by Patrick Lee
“That was just part of it. We put in phones in the town of Hungry Horse and in the small duplexes where the supervisors and engineers live. We wired the bowling alleys, bunkhouse, and chow hall for the workers. Later, I helped put in phones in the company offices and hooked the whole goddamn mess up to the switchboard.”
The effect of the coffee and the conversation rallied Nolan from his hangover fog. “Shit. And I thought I knew somethin’ about somethin’. You’re way ahead of me. Maybe after today I’ll go work for the phone company. They might put me in charge of those little operators at the switchboard. I could teach them a thing or two about a thing or two.”
Stebbins pulled his pickup to a halt at the cement mixing plant. “Ya. That’d be like puttin’ the fox in the henhouse.” He allowed himself a deep, robust laugh and then barked out the orders, “We’ll unload her here, Nolan. Then we’ll signal the hook tenders for a skip and load it to the gunnels.” The two men slipped on their leather gloves, and without another word unloaded the truckload of boxes in a matter of minutes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
W.R.Scalf proofread his September 1st memo to the bosses. He summarized the final weeks of construction of the Dam. Then he outlined the layoff plan and the plan to return the area to its original state. Scalf reminded the bosses that one of the conditions of the construction contract were that the contractor would return the surrounding area to its original condition. This meant that all of the buildings would have to be removed, the power lines, roads, conveyor belts, cableway towers, and anything else that didn’t look like a rock or a tree would have to go. All equipment, wire, and motors were to be hauled down by the Forest Service Station in Hungry Horse and sold to contractors or individuals for months after the project was to close. The thirty duplexes were to be sold to individuals and the Forest Service. In his memo, Scalf informed the bosses that a small crew would be needed to tear down and clean up everything left over.
Scalf read the final sentence as he stood over his secretary’s desk. She impatiently tapped the side of the desk that held her gray IBM model B electric typewriter. It was five minutes until quitting time and she needed to get home on time to serve dinner to her nagging mother-in-law. Mary felt the soreness in her fingers from the long day of typing the August report.
Sorry for keepin’ you waitin’, Mary. Can you get this out by the time you leave today? I’ll save you a few steps and run my own copies for my morning meetin’.” Scalf walked back into his office and smiled as the whirr of Mary’s typewriter heated the all ready toasty office. He knew his faithful secretary would chew his ass tomorrow for waiting until the last minute. The expensive present in his desk would erase all of the last minute typing he gave her to do. He planned to give it to her the day before Truman dedicated the Dam. She didn’t know it yet, but she was going to join him with Truman at the dedication ceremony. The four-birthstone mother’s ring his wife picked out for Mary would look good on her finger when she shook the President’s hand.
After meeting with Scalf, the bosses talked with their crews about the final plans outlined in the Superintendent’s memo. The workers acted just as they did when they were kids during the last week of school before summer vacation. John Nolan sprawled out on an inclined board and rested his head on his empty lunch bucket. He still had fifteen minutes left in his half-hour lunchtime. Nolan mastered the ten-minute nap years ago while working on the Butte Hill. His eyes closed and sleep crawled into his body. The chatter from one of his fellow electricians jolted him awake. “Hey Nolan. What you doin’ after?”
Sleepily he opened one eye. “After what?”
The men laughed, Danny Fisher managed to ask another question, “Nolan. Where you gonna work after you leave here in a couple weeks?”
“Pretty tough to get any rest around this cathouse outfit.” Nolan sat up and stretched. “I’m takin’ a vacation. Maybe Cuba.”
Again the men laughed, closed their lunch boxes and prepared to return to work. As they walked back to the electrician’s shack, Fisher stopped in front of Nolan. “Seriously, Nolan. What’s yer plans?”
“Well seriously, Fish. I’m takin’ a few weeks off. Then I’ll most likely come back and work the Aluminum Plant with Mikhail. Somebody’s got to keep an eye on that Bohunk. He can’t fend for himself worth a shit.”
Fisher started to walk again and then stopped. “How’d you like to take a trip with me out to Seattle for a week or so. I got a sister out there I plan to visit. We’d have a goddamn good time I imagine.”
