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The Mattole, River, Valley, People.

Don Kropp

    There are many Mattoles. First there is the river. Then there is the Mattole Valley and the Mattole Indians and later the Mattole settlers from Europe. All have their stories.
    The name means clear waters. Since no towns existed, there was little pollution, until the lumber companies came in cut the forests and duff and mud made its journey to the Pacific Ocean. It ruined the salmon grounds with silt but the steelhead season still survived.
    The Mattole Indians spoke an Athasbaskan language related to the Tlingat, Dineh and Apaches of the South West. Natives in the Coast Range Mountains inhabited the valley for thousands of years. There are two conflicting stories about the first contact with white people. First I will have to tell you about meeting Paul. He was a blend of Native American and European. Paul was an oral historian for the region.
    I drove up to the Honeydew store to get groceries. There stood a short stout fellow outside the store. He had a flat face, big smile and dusty overalls. Paul knew I was the new teacher in the valley. We had moved into the teacherage, my wife, baby and sixth grader from a previous marriage. Paul had arms that could drop trees to the ground. He had suspenders like the lumberjacks wore and a potbelly.
    The whole valley knew I liked to fish and hunt. Some knew I was a former Deputy Probation Officer. None knew that I took a cut in salary to teach. The ranchers in the valley had their own seasons for acquiring game. Their fishing spears were identical to those used by the Mattole Indians. Six of my students could claim partial ancestry by the first North Americans. Outlaws settled into the valley as well as pioneer homesteaders. For over a hundred years these ranchers had been marrying schoolteachers brought to the valley from the cities. These pioneer families had a high regard for education and appreciation of learning. Among this class it was not unusual to have four years of growh in reading skills. We used the mobile library and individual reading program plus some program readers designed by a Psychologist.
    Historically Bear Valley north of us used to recruit male teachers who knew how to box. Some of their boys had been held back so often they challenge the teachers’ authority. That was what I was told. In Petrolia two pioneer families had a feud that lasted over a hundred years. It seems a woman went fishing in a disputed stream. Another woman took offense and roped and dragged the fisherwoman beginning the feud and conflicts for generations. There were many conflicts over the years. The last incident was of someone being run off the road by a vehicle. Predictions have been made that eventually someone is going to get killed. That rivalry went right through the school system. One family actually pulled their kids out of school. That led to the dismissal of a popular married teacher team. Their ADA went down.
    Paul had a common last name. It was Smith. But I learned there was nothing very common about him. Our families shared dinners, social activities and several trips to the beach. Our kids played inside the doghouses on the Smith ranch on a hill. One day Paul took me to the beach on a 17-mile road he had built from Honeydew to the ocean. We went in his jeep accompanied by sheep dogs. On the way he stopped to show me some deer positioned some distance from his dirt road. It took me minutes to see the tan shapes he was pointing out for me. The road went across government land. Paul explained how he built the road. He did it by himself with a bulldozer. The road led to the “Lost Coast” of California. With the pride of construction Paul informed me that it took him seven years to create the road. He had constructed the road without the help from the government or anyone else. The Smith family had also constructed a beach house below Punta Gorda, the Western most portion of California.
    On the way out to the beach Paul would stop and take me to bushes that had medical uses. He showed me one bush that the Indians had used as soap. Other plants were used for specific ailments. When I queried him about the source of all the botanical information he said “ I had a grandma that was hundred and eleven Weott Indian”. He explained that the Weotts who lived East of the valley had 3 lines or one hundred eleven” tattooed on their chins. He added what when the first Whites came to Humboldt county some of the Weotts were wearing kimonos.
    Well that really got my interest. So Paul told me he would show me something when we got down to the beach. There was nothing man made along the beach. It was just wild nature with crashing waves, sea birds and a strong wind on a sunny day. We approached a flat area and Paul instructed me to look on the ground for arrowheads or scrapers. Within a half hour we recovered three arrowheads. They were just lying on the surface of the sandy soil. Paul explained the function of each arrowhead that was made in different shapes from colored stones. He said the brown diamond shaped point was used for deer or elk. He indicated that the double barbed white arrowhead was used in war. The many arrowheads found on the Shinn Ranch were evidence of clashes with the Weotts or other tribes. Paul explained the place where we stood was called “Spanish Flat”.
    Of course I was surprised by that name. There was nothing in the area that looked Spanish to me. The store at Petrolia was named for the first discovery of oil in the state. Early white pioneers dug water wells and struck small pockets of paraffin-based oil. Earthquakes had broken up pockets of paraffin base oil. Only Southern California has a heavier asphalt base deposit.
