilles: I don't know how he came by a farm, but I know that he had 10 acres on a flat. And my mother's father, my grandfather, lived up on a little hill above us. It's now out at, behind that Richland airport.
Bauman: Okay. That's where the land was?
Gilles: Yes. It's still fenced off. There's nothing on it. [LAUGHTER] And it was by the irrigation ditch where we lived on the hill part. And the irrigation ditch had that flume across the little bitty gully onto downtown Richland.
Bauman: And you used irrigation water on farm?
Gilles: From that. Yes. They had weirs that went out to the fields and filled up. And you could water from there. They built little wooden waterways to where they wanted it, and then they'd have rails. And they'd flood the rails and then move it on to the next part of the field until they got it watered. And the ditch riders came by and kept watch on wherever it come out from the irrigation ditch. I forgot what they called those. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: What kind of crops did you have?
Gilles: We had alfalfa and a big garden and strawberries and grapes and raspberries. So we were busy. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] And did you have any animals on the farm?
Gilles: Oh, yes. We had about ten cows. And they pastured over where the golf course is now. Oh, I forget the name of it. It's a pony. [LAUTHER]
Bauman: [INAUDIBLE]
Gilles: Horse name. Anyway there's a golf course down there now.
Bauman: Where the pastures were?
Gilles: Where the pastures were, yeah.
Bauman: And so, the alfalfa, was that a crop you grew and sold? Or was that used for your animals?
Gilles: Oh, it's to feed the animals in the winter. You cut it and stacked it and put it on a wagon and hauled it over and threw it up on a haystack. [LAUGHTER] One way or another, in the barns, they used to take the horses and somehow off of the hay wagon. They wrapped it up, and then the horses went ahead and drew it up into the loft. That way.
Bauman: And so, what other buildings were on your property besides the house itself?
Gilles: The barn. And we had a cellar, a ground cellar, and it was covered with dirt and had to open up.
Bauman: What was stored in there?
Gilles: Oh, canned fruit and things that--sauerkraut in the barrel and anything like that. And then we had where we kept the potatoes and the turnips and all that stuff in another building. And we had chickens. Of course, they harvested the turkeys in the fall. I don't know where they sold them, down to the butcher or somebody. And then we had the barn down the hill farther in front of the haystack, and that was--and there was a barnyard of course.
Bauman: Growing up, did you have jobs that were yours on the farm?
Gilles: Oh, yes. Worked all day outside and in the sun. [LAUGHTER] Hoeing weeds and picking strawberries early in the morning. We worked for people who had lots of asparagus. We cut asparagus early in the morning. In the spring, you know? And my mother worked in the packing shed, and they packed the asparagus ready for market.
Bauman: Was this someone else in Richland?
Gilles: I don't know. I think they shipped it. They shipped it in wooden crates. Not too big because they'd get smashed. And the strawberries, the same way. We picked strawberries. We picked apples. We picked pears. We did those kind of things for other people, plus we picked our own fruit so our mother could can them. And we was busy. We had to bring the cows from the pasture home in the morning after cutting asparagus—about 3:00 in the morning, you get up, cut asparagus, bring the cows home and milk them and take them back. Get ready for school. It was busy.
Bauman: That's a lot of work.
Gilles: Yeah, but it didn't hurt me.
Bauman: Did you have time to do fun things--swimming or--
Gilles: Oh, yeah. We went down the irrigation ditch down to where it kind of stops down at where there's land and it kind of opened up a little space where kids could come. And we'd go swimming and take a bath [LAUGHTER] with soap. Didn't do much good because you had to run back up the flume home.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Yeah.
Gilles: But anyway it was--and well, at school, we did our sports, softball and basketball and went to different little towns for competition games. And see who'd go to Spokane. We went one year, but we lost by--for basketball--lost by one point.
Bauman: Yeah. I saw a picture of a basketball team--
Gilles: Yeah, I was in it.
Bauman: In the picture, right.
Gilles: [LAUGHTER] Yeah.
Bauman: What position did you play on the basketball team?
Gilles: Pardon?
Bauman: What position did you play on the basketball team?
Gilles: Guard.
Bauman: Do you remember any of the other young women who were on the team?
Gilles: John Dam’s daughter was. She was forward. And I forget her name, but Margaret somebody was center. And I don't remember them all.
Bauman: You must've been a good athlete then.
Gilles: Well, I guess I was. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Well, there's also in that book, a note that you had won a race.
Gilles: A race. Yes.
Bauman: At a picnic?
Gilles: Yeah. At the end of the year, they'd have school competition between the grades and stuff. And that was for my running. Because we did a lot of running in soft sand. So when you go on hard surface, you could really go. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: How did you get to school? Did you walk to school? A bus?
Gilles: No, no. A bus came, and we could see it when we lived on the little hill above the flat surface where we were at first. We could see it. Then we'd take off and run down to the corner and catch the bus. And then he'd pick up all the rest of the kids and go down to Richland. The school was behind John Day and Nelson's mercantile store there. There was a gas station there and a church where we had baccalaureate and all that stuff there from the grade school. And the high school was down the road from the grade school. Richland High.
Bauman: Right. Do you remember any of your teachers from?
Gilles: Oh, Carmichael and—oh, I don't remember.
Bauman: Any idea how big, how many--
Gilles: Kids?
Bauman: Kids there were. Yeah.
Gilles: Well, I think there was about 500 people. So they must have had at least three or four kids. So multiply that. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Right.
Gilles: We had a lot of kids.
Bauman: I want go back. You mentioned your parents earlier. And your father was an immigrant from Croatia. Did he speak English?
Gilles: Not very well. There was nobody for me to talk to but the animals. [LAUGHTER] Because my mother didn't converse with him. Because she didn't know his language.
Bauman: And how had they met?
Gilles: Oh, at a dance in Montana--Butte. And he knew her father in the mines.
Bauman: I see. And they got married and moved out--
Gilles: Yeah. However, they were advertising at that time for homesteading in the '20s, you know. I was born in 1920.
Bauman: Yeah.
Gilles: How they got there, I don't know. Because they never talked, and I didn't know what to ask them anyway. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Now, did you have electricity at all in your home?
Gilles: No. Kerosene light, lamp, and lantern to go to the barn and milk in the winter and stuff like that. Had kerosene.
Bauman: And did you have--how did you get from--did you have a car at any time, or was it horse and wagon?
Gilles: First of all, it was a wagon with a bed in it. We rode it in the back, and they rode in the front of course. And took a long time to get there, [LAUGHTER] wherever we was going. They belonged to the grange. And we'd go there for their meetings and dances. And my mother played piano, and she played for the drill team and for the dances along with other musicians. And they used to have house parties in the wintertime. They'd clear the floor, and whoever could come to play--and if there was a piano there, my mother played. And they danced or they played cards or--that was their entertainment, so to speak. Go from house to house to play cards.
Bauman: Do you remember any other events? Were there 4th of July--
Gilles: Oh, yes. We'd go to the park. What is that park called? Where the golf course is--on the river.
Bauman: Howard Amon Park?
Gilles: No, no. It's a golf course on the river.
Bauman: Columbia Park?
Gilles: Yeah. They'd go along there, and people would come. And they'd make homemade ice cream, and they'd do their wieners or whatever—chicken, it usually was--a lot of fried chicken and pies and cakes, and they had a good time. And then, as I remembered, they used to shoot firecrackers off of the old green bridge and do their fireworks there. So everybody'd go down by the river there and watch them.
Bauman: The fireworks there. There was a ferry that would take people across the river.
Gilles: Yes.
Bauman: Did you do that very often? Take the ferry across the river?
Gilles: No, we didn't. But we did go down to the Columbia, down to the boom where they caught wood and trees and stuff and get our wood for the winter, or if you happened to be lucky, get a part of a tree or something. They'd saw it up and have some wood to build something.
Bauman: Did you interact with any Native Americans in the area very often?
Gilles: Oh, yes. When the fishing season was on, they used to go up to the Yakima someplace where there was a little dam. But they put their tents out across the ditch from us, and they'd have little tents. And then they'd have a three-sided tent where they'd have their fires out there and cook their fish and dry it and stuff like that. We had to drive the cows by the trail, went right by their camping site. [LAUGHTER] And my mother used to say to my little sister, "Rosie, if you don't be good, I'm going to give you to the Indians.” [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: What about any neighbors or were there children from other families--
Gilles: Oh, yes.
Bauman: --there a lot?
Gilles: Yeah, Arstolds and-- they didn't live close. They had their own acreage and stuff. And we used to go to their house a lot. And Bumgarnters and--gee, I can't think of their names now.
Bauman: That's okay. So in terms of the weather here--it can get pretty darn hot as we know today—
Gilles: Yeah!
Bauman: --in the summer and pretty cold at times in the winter with no electricity. What was that like? Do you have any memories of the heat or the wind or the winter weather?
Gilles: Well, we just made do. We had wood for fire. In the cook stove was the heater of the room. We only had two rooms on the hill, and the one house we lived on in the flat was a big one room thing.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Gilles: And my grandfather, after he died, we moved up there. And the cook stove kept us warm, but it didn't go all night. [LAUGHTER] You had to get up in the morning and put the kindling in and light it and get it going. And in the summer, you just stopped. And again, in the shade, that's all you could do. And it got really hot because there was no trees. No trees. And now you have green and trees. It makes it cooler.
Bauman: Did you get many dust storms? Do you remember many dust storms?
Gilles: Oh, yes. Lots of hard sand would blow against your legs when you was going back and forth to the pasture. Ooh. That really stung.
Bauman: How about any wild animals? Were there coyotes?
Gilles: Oh, coyotes, and rabbits. They used to have rabbit drives. A lot of men would get together so far apart and they'd drive the rabbits in front of them and then shoot them. Because they were a real menace. They get into your garden and eat everything up.
Bauman: Yeah, I've heard about those before. Eating the crops were the problem, or the gardens, yeah. So I understand that you had a little bit of an accident.
Gilles: Yes, I found a blasting cap that my dad had brought from Butte to blow up the sagebrush. It was big and tough to make more land, you know. And so I found an old one, and I thought it was full of dirt, picked at it and it blew up. Took my fingers off. But I made it.
Bauman: How old were you?
Gilles: I was 16 and very upset about it. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: And so did you have to go to a doctor or a hospital?
Gilles: Oh, went to Lourdes, and Dr. Spalding took care of my hand.
Bauman: And was that the only hospital?
Gilles: Only one. And it was 13 miles, and the neighbors that had bought the flat--one room shack--took me over there. It was 13 miles or something. And I had to wait for a baby to be born before they could take care of me.
Bauman: Wow.
Gilles: But they decided to keep my hand and not cut it off because it looked so bad. So I have a hand, just not the digits. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: How long did you have to stay at the hospital? How long did it take to recover?
Gilles: Well, I stayed there longer than I need to do because I didn't have any place to go. My mother and father got a divorce, and she was very ill with arthritis. It's the kind that just comes overnight, and I forget the name of it. But it's a bad one. And so she and I were in the hospital the same time.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Gilles: So they kept me there, and then I went to work--for three months they kept me, and I worked folding bandages and stuff before they autoclaved them or sterilized them. And then I worked at the doctor's home for his son--to take care of his baby son. Then I got to go down and eat at their restaurant in the evening. So I was just the daytime stuff, and I stayed there. And I was there till I decided that I needed to go to school and learn to work over. So I went to the Catholic school in Spokane--the House of Good Shepherd it was at that time. And they took wayward girls, but they decided my sisters and I would be a help at the place to do other things. But to mind the rules the same as they had to, which was okay with me.
Bauman: So how long were there?
Gilles: Oh about two and a half years. My sister Mary was there 13 years, and Rosie was there 10 or so. But they did like Mary. She run the movie machine and helped the nuns. And I worked in the kitchen, and of course I learned to work. And worked in the where we ate in the cafeteria. And I got to go with the nuns when they went soliciting.
Bauman: So did you grow up Catholic then?
Gilles: Yes.
Bauman: Was there a Catholic church in the area anywhere?
Gilles: No, we had to come to Kennewick.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Gilles: My mother brought a few children, and my sisters over in the summer for us to take our catechism.
Bauman: So Kennewick was the place to go?
Gilles: Yeah. So we got our proper papers to be a Catholic.
Bauman: Do you remember what the name of the church was in Kennewick?
Gilles: St. Joseph's as far as I know. That was the first church, and I think it was on—I don’t know--down by the canal. Now I don't know where it is for sure.
Bauman: Yeah. I think it's on Clearwater now, but it used to be on--
Gilles: Oh.
Bauman: And now I think it's on--
Gilles: Oh, yes. I know where that one is now, but I don't know where they moved the old church. Yeah, it's on Garfield--the new church, St. Joseph.
Bauman: So after you were in Spokane for about two and half years. What happened to you at that point? Where did you go from there?
Gilles: Pardon?
Bauman: Where did you go after you were in Spokane?
Gilles: Oh, I worked at a home and took care of invalid fellow and his baby when the family was gone. And I worked in the kitchen and fed the baby and all this. And they rang a bell for me [LAUGHTER] to come and wait on the table and stuff. And then they split up the families. The mother and father and the husband and wife moved out. So then I came out to--where did I go? Oh. I have to think. Where did I go? Oh, I went back to Richland, and I lived with a family that--he worked on the freeways and highways building, and she was home with two or three kids. And so I stayed there.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Gilles: And in the summertime, we'd get to go to up in the mountains where they built highways. I forget the name of the one we was that one summer. Anyway.
Bauman: Remember the name of the family that you were--
Gilles: Yeah, Drieslers. Jack Driesler, and Nellie.
Bauman: And then you said your parents got a divorce around the time you were 16, also. Is that right?
Gilles: Yeah.
Bauman: And so what happened to the family farm when your parents got divorced?
Gilles: The government bought it.
Bauman: And so did that happen when you were in Spokane that the government bought--
Gilles: No.
Bauman: Or later?
Gilles: No. I was at 16, and I was born in 1920. So that was what?
Bauman: That was 1936.
Gilles: Yeah.
Bauman: And the government came in '43. So it would've been later. So did both your parents stay in Richland after they got divorced?
Gilles: No. He went back to mining up in Metaline Falls where his brother lived.
Bauman: And how about your mother?
Gilles: She stayed here and married a guy that he lived out there by our school teacher. But when Hanford bought them out, they moved to Prosser and had a mint farm. And then my mother, she died young. She was 53. She died in '55. She had like emphysema and kidney problems.
Bauman: You mentioned that your grandfather had some land them on the hill above you.
Gilles: Yeah.
Bauman: Now, did he stay there until '43?
Gilles: No. He passed away before we moved up there. So that's how come we moved up there. Some of this is mixed up, I know. But I think it's off. [LAUGHTER] Been a long time ago.
Bauman: Is there anything that I haven't asked you about, any--either events that really stand out in your mind or really special memories or anything like that I haven't asked you about that you'd like to talk about?
Gilles: Not that I can think of at the moment.
Off-camera man: There was a continual--
Gilles: Speak up. I can't--
Off-camera man: --relationship between Rosie who was the youngest girl and--
Gilles: We were raised together.
Off-camera man: --Mary. And they ganged up against Mary and pulled all kind of pranks like—
Gilles: [LAUGHTER]
Off-camera man: --chucking cow patties at her and stuff like that.
Bauman: So a little sibling rivalry?
Gilles: Oh, she wanted to boss everything. [LAUGHTER] When she hears that, she'll--she's still alive. And Rosie wasn't going to have that.
Bauman: And Rosie was the youngest.
Gilles: Yeah. She was feisty. She passed away.
Bauman: And all three of you were in Spokane for a while.
Gilles: Yeah.
Bauman: So what happened--your sisters, when they left Spokane, where did they go?
Gilles: Rosie went with my cousin Tony to Waukegan, Illinois and got a job there where they made pills-- filled pills. I don't know what you call it. But anyway, she got a job there and lived there about five years and came back out and met her husband out at the area. He was a--he drew--what do you call it?
Bauman: Draftsman.
Gilles: Draftsman. And she was a secretary. And they met and married and moved back to Wenatchee where he was from, up there. And lived till they both passed away. Mary is still here with her husband Jim.
Bauman: And then how about yourself? When the war came, did you move out of the area? Where else did you live besides--
Gilles: Oh, I was up in Seattle working at the Swedish hospital. And for a while, I worked at the Bon Marche, downtown Seattle and helped the baker in the morning and cleaned the steam table. They had a little restaurant at that time, the Bon Marche did. I helped the baker make pies and cakes and stuff.
Bauman: And when did you come back to Richland or to the Tri-Cities?
Gilles: 1986. 50 years later.
Bauman: Changed quite a bit probably since you've been last living there. [LAUGHTER]
Gilles: Yeah, I'm lost yet! [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: I was wondering what you would think would be important for people to understand about the community of Richland that you grew up in? To understand sort of what it was like to grow up there.
Gilles: I think it was a great life. And children worked and there wasn't so much vandalism. And of course, there wasn't that many people, but they were good people. I can't really think of anything.
Bauman: Well, thank you very much for coming in here.
Gilles: Yeah.
Bauman: This was terrific. Some really good stories and memories, and I really appreciate you being willing to come and talk with us.
Gilles: There's probably a lot more, but I'm sorry I don't remember it all.
Bauman: Well, what you remembered is great. Thank you very much.
Gilles: Okay. You're welcome.
Bauman: It wasn’t too bad, was it?
Gilles: No, I just wish I knew more.
Bauman: No, well, what you remembered is really—
Man: You did a terrific job, I’m proud of you. You obviously knew a ton of it.
Bauman: Good, good, good. As I said, some of those memories are great—
Camera man: Can I take a picture before you go?
Gilles: Yeah.
Bauman: --because people now don’t know—
Man: They had no electricity, they had no water, I mean you had to pump it out—
Bauman: It’ll go along with your information.
Man: When we put together all the stuff.
Gilles: I hope it’s a good one! I don’t take good pictures anymore.
Man: Oh, well, we all say that.
Gilles: All right.
Man: [LAUGHTER]
Northwest Public Television | Fletcher_Robert
Fletcher: I'm Robert Fletcher. R-O-B-E-R-T F-L-E-T-C-H-E-R.
Bauman: Thank you. And my name is Robert Bauman, and today is August 20th of 2013. And this interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So let's start, if we could, by maybe having you talk about your family and how they came to this area, what brought them here, when they came-- that sort of thing.
Fletcher: My folks--my mother and father--grew up in Wisconsin. They knew each other in high school, and my father came out west, because my mother had relatives in Idaho, and after she graduated she came out here to stay with them and go to business college in Spokane. So my dad was fond of her and he followed her by working his way west. He was an expert milker, and he could always get a job in a dairy. Because when you worked in a dairy milking cows you had to get up at 3:00 in the morning. And so when he'd work his way from Wisconsin to maybe South Dakota, and he would see--in the depot, in the train depot--he would look on the bulletin board for openings for milkers and he always found work. And he could stay there for several weeks till he got enough money to move on. So he wound up in Lewiston, Idaho, I believe it was. And eventually he and my mother got together and they got married in Coeur d'Alene, 1912. And I had a sister born in 1915 in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, Francille. And another sister was born in 1918. In the meantime, during World War I, my dad had been working in a, what's called electrical substation in Coeur d'Alene. And during the war then he went over to Bremerton and worked in the shipyards at Bremerton, wiring electrical wiring on the ships. And my mother eventually followed. My mother became a secretary and could do the office work. But after kids were born, she didn't do much of that. And then after the war was over, Bremerton jobs closed up and he went to the back to work at another electric substation down by Walla Walla, Milton-Freewater. And he had been raised on a farm and he had a desire to be independent. So at that time there were developments in Kennewick and then whole Tri-City area. They were developed because irrigation water was being made available from the rivers. And in Richland, there were private developers and they would get bonds that were backed by just state. The state government wanted to support the development to get started, and that was in late 1918s, '20s. And I'm sure my dad--well, my dad told me that there were brochures that these companies would advertise that, come to Kennewick or Richland, that water was available, the climate was ideal, and there soil was great, and you could make a living on just a few acres if you knew how to farm. So my dad travelled out here. His name was Francis, and C. F. Fletcher was his-- And he bought 20 acres of sagebrush. It was what is now on--what did I say?
Bauman: Spangler?
Fletcher: Spangler Road. He bought 20 acres there out there at the top of the hill. It was all sagebrush. And then later he bought 10 acres down below the hill where there now is a trailer park or mobile homes. He had to arrange to get the teams of horses to pull out the sagebrush and level the ground. My mother and—I believe that she had two children then, Francille, and Medo is my other sister's name, born in 1918. They came out by train from Walla Walla to Kennewick. And Morton Hess met them at-- Morton Hess had a improvised old pickup that dad said that they met them at the depot in Kennewick, and he brought them out to the farmhouse he'd rented. Before that, my dad had a team of horses, and he brought all his possessions in a wagon from Milton-Freewater to Richland that took him three days, he said, to make that trip with the team of horses. And so after he got the house rented, then he sent for my mother, had my mother come out with the children. And they lived in this rented farmhouse about a quarter of a mile away. And there were a few other houses, a few other farms being developed at the same time. So that took a lot of effort. It was 1920, and he told me that he had to put in the irrigation. The company brought water to the edge of your property and then you had to put in the pipe yourself. They were cement pipes, about three feet long, 40 pounds, eight inches in diameter. And he said he put in several hundred feet of this pipe and he thought he'd done a pretty good job. He worked hard. Turned the water on and it just leaked all over, so he had to do it all over again. He was pretty persistent. And then they had a hard time the first few years because he was small, a small person, and a greenhorn. About the only income work you could get then was to work for the irrigation company if you wanted to earn some money. And usually that was when the water was shut off and they had to clean and repair the ditches, open ditches. And he said they wouldn't hire him for a year or two because they thought well, he was a greenhorn. He wouldn't last anyway, and he was kind of small. But he stuck it out. And what happened was they had to put in some new pumps for the irrigation system, and these were larger pumps. They were three-phase motors, and there wasn't anybody immediately around that knew how to fix them, how to hook them up. Excuse me, I get very emotional. So he told them he thought he thought he could do it. He wasn't too sure. He said he could do it. He told them he could do it. He said he, personally, he said he wasn't too sure. But anyway, he went ahead with it and they worked fine. And after that, he said he didn't have any trouble getting a job for the irrigation district. And later on, several years after he got the farm started and everything, he did become manager of the irrigation district. When I talk about the irrigation district, it wasn't a huge one, but there was about 5,000 acres under water. And most of the farms were like ours, 20, 30 acres. And because you had to have a team of horses. You couldn't farm like you can nowadays with everything mechanized like it is. Lots of hand labor. So I was born in 1922, and I believe that they were still in this rented house. But in the meantime, they'd begun work on a basement, which was about half underground and half above ground with concrete side walls. And so it was above the ground enough, it had had fairly good sized windows. And there were just two rooms. The total probably wasn't more than 40 feet long and 20 feet wide. And above that they put a temporary sort of a shelter that was more of a tent house with a wooden roof and canvas with a wooden frame with canvas around it. And that was our bedroom. That was where we had our bedrooms. And it was cold in the winter and hot in the summer, but in the summertime you could roll the canvas up and the evening breeze would cool it off. In the wintertime we had feather beds and my mother would warm up hot irons on the cook stove, and we'd wrap them in towels and put in our beds. And we managed, thought we were living all right. There wasn't any bathroom--there was no indoor bathroom, no indoor water supply. He dug a well down below the hill. Had to do it by hand, about 20 feet deep. And the way to get water up to the house, he had a, we called it a stone boat, it was a sled. He hooked the horses to it, the sled, and to pretty good sized barrels, I suppose 40 gallon barrels or something. He'd fill them with water from the hand pump down below the hill. And he'd circle around it, bring that sled up. That was the water supply for a few days. But of course, it didn't always last long enough. And I can remember my mother carrying two buckets [EMOTIONAL] of water up the hill. Excuse me. It was a hard life for women, especially, carrying water up the hill, and all the other work they had to do then. She was in charge of the garden. Of course, we had our weekly bath by a copper tub on a cook stove. And the tub, and that's where we took our weekly bath, and shared the affair. The two rooms in the house were the kitchen and then where we ate. The other room was the living quarters and where somebody might sleep if they were not feeling well, otherwise we slept upstairs in the tent house. So those were the early days. It took them quite a little while for my dad to get established, and also get some crops down that they could pay for their living expenses. And they had Fresnos then that the team of horses would pull, and they'd scoop the dirt and dump it in the low places and level it out. And farmers worked together on that. I can remember our neighbors--as I said, most people lived within a quarter or a half mile of each other. The Barnetts and the Nickolauses lived close to us and we shared--when it was time to put in some of the crops, the Barnetts would come with their mowing machine and there would be two or three mowing machines and everything going on, and we'd go back and forth and get the job done.
Bauman: So what sorts of crops did you grow then?
Fletcher: We--it was truck farming. We had to raise--we had to have cows. Truck farming was not too reliable. You had to, to fall back on, you had a herd of cow--most all farmers had a herd of cattle which they had milk cows and some beef cows. And you milked the cow--you had your own milking and made your own cheese, but you could sell to the creamery in Kennewick. And we had a milk house where we'd separate the cream from the milk. And we had the Twin City Dairy, I think it was, would come by once a week and collect the milk. We'd keep the milk in a cool water place or something. I don't remember now in details. We didn't have refrigeration. Maybe they came back twice a week. I'm not sure. So we had a herd of cattle, and of course you always had a team of work horses. And I had a pony when I got old enough, about third grade I think. In school I got a pony that had been tamed--he had been one of the wild horses from Horse Heaven Hills. And a bunch of horses had been caught. And we bought it from another fella, and he as a real-- Shorty was his name, and I thought he was the greatest horse, because he could outrun any horse. We had horse races. And a lot of the kids, the only horse they had to ride was a work horse. So I was very fortunate. Anyway, we raised alfalfa for the cattle and the animals. Alfalfa and clover, and of course you had to mow the hay in the summertime and let it dry and put it up in wagons and carry it and take it into the hay stack for the winter. We also raised some acres of corn, of field corn, although we could eat some of the corn when it was quite young, but it was mostly raised for the cattle. And we had an in-ground silo where we had a—we’d bring in, when the corn was mature we'd cut it down with machetes and bring the corn stocks and ears and all and run it through the chopper and made silage out of it. It would ferment in this silo, which was about 20 feet deep and it was dug out near the barnyard. And about I guess 12 feet wide or so. As a kid it looked bigger, probably, than it actually was. But anyway, that was part of the barnyard. And with the silage and the haystack, we kept the cattle going through the winter. Because you had to have enough hay to get through and that took quite a load. And then for field crops, we had a cherry orchard of three or four acres. We raised asparagus three or four acres. And that was a job that--that was a cash crop that game on early in the year in March. And the whole family pitched in. We got up early, almost daybreak to cut the asparagus. Before school you had to have it cut. And then they'd go ahead and you had to pack it in crates to get it ready to market. So we had the asparagus, and then we had, between the trees in the orchard-- one time my dad experimented with peanuts. And I don't think they turned out too well because I don't remember him having them very long. We planted strawberries. We had strawberries that we picked after the asparagus was done, the strawberries would be get ripe. And then the cherries would get ripe in June usually. And so it was staggered out. And then we always had a field of potatoes that you'd dig with a team or horses and a digger. But before you did that, you had to get seed potatoes, and they came whole. The family would--we had a cellar in our house. We'd cut those potatoes into quarters, so there's an eye on each one and that would sprout into a potato plant. And we spent probably a couple weeks, maybe not that long, cutting the seed potatoes into where they could be planted in the field. And I'm trying to think of other crops that we had. I know he tried different ones. We had peas--peas in a pod. And I don't think that paid off too well because I don't remember it lasting too long. Oh, we had some peaches. Not a big orchard, but we had some peaches and apricot trees. Those were sort of under my mother's domain, the garden and the apricots. And she made sure that we all pitched in and helped do the weeding and planting and picking. And all of that had to be picked and canned for the winter. I can remember my mother and sisters working hard--doing a lot of work canning. And the cellar was just full of--they were quite proud to display, in those days, to display their glass jars of fruit, peaches and everything. And took it to the fair to see if they could win some blue ribbons. So we didn't buy too much from the local grocery store, except cooking oil and bananas--fruit that wouldn't grow here. Orange. Those were a treat. Just a few times during the year bananas and oranges we got at Christmastime or your birthday or something. And the store was John Dam's, John Dam Plazas down here, named after the Dam Grocery Store. And there were two men, John Dam and Victor Nelson. They ran the grocery store. And you didn't go looking for your things. You handed them a list. You wanted two gallons of kerosene for your lamps and lanterns that you needed. No electric lights. And as I said, cooking oil, and flour and sugar in bulk. And once in a while you'd get a treat of candy or something such as that. So I think that covers pretty much what the farm was like.
Bauman: The crops that you grew, the cherries, strawberries, did you sell those somewhere?
Fletcher: Yeah. We picked and put them in crates. There was what they called the Big Y--it was in Kennewick. And it stood for Yakima I think. Yakima--there was a branch of Yakima Produce Company. And later on I worked there nailing, making boxes for different kinds of fruit when I was in high school.
Bauman: Mm-hm.
Fletcher: In fact, most kids did extra jobs like that. Excuse me. I've got to take a drink.
Bauman: Sure.
Fletcher: All right.
Bauman: I was going to ask you about your farm. You mentioned some underground silo. Were there any other buildings on your farm? Any warehouse or barn or any of that sort of thing?
Fletcher: Yeah. There was a barn from the cows, of course. And there are pictures in my booklet of some of these chicken houses in the yard, a couple of chicken houses. And a milk house. We had pigs. The pigs consumed a lot of the excess milk. You could--they'd eat most anything you had that was extra. And that was another thing we shared was when it came time to butcher a cow or a calf or a pig for meat, there was a man that was sort of a local veterinarian--I don't think he had a degree--Sam Supplee. If your horse got sick, he knew what--or an animal got his foot caught in the barbed wire, he knew how to treat it. And he'd come by. And he also knew how to butcher animals quite well. And he would come out. And I can remember that we had a hole, a pit dug out where we could put a fire in there, and it was covered with some kind of bars or metal affair. And a vat of water would be put in that over the fire at ground level. And adjacent to that would be a platform where the pig was killed. And after it had been killed and the organs taken out, they'd roll it into that vat of boiling water and then pull it back out again after a few minutes. Then you could scrape the bristles off of the pig. And Sam Supplee then would do the rest of the butchering. They'd hang it up to cure overnight, and then to cut it up. And for his efforts, he'd get part of the meat, or other people that had helped out, and that's the way that they operated. And he was a local person they turned to. There were other veterinarians in Pasco or Kennewick, but he was the one that they mainly relied on. Our horses, we had two work horses, Star and Monte. I can remember them well, and that was one of my jobs when I got home from school, after, was usually to rub them down after a day's work in the field, because they'd be all sweaty. Or on days when I wasn't at school, too, in the summertime, too take them down to the ditch where they'd drink a lot of water. They got real hot and sweaty. And then take the harnesses off. And there's lots of preparation before you could do too much. And so those were some of my jobs was to take in--you got home from school, the first thing to do was take in the firewood for the wood stove or the heating stove. And there were plenty of other things to do around the barnyard, to clean out the stall, or clean out the barn and see that horses were fed and such things as that.
Bauman: Mm-hm.
Fletcher: The thing was, I think that maybe a little different than nowadays, kids knew that they were part of the family and that they were an important part of the family. And that they had jobs to do. And just it was the thing that made families close.
Bauman: Sure.
Fletcher: I wanted to mention, too, that we did have special family friends. I mentioned the Barnetts. And they had kids that were--Dan Barnett was about my age. And my sisters had--they had daughters. Anyway, they had kids about our same age. The Hackneys were another family that lived not very far away and had a farm. And there was Richard Hackney and Dan Barnett and I were always good friends for a long time. And some other kids in that area, the Supplees. So I guess I forgot where I was here. The Hackneys and the Fletcher families and the Carlsons were particularly close. The Carlsons also had children that were our ages. And we would get together for family picnics, and especially Fourth of July we'd make our homemade ice cream and take to Pasco Park where there'd be fireworks. And then in the summertime, we always had a break in the farm work of about four or five days where we could get away from the farm. Usually it was around the Fourth of July or a little bit after. And we would get away because the irrigation ditches were shut down for a few days, about four or five days in order for the ditches to dry out and the weeds could be cleaned out. Because they clogged up with moss and other stuff. So that they would dry out the ditches and we could get away from the farm, as long as we had a neighbor to take care of the animals that we had. And there were enough other people that would do that. We'd trade off. So we would manage to get away for about three or four days and go up to above Yakima, Naches and up into the woods. And we we'd take our tents. One of the, the Hackneys, Art Hackney was a school bus driver, and school bus driver had to have their own buses. They'd own their own buses. So he could do with the bus whatever he wanted during the summertime. So he would be the one that we would load up the bus--he took a few of the seats out that could be taken out-with our camping gear in it, and some of the rest of the people would ride in that bus and others would go in their car. We'd invite some of our friends to go along too. So we'd have quite a group and several tents set up there around the lake up at Naches, Rimrock and up in that area. We had a wonderful time up in there with all our friends, and sitting around the campfire at night and hearing the stories that the older folks had to tell. So that's--
Bauman: Mm-hm. A real sense of community there, yeah.
Fletcher: Yeah. Part of the community. It was a close-knit community for sure. And naturally, you had more close friends with some of the people than you did with others. But as I said in my book that there was no--when you were gone, nobody as I knew, locked their houses or worried about any of that sort of thing.
Bauman: Mm-hm. You mentioned earlier that the house you lived in there was no running water, right?
Fletcher: Right.
Bauman: No electricity. Did you ever have a telephone?
Fletcher: That's another little story. My mother, her relatives lived in Wallace, Idaho, and her uncle, aunt and uncle, her uncle was a master carpenter. And they were very close and would come down to visit us and they were very helpful. When we were, when my folks were just starting out, they were a backbone to help them out as much as they could. They bought eggs from them and they'd ship them. I have some letters that my mother saved of that period in time. You may be interested in some of those. Anyway, they would come down, and after my dad--after he had this basement house built, they was able to save up enough in about 10 years to--Josh Pentabaker was my uncle's granduncle's name--was the main carpenter. And they arranged to buy a load of lumber from a lumber yard or a sawmill up in Bickleton, and they rented a truck or got somebody to haul this load of lumber down. And this Josh Pentabaker and my dad, and I think he got some local help, to get started on building a house above to replace that tent--actually a tent house that we had above the basement house. And then they enlarged it also. They made the basement twice as large to accommodate a more modern house. And that was in 1933 or 1934. And I think it was 1934 before we occupied it. And that included indoor bathroom and running water. In the meantime, before my dad was able to build a dig a new well up on top of the hill, he had to go down 60 feet for groundwater. And so that was quite a project. But he finally got it done. And he got an electric motor then. By that time, see, there was no electricity until during Roosevelt got the REA started, rural electricity or whatever the word is, REA. And you got an electric pump to pump the water up into a tank. And then you had pressure to run the water from the tank into the house--had water pressure. And so we had running water, we had an indoor bathroom, and those were quite appreciated. I think we got electric stove--that was one of the first thing. And that was quite an improvement over a wood stove. Oh, and then there was. And he didn't have enough money, I don't believe—oh, let me tell you, or let me go back just a bit.
Bauman: Sure.
Fletcher: Josh Pentabaker got this house pretty well built, but he had to go back and do his own work back in Wallace, Idaho. And my dad negotiated with a carpenter here, a local carpenter, Vandersant-- he was a Dutchman. And my dad traded a cow, a milk cow for this fella to put in a--he was a master carpenter, too. He put in the kitchen cabinets, is what I'm trying to say, and some of the other cabinets in the bathroom and things like that in exchange for this cow. Now, there may have been other things involved, but that was the main thing. He told about that in later years, and I can vaguely remember. In addition to the basement then, we got a root cellar where we kept most of our things cold. But anyway, before he could get a refrigerator, he cut a hole in the wall of the kitchen and he made a cabinet inside, and hung outside a metal tank or a metal thing that held water. And then he ran down some gunnysack fabric and that wetted enough to evaporate and cool the cabinet inside. It was quite a contraption. But it worked enough that it probably wasn't much cooler than the basement, but anyway, it was up and it was handy. So that was when we--in 1934 I think that we occupied the house that's there now.
Bauman: Did you ever have a telephone during the time you were there?
Fletcher: Yeah, we had a phone. You cranked it. I'm trying to think whether we had it when we lived in the basement, whether we had it there or not. It was a party line, and there would be three or four people on the same line. And you answered according to how many rings. If it was two rings it was yours, or a short and a long or something like that. And of course people listened in on what was going on. We had a crank--it was, you cranked it up in order to make the signal. And there was a main station downtown. We were three miles from the downtown area up on what is now George Washington Way. And what's the name of that street? I can't remember all those--the house was on--
Bauman: Spangler?
Fletcher: Spangler, yeah. Spangler Road. We had to--you kept up--Dad kept up with what was available.
Bauman: Mm-hm. How about news? Was there a newspaper, or how did you learn about--
Fletcher: There was. There was the Benton County Advocate came out once a week. In fact, I think I still have some copies of that somewhere. It was mostly local, of course. Somebody was entertaining a company from Wallace, Idaho or somewhere, or somebody was sick in the hospital. Ed Peddicord was the--as I remember, he was older than myself but younger than my parents, and he became the first postmaster when the Hanford project took over, and he was the postmaster for quite a few years before he retired from the Richmond Post Office.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you about the school that you went to. Where was the school? Any memories you have?
Fletcher: Okay, there were, in the downtown area of Richland, the--I'm trying to relate it to--the grade school went from grade one through grade eight. And it was two story with four classrooms on the bottom and four on the upper level. I think they had electric lights, as I remember. The floors were wood floors, and they treated them with oil before school was started and at Christmas vacation. So when you came back from school--they'd wipe them up, the oil--they'd treat the wood floors. They'd wipe up the oil before classes started, but there would still be all these spots left on it. And so we had to take our shoes off when we came home at night because we would track oil, that oil. That was just for a few weeks or for a week or two. And the stoves had a jacket around. Of course they were--I believe they were coal stove--they that coal. And there would be a jacket around, a metal jacket around the outside to it, a couple of feet from the stove itself so the kids couldn't get up and get burned. But the jacket that surrounded them was probably three or four feet high, metal jacket. And we would—I remember hanging our white gloves things on that metal jacket to dry them out. And that was in the back of the room of course. That was your heat in the classroom. As I said, the bathrooms for boys and girls, most of them separate of course, were outside where you went out to the bathroom. And I don't recall any running water or anything in the—The other, the high school was, it wasn't torn down when the project started, Hanford project, right away. And it was built more--it had indoor bathrooms, was more up-to-date, more than the grade school, four levels. There are pictures of it in my booklet. So that was quite a step up.
Bauman: Do you remember any of the teachers from either school, or do you have any favorite teachers from that time?
