The Infamous Black Bird Southern Oregon History, Revised

Medford Mascots

Notable pets--the good, the bad--in the history of Medford, Oregon. And some earlier.

    TURK IS DEAD.--This faithful old dog, known to nearly every person in Southern Oregon by his many canine virtues, gave his last kick and uttered his last unavailing whine amid the frosty stillness of Friday night. He came to this valley in '51 in company with his master, who shortly afterwards perished in his cabin, with no watchers save his faithful dog. Before his remains could be prepared for interment, so determined was the resistance of his faithful "Turk" that the dog had to be lassoed and confined. Turk passed through all the Indian wars in Southern Oregon, and done excellent service as a sentinel. Many an arrow and many a bullet directed by the keen eye of savage furies has old Turk escaped. When Turk's various masters followed packing, he always stayed with the mules at night--herded them, prevented their straying off, and always gave timely alarm when danger approached. Many a thousand dollars' worth of property has his watchfulness saved. Admired by all for his many good qualities and for his valuable services, all were his friends. But he has gone to his long home, and no doubt has passed to dog heaven. Turk being dead, the Hon. James Clugage is now the oldest inhabitant of the town.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, November 29, 1862, page 2

Ordinance No. --
THE PEOPLE of the town of Jacksonville do ordain as follows:--
    SEC. 1. That each and every dog owned and kept within the corporation of the town of Jacksonville shall be taxed each, to the owner or keeper thereof, two dollars for every six months (excepting sluts, which shall be taxed two dollars and fifty cents for every six months, to the owner or keeper thereof).
    SEC. 2. And every dog kept or harbored within the corporation of Jacksonville shall wear at all times a leather or metallic collar around the neck, with the name of the owner or keeper in plain and legible letters, written, printed or engraved thereon. But no slut shall be allowed to run at large when in heat.
    SEC. 3. And if any dog be found running at large within the corporation without a collar as aforesaid, and any slut when in heat as aforesaid be found running at large within the corporation, it shall be the duty of the Marshal, and lawful for any person, to kill every such animal. And the Marshal shall receive, for each dog so killed by him, the sum of two dollars, to be paid out of the town treasury, upon his account being presented and audited by the Board of Trustees.
    SEC. 4. It shall be the duty of the Marshal to collect all taxes as aforesaid, and no tax shall be collected for less than six months, and the Marshal shall give his receipt for said tax when paid, in the following form, to wit:
    Received of A-- B--, ------ dollars tax for six months (as the case  may be) upon his, the said A. B.'s dog, or slut, called ------.
------- ------, Marshal.
Jacksonville, Oregon, ------, 186--.
    SEC. 5. Any person owning or keeping any dog or slut within this corporation, refusing or neglecting to pay said tax, as aforesaid, shall be liable to a fine of not more than five nor less than three dollars, which may be on the complaint of the Marshal before the town Recorder.
    SEC. 6. All taxes collected by virtue of the provisions of this ordinance (the Marshal deducting therefrom twenty-five percent of the amount for his fees) shall, within thirty days after the receipt thereof, be paid over to the town Treasurer, for the use of the town.
    This ordinance shall be in force ten days from and after its publication.
    Passed October 29th, 1863.
Attest: U. S. HAYDEN, Recorder.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, October 31, 1863, page 2  This ordinance was also printed in the Oregon Intelligencer, October 7, page 4.

    RECORDER'S COURT.--On complaint of Marshal Banks, O. Jacobs, Esq., on Tuesday appeared before the town Recorder, U. S. Hayden, to answer for refusing to pay a tax on his poodle dog, as required by a recently enacted ordinance. There was full as large a crowd in attendance to watch the progress of the trial as there was at the last mass meeting of the "Democracy." J. D. Fay, Esq., attorney for the plaintiff, and Jacobs & Russell for the defense. Able, eloquent, sharp and witty speeches were made by the legal gentlemen. The dog law was torn to shreds, reconstructed, dissolved, and again made whole. At dark the trial closed, and the Recorder, taking the matter under advisement, adjourned the Court. Today we learn the Court has decided that the proceedings were irregular, and dismissed the suit. We understand that another suit will be instituted.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, December 26, 1863, page 2

    CATS.--Jacksonville is so stocked with the common house cat that they have become a serious nuisance. They caterwaul, fight and steal through the night, and kill young chickens, and commit all sorts of depredations by day. It is becoming a serious question as to what disposition is to be made of them. Dogs, traps, and poison seem to be alike ineffectual, and firearms are impracticable.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, March 28, 1868, page 3

    LOOK OUT FOR YOUR DOGS.--Marshal Wall has posted a notice that he will enforce the ordinance against dogs. Animals of the canine species are subject to be taken suddenly ill if they are allowed to run at large.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, February 6, 1869, page 3

    There is rejoicing in dog heaven, but the canine population of Medford is wearing crepe and shedding tears of sorrow and regret--old Rex has gone home. He was the well-known bird dog belonging to W. W. Cardwell and his demise was due to the fact that old Father Time decided his stay amid the trials and troubles of the wicked and perverse dog generation had been of a duration quite sufficient--hence the shuffling off--Rex has gone home.
"All the Local News," Medford Mail, June 23, 1893, page 3

    Medford now levies a tax of $1.25 on each male dog and $2.25 on each female.
"Medford Squibs," Democratic Times, Jacksonville, February 12, 1894, page 2

    Last Thursday little Bertha, the ten-year-old daughter of landlord J. G. Ireland, of the Clarendon, while playing with a dog was badly bitten through the arm by that animal. The child complained of the arm paining her a few hours later, but the parents thought it was nothing serious, but when they saw the arm Saturday morning they were alarmed to no small degree, as they well might be, for her arm was black for some distance around the wound. Dr. Geary was called, and after a few hours treatment the patient began to improve and is now all right again.
"News of the City," Medford Mail, June 8, 1894, page 3

    "Jack," the marshal's dog, died last Thursday after a long and honorable career. He first commenced duty when H. W. Grimes was chief of police, about nine years ago, and never lost a night until his last illness. No matter who filled the marshal's office, "Jack" always was his attendant and assimilated his characteristics, following none else. He was decently buried the next day, with proper ceremonies, those whom he had served in an official capacity being chief mourners. Requiescat in pace.

"Local Notes," Democratic Times, Jacksonville, March 13, 1899, page 3

A Smart Dog.
    J. D. Heard of Medford, Or., an enthusiastic sportsman, relates an interesting story showing the sagacity and intelligence displayed by an English setter dog called Puppy, owned by G. E. Neuber, one of Jacksonville's leading sportsmen. Heard, Neuber, J. A. Whitman and Chas. Prim were quail shooting one day last fall, along the banks of Bear Creek, one of the tributaries of Rogue River, and a superb hunting country, by the way. A bevy of at least fifty birds were suddenly flushed and took flight across the creek, about 150 feet wide there, seeking cover in the willows fringing the opposite side of the stream. Heard called to his dog Rex, a son of Puppy out of Neuber's bitch Snow, and ordered him across the water, intending to send him around behind the quails so that they would be driven back to the shooter's side. Rex took to the water at his master's behest and bravely swam the rapid current, quartering down the stream. In doing so he got into a strong eddy caused by a large brush heap, and the best he could do was to "swing around the circle." Efforts to recall him were of no avail. Suddenly Puppy, who had been an interested observer of events, seemed to discern the predicament of the other dog, and springing into the water was quickly in the miniature maelstrom, and without more ado took a firm grip on Rex's ear with his teeth, turning shoreward, and soon had the almost exhausted Rex in safety. After a short rest Puppy and Rex, with Whitman's Gordon setter, crossed the stream further down and were directed up to and behind where the quails were still in refuge. They flushed them, the birds flying back to the side where the shooters were, and a number were bagged in good style.--[S.F. Breeder and Sportsman.
Democratic Times,
Jacksonville, April 5, 1900, page 3

    Ed. Van Dyke has lost his dog--six months old; full-blood Gordon setter; color, black--lost Sunday, Sept. 1st. Will pay reward. Leave information at store of J. G. Van Dyke & Co.
"Additional Local," Medford Mail, September 6, 1901, page 6

    Mr. and Mrs. J. A. Perry left Sunday morning for Albany, Oregon, where they will visit relatives for a couple of weeks. Mr. Perry is figuring on bagging a goodly number of China pheasants while in that locality--and Dr. Pickel, of this city, will join him in a few days of the sport--and try the mettle in his new fifty-dollar bird dog.
"Purely Personal," Medford Mail, October 4, 1901, page 6

    A sight familiar enough to citizens, yet which attracts the attention of strangers, is the one made by J. Beek, the hardware man, and his splendid Newfoundland dog while going along the street to and from his place of business. When walking Mr. Beek leans heavily for support upon the dog, and the faithful fellow, as though conscious of the duty depending upon himself, steps slowly and carefully along, suiting his pace to that of his master. Victor, as the dog is called, can do everything but talk. He is five years old and weighs 156 pounds. Mr. Beek purchased him when a pup from John Miller of Jacksonville. The dog has a fine, broad forehead, denoting unusual sagacity and big, kindly eyes.
"Medford Squibs," Democratic Times, Jacksonville, March 27, 1902, page 4

    A Citizen:--"Some of these moonlight nights I'm going to act contrary to the peace and dignity of the city of Medford, and I don't care who knows the reason thereof. Every once in awhile the canine population of this man's burg takes a notion to have vocal exercises, and invariably they choose my neighborhood for a general rendezvous. They start something like the farmers' band that parades the streets before a performance of "Joshua Whitcomb." Way in the distance a faint bark is heard, then another in a different direction, then more somewhere else. They keep getting closer and closer, until finally they converge as near as possible to my bedroom window. Some of these times I'm going to load an old-fashioned ten-bore shotgun I know of with slugs, nails and any old thing I can get and take a potshot at that canine orchestra. The old gun may kick hard enough to kill me, but if the superstition of the Indians is anywhere near right I'll be sure to have plenty of dogs with which to chase game in the happy hunting grounds."
"Street Echoes," Medford Mail, August 26, 1904, page 1

    Nearly sixteen years ago George Coulter, the painter, one dark, rainy night, picked up a bedraggled kitten in the street, near the Hotel Nash. He carried the kitten into the barroom and fixed him comfortably by the stove. The kitten waxed and grew strong and in time became a cat of large size and dignified mien, and the name of "Jerry" was bestowed upon him. Up to two years ago "Jerry" was boss of the hotel. No dog was allowed to invade that portion of the house which he regarded as his particular territory. He stayed through all the changes which took place in the management up to two years ago, when he left because he and Ragsdale's dog couldn't get along together. He was known to all the old citizens in the town, and nobody had anything but kind words for Jerry. The only time he was ever defeated in battle in his prime was when he tackled a cub bear, which refused to run, and in a short time Jerry was compelled to retire to the top of the barroom partition, where he remained, defiant but careful not to come down, until the bear was led away. About ten days ago old Jerry, worn out by the weight of years, passed away, and if there is a happy hunting ground for good cats, he is there.
    Since the above was put in type, "Old Jerry" has reappeared, and as a consequence has the distinction, enjoyed by few humans, of having good things said about him before his death.
"An Ancient Feline," Medford Mail, September 15, 1905, page 5

Strange Dog, Foaming at Mouth, Terrorizes Inhabitants in West Medford
and Is Dispatched by a Bullet--Owner Is Unknown.
    A huge dog, evidently with a strain of collie in him, ran amuck on South Grape Street Sunday afternoon, terrorizing the residents of that section until he was dispatched by one of the inhabitants. A number of people who were on the street sought safety in flight, and 'tis said that more than one young lady climbed garden fences with great dexterity to escape the mad animal.
    The dog appeared suddenly upon the street as a number of young folks were returning from the ball game. He was fairly "yelping his head off" and was foaming at the mouth. One of the residents rushed into his house, and when the rifle spoke the career of the canine was over.
    The dog was a stranger and no one appears to know its owner.
Medford Mail Tribune, April 4, 1910, page 8

