Dear Liza,
Auntie Bridgett and I were wandering the Lone Fir Cemetery the other day, and we came across this tall, ornate headstone for a Woodsman of the World.
The Woodsmen were a service and benevolent organization, like the Elks. Their member’s graves are honored with very specific markers, cast and sculpted from cement. This one included a tree taller than my head, mallet, ax, ferns and scroll.
I figured Mr. J. A. Tell must have been a big shot with his fancy stone, so I went to my old friend, the online Historic Oregonian, to look him up.
I was saddened by what I learned.
As you can see by his stone, Mr. Tell died at the young age of 22. According to the newspaper story, J.A., (whose first name is not given in any of the articles) convinced two friends to go swimming with him in the Willamette River.
They borrowed a boat and rowed out to the protected channel between Ross Island and a smaller island. Here’s what the area looks like now, from Googlemaps.
Robert Ausplund stayed on the island while J.A. and the other fellow, identified only as Jorgenson, rowed to the end of a fifteen foot rope. J.A. disrobed and dove into the water.
Within minutes J.A. began calling for help, but his friends thought he was fooling. In the past, J. A. had insisted that he was a good swimmer. By the time they realized he was really in trouble, they could not reach him in time, and he drowned.
J.A. Tell came to Portland from Dakota just three years before his death in 1891, was a skilled mechanic and, by all accounts, a fine young man. I mourn for the foolishness and over-confidence that lead to his very preventable death.
Stay safe out there, my friends.
Love,
Grandma Judy
Dear Liza 