Heroes and rascals, shipwrecks and lost gold: Strange but true stories and secrets of Oregon's wild past | Offbeat Oregon History The Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (now known as Osho -- yes, THAT Osho) as he appeared when he lived in Wasco County with his followers. That's also him in the white Rolls-Royce surrounded by followers, in a scene from Rajneeshpuram. (Four-part story starts with Column No. 73, May 9, 2010 While doing some cleaning-up around the Odd Fellows Hall in Scio, a local girl found a tiny coffin with this partial skeleton inside. Whose? We'll probably never know ... (Story No. 204, Oct. 14, 2012) The ever-elusive D.B. Cooper peeks into the page from behind his signature shades. The story of his skyjacking exploit starts with episode 237, from June 2, 2013. Meet Kitty Kat, the wealthiest feline in the state of Oregon and landlord to the City of Tangent. Kitty Kat, until he died at a ripe old age in 1995, owned City Hall. (Story No. 163, Jan. 8, 2012) This crazy-looking speedboat was the invention of Portland wizard Victor Strode. The city commissioned a harbor patrol boat based on his design, but it didn't work out. (Story No. 201, Sept. 23, 2012) The Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (now known as Osho -- yes, THAT Osho) as he appeared when he lived in Wasco County with his followers. That's also him in the white Rolls-Royce surrounded by followers, in a scene from Rajneeshpuram. (Four-part story starts with Column No. 73, May 9, 2010 This is the roof of the Franz Bread Rest Hut at Pixieland, the Oregon Coast's ill-starred answer to Disneyland, which opened in 1969 and went out of biz in 1974. The Rest Hut consisted of a giant fiberglass loaf of bread sticking out of the top of this giant fiberglass hollow log, the whole thing towering over a log-flume roller coaster ride. It's probably the most campily awesome example of the proud display of crass commercialism that was Pixieland. (Column No. 52 - Dec. 6, 2009)
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Senator John H. Mitchell: Oregon's own real-life Snidely Whiplash

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Mysterious skeletons of Oregon: If these bones could talk ...

A long-dead dry-land homesteader ... a medical specimen in an Odd Fellows lodge ... what are their stories? We'll never know.


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Buck Rogers-style police boat didn't work out for city of Portland

A local inventor developed the "aerohydrocraft" design in the early 1930s. But when the city built one as an ambulance boat, it flopped.


The remains of the barque Peter Iredale as they appear today, jutting out of the beach sands on Clatsop Spit at Warrenton as they have since 1906. In 1960, the wreck nearly was lost to a man who claimed he owned it.

How the Oregon Coast almost lost the Peter Iredale to a scrap-metal shark

An Oregon City man claimed he'd inherited the rights from his father, and demanded to be allowed to cut it up and haul it away. He almost got away with this little swindle.


Commander Dave Scott salutes the U.S. flag, which has just been planted on the surface of the moon. A small piece of Oregon lava rock, carried to the moon by Scott's fellow astronaut Jim Irwin, lies within this photo, next to one of the many bootprints. (Image: NASA)

There's a piece of lava from central oregon in this photo, on the moon.

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Offbeat Oregon History: Album cover art

Chemawa School: An
Oregon cultural treasure

Created to stifle Indian culture, the oldest surviving Native American boarding school has done the opposite — and it's fortunate for Oregon's cultural heritage that it has.

Female students and staff of Chemawa Indian School pose on the lawn
in front of their dormitory for a photograph, sometime around the turn
of the 20th century, in this hand-tinted postcard image. The buildings
shown in this photo were all demolished in the early 1970s when the
school’s aging buildings were replaced with the modern facilities that
house the school today. (Image: OSU Archives)

On the northernmost outskirts of Salem, tucked quietly away on a 275-acre campus between the Interstate 5 freeway and Highway 99, is the oldest continuously operating Native American boarding school in the country.

This is Chemawa Indian School: a place built specifically to suppress Native culture, which instead became instrumental in preserving it.

A new approach to the “Indian Question”

Chemawa got started in 1880, and it’s been educating Native American children and young adults ever since. At the time, it was part of a new movement in government policy toward the native population — a movement away from the Andrew Jackson philosophy of outright ethnic cleansing, and toward a policy more akin to forced integration.

Girls at Chemawa work in various school training programs for
“home economics” skills, as was the custom in 1886. (Image:
The West Shore)

Author H.L. Wells did a fine job of explaining this new approach in a magazine article from 1887. “For nearly a century the government of the United States has pursued a policy … so unphilosophical in principle and so unjust in practice that this period has been very aptly characterized, by a gifted writer, as a century of dishonor,” he wrote.

