Mother used to send me to the store in Anglin fairly often. I liked to go because there was always something going on there. A lot of people lived around close then. It wasn't much of a town; there was only the two-storied store and a blacksmith shop and Billy Jarvi's blacksmith shop. The road curved down around then and across the road was the big Anglin home, which they also used as a hotel. There were no sidewalks in Anglin, only a hard packed yard and hitching posts for the horses and teams of the people that came to trade at either Anglin's store or the shop. The store was used not only for trade but also as a community center for church meetings and dances on the second floor. The Anglin house was painted yellow and had a porch clear across the front with milled pillars painted white. When I went on my errands I was always hanging around as long as I could taking everything in. The town wasn't big enough for sidewalks but it was the busiest of places.
One time there was a crowd of men by the store watching two young fellows sparring with boxing gloves. I didn't know who they were and couldn't hang around long enough to find out. I did witness a fight between my dad and our neighbor, Tom Anglin. At first they had words about where our land was located. Then the Anglins filed on forty acres of dad's. Dad went there only to talk to him, but got hit on the nose a couple of times. Dad was forty-five and Walter twenty-seven, so it wasn't the best scraps. It ended when dad hit him in the solar plexus and took the fight out of him. His wife begged dad not to hurt him any more. I remember dad coming back to the house with his nose still bleeding. That wasn't the end of it, I remember, Anglin came to our back door and told dad, "Your pigs are getting in my haystack." "Move your haystack. It's on my land," was dad's only reply. But dad had more trouble.
When I was born the house was just built in 1902. Before that the family had lived in a lean-to. Dad had gotten the logs at Bill Gherkin's place where Gherkin had cut the tamaracks. I watched Fay Hackers walk up one side and score them and go down the side and hack off that side. Poles were done the same way. Anglin's land joined ours and the town was half a mile that way up the creek. The Bostwicks' were next up the creek and then a Mr. Reavis. He was a widower and his son, Bob, lived with him. First down the creek from us was the Cushens. Relta Cushen and I were about the same age. At the Griggs' you had to watch where you placed your chair legs as one might get in a knothole in the floor and you'd tip over. I played with Billy and Clarence Griggs. Two of the girls were Ethel and Gladys, but there were eight more kids that I don't recall.
The floor in the bedrooms upstairs in our house was the same as the Griggs'; made out of planks with knotholes. We could peek into the downstairs from up there. When our great aunt, "Auntie Brown", sent mother a treadle-sewing machine, mother sold the old hand crank one to Mrs. Griggs. The Griggs' kids would bawl if they couldn't help turn the crank for their mother. I couldn't see why. My recollections go on. Tom was Walter Anglin's brother. Grace Anglin married Billy Jarvis, one quarter Indian. He was the one who owned the blacksmith shop. Garnet Buckland was two weeks older than I. Mrs. Buckland died at Anglin. John Buckland married again and we moved to Spokane and they rented our homestead. I was the typical little picture with big ears. I heard about the Boone family once. Mr. Boone went to prison for beating his wife. Others I remember being talked about were Riley Fuller and Charles Jenkins Godfrey, also Wes Lemmons who lived at Corey's. He had come from the east riding here on horseback. There was also Rose Bannon who was good at chasing horses on her saddle mare. Jessie Lowry was my brother, Walt's friend. We all walked to school because it was so close. Others came on horseback including the Bannons, Griggs, Anglins, and Geo Thornton stayed with us. Charlie Brazel and Alta Knight were schoolmates as well as some Indian children.
One wrangle that happened was over where to have the school. Dad was on the school board and had proposed having the school on our homestead. He would deed the land for it. He had someone lined up for the election that thought the same way he did. However, Anglin wanted the school in the upstairs part of the store building. During the election, which was held at the store building, Mrs. Anglin wasn't loath to coming electioneering. She was sure of the vote going their way. One man spoke up saying the McFarlane site was more centrally located, better for the children. "Oh, boss the children!" she exclaimed angrily. I was really impressed.
Then someone came out of the voting place saying the vote was going against her. She flew in but came out with her feathers considerably smoothed down. So the school was moved from the cabin where it was being held since Margaret Peone needed it to live in. Another I remember was Reverend Haynes, the Congregational minister who farmed all week but on Sundays went to hold church at the store at Anglin. The next week he would go down creek to hold services. I thought he was a nice man. He was certainly a big man. I would try to listen to his sermons but was always falling asleep. He would clap his hands to wake me up. Another man I remember was old Gregory, a Civil War vet. Then there was Ose Mosier, a little Frenchman. Mosier's sister kept house for him as her husband would go prospecting and leave her. The kids of our family were Walt, my oldest brother, and Fred, the next. Then came Toroda who was the first white child born in the gold mining town of Toroda before we moved to Bonaparte Creek. We boys all called her "Toadie." I was next and then my baby sister, Edith, which we kids named. She was always bawling. Mrs. Bostwick had been there when she was born but Mrs. Bostwick liked me best. Torida's pal was Esther Yandell. They'd go over to the bluff across the road and play dolls by the hour. We had two dogs, Jeff and Curley. Jeff was poisoned. Another dog Rover was poisoned too but Mr. Dannon was there and said to give him salt water. That dog recovered.
When King Kennedy used to come to town he'd put on a performance in the upstairs of the store. He was a ventriloquist and had a dummy that would talk back to him. I was little and could sit in the front row. I always sat there in amazement. "How could he do that?" I had a good view of everything that went on but couldn't see how it could be done. I could not see where his voice could come from. "Where's Inkey Darkness? He owes me ten dollars." I'd hear from King Kennedy. "I'm going to put him down here.
"Hey! You got me by the nose!" I'd hear from right down where I could see the dummy. I was sitting open-mouthed, looking around. I was pretty gullible. When there was a community Christmas party in the upstairs of the store, I went up to Santa and shook hands with him never dreaming that it was my dad. The road sign is wrong. The town was not located where they have it. The creek has changed course and the road has been straightened. The quarrels are all forgotten the kids are all grown and gone or become old codgers like me, but the memories remain of people for those who are left.