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The Logger Lawyer

Friday, March 15th, 2013 Posted in Articles, Digital Collections, For the Public, Random News from the Newspapers on Microfilm Collection, State Library Collections | Comments Off on The Logger Lawyer


Chas. Newton and CH MaynardFrom the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library:

Naturally the word “Library” in the following headline is what first caught my eye, but as the story unfolded I knew it had to be shared as the tale of a true Washington State original.

This was found at random in The Oakville Cruiser, page 1 top of the fold, Jan. 28, 1916.

 Champion Designs New Saw in Law Library

“The law library of the University of Washington may be a strange haunt in which to find the champion cross-cut sawyer of the world, but that is the winter lair of Chas. A. Newton of Oakville, junior law, crew man, football player, and undisputed champion of the saw men of the universe. And between law classes, this lawyer forester is preparing to better his own unbeaten record with the crosscut saw by designing and manufacturing what he expects will be the fastest sawing machine in existence. In the husky logger who won the world’s championship sawing contest during Shriner’s convention in Seattle last summer, few recognized the young university athlete and barrister. And if the story about the remarkable new saw he is making, down at the crew house, hadn’t leaked out his exploit in defeating the best woodsmen in the country at their favorite contest would perhaps have remained unknown at the university and the law school would not have discovered its newest celebrity.”

logger lawyer 2

“Newton has handled a saw from the time when he used it to cut firewood for the kitchen stove with a little red bucksaw until the day last summer that his remarkable skill was first publicly demonstrated when he won the big sawing contest from thirteen other loggers at the Hoquiam splash, the yearly Grays Harbor celebration. There he created a sensation among the lumbermen by cutting his log of 34 inches in 4 minutes and 20 seconds, defeating Nelson Knight, a logger from near Malone, who had won the contest for the past six years.”

“Later in the summer he clinched his triumph by the exploit during Shriner’s week. The six men who contested then, and whom he defeated at Woodland park, were experts drawn from all over the timber country on this side of the Rockies. And as the west has the biggest trees, so has she the best lumbermen. Therefore the Shriners’ committee designated the winner from this sturdy band of six, ‘world’s champ.’ Europe being in no position to participate in either Olympian or sylvan games, Newton is the proud bearer of the world title.”

“It is seldom that a log sawing contest has been viewed in Seattle in the last thirty years, so the real excitement of the race is little known. When the lumberjacks hue up on a peeled fir log and, at the signal, start to saw like mad, the Poughkeepsie regatta is not half as exciting. The big log is lost to sight in the flying chips and the sawyers are hidden in a cloud of sawdust. The long saws rip back and forth across the green wood in a rending, grinding chorus and are seen only in the flashes of silver, like the oars of a racing shell. When there comes a final ripping crack, the winner emerges from the sawdust cloud, looking like ‘the scarecrow man’ in the ‘Wizard of Oz,’ but the most envied man in all the lumbering towns in the west.”

logger lawyer 1

“This honor has twice fallen to Newton, and when his new saw which he is now working on is finished he will be in trim to once again pull down the laurels at the Aberdeen splash that is scheduled for early in July.”

“Newton’s new saw will be different from any other saw in existence. He has figured out a cutting edge that he says will be faster than any other present saw. His scheme is for a saw with fewer cutting teeth, more rakers and bigger gullets, weighing in all sixteen pounds, which will be a few pounds heavier than the average saw, but will give a better cut. He is now marking out the saw blank– and when he is finished it will be stamped out by the Simonds Manufacturing Co. He will then file it himself by a method which he claims has just a little bit the edge on all other systems.”

“Newton made the trip with the crew to California last year and only had three minutes more to play to make his football letter.”

“‘Rusty’ Callow hastens to say that Newton is one of the best saw pullers in the country, and the blond gentleman knows, for he tried to beat Newton twice. It’s wonderful how these lumberjacks get ahead.”

