The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, August 20, 1935, page 1


    In our mess hall, one enrollee criticized another for vulgar speech, declaring that it spoiled his appetite and held wager that the vulgar-talking individual did not talk that way at home to his mother. To which the guilty young man replied: "Of course not, but we are not home; we're in the 3C's."
    That raises the question: "What are we here for?"
    Most of us are here to be built into decent upstanding men of character--the kind who always have the edge when it comes to getting jobs.
    Fellows, that's the attitude we should take. We are learning to love to work for the physical benefits we, ourselves, are getting. The fresh mountain air, the rules of clean living and character building should inspire us to be literally born anew. We should learn to treat each other as brothers, willing to sacrifice selfish benefits for the mutual benefits of all. Many of us, it is true, have been hard hit financially. We are still sore at the world and the people in it. But now is the time to forget our grudges, turn our snarls into smiles. It is easier for us to act like gentlemen and display those virtuous qualities that were born in us. It is safe to say that we all had some kind of training in childhood days. We are not a bunch of rowdies. If we were, we would be out robbing banks and not doing honest work for a living.
    "Breathes there a man with soul so dead who never to himself hath said: This is mine own, my native land."
    We are here because we are Americans. Our government is doing all it can to make us good Americans. YOU, you fellows who had the wrong idea about it--won't you join us in being the upstanding sort of fellows who will be able to find happiness through clean living, clean speech, and brotherhood.
    You won't regret respecting the other fellow's appetite.  
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, August 20, 1935, page 2


    "Bill" W. L. Jones, construction superintendent for the Rogue River National Forest, has served the Forest Service in various capacities for many years--almost since there was a Forest Service.
    He is tall, blond, handsome and powerfully built. While the hot winds and suns of some fifty-nine summers have given him a permanent, leathery bronze, and the frosts and snows of as many winters have slightly impaired the functioning of his joints, he neither looks nor acts his age.
    He likes, or at least appreciates, good-looking girls, apple pie, milk, archery, his job, and last but not least, his family.
    His peculiarities, too, are few. There are but two, in fact: one which is common to many men who have spent the greater part of their lives out-of-doors--the desire to be alone, to commune with nature in absolute solitude, to lie there among the veterans of the forest with face toward the stars and dream of days gone by, and of the day when every woodsman will be truly a king; and the other--one that reminds us that perhaps after all there is something to the theory of reincarnation--is his absolute insistency in orienting his bed, his sleeping bag or blanket as the case may be, according to the cardinal points of the compass, namely, his head must point to the north and his feet to the south.
    He generally drives to a point near where he expects to do his next day's work, picks out a little-used road or trail, drives or walks five or six miles back into the forest, and makes camp. During the recent epidemic of lightning fires he was forced, due to darkness and an untrustworthy car, to camp only a short distance from the highway near Prospect. He built his fire, laid out his bed, and prepared to "roll in."
    It should be explained here that the woods in this vicinity were alive with CCC boys from Camp Upper Rogue. Some were on their way to fires, some were returning from fires, and still others were just "beating the brush" looking for fire. It wasn't long before they spotted Bill's camp fire and immediately proceeded to extinguish it over his objections. He explained that he was a member of the Forest Service, that he was just camping for the night, and that it was permissible for him to have said fire; but his arguments were of no avail. The boys simply stated: "We were told to put out all the fires we could find, and we are going to do it." Bill gave up and allowed them to put the fire out and leave. Then, regardless of the fact that it was not cold, he rebuilt his fire. Within a few minutes another group of boys arrived and repeated the performance of the first group. Bill was really mad by this time, but his affinity for fire caused him to again rebuild it.
    Between the hours of 10:00 p.m. [omission] this operation was repeated five times. During the confusion that resulted, Bill's bed had been disturbed and displaced, his compass lost, the skies overcast. Being unable to properly orient his bed again, he was forced to spend the rest of the night sitting with his back to a tree.
    Now, Bill, during his confidential moments, admits companionship and protection of his fellow men at night. Of the efficiency of the CCC boys he says little, but there is a new and strange light in his eyes; a light that bespeaks of a new understanding.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, August 20, 1935, page 5