Seeks Relief from Canines.
    Anent the controversy over the worthless cur question, now being waged in the columns of the Oregonian, a correspondent who is evidently well known in this vicinity pens the following in denunciation of "Old Dog Tray."
    "The writer's recollection of Medford, Ore., is that about one year since, his wife and self, after three nights' loss of sleep there, caused by hundreds of barking, howling curs making night hideous, had to leave that dog town and go on to Ashland to secure a night's slumber. The merchants of Salem, Ore., posted placards in their windows requesting their customers to leave their dogs outside. Will some dog defender set forth the benefits to Portland in its vast army of useless brutes? Sanitary measures alone should be sufficient to relegate this filthy monster to the wilds where he belongs, as not only does he befoul the food we eat, but our beautiful storefronts and doorways. Awaken, fetish worshipers and dog idolators! Alaskan wilds and trails need your dogs--the more wolf in them the better. Portland has thrown off the garb of savagery and wilderness, and can well dispense with any and all adjuncts of the wilds. Awaken, say I, make this a city for men and women, civilized men and women. Turn your eyes for a time on God's little children, and exterminate or send to the wilds this filthy monster, this ever-present menace to life, limb, property and comfort in any town or city."
Ashland Tidings, August 1, 1910, page 2

    "Dick," the coach pup, which was been following the fire wagon since he was weaned, was run over and killed on Main Street by an automobile Friday afternoon. Apparently no effort was made by the drivers of the car to dodge the little dog, and he was instantly killed.
"Social and Personal," Medford Mail Tribune weekly, September 1, 1910, page 7

Blooded Cats in Medford
    How many people are aware that Medford possesses a kennel of long-haired or Persian cats, known as the Westover Cattery, where the animals have been imported from England's most highly pedigreed stock? And is it generally known in the West that the United States Department of Agriculture sanctions a stud book for those beautiful animals?
    The breeding of cats is yet in its infancy, particularly in the West, where little attention has been paid to a cat of any kind (unless it proved to be a disturber of the midnight peace), where it has been carried on in a hit-or-miss fashion for a number of years. And it is only recently that fanciers have come to realize that a cat must be bred in its own color for many generations to command any price.
    The Westover Cattery breeds only silvers and silver tabbies. The former are pale gray, almost a lavender tinge, and some are so pale as to seem practically white, until they are placed beside a really white cat.
    The silver tabbies have the same gray undercoat, overlaid with broad black stripes and wheels. During the winter the cats have [a] very heavy coat, but as they shed much of it during the summer months, they have not gotten their heavy coats on yet.
    This cattery has not been in existence a great while, but possesses three breeders of the silvers and seven tiny kittens of both varieties, besides a brown tabby, and it is well worth the trip to see the little kittens at play. These cats have their own apartments, which are very airy and sanitary, besides a big outdoor run, where they can go at will. They are in fine condition and very handsome animals, and whether one is fond of cats or not, they are well worth seeing.
Medford Mail Tribune, September 25, 1910, page 14

    The Oregon dog keeps up his evil reputation for causing quarrels. The last difficulty reported happened at Medford and brought one man to his death, while another is a murderer. If the value of all the curs in Oregon could be boiled down into a jar of jelly, it would not be worth the life of a man, nor would it compensate for the lost peace of a neighborhood.
Sunday Oregonian, Portland, September 25, 1910, page C6

"Jack" Shows Up Again After Short Vacation--Often Goes Off on a Trip,
But He Never Fails To Show Up Again for Something To Eat.
    "Well, here I am again," said Jack, the yellow dog who has his habitat at Warner, Wortman & Gore's grocery, as nearly as he could in dog language, as he bounded into the store, barking vociferously, Friday morning.
    Jack has a history. He became acquainted with Lou Warner at the depot while the latter was looking out for the dinner business several months ago, and recognizing him as pretty good people, adopted him. From that on Jack was there at every train, watched the trucks and incidentally took care of the business. Finally he drifted down to the store and made his headquarters there. Twice has he been claimed by different parties and taken protesting away, but each time he has returned joyously to the store. Last evening he was claimed and taken away with a rope around his neck, but this morning he showed up bright and early with an appetite which might have been the reason of his desertion of his latest master.
Medford Mail Tribune, November 4, 1910, page 8

Nine Lives Snuffed Out at Medford Substation.
    Mail Tribune:--Nine lives were snuffed out in the twinkling of an eye at the Medford substation of the Rogue River Electric Company on a recent evening, when a cat, the official pet of the employees, flicked her caudal appendage against a wire carrying 20,000 volts and went to sleep. The proverbial eight lives went with the first. There was no "comeback" to this pussy.
    The cat was taking its regular prowl about the station when the tragedy occurred. She had jumped upon the top of the big transformers as was her custom and was stepping from one to the other, purring her contentment and waving her tail back and forth. That waving tail was the cat's undoing. In some way the caudal appendage connected with one of the 20,000-volt wires, there was a subdued mee-ow, and it was all off with the cat.
Ashland Tidings, November 17, 1910, page 1

Mrs. Paul Janney Exhibits Her Blue Blood Felines--
Many Blue Ribbons Are Annexed, As Well As Medals, Cups, Etc.
    Medford has come to the front again, and this time it is in a new line, for at the cat show which was held in Seattle last week three medals and nine ribbons (three of which were blue ribbons) were won by cats which are owned and exhibited by the Westover Cattery.
    Out of the 175 cats exhibited, "Flying Fox," a beautiful Angora, was considered the "best cat in the show," and won two medals and seven ribbons (two of which were blue). He also received wins on three silver cups--it takes winnings from three exhibits to claim a cup--besides winning first place in the three classes in which he was exhibited--novice, open and winner classes.
    There is no other cat of the color of Flying Fox west of Chicago, and there is no cat from the same family west of New York. This is the first time he has been entered in an exhibit, and he will enter all the shows on the coast.
    Amarye, another Angora, won two ribbons (one blue) and a silver medal. Mrs. Paul Janney--nee Spink--is the owner of the cats, and as she was unable to attend the show, sent the cats in charge of Mrs. Howard of Portland.
    Mrs. Janney will be the judge of the cat show in Portland next month.
Medford Mail Tribune, December 25, 1910, page 6

F. V. Medynski, W. W. Eifert and Others Lose Valuable Animals--
Six or Eight Dogs Killed During Past Three Days.
    That vandals and dog poisoners are holding undisputed carnival in the residential portion of Medford is the charge made by a number of persons who, within the last week, suffered the loss of dogs, valuable either for their real or fancied worth, at their hands.
    Early Thursday morning F. V. Medynski of 316 North Central Street was awakened by the barking of his dog, a hound valued by its owner as a bird dog. Going to the enclosure behind his residence Mr. Medynski let the suffering animal into the house, where it was seized with convulsions a few moments later and died. A physician who was summoned pronounced strychnine poisoning as the cause of death.
    Councilman W. W. Eifert, whose residence is in the same block, also lost a dog, a valuable cocker spaniel, in the same way. Three other dogs were reported this morning to have been poisoned during the night, and the dead body of an unclaimed collie dog is lying at the corner of North Central and Fourth streets.
    Numerous chicken thefts have been reported in the same vicinity lately, and the belief prevails that these miscreants are wantonly poisoning dogs in order to make stealing easier.
    Chief of Police Shearer has been notified and is conducting an investigation.
Medford Mail Tribune, December 30, 1910, page 4

Did This Dog Commit Suicide?
Feared Prize Homely Canine of the Valley
Grieved Over its Insignificant Appearance
and Made Way with Itself--Has Disappeared.

    The prize homely dog of the valley has disappeared. It is a forlorn looking, woebegone, sad-faced animal that appears to have lost its best friend and to be hopelessly adrift, a derelict in the dog world--neither smart, nor frisky, nor big enough to be valuable for sausage. Its head is abnormally long and its body absurdly short, while its wiry hair tries in vain to hide its defects.
    The dog gives the impression of perpetually grieving over its insignificant appearance and to be contemplating leaving this vale of tears and sorrows by the shortest possible route. Indeed, it would not cause much surprise if investigation proved it had actually committed suicide, though drug store records fail to disclose any purchase of poison made by the animal.
    This apology of the canine world answers to the name of Kirrie, and is the property of Mrs. George H. Carpenter, who is quite proud of it, presumably because there is no dog in its own peculiar class of beauty, at least not in this neck of the woods. "It" is what is known as an Aberdeen Scotch terrier. "It" is said to be a prize winner, presumably as a freak, at least there can be no other reason trumped up for a blue ribbon.
    "It" can't be very far away, for its legs aren't long enough to make either speed or distance records, but if you see it, telephone Mrs. Carpenter at the Eden Valley Orchard.
Medford Mail Tribune, April 18, 1911, page 4        See "The Merry Career of a Bulldog," below.

Oldest Dog in Southern Oregon--Had Remarkable History--
End Follows Paralysis of Spine
    "Pug," the oldest dog in southern Oregon, went to the happy hunting grounds Sunday. He was more familiar on the streets than most of the people of Medford, having been here while many a family came and went and others arrived to take their places. "Pug" was the property of B. S. Radcliff, of the Horseshoe Saloon, and he became so old and infirm in the past few years that he rarely ever ventured from his home on Front Street, a short distance south of the Hotel Nash.
    "Pug" was brought here twenty years ago from eastern Oregon by C. C. Ragsdale, then proprietor of the Nash, who bought the hotel from "Shorty" Hamilton. The dog then was four years old. He was a yellow pug in breed, and his chief accomplishment consisted in being a pet but a very wise one. He was particularly sociable with persons who had done him kindnesses, fed him dainty things, but he drew the line on beer, which he would not drink. Many persons have remarked that he had a beer look during his old age, as many saloon dogs have, but "Pug" never drank it. If you did him an injury he never forgot it. Some seven years ago some fellows in the Nash played a mean trick on him, and he never entered the hotel after that. He would not even walk on the sidewalk when he wished to go around into Main Street, but invariably took the middle of the street when passing the Nash.
    For quite awhile he had been showing signs of weakness of the spine, and Saturday night he had lost control of his hindquarters, probably by paralysis of the spine. As an act of humanity "Pug" was relieved of his misery by chloroform.
    It is a part of the local tradition that several years ago the sum of $25 was deposited in the Jackson County Bank to be used on the death of "Pug" to give him a decent burial. As his death occurred on Sunday while the bank was closed, Mr. Radcliff had the obsequies performed without application to the bank for the deposit.
Medford Sun, May 23, 1911, page 5

Ray and Frazier to Start Cat Farm
   Before leaving for San Francisco, Col. Frank H. Ray left with Frank Frazier plans for establishing a cat farm, which promises to be a fortune maker for the promoters. A limited amount of stock is offered for a few days by Mr. Frazier.
    Colonel Ray's plan for this great money coiner shows his Wall Street training. It is as follows:
    The object of this company is to operate a large cat ranch near Tolo where land can be purchased cheaply. To start with, we will collect about, say, 100,000 cats. Each cat will average twelve kittens a year. The skins will sell for from 10 cents for the white ones to 75 cents for the pure black. We will have about 12,000,000 to sell, at an average of 30 cents apiece, making our revenue about $10,000 a day.
    A man can skin fifty cats a day. He will charge $2 a day for his labor. It will take about 100 men to operate the ranch, therefore the profit will be about $9,800 a day.
    We will feed the cats on rats, and will start a rat ranch adjoining the cat ranch. The rats will multiply four times as fast as the cats, and if we start with 100,000 rats we will have four rats a day for each cat, which is plenty.
    We will feed the cats on rats, and in turn will feed the rats on the stripped carcasses of the cats, thus giving each rat one-fourth of a cat.
    It will be seen by these figures that the business will be self-acting and automatic. The cats will eat the rats and the rats will eat the cats, and we will get the skins.
Medford Mail Tribune weekly, November 30, 1911, page 3   Due to numerous inquiries, it's apparently necessary to point out that this is a joke. Ray and Frazier had no intent to actually begin a cat farm.