“Thanks, Fish. But I got some business in Butte I need to take care of first. Then I’m goin’ to Frisco for a week or two. Maybe we can go to Seattle some other time.”
The two men climbed onto the portable scaffolding platform and lowered themselves down to the base of the Dam.
As he worked the wire, John Nolan silently reviewed his plan for his trip to Butte right after Truman dedicated the Dam. After a wild trip to San Francisco, he’d return to Columbia Falls and buy a small house somewhere near Mikhail and his family. He’d clean out his savings account at the Miners Bank in Butte and open up a savings account for Tomas. Tomas would need the money once he got out of the Navy in two years. For sure he’d need a new car and his own place to start his life.
Tom Fisher startled Nolan’s daydreaming, “Hey Nolan, think you might give us a hand with these lines?”
Nolan moved in between Fisher and the wall of the Dam. “Christ Almighty Fish, I was right in the middle of a good tussle with a black Frisco whore and you ruined it.”
Fisher shook his head and pulled the electrical wire from the wooden drum. “How much you figure you’ll have to give for one of them Frisco women?”
“Don’t matter. I’m so good they’ll probably pay me once I get done with em.”
“Bullshit. You’ll most likely throw your hat over it and run.”
Nolan clipped the tail off the ground wire and taped it with his black electric tape. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was with a black whore down at the Missoula Rooms? Well I—”
“Only about a thousand times. You need to go somewheres new to get some new stories. We started to number each of your stories like on the jukebox. That there story about the black whore is G-6.”
Nolan backhanded Fisher in the chest, “I’ll G-6 you. Maybe I’ll get married and you’ll die of boredom without my stories.” He smiled and prepared a hand rolled cigarette. Tiny pieces of tobacco spilled down the front of his bib overalls as he licked the sticky end of the paper. “I almost married once when I was twenty.”
Tom Fisher unwrapped a piece of Spearmint Gum and slipped it into his mouth. “Why didn’t ya?”
After a long draw of his cigarette, he blew the blue smoke past his squinted eyes. “She was already married to a Butte cop. We snuck around for a year or so until he got wind of it. He and a couple of his buddies waited for me outside of the M & M one night and put the boots to me. That put the skids to that.” His eyes searched past the opening to the Canyon to the mountains of the North Fork of the Flathead River. He visualized their picnics together at Basin Creek north of Butte. “She was a beauty, Fish. A once in a lifetime beauty. Too bad a man only gets one of them in his lifetime. Ain’t never met one like her since. Most likely won’t again either. I think that’s why I stick to whores now. No chance of gettin’ another broken heart that way.”
The next morning at 9:00, W.R. Scalf sat down at a large oak table in the Columbia Falls Library. Two Secret Service men stood in front of the small group and prepared to outline their schedule for the dedication of Hungry Horse Dam by President Truman in a month. Scalf nodded his head to Al Sutter who sat at the table to the right of him. He recognized the mayor of Columbia Falls, the police chief of Kalispell, and a couple of men from the railroad depot in Whitefish. Scalf noticed Betty Hansen as she sat with Mabel and two other women. He wondered how her husband R.T. Hansen would like her sitting with the Madam of the cathouse. As the business manager for the Da
m contractor, Hansen seemed to always do the right thing. The women with Betty Hansen giggled as they wrote notes back and forth to one another. Several other people filled the rest of the tables.
The taller Secret Service man distributed a sheet of paper that outlined the time schedule of the President’s visit on October 1st.
His partner welcomed the crowd and then spoke in a slow, southern drawl, “On behalf of the President, we want to thank you for meeting with us. The President will arrive here the evening of September 30th. He’ll travel by private railroad car and stay near Columbia Falls. His daughter Margaret will be with him.”
Once the taller agent returned to the front of the audience, his partner continued, “At nine in the morning of October 1st, we’ll move by caravan up to the Dam for an on site photo session. You will need to provide three vehicles for the President and staff, a large bus for the press corps, and a police escort front and back.”