    Out in the lonely Oregon wood, where the joys of city life cannot always be found, it does a man's heart good to forget the lonesome strife that follows him around.
    So boys, just let us tell a tale or two, of what some of us sometimes do. And cheer the other fellow and he will cheer you.
    Frank Rodriguez, otherwise known as dishwasher, is getting popular as a table waiter. Connie McGlenn says the fires are too hot for him so he is now in the kitchen. But those three days off get rather monotonous. Connie has not found out yet why the barber is not going to cut hair any longer. Will somebody please tell him.
    Advertisement. You too can learn how to write love letters in a short time. Reasonable rates, satisfaction guaranteed. For references see Bill Heinrich, Professor Taylor's Letter Writing School.
    Spook Healing and Dead Indian Serrano almost settled differences by the ax system.
    What is the attraction in Union Creek for Hilde? Was it the black shirt and orange tie that caught the eyes of the fair ladies in Prospect or was it the man named Thomas, at the weekly shindig. Bill Smith has lost his appetite, but it's OK boys, he found a dog's.
    Slim Hagstrom, the fire wizard of the morning, finds a fire in any tent but his own.
    George Kuppers has been going to the bugs lately. He has found a few rare specimens around camp.
    Ernie, the first aid man, has been doing a lot of practicing lately with horseshoes. He hopes to beat the doctor one of these fine days.
    Mr. Hill, popular mind reader for the camp, gave up when he came to Tarzan.
    Frenchy still can't figure out how a tree grew in front of him while chopping up a log.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, August 20, 1935, page 6


    Now that the cold weather has set in and as time goes forward, we will wake up one morning to find the ground covered with snow, which means that during this change in climate there will be also a change in enrollees; some men from the East will soon be traveling toward their beloved New York, New Jersey, and points east, while we of California shall move in the not too distant future to, we hope, to a more neighboring vicinity, at least to within thirty miles to a point of transportation to be bedded down for the winter.
    With the leaving of some or whatever number of the Eastern boys who intend to go back home we hope sometime they will look back and smile with kind thoughts of the days spent in our Western climate; to those of you who go east soon, may we of 1993 extend our good wishes for a pleasant journey eastward, and that the bonds of friendship between us has been strengthened far more than it was thought possible to be; and so we say farewell; good luck, and good will.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 16, 1935, page 1