    Paul explained that there was a Spanish galleon that left Acapulco Mexico to travel to the Orient. Possibly it could have been the Manila Galleon. The return trip took the galleon far north to catch the wind and currents back to North America. Paul told me that according to the Indians, a Spanish ship wrecked on their beach. There were plenty of hazards on the coastline including fog and storms. Paul indicated that the natives had killed every Spaniard that tried to get ashore.
    I did recall a story about an initial contact with Indians in Baja California. The Indians had run toward a Spanish explorers ship. The Spaniards had fired on the natives with cannons mounted on gunwales with glass and scrap metal. Some encounters were peaceful others were not. When Spanish explorers landed at Trinidad, north of Eureka, the visitors exchanged goods and water. The Spaniards claimed the land and built a wooden cross. The natives burned the cross after the Spanish left. Near Umpqua Washington a Spanish ship was hailed ashore by the natives. When the small boats neared the shore, a hail of arrows met them.
    Paul told me a story of another encounter from the Indian’s side of history. The Mattole Indians had encampments all along the river from the mouth of the lagoon inland. One day a young white boy came from the beach and he was carrying a long stick. The boy was whistling and walking along the natives’ paths through the whole valley.
    Now this is pure speculation on this writer’s part. But see if it makes any sense to you, the reader.
    Here is a possible explanation for the white boy carrying a long “stick”.
    After the Louis and Clark expedition crossed the continent they came out at the mouth of the Columbia River. They then went down the Oregon Coast until they came to a river in northern California. Above what is now called Arcata, members of the expedition had an argument about how to return to the east coast. They split up and took different paths back to the United States. Someone named the river after this incident and called it the “Mad” River. Which name holds to this day.
    Was the young white boy carrying a Kentucky rifle? Was his whistle meant to alert the Mattoles and not alarm them? Did he make it all the way back across a continent without mishap? The story remains a mystery or legend. Was the boy a member of the Lewis and Clark expedition? Or was this an unrelated contact?
    During the first year I taught at the school a logger got married. He was related to Mr. Etter who like Luther Burbank was famous, locally there is a town called Ettersburg after an agronomist. The whole valley was invited to the shivaree one night. The Ranchers bought deer jerky and smoked salmon to the feast. While Mike was inside with his new bride and friends, Paul went outside with mischievous neighbors. They emptied Mike’s garage of a cord of wood and made a pyramid in the driveway. Later they invited the party outside to enjoy the fire. My wife Judy thought it was a dirty trick burning up a cord of wood, which, Mike had cut for winter. Paul’s reply was,” Mike’s a good strong boy, He can cut a cord of wood in less than a day”. People in Petrolia told me that they once had a shivaree and the whole valley surprised the bride and groom. They said Paul jumped into the bed of the newly weds before they could jump out to greet their neighbors.
    The second year we spent in Honeydew we moved to the larger Hindley ranch. It was originally a log cabin and a framed house was built around it. It was drafty and cold when the snow came. Paul delivered two cords of firewood to us. One was madrone for heat and the other was a slower burning hardwood; since wind blew through some cracks in the kitchen, the only warm place was in the living room. It had an ancient fireplace. It had an iron rod with a hook in it so you could cook a pot of beans or stew like the pioneers. Paul would not accept money for the truckloads of wood brought to our house. Other valley residents sometimes put vegetables on our porch. They were generous to their teachers.
    Paul fished at Shelter Cove to support his family. He ran sheep on their ranch. He drove trucks and bulldozers. He hunted and fished for his family. He wore hob nailed lumberjack boots, when he gathered abalone at the beach. He crunched massive purple and orange sea urchins while prying abalone off the rocks with a tire iron. He dug out a pond and planted trout in it for tourists. I cannot remember everything, but I think Paul and Ann had a big garden. Paul built a redwood smoke house. It was large enough to hang deer in it.
    One day a civet cat strolled through an open door into Ann and Paul’ kitchen. Ann and Paul sat frozen in their chairs. It went into their daughter’s bedroom and sprayed her closet. The closet contained newly purchased school clothes. They were ruined and useless. Tomato juice failed save the clothes.
    I taught in a three-room schoolhouse with my wife teaching the first grade. I taught the 2^nd thru 8^th grades. We had a total of 13 students who were eager to learn; I gave my wife the toughest students. They were two first graders and one-second grader. Judy had a teaching credential and doubled as our bus driver. I tripled as a custodian and teacher/principal.