Then he went on to make his larger point: That Native Americans were, as he saw it, far too naïve and barbaric to function in a civilized society; that government policy up to that point had been to take advantage of that naiveté by swindling them with contracts and treaties; and that what was needed to remedy the situation was to give the Indians the tools they needed to thrive in the American mainstream, whether they wanted to or not.

Old "barbaric" habits and trappings of a long-gone life, such as tribal affiliation, native languages and other cultural touchstones, were considered to be holding these young Native Americans back. They had to be wiped away. What was needed was a system in which children were taken away from those influences, cut off from them entirely and raised to adulthood as an American, rather than an Indian — that was the idea.

Elementary-school students in class at Chemawa Indian School in
1886. At this time, the school was still trying to suppress the children’s
tribal culture, a practice that was later discontinued. (Image:
The West Shore)

The result of this new way of thinking about Native Americans was a system of boarding schools all across the country, of which Chemawa was the second one to be established. These schools took six-year-old Native American children and, in essence, tried to reprogram them; they learned basic schoolwork in classrooms and trades like blacksmithing and shoe repair in shop, and they worked to make their schools as self-sufficient as possible.

These boarding schools were also like a modern immersion school, in that the only language spoken there was English. School administrators also took pains to collect as eclectic an array of Native American tribe members as they could and to bring them from far away, so as to weaken the desire to keep the old ways alive.

Unintended consequences

At Chemawa, in particular, this program seems to have resulted in some very good things — primarily because it didn’t work out how its architects had planned. Native American youths from all over the country, brought together by an overweening authority bent on telling them what to do, reacted in precisely the way teenagers have reacted to that sort of thing throughout time: by subverting it.

Boys at Chemawa work in various school training shops in
1886. (Image: The West Shore)

And in the process, they discovered a few new things.

For one thing, they discovered the unity of diversity. Paiute children born in Nevada befriended kids from the Sitka tribe in Alaska, people they might never have known existed had it not been for boarding school. In 1887, just seven years into its operations, Chemawa was home to about 200 children from 29 different tribes, from the close-by Kalapuya to the distant Chippewa and Crow.

The Man, in the 1880s, hoped this diversity would cause the children to drop their tribal feelings and forget their tribal traditions and replace them with this new mainstream culture that they were being offered. Instead, the Indian kids came together in secret opposition to the administration’s agenda. The result was a pan-Indian cultural awareness along with a familiarity and comfort with mainstream culture — a suite of social skills that gave them what they probably needed most: A sense of identity.

By all accounts, the kids responded to Chemawa very well. It is hard to find bitter, recriminatory accounts of time spent there, despite the fact that the first several months for a non-English-speaking six-year-old at the school must have been positively traumatic. The first students, in the 1880s, were essentially forced to go, but by the early 1900s tribal families were actually asking the boarding school to accept their children; the skills they’d learn there were much more valuable than anything they could get on the reservation, and public schools were not yet open to them (something that wouldn’t change, in some parts of the country, until 1948).

The administration building of the old Chemawa Indian School campus,
which was replaced in the early 1970s with a modern new facility and
subsequently demolished. (Image: Salem Public Library/ Ben Maxwell
Collection)

The students at Chemawa were hard workers, too. Although the school started out on a few acres leased from Pacific University in Forest Grove, it was soon moved to a home of its own — a 170-acre parcel that’s part of its present campus. Then the students started working to improve their school — picking hops and beans and providing other services. They earned or fund-raised all the money that was used to expand their campus; by 1947 the students had almost tripled the size of their school grounds, bringing it to 457 acres, including a farm and a 35-acre orchard. (It was reduced to its current size by the Interstate 5 freeway project ten years later.)

Celebrating Native heritage

Today, Chemawa is still a boarding school, but it’s strictly a high school. This makes sense: The authorities, no longer fooling themselves into thinking it’s morally OK to brainwash children, have fully embraced the wisdom of those early students, who found cultural unity and identity in the diversity of tribal backgrounds of their fellow students. It’s in high school that a young person starts thinking about the things that make him/her different and special and all that. Students in Chemawa are encouraged to take pride in their heritage and celebrate it at every opportunity. The walls of its hallways are festooned with student art in the traditions of dozens of different tribes and regions, and pow wows and other gatherings are regular events there.

Thousands of kids have attended Chemawa over its 130-year run, and many have made a point of sending their own children there in turn. Alumni have rallied several times in the last century to save the school when the Bureau of Indian Affairs moved to close it. Despite the best efforts of its founders, who created it expressly to destroy Indian culture, Chemawa has done the exact opposite. Today, it is itself a cultural treasure.

Ironic, isn’t it?

(Sources: Reddick, SuAnn. “Chemawa Indian Boarding School,” Oregon Encyclopedia, www.oregonencyclopedia.org; www.chemawa.bie.edu; The West Shore magazine, January 1887)