Clara Kerslake Baker Memories of growing up in Springdale

Today going through stuff trying to compose some kind of history for the family I found this written by Grandma B sometime and it is not in the book she wrote in such detail so decided to copy.           Catherine Dunlap

I, Clara Kerslake Baker started to Springdale school in 1905 when I was 7 years old. I had started the year before in Cedar school across the Sandy river but only went for a short time before I had to quit because of the distance and my older friend that walked with me became ill. At that time we lived with my grandfather on Kerslake Rd on the farm now Hilltop Farm. The Cedar school though not the same building was where the old Cedar School building still stands on Troutdale Road. That was actually quite a walk for a six year old.
My first year at Springdale was quite hectic as I remember. I was a large child, bashful and unused to being around other children my age for sure. My only friend was a neighbor boy named Erland Byberg and he too was in the first grade. We walked through the woods to the school and there were older kids that scared us and bullied us daily.

My first teacher was an old lady with white hair or at least she seemed old to me. Her name was Miss Adams and she had a really bad time with discipline but it was easy to see why. Some of the boys were 16 and 17 years of age because they worked on the farms and only went to school a few months in winter. There were older girls too and I don't believe it was learning they were interested in. Miss Adams tried to rule with the ruler used for discipline but it didn't seem to work very well.

My folks always said if I got a whipping in school I would also get one at home. Well, I did that first year from Miss Adams but I did not tell my folks until I was in the 8th grade. By then it was too late.

To get drinking water we walked to the Northway place and carried it back in a bucket. Everyone drank from the same dipper out of that bucket. Some time later it was determined that was not sanitary so tin cups were bot for each child, nails put in the hallway to hang them with a name tag over each cup. A bit more sanitary but the not exactly.

There were some very serious diseases that hit people including smallpox and diphtheria in addition to the usual measles, mumps chicken pox etc. Usually it was confined to one or a few families. During those times our teachers would put formaldehyde in water on the stove, get it boiling hot and steamy and then would make us run into the building around the room and out again to hopefully fumigate us all. We would get out of there coughing and gagging but none of us got the diseases.

As I remember there were four teachers during my eight years all of which were good except the first one. They were Miss Adams, Miss Penny, Miss Stevens and Miss Gable. A woman could not be married and teach school then.

I feel I got a good education in my eight years in a one room school. One thing I think helped was every Friday we had a Spell Down though it was not just spelling it could be states and capitals , times tables, fractions, history and dates etc. All grades were involved and the teachers always included questions for all of them. Phonics came in when I was in the eighth grade so all grades were included in those lessons. That helped me when my children started school.

Penmanship was an important subject and we had to work in our copy books at least twice a week. There was no homework because we stayed after school if we had not finished our work even if it meant walking home in the dark.

Beside school work we put on programs, had basket socials to make money to buy things for the school. I could go on and on but one thing I have observed by going to a one room school and also having my children attend one that we did learn the basics and learned to appreciate getting along with all ages in a very easy way. We had few frills but managed to entertain ourselves and learn from each other. No regrets.

Jim's Appendicitis

There have been so many changes in my lifetime. It sometimes blows my mind. Some changes for the better and perhaps some not so much. However when it come to medical advancements there can be no question as to whether they are good - they just are. To emphasize my point I think about my brother Jim's appendicitis. We were really fortunate to have him survive. The story I’ll tell is as I remember, for when it took place I was five and he was seven. My memory would not be the best at that age.

The story was kept alive because Jim’s abdomen forever looked like he had been used for target practice or was blessed with many belly buttons.

It happened this way. At seven, Jim was putting cabbage plants in the holes dug by someone with a shovel. I am not sure who was digging the holes, so I won't try to identify them. He became ill and came home. He had a bellyache, so our Mom gave him castor oil...the normal remedy for such. He became sicker and developed a fever. Our summer time neighbor Dr. Botkin was at his property that day so he was asked to come check on Jim. He being quite a blunt person said Jim must get to the hospital...he has appendicitis and will die if not taken care of.

Rushing as fast as possible with transportation as it was in 1931, they went to what was Portland Sanitarium Hospital on 60th and Belmont in Portland. That was the closest hospital. There he was operated on by Dr. Rippey (nice name for a surgeon) but his appendix had burst before it could be removed. Because of the massive infection in his abdomen, drains were installed to drain out the infection. There were no antibiotics to take care of the issue. He was in the hospital for sixteen days and thus all the scars left from all of those drains.