NW card file card

In an effort to follow up on the life and career of Mr. Newton I had to go no further than WSL’s own NW Card File. Thisfinding aid is the product of decades of indexing newspapers and books by WSL  staff from the former Washington Room in the old Pritchard Building. I am happy to say we are now in the process of making this file available online. This will take a long time to input and at this point I’d like to make a pitch for any volunteers with good indexing and data entry skills to step up and serve the cause of Washington State history and culture.

Anyway.

I not only found a couple cards leading me to Mr. Newton’s obituary, but also a nice Tacoma News Tribune Sunday magazine profile in 1970 (Oct. 4) by Roland Lund and Warren Anderson.

Charles Arthur Newton was born Mar. 5, 1888 in Oakville. He served in the Army, graduated from college at Ellensburg in 1911, and taught school in Nagrom, near Yakima.

His teaching career was brief, and he enrolled in the University of Washington law school while at the same time was involved in sawing contests and school athletics, playing football and as a member of the rowing team. After he graduated he worked as an assistant coach for the Yale rowing team.

Upon returning to Washington he married Elsie Ham in 1925 and settled back home in the Oakville area, on a farm along the Chehalis River. According to the 1970 profile, “stuffy courtrooms and dusty lawbooks didn’t appeal to a hearty outdoors person raised on a riverside homestead. ‘I could make $9 a day filing saws– or logging.’ The woods would be Newton’s choice– saws– machinery– working with huge hands that only a few years before gripped an oar handle and flipped through pages of thick books.”

Mr. Newton died Aug. 26, 1982 at the Veterans Home in Retsil.

Limburger Fiend Raises a Stink in Colfax

Thursday, March 7th, 2013 Posted in Articles, Digital Collections, For the Public, Random News from the Newspapers on Microfilm Collection, State Library Collections | Comments Off on Limburger Fiend Raises a Stink in Colfax


WilliamHDoolittle

William H. Doolittle, Limburger Lover

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library:

Sometimes the inside joke behind these eccentric pioneer news articles is just as entertaining as the work itself. Such is the case with this essay I found in The Weekly Vidette (Colfax, Wash.), April 19, 1883:

LIMBURGER

How a Colfax Lawyer had Probably Been Cured of a Bad Habit

“Some fiend incarnate, during the past two weeks, has introduced within the city limits of Colfax, a cargo of that nauseating and marrow-searching article, Limburger cheese. While some persons may fancy this kind of edible as a dainty luxury, or even as a daily diet (from whom the Lord deliver us) others have not the fortitude to eat that which, even should their palate hanker for, their nose will tell them every time it is too utterly unfit to feed to an obnoxious mother-in-law. It is strong enough to lift the mortgage off a 40-acre farm, and as for smell, it would put a skunk or dead horse to the blush. It is said that a buzzard after inflating itself with carrion, will turn its head to windward in order to get away from its own breath. Buzzards are a notch ahead of the Limburger fiend in the scale of common decency. The latter not only has no care for his own nasal organ, but will go about Limburger 1town among the best friends he’s got, drop into the post office, saloon, or anywhere, and if bystanders don’t happen to be aware of his ‘weakness’ for Limburger, they probably think that the man who stands or is sitting next to them had better go home and change his stockings or undershirt, when in fact the innocent party might be the cleanest of men, and he himself may be, in silent thought, regarding the party aforesaid with mingled disgust and pity. And all this on account of the man who has ‘failings’ for Limburger.”

“A few of Colfax’s best citizens during the past two weeks have endeavored to educate their appetites a little in this direction, and among them was a young and rising lawyer of quiet demeanor and epicurean tastes. His partner in business, however, is somewhat older and of a more staid and sober temperament, and does not fancy particularly any such aesthetic foolishness as Limburger cheese. Well, our young friend, whom we will call W.—- for short, procured a small piece of Limburger and took it to his office wrapped in a nice square piece of brown paper, and after eating the cheese, left the paper lying on the office table. As it happened there was no cloth covering the table, and when W.—-‘s partner entered the office some time after, he smoothed the paper out, built up the office fire, and commenced to write, using the brown paper as sort of covering to the table on which to place his letter paper.”

