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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/32291-h.zip b/32291-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..17e9eaa --- /dev/null +++ b/32291-h.zip diff --git a/32291-h/32291-h.htm b/32291-h/32291-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6319bfe --- /dev/null +++ b/32291-h/32291-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1207 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Paul Bunyan And His Loggers, by Cloice R. Howd and Otis T. Howd. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + body {margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right; font-style: normal;} + + .poem {margin-left:15%; margin-right:15%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Paul Bunyan and His Loggers, by +Otis T. Howd and Cloice R. Howd + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Paul Bunyan and His Loggers + +Author: Otis T. Howd + Cloice R. Howd + +Release Date: May 8, 2010 [EBook #32291] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAUL BUNYAN AND HIS LOGGERS *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from scans of public domain material produced by +Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1>Paul Bunyan and His Loggers</h1> + +<h3>—By—<br /><span class="smcap">Otis T. and Cloice R. Howd</span></h3> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>Paul Bunyan and His Loggers</h2> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Cloice R. Howd and Otis T. Howd</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>Paul Bunyan was the logging industry; not, to be sure, as it is found in +<i>Forest Service Reports</i> or in profit and loss statements, but rather as +it burned in the bones of the true North Woods lumberjack. To understand +the significance of the Bunyan stories one must know something of the men +who first told them.</p> + +<p>While the lumber industry has found a place in every section of the +country except the treeless plains, it was the pineries of the Lake States +which furnished most of its romance. Logging had begun on the Atlantic +Coast even before the first permanent English settlement, but it never +reached a size sufficient to challenge the imagination until it came to +the Lake States. While the industry had begun on Lake Erie about 1800, its +development in the West was slow until after the Civil War. By that time +saw mill machinery was ready to make lumber rapidly and cheaply, and the +fast growing population of the Mississippi Valley brought the market +within reach of the forests. After 1865 the lumbermen swept across +Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota like a whirlwind, laying waste with ax +and saw that mighty pine forest, until by 1900 all that remained were +small fragments of the original forest and hundreds of miles of stumps. +Then they passed on to the Gulf States or the Pacific Coast.</p> + +<p>“Down East” logging had been largely a side line to agriculture or other +occupations, although there were some men who were full-time loggers, but +with the opening up of the Lake States, logging became a distinct +profession, with a professional pride in work and a devotion to it which +kept the logger from straying off into other industries. The logger went +into the woods early in the fall, spent the entire winter snow-bound in a +lonely camp with other men like-minded with himself, a dozen to a hundred +or more of them. With the spring thaw they brought the logs down the river +in a great drive, and then spent their winter stake in a blaze of glory +among the bright lights of a sawdust town. Then they went into the saw +mills till it was time to return to the woods in the fall. It was during +the long winter evenings in the bunk houses, with the loggers gathered +about the red-hot stove and the air full of the smell of drying clothes +and tobacco smoke, that the Paul Bunyan tales were born and grew.</p> + +<p>These stories find their original in a French-Canadian, Paul Bunyon, who +first came into prominence during the Papineau rebellion in 1837, when, by +remarkable feats of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> strength and daring, he won the admiration of his +countrymen. Then for many years he was the outstanding logging boss in all +the St. Lawrence River country. When the loggers from this region went +into the Michigan woods about 1850 they took with them the stories of +their great hero, which stories, naturally, lost nothing in the telling, +particularly as they served admirably as a form of compensation device for +their feelings of inferiority. Nor is it remarkable that the Yankee +loggers should parody these stories to ridicule the French-Canadians.</p> + +<p>Another element which entered into the making of the Bunyan myth was the +tendency to exaggeration which is common to all of us and which finds +expression on so many occasions. The lumber camps had long been filled +with extreme stories of many sorts, but these were usually only isolated +tales. Many of them had been told to impress the tenderfoot, while many +others had been wish projections, a sort of day-dreaming in which one was +able to do that which he never could accomplish when he had to work with +stern reality. After the French-Canadians brought Paul Bunyon to the camps +and the practice had begun of improving on these stories, it became easy +to invent a new Bunyon tale or connect up one of the other stories with +the Bunyon cycle wherever the need arose for over-awing a tenderfoot or of +securing a refuge from the sense of frustration, or just for simple +amusement. In the process the French-Canadian Bunyon became naturalized +into the Yankee Bunyan and all contact with reality was lost. Bunyan, his +old Blue Ox, Babe, and their exploits grew to fantastic extremes. Size was +never measured in terms of feet or pounds and so it is difficult for us to +give exact dimensions, but it was agreed that the blue ox, Babe, measured +forty-two axehandles and a plug of tobacco between the eyes, while Bunyan +himself once had the misfortune to lose two large logging engines in his +mackinaw pocket and did not find them for a month.</p> + +<p>Yet these stories were never told lightly, for a true lumberjack will +never, by word, look or tone, give any suggestion that these stories are +not the exact truth. In fact elaborate precautions are taken to establish +their veracity and citation of proof is nearly universal. Sometimes the +evidence cited is the word of one from whom the story was heard, for few +of the tales are told as the personal experience of the story teller. The +story came direct from one of Bunyan’s loggers, from a pioneer, the Bull +Cook, or some one else equally well informed and reliable. Sometimes the +proof is to be found in the continued existence of something connected +with the story. Thus the lack of stumps in North<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> Dakota is cited as proof +of the fact that Bunyan drove all the stumps into the ground when he +logged off that country, while the story that the Mississippi River was +started when one of Bunyan’s water tanks broke is proven by the fact that +the river is still running.</p> + +<p>According to the best authenticated stories, Paul was born in Maine some +time before the Revolutionary War, so far back that a century or so one +way or the other made little difference. He had been a lusty infant and a +good-sizeable boy, but he did not reach his full growth until he went to +Michigan. It was then that he really began his life work of logging off +the regions south and west of the Great Lakes. He gained experience and +some reputation in his logging operations on the Big Onion, the Big Auger, +the Little Gimblet and the Big Tadpole Rivers, but it was the logging of +the Dakotas that really made his reputation. Legend has played around this +event even more than is usual with Bunyan exploits. This was really done +to provide room for the Swedes who were coming to the United States. There +were many lesser things which Bunyan did, most of which are mentioned only +incidentally, such as the logging of Missouri, the accident when he +dragged his skiing pole and so made the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, or +the building of Crater Lake or the Island of Cuba. Later Bunyan went to +the Pacific Coast where he did many mighty feats of landscape engineering; +in fact he largely made the West, but he never seemed to find logging on +the West Coast congenial, probably due to the fact that machinery had +invaded the Western woods by the time he got there. And Paul never could +endure those “pesky” donkey engines. While it was sometimes necessary for +him to resort to the use of power machinery in his cook house, he would +never have it in the woods. Even when he had a crew so large that it took +eight cement mixers to stir the batter for their hot cakes and a +stern-wheel steamer to stir their soup, the Blue Ox could easily haul all +the logs they could cut without help of any donkey engines or any other +such “fandangoes.”