    Paul was married to Ann Shinn. Bob Shinn was her brother. Bob Shinn was the School board member who hired me. A lot of valley families were related. This was a pioneer family like most of the valley residents. During World War Two, Bob had received a broken back when he got blown out of landing craft by a Japanese shell. He survived the war, but died of a heart attack shortly after I met him. Next I will tell you about his daughter.
    Kathy Shinn was in the seventh and eighth grade while I taught. Once, she was deer hunting when a rattlesnake caught her attention. Her shot missed. She said it took her ten minutes to dig it out of the rocks and kill it. One day after school I was fly fishing the Mattole. I was surprised when an eel and later a fresh water otter swam nearby. Later Kathy came along the river. Ahead of me a ways, Kathy suddenly pulled a beaver out of a trap. She shocked my sensibilities by killing it and skinning it for its pelt. Other Mattole kids surprised me too. Fifth sixth and seventh graders were already driving, tractors, horses and vehicles. This kid could man firelines and did so when grass around the schoolyard was burnt. Todd Rosco and Tim rode sheep, without saddles. They were first and 2^nd grade brothers. George Roscoe was their dad and school board member. George had been to Korea at government’s expense. One day he took me into his trophy room and showed me all the trophies and silver buckles from his rodeo days. He busted broncos and they busted him (broken bones). When I asked him why he did it, He replied, “I was just young and foolish.” He was laughing about his youth. One night he took me out on the river. Only Mattole residents would guess as to what we were doing waist deep in water, cold and shivering relying on the moonlight. One day Delores Roscoe looked out of her window. She saw a Kelty sheep dog that knocked her infant son down into the dirt. He was trying to cross a bridge. Her son tried to get up and the dog did it again. Delores grabbed some fire log and ran out to punish the dog. When she got to the wooden bridge she heard before she saw the rattlesnake coiled blocking her son’s passage. She scooped up her son to take him back to the house. Then she got a yard implement to deal with the snake.
    One day I read the school log. I think it was in the 1800’s. A boy did not show up to school one day. The parents showed up after school looking for him. The teacher said the boy never arrived. Students had to cross the river by rowboat. He never got across the Mattole. They found the boy’s footprints on the sand bar and one shoe. Behind the prints they discovered the prints of a grizzly bear. Nothing else.
    One day we were in the science room. My students were hollering. “Mr. Kropp, we must go out. The crows are killing the sheep.” From the window they had spotted crows out among the sheep. I thought that sure is a ridiculous notion, as I ran out with my flock, to disperse a flock of crows. We found several ewes lying on their sides, quite dead. They had dead lambs hanging out of their uteruses. My class had to explain to me how a crow could kill sheep. During lambing season, these birds would attack the ewe when she was giving birth. The crow would attack the sheep by pecking its eyes out and attacking the brain. Then it would repeat the gruesome performance on the newborn lamb.
    The other bird that killed sheep was the eagle. Kids told me of eagles that would snatch lambs off the ground. The eagles would climb hundreds of feet in the air and drop the lambs. Sometimes eagles would re-catch the lamb on the bounce. One day at the beach I witnessed a sea gull dropping mussels on the road to crack the shells. Then the gull would digest the innards.
    Terry, Laurie and Kathy were my seventh graders and touch football stars. Laurie was red-haired, shy and an outstanding student. Kathy was not only a top student, she could play sports. Terry had social skill beyond his years and loved sports. The whole school played together. Softball. Touch football and basketball were popular.
    Once skunks were fighting under Terry’s house at night. Terry took a flashlight and a four ten shot gun, crawled under the house. He shot a skunk. But, another skunk ran up to him before he could re-load. It threw its back legs up into the air. Terry just had enough time to close his eyes when Terry got shot in the face by the skunk! The mephitic odor was overwhelming. But Gui, with a mothers love put Terry in the bathtub for multiple scrubbings. She had to go to the Honeydew store and buy every quart of tomato juice, the next day terry was wearing a clean shirt, but we could smell him before he got into our small school bus. I put him in the back of the bus. It did not help. At school I put him in the attached art room. It was the oldest part of the building attached to our main classroom. He was our class president, but. he was unbearable. It was days before class life returned to normal.
    I found an old picture of the class walking into the school on the side of the building. The 1906 earthquake had shaken the school off its foundations. It left a separated wall at the west corner. The ranchers took the picture then jacked the building up and replaced it back on the foundation. One resident told me about the quake, before it occurred. The sheep and cattle on the hill were making a racket. The man thought there was a panther or bear around disturbing the animals. Some ran down the hill. Other were milling around. Suddenly there was a terrific noise and the ground was rippling in waves. He was knocked off his feet and couldn’t get up due to the motion of the land. He watched his house bounce off the foundation to hit against an apple tree. Then it bounced back and against the hill. The epicenter of the quake was reportedly near Santa Rosa, hundreds of miles away from Honeydew.
