Hangings, lynchings and jail breaks are long forgotten in Pacific County, where tourists flock to quaint attractions every season. But back in the early days, when the first jailhouse was built, this was a rough, rustic setting. Popular cannery worker Lum You was hanged here in 1902--the only legal execution in county history. Industrious smugglers and creative entrepreneurs outwitted state-sanctioned prohibition measures, though some still did time in the jailhouse. Historian Sydney Stevens presents a collection of tales culled from a forgotten prison record book. Opium fiends, thieves, military deserters and even wayward girls jailed for incorrigible acts are brought out of the shadows of a wilderness long gone.
The towns and scenic byways of the Long Beach Peninsula attract more than just tourists, and from Oysterville to Ilwaco, ghostly tales abound. In Seaview, the Lamplighter hosts a multitude of spirits, including Lily, a murdered barmaid, while at the nearby Shelburne Inn, many guests have reported a ghostly presence that has yet to be identified. Mysterious footsteps can be heard on the stairs of the George Johnson house in Ocean Park, and a man holding a baby is rumored to appear at the Old Ilwaco Hospital. Join author and historian Sydney Stevens as she uncovers the spooky side of these beloved seaside towns.
For generations, Chinook Indians camped in the area that is now Oysterville, gathering oysters from the shallow waters of Shoalwater Bay. When tribal elder Old Klickeas introduced two young adventurers, Robert Hamilton Espy and Isaac Alonzo Clark, to the oyster treasure, the pioneer boom years began. Oysters were marketed in gold-rich, oyster-hungry San Francisco, where a plateful sold for $50. Within months, there were several hundred settlers, and in 1855, Oysterville was chosen as the seat of Pacific County, Washington Territory. Oysterville had many county firsts: a school, a college, a newspaper, a post office, and a churchbut never a bank. When schooners arrived to pick up their oyster cargoes, oystermen were paid in gold coin that then might be buried or stashed under floorboards for safekeeping. Often there was more gold in Oysterville than in any town on the West Coast except San Francisco. Today the peaceful vistas along the lanes and shoreline of the village belie its tumultuous history. Oysterville was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1976.
Ghost stories from the Long Beach Peninsula have never been so creepy, fun, and full of mystery! The haunted history of Pacific County comes to life--even when the main players are dead. Learn about Oysterville Church and the wandering spirits who still call it home. Or discover the history of the Shelburne Hotel, but be careful or you'll end up trapped for eternity, too. Dive into this spooky chapter book for suspenseful tales of bumps in the night, paranormal investigations, and the unexplained; just be sure to keep the light on.
Geographic isolation, abundant natural resources, and the challenging climate of Washington's Long Beach Peninsula have shaped the strong character, individuality, and creativity of those who live there--from the First Peoples of the Chinook Nation to the eclectic, ever-growing population of the 21st century. Along the Columbia River, the salmon industry has spawned leaders such as P.J. McGowan, John Kola, and Jessie Marchand. On Willapa Bay, oyster workers and cranberry growers like Meinert Wachsmuth, Ira Murakami, Charles Nelson, Jim Crowley, and Malcolm McPhail have struggled to understand and protect their fragile environment. Entrepreneurs like John Morehead, Mary Lou Mandel, Keleigh Schwartz; legislator Sid Snyder; surf rescuer Doug Knutzen; and artist Eric Wiegardt have each played a role in shaping this unique area. Legendary Locals of the Long Beach Peninsula chronicles the generations of inhabitants who have celebrated the distinctiveness of their communities even as they have endeavored to cooperate in sculpting their future.
For centuries, the Long Beach Peninsula has been known for the treacherous waters off its western shore, prompting seafarers and fishermen to call it the "Graveyard of the Pacific." But it's not just the ghosts of shipwrecked mariners that residents whisper about on stormy winter nights. As "Ghost Stories of the Long Beach Peninsula" proves, the truly chilling tales are more often about earthbound spirits and specters that linger in the weathered communities along the Peninsula. Early settlers of the region, long-ago neighbors and family members sometimes refuse to leave the area, even after death. Join author and historian Sydney Stevens as she explores unanswered questions about the ghostly phantoms that cling tenaciously to this isolated region.
For 100 miles along the western edge of Washington State, an unusual agricultural community hugs the Pacific shoreline. Bogs of bright cranberries stretch from the Long Beach Peninsula at the mouth of the Columbia River north to Grayland, Ocean Shores, and Copalis Crossing. Here, along this remote stretch of stormy seacoast, is a prime farming center for a fruit that grows in very few areas on earth. For countless centuries before pioneer settlement, indigenous peoples harvested the wild cranberries that thrived in boggy regions of the coast. When enterprising mid-19th-century settlers saw the possibilities for a vigorous cranberry farming venture, they faced many challenges before success could be achieved. Theirs is the story of hardworking, forward-thinking people who have become leaders in their field.
For nearly 40 years, the quirky little narrow-gauge railroad, begun in 1889 by the Ilwaco Railway and Navigation Company, ran along the North Beach Peninsula in southwestern Washington. The train provided the primary transportation link from Ilwaco in the south to Nahcotta in the north, making peninsula communities accessible to one another and supplying a reliable route to outside markets for the area's major industries--oystering, logging, and cranberry farming. A tide table, not a timetable, governed the railroad's schedule, allowing coordination with the steamers that met the train at either end of its daily journeys. Old-timers of the area still speak affectionately of the train's unorthodox schedule and its informal and accommodating service. And they remember with fondness that the IR &N was widely known as the "Irregular, Ramblin' and Never-get-there Railroad.
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