Fletcher: Oh yeah. I remember most of my teachers. My first grade teacher, Ms. Randolph, older lady. And she was very good. I can remember putting our mittens up around that canopy around the stove in the wintertime, put your mittens up to dry. And I can't offhand remember, but I can visualize most of my teachers. There was Mrs.--Miss Mallory--she was single then. Taught me in fourth grade. And there was Bill Rader, our eighth grade teacher. Kind of he was a pretty good disciplinarian. If people got out of line, he had a paddle that he didn't mind using. There was--I can't think of the names, really, offhand. And then of course, in the high school I remember more of the teachers that I had. The superintendent, he also taught a few classes in, because the grade school had one class of every grade level. I started in the first grade, I was five years old, and I became six in November. And the kids that I started with, about half of the 20--I think there were 20 in my graduating class--about half of them were the ones I started in first grade with. That's how permanent the group was. There was a lot of permanency. And we moved onto this--where each grade you had the same ones, you knew the people. There would be two or three changes each year. And like I said, of those 20 or so that started, probably about half of those in my high school class were the ones I started first grade with. And so we knew each other very well. And the others I'd known quite well, too. My wife, she came later and joined when she was in about seventh or eighth grade I think, and she graduated two--I graduated in 1940 and she graduated in 1942. And in my graduating class there was 20, and hers there was only 12. I don't know why particularly. The high school, it was in freshman year you usually took Typing and it pretty well diversified. History classes, English classes. I can remember the teachers, Mrs. Deighton and Mrs. Carmichael. She's the one that got very emotional when the kids acted up and would carry on. Mr. Carmichael was the superintendent, and Mr. Whitehead, rather. We had basketball teams. We played against--Kennewick and Pasco were out of our league. They were from too big a town. So we played Benton City. I played--even though I'm pretty short, I was on the basketball team. We didn't have a football team. We weren't big enough. [LAUGHTER] The high school was only--with four classes, probably only 80 students altogether. And so I was on the basketball team the last couple years anyway. And we would go up to--Hanford was about 20 miles upriver, and White Bluffs. They were a comparative size. And to Benton City, and also to Finley. We used to call it Riverview then. It was a comparative size to what we were in Richland at that time. So we had a group that we played softball league and basketball. No football that I can remember. We weren't big enough to be in that.
Bauman: And did you take a school bus to get to and from school then, or how did you--
Fletcher: Yes. We had--as I said, Art Hackney had a school bus that they owned their own school bus. They had a contract with the district. And there's a picture of myself and my two sisters in that booklet I gave you, waiting for the bus and there's a picture of the bus. It was kind of a--it looks kind of obsolete now, but that was the way they did things then.
Bauman: So you graduated high school in 1940.
Fletcher: 1940. Then I went off to Cheney for a year. And decided I wanted to--didn't want to continue there. I wanted to--I thought I wanted to be an engineer, but I didn't have really the background from the school. At least I could blame it on that. So I transferred to Pullman in my sophomore year. And during beginning of my junior year, I was taken in--I was in the ROTC and we signed up for deferment or whatever you call it, but they said we could finish out the year we were in during my sophomore year. No, it must have been my junior year. That’s the third year. But it turned out that they couldn't—they took us, they drafted us and I think it was about January of my junior year in Pullman, from WSU. And at that time I was a member of Sigma Chi. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So was that January of 1943 then?
Fletcher: Yeah, it was.
Bauman: At some point that year, of course the Federal government started constructing the Hanford site.
Fletcher: Right. I came home before--they allowed us, when they called up the ROTC, fellas in Pullman, they gave us a couple weeks to come home and see our folks. So I came home, it must have been the end of January of 1943. And saw my folks, and said goodbye to my sweetheart, Betty Kinsey was her name--became my wife. And after I went back then, I went back to Pullman, and they took us shortly by train from Pullman over to Fort Lewis. And it was an old, real old train that I mention in my booklet that looked like it was one from the pioneer days. There was a--I don't need to go into all the detail, but there was a coal-burning stove in the end of this railway car for heat, and we went over there in the first of February to Fort Lewis. We were not in the army until they took us over there and were forced in it at Fort Lewis. And shortly after that, I got word from my folks that the word had come out that Hanford and White Bluffs and even Richland, it was all going to be taken over by the government for this Hanford project. And that was in, I believe they got word in late February. And the people up at Hanford, which is, of course, is where the actual reactors were, were notified and given about 30 days to evacuate. And my folks, of course, we lived--my dad was the manager of the irrigation district at that time, of the Richland irrigation district. And they had more time because that was where the workers were going to live. But in the meantime they built Camp Hanford out here where we are sitting about right now, and maybe just a little further north. And you probably have the history of Camp Hanford and all that. But anyway, they were allowed to stay I think about six months, whereas the others further up where the reactors were being built, they had to get out quick. And so my folks looked around. They bought a place. My dad, by that time, they offered some of the people work. Most of them were farmers and they wanted to continue farming. And that was my dad. He, by that time, the kids were gone. I was the youngest. The other two, my sisters, were married and off and living on their own. So he decided he'd go back to farming, and they offered him a job to see to some of the irrigation, the way it was continued. But he decided he didn't want to do that. And a number of people did take jobs here for temporary. So where was I now? [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So your family had six months you said after they were--
Fletcher: Yeah, about six months. They found a place in Kennewick then, and my dad then bought some place and he put in a fruit orchard over on what became Blossom Hill in Kennewick. And we took over the old house. When I got out of the Army--I told you about that in my booklet here, that we took over their house, the two-story house that was on what's now where Denny's is at the corner of Kennewick Avenue and the Umatilla Highway.
Bauman: Do you know how much money your parents were given for their--
Fletcher: In those days, at that time, the government was not as benevolent in their takeover of land. And they did not really offer what the land was worth. So my folks, my dad was one of the leaders of the group that took them to court over the offer. And this lingered on for quite a while, because my dad was one of the--as a manager of the irrigation district. And John Dam that the park is named after, and two or three others, they figured that they were being offered what the land had sold for in Depression days, which had just been more or less begun to get over in 1943. And my folks and others were beginning to feel established, that here they'd worked most of their working lives for 12, 15 years getting to where they felt like they were established and could make a good living. And now they were being offered this, where they had to leave relatively quickly. And not being offered enough to buy something comparable in other areas, where they found they had to pay more than what they had been offered. So this went to court and drug on for a while. They did get a settlement that my dad was involved in. But it took quite a while and it still did not--they were not too happy about it. I'll put it that way. But anyway, they got over it.
Bauman: And so you heard about this happening when you were at Fort Lewis?
Fletcher: Yeah, I was still in the service. I was sent from there to Camp Roberts for infantry training. And I was there until June. See, this happened--I was taken in up in February I guess it was, and we had 13 weeks, almost four months, I think it was, of infantry training there in Camp Roberts in the desert in California. And then I was sent back to New York City. I had an opportunity--then they took some people to specialized training or a specialized training program called ASTP and I was able to get into that because of my college background and I passed some tests, I guess, and so forth. And so I was back there at the time and at Camp Roberts in California at the time that all this took place in Richland, and their dislocation and--
Bauman: Do you remember what you thought at the time when you found out?
Fletcher: [LAUGHTER] What I thought about that? About all this happening you mean?
Bauman: Yeah.
Fletcher: Well, so much was happening, you didn't have time to think too much about it. Because I was involved in the training and we were kept busy night and day pretty much, and then the infantry training camp and being back there. But I heard about it. They kept me up on it, and there wasn't much you could do about it, and neither could they, because that was it. You could appeal, but that was a long process, the appeal was. So they just took a time to get over it. They got over it eventually.
Bauman: Are there any events or things from your childhood growing up in Richland that sort of stand out? Special memories that we haven't talked about yet?
Fletcher: Probably quite a few things. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Fletcher: A number of things I mention in his booklet that I gave you. One thing I particularly remember as a kid was I had this pony, and my neighbor kids had ponies too, or else work horses that did the job. And so we could roam around quite a bit. We had a lot of freedom. We all had rifles. We went out hunting. And the jackrabbits were quite numerous, I remember. Going just about a mile from where we are now, there was a sand hill over here off of Stevens Drive, which we called Pole Line Drive. Those days there was a sand hill over there. And there was an irrigation ditch that ran along this sand hill. And we'd go in and the boys--take our clothes off and we'd swim in this irrigation canal. There was a flume there, too, and that was kind of an interesting thing to go through. And we would take our rifles, and there was one farm that was close to this sand hill called--I'm trying to remember the name now, Sam's. Anyway, he had a--his farm was right adjacent to the open sagebrush land and sand hill. And if you were there in the evening--he had an alfalfa field right along the edge of this sort of a desert area. At certain times in the dusk, there'd be whole bunches of jackrabbits would come in. I remember we would go there with our rifles, and my friends, Dan Barnett and Richard Hackney and I, and we'd wait for dusk. And you could shoot these rabbits. And of course Mr. Sandberg I think his name- yeah, Sandberg was his name, he welcomed anybody that would get rid of the jackrabbits for him because they were destroying his alfalfa field. And so we'd shoot a bunch of jackrabbits. And they did have jackrabbit drives once in a while, and they had pictures of them. I might have some in some of my folks' stuff. But anyway, we had ponies or horses and we'd go out, and sometimes we'd go up the river from here, Dan Barnett and Richard Hackney and I. And as I said, I had a pony that had been caught on the open range and he could outrun practically any horse around. We would go up there and we'd camp out for a day and we would find some old prospectors up there. They would be panning for gold. And I don’t think, from the looks of them that they found very much, but they were interesting characters that'd tell you stories about their life. And we kind of envied them a little bit, but nobody wanted to do what they were doing. Anyway, then we would go up there and we'd camp overnight. Other times, we would go up there--I said that my folks and the Barnetts and the Hackneys had-- we had a boom in the river. We'd catch driftwood coming down for our--did I tell you about this before?
Bauman: No.
Fletcher: No, okay. If I ramble, tell me. We'd go up, my folks or my dad and the other men, we would have wagons--we'd hook the work horses to the wagons. And we'd take enough food to last a couple days. And us boys would go along, and some other boys were old enough to help, and some of us were too young to do much, but to tag along and have a good time. And we'd go up there and we'd set up a camp, and the men would have a log boom up there. They'd attach logs to each other and run them out into the water. And when the water would rise in the spring, it would lift these drift logs from upstream, clear up around where Grand Cooley is now, before Grand Cooley was built and any other dams. And these drift logs would drift down, if you had a log boom out you'd catch them, as the water would--the high water from the snow melt. And if your log boom was out far enough, you'd get a whole bunch of logs in there and that would be--which then we'd go up and the men would take their team of horses and use their chains to pull these logs out of the water that had been caught in the log boom. And then they'd have to cut them up enough to put on their wagons to haul them down home. And this would take two or three days to do. In the meantime, us kids, the younger ones, we'd have a great time with shooting rabbits and doing some fishing off what was left of the log boom. And fixing our hot dogs over the campfire. It was quite an experience. And we all wanted to go. I think the girls envied us. They couldn't go. I don't remember any of the women going. But when they got the wagons loaded, they had them all--I remember they had sideboards on them, so that they would be loaded up to the maximum. And of course the roads weren't too good. The horses would be really worn out by the time we got these loads down to where we lived. And we'd have to wash them off, rinsing the horses off with a hose because they'd be all that, and it would be quite late in the evening before we made it home. So that was quite a big event in our lives, and especially for the young fellas like us, we thought that was great. I'm sure the men folks were glad it was over. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Fletcher: So we had quite a few trips where we went out. I had a friend, Scotty who lived out in Yakima River, and I would go over--he was the one that I think I told you about the time that--maybe it was in my booklet. About the time that our well--the well that we dug up on the top of the hill, the 60 foot well, it had been real cold that winter, and usually the well didn't freeze, but it froze that winter. And so Scotty, my friend, he was the adventurer more so than I was. He said, oh, I can go take a blowtorch down there and thaw it out. Well, he did. My dad led him down this well. The well was hand dug and it was only about so big around. And there were iron steps put in the cement as they went down. As I said, it was 60 feet deep. Of course the water stood up in it about 20 feet or so. It would fluctuate. So Scotty went down with a blowtorch to thaw this pipe out because it had frozen the pump. And he got down there and I guess the confines of the gas or something, it exploded, and he was lucky he wasn't killed. He made it. Somehow it went upward rather than downward and he was able to get out. But his face was black and his eyebrows were singed off. And he was quite a mess from that occasion, but he didn't have to be hospitalized. They put cream on his face and I don't remember whether they got the pipe thawed out or not. I don't think so. I think it took a few days before it got the water up.
Bauman: So if someone was to ask you what it was like to grow up in a community like Richland, how would you respond to that? What would you say?
Fletcher: It was an interesting place to grow up because you were involved in all the activities. You were important as a member of the family. There were chores to do. You also had interesting experiences. You had time to play with your neighbors and develop your own activities and sports to a great extent. I guess probably I look back on it more with rose-colored glasses than it actually was, because I'm sure it was harder for the adults, too. Because it was kind of touch and go for them many times. There was no WPA or relief organizations. People helped their neighbors out when they needed it. I can remember a family that lived not too far from us. The man, the husband died, and they had some fairly young children, the Fraziers. And the wife was left with these--I forgot how young they were--two or three youngsters, and their small farm. And the people of the community just helped out. There was no other organization that they knew of. And later, Bruce Frasier who was in that family, who was about my age. He wasn't a classmate, but he told me years later at the reunions we used to have, he said, did you know-- [EMOTIONAL] did you know how much help your mom and dad did--I'm sorry.
Bauman: It's all right.
Fletcher: How much help your mom and dad gave my folks. And I said I had no idea. He told me that my dad and mother, and others--he said it wasn't just them. But they're the ones that made it possible for him to survive. And this, they didn't talk about it at all. Excuse me, cut it off a minute? Wipe my eyes here. I'm glad to get this opportunity. Don't take me wrong.
Bauman: That’s all right.
Fletcher: I am glad to get the opportunity to talk. There's not too many people who want to listen to it.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Fletcher: Can I have a little drink?
Bauman: Sure. I think we're just about finished anyway. I think we've covered a lot of the things that I wanted to cover.
Fletcher: All right.
Bauman: So I guess is there anything else that we haven't covered that would be important to talk about?
Fletcher: I think we've covered everything pretty well. I've probably gone side-tracked a lot. And it was a role in that community, as I said, that they did help each other out in many ways. And that they're very independent, too. And there aren't too many of us left. We still get to have a reunion. We did-- it's getting down to where there aren't very many of us left. Last year we met at the Old Country Buffet and I had a good time. I think there may have been about 20 of us. But about half of them were descendants, children that brought their parents, who needed help to get there.
Bauman: Oh, okay. So this is a reunion of people from Richland?
Fletcher: The old time Richland, yeah, they lived in old time Richland. There's another-- the Deranleau, Ray Deranleau, he was quite a storyteller, he still lives here, and he was just a year or two younger than myself. And Alice Perkins is his wife, Alice Perkins-Deranleau. And I kind of think he'd be in the phone book. If not—
Bauman: Yeah.
Fletcher: And Price Colley. George Colley his name was, but there's a Colley family that he was there last year, and he's quite a storyteller.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] About what time of year do you usually get together?
Fletcher: Usually in the middle of September.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Fletcher: Middle to late September. Edith--I used to be the one that was in charge of getting the literature out and the reunions set up. Anyway, Edith Wiedle-Hansen, H-A-N-S-E-N, is the one that is doing it now. She was in my wife's class two or three years behind me in graduating from high school. And she's still here. I could maybe give you some more information on that later, if you wanted to call me.
Bauman: Yeah.
Fletcher: I don't know, if you have trouble.
Bauman: I just want to thank you very much for coming in today and being willing--
Fletcher: I enjoyed it.
Bauman: --to have me asking questions.
Fletcher: Okay. I hope that some of it’s good use.
Bauman: You've been very helpful. Thank you very much.
Northwest Public Television | Kleinknecht_Emma
Robert Bauman: I'm conducting an oral history interview with Emma Larson Kleinknecht if I have the name right, correct?
Emma Kleinknecht: Right.
Bauman: And the spelling is K-L-E-I-N-K-N-E-C-H-T?
Kleinknecht: Correct.
Bauman: Excellent All right. Make sure we have the spelling right.
Kleinknecht: Yep.
Bauman: And today's date is June 12, 2013 and we're conducting the interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. And I'll be talking with Ms. Kleinknecht about her family's history, her experiences growing up in Richland, in that community. So let's just start, if I could, by asking you about your family. How, and why, and when did they come to this area? What brought them here, and any information about your family and why they came here would be great.
Kleinknecht: Well, my dad came from Denmark. And he went up to Alaska and worked in the mines. And then he came down to Seattle, and after a while, he got interested in working with the cattle. So somehow or another he came over to Richland and met my mother over there, and she was single. And then he married her, and I was born 1918.
Bauman: And your mother, was your mother born and raised in Richland or--
Kleinknecht: No. She was born and raised on the coast. But she had relatives that lived over that way.
Bauman: Do you know when your parents married?
Kleinknecht: Oh, a couple years before I was born.
Bauman: And how about any siblings? Are there any brothers or sisters?
Kleinknecht: Oh yes. There were six, three girls and three boys. And then when I was eight years old, my dad came in the house, he says, "Emma, you've got to learn to milk cows." Because the girls were first, you know. So I went out and helped milk cows, or learned how. And from then on, I milked cows. But all of us had to go out and pitch hay to make hay for the cattle, and we put it on a big haystack. And there's a picture of that here.
Bauman: So you had a place with lots of cattle? Do you have any idea how many cattle?
Kleinknecht: Yeah, we had eight cows, two horses. Because in them days, you never had tractors, so you had to have horses, to do all the outdoor work like that.
Bauman: And did you grow any crops?
Kleinknecht: Oh yes! We raised everything by hand. We had corn, and tomatoes, and you name it. All the vegetables there were.
Bauman: And were those primarily for your family?
Kleinknecht: Yeah. And then the cream, we separated and sent it down to Kennewick to the creamery where they made butter. And, course you got paid for it. And, let's see, what else--
Bauman: How big was the place that you had--
Kleinknecht: I think we had about 20 acres. We had a lot of asparagus, and us kids had to cut asparagus before the school bus came, or we didn't get to go to school. But we went to an old country school, where was one teacher, five grades. There's a picture of me in one of them pictures.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] And was this in Richland or?
Kleinknecht: Old Richland, up north.
Bauman: Okay.
Kleinknecht: We never got downtown for a while. It was really something.
Bauman: So you said five grades and--
Kleinknecht: Five grades and one teacher.
Bauman: And do you have any idea of around how many students that would've been?
Kleinknecht: I used to know, but I forgot. [LAUGHTER] That was back when.
Bauman: Yeah. And how long did you go to school there, then?
Kleinknecht: I think I was in the fifth grade and then, about that time, we had a school bus that would take us downtown to the old schools. I called them old, because they're so different [LAUGHTER] now.
Bauman: You have a photo you wanted me to show?
Kleinknecht: Oh, yeah. This is the country school.
Bauman: Okay, great. So it looks like there's maybe, what, 20 or 30?
Kleinknecht: Could be.
Bauman: Is there something like that?
Kleinknecht: It could be.
Bauman: 1925?
Kleinknecht: That's about right. I wrote it down there.
Bauman: Yeah, 1925. Fruitvale School.
Kleinknecht: And this school was used for a church, and a dance hall, and a grange hall. Because, see, all the farmers were grangers. So that was in the good old days. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] And so--that's a great photo--After that, after, say, fifth grade, where did you go to school?
Kleinknecht: Downtown.
Bauman: Okay.
Kleinknecht: There was a grade school and a high school down there.
Bauman: I think you sent us some photos of you playing basketball, maybe?
Kleinknecht: Oh yeah! That was downtown. That was a different kind of basketball. I was a side center. I'm the second one there. The tallest girl was the center, and then I was a side center because I was shortest. Then there were two guards, and two forwards.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Kleinknecht: And now they play just like the boys do. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Yeah, it says champion basketball.
Kleinknecht: Yeah, that one is.
Bauman: Yeah, 1935, '36. That's great. Do you remember how long you played? Did you play throughout high school then?
Kleinknecht: Oh yeah. That's what this is.
Bauman: Do you remember if there were other sports for girls to play in high school besides basketball?
Kleinknecht: That's all we played, anyway.
Bauman: So I assume the schools in downtown Richland were a little bigger?
Kleinknecht: Oh, yeah. There were five grades in one building. Then we went over to the high school. And right by the high school was a Methodist Church and a Seven Day Adventist. Catholics all had to go downtown because there were no church. And so my dad found some building, and had to make a Lutheran church, because all Scandinavians were Lutherans. And that's where he came from. So we all became Lutherans.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] So you talked about that early school building, in Fruitvale, being used as a school building, a church, a grange. I was wondering about other social activities, or community activities that you might remember growing up. Were there Fourth of July celebrations, or community picnics or any of those sorts of things?
Kleinknecht: Oh, I've kind of forgot, but I think that it could've been used for anything. But those other things were always the big things.
Bauman: Yeah.
Kleinknecht: Them were the days. And I had to run from our house, across the sagebrush to the school. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] So what sorts of things growing up did you do for fun? Did you do fishing, or did you go swimming in the river, or any of those sorts of things?
Kleinknecht: Well, my dad, when we were little, would take us down at the river and get us swimming to get cleaned up, so we could go to church. [LAUGHTER] See, we weren't too far from that Columbia River where we used to live. But that was in the summertime. [LAUGHTER] So we were tickled to death to get to go down there and swim.
Bauman: Did the river ever freeze over when you were--
Kleinknecht: Not when we went down there. This was only in the summer.
Bauman: Yeah, sure. So the place where you grew up, in addition into a house, did you have a barn? Was there other buildings like an outhouse, anything like that?
Kleinknecht: Oh yeah. We had outdoor toilets. Pumped our water out of wells, and when we milked the cow we had a separator, and had to separate the milk and get the cream. Yep, we had all them old things. Had to pump water for washing clothes, taking baths, and put water in big tea kettles so you could wash dishes. It was a different world then.
Bauman: Did you have electricity at all?
Kleinknecht: No. Not for years.
Bauman: How long did you live there in that place?
Kleinknecht: Gosh, I don't remember. It seems like my dad passed away, and my mom sold our house. And we moved over next to that school house. There was an old building there. And she still kept a few cows, and just had a garden, and like an orchard out in the fields. So after that, we were catching school buses.
Bauman: When you were growing up, what might a typical day have been like for you as a young girl?
Kleinknecht: The what?
Bauman: What might a typical day have been for you as a young girl--
Kleinknecht: Oh.
Bauman: The things you might have done on a typical day as a young girl, growing up.
Kleinknecht: Yeah. Well, I joined the 4H group. For one thing, and we really had a lot of fun. Learned how to sew, and cook, that's what 4Hs were in them days. I don't know if they still have them or not.
Bauman: I believe they do, yeah.
Kleinknecht: Do they? Yeah, those were the days. Then there's times we'd, a few of us neighbor kids, get together and walk down the river, and walk back up, and swing on swings. That was about the size of it.
Bauman: I wonder if you remember anything--the Great Depression came along in 1929 or so, and I wonder if you remember, with the Depression, anything specific that had impacted your family, or the community in any way?
Kleinknecht: No. I think because we raised everything we ate, my mom canned everything. And everything we had was from the ground. And none of us suffered from it. Because we had our own milk and those kind of things. Nope, them were the days.
Bauman: And so where were you living in 1943 during World War II, when the federal government came and created the Hanford site? Were you still--
Kleinknecht: Oh, I was married then. I got married in '38.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Kleinknecht: That was a bad thing. The government gave everybody a check. They didn't even know this was coming. And told them to get out, take everything you got and leave. So my mom went to Grandview. Some of them went up there, some went to Prosser, and a couple of them stayed there. But they all had to leave town and they went to Kennewick.
Bauman: So your mother was still living on the same place at that time and she left and to Grandview?
Kleinknecht: Yeah.
Bauman: Were any of your younger siblings still living with her, or--
Kleinknecht: Yeah, I think they were, because I was the oldest one.
Bauman: And so you said you got married in 1938?
Kleinknecht: '38, yeah.
Bauman: And who was your husband? How did you meet?
Kleinknecht: Umm, he was a friend of my sister's boyfriend. [LAUGHTER] That's how I met him. In fact, his folks they didn't live too far from where we built a big house and lived in there, on Westhood Avenue.
Bauman: So you said that you moved to Kennewick, right?
Kleinknecht: Yeah.
Bauman: What was Kennewick like in 1938--
Kleinknecht: It was real small. Just a small town, and it was just groceries and a couple drugstores. It's not pool halls like you go down there now. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] And what did your husband do?
Kleinknecht: He was just a--oh, he was a farmer but afterwards, he worked out in Hanford in the fire department.
Bauman: Do you know how long he was there or worked at the fire department?
Kleinknecht: I'm trying to think. They let him go, and then he got sick and passed away. It was probably something from out in that area. But that's been several years ago.
Bauman: Now, you mentioned going back to talking about the place where you grew up, that you had a well for water--
Kleinknecht: Yeah, we pumped our water out of the well. For even the cows and the horses. And we had to bring the horses up to the pump, because that's okay. But he carried the water in a big wheelbarrow, in buckets, to put in a barrel down for the cows. Because he wasn't about to, I'm sure, drag them up there. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: And did you have irrigation at all?
Kleinknecht: Oh yes! Oh, yes, not for the house, but for the fields. Oh yeah, we had K.I.D., just like they got now.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Were there any other photos, Gary, that you wanted to talk about, or any other--
Gary: Well sure. We've got her graduating class. Just--I'll hold it.
Kleinknecht: Okay.
Bauman: What year is-- You said you graduated high school in what year is that?
Kleinknecht: '38, or '36.
Bauman: 1936. Graduating class of how many is that?
Kleinknecht: 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15.
Bauman: Graduating class of 15.
Kleinknecht: Yeah.
Bauman: Was that Columbia high school?
Kleinknecht: No. Richland.
Bauman: The old Richland, right, sure. Richland, High. Then it became Columbia, the Columbia High, you're right.
Kleinknecht: Yep. Two, four, five boys, and the rest are girls.
[LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Did you stay in contact with a lot of your high school friends after?
Kleinknecht: Oh after I graduated and got married we all kind of--then several years ago we had picnic lunches together, but that's been a while back. But not many of them are here anymore.
Bauman: Do you remember any of your teachers from the high school?
Kleinknecht: Oh, yeah. That basketball player, oh that guy there. In the middle, up there, Mr. Carmichael.
Bauman: Oh, is that Mr. Carmichael?
Kleinknecht: Yeah.
Bauman: Isn't that who the school was named after?
Kleinknecht: Mm-hm.
Bauman: Was he a principal?
Kleinknecht: Yep. He was a good guy. There was a grade school and a high school in downtown Richland. And that was-- I can't see the—193-what?
Gary: Five.
Kleinknecht: Oh.
Bauman: Yeah. Both are in 1935. Do you know where in Richland that would have been?
Kleinknecht: Yeah. You know where John Dam's grocery store used to be?
Bauman: No, is it--
Kleinknecht: On Kennewick Avenue.
Gary: [INAUDIBLE]
Bauman: Yeah.
Kleinknecht: You don't know either, huh?
Bauman: That's all right.
Kleinknecht: I know where to pick them out.
Gary: I know where the Amon Building is.
Kleinknecht: Well, just back there a ways.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Kleinknecht: But see, that's all that was around those buildings, just little--
Bauman: Mm-hm. Yeah, not a whole lot of other buildings there.
Kleinknecht: No. I think there's a toilet in the back out there.
Gary: Yeah, I would hope so.
Bauman: Are there any things that you remember growing up or that really stand out to you that--memories you have, or things that you think would be really important for people to know about this place where you grew up that we haven't talked about yet?
Kleinknecht: Well, they would never have realized how we made our living off the ground. Kids nowadays won't do that. Okay, here is us kids driving the horses. Because we had no tractors.
Bauman: And that's you and a couple of your siblings?
Kleinknecht: Yep, a couple boys. Yep. That's old Prince and Henry. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: And did you have the horses then the whole time you were growing up? You never got tractors?
Kleinknecht: Well, when my dad was alive, we never had a tractor. And there's that one with the hay. Okay, that's how—Show them. Show them how the haystacks were.
Bauman: Yeah.
Gary: Can you talk about it?
Kleinknecht: Yeah. I know us kids would get the hay in big stacks. Then we'd throw it up on this wagon. And then tie--they had a rope here and here, and then time we got down to the haystack, they'd tie that rope up above in there, and then pull it over. Roll it, that's how they got the hay in a big stack.
Bauman: Sounds like a lot of work.
Kleinknecht: It was. In the winter time, they'd take a great big canvas and cover the top of the hay, so it wouldn't get wet and ruined. That's how they fed the cattle and the horse.
Bauman: I was going to ask you about any neighbors. Who were your closest neighbors, or did you have any really good friends when you were growing up that you remember?
Kleinknecht: Oh, yeah. These are all--were my neighbors when I grew up. First grade.
Bauman: Oh. Who are they?
Gary: Tell them about them.
Kleinknecht: Oh, okay. That's, the Kaas boy, I can't think of his name right now. He lived right down a ways.
Bauman: Is that Gordon?
Kleinknecht: No.
Bauman: It's at the bottom, Mom.
Kleinknecht: Oh, did I write it there? Oh, Ed Kaas, yeah.
Bauman: Okay.
Kleinknecht: And then Phillip Hempcry, right there and me, oh, and Carol Hansen. He's the little guy. But they're no relation. Yep. They all live not too far apart.
Bauman: Right. In fact, I just talked to Gordon Kaas this morning.
Kleinknecht: Oh did you?
Bauman: Yeah.
Kleinknecht: See, and then there was also another one. Started with an F. Oh, phooey. He lived down the Pole Line Road. There was an irrigation canal between the school and the other families' farms.
Bauman: And so you lived close enough to those families where you could--
Kleinknecht: We played all the time, yeah.
Bauman: That's fun.
Kleinknecht: Gee, I can't think of that name, and I know it like I do even mine. I'll think of it.
Bauman: That's all right.
Kleinknecht: [LAUGHTER] Oh! Yeah, my dad wanted to be baker. This is in Denmark. And his dad didn't want him to be a baker, so he and his cousin jumped something and come to the United States from Denmark. And that's how come he met my mom and that's how come I'm here.
Bauman: So, did he come to the United States-- do you know why the United States, was it just for opportunity?
Kleinknecht: Well, to get a good job. He wanted to maybe get to be a baker here. But he and his cousin, they went to Alaska. Then they come to Seattle and worked on a farm. And that's what got him interested.
Bauman: That's interesting because Gordon Kaas said that--I was just talking to him this morning--his father is from Denmark.
Kleinknecht: Oh.
Bauman: Yeah. So two families from Denmark living very close. [LAUGHTER]
Kleinknecht: Well, I'll be darned! What was his name?
Bauman: Kaas. His first name was--well, Gordon Kaas was the man I talked to this morning, but I think you're talking about his older brother--
Kleinknecht: Harold. I'll be darned.
Bauman: Yeah, their father was from Denmark. Initially, they went to Oregon somewhere--
Kleinknecht: Yeah.
Bauman: So, I’m trying to think of any--I guess one other question to ask you is, So you were married in '38 and moved to Kennewick, and I was just gonna ask you about when--do you remember finding out about, for instance, about World War II? The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, do you remember any of that? Any memories about hearing about that?
Kleinknecht: Pearl Harbor. I knew about it, and forgot about it. Who do I know about it?
Gary: It's what started World War II.
Kleinknecht: Pearl Harbor?
Bauman: That's all right. Another question, Did you have--How did you get news? Was there a newspaper or anything?
Kleinknecht: Oh, yeah. Newspaper. When we were married, we had a little radio for a while, and then we got a TV.
Bauman: But when you were growing up, it was a newspaper?
Kleinknecht: Always. And a radio. Oh when I grew up, you never had televisions. I don't think anybody did.
Gary: Do you wanna tell them about that?
Kleinknecht: Oh. Well, this is my mother, and sisters and brothers, and there's the horse. [LAUGHTER] See, that's how we heated up our house, with wood.
Bauman: Yeah, sure, right.
Kleinknecht: Everybody did.
Bauman: What was the horse's name again?
Kleinknecht: Prince, one was Prince and one was Henry. I think that was probably Henry, because Prince was a little fussier. And I don't think they would carry him out.
Bauman: So the horses were obviously very important.
Kleinknecht: Oh, yes.
Bauman: For doing a lot of the work on your place.
Kleinknecht: Yep. Because we never had tractors. In fact, you couldn't afford to buy one if you did, if you would want one. Nope. Them were the days. Oh, yes, and here's my momma and my papa, and my two sisters. One of them's me.
Bauman: You're the oldest?
Kleinknecht: Second.
Bauman: Oh, you're the second? Okay. That's a great photo.
Kleinknecht: Yeah, my dad--
Bauman: So that would've been some time in the 1920s, huh?
Gary: Early.
Kleinknecht: Yeah. He's from Denmark. And he--
Bauman: Do you know where-- You said she was living in Richland, right?
Kleinknecht: Yeah.
Bauman: Do you know where her family came from?
Kleinknecht: Oh, like, over on the coast. I was trying to think of the little name. Yelm.
Bauman: Oh, Yelm, okay.
Kleinknecht: Yeah.
Bauman: Is that what you said, she had relatives here and that's why--
Kleinknecht: That's why she came over. I think she had a sister or an aunt or something. Nope, but I'll never forget our school days.
Gary: We're getting kinda low on them.
Bauman: That's Okay.
Gary: Do you wanna talk about--well, you've seen--No, that's the little kids.
Kleinknecht: Oh, the grade school.
Gary: Let me hold it, Mom.
Kleinknecht: Just a minute, I gotta look at them. Oh, this is everybody in that school.
Gary: That's your first grade.
Kleinknecht: Yeah. 1925. That's my first grade, yeah, but that's the five grades. They all dressed alike in them days.
[LAUGHING]
Kleinknecht: We were all poor people. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So if someone is to you, like, what sort of place Richland was like to grow up in, what would you--how would you describe it? What would you say to them?
Kleinknecht: In them days?
Bauman: Yeah. When you were growing up.
Kleinknecht: Well, I'd been in that place for so long. I don't know. Because there was an irrigation ditch from the school to—you cross the bridge, then we'd go home. We used to stop and go swimming. Oh, I kinda liked where I lived. And then, of course, after I got married my mom went to Grandview. But that wasn't my cup of tea. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Did your brothers and sisters, stay in the area?
Kleinknecht: I'm trying to think.
Bauman: Or did they move elsewhere?
Kleinknecht: I think they moved elsewhere. I know one went down to Oregon, and the other went up north further. And then my oldest brother was a heavy smoker. And he had to go pass away. I don't know where he ever got money to buy cigarettes, but he did.
Bauman: Anything else about growing up here in Richland that you want to make sure we know about, or?
Kleinknecht: Well, I just like the town, Old Richland. And then where there is a yellow building, like before you go down to the park, brick building, that used to be a two story building. And now it's only one. There was a John Dam store, and a Murray Hardware, and--oh, what do you call them? It'll come to me.
Bauman: That's all right.
Kleinknecht: Name some names, quick.
Gary: Describe, what? Describe it.
Kleinknecht: The store.
Gary: Yeah, describe it. What did they do there?
Kleinknecht: Oh, like the shave and cut your hair.
Gary: Oh--
Kleinknecht: Barbershop.
Bauman: Barbershop? Yeah. Was there a movie theater down at all?
Kleinknecht: Not in Richland.
Bauman: No?
Kleinknecht: You had to come to Kennewick to go to a movie. [LAUGHTER] And they were cheap, ten cents. Cheap now, I don't know if it was cheap then. [LAUGHTER] My dad did take us kids to a movie once for a dime but it had to be a special.
Bauman: Right, sure. Yeah.
Kleinknecht: No, them old days. Right now they're good old days.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] All right, well--
Gary: Would you like me to prompt her?
Bauman: Sure, if there's something that you think--
Gary: I can probably pull a story or two out.
Bauman: Sure, that's fine.
Gary: Okay. Did you guys have dances?
Kleinknecht: Oh yeah.
Gary: Okay. Did--
Kleinknecht: In that school house.
Gary: And did your parents participate?
Kleinknecht: Oh, heavens, yes. This is the grange hall, after the meetings. My dad danced with every lady. But my mom wasn't dancing. So I asked her why? She said, "I'm a Sunday school girl." But she never learned to dance.
Bauman: So she wasn't gonna dance.
Kleinknecht: No. She's a Sunday school girl.
Gary: Did your dad ever help you gals, or your brothers and sisters get out to go to dances?
Kleinknecht: With him.
Gary: Oh, okay.
Kleinknecht: Yeah, we all went to the dances.
Gary: But your mom didn't approve?
Kleinknecht: She went along, but she didn't dance. But I'd learned to dance all kinds of dances.
Gary: Do you remember when the last time you danced was?
Kleinknecht: Oh--
Gary: I do.
Kleinknecht: At your wedding?
Gary: No.
[LAUGHTER]
Gary: You did there too.
Kleinknecht: We out danced every--
Gary: It was your 90th birthday.
Kleinknecht: Oh, yeah!
Gary: Yeah. You danced with me.
Kleinknecht: That's a couple years ago.
Gary: It was.
Kleinknecht: [LAUGHTER] I forgot. Yeah, I love to dance.
Bauman: So the dances were in that same building as the school and the church grange meetings, or were they different?
Kleinknecht: As we grew up, they were in there. But as we got older and the bigger schools they didn't do it anymore.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Kleinknecht: We all went downtown to the schools, because they were much better schools. More new, indoor toilets, drinking water, everything.
Gary: Do you remember when your dad got sick eventually and died, do you remember any of the stories that go along with that?
Kleinknecht: No. I know he passed away at home.
Gary: Do you remember what he died of?
Kleinknecht: I think it was his heart.
Gary: It was hepatitis.
Kleinknecht: It was what?
Gary: Hepatitis.
Kleinknecht: Hepatitis.
Gary: It was, you called it, the yellow jaundice.
Kleinknecht: Oh, I'd forgotten that. Yeah. That's been a while back.
Gary: Yeah, it was.
Kleinknecht: Yeah, hepatitis.
Bauman: I was gonna ask you, you and your siblings, were you all born at home?
Kleinknecht: Mm-hm.
Bauman: All at home?
Kleinknecht: Yeah. Nope, doctors never come to your house in them days. You had to deliver them yourself. Nope, them were different days.
Bauman: Any other stories you think we should talk about?
Gary: If you give me a minute. Earlier there was a question about the river freezing over. It certainly wasn't when you guys went swimming--
Kleinknecht: Oh, no.
Gary: Did it freeze in the winter?
Kleinknecht: Oh, yeah.
Gary: Was it common?
Kleinknecht: [Nods] When it froze. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Did you ever go ice skating on it?
Kleinknecht: No. We stayed away from it.
Bauman: I was also gonna ask you, I understand there was a ferry that would transport people across the river, is that right?
Kleinknecht: Yep.
Bauman: Somewhere--
Kleinknecht: Down south at Kennewick. It crossed over to Pasco.
Bauman: And that's how people could get across. There weren't any bridges at the time?
Kleinknecht: Yeah there was, but it was way down, like where it is now. But if you wanted to take the ferry over from Richland, you wouldn't have to drive clear down there. And we did.
Gary: How about the Timmerman ferry? Do you remember that one?
Kleinknecht: That name sounds familiar. That was the one across the Yakima? ‘Cause the other one--
Gary: I think it was near the mouth of the Yakima, but I think it crossed the Columbia.
Kleinknecht: Could be. I've heard the name.
Gary: I'm not sure, it was before my time.
Kleinknecht: [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: I think that might be right. I think that's what I heard.
Kleinknecht: Well, that's the way the cookie crumbles.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Well, I want to thank you for coming in today and sharing your memories. And the photos are great as well, those are terrific photos.