Limburger 4

“Along in the afternoon, as the room began to get heated up, a perceptible odor assailed his olfactories, and as it seemed to increase instead of diminish, he began to get nervous. But he kept writing away for some time before mentioning it to his partner, who sat opposite him with his feet elevated on the table at an angle of about 45 degrees and his body tipped back in a chair, busily talking to a client. At last the stench became so ‘numerous’ and ‘utterly intense’ that he commenced to wriggle in his chair, and finally called W.—- aside and said:”

“‘I’ve noticed an awful smell in here for the last two hours. I think I have noticed it in a lesser quantity frequently before in this room. It is unfamiliar stench to me. Don’t know what to make of it. Think you can fathom the mystery?'”

“W.—-, who until now, had forgotten all about leaving the brown paper on the table, and on glancing there had seen it when the above query was propounded, from motives of discretion did not choose to follow the example of the illustrious G.W., and replied that the origin of the smell was a mystery to him, and went back to his former seat and occupation, as also did his partner. The latter, though, seemed to be in a sort of brown study, and the pen lay inactive behind his ear. All at once his eyes brightened up, and casting a hurried look at W.—-‘s feet, which were in their former position, he said in a voice full of fatherly advice and patronage.”

Limburger 3

“‘See here, W.—-, you know what’s the matter as well as I do. You just go home, take off them boots, wash your feet and change your socks. Your feet are rancid. And hereafter don’t try to evade a plain, candid question asked of you by your partner in business.'”

“Twere better that he had told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the (disgusting) truth.”

Discovering the identities of the two gentlemen in the story is not hard. The editor is one E.N. Sweet, the same E.N. Sweet listed in the newspaper advertising as part of the law firm of Doolittle and Sweet—Doolittle as in W.H. Doolittle, to be precise, hence the “W.—-.” Mr. Sweet was describing himself in the piece as “somewhat older and of a more staid and sober temperament.”

He was, in fact, Edgar Newell Sweet, born in Marshall, NY, Dec. 6, 1842. His family moved to Wisconsin, where Edgar began his training as printer. The Civil War disrupted his plans. He started as a private in the Wisconsin Cavalry in 1861 and ended up being mustered out as captain in the Far West in 1866. In between he saw action as far south as Louisiana.

After the War he married and started a family, settling in Nebraska where he was a newspaper editor. By the mid-1870s he was in Colfax and quickly became a town pillar, serving as mayor, judge, attorney, and newspaper editor. He appears to have moved to Oklahoma by the 1890s and spent his final years in California, where he died March 27, 1928.Limburger 5

William Hall Doolittle, the true identity of “W.—-,” was born in Erie County, Pa., Nov. 6, 1848. His love of Limburger cheese no doubt was due to his upbringing, for his family moved to Wisconsin in 1859 (today Wisconsin is home to the sole manufacturer of Limburger cheese in the U.S.). William served in the later part of the Civil War as a soldier in the 9th Wisconsin battery. After the War he studied law, moved to Nebraska and was elected to the State House.

Doolittle moved to Colfax in 1880 and practiced there until 1888 when he migrated to Tacoma. He was elected to the U.S. Congress and served for two terms, 1893-1897 as a Republican. After his defeat for re-election in 1896 he returned to the practice of law. He died in Tacoma February 26, 1914.

I stumbled across a mention of Sweet in The Wide Northwest / by Leoti L. West. She described him as “a dignified gentleman, who always had a cigar between his lips.” Hmmm. Hey, don’t get me wrong, I myself have been known to enjoy a good stogie now and then, but doesn’t it seem a bit disingenuous for a guy who always smokes a cigar to complain about Limburger? But I guess he enjoyed giving his law partner a hard time in public so much that he probably missed the irony.