</p> + +<p>Bunyan, however, was not alone in his logging ventures. He had many +helpers, but none of them were cast in quite such an heroic mould as was +Paul himself. There were the seven axemen who helped him the winter he +logged Dakota, who kept a cord of four-foot wood on the table for +toothpicks, and whose singing could be heard of an evening down on the +Atlantic. There was the little chore boy who turned the grindstone which +was so large that every time it turned around once it was payday. There +was Johnny Inkslinger, the bookkeeper, who made the first fountain pen, +which held<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> twenty-four barrels of ink, and who kept two complete sets of +books, one with each hand. Brimstone Bill cared for Babe and made for him +those wonderful yokes of cranberry wood, which made it possible for Babe +to pull anything which had two ends to it. Big Ole, the blacksmith, had +two tasks. One was to shoe Babe, and every time he did it he had to open +up a new iron mine. The other was to punch the holes in the doughnuts for +the cook. Another helper was Cris Crosshaul, a careless cuss, who was +responsible for taking wrong logs down to New Orleans, which made it +necessary for Paul to bring them back up the river. This was done by +feeding Babe a large salt ration and then letting him drink out of the +upper river. He drank the river dry and the logs came up stream faster +than they went down. Of the other helpers it is perhaps sufficient to +mention only Joe McFrau, who was able to ride anything which ever floated +and in any water, and the two cooks, Sourdough Sam and Big Joe. Sourdough +Sam made everything except coffee out of sourdough. When Shot Gunderson +put his winter’s cut of logs into Round River and then drove them around +its whole course three times before he found that it did not have any +outlet, Sam made up a large batch of sourdough and dumped it into the +river and when it got to working it lifted the logs over the divide. But +Sam was seriously injured one day when his sourdough barrel blew up and +Big Joe was employed. His famous Black Duck dinner was so fine that none +of the American loggers cared to eat again for five weeks; but he could +only satisfy the French-Canadians by dumping a car load of split peas in a +boiling lake.</p> + +<p>The most authentic group of Bunyan stories came from the Lake States where +they originated. A comparison of these older stories with the newer ones +from the Pacific Coast shows a marked difference. (And it is noteworthy +that the Bunyan tales never had much of a vogue in the South.) According +to the Lake States version, Bunyan always stayed in the logging camps or +on the drives, he attended strictly to business, while according to the +Western tales he branched out into all sorts of enterprises. The Lake +States tales were the product of the true, the professional lumberjack, +the winter recluse, who was shut in with others like minded with himself +and with none but his kind as auditors. The Western logger was not so +exclusive a type. There were many of the professional loggers, but there +were many men in the woods whose main interest was elsewhere, and so the +story teller did not have such a select audience. There were other +interests in the West to divert Bunyan from his real job and naturally it +suffered in consequence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>It was perhaps inevitable, but none the less unfortunate, that the Bunyan +stories did not reach the outside world directly from the Lake States +story tellers, but first passed through the hands or mouths of the Western +loggers. Of all the publications perhaps W. B. Laughead, in <i>Paul Bunyan +and His Big Blue Ox</i>, published by the Red River Lumber Company of +Minneapolis, has most nearly preserved the Lake States flavor of the +stories. Certainly James Stevens and Esther Shepperd in their books of the +same title, <i>Paul Bunyan</i>, have more nearly portrayed the Western Bunyan +than the Eastern one. The same is largely true of the poems here given. +They take the Western point of view, and most of them are Western stories. +The first of these represents the Western conflict between the +professional and the part-time logger, the second is unwarranted in +bringing Noah into the picture, where he does not belong, while the others +all deal directly with the West. But certainly the Western tales make +better stories than do the Eastern ones.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Paul Bunyan’s Trick</span></h3> + +<p>This story is one of the well-known Bunyan tales, told from Michigan to +the Coast, which shows some of the professional loggers’ scorn for the +part-time logger.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Come all you stump ranch loggers and slick shod choker men<br /> +And learn how we gathered the round stuff up on the Skinney Ben.<br /> +<br /> +You fellers call this logging, just sixty cars a day;<br /> +We kids beat that when I was young and thought that it was play.<br /> +<br /> +My first real throw at logging was in Big Ole’s camp<br /> +When he was racing Bunyan to be the skidding champ.<br /> +<br /> +From sun till sun he drove us, till we were nearly dead,<br /> +And many times in getting up I’ve met myself going to bed.<br /> +<br /> +He bought a load of lanterns and made us earn our keep;<br /> +The bed bugs even starved to death, we got so little sleep.<br /> +<br /> +And talk about a driver! Two men must fall and buck<br /> +A quarter section every day or they were out of luck.<br /> +<br /> +Now that was not so very hard as it looks from where you sit,<br /> +For there the trees grew close enough to chop one with each bit.<br /> +<br /> +And every cussed feller used both ends of his swing,<br /> +And forests went like snow drifts before an early spring.<br /> +<br /> +And talk about your skidding; although, perhaps they lied,<br /> +They said the trees were in the pond before the echo died.<br /> +<br /> +But I’ve seen one yoke skidding for seven falling crews,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>And Bunyan bought an iron mine to keep his stock in shoes.<br /> +<br /> +We sure got out the round stuff, but still we were too slow,<br /> +And just a trick of Bunyan’s had brought us all our woe.<br /> +<br /> +’Twas long and crooked skid roads that made our logging late,<br /> +And Bunyan took his old Blue Ox and pulled his skid roads straight.<br /> +<br /> +Now when you slick shod loggers call this here logging fast,<br /> +It sure makes us old timers just hanker for the past.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Some Logger</span></h3> + +<p>This is one of the Eastern stories, but with numerous Western additions, +chief of which is the introduction of Noah.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +In the pre-historic ages, e’re the Swedes ruled Minnesota,<br /> +Fairest spot in all the Westland was the woodland of Dakota.<br /> +<br /> +’Twas a land of timbered ridges long before the axe was known,<br /> +And there grew the largest timber on which the sun had ever shown.<br /> +<br /> +Many tales are told about it, how it grew so very high,<br /> +That the tops were broke and shattered where they rubbed against the sky.<br /> +<br /> +And no man had ever ventured in that forest deep and dark<br /> +Till old Noah got to thinking he would build himself an ark.<br /> +<br /> +So he looked the timber over and decided it would take<br /> +Every tree if he would carry every bird and beast and snake;<br /> +<br /> +If he just could get it yarded; there he had a serious doubt,<br /> +Till Paul Bunyan finally told him he would get the round stuff out.<br /> +<br /> +So he harnessed up his Blue Ox, took the big logs on the run.<br /> +Never even stopped for dinner, worked right through from sun to sun.<br /> +<br /> +Many logs he dogged together, took three hundred turns a day;<br /> +Still Old Noah hollered “Faster,” said that snail’s pace didn’t pay.<br /> +<br /> +Then old Bunyan got quite peevish, sent the loggers all to camp;<br /> +Started hauling in the sections; he’d put Noah on the tramp.<br /> +<br /> +But he bragged a bit too early, tho each day he hauled eight score,<br /> +Noah cleared them off by noontime and sat down and yelled for more.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span><br /> +Paul got madder than a logger, cussed and jumped upon his hat;<br /> +Noah was a domned slave driver, contract didn’t call for that.<br /> +<br /> +But old Noah only guyed him, called his ox a lazy slob,<br /> +Then to keep Paul Bunyan working put a bonus on the job.<br /> +<br /> +Next Paul hooked upon a township and the ox pulled with a will,<br /> +But the cable only parted when it caught upon a hill;<br /> +<br /> +Broke in twenty-seven pieces; the Blue Ox sure had the power;<br /> +Then Paul set his splicing record, twenty-six within an hour.<br /> +<br /> +But he never got discouraged, he would still show Noah that<br /> +A true logger always finished anything he started at.<br /> +<br /> +So he hooked onto the ridges, pulled them all into the mill;<br /> +Then they say of real hard labor Noah finally got his fill.<br /> +<br /> +Thus the task was finally finished, nor was that the only gain:<br /> +Naught was left in the Dakotas but a large and level plain<br /> +<br /> +Save in just two places only, where the logging had begun,<br /> +And where all the refuse ridges were left drying in the sun.<br /> +<br /> +First is called the Black Hills district, there the ancient land still stands,<br /> +And the pile of broken ridges is Dakota’s famed Bad Lands.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Year of the Great Hot Winter</span></h3> + +<p>This is probably a true Western story.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I was punching a half breed roader down on Shoalwater Bay<br /> +The year the nights came together, some called it the great dark day.<br /> +<br /> +We hit the deck at sunrise but the sun never rose at all,<br /> +So we sat by the light of the lantern waiting the breakfast call.<br /> +<br /> +’Twas an event to call forth stories of wonderful times in the Past,<br /> +And I listened to marvelous stories till the Bull Cook’s turn came at last.<br /> +<br /> +“I was just a lad,” he started, “When I worked in Paul Bunyan’s camps,<br /> +Darkness was nothing in those days for we had volcanoes for lamps.