Kleinknecht: Sure, I hope I give you some good—
Bauman: Oh yeah! It's very interesting stuff to hear about from people who lived here. Who know what was going on.
Kleinknecht: People would never done what we did. [LAUGHTER] God.
Bauman: Well thank you very much, I really appreciate you coming--
Kleinknecht: Imagine, milking cows? [LAUGHTER]
Gary: They still do.
Kleinknecht: Well some places.
Gary: With machines.
Kleinknecht: With machines, yeah.
Robert Bauman: Say your name and spell your last name for us?
Sally Slate: Okay. Sally Slate. S-L-A-T-E.
Bauman: Okay. My name’s Robert Bauman and today’s date is August 5th of 2015. We’re conducting this interview at Sally Slate’s home in Richland, Washington. So let’s—if we could, start by having you give us some background information on when you came to the Tri-Cities, what brought you here?
Slate: Well, I was a new graduate from the University of Idaho in June of 1955. I guess I was attracted to this area because I was going with a young man that still had a couple of years of schooling, and I wanted to be kind of close to the University of Idaho for him. Unfortunately, we broke up. [LAUGHTER] But I came as a tech grad for GE. These were three-month assignments where we rotated different assignments. My first assignment was to open up the chemistry lab at PUREX building that was still under construction.
Bauman: And were you familiar with Hanford before you came here? Did you know much about the place?
Slate: Yes, I was, because we have an atomic energy site near southern Idaho, and my father was working there. So I was quite well-informed. In fact, I’d taken some classes in nuclear energy.
Bauman: And had you been to Richland or the Tri-Cities before?
Slate: No.
Bauman: And did you have a first impression when you arrived?
Slate: Well, everybody had told me that I was going to hate it, that it was desolate, sagebrush. I came here and I thought, gee, I’m at home! Snake River’s just around the corner. And [LAUGHTER] sagebrush, I’m well-acquainted with. Potato fields? Yes. And also, I felt very comfortable.
Bauman: So you said your first job was opening up the chem lab at PUREX.
Slate: Yeah.
Bauman: Can you describe what that was like? What that work was like?
Slate: It was doing a lot of dish-washing. Because everything had to be taken out of the boxes, we had to figure out where to put it in the lab, we had to get the equipment set up and tested. There were two or three of us doing that job.
Bauman: And can you maybe explain what PUREX was, for [INAUDIBLE]?
Slate: PUREX is the separations plant that was—the fuel went in on one end of the building and made a continuous run and we got the plutonium and uranium separated at the end. The REDOX Plant, you had to do it in batches. But this was a continuous process, so it was going to be a little more efficient. As I say, it had not been—they were still under construction at the time that I was out there. And unfortunately, when we got here, nobody had Q clearances, and they thought that we needed Q clearances. So they set us in the unclassified library until they finally figured out that, oh, our clearances are all sitting on somebody’s desk and he’s on vacation, and you don’t need a Q clearance anyways, so put them to work! [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So that was your first job. Where did you go from there?
Slate: Oh. The next job was at the REDOX Plant. It was not really a happy experience. I wanted to be in the lab. As a woman chemist, I don’t think they appreciated women chemists in the lab at that time. It was trying to put together a compilation of all of the procedures that were being done, and trying to classify them so that if we got some kind of an assignment, you had to—okay, we need this analysis done. What procedures do we have available to do it? And it was well before the capabilities of our computer systems and everything now. I just didn’t appreciate that assignment. Then I went into the classified library as an abstractor. Where I had to read all of the classified—we were one of four—reading classified materials that came in. Everything from books to reports and anything generated that came into the library. We had to write a small paragraph about what the—without saying anything classified. We did bibliographies, computer searches. Except it wasn’t a computer search, it was a search of the index cards and made up answered questions that would come in. That was an interesting job. But it wasn’t as fun as being in the lab.
Bauman: And how long did you work there in the classified library?
Slate: Well, that was pretty much—well, that was a permanent position.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Slate: I worked there until I had been married and was expecting a child. And then they required me to quit.
Bauman: Okay. So you talked about being a woman chemist and it didn’t seem like you were really welcome in the lab, or that they wanted—were there other women chemists around at the time?
Slate: There were a few. There was a couple of others. Actually—let’s see. I’m thinking as the abstractors, the other chemist who was an abstractor was a mathematician. And the other woman was a mathematician. They were drawing the abstractors from the scientific fields, because you could teach somebody to be an abstractor, but you couldn’t teach the scientific part of it as easily.
Bauman: Right. So was it a GE policy that when you were married and—
Slate: Yes.
Bauman: --you had to quit?
Slate: Yes. Five months, period.
Bauman: Oh, you had five months after you—
Slate: After you got pregnant.
Bauman: After you got pregnant, that you could work and then you had to quit.
Slate: That was routine. When I got to working in Idaho for Argonne National Lab, they said I could I work as long as I wanted. As long as I could do the job. Phillips Petroleum says, we think you’re pregnant. Prove it that you’re not. Otherwise, you’re gone. There’s definite bias there.
Bauman: Oh yeah.
Slate: They didn’t want us riding the bus.
Bauman: Okay.
Slate: And I was riding a bus 75 miles each way. Twice a day.
Bauman: Do you know when that policy changed?
Slate: I don’t. Because my next experience out here was in the ‘70s. And by that time, the policy had changed.
Bauman: Sometime in between there.
Slate: Sometime in between.
Bauman: Yeah, it changed. So let’s talk about transportation. You said you had to ride a bus out?
Slate: Yeah.
Bauman: Pretty much every day?
Slate: Here in Richland, we had the buses. They would pick up at specified places along the—in town. Or you could drive your car out to the big bus lot, and leave your car there and transfer to the bus that you were going to be going out into the Area on.
Bauman: Okay. And where was the lot at?
Slate: Oh, go out Stevens, on the left-hand side as you go out Stevens.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Slate: They’ve transformed it into—part of it was an area where the police are doing training. After they had just redone the parking lot and spent millions doing the parking lot, then they decided, oh, we’ll close the buses down. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: I wanted to ask you about housing when you arrived in Richland. What sort of housing was available, or wasn’t available?
Slate: Well, when you first come, you check into the Desert Inn, which was the only hotel in town. Then you check with the Housing Authority, and the housing office assigns you housing according to your job, and your status—your marital status. And being single, I was assigned to one of the dormitories. And we still see the dormitories around. W-5 was just off of Lee—Lee and Knight. It was definitely a dormitory. It had a house mother. Doors were closed on the weekdays at 10:00 at night. The doors were locked. It was later than that for the weekends. But you had a little room, furnished. If you took the furniture out and put your own furniture in, you couldn’t get their furniture back if you changed your mind. It was cheap.
Bauman: Do you remember how much it cost?
Slate: I don’t. But something--$20 a month or less.
Bauman: And so how long did you stay in the dorm then?
Slate: I stayed in the dorm until—well, I went into a private apartment with a friend. And then we got married and went into a two-bedroom prefab down here.
Bauman: Oh, okay, sure.
Slate: In the south end of town. When those houses went up for sale, we could have bought that house for $1,875. [LAUGHTER] Yeah. We thought it was too small for us, because by then we had two small children. We bought a pre-cut. Three-bedroom pre-cut from a friend. They didn’t want the house, but if they had just moved into the house that they were going to buy, they would have had to remove all of the improvements that they’d put into the house, which included the wall-to-wall carpeting, drapes, electrical for a dryer, a fenced-in backyard. All of that would have had to have been removed. And they would have lost all of that investment. So they bought the house and sold it immediately to us at a slightly higher price to accommodate for their investments.
Bauman: How would you describe Richland in the ‘50s? I know it was a government town, still, when you—
Slate: It was government town, yeah. Everything. The schools were—GE ran it all for the government. Police department, schools—just about all of the—anything that had to do with the town.
Bauman: And did that change significantly when it sort of became its own city, then?
Slate: It was very gradual. They started selling the houses—we became a town in October of ’57? ’57. And the houses were being sold in ’58. Early ’58, we bought our house on Smith.
Bauman: I know one of the events from the community happenings or things was when President Kennedy came to visit in 1963. Were you here then?
Slate: ’63, we were not.
Bauman: Oh, had you—
Slate: We had left. Took a while to wander around to Idaho and Washington, but kept coming closer and closer, and finally said, we got to go home.
Bauman: You talked about having to get a—well, you thought you had to get your Q clearance, then didn’t have to get a Q clearance. What was security like at Hanford at the time? Would that impact your work—I mean you were working in classified libraries, so that part--
Slate: Yeah. You could get into—up to the 300 Area. But there was a barrier there. You couldn’t go through the barrier without a clearance. You had to have at least a Q clearance—or not a Q clearance, a Nil clearance is what they called it, was the beginning clearance. But then to get into the 200 Area, and to get into Two West, you had to have a Q clearance. That was just—you had a badge and it had your type of clearance on it. If you were working around the areas where there was a lot of radiation or potential radiation, then you’d wear pencils, and you might wear a ring. The ring would be checked weekly, and if it showed anything, then they would check your badge. Badges were changed out, I think, on a monthly basis. I never was in a situation where I accumulated anything. You had hand and shoe counters that you had to check into the building and check out of the building—using the hand and shoe counters to make sure you weren’t carrying anything there. Because those would be the two areas that would be most apt to pick up something.
Bauman: So where was the classified library located?
Slate: In the 300 Area. The building is still there. I don’t remember the building number. It was across from 319.
Bauman: And you mentioned—so you got married in—
Slate: In March of ’56.
Bauman: Okay, and did your husband also work at Hanford then?
Slate: Yeah.
Bauman: And what area did he work in?
Slate: He was at Three West Area. The REDOX area.
Bauman: Okay.
Slate: We happened to be riding the same bus together.
Bauman: Is that how you met?
Slate: Actually, we met at the Mart cafeteria. That building on Lee and Knight that has Sirs and Hers Barbershop and had a gun shop in there. But at that time it was a 24-hour cafeteria. There was a drugstore in part of it. And there was a jewelry store up front and a little lounge area, the Evergreen Lounge, in the back. We’d just—I’d just gotten off of my first day of swing shift.
Bauman: Oh.
Slate: And he had just gotten off work. We were in there having coffee. The girl I was with knew him, and knew the other fellow that he was with. But then I discovered that we rode the same bus. Or, rather, I made sure we rode the same bus. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So how was Hanford as a place to work, then? I know you talked about not really being able to work as a chemist [INAUDIBLE]
Slate: Well, I don’t think it was any different than working anywhere else at that time. Because there were restrictions everywhere. My original plan when going to college—I wanted to be a veterinarian. And after one year of pre-vet being the only girl in the School of Agriculture, I was told there was no way in hell that a woman would be accepted into the School—
Bauman: Oh.
Slate: --of Veterinary Science. And that I needed to choose something else. So, I went into chemistry, which is another love that I had. I was one of two women—first two that had graduated in chemistry in five years from the University of Idaho. And now, you know what percentage of women are. Far more women than men. And the same veterinary school now.
[PHONE CHIMES]
Bauman: Sorry about that. Talking about Richland, I was going to ask you one other question about the town. In terms of entertainment or things to do for fun, what was there in the area in 1955, ’56?
Slate: Well, pretty much the same things that we have now. The Richland Players was a movie house at that time. The roller skating rink was there. We could ride horses—we could rent horses out on Van Giesen. Boating. Pretty much the same mix of things that we have now. At that time, we had the symphony, we had Richland Players, although they were having their plays in the schools at that time. But those were the things—and bowling.
Bauman: So when did you move away from Richland, and when did you come back then?
Slate: Oh. We left in ’58, ’59. We left in ’59—June of ’59. And we came back for good in ’71.
Bauman: Had the place changed a lot in that time?
Slate: Grown! Yes. Not so much Richland. Although it was beginning to grow. But the areas between Richland and Kennewick that used to be grapevines and all kinds of farmland where Columbia Center was getting started and it just—I didn’t know my way around.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Are there any things I haven’t asked you, or anything you’d like to talk about that you haven’t had a chance to talk about yet, in terms of your work at Hanford, or--?
Slate: At Hanford? Of the early years?
Bauman: Yeah!
Slate: I don’t know. I enjoyed it very much. It was very mentally stimulating. And even the recreational things that were here were—because we had the symphony, we had the Richland Players. And it’s good to see that they are growing. If we’d only get our performing arts center.
Bauman: I’m with you on that. [LAUGHTER]
Man three: We’re with you.
Slate: And they’re saying 20, 30 years, and I don’t have that many years left, I’m afraid.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you very much for letting us come to your home and interview you, talk to you. I appreciate your sharing your experiences with us very much.
Slate: Well, it’s been kind of interesting, thinking back to those days.
Man three: I had a quick question, comment.
Slate: Yeah?
Man three: So when you were in the labs—
Slate: Yeah.
Man three: What would you do? What were you doing in, like the PUREX or the—what sort of thing would you do?
Slate: Oh. Well, the laboratory was an analytical lab. And they were divided into hot sections and cold sections. The hot section would receive the really radioactive materials that had to be handled in big glass-enclosed, with lead—a glass so wide. But I was never involved in that real high level. By the time I got things, it was down to the very low level radioactive materials that we could handle in a hood with ventilation. We wore just a lab coat. I’m trying to think if we even, in those days—I don’t think even at REDOX that I was involved with anything higher than just very low level materials. And we would separate out the plutonium or the uranium out of the fraction that we got, and would pipette it onto steel planchets. Little steel discs. And then the discs would go downstairs to the counting lab, and would be put into the counting lab and they would determine how many counts per minute were coming off of that. That would tell them the amount of radiation that there was, the amount of material that there was in that. We did everything in duplicates and triplicates, to make sure that we hadn’t made a mistake.
Bauman: Right.
Slate: Most everything was done triplicates.
Man three: So you didn’t work in the hot cells because of gender?
Slate: No, no. I didn’t work in the hot cells because I didn’t work in the—I was never assigned to it.
Man three: But that wasn’t a gender-based—
Slate: No.
Man three: I was trying to—
Slate: No, I don’t think it was gender-based at all.
Man three: The other question I had was—so, GE and stuff, if you were five months pregnant, then that was the time to separate.
Slate: Yep.
Man three: Did you have a job to come back to, or that was terminated?
Slate: [LAUGHTER] You had a job to come back to if there was a job available. That was part of the reasoning, they said, oh, that going into the classified laboratory was perfect for you, because there’ll always be a job available. Little did they know that computers were coming along, and computers were going to do all the abstracting and all the bibliography. You’d punch in a question and they’d come out with all the answers of here’s the materials that we have available on that subject. So computers did away with that job.
Bauman: Right. Had your old job been available, would you have had it, or would you have had to reapply?
Slate: I would have had to reapply.
Bauman: Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.
Slate: Yeah, it wasn’t an automatic thing.
Bauman: Right.
Slate: You were expected, as a young married mother, to stay home with your children. At least until they got into school. That wasn’t to say that there weren’t people who went back to work right away. But it was not the usual thing. Of course, I wanted to be able to stay home with the kids. By the time I had three, I had to go to work. [LAUGHTER] By that time, I started looking around and thinking, well, what can I do? I can go back to school and get a job as a teacher. So I got my teaching degree. And I taught school for five years until we decided we got to go home, we got to come back here to Richland. And that’s when I got back into the chemistry.
Bauman: All right, well, thank you again very much.
Man three: Thanks.
Bauman: I really appreciate your time and letting us come in here. [LAUGHTER]
Man one: Okay.
Northwest Public Television | Kaas_Gordon
Robert Bauman: So just for official purposes, my name is Robert Bauman and I'm conducting an oral history interview with Mr. Gordon Kaas. Is it Kaas?
Gordon Kaas: Yes.
Bauman: Okay. On June 12, 2013. And the interviews are being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. And I'll be talking with Mr. Kaas about his family's history and memories about their experiences in Richland growing up in that community. So maybe, Mr. Kaas, you can tell me, first of all, a little bit about your family and maybe how your family came to the Richland area.
Kaas: Well my father was an immigrant from Denmark and he came here right after the turn of century. Lived in Madras, Oregon for a while and his brother was up here in Richland. He come up here and he was a farmer. He bought some ground here in what's North Richland and planted the majority of the acreage to apples. His brother took care of the orchard for about the first three years while he lived in Madras, Oregon. That's where he met my mother and they were married. And they moved up here I think it was 1915, after the orchard began to bear. My oldest brother was born in Madras, and then I've got two older brothers, Nelson and George, that were born here, plus my only sister, and then myself and my twin brother. The three older brothers are deceased now but my sister and my twin brother are still living.
Bauman: And do they live in the area here?
Kaas: My sister lives in Kennewick. That's Alice Chapman, her husband James, live in Kennewick. And my twin brother and I married sisters, but they live in Kenai, Alaska. And he was a plumber. When I got out of high school, we had moved to Kennewick in 1943, because the government said to pack your belongings and go, you've got 30 days. However, we lived far enough north that they gave permission for those that lived up on from here, there's a little rise in the contour, that area they let farm their crop that year. So instead of moving in February or March, we didn't move until November of 1943. That's where the remaining five of the six children were born.
Bauman: So you'd mentioned your father came from Denmark.
Kaas: Yes.
Bauman: I wonder if you could talk a little bit about what you know about why he came to the United States, and maybe the same for your mother.
Kaas: Well, my mother was an immigrant also, emigrated from Prince Edward Island, Canada. And I had the pleasure of visiting back there this past summer. First time I'd ever been there. My father came over because of the opportunities that were in the US, and there was a lot of people moving to the New World. His background was farming. I think I mentioned he was the youngest of 12 children, and two brothers and a sister had immigrated over here ahead of him. So he had a little forewarning of what was here. And at that time, this area here in Hanford and White Bluffs was a fairly new irrigation area and was attracting people from around the country, and around the world, I guess you could say. Because there was other Danes and Norwegians and Swedes here. When I was small, when I grew up, we had an apple orchard. But during the Depression in the ‘30s, apples was one thing that people didn't have to have and consequently, the market went away. And at that time, peppermint was coming in and he hired a county bulldozer to come in and bulldoze the trees out and planted peppermint. And raised peppermint, as long as we was on the farm. I should clarify that in 1949 I lost my father, and I and my twin brother were between our sophomore and junior year in high school, so we became the farmers. And that was after we had moved from Richland to Kennewick. We had a 40 acre farm here in Richland and the war took my three oldest brothers. My father had the option of keeping one of them at home to help on the farm, but he wouldn't do that. My sister, and my twin brother and myself became farmers fairly quick. And then we moved to Kennewick in 1943, and in 1948 he had come down with cancer. And in '49, he passed away in the middle of August of '49. By that time my twin brother and I was the only ones still in school and we became students and farmers both. And then after we graduated from high school, my mother leased the place out. And I ended up taking a job out in Hanford. I worked out there for 21 years, but never got the thought of the farm out of my head. In 1972 my wife and I and we had two children at that time, a son and a daughter. And we bought a farm six miles north of Pasco. And that's been our home ever since.
Bauman: So you returned to your farming roots?
Kaas: Yes.
Bauman: Yeah. What about your mother? You said your father passed away, unfortunately, in 1949. How about your mother?
Kaas: My mother lived for some years later. I think she died in-- I can't remember the date on it like I can my father—but in the mid '70s. I think it was '78 that she passed away. And at that time the farm was being sold for plots for houses, and now it's all houses.
Bauman: So how many so how many children were there in your family then? How many siblings did you have?
Kaas: There were six.
Bauman: Six, okay.
Kaas: I had three older brothers. Then my sister come along. And then to finish out the six was my twin brother and I.
Bauman: You and your twin brother. And you and your twin brother were born in hospital?
Kaas: We were the only ones that were born in the hospital. Because thought there might be some complications. So we were born in the Pasco Lady of Lourdes Hospital. The rest were all at home.
Bauman: And you talked about how the primary crop was apples for quite a while until at some point in the Depression you shifted to peppermint. Is that right?
Kaas: Yes.
Bauman: And were there other crops that you grew as well?
Kaas: Well, we had of course, alfalfa because we had a few livestock. We had asparagus. And that was up early and that was the asparagus fields. My three older brothers were in the service. Two of them in the Army and one in the Navy. We'd get up early and go cut asparagus. And when we were left on our farm through the summer we'd see everything booming out here, trucks going by. We lived right on George Washington Way. And we'd be out in the field and watching the trucks headed north where the construction was going on. And we had strawberries. We had a few potatoes. Then, of course, peppermint. And all that ground was real irrigated.
Bauman: How was that irrigated?
Kaas: Real irrigated where you had corrugates that the water ran down. And so I was changing water twice a day. And my father worked from daybreak to dawn. But as time went on, we were more help. After the military took my three brothers my dad bought a tractor. And he didn't like the tractor. He liked the horses. So my twin brother and I, we got a lot of practice on the tractor. He put us out on the field and get us started and he'd go do some other chores. We, my twin brother and I, we continued to farm the Kennewick farm. Which, was downsized. It was only 20 acres. At that time though, you could make a living on a farm that size. But I lost my oldest brother in the war. And the next oldest one was in the Army and over in Germany. And the third from the top was in the Navy and over in the Pacific. And after the war was over they came home and took jobs out at Hanford, my remaining two brothers. And when I finished school I got a job out there. And my brother worked out there. My twin brother worked out there on construction. I was a power operator. And in 1972 I'd been wanting to get out on a farm and I said, I got to make the move before I'm 40 or I'm going to give it up. And we found a place to buy. And it's been good to us. My main crop, it started off being alfalfa and wheat and sweet corn. But after a couple years I got into raising potatoes. And that ended up being our main crop until I quit farming.
Bauman: Got it. Let me just go back and ask you another question, too, about your family farm that you grew up on. So were there other buildings besides the houses? The barn? Any other buildings? And you said it was 40 acres. Is that correct?
Kaas: 40.
Bauman: Okay.
Kaas: Yeah.
Bauman: And so I wonder how large the house was? Were there any other buildings as well that were part of the farm?
Kaas: Well, back then it didn't take as much a house as it does today. When my folks moved up here from Madras, Oregon--and I can't tell you--I think it was around 1917 or 1918. They had the ground but there was no buildings on it. But there was a small house. I think it was about a two-room house that my dad's brother and him moved from what would be over on--is that--what street is that? Over to the west? Anyway, they moved it from there to onto Georgia Washington Way where we lived. And then he added onto that. And then just before the government came in, we had enlarged the house and the next year was another project to finish it. But it started off being a two bedroom. And small ones at that.
Bauman: Now, it was originally, was there an outhouse? What did you have?
Kaas: We didn't have neither electricity or running water in the house until--it was about 1940.
Bauman: So not too long before the war.
Kaas: Yeah. And that was a big improvement. My mother didn't have to pack water for the washing machine or carry it out. But we didn't have any electricity. So the washing machine had a little gas engine on it. And like most, Monday was wash day. And that'd be all she'd get done except cooking some meals.
Bauman: So was there a well?
Kaas: Yes, we had a well.
Bauman: Okay.
Kaas: That was before my time. But I remember that he had a nephew that came over from Denmark plus my uncle lived here and there was a hand-dug well. And that was on the property that is the Energy Northwest headquarters now.
Bauman: Oh, okay. And what about neighbors? Who were your closest neighbors? Were there other families that you socialized with?
Kaas: Well, yes. We had one neighbor that lived right across the road. And others close. I can say there was one, two, three--about five that lived in walking distance. You know, a 20-minute walk at the most. It was interesting. In the early spring of 1943 there was a number of cars that had come into town. And they were driving different places. It was late enough that some farmers were out in the field. The next day they were all in town at the schoolhouse. And they called to me and said that the whole community, including White Bluffs in Hanford was being evicted for a government project. And that's all they would say. Nobody knew what was ready going on out there until after the bombs were dropped. And it was interesting when those people that were here driving in cars were appraisers. And they were going around and appraising the farms of how much to give the farmers for it. Some got very nervous. They thought if you didn't take the first, they might just haul you out in handcuffs or whatever. But they allowed if you didn't accept for the third appraisal. My father accepted the third appraisal. My grandmother, she got nervous. And they got her to sign. I think it was on the second appraisal. But my father, if you didn't sign and take the third appraisal, then they would take it to court. But they give you, I think it was 80% of the offer. And there were a few that took it to court. But my father thought the--But the surprising part about that is the farmers that took the money and couldn't find a farm, the price of the farmland was going up so fast that what would buy a farm when they got the money, a year later was probably only half enough. So those people put a hardship on them. But I can't say our situation put a hardship. Because we was able to find a farm and it was a good form.
Bauman: Do you have any idea how much your parents got for the farm?
Kaas: You know, I've been wondering that myself. But what I can tell you is that the 20 acre farm we got, it had a big house on it. It had a five-bedroom house plus porch, front and back. It was $7,200. And I'm sure it was in that neighborhood, maybe a little more. Because it was 40 acres rather than 20. And it was the only house still standing in North Richland until it too was torn down oh, 15, 20 years ago.
Bauman: Oh, it stood for that long?
Kaas: Yes, because the criteria was that if it had indoor plumbing and electricity they would save it if they could and somebody would move into it. And a patrolman that was hired by the--well, I guess it was GE back then. Or no, it was DuPont.
Bauman: DuPont? Mm-hm.
Kaas: He wanted that house. And he got the okay on it. But he would come by about every three or four days and see what the progress was of us moving out. He was anxious to move in. There was a shortage of homes. And it was used for living for a few years and then it was right in the middle of that big trailer camp that was out here. And it was turned into the office for the trailer camp.
Bauman: So he moved in shortly after your grandma left then?
Kaas: Yes. When he could see the date that we was going to be out, he had his stuff packed and ready to move.
Bauman: And so how old are you at this time? About 9 or 10 years old? Somewhere in there?
Kaas: I was 12 years old when we moved.
Bauman: Okay.
Kaas: So we moved and we were still moving in November. Because that's when my birthday is. And I remember the time we took the tractor with a big trailer we had behind it with some of the last things. And my dad let me drive it after we got off the highway. I was 12 years old. And our farm, in Kennewick, the address was 3904 West Fourth Avenue now.
Bauman: So what did you think about this at the time as a young boy? You had spent your whole life, at that point, on this farm. And you're suddenly having to move. What did you think? And do you know what your parents thought? Did you talk to them?
Kaas: Well, we spent a lot of time driving around to find a farm. We looked up a lot up Prosser Way. I can remember sitting out in the yard there for a couple of hours, my mother and dad talking. And there was a nice big house, older house. It was a little smaller farmer than we had gotten. They finally decided they would take it. And my dad went to the door and said, we've talked it over and we'd like to buy your farm. And they said, well, we're sorry. My husband's down at the court house signing papers on it now. So we were back to looking again. But you can imagine a 12-year-old. We thought this was kind of a thrill, driving around looking at farms and discussing it and where we was going to live. And I can remember several farms we looked at that some of them had a nice house. But the property wasn't the best. The soil wasn't the best. But we was happy when we settled on this one in Kennewick.
Bauman: So for you, maybe the fact that you ended up with a nice farm in Kennewick--
Kaas: Yes, it was a nice farm. Kennewick is a little bit rocky. But it's bearable. The farm we had out here in Richland was a lot more sandy. But heavier soil, you can raise better crops. But sandy soil is easier to farm.
Bauman: So I want to go back to also talking about your early years here. Where did you go to school? And what was the school like? And how many? How big was the school? That sort of thing?
Kaas: The school I went to was built in--which was Lewis and Clark school down in south Richland. And the year I started there it was brand new. Because of the Depression there was money for stuff like that, to generate employment. And Hanford got a new school. And Richland got a new school. And that's where I started the first grade, my twin brother and I. My sister was four years ahead of us. So she was in an old school that they immediately tore down after the new school was built. But my dad was a well thought of man here in this area. And when the irrigation district was in, neighbors twisted his arm till he agreed to go on the board for irrigation. Same for the school district. He was on the board, directors there. In fact, he was the president of the board and signed a couple of my brothers' diplomas. And after we moved, well, some would know Jay Perry, who was a county commissioner in Kennewick. And he came and wanted my dad to run for his place. They talked quite a while. And my dad said, well, Jay, that would never work, because you're a Democrat and I'm a Republican.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Kaas: He said, I'd do anything to get you in. Whether you're a Republican or not. So that's the only way I knew of what his preference of party. But there was, for farmers back then, there was more done for the farmers than a lot of people.
Bauman: So do you know how big the school was? Do you know how many students there were about?
Kaas: Well, it was an eight-room school, first through the eighth grade. And I would say, there was probably on the average of at least 20 in each class. Then when things got a little tougher, first, well, second grade and half of third was in one room. And the other half of third and the fourth grade was in another room. So they were small enough then that they could do that. But that school was tore down for the replacements that there are now. But it was a nice all-brick school that for old time's sake, I hated to see it go. But both of my children started in that school.
Bauman: Oh, did they really?
Kaas: For first grade. Because we lived in the south end of Richland at that time. And our--what is the--the Justice over in Pasco, he went to that school. My son went with him. Cameron Mitchell.
Bauman: Oh, Cameron Mitchell, sure. So what sorts of things did you do for recreational activities growing up on your farm?
Kaas: Oh, main thing for recreational was work. But we did have time. And when we were little my dad didn't require us to--We never were slave labor by any stretch. But we'd roller skate out on the road. There wasn't very many cars. And we'd play hide and seek and one thing my dad let us do is a couple horse to an old sled that we had that was about four by six, to a horse. And take our dog and we'd go out hunting jackrabbits. Didn't have a gun. But that dog could catch the jackrabbits. And we'd probably get five or six every time we went out. They'd be just wandering out through the sagebrush. We was out at the edge of the farming community here in Richland. So there's plenty of sagebrush ground. And we thought that was great, to go out with the dog. My twin brother and I, and my three cousins from over on the coast would come here. I got a picture of it. Looking at it yesterday, that all five of us on that sled, out jackrabbit hunting. But just things like that. What kids do.
Bauman: Sure.
Kaas: Bicycles.
Bauman: Oh. Yeah. So you were on a farm. Did you go into town much? Into the town of Richland?
Kaas: Well, it was a five-mile drive on the school bus. Back then we didn't have these factory-made school buses. Generally a farmer would say, I'd like to build a bus and hire it to haul the students. Well, there was an aisle down the center that you sat back to back to and then down each side. And it was just made out of an old truck. And we didn't know what heaters were. Wintertime got pretty cold. But--
[PHONE RINGS]
Bauman: No cellphones then, either. [LAUGHTER]
Kaas: Huh?
Bauman: No cellphones then either.
Kaas: I meant to take it out. But I forgot it.
Bauman: That's all right.
Kaas: I think I was in about the third grade when we got factory manufactured school buses. And they looked as long as a train. And there was three of them. And that picked up students all over the Richland area. And then it wasn't too long after that the government came in and the area just exploded. And it was surprising when you had to, how fast they could put buildings up. They had people in here. They added onto the school and built more schools. But after '43 I wasn't here much.
Bauman: Did you start going to school in Kennewick then at that point?
Kaas: Yes. I think I was in the fifth grade when we moved to Kennewick.
Bauman: I was wondering about sort of community activities. Do you have any memories of community picnics or 4th of July celebrations? Anything along those lines?
Kaas: Well, yes. In that time, the boat races--that would be equivalent to what we have now here in the Tri-Cities—was up at White Bluffs. And I remember, several times being young, going up there and watch the boat races. And then there was community picnics. I remember looking at some books at the county fair, before they registered at the picnics, they had them. Found a couple where my folks, my dad registered as being at the picnic, 4th of July picnic, I think they were. Then there was plenty of family gatherings. Maybe two, three, four families would get together and go to the park. But I don't know, it never seemed like we lacked activity.
Bauman: What about churches? Were churches close by? Did your family go to church regularly? And where were they?
Bauman: What, church, you say?
Kaas: Yeah, churches.
Kaas: Well, my folks heard the Gospel by two homeless ministers in 1921. And the church met in a home. And I'm still in that faith today. We don't have church buildings. So there was churches in town. But they accepted that way and the family grew up in it.
Bauman: Okay. So you mentioned earlier, talking about the Depression, and how your father then sort of changed crops, right? Primary crops. Did you know of any families in the area that maybe lost their farms? Or did you see any other impact of the Depression for other families or for the town itself?
Kaas: Well, my uncle lost his--that lived, oh, half mile or less from us. And I remember my dad saying he wanted him to financially help him. He was a bachelor. He had never married until he was 82, I think. And then he married his sweetheart that he had when he was young.
Bauman: Wow.
Kaas: And neither one of them, they were married. They got back together in old age.
Bauman: That's quite a story. Wow.
Kaas: But anyway, my dad had to decline him because he said, Jim, I've got a family. And if I did that I would probably lose my farm too. And you're single. Realized I hate to say no. But I just don't have it where I can feel that I could do it. And there were others the same way. But you have to remember that I was-- that was not something I can physically remember. I was too early in the '30s. I was born in '32. I remember him talking about ones that sold out or it didn't have any equity and couldn't make payments. But my father was very frugal. He didn't buy what he couldn't afford, which was very little, that he bought. But yes, when my father decided to push out the orchard, we had a big enough orchard. In fact, it was the largest apple orchard in the Tri-Cities. I can't tell you how many acres it was. But it was 15 acres or so.
Bauman: Do you know what kind of apples?
Kaas: At that time, Red Delicious. But he made the decision to take the apples out, because every year he'd be losing a little more money. And plant peppermint. Well, 100 pounds to the acre of peppermint oil was considered excellent. And I never remember him getting less than 100 pounds. And I remembered selling for $7 a pound. And today the price of oil isn't that much better. It's just that the farmers' farms are a lot bigger.
Bauman: Mm-hm.
Kaas: I think, from what I've heard, I know some people that are farming peppermint and $9 or $10 I think would be an excellent price now.
Bauman: So what happened with your uncle then? He lost his farm you said? What did he do at that point?
Kaas: My uncle?
Bauman: Mm-hm.
Kaas: He moved to Oregon. And lived in Troutdale for quite a while. I think he just hired out. He was a stonemason, brick mason. And I think he made a living at that.
Bauman: I want to ask you a little bit about, you talked about the war a little bit and that your older brothers all joined and went to serve. Do you remember hearing about the war? And have any memories about that at all?
Kaas: Yeah, when the war come on, some time during that we got a radio. And I know my dad listened to the news every evening. My oldest brother, Edward, that was born in Oregon and was the only one that wasn't born here, was drafted into the Army. And he took his training down in one of the southern states. I can't remember for sure now if it was Texas, or--. Anyway, they ended up sending him to a little place by Washington, D.C. that they call Vint Hill Farms. And it was a training, a special training area. And he worked there as, we'd probably called it a cadre that helps do training. But there everything was coal fired. So in the wintertime they had to keep the furnace going and the hot water heater going and snow removal or whatever. And he never did go overseas. But he was on a laundry run. And he was riding in the back of a deuce and a half army truck. And a Lincoln hit the truck head on. And he was thrown up against the cab and killed. So he wasn't-- he didn't see overseas action. But I remember that was a sad day for the family.
Bauman: I imagine. You mentioned having the radio. Did your family get that before the war or at some point during the war, you remember?
Kaas: It was during the war. I don't remember. We didn't have a radio while we were still in Richland.
Bauman: Oh, okay. You got it after you have moved to Kennewick at some point.
Kaas: Yeah.
Bauman: Okay. So how did you get news when you were in Richland? Was there a local newspaper?
Kaas: Yeah, there was a newspaper. And don't ask me if it was daily or weekly or semi-weekly. But well, I guess, in the old days, we took the Spokesman Review. I don’t think--there wasn't a local newspaper. There might've been a weekly. But you're getting too far back in my brain.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Yeah, do you know how your family found out about the war, that United States was going to war? Was it through the newspaper? Or sort of word of mouth?
Kaas: Well, I think all the above. You know, neighbors were close and we did get the Spokesman Review. And I don't know if it was a day late. I think it came down on the train. So it could be the same day. At that time Pasco, its main industry was the train. A train town. And Richland was just a little farming community along with White Bluffs and Hanford.
Bauman: Right. And then was it in the spring of '43 that you first heard about that the government was coming in and was going to be taking people--
Kaas: Yes, yes. 1943.
Bauman: But your family, you have sort of the rest of that growing season. Is that right?
Kaas: Well, it must've been later in February or maybe first part of March that that happened. I suppose there's some way I could find out. But I do know that the ones that lived in what we call downtown Richland didn't get to stay and farm their crop. And we did.
Bauman: Yeah. I wonder if there's anything that we haven't talked about yet that you think would be important to talk about, something you know, about growing up in Richland, about the community itself, about farming?
Kaas: Well, we had a great swimming pool, Columbia River. Also fishing. Never had a fancy fishing pole. But go down to the river and cut off a large willow, tie the line on the end of it. Works good.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] What sort of fish did you catch with that?
Kaas: Probably mostly carp. Occasionally we'd get an edible fish.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Kaas: But we enjoyed doing it. Some real hot days, the whole family would go to the river. Our firewood, you could put on what they call a boom out on the river. It'd be several logs fastened together with chain or cable. And have an anchor out on the upper end. So it would catch all the wood that was coming down. And that's where we got the firewood. And for the icebox, we'd go down and my dad would saw chunks of ice out of the river and we had a sawdust bin that we would bury the ice in there and it would last long ways into the summer. So things were a little bit crude back then. But none of us died from it. We all made it.
Bauman: Right. [LAUGHTER] What about in the winter? You know, in terms of the river, the river ever freeze over? What sorts of things did you do? Any things that you can say--
Kaas: All I can remember about that is that what I've been told. I think I was about two years old when it froze over. And they even drove cars across it. I don't think we had any bridges at that time. It was a ferry that would ferry cars across. And it seems like the winters don't get as cold as they used to here. I don't know if it's a cycle or what it is. But my younger years, we could ice skate on the river, most all winters.
Bauman: Mm-hm. So that was something you did in the winter then for fun?
Kaas: Well, I don't remember doing a whole lot. But you know, the river is dangerous, and we knew it back then, if the ice only goes out a small ways. So my folks wouldn't--I just know that my folks wouldn't have let us go to the river to ice skate if the ice wasn't thick enough.
Bauman: And you mentioned a ferry. Where was the ferry landing?
Kaas: Well, there was the ferry landing down at what's Columbia Point, I think, now. And there was another one between Kennewick and Pasco. There was another one up at Hanford, one across. It would come and go as the need was. But I remember the first bridge across the Columbia was long enough ago that I can't really remember it.
Bauman: Okay. I want to ask you a little bit about your employment at Hanford. When did you start working at Hanford? And how long did you work there? And what sort of work did you do there?
Kaas: Well, I graduated high school in 1951. And of course, we were still farming the ground. I did take a job in wheat harvest. And my brother stayed and did the chores that had to be done through the summer. And so my mother paid him what I made, the same amount that I made. So it was like both of us having a job. After wheat harvest was over in September of 1952--I think it was, yeah, 1952--I want out and applied for work at Hanford. And I got a job in the power department, running the steam boilers and turbines and that's out there. And I worked there for 14 years. It was all under GE then. I finished up in what was called the N Reactor. And that's when they built a steam power plant just across the fence from the N Reactor. And I applied for a job there with, at that time was the Washington Public Power. Now it's Energy Northwest. And I stayed there until '72 when I got the crazy idea of being a farmer again. And haven't really regretted it. You go from being carrying a dinner pail to being a businessman in one sense. It takes a lot of money to farm these days.
