INTERVIEW OF CAPTAIN GRAY
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Some of the experiences of Captain William P. Gray of Pasco, early day Columbia River pilot who skippered first sailboats and then steamers on the river, are related as the captain told them in an article by Fred Lockley published in 1913 in the Oregon Historical Society Quarterly.
He was the son of W.H. Gray, who came to Oregon in 1836 with Whitman. Of him Gray said:
“My father named me William Polk Gray. I remember when I was four or five years old someone asked me what my middle initial stood for. Father said, ‘I named him after President Polk. When I named him the president had taken a strong stand of “54-40 or fight”. Polk reversed his attitude on that question and I have been sorry I called my boy after him ever since. Sometimes I have a notion to wring the youngster’s neck; I am so disgusted with President Polk’.”
A prospecting trip near Roslyn, B.C., failed to pan out as well as expected, and Gray started a ranch on the upper Okanogan River. Then he determined to build a boat, go down the Okanogan and Columbia rivers to the miners. Gray said:
“We had practically no tools, and of course no nails. We went into the mountains, whipsawed out the lumber, hauled it down to the water, and father, with the help of us boys, built a boat, fastening it together with trunnels of wooden pegs.
We built a boat 91 feet long with 12-foot beams, drawing 12 inches of water. The next thing was calking her, but I never saw my father stumped yet. He hunted around and found a big patch of wild flax. He had the children pick this and break it to use as oakum to calk the cracks in the boat. We also hunted all through the timber and found gum in the trees, which we melted up for pitch to be used in the calking. We had no canvas for sails, so he made some large sweeps. He launched her on May 2, 1861, and started on his trip down the river on May 10th.
“To give you an idea of the determination of my father, he sent that boat, without machinery, sails or other equipment except the sweeps, through the Rock Island rapids and through the Priest Rapids, both of which he negotiated successfully. He left me to bring the family down and I certainly had a very exciting time doing so.”
Accompanied by A.J. Kane, young Gray started down the river on horseback, with his mother and two sisters and two brothers. On their way they learned that the Indians had killed a man and his wife near Moxee Springs, so they crossed the Columbia and started down the east bank. Kane had been injured and could scarcely ride.
One night the Snake River Indians drove away their horses, and young Gray started out on the trail of the Indians. He followed their trail to near the present site of Pasco. Entering the camp, he rode up to a large tent where he heard the sound of toms-toms and dancing.
“Some years before, General Wright had inflicted punishment upon the Indians by killing a large band of their horses. On the spur of the moment, I decided to put on a bold front and demand the return of my houses. I rode up to the tent, dismounted, threw the teepee flap back and stepped into the entrance. The Indians stopped dancing and looked intently at me. I talked the Chinook jargon as well as I did English, so I said, “Some of your Indians have stolen my horses last night. If they are not back in my camp an hour after I get there, I’ll see that every horse in your band is shot.’ There was utter silence.”
As Gray rode back to his camp, four Indians rode after him, whooping savagely, and when they got to him surrounded him. He did not look around. One Indian rode directly into the trail ahead of him. Gray spurred his horse and raised his quirt. The Indians gave away before his bluff of appearing perfectly fearless.
When he got back in camp, he sat down to a delayed breakfast. In a few minutes his horses were driven in. He led his party to an Indian camp.
“I again rode up to the large tent, opened the flap and said in Chinook, “I want one canoe for my women and children to go to Wallula and three canoes to swim my horses across. You have delayed us by driving my horses off, so I want you to hurry.’ They looked as impassive as wooden statues. One of the chiefs gave some command to the others. Several of the young men got up, went down to the water and got out the canoes.
“My mother and the children got in and the Indians put in our packs to take to Wallula, 11 miles distant. My bother, Albert, went in one canoe and I went in the other, while one of the Indians went in to the third canoe and we swam our houses across the river. Albert and I rode on toward Wallula, where we arrived at 10:00 o’clock that night and rejoined the rest of the family.”
Gray put his family in the adobe fort. He herded stock for J.M. Vansyckle until his father returned from Deschutes with their boat, now rigged with sails and loaded with supplies, for the new Orofino mines. The freight was to be hauled to the mouth of the Clearwater, and he had mortgaged his entire property to purchase the boat load.
At Wallula the entire crew deserted, since they had heard that it was impossible to navigate the rapids.
“Father finally secured another crew of seven men, and on September 20, 1861, we left Wallula. It took us three days to reach the mouth of the Snake River, a distance of only 11 miles. The prevailing winds were directly across the current, so that it was necessary for us to cordelle the boat almost the entire way.
“Another boy and myself took ropes in a skiff up the stream, found a place where the rope could be made fast. We would then come down stream bringing the rope to our boat where the rope was made fast to the capstan and the rope would be slowly wound up. We had a difficult trip to Lewiston and before we got there my comrade and myself in the skiff had demonstrated that there was not a single rapid in the Snake river that could not be swum. It was October 30 when we finally arrived at Lewiston.
“Provisions were getting short at the mines and father sold his flour for $25.00 a sack or 50 cents a pound. Beans also brought 50 cents a pound. Blankets were eagerly bought at $25.00 a pair and we sold all of our bacon at 25 cents a pound. Father had made a very profitable voyage, and had not only carried out his plan, but came out with a handsome profit.”
After some time in Portland, young Gray quit school to help his father on the river. They were carrying freight in their sailboat between Deschutes and Wallula. The elder Gray decided to build a steamboat at Columbus, on the Washington side of the river.
Gray, then 16 years old was put in charge of the sailboat after it was bought by Whittingham and Company of Wallula, and he strove earnestly to make a record with his first command.
“During the month of July I made five round trips between Deschutes and Wallula, which was not only a record trip up to that time, but has never been broken by sailboats on the river since.”
Through his exertions the new owners paid for the boat and all operating expenses in one month.
The elder Gray launched his steamboat, the Cascadilla, in December, 1862, and the next spring took it up to Lewiston. It ran on the Clearwater and Snake rivers. An interesting incident of his story is that of the transfer boat, Frederick Billings, which carried Northern Pacific railway cars across the Snake River before the bridge was completed. The boat took cars from Ainsworth to South Ainsworth. It was 200 feet long with 39-foot beam, had a square bow and stern and a deck house 25 feet high and 165 long. Of this craft Gray said:
“It was the consensus of opinion that it would be impossible to handle her in strong winds. No one was anxious to handle the job. The very difficulty of handling such a Noah’s Ark of a boat appealed to me and I applied for the position and was given the job before I could change my mind.”
He transferred as many as 213 cars in a day with this boat, and when the bridge was completed in 1884 took it to Celilo to be overhauled. The boat was then used to transfer cars from Pasco to Kennewick.
Gray secured 80 acres of land and filed a plot of an addition to Pasco before the original townsite was plotted. When the railroad wanted to cross his land, he stood off the grading crew with a shotgun until the higher authorities of the Northern Pacific agreed to pay him $500.00 for the right of way.
