The Coast

Hans Schmidt Recalls Early Days on Beaches Grayland, WA
Aug. 1, 1950 South Beach News Review
Just 47 years ago, in 1903, Hans Schmidt, then a boy of 16, landed at Tokeland, his destination after a journey which had carried him across the sea from his native Saxony. He came here because two young friends who proceeded him the year before, wrote and told him about razor clam digging on the Washington beaches. Debarking from the freighter, Frederick August on the east coast, Hans came by train to South Bend. At the station he was greeted by a young German, Ernest Leber, later to serve in the state legislature, who got a hotel room for Hans, who couldn't speak a word of English, and the next morning put him on the river steamer, Reliable, in command of Captain Jack Reed. Crossing to Tokeland, Hans met his former friends, Otto Kuhn and Ted Mantchewsky. His first home on the beach was with the Johnny Johnson family on what is now the Ben Gumm place. The only people on the beach then between North Cove and Cohassett were the Johnsons, the George Gould family, the Audy Richmond family, and a French Canadian trapper, John Vorhies. Earlier pioneers, the Blakes and the Staffords had moved away; the Blakes to Aberdeen and the Staffords to Missouri. Joining his two friends, Hans made a precarious living digging clams for the fresh market. That same year two young men from Eastern Washington, Martin and Joe Wingarter, joined the group. It wasn't a very good clam year, Hans recalls. The clams were sent by boat to Aberdeen and Hoquiam and peddled about the streets by wheelbarrow vendors. The beach was different in those days. What are now stable dunes covered with vegetation, were, in those days, but moving ridges of blowing sand. The only road was the ocean beach, bordered on the land side with miles of bleached driftwood, higher in some places than a man's head. Through the swampy back country residents thought nothing of poling a canoe through the marsh and reeds from Mallard Slough on the South Bay to Smith Creek at North Cove. In September, P. F. Halferty began canning clams at Markham. This was good news for Hans and his friends who became the first commercial clam diggers on the beach. Later that year he crossed to Oyehut on a stormy night, now memorable in Grays Harbor history as the one in which the Ocosta hotel being moved by scow to Hoquiam, broke loose from it's tow and went ashore at Kurtz Slough at North Bay. In that first Oyehut party were the Wingarten brothers, Henry Gilbert Dean, W. H. Summerline and his sons, Cliff and Block, Anton German, Harley. Two weeks later they were joined by Frank Peterson, Ernest Johnson, Charlie Seestrand and Fred Manuel. Of those venturesome young men, so eager and so imbued with the spark and fire of pioneers, Hans recalls sadly, that he is the only one alive today. Clams were hauled from the beach by horse drawn wagons. He still remembers his first big dig – on Easter Sunday 1904 Hans dug 930 pounds on one tide. But he also remembers Cliff Summerline dug 1,148 pounds. It was all dry digging in those days. Even the clam “gun” as we know it today was unknown. A shovel, described by Hans as a Maynard No. 2 – broad across the top and tapering to a six inch tip – was the clumsy weapon of the day. D.S. Betvhel, who lived at the McGee place south of Oyehut, was the father of the modern clam gun which he designed in 1905. About this time Charlie Grigsby joined the early commercial diggers. Hans remembers 1910 was a historic clam year. The year 1921 was also a record year. But Hans was not to spend his life behind a clam gun. For many years he operated company canneries and skippered cannery tenders and operated tugs. In 1946 he was appointed inspector for the state fisheries. From his Grayland home Hans now patrols the beaches of his youth.
Webmaster's note; My family gave up farming and logging in 1921 and moved to the beach at Cohassett to dig clams for a living. My grandfather, Wayne Embree, learned how to smoke and can clams and spent the rest of his life making a living in his own small cannery.