Man 1: Sorry, one last time. It looks like battery. [LAUGHTER]
Man 2: Oh.
Man 1: Pretty low.
Kaas: You can prompt me on anything you want to.
Bauman: What's that?
Kaas: You can prompt me.
Bauman: Oh, okay. I'm going to ask you just a little bit more about you working at Hanford. You mentioned working for GE and at the N Reactor, and ask you where else at Hanford you worked?
Kaas: You asked me where I met my wife. I can give you a little more on that.
Bauman: There you go. And then I may ask you about I know President Kennedy had the official ceremony, right, in '63.
Kaas: Yes.
Bauman: And I'll ask you if you were there.
Kaas: I was still working for GE. And it was Thursday morning. I had to work a swing shift that day. So I just stayed out there.
Bauman: So you mentioned working for GE for a number of years. And then you said you ended up with you working at the N Reactor. I wonder before that, what other parts of the Hanford site you worked at?
Kaas: Well, I started at the C Reactor in the power department. C. B and C were right together. Actually it was the B reactor. Then I got drafted in the army. And in December I went in the service to--they sent my back to Virginia for training. And when the training with over, took a troop ship to Korea. I spent two years in Korea. Part of the time I was first service. War was still on. And then after my two-year stay I came home and they put me back on out there. At that time I'd been communicating with my future wife. And my twin brother, he had a bad ear and they wouldn't accept him. Ironically we was going with sisters. But they weren't twins. And so they decided to get married. So they got a two-year head start on us when I came home. Well, my wife, Beverly, and I got married. And been married ever since.
Bauman: And how had the two of you met? When did you meet?
Kaas: We was in school together. And the same way with my brother and his wife.
Bauman: And so how many years is that now?
Kaas: Boy, you're--
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] I'm testing him.
Off camera speaker: It'll be 60 next year.
Kaas: That's--
Bauman: Wow, almost 60.
Kaas: It's getting awful close to 60.
Bauman: Yeah, wow. And so you mentioned you were in Korea for two years. And the war was still going on when you first arrived?
Kaas: Yes. Yes.
Bauman: And what sorts of--
Kaas: I went in and they put me in the medics. And I took my medic training down in Camp Pickett, Virginia. And then sent me to Korea. I was a medic.
Bauman: And then one other thing I wanted to ask you about, during your time working at Hanford, President Kennedy was here in, I believe it was September of '63. August or September of '63 to dedicate the N reactor.
Kaas: Yes.
Bauman: I was wondering if you were there at that time and if you have memories of that?
Kaas: I was. I was there. And witnessed his groundbreaking. He flew in in a helicopter and flew out in a helicopter. I think probably went up to Moses Lake, where they parked the plane. And it was interesting that I happened to be on the swing shift at that time. So when the ceremony was over I had to go over to the plant and start my shift.
Bauman: Was there extra security that day? Or do you have any memories of a lot of people there?
Kaas: Very much so. You know, that was just not long before he was assassinated. And there was a lot of security. There was three helicopters came in. And the doors opened on all three of them. They come to land, you didn't know which one he was on. But the first thing you seen was they pulled a machine gun up in the doorway. And they looked all directions before they left anybody off. And there was a big crowd there. That was very interesting.
Bauman: Mm-hm. Were there any other events during your time when you worked at the Hanford site that sort of stand out? Any significant happenings or anything that sort of stands out in your memory?
Kaas: They formed a rescue crew out there. They outfitted an older bus. And I think there was about three or four different crews, maybe five. We never did get called to an event, like there's been several around the United States since. But that's what we were trained for. And I was on one of those crews because I'd been a medic in the army, was the reason they put me on there. We had drills. But never had to go to an actual event.
Bauman: And obviously Hanford was a place where security was very important. Did you do have to have a special clearance to work there? Or what do you remember about some security processes?
Kaas: Well, yes. I had what they called a Q clearance, which was top clearance, with everybody that was full time employed. That the only ones that would get out there was if they had to have a special person, something broke down and had to go out there. And then he had to have an escort. And they told us that you don't talk about what work it is on the job. But at that time, Hanford wasn't classified top secret anymore. After the bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, that's when they found out what Hanford was building.
Bauman: Were you able to drive your own car out to the site where you were working? Or would you have to take a bus?
Kaas: Oh, we had to take an expensive bus ride.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Kaas: They charged us a nickel each way. And nobody could afford to drive their cars. If you did, you car pooled. But because the buses didn't have any air conditioning, just the windows. But as long as I worked for GE I rode the bus. When I started working for Washington Public Power we car pooled. They didn't have an option. But they paid us for travel time.
Bauman: And how long did you work for Washington Public Power then?
Kaas: Seven years.
Bauman: Seven years. '65 to '72? So anything else that I haven't asked you about, either about growing up on the farm here in Richland or about your work at Hanford that you'd like to talk about or you think is important that we haven't talked about yet?
Kaas: Something serious?
Bauman: Oh, either way. No, it can be funny.
Kaas: Well, I remember when my twin brother and I was out and we had a watermelon patch. And we thought it was time to pick the watermelons. And we'd pick a whole pile of them. My dad said, well, those aren't ripe yet. We'll have to feed those to the pigs. So the pigs got watermelon early. But you know, we would--that's some of our pastime would be walk around the neighbors and such. There wasn't too many dull moments. Especially, my mother used to say that when you have twins, well, one can't think of the other kin. So I guess you can take from that what you want.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Yeah. If you had to sort of sum up for someone who wouldn't know much about the area, what it was like growing up in the small community at the time, growing up on a farm at the time, what would you tell them?
Kaas: Well, that there wasn't many dull moments. I think there's an advantage that kids today don't have. We grew up having responsibility to know that there might be a little time for play. But they're also work to be done. I can remember going out in the fields of whole peppermint and my dad would take two rows where my brother and I, we'd take one apiece and pull the weeds out. And we'd fill up a gallon jug of water. Had a burlap sack wrapped around it and dipped it in water before we went out. And that would keep cool. That was our drinking water. Had to come in in time for chores. We milked as many as five head of cows. But at the time my dad got sick we only had two milk cows. And a couple of horses and several young stock. And then there was 4H and FFA. That was after we moved to Kennewick. I can't remember much more about Richland, only being 12 years old and there's probably more. But I'll think about it after our interview is over. I remember riding the bus was quite a treat. When we got the new buses in Richland it was, as I said, I think I was in about the third grade. It was quite a treat. And they said there was heaters in them. But we couldn't tell when winter come.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Didn't feel like it.
Kaas: They weren't very efficient.
Bauman: Well, thank you very much. This has been really interesting, very informative. I appreciate it. You’ve been great. Thanks very much.
Kaas: Have you interviewed others?
Northwest Public Television | Johnson_Jean
Robert Bauman: All right. Ready to get started?
Jean Johnson: Mm-hmm.
Bauman: Okay. We'll start by having you state your name.
Johnson: Well, my name--the name that people from White Bluffs will remember is Carrie Jean Conning. That was my name there.
Bauman: Right. Your name now is Jean Johnson?
Johnson: Yes. I left the Carrie off.
Bauman: Okay. Great. And my name is Robert Bauman, and we're doing this interview on July 31, 2013, at Jean Johnson's home. And so I want to start our interview by just asking you to tell me a little bit about your family. If you know when they came to White Bluffs, how and why they came there, and when.
Johnson: When my father was Leslie Andrew Conning. Known in White Bluffs as Andy. Andy Conning. He came from Pennsylvania. Somewhere here in the West and came up the river and landed in White Bluffs in 106.
Bauman: And do you know why he came to White Bluffs?
Johnson: He was kind of an orphan when he was born. His mother died with birth. And his grandmother and father raised him, and they couldn't take care of him, so an uncle took him. And his name was Andrew somebody else. Had sheep. And he wanted my dad to come back, come there into Colorado, or in the White Bluffs area and have sheep. Don't know if he ever did.
Bauman: And so that's why he came to White Bluffs.
Johnson: Mm-hmm.
Bauman: And how about your mother?
Johnson: My mother came from South Dakota. They went to Yakima. I don't know why. And then they went from Yakima to White Bluffs in 1912. She married my dad in 1918. And he had four--they had four children. I have three older brothers, then myself.
Bauman: And so your parents met in White Bluffs, then?
Johnson: Yes. They were neighbors. Because her name was Johnson, also. She came in there as Irma Johnson. And then she married Codding. That's what people are confusing when they say, what was your mother's maiden name? Johnson. [LAUGHTER] So, then I went to work right from graduation to The Republic newspaper in Yakima.
Bauman: In Yakima, okay.
Johnson: And I worked there--I was only, I think I was maybe 17. I was going to say 16, because I did graduate a year earlier in my age than I should have. And I could only work so many hours, because that was during the war. '43 I graduated from Yakima High School. And I had to sign a paper for a Social Security number. I never had had one before. So then that's when I took off the Carrie and just put Jean Conning. And then, of course, as soon as I got married, I had to do it again.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] I wonder if you could talk a little bit about where you grew up in White Bluffs. Your family farm, what that was like, what sort of crops you grew, that sort of thing.
Johnson: He grew--my father had apples. And we lived right next to the Columbia River, and we had a water pump. And used to pump our water out of the river to irrigate. And then we had--he had just a home. Little bunch of fruit trees. Peaches and pears and cherries. And every—lot of people would come and pick them and can them, and my mother would can them. And they worked—they irrigated with the pipe and plugs.
Bauman: What kind of pipes, do you know what that pipe was?
Johnson: Wooden. Wooden pipe. And they had a cement--I don't even remember what they call it. But the water came from the river, and stayed in there, and then the pipes would drain off to put water in the field. And then the war came. And I was still in school, because I started--I was born in 1925. So he lost that place and had to move to another place. And the boys were all in the service by then. And he worked it by himself. And worked himself down. He got sick. But we stayed in White Bluffs. And then the cars were going through with the US government, so we knew something was going to happen.
Bauman: I wonder if you could talk a little bit more about the farm that you grew up on. Were there other buildings that you had? Was there like a storage--a warehouse for storing some of the fruit, or any other sort of buildings?
Johnson: Not then. We had a barn, because we had a milk cow, and two horses. The horses used to pull the spray wagon. And then in later years, they put a pipe out for them, to hold a spray. So they could just hook up and spray. And they were spraying that lime and sulfur, something like that. It was very--after everybody was gone, I heard how dangerous that was.
Bauman: And was that for insects?
Johnson: Mm-hmm, worms. The worms were eating him up. And nothing would stop them, since I told you before, they didn't come with DDT until after the war started, which was too late for him.
Bauman: Did you have electricity on your farm?
Johnson: Uh-huh. And my mother had an electric stove and an electric washing machine. But it was just a small little house. And the school bus would not pick me up, because I lived within three miles of the school.
Bauman: So you walked to school?
Johnson: So I had to walk to school. And there were three other girls there, who all four of us had to walk to school, carrying our lunch buckets and our books. And no fear. You know, every place we went, we walked. We had no fear. We knew everybody.
Bauman: Do you remember the names of any those girls that you used to walk to school with?
Johnson: Yvonne Ponsat was one. P-O-N-S-A-T. Her father was French. And she had two brothers who were in high school with my brothers. Another one was Elizabeth Keele. I don't know what he does. He's around Yakima somewhere. He's probably gone by now, too. The other girl, I can't remember her name, because she had moved there.
Bauman: So when walking to school, was that elementary school and high school, or?
Johnson: High school.
Bauman: High School.
Johnson: Yeah, the school bus would take us to grade school, but not to high school.
Bauman: The high school was closer to you.
Johnson: And it was just across one field, but we walked over and went down and walked down the road. And then eventually we all got bicycles. But the bicycles were--we were almost grown by the time we could afford a bicycle. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Must have been a little tricky walking sometimes in the winter.
Johnson: There were no winters there. We lived so close to the river, it was warm all winter. I don't remember any snow. No snowmen, no snow fights, no icy roads.
Bauman: And did you have telephone at your house?
Johnson: Oh, yes. With the ringer, you know-- "number please!" [LAUGHTER] You remember them?
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] I remember the dial phones. [LAUGHTER]
Johnson: Oh yeah. Well, this was just a telephone operator. And we also had RFD. We also had mail service. So it wasn't too remote.
Bauman: So how far from the town were you?
Johnson: Well, they said I lived within three miles.
Bauman: Okay.
Johnson: And that was the limit for school was three miles from town.
Bauman: Do you remember any of your teachers from school at all? From either grade school or high school? Did you have any favorite teachers or ones that you remember at all?
Johnson: Well, those pictures reminded me. I did not remember them, yes, but I do now. And another thing, too. My father was the clerk of the school board.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Johnson: So he got to have all the interviews of all the people who came that wanted a job of teaching. And my youngest brother and I would sneak around and try and get a good look at them before any of the school kids did. We wanted to know who they were first. [LAUGHTER] My other two brothers had graduated from high school by then, but my younger brother and I went to school as close together as four years could do it.
Bauman: Mm-hm. Were your parents involved in any other organizations at all in the community?
Johnson: Well, just my dad was a Mason, and my mother was Eastern Star. And that was all of their--they did not go to church. And we had eight churches in White Bluffs, and they were all active. No, there were six! Six. I'm too far.
Bauman: What about the town itself? What sorts of businesses do you remember, or stores, or anything like that?
Johnson: Mm-hm. You want to bring that in, Leslie? It's out there. I didn't bring the right one. It's a tablet. Just seeing that picture reminded me of a lot of their names. Okay, the grocery store was the first scene. His name was Dick Reirson. R-E-I-R-S-O-N. And then we had a drugstore, but it was a pharmacy. And he had an ice cream table. And he had a distorted hand, and he used to put the ice cream cone down in there, you know, with the little top, and then reach down. Remember those cans that had the ice cream in it? Good old hard ice cream put in there, and never drop a drop. He was also the band leader for the high school music. And then there was the power company, and I could not remember the lady's name. They had Pacific Power there. And he had a Ford dealer with a service company. That was Fred Gillhualy. G-I-L-L-H-U-A-L-Y. And they were four boys. And I don't know if they're around Yakima or gone by now.
Bauman: Yeah, I'm not sure.
Johnson: I know the name because one boy said he was flying home from California to Yakima, and they were taking—so many people had to get off the airplane, but he got to ride all the way to Yakima. Went to get off the plane, the little stewardess said, how do you pronounce your last name? [LAUGHTER] They couldn't tell him to get off the airplane because they couldn't pronounce his name! So that was good. And Levi Austin was the superintendent at the high school. And the Austin name is from Prosser. The one boy, he had a hardware store in Prosser. But I keep thinking, you know, they're still there, but I'm just lucky to live as long as I have. Because they were probably--they were in my brother's age. And see in there, everybody's gone. So I don't remember any teachers.
Bauman: Okay.
Johnson: I remember--well, I don't remember the principal, but I remember the principal of the high school took us all in the next morning after Pearl Harbor, and told us that they had bombed Pearl Harbor.
Bauman: Is that how you found out about it?
Johnson: World War II, yes. Because remember Roosevelt? Franklin Roosevelt? "This day will be known in infamy." Well, I heard that. Course, it never went away. And then my father--this was years before we moved to this ranch. The first ranch we had when we were all little. My father and the neighbor built this warehouse, and they came in with apples, and they poured them in this water bath, and then it went down. And the women sorted off all the bad, and the other ladies were packing the apples with wrapper paper. Take that little paper. And they'd go on a roller to the lidder, and he would put the lid on and stack them up. And then two more people would come with these lifts and carry the five boxes of apples across a ramp and put them on the truck until they got the truck loaded, and then they would take it to White Bluffs, to the railroad.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Johnson: The Milwaukee Railroad came into White Bluffs, and they would take them to Yakima.
Bauman: And that's how the apples would get shipped out.
Johnson: And the Pear and Fruit. I don't even know if they're still there, but my father worked for them after he had to leave White Bluffs and went to Yakima.
Bauman: When you were growing up on the farm, did you have any chores? Any things that you did?
Johnson: No, I was little.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Johnson: I was little. No. And I said we didn't have any indoor plumbing, and we didn't have any running water. And my brother reminds me so much of Wes, the boy you met. Said, well, Jeannie said we just put the bucket on the rope and put it down, and get a bucket of water. Wind the rope up, grab a hold of the buck, and if you were still able, you'd run the water to the house. [LAUGHTER] So he tried to tell me that we did have running water. But no, I did--I probably took care of the chickens or something like that. I didn't have any pets.
Bauman: Did you swim in the river at all, or anything like that?
Johnson: No. No, I was too little. The boys did, and we'd go out in one of these peach orchards. There were a lot of orchards in White Bluffs. Beautiful orchards. And they also had irrigating water. Pretty British, no. What's the Puget--what's over here? Where the river goes under the bridge?
Bauman: Not sure.
Johnson: Priest River! Priest Rapids!
Bauman: Priest Rapids, sure.
Johnson: Priest Rapids irrigation. And they had paid in money for the upkeep of it. And that was one of the things that the boys--some White Bluffs boy told me, did you ever get any money back from your--what do you call that? Whenever you give money--have money yearly. It's not a donation; it's a cost.
Bauman: The years of the irrigation.
Johnson: Oh, can't think. Okay. And no, we didn't ever have any. But they did have plenty of water. That's one thing they did have up there was plenty of water. And those peach orchards, they could afford to clean up new land, and bringing in new trees, and have the water. And they could--with the winters that we had there, their fruit would get onto the market before California would get up to Yakima. So when that company came in to take over, they gave my dad about $5 an acre. And these guys got maybe $20. And they were all rich enough to hire lawyers, and they hired lawyers. And their lawyer got them much more money for their land. But it was worth it. To see those brand new trees get just bulldozed over!
Bauman: I was wondering if you remember any special community events or celebrations? Did you have any 4th of July celebrations, or picnics, or anything like that? Foot races?
Johnson: I can't remember any specific. I do remember that they built next to the high school something called a Community Hall. And they would have dances and the boys would play basketball. And maybe Kennewick would come up and play basketball. They'd have basketball games. But as far as grange, they did not participate.
Bauman: So--
Johnson: Oh, and this orchard, in their warehouse. Yes, he had told me that before, that he had about 16 people that they hired. And my mother was the bookkeeper. And so these people were getting money every Friday night. 1934 and '35. So he had lots of friends. Lots of people liked him, because he did provide for people to get a job. There were no jobs, as far as work was concerned. The grocery store would hire--his nephew was there. And the drugstore did it by himself. And one lady, Mrs. Leander, was the postmistress. She took care of the post office. I don't know who any of the people were that came around to deliver the mail.
Bauman: You mentioned earlier that there was the initial farm that your parents had, and then your father had moved at some point. Is that right?
Johnson: Yes.
Bauman: About how old were you at that time, then?
Johnson: Well, according to the pictures on--at home, I was about four. Because I was just with the kids as they would stand out go to school. I wasn't going to school. And then I cannot tell you how long it was, but it was a big blow to leave that house and that yard, and go to a house where workers had lived in all their life. And they had cardboard on their walls, covering up the wood. And it had one bedroom, and I got to have the bedroom. And there was a big porch in the front, and the three boys slept in part of it, and Mother and Dad slept in the other. But the weather over there was never cold. I guess it was hot, but I don't remember that. I'm sure it was hot. Because it was desert.
Bauman: And how far away would the second place have been from your first house? Was it fairly close?
Johnson: I would say three and a half miles, just up over a hill.
Bauman: And then you lived there until you moved to Yakima?
Johnson: Yes.
Bauman: Okay. You mentioned that you'd heard about World War II beginning. You want to talk about your brothers? And I understand they all joined the service at some point. Is that correct?
Johnson: Mm-hm.
Bauman: And that's why you were still living in White Bluffs?
Johnson: No, Yakima. Well, you're right. They were. But then they left, because one was going to university and the other two we're going to Washington State. And they joined in what, '41? And then we had to move in '43. But they said, Mom, don't worry about moving to Yakima, because we can get to Yakima from anywhere in the world, but we can't get to White Bluffs. So they were probably already in the service doing their first camp or something. And one--I had no idea in the world what reconnaissance meant--he did not fight a war, but he was in reconnaissance--until I looked it up in the dictionary. And he was fighting the war up in the air, taking pictures of their movements, the Japanese movements. And my other brother was in a tanker taking fuel from New Orleans to France in the Atlantic. And he said that the Atlantic was full of German submarines. He said there were four days that they didn't even take their clothes off. But his was brand new, and he could not go slow as everybody else did. And he could go faster than their convoy, so he circled their own convoy without any cover, because he said his boat would not go that slow. And my other brother was in Marine fighter pilot. And he--I don't know if you knew the story about Ted Williams, but Ted Williams' group came in. Whenever my brother left that camp, Ted Williams came in. And I just heard that on the--because people look at me and say, Ted Williams, the baseball player? And I said, yes, he went to war. Yeah, he was in a group that came in and took over where my brother had been.
Bauman: You mentioned earlier that you started seeing some cars and vehicles that said U.S. Government. Do you remember any more about that? Anything else that happened?
Johnson: Well, that was our first--there was gossip around that, I don't know, that they were going to take over and build a atomic bomb or something on our land. That we were going to have to leave. Well, you know, until it came to push, and then came shove. But these station wagons were showing up, and each one of them had about four men sitting in it. And they were surveying the land. And they had surveyed how many houses there were, and what condition they were in, because some houses were ready to be burned and a few houses were moved. And the rest of them were demolished. And then all of a sudden it came across that you were going to have to move by the 15th of September. They gave them the date. And my mother worked on an election board. And whatever year that was, I don't know. But she wanted to stay and work on that last board. And I had been told later that that was the only money she was going to move with, was what she got paid for. She had a sister that lived in Yakima, and they found us an apartment. And it was just two rooms. Oh, goodness, it was small. But that was where we were. And my dad stayed to work on the orchard. They let him stay until the crops were all picked. And he sent the last bunch of apples off that orchard to Yakima.
Bauman: How did you feel about having to leave? Or your parents ever express anything about--
Johnson: They did not, because as I've said before, I said we were poor. Leslie just said we didn't have any money.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Johnson: And we all got jobs. I got babysitting jobs with a little neighborhood girl. The mother was there, but I would just go over there and play with her, and get maybe $0.25 or something. Well, that's all there was. And I didn't drive. I couldn't go anywhere. Cars were--gas was rationed. And then we went to Yakima. And I graduated on about the 3rd of June and went to work on the 6th. I said to Mother, now, don't wake me up. I'm going to sleep for two days. She woke me up and said, well, there's an ad in the paper. The newspaper wants help. And I said, well, I'll go see. Well, I got taken that day. I worked there for seven years. In the advertising, Johnny, doing anything that they wanted done. I would do it. I ran the switchboard. And I could--I did a lot of odd jobs there. But I was in advertising. Yeah, I have to tell you that writing for sale notes to be published in the paper. And Friday night, he had to have it. Everything had to be back in the room to get onto Sunday's paper, at least by five o'clock Friday night. And this one man would invariably come about 20 after 4:00. And every time I could, I would leave the room. But I got a hold of him one time, and he had cattle for sale. And I was writing it down. And he had a milking short-horn bull. And I wrote it down, and I looked at it. That's what it said, a milking short-horn bull. I said, that's not possible! Oh, he said, you silly girls don't know a thing. That's what it is. Put in the paper. [LAUGHTER] I couldn't ask him, hey, my father wouldn't have known what a short-horn bull was either. [LAUGHTER] Wow, I never will forget that. So I found out later that that's a breed of animal. That's what they're called.
Bauman: I was asking about leaving White Bluffs. Did your parents get any money for their property at all?
Johnson: I have no idea. Money was never spoken of. I know that we took what furniture that there was suitable, and we had an aunt and uncle that lived in Sunnyside. And they came over with an old truck, and took whatever we couldn't take. Because when we went to Yakima, they said the apartment was furnished. So we didn't take anything. And that was bad. Because what they had furnished, we didn't want to sleep on. And we'd already sent out stuff to Sunnyside. So we slept on a Davenport until we got enough money to--Mother went to work for a lady that lived up the street. Had a little milk and bread grocery store, and she had two sons in the service. And so she and Mother had lots in common. And Mother would go to work for her two days--for a couple of hours two days a week. And that was what we bought groceries with.
Bauman: When you were living in White Bluffs, how you get news? Was there a newspaper? Did you have a radio?
Johnson: I never read a newspaper. I don't know anything about that. As soon as I got into the newspaper business, I read everything I can. I don't know. And as I said before, the radio we had was run by a battery. And the boys were allowed to have 30 minutes of radio when they got home from school. One of them was Jimmy Austin. Remember the--well you probably don't remember--it was a airplane. My one brother was crazy about airplanes then. And then they got into the, oh, some stupid--I think that was television, though. And then my dad was a great news man, and he would listen to the Richfield Reporter.
Bauman: And how about you? Did you listen to anything on the radio?
Johnson: Uh-uh.
Bauman: I was wondering if you ever had a chance, opportunity, to go back to White Bluffs at some point later, during one of the White Bluffs reunions, or anything like that, where you have to go back and see the area at all.
Johnson: Just three times I have. One was our 60th graduation. And the four I told you about--we had four--and the other three came. And that was when he took my girlfriend and I up to the--Harry Anderson took us up to our homes. Otherwise we would just join the convoy that would go out around and around and around. And come back in and drive through what White Bluffs streets were to get back out to the park.
Bauman: When you were able to go back and see the area, were there any things that you recognized at all that were still there, or was pretty much everything gone?
Johnson: Well, a lot of the houses were still there. The girls that I used to go visit and knew about. And the warehouse was there. Just about the last packing he did was when he left. And a wind storm had come in and it was just boards. And the wind leveled it. So that was the end of that. And our hay barn, our cow barn, had collapsed, and I didn't want to go back anymore. It wasn't home.
Bauman: I see. What do you think is important for people to know about the community of White Bluffs?
Johnson: I want them to know that we were a community. We had stores. We had grocery stores. We had a barber shop. Had the power company. We had electricity at home. My mother had an electric washing machine, which was very, very rare. But the boys had made enough money in the service to help her buy some stuff. So she had an electric stove, and she had a wood stove. And the electric stove is what she baked in. Use it for baking. Because we had so many apples, she was always making apple pie. The wood stove had a great big reservoir. So if you wanted hot water, you started the stove. You'd have enough hot water to wash the dishes at suppertime, and wash your face to go to bed. That I can relate to something else that's kind of bad to these kids, but every morning, after breakfast, before we went to school, we’d put a little bit of soda and little bit of salt in the palm of our hand, and take our dry toothbrush and mix that together. Have a glass of water, and the four of us went outside, and stood outside on the lawn, and we'd all brush our teeth. Dip it in the water, and dip over here. We didn't have toothpaste, but I guess soda and salt will work just as well. We never had candy. We did have apple pie and chocolate cake. Mother did bake. And then my father had that cow, and would have a calf. And whenever the calf got big enough, he'd butcher it. And it would hang up in a tree. It was cool. It was always in the fall that he'd butcher the calf. And they'd go out and cut some meat, take it in, and have it for supper. So it was very, very pioneer. True. But as I said before, Leslie has made me think we were not poor.
Bauman: Right. Did you go to any other towns very much at all? To Pasco or to--
Johnson: Oh, Pasco we went for a doctor, because I got real sick in my fifth grade. I had Bright's disease. Don't even know what it is. But the doctors now say, well, I'm glad you had it then, because we don't want you to have it now. And I had to stay in the hospital in Pasco. And my mother would come twice a week, and she'd say, how are you doing? Oh, I said, I wish you'd bring me some water from home. The water they give me has--they always put my medicine in my water! And I said, I don't like it that way. I like to be able to drink a drink of water. And she said, well, they shouldn't put your medicine in your water. So she went out to the nurse and said, Jean said that the water isn't good. Well, she complains to me, too, but she's drinking city water. They had chlorine in it, and I didn't like it. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] How long were you in the hospital for that?
Johnson: About two weeks. To me, that was a long ways to be from home.
Bauman: And about how old were you at that time?
Johnson: I was in fifth grade. I think I was 11. Bright's disease, I think, was a kidney problem, and the doctor, without telling me, told my mother that I may not ever be able to have children. So nobody told me anything about that until after I got married. And I had four children in six years, so I proved them wrong! [LAUGHTER] All doctors aren't right.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Were there doctors in White Bluffs?
Johnson: I was born there, yes. That's what one of my friends said, you couldn't have been born in White Bluffs unless you were born at home. I said, no, I was born in White Bluffs. There was a little house there, and there was some doctor. I don't know who he was. He was an old, old man. And the lady I talked to, the nurse, was a retired army nurse. And she said she had studied--what's baby birth? It's not pediatrics.
Bauman: It's not pediatrics?
Johnson: Well, anyhow.
Woman: Was it midwifery?
Johnson: Yeah. Well, that's what she was. She was a midwife. So yeah. The boys were all born in Yakima.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Johnson: My mother would go in there and stay with her mother.
Bauman: But you were born in White Bluffs?
Johnson: I was born in White Bluffs. And isn't that funny? I can remember that, a white house. It was spotless. And there was no dogs and cats running around in it. No children. Just that old man and that lady. But I made it through.
Bauman: Are there any other memories or stories, things you remember from growing up that we haven't talked about yet, or I haven't asked you about yet that you'd like to talk about?
Johnson: No, I ended up with The Republic and then I got married. Well, I worked seven years at the newspaper office. And the picnics and things that we had was over on the other house where we had the big lawn. We always had a picnic there. A lot of those people who were working at the warehouse would come over on Sunday and bring one dish or something, and all their kids. And they would play on our yard, because we had water in the yard--came to go to the orchard--had been derailed and come on to the yard. And he had and old lawnmower and mowed it. So it was fun. And we had a lot of company, because everybody was beholden to my father. And that's about all I can remember, but I wanted to express myself that this is really from my heart, because I have wanted to do this. And I appreciate all your help and the other people coming in and standing there waiting for us to get done.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you very much for being willing to share your stories. This has been terrific. I really appreciate it.
Johnson: Thank you. And the weather there! The weather in White Bluffs--I'm sorry. It was beautiful, even though it was desert. We had warm winters. I do not remember any snow. And it was a long trip from White Bluffs to Yakima in an old car. [bounces up and down]
Bauman: Is that the Ford?
Johnson: An old Ford--no, no. Oh, my, no. We had a big Chevrolet. My brother bought it, then they went to war.
Bauman: So you took the Chevrolet once they were gone.
Johnson: Mm-hm. Well, I am a very happy person.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Well, thank you very much. Again, it was really appreciated.
Johnson: Mm-hm.
Crew woman: Is that it?
Bauman: Yeah.
Crew woman: Okay, well I heard you talking about the boat regatta.
Bauman: Oh. Yeah. The boat regatta. There's a photo of the cars lined up on the river.
Johnson: Mm-hm.
Bauman: Could you talk about that at all? Do you have any memories about the--
Johnson: Oh, yes. Because two of our men were in two of those boats. One of them was the Wiehl. I can't remember what another man's name was. I don't remember too much about it, because to me the boats were just going around and around and the rest of us kids were either trying to get ice cream, or [LAUGHTER] see how many rocks we could pick up or something. It wasn't--and that's another thing, too. I probably mentioned that before. We were never afraid. We were never afraid. Day or night. If somebody new came into town, he was well covered. And everybody knew who he was in ten days, five days.
Bauman: The boat regattas, did it happen every year? Is that something that's a yearly--
Johnson: As far as I remember. I cannot say it was every year. Maybe every year for five years or something like that. And that was one of the biggest events. There was no rodeos, and no parades that I can ever remember.
Bauman: Okay. Well, Jean, let’s have you look at some of these photos, maybe. And have you talk a little bit about them.
Jean Johnson: All right. This is my mother and father’s wedding. They were married in Prosser in August 19—I almost want to say 1916. It doesn’t matter, really, it was somewhere in there. And they had met in White Bluffs, where mother’s family grew up—moved from Yakima to White Bluffs—was only 100 feet from Dad’s shack.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Johnson: So they met early in the shack. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: They were neighbors. [LAUGHTER]
Johnson: Yeah. Okay, and this was a brand new Ford Turing. It wasn’t Turing—what did I tell you it was?
Bauman: You thought maybe a Model A, possibly?
Johnson: No. I don’t think—I don’t know. Maybe not, it was a brand new car. And when Dad went into White Bluffs to pick up the car, he took the three boys with him and bought them all three new hats. So they were spiffy and ready to go. And here they were just showing me off.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Johnson: And this is my house in White Bluffs. I loved that house. And you can see from the pictures they had a great big lawn.
Bauman: Right. More kids again here.
Johnson: Mm-hm. And we played—I was out on the grass all the time. The boys had pretend airports over here with their model airplanes. In those days they had airplanes that were made of steel or something, they were heavy.
Bauman: And who took all these photos, did your parents have a camera then? Do you know?
Johnson: Are we all there?
Bauman: No, but I mean—this is the four of you kids, but did your family have a—
Johnson: Yeah. They had a Kodak Box. And those other pictures that I took when I was older, I had a little tiny thing that took 110. And then they finally did away with the 110 film. So the girls gave me a digital—3M or something, I don’t know. I can’t think. [LAUGHTER] So I don’t take any more pictures. Yeah, this was 1937.
Bauman: So, you were about 12 years old? What year were you born?
Johnson: ’25. No, I was little. I was about four, I didn’t get to go to school yet.
Bauman: Oh, here you were little, yeah. Let’s see. Oops.
Johnson: Yeah. And that’s an orchard that they worked in and they climbed up a tree. And there was a ladder, and there’s the dog standing there with them. See that? Ben-ben was always with them.
Bauman: That was your family dog?
Johnson: Mm-hm. There was a—
Bauman: And who’s this here?
Johnson: That’s my second brother. He was the one who was on the gas run for the Navy.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Johnson: He had come home from Pullman. He was very, very studious. He was the president of his senior class in college.
Bauman: Oh, okay, was that Washington State?
Johnson: Yes. And this one—my older brother went to the University of Washington, Seattle.
Bauman: Okay, I’m going to bring in some of these school photos now.
Johnson: This was the seventh grade.
Bauman: And which one are you in here? You see yourself?
Johnson: Remember? I was in the background, up by the teacher, tall. Yeah. And this is what? Fifth and sixth. We were younger. See that’s me right there. My brothers were all ahead of me. And that man’s name was Tomet. He lived in [UNKNOWN]. Fred Tomet.
Bauman: And he was the teacher?
Johnson: Mm-hm.
Bauman: This was taken outside in front the school.
Johnson: Mm-hm. That looks like a pretty good looking school, doesn’t it?
Bauman: It does, yeah. Now here’s an earlier one.
Johnson: Yeah, that was the teacher of second grade. I told you when she came back she had a little tiny—had a belly on her! Next time we knew, she had a new baby in her arms. That was my experience of when children would come, taught in school.
Bauman: And which one are you in this photo?
Johnson: Oh, right there.
Bauman: Uh-huh. And there’s grade school.
Johnson: Oh, this is a whole bunch of them!
Bauman: Looks like the whole grade school.
Johnson: It must be.
Bauman: Of White Bluffs.
Johnson: I think I’m down here, because that was the teacher. And that was my first grade teacher—I told you she was an older woman. And do you know, to this day—I called her Mrs. Moody—and there’s a lady in Ellensburg that my brothers went to school with. And they called her Mrs. So-and-so. In those days, that’s all we—you did not call them by Martha and George. They were mister and missus. And that’s what—in that, the lists that Betsy made of all those men in town—I didn’t know their first names that came to me. But they were always Mr. Gilhuly and Mr. Larsen and Mr. English. Kids in those days didn’t say, Hi Fred!
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Johnson: [referring to picture] I can’t tell, I can’t tell. But I’m there.
Bauman: And another thing I wanted you to talk about was this.
Johnson: Yeah, that was the name of my father’s apple. This was painted on the backside of his—on the solid end of the apple box. And that does say White Bluffs on it. Codding and Heideman, Fred Rea – Seattle was his—when his stuff was shipped out. When it went right into the store, right into people, it was Pear in Yakima. Pear Fruit Company.
Bauman: And who was Heideman?
Johnson: He was a neighbor. We lived here, and went through the orchard and through the orchard, and he lived right there. And they had five children and they were all younger than we were. But it’s funny how they grew up, because two of the boys were teachers that came into Yakima. They were agriculture teachers and one was a livestock teacher. And they came into the school from Wenatchee. So many of those kids, you know, they moved out of White Bluffs when they had to. And they all stayed within the area, almost. I don’t know, some of them must have left and went out of state, but a lot of them just stayed with what they knew. That’s the only thing you could do, you couldn’t get really educated.
Bauman: A lot of them stayed close by?
Johnson: Mm-hm.
Bauman: I meant to ask you, do you know how large your farm was, like how many acres?
Johnson: I think it was something like 22. It wasn’t large, but they were all trees.
Bauman: And so your father partnered with Mr. Heideman for these apples.
Johnson: Well, I would say Mr. Heideman let—knew my father. Because he wanted to build it.
Bauman: Okay.
Johnson: And Heideman said, well, I’ll help you. And so they got in a real good friendship. Us kids were all good friends, but the parents didn’t have much to do until they got into this. But he was, as I said before, a lot of people had great respect for him for getting them jobs.
Bauman: Mm-hm, right.
Johnson: Now, not to change the subject, but my boys are the same way as my dad was. Because my boys hire whatever they have to hire. And they are—the boys that they hire comment to them and to their parents how easy and how nice it is to work here. Because they say thank you, they don’t yell at them, they’re paid every time they need money or time they’re off. And that’s what they have learned. If they did the work, pay them. Don’t say you have to wait until Monday. So they have very good respect in the Valley. I’m very, very proud of all of them.
Bauman: Sure. I meant to ask you, how did you come across this label? How did you get this label?
Johnson: I have no idea. Somebody must have drawn it up for him.
Bauman: Mm-hm. All right. Thanks. Thank you, that was very good. Very helpful.
Northwest Public Television | Brinson_Robert
Robert Bauman: --2013 and the interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. And I’ll be talking to Mr. Brinson about his family’s history at Hanford. And his family stories, experiences, memories about that community. If you could tell me sort of how and why your family came to Hanford, when that was, and what family members were part of that initial coming to Hanford.
Robert Brinson: Well, let’s see, I’ll start with my mother’s family was originally up in Ruth when she was born. In kinda north central Washington. And grandpa was working at the train station there, as a depot agent, telegrapher.
Camera man: Oh, let’s stop. Yup.
Bauman: Oh, sorry.
Camera man: Okay.
Bauman: All right? Okay. All right, so talking about your family.
Robert Brinson: Okay, mom's family, which was the Moulsters. My grandpa was Louis Lyman Moulster, the depot agent telegrapher at the, I think it was, the Milwaukee Railroad in Ruth, Washington, when mom was born. I'm not sure how old they were when he got just a little spooked about the immigrants who were coming in to that area and decided they'd move. So they moved on to Hanford. And he took over the depot down there and raised his family. And there was Mom and Aunt Louise. Twin sisters Margaret and Mildred and younger sister June, which they called Babe. The oldest one was Uncle Lyman. And the baby of the family was Uncle Arthur. When he came along, Grandpa was busy with a train about to come in so he couldn't take Grandma to the hospital. So Uncle Lyman had to drive the car, and this is a 12-year-old kid driving an old Model T to the hospital. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Where was the closest hospital?
Brinson: In Pasco. Lady of Lourdes in--I think it was still in Pasco, early in that time. But when the word got back the baby had been born, he kind of slapped his knee and said, that's the caboose. [LAUGHTER] No more kids.