Our Mom stayed with him those sixteen days. Marilou stayed with Grandma Kerslake and our Dad had the rest of us with him. We got to go to the hospital a couple times but could not go inside because he was in quarantine. We stood in the yard and waved to them through the window. My Aunt Grace stayed with us sometimes to help. She was 12 then.
The entire summer he was really frail and we had an old wheel chair to take him outside to be in the sun and watch what was going on. I vaguely remember that and for some reason remember looking through the windows to see them. It was a gift to us that he survived, and something always to be thankful for. It is such a marvel now that surgeries are done with tiny holes and antibiotics are so amazing. One of God’s many blessings.

Grandma B's Moonflowers Remain

We know it is spring when we all are reminded of Grandma B because of the moon flowers creeping and climbing everywhere on the property. In their proper place they are quite lovely. However, when not, they are downright pesky.

How did this come to be? We battle blackberries, scotch broom, tansy and other noxious weeds due to Adam and Eve's failures. When complaining about pulling tansy that was my explanation from the scriptures. When we battle the moon flowers/morning glorys we have to put the blame on Grandma.

When we were children our Mother read about (in either the Oregon Farmer or the Farm Journal magazine) a bright idea about how to make a teepee for us to play in. One would cut branches to make the teepee frame and plant the moon flower plants at the base. The vine would climb the branches and WOW...such fun! You could order the seeds from them, which she did. She gathered the poles and tied them, then planted the seeds. It did not turn out as planned. The plants grew but did not oblige and crawl where they were supposed to. Eventually the frame was torn down, but the plants never gave up.

Therefore, probably about 85 years later, we still pull them out of areas far and wide on the property. It would not be a surprise if the neighbors battle them too as the birds do well at scattering seeds.

Since her motives were pure (and creative) we cannot fault her. Hopefully all of her kin will remember her endeavor to do something lovely for her children as they continue to try to eradicate the pesky plant.

I am told if you google “vine covered teepee” there will be hundreds of examples that gardeners all over the country have successfully built.

Catherine's Memories of the Multnomah County Fair

The subject of being fair arises often. Sarah had a phrase she used on her girls when they objected to something because it wasn’t fair. “Fair is when people in overalls throw cow pies for distance”. Now, that is an old phrase when odd challenges were demonstrated at fairs but it made me think about the great memories I have of the Multnomah County Fair in Gresham from my childhood.

Just once we went to the fair when it moved to the Expo Center and it just was not the same…one of those old activities that could not be duplicated. That was one of the few outings we always did in the summer as I recall. We loved the rodeos and the horse shows. I believe later they had horse races and that was never appealing to me.

I remember especially the one cowboy riding standing up on two horses side by side as well as the girls who did all kinds of acrobatic tricks atop their horses. I was not ever particularly fond of bucking horses and bull riding in the rodeo but it was part of the show and we always went.

The exhibits were great fun too and seeing all the animals was especially enjoyable. Before the days of milk inspectors and super cleanliness I do believe there were more farmers represented (of course, there were lots of farmers then too). They were milking their cows by hand of course.

The rides and the various carnival games were special to us. There was no more chance of winning a lot at the games then than now, but forever there will be those who determine to knock all the bottles down or throw a dime into a dish for a big stuffed animal.

Once when we went back to our car in the parking lot there was a young woman who had somehow landed in our car and was soundly sleeping. Fearing she was somewhat intoxicated but remembering it took a while to get the proper officials to come and take her so we could come home. Not sure we could lock the doors on a Model A.

The food stands were always there and one call I well remember was “come get your burger! It’s nice and greezy so it sliders down nice and eazy." That would not fly now.

Losing the fair at Gresham was really quite sad. The last time I remember going was after we were married and had Christine. We went with Earl and Fern Wecks and their girls, Janet, and Linda. The thing we always remembered about that was the endurance of women. Linda and Christine needed to be carried and while we tried to get their dads to do the job, after short spurts the girls were parked upon our hips and we trudged on. At that fair there were RV’s and many tractors and other farm machines displayed. Not like the childhood memories.

So, these are a few of my fond fair memories.