    One day Sam Kelsey came to school to tell about his life when he was young. Sam was six years old when President Lincoln was shot. Sam was a hundred and six years old and the oldest social security recipient in the state of California. His son, Art, was still working building houses at 88 years. Art could do foundations, frame houses, do the plumbing and electrical work and roof it. In the old day he would be seen as a mechanic or jack-of-all-trades. Pioneer families had multiple skills.
    Once, Terry had a story for us. He went down to the river and found some dead salmon on the gravel bar. He said that the sides of the fish were so mushy he could stick his fingers through the fish. He speculated that someone must have been dynamiting the salmon from the deeper holes of the Mattole.
    A few days later Paul and his wife invited us for dinner and to play cards. He introduced us to a game we had never heard of called 500. Over dinner, I mentioned what Terry had found alongside of the river. I mentioned that Terry suspected that someone was illegally dynamiting salmon. I was not familiar with the practice, but I thought it was awful and wasteful. Actually I was kind of a hypocrite myself. Why? Because I too, had participated in a spearing expedition, to acquire a salmon for our own table. Local ranchers had taken me out nights trying to locate a wily salmon. Paul took the time to explain to me how some people dynamited salmon. He said they would locate a deep hole in the river with fish lurking in the bottom. Then the dynamiter would get a board, line and a big coffee can. The dynamiter would place a stick of dynamite in the can and set it on the board. The line would be used to position the board above the deepest part of the hole. The fuse would be lit and the explosion would stun the fish. I did not know it at the time but Paul’s wife was nearly choking trying to restrain her laughing.
    Oops, another digression. Later I found out through others that Ann Smith could hardly retain her mirth while Paul educated me about dynamiters. It seemed that at the time Paul had 180 pounds of salmon in his new smoke house. But that is not the end of this tale. Paul used to tell me how he and his friends used to steal chickens from the neighbor’s hen houses. These deeds were done in the middle of the night and Paul illustrated how he grabbed a chicken with each arm, wrung their necks with a flip of his wrist and tucked the fowl under his arms and tried to avoid the ever-present dogs.
    After weeks of smoking, Paul’s salmon were ready. He went out to sugar cure his salmon. They were gone. In its place his neighbors had placed three cans of Tuna.
    Paul exclaimed, “I deserved it, for all that I did as a kid.” All he could do was laugh. He thought the trick played on him was hilarious. I swear, Paul could laugh with his eyes.
    Paul told me something he never shared with his neighbors. One day in the 1960’s, he was on horseback, looking for sheep, that had escaped shearing. He said they were so heavily laden with wool, that when it rained, they could become waterlogged and sway backed. He said he was alone, riding on a hill next to the ocean. His only company was sheep dogs.
    Suddenly the ocean blew up, and he saw fire, smoke or steam shoot up into the sky. His immediate problem was that he too was shooting up into the air out of his saddle. The explosion startled his horse and threw him. The explosion shook him up so badly he started shaking. When he went back to Honeydew store, he saw some of his friends sitting and talking. Later he casually asked if anything unusual had happened that day. They said, “no,” and so Paul never told them what happened to him. He reasoned that they would not believe him and think him nuts. He couldn’t explain why there was fire coming out of the ocean.
    In the forties I had noticed conglomerate and rocks that looked volcanic on a beach above Petrolia. I thought the rock had been formed millions of years ago. The mouth of the Mattole is a juncture of three tectonic plates. The San Juan de Fucca plate, Pacific plate and North American plate collide. Thus the Mattole Valley can average around 17 small earthquakes a day. Some Seismic experts from Cal and India studied the Valley and told me they were surprised by the number of small quakes.
    Paul Smith discovered an underwater volcano off the Lost Coast in the 1960’s.
    Later others discovered the vents and six-foot Long tubeworms living near the vents. They had pictures of them in National Geographic magazine. In a way, I figure that Paul Smith deserves some credit for discovering an underwater volcano off the Lost Coast of California.
    Paul may not have known the importance of his frightening experience. The Lewis and Clark expedition had seen lava flowing off a Mountain north of the Columbia River at night. The Indians called it “fire mountain.” Later the citizens of the Northwest would know the Mountain as Mt. St. Helens.
    

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