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>“One year we were logging Missouri, before Bunyan came to the coast,<br /> +And had just finished building the Ozarks to serve as a snubbing post.<br /> +<br /> +“We were working down an ice chute almost across the state,<br /> +When the weather turned suddenly warmer, hotter than Satan’s grate.<br /> +<br /> +“Twas the year of the great hot winter, hottest I ever felt,<br /> +And the ice cakes turned right into steam without even stopping to melt.<br /> +<br /> +“Well, that was the end of our logging, but Bunyan must look around,<br /> +So he left his ox behind him and came to Puget Sound.<br /> +<br /> +“And when he reached the water he picked himself a tree<br /> +And dug it out into a boat and so put out to sea.<br /> +<br /> +“’Twas cooler on the water and so he sailed around<br /> +Till in the Caribbean Sea he finally run aground.<br /> +<br /> +“For days he tried to float her, but it wasn’t any use,<br /> +So he went and got his Blue Ox to pull the old tub loose.<br /> +<br /> +“He gathered all the rigging he could from near and far,<br /> +But chains much larger than your leg were stretched into a bar.<br /> +<br /> +“And all the gear he didn’t break was melted by the heat,<br /> +And there are lakes all over Texas where the Blue Ox braced his feet.<br /> +<br /> +“But every bit of timber was pulled loose from that boat<br /> +And still the old hulk lay there, she simply wouldn’t float.<br /> +<br /> +“Well, many years have passed since then and it’s drifted o’er with sand<br /> +And trees have grown upon it until it’s solid land.<br /> +<br /> +“Now boys, that’s simply history, as right as God above,<br /> +And the little isle of Cuba is the place I’m speaking of.”<br /> +<br /> +The Bull Cook finished up his tale and went about his task,<br /> +But there’ve always been some questions I’d kinder like to ask.<br /> +<br /> +But he is dead and gathered to old Paul Bunyan’s side,<br /> +And so I’ll never know for sure if that old codger lied.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Charmed Land</span></h3> + +<p>A Western story of one of Paul’s greatest feats of landscape engineering.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Old Hewey wrought, so I’ve been taught, six days to make the world;<br /> +He built the sky, and rearing high, the mighty mountains hurled;<br /> +One only spot he finished not, and then his tents he furled.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span><br /> +But e’re on high, above the sky, he went up out of sight,<br /> +With final shout he called about his workers all of might,<br /> +And thus he spoke, e’re like a cloak he clothed himself with night:<br /> +<br /> +“Good helpers all, both great and small, this is my last command,<br /> +This place you see must finished be that all may understand<br /> +I hold it blest ’bove all the rest, the final promised land.”<br /> +<br /> +Old Puget then lined up his men, he asked each one to work,<br /> +Three mighty men stood by him then and labored like a Turk,<br /> +While all the rest refused the test and did their best to shirk.<br /> +<br /> +Paul Bunyan drew his fingers through his long and tangled locks,<br /> +He hardly spoke but took the yoke and sought his old Blue Ox;<br /> +He said “Watch me, I’ll build a sea, you two may use the rocks.”<br /> +<br /> +With cunning stroke the soil he broke, he flung the dirt aside;<br /> +The rocks he tore with mighty roar and flung them far and wide,<br /> +He piled the earth till hills had birth and grew on either side.<br /> +<br /> +The old Blue Ox he hitched to rocks and tore the big ones out,<br /> +He rolled them out and all about and called each one a mount,<br /> +And lest I lie, against the sky, they witness if you doubt.<br /> +<br /> +At reach and bay he dug away, he shaped a thousand isles;<br /> +By headlands steep dug channels deep where rippling water smiles;<br /> +With generous hand he took the sand and built the beach for miles.<br /> +<br /> +Like golden gleam of painter’s dream he built old Puget Sound,<br /> +Where skies of blue the waters woo a thousand isles around,<br /> +With emerald sheen they’re always green and always spring abounds.<br /> +<br /> +Then old Cascade took up his spade and reared against the sky,<br /> +A row of peaks whose summit seeks a marriage with the sky,<br /> +A super land whose wonders grand enchant the human eye.<br /> +<br /> +Olympus then laid down his pen and built with cunning hand<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>A place so rare that e’en the air seems wilder and more grand,<br /> +Of hill and stream beyond our dream, a greater Switzerland.<br /> +<br /> +And thus these three, as you may see, beneath the Western skies<br /> +Have built a land that’s super grand, an earthly paradise;<br /> +When God looked down they say it found great favor in his eyes.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Building Columbia Gorge</span></h3> + +<p>Bunyan frequently went hunting or fishing, and on such occasions anything +might happen.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +When Mount Rainier was a hole in the ground, e’re Midad made his stake,<br /> +The land to the west of the Rockies was all a mighty lake.<br /> +<br /> +And there of a summer’s evening Paul Bunyan came to fish,<br /> +For a mess of steelhead salmon was ever his favorite dish.<br /> +<br /> +With a rod that was only eight leagues long and keen and strong and light,<br /> +And a wondrous fly he’d made himself he lured the fish to bite.<br /> +<br /> +This day he’d landed some small ones, less than a league in length,<br /> +But at last he hooked a beauty that tested the big boy’s strength.<br /> +<br /> +It was fight from the time he hooked it, Oh, boy, but this was bliss!<br /> +Who would fool with a pyramid when he could live like this?<br /> +<br /> +The light line sang through the ferruls and the water foamed like beer,<br /> +The big fish raged to seawards but ever he drew it near;<br /> +<br /> +It was back and forth till the sunset and the stars came out anon.<br /> +The fish was giving inch by inch but ever the fight went on.<br /> +<br /> +’Twas a fight that once in a lifetime comes to a fisher man,<br /> +And having thrilled to its power he’s wed to the fishing clan.<br /> +<br /> +Morning found Paul Bunyan ready to grasp the prize,<br /> +But the fish in growing larger had, too, grown wondrous wise.<br /> +<br /> +And dashing towards the nimrod it tried to foul the line<br /> +Around some broken branches of a waterlogged old pine.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>It was nip and tuck for a moment but Bunyan was forced to see<br /> +The strong line part like a raveling and the fish go tearing free.<br /> +<br /> +With one quick burst of anger he sat down limp as a rag,<br /> +And when he wended homeward his feet would scarcely drag.<br /> +<br /> +But rest brought resolution and an overpowering wish:<br /> +He’d camp there by that lakeside till he caught that cussed fish.<br /> +<br /> +For weeks he fished those waters in sunshine and in shade,<br /> +A thousand different spots he tried, a hundred lures he made.<br /> +<br /> +But often as the sunset his dream fish would arise<br /> +And sport its lazy beauty before his longing eyes,<br /> +<br /> +And ever it seemed to laugh at him and ever he madder grew,<br /> +He cussed and fought it in his sleep till he knew not what to do.<br /> +<br /> +But finally said Paul Bunyan, “There’s one way left to try,<br /> +I’ll have that fish by sunset or know the reason why;<br /> +<br /> +“I’ll drain this cussed puddle right through the old Cascades,<br /> +And grill this fish for supper on the hottest plate in Hades.”<br /> +<br /> +The old Blue Ox he harnessed, he didn’t give a dern,<br /> +As around old Mount Baker he took a double turn;<br /> +<br /> +He almost pulled the Mountain loose but he pulled the Range in two,<br /> +And all those inland waters like mad came tumbling through.<br /> +<br /> +And right where the torrent widened he stood with his mighty spear<br /> +And said “I’ll get sir mister fish when he comes out through here.”<br /> +<br /> +Well, Paul had his fish for supper and there’s no more inland lake,<br /> +And the Columbia River rages through right where he made the break.<br /> +<br /> +Now some say this is a fable, but I know that it is true,<br /> +For I have it straight from a logger, just as it’s told to you.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Building Crater Lake</span></h3> + +<p>This story reflects something of the Northwesterner’s scorn and contempt +for California and Californians.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I camped one year by Crater Lake, in the State of Oregon,<br /> +And there I met a pioneer who lived by trap and gun.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span><br /> +And often of an evening by the camp fire’s ruddy light,<br /> +He told me how the West was made and of great men of might.<br /> +<br /> +He told of the two Joe McFraus, the one whose name was Pete,<br /> +And how he labored for his board to get enough to eat.<br /> +<br /> +And also of the Terrible Swede who gloried in a brawl,<br /> +One day he fought the riot squad and licked them one and all.<br /> +<br /> +But master of the mighty men he loved to tell the best,<br /> +The tales of old Paul Bunyan and how he built the West.<br /> +<br /> +He told of how he built the Sound, and how once on a spree<br /> +He dug the Strait of Bering to drain the Arctic Sea.<br /> +<br /> +And how he split the old Cascades, and, by the way, said he,<br /> +“That reminds me of this very lake and how it came to be.”<br /> +<br /> +And so he smoked of my cigars and sampled my home brew,<br /> +And told the tale about the lake and swore that it was true.