    One o'clock the boys were rounded up. Some wanted to go and some didn't; most of the boys were rather skeptical about going. Only two volunteers, Zig, from Buffalo, N.Y., and Butch Pezzola, from Frisco, two boys that didn't know what they were running up against.
    4:30 p.m. the whistle blew; all boys loaded up into "Turk's" Flying Special, and were off. First lap of the journey was completed in Medford, at the warehouse. After a 59-mile trip, the boys ate lunch consisting of some special sandwich spread and cantaloupes. Coffee was distributed by the warehouse boys; Turk exchanged his special for a brand-new Chev. "What a break." There were trucks from Upper Rogue, South Fork, Elk Creek, and Applegate, seven in all, but just before that the boys had a green pear fight.
    Souvenirs were carried away, consisting of large bruises on some of the heads. The caravan started again. All the boys were in good humor because it was still warm--but as soon as it became dark and the air rather chilly, the boys were not so gay.
    The second lap of our journey was completed in Roseburg, at the Roseburg warehouse. All trucks were gassed up, and again we ate a little lunch, more delicious cheese sandwiches, and cantaloupes, "forest fire specials." A half hour's rest was given and the caravan proceeded. The night wind howled, and the boys wrapped themselves in blankets and quilts, tucking themselves in and over their heads to keep warm. Some of the lucky ones found room on the floor of the truck, and slept fairly well.
    Second lap consisted of 155 miles. In much misery we proceeded from Roseburg to Eugene. Many stops were made along the highway, and Uncle Sam's young army of fire fighters thundered on through the night. There was one special stop for our buddy, William Smith, the boy with the prize appetite. He spotted a plum tree and went to town. He picked enough plums to last him for two days, besides making four rounds to every meal at camp.
    Arriving at Eugene, the trucks were greased again. The boys tried to thaw out, but much to their disappointment the trucks proceeded immediately to the fire camp, 55 miles more of tough riding in the night wind. We arrived at the fire camp at 5:00 a.m. Friday morning, completing 12½ hours of travel. Upon arrival at camp, all the gang unloaded "pronto." A beeline was made for the closest bonfire; after a few hours' struggle with our stoves, Avery Bevil sounded breakfast call! Following breakfast, Lieutenant Rosenbaum gave orders for the boys to rest up as much as possible. Our camp was situated next to the Bell CCC Camp 927. A few of the boys managed to slip in for a shower. Later, the shower room was locked; "why," no one knew. 10 a.m., 2 hours later, without sufficient rest or sleep we received orders to go to the fire line. Each man carried his own tools; a sufficient supply of water was carried by each man. Three hours of strenuous climbing over fallen timber and rocky trails. The word "timber" was shouted quite frequently. The boys reached the top of Mt. Finley; immediately they commenced to build fire trails.
    By six o'clock that evening the greater part of the fire was under control. During the day first aid man Malcolm Jefferies was treating many sprained ankles, bruises and bad feet. We sure appreciated Jeff's help. At six o'clock the gang was relieved by a local crew and the dreary trudge down the mountainside was started. Every so often someone would yell out, "Look out below." A few moments later rocks would come tumbling down the mountainside, caused by the slipping of some one of the gang. After a lot of tumbles and slides the gang was at the bottom ready to go to camp, 2½-mile trip. 8 o'clock, the boys rather tired, did not even wash up; mess kits were picked up on the "fly" and a dash was made for the mess line.
    The supper consisted of stew, lettuce, tomato salad, steaming hot coffee, bread and butter, plenty of "seconds." After supper, the boys gathered around the bonfires; each group had individual fires. The boys talked about the incidents of the day, but when Walt White came over and gave us the sad news about getting up at 3 a.m. in the morning all hands checked in, spread their blankets on the ground and went to sleep.
    Three a.m. next morning, Lieutenant Rosenbaum gave the boys a call. The morning air was cool and frisky. In a short while the boys were ready to eat, feeling a lot better than the previous morning. After breakfast Captain Pierce inspected the boys' shoes, and those that needed them were given a new pair of boots. The boys sure appreciated the clean woolen socks, and a great help they were on the stiff climbs up the mountainside. Bedrolls were given to those who did not have enough bedding. Plenty of trucks loaded with food were moving in; nobody complained about that food. Pieces of square cloth was distributed among the boys to carry their lunches in and make climbing easier with tools on the shoulders.
    A can of tomatoes was given to every two men; fruit such as oranges, fresh peaches were also given to the boys.
    [illegible] the crew [illegible] including Upper Rogue crew. A new trail was taken this time, "the mule trail." It sure was a "pip." Talk about dust, the boys were covered with it from head to foot, one couldn't tell one from another. Men were posted along the trail to guard the trails, so the fire [illegible] over; the work was a little easier in the afternoon and went well until the fire jumped trail in two places. All men were called to this particular spot, and all worked feverishly; in two hours the boys had it again under control. 5 p.m., and it was quitting time! "Let's go" was passed up the line, and the boys proceeded down the mountainside with black faces and big smiles; some of the boys had close calls in the afternoon, when a falling snag missed them and the spot where the fellows had been bucking a log, the saw put into an accordion shape! The flying limbs struck some of the boys, but none were injured seriously.
    Once more the crew arrived at camp tired and hungry; a hot meal awaited them, and they surely enjoyed it. The evening was rather quiet; all the boys went to bed early!
    Sunday, what a break; one extra hour sleep, then after a hurried breakfast back into the trucks and away to the fire line again.
    Another tedious climb, led by our good leaders White and John Goodell; again we reached the top. During the next fifteen minutes the men were posted along the fire line. Most of the day was spent patrolling and falling snags; throughout the day precaution was taken to prevent further damage. At 5 p.m. the boys hit the trail for the base camp, and their surprise was when they received a special hot meal with ice cream! given with a smile by Lieutenant Rosenbaum.
    After supper religious services were held by the district chaplain, then off to bed again. Monday the boys were given a few extra hours sleep on account of the fire being so well in hand. The crew went out again, but the work consisted mainly of packing cans of water up the mountain and putting out smoldering snags.
    At 2 o'clock the boys got another break; it was quitting time this time. All the boys washed up some and waited for mess call. Supper was served, with watermelon as a side dish! Tuesday morning the boys were up about 4 a.m., earlier than usual. A good breakfast was served, and after the meal was finished they received the very welcome news to prepare to "shove off" back to camp! What a happy bunch; they all started to sing songs, dance around and yell; after policing up the grounds and inspection of missing articles was made by Lieutenant Rosenbaum, all were loaded into trucks and the caravan started, and this time it was for home!
    The trip back to camp was enjoyed very much, as all the scenic spots along the highway was observed keenly by the men. Some of the beautiful sights the boys seen were the Eugene power plant, the McKenzie River; beautiful orchards made the boys' mouths water. After a tiresome ride the crew arrived at Medford. All were fed, then the last lap to camp began.
    Arriving at camp, the boys were welcomed by some of their buddies, and all made their way to the showers, where hot water awaited them. Thanks to "Tarzan" for keeping the water hot. Later the boys made their way to the mess hall, where hot coffee and chocolate cake awaited them.
    And so ends our biggest thrill and our largest fire.
    Over two thousands acres of timber was destroyed, and about 2200 men from all over the country fought this fire. There was but one death that we heard of, caused by a falling snag.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 16, 1935, page 1


