Earl Harold Lee
Born: 1886 Died: 1964
Married Jennie Florence Oliver “Aunt Florence”
Earl, the eldest son, a young teenage boy soon found his way to the Everett “Y” and became one of its active members. Just four years later after serving as gym leader and assistant to the Physical Director of the Everett “Y” Earl was asked to assist in the Physical Dept. at the Boise, Idaho “Y” where he remained for 3 years. In Boise he met his wife (17 years old) (Jennie F. Florence). From there he progressed and served as Physical Director in Seattle, Everett and Spokane Y.M.C.A.’s. During World War I he was Director of the Physical Education Program in the Navy Yard at Bremerton, and at the end of that assignment was called to Everett as the present building was then nearing completion. Earl took over his duties early in 1920 getting the gym and equipment ready and was Physical Director when the new building opened in April 1920. In 1932 he became General Secretary and Physical Director.
After retiring from the YMCA, Earl worked as Superintendent of the Reformatory in Monroe until he retired. Then he worked in the Sheriff’s Office.
Earl was an avid hunter and woodsman.
Earl Lee’s Memories of Altoona, Wisconsin
Son of P.T. Lee and Regine Johansen immigrants from Norway.
I’ve wandered to the village, too,
I’ve sat beneath the tree
Upon the village playground,
That sheltered you and me.
The following story of my boyhood days is written not with the thought of it being anything out of the ordinary in any way much different from the growing up of most boys, but with the thought that it might record some of the everyday happenings of my generation, now well along the road of life.
I was born in my Grandmother’s home in Altoona, Wisconsin, February 9, 1886. The old home still stands, and the last time I saw it, seemed to be in a very good state of repair. It is a matter of record the winter was a severe one but I survived the rigors of that kind of a climate in good shape.
My earliest recollection of home was the Jim MacDonald place near the edge of town. I believe the MacDonald’s lived in another house close by and probably helped in raising me. I remember in later years Mrs. MacDonald told me she had a print of my sister Tillie’s hand on one of her cupboards that had been freshly painted when Tillie decorated it with the palm of her hand. I also recollect chasing Mrs. MacDonald’s chickens with a dog. I do not remember whether the dog belonged to our family or to MacDonalds. Anyway one chicken was killed and I had presence of mind (if you would call it that) to bury the chicken, although not very well, but Mrs. MacDonald discovered it later and was quite wrought up about the affair, but I was too young to remember whether I got the blame for it or not. Another time mother sent me to Grassman’s for a pail of sour milk. On the way home I spilled most of it in the sand and tried to pick it up with my fingers and put it back in the bucket but needless to say it didn’t work. I also remember that Tillie and I were on our way to call on someone in the village and on our way we took off our shoes and stockings and lost them but they were later found. One rainy night when a severe lightning and thunderstorm was on, (seemed severe to me) mother sent me to the store for a gallon of kerosene. I was about five years old at the time and it was late in the evening and dark and I was scared. I ran through the rain and cried all the way to the store but found nothing had hit me. I got the kerosene and with a little encouragement from dad was a little bit braver on the way home.
I do not know whether the MacDonald house was the first one our family lived in or not but what dim memories I have of the place are pleasant ones. Dad built a house later that had a peculiar sort of a square top with a flat roof. Tillie fell down stairs at that place once and she was only a little tot. The thing I remember best about the place is that the well house extended to the second floor of the house so that people upstairs could draw up a bucket of water as well as those on the ground floor. Sort of a two story elevator idea.
After leaving that place we moved further down town, about one block, to a place across the street from where Whitfields lived. We rented of course but from whom I do not know. Indians came through town occasionally and one day I remember three or four Indian women came in through the kitchen door and stayed there, sitting on the floor until they were fed. After eating they grunted, got up and left. I suppose they made the rounds of the kitchens.
I also recollect distinctly sitting on the lounge that was a part of our living room furniture and swallowing buttons. Some pastime.
Another time I got hold of the cold end of a re-hot poker and proceeded to burn a hole in the top of the same lounge. No wonder mothers get gray early in life.
I don’t remember how long we lived in that house but I believe the next place we lived was in a house in the “Pulley Row” just across the street from E.A. Freeman and Co’s Store where dad was employed. I believe there were four or five houses in the “row”and a long lot extended across the back yards of all the houses. Beyond the big lot was the railroad fence and then the railroad yards. A big oak tree grew in the back lot near the railroad fence and was a nice shady place for the kids to play in summer.