<br /> +<br /> +He said it was the very time when Bunyan pulled in two<br /> +The Cascade Mountains and thus let the Columbia River through;<br /> +<br /> +He said the Blue Ox braced his feet and came within a dime<br /> +Of pulling California loose from its sunny clime.<br /> +<br /> +And he swore ’twas true as gospel, that day the “Native Son”<br /> +Had first come down from out the trees to see what could be done.<br /> +<br /> +Well, Bunyan listened to their wail, and checked his ox of blue,<br /> +Then staking down the southern end had pulled the range in two.<br /> +<br /> +Then when he finished up his job he just pulled up the stake,<br /> +And water ran into the hole and there was Crater Lake.<br /> +<br /> +Now you can take this tale or not, he swore that it was true,<br /> +And I don’t think he’d lie to me while drinking my home brew.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Death of the Blue Ox</span></h3> + +<p>This story, better than any other I know, shows the characteristic +weaknesses of the lumber industry.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +This is a tale of the West land, the fartherest end of the earth;<br /> +A tale of the great Northwest land where every man proves his worth.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span><br /> +Cascade was king of the mountains, Puget was lord of the sea;<br /> +Though Paul Bunyan took their orders, mightiest of all was he.<br /> +<br /> +He dug the Sound for old Puget, he built the Peaks for Cascade,<br /> +Like the last great dream of a Painter, the Olympic Mountains he made.<br /> +<br /> +But he was gyped by St. Helens on plans for a mountain mold,<br /> +So he pastured his ox and traveled to the north in search of gold.<br /> +<br /> +He stopped at the mighty Yukon, it looked like a likely stream;<br /> +He never looked to his tailings, he was only after the cream.<br /> +<br /> +But his plans were too ambitious and they’ll tell you to this day<br /> +Of how Bunyan panned the Yukon but couldn’t make it pay.<br /> +<br /> +But about that time came rumors which he soon found were true,<br /> +How two friends took a contract and could not put it through.<br /> +<br /> +It seemed that Joe McFrau and his friend, The Terrible Swede,<br /> +Had started to earn a grub stake on which they stood in need.<br /> +<br /> +They started to level the Prairies, but their knowledge was not an iota,<br /> +So soon the two were stranded in the Bad Lands of Dakota.<br /> +<br /> +They wrote to old Paul Bunyan and asked if he would bring<br /> +His old Blue Ox and help them finish the job in the spring.<br /> +<br /> +So Bunyan took his Blue Ox and started on his way,<br /> +Right in the dead of winter, for he wanted to finish in May.<br /> +<br /> +But hills and plains were buried full two squaws deep in snow,<br /> +And Passes were filled to the summit, so they told him ’twas foolish to go.<br /> +<br /> +But Paul would not listen to reason; he had too much faith in his bull,<br /> +He swore that the snow couldn’t stop him e’en though the Great Basin was full.<br /> +<br /> +But as they reached the Rockies and camped by a pile of rocks,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>The snow came down so thickly that he couldn’t see his ox.<br /> +<br /> +The temperature dropped swiftly, it seemed a hundred below;<br /> +The coals from the fire were frozen before they had ceased to glow.<br /> +<br /> +You’ve often heard of blue cold and wondered if it was true,<br /> +But it got so cold that winter that even the snow was blue.<br /> +<br /> +The Blue Ox froze and Bunyan was never the same again,<br /> +He wandered, God knows whither, away from the haunts of men.<br /> +<br /> +But clear to the end of history and wherever the loggers may go,<br /> +You’ll hear how perished the Blue Ox in the year of the great Blue Snow.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Riding Sunset Falls</span></h3> + +<p>This story is one of the minor cycle, dealing with Bunyan’s helpers, but +one in which Bunyan himself does not figure. It is the absence of the +great hero which makes it possible to introduce the love note here.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Come all you friends of the Red Gods and I will tell you a wonderful tale<br /> +Of the time when all men were he-men who followed the Wanigan trail.<br /> +<br /> +It happened the year of the big wind up on the river Ski,<br /> +The snow was deep in the mountains and the river was running high.<br /> +<br /> +Joe McFrau was the boss of the crew and king of the river dogs;<br /> +He walked like a bear on the solid ground but was light as a cat on the logs.<br /> +<br /> +They had reached the break of the river where Sunset Falls foams white,<br /> +Where the Red Gods laugh at the might of men and dance in the evening light.<br /> +<br /> +Where the water roars down a devil’s chute, pure white like a river of milk,<br /> +And fairy rainbows come and go like ever changing silk.<br /> +<br /> +The river above is wide and calm and lures like a siren’s song,<br /> +But the crest of the falls is swift and dark and cruel and fierce and strong.<br /> +<br /> +And down below where the water strikes the great waves break like rain<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>And the creamy waters heave and sigh like a river god in pain.<br /> +<br /> +But close beside the catarack lived the hunter John McGraw<br /> +With a winsome daughter Rosa who had smiled at Joe McFrau,<br /> +<br /> +She stood below by the water, watching the white foam fly,<br /> +And the logs that her Joe was driving like straws come whirling by.<br /> +<br /> +And above McFrau was thinking what a picture, fair, she made,<br /> +How she seemed to love the water and was not a bit afraid.<br /> +<br /> +But even as he watched her he saw her slip and fall;<br /> +He was stricken dumb and helpless, he could neither move nor call.<br /> +<br /> +But as a press on the trigger came her despairing cry,<br /> +With one great leap he was riding a log that was drifting by.<br /> +<br /> +Right in the maw of the torrent! My God! was the man insane?<br /> +Few men entered that catarack; none ever came out again.<br /> +<br /> +And now to ride with the log drive! ’Twas crazy suicide!<br /> +Who would dream he’d been hit so hard that he’d want to die at her side?<br /> +<br /> +But he rode like a fiend incarnate. They stood with eyes apop.<br /> +They knew each plunge would drown him, but ever he rose to the top.<br /> +<br /> +It seemed an age they watched him, a dozen times go down,<br /> +Each time a little longer, but I guess frogs never drown.<br /> +<br /> +At last he reached the bottom, the men all gave a cheer,<br /> +But his thoughts were on that curly head and he didn’t seem to hear.<br /> +<br /> +And presently he spied her, a dozen feet away,<br /> +Sometimes lost in the billows, scarcely seen for spray.<br /> +<br /> +But he plunged into the water and brought her safe to land<br /> +And laid her on a bed of moss, though scarcely he could stand.<br /> +<br /> +But Rose was no worse for the wetting, and I’ll be a son of a gun,<br /> +If she didn’t turn round and marry a Swede named Peterson.<br /> +<br /> +Well, Joe got drunk as a devil and swore he didn’t care;<br /> +He’d pulled a stunt on the river that no one else would dare;<br /> +<br /> +And a man was a fool to marry, but he hoped the square head Swede,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>Would still remember to thank him when he had ten kids to feed.<br /> +<br /> +And wherever the drivers gather and wherever white water calls,<br /> +They tell how the crazy Frenchman rode the Sunset Falls.</p> + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<p>What is the real significance of these stories? In the first place they +are highly entertaining, with their remarkable flights of fancy and the +introduction of the unexpected. This is enhanced by the tang of the pine +woods and the lure of the great out-of-doors. In the camps they served to +while away many a weary hour and to lighten up the seriousness of many a +knotty problem. They brought the gigantic tasks of the great woods down to +manageable proportions and saved many a logger from an inferiority +complex. Since they have come into civilization many a task has been made +easier by their rare humor.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it is pendantry to try to find in these impossible tales of the +illiterate lumberjacks anything except what they consciously put there; a +beautiful fancy to brighten the weary days and nights of the long winters. +But sometimes the unconscious contributions are of more significance than +the conscious, for we often do more than we mean. Such seems to have been +the case here, for these uncouth story tellers have given us some insights +into their lives and their industry. Unconsciously these tales reflect the +absorption of these men in their tasks. The men who made these tales were +men with a far greater interest in the woods than the stake they were to +take out in the spring, whatever might have been true of those who +repeated them. Here is a love of the woods and of a woodsman’s life which +has the ring of reality. These were men with a pride in their industry and +in good work. If they had any interest in religion or morals or art it was +likely like that of Jim Bludso, the river engineer, of whom John Hay says:</p> + +<p class="poem">“And this was all the religion he had,<br /> +To treat his engine well,<br /> +Never to be passed on the river,<br /> +And to mind the pilot’s bell.”