Bauman: So what year did that family come to Hanford?
Brinson: Oh, I'm not certain. It's probably in the late 1910 to 1915, somewhere in there.
Bauman: Okay. And the name is Moulster, M-O-U-L-S-T-E-R?
Brinson: Right, yeah. They came out of Wisconsin, originally. And Dad's family came out of Arkansas. He was only two years old when the family moved out here. All of them is, let’s see, brother Paul and sister Irene--or not—sister Bernice. Brother Herbert and Albert were all born, no, not Herbert, except for Herbert, they were born back in Fayetteville. They moved out to Seattle from there, and that was where Uncle Herb was born. But they didn't stay there long. They moved to—oh, I’ve forgot, you've got it in your notes there in that one I sent you--to one of the towns in eastern Washington, before they moved to Hanford, anyway.
Bauman: Yeah.
Brinson: And they got what, 1918, I think they settled in Hanford. And not in Hanford, the foothills of the Rattlesnakes out there, where the Benson Ranch was up where Fitzdriver Hart is now?
Bauman: Okay.
Brinson: So they ran the ranch up there. Had the sheep and everything. And the boys would raise the sheeps that were what that the mothers wouldn't raise. So they had a good--they said it was a great place to grow up. The Moulsters and the Brinsons were all friends from almost the get-go. Even living 18 miles away from each other they would visit back and forth all the time. And so, that's eventually Mom and Dad ended up at--It happened that when they finished with the apple crop down here, the kids would go up to the Wenatchee area, where further north where the crops were still coming off, so they could get some more work in. Earn some more money. And so they were-- just happened to be up there in a little town close to Wenatchee--and they were picking apples in a tree, and Dad got it in his head and asked Mom he thought they'd known each other long enough that maybe they should think about getting married. So she agreed, up there at the top of the apple tree ladder. So that's where all that started. And then I was born in 1937. The same trip to the hospital in an old Model T. Dad grumbling all the way, why'd anybody want to live out in the middle of nowhere like this. So I only got to experience Hanford for probably four years. But I did hear tales about how I would like to run off, because nobody locked doors in those days. And so if Mom turned her back too long, I'd dash out the door and go down the street to see Aunt Bernice.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Brinson: She would tell that story on and on and over and over as she entered in her elderly years when she got a little bit, I think it was Alzheimer's, probably is what it was, you know how they repeat themselves. So I heard that story a lot when I'd go to visit.
Bauman: So the house you lived in, was it in town? Or did you have a farm? Or what sort of place was it?
Brinson: No, it was right in town there because Dad had the little beer parlor, ice cream parlor combination. There was a room in the back where the men played cards. And they had--kids'd scrounge ice cream cones and men'd drop in for a beer. And even the Indians'd come by and try to get alcohol, which you couldn't legally sell it to them. So he had to keep a little short barrel .22 short pistol under the counter to dissuade the more belligerent of the tribe when they tried to buy alcohol of off him.
Bauman: Does it have a name, the pool hall or beer hall ice cream parlor?
Brinson: I never did hear if it was just a Hanford pool hall or whatever. Otherwise it was just--there were probably just orchards all around town and up and down the river, is all it was, was fruit.
Bauman: So the Brinson family had the place 18 miles out. Is that right?
Brinson: That, well, they worked for the. Benson, E. F. Benson I think was his initials. He was the owner of the ranch. And he built a house for the family out there. Had running water from a spring. And the kids got to drive in to--I think it said in the letter Uncle Herb wrote--that it was the county bought him a Model T to drive in to the school at Cold Springs. And then somebody found out they were actually were in the Hanford School District so they had to, even though Cold Springs was closer, they had to drive 18 miles to Hanford to go to school.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Brinson: So that must've been quite an experience. You can imagine teenage boys doing stuff like that. Would've been kind of fun.
Bauman: Had you heard any other stories about the school itself? About your dad or your aunts and uncles?
Brinson: No. There was something that nobody ever really made clear, that he did have to spend a year at a high school up north in--can't remember the name of that little town. Now, I ever got a letter on my sweater with a big P on it. Pateros. Yeah, Pateros High School. So he must have got into some kind of trouble and had to go away to a different high school for a year. Because I think it was like 1930, 1931, when they graduated. It was 1935, I think, when they got married, so. So there was some time, he spent time in the President Roosevelt's CCCs, building campgrounds and trails in the mountains around the state. And he actually went and spent some time down in Oregon on the Salmon River, I think, panning for gold one spring. He had a few adventures away from Hanford before he came back and committed himself to a long, long marriage with Mom. Yeah, so.
Bauman: Well, talking about FDR and the CCC, any of your family members ever talk to you about the Depression? What it was like growing up or living in Hanford during the Depression? Did it have an impact on the community in any way?
Brinson: You know, they always talk like it was the most wonderful place in the world. They didn't have any financial problems because they took care of everything themselves. They had their own herds and their own fruit and vegetables. Didn't depend on when the government came along with the social programs. They went off and made a dollar a day and sent whatever portion was required for them to send home. A certain percentage they had to send home. It was never, never heard of a word, like there was any kind of hardship at all.
Bauman: Now the Moulster family, did they have a place in town, then?
Brinson: Yeah, the railroad supplied a house for Grandpa and Grandma. So he would go down and greet the trains when they came in. And of course all the family had free passes so the kids could, during summer vacation, they could hop on a train, ride anywhere they wanted to go, for nothing. So they'd go over to Seattle and visit relatives.
Bauman: That's nice. [LAUGHTER]
Brinson: Yeah, they had a good time.
Bauman: Sounds nice. How long was your grandfather work for the railroad in Hanford then?
Brinson: Until the government came in. And they moved from there to Prosser and they retired. And they lived in Prosser for the rest of his life. I think he died, oh, somewhere like 1957 or 8, somewhere like that.
Bauman: Do you have any idea how busy of a train stat--like how often trains came through? Once a day? A couple times a day? Do you know?
Brinson: I never heard, no. You would expect maybe at least once a day to have to keep a guy there.
Bauman: Mm-hm, you’d think so, right. I was wondering about, you talked about the beer parlor/pool hall and ice cream parlor.
Brinson: Yeah.
Bauman: I wonder if any of your family members ever talked about recreational activities, picnics, or Fourth of July celebrations, or things that kids did for fun.
Brinson: Just when they'd visit families back and forth. They'd go out to the Benson ranch on Sundays, usually after church, and they'd have a big supper. And, like I said in the write up, they would make a big tub of ice cream. You know it probably was salt and ice and stirred all up. And when they'd come the other way down to Hanford and they probably went to the river in a summer day, cause that's where the whole town gathered, right there in the swimming hole. Only place to keep cool. And you can imagine those blistering summer days like we get around here. Without, back before they had a lot of the agriculture we have now. Wasn't nearly as cool, probably.
Bauman: Right. Yeah. Then there's winter, also, which is a completely different.
Brinson: Oh, yeah there's pictures. I've seen pictures at the reunions of the frozen Columbia with a herd of sheep going across. And just amazing. The ice skating, of course, on the same place they'd swim in they'd be ice skating on it in the wintertime.
Bauman: Mm-hm. Now, when your family was at the Benson ranch, right?
Brinson: Dad's family, yeah.
Bauman: So it was sheep. Did they also grow crops at all? Apples, peaches, anything along that—orchards?
Brinson: No, it was always strictly for wintering the sheep, I think, mostly.
Bauman: Okay.
Brinson: In the springtime they'd drive them out onto the sagebrush flats out in the range. Well, even today if you drive--we just got back from a cross-country trip to Kentucky, and out through Wyoming and Utah there, you see sheep all over the place. You see the little carts out there the sheep herder lives in. It's just like it was back then.
Bauman: You talked about the Brinson and Moulster families being close, were there other families, do you know, that you got close to—
Brinson: Yeah, there were--
Bauman: --Or knew really well?
Brinson: When they had the get-togethers, the reunions were just the happiest times, when they'd all get together and they'd hash out the old memories from. And they'd talk about the people around the mercantile downtown. And the different neighbors, all of them. It was too young for me to remember most of the names. I remember a few names. I think the store was run by the Boyd family. And of course there were the Clarks. Ilian Clark was one of the latest, or she went to our church, actually. I mean she would, she's the one that'd always try to organize the sing-alongs at the reunions. She would play the piano and try to get everybody the sing all the old songs.
Bauman: Yeah. What about churches in the community? Were there a number--
Brinson: I think there was only a Presbyterian church there. I think that's what everybody went to, if they were so inclined, anyway.
Bauman: Mm-hm. And did your family get to some of the neighboring communities very often? To White Bluffs or Richland? I know the hopsital’s in Pasco, but--
Brinson: Not that they've mentioned very often. They've had quite a rivalry going with White Bluffs that even carried on into the reunions. The Hanford folks and the White Bluff folks still had a few issues, even going into those later days. Probably sports teams and such like that.
Bauman: Probably schools and sports teams.
Brinson: Yeah.
Bauman: So let’s talk a little bit now about World War II and when the federal government decided that they were going to build a site out where the community of Hanford was. What do you know about that? Or what have you heard from your family members? I know you were only four years old or something at the time. What sort of stories have you heard about that?
Brinson: There was a lot of bitterness. And even to this day, some of them, like that one fellow you mentioned that you'd interviewed before, I'm sure you must have heard from him how hard it was on some of the folks to walk, practically walk away from a orchard just ready to probably pick and produce a crop and make a profit for you for the first time. And you have to walk away from it. You can imagine what kind of bitterness that might produce. See, we had already left by probably 1942. And Dad decided a growing family needed a better income, so he got on at the shipyards over there in Tacoma and then Grandpa followed. We lived together for a while over there. And did a little work. Didn't come back ‘til 1948. But you heard the stories at every reunion from just about the same people. They repeat the same stuff. [LAUGHTER] Grandpa Brinson got his--after all the work he did on his place, planting the peach orchard and everything--he got 700 whole dollars out of the government for it. And I'm sure it was similar for a lot of the other folks.
Bauman: $700 is what—is all he got?
Brinson: That's all he got for his house, outbuildings, and orchard, yeah.
Bauman: So you were in Tacoma, your family was in Tacoma though at that point. Is that right?
Brinson: Right, before they--
Bauman: Did you hear about it at that point? Do you know did your family hear about it from?
Brinson: Well, I'm sure there were--I'm not sure how they communicated. Mostly by letters, probably. I don't think that there was--well, yeah, there must have been long distance at that time. But, yeah, I don't recall, of course, being at that age, a lot of telephone traffic at all. But I'm sure they heard from the folks. Because after it happened we'd take a lot of trips back over the mountains to visit Grandma and Grandpa there in Prosser.
Bauman: They had moved to Prosser then?
Brinson: Yeah, a lot of folks moved to Prosser. A lot of them moved to Yakima and surrounding towns out through there. It scattered them pretty good, so it was always nice to see them come back. The reunions were really crowded in the early days.
Bauman: Do you know about when those reunions started?
Brinson: Oh, it had to have been in the late '40s.
Bauman: So pretty soon after the war.
Brinson: Probably in the, yeah, '47 to '49, somewhere in there probably. You know the kids--all the kids noticed was free ice cream, free pop. [LAUGHTER] And a lot of grass and trees to play under, play around under. So my sister was the one that—she would love to sit under the picnic table and listen to all the adult talk going on. But us kids, us boys, we'd just run around and play. We didn't care about that kind of stuff. So she heard all the stories, but you couldn't talk her into coming in for an interview, huh?
Bauman: So when did you--since you were only four years old or so when your family left Hanford-- when did you first become aware of the family story here and what had happened to the communities here?
Brinson: Oh, well, when they would take us to the reunions, they'd hear the stories and, of course, even family get-togethers you'd hear it then, too. ‘Cause we'd always have a get-together in a Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving. There'd always be a family get-together, so you'd hear all the stories around the dinner tables. All the fellowship around that time, most times of the year. And there'd be a lot of good-humored joking, but there's always that underlying disappointment. It would've been nice to have carried on and grown up and realized the full potential of a community like that. Along the river would've been a beautiful place.
Bauman: Yeah. So I was going to ask you--one of the reasons we're doing this project is to get memories and stories about families that were there, so that someone in the future, a student maybe, or maybe a descendant of yours could listen and watch the video. What sorts of things or anything that you would especially like people like that to know about, or know about the community of Hanford, or about your family that you think it would be important to let them to know about?
Brinson: Oh, probably the most important thing would be I think the freedom you felt like you had in those days, even at four years old and you don't really don't realize the importance of it. You had it, when you could just run out of the house and go visit some aunt up the street and not worry about being lost or being abducted by some nutball. And the people were independent and helped each other. And it was just, compared to how things are today, wow. Yeah, don't get me started on the politics going on today.
Bauman: So in other words, it was a community.
Brinson: Yeah. There was even--
Bauman: People who really felt like a community.
Brinson: Oh, yeah. You could tell when you see them at the reunions how close they were. Just a whole lot of hugging going on.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Yeah. Well, just the fact that they had those reunions and kept doing those for so many years suggests--
Brinson: Yeah. Yeah the--
Bauman: --strong bond, right?
Brinson: Yeah, the people that organized those had to really be committed because that took a lot of work, sending out all the letters and getting together all the food, all the materials it took. And then they would put out tables and tables of old photographs and paper, newspaper clippings, and stuff like that. I hope you were able to get ahold of some of that.
Bauman: I did, yeah, see some of that, yeah. Have you or any of your family members ever gone back, say on one of the tours that goes out? Been able to go see the former sites out there?
Brinson: A few times we went out to. One time when they let you take your cars out, they kind of travel out there following the DOE guy. They let you park and walk around, trying to find your old home site. My mom always knew by the shape of some tree about where their house was. And her cousin Dick went with us one time, and he got to poking around out there and he actually found a little fish pond that his father had built for him. It was all covered over by sagebrush and stuff. But he managed to find it and brush off the stuff. But it was just made out of stones that were just kind of cemented in. It was probably no bigger than that, but it was only so deep, but it was. It meant a lot to him to--
Bauman: Oh sure.
Brinson: --to be able to find that and remember that part of his life.
Bauman: Wow. Do you know when that might have been, that he would have went back out there and found that?
Brinson: Oh, that was probably in the late '60s, early '70s, in that area.
Bauman: And you mentioned that your mom was able to by the shape of a tree know where. What sort of response did she have to going back out there? Did you get a chance to talk to her about that? Or were you out there with her?
Brinson: Yeah. Oh yeah, she liked it. Her thing, like I said, was down at the old swimming hole. She kind of graded everything by where the swimming hole was, where that meant that. And then she could figure out where that tree was. And then that house stood right there by the tree. Some of the houses, they moved out of there to other parts of the countryside that weren't on the project. Some of them might still be in use today for all I know. But, oh yeah, she'd get excited every time we'd go out there and remember--remembering things.
Bauman: Mm-hm. So she seemed to really appreciate being able to go out there again.
Brinson: Oh yeah. Invariably it'd be a real hot day and it'd be uncomfortable out there. You'd usually gather around the old high school there. The shell was still standing. Must have been quite--I guess, the bank building. Maybe that was in White Bluffs, so it was still standing too.
Bauman: White Bluffs Bank, yeah.
Brinson: Yeah.
Bauman: Yeah. But you must've had if she could remember that well just by a few things that were she had a real--she knew that town.
Brinson: Oh, yeah. She grew up there.
Bauman: Knew it well.
Brinson: Yeah, that was when she used to tell us about sleeping out on the hay stacks at those hot summer evenings, and listening to the coyotes howl. Falling asleep to that noise. What she called music. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Remember any other stories she used to tell you about things like that, that would've been sort of unique to the area?
Brinson: No, not really. She did leave to go to Seattle to go to secretarial school. Or business school, she called it. Business school. So she went to a couple years of that. And then probably right after that they probably got married.
Bauman: With the proposal in the apple orchard--
Brinson: Yeah, and then moved to Tacoma over in probably '42. I think so. But they did have a lot of close friends that they could talk for hours about the old times, the good times. Especially if the sisters got together. Boy, they could--Man, it was—[LAUGHTER]
Bauman: It sounds like she had a lot of very fond memories of--
Brinson: They were, yeah.
Bauman: And did your dad talk about much, talk about the old community much?
Brinson: Oh, yeah. They had the men's fraternity, I guess you'd call them, were pretty close. They had a lot of—especially the high school kids--they were the hardest things ever. So and Dad was, when one of his friends was killed at Guadalcanal, it took him a long time to get over that, because it was his best friend. So, yeah, they were really close. Yeah.
Bauman: And so you said your family then moved to Tacoma and then '48 came to Kennewick?
Brinson: Came back to, yeah, it's cause Dad got a job at the--actually, we stopped for a year in Prosser, lived with grandparents until we got, finally bought a piece of property in East Kennewick. And then he had a house built. And we lived with Herb and his family on East Fifth Street while the house was being built on East First Place. So eventually got moved in there and spent--that's where us kids grew up right there, at East Kennewick, so.
Bauman: And what did you think of Kennewick when you came back, when you moved in?
Brinson: Oh, just immediately there was guys to run around with and we just formed a bond right there. We were the four musketeers. We would—[LAUGHTER] There were no gangs back then, I guess we were about as close as you could get to a gang, I guess.
Bauman: Yeah. I guess I asked, what it would feel like being in the Tri-Cities knowing that a lot of the people in the area were working, out at the Hanford site, which is where your family used to live? Have any feelings about that? Does it seem a little odd at all or strange or? What are your thoughts about that?
Brinson: Well, we didn't really think about it that much. Most of the activity was closer to Richland, in the Camp Hanford area. And right out there where the town site was there was never any--It just happened to be in the middle of the condemned area. Yeah, I don't think we ever resented. We were too young to work up resentments at that point. We were having too much fun growing up in East Kennewick. Because back then East Kennewick went clear out to Finley, you could roam forever out through there.
Bauman: So are there anything that I haven't asked you that, or any event, or memory or family story that you haven't had a chance to talk about yet that you'd like to?
Brinson: Oh, it's one of those things that you might wake up at 2 o'clock in the morning and say, Oh, yeah I should've said that. [LAUGHTER] But right now I just can't draw on anything, anything else. It was just with all the aunts and uncles and the friends, it was just a wonderful time of life, a wonderful place to have been a part of, for a little while, anyway.
Bauman: So I do have one other question. So I know your father and grandfather and your family went to Tacoma. What happened to, say, cousins and aunts and uncles, cousins, other families you're related to?
Brinson: Well they, yeah, mom's oldest brother ended up in California as a bulldozer operator. The twins, one twin, Aunt Mildred, never did give married, and Aunt Margaret married a wheat farmer out of Walla Walla. Let's see, Aunt Babe married Uncle Doc Jones from Tacoma. They lived in Tacoma, lived out their years in Tacoma. And, see, Uncle Arthur worked on the fire department in the Seattle fire department. Let's see, on Dad's side, Herb ended up running a Chevron station right down at the end of Washington Street there in Kennewick, and later on moved to Spokane and ran one up there in Dishman. And Uncle Paul moved to San Bernardino and passed away down there, after raising a family. Let's see.
Bauman: So did all the Brinsons then go to Tacoma, pretty much? Your uncles as well?
Brinson: Generally, in that area, yeah. Uncle Albert ended up in Renton and raised his family. His son Gary is the—Gary Brinson of the Brinson Fund, you know. Multimillion. [LAUGHTER] He had to build a building there on the WSU campus for the business college, I guess you'd call it.
Bauman: But he was younger than you, correct?
Brinson: Oh, yeah. Just a few years, yeah.
Bauman: So did he live out at Hanford at all?
Brinson: No. They all grew up in Renton.
Bauman: And then what about the Moulster side? Were they still living in Hanford when the government came in during the war?
Brinson: Yeah, yeah. Yeah, because that's when Grandpa had to drop the depot agent job. Retire from the Milwaukee Railroad and move to Prosser, so. And I don't know who was, if Aunt Margaret hadn't married Uncle Bud at that time, so. They were in the, yeah, she and Aunt Millie both joined the Navy, that's right. They were both in the Navy ‘til the end of the war, so. So that's where they went. And so Uncle Arthur was also and flew in the--whatever aircraft that was. He was a navigator bombardier off of a carrier airplane of some sort. P-40 or something like that. Forces that have survived.
Bauman: Now, did you or any of your family end up working at the Hanford site?
Brinson: Dad worked at the fire department in Richland for the rest of his career there. Central fire station. When I got out of the Air Force, I spent a couple years at CBC and got into the physical chemistry laboratory out there, in 300 Area. Worked out there for 40, 42 years. Retired in 2000. Paid for my- [LAUGHTER] Put a couple of kids through school from working out there. Yeah, it was a good place to spend a career. Yeah.
Bauman: Mm-hm. Is there any final thoughts about the old Hanford town or of your family--families, even the Moulster or Brinson family, and their experiences there?
Brinson: Oh, the biggest thing was just missing them all so much. Just because it was such a wonderful family to grow up in. So supportive and loving, and just getting together at a drop of a hat. So many get-togethers and camping trips. Yeah, I wish I could have grown up older there and had more memories of the old Hanford town, but. But that's the way things go.
Bauman: Well, I appreciate you being willing to come talk and share your memories and your family stories about Hanford and the community out there. I really appreciate it.
Brinson: Well, I wish I could've helped you out more.
Bauman: This is terrific. You were great. Thank you.
Brinson: Okay, you're welcome. I'm glad you got a chance to talk to Mom there, that 12 years ago.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Brinson: She made it to 97.
Northwest Public Television | D_Henry_Raymond
Robert Bauman: Okay. Well, we'll go ahead and get started. And I'm going to start by having you say your name, and spell it for us, please.
Ray Deranleau: Ray De-- are you ready?
Bauman: Yep.
Deranleau: Ray Deranleau, D-E-R-A-N-L-E-A-U, R-A-Y on the first name.
Bauman: Great, thank you. And today's date is September 3rd of 2013. And we're conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So let's start, if we could, by having you talk about your family--how they came, how, when, why they came to the area here.
Deranleau: Well, my folks come here in 1930. And at that time, there was just six kids left in the house. The three older ones had grown up. And they more or less, I think, starved out--they were up at Genesee, Idaho. And the price of wheat wasn't anything, and they just kind of went broke up there. They moved down here, and, of course, we farmed down here, but that was altogether different. Dad had been a dry land farmer, but he had to learn the irrigation thing.
Bauman: Do you know how he heard about Richland, or any of that?
Deranleau: I think he just put the place up for sale and the real estate person, Carl Williams, who was in Kennewick for a long time, handled it. I know that. And I suppose that's how it happened. I was about--I was six--or, five when we moved here. So, a lot of that up there, I don't recall even.
Bauman: And what were your parents' names?
Deranleau: Henry and Elizabeth.
Bauman: And so where was your farm?
Deranleau: Well, it was right across the ditch from where Battelle is, headed west. It was across that ditch. And if you are familiar with that, there was an old school—Vale School, up there at one time. And Dad had 33 acres, and that seven acres was out of that original 40. So we were right adjacent to that.
Bauman: Okay. Who were some of your neighbors, or people who lived closest to you, then?
Deranleau: Well, Pete Hansen lived right next to us. And then, across the ditch, was Hultgrenn. Were the two closest.
Bauman: And so what sort of crops did you grow on the far?
Deranleau: Well, we had--towards the last, we had a little mint--peppermint. And we had quite a few grapes, but most folks didn't raise grapes like Dad did. And, of course, we had hay and asparagus, and strawberries.
Bauman: And growing up on the farm, did you have particular chores or responsibilities that were yours?
Deranleau: Hell yeah. We milked cows, and just all the stuff that went with it. Cut asparagus. We'd get up as soon as you could see to cut asparagus in the spring. That was always a cash crop that made a little money for everybody that--and of course, it was early. It'd give them a chance to have some money to pay the water bill, and stuff like that. So that was a good crop then.
Bauman: Do you know where the crops were sold?
Deranleau: Well, they were sold mostly at Kennewick. And some things at Pasco, but mostly at Kennewick. Ours was, anyway.
Bauman: I want to ask you also, about your farm, were there other buildings besides the house itself on the property? What other buildings were there?
Deranleau: Well, yeah, we had a barn, and a little shed that, I suppose at one time, had been kind of an open end garage type thing. But most of that stuff was so worn out that you could throw a cat through it somewhere.
Bauman: So when you bought the place, it was something that someone else had already owned?
Deranleau: There was what?
Bauman: Someone else had already owned the place?
Deranleau: No, Dad got that place from the ditch company. And he just moved on there for no payment at all. And of course, the reasoning behind that was if they had people farming, they were buying their water. So they were better off just to let you set on there. And of course, eventually, he paid for it. But that's when they moved on that thing.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Deranleau: And it was awful run down, to begin with. Whoever was on there ahead of us didn't do much farming. They just--
Bauman: Do you know how old the place was?
Deranleau: No.
Bauman: It had been there for a while?
Deranleau: Yeah, it was older than I was.
Bauman: And what about electricity? Did you have electricity there?
Deranleau: Yeah. [LAUGHTER] We got electricity there. And at that time that, PP&L was in here, which was Pacific Power and Light. And they wouldn't give you electricity until the ERA came in, and then they were right there to give you some, if they could. But they had to run a line in from Stevens, you know, where I live, there. And that was probably, what, a block and a half maybe. But anyway--and then they went to our neighbors. And we had to buy electric stoves. And I suppose--I know we bought them from them, and I don't know if we had to or not. And just a deal where you pay a nickel down, pay the rest your life, type thing. And I suppose they got a dang good shafting on the price of that stove. I don't know that, but common sense tells me that. But that's the way electricity was then. And like I said, boy, they weren't very helpful until the ERA came in, and made all the difference in the world. REA, I guess it is.
Bauman: REA, right. And did that happen sometime after you arrived, the REA? Probably, yeah--
Deranleau: Yeah. Roosevelt, I think, went in in, what, in '32? And so we went there in '30. And we moved on to that place, I would say, in '35. And I could be off a year or two. It was the second place where we first lived.
Bauman: Okay, so where did you live before that, then?
Deranleau: We lived just off of Van Giesen, and right in there close to where that little shoplifting center is, there on Van Giesen. If you know much about the history of this place, there was a house there, and they called it Officer's--Officer's something. And I can't say the word I want to. But anyway, it was a big, nice house, and they had left that for quite a while before they ever tore it down. I think they moved it to West Richland eventually.
Bauman: So that's where you lived initially, and then you moved to the place--
Deranleau: Pardon?
Bauman: So that's where you lived for about five years? '30, '35, and then you moved to the second place? Okay. And what about telephone? Did you have a telephone?
Deranleau: Yeah. We had a telephone. My dad was on the ditch board--the water board. There were three other people around there. And then they had a guy running it. In fact, Fletcher--his dad run that. And he had to have a telephone because of that.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Deranleau: I suppose we wouldn't have had a telephone as quick as we did.
Bauman: Was that a party line, sort of?
Deranleau: Oh, yeah. Yeah, then about that time, too, we switched over from horses to a tractor. So that was kind of a change in farming for us a lot.
Bauman: So initially you had horses for all the work on the farm? Do you remember what kind of tractor you got?
Deranleau: Yeah, we had an F-12, Farmall tractor.
Bauman: So what about the town of Richland itself? What do you remember about the town during the 1930s? Any businesses, or things that you--
Deranleau: Well, there was a couple of grocery stores, and a couple of gas stations. You could buy little candy bars, and stuff like that at those gas stations. And there was a hardware--good hardware store. And I probably missed some of them, but there wasn't much here.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Did you have a radio, or--how did you get news?
Deranleau: Well, we had a radio. It worked part of the time. [LAUGHTER] One of those deals where everybody had his damn ear down into the--trying to hear it.
Bauman: Do you remember listening to any shows, or anything in particular on the radio when you were growing up?
Deranleau: Oh yeah, we used to listen to Jimmy Allen. And of course, Dad listened to the news. So we'd listen to that, too. But Jimmy Allen, and, oh, Amos and Andy. We'd listen to that. And I don't remember what else. Not much, we didn't listen to it a lot. It wasn't very good.
Bauman: What about newspaper? Was there a newspaper?
Deranleau: Yeah, we always had the Spokesman Review. There wasn't any local papers at that time.
Bauman: I want to ask you about school. What school did you go to? And do you have any specific memories about school, teachers or anything like that?
Deranleau: Well, we had a pretty good little school, if we'd have tried to learn something. And some of us wasn't too interested in that, to be real frank with you. And I was one of them--hell, I thought I knew everything there was to know at 15. But really, we didn't have a bad school.
Bauman: How did you get to school? Was there a bus?
Deranleau: Yeah, went on a school bus.
Bauman: Was that a sort of regular school bus?
Deranleau: Yeah.
Bauman: It was? Okay.
Deranleau: Yeah, they had certain routes. There were about--I would say maybe five of them.
Bauman: Were there any teachers that you particularly remember from your years of school in Richland?
Deranleau: Well, no, not really. We had some good ones and some bad ones. But I don't like to badmouth some of them. And especially the kind of student I was. If I'd have had me, I'd have killed me. Just to be real frank with you.
Bauman: What's a recreational activities? What did you do for fun growing up?
Deranleau: Well, we played ball, and we fished, and just kind of entertained ourselves. We worked a lot, really. When kids were old enough to work--and if you had any spare time, Dad would go out and buy another 20 acres, just about what it boiled to with those old guys. You know, if they had boys especially, they were out looking for more land. [LAUGHTER] Which was a way of life at that time.
Bauman: Mm-hm. Do you remember any community events? Any--
Deranleau: Well, we used to go to grange meetings. And they'd have two a month. And one of them would be a social thing, and at that one, they'd serve a little sandwich and coffee, and they'd have dances. You'd just volunteer a band, so that was pretty neat.
Bauman: Where were the grange meetings held?
Deranleau: The Grange Hall was right up where the Lutheran church is, here in Richland, on Van Giesen--or, yeah, Van Giesen and Stevens.
Bauman: So I assume your father was a member of the grange.
Deranleau: Yeah.
Bauman: Was he part of any other organizations? You mentioned the irrigation, right?
Deranleau: No, not really. We went to church when we had gas.
Bauman: What church did you go to?
Deranleau: Catholic. And we'd have to go to Kennewick for that. There wasn't any Catholic church here. In fact, there was one church, and I think they called it Community Methodist. And pretty near all the protestants would go there. And maybe they'd have a Methodist preacher for a while, and if he starved out, the next one could be Lutheran, or whatever, you know. You just kind of, in those days, did with what you had. And they pretty much had a Seventh Day Adventist little church there, too. There wasn't many members, but they would have meetings there, on Saturday.
Bauman: Were there a number of families that went to the Catholic church in Kennewick from Richland, who lived there?
Deranleau: Oh, I don't think there was a half a dozen. Maybe something like that. Of course, them Catholics, in those days, had lots of kids, and more kids than the rest of them. So we could kind of outnumber them. We didn't need--if we had families, we had groups. [LAUGHTER] We had one Catholic bunch, lived out there on the river. And I think they had 17 or 19 kids, somebody said. And in those days, it wasn't unusual for children to die at childbirth. And they had some where they'd lose one--they'd just name another one the same name. And I always thought that was kind of weird, but I know they did that.
Bauman: You mentioned playing ball growing up. Did you play sports in school at all?
Deranleau: Well, we played softball. We didn't have any football--we didn't have a football team. We didn't have any material for it. And we didn't play baseball, either. They had a local baseball team--we'd call it a town team. And everybody, whoever wanted to--and then they had some pretty decent players on that darn thing, for those days.
Bauman: How about basketball?
Deranleau: Well, we had a high school basketball team. And that was the size of that. I don't remember anybody other than just--well, maybe in grade school or middle school, you could play around then.
Bauman: So you arrived here in about 1930—
Deranleau: Yeah.
Bauman: --the years of the Great Depression. Wondering ways in which the Depression sort of impacted people here.
Deranleau: [LAUGHTER] Well, we were poor as church mice, you know. But everybody else was the same way. Hell, when I went in the service in '43, I had better conditions in the service than I had at home. And like I said, everybody was poor, so I thought that's the way everybody was. And they were, around here--most of them, some of them were better off than others, naturally. But it was pretty hard times for everybody. We didn't ever--went hungry, or anything like that. I don't mean to imply that. But, boy, we worked from the time were about 11 and 12 in the fields. And after we got a little older, we could hire out, if we got a chance. We'd get enough money for our school clothes that way. And it didn't take much--of course, we didn't get much either. You'd get maybe two bits an hour, you know. And boy, I'll tell you--that was work in those days, too. Picking up potatoes, and things like that.
Bauman: I want to go back to school. So what year did you graduate high school, then?
Deranleau: '42.
Bauman: And how many people were in your class?
Deranleau: I think there was just eight of us, or maybe a dozen. I don't know, they got to--I think Edith maybe brought you that picture of that group.
Bauman: Yeah, small group.
Deranleau: And some of us--I remember, one old teacher that--he was always talking about our sheepskins, when we graduated. And I said something about my sheepskin one day. And he said, yours won't have any fleece on it. [LAUGHTER] Oh, gosh. I think about that school--what a waste of my time and theirs. It was all my fault, I'm not blaming anybody but myself. But it was a fact. It was just stupid that I didn't want to learn more.
Bauman: And you mentioned you joined the service in '43?
Deranleau: Yeah, right after they--as soon as they got the notice here, I started. I had two brothers in the service at the time. And there were four of us in there, before it was over with. And everybody was in the service. And I just felt like I should be in, and I didn't have the guts to leave. And dad wasn't any spring chicken. So I hated to leave before—But once they got rid of that farm--
Bauman: So tell me about when you notice from the government about needing to leave.
Deranleau: Well, we got we got notice from the government on March 3, and they just told us that our place-- condemned our places, and was taking them. And we got our notice a little bit before noon, in the mail. And I was plowing a field out there. And I came in for lunch, and they were, of course, telling me about it. And after I ate, I went back out and cranked up that tractor. And I bet I hadn't been plowing an hour and a half, and somebody called up there, and told them to get that tractor out of that field. I don't know who called, or any more about it than--the deal was you couldn't find out anything. And looking back, you understand why. But you sure didn't in those days. And then, the bad thing about that--it put all those farmers on the market for a new place, and immediately the land went up. And they weren't offering a lot. And a lot of the people didn't accept--they sued for it. And they did better. And Mr. Fletcher--Robert's dad--was involved in that. And, of course, there was an attorney that they had naturally--or, normally up there. And he handled the case--Lionel Powell, from Kennewick, who was an attorney.
Bauman: How did your parents respond to the letter?
Deranleau: Well, confused--everybody was. I guess they just finally told us that it was a government thing, and it was a secret. And they wouldn't--couldn't tell us, and they kind of accepted that. But first, they just were going to run you out of there, without any kind of explanation at all. And we never did get--it was world news when we found out that Richland was part of the atomic bomb thing.
Bauman: So what happened with your parents, then? They sold the land--
Deranleau: Well, they settled in Kennewick, and Dad bought a couple little places there.
Bauman: How long were they given to leave?
Deranleau: Oh, boy. They extended the time to get off of there. I think probably it was fall before the folks left. And then, a lot of those crops, they had the prisoner of war camp, out on the Yakima there. And they had those prisoners in there, taking care of some of those crops. Because I remember a couple of them working up there in the grapes at our place. And one of them asked the other one why he was in the slammer. And he said he was a letter writer. Anyway, he forged checks. [LAUGHTER] He said he was a letter writer.
Bauman: Was that camp--that camp was in existence for a while, before '43, there? The prisoner of war camp?
Deranleau: It was what?
Bauman: It was there before '43?
Deranleau: I don't know. I don't think so. I think they put it up, but boy, they had people. They just put something like that up overnight. I'll bet it didn't take them two weeks to put the dang thing up.
Bauman: And you said your parents then bought a place in Kennewick?
Deranleau: Yeah.
Bauman: A farm, or--
Deranleau: Well, they bought a little place down on the corner of 19th and Washington. There was a credit union there for a while, and they're gone from there. I don't know what's in there now. But industry's moved that far down in there. And of course, that was all farming. That was one thing about the farms, too, in Richland. So many of them--now, we were up on just sagebrush bordered us. There was always land there, available, if you had the time to get it. In fact, Dad would--he'd water some of that--was watering some of those. He'd put in rye grass, because it'd stand the wind. It was hearty, you know? And he'd water. And he was figuring on getting two or three years of rye grass in that, to hold that sand a little bit, and then buying that. And it was things like that that they'd do. And they were pretty loose with--the ditch company, as long as they had water, they'd let them do things like that. But the ditch company owned a lot of Richland. I thought back a lot of times, and wondered, between the Federal Land Bank and the ditch company, what percentage of these little areas--and we weren't unique on that. All you had to do was go down the road to the next one--it was the same thing.
Bauman: You talk about irrigation. How did the irrigation system work? I mean, what sort of irrigation pipes--
Deranleau: It was all real irrigation--ditches. Little ditches. We never heard of a sprinkler system, at that time.
Bauman: Was there cement pipes, at all?
Deranleau: Oh, well, yeah. Some of it was open ditch, and some of it was pipes. And some of it was even what they call continuous pipe. And I had never seen them make that. But the inside out of it--there wasn't any joints, and they had something they'd drag through the middle of it, put the cement around it, and then pull that. That's how they had to do. I never seen them do it. It wasn't very good. It wasn't as good as a good concrete pipe. And, of course, people, as they could, they were improving on that kind of stuff. Getting rid of that kind of junk, and putting in better.
Bauman: So do you remember what your, or your parents', feelings were about--were you upset about having to move off the land? Angry?
Deranleau: Well, they were all probably angry, and confused, more than angry, I think. Because just imagine--getting a letter that you--and on those farms, it was--every month of the year, there was something to do. In winter, you had more cows to milk, and stuff like that. So it wasn't where you had a lot of time off, or anything.
Bauman: So do you remember where you were when you heard about what was happening at the Hanford site? About what was being built, and used for?
Deranleau: No, I really don't. I was in Europe, and I come home--and they gave us a 30 day furlough. And we'd seen just enough combat that we'd been good candidates for over in Japan. And I think that was what they were figuring on. But anyway, I was on a train going back to South Carolina, where I had to report back to. And we were up in Montana, and the conductor come through there, and told us that they had dropped those bombs, and that the war was over. And I think that's the first time I ever knew what Hanford really did--as near as I remember, at least.
Bauman: Do you remember your response when he came through and told you this?
Deranleau: [LAUGHTER] Well, I hate to sound like an idiot, but we were playing poker--a bunch of us--and we were more interested in the poker game. And--it was almost disbelief, I think.
Bauman: And so how much longer were you in the service, then? When did you come back to the area?