    Do you know that within ten miles of Union Creek there is a tract of land so rightfully called Huckleberry Mountain? If you are doubtful as to the truthfulness of this statement, just follow the road that leads to the north and east of Crater Lake Highway from Union Creek, Oregon. After some ten miles of stiff climbing following a road recently built and maintained by the CCC's you will come to acres and acres of huckleberry bushes. It is estimated there are several thousand acres of these, the most coveted of all berries.
    In the heart of the patch is located the Huckleberry Mountain guard station, built and maintained by the Forest Service. At the station lives a genial Forest Service ranger, Mr. Doug Finch, and his pleasant wife. His duties are many and varied. The chief one of these of course is to spot fires. Hundreds of people come here to gather huckleberries. It is not an uncommon thing to see as many as a hundred different camps at this time of year. There is a certain area restricted for camping, and the Forest Service through their agent, Mr. Finch, and four CCC men from Co. 1993, Union Creek, do all in their power to make the grounds pleasant as well as sanitary for this large group of people.
    In the evening, after a hard day's berry picking, usually a large group of campers will congregate at one tent and spend the evening talking, singing, listening to instrumental music or even dancing on the ground.
    It is a trip well worth taking for anyone who has never been there, and a treat for those who have been there to go again.
    Let's thank the Forest Service for another ideal pleasure spot and a profitable one also.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 16, 1935, page 2


    Way down yonder in the cornfield--
    Napoleon Tomato Benson, energetic canteen steward, is the talk of the camp. He sits in a chair to stand up for his rights; he mows the lawn with Linden's hair clippers. He carves his initials in the new tables at the camp ground. He'll meet his Waterloo in a powerful bottle of 3.2 [beer].
    Swede Callahan did a little fancy gobbling Labor Day to walk off with high honors in the chocolate cream pie eating match.
    Hungry Smith and Appetite Art Kelly claim that although they are not speed demons they will challenge any ten men to an endurance contest. (To your colors, Callahan!)
    Wes (Senie) Ragsdale says that California Juniors are all right; it's the world that is wrong--
    "Get Up" Downes, the titian-haired gent from New York, loves a parade. He leans on his shovel and watches the weary minutes go tramp, tramp, tramping by.
    Did you ever seen a dream walking? Hawkley's 6 a.m. stride down "Det Op" lane is a heavenly picture.
    (Mae West's No Angel) Holmes is author of an anti-cussin' campaign. When one of his pals bellows out an undesirable interjection after hitting his finger instead of the nail, poor Richard pounces on his adversary's arm and viciously proceeds to pelt it until the unpardonable wails "1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9" etc.
    Nosebag Watts, the "try to starve me" powder monkey, swallowed his harmonica in the excitement following receipt of an affectionate epistle from his sweetie pie back in Bakersfield.
    That ill-sounding excuse spontaneously began playing "Yes, Sir, That's Mah Baby" and the boys began to hurl hobnail boots--it's an old California custom.
    Honest Jess Hill posted a wordy advertisement to the effect that he had found a packet of shaving cream and that the individual who lost it might recover same upon proper identification. Four sad-looking youths properly identified it. Honest Jess recently shaved off one cookie duster and a grizzly beard. (Pass the dictionary, you mug.)
    Yes, and if Jimmy Walker can wear one, so can I. Would you like to take a walk? Are you going to the dance, Mr. Holmes?
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 16, 1935, page 2


    We are sorry to hear of so many of the boys confined to the infirmary lately, due to accidents acquired while performing their duty at their various jobs. Luke Coop was injured while working with a drag saw; Francis Cookman is or was confined to the infirmary due to too much watermelon, mixed with beer. Our friend Red Wanderburg, having an infected finger on his right hand, caused from a splinter, Red is worried 'cause he can't write his girl. Newton Marks, now at Medford headquarters as office clerk, was in bed for an infection on his right hand, caused by a scratch while forging his way through the brush in the dark at a forest fire in the vicinity of Quartz Mountain.
    Pee-Wee Friedman, having too much vigor, consumed an overquantity of "pop"; Maurice Portigual having scratches on his right hand caused by too much card playing! Muris Murison, better known as Mae West, being confined because of oversmoking of his new pipe and too much watermelon--
    Creighton Stothers, better known as "Corky," had a deep gash on his knee from his ax at a forest fire--
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 16, 1935, page 5