</p> + +<p>Such were these lumberjacks. Their religion, their whole life, was to cut +and haul as many logs as possible, and then in the spring to drive these +logs down river to the saw mill. And he was greatest in the camp who could +fell a tree most accurately and quickly, pile logs highest on the sleds, +or ride a log in the roughest water. And the camp boss had to really be +boss: he must be able to handle obstreperous loggers, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> must provide for +all the needs of his crew without any molly-coddling, and he must be able +to get out the round stuff. In all of these ways Paul Bunyan is the +idealization of the lumberjack.</p> + +<p>But the stories reflect the weaknesses as well as the strengths of the +loggers and of the industry. This is best shown in the story of the Death +of the Blue Ox, which pictures Paul as a poor business man, opinionated +and headstrong, three traits which were by no means rare in the lumber +industry. After all, Bunyan never really did grow up, he was always only a +boy, with great loyalty to his immediate group, but with but little social +responsibility or provision for the future. He was a primitive man, never +fully civilized. It is significant that there is not a suggestion of love +in the whole cycle of Bunyan stories, and that we must go outside of the +genuine Bunyan stories to find anything such. After they left Bunyan some +of his helpers might fall in love, but not Bunyan or any of the men while +they were with him. To be sure, Bunyan was married, but there is no trace +of affection between him and his wife, and she rarely even enters the +picture. There was no place for such incongruous things. Bunyan was out of +place in the modern world. He was never a conservationist, never a +business man; in the pine woods and on the Yukon he was only after the +cream.</p> + +<p>The reign of Bunyan is over and he has gone. Some say he is dead, others +that he has gone to Alaska, some think he has gone to South America or +Africa, but nearly all agree that he is no longer in the logging game in +the United States. A new era has come, and not the greatest of the +revolutions is the substitution of power machinery for the ox. The logger +is coming to recognize his social responsibility, timber is being utilized +as a social heritage to be managed for posterity, and the isolation of the +camps has been ended. The logging game is becoming civilized and Bunyan +was not able to make such great adjustments. He had to retire to other and +wilder haunts. The great days are over; the old gods are dead, and Bunyan +is only a myth.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Paul Bunyan and His Loggers, by +Otis T. Howd and Cloice R. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Paul Bunyan and His Loggers + +Author: Otis T. Howd + Cloice R. Howd + +Release Date: May 8, 2010 [EBook #32291] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAUL BUNYAN AND HIS LOGGERS *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from scans of public domain material produced by +Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) + + + + + + + + + +Paul Bunyan and His Loggers + +By OTIS T. AND CLOICE R. HOWD + + + + +Paul Bunyan and His Loggers + +_By_ CLOICE R. HOWD AND OTIS T. HOWD + + +Paul Bunyan was the logging industry; not, to be sure, as it is found in +_Forest Service Reports_ or in profit and loss statements, but rather as +it burned in the bones of the true North Woods lumberjack. To understand +the significance of the Bunyan stories one must know something of the men +who first told them. + +While the lumber industry has found a place in every section of the +country except the treeless plains, it was the pineries of the Lake States +which furnished most of its romance. Logging had begun on the Atlantic +Coast even before the first permanent English settlement, but it never +reached a size sufficient to challenge the imagination until it came to +the Lake States. While the industry had begun on Lake Erie about 1800, its +development in the West was slow until after the Civil War. By that time +saw mill machinery was ready to make lumber rapidly and cheaply, and the +fast growing population of the Mississippi Valley brought the market +within reach of the forests. After 1865 the lumbermen swept across +Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota like a whirlwind, laying waste with ax +and saw that mighty pine forest, until by 1900 all that remained were +small fragments of the original forest and hundreds of miles of stumps. +Then they passed on to the Gulf States or the Pacific Coast. + +"Down East" logging had been largely a side line to agriculture or other +occupations, although there were some men who were full-time loggers, but +with the opening up of the Lake States, logging became a distinct +profession, with a professional pride in work and a devotion to it which +kept the logger from straying off into other industries. The logger went +into the woods early in the fall, spent the entire winter snow-bound in a +lonely camp with other men like-minded with himself, a dozen to a hundred +or more of them. With the spring thaw they brought the logs down the river +in a great drive, and then spent their winter stake in a blaze of glory +among the bright lights of a sawdust town. Then they went into the saw +mills till it was time to return to the woods in the fall. It was during +the long winter evenings in the bunk houses, with the loggers gathered +about the red-hot stove and the air full of the smell of drying clothes +and tobacco smoke, that the Paul Bunyan tales were born and grew. + +These stories find their original in a French-Canadian, Paul Bunyon, who +first came into prominence during the Papineau rebellion in 1837, when, by +remarkable feats of strength and daring, he won the admiration of his +countrymen. Then for many years he was the outstanding logging boss in all +the St. Lawrence River country. When the loggers from this region went +into the Michigan woods about 1850 they took with them the stories of +their great hero, which stories, naturally, lost nothing in the telling, +particularly as they served admirably as a form of compensation device for +their feelings of inferiority. Nor is it remarkable that the Yankee +loggers should parody these stories to ridicule the French-Canadians. + +Another element which entered into the making of the Bunyan myth was the +tendency to exaggeration which is common to all of us and which finds +expression on so many occasions. The lumber camps had long been filled +with extreme stories of many sorts, but these were usually only isolated +tales. Many of them had been told to impress the tenderfoot, while many +others had been wish projections, a sort of day-dreaming in which one was +able to do that which he never could accomplish when he had to work with +stern reality. After the French-Canadians brought Paul Bunyon to the camps +and the practice had begun of improving on these stories, it became easy +to invent a new Bunyon tale or connect up one of the other stories with +the Bunyon cycle wherever the need arose for over-awing a tenderfoot or of +securing a refuge from the sense of frustration, or just for simple +amusement. In the process the French-Canadian Bunyon became naturalized +into the Yankee Bunyan and all contact with reality was lost. Bunyan, his +old Blue Ox, Babe, and their exploits grew to fantastic extremes. Size was +never measured in terms of feet or pounds and so it is difficult for us to +give exact dimensions, but it was agreed that the blue ox, Babe, measured +forty-two axehandles and a plug of tobacco between the eyes, while Bunyan +himself once had the misfortune to lose two large logging engines in his +mackinaw pocket and did not find them for a month. + +Yet these stories were never told lightly, for a true lumberjack will +never, by word, look or tone, give any suggestion that these stories are +not the exact truth. In fact elaborate precautions are taken to establish +their veracity and citation of proof is nearly universal. Sometimes the +evidence cited is the word of one from whom the story was heard, for few +of the tales are told as the personal experience of the story teller. The +story came direct from one of Bunyan's loggers, from a pioneer, the Bull +Cook, or some one else equally well informed and reliable. Sometimes the +proof is to be found in the continued existence of something connected +with the story. Thus the lack of stumps in North Dakota is cited as proof +of the fact that Bunyan drove all the stumps into the ground when he +logged off that country, while the story that the Mississippi River was +started when one of Bunyan's water tanks broke is proven by the fact that +the river is still running. + +According to the best authenticated stories, Paul was born in Maine some +time before the Revolutionary War, so far back that a century or so one +way or the other made little difference. He had been a lusty infant and a +good-sizeable boy, but he did not reach his full growth until he went to +Michigan. It was then that he really began his life work of logging off +the regions south and west of the Great Lakes. He gained experience and +some reputation in his logging operations on the Big Onion, the Big Auger, +the Little Gimblet and the Big Tadpole Rivers, but it was the logging of +the Dakotas that really made his reputation. Legend has played around this +event even more than is usual with Bunyan exploits. This was really done +to provide room for the Swedes who were coming to the United States. There +were many lesser things which Bunyan did, most of which are mentioned only +incidentally, such as the logging of Missouri, the accident when he +dragged his skiing pole and so made the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, or +the building of Crater Lake or the Island of Cuba. Later Bunyan went to +the Pacific Coast where he did many mighty feats of landscape engineering; +in fact he largely made the West, but he never seemed