Deranleau: Oh, after that, I would say I was in the service five, six months. And we moved around a lot. I was in a chemical warfare outfit. It was a mortar outfit. We had big mortars, and were designed to shoot gas, if we had to. That's why we were in the chemical end of it. But we also had high explosives that we shot. And we would be attached to the infantry. But I don't know really how long we was. Here again, I went back to--I was in 89th Chemical. And when I got back to Colorado, I went over to where it was supposed to be, and--nothing there. So I saw another chemical outfit, right next door--90th. So I went over there. And I happened to walk right into the same company that I'd been assigned to. We'd all been assigned to that, and we didn't even know it. And I'll never forget the First Sergeant in there. He told me where to go, what barracks I could bunk in. So I went up to that barracks, and it was full. And I came back, and I said, that barracks is full, up there, I said. He said, go up and throw one of those guys out of there, and get a bunk. And I said, you go up and throw him out. [LAUGHTER] And that guy took a liking to me. And he was the biggest horse's neck ever to come down the pike. He was a hobo that had found it in the Army, and he was re-enlisted. But he was kind of a weird booger. But anyway, he took a liking to me. And hell, I could just get away with anything after that. It was kind of weird. Some of the guys used to razz me about being his buddy. [LAUGHTER] But anyway, we were doing a lot of moving around. They were just shifting everybody. We went down through Texas, and they brought us up to San Francisco for Army Day Parade. We looped around on those damn hills down there a lot. My wife told me I wasn't supposed to cuss, too, didn't she? But anyway, we were moving around a lot, and then finally ended up at Fort Lewis, where they booted us out.
Bauman: Do you know, after your parents left the farm, do you know if it was torn down right away? Or did the government use it for anything?
Deranleau: Well, ours was, I'm sure, because it was just a shack. And most of them were like that. And it was just the better houses that they kept for folks--like that one I was telling you, Officer's Club is what they called that house over there, where we first lived. And houses like that, they kept them around to put people in. But boy, I'll tell you, some of those houses around here, you could throw a cat through the wall of them--they didn't amount to much.
Bauman: Do you have--are there any memories of growing up in Richland that really stand out to you? Any sort of humorous events, or things that you remember from growing up here, that really stand out to you?
Deranleau: Oh, boy. Well, [LAUGHTER] I remember one time, a bunch of us went up to Brown's island. And that's about maybe eight, nine miles up the Colombia from here. And, of course, in those days, all those dams weren't in there and that was free water. And if you knew where to go, you could wade over to that in the summer. And if you didn't, you'd have to swim a little. But a bunch of us went up there. Anyway, we camped up there for pretty near a week. And we just hunted and fished, and loafed around there. But anyway, there was a little shack on this side of the river. And we'd come back, and I don't know whether we were getting ready to leave, or just that morning, we were maybe going to hunt rabbits or something. But we all had .22s. And one of those kids shot up into the corner of that damn thing, towards the ceiling. And that bullet--we tracked it afterwards, and it went down the ridgepole of that little shack, just probably that far. And hit a nail, and it dropped down on one of the kids' neck. Now, it just dropped, I think. But anyway, it burned his neck, and it just rolled off, you know. And I remember, he said, I'm shot! [LAUGHTER] We didn't pay any attention to him. And he said, I'm shot, you damn fools! [LAUGHTER] It just boiled down that that had just rolled there, but just a strange thing. It hit a knot, to begin with, and turned and went right up that ridgepole about two inches. And then, by that time, that little .22 was spent. But anyway [LAUGHTER] he was pretty excited, because he thought he was killed, and we didn't pay any attention to him. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: I'm wondering, anything you--or, what do you think would be important for people to know about what it was like growing up in a small community of Richland in the 1930s, 1940s?
Deranleau: Well, really, it was pretty good, because everybody knew everybody. And everybody associated with one another. There wasn't anybody that was left out, really. And like I said, we were all poor as church mice, but we thought that was the way the whole world was. And like I said, I don't think there were any of us around that went hungry. I really don't. Folks would can, and they canned everything. I remember one year, I had three sisters that were going to get married in the fall. And those girls and mom canned for their families to be, and our family. And they would can in those old wash boilers. And I don't know if you've ever seen that done, but what they'd do is put a little rack in the bottom that was made out of cedar. And it had holes bored about like that, so that the water could circulate through it. But those jars wouldn't sit right on where it was so ungodly hot. And they put those in there, and then boil them for a couple hours to seal those—but they’d put up even meat, my folks did. And mom, even, would can butter a time or two. Now, she didn't heat it, you know--she'd put it in salt water, and put it in those jars. And then, we'd open that when, I guess, when we didn't have butter otherwise. I don't really know. I think she just did that one year. But they'd put up all kinds of vegetables and fruit. And everybody had some of that, and you'd trade around. Or if people had surplus, they'd just give it to you. There was a lot of that, because--
Bauman: It was a way to preserve things for--
Deranleau: Pardon?
Bauman: It was a ways to preserve things--
Deranleau: Yeah. And folks would also put up pork. And put so much salt you couldn't eat it hardly, and you'd have to soak it for a week before you could get close enough to it to eat it. [LAUGHTER] But we always--Dad would kill a steer in the fall. And we'd give some of that, probably, to the kids. Maybe they'd kill one later, and we'd get part of that, and stuff like that. Or neighbors--
Bauman: So it was very much a community, everyone--
Deranleau: Yeah.
Bauman: --sort of shared, and worked together. Well, any other things that we haven't talked about yet, that you remember, or that--
Deranleau: No.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you for coming in today, and for sharing your memories and experiences.
Deranleau: Okay.
Bauman: Thank you very much.
Deranleau: You betcha.
Northwest Public Television | Balderston_Mildred
Robert Bauman: So let's maybe go back. So he was saying we didn't quite get the first couple minutes of our conversation. So if you could just, again, talk about what brought you to Hanford, where you were, and talk about your background, coming from Kansas, and so forth.
Mildred Balderston: Well, I was working at the Remington Arms when I got a call from Hanford for people to come up there, when they were laid off at the Remington Arms.
Bauman: So Remington Arms was in Denver?
Balderston: Denver. And I knew that I was going to get laid off, because they were laying off all these people and just keeping a certain amount. And so I said to my boss, I would like to go to Hanford. He said, that's not a place for you. Just kind of like that, you know. And I thought, okay. It wasn't time for me to leave yet, so I was still there. So a few days later, I said, you know what? I would kind of like to go to Hanford. He said, that is not a place for you. So I thought, well, how am I going to get around this? What am I going to say? So I finally said to him again, you know, I would really like to go to Hanford. [LAUGHTER] I guess he was tired to that. So he said okay.
Bauman: And how did you--going back a little farther--so how did you get the job at Remington Arms?
Balderston: Oh, you put in an application. See, I knew they were coming to town, and they were hiring. And so I put in my application, and I got the job.
Bauman: You had already moved from Kansas to Denver before that.
Balderston: Pardon me?
Bauman: You had already moved from Kansas to Denver before that?
Balderston: I lived in Kansas before I went to Denver, and then when I went to Denver, I got this job, and then I started going to business school, so I could get a better job. And so then I worked in this, I think it was an insurance office, for about a year. And then I put my application in at Remington Arms, and I got hired there, so I quit the dental job. And they had a dormitory for us, and I said, well, I wanted to go to the hotel one night. So they had the Desert Inn. That was our first hotel thing or whatever you want to call it. So I went to that for one night, and then I went to the dormitory. And I lived in the dormitory for probably a year or a little better. And then they were reducing people here, so they made up a single girl's contract to rent a house. So we rented a house. There were several of us in the dorm that lived right in a certain vicinity. So we decided, well, we'll take a house. We got a house, and I think there were four of us to start with in that house. It was a three-bedroom. Then in about a year, one of the girls got married and left. So, we got another one in there. We kept adding to. We got another one in there, and then a year or so beyond that, another girl got married and left. We must have had three of them, because then I went home on vacation. And I had a sister who was a schoolteacher there, and she was kind of disgruntled with her school teaching. And so she wanted to do something different. I said, why don't you go up to Hanford with me? So she got rid of her contract. Just chop-chop. It wasn't any big deal. And she packed, and we came back up after my vacation. I think she made the third of us then, and then we had one more that we had to get. After the fourth one left--no, I guess it would only be the third one, because I was still there--I had four sisters, so as they graduated from school, they started coming up. So finally, we had them all up here, and so I didn't have anyone else in there, which was kind of nice. They got jobs here, and they stayed. And then, well, just one at a time they came, because they graduated—when they graduated, they came up. And so one went away to school, and one found a boyfriend, and she got married, and so she left. So there was just the two of us, and my folks lived in Kansas, of course. And of course, they decided, well, they'll move out here. Well, we asked them, why don't you come out? The rest of the family's here, so come on. So we went back and brought them out. But we couldn't rent a house in Richland. So we had to go to Kennewick. We bought a house there, and then my dad went to work. And that was kind of it. My sister and myself and my mother and my father, and so as time goes on, my father wasn't in good condition. As time went on, he wasn't able to work. And so I think he had a--I was going to say a stroke, but I'm not sure that that was it. And he was in the hospital for a while, and the doctor told them that he would only live five years. Well, he hung on to that five years for five years, and at the end of five years, he knew he was going to die, which he did. But the interesting part about this is he had worked with some people who sell houses and other stuff. And he had made friends with other people. So he goes around to each of these people just before he passed away to say goodbye, which amazed me. I just didn't realize that you do those kind of things. [LAUGHTER] But anyway, he did this. So then that left just my mother and my sister and myself. We had moved to a bigger house, which was kind of nice at the time, and besides, the one that we bought first had a basement. And we were afraid that the folks might fall downstairs, and we wouldn't be home, because we were working. So we moved to this house, a one story house. And so we lived there, and then my mother had problems. And so we decided we needed someone to take care of her. Now do you want all this kind of stuff?
Bauman: This is fine, yeah.
Balderston: Well, if you don't want this kind of stuff, let's go on something different.
Bauman: Okay. Well, I just wanted to ask you about the house she lived in in Richland, that first house. Where was that house?
Balderston: That was on Sanford Street.
Bauman: Okay.
Balderston: It was a--what were those things we had? It was a--
Bauman: Was it one of the alphabet homes or prefab?
Balderston: Similar to a prefab, but I don't think that's what it was called at that time. Perhaps it'll come to me sometime close here, and I can back up a bit and tell you.
Bauman: Well, then I also want ask you about your job when you first came out Hanford. What sort of job was it, and where in Hanford were you working? What area were you working in?
Balderston: Well, when I first came up here, I went out to the 300 Area, I think, for a day. And then a job opened up in Richland, and I went in for an interview, and I took the interview—I mean, I took the job. So then I came back to town, and was there for a number of years. And then I moved around to other people that had job openings. So I kind of went up the ladder a little bit. And I enjoyed all of them. But while I was in the 300 Area, an interesting thing happened. I was taking dictation, and this man had the door kind of closed a little bit, because we weren't allowed to talk about anything when I first came. And so he was dictating, and he said a word that I--it was associated with a plant, but I didn't recognize the word. And so I repeated it, so I'd be sure and get it down right. My goodness, he ran to the door, and he looked out. Oh, we don't say that word out loud. So I thought, well, that probably takes care of my job. I won't have a job. But that didn't—I didn't lose it. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Do you remember what the word was?
Balderston: I've tried to think of what that word was. I've tried and tried and tried to think what that word was, but it didn't come. It hasn't come to me yet.
Bauman: So when you first came to Hanford, did you know what sort of work was being done at Hanford, what Hanford was being built for, or what was happening out here?
Balderston: What is it?
Bauman: Did you know what was being done at Hanford?
Balderston: Oh, no. It wasn't talked about. We just knew that there was a job at Hanford, and you go out there and do your part. Well, I didn't know for a long time what it was, even when I was out here, because you just didn't talk about those things. You run to the door to see if anyone had heard you. So no. I enjoyed it. I had good bosses; I had good jobs. I really couldn't have asked for anything better. I had worked in an insurance office in Denver, and then I had gone to the Remington Arms, and so I had that experience. But it was a good place to get an experience.
Bauman: Do you remember what your first impressions were of Richland and the area here when you first arrived, what you thought of the place?
Balderston: Well, we came in to Pasco on the train, and that was the dirtiest place I have ever seen. It was just awful. And I thought, oh, I hope Richland isn't like this. So anyway, they hadn’t gotten started working on Pasco by then. And when I got to Richland, everything was kind of in the new stage because of all the new houses, all the new equipment that was available. So Richland was a different story.
Bauman: And so when did you arrive then? Around what time period did you arrive in Richland?
Balderston: I think it was the 14th of August in 19--probably '43. I think it was '43.
Bauman: And what were the dorms like? You mentioned that you lived in the dorm initially.
Balderston: Oh, they were very nice. And then that building next to the building downtown in Richland. What's the name of that building? That brick building—that brick building that they built. And the post office was in one end of it. Well, right across the street was a cafeteria, and that's where we had to eat. And our dorms, the women's dorms were in that same area. The men's dorms were on the other side of Swift, I guess it is. But then we went to this house that they made for the single girls. And we did our own cooking, so we didn't have to go there. But those places can get kind of old after a few meals there. And so we were glad to do that.
Bauman: What sorts of things were there in the area for entertainment in Richland? Were there movie theaters at all or any places to go like that for entertainment?
Balderston: I can't remember of any entertainment. I'm sure there must have been something there they could've done, besides the television. Oh, I think there was some--the high schools had ball, and so I think some of them went to that. And I don't think there was a fat lot of anything there, because we were so busy working. By the time you went to the area, and by the time we would get back, the day was far spent.
Bauman: So when you worked at the 300 Area or some of the other places out on the site, did you take a bus out there? Is that how you got out there?
Balderston: What was it?
Bauman: When you worked out at the 300 Area or some of the other places on site, did you take a bus there? Did you have to take a bus?
Balderston: Oh, yeah. We'd take a bus from where we lived out to the 300 Area. Well, no. We would take it out to the bus depot, and then you'd take a bus from there. So yeah, we took a bus.
Bauman: And you mentioned, talked a little bit about the secrecy—you couldn't say certain things or talk about what was going on or what your work. So do you remember when you found out that there were—what was being made at Hanford? Was it the end of the war?
Balderston: You know, I'm not sure. I can't remember when I found out about that. The thing is, knowing that we weren't supposed to know, it wasn't that important. So we didn't go around asking people, what are we doing? Just go ahead and do it. So I don't know. I can't remember when--it seems like there was a war or something, or people were going to war or something that it came out. But I wouldn't say, because I can't remember.
Bauman: So you said you started working in August of 1943, about? How long did you work at Hanford then?
Balderston: 46 years.
Bauman: Wow.
Balderston: Long time.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] So when you initially came, were you working for DuPont?
Balderston: Right.
Bauman: And then did you work for some of the other companies that came later--GE and some of the other companies?
Balderston: Yeah, and I worked for—I can't think of that name either. I worked for DuPont. I worked for GE. I worked for—it was a telephone company, I think. It had the name of that, and then there were several others. So I wasn't just with one, but I just kind of went from one to the next you know.
Bauman: Right. So, 46 years, that's a long time. You must have seen a lot of changes take place.
Balderston: A lot of changes.
Bauman: What are some of the changes that you saw--ways the community changed, or Hanford itself changed?
Balderston: Well, actually, they really weren't changes to me. It just seems like we just moved from one thing to the next. And so it wasn't a change; it was just part of the show. So I didn't really realize that there were changes. I guess if I would've taken time to think about it, I would've thought, well, we changed from this to that. It just didn't dawn on me. I just worked, because I had a job, and whatever they told me to do, well, that was what I did.
Bauman: And you mentioned that your sisters came out here and worked also. Did they have similar sorts of jobs and work similar places that you worked?
Balderston: Yeah, they all worked out like at the site or someplace. And my sister that came out with me that was a teacher, she got a job at the—I think it was at the—it escapes me. But anyway, she eventually got a job to go to work for the company, and she was with Battelle for many years and had a good job there. And she really enjoyed it. I guess it was different from school teaching maybe.
Bauman: And did you say your father, also, after your parents moved here, he worked at Hanford for a little while also?
Balderston: Well, he didn't work at Hanford. He worked at one of the schools as a janitor. He had kind of done his thing, but he had to be busy, and so there was an opening, and so he went as a janitor.
Bauman: So overall, how would you describe your 46 years working at Hanford? Overall, how was Hanford as a place to work?
Balderston: Well, I enjoyed it. I didn't go home grumbling or anything. I really enjoyed my time there. And the bosses I had were all really good, and it was a good experience.
Bauman: I did want to ask you about one other thing. President Kennedy came out to Hanford in 1963 to dedicate the N Reactor. Do you remember that at all? Were you here? Do you remember him coming at all?
Balderston: Vaguely. I kind of remember that.
Bauman: And do you remember if you went to see him speak at all, or you don't remember?
Balderston: No, because of the different areas. They didn't cover all of them, and so we didn't--some did, but a lot didn't get in on that.
Bauman: Is there anything I haven't asked you about your years working at Hanford that you want to share or that it's important to talk about?
Balderston: Well, my last bout was 13 years in the 300 Area. That was my last--that's the last place I worked. So no, I was just kind of same old, same old. And so I only worked in the 300 Area and Richland. I didn't go any farther out, so now my sisters--I had two sisters that worked in the area, and they thought they had a hilarious time riding the bus and meeting all these people. So they had a great time. It wasn't something that we just took because there was nothing else to take. So yeah, they had a great time. And so I guess nothing was lost with them.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you very much for coming in and sharing your story with us and letting me ask you questions.
Northwest Public Television | Denham_Dale
Laura Arata: I feel ready. I think Dale feels ready.
Dale Denham: Yeah. Are you going to ask me some questions to begin with, or just--
Arata: I sure am.
Denham: [LAUGHTER] We're here, huh?
Arata: If we could just start by having you say your name, and then spell your last name for us, please?
Denham: Okay. Dale Denham. D-E-N-H-A-M. I always let people know it's like the denim jeans. Can't forget me. [LAUGHTER]
Arata: Thank you. My name's Laura Arata. It's December 12, 2013. We're conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So if we could just start, I wonder if you could tell me a little bit about when you came to Hanford, why you came to Hanford, and what you knew about it at the time.
Denham: Well, maybe it's better if I tell you when I first came in 1947.
Arata: Please do.
Denham: But as a young person, came with my family because my dad was invited to come up here and start a radio station. And Dad was in the radio business since the '20s. And his buddy says, boy, this is just a golden opportunity, and dad said, oh no. The war's over and this place is going to fold. Obviously, he was a bit wrong, but he had been through the Depression and all those kind of things. So we came. My sister and I would come up on the train and spend weeks, because they had a couple daughters. And they moved in in '47 and stayed here 'til '57. So the station today is KONA, but at that time it was KWIE. And it began in that period, and so we made lots of trips. But they lived in Kennewick, so I really didn't spend much time in Richland. They brought us out to see the barricade out here on Stevens, and the bypass to even get to the 300 Area. And at the time, their studios were being built, and so they were doing things in the Hanford House, which is today the Richland Red Lion. So I had some introduction to the Tri-City community. But I came as a graduate student, 1961, as part of a fellowship from the Atomic Energy Commission, which was in Health Physics. And it turns out I was in the first class of graduates of master's degree from the University of Washington. There were like ten of them, ten of us. We came and spent the summer here in '61. I got married that summer also. And we became acquainted with the site by--much like they did most of the engineers, they moved us around on site, kind of give us a familiarity with all the different aspects of health physics, which was radiation protection, basically, for the people and the environment. And so that was my introduction to the place. But while I was here, the opportunity to get a master's, because they didn't have a master's program at UW at the time, because we were the first class. And while we were here during the summer, a program opened up to get a master's by going back for the second year. So I went on back to University of Washington and was able to get my master's. Matter of fact, I was studying rheumatoid arthritic patients looking for ways to use the reactor there at the university to evaluate the gold in these patients, because gold was not a cure for the disease, but it could slow it down and at least make people so they could--so I worked with two individuals. I collected all their urine, because we were looking for activation techniques. And it took me most of the year because the opportunities were great to look to the future, but we didn't have all the technology yet. I was doing a lot of my work using a single channel analyzer and looking at different photo peaks, energy, gamma ray energies coming off of these radionuclides, because we're all full of sodium, and sodium has a very high energy activation product, sodium-24. And so that was a real issue. And I had to try different ways is to subtract that material, or that impact that we would see on the scans. But that was the beginning. And so I completed the degree. And then my wife had been born in Long Beach, California. Her grandmother was still down there. And so got the opportunity to go to Lawrence Livermore Laboratory--it was called Lawrence Radiation Laboratory at the time--in Livermore, California. So went down there and spent seven years--no, five years--and then came back up here. She developed some real allergy issues. And the kids were still young, small, a couple years old. So it was a good opportunity to come back. We knew what the area was like. We had spent the summer here, which is a tough time. And of course we remembered--I remembered from my childhood all the dust storms and the running out to grab the laundry to bring it in because it was getting dusty. But I just thoroughly enjoyed the sunshine. And my parents, Dad was from Baker City, Oregon, and mother was from Boise, Idaho. So it made sense, in one sense, that they might select to come here. But Mom didn't get along too well in the heat, and so this was not a favorite place. So that was probably part of the equation, too, that they chose not to even go any further, even though their friends were very successful here and sold out, and bought the station in Hood River and then retired, which is what they all did. So that was my introduction and coming to Hanford. And I served in a variety of departments--I mean, by name, but they all were basically radiation protection, health physics, mostly applied. In other words, I was dealing with how to take air samples, where to take air samples, how to take river samples, how to measure them, what to measure them for. I got into the environmental arena, which was really my long-term interest. And so I was involved in the late '60s in the water monitoring portion of the Hanford program, where I looked at the water in the schools, took water from the public schools, water from the wells, drinking water. We sampled water from the river directly. We monitored the river by passing it through detectors. And this was a period when most of the reactors were operating, so there was plenty of activity, and a real challenge to trace that. Where did it go? How was it going to impact the public? But I worked primarily in the 300 Area until I retired from Battelle in '95. Oh, by the way, that's who I came to work for, was Battelle. And I spent all my career up to that point with Battelle after I'd come back from Livermore. And I took the certification exam in health physics and became a certified health physicist, a diplomat of the American Board of Health Physics. I served on the board for that--certifying other individuals coming along. I taught some of the classes here. We started here when this was the graduate school, the graduate center, long before Washington State University became a part of the community. And so I had a lot of involvement in that arena. I just really enjoyed the field because it was broad enough that we could be concerned about x-rays and radiation that you would get externally from contamination, or get it on your body, in your body, so internal evaluation. But I was primarily interested in keeping the environment clean, which was--And I have to mention Herb Parker because he was really the father of the radiation protection, radiation safety here at the site. And Herb called me up one day--this was in the early '70s--and said, I've got an opportunity for you. I think that you would make an excellent candidate to make this move. And I said, well, I wasn't interested in moving. Well, he says, I think you should come over to my office and let's chat. Well, he had a job in an environmental organization called Radiation Management Corporation. He was a consultant to them, and they were in Philadelphia. And I'd always lived all my life on the west coast, so I wasn't very enthused. But I went, I listened. He sent me back for an interview. I went in December, just about this time, a horrible time to go back there. It was crummy weather. It was wet, dark, I couldn't see anything. But it was a little company, and they were about to grow with the nuclear industry to supply environmental monitoring support for the nuclear power reactors up and down the east coast. So I turned them down. But two years later I got another call and says, gosh, we really need you, and here's an opportunity. You better come. So by '74 I did take advantage, moved back there. And then I think it was Jimmy Carter that desired not to reprocess any fuel, and so the nuclear industry, the nuclear power industry dropped off—well, at least began its diminished increased places, increased sites, increased utilities going with nuclear. So that led to the need—we had too many people, grew fast, but then--And matter of fact, my original boss here, Bob Junkins by name, hired me in '67, and I worked with him for almost two years before I moved to the environmental. I was in the criticality safety, nuclear safety business in that time. And my whole role was to develop a criticality safety manual that we could use to audit and evaluate the users of nuclear material here on the site—Battelle's portion of the site. And that led me--then, with that environmental interest, I moved into the environmental monitoring portion in the late '60s. And that's what set me up for that. I went to Philadelphia, but I had to go find something else. And unfortunately, in that time period, I also got divorced back there in Philadelphia. And my children moved back to the west coast, to Bainbridge Island. So it was now, where do I go? Fortunately, there were lots of jobs. I didn't have any problem finding a job. But I chose to go back to Livermore because I was familiar with the territory and the people. And so I went back there. But it was only a couple of years, because I met a gal that I had dated in high school. And she ran into my sister, and my sister gave me an address. I wrote to her, and she called me up and says, what are you doing for Christmas? I said, I'm taking the train to go see my kids. Well, why don't you stop here and see me on the way in Salem? And we both went to Willamette University. That was where our degrees were from. And I'm still married to her today, 35 years. And we've had a great time here at Hanford. When I did retire, I moved—well, I helped--because she was Vice President of United Way. And so I took on the role of the listener as the United Way representative volunteer at the Reemployment Opportunity Center. This was 1995, when we had some 5,000 layoffs. I was part of that, only I wasn't a layoff. I took a voluntary retirement, early retirement. And through that I discovered that there were other positions available on the site, and Bechtel Hanford had come in as the environmental restoration contractor. And golly, I was involved in all that sort of stuff. So it was a perfect opportunity to send a note—I knew the head of the department from my health physics background and membership—and was offered that opportunity to go to work for them. So I spend another eight years with them. And then to finish my career, so to speak, I retired from them in '06, and then I got a call from Battelle, said, we're doing all these calculating the radiation risks of former atomic energy workers, and we really need some help. Could you do this for us? And that was nice because I did it at home. I would come to meetings with Battelle. And one of my close friends, the two of us kind of worked together, which was great, because we were working at home. I had to buy a new computer and all that because I needed access to much more sophisticated equipment than I had, because I was just a little email and that sort of thing. My exciting things that happened here, my work in the nuclear—criticality safety—that was one of my first papers, major papers, because while I was at Livermore I studied the transuranics, which meant the materials that were heavier than uranium, uranium, neptunium, plutonium, americium, curium and so on up the chain. And I got very familiar because I was working with a group of chemists in California as their radiation safety person, where they were trying to come up with these heavier elements. And so I got to know most of that material. And when I got up here and the criticality safety, because that was a concern too. We knew that some of these materials could go critical with the right conditions. So that gave me an opportunity to use that background that I had in knowing these materials, and then to put together, really, a summary. I evaluated the fire safety aspect, the explosion aspects, the radiation—internal as well as external—aspects. So that was one of my real highlights. And that came right at a time when I took the exam to become certified in health physics. The next the set of the exciting things were the working with the environmental, where I got involved with nuclear power reactors and in helping develop criteria for their environmental monitoring programs. You see, we went from Atomic Energy Commission, AEC, to ERDA, Energy Research and Development Administration. That was in '74. And then we became the Department of Energy, and that was about '77, '78. So I went through that period, so I was working for all three agencies, so to speak, just because one followed the other. I think my document that we finally issued on how to use environmental monitoring—that is, what techniques and so on—were recommended by what was called ERDA at that time, but became the DOE position for all the sites. And the way we handled that was, we went out as teams and visited Oak Ridge and Savannah River and Chicago. And we even went to some of the power reactors, or the early--not so much power, but the early development reactors, Idaho, testing, and checking out how they were doing things so that we could then look at a composite and gather the folks. We held a couple of workshops where we brought in folks from all these other sites and said, you know, here's what we see that ought to be the basic criteria. So that was a great opportunity to explore and see other sites. So I visited many of the DOE sites, Los Alamos and Livermore, as all part of that, too. So I had a wonderful time and experience in a whole variety of things, handling these transuranic materials that not a whole lot was known. And you came to know these things by working with them, working on developing shielding, because these materials also—not only external radiation but also neutron radiation, which you get primarily from accelerators, or from particular radionuclides that do give off neutrons as they fission. And so those were areas to explore and develop. But what a great place to have to have worked, to have had my time, and I really don't want to leave the community. We've enjoyed--and my wife, I thought, who really was--after she finished school at Willamette, she stayed there in Salem and went to work. And she's always been in the social services side of things. And she came here, and she headed up Girl Scouts, she headed up Red Cross, and then got involved with United Way. So we ended our careers here, so to speak, but a great place that we have enjoyed. And of course it's far different today than when I came 60 years ago to visit, because the agriculture and all those other things that have occurred as part of the site.
Arata: All right. That was a wonderful overview. I'd like to back up for just a minute to when your father first came here to start this radio station. I know you said he lived in Kennewick, but--
Denham: No, he didn't. It was my father's best buddy. Yeah. They both were in Portland radio stations. Dad, and his name was Clarence McCready, but we called him Mac. And he chose to come, and brought us along to come and see. But Dad refused to come and be a part of the team. Dean Mitchell's the name I can think of right now. He was—and Dean Mitchell, I think, is still in the community, I think he's still alive. And I believe he goes to Kennewick United Methodist Church over there. I hope to see him because I'm going to be speaking at that church here in a couple weeks, actually about three weeks, in January. But I know I linked up with him because I had a lot of pictures from all this development of the radio station that my family—not my own personal family, but our very close family friends. And we only celebrated Easter and Fourth of July with his family. So you can see, we would come up here and be up here, and in a good time of the year, spring. Summer was hot, but these were occasions. Yeah, so my family never did move up here. But they came to visit when I finally settled here in '67.
Arata: Visited. Okay. So do you recall any impressions of the community at that time from your visits, what it was like to be here?
Denham: Well, the things I remember--and even as a graduate student, the rest of the guys--there were four of us came together--no, three of us. Three of us who had all gone to Willamette together--went to UW for our first year, and then all came here, and then went back to UW to complete that program--they all lived in Kennewick, but I lived here in Richland. I couldn't pass up the nickel each way bus. And I lived in on Gribble Street, which is now where Kadlec has taken over those what were two-story apartments and one-story fourplexes. And that's where I lived that summer in '61. And the bus came right down our street, hopped on for a nickel, and whether I went out to our areas or the 300 Area, because we spent one day a week during that time in the 300 Area in classes in the library, because that was an opportunity for us to learn more about the site, and about the profession and the field. So we had people tell us about instrumentation, told us about environment, told us about the various things that were related to radiation instrument development, and different kinds of survey instruments, and so on. And that was a nice part, because coming back a few years later--well, I left here in '62, finished my degree, and didn't come back 'til '67, so I was gone for five years. The bus system was still here, but the rates were different, and I wasn't using the bus then. And I went to work for Battelle, and my office was in the Federal Building. So I was able to walk to work. And I'm a busser, a walker, and I've been that all my life. I did that in Portland. So it was a logical step for me. The fact that I could get around--I was not much of a commercial--I didn't buy a lot of stuff. And so to this day we're not much consumers. And so it was great. There were a few places. I bowled, you know, I played tennis, golfed some, took advantage of the things that were available right here. I had a cousin--couple of cousins still in Baker City, Oregon, so we'd go down for weekends to go down and see them. And he was a dentist, so he took care of my dental needs early on. But once I settled here with my wife and family, it was no longer making those kind of trips for that purpose. We still had the friendship and relationship. I enjoyed just the—well, I guess I wouldn't say I enjoyed the heat, but yet I liked lots of sunshine, and the people. Enjoyed working with the people. And that was a tough part of retiring. And of course, I took care of part of that by volunteering over at the Reemployment Opportunities Center, which was over in Kennewick. And at that point we had moved out to the Village at Canyon Lakes. It was brand new, building that community and retirement. And so I thought, well, we'll get in on the ground floor. We'll be there and get acquainted, and so on. But then the opportunity with Bechtel, but clear out at the north end of the site. And after two years of that long commute, we moved back to Richland. But the opportunities here for my interests, and the opportunities on the job, because I didn't just stay right here, because I was working for Battelle, and we did a lot of—I suppose you would call it contract research because that was Battelle's primary activity. But yet it really took me to visit other sites and to see how we could improve what we were doing right here. And I think that that opportunity—I didn't have to go somewhere else. Yes, I did interview for jobs along the line, along the way during the time. I interviewed at Los Alamos. I interviewed at Rocky Flats and so on. But this was home, so to speak. And so it was a good place to stay. It wasn't—30,000 or so population. And the population of Richland, today I'm not sure what it is, but I don't think it's doubled in all this time. But the boundary where Yakima came in to the Columbia there was kind of the southern end of Richland. There was Richland Y and so on. But I lived essentially all my time within that confines. And of course now there's many homes and developments south, and yet still part of the incorporated portion of Richland. So yes, this was a delightful place, and it still is for me.
Arata: We've heard lots of fun stories about card games and checkers games and different kinds of things going on, on these buses. Do you have any fun stories?
Denham: Well, yes. I tell you, what I used the bus for was sleeping. Being a newlywed and having all these classes and riding the bus every day, I would often take a nap on the way home. And often I'd end up at the end of the bus. Rather than getting off at my stop, I would discover, oh, I missed the stop, so I got a little walk in. [LAUGHTER] But yeah, there were card games on the buses. I was not a bridge player, and that was one of the—I played at pinnacle and hearts. And we played on the job. My goodness, we kept our scores on the blackboard in the office. Yeah, we played hearts. And there were other games, I'm sure, but that's what I remember the most. And I remember, also, we were conscious of our walking hour, keeping track of our weight and all. So we would walk over—after lunch we'd walk over and check our weight at the medical, go weigh on the scales. And I was never a smoker, but one of the guys in the group, even the leader, was a heavy smoker. But one of the guys who was roughly my age--and matter of fact, he went back to grad school, and that opened the door for me to step in and take his job in the environmental in the late '60s. So that was ideal. And that was another thing. We were paying attention to those things that now the society is beginning to look at. So we looked for those kinds of things. I think the working environment was great. In my later years here, before I left Battelle, it was altogether different, because now the opportunities within Battelle were more in the research arena. And that wasn't my forte, it was not my capabilities, not my interest, in going out and trying to obtain contracts and so on. So I found it--and that's—when the opportunity to retire early, I just took advantage of it. My wife had a good job, and so she became my sugar mama to take care of me, take care of us. And we had no children living here. Our children were all grown by then. And so our needs were different. But I missed the people. But yet I was interacting every day, because I was there usually half a day. But some days I'd be there all day. And I kept the hot water hot so I could make cocoa, or soups, or whatever people who were coming to find jobs and to look. We did mock interviews and all that sort of thing. So it was a continuation of that people interaction that I really enjoyed. And of course, when one does retire, a number of my friends have said the same thing. And yet today I don't know how I have time to work, because I'm plenty involved in the community. And so that's part of--my wife and I joined the Gideons, and so that's been one of our major activities in our retirement, that we've served as presidents of the local camps on a geographic basis, and also area directors. And we have a state convention coming up this next spring, so we're heavily involved in that. So we have enjoyed that aspect of life here. And we have a daughter in Olympia, and we have a son—well, a daughter and family in Olympia and same in Portland. Otherwise the kids are south of Eugene and Cottage Grove, and then a son and family in Albuquerque. Neither of the sons—both have PhDs—and neither are involved in the nuclear business. Both of them engineers. One basically what I would call a—well, one's a civil engineer with water interests. And the other is involved in materials engineering, works for Ball Aerospace, so has a lot of involvement in things that I might have had an involvement in, but not from the nuclear standpoint.
Denham: Yeah, the things I remember—like I say, we had activities with other families right here. We were involved in the church. We got involved in the church. I'm in a different church today, but that's where we raised our kids. So it was a good community environment. In terms of what else did I do, well, I think I mentioned I had the children, and we did things with them. We camped. And I wasn't a fisherman or a hunter, so those things weren't part of my interests here in the community. But I remember we would do the sledding and so on when the conditions were right, the snow and Carmichael Hill, because we lived not far from there, we'd walk over there, and swimming pool. Back in the very early days--and let me go back to that for just a moment. Because when we came, McNary Dam wasn't here. So we had to take a ferry to cross from or Oregon to Washington, or we had to take the Bridge of the Gods back, 40 miles out of Portland, and then take that route. And we'd usually come over Satus Pass and come into Kennewick that way. Today you can take Highway 12 and 14 in all the way to Vancouver on the Oregon side--I mean, on the Washington side, excuse me. So that was interesting because this was a free-flowing river. There weren't any dams in that area. And so riding that ferry in a fairly narrow portion of the river was—and these are one- or two-car type ferries. I mean, this wasn't a big ferry like you see out of Puget Sound. And it was difficult to reach the shore. Sometimes you'd get close and you'd have to back up and try again. And then I watched all the highways come in over the Horse Heavens. Because it used to be you could stay on the Oregon side and come around through Walla Walla that way. So it was a whole different—and it took longer. The roads weren't as nice. And so I watched the—several times they've rebuilt the highway over the Horse Heavens. Because we have family in Portland, we go down there every month or two with grandkids. They're about to finish—well, the last one is in his senior year in high school, and the other's in college. And all the rest of our grandkids, except the ones in Albuquerque, are all over 21. So our involvement with them is a lot different than when they were younger. So yeah, it was a different place just because of the getting around. And we didn't have a public transit. We didn't have—in those early days right here. But we had the Hanford buses. And you can see the one down there by the Crehst Museum. And that's what I rode much of the time, up until when I chose my work with Battelle. By then, going out on the site, it was about $50 a month to ride the bus then. It was more expensive. And then I did go through some periods of spending time out on the site, where I'd spend a couple weeks for some activity, work-related, and I would end up being able to take a government car. And I worked in the Federal Building, so it was convenient. We had a motor pool there. So that’s some of the background. I don't know if there's other things that you were hoping to talk about, or remind me of. [LAUGHTER]
Arata: I think I just have couple more questions. One thing I wonder if you could talk about, obviously much of your career at Hanford spans the Cold War period.
Denham: Mm-hm.
Arata: So of course security was a very important concern. Can you talk a little bit about how that impacted your career?
Denham: Well, it certainly did. And I was fortunate in the sense that I had the Atomic Energy Commission fellowship. In order to get that and apply it at the University of Washington, I had to get security clearance. So I was cleared, and that happened when I went to Livermore. Right after I finished grad school, I arrived at Livermore. And because I had a clearance, I was assigned those facilities to be radiation safety person. I know that you know the name Ron Kathren, or have come across Ron Kathren. And Ron Kathren became my officemate there. He didn't have the clearance. So I got to be in places and work things that he wasn't able to—well, he was eventually, I mean, he got the clearance also. And of course, late in my career—like when I went to Philadelphia, I didn't need a clearance back there. And when I came back, yes, I had to get my clearance re-instituted in Livermore, because Livermore is still very much involved with weaponry, or at least the development of materials. And so yes, clearance. But fortunately, I didn't have an issue, and because I had had it really at the beginning when I went to grad school, that didn't impact me. And some of my site visits at Oak Ridge, I had to have special clearance to get into some of the places. One of the things I didn't mention, and I should, I got involved in the decommissioning. And of course, that was the activity with Bechtel Hanford. But the other thing I got involved in was what we call development of an emergency assessment resource manual. We called it HEARM, and they called—because I was working with some gals, too, that was my harem. But it was Hanford Emergency Assessment Resource Manual. Well, our sponsor at DOE headquarters began to see the utility of that at some of the other DOE sites. So we went to Livermore, we went to Los Alamos, we went to Oak Ridge, we went to Savannah River. We developed those same manuals for these other sites. And basically what it was was an identification of the--a safety assessment. And DOE was forcing all to look at the safety of their business. And if something went wrong, how bad could it be? So that's what this manual was, was to identify the facilities and the materials. It was structured originally about radiation, but it became clear that there were also hazardous chemicals and other materials that needed to be of concern. And if they had an explosion, if they had a venting, they had a situation, where would that stuff go? So we developed this. We looked at site boundaries. How far to the site boundary, in what directions, look at wind speeds, all of that. So we combined all of that into a manual so that we could use that here at Hanford, called the Unified Dose Assessment Center, UDAC. And that provided a tool so when an emergency occurred, we knew we had an indication of how bad it could be. We could flip to the page that was Building XYZ, and we could say, ah, this really is not likely to be any kind of an issue. Or just the opposite, that it was an ABC, it was the top priority, the most hazardous materials on the site handled in that building. And what were the projected, from the safety assessments, for the actual use of those facilities? And so that was an exciting kind of thing, because we got into sites where they had more security need than what I had to do for those. And so yes, we got into those. Matter of fact, some of the materials that we developed were basically classified information on how much material is in this building, where is this building relative to the site, and so on. So those kind of things we had to tone down, we had to talk about and find ways. And they became, essentially, not top secret, but at least they were less. And so we provided not only these manuals for right here, but also DOE headquarters got the same copies. So whenever something was going wrong, they're evaluating what's happening out here, or from Livermore, or from Sandy, or Savannah River, or one of the other sites. So yes, that was the emergency management aspect. And Battelle, that was one of the things that I moved from that development into working with the—Battelle had a contract for the 60 nuclear power plants to do emergency exercises. And I even got involved with my wife with the Red Cross, because Red Cross would get involved in emergency exercises, especially for the supply system here. And I remember Mesa School was the first one. And so I got a couple of my health physics buddies, and we would go and be the consultants. Because the farmers would come in and say, well, what should I do? My cows are out there on this potentially contaminated ground. What do I need to do? This was just--these were what-if type exercises. So that was an aspect I guess I just had passed over and forgotten all about. So even had an involvement with my wife indirectly because of that. So with these nuclear sites, I got involved as an evaluator to go out either for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission or DOE, and evaluate these exercises. So I was involved not in developing those exercises, but evaluating and being there on site. And also, as a result, I got to go to the Kennedy Space Center and involved in a couple of spacecraft launches that had nuclear materials. And so that was exciting, paid to go. And also got involved in many cancellations. You know, weather didn't turn out right, we'd get thunderstorms or a rain, and you'd have to wait it out for a few more days. Those sort of things. Galileo, I think, was the one major one that we were sending heat sources, radioactive sources into space, so if they were to have aborted—not for reentry, but on the launch, that's why we were there, to take air samples, you know, we were teams spread out. So there's another aspect I'd forgotten about. [LAUGHTER]
Arata: Very cool. You had this multiplicity of great jobs, it sounds like, throughout the course of your career here. Is there anything that stands out as being the most challenging or the most rewarding?