This is the account given to the Coast Guard by Robert A. Rockwood after the sinking of the fishing boat, the H. R. Webb, off the bar at Westport, Washington.Went out this particular day to lift crab pots - March 12, 1945. Lifted last crab pot about 1pm. The sea had been making with a westerly wind and swell, and we were cutting our day short, Before leaving my crab pots, I had my boat puller, Reggie Goodman, lash the crab pots down. Took following course coming in from crab gear: From last pot on south end of string, went south to southeast to the opening of the north spit. Slowed down to look at opening about 15 minutes. Arrived at north spit about 1:15 pm. It looked good enough to come through between rushes, so started through. Got almost over the spit when I heard my boat puller close the pilot house door. Was looking out the window in the pilot house door (to the stern) when I saw a sneaker (swell) had risen up and was going to hit us. At that time I was running about 2000 RPM and east to southeast. I immediately cut my speed, swung the boat stern, putting the boat into reverse, and opened the throttle again. By the clock on the boat, it was 1:30 pm at the time the swell hit. This particular swell hit us and laid the boat, port side, into the water. Pilot house buckled in on port side, at the deck. Stood on part of the pilot house that was buckling in but it did no good. Water didn't go clear over the boat. Engine was running until boat straightened up. At the time it straightened, water came in through a hole that had come in the pilot house, and drowned my engine. We opened the pilot house door and went on deck. The front half of the hatch cover had washed off. Looked up and saw another sneaker coming at us. I ran into the pilot house, grabbed two life preservers, gave one to my boat puller and kept one for myself. Kicked my boots off and ran back into the pilot house. Wanted my boat puller to come in, but he didn't even want to go in there. He stayed on deck. I told him to hang on with a death hold. I was standing at the wheel when the second one hit us, but it did no damage. Preservers were still in our hands; we didn't have time to put them on yet, and the third breaker followed right on the second. When it hit, it rolled the boat on the port side so far in the water I thought it was going to roll over. I heard my boat puller holler, and when the boat straightened he was gone. This time it caved the hole in the pilot house a little larger, took the pilot house door off, caved back of pilot house on port side, and tore top of pilot house loose so that just the mast was holding it to the boat. There was quite a long spell between the third and next breakers. Went on deck to look for my boat puller. He was about 100 feet quartering to the starboard bow, (weather side). I could just see a hand waving; the other holding onto a life preserver. I could see the life preserver and knew it was weighted with his weight. Layed my preserver where I could get ahold of it in a second ( had not had time to put it on yet), and ran to drop the anchor in hopes my boat puller could get to the boat if it was anchored. My anchor line and chain were already washed overboard, but my anchor was still lashed to the rail. I cut the anchor lashing, threw the anchor over, and looked for him again. All I saw was the life preserver floating on the water with no weight at all. I went into the foco-cel, got a white blanket, went up on top of the pilot house, and put it as far up the mast as I could reach without climbing the mast. I was afraid to climb to the top of the mast for fear another breaker would come and wash me off. I came down on deck, took loosened pilot house door,and lashed it where I had lost my hatch cover, and put my life preserver on. At this time I didn't have even a foot of water any place on the floor of the boat. My deck pails had become wedged by the pilot house, so I took a 5-gallon can (top was cut out of it) and bailed the engine room within two inches of water. I used my pyrine on my ignition and wiring, let stand a minute or two, turned the ignition key on and pulled the starter, but the jolt had done something to my battery connections. Starter just buzzed. Reached for a wrench to fix connections when I heard a loud roaring, and I knew another breaker was coming. Ran out on deck and grabbed the crab girdie; I knew that it was bolted so good that if it came off the whole deck right there would come too. That breaker knocked my batteries clear loose, and put about 18 inches of water in the engine room. (There were almost-water-tight bulkheads in the boat) As soon as the boat straightened out, I started to bail in the engine room again, and had it almost dry again when I saw it was no use to try to start the engine again. I heard a loud roaring and this time I ran up on deck, jumped into these loops and hung onto the crab girdie. This time as near as I can emember, and count then, there were seven breakers, one right after the other...the last one being the largest and hardest of all. It laid the boat over so far the mast went under water. I couldn't even stand on the deck; the loops on the crab girdie were all that kept me on the boat. I almost gave up and jumped overboard, but nevertheless the boat straightened up again. I was adrift now, drifting to the north. I was drifting in calm water. If I hadn't lost my anchor I could have anchored and been safe. I had drifted north of the norht jetty about a half mile. I drifted long enough that my decks had dried with what little sun was shining. I had bailed the boat dry again, and then a northwest squall hit me and drove me right at the end of the north jetty. Just as I thought the boat would hit the jetty, it swung out and followed the juetty on the ocean side. Went in about 400 feet and I felt the boat hit something. It sunk so that the decks were awash almost instantly. I had run to the crab girdie and was hanging onto it at the time the boat was sinking. I went to the bow of the boat as it was too dangerous by the crab girdie then, and hung onto a stay-wire. By this time white water was washing almost constantly over the boat. I don't know how long I hung there; I was waiting for the boat to get closer to the jetty so I could jump. It was about five feet from it then (getting no closer, in fact, floating no more). Finally a large sheet of white water hit me and tore me loose, and washed me overboard, and onto a rock, but the backwash pulled me off into the ocean. My feet touched gravel, and I swam and waded to that rock again. The boat had sunk on a bend by the jetty. I looked behind me and the boat was coming at me and would have crushed me had not another sea caught me and pushed me up onto a higher rock. I crawled in behind another rock for protection. The spray was all that reached me here. I laid there and watched the boat bread up. After awhile I imagined the water was going to reach me, so I crawled up on top of the jetty rocks and laid down. I was exhausted and cold. How long I laid there before these two men found me, I don't know for sure. I did ask them what time it was and they said 4pm. One of them put me in his car and took me to a Coast Guard truck about a quarter mile down the beach. The Coast Guard truck tokk me to the station for first aid. I had them phone my ex-brother in law, Sam Cameron, and he brought me home. There are lots of little details, of course, that we didn't put in that story. Webmaster's note. This is a true story that happened to my Dad off the Westport bar. They never found the boat puller, Reggie Goodman. Bob Rockwood went on to fish for many more years.