    With the ending of the fifth enrollment period, we find many of the boys yearning for the comforts of home before the snow begins to chill their toes and it becomes more difficult to climb out of their beds in the freezing atmosphere on a cold morning.
    The boys from "thoity-thoid avenue in Joisy" have exceeded all expectations. We expected to have more than a dozen leaving. But the old camp has given them a new slant on life, and has proven to be somewhat of a home to most of them.
    Their first impression of our camp was not complimentary. But according to some of the more prominent "thoid avenuers" they have struck a balance. We hope they continue to look upon our camp in that respect. But on the morning of September 20, thirteen of them on detached service from Camp Elk Creek at this camp will return to that company to be given their final walking papers. We are sorry to see them go, and hope our camp has added materially as well as physically and mentally to their well being.
    Of the present total, 106, not including men attached to this organization, there will be 27 men leaving for the golden shores of California, which will leave the company strength down to a minimum of 79, but with many others changing their minds, we will see fewer men staying.
    As far as has been ascertained, the company will leave for Camp Carberry very shortly. We expect to find a suitable camp site there, but we will leave our present site with regret, for we know that we have one of the most excellent camps in the Medford District. We will, if possible, maintain the record that Camp Upper Rogue has attained since settlement.
    We are all sorry to know that our mess officer, Lieutenant Cochran, has to leave us. He is being transferred to Camp South Umpqua, another camp in Oregon. He also regrets leaving Camp Upper Rogue, as he has taken a great interest here. Many lucky breaks, Lieutenant!
    Also, to all of you who are leaving, we wish luck on your new enterprises in the field of hard knocks. And so we say adieu . . .
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 30, 1935, page 1


    September 19, 1935, at 3:00 p.m. the fire gong sounded. 25 men were wanted to go help put out a forest fire at Gasquet, California. The boys loaded into trucks with blankets, overcoats and extra shirts, for they say it's cold riding to them fires after darkness. Lee Goodman and Frank Ragsdale were our leaders, Mr. Goodman being our foreman. We led the way when trucks were assembled. When we reached the point where the trucks were to stop we walked about three miles over hills through brush and whatnot until the fire came into view, when we were soon digging fire trenches, cutting snags and working like beavers. The fire lasted three days, and Saturday, Sept. 21, it was a lucky break for us when it started to rain, and we knew our trouble had come to an end. Although we got pretty wet while at the fire and coming home it nevertheless done much good for the fire. Lee Goodman bought us smokes, our food was good, and we even had ice cream at that fire.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 30, 1935, page 1


    Things that are gone: L.E.M. C.C.C. companies
    What we now read as history included in the C.C.C. setup what was known as L.E.M. companies. These companies were organized for relief of men without regard to the set age limit for C.C.C. relief. Local men were enrolled and were worked on projects as near their place of enrollment as feasible. The letters L.E.M. designate Local Experienced Men.
    In April 1935, the setup of the C.C.C. was changed and the L.E.M. companies were a thing of the past. The men were transferred to junior companies, allowing fifteen L.E.M. to a junior company. So the history of Company 1993 reads: It was formerly L.E.M. Company 1747, located at Elk Creek near Trail, Oregon, and in May 1935 Company 1747 was a thing of the past and Company 1993 appeared in its place, a California junior company. The company is made up principally of men from Los Angeles and San Francisco, their outlying communities contributing.
    The company is now in summer camp at Union Creek, Oregon, one of the many beauty spots in Oregon. The company is making an enviable record for themselves here and they are getting valuable experience which in years to come will be an inspiration and a help to them. They are taking an active part in the construction of a permanent camp and recreation grounds at Union Creek, which will add materially to the beauty of the place as well as real comfort to all who visit Union Creek. Permanent buildings equipped with modern improvements are being built. The most interesting of these is the community kitchen. It is an artistic log structure provided with a four-way fireplace stove. The floor is of local flagstone. The entire setting is in its natural setting, and as little of nature has been disturbed as possible.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 30, 1935, page 2