Denham: Well, I think the challenge came later in the career when—as I mentioned, that Battelle was going off in a research wing, and that wasn't where my expertise and my capabilities were. And so a challenge to—if I'm not going to stick around, what am I going to do? Because nuclear power was obviously diminishing with time, especially when you get up in the 90s, and so on. So that became one of the challenges, if I were to retire, what would I do? I was young enough, late '50s, I didn't need to retire that early. And the other side, the side as I shared, I think sort of the three or four major things that I was involved in that I very much enjoyed, one—and I haven't shared this directly—I was involved with Joe Soledad. And I don't know whether you've interviewed Joe, but I know Joe's been interviewed. I just don't know who were involved. But Joe was developing all the criteria to evaluate all these radionuclides that had been released here in Hanford, had been released at other sites, or could be—weren't necessarily all released, but I mean, if they got into the environment and got into people, what kind of doses could those--Well, I was involved with Joe as my mentor. I developed the numbers that went in—in other words, I looked at the decay schemes of each of those radionuclides and then built the numbers that would go into the equations. I didn't develop the equations for how much got into the human body, but I developed if you had radioiodine, or you had strontium, or you had cesium, or you had plutonium, what could that mean inside the body? And so that was a great opportunity that I had developing those, because those became—and still used today—all that environmental pathway stuff that Joe had developed is still in use today, used by the EPA, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. Yeah, they've added more materials and modified things a bit. But the modifications are more related to, now, more knowledge about some of those decay schemes and so on, but that impact. So that was one of the exciting things. The criticality safety manual. I get the manual done, and I got to move on to something else, because once you've developed the manual, unless you're using it--yes, I was. I was out evaluating criticality safety. I was auditing, basically. Oh, that was, yeah, I could do it, but it was more fun to go out and get involved in the environmental monitoring, choosing which sample, where to sample, what to analyze those samples for, and then write the report to show what this means impact-wise for the site. Going from there, then, into developing what should an environmental monitoring program look like, either for a nuclear power plant or a place like Hanford. That was that exciting and thrilling, and I felt I made a contribution. And then to jump over into, now you understand that stuff, and now relate that to emergency preparedness and evaluating emergency preparedness. Did you take into account? I will have to say, because I was involved in a course, and I've forgotten what the course was called, but it was at the Nevada test site. And we were there--and I think it was only Hanford person there at the time. That's when I was involved in emergency preparedness. And this was a course to really walk us through scenarios and situations, and see the mistakes we could make. We could walk over a wire on the ground that we shouldn't have because it was live, or could've been live, and not recognizing that. You're taking an action for what you see in front of you, but then missing out on something that you shouldn't have done as part of that. And that became part of our evaluation, when we looked at mistakes they would make, not take an air sample, or take it where it shouldn't have been. You should have taken it over here instead of over there, you know, those kind of things. So was able to use all that background and material that I had had as part of my career. I feel like, yes, had I started over today, I think I would've probably gone the environmental, but more from an atmospheric and understanding weather. That was an interest as a kid. I've watched—this is before television—and I would pay attention to the thermometer and what was going on. Is it going to snow tomorrow, or that kind of thing. But otherwise, no, it was great. And the courses and the opportunities afforded by this diverse kind of a field, that when I came, and when I was a health physicist, I didn't know what a health physicist was, but I think I have a pretty good idea today.
Arata: So obviously, a lot of my students now were born after the Cold War.
Denham: Right.
Arata: They don't really understand that time period. Is there anything you'd like for future generations who may be watching this video to know about what it was like to work during that time period and contribute to that effort?
Denham: Well, obviously, one of the things, being here in Hanford, was because we had all these reactors operating, which meant that there was always contamination going into the river, contamination going into the ground. Reprocessing was occurring, but was stopped at a time period. So then we had to—and of course, today we still hear about whether it's from the west side or else around the country. Even our own family ask questions. What about the leaking tanks? What does that mean? And from my perspective, I have an idea what that means. And I think I look at it in a lot different mindset, because I know that yes, it's of concern, and it should be. But on the other hand, it's not going to kill me. It's not going to give me a dose that I won't want to stay here, I won't want to live here. And because, like I said, in the older days, when all the reactors were operating and so on, we had a lot more radioactivity to deal with. But Joe's equation--Joe Soledad--those pathway formulas and equations and so on that we used, we proved with that that hey, yes, there is material out there. It's of low consequence to you and me as residents of the community. And I think that that was probably a kind of thing that we—the scientists, let's say, the science side--were not very successful in communicating that to the public. And I don't think we are today. Because I can remember one of my daughter's friends, when they had the different kinds of sweeteners, and they would say no, we're going to cut those off. And so when her dad worked in the grocery business, he could bring that stuff home, and no, I don't think we want to use that. Again, uninformed about those kind of things. And I think that's the aspect—that we get a bug, a thought of what an impact could be, and yet we don't know the whole story. And I know I tried, but on the other hand, that wasn't my role particularly. But I was aware. And I think that, looking today, we look at so many more things today in terms of hurtful environmental impact kinds of things. I'm thinking just the environmental movement, if you will, because our daughter-in-law is very much involved there, and her daughter is now in college and looking in that same arena. The other daughter-in-law down in New Mexico, that was one of her areas of interest. And she studied bugs and insects and that sort of thing. Today she's not using that, because she's really into health and doing private yoga and exercise training. But the Cold War meant that--well, that's where it was nice when I got to go the other sites, because that allowed me to kind of see, and to put all this together as an understanding of the whole package, and not just what's happening in Hanford or what's happening at Oak Ridge or whatever, to be able to realize that probably some choices—I mean, the making the choice here of Hanford, I think, was a wonderful choice. Choosing this remote location--it's not so remote today, but I think it was an excellent—from all the material, all the information we knew at the time. And yet places like Savannah River, where you've got all kinds of groundwater and all kinds of those kind of issues, maybe that wasn't such a good place, where the ability of stuff to move would be greater than a place like this. And I think what we saw, and what I remember just from the public, my own families—our own families would ask questions, which was very reasonable. And I think the understanding—and we've been watching—I'm digressing for a second, but we've been watching the Presidential wives series on television, so we're going back over the history and seeing some of the things that were going on as this whole business developed in our lifetime, things that we didn't realize, because some was top secret, not shared. And of course, I was perfectly happy to work in a closed environment, where you didn't share everything you did. For someone today, I think that the question aspect of business, and for the future, is always question what you're doing, how can it impact the environment, how can it impact people, how can it impact you yourself? Cellphones, all kinds of things that we use and are in use daily, but do we really know what the long-term impacts of these devices are? I think for the moment we feel quite certain that we're not creating monster issues that become-- But I like the environmental movement, because I kind of put my life together around that, an interest in seeing that we're doing the right things to keep us safe, and yet not say, you can't do that. And of course, the environmental impact statement business. I was involved partly in that too, in helping develop those. I guess my last one that I was involved in was in Tennessee, for the Tennessee Valley Authority, because they were going wide with lots of nuclear. And that was in the '90s, as I recall, when I went down there and was involved.
Arata: Is there anything I haven't asked you about that you'd like to tell us about? Any other stories that stand out?
Denham: Well, of course, we did have accidents. We had things that—yeah, I got involved in a cleanup in the 300 Area, where an underground pipe had broken. And this was americium, was a principal nuclide that had gotten into the ground. And we ended up digging that all up. But just chasing it, deciding where to sample, and digging up and then discovering, oh, the pipe is all corroded. So yes, everything that went down that drain. And so those kinds of things, I really enjoyed those, because you were evaluating a condition that was really an unknown. And I think that's part of what the environmental restoration contract--the Bechtel work that I was involved in, we were doing some of that, too, because we were making measurements and then determining, did those measurements give us what we need to know so that we can take the appropriate steps for remediation? And so I think that aspect, so to speak, of research piece might have been--if I were to start again, I might be more interested in research. But at the time, I was more interested in what we need to know so that we can take the right steps to move forward. I think that those are my observations. I was an enthusiastic worker. I just loved the opportunity and the people to work with. And we did a lot of group things. You know, I can remember back in the old days, Ron Kathren and I would have an equation on the blackboard we were trying to solve, and then leave it up there for a while with getting more information to make things fit. You took the information you had. And I was successful, probably published about, I don't know, 50 different papers in Health Physics Journal. And I also was involved in the Society for Radiological Protection in the British Isles. I gave two different presentations over there in the '80s and '90s, which is always nice to go and experience others. I had even looked at that as a possible exchange.
Denham: And as a result of those visits, I got invited to go to the Atomic Energy Agency in Vienna and work on an environmental plan with folks from all over the world. And we had interpreters, because we had Russians, and we had Canadians, and we had French and Germans. And so on—all that was nice. And they paid my way, and I got to spend--matter of fact, I made two trips in the same year on that activity. I had a third one, but the Department of Energy wouldn't allow me to go on the third one. So that adds to your enjoyment, your understanding and working with people who have come from different places, and yet have similar issues and problems, and how are you addressing—especially when we're trying to write a manual, an international manual that would be used wherever, in developing countries as well as advanced countries and so on, to protect people in the environment.
Arata: Is there anything else at all?
Denham: Not that's coming to me at this point. [LAUGHTER] I'm just delighted to have had this opportunity to share with you, even though it's very uncoordinated. [LAUGHTER] I certainly rambled.
Arata: No, that was wonderful. You gave us some great details. That’s always exciting for us to hear about. And I want to thank you so much for sharing with us. We really appreciate you taking time out.
Denham: Well, Laura, it was a pleasure sharing with you and getting to know you. I wish you well in your—
Arata: Thank you.
Denham: --future work and finishing your PhD. I never got there.
Northwest Public Television | Chalcraft_Lloyd
Chalcraft: Does this station go into Seattle?
Camera man: No.
Bauman: No. This is in Eastern Washington, I guess.
Camera man: Yeah. This will get to--
Chalcraft: Why I asked that of which it's in, my brother lives in Seattle.
Camera man: It will all be available online.
Bauman: Yeah. And we can get you a copy.
Camera man: I'm recording.
Bauman: OK. We're going to go ahead and get started. Can you hear me OK?
Chalcraft: I'm ready, just as long as I can hear you. What you're asking, see.
Bauman: OK. Let's start by having you say your name, and if you could spell it also.
Chalcraft: Lloyd-- OK. Lloyd Robert Chalcraft.
Bauman: OK, great. And my name is Robert Bauman, and today's date is August 20, right, of 2013.
Chalcraft: My hearing is a little holding me back. I can hear you, but you're a real quiet voice.
Bauman: OK. And we're conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities.
Chalcraft: Yeah, that's correct. I mean, do I got to OK that?
Bauman: No, that's OK. Well. Let's start if you could, by having you--
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Could you tell us about your family and how your family--
Chalcraft: Got here? My family came to Richand, Washington in 1910 from Idaho. My granddad homesteaded in Idaho, and they came into Richland in 1910. And I can go into quite a little history there.
My family, my uncle, my mother's brother was the first boy to die in World War I in the war. He was the first one to die in Richland in World War I.
And I got a great grandmother buried down in this cemetery. She was buried there in 1917. Well, I got a lot a relatives between here and Kennewick.
Bauman: What brought them to Richland? What brought your family to Richland?
Chalcraft: What brought them to Richland? My granddad was up in Rexburg, Idaho on a farm, and they still got the land. My mother couldn't breath and they came down for a dry climate for my mother. And they came down here in a covered wagon from Idaho in 1910.
And what do want? You want to continue on? Then, my mother graduated from Richland high school in 1918. She played basketball there, and then there was Uncle Frank.
Bauman: And what was your mother's name and your grandparent's name?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What was your mother's name and your grandparent's name.
Chalcraft: Her maiden name?
Bauman: Yeah.
Chalcraft: Jamison. Her grandmother's buried down here across from Hapo. Her grandma Davidson, and well, I got a lot of relatives buried and kept between here and Kennewick.
Bauman: Did her family have a farm here, then?
Chalcraft: Did what?
Bauman: Did they have a farm?
Chalcraft: In Richland?
Bauman: Yeah.
Chalcraft: Yes. Well, my grandparents had a farm here. We had a farm here, and my uncle had a farm here. We had four different farms. Granddad had a big cherry orchard. Where his orchard was is where that locksmith is on Van Giesen. That was a part of their orchard. That was a prune orchard only it had cherries there.
I went to school myself. I went to school here eight years, where now that little grade school is here. It used be called Richland Grade School, but it's not what's out down there south of Richland. Later in life, my boy played basketball for Richland.
My boy, he was on the Richland State Basketball Champion when they beat Pasco. Do you remember that? For the state basketball. My boy, he played football and basketball for Richland High School.
I graduated from Kennewick High School. See, we moved out. The government come in and took all this land over, and we moved to Kennewick.
Bauman: And how old were you then?
Chalcraft: I was about eighth grade.
Bauman: And what do you remember about that time?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What do you remember about that when you first heard that the government was going to come in 1943?
Chalcraft: People were pissed. People were mad cause they come in here and took this land over. They practically stole the land. I mean, people were really shook up. Do you know I mean? They didn't know what was going on. It was like an invasion.
You seen army trucks, the DuPont surveyors. I saw the plane that I think this guy-- they flew over this big scientist to pick this area out. I don't know if I would guarantee it, but they were looking for a place of vacant land. And that Columbia River is the key.
I remember that plane flew over. There was a Navy base in Pasco, but this plane was a big transport plane. These scientist were looking over that area.
Bauman: And do you know how much money you're family got for land?
Chalcraft: For the place?
Bauman: Yeah, how much money your family got?
Chalcraft: They had a farm there with cherries. My family, we had three or four families. My granddad had that big orchard.
They gave him $13,000 for a whole complete cherry orchard. They literary stole the land, which is here or there.
We got $7,000 for our little place. It's on the corner-- we lived on the corner of Sanford and Van Giesen.
Bauman: And how big was your place? How many acres?
Chalcraft: It was 10 acres. My granddad, I think, was-- I've forgotten now exactly. 25 or 30 acres.
Bauman: And what was his name?
Chalcraft: TJ Chalcraft. Thomas Chalcraft. That was my dad's father. Then my granddad lived here. When they come down from Rexburg's, he opened a blacksmith's shop in 1910. Jamison, Hershel Jamison.
Bauman: Oh, OK. Uh-huh. And so did your farm also have cherries on your farm?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Did you grow cherries?
Chalcraft: Yeah. We had cherries and asparagus. I've cut the damn asparagus.
Bauman: Hard work.
Chalcraft: Yeah. It kept me from dilly dallying. I was just a kid in school. Yeah. A lot of things-- my dad went to a federal land bank meeting in Prosser that night. And he come back to Mary and says, our government is going to take this property over and nobody believed him.
About February 1st, or the approximate time, well, everybody started getting letters from the government. This property is under eminent domain, or whatever. There's another wording for it, but they're going to take all this property.
By the way, in that school down here, that little grade school, they closed that. I got out of school a month early because the government took it over to make office space for it. And there was a schoolhouse where Carnation used to be, two story. I watched three years and they built that. This in before Hanford.
There was a two story school there. There was a duplicate out here at White Bluffs Hanford. Everything and the toilets were outside.
Bauman: So when did you move off the land then? What time in 1940?
Chalcraft: Well, we moved off right away. We moved to Kennewick, my folks did. Let's see. We moved right away. They had to move because the government started moving them.
You know, you don't understand. That's been 65 years ago. I get a little bit-- those numbers don't quite-- well, it was in '43 or '45. Well, hell no. The bomb was out here. [INAUDIBLE] is the one who built the Hiroshima bomb. So they dropped that bomb in '45, didn't they? So we moved out before that period.
Well, we had to. About '43, I can't remember the dates. We moved out probably-- we'd haul over to Kennewick--my folks bought property on Kennewick Avenue. Are you acquainted with Kennewick?
See, I own that Jiffy car wash. That's what's some of our land is when we move from Richland to Kennewick.
Maybe you've had a car washed. It's isn't like-- I own the land or the building. I don't own the car wash. Hulberts have that.
Bauman: Did you go to school in Kennewick?
Chalcraft: No, I didn't.
Which is immaterial. See, I went to school in Richland for eight years, and then I went to school in Kennewick for four years.
Bauman: What do you remember about going to school in Richland? Do you remember any of the teachers, or how big--
Chalcraft: I had good teachers. I actually learned more from Mrs. Randolph in reading than most of these kids. Some of these kids go to school and they can't even read now. She was a little crippled lady named Randolph. And she taught us first grade.
They had pretty good schools here. Actually, they did. And they told us you had to be a citizen in the United States before you could vote.
Bauman: Did you walk to school or was there a school bus?
Chalcraft: We had a bus. We had a bus. See, I lived about two miles down to Richland on Van Giesen down to Richland. We had a school bus. Yeah. They had three or four school buses.
Bauman: And do you remember any of your neighbors?
Chalcraft: Oh, yeah. Carlsons and Ericksons and Rudes. There was a lot of Ericksons. I think there was more Swedish people that lived in Richland than any other relative. Some of their homes-- My grandad helped build some homes here in 1918 that are still standing. Then, all the Swede's had pretty nice homes here.
Maybe you're Swede. Are you a Swede?
Bauman: No.
Chalcraft: But anyway, the Swede's are a real progressive type people. OK, a little deal here. The boy, this cook, this vet's place down here, this cook Erickson, the name of the veterans' and Erickson was one of the sons of one of the people that lived here. And he went into the service, and he got shot down over the Mediterranean sea during the war.
This little town had a lot of boys. We had, I can think, Don Culp was on the Arizona. He lived. His folks, well, his aunt was engaged to my uncle. But he was on the Arizona.
Tommy Van Poulsen was on the California. This was at Pearl Harbor. The Mosier boy, he was on Guam. He got captured by the Japs. He was a prisoner of war for the total war.
But Don Culp come off the Arizona and he went back to sea on a destroyer. And a storm come off the Philippines and they drowned. And Tommy Van Poulsen used to swim that river all the time. He swam off the Californian and got out. They were there where the Walmart has gone.
This little town had a lot of people in the service compared for the population. Tom [? Handbe, ?] he lived in parts of Richland. He was killed in Normandy.
Bauman: So how many brothers and sisters did you have?
Chalcraft: I got one brother, no sisters.
Bauman: Older? Was he older or younger? Was he older than you or younger?
Chalcraft: He's 16 years younger. They thought she had a tumor. I mean, there was no kids between, you know what I mean, between-- 16 years olds, went to school. Hell, I was starting high school or last when he was born. But he lives in Seattle now.
Bauman: So were you born in Richland, then?
Chalcraft: Actually, I was born in Lady Lourdes in Pasco. I understand then there was no hospitals in Richland. And there was no hospitals in Kennewick.
Mine was born in Kennewick, but there was a midwife. The only hospital here was in Pasco, Lady Lourdes. See, I was born in '29, but that was the only-- my brother was born at the Lady Origin, Pasco.
My boy was born in Richland. I got a son that played basketball for Richland. And he was born in the Kadlec Hospital down here. He played against Pasco when they played-- I don't know if you were around here, Pasco and them played for the state championship.
Bauman: So the community of Richland, when you grew up, do you remember any of the businesses that we're here at the time or anything like that?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Do you remember any of the businesses that we're here?
Chalcraft: Oh, yes. We had Ralton's Drugstore. John Dam had a store, and that park out there is named after John Dam. [? Yiddick ?] had a store here.
Hugh Van [? Dyne ?] had the tavern. And Rex Bell had a service station. I can remember, I could go down the street and Phil Charmin, he was a barber, and he's buried right beside my dad down this whole cemetery.
And as you go down to the park, there's a brick building sitting there. It's two story. And the bank got in trouble.
The banker went to jail in Walla Walla, because in 1930 the bank went bust. And at that time it was state controlled. See, federal took it after Roseville come in, but the banker went to jail. He went to Walla Walla.
Bauman: What was his name?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Remember his name?
Chalcraft: Yup. Nelson. You know what I mean? I don't know if his brother's still around or not, but anyway this was back in 1930. I don't know if it was big or whatever. The bank was closed when I--
Bauman: Your father was at some point then on the board of directors--
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Your father was on the board of directors of the--
Chalcraft: He was on the--
Bauman: --federal land bank, or something like that.
Chalcraft: Yeah. If you worked-- well, he's kind of a officer with a blind bank. We had a chicken hatchery we used to hatch baby chickens to besides our farm.
Bauman: And your farm, you grew mostly cherries and asparagus?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: On your farm, you grew mostly cherries and asparagus.
Chalcraft: Yeah, we did that. I picked lots of cherries and cut asparagus. These kids nowadays would think that was torture.
Bauman: Do you remember any special community events?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Do you remember special community events or gatherings, picnics, any of those sorts of things.
Chalcraft: Any special what?
Bauman: Special events. Community events. Any celebrations the community had or anything like that growing up.
Chalcraft: Not really. Not here. Most of the celebrations were in Kennewick. You know in this little town, small little town--
Oh, yeah. There's a boy named Shiftner. He was in the death march out at Carregador. I think it was Shiftner.
There was quite a few soldiers. I still don't remember them all that-- this Comstock, there's a street here in Richland. I don't know if that's-- I think he was from Pasco are Richland, but he died in the service I think.
See, this park is named after John Dam across from the federal building. And John Dam had a grocery store here.
There were two grocery stores here. And they had a place they made ice.
You know, everybody didn't have something to make ice, but they'd freeze this water and make ice. And people would get ice out of it. Ice house. And Phil Charmin, the barber, used to run that.
Bauman: What sorts of things, growing up, what sorts of things did you do for fun?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What sorts of things did you do for fun growing up?
Chalcraft: What did we do for fun? Well, we'd swim. We'd swim in the irrigation ditch or whatever. And where uptown
Richland was right now, that was a swamp. There was mud that deep. And where uptown Richland is there was an irrigation ditch running through it. That ditch still runs.
We'd go down there. It wasn't very deep, but it was a place to go swimming. We called it swimming, because we were told not to go in the Columbia River when we was kids. Well, that river was cold then, because there was no much dams below, you understand? More free flowing. It mad a difference.
Bauman: Did you do much fishing or hunting?
Chalcraft: Yeah. Hunting pheasant here was good. It was good pheasant hunting. There was no deer here, but there used to be-- we know it well. We hunted pheasant and the ducks. Oh, yeah, a lot of that, cause this all was asparagus field and open.
People from Richland would get shook up when the people from Kennewick would come over and shoot their pheasant. [INAUDIBLE] But there was good hunting here, and everybody knew everybody and go hunting. But you'd normally need a dog. And that asparagus is tall, and you damn near needed a dog to get your pheasants.
One time an airplane landed down in that pasture. What the hell-- where the riding academy used to be. The plane landed out there. That was another, well, it wouldn't be too important, but I remember everybody went down to steal gas out of the plane. Somebody said that burnt their motors up. I don't know, that aviation gas.
Bauman: When you were growing up--
Chalcraft: I played a little basketball. Nothing big.
Bauman: When you were growing up, did the farm you grew up on, did you have electricity.
Chalcraft: Oh, yes. We had electricity. But when we first moved we had a hand pump, then we got electricity come in.
Bauman: What about a telephone? Did you have a telephone.
Chalcraft: Yeah. And the neighbors-- we had a phone, but a lot of neighbors didn't. They'd come over and borrow your phone. A lot of them wouldn't even offer to help pay the bill, but they'd use the phone.
In them days, Mrs. Meredith, you had to go through a telephone operator. And Mrs. Meredith, she was kind of the-- and she knew all the gossip. But she was pretty god darn good though for emergencies. People would call in an you know what I mean?
Then Brown Telephone in Kennewick bought them out. I guess they owned that at that--
Bauman: Now, did you also work at Hanford at some point?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Did you work at Hanford at some point.
Chalcraft: I did, yeah, 20 years.
Bauman: Where did you work? What area?
Chalcraft: I worked in the reactors. I got cancer. I'm fighting cancer right now.
Bauman: When did you work at Hanford and which reactors did you work in?
Chalcraft: I worked at all of them.
Bauman: And what years? When did you start?
Chalcraft: I worked with the reactors. I was nothing too important out there, but I served a-- And then I got drafted in the army. I went to war. During the Korean, I got drafted. I was working though, 'til I got drafted in the army.
Bauman: And what sort of work did you do out there?
Chalcraft: Oh, different work. Handled uranium and all that. It was just, you know what I mean? I've done better investing. I wasn't an engineer type. I've done pretty well as an investor. Mostly these people sit on their butt around here, and maybe I shouldn't be saying that. That's probably getting cocky.
But anyway, these houses sold cheap around here in Richland. These duplexes are selling for $7,000. I had bought one. I sold it here a while back for $130,000. But you know, that was time goes along.
But the government practically gave these houses away. This was after Hanford produced the bomb. But these ranch houses, all of them went real-- government unloaded them pretty cheap.
I've seen a lot of changes here.
Bauman: I'm sure. What are some of the changes you've seen?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What are some of the changes that you've seen?
Chalcraft: All these houses all over. Well, yeah, what else? More people. You understand, Richland was a very small town, and you had to count the farms. The town or Richland itself was very-- well, I better there was over 100 people here. Maybe a little bit more, but I didn't live in Richland. See, we had the farms around it.
All the Swede's had homes. They were good farmers.
Bauman: So you worked at Hanford in what, the '40s and '50s?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: You worked at Hanford in the 1940s, 1950s?
Chalcraft: I went to work there in 1950. 1950 in the fire department. I worked in the fire department for a while out there.
Then I worked in reactors.
I'll tell you a little story. Before the government-- the day the government come in and bought this property, we played ball. I was going to Richland grade school. We went out to White Bluffs and played basketball. And about a few days later, the word came down that the government was taking it over.
You understand that Hanford, Richland, one thing probably they know, but I know, there were usually cemeteries in White Bluffs and Hanford. The government dug all of those up. You understand why? You think about it?
How could they let people go there if there's top secret stuff? How could they let people go out there and wander around the cemetery. There'd be all kinds of people wandering around, wouldn't there?
The government removed all of them bodies. Some of the families got the bodies. But most of the bodies were moved to Prosser. And then they were going to dig up this cemetery in Richland but they decided they didn't need to.
I had people buried in there. My dad's buried down there in this cemetery. My mother and dad were divorced. My mother is buried on that by-pass. But anyway.
Bauman: I wonder if you have any other memories or stories from growing up in Richland that you haven't shared yet that you want to talk about.
Chalcraft: Hey, gotta go. You think of a lot this stuff after you've stopped. OK, I'll tell you a little story athletic-wise. The bombers, there was no bombers. Let's go back. When I played basketball in high school before Hanford, they called them the Bronx, The Richland Bronx. And the colors were black and red.
And now, they're green and gold. OK, I'm just telling you what happened. They were called the Richland Bronx.
Then what happened, when Richland moved in they called them the Beavers. Well, they couldn't call them bombers, you understand?
Well, it could've been done. But they call them-- that's after Hanford moved in-- they changed the colors and they called them the bombers. But their colors are green and gold. But when I was in high school, I didn't go to high school. I went up to eighth grade there. But they were the black and red.
Then Richland come in and they changed them to green and gold and they called them the beavers. Then after, well, later on, they become the bombers. They couldn't have said bomber, I don't think.
Bauman: So when, actually when the government came in 1943 and told you you had to move, did you know why? You know, what was happening?
Chalcraft: What was happening?
Bauman: Yeah.
Chalcraft: It's a good question. No. It was rumor heaven. A lot of people thought they'd come in here for all-- well, to make toilet paper for one thing. Well, anyway. They hit a little natural gas out here on the Horse Heavens. Not Horse Heavens, out there at Bridal Snake.
They thought they'd come in, but just that people real naively, understand. You look at it. All that come in here, my god, millions of dollars.
Even the army moved trucks in here. Everybody moved in, and they sure as hell didn't bring all that in just to hit natural gas out here. Well, I didn't know until the day when they dropped the bomb. The guy that lived in White Bluffs, he come in and says, I've found out what they built Hanford for.
But what they've built is enough to burn those Jap's ass right off. That was his very words. His folks owned property at White Bluffs-- Hanford White Bluffs. And there used to be a little bus that you went from down Richland up to, there they called it, Sagebrush Annie.
I was only up there once when I lived here. Until I went to work out there. I was out there at that basketball game.
Well, I was just a kid. I didn't drive. And that's quite a ways out there.
Most of the people in White Bluffs and Hanford, they went over to Yakima to shop for groceries. There was a story out there in Hanford or White Bluffs. There was a grocery store. There was two high schools out there at that time.
Maybe you knew that.
And then they merged into one, because you know, I think, yeah. I'm trying to think of different-- I wish sitting in Richland the day they bombed Pearl Harbor, right in Richland at Thayer Drive. And it come over the news that they'd bombed Pearl Harbor.
Bauman: On the radio? Was it on the radio?
Chalcraft: Yeah, radio, we didn't have TV then. This was '41. That was quite a shock. When they said Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, and I was quite of a history buff. Some of these people still don't know what happened. But I knew we was going to go to war. And they hit Pearl Harbor that day.
That's the day Culp got off the Arizona any other boy swam out from the California. Well, I'll tell you a little side story. It didn't fit into Richland. But my uncle was in Pasco, and there was a guy sitting on a bar over there.
And my uncle, he was in the Navy, World War I. He thought he was Japanese, and my dad was with him. And he was going to beat the hell out of that Jap. Come to find out, he was a China man. You know what I mean? This is right after Pearl Harbor?
There's been a few other people that was picked up here. One or two guys here in this town were out hollering Hail Hitler. The United States Marshall picked one of them and shipped him back to Leavenworth.
Nobody bothered him but the day Pearl Harbor was hit, things opened up. They let him, when they were fighting Great Britain, that was a great deal. Germany was beating the hell out of Great Britain.
But the day Pearl Harbor was bombed, that changed the atmosphere. This one kid would come to high school and brag about the Germans picking the hell out of the British. But anyway, he shut up after Pearl Harbor.
Bauman: So what was Richard like as a place to grow up?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What was Richland like as a place to grow up?
Chalcraft: What was Richland like, what?
Bauman: As a place to grow up?
Chalcraft: It was a kind of a quiet little quaint town. My uncle, he had never drove. He drove a team of horses. He drank a little beer. He trained horses.
It wasn't a regular policemen. Bill Perry had a server station here. He was the town Marshall. Things were quite quaint. You know what I mean? There was one guy that got in a fight with a guy, and I guess he died.
That was hot news in those days. This guy died from a fistfight. Actually, things were pretty quiet at that time, I guess. But we did go through World War I here. There were two or three boys that got in that one.
Bauman: You mentioned earlier some of the businesses in Richland. What about churches?
Chalcraft: What?
Bauman: Do you remember any churches at the time?
Chalcraft: Churches? OK there was a Methodist Church, and a holy roller. I remember they had a holy roller church right in downtown Richland, and they'd get up and role on the floor.
One guy was looking through the window, they had curtains over it and somebody pushed the barrel and he rolled right in with the holy rollers. Yeah, there was a Methodist Church right across from where the school was.
And I remember when they'd have funerals there. I remember one women died, Mrs. [? Kayler. ?] We remembered that. It was a different name. Well, my grandparents are buried out at that cemetery.
There was no Catholic church. The Catholic church was in Kennewick. They had a holy roller church. I guess a-- what's that one? I'm not a great church goer. I went to the Methodist church a little bit. Most of the churches were over in Kennewick.
Bauman: Well, is there anything else you want to share?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Anything else you want to say about growing up in Richland?
Chalcraft: Growing up now?
Bauman: No. Anything else that you want to say about your time growing up in Richland.
Chalcraft: About what?
Bauman: About your time, your childhood.
Chalcraft: Anything else you want to say about it?
Bauman: Well, I played a little basketball here. I was no-- my peak come when my son won the-- my son, he was good enough to play. He was on the state champ. He was good enough to get a football scholarship at the University of Montana.
He wanted to go to Oregon. Oregon wanted him to go, but they wanted him to go to Columbia Basin and play a year and then go. He didn't get an offer for Washington State or Washington, but he did get an offer from all those big sky, Montana, Idaho, to play ball, football.
But in Oregon he kind of-- Oregon says, you go to Columbia Basin. Columbia Basin at that time had a football team if you remember. They wanted him to go over there for one year.
He had a chance to go back. I'm bragging a little on his college. He had a chance to go back to one of the big east schools-- they egg head schools. You know what I'm talking about.
He was pretty good in grades. But he ended up going to the University of Montana. He could've went to the University of Idaho, but then he got hurt.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you for coming in today. And share the memories of growing up in Richland.
Chalcraft: You know, a lot I've missed or thought about. A few names you hate to bring in, you know what I mean? Now, I have to ask you guys something. Is this going to be the air?
Bauman: It could be.
Camera man: Right. Parts of it will be.
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Parts of it.
Chalcraft: What did he say?
Bauman: Parts of it probably will be.
Chalcraft: March what?
Bauman: Parts of it.
Chalcraft: Part, not all of it.
Bauman: Right.
Chalcraft: Well, that's fine. You always got somebody-- You know, I've been a little-- I'm not too bragging-- but I've been a little successful. And I found out people, if you get a little successful, they'll run you down a little bit.
Northwest Public Television | Buckingham_Steve
Robert Bauman: We're going to go ahead and start if that's all right.
Steve Buckingham: Okay.
Bauman: So if we could start by just having you say your name and spell it for us?
Buckingham: Okay. It's John Stevens Buckingham is the full name, and it's S-T-E-V-E-N-S, B-U-C-K-I-N-G-H-A-M, just like the palace.
Bauman: All right. Thank you. And today's date is November 13 of 2013--
Buckingham: November 13, 19--2013.
Bauman: 2013.
Buckingham: 2013. [LAUGHTER] I'm still in the last century.
Bauman: And my name’s Bob Bauman, and we're doing this interview on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. So if we could start maybe by having you tell us how you came to Hanford, what brought you here, when you arrived?