to find logging on +the West Coast congenial, probably due to the fact that machinery had +invaded the Western woods by the time he got there. And Paul never could +endure those "pesky" donkey engines. While it was sometimes necessary for +him to resort to the use of power machinery in his cook house, he would +never have it in the woods. Even when he had a crew so large that it took +eight cement mixers to stir the batter for their hot cakes and a +stern-wheel steamer to stir their soup, the Blue Ox could easily haul all +the logs they could cut without help of any donkey engines or any other +such "fandangoes." + +Bunyan, however, was not alone in his logging ventures. He had many +helpers, but none of them were cast in quite such an heroic mould as was +Paul himself. There were the seven axemen who helped him the winter he +logged Dakota, who kept a cord of four-foot wood on the table for +toothpicks, and whose singing could be heard of an evening down on the +Atlantic. There was the little chore boy who turned the grindstone which +was so large that every time it turned around once it was payday. There +was Johnny Inkslinger, the bookkeeper, who made the first fountain pen, +which held twenty-four barrels of ink, and who kept two complete sets of +books, one with each hand. Brimstone Bill cared for Babe and made for him +those wonderful yokes of cranberry wood, which made it possible for Babe +to pull anything which had two ends to it. Big Ole, the blacksmith, had +two tasks. One was to shoe Babe, and every time he did it he had to open +up a new iron mine. The other was to punch the holes in the doughnuts for +the cook. Another helper was Cris Crosshaul, a careless cuss, who was +responsible for taking wrong logs down to New Orleans, which made it +necessary for Paul to bring them back up the river. This was done by +feeding Babe a large salt ration and then letting him drink out of the +upper river. He drank the river dry and the logs came up stream faster +than they went down. Of the other helpers it is perhaps sufficient to +mention only Joe McFrau, who was able to ride anything which ever floated +and in any water, and the two cooks, Sourdough Sam and Big Joe. Sourdough +Sam made everything except coffee out of sourdough. When Shot Gunderson +put his winter's cut of logs into Round River and then drove them around +its whole course three times before he found that it did not have any +outlet, Sam made up a large batch of sourdough and dumped it into the +river and when it got to working it lifted the logs over the divide. But +Sam was seriously injured one day when his sourdough barrel blew up and +Big Joe was employed. His famous Black Duck dinner was so fine that none +of the American loggers cared to eat again for five weeks; but he could +only satisfy the French-Canadians by dumping a car load of split peas in a +boiling lake. + +The most authentic group of Bunyan stories came from the Lake States where +they originated. A comparison of these older stories with the newer ones +from the Pacific Coast shows a marked difference. (And it is noteworthy +that the Bunyan tales never had much of a vogue in the South.) According +to the Lake States version, Bunyan always stayed in the logging camps or +on the drives, he attended strictly to business, while according to the +Western tales he branched out into all sorts of enterprises. The Lake +States tales were the product of the true, the professional lumberjack, +the winter recluse, who was shut in with others like minded with himself +and with none but his kind as auditors. The Western logger was not so +exclusive a type. There were many of the professional loggers, but there +were many men in the woods whose main interest was elsewhere, and so the +story teller did not have such a select audience. There were other +interests in the West to divert Bunyan from his real job and naturally it +suffered in consequence. + +It was perhaps inevitable, but none the less unfortunate, that the Bunyan +stories did not reach the outside world directly from the Lake States +story tellers, but first passed through the hands or mouths of the Western +loggers. Of all the publications perhaps W. B. Laughead, in _Paul Bunyan +and His Big Blue Ox_, published by the Red River Lumber Company of +Minneapolis, has most nearly preserved the Lake States flavor of the +stories. Certainly James Stevens and Esther Shepperd in their books of the +same title, _Paul Bunyan_, have more nearly portrayed the Western Bunyan +than the Eastern one. The same is largely true of the poems here given. +They take the Western point of view, and most of them are Western stories. +The first of these represents the Western conflict between the +professional and the part-time logger, the second is unwarranted in +bringing Noah into the picture, where he does not belong, while the others +all deal directly with the West. But certainly the Western tales make +better stories than do the Eastern ones. + + +PAUL BUNYAN'S TRICK + +This story is one of the well-known Bunyan tales, told from Michigan to +the Coast, which shows some of the professional loggers' scorn for the +part-time logger. + + + Come all you stump ranch loggers and slick shod choker men + And learn how we gathered the round stuff up on the Skinney Ben. + + You fellers call this logging, just sixty cars a day; + We kids beat that when I was young and thought that it was play. + + My first real throw at logging was in Big Ole's camp + When he was racing Bunyan to be the skidding champ. + + From sun till sun he drove us, till we were nearly dead, + And many times in getting up I've met myself going to bed. + + He bought a load of lanterns and made us earn our keep; + The bed bugs even starved to death, we got so little sleep. + + And talk about a driver! Two men must fall and buck + A quarter section every day or they were out of luck. + + Now that was not so very hard as it looks from where you sit, + For there the trees grew close enough to chop one with each bit. + + And every cussed feller used both ends of his swing, + And forests went like snow drifts before an early spring. + + And talk about your skidding; although, perhaps they lied, + They said the trees were in the pond before the echo died. + + But I've seen one yoke skidding for seven falling crews, + And Bunyan bought an iron mine to keep his stock in shoes. + + We sure got out the round stuff, but still we were too slow, + And just a trick of Bunyan's had brought us all our woe. + + 'Twas long and crooked skid roads that made our logging late, + And Bunyan took his old Blue Ox and pulled his skid roads straight. + + Now when you slick shod loggers call this here logging fast, + It sure makes us old timers just hanker for the past. + + +SOME LOGGER + +This is one of the Eastern stories, but with numerous Western additions, +chief of which is the introduction of Noah. + + + In the pre-historic ages, e're the Swedes ruled Minnesota, + Fairest spot in all the Westland was the woodland of Dakota. + + 'Twas a land of timbered ridges long before the axe was known, + And there grew the largest timber on which the sun had ever shown. + + Many tales are told about it, how it grew so very high, + That the tops were broke and shattered where they rubbed against the + sky. + + And no man had ever ventured in that forest deep and dark + Till old Noah got to thinking he would build himself an ark. + + So he looked the timber over and decided it would take + Every tree if he would carry every bird and beast and snake; + + If he just could get it yarded; there he had a serious doubt, + Till Paul Bunyan finally told him he would get the round stuff out. + + So he harnessed up his Blue Ox, took the big logs on the run. + Never even stopped for dinner, worked right through from sun to sun. + + Many logs he dogged together, took three hundred turns a day; + Still Old Noah hollered "Faster," said that snail's pace didn't pay. + + Then old Bunyan got quite peevish, sent the loggers all to camp; + Started hauling in the sections; he'd put Noah on the tramp. + + But he bragged a bit too early, tho each day he hauled eight score, + Noah cleared them off by noontime and sat down and yelled for more. + + Paul got madder than a logger, cussed and jumped upon his hat; + Noah was a domned slave driver, contract didn't call for that. + + But old Noah only guyed him, called his ox a lazy slob, + Then to keep Paul Bunyan working put a bonus on the job. + + Next Paul hooked upon a township and the ox pulled with a will, + But the cable only parted when it caught upon a hill; + + Broke in twenty-seven pieces; the Blue Ox sure had the power; + Then Paul set his splicing record, twenty-six within an hour. + + But he never got discouraged, he would still show Noah that + A true logger always finished anything he started at. + + So he hooked onto the ridges, pulled them all into the mill; + Then they say of real hard labor Noah finally got his fill. + + Thus the task was finally finished, nor was that the only gain: + Naught was left in the Dakotas but a large and level plain + + Save in just two places only, where the logging had begun, + And where all the refuse ridges were left drying in the sun. + + First is called the Black Hills district, there the ancient land still + stands, + And the pile of broken ridges is Dakota's famed Bad Lands. + + +THE YEAR OF THE GREAT HOT WINTER + +This is probably a true Western story. + + + I was punching a half breed roader down on Shoalwater Bay + The year the nights came together, some called it the great dark day. + + We hit the deck at sunrise but the sun never rose at all, + So we sat by the light of the lantern waiting the breakfast call. + + 'Twas an event to call forth stories of wonderful times in the Past, + And I listened to marvelous stories till