Established
in 1937
Bob's Corner
This was the week I was going to choose a topic from my list of possible subjects (as well as predicates and verbs and stuff), but instead, I’ve decided to talk about how we ended up in Cave Junction, because we came close to moving to Roseburg years ago.
People periodically ask me how and why we came to Illinois Valley, usually by saying something like, “Hey! Why don’t you #@xx% go back where you came from!” I usually ignore such ignorant outbursts, although it’s always good to know karate (and other Japanese words.)
Anyway, Jan and I took a 10th anniversary trip in 1974, leaving our three children, then 9, 7 and 6, with her parents at our house. We were driving a ‘66 faded, underpowered red-and-white GMC window van towing a 14-foot Western camping trailer. We left Poway in San Diego County and headed north, not really aware of where we were going, but knowing that we probably were looking for a new place to live.
It was late November, so we got lots of rain. I have to confess that by the time we got to Lake Shasta City we were just a wee bit tired of staying in the trailer, which did not have heat. So we stayed one night in what was then a brand-new motel.
Finally made it to Roseburg, which we thought was not a bad place. Of course, during the 31 intervening years, that area has grown considerably, and what was then undeveloped land contains homes and stores. At any rate, we found a hillside piece of land, and I was all set to buy a used mobile home and move to the Pacific Northwest with visions of “Mother Earth” living dancing in my head.
However, in what some would call a fortunate circumstance, and what could cause others to say, “Dang!” I became impatient and upset because the salesman was nowhere to be found on the mobilehome lot. So in a fine fit of temper, we left Roseburg and headed south.
My navigator directed me to Hwy. 199, as we wanted to go through San Francisco on the way home. So we, as so many others, “discovered” Illinois Valley. The late Marshall Hughes at the former Elmore & Spieth Real Estate office (now Oregon Mt. Real Estate) showed us 5 acres in O’Brien, and we bought it via the mail after we returned to Poway.
However, the late Bob Grant, most-recent owner of the “Noose” before Jan and I bought it (Grant’s widow also is named Jan), wouldn’t hire me. So we bided our time; subscribed to the valley paper; and hoped. As luck would have it, we decided to leave San Diego County because it was getting too crowded for us, and we didn’t want our children to grow up amid the turmoil and trouble.
“Luck” continued, as the “Curry Coastal Pilot” in Brookings was looking for a news editor, and I just happened to be ready. We flew United (so to speak) to San Francisco, then Hughes Air West to Crescent City, where we rented a car from an auto dealer. Well, to make quite a long story shorter, I was hired and went to work on Labor Day ‘79.
Although, I should note that I was trying to avoid the corporate structures I had come to abhor. After leaving two major organizations in San Diego because of that, I was working for what was then the Escondido “Times-Advocate.” It was family owned, so I was happy. A year after joining the “T-A” as a reporter and advancing to assistant city editor and then news editor, the paper was sold to the Chicago Tribune Co. So I was right back in the corporate jungle.
I was glad to leave for the “Pilot,” as it was owned by Dick & Polly Keusink. It was a nice weekly newspaper run like a family paper should be. A year after being hired there, the paper was sold to Western Communications in Bend. And back I went to being a corporate critter, serving as editor and publisher for eight years.
We had become friends with the Grants, as I convinced Bob to come to Brookings to be printed. And, still trying to make a long story shorter, he became ill and could no longer handle the “Noose.” We again were in the right place at the right time, and took over the valley trumpeter in February ‘86.
So we’re coming up early next year on a full two decades of being Illinois Valleyites; nearly 27 as Oregonians.
Oh, that land in O’Brien? Not knowing that we’d be taking over the “Noose” in an extremely short time, we sold it about a month before we made the move from Brookings. Funny how circumstances occur, eh?
And that’s how we came to Cave Junction.
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