The mayor of Kalispell raised his hand and began to ask his question,” Will I—”
“We will have time for questions after we finish, Sir.” The Mayor sat down and the agent continued, “The mock dedication will occur in Kalispell in the high school gymnasium at 11:15. You will need to provide a mock electrical switch at the gym that will go at the same time as the switch on the Dam starts the first turbines. You will need to arrange for a telephone setup to do this.”
Scalf scribbled notes and regretted not bringing his secretary Mary along with him to take care of note taking. As expected, Mary cleared the air about his last minute requests from the day before. Scalf thought it best to let her cool off while he attended the meeting. So far he needed to plan for the 9:00 Dam visit, a plan for the ceremony, the mock electrical switch, and a worker to operate it at the high school. He needed to arrange for the phone setup at the Dam.
The second Secret Service agent spoke next, “I need to meet with the law enforcement people after this meeting. We’ll need to lay out the plan for the caravan to the Dam, to Kalispell, and back to our train in Columbia Falls. I also need to meet with the train personnel in Whitefish for the President’s address in Whitefish at 1:00. We’ll leave it up to community groups to organize parades or other activities like that.”
With that comment, Hannah elbowed Lila and scribbled a note, “That’d be where we come in. Band. Flags. School kids.”
Lila nodded and scribbled a note back, “Maybe Betty could get the Sheriff to lead the parade.”
Hannah fought to control laughing out loud and covered her mouth as the speaker continued; “The President’s train will pull out of Whitefish toward Spokane at 1:45. All ceremonies and contact with the President in this area will end at that time. Now are there any questions?”
On the drive back to Martin City after the meeting at the library, the Care Less Group chattered at the same time. All four women loudly offered ideas for the October 1st dedication ceremonies of the Hungry Horse Dam by President Truman. “Okay, okay. One at time.” Mabel tried to focus her three friends. “Let’s start with the trip from the train depot to the Dam. What’ll we do there?”
Hannah attempted to speak, but her broken laughter interfered with her words. Finally, she managed a complete sentence, “We can ride in the Sheriff’s car. I’m sure Betty can swing that.”
Betty Hansen gasped before she answered, “You bitch! At least my boyfriend can fit into a Sheriff’s car. That big ox of yours needs to have a school bus just to get his big ass in a seat.” In typical Care Less Group fashion, the scene erupted into uncontrollable laughter. Mabel held her stomach and then loudly passed gas. Tears flowed freely from the eyes of her friends as Lila struggled to maintain control of her husband’s new 1952 Plymouth.
After she caught her breath and stopped laughing, Hannah retrieved her notepad and listed some possible activities for the group. “Let’s see now. How about a parade along the hauling road leading to the bottom of the Dam? Maybe we can get the school kids and the people in both Hungry Horse and Martin City to line the road. Then—”
“Come on Hannah, another damn parade? We just had the Liberty Bell Parade.” Lila pushed the gearshift button as she negotiated the turn at Berne Park. “Let’s do something different. How about some grandstands at the Dam for people to sit? We could have the high school band play a few songs or something. Then we could have lunch ready too.”
The ideas for the dedication filled Hannah’s sheet of paper. Lila stopped in front of the Club Café and shut off the engine. One by one the women climbed out of her two-tone black and tan sedan. “Anybody have time for coffee?”
Betty checked her watch and calculated how much time she had left before her husband would walk into their kitchen and expect his lunch. “I, I better not. He’ll be home at exactly 11:30. God knows how he’ll pout if his lunch isn’t sitting there when he hits the door.” She wondered how he’d react when he came home in a few weeks and realized she was gone. “It’ll serve him right. Let R.T. Hansen get his own damn lunch. Me and the sheriff will be off to Seattle to start our own adventure.”
Hannah and Mabel joined Lila in the Club Café, and over three cups of coffee, narrowed down their plans for October 1st. The parade, the grandstands, and then a picnic lunch made their list for their contribution to the big day.
The two Secret Service agents walked along side W.R. Scalf and Al Sutter. They finished a quick walk across the concrete fantail at the base of the Dam. Workers went about their business even though they knew who the well-dressed men were with the Superintendent. Scalf looked upward toward the top of the Dam and thought how time roared by from the first day he stood there after the first footings were poured with cement. He watched as the taller agent wrote some notes in a small notebook. The other man studied the sidewalls of the mountain that contained the canyon in front of the Dam. “Is this the only road into this part of the Dam?”
