A BIT OF HISTORY
At
the time of this story, lumber camps were numerous throughout the timber
country. Men traveled long
distances, often by foot, from one logging camp to another if they were to
disagree with a foreman, hear of a little better pay somewhere else, or perhaps
have a secret compulsion forcing them to move on.
Among
these men could be scholars, learned men of professions from which they felt a
need to for a change, men who chose this line of work because of a love of
nature in the rough, widow’s sons who left the farms to work in the woods
during the winter months to earn money for taxes or other necessities of life,
perhaps a few men might be there hiding from the law, and then there were always
the typical woodsmen who like their work and who became expert in the use of the
axe and the cross-cut saw.
This
logging camp was a typical one, employing and housing 80 men, among who were
sawyers, wood choppers, teamsters, saw filers, scalers, riggers, skidder men, a
cook, cookees, a lobby hog, a few foremen and an over-all superintendent of the
woods. For simplicity I shall call
this superintendent Mr. Smith.
The
main camp structure was a two-story building, the first floor containing a large
kitchen, pantries, dining hall and lobby. The upper floor was one large room, with partial partitions
for supports.
A
smaller building held an office, storeroom, and sleeping quarters for the
superintendent.
Often
during the winter evenings and on Sundays some of the woodsmen would drop in on
Mr. Smith to discuss some problem concerning their work, or perhaps something of
a personal nature for which they felt a need for help.
Here, they knew, they had a sympathetic friend whom they could trust, and
one capable of many things.
One
such visitor was a young man from Virginia.
Upon answering his knock at the door, the superintendent invited him in,
and offered him a chair. Shyly the
young man began:
“Mr.
Smith, I want to send a letter to my mother, and with it send some money I have
earned here. She will be needing it
now. One of the men told me today
that you would help me. You see I
cannot write, and I thought maybe you would write the letter for me.
I would like you to tell her that I am well; that this is a good camp
where I have a warm bed to sleep in and plenty of food.
Good food every day like we have at home on Christmas, sometimes.
Please tell her, too, that I sat in your office while you wrote the
letter for me.”
“My
mother was a high-born lady, my dad once told me, but after she ran away and
married my dad, her parents disowned her. My
dad was a good man, and when I was a half-grown boy he went away to work in the
woods as I have done now. He went
up on Little Black and there he got lost in a snowstorm and the man who brought
him home told us… ‘He died from exposure.’
“Maybe
this letter will keep mom from worrying too much about me.”
As
this young man left the office another entered. He asked if he might borrow a book on ancient history.
“I hope to return to college next fall,” he said, “and in the
meantime I’m studying as much as I can to better prepare myself.
I’m hoping to become a minister.”
Winter
had come early to this timber country, and work in the woods had been slowed
down considerably because of severe cold and heavy snows.
A
message had come from the mill superintendent, in the town eight miles away,
stating that few logs were left in the mill pond, and unless more could be
delivered soon the mill would have to close down until a reserve could be built
up.
With
this knowledge at hand Mr. Smith announced at supper that he would like to speak
to all the men, and would they be in the lobby immediately after supper.
There
he explained the situation at the mill, and asked that all men remain in camp
over the holidays so that they might fill the need for logs at the mill.
“I will meet you here one week from now for your answer,” he said.
Some
lumber camps of that day had what they called a commissary, which was probably a
modest forerunner of the modern PX of today.
This superintendent provided such a service for the men in his camp.
This was housed in the storeroom of his office building.
On sale there, always at cost, were such items as patent medicines,
tobaccos, pipes, shaving equipment, etc. Often
when the woodsmen came to replenish their needs, they would sit for a chat.
On
one such occasion the superintendent expressed his regret at the need to ask his
men to stay in camp over the holidays. He
mentioned that although he would like to spend Christmas with his family, he
would remain in camp with the others. On second thought, he might arrange to have his family visit
the camp on Christmas Eve. He had
promised the girls such a visit and this might just be the time for them to
come. It would be a treat for them.
His family lived in the small town where the mill was located.
As
Christmas grew nearer Mr. Smith began some simple decorating.
In his office were hung boughs of evergreens on the plain pine walls.
In the lobby, on the mantle over the big fireplace, more boughs were
placed and interspersed with the rich brown fungi found growing on trees.
Soon
the woodsmen began to enter the decorating spirit and as they’d come in from
work would bring something of beauty to add to the Christmas décor.
One
evening, after the superintendent had made his usual stop in the lobby, one of
the men suggested they plan a Christmas party.
“If the super does have his family come up, this would be a surprise
for all of them,” he said. Others
joined in with “it’s a good idea, let’s do it.
We’ll talk with the cook and ask if he’ll help.”
The
evening came when the men would give their answer to the superintendent.
All agreed to stay except two. One
of them, a handsome fellow named Henning, spoke up to say, “Johnston and I are
getting a little restless and think we’ll take off for a few days’ change.
We hear there’s to be a big game over at Glady, and we’d like to get
in on it. If we are lucky we’ll
stay the rest of the week, and if we’re really lucky, you might not see us
before spring.
Plans
for the surprise must have formulated thick and fast during the next few days.
Someone suggested a need for music whereupon a couple of guitars and an
old violin were brought out and practicing began.
A few of the men were heard trying out their singing voices on some old
familiar hymns.
A
messenger had been sent to town to advise the superintendent’s family to be
ready for a visit to the camp the day before Christmas.