    "I'm fed up, fed up with this camp; fed up with everything," said Bill Heinie as he jumped from his bed. "I'm going to leave this place. I was crazy to sign up!"
    Bill had been going to quite a few fires up to a week ago, and he was a fool for punishment and was restless for another of those long hikes through the brush country to the fire, and he was a h--- of a worker.
    Bill was used to traveling. There was not a railroad in the United States or Canada he had not rode the freights on; and most fellows believed that was the reason for his restlessness.
    The other four fellows in the tent woke up from a half slumber when Bill yelled and saw him gazing at a small picture on the wall above his bed; and he whispered a word, so no one heard but a mumble, but right then the knew he had cupid trouble. For in that picture was the face of a girl that he had been going with for two years.
    One week later Heinie was called into the office to see the Captain. Said Captain Daly, "Heinie, here's a letter from the principal of your school up in Seattle, who says you wish to return to school. If you wish to go you may leave tomorrow. You have a good record here, and we would like to have you stay, but it is up to yourself." Heinie thanked the Captain sand said, "If you will make out my discharge I will leave tomorrow, the sooner the better. I'm tired of the C.C.C.," and walked out the door.
    The truck left camp next a.m. about 9:30 with Heinie aboard. He stopped at headquarters for an hour or so and took in a show; 7:15 that evening the train pulled out of town.
    A lonesome feeling seemed to fill Heinie's heart; the train rolled along the track on its journey to Seattle.
    As each mile rolled by, his heart was growing heavier. Something told him that he should not have left the camp. He tried hard to think of his girl waiting for him; the folks would want him back, but it was hard to be cheerful. The names of the men in camp whom he knew kept flashing through his mind, the jokes and the tricks they played on one another; the camp and its surroundings were like a picture he could not take his eyes off of.
    The folks at home did not know what train Heinie was on, so when he got off the train at the station he put his barracks bag over his back and walked to the streetcar.
    Somehow his heart lifted and he felt good to be home; the old town looked familiar; the car reached his corner; he got off, walked up to his house, rang the doorbell and a woman answered. She threw her arms around him and said, "Tell me you're here to stay this time. You have been wandering all over the country and you don't know how much I watch for you."
    Heinie kissed her and said, "Mother, I was a fool to think this world was soft, and now I am here to stay. How is Winona; I sure missed her." His mother dropped her head because she knew the two were in love; she said, "I am sorry to tell you she went to San Francisco yesterday."
    Heinie was silent; he laid his barracks bag down and walked upstairs and then he sat down for a minute, and everything seemed lost.
    A week slowly crawled along; all of his hometown friends were married or had moved to another town. It was lonely; nothing seemed to cheer him. His girl was not coming back for a year yet. He sat down, wrote a letter to Captain Daly requesting that he would like to get back in his old camp; soon he was back, and before he was in camp a week he went on the season's biggest forest fire.
    Many young men have left the C.C.C. afterwards wishing to get back again.
    Shortly after Heinie returned to camp a bill was passed by Congress saying men who signed up in the C.C.C. could remain as long as they wished, but if they left the camp before they had been enrolled for four months they could not be re-enrolled.
    Names and places of the above story are fictitious.
    Editor's Note: The story "Those Who Leave" was written by an enrollee now in Upper Rogue, Union Creek Camp, Company 1993 by Harold M. Sharpe, who has just returned from Wimer, where he has been going to cook's school. We wish to thank Sharpe for his willingness to enter this little story, and we hope that as time goes on he will contribute more such interesting articles.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 30, 1935, page 7


    While having a little batting practice at Prospect, Sunday, September 22nd, Francis Callahan wrenched his knee as he swung at a ball and is hobbling about on crutches. He will be unable to work for a few days.
    Andrew Borcyznski, while working with another lad, Luther Coop, cut a deep gash in his right middle fingers while using an ax. It was sewed up and bandaged by Dr. Gillis; Andy is recovering and promises to be more careful in the future while working with an ax.
    After trying to get in the infirmary for two weeks, David Bratspiss went to a forest fire somewhere in the vicinity of California and came back with a little poison oak. The next day it had spread all over his body; he was marked [i.e., confined to] quarters by Dr. Gillis, and now he wants to get back to work, as he thinks he has enough of the infirmary.
    Terry Daniels' finger is healing satisfactorily, and he is becoming impatient, as he doesn't want to lose his title of the "gambling goon," and since being confined to the infirmary, he doesn't get to play so much cards for matches.
    Our baseball hero, "Butch" Pozzala, is, or was, confined to the infirmary for an ailment that it was found necessary to send him to Roseburg hospital for nothing serious, however, and we hope to see Butch back real soon.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 30, 1935, page 7