Proprietor and Clerk Give Mad Pursuit, But Escapes with Ill-Gotten Gains
    A dog with an unknown name and an unknown capacity for meat caused a great deal of excitement on West Main Street Thursday afternoon.
    Fido, Sport, or whatever his name might have been, is an extremely wise dog, and when he saw a nice assortment of meats lying within reach at the West Side Butcher Shop, owned by Louis Heil, he immediately figured a plan for obtaining some of his favorite flesh.
    Lying on the table with other meats was a nice ham and a string of link sausages. Pork was evidently his choice, for he walked up to a ham that had been cut in two to show the quality of the meat, grabbed the ham, dropped it, grabbed a yard of sausage and then picked up the ham in his teeth and started down the street like Barney Oldfield breaking a record.
    During the process of selection the clerk, followed by Mr. Heil, ran from behind the counter, emitting threats and entreaties in the same breath. The hungry cur, thinking to appease his pursuers, dropped the ham, but continued in his mad race down the street, with a yard of sausage literally flying from the corners of his mouth, like bonnet strings in a Kansas cyclone.
    Pursuit was useless, and the sausages were so soiled that recovery would be of no benefit, so the butcher, followed by the clerk, entered the shop "sadder and wiser men." The hound, seeing that the pursuers had abandoned the chase, stopped, took one of the mud-covered links, devoured it in a single gulp, picked up the remaining number and trotted out of sight.

Medford Sun, December 30, 1911, page 6

    A furious bull terrier, using old-style football tactics, this morning attacked and threw one of the heavy farm horses being driven by W. R. Lamb on East Main Street. A large crowd saw the dug run under the team, seize the horse by the leg and drag it to the pavement. When this was done the dog transferred his grip to the horse's nose, closed its eyes and hung on after the manner that its ancestors have made proverbial.
    The horse, crazed with pain, struggled to its feet and tossed its head and reared high in the air trying in vain to shake off the persistent pup. In a few seconds the street at Main and Bartlett was blocked with people and some of the more venturesome quieted the horse while others pried the dog's jaws loose. The horse was badly injured. An officer, who had helped in freeing the horse, arrested the now frolicsome dog, tucked it under his arm and marched him to jail.
    Judged Canon gave Mr. Bull Pup a short but solemn hearing, and the prisoner being unable to offer anything in his favor, a death sentence was passed. In the canine happy hunting grounds the dog is now chasing anything it likes and the owner, Harry Davis, is mourning the loss of a valuable animal.
Medford Mail Tribune weekly, January 11, 1912, page 3


Auto in Hurry Passes Over Mongrel Playing in Sunshine--

Passes to Happy Hunting Grounds
    "Doc," an English bulldog, known all over the city for his playfulness and amiable disposition toward other members of the canine family and to man as well, was instantly killed yesterday by an automobile.
    "Doc" was owned by A. W. Walker, proprietor of the Nash stables, and by him as well as those who worked in the stables he was highly prized and somewhat privileged. For in spite of his ancestral tendencies, training had made him civilized enough to refrain from taking an undue advantage of the other pups that frequent the city. At the time of his sudden death "Doc" and several dogs of the neighborhood were engaged in a friendly wrestling bout in front of the Nash stables. "Doc" was lying on the pavement and playfully slapping another shaggy cur, who upon the reception of each blow would cavort around like a young colt, only to come back for another love tap.
    The automobile, one of those on the Gorst auto livery and traveling north along Front Street, swerved from its course as it neared the dogs, and "Doc," being undermost in a pile of assorted pups, was unable to escape. In a vain endeavor to escape, the hind wheel passed over his neck, and "Doc," playful "Doc," was dead.
    "I won't do anything," said Mr. Walker; "the dogs had no business in the street, but I am of the opinion that it might have been avoided."
Medford Sun, January 21, 1912, page 1

    Little Rastus, the best known scotch terrier in Jackson County, died at his home in Jacksonville yesterday of rabies. The little fellow belonged to Bill Barnum, who praised him very highly. There was not a trip made by the large motor running between Medford and the county seat that little Rastus could not be seen sitting beside his master apparently as much concerned as he himself
Medford Sun, undated clipping

    "Bully" is the name of Austin Corbin's costly bull terrier--or rather was his name. Bully was white, full of joy of life for himself but not for others. He has lost his life--but not in saving others.
    "Bully" began his career on the Yankee Creek ranch of his owner. He first won fame by valiantly assaulting, conquering and slaughtering two of a neighbor's thoroughbred hogs. This escapade cost his owner a pretty penny, and when he left on a visit to New York, "Bully" left also to spend a vacation with Phil Hamil.
    After a day or two spent in familiarizing himself with his new surroundings, "Bully" started in on a merry career. He visited George Carpenter's home and, not liking the appearance of Mrs. Carpenter's $250 prize Aberdeen terrier, proceeded to strangle it. When tired of playing with its lifeless body "Bully" started for home, but seeing a neighbor's prize Rhode Island Red rooster, took it along, despite the vigorous protests of its owner.
    Meandering around the hills, Bully fell into a farmer's steel coyote trap. He was held prisoner for two days, and when freed Mr. Hamil tried to restrain his exuberance by attaching him to a log chain fastened to two flatirons. In the meantime Mr. Corbin had heard of the escapades of his pet, and the wires clicked with the following death sentence: "Please have Bully killed without delay."
Medford Mail Tribune weekly, February 8, 1912, page 2


No One Harmed--City Health Officer Stearns Advises Owners to Chain Dogs

    A "mad dog," the first of the year to be reported, appeared yesterday morning, but before he became especially rabid, his master, W. D. Foster, ended his life.
    The dog had been acting queerly for the past few days, and Monday morning he was noticed to be frothing at the mouth. At 9:30 symptoms of hydrophobia were plain developed. He was taken out of the city limits and killed.
    Although climatic conditions in Medford are not such as to cause dogs to become subjected to the disease, owners of dogs are advised by City Health Physician Stearns to watch their dogs during the hot weather, particularly in the afternoons. In case the dogs act queerly they should be chained until it is cooler or until evidence of rabies have disappeared.
Medford Sun, July 30, 1912, page 1

    Paul Revere's ride was a walk compared to the ride of Robert Ruhl, editor of the Medford Sun, who fled homeward Tuesday night after a vain endeavor to catch and tame a pretty little black and white cat found peaceably trotting by the wayside.
    Visions of long winter nights with no tabby dozing by the Ruhl fireside accomplished Ruhl's ruin as astride his pert steed he ambled at a foxtrot under the soft light of a July moon.
    The "cat" and Mr. Ruhl discovered each other about the same time.
    The next time Mr. Ruhl discovers a cat for family selection it will be at a cat show with a catalogue.
    Medford, peacefully slumbering, dreamed not of the cataclysm enacted [on] Siskiyou Heights where, denied admission to house and home, Robert Ruhl spent the balance of the night in the woodshed studying natural history.
    Between times, with pencil and paper he figured the dimensions of a grave for his new flannel trousers, while the family with smoke helmets on said things through cracks in the door.
    Ruhl's saddle mare has been turned over to the Medford Fire Department, who are testing some new hose--the cat, a Pole by birth, is still at large.
Medford Mail Tribune, August 2, 1912, page 2

    The humble felis domestica has spread the name of Medford from coast to coast during the past month. That felis domestica, which is another term for cat, does well in this climate and altitude is evidenced by the fact that Medford cats have taken first prizes within a month in Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles and New York City.
    The cat that went to New York was sent by Mrs. Paul Janney of Perrydale. It is a Persian cat of the Silver Tabby variety and journeyed across the country with a litter of kittens. The kittens died on the way, but Tabby arrived safely and within a few days of her arrival took second prize at a show in the Plaza Hotel. Later she took first prize in two shows over the cat that took first at the Plaza, for Tabby had time to put on a thicker set of furs and fatten up after its long journey. Tabby also took first prize for being the prize winner which had taken the longest journey to the show.
    Mrs. Frank Clark of Perrydale won prizes at Portland with her Rogue River Valley Persian cats, and Mrs. Fred Renner, a former resident of Medford, has won firsts at Los Angeles and San Francisco.
Medford Mail Tribune, January 30, 1913, page 6

    The dog catcher got on the job Saturday, and many unlicensed stray dogs in the city were caught and placed in the city pound in the rear of the public market. Small boys acted as ex-officio dog catchers, turning the stray dogs over to the poundmaster for a small sum. They did a thriving business for a time.
    A large number of licenses have been sold. The last day of grace for unlicensed dogs was Friday. Now if a dog without a license is placed in the pound it costs a dollar to get him out. If it is unclaimed it is shot after three days.
Medford Mail Tribune weekly, March 6, 1913, page 3

    Diligence to the point of "rubbing it in" was exemplified Saturday when boys sent out to round up all unlicensed dogs brought dog catcher Aydlatt's canine to the pound. The dog catcher's dog had no license and was treated the same as any other unfortunate.
    Mr. Aydlatt Saturday announced that he would pay 25 cents each for all untagged dogs brought to the pound, and as a result a crowd of boys pursued stray pups in all the highways of the city. It was a man, however, who spotted the dog catcher's dog and led it to the pound. He says he was given a 15-cent reward, the dog catcher evidently believing that any time he wished to catch his own dog he could do it unassisted. Mr. Aydlatt's dog now has a license and may cavort the length of Main Street unmolested.
Medford Mail Tribune weekly, March 6, 1913, page 3

Robert Burgess Suffers After Savage Attack Made on Woman.
    MEDFORD, Or., March 13.--(Special.)--A bulldog owned by Dr. F. S. Barber went mad today and savagely attacked Mrs. F. O. Burgess. Robert Burgess, her son, witnessed the attack and rushed to the rescue. Before the animal was subdued he tore most of the clothes from Robert and badly lacerated his arms. His wife, as an emergency, then poured a bottle of pure carbolic acid on the wounds, inflicting painful burns.
    As Burgess is being treated for extreme nervousness, it is feared the shock may prove harmful. The dog was killed.
Morning Oregonian, Portland, March 14, 1913, page 8

    An epidemic of dog fights broke out on Front Street Friday afternoon, between about a dozen country dogs and Mose Barkdull's "Turk," the most belligerent of Medford canines. "Shorty" Miles' Airedale, called "Mike," stood on the sidelines out of danger and barked.

"Local and Personal," Medford Mail Tribune, March 7, 1914, page 2

Medford's Volunteer Fire Department Has Fredenberg as Nucleus.
    MEDFORD, Or., March 7.--(Special.)--All that is left of the Medford volunteer fire department is Jack Fredenberg and the departmental cat. Mr. Fredenberg refused to resign and the cat refused to be given away.
    The reason for the resignation by the fire boys was given as the refusal of the City Council to continue to supply the members with free phones. The relic chest accumulated through the years was presented to the Commercial Club, the office desk bequeathed to Fire Chief Amann, recently resigned, and the caps and coats were returned to the members.
    According to members of the City Council, however, Mr. Fredenberg will be the organizer of a new volunteer company which will be willing to cooperate with the economy policy of the city and supply their own phones.

