My Life

MY

L I F E

B I L L

MOSHOFSKY

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©

Copyright 2012 Bill Moshofsky.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

isbn: 978-1-4669-1663-0 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4669-1665-4 (hc)

isbn: 978-1-4669-1664-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012903186

Trafford rev. 05/23/2012

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Contents

Introduction

Childhood

My Years In High School And College

Family Life

The Limes In The Bahamas Fiasco—And Other Investments

My Infantry Service In World War II

Military Service In The Korean War

My Working Career

The Battles Over Workmen’s Compensation

The Defeat Of The National Land Use Planning Bill

My Efforts To Secure Timber For G-P In Ecuador

My Efforts To Help Georgia-Pacific To Secure A Forestry Concession In Indonesia

My Role In The Rockefeller For President Campaigns

1982 And 1984 Campaigns For Congress

The Outlook For The Future Of Our Country Is Grim

Appendix

The Ecology Movement—Friend Or Foe?

Land Use Planning—From Seashore To Mountaintop Approach With Care—Proceed With Caution!

JOBS FOR OREGON A Positive Vision For The Future Preliminary Economic Recovery Report

Introduction

My primary motivation to write this book was to provide proof that the United States is truly the land of opportunity, and to urge everyone to do everything they can to defeat efforts to adopt policies and programs which would take it away. I also wanted to be sure that my children, grandchildren, and other relatives, know about the full and interesting life that I have lived, and the struggles of my father and mother to raise seven children on the dairy farm on Cornell Road.

I want to thank Jim Camin, my daughter-in-law Sue Moshofsky, and my wife, Dorothy, for their good suggestions for improvements in the book, my sons Mike and Brett and daughter Sally for their recollections, my wife’s daughter Connie Olson for proof-reading the book and Kathy Bartholemey for typing the lengthy materials in the Appendix.

Childhood

As I think back to my childhood years, I can’t help but relate the current recession/depression(2008-2011) to the 1930s depression following the 1929 stock market crash.

I was just six years old in 1929 and remember quite well the many depression years that followed. Despite all the hype about President Roosevelt’s efforts to end the depression, the reality is that it didn’t really end until World War II. But, I mustn’t indulge in the political scene in this chapter—it will come later.

Fortunately, we lived on a farm so we never went hungry. My Dad bought the farm on Cornell Road about 9 miles west from Portland in 1910 when he and his widowed mother and younger brother moved from St. Paul, Minnesota. His father died at age 42 from blood poisoning.

We were able to grow vegetables on the acre or two of land that was suitable for such crops. This was fertile land that retained moisture for a longer period during the growing season (we had no irrigation).

Most of the 50 plus acres that had been cleared and farmable were heavy to clay and somewhat hilly so were suitable only for growing hay or wheat. The 7 or 8 acres that were still dotted with stumps were suitable only for pasturing the dozen or so dairy cows we had. The hay we were able to grow was fed to the cows and horses, or sold. Some wheat was ground (for bread) at Louie’s Chophouse nearby (funny name for a grain grinder and processor).

There was continuing contention between Mom and Dad as to the appropriate mix of ground wheat and white flour for the bread. Mom preferred more white flour, and Dad, always health conscious, wanted more ground wheat. The kids preferred Mom’s mix, but knew that Dad’s preference was good for us.

In addition to the vegetable garden providing peas, beans, corn, etc. during summer months, the garden was a great source of food for the winter. Mom cooked the veggies and canned them in one and two quart jars which were stored in a concrete lined cellar in the barn. Also, canned and stored in the cellar, were jars of chunked and cooked meat with gravy, usually beef from older cows that ceased producing enough milk or calves. I should also mention that the cows provided lots of much needed milk for family consumption.

In addition to canning veggies from our garden, Mom would cook and can orange crates of spinach that Dad would bring home from the gardeners he sold and hauled hay to. They grew the spinach on small parcels just east of the Willamette River and used horses to till their land—the hay was for the horses. Some of the hay was grown on our farm. Most of the hay Dad acquired from other farms in the area.