    On August 22 three members of Upper Rogue left for the cooks and bakers school in Wimer, C.C.C.
    The camp is located 33 miles from Medford. You travel 22 miles north to Rogue River city and turn to your right for eleven miles. The camp is situated on a flat stretch of land and is supposed to be one of the best camps in the district. Thanks to the cooks and bakers, life in the camp, though not at its best, can be made quite enjoyable by the fellows themselves. The food is excellent, and the climate is slightly warmer than is Upper Rogue.
    Some of the boys made a little trouble such as throwing shoes at night and smashing a light or two, to find next morning the Captain having a good idea of who caused the damage and put six of the lads on woodpile duty. Some of the members put some itching powder in a few of the beds, rushing the men to the shower room!
    The recreation hall is the most beautiful that I have ever seen. They have one pool table, one billiard table, a ping-pong table, and a piano and several writing tables with fine reading material. All in all, the members had a fair time, although a few did not do so good and left in the early part of school, but those who remained all received diplomas, either mess steward or first, second or student cooks. Elmer Thomas of this camp passed with a mess steward's diploma, averaging 90%; Joseph Serrana received second cook, and Harold Sharpe student cook.
    The biggest marks were made by Wimer students with a 95% average for the mess steward.
    Major Owens gave the men their diplomas, speaking highly of the school.
    Upon leaving, one of the cooks, Gene Booth of Steamboat camp, broke his leg just as the trucks were ready to take us from Wimer to Medford, where we would depart to our home camps.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, September 30, 1935, page 8


    Now that the forestry service project is nearing completion, we will be losing many friends from Co. 1993.
    On or about the 15th of October many members from Camp Upper Rogue will be leaving for their home towns. Some will go to San Francisco, and others will go back East.
    We will be sorry to see these friends of ours go, but we will be content, having known them and being able to call them friends. We wish they have an enjoyable trip home and will not forget the times spent at good old "Upper Rogue Camp" too soon.
    Some will be sorry to leave, and others will not know whether they are sorry or not. But under all conditions we of the ones remaining bid those who leave us a fond "Adios."
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, October 15, 1935, page 1


    Tuesday afternoon our cook, Harry Despois, was taken for his ride in a wheelbarrow by his two stooges, Williams and Small; they made good their wager of wheeling him up the road to Union Creek and back, and also before return purchased the jug of Rogue Lager, also part of the bet between the kitchen crew and the cook. The only hard part of the ride, so Harry says, is that they found too many mud puddles, and he was in fear of them letting go of the handles and giving him a mud bath along with the beer.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, October 15, 1935, page 1


    After the boys from this company have left the state of Oregon, they can be justly proud. And that is the thought of their having contributed long, hard hours to achieve a definite purpose. That purpose is the beautifying of Union Creek Forest Camp. With the construction of many new buildings, the improving of old ones, clearing out acres of brush, constructing roads out of the heart of the forest, graveling old roads of the forest, making trails along the shores of the river so that anyone can enjoy the scenic beauty of the entire river, and otherwise proving themselves to be expert and capable workmen under all sorts of trying conditions.
    It will not be forgotten soon, the effort the boys have put into their work, their natural interest in constructing something that is needful, the vast improvement they have accomplished in a very short space of time, and mostly the enjoyment they have derived of  beautifying Union Creek.
    That is not the only project which has been accomplished. Hershberger Mountain's old, rocky, worn-down road had been built into a first-class road. It has been graded over many times; tons of rock have been blasted out to widen the road, many trees have been felled, cement culverts have been installed and the road has been lengthened to the top of the mountain. That is something which will increase the number of tourists into that section. It has required many hard days to accomplish, but with a willing crew and the best equipment available to work with, however, there are innumerable small things which also have been accomplished towards making the camp grounds more beautiful. In order to gain a more definite idea of the projects, a person should view the area to be improved and then after it has been completed. Only in this way can the actual amount accomplished be determined.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, October 15, 1935, page 1


    Our stay at Union Creek, Camp Upper Rogue, is just about over. At times we wonder if we have fully appreciated this, one of the wonder spots of our country. Thousands of people from every walk of life come thousands of miles just to visit this wonder spot here, where we have been for the whole summer. Our work here has been to aid in making this area more accessible and more comfortable for those who come here.
    Now the time for leaving is drawing near we can think of numerous more things that we could have done to learn more of these wonders that we have been living among these past few months.
    Imagine yourself here when the great upheaval came; think of all this slope one vast sea of molten lava. Lava beds are to be seen everywhere, and what formations are to be found with very little effort. What is beautiful Crater Lake now was the main source of all this. Rogue River has wound in and about through these beds, finding its path to the sea, sometimes on the surface and sometimes pouring through cracks and crevices in the rocks, completely hidden from the surface.
    Now this vast slope is completely covered with beautiful timber. Some of the trees are enormous, revealing to us some idea of the time that has elapsed since this very ground we are now camped on was a boiling cauldron of melted rock.
    This area is a fisherman's, hunter's and sightseer's paradise.
    Being given this chance to live among such wonders, have we fully appreciated the opportunity and made the most of it?
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, October 15, 1935, page 2


