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Sunday, September 8, 2013

THE DICKSON / SENTER PLACE, 191? -- 2013


I have always wanted Ben’s place. It would be so nice to move into that nice big house Ben built. It’s the prettiest place here [at Gilbert] to my notion. Senters tore down Ben’s first house and it improves the looks. Mrs. Cordell said the house looked like a picture inside. Bertha Dickson Dobson to her sister Mabel -- June 1, 1936

On a September evening in 1936, Ina stood gazing out across the northern fields as she washed the supper dishes. At the horizon she could just make out the chimney of her brother Ben’s house. The sight had given her comfort for years, but now Ben and Ida were no longer there – sold out – moved – living in Orofino where Ben worked various odd jobs. It was strange to think that Ben’s place should now belong to another family.

A pang of loneliness swept over Ina and her thoughts drifted back to those first happy years here at Gilbert. Homesteading was hard work, but living so near her parents and siblings had eased the burden and yes, it had even been fun. Her eldest sister Ida and husband Ed Patchen had the homestead on the other side of June’s. Pa had 80 acres adjacent to Ed’s. To the north was Ben’s place. Her whole family was here.

Those were happy times all right. The men worked together to plant and harvest. The women had helped one another while gardening, berrying, cooking harvest meals, and canning. The extended family had gathered for special meals. Her brothers Ben and Frank had courted Ida and May Chandler, respectively, and had married in a double ceremony that Christmas Day of 1898. Ina reflected that life in those first years had been a little bit of heaven because they were here together.

But -- that heavenly togetherness had accounted for just five of the forty years she had lived here. They had come with big dreams of success – owning their own land and working for themselves. But, Ed had quickly become disillusioned with what he saw as little return for his hard work and decided he’d had enough. In 1901, he sold his homestead for $3,000 and moved his family to Drain, Oregon. Ma and Pa, Frank and May, and other family members left with them, and Ina was devastated that she, Bertha, and Ben would now live in this remote place without their parents and elder sister.
 
But – that was another story. She was thinking about Ben’s house, Ina reminded herself. Ben had created a pretty place all right, nestled in the trees the way it was. The house was white with a red tile roof and had other decorative features of its era, such as windows bordered with colored panes and decorative wood trim on the front porch. The fact that it was picturesque was to Ben’s credit because, sitting inward from the canyons, the property lacked views.

Ina knew that Bertha (and probably some others) thought Ben’s house the prettiest place here, and her pride rankled a bit at that. Ina had planned her house carefully so that it would be serviceable, and when the time came to build, she conveyed her ideas to a bona fide builder, Mr. Philpot, who put them on paper and built a solid house. And while it was commendable that Ben had built his house himself, Ina knew he took shortcuts. The house had no foundation and she suspected that unforgivable flaws were hidden under the wallpaper. And yet they said that the new owner had fixed it up really nice inside. Someday soon she would call on Mrs. Senter and see for herself.

Many had come and gone from the community over the years. Most of the “homes” built here were just cabins, meant to meet the needs of a family over a short period of time. Change was inevitable.

Ina shook herself from this uneasy reverie. The light of the setting sun behind the big pine trees in the grove cast huge shadows over the shorn grain fields and now she had to hurry to finish the dishes as daylight quickly faded. “No use to think of these things,” Ina reminded herself with a sniff as she poured the dishwater on the roses at the back gate.

 

The Ben Dickson Place – built c. 1915
Purchased by Bruce and Celia Senter – c. 1935
Purchased by Neil Miller – c. 1960
House torn down -- 2013
KW



3 comments:

  1. Homes have such personality. It's hard not to feel loss when they are torn down. Out with the old and in with the new, as they say. AND they also say, gone but not forgotten. :)

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  2. Oh, Hallie just took the words out of my mouth, er, or from my keyboard!

    It's sad this house is no more, but if it had no foundation, that explains a lot. So glad you were able to redo your house and spare it the same fate.

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  3. The house was not habitable and therefore needed to go. It's just that it was a reminder of days gone by, but we can't be sentimental over that which has lost its usefulness.

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