To digress, I still marvel at Dad’s pitching all the loose hay [from hay mows in barns] onto the hay wagon (the hay load was over 20 feet long, over 10 feet wide and about 10 feet high). It’s also amazing that two horses could pull such a huge load of hay up relatively steep Cornell Road [fortunately it was paved most of the way], and that Dad could brake the wagon load all the way down the steep twists and turns on the down hill side of the mountain that separates Portland from the Tualatin Valley. [In later years, the curves became much less severe].

The wagon brake consisted of two friction devices that rubbed against the back wheels of the wagon. The brakes were activated by a long pole connected to the brakes. Dad, riding on top of the hay up front, had to pull a long rope connected to the pole and brakes to prevent the wagon from going pell-mell down the hill.

I rode with Dad some times—it was a memorable experience. It was a 10 to 12 hour trip—nine miles to Portland, and about a mile across the Willamette River to the truck farms, and back.

Returning to our food supply, we stored a huge supply of potatoes in a bin in the cellar—we often supplemented our own supply from neighbors’ fields. I still remember how delicious Mom’s mashed potatoes were with the canned meat chunks and gravy she heated up for supper (now called dinner).

While we didn’t lack for food during those years, our living conditions lacked a lot compared to the way we all live now.

We didn’t have an in-door toilet. We had a three hole out-door privy that served our needs winter and summer. We did use potties in the house for temporary storage and convenience.

We had no bathtub and only one sink which was in our small kitchen. The kitchen sink had to serve all our needs—Dad shaving, everybody washing up, doing dishes, etc. We had baths about once a week in a copper tub about 3 feet long and 18 inches wide. We took turns getting cleaned up in the same water.

During those years, our home consisted of the kitchen, a breakfast nook, a living room, two bedrooms and a front room where Dad played his piano and sang with his great bass voice. The front room was a little fancier than the living room. This was for a seven childen family. Mom and Dad had one bedroom for them and a baby. The other bedroom was somehow big enough for the rest of the kids. I recall the older boys slept three to a bed (not king-sized). Eventually, we moved a shed near to the house to provide a sleeping area for Ed, Dick and I. It was cozy with a small stove for warmth. I remember listening to the Portland Beaver baseball games on a crystal set with ear phones.

The only sources of heat in the house were a wood stove in the living room and the kitchen stove. Bedrooms were pretty chilly during winter months.

There was no electric refrigerator. I do recall how pleased everybody was when we got an icebox we put on the outside porch.

In the early years, Mom had to use a washboard to wash the clothes, but eventually we got an electric washing machine, but no dryer [I don’t think they were available back then—we couldn’t have afforded it anyway]. Mom had to dry the clothes on clothes lines in the back yard weather permitting. In cold weather, Mom had to do the best she could drying indoors in the living room—that was a real challenge when babies needed diapers (there were no substitutes for cloth re-washable diapers).

To keep expenses down, Mom had some of the babies at home. I heard that I was one of those. In those years, mothers of new-borns usually stayed in the hospital for 10 days. Mom loved the rest, but I’m sure the expense spurred home delivery.

I do remember when Betty, the youngest, was born. The folks sent the older kids out to the barn where we waited fora few hours for the baby to arrive. We knew what was happening—it was a memorable experience.

We eked by with a small dairy business (about 12 cows). The income from sale of milk provided little net income. I remember during a bad year, we dumped our milk on the road-side during a milk strike to protest low prices for the milk we sold.

I learned to milk cows at an early age (about 7)—and did other chores, including shoveling the manure from horses and cows and wheel-barrowing it to the manure pile, before or after going to school. Mom was always there to play substitute for our milking duties when we didn’t feel good.

Dad did everything he could to augment our meager income by selling and hauling loose hay. He would even buy hay from neighbors and resell it to the truck gardeners in Portland as I mentioned.

Eventually, the dairy business became so bad we got rid of all the cows except for our own needs, and Dad went to work for the feed department of the Dairy Cooperative Association.

Brothers Ed, Dick and I not only worked on the farm as needed. We worked for neighbors during harvest seasons especially. I remember hiring out with one of our horses to my cousin Ed Lehman to rake hay for 50 cents