Scalf looked around and answered, “This haul road is the only way in and out of here.”
“Alright then. I think that’ll do it for now. We’re meeting the Kalispell police chief for lunch and a tour of the route to the high school. So we need to be on our way. If we think of anything before we arrive on September 30th, we’ll call. Once you get the ceremonies and small details planned, you can call us. Here’s a card with a number to reach us.”
Al Sutter made some notes himself. It would be to his advantage to plan his photographs. The big time magazine photographers would need to react on the fly. “Hey W.R., thanks for bringing me along and fixing it for me to ride the press bus. But I have a question for you. How come you didn’t tell them about the FBI and the murders at the other Dams?”
Scalf kicked himself for not filling in the Secret service about the FBI involvement. “I batted that around all last night. But I figured it was up to the FBI to talk to them. Now I wished I would’ve told him. Then they could get a hold of the FBI.”
“Where are you on that thing anyway?”
Scalf looked down and shuffled some gravel between his new shoes. “Things are in the hopper. That’s all I can tell you now, Al. But I’ll get you the scoop as soon as it’s safe. I’ll make good on my word to you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
When Columbia Falls was first settled in 1890, the North Fork Valley was a proposed route of rail lines into Canada. The main objective was the North Fork coal beds and the Coal Creek and lignite beds between Big Creek Ranger Station and Polebridge. In 1892, the Columbia Newspaper commented that the North Fork held many gallons of oil and that samples had been sent east. These samples were pronounced as best quality. Before 1951, there was a fifty year history of drilling for oil in the region. Iowa corn farmers, Washington and Oregon businessmen, London financiers, and local citizens were among those who helped finance drilling. No commercial quantities of oil resulted.
Extensive road improvements and large timber sales became part of the development of the North Fork Valley. Flathead National Forest sold twenty-six million board feet in 1950 and 1951; mu
ch of it was blowdown. The North Fork was slated for an annual log cut of fourteen-million board feet.
The 1952 Labor Day weekend provided the Dam workers with the time off they needed for the final push to complete the work in time for the dedication. Mikhail stowed away the box of groceries behind the backseat of the station wagon he borrowed from his partner Bud Reynolds. Hannah gabbed with Tomas. They waited for John Nolan as he hauled the green metal cooler from her porch. He exaggerated his struggle as he lugged the cooler toward the station wagon. “What the hell you got in here? It must weigh half a ton.”
Hannah directed him to the back where Mikhail stood. “Just slide it in next to the box of groceries. And quit whining so much. Half of the weight is your beer.” She flirtatiously winked at Mikhail as Nolan wrestled the cooler into place.
Nolan immediately slid open the door handle to the cooler and rescued a bottle of Highlander Beer from the ice-packed container. He produced an opener and snapped the beer lid off of the bottle. Without a slight hesitation, Nolan swallowed his first drink of the day. He gasped a huge sigh, admired the bottle, and spoke, “Now that hits the spot. A man deserves that after all the hell he’s put through. Now you, Mik, don’t deserve nothin’. Maybe a glass of water. I could’ve carried that little box with one hand tied behind my back.”
Mikhail smiled at him and bluffed a backhand slap. Nolan jumped to an old time boxing stance like John L. Sullivan used and said, “Come on now, Big Boy. Let’s see what you got.” He pranced around and boxed an imaginary fighter.
This play pleased Tomas as he treasured the time with all of them together. Soon his sister and niece would be part of this fun. Mikhail planned to finish working on September 10th. He then planned to move Anna and Katya to Columbia Falls about September 20th. Tomas battled second thoughts about leaving his family for the Navy. But the papers were signed and his departure date was November 1st. He’d make the best of this weekend and the remaining time together. The ideal September weather made for a perfect day. He watched his dad open the front door of the car for Hannah. He’d hoped to sit in the front seat in order to stretch his long legs. But he’d tough it out in the back with his godfather, John Nolan.