The first day my sister Tillie and I started to school was a memorable one. The “little school” as it was called was held in a house belonging to my grandmother and presumably rented from her by the school board. The school was located on the same lot that her own home was on and when Tillie and I started to school on that first day we hid behind the well house at grandmothers and I do not remember whether we got up enough courage to go into the school room later in the morning or whether we waited until the afternoon to try over again. I well remember the little room we had for a school room but I do not remember who my teacher was. No doubt life was strenuous for her and the end of the day was a relief for her. After school was over we generally stopped in at grandmothers and had cookies to eat. After the little school was no longer used for a school father bought it from grandmother and had it moved on some lots he had purchased. The house was remodeled somewhat and made larger to accommodate a growing family. We lived in this house until the time we moved to Washington. The house had a tin roof covering one section of it which was somewhat of an oddity in those days.
School days moved along as they have a habit of doing. Seasons followed each other and the years came and went. Life flowed along in the little town with its heartbreaks and its times of rejoicing.
I remember one occasion when I was over to Art Thompson’s house, where I usually was when not at home, Thompson’s black and white cow came after Art and me. With head lowered the cow came on and Art and I made a run for the back door of the house. We made the door alright but it wouldn’t open and the cow butted us right into the door and kept pushing. Luckily for us the cow’s horns curved inward so about all we got out of it was a good scare.
One winter noon I started home from school for “dinner” as we called the noon meal in those days. I went to dad’s store first and then started for the house just across the back lot. I had just rounded the corner when a snowball came from nowhere and hit me square in the eye. To this day I do not know who threw the ball because I didn’t see anyone but my eye was sore for many days from that blow.
After dad left E.E. Freeman & Co. he bought a grocery store from Olin Megorden. Business went well and he then moved this store building from the corner lot where it was located to the next lot away from the corner where he established a drug store with ‘A.J. Windus in charge. Mr. Windus was an old time druggist and somewhat a target for the small boys but not too much so. Dad then bought the store formerly belonging to Botsford Brothers and moved it to the corner vacated by the moving of the other store building. This second building was larger than the other store building and had a hall overhead. One winter afternoon about six o’clock Art Thompson and I were left in charge of the store while dad went up the street to deliver a small order of groceries. Art and I were talking and we noticed smoke coming from the rear of the store. Our first thought was fire because the village had a burning the morning of the day before when Megorden’s home went up in flames. We investigated and found the store was really afire. I asked Art to stay at the store and I ran over to the railroad depot a block away and an engine was on the siding near the depot waiting for the train. The engineer was oiling the engine and I told him to blow the “fire whistle” because Lee’s store was afire. He climbed in the cab and he let loose a blast that nearly raised me off my feet. As I started back toward the store Mr. Hart came out of his confectionery store and asked where the fire was. I yelled in his ear and told him where the fire was and went on my way. By the time I got back to the store the fire was going in good shape and the people of the town were beginning to gather around. It so happened that evening that two of my uncles, Sever and Ole Lee came into town and immediately got busy helping to put out the fire. Across the back of the store we had built a rack about three feet high on which were placed vinegar and syrup barrels. After a hole had been chopped through the rear wall of the store the better to get at the fire, Sever and Ole began to throw buckets of vinegar onto the fire because no water was available. The Eau Clair Fire Department also came to Altoona but was helpless because of the lack of water. In the meantime people began carrying goods out of the store and I am sure that at least fifty per-cent of the stuff was carried home on the backs and shoulders of the good neighbors. Anyway the store burned down and with it a good deal of merchandise. I mourned the loss of some good fishing tackle and baseball equipment. The next morning all that remained of the store was a smoking ruin. The fire occurred in February the day after my birthday and day before brother Art’s birthday. I remember that I ran home and tried to wake Art up out of a sound sleep so that he could see the fire but it was quite a job. I think he finally woke up enough to take a good look and then went back to sleep.