Sunday Oregonian, Portland, March 8, 1914, page 7

    Dangers from rabies among the dogs of the city caused Chief of Police Hittson to issue notices Saturday that all dogs within the city limits unmuzzled or unchained after Tuesday, August 4th, would be shot or impounded.
    This drastic cautionary move was taken when it was determined that a dog belonging to J. J. Buchter died last week from rabies, and had bitten several other dogs. The hot weather adds to the dangers. A Portland bacteriologist pronounced the cause of the death of the Buchter dog as rabies.
Medford Mail Tribune, August 3, 1914, page 4

    Medford will make its canine sacrifice to the rabic theory in the morning. Twenty-nine dogs will be electrocuted by High  Executioner Loomis. The dogs are charged with being liable to have rabies. It is further alleged they are liable to bite someone. They would not have to take the plunge into the "bow wows" if they had a muzzle. Their only crime is that no one would buy them one. The shuffling off of the dumb brutes in accordance with the city ordinance will begin at 9 o'clock.
    The wholesale killing will be accomplished by means of an iron sheet, upon which the dog is supposed to stand while an electric current is sent through him. This way is more effete and less bloody than shooting.
    Among those listed for an unwarranted death are several valuable dogs whose owners are out of town. Chief Hittson advises all who have a missing dog to look over the city pound collection.
Medford Mail Tribune, August 17, 1914, page 3

    The city slew twenty-three dogs this morning by electrocution, and dog catcher Loomis is looking for more canine victims. The charge against the dogs was wearing no muzzle and liability to rabies. Most of the dogs belonged to people out of the city on camping trips. Six dogs were taken Monday night by dog fanciers and saved from execution.
    Mrs. A. L. Armstrong, Mrs. Laura G. Gardiner, Fred Wolff and Charles Craig were fined $5 and costs for having unmuzzled pets by Police Judge Gay this morning.
Medford Mail Tribune, August 18, 1914, page 2

    The ordinance requiring that all dogs be muzzled until October 1, on the grounds that they were liable to go mad, was rescinded, and canines of the city need no longer be tortured by leather and wire straps over the snout. Colonel Sargent led the fight for the lifting of the ban, and councilmen Porter and Hargrave opposed the change for some reason.
"No Need of Muzzling Dogs," Medford Mail Tribune, September 16, 1914, page 2

    A sensational dog fight occurred on Main Street this afternoon when a bulldog belonging to Earl Reynolds chewed an ear off Ralph Bardwell's spaniel. Chief of Police Mego stopped the fight by turning a garden hose on the combatants. A traveling salesman who grabbed the bulldog by the tail was bit on the wrist.

"Local and Personal," Medford Mail Tribune, October 21, 1914, page 2

To the Editor:
    In the sun-kissed hills of Southern Oregon flows the crystal waters of the magnificent Rogue, together with its tributaries, ever rushing onward as if predestined by the great creator to play their part on the stage of natural scenic beauty on this side of the globe. In Jackson County, where one of these tributaries flows through one of the most fertile valleys on the globe, lies the city of Medford, which, by its natural surroundings and great variety of scenic beauty, together with the fertile fields of varied agricultural blessings and fruit of all kinds common to its zone and climate, presents one of the most spectacular scenes of any inland city on this, the Pacific Coast. On the 28th day of April, 1915, the writer, in company with a neighbor man and wife, visited this beautiful inland city. On our arrival, like most others, we were impressed with the beautiful streets, good roads and driveways, as well as the fluffy parks green with spring verdure and fragrant with dawning flowers, characteristic of this climate, and also with the bustling crowds rushing to and fro in the ordinary business pursuits, also characteristic of the larger portion of the citizens of Southern Oregon, but as if to meet with the very reversal of nature and make one's blood run cold as though some dark cloud had pealed forth some great thunderbolt of terror entirely unexpected. On one of these beautiful broad streets in this beautiful inland city on the 28th day of April, A.D. 1915, a group of men in open violation of law as well as decency were watching two large dogs bite and tear one another till their mangled carcasses were unrecognizable, and the blood flowed and saturated not only the dogs, but as well the street on which they fought.
    It seemed as though the affair was premeditated, as no policeman wielded his club to stop it, no constable or peace officer offered resistance. Think of it! A dog fight in the streets of this city in this A.D. 1915, in violation of law as well as all decency and respect, egged on and assisted by a number of citizens of the place. I fancy if it had been some children playing on the street they would have been scattered immediately, if there were even half as many as were present on this occasion, but the executors of the law either failed to see this particular episode or they wantonly refused to stop it.
    Are we retrograding? Is the Darwin theory correct? If so, it would seem that some of the citizens of Jackson County have failed to shed their tails, and when I think of the carnage and bloodshed going on among the nations of earth today, with its millions of innocent victims dead and maimed on the field of battle, and fearing, as one cannot help, the same thing reaching our own shores, I certainly think it is time to use more common sense and decency than to pollute the streets of our best city with even the blood of an innocent dog, as well as revel in flagrant violation of law.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 4, 1915, page 5

    Dr. A. J. Helms' Great Dane, surnamed [sic] "Daniel," has received a shot of German kultur, for "Daniel" has developed a streak of intelligence bordering on the uncanny. In compliance with the city ordinance regarding the muzzling of canines, the massive brute wears a leather muzzle. The muzzle is no balm of Gilead to Daniel, so he has learned to rub the muzzle off and put it back on again when he sees a policeman coming. That Daniel is able to distinguish between a policeman and an ordinary citizen is unusual, as all humans look alike to dogs as a rule. A demonstration of the mental faculties of Daniel has been given enough times to prove that it was not accidental eluding of the law, but performed with premeditation and forethought. The muzzle is of leather, and built to give its wearer as much comfort as possible. Daniel is the biggest dog in Jackson County, and was imported 18 months ago.
Medford Mail Tribune, August 2, 1915, page 2

Tales of the Town
He's a nice dog.
A collie dog.
And he lives on West Main.
His name isn't Pickles,
And he doesn't know anything
About placer mining,
Or street cars,
Or ride in a Ford,
Like Pickles does,
But he is a connoisseur
In toys,
And they have to walk
Around the block
To avoid a toy store.
For one day they didn't,
And Larry went in
And helped himself
To a doll.
And he was awfully pleased
With himself.
But it cost Dr. Conger
Some money
To buy the doll,
Which wasn't cheap.
For Larry knows
The best ones.
And he has a pig,
Made of rubber,
Which squeaks
When you press it.
And he'll bring the pig
And stand in front of you.
And squeak it.
And look into your eyes,
And will put it in your lap
For you to admire.
And he has had the pig
A year,
And has never torn it.
But it is wearing out,
And Larry knows it.
And he's worried,
And everything.
And if Carl Fichtner
Would only vulcanize
The split in its back
It would be fine.
Because it was made in Germany,
And though Henry Ford
Tried to stop the fight
So they could get another pig
For Larry,
He failed.
And Larry is sad,
For he can't have the pig
All the time now,
For it has to last
Till the war is over.
So the other day
He went out
And came back
With a tennis ball.
And they took it away.
But he went out
And got another,
And they took it away,
And he went out
And got another.
And he's going to keep it.
And I want to ask
John Westerlund.
If he has a pig.
Medford Mail Tribune, January 11, 1916, page 4

    The family of Roger S. Bennett mourn the loss of "Dickie," a canary bird that has gladdened their home with song for eleven years. It is believed that it died of old age. The empty cage will be hard to fill with a sweet songster so generally beloved.
"Local and Personal," Medford Mail Tribune, March 7, 1916, page 2

Officer Crawford Draws Gun on Canine--Mad, Perhaps, or Poisoned.
    A white dog entered the police station Tuesday night about midnight and ate the tail off Sergeant Pat Mego's overcoat. This distressing event brought to light the fact that Sergeant Mego is an artist with the lasso, and resulted in the white dog being incarcerated in the city jail, to recover from a case of hydrophobia or an overdose of strychnine, police opinion differing as to which.
    When it was discovered that the afflicted canine had chewed up part of the sergeant's wardrobe, Officer Bill Crawford was for shooting the beast without further ado, but Sergeant Mego rushed to the Nash, secured a piece of clothesline, made a loop therein, and with one dexterous heave captured the white dog. Forthwith they led him to the city jail, Officer Crawford bringing up the rear with his six-shooter leveled upon the aft portion of the prisoner, who was walking lame.
    The dog was foaming at the mouth and growling suspiciously, and it was feared that he might take a bite out of the sergeant's leg if he got a chance, but Wednesday morning he was resting easy and on the road to recovery, and not a mad dog.
Medford Sun, July 13, 1916, page 2

    While tons of all kinds of rubbish, tin cans and old stoves were gathered up and hauled to the dumping grounds, Medford's annual cleanup yesterday was almost fraught with tragical consequences due either to some family trying to get rid of a big gray tomcat or the prank of some wicked practical joker.
    Everything was going lovely, and the dumping ground in the rear of the old water works station on South Riverside [about 101 S. Riverside] along the west bank of Bear Creek was rapidly filling up when the excitement started.
    Ole Arnspiger, the city engineer, city water superintendent, city electrician and city purchasing agent, and past leading knight of the Elks Lodge, felt so pleased at the situation that when Oscar Stinson's wagon began to unload he stood on the Bear Creek embankment and prepared to take a picture of the grand sight with his camera. Oscar had just thrown off a gunny sack half full of rubbish which bursted on hitting the dump, and out between Ole and Oscar jumped a big tomcat spitting, hissing, whirling and snarling in circles.
    "Mist Alcrity," ejaculated the startled city poobah as he stepped backwards on a tin can, which pitched him and all his titles into raging Bear Creek, from which quickly came shouts of "Ph-ph-halp!"
    "Holy smoke!" cried the equally startled Oscar as he quickly seized a club for self-defense. Oscar's thoughts in time of dire peril always turn to religion.
    "What's the matter! 'Smatter!" called Superintendent Runyard as he rushed out from the public market, suddenly saw the feline whirlwind and connecting unexpectedly his right foot with the top of an old bucket skidded away to join Ole in the creek.
    After a few more whirls the big cat, which the trio estimated all the way from five to fifteen feet long and proportionately wide, and which according to all information obtainable was frankly excited, started at immense speed to Main Street, turning the corner sharply to the west in front of the Gates store, where Bill Gates and Otto Jeldness were holding a street consultation.
    "Me cheeild, I must save her!" exclaimed Bill as he started for home at his Peoria gait to protect the new baby from harm.
    "My dog!" shouted Otto, who had lost 16 dogs in the past 13 years by violent deaths, as he also started for home.
    As the excited cat shot up East Main Street, still spitting, Harry Manning, who was sunning himself in front of the Wonder Store [315 E. Main], and who had a fight last week with a west side rooster, or rather it was a White Orpington, gave one glance at the oncoming cyclone, and dived into the store calling out in high Caruso-like tones "Papa! Pagliachi!"
    When the bunch of excitement passed by the Commercial Club Secretary Steel calmly watched it turn down the railroad track and disappear, and inquiringly remarked, "Is it a grizzly?"
    Nevertheless five wagons and one auto truck worked from morning till night and there was one less cat and considerable less dirt, this morning.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 23, 1919, page 3

    A wholesale massacre of Jackson County dogs is scheduled for next week unless citizens come forth and pay their dog tax, according to County Clerk Chauncey Florey. Appeals and pleadings to remit have met with indifferent silence, and now there is nothing for the county officials to do but follow the law.
    Either dog owners are negligent, or there has been a terrific decrease in the canine population hereabouts. Last year at this time, licenses on 700 dogs had been paid, and right now licenses have been taken out for less than 100. The sheriff's office will start out next Monday to locate the discrepancy.
    The dog license tax has never made much of a hit with dog owners, particularly the farmers, who figure that a dog in the country is a blessing, and a dog in the city a nuisance. The city dog owners maintain that there should be no class distinction, and besides the farmer gets all the benefits of the tax, as it is used in paying bounties on varmints that kill sheep and other stock.
    Nevertheless, unless the tax is paid forthwith, a number of dogs will depart this earth.
Medford Mail Tribune, January 28, 1921, page 6

    WILLOW SPRINGS, Feb. 2.--(Special). For the past ten years the W. B. Harris family have had a snow white pigeon as a pet. It has always stayed closely at home until the past week when it has appointed itself speed cop in the vicinity of Seven Oaks. It spends the day escorting fast-moving cars up and down the highway, fluttering in front or circling around and around the auto until a mile or more from home or until it meets another car, making the return trip in the same way. It is an interesting and novel sight both to motorists and neighbors.
Medford Mail Tribune, February 3, 1922, page 6

Dog Patted by Wilson and Bryan Dies in Medford.
Twenty-Year-Old Canine Once Attended Democratic Convention.