The log train that would bring them would leave town at 2 o’clock in
the afternoon.
Needless
to say, excitement prevailed in the Smith household. The girls began wondering which dress they would wear, when
Mother Smith suggested they all work on planning a few treats for the men in the
camp. “We just couldn’t go up
there on Christmas Eve without taking something.”
One
of the girls said she’d make a lot of fudge; another would make fondant and
stuff dates, while Mrs. Smith began looking over her cookie recipes.
She
looked up to say to one of the younger girls, “You know those books you got
from tobacco coupons that the woodsmen sent down from camp?
You were going to give one to each member of the family so you could read
them all, I heard you say. Well, I
think it would be nice if you wrap them all
in
a neat package and take them to camp. Those
men need reading material up there more than we do, and you can get more books
later.” So there went Dickens’s
Christmas Carol, The Hound of the Baskervilles, Uncle Tom’s
Cabin, Black Beauty and other fascinating books without a chance
to even read one.
The day finally arrived, December 24, and the little
Shay engine, with a load of log cars and a caboose in which the family rode, was
on its way to the woods.
The
day was bright and beautiful as the train left town, but as it climbed the
mountain and entered the tall timber, shadows fell over the snow-covered ground
to make it appear almost blue. The
air was still, with only the chug, chug of the engine and clatter of the wheels
to be heard.
Deeper
into the woods the shadows deepened and darkened even more.
The fireman came into the caboose to tell the family not to be alarmed by
anything they might hear. Before he
could say more it happened—a most terrifying scream—like nothing they had
ever heard before—followed by a low, rumbling growl that could only come from
some savage beast, they thought.
The
train slowed down. The fireman
leaned far out the door to throw a package into the brush. Then he explained that he was “feeding the kitty.”
The kitty was a huge golden panther.
On each trip to camp this fireman would take from his boarding house a
package of scraps. The panther came
to look for this treat, always at the same spot.
His scream was a scream of welcome, the fireman told them, and he’s
telling us that we are now entering his domain.
Safe
at camp, after this thrilling ride, Mr. Smith met his family and escorted them
to his office where they had much to talk about. The girls wanted to know when and how they might present the
gifts they had bought, and were eager to visit the main building.
Just
then, one of the cookees (cook’s helper) came to announce that supper was
being served a bit early, and that all should come to the dining hall at once,
as the men were already taking their places at the tables.
Entering
the dining hall with his family, Mr. Smith was stricken speechless by the sight
before him. In fact, none of the
party had expected, or even dreamed of seeing such a meal in a logging camp.
The
long tables, with their shiny white oilcloth covers, were laden with food.
Beautiful golden-brown roasted turkeys were there, brought in from the
woods by the woodsmen, as were also the wild cranberries that filled the dishes
that dotted the tables with their bright red color.
There
were large layer cakes, with snowy white frosting, surrounded at the bottoms by
a wreath of wintergreen foliage, and dotted over the tops with shiny red
teaberries.
The
tables had to be rearranged to allow space in the center of the room for a
magnificent hemlock tree. This
Christmas tree did not hold any tinsel...the only trimming was the lovely bluish
cones that hung heavy on the branches. It
needed no other.
Finally,
regaining his speech, the superintendent said, “This wonderful occasion
deserves an invocation.” He
called upon the ministerial student to ask the blessing.
Just
then, in walked Henning and Johnston, to take their places at the table.
No, they had not meant to enter the big game at Glady.
They had been picked to make the ten-mile trip to Glady to buy some
needed supplies for the cook, and also gifts for the family that was to visit
them. Boxes of Lowneys, they were
told to get, and that brand of chocolates meant the very best.
When
the meal was finished, the group went to the lobby where they were thrilled by
the beautiful decorations. The
walls were nearly covered by evergreens of different kinds—spruce, hemlock,
and fir, with enough laurel foliage added for interest.
A
large piece of fungus had been placed at the center of the mantle; placed there
by one of the woodsmen who brought it in from the woods.
When Mr. Smith saw it, he removed it and on the bottom, where it was soft
and fawn colored, he wrote this inscription: “The Fool Hath Said in His Heart
There Is No God” and he stood it back in its place.
The
musicians assembled their orchestra of guitars, the violin and a mouth organ,
and all sat down, or leaned against the walls to hear them play.
As
their music died away, a clear tenor voice, from back in the shadows of the
room, rang out with “Silent Night.”
With the program ended, a toot-toot from the engine signaled the visitors it was time to leave. But first, the cook hurried out with one of his beautifully decorated cakes, all boxed and ready for Mrs. Smith to take home.
Christmas
is a time for giving, and while we all appreciate a gift from a friend or loved
one, we do know that it truly is more blessed to give than to receive.
We
must sometimes stop to remind ourselves that it is Christ’s birthday we are
celebrating and we might ask ourselves, “What can I give Him?”
What
can I give Him?
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb;
If
I were a wise man
I would do my part—
Yet what can I give Him?
Give my heart.
The story I have just told is a true story.
I know, because the superintendent was my father, and I was one of the
family privileged to be there.
Frances Irene Smith Hart 1894-1979
Her
father was Danford Blair Smith 1855-1939
Danford
was a schoolteacher in Bedford County, Pennsylvania near Everett.
Later he moved his family to Davis, West Virginia in Tucker County, West
Virginia where he was a lumber camp superintendent.
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