Winter time was the time for courting or “sliding” as we called it. I recall one day when Sam Johnson came down hill on his sled and without warning struck Art Thompson about the ankles and gave him a very bad spill. The hill was only a block long and for such a small hill we used to think we wanted a considerable distance. Earl Freeman had a little sled the kids called the butterfly and it was pretty fast. Winter nights particularly were quite thrilling and some of us had lanterns on the front sled for headlights. Of course all the girls were there too which was an added attraction. In these days of rapid transportation boys and girls have no more fun than we had with our slower methods. Skiing and skating also came in for their share of fun. Saturdays we would start as soon as we could get away in the morning in spite of the fact that parents didn’t seem to realize how important skiing was. We generally took a lunch and stayed all day skiing over the hills and dales. We were generally on some farmers’ lands from which the wheat had been out leaving a smooth place to ski. Occasionally as we came to a hill covered with oak trees and we wound our way in and out until we came to open country again. We returned home all tired out there was generally an empty wood-box to fill and other chores to do. I remember the first attempt I made to go over a ski jump. Everything went fine until I came to the jump and I took one look below, a big breath and rolled over and over. I was uninjured but I broke the point of my ski. Ski bindings were different in those days and the skis generally came off or a strap broke, but nowadays it’s usually a broken leg, arm or shoulder. Another painful memory comes to mind, too. One Friday night we had a sleet storm and I awoke the next morning to find a world glistening with snow and ice. Well I wanted to get into action before a thaw spoiled everything so I took my skis and started up to the hill where the smaller boys did their skiing. The tracks were there and everything looked alright. Well I got up on the hill and started down. The surface of the snow was just like glass and the skis didn’t track so instead of going straight down hill the skis began to go sideways and in a moment I was headed for a clump of trees at fairly good speed. I knew of no way to stop myself except by sitting down real hard on the snow and breaking thru the crust which I did. However I struck the tip of a stump just underneath the snow with the end of my spine (my tailbone) and for a day or two I had to take my meals standing up.
Many winters the skating was excellent. The ice was smooth with plenty of room for skating. Winter evenings were especially enjoyable. One evening someone got several torches such as were used in the railroad yards and stuck them in the ice across the pond to the place where we met and did our skating. The torches had long handles and were probably like the ones used in political parades of that era. Saturday was of course the big day for the school kids with Sunday afternoon a close second. I recall skating with Jennie near the win dam one afternoon. We were traveling quite fast and our skates must have struck some obstruction in the ice for we both took a spill. I got up and then helped Jennie up and then I said to her, “what would you have done had the ice broken?” Said she, “I don’t know.” I have thought many times of that question and how thoughtless I was to ask it because it was practically over the spot where her brother Carl had drowned the summer before. How thoughtless kids are sometimes but they are probably not supposed to know as much as grown ups.
One Sunday afternoon the band gave a concert for the skaters. It was scheduled for two o’clock in the afternoon and as dad was one of the members of the band I wanted to go along. He told me that I should go to Sunday School, which was in the afternoon, and as soon as Sunday School was over I could come down to the river. It didn’t take long to run home and get my skates after Sunday School but imagine my disappointment when I met the band and all the crowd just back of the round-house on their way home. That was a tough break.
Once George Lee, George Larson and I went for an all day skating trip up the river to a place which I believe was called the “Blue Rocks.” We had a lunch along and ate that in an old mine tunnel. In the afternoon on our way home we were skating against a cold northwest wind and I froze part of my face and one ear. The two Georges proceeded to rub snow on my face and ear until they had me thawed out. It pained somewhat for a while and then started to itch but eventually got alright.
Prisoner’s base seemed to be a favorite game on the ice and some very good skaters were developed among the older boys and men. As I recall it Hank Enockson was a good skater.
I well remember the day I was expelled from school. I do not remember what I was expelled for but in all probability I had it coming. That is all except the rap alongside the head. That kind of a blow seemed to be the favorite indoor sport for some teachers. Anyway Prof. Fleming told me to go home and either the afternoon of that day or the following morning dad went back to the school room with me, gave Mr. Fleming a vigorous pat on the back and informed him that “Earl was coming back to school right now.” That incident will always stay with me.
More Memories:
The thrill that comes once in a life time came to the kids when we put on the “Brownie Show.” As I remember the theme the “Brownies” were at war with the insects and had some hard battles to fight. Stella Brogan was the “Prince”, Frank Marks was an Italian with his “bear”, I took the part of a policeman with the privilege of taking a banana from the fruit stand every time I walked past but I had to furnish my own bananas. I recall parts of one or two songs in the show. One went something like this:
We’ll build a ship to hold the all
And ship them o’er the main.