2 FISHERMEN FEARED LOST
Astoria, OR May 6, 1944 Tacoma Sunday Ledger
Two fishermen were believed today to have lost their lives in the capsizing of their trolling boat in the rough waters off Clatsop Spit, at the mouth of the Columbia River. The boat was last seen wallowing near the bar Sunday, and today U.S. Coast guardsmen found bits of wreckage including the pilot house. The boat was registered to Carl Richard Cook, 32, of Vanport, OR, and Fred Roger Henderson of Portland, and it was believed both men were aboard.

Tragedy Strikes Columbia Bar - Sept. 16, 1976- Chinook Observer
Coast Guard boats, ships and helicopters were searching the Pacific Ocean off the Long Beach Peninsula and the mouth of the Columbia River for eight persons still missing after the charter boat Pearl C tilted up 70-90 degrees on her side and slid beneath the waves on the Columbia Bar at 8:57 p.m. Sept. 13.
Some debris from the wreckage of the boat was found at 320 degrees (magnetic) 17 miles off the mouth of the Columbia Tuesday afternoon (about 17 miles west of the town of Ocean Park).
According to a Coast Guard spokesman, the Pearl C, a 41 foot salmon charter boat that had been out tuna fishing, called for help and a 44 foot motor lifeboat was dispatched from Cape Disappointment. The lifeboat requested Air Astoria to send a helicopter to help find the boat which was reported disabled and disoriented.
At 4:45 p.m., 30 minutes later, the helicopter located the crippled vessel 16 miles SW of the lightship Columbia, and a motor lifeboat took her in tow.
About 10 miles out, just off the bar, the first boat was relieved by another 44 foot motor lifeboat. The second boat started over the bar with the Pearl C in tow.
According to Cape Disappointment Commander Jim Cushman, the seas were not as previously reported Cushman said, "I was out there about 30 minutes later. The swells were running 4-6 feet with an occasional 8 footer and there was a one-two foot wind chop. The wind was blowing about 25 knots. (About 29 m.p.h.)
Suddenly as best any witness could tell, the Pearl C tilted up 70-90 degrees on her side and sank.
Next, Coast Guard officials said, the crew on the life boat cut the tow line, but as they started to turn around to go after survivors the line became entangled in the screw. They cleared that and picked up one of the survivors. The other motor lifeboat, who had been escorting the two back to port, picked up the other.
One man, suffering from exposure, was lifted from the motor lifeboat and flown by helicopter to Astoria. The other was taken in by boat to Cape Disappointment.
Survivors are; Robert Rowan, 36, Bellevue, and Douglas Jewell, 26, also of Bellevue.
The Coast Guard cutter Yocono is command ship in the present search involving several other Coast Guard vessels and two helicopters presently searching for those lost; Bernice Winegar, 65, Ken Winegar and Arbon Nordgran, all of Woods Cross, Utah. Carol Johnston, 30, Raymond Jewett, 35, Roy Jewett, 15, Harry Jewett, 70, all of Bellevue and the skipper of the Pearl C, Bill Cutting, Ilwaco and Westport.
The boat, Pearl C, 41 feet long sailing out of Portway Charters, Ilwaco, had a yellow hull and a brown flying bridge and 12-14 trolling poles. It was owned and operated by Bill Cutting.
Bill Cutting was the web master's step-nephew.