    MEDFORD, Or., Jan. 6.--(Special.)--Turk, a blooded Shepherd dog belonging to Mose Barkdull of this city, died here last Sunday at the age of 20 years, a veteran of scores of street fights and so far as is known the only dog in the world to journey to a Democratic national convention, having accompanied his master to the Democratic convention in 1920.
    Turk led an active life here until the rheumatism claimed him several years ago and had since resided in ease at the Barkdull orchard. In 1915 all the hair was blown off his body when a gasoline torch blew up in a local tin shop in which he was loafing. During his days Turk had his head patted by Woodrow Wilson, William Jennings Bryan and a number of other national Democratic leaders.
    Turk was born in England in 1903 and was brought to this country by Colonel Ray of New York and formerly of Medford, who brought him to Gold Ray in 1907 when the Gold Ray Dam was being built. [The dam was completed in 1904.] When Colonel Ray returned east he bequeathed Turk to John D. Olwell, and later when Olwell left Medford the dog became the property of Mose Barkdull, whose property and pal he had been for the past 16 years.
Oregonian, Portland, January 7, 1923, page 43

    Dog poisoning in Medford and Jackson County has become too prevalent, and an association for the prevention of poisoning and the protection of dogs has been formed. The organization members pledge themselves each to pay a certain amount for information leading to the arrest and conviction of anyone poisoning or in any other way unlawfully killing a dog belonging to a member of the association.
    The membership of the association, which it is said will soon have a roster of over 250 in Jackson County, is to be kept secret. A standing reward of $500 or more will be posted for information leading to the arrest and conviction of anyone unlawfully killing a dog belonging to a member and an advertisement or notice of the reward for conviction of such criminal will be run regularly in the local papers.
    Poisoning and unlawful killing of dogs is expected to be much diminished by this action on the part of such a large number of men and women in the valley.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 5, 1923, page 2

    Sheriff Terrill's bloodhound "Tiger," whose indolent attitude towards the world and fondness for sleeping in the sun belies his ferocious name, will not continue in the services of the law, but will retire to his master's farm in the Lake Creek district to sleep. The critter is not for sale, but if occasion demands and a request is made, "Tiger" will be loaned for the trailing of criminals.
    "Tiger" is still in Jacksonville and is being chased out of the sheriff's office daily--something nobody could do in the old regime. When Mr. Terrill returns from Portland, where he is a witness in the trial in the federal court of J. J. Ritter, arrested in this city for raising $1 bills to $10, the hound will be taken to the country.
    "Tiger" participated in several lively criminal events during his tenure of office as county bloodhound. He was given the trail of the Siskiyou bandits, but the creosote on the soles of the archfiends' shoes fooled him. When one of the Jones boys broke loose from the county jail he was unleashed, but his smeller was not working good that day either.
    "Tiger" was out of commission for several weeks last year when he was accidentally shot in the left hind leg by Jay Gore for chasing cows--an unexpected burst of energy on the part of "Tiger." Mr. Gore paid the veterinary's bill.
Medford Mail Tribune, January 14, 1925, page 8


    Ex-Sheriff Charles Terrill's bloodhound has been ordered tied up by the authorities of Jacksonville following a slight altercation with a smaller canine and its owner last Friday. When the former officer returned from Portland last Friday where he testified in a counterfeiting case, he was told to keep the hound tied to preserve the peace and dignity of the canine population of the county seat.
    It seems that Tiger mixed into the frolic of some dogs on California Street and the owner of one of the dogs went at him with a cane. In the melee Tiger jumped on the man with the cane, resulting in the incarceration order, now if full force and effect.
    Mr. Terrill maintains that this is a drastic order as "Tiger won't bite anybody, he just wants to play." It is hard to convince anybody jumped on that he will not bite, as Tiger has a first-class equipment for biting, and what Mr. Terrill designates as "a friendly growl," does not sound that way.
    "They've got to quit kicking my hound around," said Mr. Terrill. "I'm going to take him up to Lake Creek where he won't be bothered."
Medford Mail Tribune, January 19, 1925, page 6

    Buster, the aged dog of H. O. Frohbach, who until the last retained his exceptional canine wisdom, intelligence, courteousness and portliness, is dead of advanced age with complications. Like his master, he was not a world-beater in looks, but during his long life of 14 or 15 years, he always used his noodle and heart, and took on such likable and amiable qualities that all the local world can truly say, "Here was a dog."
    About seven and one-half years ago, when Mr. and Mrs. Frohbach were living in Three Forks, Mont., they fell heir to Buster through the latter taking a liking to and adopting them, and had been a lovable encumbrance of that household ever since. For years when Mr. Frohbach was secretary of the Chamber of Commerce Buster spent large portions of his days loafing in the sun or shade of the Chamber of Commerce building. Lest some citizens should have forgotten him, it is herewith stated that he was the homely large brown-colored scroot that used to repose in front of the Chamber building.
    Buster never used tobacco or liquor in any form, and had always had a hearty tail wag and smile for all comers, as long as he was able to wag and blink.
Medford Mail Tribune, April 8, 1925, page 5

    "Rowdy," the Mail Tribune dog, supported by A. F. Stennett, left Sunday night for the Klamath country. He was given to a homesteader, and it makes the fourth time that he has been given away. He has always returned to his favorite spot, by the steam radiator in the composing room, and is expected back again the end of the week. Rowdy is supposed to be on a timber claim, 14 miles the other side of Topsy grade.
    The first time he was given to Romeo Koppes [Roma Addison Koppes], but he ate too much. The second and third times he was given to farmers, and on all these departures he returned faster than he went away. His present deportation is hoped to be conclusive, though odds are being freely wagered that he comes back.
    Rowdy is a low-bred cur of yellowish tinge, and bashful. His predominating traits are sleeping and eating abilities. He must be a year old. He came to the Stennett home about six months ago, where he has stuck like a long-lost brother.
Medford Mail Tribune, April 15, 1925, page 3

Opposed to Dog License Plan.
    To the Editor:
    I have just read in the Mail Tribune the news article stating that the city council has placed a license on dogs and at the same time refused to allow them upon the streets. The latter part of May I called up the city attorney and asked him if it was legal to license a dog kept within the property limits of the owner. He stated that he had not looked up the law regarding it, so I would like to ask just what it means.
    It seems to me that no dog catcher would have the audacity to enter a man's residence or yard and take away his dog or anything else he owns. As I look at it the license issued by a city--or even the state--is for the purpose of showing ownership and a permit for the animal to have its freedom. It is comparable to licensing an auto and then forbidding it to be used except upon one's own property.
    There is no doubt that a city has the right to license dogs which use its streets, but I doubt the legality of a city charging a license for a dog to use its master's house. I do not profess to know the legal side of it, but certainly justice is on my side.
    Rocky Point, Ore.
Medford Mail Tribune, June 15, 1925, page 4

    According to license reports filed with the state veterinarian, there are only 35 dogs in Jackson County, and there seems to be some discrepancy in figures, as there are that many on Main Street, this city, any pleasant afternoon. However, this is a populous dog section, as Douglas County has but nine, Hood River five, Grant six and Sherman three. In the entire state there are only 11,801 dogs.
    In 1924 there were 233 dogs in this county, according to the licenses issued.
    The shortage of dogs is thought to be due largely to the diffidence of owners in paying licenses for them. When Chauncey Florey was county clerk he estimated there were 3500 dogs in the county, at the minimum.
Medford Mail Tribune, July 13, 1925, page 7

    "Peggy," a thoroughbred Boston bulldog, owned by Mr. and Mrs. George Porter, is dead as the result of a fall from the top of the Santford Grocery building on East Main Street to the sidewalk this morning in an attempt to reach a cat perched on top of the Warner building in the course of construction, adjoining.
    Mr. Porter was en route to his lumber yard, it is said, when the dog chased a cat, which took refuge on top of one of the wooden forms of the Warner structure. Peggy, not losing heart, managed to get on the roof of the adjoining building. While on a precarious perch along the roof the dog slipped and fell approximately 20 feet to the sidewalk. It died a short time later.
    The dog was three years old and had been raised from puppyhood by the Porters. Peggy was one of the very few thoroughbred bulldogs in the valley.
Medford Mail Tribune, September 30, 1925, page 3

    Homes are sought for two dogs that belonged to Wah Hop, aged Chinaman, who died a week ago, and was buried as a county charge. They were the companions of Hop. One is about 15 years old and can understand only Chinese, the language in which his master always addressed him. The other is a lively little black dog, who understands English. Kindhearted people on South Riverside have taken an interest in the fate of the canines. For three or four days after their owner died, they went hungry, but have been enjoying a feast since it was realized they were starving. The dogs stay close to the shack of their late owner, on the banks of Bear Creek.
    The older dog is fat and asthmatic and is named Chong. It will probably be a bullet from a policeman's gun for him. The other one is a beautiful creature, and would make a fine house pet. Anyone desiring a pet can have one by taking it away.
    Wah Hop, known as "Charlie," was an old resident of Medford, who did janitor work and odd jobs here for years, and was well known. For the past three years he has been very sick, and took herbs sent by San Francisco friends. His condition three weeks ago became pitiful and he was taken to the poor farm and later to Sacred Heart Hospital, where he died.
    Besides his dogs, Wah Hop had one other friend--Wah Kim, now in China. They lived together in a house on North Grape Street. A dispute arose over room rent and board and they took their troubles to court for trial. Wah Hop, disgusted with American legal procedure, blurted out in the midst of his attorney's oration: "Too much talkee! Too much foolee! Me go home."
    He remained by an order he never understood, and Wah Kim won the suit, and lost the friendship of Wah Hop. The judgment was for $70.50.
    His observation on the verdict was a classic: "Wah Kim ketchum flifty cents. Talkee-man ketchum sleventy dollahs."
    Wah Hop was buried in Potters Field, and the last rites were exceedingly plain and simple.
Medford Mail Tribune, November 17, 1925, page 7

    At the city council meeting last night with all members and the mayor present, in addition to transacting a large amount of routine business, including the passage of a number of delinquent property settlement ordinances, that body unanimously and unequivocally decided to enforce the dog license ordinance from now on, and to have the license committee select a dog catcher at once. The latter official is expected to begin his duties within the next two days.
    City Recorder Alford now has an ample supply of license tags, which must be worn by every licensed dog, hence the wise dog owners of the city will make haste and obtain licenses, as all unlicensed dogs found at large will be gathered in and incarcerated in the dog pound, where if not claimed within a few days the canine prisoners will be done away with.
    The city officials make it plain that the dog license ordinance will be enforced strictly and impartially from now on, irrespective of the other ordinance, also passed last year, which requires that all dogs be kept tied up at their homes during the hot months of the summer.
    The license for a male dog is $1.50 and that for a female dog is $3.00.
Medford Mail Tribune, March 3, 1926, page 8