    It's as plain as the nose on Holmes' face--
    "Philippe" (Call Me General) Lang is a carpenter, and a good one. Always building things up; that's the spirit. He built the community kitchen, yes he did too now! Munyer may claim to have done it, but he's an impostor. The General hit the nail on the head at the dinner table, however, when he demonstrated his ability at spelling: "Pass the meat! Pass the meat!! M-E-I-T, meat!"
    They told "Wagon Wheels" Ware, the golden-voiced operatic basso from Arkansas, to try whistling. "If they don't like my singing," he mused, "they probably wouldn't be crazy over my whistling." And so now Ware (Mr. to you, Mac) has decided to learn to play a musical instrument. He is buying a harmonica on the installment plan.
    (She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain.)
    Eddie McGrath has a bone to pick with Dynamite Watts, the powder monkey. Dynamite loaned him a camera, and put the film in for him upside down and inside out. Mr. McGrath risked his life to crawl out and stand on his head on a rock overhanging Crater Lake while a pal snapped the picture. Other daring poses would prove to his girl that he was one man in a million, but the photos didn't turn out and Watts generously offered to lend him the camera and he'd try to get the films in straight this time. Put down that crowbar! (Now, Eddie, he's really sorry.)
    Jimmy Santisteven is the popular guy who reads off the names for work call each morning. And to think he used to be about as important as an admiral in the Swiss navy!
    Ralph Castro owes his success to one statement: "Who is the best truck driver in camp, and why am I?"
    Hello Art Kelly recalls the days when he was up on Burnt Peak Lookout, cooking his own beans; when you'd ask him how many times he'd fallen in love he'd reply bashfully--only one. They made him switchboard operator because he was good at giving the wrong numbers.
    Cynical Dave Simpson owes his remarkable rise in the hall of fame to his natural ability to fit little bozos with big John L's.
    Daniel Terry, the camp's gambler, bet five bucks in a poker game and lost. It taught him a lesson. He bought his own deck of cards. All he has lost since was a finger, and that he chopped off while daydreaming about a royal flush.
    Arthur Stamps says that his inspiration is a cute little girlfriend back in Frisco. But maybe it's only puppy love, Art. A man's best friend is his dog.
    Hiding behind the shield of anonymity (or sumpin'), the writer of this column has been able to avoid serious accidents since taking over Ted Fuller's job last May as Snoops 'n' Scooper. (Ted went to headquarters.) I have managed to keep some of youse mugs guessing as to who the culprit was and what color hair he had. Now since the tomato season is over and since I'll probably be on a train howling its way to Chicago. By the time this goes to press, I'll sign my name. But before I go I wish to say that those unfriendly and sarcastic remarks about Messrs. Terry, Kelly, Watts and Ware were not all in the spirit of fun. I really meant 'em!
    (I owe my success to Scholler's chocolate bars.)
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, October 15, 1935, page 2


    Saturday evening, September 28, the dance at Prospect was not such a success as was contemplated, due to the orchestra not showing up; but those present being instrumentally inclined were kind enough to come to our rescue and done the best they could.
    The following Saturday, October 5th, the dance was held at Rogue Elk; a good crowd was there with a few members from this company, namely, Westly Ragsdale, Frank Linden, who set out for a dance that night, determined to dance someplace and arrived at the dance at Rogue Elk, some forty-odd miles away via the milk wagon. He stumbled home to his "kip" just as the sun woke up, but had not shaken the night from its eyes. All present had a great time, with midnight supper to boot.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, October 15, 1935, page 3


    The question that is foremost in our minds right now is where will we go from here? But up to this time our destinations are to be Gasquet and Elk Knoll; the company will be split, to the satisfaction of everyone we hope. As to where we or each group will end up is yet to be seen. However, due to Lt. Rosenbaum and Mess Sergeant Woods, the men won't be forgotten when the day of departure thrusts itself upon us. Tuesday evening, perhaps Wednesday, a farewell dinner will be given to the men of this camp. Chicken and free smokes will make their appearance on the tables, but we will remember "1993" for some years to come, years to come, with its fun, work, and sorrows. Wherever you may be headed, east, south, north or west, may the best of luck go with all of you. Perhaps someday you may meet a former tentmate of yours from Union Creek either on a freight, in a restaurant, or at a dance; there is one sure thing you can look forward to; of reminiscing about the times spent at Camp 1993. Though you leave mostly friends or comrades, we have gained some experience, and as we go let us give a cheer for the C.C.C.
The Conifer Chatterer, Camp Elk Creek, Trail, Oregon, October 31, 1935, page 1