THE BURIAL OF MOULDY MIKE

In 1927, my Uncle Ernest Robinson (married to my dad’s sister Ethel Dobson) was sheriff of Clearwater County, Idaho. That year, an old trapper, Mike Olson, died in the back country of Clearwater County, so Sheriff Robinson enlisted the assistance of two young men, E. I. Ashley (“Red”) and John Oud, Jr. (“Buzz”), and the three made the trip into the remote back country to bury old Mike. This adventure so impressed the young men that they wrote the following rhyme, which was published in the Clearwater Tribune.

THE BURIAL OF MOULDY MIKE

‘Twas on the morning of the twenty-third,

that Sheriff Robinson received word,

that Mike Olson had passed away,

far back in the mountains and hills of gray.

To us he said,

“We must leave today to bury the dead.”

And as he left us, the sheriff cried:

“He sure picked a Hell of a place when he died.”

So Robinson, Buzz and Red, three mountaineers, tried and true,

a husky hard-boiled crew,

as ever started hiking thru,

with pack sacks strapped and snowshoes loose,

left that nite for Lewiston on the “Galloping Goose.”

At Arrow the sheriff received word,

that on that train there was a bird,

that was wanted in Greer,

for passing money that was queer.

The sheriff said: “Come with me,

and the jail in Lewiston you shall see.”

At Lewiston he put him in jail;

and the loss of our suppers made us feel pale.

At Lewiston we took the buss,

without a bite to eat, the three of us,

on the highway to Spokane, a woman had jammed

her new Marmon into a telephone pole, and never said Damned.

We climbed the pole and got her free,

“Rob,” Buzz and Red, the hearty three.

Good going from there it must be said,

we made Spokane and went to bed.

Next morning at eight we boarded the train – Superior bound,

boy! We sure did cover the ground.

At noon into the diner we trouped,

and burnt our mouths on the damned hot soup.

We made Superior at 3:28,

from there trapper “Whitlock” we did take.

From there to the “Dredge” in an old Dodge car

 – It traveled not fast but it traveled far.

At the Dredge we stayed that nite,

the eggs were bad, but the bed was right.

Over the summit in the blinding snow,

the mountains were steep, we traveled slow;

we ate dinner at Wisdom that enabled us to survive.

And at “Cloot McNutts” we took a five.

We made Dills cabin on that nite,

there was no grub and the bed was lite.

We left Dills cabin traveling lite,

on the home stretch to bury old Mike.

We found old Mike all covered with mould.

He had probably died from hunger and cold.

So we laid old Mike beneath the sod,

his spirit had passed before to God.

The job was done and all was well.

But the cheese in our sandwiches tasted like Old Mike smelled.

With Chamberlain Meadows twelve miles away,

we started out to finish the day.

We were tired and hungry; much strength we had lost,

for many rivers and creeks we had crossed.

When we sighted the ranger station we all cried:

“He sure picked a Hell of a place when he died.”

The “Burial of Mouldy Mike,” was written by the undersigned at the Chamberlain Meadows R[anger] S[tation], Clearwater National Forest, Idaho, after their strenuous trip from Orofino to the mouth of Lake creek, to bury Mike Olson, trapper, who had passed away sometime during the winter.

“The Burial of Mouldy Mike” is a true record of the trip, May 28, 1927.

Signed: E. I. Ashley – “Red”

             John Oud, Jr. – “Buzz”

[My mother kept this newspaper clipping in her jewelry case. When she left us and no longer needed her jewelry, I kept the clipping.  

Ashley I don’t know, but Buzz was best friends with Mother’s brother, F. A. (Porkie) Portfors. Mother, Porkie, and Buzz graduated from Orofino High School in 1927, the same year of this adventure. Buzz was about 20 at the time.

I don't have a studio photo of Uncle Ernest, so I cropped his image out of a wedding photo taken in 1921. He was stern-looking but I remember him as kind. KW]