    The city dog catcher is on the job. He commenced work this morning to round up all unlicensed dogs, pets and curs alike, in compliance with the recent city ordinance. Local dog owners, warned Chief of Police Adams today, must take out a license at once.
    The animals picked up will be placed in the pound at Gitzen's barn on North Fir Street, where a fee of 25 cents a day will be charged for keep, until the third day when the unclaimed will be disposed of. The owner may redeem his or her dog by paying the license fee, $1.50 for males and $3 for females, and the "board bill."
    After April 1st, the animals are prohibited from roaming about the city at will, but until then, licensed dogs will be privileged characters, while their unlicensed brothers and sisters will be doomed to the pound.
Medford Mail Tribune, March 11, 1926, page 3

    In a statement, the Jackson County Dog Protective Association desires to call the attention of the city officials and citizens to the inhumane manner in which all unclaimed, impounded dogs are or have been killed. Seven witnesses recently saw three dogs with their skulls caved in and one other that had died in the pound. Fresh blood was running from the wounds, and from all appearances these dogs died in extreme agony from blows inflicted by a hammer or club.
    One of these dogs belonged to an old Chinaman, and for years followed at his heels about the city streets. Just a fat, old, black, harmless dog of no particular breed; yet to that old Chinaman he represented the truest, most loyal friend he ever had, and on hot summer days his master would hoist him up to drink from a trough and then give him a cooling bath. Do you suppose that old man realized he had to pay a tax to keep his old friend beside him?
    We know that one of the late dog snatchers used a wire loop on the end of a piece of pipe to strangle dogs into semi-consciousness before taking them to the pound.
    At this time we serve notice on the city of Medford, that if one more dog is killed inhumanely and illegally, the state humane society will be asked to take immediate action. Dogs impounded must be cared for by a regular attendant, fed and watered regularly, and if unclaimed after the legal time limit, killed by asphyxiation in a proper room or delivered to anyone who pays the license and pound fees.
    It has never been explained by the city how any dog with a license plate will do less digging in flower beds than one without, or why the neighbor's chickens should not wear tags. Stray cats, of which there are hundreds at large, are now waxing fat on pheasant and quail eggs and young hatched birds. They roam the fields in the city limits and take no heed to the game laws or yet pay the usual legal fee for destroying.
Medford Mail Tribune, April 15, 1926, page 5

    The dog license enforcement situation promises to be ironed out in a harmonious manner, which will be pleasing to all sides of the question, as a result of the city council meeting last night, at which the body, after hearing the wishes of the dog owners' association set forth by G. M. Roberts, as attorney for the association, unanimously agreed with the association and decided to have the association, through Mr. Roberts, draw up a new license ordinance, which will be passed by the council at its next meeting in two weeks.
    "Our sympathies are with the dog, and always have been, in our efforts to control the dog evil situation," remarked Mayor Alenderfer at the conclusion of Mr. Roberts' remarks. The mayor also stated that the minute the city administration learned of stories of alleged cruelty to impounded animals, they at once took steps to put an end to it, without the dog owners' association or any others having acted.
    Therefore, according to this program of the council the dog catcher will cease all work, by the council's orders, until the new ordinance is passed, which will embody dog catching and humane impounding provisions.
    This ordinance will be copied after the Portland ordinance, a copy of which will be brought here by a representative of the state humane society, Mayor Alenderfer was informed by long distance phone yesterday by the state head of that society.
    It develops that the dog ordinance, under which the Medford city council, like many other cities of the state, has been working, was passed in 1912, based on a state law which several years ago was declared unconstitutional by the Oregon supreme court, because it did not hold that dogs were personal property.
    The new ordinance will recognize the legal fact that dogs are personal property, and that a dog cannot be caught, impounded and killed three days after capture without the owner having been notified. In other words, some such method of disposal must be followed as in the cases of impounded horses and cows.
    One thing is sure, and that is that the dogs in Medford will be licensed and impounded. The law gives the city the right to impose and enforce a dog license, and to dispose of the animal in case of not being licensed. The only question at issue is the legal method of enforcement by which the owners' property right is recognized.
    Attorney Roberts made it plain during his remarks that the dog owners' association recognized the fact that dogs must be curbed through licenses and impoundment, but that the owners objected to the methods that have been pursued in catching, impounding and killing dogs under the present ordinance.
    There were no other speakers on the dog question besides Mayor Alenderfer and Mr. Roberts, and the remarks of both showed harmonious cooperation by the city and dog owners in drawing up the new ordinance.
Medford Mail Tribune, April 21, 1926, page 3

    Not only must every dog in the city be licensed, but every dog must be tied up at the home or confined in an enclosure during the months of April, May and June, else all canine pets at large will be gobbled up by the city dog catcher, to fill which office the city council last night gave authority to the chairman of the license committee, and their owners fined. In case an owner then refuses to pay the fine and take out a license, his or her dog will be killed.
    The reasons for the stipulation that all dogs must be kept at home during the next 90 days is to prevent dogs running at large and ruining gardens and flower beds. The mayor and council last night gave Chief of Police McCredie orders to strictly enforce the city ordinance forbidding dogs to run at large.
    Only 16 licenses have been taken out for dogs since the first of January last, so it is anticipated there will be a grand rush to the city recorder's office for a few days to obtain dog licenses.
    Last year from January until January 240 such licenses were taken out.
Medford Mail Tribune, April 6, 1927, page 2

    The position having been filled last week, applicants need no longer present themselves for the city dog catcher berth, announced Chief of Police McCredie yesterday.
    The new dog catcher, whose identity has not been divulged, has not commenced his duties, due to the fact that no pound for captured dogs has yet been made available. The new dog catcher, however, is said to live up to all qualifications that are required by the city council for the position.
Medford Mail Tribune, April 24, 1927, page 6

    While the appointment was made some time ago, the new city dog catcher as yet has not begun duties, and the date when he will begin to actively function has not been announced. The city dog catcher, whose identity is still unknown, is reported to be preparing himself for the new position by encasing his legs in wood and tin in order to protect them from vicious dogs.
    According to a city ordinance, the local canine population is prohibited from roaming the streets and local gardens during the months of April, May and June and during that time must be tied up.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 11, 1927, page 3

    Dog poisoners are again at work in Medford, and all lovers of dogs are asked to be on the alert to find the poisoners and communicate any information in that line to the Jackson County Dog Protective Association that was organized here several years ago for the purpose of stopping the poisoning of dogs and prosecuting the guilty persons. The association has a standing reward for such information.
    The latest victim of a dog poisoner is the valuable pet Gordon setter, Nig, of Mr. and Mrs. Ben Plymale, which was poisoned last Tuesday night and found dead on South Riverside Avenue the next morning. Nig was a favorite with Mr. and Mrs. Plymale, the neighbors and a host of friends throughout the city, as he was an exceptionally handsome, well-behaved and intelligent dog.
    Mr. Plymale is offering an enticing reward to anyone who can furnish information leading to the identity of the poisoner in this case.
    Another case of dog poisoning was that which caused the death Tuesday of the German police puppy of little Jewell, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. James Valentine of 526 East Main Street, who is much grieved over the pet's untimely demise. It is said that there have been other dog poisoning cases in the same neighborhood.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 12, 1927, page 3

    If any citizen whose dog has not been confined at home in accordance with the city ordinance that forbids dogs running at large, whether licensed or not during the months of April, May and June, or whose canine pet has not been licensed, misses that dog from now on, he will probably find him at the dog pound awaiting execution, if not claimed within 10 days from the time the animal was taken into custody.
    For the city administration, which beyond issuing warnings that the ordinance will be enforced and that all dogs must be licensed, has up to this time been somewhat lenient, due to delay in establishing a dog pound, has sprung a surprise on the dog-owning public, by announcing that the new pound is now ready for victims and that a hard-boiled dog catcher went on duty yesterday.
    The dog pound just built  by the city is a concrete structure, about 10 feet by 14 feet, with an airtight chamber in which two dogs can be put to death at one time through inhaling lethal poison fumes, and is located at the city garbage disposal plant southwest of the city and quite a distance beyond and in the rear of the cemetery.
    All dogs found at large and also those without license tags will be quietly corralled by the city dog catcher, whose identity has not yet been revealed, but who is thought to be a member of the Craters Club or Elks Lodge, and incarcerated in the dog pound.
    He or she will be kept there ten days, and if not claimed by the owner within that time will go to the death chamber. The owner can have his dog back if it is licensed any time after the dog has been taken to the pound, by establishing his ownership claim and paying $1 a day for the dog's keep, or if the impounded dog is not licensed the owner, in addition to paying the $1 a day, must take out a city dog license before the animal will be returned to him.
    The execution of unclaimed dogs will be practically painless, as after a few inhalations of the lethal gas in the airtight chamber he is a goner.
    The pound building is divided into two sections so as to enable the male and female dogs being kept separate. The pound will not this year have a fenced-in yard in connection with the imprisonment building, but that feature will be established next year.
    The description of every dog imprisoned at the pound will be kept at the police station, hence if anyone misses his or her pet, inquiry at the police station will reveal whether or not that animal is a prisoner at the dog pound.
    Altogether it is one of the doggonedest situations that the canine population of Medford ever faced.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 22, 1927, page 3

    Of the nine dogs that have been picked up this week by pound master A. P. Anderson, four have been claimed, leaving the others to be sold at public auctions to be held June 1 and 2.
    While he has been on the alert, the pound master for the past three days has been unable to find any more stray dogs. It is supposed that the city canine population is now practically tied up or kept within the confines of sheds or high fences.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 29, 1927, page 3

    Among other schools of human nature is the dog hospital. This was a discovery made by a Mail Tribune reporter early this morning. For dogs are surely human when they're sick.
    There was the sour-faced old boy suffering from chronic indigestion, who looked like he never wore a pair of rose colored glasses in his life. He growled and grumbled, acted unreasonable and responded to kindness with a martyr-like expression. "So typical, so typical," sighed the reporter.
    Then came the sweet young thing with a deep-seated abscess in her ear. Her voice reached a shrill whine that sent the doctor and nurse to her side with hot water bottles and ointment. Gratefully she received their attentions, and was loath to let the doctor go--because she was awfully afraid that those horrible sharp pains might come shooting back again.
    "Bill" the Boston bull, who was all pep and who in his vigorous play got a foxtail in his ear, received his visitors with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, as much as to say, "I'm kidding the doc along, but I'm no more sick than he is. I'll be out of this coop soon."
    The twittering old lady with gallstones was all aflutter and wanted to tell the reporter the details of the operation, but she was interrupted by the doctor who made it as brief as possible.
    In a private room was the dog with fits and adjoining him, the brown-eyed lad whose feet were run over by a railway train. He was resting quietly and smiled cheerfully over his poor bandaged paws.
    A little farther on were the two young ones waiting to be vaccinated for distemper. They were anxious to know what it was all about, but the doctor patted their youthful heads and said merely, "Fine boys, eh?"
    But the saddest of all was the homesick dog who, seeking sanctuary from the pursuit of the dog catcher, had no place to go. He hated to stay on, and he hated to leave. He suffered from the greatest of human ailments, indecision. Which proves, more than anything else, that dogs ARE human.
Medford Mail Tribune, July 26, 1927, page 3