Buckingham: Okay. Well, first of all, I'm a native Washingtonian. I was born in Seattle, grew up in Pacific County. Went to Washington--graduated from high school in 1941, and went to Washington State College, at that time, in chemical engineering. Well, of course you know the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7th of that year. I was able to finish off my first year at Washington State, and came back, the second year, the sophomore year, there were just mobs of people on campus recruiting for military. I tried several of them. I tried to get into the Navy V-12 program, but my eyes were not good enough. But I was able to get into an Air Corps program that they were looking for meteorologists. So I signed up for that. I had to get my dad to give me permission, because I was only 18 at the time. [LAUGHTER] But I was able to finish my sophomore year. I had just begun my freshman, my first semester, and I had just started the semester, my second semester, when I got the call to report to active duty. And the program that I had signed up for was this pre-meteorology program. And actually, it was kind of a neat situation. I was sent to Reed College in Portland, Oregon. And it was a little bit of a cultural shock, coming from a rather conservative Washington State to go to Reed College. We could smoke in classes. We could go up to a girl's room in the dormitory. [LAUGHTER] And they sang rather interesting songs on campus, too. [LAUGHTER] But Reed has very high scholastic standards, and I think the best math professor I ever had, I had at Reed College. But we went--we just had almost normal college classes: math, and physics, and geography. It was an interesting experience. Well, after a year at Reed, and also being in the military--because I think we must have had about--we had, what, two flights of cadets there, and we were all in uniform, of course. And after one year they decided they had enough meteorologists, so most of us were looking around for another program to get into. And I applied to go into communications, because I had a lot of physics background by then, and was accepted in that. They sent me to—oh, gosh, I can't even think. It was North Carolina. It was the first time I'd ever been down to the South, which was another cultural shock. [LAUGHTER] To see separate drinking fountains for black--colored and white. That's where we went through, essentially, Officers Candidate School. But the communications part of it was spent at Yale University in New Haven. That was about—oh, I think that was about six months that I was there going through communication. We had to learn all about radio and communications. But there is where I got my--I was commissioned, then, as a second lieutenant in the Air Corps. And about the time that I--just before I finished there, one of my friends had gone up to Yale University--to Harvard, because they were looking for people to work in radar. Well, why not? [LAUGHTER] So I applied, and was sent up to New Haven--not New Haven, up to Harvard. And there we went through a very intensive training on electronics, getting all the background on electronics. I used to kind of laugh. If you dropped a pencil on the floor went to drop to pick it up, you'd be behind three months. [LAUGHTER] It was really intensive training. And after that training, then they sent--most of us went downtown in Boston and worked on the top floor of a building that overlooked the harbor, developing radar they were working on. And that was really kind of interesting. But that was kind of temporary. That was just to give us some practical experiences. So that--then when that part of the training was over with, they assigned me to the 20th Air Force, which was the big bombers that were getting ready to go to Japan, and sent me to Boca Raton, Florida. And that was kind of another goof-off. We were just--we had to go on training exercises, flight training exercises once a week. So I got to fly all over Florida, all over the Caribbean. [LAUGHTER] Just goof-off things. It's really kind of almost embarrassing, because we'd go fishing and stuff like that on the boat, because they'd always had to send a boat out in case a plane went down in the ocean, and so we could go out on the boat and fish. While I was at Boca Raton, then the Japanese surrendered, and the war was over. Well, what are they going to do with all of us that had been trained? [LAUGHTER] I went out to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and they were bringing B-29s back from overseas. And all we did was remove the radar equipment from B-29s and stash it someplace. Well, I guess they decided they really didn't need us anymore. So I was able to be discharged and get back to the Washington State College to pick up my second semester sophomore year. Well, I had accumulated so many credits in going to these other colleges. So I went and talked to the dean, and he says, well, why don't you just switch to chemistry? Get your degree in chemistry or general, and then come back for a master's degree. Well, I had been on the East Coast for two years, and I did not like it back there. Being a--my mom and dad lived out in Pacific County yet, and I wanted to get home. I had two job offers when I graduated from college. One was in Troy, New York, and the other was here. General Electric was--had on the campus quite a bit of recruiting people, because they were getting ready to develop a new separation process called the REDOX process. And they were looking for people with scientific background, chemistry and so forth, to work there. Well, I grabbed the opportunity, and I arrived here on the 26th of July in 1947. I remember the day. [LAUGHTER] And that was really--it was very interesting, because Richland was--GE was really operating under the old DuPont system yet. It was the organization was still the one that DuPont set up during construction. We were in the technical department. And I was sent out to the 100 Areas, waiting for my clearance to come through, and we were just analyzing the water that went through the piles. And then when my clearance came through, they sent me to the 300 Area where they were developing this new separation process, this REDOX process, and we were doing the analytical control for REDOX process. And that was--of course, the development was using just uranium and other chemicals that didn't have any of the radioactive, really highly radioactive material other than uranium. But it was really very interesting, because a whole new line of metallurgy was being developed there. The metallurgy in—old metallurgy was stuff like smelting, and electrolytic, and stuff like that. Well, the chemical separation process they used out at Hanford was a carrier precipitation process, which did not allow them to recover the uranium. So this is why they were developing this new solvent extraction process, so they could cover both plutonium and uranium simultaneously. That was really quite a remarkable new metallurgical process that they were really developing here at Hanford, because how do you contact organic and aqueous phases, and stuff like that? And what kind of a contact? They had all kinds of ones that they were working with there in the 300 Area, and it was really very interesting. We were doing all the analysis for it. And then I was there maybe a little over a year, and they decided we needed to have a little experience with “real” material. [LAUGHTER] So they sent several of us of to be shift supervisors, out of the 200 Area, and the 222-T and 222-V Plants. That's where we got to work with real material. And it was just another training program. They were still--they had begun construction on the REDOX Plant. And about that time, then there was a little bit of an accident down in Texas, where a ship loaded with ammonium nitrate blew up and practically wiped out the city of Texas City. [LAUGHTER] And that was what we were using as a salting agent in the REDOX process. Well, that set the REDOX process into a big delay. What are you going to do with--we can't use ammonium nitrate. It's just plain too hazardous. They began looking at new salting agents at that time, and it took, oh, maybe six months or so before they finally came up with a new salting agent. Well, we just kind of fiddled around a little bit out in the labs. They were closing the business phosphate process labs. They combined them into just one lab. So several of us just kind of floated around doing other work that was kind of related to the REDOX process. For a while, I was in standards, where we were making radioactive standards they used to control the counting machines and all that kind of stuff. And it was not that interesting. Well, I had an opportunity then to go into an organization that was still there in the old 3706 Building in 300 Area. It was called process chemistry. And they were the ones who were working on the chemistry of the REDOX process. It was just--to me, it was just an absolute perfect fit, because I liked to monkey around with experiments and do research type stuff. And it was a neat bunch of people that we were working with. Some of them I still kind of chortle when I think of some of the stuff they pulled. [LAUGHTER] But I was able to move into that, and I was the third person to move out to 222-S, which was the laboratory for the REDOX process. And that's where we were, for our final laboratory was out there. And I stayed in that most of my working career. I did take a couple years to go over to work on writing the waste management tech manual, because they were--that was another process. We got to work in every new process that came along. We concentrated a lot on the REDOX process, because that was new. And then that chemist down in the Hanford laboratories discovered tributyl phosphate, so that opened up the whole new PUREX process. That had to be developed. And all the chemistry that went in to that development, we worked with. And then they decided they had to do something with the waste, and there was an outfit came in that was going to separate out fission products out of the waste. And we were going to have a big fission product market. Well, we separated out a lot of strontium-90 and cesium-137. And the strontium-90 was all right, because they could use that as a heat source for places where they didn't have much sunshine, deep space probes and so forth. The cesium, unfortunately, the capsule we set someplace leaked, and we had a little bit of embarrassment. That had to be cleaned up. So Isochem had taken--that was when the companies had separated into all these different companies. And the waste management just kind of petered out. We still had waste management we had to do something with. So I continued just working on it, but went back to the process chemistry laboratory. I finally ended up manager there for several years until I retired. But it was a real experience, that's all I've got to say. I feel like I was very fortunate in being able to work with so much new technology. And I think one of the more interesting ones was, we were recovering--out of our waste, we were recovering neptunium-237, and I had set up a small demonstration process in the laboratory. And for three years, I was the total source of neptunium-237 in the whole United States. [LAUGHTER] And that 237, when we first started doing it, we actually would convert the 237 to an oxide, and mix it with aluminum, and make a fuel element out of it that we stuck in B reactor to make plutonium-239. Plutonium-239 is a very unique isotope of plutonium. It is non-fissionable, but if you get a ball of it about the size of a golf ball, it's generating so much heat, it'll actually glow red. So they use it as a heat source for deep space probes. So we were working on snap programs and all this is really fascinating new technology. And I just feel very fortunate that I had been able to have a finger in some of this stuff that's really far out. We were looking--you know that one time they were going to convert that big building next to the FFTF into a facility just to process plutonium-238. That was another program that didn't ever develop. But we kind of had fingers in just an awful lot of stuff over the years. Some of the stuff I kind of laugh about. There was a--they developed silver reactors to remove iodine from our off gases coming out of the plant, because of the iodine contamination. And one of the silver reactors at the PUREX Plant blew up. [LAUGHTER] Well, it was not serious. It was all contained. But we had to try to figure out, why did that darn reactor blow up? Why did they have a reaction in there? And I still remember one of the old chemists, Charlie Pollock. He was the one who was in charge of it. But I still remember him making mixtures and putting it outside the lab door on a hot plate and standing behind the door to see it, was he going to pop? [LAUGHTER] We did an awful lot of innovation like that. It was just really--I think we did have a good time mucking with this stuff. I jokingly say that--every Monday we would have what they called a process meeting where the chemists and the process engineers would get together to discuss what we're going to do this week. And I always said we just got together to see how we're going to screw the plant up this week. [LAUGHTER] There was so much new technology, and every week somebody would come up with a new idea. They were the biggest pilot plants in the world, really. [LAUGHTER] Both the REDOX one and the PUREX one, just developing these processes. The whole--you know, when we first came here, we were living in dormitories. And the men's dormitory was on one side of town, and the women's was on the other side of town. We'd meet in the cafeteria. [LAUGHTER] And I still recall, when we were working shift works, we would gather in the cafeteria after swing shift, and we'd still be in there talking, or doing something with the guys who would come in for breakfast to go to work on day shifts. [LAUGHTER] Graveyard was always hell, because you didn't have time to do anything but sleep and eat. [LAUGHTER] And swing shift was kind of bad because the movie house, the movies didn't start until 4:00, and so we could go to any movies or anything. But it was tolerable. We formed an organization called the dorm club, where we went on--made a lot of camping trips, had a few beer busts. I tell about, I was social chairman for a while, and I found a big bargain on beer, Pioneer Beer. It was made by the breweries that they opened when they were doing construction during the war. It was not very good beer. I think I had five cases hidden under my bed in the dorm for weeks until I got rid of it. [LAUGHTER] But most of us met our spouses at that time. And it was really a unique situation early on in the late 40s and early 50s, because almost all of us had been in the same boat. We had started college. We'd been called into active duty during the war. We'd finished active duty and returned to college to finish our degrees. So we all had had the same type of experiences. Some of them were pretty hairy. In fact, I well remember one of my roommates was telling about being in the Philippines, and sitting on his bunk during one time, and said a big old snake crawled up between his legs. [LAUGHTER] I think I would have been of the roof and never come back down if that had happened to me! [LAUGHTER] But you know we had all had similar experiences, and it was our first time, really, that we were making any money that we could do things with. We could buy cars, and bought cars. So we went on just all sorts of trips. We learned--most of us learned to ski. And those ski trips, that was still was fairly new in the State of Washington. There was a rope tow up in the Blue Mountains at Tollgate. And, oh gosh, I think a season ticket cost $5. [LAUGHTER] And we would—went down, and I think we initiated the chairlift at Timberline, down at Mount Hood. We went to a lot of places just when they were first opening. So, in fact--
Bauman: How long did you live in the dorms, then?
Buckingham: Well, let's see. I lived in the dorms several years, and then an acquaintance was able to get an apartment over on George Washington Way, and he asked if I wanted to share this apartment with him. You had to share. [LAUGHTER] You couldn't just live in one by yourself. So I then lived in that apartment for a couple of years, until I got married. Then we had a B house. [LAUGHTER] And that's where we were living when they began selling Richland out. And we were junior tenants in the B house, and way down on the move list, so there wasn't much chance of getting a decent house. My wife and I bought a lot over in Kennewick. And we didn't have much money, but we had a lot of energy, and we did an awful lot of building our own house. I think--I'm still living in it 54 years later. [LAUGHTER] So—but it's been--Oh, I don't regret a day of the work that we've done here. It's been challenging and interesting. After I retired from full time, I did a lot of part time work. I helped—was declassifying documents and I was a tour director, taking people on tours of Hanford. And I worked at the old Science Center down on the Post Office, before that became CREHST over there, where it is now. And the Visitors Center out at Energy Northwest, I worked there. And the FFDF Visitors Center. So it's been a wonderful life, really. [LAUGHTER] Fun.
Bauman: I wonder, when you arrived in--was it July 26th of 1947? What was your first impression of Richland, or of the place here?
Buckingham: [LAUGHTER] Well! When I graduated from college, when my folks came over to graduate, and we came back through here. And I still remember going on the old highway, looking over, and seeing the stack of the old heating plant that used to be downtown in Richland, and thinking, oh gosh, do I really want to come here? And it was a little different. Of course I had worked in very highly classified stuff during radar during the war. So I was used to the classification. But Richland was really different. You just didn't talk about your work at all. You kind of knew what your buddies did. And there was the separation technology people, there was the pile technology people, the fuel technology people. You kind of knew what they did, but that's all. You didn't really know any details. And you never talked, we never talked about it.
Bauman: You talked about the chemistry of the REDOX process. Could you explain sort of what that means, in terms of REDOX, what the process was?
Buckingham: Yeah. The fuel is dissolved, of course. They take the jackets off with sodium hydroxide, and then you dissolve the fuel in nitric acid. And then they used this solvent, it’s an organic solvent. The stuff we used was Hexone, for what the chemical name is methyl isobutyl ketone, which is a paint thinner. And to make sure that we could extract, this Hexone would extract uranium and plutonium from aqueous phase into this organic phase. Well, you needed to add a salting agent to be able to improve that extraction. These were done in what we called columns. They were packed columns. They used some stuff called Raschig rings, and they were about 40 feet long. The feed would come about the middle of the column. The organic things would come in at the bottom of the column. And then there'd be a scrubbing agent came in up at the top of the column, and that would scrub some of this stuff out. Oh, it was a complicated process. Then we would oxidize the plutonium--or we would reduce the plutonium through a three valence state, and that wouldn't extract. And that was the separation column. And then you'd have to run both of these stuff through similar columns to clean it up. It was—really, it was kind of a marvelous process. It was a whole new metallurgical processing. It was something that hadn't been done, really, until we did here at Hanford. So just developing all these little techniques was quite a chore. And it worked!
Bauman: Then you said you were shift supervisor in the 200 Area?
Buckingham: Yeah, in the laboratories.
Bauman: In the laboratories. So what sort of work did that involve at that point?
Buckingham: Well, that was, then, that process chemistry that we were doing. But whenever there was an upset with the columns, there was all sorts of things, like the columns would occasionally flood, and they would just emulsify, and they couldn't get the organic and the stuff to separate. But why was that happening? And things like that. Sometimes the chemistry would get off a little bit, or we would get a carryover for some reason or other. It just—it worked, and it worked very well. But we were able to recover both the uranium and the plutonium. So we weren't putting uranium out in those old waste tanks. Then, you know, when we developed the PUREX process, we used the tributyl phosphate in a more dilute phase to go back in and recover that uranium we had stored from the old bismuth phosphate separation process. So you name it, we did it! [LAUGHTER] I kind of jokingly say that--you know, when DuPont was building this place, the war manpower boards told them where they could recruit, and they did a lot of recruiting in the South, because that was not highly industrialized. So that's why quite a few Southerners came up here to work. Well, Southerners are rednecks. [LAUGHTER] They can make anything work. And I really, I sincerely think it's a lot of the ability of those people to be able to do things, why this place even succeeded. And when you stop to think that that original construction and everything took place in 14, 16 months, it's just mind boggling.
Bauman: Given the sort of materials you were working with out there, why don't you talk about safety issues? Was safety emphasized quite a bit?
Buckingham: Oh, you betcha. You know, DuPont was a stinker on safety because they made gunpowder. You've heard the story about them getting criticized for making big profits doing gunpowder during World War I. So when they took over the contract here, they said they'd do it for cost plus $1, and they only received $0.80. [LAUGHTER] I think that's kind of an interesting story in itself. But DuPont was really--boy, if you saw something was unsafe, that was corrected right now. You didn't need to continue working in the unsafe condition at all. And I kind of laugh a little bit about. I think we were safer out at the plant than we were in our own homes. We'd have these dumb safety meetings. Once a week you had to go through a safety meeting. Sometimes they were boring as hell. [LAUGHTER] But the other thing was that when we didn't have any accidents for a certain length of time, we'd get a prize. I still have some of the prizes we won over the years. That was another thing. When GE was taking over, we could get GE--we could buy GE products at employee cost. You wouldn't dare buy a frying pan unless it was GE. [LAUGHTER] So there were many little advantages.
Bauman: I wonder, of the different things you worked on at Hanford, what were some of the most challenging aspects of the work you did, and what was some of the most rewarding?
Buckingham: Well, I think one of the most rewarding ones was this neptunium-237. That was really a fun project, because about once a month we'd have to start up this little pilot plant, and you had to run it 24 hours a day for about a week to separate out this 237. That was a very challenging and very rewarding project, because it had a lot of interest. That, and the fact that it was also highly classified. They kept changing the classification, I think every month, you'd have a new name for it. One time it was Palmolive. [LAUGHTER] Let's see, what were some of the others? Birch bark. You never knew what you were supposed to call it from one month to the next, because it was a very high-priority thing. Also, when we had--they begin shipping most of it back to Savannah River, because Savannah River could make the 238 easier than we could here at Hanford. But I would separate out this 237, and I'd have to deliver personally to the mint car. That was the car that took the plutonium down to Los Alamos. I'd have to take that 237 up in a cask and put it on that mint car. [LAUGHTER] So there were a lot of little things like that. Some of the challenges, we had some technical problems over the years that were real problems. Like we had a ruthenium problem out at the REDOX process that was a little bit of a challenge. We spewed some plutonium out on the ground out there. And plutonium is kind of a nasty stuff, because it doesn't absorb. It migrates towards the river fairly fast. So there were a few of those little things that were a bit of a problem. Also, then, during the Cold War, when production was so critical—you know you just didn't shut down for hell or high water. And we were running out of waste storage space. We came up with a way we could treat the waste and make it crib-able, so we could put it just to a crib, an underground crib, like a dry well. And that was kind of a dumb thing to do. [LAUGHTER] But it was necessary, because we had to get plutonium out, somehow or other. And we didn't have waste storage space. It takes too long to build a waste tank. And some of the interesting little things is some of the crushers found that nice salty stuff down in the soil, and we had an awful lot of hot poop spread around in the desert at various places. [LAUGHTER] Some of those challenges were kind of challenging! We didn't get too involved in it, but somebody was getting involved in it, and we always knew who it was.
Bauman: So the situation where you said that you sort of spewed a little bit of plutonium, was that at PUREX? What happened with that situation?
Buckingham: Oh, they were recovering americium from the plutonium down at 234-5, and they had a criticality event down there. That was a very challenging situation. I happened to--the engineer who was in charge of that was a good friend. He was at a Boy Scout—at a heat down along the river, and they went down and got him, and brought him back, so we could do some work out there. But that was really kind of scary. That's the only really serious incident. That and Mr. McCluskey’s, when the glove box blew up in his face. And I always blame the union on that, because the union was being very stubborn about settling the strike, and that's why the column had sat with this acid on it for so long. Then when they started it up, it took off.
Bauman: Are there any other incidents or things that happened during your time working at Hanford that really stand out to you? Humorous things, or serious.
Buckingham: I can't think. I can think of several humorous situations that occurred, particularly when I was a punk kid supervisor out there in the 222-T Plant. We had quite a few women workers out there, and I swear, I think those women used lay awake at night to see how they could embarrass me. [LAUGHTER] And this one—the hot water tank was in the women's restroom, and it had a check valve in it. Well, the toilets were all these pressure-type toilets. And this one woman went in to use the toilet, and the check valve didn't check. She burned her bottom. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Oh, no.
Buckingham: And I had to take her to first aid. And she was not at all hesitant about telling me exactly what had happened in detail. [LAUGHTER] I about died having to write up the accident report! Had employee been instructed on the job?, and stuff like that. [LAUGHTER] But I still chortle about that.
Bauman: Yeah. You talked earlier about how during the peak of the Cold War, there was focus on production, production. At some point, that leveled off, and there was sort of a decreased emphasis on production, and of course, eventually, a shift toward cleanup. But I wonder if that sort of shift away from really high production, how that impacted your work at all? Did that change?
Buckingham: It didn't seem to change it an awful lot. Those are very complicated processes out there. There not just simple processes, and they seem to have a tendency to something always going wrong. Like we had a situation of the columns flooding. And it was detergents that was put in through the Columbia River, up in Spokane and Wenatchee, up above us. Our water treatment system didn't remove this detergent. It was a phosphate detergent, and there it came through with our water purification stuff that we were doing. I think it gave us a bit of a headache for a while, of why there were these columns flooding all the time, and little situations like that. They seemed to come up, they'd crop up at weird times. Or a piece of equipment would fail, and how do we do it. Just—if you ever go out to the area, as you pass the old PUREX Plant, there's a tunnel that comes from the end of the PUREX Plant almost out to the highway, and there's a vent out there. And that tunnel is full of equipment that failed in the PUREX Plant that they shoved it into this tunnel and left it there. That's got to be cleaned up someday.
Bauman: I was going to ask you, President Kennedy came to visit in 1963 to dedicate the N Reactor. Were you present that day? Were you able to see--
Buckingham: Oh, you betcha. They took us—anybody who wanted to go in a bus down to the place where they were going to have the dedication. My wife, and her sister, and my two kids came out. And I don't know how my daughter ever found me in that crowd down there, but she spotted me somehow or other. [LAUGHTER] We were so far back you could hardly see him. But that was the first time they actually allowed people to come on the project, too. So it was really—I think my wife and her sister said they sat for an hour waiting to get through the barricade before they could come out. They were both quite amazed at what they saw when they got out here. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Right. And as you look back at all your years working at Hanford, how would you assess it as a place to work?
Buckingham: Well, some of the companies were much better to work for than others. I really enjoyed working for General Electric, because that's the company I first came to work for here. And Arco was a good company to work for. Isochem was just kind of iffy. They were very small—and I don't--they didn't quite have their act together yet. Some of the other later companies, I thought were just, nah. That was one of the reasons I quit when I did. I quit a little early. I took retirement at 63, because I just couldn't stand the company that was here at that time. They knew how to build airplanes, but they didn't know how to run a chemical plant. That shouldn't be in here. I hope you edit that out. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] You did talk earlier about some of the technology that you saw. I wonder, are there any other examples? Or you could talk about some of the new technology that you saw develop during this time you were there?
Buckingham: Well, gosh, the technology was moving so fast. You know, they had this Fast Flux test--they built the Fast Flux Test Facility. That was all new technology. And the plutonium recycle reactors—that was all new technology. I'm just amazed at the technology that they were developing here. And it was all developed here. We didn't get a lot of credit for it, unfortunately. [LAUGHTER] And I feel kind of bad about that, because it was the cleverness of the people working here that developed some of this technology. Even up there in that--in what they called the old separation plant, the old bismuth phosphate plant, the design of the equipment in that is just very unique. It was the first time that high-level radiation radioactive material was being handled, and they had to come up with a technique of handling it. There was a crane operator--there was a big long crane that ran the whole length of that 800-foot building. He sat in a lead-lined cab behind a concrete parapet. The only thing he had was optics that he could see down into the cells. And how he could take those--you look into one of those cells down there, and it's like looking into a plate of spaghetti. There's so much junk in it, so much stuff in there, pipes. And all everything that comes in has to come through these connectors. And he, the crane operator, had to know which one he had to take off first to get in, and another one in behind it, or something.
Bauman: Wow.
Buckingham: And just the technology they went through, and the learning process. I don't know how anyone was ever to do it. I've talked to one old engineer that, fortunately enough, I could take on a tour one time. He came out here with DuPont during the early construction, and he worked on quite a bit of it. He was here, and they gave him a special tour. And I happened to be the one who took him around. It was one of the funnest days I had, because he told me all sorts of things about some of the stuff that he had worked on. He had helped design the cask carts that carried the fuel from the reactors up to the separation plants, and he knew the people who would design the connectors for the separation plants, and some of the design on the waste tanks. To me, some of the stuff that they were able to do here, it still just boggles my mind. There was an awful lot of smart people working on this place, that's all I've got to say. A lot smarter than me!
Bauman: One more question. I teach a course on the Cold War, and of course most of my students now were born after the Cold War ended.
Buckingham: [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: You know, I wonder, as someone who worked at a place like Hanford during the peak of the Cold War, what you would say to a young person who would have no memory of the Cold War at all, or much of an understanding, what it was like to work at Hanford?
Buckingham: It was a little scary, because we were surrounded by gun emplacements. And I still remember going home after shift one day, and there was some gun emplacements right at the bottom of the Two East Hill, and they were all raised, like they might be ready, had a warning or something. And you kind of wonder about that. And we went in, we always had to have these--in all of the buildings, we had supplies that we could hole up in case of an attack. And all of us had junk in our cars, an evacuation plan. I know my wife and I did. I had canned goods that I would put in the trunk of the car. And if we were attacked, she was to meet me at a certain places in Yakima, and we were going to head for the Willapa Hills. [LAUGHTER] The Willapa Hills are a very remote part of Pacific county. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Wow, so you did have preparations in place in case, because--
Buckingham: Yeah. And some people even built--there were a few bomb shelters built around.
Bauman: Well, is there anything else about your work at Hanford, or your experience there that we haven't talked about yet that you'd like to share?
Buckingham: Oh, gosh, there's so many things that went on. I could sit here and talk probably all afternoon about some of this stuff because new ideas would come up that I can't remember. Well, I can remember shortly after I had gotten into the laboratory down at 3706 Building, one of the women that I was working with, she and I did more uranium analysis in one shift than anybody had ever done. [LAUGHTER] We were very proud of that. We just hit every sample size as perfect. And it was--we just were boiling out uranium analysis like crazy. [LAUGHTER] I can't remember now, but it was--there were little incidences like that that were kind of fun. And for a while the coveralls that they were giving us had pockets on them to take the size. They were colored. And there were some of those women, I tell you. I like women, but I think some of those gals that used to work down there had a warped sense of humor. They loved to grab ahold of these pockets and rip. They'd rip the pockets off! Well, they came up behind me one time and grabbed the pockets, of and ripped, and the pockets didn't come off, but the whole seat came off. [LAUGHTER] That was when I was still single, and embarrassed very easily. And I had gotten a blue sock in with my white underwear. My shorts were blue! [LAUGHTER] Oh, they got such a kick out of my blue underwear! I could have slapped them, though.
Bauman: Oh, that's quite a story. [LAUGHTER]
Buckingham: One of the things that we did, I think we were a lot closer. We worked closely with each other. And we'd have wonderful--we'd call them safety meetings in the tavern. [LAUGHTER] They were just--We'd have a lot--we had a lot of parties. But they don't seem to do that anymore. I don't know why. We were more like a big family, and if anything happened to somebody, like a death in the family, we would all rally around them and do things like that, like families did. And Richland was really a very close little community back then. If anybody got into trouble, boy, you sure knew it.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you very much for coming in today, and sharing your memories and experiences. I really appreciate it.
Buckingham: Well, I enjoyed doing it, because I think it was a very unique time in history. And I'm afraid that we're beginning to lose that, because my--now, I'm getting to the age where World War II veterans are dying off like flies. [LAUGHTER] So many of my friends have already gone, and it's just a little shocking.
Bauman: Right. Thank you, again, for coming in. I really appreciate it.
Buckingham: You're very welcome. Thank you for asking me.
Northwest Public Television | Brinkman_Loris
Loris Brinkman: L-O-R-I-S and Brinkman is B-R-I-N-K-M-A-N.
Robert Bauman: Thank you very much. Thanks for letting us talk to you today, I appreciate it. Today's date is October 29, 2013. My name is Robert Bauman and we're conducting this interview in Richland, Washington. So let's start, if you could, Loris, by having you tell us about how you came to Hanford, what brought you here, and when did you arrive?
Brinkman: Okay, I was, as I stated before, I spent seven years with Civil Conservation—with the CCCs. And then I got a job with DuPont spent one year at Rosemount Minnesota, and that was from 1942 to '43. So I came out here in September of '43. And I came out here and they sent me out to 200 West. I came out to 200 West, and there wasn't much going on there yet. It was pretty in the beginning part of it. Now they were digging--they were excavating for the 221-T Building. And I think they were probably building on the powerhouse. Well, my first job, they had to get water down there. And there was a water line just north of us, as I recall. And the first thing we had to do is to have a temporary water line, and that was made of wood pipe. And it was laid out, and it was laid out like this, so it made a circle around there so that all the facilities would be able to get water from this water line. And I was given the job of somebody has to follow the work. And there were be places where we'd have to pour some concrete. And it was wood pipe. And wood pipe was certainly new. And so when we got that pretty well taken care of, I was given the job to follow the steam lines. Now as I said, the powerhouse was under construction. And the steam line that came out of the powerhouse was about 16 inches in diameter. And you see, at that time, there was the T Building and the U Building. And the steam lines came out of the powerhouse, which was kind of halfway in between the two. And then one line went up towards the T Building and the other line went down toward the U Building. Well there was construction or excavation being going on at the--I think they called it the 221-T Building. And the steam lines were necessary because they were going to furnish the steam for all the construction there. Now in the steam line, it doesn't sound like a very important job, but we would probably go 300 to 400 feet. And then there would have to be a, what they called an expansion loop there. It would go like this. And that was to take care of the expansion when the steam was in operation. Now the thing that we did was we would construct maybe three--I don't remember--but 300 to 500 feet in length. And then there would have to be a loop to take care of the expansion. And what we would do is to construct a line, and then about midway between these expansion loops, we would cut the line and take out about two or three inches, as I recall. And then they would put chains on there and bring those two together and weld them together. Now the reason for that is that the tension was on there when it was cold. And when they put the steam in the line, the expansion would make the steam line pretty much without tension on it. You get the idea? And along with that steam line, I worked on construction of several permanent buildings that were part of the main construction there. And that was the--we had the laundry and we had the office building, and a few buildings like that. I worked on those, too. Now when the work was all complete, my portion of the work was finished there, I went to the 200 East Area. And I don't really remember what I did there, but I think it was probably similar to what I did over in the West Area. And after about a year's work there, the work that I was doing was pretty well completed. And so I went to--excuse me. See, at my age names don't come quite like they used to.
Bauman: That’s right, yeah.
Brinkman: But I went to Indiana, to the Indiana Ordinance Works. And I worked there for about a year. And by that time, after completing the work there, I went to the Wilmington head office there, and I worked there for about two and a half years. But you know, after being out here a year, I couldn't quite get this place out of my mind. As we said, if you can last six months, you're going to like it. But many people came out here didn't last six months. When I came out here in the beginning, I was going to--the fellow that I was working with at Rosemount was already out here. And he had a room in Pasco, and I was going to room with him. So when I got out here and I called his number, and I said, I'd like to speak to Hamm. Mr. Hamm terminated last Friday. And there was another man with me and he said, Mr. Brinkman, I don't know anything about Mr. Hamm. I will tell you one thing, it takes a damn good man to stay out here. [LAUGHTER] But anyway, after another year down at Wilmington--or down at Indiana Ordinance Works, I went to Wilmington and I stayed there for about two and a half years. And then there was an opportunity for me to get back out here. I didn't hesitate. I came out here again. Got out here in--I think it was--1948. And I've been here ever since.
Bauman: What was it about the place that made you want to come back?
Brinkman: One of the things is the climate. This is ideal climate. We don't have these 40 degree weather that we had in Wisconsin. Once in a while it did get cold here. One time. I was, let’s see—we did have six days of cold weather. And the temperature got as low as minus 26 or 27 degrees.
Bauman: Wow.
Brinkman: And that was six days. And then I went out in the evening and oh, I says we have a chinook. A chinook--they called it a chinook when the warm breeze would come in there. And it's chinook. And the temperature went up 40, 50 degrees in the night. So the cold period was over with. But I just like the weather. I like the people that were here. They were people that were out here for one purpose, we've got to get this thing built. We need this in our war. So that was the main thing that I liked out here.
Bauman: Mm-hm. When you first came in 1943, what were your very first impressions of the place? Do you remember?
Brinkman: Well, I really didn't hate the place. A lot of people did. We didn't have very much sunshine. There was about six weeks the sun didn't shine. But I really enjoyed the place.
Bauman: And when you came out here to work, what did you know about the work you were doing or what Hanford was for?
Brinkman: Well, in the first place, you didn't know what we were going to make here. Nobody's--there were a few people that knew, but that was not discussed. We did not discuss what we were going to make here and what it was going to be used for. That was absolutely quiet.
Bauman: Do you remember when you found out?
Brinkman: Yes, when I was--I think it was--in Indiana Ordinance Works when they dropped the bomb. Then I knew what we were doing out here. That this was very important. And the bomb was very important.
Bauman: And when you worked out here in 1943, do you remember how much money you made?
Brinkman: Yes. I made--I think it was--about $85 a week.
Bauman: And how many hours a week was that?
Brinkman: Well, when I first started out here it was nine hours, six days a week. Put in about 54 hours.
Bauman: And then when you came back in 1948, what sort of job did you have when you came back here?
Brinkman: I have to think a little bit on this, on what I did. I don't remember what exactly what the first job was. But my biggest job after getting back here was construction of--supervising, or not really supervising, but seeing that the job was done according to the plans of the tank farm. We had these underground tanks. You see, we had waste, and that waste had lots of plutonium in there. We didn't get it all out. The uranium was changed in--part of it was changed into plutonium. And then that was in the 100 Area. Or--yeah, the B Area and 100 Areas. And then in the 200 Areas they separated the plutonium. And the plutonium was used to make the bomb. And then there we had tank farms. Oh, I'm trying to think how many, 750,000 gallons or something like that. And we usually had 12 steel tanks. And we would dig a hole way down deep. And these tanks were, I think, something like 75 feet in diameter. And we'd pour a concrete base and then we'd build from there. And they would go up about 75 feet. And then when they were all completed, then we'd backfill again. And then we'd have these tanks ready for the waste from the process that was going on there. And I think--I don't remember just how many--but we had maybe three or four tank farms. And I worked on those tank farms. I was known as the tank farm engineer, something like that.
Bauman: So what did being a tank farm engineer involve? Sort of, supervising?
Brinkman: Yeah, you have to have somebody there. We would have a contractor do the work. And we would have to see that it was done properly, check everything that was done. And be very careful about the back filling and that sort of thing.
Bauman: So how long did you work the tank farms?
Brinkman: Oh, I think maybe two or three years, probably.
Bauman: What did you do after that?
Brinkman: Well, I have to think now. [LAUGHTER] After that, I got involved mostly with--as we call it--the project engineering. And with this place there were always new facilities being created. And we call them a project. Maybe we would design this project and then follow the construction of it. But there was considerable work being done all the time. And I was part of the project engineering work.
Bauman: And so how long in all did you work at Hanford? When did you stop working?
Brinkman: Okay. I was 59, and that was in 1971, I think it was. And then I retired. And about a year later, why, they called me and said, would you come out and help us? And I said, no! And then I thought about it a bit and I said, wait a minute, call me tomorrow. I'll think about it. And they called the next day, and I says, I'll come out and work about four months. And you know, I enjoyed it very much. And the next year I went out again for four months. And I did that for four years! Finally I got to the stage where I said, no, I think I've gone long enough. It's now time for me to travel. So after that, why, then my wife and I traveled all over the world. We took three month tours and went around the world, down South America, and that sort of thing. And we loved that very much.
Bauman: I want to go back to when you first came to Hanford in 1943, you mentioned that a lot of people stayed for just a little while and left. What sorts of things were there to do for fun? Was there entertainment available? What sorts of things happened here?
Brinkman: Well, they had a big place down at Hanford itself. They built barracks for people. And they had, well, for one thing in ten days they built a great big building which was the entertainment building. And they had party—or dances and that sort of thing. And they had beer places around. People could buy a big jar of beer. And they had lots of those. They had to have facilities here that would interest people so they would stay. And they spent a lot of money on that to make interests for people.
Bauman: Mm-hm. And you said when you first came you--did you stay in Pasco?
Brinkman: No, let's see, I first stayed up at Grandview. I stayed there and worked back and forth. Then I got a house in Richland. And that was great, then. And I stayed there until I moved out to--
Bauman: To Indiana?
Brinkman: Yeah, Indiana. Right.
Bauman: And then when you came back in 1948, where did you--did you move into Richland?
Brinkman: Yeah, right in there. I got a house. I had got a house practically right away.
Bauman: What was Richland like as a community in the 1940s?
Brinkman: Well, it wasn't a big town in the 1940s. Oh, you mean before we came out here?
Bauman: No, I mean when you were here.
Brinkman: All right, when we were here—see, I have to think a little bit. We had—
Woman one: Hello?
Brinkman: We had a number of stores.
Woman: Hello? That’s okay, I’ll come back later.
Brinkman: But Pasco had stores and Kennewick had stores. And most of the shopping was done over in those areas. But we did, then, we had the C. C. Anderson place here. And that was a place, they had good material in there that you could buy. It wasn't a very big shopping area here, but it was adequate. I would say that.
Bauman: Did you go over to Kennewick and Pasco occasionally, then, to shop?
Brinkman: Oh, sure. Yeah. And the funny part of it was my daughter, when we got over to Kennewick, she said this is a real city.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER]
Brinkman: It's a little bit different than Richland was. But Richland was being built all the time and adding new facilities, new stores, new houses all the time, until it got to be a pretty good place.
Bauman: I’ve had a few people I talked to from that period talk about the dust storms. Was that an issue at all that you remember?
Brinkman: Yes, we had dust storms. And when we had a dust storm, we'd close the windows, of course. But there would be dust all over the inside of your house. And that was the thing that sent quite a few people out of here. They'd have a dust storm and then they'd leave. But it didn't bother us, we just took those things in stride. We liked—by that time I liked it here. And when we came back on the second time, we got this house, and right across the street was the school. My wife went over and said, I'm a teacher, I have a master's degree, I would like a job. She got a job as a fifth grade teacher just like that. [LAUGHTER] And she taught there for 23 years.
Bauman: And what school was this?
Brinkman: In fifth grade.
Bauman: Do you remember which elementary school it was?
Brinkman: Yeah, it was Lewis and Clark. And we lived right across the street from there, right on the corner.
Bauman: Oh, okay, did you have one of the alphabet homes?
Brinkman: Yeah, H house. And then the time came when we were able to buy that house. And that was wonderful, too. That turned into a good deal for us.
Bauman: Do you remember how much?
Brinkman: Yeah, I paid about $6,000 for it. Then I added. I did some construction on it. I added--enlarged the two bedrooms. And when we sold it, boy, I don't mind saying it, we sold it for $85,000. And made a return of say, like, $76,000 or $77,000. So that was a good thing for us.
Bauman: That's a pretty good deal.
Brinkman: Yeah, it was a very good deal. Yeah.
Bauman: President Kennedy came out here in 1963 to dedicate the N Reactor. I wonder, were you there? Did you see him when he came at all?
Brinkman: I sure was there.
Bauman: What do you remember about his visit here?
Brinkman: I don't remember anything about his speech. He just, as I recall, he emphasized the fact of the importance of this work here. That was probably the main thing. And he tried to make us feel like we were really doing something great for the country. And I guess we were.
Bauman: You and your whole--were your whole family out there as well?
Brinkman: Oh yeah, the whole family was there, yeah.
Bauman: A very special event.
Brinkman: You see, they--it was wonderful for us to have that school there. [LAUGHTER] Because my wife could go over there and teach and then get back in time. And when I got home the meals were ready.
Bauman: So I wanted to ask about security at Hanford. Did you have to have special clearance?
Brinkman: Oh yes, yes. Yes, we had to have Q clearance, mm-hm.
Bauman: Are there any other events that really stand out in your mind?
Brinkman: Any what?
Bauman: Any events that stand out in your mind, or things that happened during the time you worked at Hanford that you just thought were really interesting or important?
Brinkman: Well, I should remember, but my mind doesn't function like it should in that case. I don't know that there was anything—important things that we had.
Bauman: Overall, how was Hanford as a place to work?
Brinkman: How was what?
Bauman: Hanford as a place to work?
Brinkman: Wonderful, as far as I was concerned.
Bauman: And what was it about working there that made it wonderful for you?
Brinkman: Well, we worked out in the area most the time. And people--we all worked together. That was the thing, I think, that was—that we were all working together, helping to accomplish what we were set out to do there. Now my mind doesn't work quite like it should. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Of the different jobs you had at Hanford, was there one that was a favorite for you, one that you really enjoy the most?
Brinkman: It wasn't the tank farm. That wasn't it. But I think the part I liked the best was in the latter part, we worked on various projects. And the projects were our projects, so to speak. And we were interested in seeing that those--we probably designed them, worked out the design and then followed the construction of it. And we were just anxious to see how it worked out.
Bauman: Is there anything I haven't asked you about yet, or that you haven't had a chance to talk about yet, in terms of either working at Hanford or living in Richland, that you think would be important to talk about?
Brinkman: Well, as I said, at my age here, my mind doesn't do quite what I hoped it would do. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: You're doing great. [LAUGHTER]
Brinkman: Well, we just, oh, when we got, as far as the schools are concerned, we had such great sports here. Our basketball team has won the state championship three times. They had won the state championship in football once or twice. And this has just been a very wonderful sports area. We've had quite a few basketball players that played well for colleges. And as I said, we won state championships three times and got second place maybe three or four times. It was just wonderful sports. And we were always--my wife and I were always interested in sports. We would go to the other cities and that sort of thing. My son played on the basketball team.
Bauman: Great. Well, I want to thank you very much for letting us talk to you today. And for sharing your memories. I really appreciate--
Brinkman: My mind doesn't work quite the way it should right now. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: It's working pretty darn well, myself. [LAUGHTER]
Brinkman: Well.
Bauman: Thank you, again. I really appreciate it.
Brinkman: Well I'm sure glad that if I have anything here that will be of some use to you, I'm sure happy to have helped out.
Bauman: Absolutely. Thank you very much.