To England, no to Germany,
To Italy or Spain.
Another was a “Brownie” war song like this:
Go ye heros go to glory,
History’ll tell of you in story,
How you all emerged victorious
From a struggle that was glorious.
Verily those were the days. We had quite a time rehearsing and the night of the big show saw every parent in town in the hall. Another show came to town in which the leading man demonstrated his skill in roping. He stood in the street in front of Freeman’s store and had the kids run past him and he threw the rope on them. Lassoed them in other words. One kid got a raw neck and a free ticket to the show for his pains. After the street show we paid our hard earned money to go up to the hall and see the rest of the show which consisted of a strongman act. The same man who did the roping on the street lifted a wagon wheel and balanced it on his chin, challenging any man in the audience to come and do likewise. If there were any more numbers I don’t remember them.
One winter I helped dad haul wood from the island in the river. We had a one horse sleigh and filled the sleigh with wood and hauled it home. We had one or two small hills to go up and we got off the load and helped push it over the hill. We had a mare named “Peach” that dad had bought from Larsons and she surely was a fine animal.
School days were mostly happy times. Of course boys and girls always have some grief but generally our school days were pleasant. I remember having as teachers Inez Coss, Leana Barry, Catherine MacDonald and W. H. Fleming. The first day Miss MacDonald came to school she wrote her name on the blackboard so we could all see. I think she was pretty well liked. One day I took dad’s watch to school and lost it. The next morning early I went to the school grounds and looked around to try to find the watch. Believe it or not I found it on the ground and very shortly thereafter my grandmother found out I had it and I started running away from her. I guess I was too young to be speedy or something else happened, I guess I didn’t have my track shoes, anyway grandma caught me, flopped me on the ground and took the watch away from me.
Swimming was the great outdoor sport in summer time. After school closed for the summer it was generally too hot to play ball, although we did that too, but the river was the greatest attraction. All we wore in summer was a pair of overalls, a blouse and a hat. In order to get to the river we crossed the railroad yards barefoot on the cinders, past the roundhouse to the edge of the hill over looking the river. As we started down the hill we started undressing and by the time we got to the waters edge we were ready to go in. We generally went swimming only once a day and that was all day long. We had one favorite swimming hole and it was well patronized. The water got very warm by the middle of summer and by August it had a green scum on it and we generally stayed out of the water during “dog days”. At times there were many logs on the river and the kids took great delight in running on them stepping from one log to another. When I think back to those times I often wonder why there were not more accidents.
On one occasion while playing along the river with some other boys, we came to a place along the river bank where some fishermen had just pulled onto shore. They had quite a number of bullheads in the boat and all the kids had to look them over. In stepping around among the fish I accidently stepped on one of the “horns” on a bullhead and of course it hurt and I was barefooted at the time. One of the fishermen remarked that a person generally died within two minutes after being stuck by a bullhead. Well I didn’t want to die away from home so I gently edged my way to the outer rim of the crowd and started for home about as fast as I could go. By the time two minutes had passed I hadn’t traveled very far and I was still alive so I decided to go back to where the fishermen and the kids were. I don’t know whether they had noticed my disappearance or not but no one said anything when I came back.
We had our tragedies in our small town like every other place has. One morning early mother woke me up and told me that Carl Hogan had not been at home all night and asked me if I had heard any of the boys say the day before that they were going to run away from home. People thought that Carl possibly might have stayed overnight with some other boy or boys. Carl had gone to the river the day before with some boys and if my memory serves me correctly someone said he was lying on a log looking into the water when they last saw him. He must have fallen in when no one saw him. Just who was responsible for looking after Carl I never knew but such tragedies happen because of a lack of responsibility on the part of someone. Carl was a boy who was well liked by all and his drowning was a shock to the whole village. I also remember that Bob McGroury drowned but do not remember any of the details. Another tragedy was the drowning of several loggers when their bateau swamped while they were driving logs in the river. I remember several of the boys tried to get across the river to where the old boarding house stood but I for one didn’t get that far.