    A small black-and-white kitten about a month old, and much emaciated from long lack of acquaintance with food, wandered into the Mail Tribune editorial rooms this morning still quite cheerful, no doubt buoyed up with the city's slogan "This Is a Great Country," and the hope of a coming feed.
    The furry orphan let out a few faint meows on beholding Fergy, the A.A. operator guy, and that individual not knowing the ways of kittens, shrank back in fear and exclaimed, "If you bite me I'll have your block knocked off." Then the kindhearted Smudge Pot editor next showed up, and was so touched by the miserable feline sight that he lost no time in emptying a paste pot into a saucer and remarking to Fergy as he shoved the cat's nose into the saucer, "Now let him eat his head off."
    Mary Greiner and Ernest Rostel next arrived and exclaimed in unison, "How cute! Has anyone fed her?" But it was not until Paul Luy and the heavyweight reporter and all-around office wop showed up later and asked has anyone fed it, that the former went out and purchased a nickel's worth of milk and that poor little feline alley waif realized that he, or she or it, was in the hands of good friends and had stumbled onto a good home.
    After the assembled staff had christened the cat as "Jubilee" with a glass of our pure mountain spring water, the grateful little mutt purred itself to sleep on a pile of exchanges.
Medford Mail Tribune, September 2, 1927, page 4

By Mary Greiner.
    They called her "Peg" at the auto camp. Although little or nothing was known of her past, it was suspected that she came from quality. But after she became ill, and tossed and turned in a fevered frenzy, folks began to believe her mad. There was talk of taking her three helpless babies away from her and putting them in a home where at least she couldn't in one of her "fits" do them any physical injury.
    The doctor was called, and announced that the patient was suffering from double pneumonia and needed a great deal of care in order to pull through safely. There was no one who even offered to pay her doctor bill. So the kind physician bundled her up in one blanket and her babies in another, and took them to his hospital.
    There, poor "Peg" was treated day and night by the kind physician and his attendant. Packs were put on her chest, hot water bottles at her feet. The most nourishing broths were prepared for her, and at last the fever broke and the crisis was passed. She began to gain rapidly.
    In the meantime the tiny triplets were put in a ward by themselves. Their nursery bottle for some time was a medicine dropper, but each day they grew healthier and strong, until they required a bottle of milk apiece.
    It has been four weeks now since "Peg" and her babies were rescued by the doctor. The former is up now and able to wobble out into the sunshine a bit each day. And she enjoys nothing better than to be met at the door by her three husky Boston bull babies, who scamper about her in a boisterous spirit of youth and good fellowship.
Medford Mail Tribune, October 11, 1927, page 3

    A sick cat, with only four and a half of its nine lives left, came in the back door of the local Y.W.C.A. headquarters three weeks ago for food. So pathetic a picture did it present that the kind ladies rooming there exerted efforts to bring it back to health and vigor. But the cat ate greedily and grew worse.
    Finally Mrs. Lydia Miller, religious worker from Los Angeles, exhausted the pages of the telephone directory trying to find the number of a humane society that might come and put the animal out of its misery. But her efforts were in vain.
    Finally she called up the police department and explained the situation. "They told me to call up the county courthouse and they'd look after it," she said.
    "I asked them who I should call for down there, but they told me that anybody would do. So I talked to each of the courthouse employees in turn, each of whom referred me to someone else. I was given the names of individuals, and each of these individuals referred me to someone else. For two weeks I sought and pled with 'individuals' who were recommended for their cat-killing proclivities.
    "Finally I called up Dr. Pickel, as head of the board of health. I figured that surely here they would make some provisions to put the poor animal out of its misery and keep it from spreading its disease. But the only answer I got there was a slow drawl to the effect that 'It isn't my business to kill cats.' I argued further and he finally hung up with the comment, 'Well, I guess if you want that cat killed, you'll have to do it yourself.'
    "Then I went to the veterinary. He was very nice about it and agreed to do the deed if I brought the cat into his headquarters. I came home determined to do so, but alas!"
    So poor Tabby will go on, an object of pity and horror to the weaponless ladies, who must look out upon her daily from the Y.W.C.A. window.
Medford Mail Tribune, October 16, 1927, page 8

    A large white ball of wool on a pile of sawdust in the Monarch Seed and Feed Company window didn't attract any particular attention this morning, until it began to unwind, and turned out to be a mother French poodle feeding her three young. And then the crowd began to gather.
    Breaking away from their mother, the three tiny poodles rolled and frisked about in the warm sawdust, getting their white furry coats tangled with small shavings. They were sharply reprimanded by a couple of short barks from their mother, and in order to cover up their embarrassment began chasing each other around and around the space, shaking what loose dust they could from their wool.
    Their capers were greeted with exclamations of admiration from a large group of feminine observers watching them from the outside, and laughs of glee from small boys and girls peeping in the window.
    After a vocal barrage of "Aren't they cute--the little darlings," and words to that effect, a tall man passed by, looked over the shoulders of the adoring feminine aggregation and said, "Huh--who'd want one of them things--them ain't dogs--damn nuisances, I'd call 'em." He received his share of glares from the group of women, and moved on.
Medford Mail Tribune, October 29, 1927, page 3

    "Moxey, get down on the ground and wipe that smile from your face." This was a command from Juanita (Babe) Griffin, to her pet coach dog, Klimax. And Klimax drew his ears back, bent his face to the ground and looked up slowly with a sobered countenance, much to the delight of the group of admirers surrounding him and his mistress.
    But this was one stunt Juanita reluctantly demanded. It was always a request number on her "Moxey program," and to her the absence of Moxey's ever-present canine grin was like a dark cloud passing across the sun.
    There were other tricks that Klimax did for Juanita and her friends--but tricks or no tricks, Klimax drew a crowd wherever he went in Medford. Although past 11 years old, and well into the last of his dog days, he maintained a usually happy disposition, and had a way of wagging his tail that somehow made one feel that life was just as jolly as you made it.
    Yesterday, the dog was crossing the street at the corner of Sixth and Holly streets when he was run over by a car and instantly killed. His face was bent familiarly down to the ground, but when they picked him up Moxey's smile, this time, was not erased.
Medford Mail Tribune, November 7, 1927, page 3

    Mrs. Frank Isaacs, bookkeeper for Hutchison-Lumsden, let the cat out of the bag this morning, but the coming-out party was accompanied by such a bloodcurdling shriek that the entire personnel of the store was at her side in a flash, with every available implement of attack, assault or battery.
    It all came to pass when Mrs. Isaacs, more familiarly known as Edna, received by special messenger a paper sack neatly tied and a message which stated that the package, although crude on the exterior, enclosed a much-delayed Christmas gift. The string was broken at the top and two furry black ears emerged from the opening, accompanied by a plaintive "Meow."
    Edna's shriek was followed by a few more sympathetic screams among the feminine shoppers and employees, and trade was at a standstill while the masculine portion of the store came to the rescue of the caged bookkeeper, who upon their arrival was laughing and stroking the soft fur of the frightened cat.
Medford Mail Tribune, January 12, 1928, page 3

    The second baby alligator sent by C. E. Gates, now with Mrs. Gates in Indiana, to his little grandson George, 8, during the past week arrived at the Gates Motor Company this morning and crawled out of its round bamboo cage very much alive and thirsty. His smaller brother, sent several days ago, died on the way.
    A sand box and long pan of water was furnished for the southern visitor in the window of the motor company on Riverside Street, and he plunged into the water with keen and obvious relish, after which he crawled out into the warm sand and basked in the sunshine throughout the morning. Believing that he might be hungry and being at a loss as to the proper menu for the alligator, one of the employees called up a local seed and feed store. He was told that Florida crocodiles generally relished morsels the size of little George.
    Upon hearing the news, Little George, to demonstrate Medford's hospitality to strangers, volunteered to dig a week's supply of angle worms for the newcomer. The reptile will remain the Gates company window until he recuperates from the strain of the long trip.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 11, 1928, page 5

Nameless, Crater Cat, Back on Old Job Again
    Nameless, the cat with a nice sense of distinction between park rangers and mere tourists, is again clearing Crater Lake Lodge of its winter supply of mice after an unusually long summer spent in the woods. Nameless did not report for duty until December 8, after the blizzard in the park.
    The high-hat feline wandered into Crater Lake Lodge six years ago, and since that time has spent every winter with the keeper, clearing the building of mice hoping to find winter's quarters in the linen or basement stores.
    Inability of any of the staff to agree on suggested names led to the unusual cognomen.
    No tourist was ever known to break down the outraged reserve of the big cat. With the first visitor of the summer, Nameless departs forestward, to reappear only after the last tourist departs.
    His unusually long vacation last summer made rangers fear he might have left permanently, and a young cat named Slim was brought up to stay at the lodge. Slim did not approve of loneliness, however, and rode away on the running board of one of the last cars visiting the park.
Medford Daily News, March 16, 1930, page 1

    Word has been received at the Mail Tribune that Miss Frances Everett, the "cat woman" who has become quite a part of the Medford scene, has recently lost her purse containing keys and $6 in cash, all the money that the lady possessed.
    The purse, a brown one, was lost at or near the Alexander grocery store January 9, and she is very anxious to recover it.
    Miss Everett is the lady who is host to any number of otherwise stray cats and kittens at her home on the corner of King and Stewart Avenue here. Any member of the feline tribe who is lost or deserted always finds a welcome at the Everett home. That lady had apparently never heard that "there are other ways of killing cats besides choking them to death with cream," for she spends most of the little money she manages to scrape together in caring for them.
    Any person who knows anything of the purse would be doing a real kindness to either take it to the aged lady, or leave it at the Mail Tribune office, from where it will be delivered to her.

Medford Mail Tribune,
January 20, 1935, page 3

    Frances Everett, Medford resident for many years, passed away yesterday afternoon at the Jacksonville Sanitarium, after an illness of several weeks. She was approximately 80 years of age. Services will be conducted by Perl Funeral Home at 10:30 tomorrow morning. Rev. W. R. Baird will officiate, and burial will be in the I.O.O.F. cemetery. The deceased has no known relatives.
    Frances Everett was a well-known figure to local people, her eccentricity of adopting large numbers of stray cats leading to the appellation of "cat woman." For a number of years she lived in a small house at the corner of Stewart Avenue and Kings Highway, where passersby were accustomed to seeing the overgrown yard apparently alive with cats. She frequently cared for between 10 and 20, calling them all by name and finding food for them before thinking of her own needs.
    She not only knew practically everyone in town, but was also familiar with dog and cat pets throughout the community, often walking long distances to "visit" them.
    Although living alone and apparently completely wrapped up in her feline friends, the "cat woman" greatly enjoyed visits and conversation with whomsoever had time to talk to her. She attended every funeral and public gathering she knew of and could get to, and was a constant visitor to the downtown district.
Medford Mail Tribune, December 18, 1935, page 1