the Bull Cook's turn came at + last. + + "I was just a lad," he started, "When I worked in Paul Bunyan's camps, + Darkness was nothing in those days for we had volcanoes for lamps. + + "One year we were logging Missouri, before Bunyan came to the coast, + And had just finished building the Ozarks to serve as a snubbing post. + + "We were working down an ice chute almost across the state, + When the weather turned suddenly warmer, hotter than Satan's grate. + + "Twas the year of the great hot winter, hottest I ever felt, + And the ice cakes turned right into steam without even stopping to melt. + + "Well, that was the end of our logging, but Bunyan must look around, + So he left his ox behind him and came to Puget Sound. + + "And when he reached the water he picked himself a tree + And dug it out into a boat and so put out to sea. + + "'Twas cooler on the water and so he sailed around + Till in the Caribbean Sea he finally run aground. + + "For days he tried to float her, but it wasn't any use, + So he went and got his Blue Ox to pull the old tub loose. + + "He gathered all the rigging he could from near and far, + But chains much larger than your leg were stretched into a bar. + + "And all the gear he didn't break was melted by the heat, + And there are lakes all over Texas where the Blue Ox braced his feet. + + "But every bit of timber was pulled loose from that boat + And still the old hulk lay there, she simply wouldn't float. + + "Well, many years have passed since then and it's drifted o'er with sand + And trees have grown upon it until it's solid land. + + "Now boys, that's simply history, as right as God above, + And the little isle of Cuba is the place I'm speaking of." + + The Bull Cook finished up his tale and went about his task, + But there've always been some questions I'd kinder like to ask. + + But he is dead and gathered to old Paul Bunyan's side, + And so I'll never know for sure if that old codger lied. + + +THE CHARMED LAND + +A Western story of one of Paul's greatest feats of landscape engineering. + + + Old Hewey wrought, so I've been taught, six days to make the world; + He built the sky, and rearing high, the mighty mountains hurled; + One only spot he finished not, and then his tents he furled. + + But e're on high, above the sky, he went up out of sight, + With final shout he called about his workers all of might, + And thus he spoke, e're like a cloak he clothed himself with night: + + "Good helpers all, both great and small, this is my last command, + This place you see must finished be that all may understand + I hold it blest 'bove all the rest, the final promised land." + + Old Puget then lined up his men, he asked each one to work, + Three mighty men stood by him then and labored like a Turk, + While all the rest refused the test and did their best to shirk. + + Paul Bunyan drew his fingers through his long and tangled locks, + He hardly spoke but took the yoke and sought his old Blue Ox; + He said "Watch me, I'll build a sea, you two may use the rocks." + + With cunning stroke the soil he broke, he flung the dirt aside; + The rocks he tore with mighty roar and flung them far and wide, + He piled the earth till hills had birth and grew on either side. + + The old Blue Ox he hitched to rocks and tore the big ones out, + He rolled them out and all about and called each one a mount, + And lest I lie, against the sky, they witness if you doubt. + + At reach and bay he dug away, he shaped a thousand isles; + By headlands steep dug channels deep where rippling water smiles; + With generous hand he took the sand and built the beach for miles. + + Like golden gleam of painter's dream he built old Puget Sound, + Where skies of blue the waters woo a thousand isles around, + With emerald sheen they're always green and always spring abounds. + + Then old Cascade took up his spade and reared against the sky, + A row of peaks whose summit seeks a marriage with the sky, + A super land whose wonders grand enchant the human eye. + + Olympus then laid down his pen and built with cunning hand + A place so rare that e'en the air seems wilder and more grand, + Of hill and stream beyond our dream, a greater Switzerland. + + And thus these three, as you may see, beneath the Western skies + Have built a land that's super grand, an earthly paradise; + When God looked down they say it found great favor in his eyes. + + +BUILDING COLUMBIA GORGE + +Bunyan frequently went hunting or fishing, and on such occasions anything +might happen. + + + When Mount Rainier was a hole in the ground, e're Midad made his stake, + The land to the west of the Rockies was all a mighty lake. + + And there of a summer's evening Paul Bunyan came to fish, + For a mess of steelhead salmon was ever his favorite dish. + + With a rod that was only eight leagues long and keen and strong and + light, + And a wondrous fly he'd made himself he lured the fish to bite. + + This day he'd landed some small ones, less than a league in length, + But at last he hooked a beauty that tested the big boy's strength. + + It was fight from the time he hooked it, Oh, boy, but this was bliss! + Who would fool with a pyramid when he could live like this? + + The light line sang through the ferruls and the water foamed like beer, + The big fish raged to seawards but ever he drew it near; + + It was back and forth till the sunset and the stars came out anon. + The fish was giving inch by inch but ever the fight went on. + + 'Twas a fight that once in a lifetime comes to a fisher man, + And having thrilled to its power he's wed to the fishing clan. + + Morning found Paul Bunyan ready to grasp the prize, + But the fish in growing larger had, too, grown wondrous wise. + + And dashing towards the nimrod it tried to foul the line + Around some broken branches of a waterlogged old pine. + + It was nip and tuck for a moment but Bunyan was forced to see + The strong line part like a raveling and the fish go tearing free. + + With one quick burst of anger he sat down limp as a rag, + And when he wended homeward his feet would scarcely drag. + + But rest brought resolution and an overpowering wish: + He'd camp there by that lakeside till he caught that cussed fish. + + For weeks he fished those waters in sunshine and in shade, + A thousand different spots he tried, a hundred lures he made. + + But often as the sunset his dream fish would arise + And sport its lazy beauty before his longing eyes, + + And ever it seemed to laugh at him and ever he madder grew, + He cussed and fought it in his sleep till he knew not what to do. + + But finally said Paul Bunyan, "There's one way left to try, + I'll have that fish by sunset or know the reason why; + + "I'll drain this cussed puddle right through the old Cascades, + And grill this fish for supper on the hottest plate in Hades." + + The old Blue Ox he harnessed, he didn't give a dern, + As around old Mount Baker he took a double turn; + + He almost pulled the Mountain loose but he pulled the Range in two, + And all those inland waters like mad came tumbling through. + + And right where the torrent widened he stood with his mighty spear + And said "I'll get sir mister fish when he comes out through here." + + Well, Paul had his fish for supper and there's no more inland lake, + And the Columbia River rages through right where he made the break. + + Now some say this is a fable, but I know that it is true, + For I have it straight from a logger, just as it's told to you. + + +BUILDING CRATER LAKE + +This story reflects something of the Northwesterner's scorn and contempt +for California and Californians. + + + I camped one year by Crater Lake, in the State of Oregon, + And there I met a pioneer who lived by trap and gun. + + And often of an evening by the camp fire's ruddy light, + He told me how the West was made and of great men of might. + + He told of the two Joe McFraus, the one whose name was Pete, + And how he labored for his board to get enough to eat. + + And also of the Terrible Swede who gloried in a brawl, + One day he fought the riot squad and licked them one and all. + + But master of the mighty men he loved to tell the best, + The tales of old Paul Bunyan and how he built the West. + + He told of how he built the Sound, and how once on a spree + He dug the Strait of Bering to drain the Arctic Sea. + + And how he split the old Cascades, and, by the way, said he, + "That reminds me of this very lake and how it came to be." + + And so he smoked of my cigars and sampled my home brew, + And told the tale about the lake and swore that it was true. + + He said it was the very time when Bunyan pulled in two + The Cascade Mountains and thus let the Columbia River through; + + He said the Blue Ox braced his feet and came within a dime + Of pulling California loose from its sunny clime. + + And he swore 'twas true as gospel, that day the "Native Son" + Had first come down from out the trees to see what could be done. + + Well, Bunyan listened to their wail, and checked his ox of blue, + Then staking down the southern end had pulled the range in two. + + Then when he finished up his job he just pulled up the stake, + And water ran into the hole and there was Crater Lake. + + Now you can take this tale or not, he swore that it was true, + And I don't think he'd lie to me while drinking my home brew. + + +THE DEATH OF THE BLUE OX + +This story, better than any other I know, shows the characteristic +weaknesses of the lumber industry. + + + This is a tale of the West land, the fartherest end of the earth; + A tale of the great Northwest land where every man proves his worth. + + Cascade was king of the mountains, Puget was lord of the sea; + Though Paul Bunyan took their orders, mightiest of all was he. + + He dug the Sound for old Puget, he built the Peaks for Cascade, + Like the last great dream of a