One of our pastimes was gathering old lead back of the roundhouse. I don’t remember all the uses we made of it but one thing we did do and that was mould bullets. One day I was helping George Lee and there must have been a little water in the bullet mould because the minute the hot lead got in the mold it cam right back out and a piece of hot lead struck me in the forehead just above the eye. That experience taught me a lesson and I was careful to see that the mould was ready for the hot lead. I think we used the bullets mostly in sling-shots.
One day I picked up a 32 caliber blank cartridge left over from some Fourth of July celebration and not having a gun to shoot it in I wandered over to the roundhouse, put the blank cartridge on an anvil and hit it with a maul. Well it exploded alright and a small piece of the brass shell struck me in the thumb and it bled quite freely for such a small cut.
I remember one fall Ole Lee built an underground rabbit pen for his rabbits so they wouldn’t freeze in the winter. He dug a large hole in the yard, put a box in the hold and covered it up. He had a square trough extending on a slant from the box to the surface of the ground so the rabbits could climb out whenever they wanted to. I remember he had to give one rabbit a push to get it started down the hole.
One summer day George Lee, George Larson and I were returning home across a pasture after a swim in Otter Creek. Before we got out of the pasture a bull started after us and in spite of the fact that I had a sore foot I made pretty fast time getting out of there and both the Georges told me that I made a running high jump over a stump that would no doubt stand as a record today. I don’t even remember jumping over the stump. That incident might give some track coaches an idea.
One winter several of us went over to Otter Creek to get some Christmas trees. The trees must have been pretty large because by the time we got to the edge of the bluff just above the schoolhouse we were so tired that we could hardly travel the rest of the way home. We promised ourselves that the next time we would get smaller trees or none at all. We had no automobiles to bring the trees home; not even horses. We had to drag or carry them all the way.
Art Thompson and I built a lean to on Otter Creek one winter and we often used to go out there even in the coldest weather and try a little winter camping. I guess we made enough noise to startle the natives for miles around. We generally had a little lunch and built a little fire and we enjoyed it. Ours were the simple pleasures.
I do not remember my Uncle Nels, dad’s oldest brother. He was injured on his hand while coupling cars and died of blood poisoning. There were two daughters Hilda and Ella and of course Nel’s wife. I have not heard from them for many years.
My first trip away from home as I recall it was to Duluth. Dad took Tillie,
Palma and me for a visit with Aunt Jennie, Uncle Chris and Minnie. I think dad stayed overnight and went back to Altoona the following morning. I felt quite homesick but got over it by the third day and proceeded to look the town over. I rode down to the lumber yard with Uncle Chris behind his team of big black horses and watched them load and unload lumber. It was a new thing to me and I liked the way the lumber rolled off the wagons. We must have been quite a problem to Aunt Jennie but it was a visit I will never forget. We saw fussy little tug boats, big lake steamers and lots of other craft. We also had a ride up the incline and looked over the parks. I remember in one of the parks I walked out on a rock on which a small stream of water was running. When I struck the slimy spot in the water I sat down on the rock and got wet. I avoided slippery rocks after that.
A later visit that Art Thompson and I made to Itasca when Uncle Chris and Aunt Jennie lived there was somewhat different. An excursion by the ISWA to Duluth gave us a chance to go for a low fare and we took advantage of the chance. Art called it the Independent Scandinavian Whiskey Association because of the number of drunks aboard the train. They didn’t bother us however. We got off at Itasca and next day Uncle Chris took us over to Duluth to see the sights and we had a fine time. We had a ride on a lake steamer and thought we were real sea-going heroes. When we left for home we stood on the rear platform of the train and waved good bye to the folks and both Art and I had a big cigar in our faces trying to look hard-boiled. What crazy things kids will do.
On one occasion Art and I really pulled what we considered was a good one. We decided that Elton Tribbey was getting too much coaching on his school work at Fleming’s home. A little extra-curricular activity so to speak which gave Elton the advantage of a few jumps ahead of us. That wasn’t exactly ethical according to our cave-man ideas so we decided to do something about it. So one night after dark we crawled along the fence and hid in the grass near where Elton had to pass on his way home. Soon he came along and Art and I growled or tried to at least anyway we lowered our voices as much as we could which was sufficient to do the work because Elton let out one whoop and ran back to Fleming’s house yelling, “Oh my God Fleming”. We never dreamed our little stunt would prove such a howling success and we laughed so hard we were barely able to get out of there ourselves before getting caught. A good laugh seemed to be the main objective in life those days.