    When all humanity is drawn inside by the fragrance of fir and pine, and darkness claims Medford's outdoors, somewhere near the southern outskirts the stillness of Christmas Eve will be broken this year by the mournful cry of a cat. And the prophetic starshine will be reflected in the gleam of feline eyes, as one by one the cats, who for the past 12 years were fed and feted in the little brown house at the end of King Street, pass unnoticed through the frosted grass. For the "cat woman" is dead.
    Scratches on the worn, weather-browned door will bring no answer. No light will shine through the small square (the cat entrance), and the pan, filled with warm milk for cats of all breeds and colors each year that St. Nick came, will be empty. Funeral services were held at the Perl parlors yesterday for Miss Frances C. Everett. There will be no paper-trimmed Christmas tree. There will be no purring of Christmas carols in the brown shack this year.
Familiar Form Recalled
Thirteen years ago the bent, gray figure which for more than 18 years walked Medford's streets, arms locked over market basket and umbrella, inaugurated a Christmas tree for cats. Innumerable ones (no one ever knew how many), who made their home with her, were joined by additional strays on the night before Christmas and warm milk was served to all. A small fir tree was decked with colorful papers to be rattled by cat claws, and maintained throughout the Yuletide. It was a custom Miss Everett never abandoned no matter how severe the rheumatism got. The day after Christmas, with the cats she celebrated her birthday. This year she would have been 82.
Known as the "Cat Woman"
While to most people she was just the "cat woman," who wandered about the city--into church, funerals and markets, her heavy shoes each year beating a slower tattoo on the pavements, to those who ventured beyond her door, drawn at first by curiosity, she was a different creature. A woman sitting alone in the dim light of a kerosene lamp, within walls hung with bed quilts, designed to keep out the cold, asking about the babies of the town. The "Smith" boy's cold. She was so glad he was better.
Loved Everyone's Baby
She had never been in the "Smith" house. Mrs. Smith probably never knew that she lived, where King Street is crossed by Stewart Avenue. But Miss Everett knew when the Smith baby was born. It was the same night that "Spot" first came to her door, hungry and with wet fur. She took him in, as she took in every cat that was dropped in the road. The next day she saw in the papers (for she always read the papers) that the Smiths had a baby boy. "Fortunate," she would say, whether it was the "Smiths" or the "Joneses," and then it became obvious to the visitor that she loved cats not because she preferred them but because they were what life happened to bring her--she had to have something to love, for she was that kind of person--"Fanny, Fern, Pretty Tail, Halloween (who had come with the ghosts on that night), Blossom, Toots, Fluffy, Ruffles, Buttercup and Casper" were the answer.
    Just where she came from to befriend the cats of Medford, no one knew. She never revealed the identity of her family. She crossed the plains in an ox wagon many years ago, she often related, expressing the desire to travel once by plane before completing her stay here. Arrangements were made for a flight at the Medford airport, but that day arrived and Miss Everett, who believed in the will of the Lord, dismissed the desire. She wanted to see "San Francisco, Barbary Coast and all," she answered once, when asked why she came to Medford. She saw it "and nothing happened." On the return she stopped in Medford.
    "I'm getting a bit short of breath," she complained last Christmas eve as she lighted the kerosene lamp to show the cats' Christmas tree. And so she must have been.
    Quietly she came to the little brown house. Quietly she left it for the Jacksonville Sanitarium, where she died Tuesday. And the only question Medford asks is, "Did you know that the cat woman was dead?"
Medford News, December 20, 1935, page 1

    Lord of the manor is Duffie, who long ago took over supervision of the household at 514 South Holly Street.
    "Lord, what a manner," is the way the Scottie expresses it. He has been trying to make friends with Duffie for all of the three years he has been there, but Duffie is conservative and may consider Scottie as a friend after eight or ten more years but accepts no friends on a short three years' acquaintance.
    Duffie is a Persian cat. He took over the Ottoman household just 15 years ago. Bob Ottoman, a sophomore in forestry at Oregon State College, was six then and wanted a cat. Bob's father, M. Ottoman, ticket clerk for the Southern Pacific, did not want a cat, and so Bob won and they have had the cat ever since.
    Bob and his sister, Ruth, teacher in the school at Talent, gave birthday parties for Duffie. They even remembered him during each Christmas holiday. Duffie always got a catnip mouse for a present, and on such occasions unbent somewhat and chased the catnip mouse round and round the tree.
    Of late years, Duffie has felt that he must put away kittenish things and so the catnip mouse was discontinued. These days, Duffie confines his activities to taking a walk a few doors down the street. Reversing the usual procedure, he does his visiting during the day and is taken in at night, for Duffie is no gadabout.
    Nowadays he may be seen lying in the sun on the Ottoman front porch. He hopes to attend Bob Ottoman's graduation in two years more, and the Ottomans are all hoping he will be around to join in the celebration. He is wondering if he has not the distinction of being the cat in Medford who has been longest in one family at the same location.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 30, 1937, page 10

Medford Character Disappears
    For more than a few years Arthur Perry, author of the Medford Mail Tribune's column Ye Smudge Pot, has been ably assisted in his literary stint by a feline character styled "the Elks' old tomcat." That is to say, this tomcat-ward of a great fraternal order was more than occasionally employed as a character in Mr. Perry's column, to such degree that almost he had risen, in the public fancy, to the status of assistant director. To the best of our recollection the columnist never has described the Elks' tomcat save by the adjective of age and the designation of sex. Yet as the slow, fleet seasons passed, and the meanderings and maraudings and meowings of the tomcat repeatedly were chronicled, and engagingly, one came to feel that one knew him well, the cynic eye of him, the moth-eaten but valiant tail, the jaunty, swaggering intrepidity.
    And this is mentioned for the reason that recently Mr. Perry reported in the Smudge Pot that for a matter of two weeks the Elks' old tomcat has been absent from his accustomed haunts in the clubroom, and though rumor has it that he has been seen in various far places, none of these accounts has been substantiated. "Hope," sighs Mr. Perry, "has about faded . . . he is ten years old." In the vernal period of a tomcat's life, when all the geese are swans, an absence of a fortnight might pass without other than [the] lightest of suggestive remarks--but, as the columnist intimates, the Elks' old tomcat has begun the descent, as the moon of the tomcats declines, and in any case it is late in the season for him to neglect the more substantial comforts of existence for the illusions of romance and the spurious glory of combat. It may, indeed, be that some strange ashcan now affords a resting place for his heroic but weary remains; or some weed patch to which the crows are stooping. For he ought to have been home long ago, at this time of life.
    When a cat is a tomcat and also an Elk by adoption, and likewise a sort of newspaper man, as assistant to a columnist and that columnist Arthur Perry, heaven alone, in any instance, knows when the cat will come stalking out of the gloaming. In addition to the natural excitements and impulses to which any proper tomcat is heir, he has acquired three hazards not common to tomcats--and we may fear, as does Mr. Perry and the B.P.O.E., that which is gloomily styled the worst. Yet we once knew a cat, of the masculine gender, who by positive count squandered not nine but twenty-seven lives, and lived to breathe peacefully his last on a cushion at home, in an odor of catnip and sanctity. On this, as well as similar observation, we consider it at least even money that the Elks' old tomcat has yet to finish his saga. Kitty! kitty! kitty!--The Oregonian.
Medford Mail Tribune,
July 14, 1941, page 4  Reprinted from the O
regonian of July 3, page 6

    Careful attention to dogs after their annual three months' confinement is now needed so that the pets will not let their protective instinct develop so much as to endanger newspaper carriers, mail carriers, milk men and others, the Southern Oregon Humane Society advised pet owners today.
    Dogs also should have plenty of fresh, cool water in this hot weather so that they will not become irritable, the society said. The advice was given after two Mail Tribune carriers, Jackie Clark and Tommy Tam, were bitten by dogs Wednesday afternoon. Jackie was bitten on the left side as he delivered papers on West 11th Street, Tommy on the right foot at West Jackson Boulevard.
Medford Mail Tribune, July 18, 1941, page 7

Heartbroken Boy Seeks Body of Lost Dog
So He Can Give it Proper Burial
    Broken-hearted over the apparent death of his pet dog, which fell into Bear Creek and disappeared Sunday, 11-year-old Duane Denney has made an appeal to the Tribune to help him find the animal's body in order that he may bury it.
    "While playing in Bear Creek Park Sunday afternoon I saw my dog fall in the water under Bear Creek bridge," Duane wrote. "Then he was washed over the falls at the west end. He never came out of the whirling water. If someone finds my little pal washed somewhere along the bank please let me know. For this information I cannot pay, but will thank you sincerely," the boy's note concluded.
Was Blue Terrier
    The dog, which Duane called Diablo, was a blue terrier with white markings. He wore a rabies vaccination tag No. 117598 and a 1950 license number on his collar.
    Duane's mother, Mrs. Laura Denney, 504½ North Grape Street, said that Duane and a companion were playing in the park and were skipping rocks along the banks of the creek. Diablo had been trained to fetch rocks and sticks, and when one went too far and fell into the water, he rushed after it.
    The two boys and Mrs. Denney spent about two hours searching along the edges of the creek after the accident, the mother said, but no trace of the dog could be found. She said Duane and the dog had been constant companions for three years, and the dog had been trained to ride in a basket on the boy's bicycle.
    Duane got up early both Monday and Tuesday mornings and hopefully hurried out to look in the dog's box, thinking he might not have drowned and might have come home during the night, she said.
    "The reason Duane is so anxious to find the pet and bury the body is because Diablo was following orders when he was drowned," Mrs. Denney explained. "This really means a lot to Duane."
    The Denneys' telephone number is 2-8390.
Medford Mail Tribune, March 7, 1950, page 4

Barking Bedlam
    To the editor: I would like to bring to the attention of your readers a subject that is vitally important to the growth of Medford and the peace and happiness of its citizens.
    I refer to the hundreds of barking dogs we seem to possess and the hundreds of dog owners who do not seem to realize that such goings-on are only to be normally found in an Indian encampment or a Mexican slum village. At any time of the day or night almost anywhere outside the immediate downtown area several dogs can be heard barking or howling. In some sections it is almost a bedlam. An owner who permits his dog to do this in the daytime disturbs the peace of the home, and one who permits it at night disturbs the peace of the home, and one who permits it at night disturbs the peace and sleep of his neighbor. And seriously reduces working efficiency. In many cases actual breakdown of health is caused by this constant racket.
    I am very fond of dogs myself, and have raised and trained dogs all my life. I would not be without one. But I would as soon beat a dishpan in front of my neighbor's house as to permit my dog to bark and howl. I have never owned a barking dog for the simple reason that I had consideration for the peace of my neighbors and trained them to act as a dog should. I would be glad to offer my services to any person who would like to have their dog broken of this habit. It is very simple. Or could we form an anti-dog barking club to function somewhat as does our Chamber of Commerce.
    When one leaves San Antonio, Texas, after a visit one has long-lingering memories of cooing turtledoves, from Los Angeles one remembers the sirens and the mockingbirds, from San Francisco the foghorns, and from Medford the bedlam of barking dogs. This is not a very nice situation and is a direct reflection on we who live here. Cannot something be done about it?
    Yours for peace and quiet,
Rt. 2, Box 147.
Medford Mail Tribune, June 1, 1945, page 9

Duane Buries Diablo Today; Pet's Body Found in Creek
    Today after school Duane Denny was to bury his pet blue terrier, Diablo, in the yard of the home, 504½ North Grape Street, where the 11-year-old boy and his mother live. Diablo was drowned in Bear Creek Sunday afternoon when he chased after a rock thrown by Duane when the two were playing on the banks of the creek in the city park.
    Tuesday the small boy made an appeal though The Tribune in an effort to find his pet's body, and Wednesday morning a schoolboy phoned to say that he could see the dog's body lodged against a pipe jutting into the stream under the Jackson Street bridge. Later in the day it was recovered.
Expresses Gratitude
In a second note to The Tribune, Duane expressed his gratitude to the paper and to others who helped him recover the pet's body.
    "I would like to thank The Tribune for helping me find my little dog," he wrote. "Also thank the schoolboy that phoned me Wednesday morning, telling me where Diablo was, and I also want to thank Mr. Bill Millett, Route 1, Box 443, who waded under Jackson Street bridge and brought Diablo out to me, where I gave my little pal his last ride in the basket on my bicycle where he had enjoyed riding so many times before.
    "I thank you, one and all, for your kind words."
Medford Mail Tribune, March 7, 1950, page 4

Last revised January 29, 2023