Painter, the Olympic Mountains he made. + + But he was gyped by St. Helens on plans for a mountain mold, + So he pastured his ox and traveled to the north in search of gold. + + He stopped at the mighty Yukon, it looked like a likely stream; + He never looked to his tailings, he was only after the cream. + + But his plans were too ambitious and they'll tell you to this day + Of how Bunyan panned the Yukon but couldn't make it pay. + + But about that time came rumors which he soon found were true, + How two friends took a contract and could not put it through. + + It seemed that Joe McFrau and his friend, The Terrible Swede, + Had started to earn a grub stake on which they stood in need. + + They started to level the Prairies, but their knowledge was not an iota, + So soon the two were stranded in the Bad Lands of Dakota. + + They wrote to old Paul Bunyan and asked if he would bring + His old Blue Ox and help them finish the job in the spring. + + So Bunyan took his Blue Ox and started on his way, + Right in the dead of winter, for he wanted to finish in May. + + But hills and plains were buried full two squaws deep in snow, + And Passes were filled to the summit, so they told him 'twas foolish to + go. + + But Paul would not listen to reason; he had too much faith in his bull, + He swore that the snow couldn't stop him e'en though the Great Basin was + full. + + But as they reached the Rockies and camped by a pile of rocks, + The snow came down so thickly that he couldn't see his ox. + + The temperature dropped swiftly, it seemed a hundred below; + The coals from the fire were frozen before they had ceased to glow. + + You've often heard of blue cold and wondered if it was true, + But it got so cold that winter that even the snow was blue. + + The Blue Ox froze and Bunyan was never the same again, + He wandered, God knows whither, away from the haunts of men. + + But clear to the end of history and wherever the loggers may go, + You'll hear how perished the Blue Ox in the year of the great Blue Snow. + + +RIDING SUNSET FALLS + +This story is one of the minor cycle, dealing with Bunyan's helpers, but +one in which Bunyan himself does not figure. It is the absence of the +great hero which makes it possible to introduce the love note here. + + + Come all you friends of the Red Gods and I will tell you a wonderful + tale + Of the time when all men were he-men who followed the Wanigan trail. + + It happened the year of the big wind up on the river Ski, + The snow was deep in the mountains and the river was running high. + + Joe McFrau was the boss of the crew and king of the river dogs; + He walked like a bear on the solid ground but was light as a cat on the + logs. + + They had reached the break of the river where Sunset Falls foams white, + Where the Red Gods laugh at the might of men and dance in the evening + light. + + Where the water roars down a devil's chute, pure white like a river of + milk, + And fairy rainbows come and go like ever changing silk. + + The river above is wide and calm and lures like a siren's song, + But the crest of the falls is swift and dark and cruel and fierce and + strong. + + And down below where the water strikes the great waves break like rain + And the creamy waters heave and sigh like a river god in pain. + + But close beside the catarack lived the hunter John McGraw + With a winsome daughter Rosa who had smiled at Joe McFrau, + + She stood below by the water, watching the white foam fly, + And the logs that her Joe was driving like straws come whirling by. + + And above McFrau was thinking what a picture, fair, she made, + How she seemed to love the water and was not a bit afraid. + + But even as he watched her he saw her slip and fall; + He was stricken dumb and helpless, he could neither move nor call. + + But as a press on the trigger came her despairing cry, + With one great leap he was riding a log that was drifting by. + + Right in the maw of the torrent! My God! was the man insane? + Few men entered that catarack; none ever came out again. + + And now to ride with the log drive! 'Twas crazy suicide! + Who would dream he'd been hit so hard that he'd want to die at her side? + + But he rode like a fiend incarnate. They stood with eyes apop. + They knew each plunge would drown him, but ever he rose to the top. + + It seemed an age they watched him, a dozen times go down, + Each time a little longer, but I guess frogs never drown. + + At last he reached the bottom, the men all gave a cheer, + But his thoughts were on that curly head and he didn't seem to hear. + + And presently he spied her, a dozen feet away, + Sometimes lost in the billows, scarcely seen for spray. + + But he plunged into the water and brought her safe to land + And laid her on a bed of moss, though scarcely he could stand. + + But Rose was no worse for the wetting, and I'll be a son of a gun, + If she didn't turn round and marry a Swede named Peterson. + + Well, Joe got drunk as a devil and swore he didn't care; + He'd pulled a stunt on the river that no one else would dare; + + And a man was a fool to marry, but he hoped the square head Swede, + Would still remember to thank him when he had ten kids to feed. + + And wherever the drivers gather and wherever white water calls, + They tell how the crazy Frenchman rode the Sunset Falls. + + +What is the real significance of these stories? In the first place they +are highly entertaining, with their remarkable flights of fancy and the +introduction of the unexpected. This is enhanced by the tang of the pine +woods and the lure of the great out-of-doors. In the camps they served to +while away many a weary hour and to lighten up the seriousness of many a +knotty problem. They brought the gigantic tasks of the great woods down to +manageable proportions and saved many a logger from an inferiority +complex. Since they have come into civilization many a task has been made +easier by their rare humor. + +Perhaps it is pendantry to try to find in these impossible tales of the +illiterate lumberjacks anything except what they consciously put there; a +beautiful fancy to brighten the weary days and nights of the long winters. +But sometimes the unconscious contributions are of more significance than +the conscious, for we often do more than we mean. Such seems to have been +the case here, for these uncouth story tellers have given us some insights +into their lives and their industry. Unconsciously these tales reflect the +absorption of these men in their tasks. The men who made these tales were +men with a far greater interest in the woods than the stake they were to +take out in the spring, whatever might have been true of those who +repeated them. Here is a love of the woods and of a woodsman's life which +has the ring of reality. These were men with a pride in their industry and +in good work. If they had any interest in religion or morals or art it was +likely like that of Jim Bludso, the river engineer, of whom John Hay says: + + "And this was all the religion he had, + To treat his engine well, + Never to be passed on the river, + And to mind the pilot's bell." + +Such were these lumberjacks. Their religion, their whole life, was to cut +and haul as many logs as possible, and then in the spring to drive these +logs down river to the saw mill. And he was greatest in the camp who could +fell a tree most accurately and quickly, pile logs highest on the sleds, +or ride a log in the roughest water. And the camp boss had to really be +boss: he must be able to handle obstreperous loggers, he must provide for +all the needs of his crew without any molly-coddling, and he must be able +to get out the round stuff. In all of these ways Paul Bunyan is the +idealization of the lumberjack. + +But the stories reflect the weaknesses as well as the strengths of the +loggers and of the industry. This is best shown in the story of the Death +of the Blue Ox, which pictures Paul as a poor business man, opinionated +and headstrong, three traits which were by no means rare in the lumber +industry. After all, Bunyan never really did grow up, he was always only a +boy, with great loyalty to his immediate group, but with but little social +responsibility or provision for the future. He was a primitive man, never +fully civilized. It is significant that there is not a suggestion of love +in the whole cycle of Bunyan stories, and that we must go outside of the +genuine Bunyan stories to find anything such. After they left Bunyan some +of his helpers might fall in love, but not Bunyan or any of the men while +they were with him. To be sure, Bunyan was married, but there is no trace +of affection between him and his wife, and she rarely even enters the +picture. There was no place for such incongruous things. Bunyan was out of +place in the modern world. He was never a conservationist, never a +business man; in the pine woods and on the Yukon he was only after the +cream. + +The reign of Bunyan is over and he has gone. Some say he is dead, others +that he has gone to Alaska, some think he has gone to South America or +Africa, but nearly all agree that he is no longer in the logging game in +the United States. A new era has come, and not the greatest of the +revolutions is the substitution of power machinery for the ox. The logger +is coming to recognize his social responsibility, timber is being utilized +as a social heritage to be managed for posterity, and the isolation of the +camps has been ended. The logging game is becoming civilized and Bunyan +was not able to make such great adjustments. He had to retire to other and +wilder haunts. The great days are over; the old gods are dead, and Bunyan +is only a myth. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Paul Bunyan and His Loggers, by +Otis T. Howd and Cloice R. 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